#dark!walter marshall

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand on your tiptoes, a dangerous choice as you stand on a wooden stool, reaching to clip pegs around the folded edge of the linen sheet. You clasp it over the cord in three places and reel along the length, bending to pull a wet pillowcase from the basket.

“You’re grinding on the clutch,” Walter’s voice carries through the barn door before he emerges, “you need another driving lesson.”

“I know how to drive stick,” your brother, Timothy, argues with the larger man. “It’s not the clutch.”

“Ermph,” the other man grunts in return.

“Thanks for having a look though,” Timothy slaps his arm lightly.

He gets another grumble from the chronically grumpy man. Walter is older than your brother, by quite a bit; and you too. He’s tall and burly and his brow never truly loses its furrow. He’s fonder of your father than Timothy; you’re sure if he didn’t feel some kinship with your father, he’d never venture this far.

Walter is a big, burly man. He has a lumbering gait you can recognise even as he’s at the property’s edge, and his curly hair falls messily around his chiseled face. There’s a touch of silver in one curl but his age doesn’t show otherwise.

You refocus on hanging the laundry. You stand on your toes and strain to clip the beg on the line. The stool wobbles and you put your feet flat, steadying it. You suck in your lower lip and look around. Timothy’s gone, you hear him back in the barn clattering through the toolbox, but Walter remains. He narrows his eyes at you as you give a sheepish smile.

“Hi, Mr. Marshall,” you say.

“Hey,” he returns in his way.

You don’t expect much more so you wind the line further and once more bend to take another piece of clothing. You quickly forget his presence and go back to your precarious game. Back on your toes, the stool tips and you gasp, a scream catching in your throat as you brace yourself for the violent tumble.

You don’t hit the ground though. You barely even tip as you're caught under the arms. You open your eyes as Walter holds you well over the ground. He does so effortlessly. 

“I… Mr. Marshall, thank you,” you breathe.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he grits.

“Um, I know,” you wiggle your feet and look at the ground, “um, can you put me down.” He does just that and you laugh at yourself, “thanks.”

“Hm,” he sidles down to the basket. 

To your surprise he takes out the next sheet and easily throws it over the line. He holds out a hand but you just stare at his calloused palm. What is he doing?”

“Pin,” he demands gruffly.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you step up and place a pin in his hand. His fingers brush around yours as he closes them. You retract your reach as he clasps it over the linen. He puts his hand out for the next and again, you hand one over.

“Don’t do it again,” he says as he grabs the next piece of laundry.

“Mr. Marshall, I won’t, but you don’t need to–”

“It’s fine,” he carries on, set on his mission of putting out the drying. “Your father wouldn’t be happy if I let you hurt yourself.”

“Erm, I guess,” you give him another pin.

He’s silent as his blue gray eyes fixate on his chore. He bends to grab more, drapes the cloth over, and takes a pin to secure it in place. You work in wordless rhythm until the basket is empty and the line is full.

“How is he?” He asks.

You put your hands behind you and wring them, “better. Ma says he’ll be home next week.”

He nods and looks at you. He crosses his arms, straining the fabric of his long-sleeved tee. It’s warm out, enough to dampen his shirt with sweat. Still, he doesn't seem to mind.

“If you need anything,” he peers around the fields, “big place for just you and the other one.”

“Oh, Tim? Yeah, we manage.”

He scratches the scruff on his chin and shifts his stance. You’ve never seen him flinch before, never hesitate or doubt, but in that moment, he seems unsure. He clears his throat and drops his hand.

“Well, have a good day,” he bows his head slightly. “Have your brother take down the laundry.”

You look away guiltily, staring at the stool, “you, too, Mr. Marshall.”

He backs away a few steps and you cautiously glance at his boots as he does. He stops and you hold your breath.

“I don’t mind Walt,” he says.

“Right,” your voice flutters, “Walt.”

He twists on his heel and continues across the grass to the trodden road. He follows it down towards the fence. You tear your gaze away and gather up the basket and the stool. You leave them on the porch and sit in the shade as sweat speckles on your forehead.

Your heart is still racing, likely from your near disastrous slip. You think you will have Timothy take down the sheets. You may even convince him to help your fold.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #au #series #the farmer's daughter #backwoods au #night hunter

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Dominion

Written: Oct 17 2023

Just a lil story I wrote today. I haven't written in some time. I hope you enjoy it! I wrote this story to this song ^.^

@titty-teetee <3

The best lie ever told about them was that the sun kills. But that falsity never really affected your life, mostly. You moved through levels of society like you ruled the night, and told the sun when to rise. Your mother called you aloof, a lazy rich girl- that is if anybody outside your kinship actually knew only you pretended poverty. You didn’t need to wear a disguise like the rest of them. There was a permissive, creeping, effortless prowling that came to you naturally. You wanted to fit in, but that was like a cat feigning to be a mouse and you never outgrew that proclivity. 

And it was this attitude that made you catch hell from your sister and father when you showed up late. The building was in the shitties part of town. Barrels burned with stank garbage for warmth as you stepped out of the alley opposite. Forty floors of culture they said. Consequently hidden by poor souls soothing and numbing their bashed spirits the best they knew how, drugs. They weren’t even worth eating.

Thin black sling backs lightly tapped as you walked across the street, onto the cement sidewalk and toward the farthest left front door. Puffs of snow gathered in the corners of the brick pocket near the door. You glanced again and on closer inspection a body lay there, away from the fires out front but you kept walking.

Past the dirt covered, shabby peeling wallpaper and rusted gates separating the inside of the building from the outside grunge. You were buzzed in and immediately approached by Mer’gene, a friend, well one of the people in this world who has known you the longest besides your mother.

“You are not dressed appropriately,” she hissed and stared at the thin black shawl you wore.

Your eyes rolled from her prim expression to the crowd in the foyer that was beginning to thicken like coagulating platelets. 

“It’s busy tonight,” you half said to her, but more to yourself.

Mer’gene glanced that way, “Yes, they want to pick who’s going to be President of the United States tonight. All the Elders are here….like your forefather.”

At the mention of Charlemagne you began to peel off the shawl and handed it to Mer’gene. “Well we can’t let him get in the way of a little fun.”

Passing through the foyer you followed the flow of people dressed in their best. Opulent comes to mind once you set eyes on the familiar market. What should have been a lobby for an apartment building was lined with shops, stacked on top of other shops. Bright lighting from eternal fire flames atop of metal poles lit your way. The direct opposite of what was being the brick outside, here, inside was spotless, clean and smelled of incense. 

You window shopped for the most part, just listening to Mer’gene talk about everybody and nothing at the same time as you imagined owning a five thousand year old human leather purse. A normal Wednesday night.

A pop and flash came from somewhere on the fourth floor shops. You ignored it at first and chalked it up to a grieving kin who decided to self immolation. A scream, shrieked inhumanly into the air. All stopped and turned toward the sound. It was an alarm. It was a call to evacuate and didn’t have to be told twice. 

Once again you were ushered out with the crowd toward an exit that emptied out into an alley. Bright daybreak rose over the galvanized fence to the east in the grimy alley. Beyond it police cars lined the street, a smile began to crease your lips. A bushy haired man in a sweater and his badge clipped on his hip near his gun stood. 

There he was.

Outside on the streets in this location had you looking wholly out of place. But it didn’t stop you from approaching the cops. Innocently you gazed around, swayed in your step, maybe applied phony little hiccups. That caught his attention, god you were great at pretending weakness. 

“Ma’am, what made you think you could cross that yellow tape?” the man pointed back behind you but choosing not to look you stared at him forcing your eyes to dilate in the morning light. “Are you on somethin’?” he questioned again. 

You stepped forward, attempted to speak and promptly fainted. 

“Shit,” you heard him say as he caught your waist. 

“You got that one?” said another cop's voice. “She looks thick, might hurt your back.”

You made note of that remark and silently vowed to see what he tasted like - later.

“No I got her. She’s probably a rich asshole hopped up on something. I’ll take her back to the SUV.”

The man dragged you the best he could around the waist as you completely let yourself dead weigh him. One car, four cars, and finally around the corner away from the crime scene you heard the door open as he still struggled with your body. So you decided to start slurring your words and reacting to be held by a ‘stranger’.

“Let me go you fuckin’ bastard,” you spit out, wiped your mouth and struggled to stand. “You took me out here! You said we would have a great time…” you began to cry a bit to make it look convincing. 

The cop pushed you into the back seat and slammed the door. You leaned against the door and watched him walk around the front. His head pivoted while his eyes seemed to look for people who might be watching. You shut your eyes as he opened the door and got in the back seat with you. 

You breathed lightly as if you were sleeping.

“Did you get your self drugged?” he asked quietly. 

Your non beating heart would've jumped if it was alive at the insinuation. 

You felt him move closer and move his arm over the back of the seat. His other hand was on your knee.

Suddenly he was closer to your face, your ear. “Hey. Hey are you awake?” he whispered. His hand began to caress up your thigh.

A dirty cop! You felt yourself begin to get wet. 

“You’re in safe hands sweetheart,” his lips murmured on your cheek. He moved his hand from your thigh. He grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on the hard chub underneath his jeans. 

“How’s that feel?” He forced your hand to continue to rub him. “Slutty little bitch on the streets, huh?” he croaked.

Your teeth pricked the inside of your cheek. Fuck it, you couldn’t hold out any more.

“It feels like I need to make you mine,” you opened your eyes and stared back at him completely lucid. Your lips drew back over the sharp canines in a lovely, perfect smile.

----

....to be continued?

#Black!reader #black female reader #dark!walter marshall x black reader #dark!walter marshall

[georgiapeach30513]

Help

Summary:  They captured you, but he wants you back.

Pairings:  Werewolf!Walter Marshall X Reader X Werewolf!Ari Levinson, Vampire!Ransom Drysdale

Rating:  dark

Warnings:  language, kidnapping, attempted dub con, bindings, slapping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  461

Ari Levinson One Shots

Walter Marshall One Shots

A/N:  having some fun before @the-slumberparty and @navybrat817 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor and doing their One Word Drabble Warm Up.  My word was heaving.

Your head twists to the side while you shudder.  Sobbing out in the night for anyone that could possibly hear you.  Trying to pull your arms down to no avail; they were still tied high above your head.  Your bare toes barely dangle on the forest floor, and your lip trembles as you try to clear your eyesight from the stinging tears.  Taking a stuttered breath, you let your head fall down in defeat.  There was no way out.  They had finally got you.

“Aw,” you hear his sickeningly sweet voice as he walks out of the darkness, lifting your chin up with a thick finger, “That only took what..?”

“Three days,” the other chuckles.  Kneeling on the ground, whittling a stake from a gnarly branch.  They meant to kill him.  “Three days, and those disgusting marks are finally healing on your neck and your thighs.  You like being a blood bank?” he spits off to the side, emphasizing his hatred toward your boyfriend.

“Ransom is ten times the man you two are.  He didn’t have to kidnap me!” 

“Well, you see, Sweetheart, he might as well have kidnapped you.  He hypnotized you.  And don’t be calling that corpse a man.  That is the biggest lie you’ve told,” you shake your head no, screaming up into the night again.  “Not shared his blood though, have you?  He’s never going to find you.  You know why?  Our scent repulses your vampires.”

“I can see why,” you get a swift smack across your face, and he begins to lower your restraint.  “You smell like a wet dog.”

“You fucking little bitch,” he spits in your face, twisting you around to look at the other man.  “Give Marshall a pretty smile.  You want to act like a bitch, I’ll treat you like one,” his nose sniffs up your neck, and then down your body.  Inhaling your delectable aroma.  Your chest heaving with the amount of anger that courses through your blood.  “Ahh, right on time.  She’s in heat.”

“No!” 

“Ari, leave the girl alone.”

“No.  Wouldn’t it be so sweet when her precious Ransom comes to find her and she’s swollen with a mutt in her belly?  You think Ransom would want you then?  Your baby will smell like a fucking wet dog.  He won’t be able to stand being around him.  And you’ll come crawling right back here,” his hand gropes your breast, falling down lower on your body, and you scream again, when he cups your mound.  “Your throbbing cunt is telling on you.  Now, smile pretty, I’ll try and be gentle.”

Looking through the dark trees, your eyes zero in on a pair of crystal blue eyes.  Fangs shining in the moonlight, and only a single word on your lips, “Help.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @infatuatedharleys​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @bambamwolf87

#sleep over #the slumber party #dark fic #dark fanfiction #werewolf #vampire #werewolf!ari levinson #werewolf!walter marshal #vampire!ransom drysdale #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x fem!reader #walter marshall x y/n #walter marshall x you

[mdemontespan1667]

STUPID GIRL

BLIND SPOT (3)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

THE LONG WALK (1)

JANE DOE (2)

18+ ONLY

SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER

SUMMARY: YOU'RE JUST DOING YOUR JOB. TOO BAD SOMEONE DOESN'T AGREE.

(I moved the dates of this to the current year instead of 2018 so hopefully my dates match. I used what character information I could find for Walter and either filled it in with the actor's info or just winged it since no explanation was ever given for his accent. I did my best to research the neighborhoods and streets mentioned. If I made a mistake I apologize.)

SERIES WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON/GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/TORTURE/DEATH/DESCRIPTIONS OF DEAD BODIES/VAGINAL SEX/ORAL SEX/ANAL SEX/REFERENCES TO SEXUAL ASSAULT/REFERENCES TO MURDER/STALKING/CHOKING/SLAPPING

“Detective Marshall, Is this the 8th victim of the Hennepin Hatchet?” 

“No comment.”

The man bristled at the name, barely concealed disdain in his expression.

You didn’t like the name any better.

Giving murderers cutesy names took the focus off the victims.

But the Press, yourself included, had to call this psycho something.

“Get out of my fucking crime scene”

“I’m not in your fucking crime scene.”

You gestured to the yellow police tape, flapping in the bitter wind, which you were currently behind, barely. 

Detective Marshall grunted, clearly annoyed.

“I’m just trying to do my job. The public has a right to know if a serial killer is operating in Minneapolis.”

Crossing his arms, he fixed you with a bored stare. 

“What makes you think this is serial? Prostitutes get killed all the time. Hazards of the profession.”

“You’re joking right?”

You rolled your eyes.

“All the victims were last seen in the Hennepin area, all petite blondes, all sexually assaulted, stabbed and mutilated. There’s no way in hell this isn’t the same guy.”

“No comment.”

The dark haired Detective walked away, effectively dismissing you.

“Can you confirm Madison Harper was missing her left breast?”

Turning back he lumbered toward you.

Oh shit.

Detective Marshall was a veritable bear of a man, with a rumored temper to match.

And you?

You’d just poked him, big time. 

“Where did you get that information?”

“No comment,” you sassed.

 Apparently you had no sense of self-preservation.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of here,” he growled, “I’m gonna have your ass arrested for interfering with a police investigation.”

“C’mon. Give me something, anything.”

You tried your best to bat your eyes.

“Officer Barton,” he shouted to a uniform, “I need you to..”

“Ok, Ok,” you threw up your hands, “I’m going.”

You stomped to your ancient, beige Subaru. 

“Fucking prick.”

Driving away, you shivered, convinced the killer was just getting started.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I sincerely hope you're hitting submit as we speak.”

“I’m working on it.”

You glowered at your laptop, its blank Google Docs page taunting you.

“Uh, you know deadline’s in 3 hours?”

‘Yeah Brent, I know. I’m..I’m working on it.”

You hit the red dot, ending the call.

Brent was a great colleague, an even better friend.

SInce moving to Minneapolis a year and a half ago he was the only person you had gotten close to.

 Even so, the last thing you needed right now was more pressure.

FUCK FUCK FUCK 

Milton Turnbaldt, the editor of the Digital Division at the StarTribune, had finally moved you from Special Interest to the Crime Beat.

It was the next step in “THE PLAN” you’d mapped out since graduation. 

Imagining yourself a modern day Helen Thomas, visions of Pulitzers had danced in your mind. 

Reality had been a bit different.

Two years writing bar reviews for Bar Fly and one disastrous year at Chicago Suburban Family had been followed by a three year stint at the Chicago Sun Times, where the closest you got to reporting anything was letting Maintenance know a lightbulb was out in the Ladies room.

Getting hired at the  StarTribune had seemed like a dream come true, even if you’d had to move to Minnesota. 

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK 

It was obvious this woman was the 8th victim. 

Problem was every other reporter knew it, even if the cops refused to acknowledge the fact.

Your one advantage was your intuition. 

The women had to have been comfortable with the killer, therefore, he was most likely good looking, charming and came off as harmless. Every victim had voluntarily left their comfort zone, something sex workers usually refused to do. 

The pre- and post-mortem mutilation meant the killer felt confident enough in his surroundings to spend hours with the women, unconcerned about noise or the mess. His secondary location had to be isolated enough for his purpose but close enough to Hennepin Ave that the victims had been willing to take a chance.

Unofficial autopsy reports on each victim listed copious amounts of lube found in the vaginal and anal cavities. It wasn’t unusual for sex workers to use lube but this seemed excessive. The ME had attributed the internal micro-tears and bruising to the sexual assault. That, coupled with the lube, had you leaning in a different direction: The killer was having sex with the dying women. 

Too bad you couldn’t prove any of it.

Neither could you publish the information about the missing body part or lube without totally outing your source at the morgue, although that ship had kinda sailed when you showed your hand to the detective.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK 

Praying for Divine intervention, you started typing.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you think Claude?”

The overweight Tabby cat yawned.

“Thanks for the support. I’ll remember that next time you want a treat.”

Looking at your reflection in the full length bathroom mirror, you critically assessed your outfit: short, pleated black polyester tennis skirt, metallic silver cowl neck top, dingy, thigh high, white spiked boots, and a cropped, pink fake fur bomber jacket.

Heavy eye makeup, red lips and purposely mussed hair completed the disguise.

This classy ensemble, courtesy of the local thrift shop, had cost you a grand total of $53.98, an amount you really couldn’t afford.

But since the police, one surly detective in particular, weren’t talking you were just gonna have to find someone who would. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your feet were numb. 

Whether it was from the insanely high heels or the -2 degrees (F) windchill you didn’t know.

Or care.

After walking the Hennepin Ave circuit for 3 hours you had a whole lot of nothing. 

The sex workers definitely knew something.

Clustered in groups of 3 or 4, they murmured to themselves, cell phone cameras flashing, warning potential customers they were being watched, however, no one was willing to talk to a stranger. 

A midnight blue, extended cab pickup pulled up, idling at the curb. 

“Come here.”

“Uh, sorry, I’m..uh.. off the clock.”

He wasn’t the first guy who’d tried to engage you.

Maybe your refusal to leave with a client had given you away.

“Come here or I’ll bring you here.”

Tentatively you stepped closer.

“I said I’m not…Are you fucking kidding me Marshall?”

He sat hunched over the steering wheel, eyes blazing at you.

Beyond annoyed, you hissed, “Go away.”

“Get in the truck.”

“No.” 

“Get in the goddamn truck now.”

Mimicking his earlier behavior, you crossed your arms.

“You can’t tell me what to….”

The cab of the truck flooded with light as he opened the driver side door.

“Fine!”

In a huff, you climbed in, fastening your seatbelt before throwing him a scowl.

He ignored you, smoothly merging with the heavy Friday night traffic.

“Where’d you park that piece of shit car?”

You refused to answer, making a show of sulking.

“Answer me or..”

“Or what?” you interrupted, “You had no right harassing me, asshole.”

“Excuse me?” 

His harsh tone was  a clear indicator you’d pissed him off.

“Your car?”

“It’s at my apartment. I took an Uber.”

The Detective sighed.

“Exactly what the hell were you trying to accomplish out there?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re no help so I…”

“You what? You decided to play fucking dress up? Do you have any idea how dangerous the streets are? Some freak is killing prostitutes and your stupid ass is running around pretending to be one.”

“Are you finished?”

He clenched his jaw, cheek ticking.

“Contrary to your belief I’m not stupid. I can take care of myself.”

You reached in your bag producing a sleek, highly illegal taser.

“Plus I have this. And yes, I know how to use it.”

Taking a sharp left turn he headed South.

“Um, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“How do you….”

“Born and raised in the Gold Coast area of Chicago. Only child. Undergrad at University of Chicago, Masters in Communication from Loyola, which your ridiculously rich mother paid for. You worked at two small time local papers then the Chicago Sun where you, what? Got coffee for three years? You took a job at the StarTribune 18 months ago writing online fluff. You live in the East Phillips neighborhood,  don’t drink, smoke or do drugs and generally have no social life. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, more than a little angry he’d checked you out.

“Pretty good,” you retorted, “My turn.”

“Born in the Channel Islands. Strict Catholic upbringing, four siblings, three boys, one girl. Attended St Michael’s Prep before transferring to Stowe School your Sophomore year, sorry, you call it Year 11. Joined the London Metropolitan Police Force in 2008, the same year you married Angie Stultz. She was interning for Warrener Stewart right?”

You rambled on, not waiting for an answer.

“Your daughter Faye was born the next year. Four years later you were promoted to the Criminal Investigations Department. You started out in Street Crime, then Organized Crime, until landing in Major Crimes in 2015. January of 2017 you and the little family moved to Minneapolis, where your wife was from but you didn’t start with the police department here for another 5 months so I’m assuming you were a house husband until your emigration papers cleared. Apparently you weren’t a very good husband, house or otherwise, cause your wife filed for divorce under “Irreconcilable DIfferences” a little over a year ago. You live alone, don’t smoke or do drugs and are generally recognized as a bully. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

You flashed a Chesire grin.

Uh, oh.

If looks could kill, you’d be dead, buried 6 feet down, “Here lies a stupid idiot who wouldn’t keep her mouth shut” carved in the marker. 

“Um, this is me.”

You pointed to a two story brick building, an empty storefront on the first floor, your studio apartment on the second.

“Why do you live in this shithole? With mommy’s money you could be living in the Carlyle or Legacy.”

“I wanted to prove I can make it on my own. And this neighborhood? It’s not as bad as people think. The Pizzeria over there? The old, Italian couple that own it let anyone who needs to use the free wifi. On the weekends they stay open late and offer a free slice and drink so the kids have a safe place to go.”

You became animated, warming to the topic.

“Mrs Freemantle, in the brownstone next door, invites me over three or four times a month. Her oxtail soup and mac and cheese are freaking amazing. She doesn't get around too well so I run errands for her once or twice a week.”

You peered out the windshield.

“Those two guys on the steps, the ones you gave the stink eye to? Andre and Tony? They fixed my car for a six pack and a pizza the last time it crapped out.”

“Probably with stolen parts,” he mumbled.

“I bought the parts, you judgemental ass.” you spat.

Jerking the handle, you exited the vehicle.

Snow swirled in the open door.

“People here care more about each other than anyone ever did in the swanky condo’s I grew up in. Thanks for the ride.”

You flung the door closed with a thud.

Trekking up the sidewalk, you quickly unlocked the outside door, your mind already on a molten hot shower.

“Honey, I’m home,” you announced to the tiny studio, tossing your bag and coat on the fifth-hand orange and green couch. 

You stretched, exhausted, looking forward to…..

It happened so fast.

One second you were contemplating splurging an extra ten minutes in the shower, the next you were slammed against the kitchen wall, Detective Marshall’s forearm across your neck, other hand over your  mouth.

You flailed at him, hitting and kicking. 

It was like fighting a marble statue.

He leaned in, leg slotted between yours. 

“Taser ain’t much help now is it.”

You pushed at his arm.

“How fucking stupid are you? You didn’t even lock your fucking door. Anyone…”

You bit his fingers, drawing blood. 

He let go, surprised by your counterattack. 

“Get the hell out of…..”

His hand closed around your throat.

Your chest heaved from adrenaline, his booming heartbeat matching yours. 

Without warning, his lips crashed to yours.

The kiss was desperate, all consuming, his beard scratching your delicate skin.

His hand slipped under your top and cheap push-up bra, palming your breast, rough fingers pinching the already pebbled nipple.

The kiss deepened to something dark, Marshall taking control.

You rocked your hips against his muscled thigh, your core on fire.

Snaking down your belly, he slid his hand beneath the waistband of you skirt, callused digits gliding through your damp, plumped slit.

He circled your clit, applying light pressure with each pass, thumb randomly sweeping the bundle of nerves. 

Lost in a sea of sensation, you mewled, the sound swallowed by his warm, searching mouth.

“Tell me to stop.”

Afraid he wouldn’t stop, even more afraid he would, you remained silent as you unzipped his jeans, freeing his heavy cock.

Gathering the sticky wetness from the tip, you stroked his length.

“Fuck.”

The whispered obscenity went straight to your cunt, fresh slick coating his hand. 

He tore your black tights in one motion, leaving you bare.

Marshall lifted your leg, curling it around his waist, his cock poised at you sopping entrance.

“Last chance.”

You draped your arms around his shoulders, balancing yourself.

Taking that as a sign, he pressed into you, you channel stretching painfully.

You cried out, the burn almost too much.

His lips latched to yours, tongues sparing until his cock was fully ensheathed in your heat. 

He pulled out, briefly hesitated, before thrusting in again.

Breaking the kiss, you buried your face in his neck, fingers tangling in his dark curls.

He fucked you now, hips pistoning, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Marshall’s feral grunts mingled with your needy moans.

Tendrils of electricity surged along your nerves.

He lifted your leg higher, changing the angle of penetration, his cock hitting the soft, spongy spot repeatedly. 

“Please,..please..” you choked out.

“I’ve got you.”

You came with a sob, hips pumping in time with his, cunt clenching, the sheer intensity of your orgasm frightening, wave after wave threatening to drown you. 

He drove into you faster, chasing his own release. 

All you could do was hold on, tears staining his coarse, coal gray sweater.

You felt him swell, hips stuttering.

His muscles flexed as he came, pushing you against the wall, milky ropes of cum splashing your walls.

Fevered lust dissipating, he rested his cheek on your head.

Untangling limbs, Marshall fastened his jeans.

He didn’t stay, instead turning towards the door.

Hand on the brass knob, he paused.

“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

His words froze the question in your throat.

Door closed, you collapsed to the floor, head bowed, knees to chest.

“What the hell just happened.” 

@xoxabs88xox @imanuglywombat @fanfic-fangirl @caffiend-queen @alexakeyloveloki @americasass81 @lokislastlove @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sweeterthanthis @ironlady1993 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jennmurawski13 @starynighty @sapphirescrolls @xsapphirescrollsx @sagechanoafterdark @momc95 @jtargaryen18 @demonsandpieohmy @dangertoozmanykids101 @lizzystuffsthings @nildespirandum @shikin83 @sinceimetyou @buckybarnesandmarvel @imdarkinme @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @littlefreya

#SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL AND READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL (AU) X READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL (AU) AND READER #WALTER MARSHALL X READER #WALTER MARSHALL AND READER #WALTER MARSHALL #SOFT DARK WALTER MASHALL #NIGHT HUNTER AU #NIGHT HUNTER FIC #DARK NIGHT HUNTER FIC #HENRY CAVILL #HENRY CAVILL CHARACTERS

[sillyrabbit81]

The Itch

Summary: Walter goes through a change.

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 600

Warnings: Non-Con, dark, smut, breeding, bondage, cream pie, biting, discussion of body fluids, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex.

Authors Note: Okay, this Drabble is not like my regular fics. This was a palate cleanser for me: a little change of pace, tone and subject (and character!). I had written a couple of paragraphs of this months ago and saw it in my drafts and thought, why not? It is what it is.

Thanks to @henryobsessed for beta reading and corrections.

Dividers made by me.

Masterlist

He may be the alpha. He may bow to no one. He may rule them all.

But you rule him.

You know it instinctively.

You know it by the way he fights as his wolf takes over. The way he mumbles his apologies as he tears the clothes from your body and the tender way he handles you as he ties you to the bed. You know it by the way he nuzzles at your neck and the scent he gives off as he examines your body. You know it by the way he whimpers when he catches the first scent of your arousal, and by the way he gnars when you twist against your bound wrists and ankles.

He’s between your legs, lapping at you, drinking from you, imbibing your humiliating desire for him.

He growls, caws, and grunts as he gives you his all, trying to win you over. He wants you to relent, for you to allow him to come to you freely like you once had.

His breath is hot and humid, his tongue rough and wet. His bites are gentle nibbles and he pushes you to the brink. You screech and he brays, grinning and watching with delight as he makes you shatter.

“Walter, please,” you implore, “Stop.”

He climbs you over you, shaking his head, his lust cannot wait, though you see the shame in his eyes.

“Need,” he rumbles. 

He knows what he is, he knows what you think of him as he takes you like this. But he can’t stop the urges, the ancient itch that scratches without cessation at what is left of his mind. 

He fills you, tears you, stretches you, around his brutal girth, howling with rapture as your bodies fuse.

He’s so gone, so swept away in the moment that he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You feel it between your legs and you tighten around him. You wail, crying his name as you implore him to stop. But Walter isn’t there anymore, his blue eyes are now a vacant black as he begins to rut. 

Barbaric, primitive, and feral is his mating, as if his goal is to rip you apart. You had thought you’d be used to it by now, this monthly cycle, he had assured you you would be.

He clings to you, wrapping his arms around you, licking at your neck as if he is your lover not your violator.

He feels the moment you yield, the moment you submit to him and your lamentation becomes supplication. Your hips drive to meet his, your hands grasp at the ropes pulling on them for purchase instead of escape.

He howls as you tighten around him, watches your face as your control shatters. He follows you into ecstasy. With a deep and guttural garr, he releases his seed deep within you. 

He holds you when he’s done, licking at your wounds, murmuring his love, seeking forgiveness.

He stays buried within your core for as long as he can, keeping his offering inside. When he falls out he spreads your legs wider, reverently gathering his leaking emission on his finger and restores it to its rightful place.

He wants to breed, and inexplicably at this moment you want it too. You don’t fight as he lays an arm across your belly keeping you still, keeping his potential for offspring alive.

You don’t know how long he waits, how long he takes to recover, but you aren’t surprised when you feel his tongue on you again, lapping at your centre, driving you again to your peak. It doesn’t take long, you come again, and you feel him hard at your centre. As he breaches your defences again, you wonder how many times he will do this, and you find you never ever want it to stop.

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #walter marshall smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #werewolf!walter marshall #werewolf!au #dark!walter

[littlefreya]

So I've been reading a lot of dark romance books on Kindle and that has sparked the need to read Dark Henry fics. Do you have an rec for obsesses stalker/kidnapping/Stockholm style Henry fics?

Hey gorgeous! Dark stuff is definitely my thing. I actually made a list with recs you can enjoy. :)

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #dark fiction #august walker #captain syverson #walter marshall

[deandoesthingstome]

hi charlie! it's me again with more questions 😋

what do you think walter smells like? does he have a favorite cologne?

Hey Nonny!

So I gave this some thought and have a few ideas.

First, I feel like movie Walter is a basic bar soap and water kinda guy. I'm not even sure he knows what body wash is. 'Fresh from the shower' is probably just whatever he grabbed from the store last time. And I feel like he sticks to a very basic, clean scent.

I also don't think he bothers with cologne with any kind of regularity. Might not even own any. It's extraneous; he's already taken time to shower and change and stopping to spritz cologne takes that extra moment he could be working any case.

At least, that's how it's always been. Especially since the divorce. But then he met you. And he'd technically already dressed and was on his way out the door when he stopped, hand in mid-air as he reached for the handle.

You always smell so good. Everytime he's been around you. Of course he's picked up your scent, and knows just when he's about to run into you at the coffee shop or grabbing groceries. He either winds his way through the evaporating aroma to settle behind you in line, or sniffs the air as the scent enters his periphery, ready to scoot down the aisle so you can grab what you need off the shelf. Maybe he dares hope you're looking for a top shelf ingredient he's conveniently available to reach for you.

Anyway, it's a first date, and he's never been one to sweat it for these things, usually set-ups that go nowhere. But maybe he ought to dig that bottle out of his top drawer for this one.

It's earthy and musky (you'll mention it later, in the throes of the effect its gonna have on you), and mingles perfectly with his own natural scent (which you'll also mention, because not that you don't appreciate the effort tonight, you also want to know what a deep noseful of just 'Walter' would be like; maybe sans cologne next time?) And he won't last after you admit that. Is pleased this first date is going so well, but knowing you want more is sending him into overdrive.

So yeah, maybe he smells like that?

#nonny asks #charlie answers #walter marshall #walter marshall drabble #just thoughts of walter #sorry i couldn't pick an actual cologne #hubs wears dark obsession and never wavers #so i don't really know any others #not that walter wouldn't be a dark obsession kind of guy #anyway

[mariessecretcorner]

𝓗𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

Masterlist Keys:

🔞= SMUT 😈= Dark ⚠= Trigger Warning 💖= Fluff

⛓=Non/Dub Con 🐺= AOB ⭐= Personal Favorite

(Divider made by me)

I Do Not Consent to any rewrites, translations, or use of this story. To do so is plagiarism.

I don’t own any of the characters/actors in these stories.

 All characters are above 18. This is all a fanfic/Au reality so don’t take it seriously. Please be kind and respectful if you have any comments, questions, and thoughts on this story.

Respect works both ways and I will not tolerate any hate towards others, I accept criticism and expect some from my work like most people do.

If my work isn’t to your taste, just don’t read it. Simple enough.

Otherwise Enjoy you horny fuckers!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Currently working on the masterlist

📌Henry Cavill

📌AU Masterlist

📌Geralt Of Rivia/Witcher

#henry cavill fandom #walter marshall smut #geralt smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x you #henry cavill smut #geralt of rivia smut #the witcher smut #clark kent smut #henry cavill fics #dark geralt smut #dark the witcher #dark henry cavill

[cavills-kitten]

...So am I - Chapter 12

Summary: You are a high ranking Agent with Interpol, happily enjoying your career and domesticity with Walter; but a link to your very dark past emerges. Will your long past connection to a dark August Walker threaten everything you have?

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader (called Veronica), Dark August Walker x female reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, BDSM, impact play, branding, dub-con, non-con, Oral, Fingering, Unprotected Sex. Dark August Walker x reader. Character death. “DEAD DOVE: Do Not Eat!”

masterlist previous chapter

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

It seems like hours later when August returns, you’d been dressed and ready for dinner for a while.  The dress fits like a glove, the deep V in the front exposes the delicate curve of your breasts.  The rest of the dress hugs your curves, the long split exposing your leg up to your hip bone.

You’ve managed to hide the bruises with makeup, the only lipstick choice was a deep red-purple colour.  Despite everything, you feel sexy and powerful.  You know that you’ve been dressed for August’s pleasure, he always did enjoy seeing you dressed to attract attention, knowing that only he could have you.

Matching shoes and a clutch bag have also been provided.  You look at the spike heels on the shoes and wonder.  

August walks into the room, he’s dressed in a dinner suit, fighting the urge to roll your eyes you smile at him, vowing to play along until you’ve figured out what his end game is.  

“Are you ready Angel” his deep baritone fills the silence.  You nod and start to walk towards the door, suddenly you pause and look up at him, even in the heels you’re still so much smaller than he is.

“Just give me a minute,” you ask him and bolt for the bathroom shutting the door.  You hunt around for your jacket, relieved that you left it in here.  You grab some Kleenex and your pen, together with lipstick and powder and fill the clutch bag.  

You walk out, standing tall as you try to evoke an aura of power, you’ll need all your wits around you tonight, knowing how August likes power games.

August offers you his arm and you link it, feeling like you’re in some dream world.  

You get a good look at where you are, a large house or hotel, but it's empty.  There just seems to be you and August.  

August takes your hand and escorts you down the winding staircase, acting like a perfect gentleman.  You’re biting your tongue so hard you can almost taste blood, wondering what the hell was going on.

A short walk to the dining room and August finally lets go of your hand, he pulls your chair out and you sit at the table.  It's set for dinner, crisp white linen, silverware and a large lit candle making it seem like an intimate dinner for two.  You place your clutch bag on the floor, looking again at the spike heels you’re wearing.

August fiddles with his necktie, it’s strange to see the normally confident and arrogant man almost nervous.  You can’t help but study the web of scars over the side of his face.  Some of the smaller ones have healed, turning pink and white, but the larger ones still look red and angry.  Part of you feels sympathy for him, you’re starting to accept that part of you may well always desire him, possibly even love him.  You’ve spent years compartmentalising your past and feelings, part of you deep down knew it was never as simple as black and white, right and wrong.  

“Angel” August speaking draws you out of your thoughts.

“Yes, August, what do you want”

“Maybe I just wanted to have dinner with you” something flashes behind his eyes, you can’t quite determine what it is.

“Let’s have dinner then, pour me a drink please”  You sit back and cross your legs under the table, the movement causes the dress to gape even more, and you can see August’s gaze slide down over your body.

He moves and pours you a large glass of Chablis, chilled to perfection and absolutely delicious, you savour the flavour as it slips down your throat.  You can’t help but let out a satisfied sigh.

“You seemed to have calmed down, Angel, tell me what’s changed” 

“Nothing has changed August, I’m doing what you want, no more no less.” You fix your eyes on him.

“Tell me, was my cousin a deliberate choice, a poor substitute for me?” His voice takes on that hint of arrogance “Did Walter make you come like I did? Did you scream for him as you did for me?”

You grit your teeth, forcing the words out in a hiss “Don’t say his name, you’re not even worthy to clean his boots”

August sits back “Ah, you don’t like talking about him with me, embarrassed are you Angel?”

Sighing heavily, you respond “I didn’t know at first,” you take another gulp of wine “by the time he explained, we were serious about each other.  I don’t know why the fuck I’m telling you this by the way”

“Language Angel…” his tone is chiding 

“Oh fuck off August, I’ll say what the fuck I like.”  He chuckles lightly.

“Did you not realise the likeness? I’ve been told we’re quite similar visually”. 

You snort and reach again for the wine, you hadn’t noticed him refilling it.

“I was too busy trying to reassure him that the fact that he’d been unceremoniously fired from Counter Terrorism Command for some bullshit reason didn’t mean he was a bad person.” You fix August with a stare.

“A mutual colleague suggested he try Interpol and I had a certain freedom to hire whom I wanted.  The Met Police’s loss was my team’s gain.  Later he told me the real reason behind being stripped of his career, seems that being related to a terrorist isn’t a positive characteristic.” You finish with a sneer.

“A mutual colleague recommended him, hmmmm” August smirks and takes a drink

“Just say what you’re dancing around August, I’m bored already.”

“Ah Angel, but there’s no fun in that is there? I thought you were smarter than this”

A noise makes you turn to the doorway, a burly man stomps in with two plates and slams them down on the table.

Looking at the man with a raised eyebrow, you comment snarkily. “Where do you find them August, mercenary finishing school, they all have the same look and such impeccable manners?  Hope they don’t mind working for free, I’m sure you’ve disclosed your cashflow problems.”  The man slams the door on his way out, you smirk knowing he paid attention to your comments. 

“Your mouth has got worse Angel…” you interrupt him “Oh No, my mouth has got smarter and much tougher.”

You both begin to eat in silence, but you can’t stand it.  

“What is the plan August, what do you want.  I mean I know you want chaos and change and blah blah blah…what is the point of all this?”

He clears his throat “a helicopter crash and this…” he gestures to his face “makes one revisit one’s priorities.” He looks at you and you raise an eyebrow and nod for him to go on.

“I’m doing what I should have done all those years ago, with you.”  He goes over to the sideboard and opens another bottle of wine, walking back to refill your glass again.

“You were a means to an end, you know, at first” he’s standing beside you and reaches out to tilt your head up to him, you look up at him through your lashes, the position and closeness bringing back memories, making you clench with desire and feel nauseous at the same time.

“I’m not sure when it changed, but I should have explained more.  I realise now that we would have succeeded together.  The world can burn as we watch it together. “ He returns to his seat again.

“After you left, I was surprised, at how you managed it and at how it made me feel.  It takes someone…special to surprise me.  I know that bastard Solo helped you, I thought you were whoring yourself out for him as well.  I’d have dealt with him too but he is too well connected”.  August pauses, a sneer on his face.

“But then I realised that you wouldn’t have dared to give yourself to someone else.  You were scared, I understand that now.  I wouldn’t usually allow it, you leaving me like that, but I found myself missing you, not wanting to hurt you.  That surprised me.”

You watch him carefully, breathing heavily, your mind is reeling.  “August, let’s be honest with each other, for once.  You were using me, moulding me into your perfect little double agent and abusing me for your own ends.” Your voice cracks with emotion.

August’s ice blue eyes burn into yours, “You never told me to stop, Angel, you never said no.” his voice is softer now “You matched me every step of the way, we beckoned each other into the darkness.”

He stands and walks over to you again, pulling you up against him.  One hand holding you firmly against him, your bodies pressed together, his other hand strokes your face.  His lips are impossibly close to yours, his breath fanning across your face.  

“God, I’ve missed you, Angel,” his voice breaks  “I realised too late what you mean to me, you’re one of the things that kept me going as I crawled from that fucking helicopter crash.”

You grip his wrist as his hand still holds your face, you suddenly feel emotional, tears pricking your eyes.  His thumb drifts towards your lips and you can’t help but softly kiss the pad of his thumb.

“Angel, what we had, is the closest to love I’ve ever felt, the thought of seeing you again drove me forward….” He pauses and looks so broken.  You can’t help yourself, you crash your lips against his, feeling his surprise before he takes control of your kiss.  His tongue teasing your lips open, dancing into your mouth, he groans as you devour each other.

Your eyes flutter as your body remembers, remembers him, his touch, his smell.  His hands roam your body, roughly cupping your ass and pulling you even closer.  Your fingers graze over his scarred face, he pulls away and grips your wrist.  You feel compassion for him in this moment, for the man he could be, for the man he is, perfectly imperfect.  He must see it in your face as he lets your wrist go and you tenderly stroke his damaged face.  Dropping a soft feather-light kiss against his cheek, you admit the truth, to him and yourself.

“I never stopped loving you August, but what we did together…we bring out the worst in each other. You controlled me but I let you and I couldn’t stand the guilt.  No matter how I felt for you, I can’t live with your plan, it’s wrong.  You’re wrong.”

You pull away and sit down again, feeling lighter after finally being honest with yourself.  August stalks back to his chair.

“You seem so sure Angel, if I’m wrong then does that make you right?”  

You sigh taking another large drink of wine. “August, I don’t think I’m right, just that slaughtering millions of people is wrong.  That’s what makes you the sociopath.”  

“Again, Angel, if I’m a sociopath then what are you?” August is smirking, he’s enjoying our verbal sparring.

“Me? Hell I don’t know, maybe I’m just kinky” you grin at August and he laughs.  You smile wider at the sound and for a second he looks younger, more carefree.  For a moment you almost feel like you’re on a date, relaxed and enjoying yourself.  You reach for another drink of your wine and you can feel the smile leave your face.  Reality hits hard.

“So tell me then August, dazzle me with your magnificent plans.  You’re not still chasing plutonium around the globe after all this time?” You lean forward across the table, “tell me, how do you plan on liquidating that pile of gold bars, last time I checked, cash is still king.”  You see a flicker in his eyes and know you’ve hit a nerve.

Sitting back in your chair, you tilt your head at him patronisingly, ignoring his threats “It was one of the most satisfying things I have ever done.” 

You remain silent, he can’t help but ask “What was Angel”

“Hitting the button at the bank and watching all that liquid cash disappear out of your account.  You see that’s why I’m glad I ended up at INTERPOL, you CIA agents are all the same, always go for the top-secret, guns blazing option.”  You examine your nails, feigning nonchalance, “I just walked in the front door with a piece of paper and robbed you blind.”

A door slams followed by heavy footsteps, your eyes widen “uh-oh is that why mercenaries-r-us was so grumpy earlier, not paying the help?”

August stares at you, his features stony, any semblance of humanity has left his face.  His eyes are cold, you feel like it's the first time you’ve ever seen the truth behind the facade that is August Walker.  

His voice is harsh now, “oh Angel, you have no idea, do you? There is very little that the CIA doesn’t know, those in charge decide if they want to take action, pulling strings here and there, letting a bit of information slip out and then they watch their loyal employees run around doing their bidding, their dirty work, believing it’s for the greater good.”

He’s ranting now, you recognise it from all those years ago “someone sent on a wild goose chase over here, someone assassinated over there, someone placed undercover, it’s all about control, covering every possible eventuality.  It’s time it stopped.”

“Christ August still the same old story after all this time, we’re all human, just trying our best.”

It’s his turn to slam his fist down on the table, making you jump in your seat.  

“Angel, why are you so blind, why did the CIA turn to you? Walter being recommended to you?”

You grit your teeth, “Don’t mention his name, you fucking shot him, you psychopath” 

You’re both holding to your tempers, breathing heavily.  It feels like two predators circling, eyeing each other to try and spot a weakness, each making a small move only to retreat.  August’s arrogance lets him believe you’re still his prey, how wrong he is.

“You have no idea what I’ve done, what I’m going to do and exactly what I’m capable of.” His voice is flat, emotionless.  

August takes a deep breath, “Let's discuss what’s next, I know you, Angel, your dark side, you crave it.  You turn it in on yourself rather than be honest, to me, to yourself.  Just accept who you are and the relief is exquisite.”

With little to lose you decide to up the ante and try a different angle, you slowly let your tongue lick across your lower lip.  Now biting your lip you let your gaze become sultry, tilting your head to one side.  August smirks, he knows what you are doing.

He stands again and then kneels next to you, bringing his eyes to your level.  “No one has ever understood me like you Angel, accepted me fully.  Having you here now I feel more complete than ever, nothing will be able to stop us.”  

“No one has ever come as close as you to besting me, but you still have weaknesses, I’ll help you shed those, nothing will hold you back ever again.”  He reaches out and cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. 

His change of mood is giving you whiplash.

He clears his throat and stands, his eyes not leaving your face. “If it’s all right shall we forgo dessert, I’d prefer something…sweeter.” His voice is now deeper.  You look down as if unsure, and then feel concerned as your vision starts to go wavy.  

He holds out his hand, “How about an after-dinner drink first then?” As you stumble he helps you to stand and moves towards the sofa facing the window, gripping your clutch bag you follow him.

“Whiskey please August, make it a large one” you request and turn to stare out of the glass doors, looking into the darkness.  Feeling a little woozy from the wine, you’re drawn closer to the windows.  Watching the trees in the distance, the darkness, you think you can see movement but then an owl calls out, a brief flash of light draws your gaze but you shake your head after seeing nothing but stillness out there.  You feel lightheaded and so tired, you usually have a high tolerance for wine and you don’t think you drank that much.

August returns and he hands you a tumbler of Whiskey.  You swirl the dark amber liquid, inhaling the aroma, you catch a whiff of something unusual but in a second it's gone.  August takes a step closer, you can feel his warm body pressed against you, and his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you back even closer to him.  You can feel his warm breath against your neck, the smell of his cologne surrounding you.

You take a large drink, wincing slightly at the burn and frowning at the strange aftertaste.  “Tell me Angel” August is whispering to you, his lips so close you can feel them brush against your neck as he speaks “have you missed this” and he grinds against you, pressing his hard length against your ass.

Your heart is pounding as you drain your drink.  Feeling incredibly relaxed you lean back against August, closing your eyes.  The glass falls to the floor, but something in the back of your mind makes you grip tighter to your bag in your other hand. 

You hum as warm lips caress your neck, licking and sucking.  A large hand slides along your dress, taking advantage of the deep plunge neck, slipping inside to cup a breast.  Your nipple hardens instantly, making you moan softly.  You’re floating on a cloud of desire, wetness pooling in your expensive underwear.  His rough fingers roll your nipple.

“Angel, shall I make you feel good” his voice is rich and deep.  “Shall I make you writhe against me in ecstasy?”.  The suggestion makes your mouth go dry with need.  “All you need to do is talk to me.” You’re now grinding back against him, needing more stimulation, your body is on fire with desire.  “You know that only I can satisfy you, you need to please me first.”

Your mind feels so foggy, you were just doing something, it’s important.  Then his large hand pinches your nipple making you gasp, his other hand is working into the split in your dress, digging inside your panties.  A thick finger caresses your folds, deliberately avoiding your bundle of nerves.  An involuntary moan escapes from your lips as you turn to jelly in his arms.

“Angel” the voice whispers “I know you want to orgasm, so badly, just listen to my voice and you can have anything you want” The finger presses down on your clit, making your whole body jolt as a wave of wetness drips from your pussy.

The voice groans, rocking a hard dick against you.  Something is stuck in your mind, you have to… the finger moves from your pussy and you wail in need.  You’re being held against his rock-hard body, there is something not right.

The deep voice caresses your senses, “I’ll touch you again, but you have to tell me, who else knows about me.”

Your mouth is open as you try and think about what you’re being asked.  The need in you is burning, a fire raging deep inside.  He firmly grinds against you, his hard cock pressing along your ass cheeks.  You can’t think clearly, you need some air, you let your body fall limp and you slip out of his grasp and stumble to the doors, somehow opening them.  You drag lungfuls of cold air into you, the cold easing the burning fire inflaming your body.

An alarm is ringing shrilly, you look around the darkness outside, seeing two men dressed in black advancing on you.  You’re walking backwards, your eyes on August, you just need a minute to think!  

You look as August stalks towards you, you can see the imprint of his huge cock, erect and proud in his trousers.  The need for him pools inside you and you stumble slightly, not knowing why you can’t go to him, you’re torn between needing him to touch you and needing to get away from him.

“Don’t touch her, you’ll mess up the suggestions” August snarls at the men.  Your eyes widen, you can feel the start of the fog clearing, and you can see the edges of what is happening to you in your mind.  All the time you’re slowly edging backwards away from August.

“Angel, listen to me, just focus on my voice, how you feel when I touch you” August is holding out his hand to you, “Answer my question, who else knows about me, how you found me”

You open your mouth to answer, then the words die in your throat as you recall Walter’s voice.  You look around frantically not seeing him, your hand still gripping your clutch bag so tightly it’s shaking.

“Stop this August, please” you beg, “I don’t know what’s happening”

“Angel, stop fighting this and give in to me, you know you want to” his voice is like velvet, soothing and rich “don’t make me show you how dangerous I am”

Suddenly making a decision you turn and take off running, as fast as you can in your stupid heels.  Shoes tapping on the stone are followed by August’s heavier thuds.  You reach a low wall and try and climb over it but the shoes and the dress are in the way, making you slip.  You cry in frustration and pain, the burning desire is still fuelled deep inside of you, and you turn to face August.

He presses against you, easily lifting you off your feet, “I warned you, Angel, now it won’t be as pleasant.”  You’re hitting him and trying to kick him, but he ignores you like a lion ignores a fly.  

“Stop, I don’t want this” you sob.

“The drug will damage you unless you have an injection of oxytocin and dopamine, it makes you pliant to suggestions, to telling the truth….”

You scream at August as he spins you around and bends you over the garden table, you drop your bag as you brace yourself, feeling the rough wood under your palms.

You can feel his hand roughly lifting your dress, fingers digging into your ass painfully.  A large hand is pinning you flat against the table.  

You turn your head to try and look at him, you can see your bag spilled open on the table and you reach for your pen.

“August, don’t do this…” you struggle against him.

You hear a zipper and feel his dripping cock against your thighs, the sensation causes to you gasp and shiver.  It feels so good, and it will only feel better if you let him fuck you.

“A useful side effect is sexual arousal Angel, it's a fantastic interrogation tool,” he leans over you, his lips close to your ear “I want you to beg me”.  He tugs harshly on your underwear, ripping them from you, groaning in your ear “this could have been so much more pleasant Angel”

You squeeze the pen in your hand so hard it hurts, you moan and at the same time remove the pen lid.  You fight to keep hold of your thoughts.  It's on the tip of your tongue to beg him, beg him to ruin you, it will feel so good.  You’ve never felt so needy.

He drags his cock between your thighs, coating himself in your juices, “It's for your own good Angel, the other antidote is pleasure, it makes your brain release the right chemicals.”  You cry out as he brushes the tip of cock against your clit, the burning cools for a moment.

“August”, you gasp “let me see you please.”

He spins you over and stands between your spread legs, his dick hanging hard and dripping. You lift yourself up on one elbow and the sight of your glistening cunt with his cock so close causes the desire to flare again.

It hurts, so much; you just want it to stop.  He rubs himself between your dripping folds, one swift thrust and he’s buried deep inside of you, making you scream and convulse under him.  He brings his face close to yours, revelling in the power he has over you.  

“Told you I was dangerous Angel” he whispers inches from your face.

You look up at him, bringing the hand holding your pen higher, without its lid it's your hidden covert blade. “So am I August” you hiss and quickly plunge the blade into his carotid artery and out again.  It all happens in a split second it seems, he stands and steps back, hands flying to his neck as dark red blood pumps from the hole.  You’re frozen in shock.

He starts to call out to his men, but three quick whooshing noises make you look into the darkness.  You’re hit with a spray of blood as August’s head explodes with the first shot.  You watch, screaming as he falls backwards, hand still clutching his throat, ice blue eyes staring.  He’s dead before he hits the floor.

You look for his men and see them lying dead on the ground.  You can’t understand what has happened, the pain in your body returns and the heat burns you.  Your head is pounding, and your vision going white.  You fall to the floor and curl up into a ball, moaning in pain.

You can hear a helicopter land, the noise of boots on the ground, and radios hissing.   A grim face covered in camo paint fills your sight, the short buzz cut and bushy beard seem familiar, a voice calls out “Captain” as you finally succumb and pass out.

#henry cavill smut #august walker x reader #walter marshall x reader #henry cavill fanfic #dark smut #walter marshall x you

[xoxofinley]

Does anyone know some dark Henry Cavill fan fictions? I want to read some darker stories to get inspired and explore the genre.

#henry cavill #august walker #walter marshall #clark kent #dark fics #dark fan fictions #fan fics #fan fictions

[oldmannapping]

HC: Everyone in Crime Alley knows who Red Hood is.

They don’t know he’s Jason Todd but

-Norma Marshall knows that the young man who sporadically stays in the apartment across the hall from her, who fixed the building’s heating for free, is the Red Hood. She’s heard him coming back at all hours. She leaves him care packages with homemade chutney and Bandaids because she doesn’t have much but she knows his work is dangerous. Some loud angry men were banging on his door one day and she hid behind her door throwing eggs at them until they left.

-Brent Taylor knows that the guy who installed the security system for the youth LGBTQIA+ safe space centre is the Red Hood. He just showed up one day after they’d had their fifth vandalised window in three weeks, and set it up for nothing. Called it a civic duty. That same night, known Red Hood crew members started loitering purposefully in the area, escorting kids to the centre if they were too shy or scared to come alone.

Brent saw the guy about a month later, leaving a grocery store and ducking into an apartment building nearby. He’s pretty sure he knows where the Red Hood lives, but he’s not saying a fucking word.

-Angela Walters knows that the man who donates to the homeless shelter twice a month is the Red Hood. She knows that the Hood has a connection to the streets and his donations are always thoughtful and practical - not the generic canned corn most people throw into a box. His donations started at the same time as the anti-homeless bus shelters were dismantled by the Red Hood gang and replaced with traditional long benches.

She’s had police sniffing around asking questions before. She sent them on a wild goose chase on the other side of the city and actually got a little bit of a thrill out of it.

-Carla Moreno (street name Liza) knows that Red Hood is a guy with a hard jaw and white streak in his hair. Hood had been running off a John who’d been rough with Miley and the guy had gotten a lucky shot at the helmet with a brick. The girls pulled a dazed Hood into a nearby alley while the John ran off, and he’d taken off the broken helmet.

It was dark and he was wearing a domino mask, but pair the hair with his build and it was a pretty distinctive look. Carla knows that if she tried, she could find him. She doesn’t; she just compliments him on his upgraded helmet when she sees him a few weeks later.

-Ernesto Reyes knows that he’s the Red Hood’s mechanic. The guy calls himself Jay, is chill, and chats to Ernesto in easy Spanish when he comes to pick up his bike, but come on. Everyone in Crime Alley knows that bike. Ernesto’s had to fix bullet holes. Jay’s bike helmet is fucking red. The guy’s either dumb as fuck, cocky as fuck, or a dramatic shithead but either way he pays well and Ernesto’s had worse customers. He’s not telling anybody anything.

Meanwhile Jason’s just like “DOOP DI DOO sure is good to be a super sneaky crime lord ha Ha I’m so much better than Batman”

#headcannons #batman #jason todd #red hood #gotham #crime alley #batfamily headcanons #Jason Todd is Latino headcanon #I’m gonna end up writing this as a fic aren’t I #I mean unless someone else wants to do it #latino jason todd #bat family

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 15

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Walter sighs as he shuts the hood of the truck. He tuts and faces you, keeping his hand on the metal, his other going to his hip. He looks at you then the sky behind you. The rain has stirred the scent of mud and grass and left a glaze over everything. 

“You’re lucky the thing didn’t blow up in your face,” he says. “Maybe the rain saved you.” 

“Oh, I... didn’t know,” you utter nervously. “Timothy said it was fine--” 

“Yeah, well, shows how much he knows,” Walter stands straight and pushes back his curls, “he’s not ready. He’s too young. I’ll make sure he learns. Be sad if he through away all your dad’s hard work, huh?” 

“Y-yeah, I guess,” you swallow. His words remind you of the imbalance. You need him. That’s the reality that brought you all the way up here. 

“Right, well, I’ll deal with it later. I got some chains I can use to get it up to the house but we should head into town then go see your mother. Make sure she isn’t worried sick,” he steps towards you and brings his hand up under your chin. You fight not to shy away, “what were you thinking? Putting yourself in danger like that?” 

“I... I had to come see you--” 

He smiles, “that’s sweet but I’d rather you wait and have you in one piece, sweetheart.” 

You nod into his hand and wince as he leans in. His thumb rubs your chin as he tilts your head up and he presses his lips to yours. Your surprised by his gentleness, though his beard grazes your roughly. You let him kiss you as he swoops an arm around to wrap you up. 

When he parts, your breathless and dizzy. His eyes gleam down at you, “wife,” he rasps out, “we’re almost there.” 

The shift in his mood puts you off. It’s just like back in the kitchen, one moment he’s terse and short, almost disappointed, the next he’s almost delicate and content. He releases you and takes you by the hand. You follow him back up towards the house. 

You wait outside as he runs in to get his keys. As he comes back out, you open the door of the truck and brace the interior. You put your foot on the small metal step to pull yourself up and gasp as you’re lifted from behind. Walter helps you into the seat and you wriggle free with a meek ‘thank you’. 

He kisses your cheek before he shuts the door. You focus on buckling the belt as he rounds the front of the truck. He climbs into the driver’s side and turns the engine. He sets off, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the corner of your seat. 

You sit quietly, watching the hills roll by. This is it. This is your life. You’re going to married and a wife and you’re going to be tied to this man and these lands forever. You never really thought it out, you just expected life to unfold before you. 

He pulls up to the bank and turns into the lot. He steers into one of the angled spots and kills the engine. You tap your fingers on your legs before you regain your bearings. As he opens his door, you do the same. You get out, hopping down with a small oof. You catch yourself on the door. 

Walt stomps around, “hey, hey, careful. Don’t hurt yourself.” 

“I’m fine,” you smile, “really, I can manage.” 

“I just don’t want you twisting your ankle,” he says. 

“Um, okay, all good,” you show him your foot, “really.” 

He stares at you. His cheek ticks. He takes your hand and shuts the passenger door. He tugs you away towards the front of the building. As you follow the sidewalk down to the entrance, you pass a few other curious pedestrians. You don’t miss there gazes and the low whispers between them. 

You go inside and find the bank empty. Walter drags you to the counter and taps the bell on it. You stand on your toes to see over the high desk and see a head pop out of a back office. The woman looks unimpressed as she goes to bang on the door next to hers, “customers.” 

She quickly retreats as you wait. The next door opens and another woman emerges. She’s taller than the other one, slimmer too. She struts over as she tugs straight the collar of her blouse. Her pretty pink lipstick clings to one lip as the other is faded to its natural hue. 

“Hello, folks, how can I help you today.” 

“I’d like to speak with an advisor about a mortgage,” Walter says as he lets go of your hand, instead hovering his large one along your lower back. 

“That’s exciting,” she chimes, “you and... I didn’t know you married?” 

“Not yet,” Walter exhales, “anyway, do you got someone available? I don’t really have time to sit around.” 

“Sure, sure, Pete should be able to help you out. I’ll just take you to an office.” 

The woman, Marska, comes around the desk and waves you down the hall. She takes you into an office and leaves you there. You and Walter lower yourself into the stiff chairs. He reaches between to offer his hand. You take it and nervously stare at the empty desk. 

There’s a tap on the doorframe and a man enters. Pete. You’ve seen him before when you came to the bank with your mother. 

“Morning,” he says as he swaggers around to sit behind the desk, “lovely to see you folks bright and early.” He offers his hand across the desk and Walter reluctantly lets go of yours to shake it. Pete looks at you and you hesitantly shake his hand. The man beside you shifts and huffs. “So, we’re looking into a mortgage, huh?” 

The manager smiles as he leans back nonchalantly in his chair. He looks between you and Walter, “gone and snagged yourself a young one, huh, Marshall?” 

Walter growls and crosses his arms, “I have a down payment.” 

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Pete rolls his chair closer to the desk, “just making some small chat. Big news, the two of you.” 

“Is it?” Walter challenges. 

“Marriage is a big deal, isn’t it?” Peter chuckles nervously. 

“You would know,” Walter sneers as he sniffs, “you got something on your cheek.” 

You only notice at the mention of it. Your eyes retreat from the window to Pete’s face, the smear of pink along his cheek. You look away, embarrassed for him. It must be true what they say about him and Marska. 

“Uh, thanks,” Pete wipes his face with his sleeve, “let’s just jump in then.” He puts his hands over the keyboard and clears his throat. You can see a trickle of sweat along his hairline as Walter’s disapproval burns through the small office.  

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #au #backwoods #series #the farmer's daughter #night hunter

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest Masterlist

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Wolfie-centric Spotify Playlist is here.

Sy-centric Spotify Playlist is here.

Dividers by me

Cover Art by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Parts: (ongoing)

Prologue: The Legend of the Claw Creek Creature

Chapter One: Hide and Seek

Chapter Two: The Cabin in the Woods

Chapter Three: The Wolf In My Living Room

Chapter Four: Unbridled Instincts

Chapter Five: A Biting Truth

Chapter Six: Of Wolf and Man

Chapter Seven: Marked By The Wolf

Chapter Eight: Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Headcanons:

Beefy College Walter imagine

My Masterlist 

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #night hunter #night hunter fanfic #night hunter fanfiction #walter marshall smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #werewolf!walter marshall #night hunter au #henry cavill characters #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you #the howling in claw creek forest

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Of Wolf and Man

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: Walter lets you in on his past, and you meet a friend.

Warnings: making out, slight heavy petting, hot werewolves

A/N: This chapter gave me so much grief! A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. 

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

“I’m on my way over, alright? Just breathe for me. I’m gonna make a phone call and I will be over to your place shortly, okay?” Walter speaks clearly as if he were trying to calm down a frightened puppy.

Well, he’s not that far off.

“Yeah ok. Breathe. That should be easy enough, right?” You proceed to take one shaky deep breath and you laugh when you gulp in too much air and have a small coughing fit.

“Pup, you’re killing me. Gimme twenty minutes. Drink some water. I’ll see you soon, okay?” You hear the way he tries to cover up his worry with a short laugh.

“See you soon, Wolfie.”  

You hang up and undress, throw your clothes in the hamper, and head to the bathroom to take a shower. Your body moved of its own accord, your brain leaving the equation early on to think hypotheticals. Only when you register that the water has gone cold do you turn the knobs and exit the tub. You are just toweling off when you hear the doorbell. 

You tighten your towel around yourself and peek out the bathroom window down onto your driveway. You can see the edge of the black F-150 in the driveway and you heave a sigh of relief. You skip down the steps and walk across the living room to the front door. Opening it, you go to speak but hush and step aside as Walter walks in still talking on the phone with someone. 

He mouths, I’m sorry, before going back to the phone call. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, brother. See you soon,” he ends the call and focuses his attention on you, smiling as you watch him take in your attire or lack thereof.

“So, who was that?” you ask, knocking Walter out of his daydreaming.

“Right, uh. That was Jace. He’s coming down to help us with our little problem. Well, it may not even be a problem. Who knows? Sy might be fine, we haven’t even seen his bite yet.” Walter scratches his beard and shrugs.

Crap.

“Actually, I’ve seen it. He sent me a pic of the bite after we were on the phone on my way home from work,” you reply, wishing you could melt into the floorboards.

Walter tilts his head and squints at you. “He sent you a pic of the bite after you were on the phone on your way home from work? That seems...friendly.” You watch as he bites the inside of his cheek, no doubt leaving something unsaid.

“Yeah, he left me a voicemail the night you both were hurt. But I didn’t listen to it until today. I had to call him to make sure he was okay before I bothered you with possibly a false alarm. I’m sorry I didn’t call you first.” you explain, grabbing his big paw and looking into his eyes.

He can’t help but melt for you, but he tries to keep it out of his expression. He fails, rolling his eyes and smiling. “First things first, pack a bag for a night or two at the cabin. Just for my own worry. So I know you’re safe.” He laces his fingers with yours and pulls you to him, “Oh, and I should probably look at that photo too.”

You pull him with you upstairs and grab your phone off of the charger. Scrolling to the texts, you find Sy’s chat and open it. You turn to look at Walter and speak, “I did not ask him to send a thirst trap. Just want that to be stated clearly.” 

You hand him your phone and he rolls his eyes, using his thumb and index finger to zoom in on the bite. He studies the image for a bit before giving you back the device, sniffing and putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Well?” you press.

“Kinda hard to look at it honestly. Never thought I’d see your ex’s happy trail. So, there’s that variable thrown in there for good measure,” he offers, pursing his lips and shaking his head. “It just seems like he is quite comfortable sending you these.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, you have to tell him. “Look, that day you dropped me at my car, Sy was here. Olivia called him because she didn’t know what else to do. He pointed out the hickey you left on my neck. He’s obviously jealous and he wanted to throw his hat in the ring. That’s all.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure he knows who hangs his hat here.” Walter pulls you to him, his large hand going to your throat as your lips connect. He swallows your delicate moans, savoring them as his thumb rubs at your pulse point. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, and lets you catch your breath. 

You look up into his eyes and can’t stop the dopey smile that forms on your face. You shake your head and say, “Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend? ‘Cause, if so? Fuck yeah is my answer.”

“Now, don’t let me stop you from packing. I’ll just sit here quietly.” He sits on your bed and gestures for you to get ready to go to his house.

Pulling a small suitcase from the closet, you gather your toiletries first, zipping their case closed as you walk back into the bedroom. It’s not long before you are in Walter’s truck and starting the trip to the cabin. You yawn for most of the ride, your body finally still and feeling like you could fall over at any second.

You arrive and put your things upstairs. Checking your watch, you realize it’s after 1 in the morning and you suddenly aren’t tired anymore. You didn’t have the chance to wind down after work, now that you think about it. You just stayed stimulated, in one way or another, off and on.

You decide to go back downstairs and see what Walter is doing. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you see him emerge from the kitchen holding an apple between his teeth as he pushes up the sleeves of his sweater.

After a healthy bite, he takes the fruit out of his mouth and walks over to you. “Lemme guess, can’t sleep?” You shake your head and he nods. “Wanna wait up for Jace with me? We can talk while we wait.”

You nod and he takes your hand, leading you to the living room.

“So how long have you known Jace?” you inquire, settling back into the couch’s plush cushions.

“Oh, far too long. I met him when I was turned.” Walter stops there and looks at you, seeing your look of excitement at hearing the story, “Look, it’s not that great of a story. But I’ll tell you if you wanna hear it.”

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t have to. But just know, it’s been on my mind since the moment I found out what you are. Of course, I wanna know how it happened.” You put your hand on his and he turns it over to hold it.

“It was really stupid. I came here to the States for school and I played football and was in a frat house. I had the whole ‘college experience’, ya know? Um, one kid on the team was kind of a loner but we got along just fine. Melot and I were pretty different, but he needed a friend and I was broke and he paid for everything. One night, he invited me out to a party off-campus. Promises drinks and girls and whatever I wanted. Should have known that was too good to be true.

“Anyway, he drives us out into the woods where this bonfire is going on. And there are maybe ten people there that I can see as we walk up. As soon as we get up to the fire, this huge guy stands up and walks around the fire and greets us. Now, he looks like he eats children and I feel so small in front of him. But he just hands us a couple of beers and whistles over his shoulder. And two very cute girls come running over. All of a sudden, I’ve got a cold beer and a girl on my arm and I didn’t take a second to think maybe this was too good to be true.”

You snicker at him, and he continues.

“The rest of the night is going alright. Then I notice there is a fighting ring going on and I see that they are really going for it. It’s brutality at its finest. I walk up and then the fight stops and I see Melot get into the ring and people start pushing me in. I was drunk enough to agree to fight him, but not drunk enough to lose. I had him knocked out within minutes, or so I thought. 

“I wobbled over to him and turned him over to check out the damage and he lunged at me. Before I could even understand what was happening, Melot was biting into my shoulder. The pain was unimaginable and I blacked out. I came to and was so lost. I woke up and the girl from the night before was holding a cloth to my forehead and she smiled down at me when I opened my eyes. I fell in love with Angie at that very moment. We were inseparable after that. At least for a while.”

You squeeze his hand, not knowing what to say, and he smiles at you before talking again.

“So, Melot is there when I wake up too. He tells me that he wanted to impress the Alpha with a new wolf for the pack. Apparently, Melot thought this would get him some kind of accolades. But, it only pissed off the Alpha for potentially exposing them to humans. Heard they tortured him pretty well after that. Serves him right. 

“I just ended up going back to school after everything. Didn’t see Melot much after that, but I did go back to the pack when I started to feel like I was losing my mind. On the night of my first shift, I met Jace. A handful of them were at the place in the woods and said they expected me sooner. I was so sick, thought it was the flu. They took me in and helped me through that first painful transformation. When I was in wolf form for the first time, all I could do was run. I ran through those woods until Jace tackled me and talked me down. He became my brother that night. He took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew. Which is why I called him about our situation. If anyone can help, it’s him.”

“So, was Jace bitten too? Or...can you be born a werewolf?” you wonder aloud.

“I was bitten. Angie, Jace, and Faye were all born with the lycanthropy gene,” he answers, noting your furrowed brow, “The lycanthropy gene is passed down from werewolves to their offspring. Usually lays dormant until puberty. That’s one thing that Teen Wolf got right. The 80s one, not the MTV one.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised that my Wolfie has seen Teen Wolf, but it still makes me feel all tingly, knowing you’ve seen werewolf media. Oh my God, have you seen Twilight?!” you exclaim, suddenly hyper-aware that you’ve gone giddy.

Walter snorts and pulls you into straddle his lap, cupping your face in both of his hands. Pulling you close, he turns his head to whisper in your ear, “Team Jacob.”

You actually swoon, and your little whimpered moan escapes before you get the chance to permit it. Covering your mouth too late, you lean back at look at Walter’s smug face. You swat at his shoulder and the corner of his mouth turns up.

He has you pinned under him on the sofa so fast, you could hear the air whoosh by. He nuzzles his nose with yours, then moves to kiss from your lips to your neck. You turn your head to give him better access, letting your hand tangle in his hair.

He licks and nips at your soft flesh, sucking and biting his way to where your neck meets your shoulder. While his hips are pressing into you, his hand snakes under your shirt to tickle your skin. You chirp when you feel his teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot. 

You freeze, you’ve never made that sound before.

Walter groans, he likes the sound you made if his hips grinding into you was anything to go by. He gives little kitten licks at the spot again and you melt under his touch.

“I can smell how much you need me, Pup,” he hums, sliding a hand to cup your clothed sex, “Fuck. I can feel the heat coming off of her–Shit,” He shakes his head, kissing your neck before sitting up and getting off the couch. “Looks like we have company.”

You lean up on your elbows, confused until you hear the monstrous rumble of a motorcycle engine getting closer. You watch as Walter opens the front door and disappears into the yard. Soon, you hear the symphony of howling and grunts. You get up from the couch and walk to the open door when you hear the growling get louder.

From the doorway, you see quite a display of masculinity. Two grown men wrestle in the grass like children, laughing and shouting at each other until they register your presence. 

The taller of the two sniffs the air and turns toward you, climbing off of Walter. His piercing green eyes almost seem to glow. A wild mane of dark brown waves with bleached ends frames a masculine face, and a healthy beard outlines full lips. His caramel skin is littered with tattoos from the neck down, a slit in his left eyebrow.

A dark grey v-neck under a vest hugs his built chest, while thick thighs are encased in tight-fitting jeans. A pair of old boots cover his feet, the laces left untied. His long fingers are decorated with a handful of ornate rings and one wrist sports a leather braided bracelet with a wolf charm hanging from it.

His meaty arms cross over his chest and his face splits with a devilish grin, his body is almost bouncing with energy. “Who’s your new friend, Marshall?”

To be continued...

A/N: I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter is already outlined. And just needs to be written. I have a plan, y’all.

A/N 2: Bonus points if you can guess my face-claim for Jace.

**Tag List**

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#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #night hunter #night hunter fanfic #night hunter fanfiction #walter marshall smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #werewolf!walter marshall #night hunter au #henry cavill characters #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you

[mdemontespan1667]

HUNGER (conclusion)

VAMPIRE DARK WALTER MARSHALL AU X READER

READER X OC JENN / READER X OC NINA / READER X OC ALESHA / COMBINATIONS OF JENN X NINA X ALESHA

WARNINGS: NON-CON/VAGINAL SEX (F/F AND F/M)/ANAL SEX (F/F)/ORAL SEX (F/F AND M/F)/VIOLENCE/DEATH/BLOOD DRINKING/HORROR

AN ONLYFANS LIVE STREAM AT THE INFAMOUS MARSTEN HOUSE GOES HORRIBLY WRONG.

This is a hot fucking mess. I really wanted to post it before or on Halloween but that didn't happen. So I'm posting this part tonight and will post the ending tomorrow night. I apologize for any mistakes, I was typing in a hurry.

AS ALWAYS THIS IS STRICTLY 18+

I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes. I wanted to make sure I got this posted tonight.

PART ONE

“Have you seen to her companions?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Very good Mr Pronge.”

Even though the trance was fading you kept your eyes closed, limbs slack, suspended in Alesha’s former position, listening to the men speak behind you.

“With your permission I’d like to have the whore with the big titties.”

A grim laugh was uttered.

“Try not to make a mess this time.”

“Of course Master.”

Muted footsteps shuffled down the hallway.

“I know you’re awake.”

You startled, jerking frantically at the bindings.

“Did you have a pleasant rest?”

His breath on the back of your neck was sour, fetid, a combination of damp earth, rotted flesh and, oddly, vanilla.

“Where are my friends? What did you do to them you sick fuck!”

Pain exploded as Walter bit down on your neck, pointed teeth breaking the skin.

The pull of his mouth threatened to overwhelm you.

You felt yourself floating, fire radiated from the bite, pooling between your legs.

“Sorry, Love. I couldn't help myself. I’ve smelled your scent since you drove up.”

He caressed your ribcage with his icy fingers.

“Your friends have been made comfortable. Except for Alesha. My human associate has taken a liking to her.”

He tsked.

“She’ll wish he hadn’t.”

“You, you won’t get away with this,” you screamed, “Thousands of people know we’re here. They’ll have the cops looking for us.”

“Due to technical difficulties the rest of the live stream is canceled. We’ll let ya’ll know a new time and date when we get back to fucking civilization. Sorry Kits and Kats.”

Jenn’s words spilled from her phone.

You gasped, “How…..”

“Mr Pronge is a fountain of information.”

Walter’s hand cupped your breast.

“Your cellular phones will show you left here at approximately 11pm. Your car and personal belongings will be found in a ditch outside of Chamberlain, along with alcohol and assorted opioids. It will be assumed the four of you, drunk and under the influence, wandered off. The police will search, of course, but the woods are dangerous, full of deadfalls and sinkholes. In a year or two a hunter may stumble on skeletal remains. Or not. Mr Pronge is very reliable.”

Tears sprang to your eyes.

“No, this, this is just a dream, a fucked up dream, not real, just a dream..not..”

Walter turned you towards him, lifting your chin. 

“I assure you, this is very real.”

“Why?”

You were sobbing now, vision clouded.

“Why? Because you wanted this. Why else would you be here.”

“We’re sorry, so so sorry. Just let us go. We, we won’t tell anyone.”

He dropped to his knees, slinging your leg over his shoulder.

“We both know it’s too late for that.”

You shrieked when he bit down on the tender skin of your inner thigh.

“Oh God, please, please stop.”

Lifting your other leg, spreading you wide, he grinned.

“There is no God here, Only me.”

Your body bucked as he lapped at your cunt. 

His tongue was freezing, like a twin popsicle.

The thrill of it against your heated folds was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

Walter swept your nub, catching the sensitive tip, his canine prinking the delicate skin, the pulling sensation forcing you to orgasm with a jolt.

He lashed your clit recklessly, licking between the swollen lips.

A thumb replaced his tongue, swiping, while he pushed two digits in, puncturing the other thigh.

He tore orgasm after orgasm from you, alternating his hand and mouth at your core, blood and slick staining his beard, running rivulets down your legs. 

Body limp, arms numb, your head fell forward. 

Despite the crisp Autumn air you were drenched in sweat.

You felt Walter’s cock at your entrance.

“Please no, no…”

He ignored your pleas, wrapping your legs around his hips, his hands supporting your ass.

In one violent shove he impaled you. 

His cock was huge, cold, unyielding as granite, stretching you beyond reason. 

Walter gave you no time to adjust, thrusting with preternatural speed.

“It hurts….plea….please stop..”

Capturing a nipple, he pierced your breast. 

It seemed like eternities passed, your body ragged out and torn, drained.   

You fought the twelfth impending orgasm that now brought more pain than pleasure.

“I WILL NOT BE DENIED.”

The command echoed in your head.

Your nerve endings fired, sending tendrils of ecstasy outward.

Every sense was heightened, dissolving you into a delirious mess of longing.

Keening, you tightened your legs, desperate to force him deeper.

He pistoned faster, nipping and sucking your exposed flesh.

“NO..NO..NO..,” You wailed, unsure if it was in denial of the impending crash or a last ditch effort to save your soul.  

Tremors built in your belly.

Walter’s fingers found your nub, circling the tender flesh.

You came with a gut wrenching cry, body shaking with uncontrollable spasms.

Barely conscious, you felt his hips falter.

With a grunt, Walter came, slamming into you as he rode out the tremors. 

Vaguely you wondered at the warm liquid filling you up, dripping from your center.

The image flitted away, brain recoiling at the possibilities.

Gently he freed your arms, gathering you close.

An unfamiliar electricity clawed along your veins.

He kissed your forehead.

“Sleep. Later we will visit your companions.”

Your eyelids heavy, visions of writhing bodies bathed in blood danced behind them.

An awful, unholy hunger grew. 

@fanfic-fangirl @caffiend-queen @americasass81 @lokislastlove @ironlady1993 @nildespirandum @jennmurawski13 @xoxabs88xox @imanuglywombat @starynighty @sapphirescrolls @xsapphirescrollsx @momc95 @sagechanoafterdark @jtargaryen18 @demonsandpieohmy @dangertoozmanykids101 @lizzystuffsthings @shikin83 @km-ffluv @punemy-spotted @sinceimetyou @rustytricycle @imdarkinme @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @littlefreya

#DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER #DARK VAMPIRE WALTER MARSHALL #VAMPIRE WALTER MARSHALL X READER #VAMPIRE X READER #'SALEM'S LOT #'SALEM'S LOT FAN FIC #'SALEM'S LOT FANFICTION #MARSTEN HOUSE #MARSTEN HOUSE FIC #MARSTEN HOUSE FAN FICTION #VAMPIRE WALTER MARSHALL AU #VAMPIRE WALTER MARSHALL #HENRY CAVILL CHARACTER #DARK WALTER MARSHALL AU #KINKTOBER #MONSTER FUCKING #STEPHEN KING FAN FIC #HOT MESS FAN FIC #HALLOWEEN FIC #NIGHT HUNTER

[geralts-yenn]

Hollow Hearts

Walter Marshall x reader

summary: You break up with Walter but you just can't move on!

Basically a lot of heartache and longing

warnings: 18+, minors DNI! breakup, drinking alcohol, some hints of light smut

@henrycavillbingo prompt: fever

word count: 7k

Bonus chapter (that's the smuty part 😁)

My masterlist

It was hard. You knew from the start that there'd be times like these where Walter needed to retreat. Sometimes his job just took every bit of energy he had. And you had accepted that. You had waited till the storm was over, till he was able to give you something back again. 

But now it had been months. You really tried to be patient with him. However at one point, the devil on your shoulder won. You started those little mind games. You stopped telling him that you love him, waiting for a reaction that never came. After that, you stopped the hugs, too. He still didn't even seem to notice. 

This was the first time you realized that maybe you had lost him.

Seven days ago, you decided to take the final step. No touch, no word. It broke your heart. More than just a few times, you had to stop yourself from reaching out to him when you lay beside him. But then you pulled your hand back, and instead, you shed silent tears into your pillow. 

In your head, you were screaming at him, begging him to show any kind of emotion. You wanted him to be mad at you. Anything but that feeling of being invisible. But Walter didn't. He came home late, sometimes he found his way into your bed, though most of the time he slept in his clothes on the couch. In the mornings, he would drink his coffee in silence and leave without a word. 

Today was the day all of this would change. You hadn't slept all night. Crying, trying to find excuses not to leave. You still didn't want to, but as much as you loved Walter, you also needed to take care of yourself. And staying with him like this would destroy you. 

He was standing in the kitchen, dark circles under his eyes, when you carried your suitcase and your backpack down the stairs. 

“What are you doing, darling?” 

A sarcastic chuckle interrupted your sobs. It took him only that much to realize that something was off? Finally, he was able to talk to you?

“I'm going to stay at my mom's for a few days. I will try to find an apartment as fast as I can. Bye, Walter.” 

Your heart broke when you leaned forwards and your lips brushed over his cheek one last time. You held your breath, trying not to take in his scent. As fast as you could, you turned and ran out of the house before you could change your mind. 

Walter shouted after you, but you couldn't dare to turn around and talk to him. You could have never left him if you had looked at his face for another second. 

The next three days, you ignored Walter’s messages and calls. But then you finally were brave enough and you picked up the phone. 

It was hard. For both of you. You didn’t think you had left any more tears to cry at that point, but you were wrong. At the end of your conversation, you were curled up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. But you had succeeded in resisting him.

Walter offered you to get back home. He would move out of the house himself, knowing you love it so much. He said he didn’t mind where he sleeps anyway. Although somehow you suspected that he just couldn’t stand being there with everything reminding him of you. 

And he was right. Because now that you were back at the home the two of you had built together, it hurt like hell. Every single time you got up the stairs to the second floor, you heard that one creaking step that reminded you of him. Reminded you of those many nights where you finally could relax, hearing the sound that told you that your man was home safely. It would have been easy to avoid the creaking step by shifting your weight a little to the other side. But somehow you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You just couldn’t let go of him yet.

As the days got warmer, you sat in the garden and watched the blossoms of the peonies grow and open to the gorgeous, full buds of cream and powdery pink. With a sad smile on your face, you remembered how Walter had planted them for you, knowing how much you loved them. 

Preparing your morning coffee, your eyes rested on the mug before you, the cracks still visible where Walter had glued the handle to it. You remembered the day it got broken. 

Walter was in the kitchen making coffee when you got out of the shower. You had tried to sneak up on him, like you had so often, but like always, he had heard you, sensed you, whatever, before you could reach him. He turned, a broad smile spread over his face as he grabbed you at your hips and pulled you flush to his chest. “Good morning, babe!” he whispered before he started to nip on your earlobe. He knew it was your weak spot, and he loved to take advantage of it. You moaned in response to it and squirmed in his arms. 

Within a second, somehow Walter had turned both of you, and you found yourself sitting on the kitchen counter. The towel that had been wrapped around your body was laying on the floor, serving as a cushion to Walter’s knees as he dove headfirst between your legs.

As your orgasm hit you, you knocked the coffee mug from the counter with your knee. You had both laughed at it and kept going. And after Walter had glued it together again, it became your favorite mug, always reminding you of that morning. 

One of the joys of long relationships is having mutual friends. Which turns out to be quite complicated once you split up. This meant you had to see Walter from time to time at birthdays or other parties of your friends. It was always awkward, and it always hurt to see him because you still loved him so fucking much, and he looked worse every time you saw him. You knew he didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat well. You wished you could talk to him and somehow make him feel better. But how were you supposed to do that without hurting yourself? So you just asked your friends to look after him. They promised you that they tried, but they knew Walter just as well as you. That stubborn man didn’t take any help from others, at least not if it weren’t you. 

After another evening that was supposed to be fun with friends, you came home sad and worried. You slumped down on your couch and sighed. Your look fell on the shelf on the opposite wall, where all the picture frames were lined up. Pictures of family members, of yourself, and also the pictures of Walter and you together. The ones you had planned to remove so often but never actually did. 

“Dammit, I need to move on!” you told yourself as you got up again. You went to fetch one of the cardboard boxes that you had in the guest room ever since Walter had moved out, containing all the things that hurt too much to see them but not enough to make you throw them away. You picked up the photograph that you had taken on your first vacation together. He looked so happy and relaxed as he smiled into the camera. You wondered when was the last time you had seen him like this. Or anyone. One after another all the pictures of Walter found their way into the box and when you had removed the last one, your composure was gone too and you dropped to the floor, crying. 

You were standing at the window as the fall storm was blowing yellow and orange leaves of the maple tree in your garden into the air. Another memory hit you as you watched the leaves fall onto the grass again. 

Walter standing in the garden, a knit beanie hiding most of his curls, big heaps of leaves on both sides of him. He had taken off his sweater after gathering the first pile of leaves, a while later he opened the buttons of the flannel he was wearing, the t-shirt beneath showing a sweat stain on his chest. He leaned on the handle of his rake, smiling, when he realized you were standing at the window and watching him. 

Another strong gust of wind rushed through the air, and most of the leaves that Walter had gathered blew into the air again. You laughed and saw how Walter did the same before he threw the rake into the remaining heap. Both of you were still laughing as you held the door open for him. “Let’s spend the time with something more useful”, he grunted and kissed you hard, his cold hands slipping into the waistband of your jeans and groping your ass. 

“But you stink!” you protested mockingly. Walter shook his head and heaved you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as if it were a reflex. “Then you’ll have to take a shower with me”, he laughed, already on his way up the stairs with you clinging onto him. 

What hit you the most was whenever those bittersweet memories came to you unexpectedly. When you thought you were happy and having a good day until suddenly Walter was back in your mind and your heart broke once more.

Like that time when you were having a great evening with your best friend. You were sitting on your couch with her, drinking wine and talking about the books you were reading at the moment.

“Hey, do you still have that book you read last year?” your friend asked you, “The one where the girl gets snowed-in in a cabin with those two hot bearded guys? I need to borrow it from you. It's the perfect season for it now.” She pointed out to the snowflakes slowly starting to cover the trees and lawn. You laughed as you remembered the book she mentioned. Yes, that one is definitely worth reading. You got up to look through your shelves for it and soon after, you held it in your hand. Your friend cheered as you showed her the illustration on the cover. “That's the one!”

But then, as you opened the book, a note fell down to the floor. 

Walter used to hide those little messages everywhere for you to find. You loved them so much. But when you saw those words now, the loss felt suffocating. You froze, not even able to breathe as the pain filled your heart and spread through your body like a cold, dark shadow. 

Your friend knew right away what had happened and guided you to sit. 

“Do you want to talk about him or do we need more wine?” She asked. 

“Both!” you answered with a weak smile.

Two empty glasses later, you weren’t really smarter, but at least some of the weight that crushed your heart was lifted from your chest. You had talked about how much you missed Walter, and it felt good to finally admit it. But as you recounted the problems you had the last weeks before the split up, realization hit you. Way too late, but now you saw it.

“I was so occupied with pitying myself that I didn’t see how much all of this was my fault, just as much. Playing these stupid games instead of talking to him like an adult. What if I had told him how I feel? Maybe we could have made it? Maybe he would be here with me then.” 

Your friend held you all through the ugly crying that followed. When the tears started to cease, she brushed some strands of hair from your face and held a Kleenex out for you to take.

“Talk to him. Tell him what you told me today.” But you shook your head.

“It’s too late. I’ve been ignoring him for months. He’s moved on. Probably dating someone else by now.” 

You were on your way to a barbecue at a friend’s house, but every crossing you passed, you argued with yourself if you should turn. You had an exceptionally bad week. After losing a big project at your job and arguing with your parents, Friday had ended with a terrible date. Not even wanting to go, your friends had told you it was about time. And the profile of that guy was promising. But then he turned out to be already taken. He was completely in love — with himself.

You wanted to spend the rest of your weekend in your bed with a book and ice-cream, but you had promised that you’d show up for at least a few hours, so you kept driving to your friend's house.

Parking your car next to the big black truck you know too well, you cursed. You should have stayed at home.

The first thirty minutes, you were lucky, you didn’t run into the man that you dreaded to see. You greeted your friends, talked for a bit, but somehow people seemed to sense that you were not in the mood. So they let you lean against a tree and sip on your beer in silence, soon. 

And then you saw him, clad in jeans that showed off his great ass and a gray Henley that fitted his wide frame perfectly. And as you managed to tear your eyes from his body, you also saw that he didn’t look that tired and exhausted anymore. He was smiling, the creases in the corner of his eyes only making him look more attractive.

“That fucker!” you snarled, hating him for making you want him so desperately. Looks like he's over you now, you thought, a sadness pooling in your stomach that made you want to run and hide. You decided that you were done with the day, and you were going to just ruin it completely now. You made your way over to the improvised bar, your eyes focused on the vodka bottle.

The stars above you were so beautiful. But they were spinning, way too fast. You wanted to complain about it, but your mouth didn’t work the way you wanted to, and you suspected the words that came out of it didn’t really make sense. Somehow deep inside, you knew you should get up and call a taxi, but how were you supposed to do that? So you just kept laying in the grass and watching the world turn. 

Dark curls were suddenly in your way. And then you saw a pair of blue eyes, squinted, the brows above them furrowed. 

“Come on, sit up!” the familiar deep voice told you, and two hands held you in a tight grip until you were upright again. You sank your back against a firm wall that was warm and heaving in a steady rhythm. 

“Walter!” you slurred, “always my savior!” His sarcastic chuckle was full of frustration, but you wouldn’t have noticed. Tonight, you wouldn’t notice anything anymore.

It wasn’t as easy as he thought to maneuver you into his truck, your limbs slipping out of his hands, but finally, he had you on the passenger seat. He rolled down the window in hopes that the fresh air would help sober you up. And halfway to your home, he had the impression that you were getting a little to your senses. 

Worried, his eyes shot to you whenever he could dare to move them away from the streets. You were beautiful, even in this state, he thought. Your eyes big and glossy, as you watched him silently. 

Getting you into your bed was easier. At least the physical part of it. Walter opened the door and took in the scent of the house that he had missed almost as much as its inhabitant. He carried you up the stairs and carefully laid you down on the mattress. His fingers fumbled with the little straps of your sandals. Then his look fell on your clothes. Should he leave you like this, or help you undress? It wasn’t as if he didn’t know you without clothes. But he wasn’t allowed to see you like this anymore. And maybe it was better if he didn’t get reminded of how beautiful you are. How soft your skin felt. So he tucked you in the blanket without removing the dress you wore. But he just couldn’t leave without leaning down to brush his hand over your hair.

He jerked when your hand shot up to him. Your fingers wrapped around his neck as you pulled him close. “I still love you, you know? So much! And I would just love to be fucked senseless by you. Now. Please!” Your lips pressed hard against his, desperate to taste him. But Walter didn’t reciprocate. He froze for a second before he pulled himself free from your grip.

“Don’t!” he told you, his voice a whisper, but full of hurt. “Don’t do that.”

First thing you noticed as you woke up was the awful taste in your mouth. Then the stabbing pain that was shooting through your head when you opened your eyes to the sunlight. You squeezed them shut again and sighed.

“Idiot” you scolded yourself. "What have you done?"

When you opened up your eyes again, slowly and carefully this time, you noticed a bottle of water and some painkillers on your nightstand. Were you smart enough to prepare for today's hangover, at least? But how exactly did you even get home? You had absolutely no idea.

After you took the painkillers and downed half of the bottle, you got up to get into the shower. That was until a scent filled your nostrils and you changed your plans. 

Down in the kitchen, there was a whole pot of coffee waiting for you, and a plate with two bagels. Fried eggs and cream cheese. The ones that Walter always used to make for you. You also noticed the bouquet of peonies standing on the table with a note beside it.

Fuck! So he took you home? And he made you breakfast? The bagels were still warm, so he couldn’t have left too long ago.

Distressed, you tried to remember what had happened tonight. But only fragments appeared in your head. The barbeque, Walter laughing, the vodka, so much vodka, damn! Then stars and cold grass, Walter in his truck, the stairs creaking. Nothing else.

Wait! Was there a kiss? Somehow you remembered a kiss, but that couldn’t have been. This must have been a dream. You looked down on yourself. You were still wearing your dress. And your panties. Thank god. But damn, you needed to fill the gaps in your memories. 

Ashamed and frustrated, you decided to take a shower and then take the embarrassing task of calling Walter. 

You sat on your bed, ankles crossed. Your stomach was doing somersaults, and you weren’t sure if it was for yesterday’s disaster or because of what you had to do next. You stared at your phone, not willing to take it into your hands just yet. Biting on your lip, you finally scrolled to Walter’s number and dialed.

“Hey! Thought you’d call today. How are you?” You tried so hard not to cry as you heard him, talking softly as if he tried to be careful with your hammering headache.

“I’m okay, considering the state I was in yesterday, I guess.” you said shyly. You were ashamed and felt incredibly uneasy. “I… I…” you stuttered, “I need you to help me with a few details. I can’t really remember most of the evening. And I need to know if I said something stupid. Or if I did something stupid, if we did…” You couldn’t end the sentence, but Walter should be getting it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just a little tipsy. Or, yeah, well, quite drunk.” He let out a small laugh, but it wasn’t offensive. It was soft and warm. “You were cute, and didn’t say anything stupid. I put you into bed and made sure you had everything you needed. I slept on the couch for a while, I wanted to see that you were really doing okay. At six this morning, I left. I thought I’d give you some privacy."

After you had ended the call, thanking Walter, you cried. You cried because you were so grateful that Walter had taken care of you. That he was there for you when you needed him. But part of you also cried because you had hoped to hear that you had kissed, that you had somehow found a way to show him how much you still felt for him. But you hadn’t. And you knew if you couldn’t do this with liquid courage, you’d never manage to tell him. 

If you had thought you were heartbroken before that day, you had no idea how much you were able to suffer. You were so incredibly mad at yourself that you had walked away from the man who meant the world to you. And today you finally realized you would never get him back. You were absolutely miserable. 

But at the same time, Walter wasn’t doing a lot better. He hadn’t slept at all that night. He had tossed around on your couch, pondering over the sentences he heard you say, over and over again. You had told him you still love him. But could he trust your drunken words? And even if so, was he able to give you what you need? He had failed you before. And he was so fucking scared that he'd hurt you again. Hurting you was no option. 

But damn, did it hit him hard that night. The urge to protect you was so strong. And while holding you in his arms, he wasn’t sure he could do the right thing, to keep away from you. He couldn’t take advantage of your state, but it was so hard not to hold you, not to kiss you back, to feel you one last time. 

Now he sat in his office, staring at the folders in front of him, but he couldn’t focus on anything else but you. He took out his phone, started typing, deleting the words again, only to type and delete them once more. “Fuck!” he growled as he threw his phone on the desk. All he wanted was to hold you in his arms and tell you that he still loved you. But he couldn’t, not until he was sure that he’d be able to be there for you, no matter what. 

It’s been a month since the vodka fiasco, and you were finally at least trying to move on. But after a few days that hadn’t felt like you were a total failure, today was harsh.

You felt off, couldn’t focus, and your body switched from shivering to sweating minutely. After she had watched you worriedly the whole morning, your favorite co-worker came to you around noon. She put her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you’re sick. Go home and take care of yourself.” 

First, you wanted to protest, but before the words reached your mouth you realized that she was right. So you took her advice and went home. You made a cup of tea and curled up on the sofa with a soft blanket. Your eyes drifted shut before you could even turn the first page of your book. 

With a startled cry, you woke up. Beads of sweat were covering your forehead and running down your chest. Sighing, you lifted your head and realized you must have been sleeping for hours. The room was dark, only a dim glow from the street lanterns falling through the windows. Taking a deep breath, you tried to clear your head, but the dream that had woken you didn’t leave your mind.

It had been the night when Walter had taken you home. You remembered how his fingers had carefully moved over your ankles, how this touch had made you feel so desperate. He had put you in bed, wrapped you up like a burrito. And even if it was dark in the room, you were able to take in the soft expression on his face, his eyes staring right into your soul. You remembered how the touch of his hand through your hair had broken your last will to resist him, how you had pulled him down to you, telling him all those things that you never wanted to admit to him. And you also remembered how he didn’t kiss you back, how he pulled away from you, sounding so hurt when he told you to stop. 

Tears were falling from your eyes. Was this real? A flashback or a dream? You weren’t sure. The next memory was even more foggy. But just as blurred as it was, it was the part that you wished the most to be true:

You had almost drifted off to sleep when you felt Walter’s hand on your cheek, his fingertips caressing your neck, like he had done a thousand times before. His voice barely a whisper, you had heard him say: “I still love you, too. And I miss you, every damn day.” 

His curls had brushed over your forehead before you felt his soft lips grazing your cheek for a kiss so gentle you hardly felt it at all. But it was there. He had kissed you, he had admitted his love to you. If it wasn’t just your feverish mind playing tricks on you. 

With the little energy you had in you, you forced yourself to go up to your bedroom, change into your pajamas and fall into your bed. After an hour of going back and forth through the dream you had, in the half awake state you were in, you texted a message to Walter, telling him that you need to talk. Just as you hit the send button, you regretted it immediately. You wanted to delete the message, but then you saw the checkmarks, implying Walter had already seen your text.

And then  — nothing. You waited for an answer to appear, but after several minutes, the fever took over again, and you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

The vague sound of a doorbell rang through your head in your dream, then knocking. First hesitant, then louder, more determined. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, but you were too tired to keep them open. You heard your name, the familiar deep voice calling it as if it were a question. You tried another time to open your eyes, and this time you were successful. 

The creaking step announced him like so many times before, and you were able to sit up on your elbows when finally there was a knock on your door.

“Hey, it’s Walter. Are you in there? Are you okay? I’m madly worried.” Still not fully processing everything around you, you only managed a quiet answer.

“You can come in,” you told him, wondering what got him worried. 

The door opened slowly and Walter’s curly head appeared in the door frame.

“Goodness, there you are.” Walter said breathlessly. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”

He stepped into the room and, without taking his eyes from you, he let himself fall onto the chair next to your dresser.

Staring at him confusedly, you sat up. Ignoring your thundering headache, your look went to the window, seeing it was still dark, then to the phone on your pillow. It must have slipped from your hands when you fell asleep.

The screen showed new messages and missed phone calls, all from Walter.

Your eyes going back to him, you chewed on your lip.

“Damn, sorry Walt. I fell asleep, I think I caught the flu.” Immediately Walter was on his feet again, crossing the distance between you with long strides. Softly, he pressed his palm on your forehead.

“Oh, dammit, your skin is burning hot.” He brushed some sweaty strands of hair from your face before the comfort of his hand left your skin again, and he took a step backwards. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Within the blink of an eye, he had left your bedroom, and you were just as confused as before. Your foggy brain couldn’t tell what was going on. 

You felt a cold hand on your cheek and opened your eyes, wondering when you had even shut them at all. Walter was standing beside you again, his brows drawn together in concern as he looked at you. 

“Hey, welcome back.” Not losing his worried expression, his mouth curled into a small smile. He pointed to your nightstand. “I brought water and tea, didn’t know if you wanted something warm or cold. But you need to drink. And take those pills. I’m making you some soup now, okay?” His fingers brushed gently over your face. As you sat up, Walter took some pillows and placed them behind your back so you could sit back more comfortably. You reached for the bottle of water and took a sip. You hadn’t realized that you were thirsty, but the water running down your throat felt like heaven. Walter held the tablets out for you to take, and with a grimace, you swallowed them, drowning them down with more water.

“Thank you!” you whispered, not knowing what else to say to him. You knew you needed to ask him about that night, but right now, you were not strong enough for it. So you accepted to just take his help instead. 

He brought you soup and watched you sternly while you were eating. After that, he handed you more water. “Feeling better?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Yes, I think the medicine is doing its work now. Thank you, Walter. Really!”

He had taken his seat on the chair again and smiled softly at you. “Any time, sweetheart!” 

You must have fallen asleep again soon after that. The next time you opened your eyes, you saw Walter crouched on the small chair, his head sunken to his chest, silently snoring. You were curled up, too, your body shaking and your teeth chattering. 

“Walter!” you called him. It was barely more than a whisper, but his eyes shot open immediately, and he rose from his chair, one of his knees cracking audibly. He was beside you in an instant and took in your shivering.

“Your fever is rising again,” he remarked. He took a blanket that was hanging over the foot of the bed and wrapped it around you, together with your comforter. After checking his watch, he shook his head with a sigh. “It’s too early to give you more paracetamol.”

“I’ll live!” you responded. “But you can’t sleep on the chair, your back will kill you tomorrow. At least take the couch.”

Walter frowned at you, and you noticed the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“Don’t clench your teeth,” you told him softly. You had seen him doing this a thousand times before. He was tense.

“I can’t leave you alone,” he said and you knew he wouldn’t give in. He was a stubborn mule after all. You huffed and moved a little to the side, making space for him.

“Come here. This bed is big enough, and we’re adults after all.” 

When he didn’t move, you rolled your eyes, regretting it immediately as your headache got worse. “Get in here, Walter!” You said, more rigidly this time. 

Walter exhaled and finally gave in. You felt the mattress dip behind you. A second later, an arm wrapped around your shoulder. It was over the blankets, but it still felt so comfy and familiar.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, and you nodded, despite you answering him:

“You’re going to catch my flu.”

Walter chuckled and only pulled you a little closer. “Nah, I never get sick.”

When you opened your eyes the next time, everything was different. Warm sunlight fell through the window. Your head wasn’t throbbing in pain anymore. You were neither shivering nor sweating. Maybe you were still a little weak, but you felt so much better than yesterday. It was a good start into the day. On the downside, the man beside you was gone, too. 

After a stop in the bathroom, including a sixty-second shower that made you feel a hundred times fresher and fitter, you stepped into some leggings and a shirt and made your way down into your kitchen. The scents wavering through the hallway and the clattering of tableware told you where you would find Walter. 

Seeing him moving so comfortably through your kitchen, you felt your heart constricting in pain. It once was a natural sight, but now it was like a reminder of what you had lost. When he would see that you’re better again, he’d leave and the room would feel so empty without him. 

You watched him placing everything he had prepared onto a tray and turn. His eyes fell on you and he huffed in surprise.

“Hey, you’re up!” You noticed how his eyes traveled all over you, checking the state you were in. As always, all protective and caring. “Are you feeling better? I was just about to bring you breakfast and more medicine.”

You stepped into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast bar. 

“I’m so much better.” 

As Walter dropped the tray in his hands on the counter before you, you put your hand on his arm.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Walter.” A sad chuckle escaped you. “I feel like I have to say that a lot, lately.”

“I’m glad I can do that. I’ve let you down often enough before.” He turned his head to his side to avoid looking at you. 

Your hand brushed through his beard and guided his face back so you could lock eyes with him.

“You didn’t let me down, Walter. At least not on purpose. We were both making some stupid mistakes back then. Sit down. We should finally talk.”

Shutting his eyes, he nodded. But instead of sitting down on the chair next to you, he moved to the coffee machine, holding up the steaming pot. “I think I will need some caffeine for that, you want some, too?” 

You told him yes and another thank you, then you watched him grabbing two cups from the cupboard. When he put them down on the counter, both of you let out a small wince. Walter looked at the green mug with the glued handle with an expression that you couldn’t quite name. When he looked up at you again, you tried your best to feign unawareness, but you guessed you did a poor job with it.

Anyway, Walter ignored it, poured coffee into the two mugs and took the broken one for himself. He finally sat down next to you and started to speak.

“Sorry that I let myself in yesterday. But after you didn’t answer the phone, I was really worried, so I took the key from the key safe in the shed.”

“That’s okay, Walter. I’m glad you came. It was good having you here.”

Walter nodded and took a sip from his coffee.

“What was it that you wanted to talk about?” he asked you. You didn’t really want to answer, but you knew you had to. Not knowing if your memories were betraying you would make you go mad.

“When I was feverish, I had a dream about the night you brought me home from the barbecue.” You felt the heat rising up your neck and cheeks. You still felt so awfully embarrassed about what happened then. “I’m not sure if it’s a memory or if my mind is just playing tricks on me. I remembered pulling you down into a kiss and telling you,” you took a breath before going on. “I told you I still love you, and…” You couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead, you carefully studied Walter’s face. His eyes changed, showing both kindness and pain. 

“You remember correctly.” His voice was hoarse. Your heart was racing in your chest. 

“But you said, ‘Don’t do that.’ You pulled away.” You felt how your eyes were watering, your gaze getting blurry.

“I did.” Walter’s warm hand wrapped around yours and his thumb drew tiny circles over your skin. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I didn’t want you to stop kissing me. I wanted to feel you in my arms. But you were drunk. I couldn’t have taken advantage of you like this.” His other hand cupped your cheek as his eyes were looking into yours deeply. “When you were sleeping, I couldn’t hold back kissing you one last time. It was just a peck on your cheek, but I needed to feel your skin on my lips one last time.”

So your memory hadn’t betrayed you. It was true. Your hand moved to Walter’s neck, your fingers raking through his curls. “I’m not drunk today.” 

You watched as Walter pressed his lips into a thin line. “You’re sick with fever, darling.”

But you shook your head. “No. I’m better. And even if so. Believe me when I tell you this, Walter. Ever since I walked out that door and left you this stupid letter, I have regretted it. I love you, I miss you so much, and I wish I would have talked to you back then, instead of playing stupid mind games. It wasn’t fair to leave you without ever letting you know how I felt. I’m sorry!”

The look Walter gave you was more intense as ever. He stepped between your legs, wrapping you into a tight embrace. Your heart jumped as your face settled on his chest and he pressed a soft kiss on your hair. 

“I am sorry that I was emotionally absent for such a long time. I have left you before you did. Maybe not physically, but that doesn’t matter. I wasn’t there for you, I didn’t see your pain.” He paused for a brief moment, though his hands never stopped running up and down your back. “The last few months I asked myself so often if I was worthy of your love, if I was capable of treating you right. If you’d take me back, that is. And I wasn’t sure. This job is exhausting. Sometimes you can’t help but numb all feelings to be able to go on. But I’m willing  to try if you still want me. You just have to promise to talk to me.”

You pulled away from Walter’s chest so you’d be able to look into his eyes. As you saw the love in them, you got up, your hands cradled his head, and you pulled him down to you.

When your lips found his, new tears ran down your cheeks, but you ignored them. This kiss was telling more than any of you would have been able to express with words. Every little bit of longing went into it, and you felt it running through your bones. Your chest filled with love until you were about to burst from happiness and relief. 

Only when you both ran out of oxygen, the two of you parted. Walter pressed his forehead against yours, and you felt his breath grazing over your neck. He smiled softly at you and brushed his nose against yours.

“Are we doing this?” he asked. His voice was showing a vulnerability that you had never seen with Walter. “Are you taking me back?”

“Yeah, I do, if you want me back, too.”

Bonus chapter

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