#shane walsh angst

[janiehellion]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐚 ⋮ 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔢 𝔚𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔥

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You thought you knew Shane Walsh—a man already halfway lost at sea—but nothing could've prepared you for what happens when he's drowning in his own demons and pulls you down to hell with him.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Angst ⋮ Flashbacks ⋮ References To Death & Murder ⋮ Mirror & Shower Sex ⋮ Manhandling ⋮ Breeding ⋮ Obsession & Possessiveness ⋮ Mentions Of Violence ⋮ Dissociation

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 6.666 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S2E3 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: My very first Shane Walsh work. Was I mentally stable while writing this? Debatable. Just kidding! This was actually a Wattpad request. I'm really hoping you enjoy it, though! Feel free to drop your thoughts!

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

Shane had been acting strange since he returned. You noticed it the second he stepped back onto the farm—his shoulders stiff, his eyes wide, limping a little bit, and he was out of breath. He barely spoke, barely even looked at anyone. And when Hershel asked him about Otis, all he did was shake his head and answer a quiet "No..." before standing there, mouth open, shaking his head, and looking anywhere, just not at the man in front of him.

And as Rick stepped forward, he hugged Shane. A quiet thank you without any words. Shane barely reacted, nodding, eyes darting toward the farmhouse before stepping away like he couldn't bear to look. His voice was shaky when he spoke about what had happened—how Otis had told him to keep going, how he tried. You weren't sure if you believed him, but you knew one thing for certain.

Something was wrong.

And he wasn't telling anyone.

When Hershel went to break the news to Patricia, Shane stumbled away from the group, looking like a man about to crawl out of his skin. He leaned against the truck, mouth still slightly open, like he was still catching his breath, like the weight of whatever he'd been through was pressing down on him hard enough to crush every single bone inside his body.

You followed him.

"Shane?" You called his name gently, but he didn't react. His gaze was staring at the dirt beneath him, barely blinking, his eyes all wide.

You stepped closer. "Shane, talk to me."

His head moved slightly, but he still didn't look at you.

"You're hurt," you tried again, softer this time, letting your fingers slide along his arm. You felt the way he tensed, how he tried to flinch away from your touch. "At least let me—"

"I'm fine."

"But you don't look fine."

That got you a huff.

"Drop it."

But you didn't want to.

"No. I won't. You know that."

He finally looked at you then. Just a quick glance, but it was enough to send a shiver through you. His eyes were dark, unreadable, a storm that held back the thunder.

But it was his silence that unsettled you most. Shane was never quiet. Not like that. Even on his worst days, he'd have something to say—anger to let go of, frustration to bite down on. But now, he just looked empty. Hollow. As if whatever had happened out there was eating him up from the inside.

You didn't like it.

You didn't like the way he avoided your eyes like he couldn't stand to be seen.

When he started to walk away, you followed.

"Shane..." His back tensed at the sound of your voice, his pace quickening. "Shane, wait."

"Not now," he answered, heading for the house. "We gotta make sure Carl's okay."

You reached out, grabbing his arm before he could move any further. He froze at the contact, his body wet with sweat, and you could feel his pulse hammering beneath the skin. Too fast.

"He will be fine," you answered, trying to look into his eyes. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "Let it go."

"No," you insisted. "I'm not just gonna stand here and pretend I don't see that something's wrong. Just talk to me."

His fingers twitched at his sides, but he still wouldn't look at you.

"He didn't make it," Shane finally said, his voice hoarse.

You blinked, already knowing who he was referring to. "Otis?"

A quick nod was all he gave you. Nothing more.

You hadn't known the man well, but you knew enough. Knew that he'd gone with Shane to get the medical supplies, that he had a wife here on the farm who would be waiting for him to return.

You loosened your grip on Shane's arm, but you didn't let go. "I'm sorry," you answered, though the words felt small. Unimportant.

Shane inhaled deeply through his nose, exhaling just as slowly. "Yeah."

It wasn't an acknowledgment. It wasn't anything at all.

"Look, just—" You hesitated, searching his face for something, anything, that might tell you what was going on behind those eyes. "Just come inside, okay? Get cleaned up, get some rest."

He pulled his arm away—not rough, not aggressive, just final. "Already on it."

You followed him as he made his way inside, and after quickly checking up on Carl, Maggie handed him a set of clothes.

"The bathroom's upstairs," she said, looking at Shane, her eyes still swollen and red from crying. "I brought you some clothes."

Shane took them with only a little "thank you" in return.

"They won't fit well," Maggie added. "They were Otis'."

You watched him go in an instant after he nodded again. This wasn't just exhaustion. It wasn't just grief.

Something happened out there.

That thought stuck with you as you followed after him, slower this time. You weren't about to let this go—no. By the time you reached the upper level, you heard the bathroom door click shut.

Then, gathering your courage, you knocked lightly.

"Shane?"

No answer.

You knocked again. "Shane, come on."

Still nothing.

You pressed your hand to the door, waiting. You could hear the sounds of movement inside—clothes being put away, a pistol being laid down.

Then the water turned on. That was all you could hear.

"Shane, please," you tried one last time, but you already knew he wasn't going to answer.

With a frustrated sigh, you stepped back, running a hand through your hair. You hated this—the way he was shutting you out, the way he looked like he wasn't even here anymore. He had left something behind at that school, and you didn't know if he was ever going to get it back.

But this was still Shane, right? The man who never backed down from a fight, who always looked like he could take on the new world. And yet, this afternoon, he had walked away from you. That alone told you enough.

"I just… I just wanna know you're okay. I'm coming in now."

Frowning, you reached for the handle, turning it slowly. The door wasn't locked. It creaked open, and the rush of warm, wet air hit you instantly. Your eyes landed on Shane's reflection in the fogged-up mirror. He was standing at the sink, shirtless, head bowed slightly, and his hands gripped the edges of the porcelain like he needed it to hold himself up.

Then, he moved.

One hand brushed over his scalp, his fingers running through his hair—and that's when you saw it. The red patch where something had been torn out. A bald and uneven spot.

Your breath hitched in your throat. "Shane, hey, let me—"

He turned around before you could finish, his eyes angry and wild. His chest rose and fell fast, like he'd been caught in the middle of something he wasn't ready to share.

"You shouldn't be in here."

You hesitated, then stepped fully inside anyway. "And you shouldn't be acting like this," you shot back, closing the door behind you.

"I'm okay."

"Bullshit."

Turning back to the mirror, his fingers tapped several times against the sink before he reached for something in a drawer—a razor. He turned it on without another word, shearing off his hair as fast as he could, keeping his eyes on his reflection the entire time.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now. "Hey… What happened out there?"

The razor stopped for half a second, his hand tightening around it. Then he continued, shaving off the last of his hair.

"I survived," he finally said. "Saved Carl."

But when you looked at him, you weren't sure if that was the whole truth.

Once he was done, he still hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. Just stared at you through the mirror now, his expression unreadable.

"Shane?"

You took a careful step forward, and for the first time, you saw just how banged up he was. Bruises, fresh and ugly. Scratches covered his knuckles like he'd torn them open on something—or someone. And then there was still the bald spot.

It hadn't been cut; you knew that. It had been ripped out.

You swallowed, stepping closer.

"You know what happened," he then said. "I told y'all already."

"No." You tilted your head, eyes scanning his reflection. "You told Hershel. Told Rick. Lori. Maggie..."

"Same thing," he responded, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Is it?"

You hesitated before reaching out, fingers brushing lightly over one of the bruises, feeling him flinch under your touch.

"Shane," you whispered. "You're hurt."

"‘S nothing."

"It's not nothing." You frowned, moving closer, fingers trailing along the edge of the fresh bald spot. "Your hair…"

His lips parted like he was about to answer—but then he caught himself.

"Told you already," he responded again. His voice was angrier this time. "We got surrounded. We ran outta ammo. Otis said he'd cover me and told me to keep goin'. I did."

You studied him. His body language. His breathing. Everything. "That's what you said earlier."

"‘Cause that's what happened."

Something in his voice was off. The words were steady, but they seemed controlled. Too controlled.

"Otis pulled you up when you fell?" You asked carefully. "You said he wouldn't leave you behind?"

Shane's jaw twitched. "Yeah."

"And then he saved you?"

"He did what he had to do."

You narrowed your eyes. "Or what you had to do?"

Shane's eyes searched for yours in the mirror. Then, slowly, he turned. Face-to-face now, not just reflections.

"What are you askin' me?" He asked back, his voice quieter now. Rougher.

"I'm just trying to understand."

"Ain't nothin' to understand," he scoffed, shaking his head.

But you weren't so sure about that.

You had seen Shane lie before. Had seen the way his gaze looked away, avoiding any eye contact, the way his jaw clenched, the way his muscles tensed when he was trying too hard to keep himself in check, his fingers twitching and fumbling around.

And right now, he looked ready to snap.

"When Maggie gave you those clothes," you continued, "you… hesitated."

Shane's fingers flexed at his sides. "Yeah? So?"

"She said they were from Otis."

His jaw tightened.

"And?"

"And you looked like you were gonna be sick."

"I just watched that man get eaten alive!" He scoffed back at you. "‘Scuse me for not feelin' too good about wearin' his goddamn clothes!"

That was the moment. The exact moment.

Because Shane was a lot of things—reckless, violent, unpredictable—but guilt was never something he let show. And right now? Right now, you could see it in him.

Gnawing at him. Devouring him from the inside.

"Is that all it is?" You asked softly, tilting your head.

His eyes darkened. "What else would it be?"

You didn't answer.

Didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Because you felt it now—the feeling as if he was drowning and dragging you down with him. It was like he was waiting for you to say something else, to push him, to call him out.

You swallowed, looking down at the floor. "You tell me… Shane."

For a moment, he looked like he might tell you. Like the truth was right there, right on his tongue.

But then?

Then his hand moved before you could react, fingers grabbing the back of your neck, gripping just tight enough to make you gasp in shock.

"Don't," he grumbled, his voice strained. "Just—don't."

"Don't what?" You asked in return but stopped as you felt how his grip tightened, just for a second.

Then his eyes looked down—to your mouth, to your throat, feeling the way your pulse was getting faster beneath his fingers.

Shane let out a deep, long, controlled breath through his nose, and when you looked up again, it wasn't guilt you saw in his expression anymore.

It was darkness.

Every inch of you burned with a fire you couldn't put out—couldn't escape.

And you couldn't deny it—the pull toward him, even though you knew it wasn't about you. Not entirely. You knew that.

But you also knew, deep down, that you couldn't look away. Couldn't walk away. Not now. Not with him so close. Not when you were this close to him.

His grip tightened around your neck, but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you he was in control. In this moment, he was. His thumb moved along your jawline, his eyes following it.

You knew what had happened. You knew about Otis, about the cold, ruthless way he'd left him behind. About the betrayal—the choice he'd made because that's what Shane did. He made choices. And when they came back to haunt him, he'd just keep moving, keep fighting, keep pushing.

And you? You'd been there. Watching him. From the moment you met him at the Atlanta camp, where things were simpler. When you thought he was just another protector, another one of the good guys, looking after Lori, Carl, and the rest of the survivors.

A cop. A man of the law. A law that didn't exist anymore.

And you hadn't known. Not at first.

But you saw it after Rick showed up. The way Shane's eyes darkened every time Grimes came near. The way his fists clenched whenever Lori touched Rick, the way he looked so annoyed when Carl looked up at his father.

It was only after Rick appeared that you realized how far gone Shane was. How broken and lost he was.

But you'd always had a soft spot for him—maybe even more. He was a leader in your eyes, a protector, brave in ways that made you crave something stronger than just survival. But you had stayed in the background, never daring to get close, because you thought—no, this isn't your place and definitely not your time. In fact, you thought Lori was his, and Carl was his. That was the way it was supposed to be, wasn't it?

A family...

But that was before you realized how badly Shane was losing himself. You were right there, close enough to feel it and see it happen.

And the truth about Otis? You now knew what he'd done. You knew the truth about what happened in that school. And you knew, too, that he knew you knew.

The way Shane looked at you now, the way his lips barely parted, like he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to—it told you everything.

And you weren't sure if it was that hatred or the dangerous pull of desire in the bathroom that made you reach for him.

No, you weren't sure.

But when your hand brushed the stubble on his jaw, you knew it didn't matter anymore. His fingers were on your skin again, gripping you harder this time, his thumb sliding across your lower lip as his eyes still looked at your mouth.

You couldn't stop yourself. You wanted him too much.

And maybe that made you just as dangerous as he was.

"You know what I did," Shane growled in your ear. "You know what happened."

You didn't have to answer as he finally pressed himself against you, forcing your back against the sink, the edge of it digging into you as he kissed you hard, almost painfully. His hands were everywhere, pulling you closer, making sure you couldn't escape, couldn't pull away.

"Shane, what—"

He kissed you deeper. His teeth grazed your lip, sharp and rough. The way his body moved against yours was desperate, almost needy, like he was trying to lose himself in you, to forget. Forget about Rick. Forget about Otis. Forget about everything.

"Shut up," he grumbled against your mouth.

Before you could speak, before you could even think, his lips pressed against yours once more—hot, forceful, sloppy.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim. A fast, desperate claim, his fingers now grabbing the back of your neck again, gripping hard enough to make you groan. He tasted like sweat, like fear, like something dark that had been rotting inside him since he came back from that school.

And he wasn't asking—he was taking.

Your hands moved up, instinctively pushing against his bare chest to shove him away, but his other hand grabbed at your hip, yanking you closer to him. There was no space between you, no time to catch your breath, just heat—his body burning into yours, his heartbeat hammering against you like it was trying to force its way next to yours.

You barely managed a muffled whine against his mouth, your fingers pressing harder into his chest, now trying to steady yourself, trying to get some control over the situation. But the second you made that soft, unsure sound, something in him broke.

Shane pulled away just enough to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours, his fingers tightening on your neck before moving them into your hair. His pupils were wide, his jaw clenched so tight you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

"Don't do that," he whispered, voice wrecked and his breathing still uneven as his fingers twitched against your scalp. "Don't—don't sound like that..."

"Sound... like what?" Your voice was shaky and breathless, but he ignored the question.

Shane's mouth went to your throat, his teeth biting down just hard enough to make you suck in a shocked breath, while his stubble scratched against your skin as he sucked a mark just below your jaw. His breath came in heavy bursts like he was running.

Like he was chasing something.

"Shane—" You tried again, tried to reach for him, but then—fuck. You felt it.

Thick. Hard. Pressing against your lower belly through his pants, but your mind barely had time to process it before he growled.

Not a word. Not a warning. Just a single growl.

It sounded greedy. Like if you spoke again, if you tried to calm him down, to help him, he'd shatter.

But your mind was still trying to make sense of this, still trying to catch up to him. "Wait—Shane, what the hell—"

He didn't wait.

Shane turned you around in one quick move, his hands gripping your waist, bending you forward until you hit the sink again. Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, lips swollen from his kiss, chest rising and falling in fast, uneven breaths.

You barely recognized yourself.

Your eyes—wide, glassy, uncertain.

And then there was him.

Shit...

You saw it. The look in his eyes.

Still dark. Dangerous. Gone.

His fingers dug into the waistband of your pants, and he yanked them down, dragging them a little too roughly over your thighs.

"Shane," you started once more, turning slightly, but the only response you got was the sound of his zipper.

No hesitation. No teasing. He wasn't playing with you.

He just looked... lost. Like a man breaking apart in real time.

Shane's hands slid lower, fingers moving over your naked hips, pulling you back against him, making you feel his leaking cock pressing between your thighs.

"Just—" You tried to talk to him again, your voice unsteady, but Shane's fingers tightened his grip.

A simple "No." was all he gave in return.

His fingers trembled near your waist as he lined himself up, his other hand gripping the back of your neck, keeping you steady. Keeping you there.

And when he saw the little bit of hesitation in your eyes, the uncertainty, his breath shuddered out of him.

It was all he needed.

Shane pushed into you.

Hard.

The force of it knocked the breath straight from your lungs, your mouth falling open in a choked cry. Your fingers searched for any kind of grip on the sink, nails slipping against the porcelain as your body jerked forward from the sheer strength of him.

"Fuck—!"

The word barely made it past your lips before his hands grabbed you harder—like he thought you might try to run away, like he needed to make sure you didn't.

There was nothing slow about it. Nothing soft.

Every thrust was deep, fast, and rough.

The mirror shook against the wall, rattling slightly with every movement, the glass only showing the wild look in his eyes.

And he was watching.

Watching everything.

His gaze stayed on the reflection—on you, on the way you took his cock, on the way your body trembled under him.

But he wasn't just looking at you.

He was looking at himself.

His face—miserable, paranoid, ruined.

Shane saw it… He remembered.

Otis' hand clawing at his hair.

The gunshot, the way the man's eyes were going wide in horror.

Fingers ripping at his scalp, a chunk of his hair tearing away as he fought. As he survived.

The veins in Shane's neck pulsed, every muscle in his body flexing as he pounded into you. Gritting his teeth, he fucked you even harder.

He tried to think about how every time he saw your face, every time you let him in, it felt like he was sinking into something he couldn't control. The desperation in his movements was a sign of how he needed to own this moment and drown out every haunting thought in his mind. The things he'd done, the things he couldn't undo.

But you were still there. Still with him. And that made everything… unbearable.

A quiet cry ripped itself free from your throat as he slammed into you, brutal and fast. Your pussy clenched around his cock, your breath breaking apart.

"Shane—" Your voice was a desperate plea, a moan half-swallowed by the force of him.

His hand shot up again, fingers wrapping tight around your throat from behind, but his grip wasn't painful, wasn't cruel—but it was a warning.

Every thrust of his hips pushed your body forward, forced your breath to hitch, and forced your mind to slip deeper into this, into him.

And still—he watched.

His reflection. Like he didn't want to recognize himself.

But he did. And he hated it.

Your mind thought back to the quarry again, remembering how different he was. Not soft—he was never soft—but something close to it. Protective. The kind of man who took charge, who got things done.

You remembered the way he kept the people together after the world fell apart. How he taught them to shoot, how he made sure the fires stayed lit, how he took the night shifts when no one else would.

You'd watched from the sidelines, keeping your distance, convincing yourself that the heat and tingling feeling in your stomach whenever he spoke to you was nothing. A crush, maybe?

Nothing serious.

Nothing real.

You weren't sure when it happened that your 'crush' turned into something more, something deeper. Maybe it was the way he always looked so confident, so sure of what needed to be done. Maybe it was the way he never waited when it came to protecting the people he cared about.

Maybe it was just him.

You weren't sure if he'd ever noticed.

But now?

"You watch me, don't you?" His voice was quieter now, rougher. "Always watchin'."

"Please, just—"

"Think I ain't noticed?" He was thrusting into you harder, deep enough to make you whimper. "Think I ain't seen you lookin'?"

Your skin burned beneath his touch.

"I—"

"Nah, nah, don't go lyin' to me now." He spanked your ass, hard enough to make you stop talking. "I know you, girl. Been knowin' you since Atlanta."

With you panting, he then continued.

"I remember, alright. You sittin' by the fire, sneakin' looks when you thought I wasn't payin' attention. I remember you askin' me to teach you how to shoot. Pretendin' you didn't know how to hold a gun so I'd stand behind you, get real close."

Your breath hitched. "That's not—"

"No? Tell me I'm wrong."

You didn't. Couldn't. Because he wasn't wrong, not at all.

"You still want me?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, strained and deep. "Even now?"

You swallowed hard.

The truth was, you did.

Even now. Even with the darkness behind his eyes, even knowing what he'd done, what he was capable of.

You still wanted him.

But for Shane, it was a dangerous question, one that would cut him open if you lied. He had to believe it—had to see it. You were still here, still taking him. Still needing him.

Your voice trembled, but it was the most haunting sound to him, beautiful and frightening at once. "Yes, yes… even now!"

The confession broke something in him. He groaned into your ear, unable to stop himself as his body moved in an almost feral rhythm. Every thrust was a plea; every sound leaving his lips was a question he was too afraid to answer.

And then? He moved.

You barely had a second to react before his hands were on you, his arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you upright, your back pressing against his sweaty chest. His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you open as he kept moving, his cock still throbbing and buried deep.

"What the—!" The words came out as a yelp, a half-strangled moan, as he lifted you, his strength and size effortlessly keeping you close to him.

"Move." It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

Still inside you, stretching you open, he half-dragged, half-carried you toward the bathtub.

The bathroom was humid by now, steam clinging to the walls from the hot water as he reached past you, and within seconds, more water poured down on both of you.

"Fuck—!" You gasped, your body shivering against him.

He slammed you forward, pressing your hands against the bathroom wall, his strength keeping you right where he wanted you. The water soaked through the rest of your clothes, ran down his chest, over your breasts, and over the bald, burning spot of his scalp.

But Shane stopped all of a sudden.

You gasped as he froze inside you, his cock still pulsing, filling you to the hilt. His hands, so rough just a moment ago, softened their grip. One stayed on your waist, fingers trembling. The other moved—slowly—gliding up your body, moving over your wet shirt and your breasts, before stopping along your throat. But he wasn't grabbing it. He was just… feeling you.

His fingers twitched slightly at your throat before he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. But this time, it wasn't hungry, wasn't bruising. It was soft. His lips parted, his tongue tasting the sweat and water on your skin, breathing you in.

Shane's nose trailed along your jaw, and then he turned your face gently toward his.

The kiss was barely a kiss at all at first—just the soft press of his mouth, like he needed to know you were real. His lips brushed against yours, rougher now, before fully kissing you deep, as if afraid.

"How many rounds you got left?"

The words didn't belong here.

Not to you.

But they were in his head. Again.

Loud. Too loud.

Shane's body tensed as his eyes flew open, staring at you—seeing you.

But he felt a hand ripping at his head once more, desperate fingers clawing at his head, tearing a piece of his hair away. He felt the gun in his hands, his finger on the trigger. He saw the look in Otis' eyes—that second of realization, of horror, of fear.

"I'm sorry."

The gunshot rang in his ears…

"Let go of me!"

He remembered the feeling of Otis pulling him down to the ground. The walkers getting closer, closer still…

His tender grip around your throat tightened, just enough to make your breath hitch. Just enough to pull him back into now, into you.

"Let go!"

He could still hear his voice screaming at Otis to let go. Still feel the fight, the panic, his nails digging harder into your wet skin.

For a second, he swore he saw blood—smeared all across the bathroom walls, running down his hands, and staining your skin.

But it wasn't there. And the quiet, the stillness—it was gone in an instant.

He yanked you back harder, forcing your back to arch as he slammed into you again. Gone was the hesitation, the tenderness.

It made your knees buckle as he pushed as deep as he could, his cock stretching you open some more, pressing against every sensitive, sore spot inside of you.

But as the water streamed down, it couldn't drown out the sounds filling the bathroom. The quiet whimpers from you. The ragged breaths. The deep groans from Shane.

"Fuck," he groaned, pressing your face roughly against the wall.

There you were—soaking wet, mouth open, eyes half-lidded, fucked, and your body trembling with every deep thrust.

And then there was him.

He was behind you. So strong, so tall, so big. Inside you.

But Shane didn't blink. He didn't look away. He still watched.

Watched the way you took him, watched his cock disappear inside your pussy, watched the way his fingers dug into your wet, trembling body.

He was fucking you like he needed this—like if he stopped, he'd have to feel something else.

Shame? Guilt?

And he wasn't ready for that. He needed to push away the thoughts in his mind. Needed to forget.

"Please—" Your voice broke between uneven breaths, barely more than gasps.

But the way you said it—breathless, needy—fuck. It nearly killed him.

His thrusts turned faster, harder, driving himself so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts.

"Shit," he growled. "Fuckin'—"

He cut himself off with a groan, dropping his forehead to your shoulder for a moment before pulling back, teeth biting down into your skin as if nothing else mattered anymore.

Only the desperate, broken moans leaving your lips.

Only him.

Only this.

Shane's breath hitched, his chest pressing against your back as he moved, changing the angle. Your head snapped up, eyes flying open, your hands desperately trying to hold onto the wet wall as the new position had him hitting even deeper.

Shane knew he wasn't supposed to care about that.

But seeing you like that? Seeing you lose yourself in him?

"Doin' so fuckin' good," he growled into your ear, kissing your neck before his hand wrapped around it again.

"You feel that?" He panted, his other hand holding you steady, pulling you harder against him. "See how fuckin' good you look takin' my cock? Talk to me."

Your mind was spinning—still trying to process how the hell you got here, how fast it happened, how good he felt inside you. But Shane—he needed you.

"C'mon, girl," he growled, his lips touching your ear. "Need to hear you."

He didn't just mean the moans. He wanted more. Wanted words.

Wanted to drown in them—let them pull him under until all that was left was this. You. The feeling of your body wrapped around him, squeezing him, taking him.

Another thrust, deep and brutal, knocked a silent cry from your lips. Your fingers dug into the slippery wall, struggling for any kind of grip.

"I—" Your voice was trembling. "Shane—"

"Nah, baby, not my name," he laughed out loud, shaking his head before his teeth bit the skin of your neck to make you whimper. "Tell me what you feel when I'm fuckin' you like this… when I'm making you feel this good."

The way he was talking, you barely recognized him. He was different now. Not the Shane from Atlanta. Not the Shane who always had a way of joking around and keeping the group together.

This was someone else entirely.

Someone who had blood on his hands.

Hell, you weren't sure you even cared.

Your body burned for him. Your skin was on fire where he touched you, his hands claiming you like he could fuck himself so deep inside you that his sins would just disappear.

"I—" You tried again, but your voice broke when he rolled his hips against you just right, his cock pressing into that one spot that made your legs shake.

"Say it." His hand slid up, fingers grabbing your soaked hair. He pulled your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes.

He wanted to see it. See you say it.

You swallowed, your lips parting, your voice breathy and weak. "Yes, yes! You feel so good inside me!"

Shane choked out a grunt so raw it sounded like a personal kind of prayer. A plea to save him from himself.

But whatever last bit of restraint he had left? Gone.

"Tell me I'm the only one who can make you feel this way," he grunted, his voice turning quieter. "I know you've been wantin' this. Been wantin' me."

You moaned, your knees nearly giving out, the water from the bathtub streaming down your back, soaking into your clothes.

"F-Fuck," you stammered, barely able to breathe, barely able to form any reasonable thought with the way he was wrecking you, your pussy clenching so tightly around him.

"Shane—"

Wrong answer… His grip on your hair tightened, punishing.

"Tell me."

Your breath hitched.

"Only you can make me feel like this," you whimpered, breathing weakly. "Only. You."

Shane groaned like you'd just stabbed a knife into his heart, his forehead pressing against the back of your head for half a second before his mouth was near your ear again, only for him to drag you out of the bathtub, his hands holding you still.

You gasped, and before you could fully adjust, he was backing up, pulling you with him.

"Push back, baby, push back—let me show you," Shane growled as he backed you both up against the bathroom wall, his back hitting it with urgency as you were forced to face the mirror above the sink. It was still foggy, steamy like the room, but still clear enough for you to see the way he took you—hard, fast, with no hesitation.

Without any warning, his thrusts became brutal.

Shane was fucking into you like a man possessed, like if he stopped for even a second, every memory would come back.

"Shit—look at you," he smirked, one hand sliding down, pressing against your lower belly. "You feel me right there, baby?"

Your fingers clenched into fists, your eyes looking slowly toward the mirror.

The sight of it all… You, your skin red from the warmth of the hot water, dripping wet, trembling against his strong chest.

And him, wild-eyed, brutal, desperate...

The way his cock disappeared into you over and over again, the way he stretched you open—it made you clench around him harder.

"Shit," Shane gasped. "You like that, huh? Like seein' how fuckin' good I'm stretchin' you out?"

"Y-Yes—"

His fingers dug into your trembling flesh.

"Gonna come for me, baby?"

You tried to nod, tried to breathe. You couldn't see the mirror anymore—your vision blurred, your body on fire and burning in his arms. All you could focus on was the way he was fucking you, the way he was making you feel.

"Fuckin' say it," he growled.

"I—I'm gonna come," you cried out in return as his thrusts became sloppier, pounding faster into you.

And then—your whole body tensed. Your moans came out sobbing, your pussy clenching so tight around his cock that Shane choked on his next groan.

"F-Fuck, fuck," he stuttered, his hips bucking, making you feel him twitch and throb.

He lost himself.

His cock pulsed inside you, buried deep as he came, his hips pressing hard against your ass.

But Shane didn't move after he was done. He didn't pull out. He just stayed there, deep inside you, his breathing all uneven, his chest rising and falling against your back, holding you close.

For a moment, he didn't feel like he was drowning.

For a moment, he wasn't Shane Walsh.

He was just this—just a man, a man feeling your body so close to him, a man feeling the way his muscles ached from how hard he'd taken you.

Shane then let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to your back.

He should've said something.

Should've talked about what just happened.

Should've let you know he was still there. That he was still himself.

But he didn't. Instead, he just gripped your hips—steadying himself.

It wasn't enough. Nothing would be.

As Shane exhaled through his nose, long and slow, he was finally—finally—pulling out. The loss of him sent another shiver through you and left you feeling empty in a way you couldn't even explain.

And still, he said nothing.

You turned, water dripping from your body as you tried to look into his eyes, but he was already moving—grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat and water from his face.

"Shane... This—" Your voice was hoarse and shaky, and you weren't even sure what you wanted to say.

Are you really okay?

Was this just a distraction?

What the hell was this?

So many questions...

But he didn't react to the sound of your voice.

You reached down for your wet clothes, trying to shove your pants back up, your movements frantic and quick. When you risked another glance at him, he still wasn't looking at you.

He was staring into the mirror. His shoulders tense, his chest still rising and falling, sweat dripping down his naked chest.

But Shane's face? Shane's face looked haunted.

His jaw clenched, so you tried again, softer this time. "Hey..."

Nothing.

He just turned, reaching for the towel again, and wiped it over his chest, his shoulders, and along his arms.

The bathroom felt suffocating by now, not for him, but for you—hot steam and cold silence tormenting you from all sides.

And just when you were about to give up—just when you were stepping toward the door…

"I didn't mean to."

You stopped as the words came out of him, hollow and quiet—like a confession meant for no one, yet meant for everything.

He didn't mean to—what?

You never turned back to ask.

Instead, you pulled open the door and stepped out—out of the suffocating heat—only to be hit with something colder once you walked down the stairs.

A silence far worse than the one in the bathroom.

And you felt it. Those stares.

Rick. Lori. Maggie. Glenn.

All of them…

Standing there, just beyond the door where Carl was still recovering, thanks to Hershel, their conversations had stopped the second you stepped into view.

Their eyes looked at you—at your wet clothes clinging to your skin, the water still dripping from your hair, the red marks already showing along your neck and throat.

No one spoke. No one dared to say a word.

But the silence wasn't empty; it was hanging like a storm cloud over the entire room.

Rick's eyes narrowed, the muscles in his cheeks twitching, while Lori's lips parted just a bit, her eyebrows furrowing like she wanted to say something—like she wanted to ask, but knew the answer already.

Glenn quickly looked away, his face turning red as if he were the one caught in something he shouldn't have seen.

And Maggie? She just blinked. Not judging. Not surprised. Just watching you with her red, swollen eyes from crying.

You swallowed hard, forcing your chin up, calming down your breath. Then, with a final step forward, you kept walking toward the front door, not wanting to talk. It wasn't necessary.

Meanwhile, the bathroom door upstairs remained shut.

And inside?

Inside, Shane stood motionless in front of the mirror—staring at himself, watching his reflection drown in the fog.

He didn't mean to…

[bambieyedoll]

⊹ ⋆ ꒰ఎﾟMOODBOARD ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

shane walsh x farmer’s daughter!reader

“c’mon, baby” shane kissed your neck softly while wrapping his arms around you in a back hug. “i didn’t mean to scream and scare you, you know that” his rough voice whispered in your ear while he pressed his chest against your back and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your angry facade much longer. turning around, you looked up at him with your pretty doe eyes and he wasted no time in holding you by your waist, keeping you close to him. “i’ll make it up to you, doll” his hands descended to your ass, gripping strongly and in that moment you already forgave him.

[vilentia]

Edge of Sanity

Shane Walsh x reader

Summary: As the world crumbled, Shane Walsh, once strong, now teetered on the edge.

Author's Note: He never had an affair with Lori in this little story.

****

The sun dipped low over Hershel's farm, casting long shadows across the serene landscape. Shane couldn't help but feel a growing unease as he watched the horizon. He had been feeling it for weeks now, the pressure of their world closing in on him, driving him to the brink.

You, his wife, noticed the change in him more than anyone else. The once-steadfast, tough-as-nails Shane was slipping away before your eyes. He had become more erratic, more paranoid, and it was tearing him apart.

One evening, as you sat together on the porch, Shane's eyes darted to the darkening woods. He whispered, almost to himself, "They're out there, y'know," his fingers clutching the grip of his gun.

"Shane, we're safe here," you reassured him, reaching out to touch his trembling hand. "Hershel's farm is secure. We're together, and that's what matters."

But Shane couldn't shake the fear that gnawed at him day and night. He patrolled the perimeter of the farm obsessively, his once-calm demeanor now replaced with a hair-trigger temper. He snapped at the others in the group, often escalating minor disputes into shouting matches. His comrades were growing wary of him, but you remained steadfast.

One evening, tensions reached a boiling point. Rick, the group's de facto leader, confronted Shane about his increasingly erratic behavior. Their argument was explosive, echoing through the quiet farmstead. Shane accused Rick of weakness, of putting everyone at risk by clinging to a sense of morality that had no place in this new world. The confrontation turned physical, fists flying as their friendship shattered.

You couldn't stand to watch the two men you loved tearing each other apart. You stepped between them, pleading for them to stop. It was then that Shane's madness was laid bare for all to see. His eyes, once filled with determination, were now clouded by a dangerous intensity. He was losing himself, and it was tearing your world apart.

One night, you took his hand and led him away from the group, away from prying eyes. Under the moonlight, you looked into his troubled eyes and said, "Shane, you're scaring me. This isn't you. We've been through so much, and I can't bear to see you like this."

Tears welled in his eyes as he finally let his guard down. "I'm scared," he confessed, his voice cracking. "Scared of losing you in this mess, in this world. I can't lose you, baby. You're the only thing that's keeping me sane."

You held him close, feeling the weight of his fears and insecurities. "I'm right here, Shane. I'm not going anywhere. We'll face this world together, just like we always have."

With those words, a flicker of hope returned to Shane's eyes. He leaned in and kissed you, a desperate, passionate kiss that spoke of all the love and longing he had been keeping bottled up. In that moment, you both found solace in each other's arms, holding onto the fragile thread of humanity that bound you together.

As the stars shimmered above, Shane whispered, "I love you. Don't ever forget that."

With your arms wrapped around him, you replied, "I love you too, Shane. We'll get through this. Together."

[grimesgirll]

“good fucking girl.”

is definitely not something rick should be saying to his best friend’s girlfriend - especially not with his cock halfway down her throat.

the moment shane had stepped out for a run with glenn and michonne, you and rick were all over each other. you couldn’t handle sneaking into rick’s bed down the hall anymore. you were bound to end up in his lap on the sectional, pawing at him like a bitch in heat.

it’s not that shane didn’t fuck you; he took every chance he got. you’re just enamored with rick. ever since your boyfriend had “shared” you with his fellow officer, rick had been on your mind.

the way his brown constable’s jacket fit against his muscles when they flexed. the glint of his chocolate curls. how good he is with judith.

rick gets you goin’ in a way shane hasn’t for quite some time. he was right when he got you down on your knees back at the rest stop. you did look at rick like you wanted to drain him and then have him bend you over and fuck you silly - and that’s what ended up happening.

ever since that day, shane got off on toying with you and having you sit on rick’s cock in addition to his own. he uttered excuses about the stresses of their new duties as constable but you just slid down your denim skort and squealed the occasion away.

you’re quiet now, nice and muffled on rick’s dick as you swallow around him. the motion has him twitching in your mouth. wanting to finish off inside of you for the night, the thick length in your mouth is withdrawing and suddenly you’re in that familiar face down position again.

“so wet, baby,” rick remarks in awe as his length brushes your slippery entrance.

you’re squeezing your thighs together - trapping him between the pillowy soft surfaces. “rick,” you cry. “c’mon, already.”

“what’d we say?”

you swallow, a tear from how needy you are sliding down your cheek. “please, sir.”

you could care less if shane walked in right now. as long as rick keeps driving his hips into yours and breathing your name like a prayer, you’ll be content. content to get fucked silly by the man before he takes you in his arms and spends the night with a hand on your waist and his nose buried in your hair.

that’s after though.

now, you’re being nearly fucked up the couch.

rick’s just enjoying the way your sweet little cunt grips him like it needs him. the little thing sucks him in even better than your mouth.

and you’re a whole other story. sweat sticking to your glistening forehead, you’re babbling incoherent thoughts, strung out on the cock molding you to his shape.

your slick is pooling around rick like he’s in the fucking atlantic. so close to losing it all over him already, you’re making an absolute mess of the couch that you’ll have to resolve before shane gets home. don’t want him suffering from any fear of missing out.

the man is swept from your mind when rick absolutely crams his cock inside of your clinging cunt. the kiss to your cervix is enough for you to start seeing spots around the older man making you take his cock so well.

every time you park your pussy on rick’s thick dick and come, you ground down, grasp his hand, do anything to get as close as possible. feeling him to skin to skin is second only to feeling him fill you up. the filthy praises coming from his lips come close as well.

“fuck, baby, so nice and tight. you want me to come inside you, huh? have shane come home to this pussy all messy?”

you’re shaking your head like you have any idea what you’re asking for. “yes, rick! i want you to make a mess of my pussy.”

“then come all over this cock, honey.”

“mhmm, rick, i-,”

“that’s it.”

“i love how deep you are, rick-,” you’re bumbling like an idiot and muttering a string of “i love you”s as the dam bursts and you come undone on rick’s cock.

the pulsing warmth beneath you is accompanied by a husky, “i love you too,” and a chorus of your name into your shoulder as rick used his horsecock to fuck you two through your climaxes.

the friction on your clit heightens the heat surrounding you and flooding into you from rick. you’re almost overwhelmed by the bruising kisses rick purples onto your neck as he gathers you on top of him.

“you did so good, honey,” he’s praising you and you’re just nodding, humming, “thank you”s and “i know”s until he’s bear hugging you again. the way he nuzzles into your neck from behind and exhales into your hair is enough for you to forget trudging up to bed and drift off into rick’s touch right there.

you’re already asleep in his arms but he takes the time to stroke your hair and kiss up and down your temples. god, he loves getting this time with you to himself - even if you’re asleep.

with you pressed against him and your heartbeat thrumming, the world is still and rick realizes something - he’s never letting you go.

[virginsexgod69]

Masterlist ☆

TWD

★ Daryl Dixon

♱ 18+ Laundry Day - Daryl Dixon x f!Reader smut

summary A laundry mishap leads to dreams coming true

♱ 18+ Oasis - Daryl Dixon x f!Reader smut (requested)

summary Daryl makes you squirt for the first time

♱ 18+ V-Card - Daryl Dixon x virgin!fem!Reader smut (requested)

summary After relentlessly teasing him, Daryl finally takes your virginity

♱ 18+ Inked - Daryl Dixon x F!Reader smut (requested)

summary you and Daryl give each other matching tattoos after finding an abandoned tattoo shop

Dance with Me - Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

summary Daryl makes up for everything he wasn't able to do for you on prom night

Marry Me - Daryl Dixon x F! Reader (requested)

summary After tracking and killing a deer on your own for the first time, Daryl proposes to you.

★ Rick Grimes

♱ 18+ Here for You - Rick Grimes x f!Reader smut + angst

summary After Lori's death, you're there to comfort Rick in any way he needs. Set in season 3 in the prison after Lori's death

1.5k words

♱ 18+ Special - Rick Grimes x Reader smut (requested)

summary You give Rick a very special day.

1.3k words

♱ 18+ Sweetheart - Rick Grimes x f!Reader (requested)

summary 2 months after Lori's death, you and Rick start hooking up, but that comes to a stop when he calls you the wrong name. He does everything he can to be yours again.

4.7k words

★ Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh

♱ 18+ Bribery - Shane Walsh and Rick Grimes x f!Reader smut

summary Rick and Shane catch you stealing and you do what it takes to convince them not to arrest you.

2.8k words

★ Shane Walsh

♱ Taking Care - Shane Walsh x f!Reader (requested)

summary Instead of robbing you, Shane decides to bring you back to the prison to take care of Judith but you end up taking care of him too.

2.5k words

★ Negan

♱ 18+ Video Star - Negan x f!Reader

summary You and Negan make a sex tape

1.5k words

★ Series

♱ 18+ Yes, Professor Grimes -A college/ university AU featuring Professors Grimes and Dixon and Coach Negan

♱ 18+ Seclusion - Daryl Dixon x f!Reader series eventual smut + eventual romance + fluff + angst + hurt/comfort

summary Alone in the forest and separated from his group, Daryl comes across your cabin. To make up for accidentally shooting him, you take him in and patch him up. He sticks around to help you out after a storm does massive damage to your cabin.

TL;DR Just you and Daryl in a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere. 

★★★

CM

♱ 18+ You're Under Arrest - Spencer Reid x f!Reader smut

1.4k words

summary Derek hires a stripper for Spencer's birthday party as a joke, but Spencer surprisingly ends up enjoying it.

Interested in joining the taglist? Fill out this form!

💬 Requests are open!!

!! If you want to make a request for twd, I JUST STARTED SEASON 9 WOOOO!!! however, I can't write for anything past that :,(

[darlingshane]

Todo Tuyo (All Yours)

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

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

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

Word Count: 10.9k

— Read below or at AO3.

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

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

“What the hell are you doing here?”

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

That’s how strong was his hold on you.

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

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

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

“Look, I know it's been a while but–”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No me digas.” (You don’t say.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not good for the baby.”

“Oh, right.”

“What have you been up to, anyway?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

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

“Shit happens.”

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

“I thought you’d be over me.”

“I am.”

“Ain't seem like it.”

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

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

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

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

“Why do you care?”

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

“That’s bullshit, Shane.”

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

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

“It's worked before.”

“It’s too late now.”

“Is it?”

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

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

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

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

“Did he hit you?” His brow knitted.

“I told you. It was the cabinet.”

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

“Tienes que irte.” (You gotta go.)

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

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

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

“Shane… don’t…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.”

“You’ll never change. Will you?”

“I could if you ask me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your wish is my command, Corazón.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There, mi vida.”

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

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

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

“I wanna see you again.”

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

“Alto y claro.” (Loud and clear.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just glad you came back.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Si, Corazón.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“¿Tu polla?” he snorted. (Your cock?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm not sure if that's still true.”

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

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

“Prison,” he said without breaking eye contact.

“What for?”

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

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

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

“You could've called me.”

“I couldn't.”

“Why not?”

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

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

“I know.”

“I'd have waited for you.”

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

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

“What’s that?” Shane asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They hardly ever are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to save me.”

“Lo sé, mi vida.”

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

“She’s kicking. Can you feel that?”

“Yeah, I feel it. She? It’s a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s strong. Does she have a name?”

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

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

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

“I wish she was mine too.”

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m up, alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got you, baby. I got you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Went out for breakfast.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, a little.”

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

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

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

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

“Would you… come later?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“Lo prometo.” (I promise.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lowered his stare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A lot to process was an understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that easy for you, huh?”

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

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

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

“I did it cause I love you.”

“No, you did it cause you wanted to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“No, I covered all my tracks.”

“Are you sure?”

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

“If someone finds out…”

“Nobody's gonna find out. I promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you know where he was?”

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

“Did anyone see you?”

“So you want the rundown after all.”

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

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

“Ya es suficiente.” (That’s enough.)

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

“So this is it? This is how it ends?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad you called,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?”

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

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

“Sorry… I… yeah, I’ll get rid of it.”

“What about the gun?”

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

“I’ll take care of it too.”

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

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

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

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

“It's drug money, I don't want it.”

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

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

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

“I… Sure. I guess you're right.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Told you, I don’t drink coffee.”

“It doesn't have to be coffee.”

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

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

“Yes, I can.”

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

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

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

“And what’s your plan now?”

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

“I don’t give a fuck.”

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

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

“But I like talking to you.”

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

“What? Changing your mind?”

“It’s not a good thing.”

“As I see it, it’s the best thing.”

“Of course you do.”

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

“Okay, one.”

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

“Shane… don’t.”

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

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

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

“That’s more than one question.”

“Would you?”

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

“¿Y ahora?” (And now?)

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

“Guess I should’ve thought that.”

“You should’ve.”

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

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

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

Shane closed the backpack and slung it on his shoulder.

“Be careful with that.”

“Don't worry about me.”

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

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

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

[boygiwrites]

TWD Harley D. Dixon Chapter List

Daryl Dixon & Daughter OC.

Gen Tags. Found family, Daddy issues, Abuse, Hurt and comfort, Gore.

Summary. Harley D. Dixon is a tough yet sweet little girl who until the dead started eating the living, thought she had seen it all. Alongside a mismatched group of survivors in rural Georgia, Harley and her Dad are forced to leave their small life behind and learn how to survive all over again through the horrors of the apocalypse.

— TW: This fic contains canon typical violence and gore, abuse, mentioned suicide, off-screen suicide, main character death, and has been described by my lovely readers over on Ao3 as 'gritty', 'intriguing', 'intense', and 'special'. Please read with caution!

— Note: Canon is only loosely followed. Some changes have been made to certain plot points to keep it fresh and interesting / account for the added character.

❤️Cross-Posted from Ao3.

Season 1 - 2 Word Count: 180,000 Season 3 - ? Word Count: 52,000

SEASON ONE.

Chapter 1: Them That Mourn.

Chapter 2: No More Songs.

Chapter 3: My Brave Girl.

Chapter 4: Not Quite Yet.

Chapter 5: Black Out Days.

Chapter 6: Angels and Devils.

Chapter 7: Nothing's Ever Ours.

Chapter 8: In Sheep's Clothing.

Chapter 9: Rest In Piece.

SEASON TWO.

Chapter 10: Play Stupid Games.

Chapter 11: Win Stupid Prizes.

Chapter 12: Daddy Dearest.

Chapter 13: A Plan And An Execution

Chapter 14: If Heaven Weren't A Lie.

Chapter 15: Mockingbird.

Chapter 16: Custody Battles.

Chapter 17: Every Corner.

Chapter 18: Custody Battles, Part II.

Chapter 19: Dreams Don't Go Unpunished.

Chapter 20: And Still Very Beautiful.

Chapter 21: Thoughts and Prayers

Chapter 22: Growing Pains.

Chapter 23: The Type Meant for Dying.

Chapter 24: Church and State

Chapter 25: And The Type That Ain't.

Chapter 26: The Last Sunday on Earth.

Chapter 27: A New Life, Pursued.

Chapter 28: These Old Homes.

SEASON THREE.

Chapter 29: From Little Seeds.

Chapter 30: Red Handed.

Chapter 31: Maturity.

Chapter 32: The Best of Us.

Chapter 33: Picket Fences.

Chapter 34: Fresh Air.

Chapter 35: A Short Walk.

Chapter 36: Paradise.

Chapter 37: A Piece of Me.

Chapter 38: Heroes, Old and New.

Chapter 39: Please Head Home.

[loveandfictionforall]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could take this request! I thought maybe a oneshot (platonic!Dale Horvath x fem!reader)

So it’s set in season 2 at Hershel’s farm. Shane makes her really uncomfortable by trying to get her to sleep with him, flirting with her, etc. so she hides away in Dale’s RV to try to stay away from him. Dale finds out what’s going on so he comforts her after having a talk with Shane.

If you don’t want to do this it’s totally fine!! Just lmk if you will or not so I won’t be waiting for nothing if you don’t😭

I kind of went a different route but I hope you still like it. I genuine loved your idea. Dale is often forgotten but he was a good man.

tw: mentions of harrassing, mentions of getting touched without consent

It's been a long time since you were truly sitting with Dale down. He had always been your friend, even though a lot of years separated you from each other. It had been quite a ride since arriving at the Camp. Back then you were together with Lori, Shane and Carl after knowing them for years. You used to be Carl's babysitter, actually being on duty when the apocalypse began and following Shane, Lori and Carl. You suffered through the loss of Rick, just like those three and stumbled like everybody else through the beginnings of the outbreak.

Since you were a woman, Lori and Carol got you into doing the chores with all the other women. The men went out, looking for food, clothes and medicine. You also wanted to do something. Teaching Sophia and Carl math and history wasn't really important for you but Shane always declined your wishes.

So instead you began to hide. At first it was in the woods until you got a mouthful from Shane - and even Merle. Soon you began hiding in the Camper, with a Dale always winking at you when he saw you slipping into it. When Lori, Andrea or Carol went asking, he always played his part: shaking his head and lying through his teeth, telling them where he saw you last. You never been there but it threw them off your trail. And thus, your friendship with Dale began.

Dale tried fixing his Camper with you. But unlike all those other tasks, he actually wanted you to do it, guiding you and giving you new knowledge about the workings of cars. On evenings he would invite you to sit on the roof with him, watching the stars and talking about those old times. You learned a lot about him and how his life had been. Soon you were kind of his kid - adult but also his kid. He showed you how to fish, how to skin them and even gave you his little pocket knife.

Even when Andrea began to insert herself into the friendship, Dale and you were inseparable. In the end, it would be Dale's death which would end your genuine friendship with each other. But you two didn't know that Hershel's farm would be his demise. Instead you were looking at each other with bright smiles and hope fluttering in your chest.

Sure, things were rough, especially since Rick appeared from the dead, still alive and healthy. It shook your world and made you hope that you will too see again your family. Nobody could escape the whole drama of Lori and her men but her so harshly shoving Shane away made things worse for you. You always knew that Shane looked at you sometimes a bit too long. When the world was still whole, you kind of liked it - being noticed felt good, especially by an older man with a bright career. Now it made you break out in goosebumps. Your neck hair would rise and without turning you would know that Shane would be staring at you.

It started small - a conversation here and there, a small compliment about her sharpening skills of knifes or her really good hiding skills from the other women. It still gave you the creeps but what should you do? Shane didn't to anything at first. But after Otis died, Shane changed. The crazed look in his eyes. Sometimes he would drink in the evening before he would press himself against you, his breath ghosting across your throat and cheeks. After that the touches started. It grossed you out - so much, that you tried to find a reason to sleep with Dale in the Camper. It wasn't possible, after all there was only one sport to sleep in.

But Dale knew something wasn't right.

And on one evening, while sitting together on the roof of the Camper, watching the starts you finally gave in.

"It's Shane.", would be all you would say. You still remember how Dale would straighten his back, his eyes getting serious when he turned all of his attention towards you.

"What did he do?" There wasn't doubt in his voice. It didn't waver. It was like he always knew something wasn't right with Shane. He saw Shane and knew he was danger.

"He just… He-" You could talk about it. Just thinking about it made you tear up. And finally those tears fell when Dale circled his arms around you, pressing you against his warm body, shushing softly against your frizzled hair. It just made you sob harder. In a world without any true rules and consequences, you couldn't do a thing. And even though Rick and Shane were fighting, it was his best friend, he wouldn't believe you. And Dale knew that.

So instead he gently swayed both of you while you used every strength in your body to talk and tell him about everything. Dale was your saving grace. He never doubted you.

"You will sleep in the Camper. I will take your tent." His words would have a final tone. Arguing with him would be unwise, his opinion was set in stone.

"But your back!" The small chuckle from Dale would make you smile. You always teased him with being too old.

"I think I will manage. It is far more important that you feel finally safe again."

When Dale lead you into the Camper and helped you into bed, his eyes were soft.

"You are a true blessing and you deserve to feel safe and loved. You will always be welcome with me." To be honest, it made you cry again but now they were finally happy tears.

It was a memory you never wanted to forget in this forsaken world. It would be a memory which would keep you alive, even in the toughest of moments, even after Dale died.

[smutinlove]

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ʙᴜʀɴ ʜᴀʀᴅ—ᴄᴀʀʟ ɢʀɪᴍᴇꜱ—chapter six: meddlesome

Chapter five: I watch as you're leaving

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"Look at me. Come on, open your eyes." A voice softly whispered into her ear. Mae opened her eyes. She looked around for a second, feeling confused. "What?" she muttered to herself. She got up. Mae groaned. She knew she didn't hear that. And if she did, then it would go away eventually. "Don't ignore me, stupid," she heard. Mae rolled her eyes. She was imagining the voice. She didn't hear it at all. She kept telling herself. Mae felt a bit hungry. So, she decided to go downstairs. (Trying to forget the voice too.) And that's when she heard knocking on the door. "Rick!" Someone shouted. Mae's eyes widened. She was supposed to be alone at the Grimes family home. "Hello?" a voice called out. "It's Shane!" Mae's eyes widened. "Motherfucker." She muttered. Mae didn't know why, but the thought of Shane made her sick to her stomach. She walked towards the door and looked through the peephole. There stood a man, whom she knew was named Shane. She knew him as the 'probable father of Judith "Grimes." Judith looked a bit like him too. Mae rolled her eyes. Shane was a handsome man, but she didn't trust him. Even though she never talked to him, she knew he probably had sex with Carl's mom, Lori. "Carl?" She heard the man sigh loudly. "I guess there's no one home," he muttered to himself. Slowly, the man walked away. Mae let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. She felt slightly uneasy. "Look at me! Fucking notice me!" She heard the same high-pitched voice yell. Only, it wasn't a yell. Mae knew it was all in her head. And to her, she was probably going insane. But it didn't matter. Mae stepped away from the door and made her way into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed the half-empty jug of water. And she poured herself some water into a glass. She put the jug back inside and took a sip of water. "Stop ignoring me, you piece of fucking shit!" She heard. This time, the voice was louder. "Don't ignore me like you ignored Shane." And that did it for Mae. "Shut up! Just shut up!" She screamed. A face she never wanted to see appeared in front of her. "It's me, love! Elyssa Frank. But since we've known each other for so long, you can call me Ely!" "No! I don't want to call you anything! You're not real!" Mae felt rage. She didn't want to talk to anyone. Especially to something that isn't real. She didn't want to fall for her brain's tricks. She wasn't a fool. "Listen." "No. I don't think I will," she said. "Go away, Elyssa!" She yelled. And Elyssa was gone. Extinct? No. But she was gone. And now Mae could rest easy. But she had another problem. Shane. Luckily, Shane had left already. But Mae was a bit meddlesome. She was always involved in other people's business. Whether it concerned her or not. Like the time when her mother's best friend, Julia, was accused of murder, Mae solved the case in two days.

Julia didn't murder anyone. And the supposed "victim," Evan Johnson Wayne, faked his death. Why? Because Julia owed him money. And she wasn't able to pay him back. Mae was proud of herself. But then again, she wasn't. She knew that anyone could've solved that case. She wasn't Enola Holmes. Nor was she Sherlock. She was Mae. Just Mae. But this new version of Mae was better. And stronger and smarter in so many different ways. She was Mae Carter, the daughter of the cunning Edmund Carter and the graceful Willow Carter. (Sure, she heavily disliked her parents for being strict and controlling, but she was proud that she was their daughter.) She bowed her head and closed her eyes. She imagined who she'd be in the next ten years. A detective, a journalist, a model, an actress, a cashier, a reporter-and the list went on and on. But it never ended. But for today, she had one objective. That wasn't to become a detective or a journalist. But to figure out if Judith 'Grimes' was Shane's daughter and not Ricks.

[lavenderdaisychain]

A/N: Hey yall! First and foremost: If you’ve read this before this no you haven’t. This is my first time posting this Anyways! This is my first long-form story so of course I chose the longest show known to man!

Thank you to my lovely beta reader: @ebodebo (go follow her) for putting up w my constant talk of rewriting (turns out you do need 5 chapters of filler lol) and being my all around soundboard. I’m so excited for the things we have planned! Enough yapping let’s get on with it!

TW: gore, violence, strong language, mature content

… - - - … … - - - … … - - - … … - - -… … - - - …

Chapter one- The World Is Ending

August 26th, 2010-

The beeping of hospital monitors haunted my sleep. I’d been spending every night in uncomfortable, plastic, hospital chairs for as many nights as my mom allowed. My father Rick Grimes had been shot in the line of duty 2 weeks ago and had fallen into a coma from the blood loss.

I stayed with him when my mom worked so he wasn’t alone. I’d tell him about school, keep him updated on Carl and read to him, praying he could hear me. A fresh vase of flowers at least made the room bright for when he’d wake up.

But right now I was sleeping, or trying anyway. I could feel a thin hospital blanket on me. Theo, one of the hospital's CNAs, harassed me about taking care of myself and usually I fell asleep fully clothed in their shitty chairs without a blanket.

“Peaches?” The voice behind her made Victoria practically jump out of her seat.

“Jesus Shane….you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” Victoria asked harshly. She never liked Shane, even as a little girl they butted heads. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine why Rick would hang out with him after work.

“Victoria we need to go. Now.” He spoke quickly, making his way to her dads bed and kneeling down beside him. “Rick, if you’re gonna wake up now’s the time man, shits going down and we need to leave.”

“Shane,” Victoria laughed half heartedly “what are you talking about?” Just when she thought he was finally losing it, gunfire started to ring out from outside the door. Shane pulled Nadia down under him as she screamed. Shane covered her mouth and she would’ve bit him in different circumstances.

I mean who the hell would open fire in a hospital?!

Victoria could feel the tears start to well as Shane begged her father to wake up so they could leave, telling him that if we stayed they’d all die. After a few minutes of bargaining Shane picked her up and dragged her out of the room.

“No!” She tried to push against his grip but he was incredibly strong. Victoria kicked and pulled until Shane pushed her into a hallway, begging her to be quiet or else they’d be found. She peaked around the corner, Shane pulled a gurney in front of Rick’s room. There was blood everywhere, screams and gunfire echoed down the hall. Shane grabbed her arm and they ran from the hospital, Victoria broke down when they got to his pickup.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Victoria hit Shane’s arm as hard as she could over and over and over until she didn’t have it in her anymore. She knew he was hurting too but didn’t care. He left her dad there to die.

“Peaches I had to.”

“Don’t call me peaches Shane. My dad is fucking dead.”

Shane sighed again, the truck roared to life as we peeled out of the parking lot. She stared out the window, thinking of her dad. Would he die? Would they leave a comatose man’s body to sort himself out? What if he woke up and everyone was gone?

Victoria and her father had always been close. She was the stereotypical ‘daddy’s girl’, hell as soon as she was old enough to hold a rifle without falling over she and her dad had gone hunting every season.

He taught her how to cook, she knew all his favorite bands and all the words to every corny song that he absolutely loved. Sometimes when Carl was a baby she and Rick would sneak out and go to the 7/11 down the block just to get candy and rent cheesy movies to watch together….and now they’d never share those moments again.

“We’re here.”

Shane’s voice broke Victoria from her daze, she looked out the window to see her mom and brother already packed up ready to hit the road. “Go’n and pack a bag, I’ll talk to your mama and Carl.”

Carl.

He was only 10…and now he’s going to find out he’ll never see his dad again and the world might be ending?? He’ll never get those moments hunting alone with his dad as the sun breaks the day. Or watch cheesy movies with her and their dad when Victoria would be home from college. She could feel the bile rising once again as she made her way past her family and into her room.

Victoria had a typical 17 year olds room. Honestly, the floor was littered with laundry she needed to do as well as some CDs she’d rummaged through that morning. Her walls were a neon teal, they’d mostly been covered with posters of movies and bands, and paintings she’d created out of boredom. She tried to soak in every inch of her room in case she’d never see it again. As she started to pack she took a Polaroid off her wall.

“Jeez Anthony….you should be at practice right around now. Please be safe.”

She tucked the Polaroid of her and her best friend into the pocket of her backpack and kept packing. Just the essentials: a couple pairs of jeans, some tee shirts, boots, hat, dads hunting jacket, socks…toothbrush? Definitely a toothbrush. A hairbrush and a few notebooks and pens (and some comic books for Carl). She also made the decision to pack her hunting rifle in case they got stuck foraging for food, as well as a heavy knife.

She threw her bag into the back of the truck so that no one would suspect how heavy it was. Her mom and brother were crying into Shane as he had just broken the news. Or however he’d spun the story…but Victoria knew the truth that Shane had abandoned his “best friend”. Shane loaded everyone up into the truck and said they’d be headed to Atlanta and that the military would help them.

“Are we going to die?”

While it was spoken barely above a whisper, the question jolted Victoria out of her daydreamed haze. She looked down at her brother Carl who was laying in her lap.

“No baby. Because I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe, and so will mom and Shane.” Victoria tried her best to reassure him, rubbing his back softly. She’d instructed him to lay in her lap so he couldn’t see the panic that the rest of the world was in.

Before they knew it, they’d left King County and were headed to Atlanta. Victoria fiddled with her cross necklace, Carl had fallen asleep leaving the truck uncomfortably quiet.

The Grimes weren’t really a religious family but Victoria did usually attend Wednesday night Youth Group with her best friend Anthony. The necklace was a gift from him.

Anthony. There he was on her mind again, she’d thought about calling him but Lori demanded she save her battery incase of emergency. Anthony Smith had been her best friend since middle school. They did everything together and were practically attached at the hip when they saw each other. He was a year older than her but that never mattered in how close they were.

Anthony was actually quite soft spoken, and smart as a whip. He was a tall kid, probably standing at about 6’3. He was built like an athlete, but he had to be with Track and field. They actually became friends at a track meet in sixth grade and kept up with eachother daily through AOL and Skype. And obviously only hung around each other at said meets. Anthony’s dad was a PE teacher and Coach so he definitely fueled the athletic fire in both kids. Anthony has always been a sweet kid and even when he was an asshole Victoria could never be mad at-

“Victoria! Get your head out of the clouds I’m talking!”

Victoria jolted in her seat, there she was daydreaming again. Lori was giving her daughter quite the concerned look.

“Where are we mom?” Victoria looked out the window to see full bumper to bumper traffic.

“Outside of Atlanta but as you can see we’re stuck in traffic” Shane answered from outside, with quite an annoyed tone Victoria noticed. She ignored Shane and hopped out of the truck so she could stretch her legs.

“Where’s Carl? I think I threw some comic books in my bag, I’m sure he’s bored out of his mind sitting here.” Victoria looked around and spotted Carl a few cars down playing checkers with a girl who looked to be about his age. She had a short blonde bob and a smile as bright as the sun.

Victoria smiled in amusement and made her way to the car with her mom. “Someone has a cru-ush!” She teased in a sing-song voice. She yelped when Carl turned around and smacked her arm as hard as he could.

“Mo-om!!! Carl hit me!”

“Don’t tease your brother then!” She laughed. Victoria rolled her eyes and fluffed her brother's hair before sitting behind him to watch the kids play. Right as she sat down a woman came from the front of the car with waters. She was a smaller woman with buzzed gray hair.

“Oh! You must be Victoria, I’m Carol!” She had a smile just as bright as Sofias, Victoria made a mental note that they must be related. She smiled and thanked her for the water, and as she took a sip Carl enacted his revenge.

“You say I have a crush on a girl I just met when you’ve been after Anthony since forever.” Victoria showered the back of Carls with the water she had just taken a sip of and was prepared to cuss him out when the commotion started. Bombs were dropping into Atlanta.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Victoria screamed as she pulled the kids down to the ground underneath Carol’s car. She moved her body over the both of them so they would be shielded if anything came down.

The rest of the night was a blur. Shane grabbed everyone’s bags from the truck, grunting as he lifted Victoria's particularly heavy bag. They ran into the woods with Carol, her husband Ed, and Sophia. There were screams in the distance and somehow Victoria and the kids got separated. She held onto both of them tightly. They ran until they came up on a high spot with a small clearing.

“Stop right there.” The shotgun barrel was aimed right between Victoria's eyes. They widened with fear as she put both her hands in front of her slowly.

“Sir, we’re just trying to get off the road…I have two small kids with me, please.”

The man’s aim faltered at the sight of the kids. Victoria rushed him, taking the gun and pointing it back at him. It probably wasn’t her smartest move but she had Sophia and Carl to look out for. There was a shriek behind her and Victoria whipped around just in time to shoot a man who was trying to get Sophia. Wait…what the hell?

Victoria slowly crept up to the man. He looked pale, his eyes were white and glossy and there was fresh blood around his mouth.

“Good aim kid. I’m sorry I pointed that thing at you. I just had to make sure you weren’t like him. The names Dale, you kids can stay with me and the girls tonight and we’ll look for your crew in the morning.” Dale smiled at her warmly, he was an older man judging by his white hair. But he had kind eyes and it was late so Victoria decided he could he trusted for the night.

She nodded, grabbing the kids as they headed into Dale's RV. There were two blonde girls sitting on the couch. One older one younger, Victoria figured they were probably sisters.

“Dale, who are they?” The older blonde asked, glaring at the three kids.

“Easy Andrea, the older one can take out those things like you wouldn’t believe!” Dale smiled back at Victoria. “They’re just staying for the night and…I didn’t get your name sweetheart?”

“Victoria. Victoria Grimes.”

… - - - … … - - - … … - - - … … - - -… … - - - …

[shalentino]

they are fast and definitely furious

[bambieyedoll]

⊹ ⋆ ꒰ఎﾟMOODBOARD ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

shane walsh x captured!reader

“honey, i’m home” you heard shane’s voice and soon enough, the front door being locked again. his footsteps getting closer to your shared bedroom where you laid with the couple of books he had brought you days ago as a gift. “there you are, i missed you” his eyes softened when he saw you, relieved to know you were still there. he took precautions, assured you it was safer for you to stay home and after months, you believed it. his rough hand caressed your cheek as he leaned down and gently kissed your forehead as natural it could be.

[swiftiesforpeeta]

everybody wants their fav to have a villain arc until it happens and you can’t even look at them because it’s so tragic and then you die

[anna-hawk]

Title: Us, Character: Shane pls I am in desperate need of more Shane content

Send me a character or ship + a title

“You gonna come with me?”

It had been one week since Shane had asked you that question. One week since you'd said yes. And yet, the two of you were still here, at the farm.

With every additional day going by, Shane felt more and more antsy. He and Rick had come to a sort of truce, but both men knew that the rift between them had grown too large to be mended. Shane couldn't help the pang of sadness at losing his best friend after decades of them going through thick and thin. Times had changed… Everything had changed. Them included.

While Shane was cleaning his rifle on the porch steps, he watched you talking animatedly with Maggie, Dale sitting on his beloved RV and adding a comment here and there as he was wont to do. Shane couldn't hear what you were saying, but he still smiled as you burst out into laughter at something Maggie said. The smile fell from his face a second later, replaced by a contemplative frown, his eyes lowering to the weapon instead. Contrary to him, you got along with almost everyone. You'd clashed with Dale a time or two, and the way you rolled your eyes at some of the older man's comments had Shane snorting in amusement each time. The person you got along with the least, though, was Lori. It wasn't so much that you fought a lot, although you'd had a few heated arguments in the months since you'd joined the group, but more that you and Rick got along really well. She obviously didn't appreciate the fact that he kept looking for your input on things, no matter if he didn't like what he heard. Lori's jealous side would have made Shane laugh if he hadn't been feeling the same way. Because while Lori was the person you liked the least, Shane was the one you spent the most time around. You might agree with some of the things that Rick said, but you still shared Shane's opinions. You had from the day you'd joined the group back in the woods.

The thing was that while the attraction was clearly mutual from the get go, neither of you had tried moving things along. Shane didn't really know why, but the timing just seemed off every time. Which was ridiculous, to be honest, considering what the world had become. It wasn't like he could ask you on a date. Your lives were hanging on by a thread if you weren't careful even for a second, so he should have just gone for it the couple of times you had come close to kissing.

It had been with this in mind that he'd decided to pull you aside after announcing to everyone that he would be leaving the group soon. He had expected you to think about it for a while before giving your answer, but you'd surprised him by agreeing on the spot. Just like that. As if it should have been obvious to him.

As he reloaded the rifle, Shane sighed to himself as he thought about how well you fit into the group. He looked up again to see you flip Dale off behind his back, which had Shane smiling. It felt bittersweet. Because he realized that he couldn't offer you anything by asking you to leave with him. Granted, nothing was certain anymore, but at least here you had some sort of stability. People to count on. The possibility to survive. Going with him into the unknown suddenly felt like too much to ask of you.

Putting the rifle next to him, Shane lifted his hand in a small wave as you turned around to see him watching you and waved at him with an impish grin and a roll of your eyes in Dale's direction. Shane chuckled despite the leaden feeling in his gut at the decision he'd just taken as you followed Maggie to the other side of the field.

He spent the rest of the day preparing his departure. He chose to leave without telling anyone, since he'd already said that he'd leave. The only one he went to was Rick. If only to ask him to say goodbye to Carl for him. The boy would be his only regret. Shane purposely didn't think about you as he thought about regrets.

Car loaded and ready to go, Shane waited until close to sunrise before leaving. As he neared the car, he came up short at the sight of the figure leaning against the driver's side, their arms crossed loosely.

“So you were really just going to leave without me.”

It was a statement, not a question. Shane opened the back door and slung the backpack into the car before closing it again.

“Listen-”

“Don't you dare,” you cut across angrily. “Don't you dare serve me the bullshit you came up with that made you think that you had to leave on your own.”

“I have nothing to offer you,” Shane yelled in frustration and definitely a note of despair. “They do.” He pointed at the farm.

“Then why ask me? Why ask me to come with you if you were just gonna leave without me in the end?”

“'Cause I was a fuckin' idiot, and I thought…”

“What?” you asked as Shane didn't continue.

Shane rubbed over his shaved head and heaved a long sigh.

“I thought I could be enough,” he paused for a second. “Here? You have a chance, sweetheart. You're safe. You fit in with them… I don't. Not anymore. But I can't ask you to leave all of this behind for me.”

You didn't say anything for the longest time as you just watched him. You finally pushed off the car and came to stand just a few inches away from him.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I only stayed with the group because of you? Yeah, maybe I fit in, as you said, but…” You looked away for a brief moment before looking at Shane again. “I trust that Rick will do his best to keep them safe. But if we leave together, I know that we will keep each other safe. Us safe.”

Shane's breath got stuck in his throat for a moment at your words. How could that tiny word change everything?

“Us,” he croaked, and saw you smile as the first rays of sunlight hit your face from the side.

“Us,” you breathed, lifting your hands to cup his face and finally pull him in for a long kiss.

[severussnapedamagedlove]

MORE THAN A ONE TRICK PONY - - - - > UPDATE

Chapter Two

Read fully at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14201958/2/More-Than-A-One-Trick-Pony

Read a little just below ;)

When they returned to camp, Dale was the first to acknowledge their approach. His arm waved high in the distance atop an old motorhome. A long rifle hanged from a strap on his shoulder. A pair of binoculars at his chest.

Laini waved back. Her lips curled to a small smile.

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Shane shake his head a little. A tongue stuck to the inside of his cheek. A sharper crunch to the gravel beneath their feet.

           “Things alright?” Dale called when they were in earshot.

Shane grumbled. He hurried to the ladder that climbed to the top of the RV. “Everything’s fine, Dale.”

The way Shane had bolted after her probably left the camp wondering. It was not his way to abandon his role. The moment they all stepped off the highway together to watch the city be eviscerated by army jets, he took command of the wandering horde of lost survivors, making the camp what it was, with water and as many amenities as they could muster without being too close to populated areas.

They were lucky to search the highway for supplies left in cars. It gave them a nice jump start on building their camp.

Many of the survivors were incredible people. Helpful, resourceful, and unafraid to bond. Some, however, were the exception. Two brothers named Merle and Daryl were unpleasant. Their hick accents ran thick, as did the venom on their tongues if either were tempted to anger by the slightest provocation. Shane being their trigger with his idiotic sheriff’s cap and condescending tone when it came to the pair. It was obvious they were not the type to respect law enforcement.

Not that she blamed them either. Sometimes she was met with a side of Shane she was not fond of. The way he thrived on a built-up sense of power by his badge. It’d been the cause of much upset in her decision to continue hooking up, back when there were little things to consider like how she would tell her friends she was actively seeing a sheriff’s deputy, not the sharpening of weapons and never going to sleep without a perimeter check.

The Dixon’s, shockingly, were not the most uncomfortable to be around. Even the younger brother seemed unsteady near Ed Peletier, a man there with his wife and young daughter, who only ever seemed to yell as his family and treat them as dogs while he reclined in a seat and offered nothing but a snide comment.

Laini eyed the man at his campsite in his folding chair with a few fingers tucked inside the waist of his jeans as his wife slaved over a blaring fire with large pots steaming in her face. Poor Carol. Her body was thin and frail. She gripped the large spoon tightly, with effort, to stir the water until it reached the peak of its boil for ten minutes.

Ed just watched. He made no move to help. A shred of compassion, absent on the man’s face.

           “Lain,” Shane’s voice called.

She raised her focus to the top of the RV.

           “Go on and fetch my canteen out the tent, will you?”

He squatted on the edge of the RV when she returned. Her toes went rigid as she raised it high enough for him to reach.

           “Thank you, baby girl.” Shane said. He glanced over his shoulder to check Dale’s position. “We’ve talked about this. Just stay away from them.”

Her hands drifted to her hips. “It isn’t right.”

           “Right.” He shook his head. “All right in the world is gone. It is everyone for themselves now. And as long as he is leavin’ everyone else be, I expect him to be left alone.”

Laini glared up against the sun at the dark shadow of a man she truly despised for putting that distinction on her like a god damn simpleton. She could see that the world was different. But it shouldn’t have mattered. Refugees of society or not, they were still human. They had to stand for something.

           “Hey. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve got enough on my plate with half our able-bodied camp in that city right now. I can’t be throwin’ anyone out. Even if he is a bastard.” His eyes drifted upward to the man who now barked at Carol to fetch him a portion of the reserved rations. The slender woman jumped at the sound of his voice. She softly explained the rations were for everyone. Ed did not like the answer. He said something that Laini couldn’t make out, and whatever it was, got Carol hopping over to fetch it for him. “Who knows. One day, he might be useful.”

           “For what?” She scowled. “To show you how to slap me around without leaving a bruise.”

KEEP READING AT THE LINK ABOVE on Fanfiction.com

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[alessabriel]

Blurry ir Sharp.

Summary: With those little eyes always watching him, there was a reason to be good and that was the truth, she brought out the best in him without even trying. Until he wasn't good anymore.

Cw. Platonic in that it's a father-uncle relationship of Shane with Charlie, Lili it is a pet name Shane gives to Charlie(Reader), pure unadulterated Angst, typical canon violence, death of the main character (Reader who will have name Charlie only but no appearance), if you like Lori please don't read it save this because it will hurt, blood and death, graphic descriptions of violence, use of high-flown words.

✄— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Shane knew that relatively speaking he was not a good person, if lusting after his best friend's wife was anything like a requirement to score because it was. But just as he knew there was a cruel streak in his heart, he tried to hide the goodness at all costs even if he lost his fingernails trying to push that soft, harmless, vulnerable, white part of his subconscious down, he tried, he tried but he could never quite do it. It was bad, he knew it and so did Rick but Rick being Rick never let it go, never.

He had a good friend and he himself was a bad friend, he knew it.

Desiring someone else's woman was not normally his style and not his common modus operandi, it was not a characteristic of his properly practiced only step, or maybe in that vacuum he wanted to hold on to what would hurt him the most, what would hurt the only person who believed in him with his eyes closed. Because he knew Rick Grimes was that good, that's how good he believed in him and it was so heartbreakingly painful to acknowledge it, to acknowledge that he could stab Rick and he would try to believe (or create, who knows) a motive behind his action. Was it supposed to feel that painful to have a friend? Was it supposed to feel that way? Because it was so painful and sometimes so rewarding.

Selfishly he wanted it to keep hurting, to burn on the skin all the way to the bones.

He was a selfish man, he always knew that.

But, he couldn't do that to Rick; hurt him more than Lori already did. He could see it, fuck wearing the uniform of a Sheriff's deputy, he could see it in those eyes that he had seen for so many years, anguished, dull, tired and full of boredom from start to finish. He didn't know, he was somewhat allergic to commitment (except for keeping his hands to himself and away from Lori) so sometimes he would blurt out comments of genuine support among others that were just light teasing that made his friend laugh sarcastically, wearily but it was a laugh all the same. Rick Grimes was one of his friends, the best he loved or hated at the same time, he was an unpleasantly sweet amalgam that always lived inside his chest; behind the bones of his ribs between soft and bloody organs that still throbbed, an amalgam that he would fight not to let go but would fight to keep the balance.

A delicate balance.

Like the one he always saw Rick maintain in his life, it was like watching a movie that you know will end badly but you clearly can't communicate to the main characters and protagonists that the sleazy killer was inside the hall closet they were about to walk through, it felt like watching a movie you didn't want to see. And then it happened, his friend had children; twins or twins (he didn't know and couldn't remember exactly), two little things he saw in the hospital named Carl and Charlie, he felt at that moment like crying holding two little things so vulnerable, with their little faces all scrunched up from having stimuli they weren't used to but wanted to touch everything.

Lori and Rick's children were beautiful, she always knew.

And he thought, maybe, maybe he could see what his best friend would be better at, right? He always heard from his colleagues at the station that a child soothed, healed their marriages and brought them together in the painful process of caring for their babies, it was a process of going crazy between little humans depending on them and dealing with everything. It was wrong, and she saw it all the time when there was some disdain in Lori for Charlie but not for Carl, something about Carl being easier to take care of but not Charlie.

Wasn't a mother supposed to love her two children always?

It was a question on the tip of his tongue as he watched Rick care for Charlie more than Carl, not because of preference but because Lori prioritized Carl and he knew, at the time that Lori only wanted one child, not two and that hurt Rick in a way that no beating, punch or bullet could How would he feel in that situation? He didn't know. Broken, maybe? Who knows. So he found himself being the good friend, helping to take care of Charlie who as a baby was a quiet child, big-eyed and always curious even when she could only babble and gurgle as her main communication.

That's how Charlie grew up, with a mother moderately present and a father (two fathers, Rick always joked when helping him take care of Charlie) present.

Watching a girl, a daughter grow up was both sweet and bitter because he loved Charlie as a daughter but she was not his daughter which tore him apart in a thousand ways, in ways no one ever could.

He stopped wishing, longing for his best friend's wife but instead longing for a daughter (Charlie specifically).

He was selfish, he knew.

It was bad, he recognized that.

It was just plain disturbing? Maybe, but with Charlie in his arms everything was better and the sun always shone brighter, the breeze was cooler and he felt like less of a bad person.

The twins were always close, a strange and very unconventional union that he saw in Carl and Charlie, they could talk to each other without needing to talk, they fought but they were silly childish fights, they understood each other without any need to speak or express it and even according to Rick they both had that creepy language of their own, although Rick said it with a laugh.

He was envious of the life Rick had but at the same time he didn't want his life; having a wife who didn't love you and was looking for the slightest opportunity to fight must not be pleasant. He himself had dated countless women, casual encounters and a few relationships here and there that never became formalized because commitment made him allergic (except for the commitment to be the best uncle in the world that his two little nephews put on his shoulders).

That was a beautiful memory and one that always made him feel better when everything weighed, it had been his birthday and far from Rick or his family (with whom he didn't talk much) they knew it, but Rick always insisted on celebrating it and even Lori so he always gave in, feigning annoyance but the twins when they were already seven had gone out of their way to buy him a present themselves, a chain with a number 22 on it which wasn't the best (he knew because well they were kids who got money by doing favors for the older neighbors in their area) but it was like giving him diamonds, number 22 because it was the number he wore when he played soccer Carl had said and because gold looked nice on him Charlie had argued, followed by putting a crown on it; to the best uncle in the world who squeezed his heart; to see Carl always the quiet little boy and his little sister Charlie always quieter than he was. It was the best gift, and he would never take it away.

Taking care of his nephews was easy, it made him feel light, like he was floating, everything was easier with them. That's how he watched them grow up, they were two little gremlins that he sincerely adored although Charlie adored him more, he always wanted him to go to every event he had at school; theater even if it was a tree, when he started archery and when they gave her some recognition, and Rick always without fail passed him those little invitations created by hand by Charlie's handwriting that he always kept.

They were simple nephews, not because taking care of kids was easy (hell no, sometimes they were hard but that was part of it).

Where Carl was more of a treasurer of some object or present; like comics, some book that would interest him, some toy like the toy gun that he always kept in his room and the comics well kept for a little boy.

With Charlie it was more presence than presents, he didn't ask for many presents but he always asked for his dad Rick's presence and always next to Rick was him, without fail, and Rick was never jealous or anything.

They were both parents. He had heard over the station from his buddies when they saw their wallpaper; a picture of the twins on a day camp with Rick carrying Carl on his shoulders and himself carrying Charlie in his arms, both kids with huge smiles on their faces from sleeping in tents and having a campout.

They were simple children to please and make happy.

Until Rick fell into a coma induced by his injuries in a chase, having to watch Carl and Charlie crumble like a sand castle was painful, as if someone was removing layer by layer of skin from his own body. Was that what it felt like when his mother as a teenager told him that parents felt their children's pain? Properly they weren't his children, but as if they were.

His best friend's coma seemed to be the prelude, the synopsis of a book that if he had only read it would have left his skin crawling with the amount of anguish he would feel as he read each chapter but no, it was his life now; violent attacks here and there, an outbreak of a virus that no one knew what it was because it was not influenza because he knew it did not provoke violent and cannibalistic attacks. The police, being in the position of sheriff while his friend was recovering, saw firsthand the result of riddling those who cannibalized others in the streets of King County, some drug had been speculated at the station until the authorities above could no longer hide anything. A new virus that no one understood was bringing everyone back to life, he heard that and immediately went for Rick but even though he wanted to take him his friend was in a coma, he was barely moving and he couldn't unplug him or he would die.

He felt like the worst human being on the face of the earth when he left the room, leaving a stretcher locked to the door and the curtains closed so no one would see him.

Everything was fast, his instinct kicked in; he had filled his Jeep with supplies and weapons, because he saw all his companions fleeing for their families when he returned to the station winding through walkers (as he heard they referred to those that ate humans) to Rick's house to get his family out, if he left Rick behind at least he could go for his family; Lori, Carl and Charlie.

They left King County with their soul in a thread and fear in their veins.

The fear never left him, being the leader (as he always longed to be, weaving envy of his friend) was not easy, it was stressful, tiring, exhausting and destroyed his bones, maybe that's why he got involved with Lori (or maybe because he never forgot that desire that intensified when he took care of the children, he wanted Rick's family or to be Rick's family, the crisis did not allow him to decide). The camp was kept well away from any town, away from the road and near a quarry. They were doing well, until that group had to go for supplies.

A bad feeling settled in his gut but he tried hard not to think about it, they were strong and would return.

But he never thought it would all go to shit so bad, he couldn't get mad at Rick for going back to his family but he could get mad at Lori (because he wanted to blame someone, he had to blame someone). The quiet camp was attacked by walkers from one instant to another; Amy died, everyone gathered protecting and there were many walkers, he tried hard to order the children to stay behind their mothers but when they finished with everyone with the help of the group that returned (looking for Merle as if he cared outside that he was a good asset to protect the group), was when he saw him; among the chaos as if in slow motion, enlivened with Andrea's screams for her sister.

Charlie had been surrounded in her attempt to run after Lori, because Lori prioritized Carl...again. A walker had her against the ground as she struggled, shot and ran to her, hugging her as she shoved the walker off her but cold terror seized him as he held her in his arms, not caring that there were walkers still.

"I-I don't want to be one of them" sobbed Charlie's broken little voice, clinging to him with all her might, little hands squeezing the fabric of his shirt with all her might "I-I don't want to Uncle Shane".

He never felt what it was like to have ice creep into his bones, never experienced that feeling until now seeing the bite on Charlie's shoulder, not when his blood covered her hands and part of her cheek when he hugged her, but seeing her crying little face from fear, from terror tore at his soul as if a walker had bitten him and he wished it had been him. That it was him who had been bitten.

Why?

"It will be all right Lili, it will be all right" he found himself saying, to the frightened little girl who watched her with eyes full of pain, of recognition and it was the most painful, the most cruel thing Charlie knew, he knew how it would end "L-Lili, it will be all b..."

She struggled to be able to speak, to want to give her comfort like those days at camp where she was excited but she was afraid of the sounds of the forest but didn't want to express it because Carl you were excited to spend days in the forest, but maybe her eyes were too expressive because Charlie cried, cried more silently trying not to make noise and could only hug her, hug her tight.

She disconnected from everything, hearing the cries of Carl fighting against his parents to see Charlie but she stood q with Charlie's small body in her arms, hiding the wound.

Everyone understood.

He couldn't blame Rick for trying to hold Carl back, that he didn't see what happened to Charlie so he really didn't separate from Charlie, holding her close and letting her cry on his chest. Even if his knees ached from standing on rocks it didn't matter, he could rip his heart out if it would erase the horrendous wound on Charlie's thin shoulder; nicks on the skin that opened the flesh until he could see inside the flesh where blood was pouring out relentlessly even if he squeezed the wound in a vain attempt to keep her from bleeding out, because his mind was blocked; if he kept her from bleeding out maybe, just maybe she wouldn't go away.

But he could feel her crying, moaning from the pain and clinging tightly to his clothes, begging not to turn, not to leave. Not to let him hold her, and he didn't, he didn't, he didn't.

It was the worst night of his entire life, surpassing all those nights where he felt like the worst human being in the universe, where he tried to commit suicide as a young man because he felt empty, when he understood that he was envious of his best friend but not envious of the pain he felt. It was the night that would mark his soul forever, enlivened with Carl's semi-drowned screams asking to see his sister, blurting out profanities when his parents stopped him with all their might.

How would it feel to lose a twin? He didn't know but seeing the reflection in one of the cars as Rick and Lori barely managed to keep Carl, he even saw him clawing at the ground trying to get away, punching and kicking in between sobs to go, but they wouldn't let go and when he saw his friend, he knew.

How could a father kill his daughter?

«You're her father too Shane, don't take credit for it»

She held Charlie's body, squeezing it in an attempt to keep the life from draining out of her, to keep the virus from making a dent in her but in the middle of the night with the painful silence all around being broken even by Carl crying, pleading he wanted to see his sister or sometimes he had the strength to keep fighting clawing, kicking and wanting to scream. He understood Carl, he himself wanted to scream until his lungs gave no more, until he felt his vocal cords tear and let the fucked up universe know that he hated it, hated this fucked up world.

With her eyes filled with new tears, she gently slid her hair off her forehead outlining her features, the same features she would never have the chance to see mature and grow into what she wanted to be; which varied from being a hairstylist one day, a firefighter one day, a model the next and a garbage collector the next (she never knew why) until she and her twin agreed to become cops; just like him and Rick.

Carl wanted to be the deputy sheriff and Charlie the Sheriff, they had even created paper and cardboard badges imitating the real ones.

He slid his finger down his nose having to force himself to hold back the sobs, and the crying. She stroked the hair Charlie wanted to let grow, that she dreamed of being able to braid into braids.

"Y-You know something Charlie?" he questioned softly, only to Charlie who barely managed to open his eyes no longer in tears only sharp pain that he couldn't stop "I had a-learned to do your hair for when your hair grew" he found himself saying, he had practiced countless nights with a colleague at the station who let him practice with the videos he watched as well as she taught him, it tore at his soul to know that now he would not be able to wow his daughter niece with his amazing styling skills (it was kind of terrible) and he could only try to attempt a smile when Charlie smiled, he tried to ignore the blood that was already welling up between his lips "and t-tell you I'm good."

"Y-yes?" question the girl, hardly because the sharp pain so cruel was slowly waning like when she was starting to get sleepy after eating at home, playing in the sun with her twin and feeling that light sleep that made her dizzy, still the girl knew. Charlie wasn't dumb, Uncle Shane let her and Carl know what the walkers were , to not downplay them and know how dangerous they were but when they arrived she had wanted to run into mom's arms but she had taken Carl and Sophia, she was left outside the circle and ran as best she could from the walkers but between running and trying to get to Uncle Shane or Jim she couldn't anymore, the walkers were bigger and she couldn't do more "l-later when we're okay, can you make me u-braid?"

Shane never wanted to kill himself as much as he did now, hearing Charlie's broken and almost slurred little voice, he bit his lips for not crying at the top of his lungs as he wished but instead affirmed, seeing nothing but the little face of his daughter niece who was now covered in cold sweat, blood and a few hairs sticking to her skin from the sweat, the bite on her shoulder was still as violent but now swollen, the blood was still flowing even though he squeezed, still flowing like a slow river between his fingers and those little eyes that always saw him, with which he never felt out of place, little eyes that he loved to see shine.

Never again would he be able to see the beautiful eyes of his little girl?

Maybe his work colleagues were always right, he was a father without knowing it (omitting the joke that he was the wife and Rick was the husband) joke that didn't make him laugh now, just want to scream to the world and to God why should a little girl die like that? Why her? Why her and not him?

He held Charlie as he began to lose strength, listening behind him to Rick crying, to Carl screaming in a muffled way because they were covering his mouth to avoid the noise so as not to attract more walkers. He carried the body of his pretty-eyed little girl who always insisted on riding in the passenger seat of his Jeep, who wanted to dress like the "I want pants like Uncle Shane's!" was a sentence that gave him such a laugh at the time, but right now it was making him want to shoot himself next to his little girl.

It felt painful to have a daughter.

Because Charlie became like a daughter to him even though she would not carry his blood, but she was.

And it hurt like a thousand hells, as if hell was creeping into her blood and there was no cure, like the virus that now ran through Charlie's blood, that was making her slowly lose strength, her breathing becoming so slow, so shallow. That she didn't even notice when Rick approached and out of mere instinct she wanted to pull away, to walk away with Charlie but when the weight of her friend's hand fell on her shoulder she knew, they were leaning.

Why?

He couldn't even look his friend in the eye and he couldn't even let go of Charlie who could barely open his eyes, but to see Rick kiss Charlie's forehead, to promise him that afterwards nothing would hurt anymore and everything would be okay, but he saw it in his eyes; I can't, I can't. It was painful to acquire that commitment, but now he didn't feel allergic it was as if death itself was handing him his oz to do his job, in part it was and feeling Rick hug Charlie even though he wouldn't let go, it felt like goodbye.

"I-I love you Lili, I love you so much, I will love you always" Rick said, trying not to burst into tears and even more so seeing Shane, his friend and brother so destroyed holding his daughter Charlie with the strength of a thousand men but as weak as a dying man, it certainly felt that way, because fuck even though Lori had her twins Charlie was growing between her thigh and Shane, with Carl always holding her hand why did it have to be like this? It had only been days of finding her family again but it hurt so much, she gently ran Charlie's hair backwards seeing his features and longing to memorize them always to never forget them, even more so as his eyes were slowly starting to turn a milky white, and the fever was rising "I a-love you more every day my girl, always and C-Carl loves you, loves you so much, we will always love you baby, always and never stop, never."

And the pain was increasing as Carl again began to scream but Lori to the fair was holding him down, but he was kicking and clawing, begging to see his twin but nothing, even Dale and Darly held him down but still he tried, even clawing at the gravel but he could only see Shane's back and some of Charlie's hair, but even though he tried no one would let him and Carl didn't mind looking crazy, struggling and crying because he felt his shoulder tearing, so close to his neck and a pain he shouldn't feel. Because he wasn't hurt. Carl was fighting so hard, he didn't mind kicking mom or hitting whoever came near him but he had to see him, he wanted to see her and know that everything would be okay, he couldn't lose his sister, he couldn't but Darly was holding him tighter and Dale was keeping him from moving forward.

"P-please mom!" pleaded in a broken voice Carl trying to get out of mom's arms, clawing, biting and kicking Darly and Dale away, struggling even though mom was holding his hands "I-I want to see her!"

That anguished plea brought Shane to tears How do you tell a nine-year-old that his twin could be dangerous? How can you tell a brother that his sister would die from the virus and had to be finished off? Shane felt like death itself holding something beautiful that was withering between his fingers, he was like that a little bit so when Rick hugged him tightly without caring about the blood that covered his hands, his cheek and shirt he understood, Rick couldn't and didn't have the strength to do it, he himself didn't either but he wouldn't tell his best friend, his brother.

He just affirmed, a mild sentiment and Rick retreated with a broken heart.

The sun was gently rising over the horizon letting the rays of sunlight tint the darkness away from the dark tones, the coldness of the night and the stars that took several people in the camp. The cold gradually waned, and dawn broke across the sky, a merciless sun because it would no longer shine on those who died under it.

Shane from hours ago at dawn no longer felt a heartbeat, Charlie's breath had stopped flowing and he saw his little eyes slowly lose their sparkle, he didn't have the strength to see the change in the soft hue of his irises so he gently lowered his eyelids, feeling the strength of his sobs break his throat to come out. He wanted to cry until he was dehydrated, wanted to scream until his vocal cords broke and the blood itself choked him to death. No one told you that carrying the body of your dead daughter would hurt so much, but it hurt as much as if the sun swallowed him and burned his insides to ashes.

"My child" whispered Shane with a broken voice, trying not to scream from the pain he felt tearing that which the walkers nor anyone else could never touch, that impalpable love he could never deliver, that incomprehension of the emptiness he felt but which Charlie took in his small hands with a smile, She pressed her forehead against her daughter niece's forehead shedding tears that fell on her cheeks wiping away the blood and dirt leaving her skin showing, the sun was hot but her being would never feel warm again after seeing her little girl "P-please open your eyes" she begged, desperation in her voice and in a ridiculous attempt that she would come back to life, that she would wake up because she believed that sleeping in her arms was better than alone.

But maybe her waking up was too cruel, because slowly with slight muscle spasms and before Shane's eyes, Charlie slowly opened her eyes but there was no more color just that dull hue and her hands moved, slow as if trying to hold something but they were left just trying to hold something she couldn't.

The camp, refused to see it because of the dull pain they felt.

A family tried to contain a child who was crying at the top of her lungs, as if she felt everything her twin felt.

Shane held the back of Charlie's neck with one hand, watching her react and rise, her body reanimated by the virus and her eyes filled with that dull, gray, milky hue he saw in the walkers but prayed he would never see in Carl or Charlie, but was now witnessing up close, he felt Charlie's little hands try to grab him or hold on to something, in a weak grip only gross not fine motor skills and he put his forehead next to his little daughter's, the daughter who didn't carry his blood but by some chance of fate fell into his life feeling Charlie try to move, He kissed her forehead for the last time remembering the scent of that little girls perfume that Charlie always ordered from the hygiene and beauty section of the mall when he came to go with him, and that he always bought for her even though Lori would get mad at him because Charlie already had several in his room, he always had a weakness for Charlie and right now catching the last vestige of that scent, the scent of home, of his daughter that he would never remember again he separated his lips from the cold skin now and saw her for the last time.

He wanted to memorize her little face.

He wished he could remember her voice.

Never to forget the scent that always accompanied his sweet girl.

He implore heaven that Charlie in another life could live and grow.

The weight of his gun was immense on his hip, it weighed so much it might as well be breaking his bones but he struggled. Shane gave his last efforts, holding the back of Charlie's neck still preventing him from biting him and when he had his hand on his gun, with Carl's hoarse and agonized screams, he pressed the barrel against Charlie's hundred seeing it one last time; it seemed like yesterday he had given to Charlie and Carl's preschool graduation, uncomfortable in that small theater among so many parents applauding for their children, until Rick pulled him to his side because he had reserved three seats. It seemed like yesterday when Charlie would run into his arms when he would visit his friend's house, when he could amaze the twins when he would show them little but cool things.

It seemed like yesterday when his heart adopted a daughter without his consent.

Shane no longer held back the sob that struggled to leave his being, and he closed his eyes for a second to gather strength, seeing his daughter turned and coming back to life, his voice barely coming out with the huge knot of daffodils he felt rooted in his throat "Charlie, I'll see you later, okay? Wherever you are, wherever you go we'll see each other later, I love you and I will always love you, I won't stop loving you any day of my fucking life" he swore, because it was the only and destroying truth his being could harbor, and then he did it he activated the mechanism of his gun pulling the trigger ending everything, listening to the scream at the top of his lungs that Carl gave that maybe Rick or Lori covered with their hands.

That day not only Charlie died, but Shane with her.

✄— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

I really cried writing this, but I wanted soul-wrenching angst and here I am. Lili is still the same affectionate thing Shane named Charlie(Reader), you can request