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umnitsa · 1 month

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The Sailor's Knot

Summary: Thinking about what you lost throws you into a depression spiral. A handsome man brings you some help.

A/N: I had a dream and made it into a fanfic. This is written fully for myself and it's just two old people bonding over an old dog. <3 It's written from my experience with ADHD and I hope you guys enjoy it. Banner from @cafekitsune <3

Written with unholy eagerness and no proofreading!

Pairing: ADHD!Reader x Joel (Reader is also plus size, it just isn't an issue yet. Reader is about Joel's age.)

CW: Giant dog. Just that, this is very sweet and sad, in fact. Porn may come in later parts, because I enjoy it! <3

“So, what do you miss from before?”

The question took you by surprise as you raised your fork. You stopped, thinking of the zombie apocalypse, how life was and how happy you were for having reached Jackson. You shook your head, trying to avoid the bad feelings and memories from the early days of infection.

“To be honest? Dogs. Cats. Fuck, I miss house pets.” You sighed, looking at your friends. “I really enjoy the horses, but sometimes I wonder if we will ever be able to domesticate them again, I mean, the ones who were not spayed turned feral by now. And bred with wolves and wildcats.” You rambled away, and the people nodded around you. “Hell, I’d try if I ever knew how to do it. I mean, I know some about training dogs, but only the ones that are socialized from birth with humans… And cats… Damn, they chose to live with us, I never taught a cat to do one thing, just fed them and loved them.”

People nodded, smiling, and the older traded their memories with the younger as dinner continued. You felt it was a good way to keep history alive with these children. As you looked around, you tried to smile.

You missed your medicine too. It made life easier then, and it would make work damn easier now.

At least you could make yourself useful in the kitchen, and taking care of kids. You learned enough to help with the horses and the livestock, you learned to fix small things.

At least the community didn’t take your rambling as annoying. Most of them. And your distracted, wandering overactive mind, focused in all the wrong things at the wrong time, your bursts of weirdly philosophical irrelevant questions were seen as if you are a fae. An old soul. Someone disconnected from time and space, but useful and entertaining. You were a good storyteller and people enjoyed your silly performances and the comedy nights.

At least people know better than to get angry with you.

At least you found a way to survive.

You also missed books being widely available. And you missed all the stories that didn’t get to be told, drowned by natures own revenge. All the songs you didn’t get to hear, because they never existed. All the beautiful people that didn’t get to touch your heart acting, and singing, and performing.

You missed comedy. And the close proximity of a stranger in a crowded movie theater.

You missed the quiet inside your mind.

You felt two tears running through your cheeks. A hand heavily descended over your shoulder. You nodded, blindly. With a sad smile, you pat the person’s arm and stand up; you finish your food quickly, wash your plate and leave. They could take care of themselves for one day. ***

You loved Maria. And she really liked you back. She understood whenever you needed some time for yourself. She knew you would pay it back with work later.

That innocent question threw you into a wave of memories, and you had to ride your feelings by yourself. You felt glad you could.

The kids still came into your house to borrow books. With shy smiles, they quietly made their requests and politely asked how were you doing (as their parents asked them to do). You made an effort not to cry in front of them.

You were reading when you heard noise in front of your house. You opened the door, carelessly.

A man was standing in front of your house, with a giant dog in a makeshift leash.

You blinked, the surprise taking your ability to even process the moment.

“Found this fella in patrol.” The man’s voice was grave, almost a growl. “Thought you would like to meet him.”

The man was tall, his shoulders large. His hair unruly, more pepper than salt (probably looked like yours). He had round brown eyes, squashed by a frown. He had something heavy about him. An air of someone who had seen everything and the scars on his face alone are the only proof you need to believe it. You wondered how he would look laughing. His hawkish nose towered over thick, plush lips. You knew him.

Joel. He was ‘Tommy’s Brother’. And Tommy was ‘Maria’s Husband’.

The dog was immense, just like Joel. He looked like a german shepherd, with thick caramel fur blending into black, his ears floppy. You marveled looking at his massive frame, your heart tightening as you noticed a scar on his head, close to his eye, covered by the fur. The dog had the biggest, roundest dark eyes you’ve ever seen. He looked immensely dangerous, he could snap your hand off with his powerful jaws, but his eyes made him look gentle. The tip of his snout had a ring of white hair, silver peppering his snout gently. An old dog. Old like Joel, like you.

You approached, slowly, palms facing the dog, giving him time to get used to your presence. The dog leaned forward, sniffing your palms, huffing and shaking his giant head gently, floppy ears moving around his head. You kept your palm turned to the dog, who pressed his snout to your hand, watching you with his big eyes.

“He started following me out there.” Joel cocked his head. “Shared my hunt with him, and he slept around the fire. He’s well behaved. Think he lost his owner.”

“You should keep him.” You said softly, feeling into yourself to be generous. This dog was Joel’s luck and he should take him. It didn’t occur to you to ask him why he was bringing the dog, you weren’t even that close. “He’s a very handsome dangerous-looking gentleman. Like you.”

Joel blushed, a small smile on his face. He looked down and shook his head. You felt like he was saying something, you just couldn’t understand.

“I heard you the other day.” Joel held your hand and placed the leash in your hands. “I know…” Joel looked around awkwardly, like he was trying to piece a feeling into words. “I know this fella won’t fix things. I understand. But maybe he can bring our sunshine back.”

Joel nodded, looking into your eyes, and you could see his brown eyes peering into your soul, for one moment. It made you want to cry. You nodded, swallowing your feelings.

“Thank you.” You turned your eyes to the dog. He seemed to understand, sitting with his whole body pressed against your leg, up to your waist. His head heavily pressed against your hip, the dog waited patiently.

“Talked to Maria. It’s ok.” Joel cleaned his throat, clearing his voice. “You can keep him. Keep him inside, I’ll build the fence so you can have some space for him.” Joel shifted his weight from one leg to the other and got a fabric wrapped package from his pocket. He puts the package on your free hand. The dog raises his head, interested, which makes Joel chuckle. “Those are treats. He ate today, we just arrived, brought him right here.”

You nodded, smiling.

“We need to make sure he’s safe and you can help.” Joel nodded. “You can walk him in the leash, I’ve already asked Tommy to help us make a good one. Just for safety, I think he’s a good boy.”

You just watched as Joel offered his palm to the dog, then scratched behind his ear.

“He was really well behaved on the trail.” Joel said, softly, his fingers running through the dog’s fur. “I… I would like to visit. Play with him. Maybe help you. He was good company out there.”

“Of course!” You eagerly accepted, infinitely grateful for his gesture. You didn’t overthink why he brought you the dog, what did it mean that he saw your outburst. That would be for later. You just accepted, the dog’s eyes bringing you more joy than you could imagine. “You found him, you were the first friend he made around Jackson. Why shouldn’t you visit him?”

“I’ll be here in the morning. I’ll try and get him some hunt, then we can build the fence.” Joel nodded, stepping back. The dog sniffed the air, gently. Joel scratched the dog’s chin and stepped back, moving away from you.

“Thank you!” You shouted one last time, and he waved. The dog followed you inside. You locked the door, not wanting one of your frequent visitors to get scared with your new roommate, hid the treats in the cupboard, then placed a water bowl on the floor. The dog quietly watched you, sitting in the living room.

You finally sat, and the dog curled up against you, between your feet. He slept, leaving you to your tears as you caressed his scar.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #mayb writes

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rainbowsky · 25 days

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Hey, I'm new here and i love your blog! I was wondering if the boys see couple\sexual edits of them together and if it makes them nervous but then it hit me that they probably aren't seeing what i see on western social media. Do you have any idea if those types of homosexual posts get censored in China?

Hi Yingyangorly! Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog!☺️

I have a huge long, like, ridiculously long post in my drafts related to this topic, hopefully coming soon.

But to answer your question, I think it's impossible that GG and DD would fail to see at least some of what's posted about them as a couple, whether sent to them by friends, family or staff, or whether stumbled upon or intentionally sought out/browsed by them. It's inevitable they'll see some of it, particularly things that get a lot of attention.

I talked about this a bit a while back. GG and DD have said in interviews that they have fake social media accounts (and of course they would - how could you go anywhere or do anything on social media without one if you were famous?), and this kind of discussion has happened somewhat in relation to fan comments, etc.

You can check out my previous post for more on that stuff.

As for sexual edits, etc., like any other content I've no doubt they've seen some of it - it's inevitable they would - but I doubt it worries them all that much. It's highly unlikely to ever impact them directly, because ultimately it's not really about them, is it? It's about the creators who make it. Any backlash is more likely to fall upon creators, not GG and DD.

And just as a reminder - it's not illegal to be gay in China, it's not illegal to post homosexual content, etc. Such content is censored on TV and other broadcast media, but not online.

Porn is very illegal in China, but that's mostly only selectively enforced. In fact, China produces a lot of porn and a lot of smutty fiction and all of it is illegal, but it still manages to thrive fairly well.

Explicit content of any kind is technically not allowed on Weibo but it's still out there - although most of it is pretty toned down and tame. Actual porn of sexual activity isn't ubiquitous there, but lewd fan art, fan fic, edits and memes can often be found.

All platforms globally have rules against explicit content, and they're just as poorly enforced everywhere. I suspect a lot of that is because social media engagement makes money, and sex sells. It's not really in the interest of platforms to completely shut down all such content - even if it was possible to do so.

The supertopic rules likely have more impact on fan behavior in this regard than the Weibo TOS does. Those rules forbid mentioning GG and DD by name or tagging their accounts, and forbid sexualization, pornography, feminization and fixating on body parts. However, that's only within the supertopics. Ultimately people are free to post whatever they want on their own accounts, and they do.

Given how many antis and solos are out there trying to take down the turtle fandom, the fact that these things manage to stay up for as long as they do speaks to how weak the enforcement is. There are definitely people out there who will report things that offend them.

This is, in fact, how the whole 227 thing got started. A bunch of solos decided to report an explicit fanfic to the government, and things spiralled out of control from there.

Could lightning strike a second time and another 227 be sparked from some of this explicit content? For a lot of complicated reasons I'm not going to get into here (it would be a very long post), I don't think that's likely.

227 was a special, very complicated situation that I don't think is likely to happen the same way again. Timing and a lot of the other factors that played into its blowing up the way it did - all of that is unlikely to align in such a way. Especially since everyone in C-ent is a lot more cautious and vigilant after 227.

GG and DD are both in good standing with the government (as is evidenced by their inclusion in government and nationalistic projects), and that's a factor that will have some influence. And no doubt they and their teams have learned a lot from past experience, and have already planned for how to protect them in various scenarios that could arise.

They also have the power to have content relating to them removed, to sue content creators, to shut down the supertopics if they want to, etc.. If they feel at risk, they have a lot of recourse. The fact that we aren't seeing this happening should reassure us that it's probably fine.

We have to realize that GG and DD are surrounded by highly skilled, highly paid professionals whose entire job is to protect them and their interests. They're both in a much safer place than they were 4 years ago.

I trust them to know what's best for them and handle their affairs accordingly. We as fans shouldn't waste time hand-wringing over things that are completely outside our control.

As for what's within our control - it's up to every individual to make our own choices about how we'll represent GG and DD online.

More on that angle if/when I ever finish that other post.

#bjyx #yizhan #ggdd in the public eye #fandom reflections #thanks so much #bxg ggdd #ask

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ktwritesstuff · 1 year

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First Comes Love (a Last of Us fanfic)

Title: First Comes Love Fandom: The Last of Us (no-pocalypse AU) Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x plus size!Reader Word Count: ~1,600 Summary: A rare night alone with Joel. Beta-read by the incomparable @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Part 2 posted 9/1

A/N: At last I have returned to my roots: all your faves want to fuck fat girls. It is, sadly, the early 2000s (no shroompocalypse) so the reader character having history of experiencing anti-fatness seemed unavoidable, so TW for a brief mention. Other than some light breeding kink we have mostly fluffy cuteness. Enjoy!

Austin, TX. 2004

Joel wanted to go out for dinner, but you convinced him to stay in. It was rare for you to have a night alone--Sarah was at a sleepover--and you didn't want to waste a minute. Some folks might have considered Sarah a complication. Dating a single father of a teenaged, mixed-race daughter wasn’t without its challenges (not the least of which was bending over backwards to arrange date night) but the truth was, Sarah was the only reason you had given him a chance.

Joel was a good looking guy–a real man’s man–so much so that at first you hadn’t trusted his interest in you. You thought, perhaps, he learned to set his sights a little lower as a single dad. That the caliber of women he was used to–women like Sarah’s mother, no doubt–wouldn’t give him a second look once they found out he was raising his little girl alone. You had spent a lifetime being told that you were undesirable because of your size, but Joel never made you feel undesired.

Joel picked you up after work. You grabbed burgers and shakes at the Creamery and ate in the truck on the way back to Joel’s. He kissed you playfully as you came through the front door, blowing raspberries on your throat and behind your ear until you screamed with laughter as you fell into bed together.

Joel unbuttoned your blouse slowly, one loop at a time, kissing his way down your breasts. Working his way down your body, he lingered longer to adore the rolls and folds of your stomach with his mouth and fingertips. It used to make you self-conscious, but you had since come to enjoy the loving attention he gave the largest part of your body. He opened your jeans and slipped one hand into your panties. Two fingers slid through your folds, stroking up and down against your clit.

“So good.” His breath felt warm against your skin. “So wet for me.”

You leaned back, pressing your head into his pillow with a content sigh. It smelled like Tide and Irish Spring and the clean sweat that was unmistakably Joel.

You whined a little as he paused his ministrations and rested his head on the soft pouch below your navel, his beard tickling the delicate skin.

“Watcha doing?” You grinned, running your fingers through his curls.

“Thinking,” Joel sighed as his fingers traced spirals on the lowest part of your belly.

“About what?”

“Putting a baby in here,” Joel’s chocolate-brown eyes glanced up at you. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

The answer spilled out of you before you even had time to think. You had assumed Joel didn’t want any more kids, he was so devoted to Sarah. It was one of the things you loved most about him. You never felt like you needed a child of your own to be a family. But the idea of Joel wanting another baby was so delightfully surprising; you relished the idea of raising little chunky-thighed peanuts with huge brown eyes and dark curls.

“Really?” Joel grinned.

You nodded.

“Good,” Joel said, snaking his way back up your body to kiss your throat. “Because I can’t wait to fuck my babies into you.”

You pulled the back of Joel’s t-shirt up over his head and he shucked it off in a hurry to slide his hand back down your pants, fingers stroking through your increasingly damp folds. He kissed you like he was swimming through your mouth, coming up for sips of air between long, confident strokes. You reached down to grope him through his pants.

“Gonna love watching your belly grow,” he whispered, low and husky with desire. “Knowing it’s my baby in there, warm and safe, enjoying that nice squishy water bed.”

You felt giddy at his sudden confession. Joel was far from an inattentive lover, but he wasn’t usually this talkative. You could tell he was enjoying the fantasy and frankly, so were you, spreading your legs a little wider as he stroked you lazily.

“Keep going.”

“I’ll read to the baby and sing to them, so they get to know daddy’s voice. Gonna take such good care of you, too.” Joel dipped two fingers inside you, curling them up around the curve of your pelvis. “Rub your feet when you’re tired and get you ice cream in the middle of the night.”

You ran your hands over Joel’s chest and back, feeling the hard muscles under a thin layer of padding. Not vanity muscles, Joel had the body of a man who worked with his hands–strong, useful.

“What else?”

“Your tits are gonna be fucking huge.” Joel drew both hands up to knead your breasts. “Getting ready to feed our baby. I’d suck them for you…If you wanted.”

You almost laughed out loud, but you would hate to embarrass him after he had opened up to you.

“You can,” you assured him.

Joel shifted his weight back, bowing his head to your breasts, sealing his mouth over one nipple, pressing down with the flat of his tongue.

You knew you had a good one, but hearing Joel’s secret fantasies spilling was so endearing, that what he wanted most were all the things he hadn’t gotten to experience with Sarah. You had never been desperate for children of your own, but now anything else was unthinkable.

“I want to have your babies, Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel looked up at you, bright eyed and flushed.

“A whole gaggle of them,” you said, taking his face in your hands.

“Shit, that’s hot,” Joel chuckled, dipping his head to work the beginnings of a hickey into the crook of your neck. “You’re so fucking sexy right now.”

“Careful,” you warned. “We’re not teenagers anymore.”

You suspected Sarah was well-aware her father was no celebate monk, but there was no need to publicly embarrass the poor girl. You wanted desperately to stay on her good side–she and Joel had a special relationship.

“If we had met when we were teenagers, we’d have a whole damn baseball team by now,” Joel said.

You rolled your eyes at his attempt at flattery. You knew damn well the high school version of Joel would never have given your bespectacled and brace-faced younger self a second glance.

“Thank God for small mercies,” you teased.

“You ready for me?” Joel asked, sitting up to retrieve a condom and lube from the bedside table. You had barely touched him, and he was rock-hard, straining through his blue jeans.

You nodded, shimmying your pants down and kicking them off from around your ankles.

Joel rolled on the condom and moved over you, lining the tip of his cock up at your entrance before pressing in slow and careful, stretching you open a little at a time.

“How’s that?” he asked, bottoming out inside you.

“Feels good.” You hitched your knees up around his waist, letting him press in deeper as you traced the triangles of muscle in his shoulders.

Joel kept most of his weight in his hips as he rocked into you. A few short, quick thrusts followed by long, slow strokes. He reached one hand between your bodies to massage your clit, sending sparkles of pleasure through your belly.

“Shit, that’s good.” Your toes curled, muscles clenching and releasing as Joel fucked you through the climax. You tugged his hair and pressed your mouth over the exposed vein pulsing in his throat to keep from crying out.

“Don’t stop.” You grabbed his ass with your other hand, your nails leaving crescent-moon indents in the plump flesh.

“I’m fucking close,” Joel laughed, brushing one hand over your sweat-damp hair.

“Want you to come for me,” you panted between strokes. “Come inside me.”

“Fuck!” Joel shuddered, collapsing onto you.

You chuckled, still enjoying the ripples of your orgasm.

“Shit,” Joel rallied. “You need anything?”

“I’m golden,” you said with a smile as he kissed you.

Joel held the base of the condom as he withdrew from you. He rose from the bed and went to the bathroom to dispose of it. You almost felt sorry for the unlucky little swimmers—they must have been so confused. No egg today, but hopefully one day soon…

“You know,” you called to him, adjusting your pillows. “If you really want a baby, there’s only one thing you have to do.”

As Joel emerged from the bathroom, you held your left hand out to him, wiggling your fingers.

Joel chuckled, crossing the room. He opened his dresser drawer and returned to the bed with a small velvet box. You gasped, hand flying to your mouth.

You had suspected Joel was thinking about proposing for some time now, when Sarah had not so subtly asked to “borrow” one of your rings for her Spring Fling dance. You had dropped your fair share of hints as well, browsing bridal magazines in the grocery checkout line and remarking which of Country Radio’s Top 10 would make a good first dance.

Evidently Joel had reached the limit of his endurance.

"Sarah found it while she was snooping," he explained. "I was going to take you out for a nice dinner, get down on one knee–”

You opened the box, to find a perfect, tiny diamond on a simple gold band.

Joel cleared his throat as he sat down beside you in bed. “I know it’s small–”

“Shut up,” you snapped, slipping the ring on your finger. “It’s beautiful!”

You laid back in bed, holding out your hand to admire the ring, glittering in the sunset light. Joel draped his arm around you and you curled into his side.

“I’m assuming because you put it on, that’s a yes,” he joked.

“It’s a yes,” you agreed, kissing him.

“We can tell Sarah tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll pick her up before breakfast.”

“I’ll make pancakes,” you agreed.

“I don’t like pancakes,” Joel said.

You rubbed your nose against his playfully. “Sarah does.”

#the last of us fanfiction #last of us au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x plus size reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #troy baker adjacent #tlou smut #joel miller smut

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softestqueeen · 8 months

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i can't do this anymore!

pairing: bbc!sherlock x gn!reader

summary: When Sherlock overhears you talking on the phone, he thinks you're going to leave him.

warnings: nothing really, just miscommunication and a little angst

a/n: hey, this is my first ever fanfic so please be a bit patient with me. English is not my first language, I apologise for all the mistakes I've probably made.

Sherlock and you have been in an relationship for almost two years and so far everything was going great. Well, at least that’s what Sherlock thought.

Until one day, when he overheard you on the phone talking to your best friend, Mary. It wasn’t his intention to eavesdrop, but you looked upset while talking and he just wanted to assure he wasn’t the cause for it.

You were on the phone ranting to your best friend about wanting to quit your job. It didn’t make you happy anymore and you’ve already applied for new jobs. You didn’t tell Sherlock yet, because he was very busy with one of his cases and didn’t want to bother him with something that could wait.

“I’ve noticed that in these past few weeks I wasn’t happy anymore with this situation. I can’t keep on doing this, it’s just too much. So the only right thing to do, is end it. Once and for all.”, you told her.

Hearing this, Sherlocks heart shattered. He thought you were happy with how things were in your relationship, but apparently that was not the case. He couldn’t hear what Mary said on the other end, but he could hear very clearly that your plan was to end it tomorrow.

He couldn’t lose you. You were his everything, his reason to live. You made his life worth living and managed to break down the walls he built to protect himself. He trusted you with his life, so just thinking about you wanting to break up with him, nearly send him spiralling.

He didn’t know what to do or say so hedecided to wait until tomorrow and then beg you to not break up with him. Even if he’d have to get on his knees and beg. Alone the thought of you leaving made tears well up in his eyes.

He quickly composed himself, because he could hear you saying goodbye to your best friend. Acting like he was in his mind palace when you entered, gave him some time to think about what to say tomorrow.

“Hey Sherly”, he could hear your joyful voice call for him, but choose to ignore it, keeping up with the act. You were not happy at all with Sherlock ignoring you. After all the time you’ve spent with the consulting detective you knew when he was really in his mind palace and when he was just pretending.

With a frown on your face, you bent down to be at eye level with him. You crossed your arms and lifted an eyebrow. The moment you lifted your brow you could already hear the defeated sigh from your boyfriend.

“Hello, love”, he greeted you with a tight lipped smile. Immediately a crease started to form between your brows. “Is everything alright, honey?”, you asked him. “Yes, everything is just fine, love. I just have to.. uh.. go to a crime scene. Exactly, John called, he needs my help. Now. Don’t wait up for me.”, while explaining his not really convincing plan he put on his signature coat and his scarf.

He kissed you on the side of your head and left without another word. You could just mumble a short “take care” before you heard the door to the busy streets of London shut closed.

Not going to lie, you were worried. Why was he acting so weird all of the sudden? He seemed almost distant. Normally, when something is on the genius’ mind he talks to you. You’ve made a lot of progress since you first got together and talk about almost everything. You knew each other so well, you could always tell what’s on his mind, even if he doesn’t like to admit that. It’s his own fault, if he teaches you to deduct people. But in this case you wanted to wait until he came to you with his worries. Whatever it was it seemed to really bother your boyfriend.

Sherlock wandered around aimlessly before he returned to Baker Street. He wasn’t ready to face you just yet, so he did something he rarely did. He visited his house keeper Mrs. Hudson. He was that desperate.

He knocked twice, before the elderly woman opened the door with a surprised smile on her lips. “What do I owe the honour to, Sherlock? You never come to visit me.”, she ushered him in and set on a kettle.

“Uhm… I fear y/n wants to break up with me.”, he mumbled, not daring to look Mrs. Hudson in the eyes. “Oh, Sherlock! What makes you believe that?”, she wanted to know from the detective, that has grown into her heart and is now like a son to her. She was worried, she knew how much you meant to him.

On the other side she also knew how much you loved him and doubted that you wanted to end things. Sherlock told her what he overheard of your conversation. “But Sherlock, are you really sure that’s what she meant? Couldn’t she have been talking about her job or something?”, she wanted to know.

He just shrugged and sipped his tea.

“I think you should go and talk to her, Sherlock. Maybe it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”, she reasoned. Still unsure of himself he nodded and thanked her for the advice. “Anytime, Sherlock, anytime.”

He went back into the flat you two shared, first as flatmates and now as lovers. He couldn’t see you anywhere and softly called out your name. He went into his bedroom, which the two of you mostly share and found you underneath the blanked, hugging his pillow. The dried tears on your face made his heart shatter.

He wasn’t sure what to do, thinking he messed up. He undressed and put on his pyjamas, but instead of joining his lover in the bed, he went back to the living area and settled on the couch. It wasn’t comfortable but he couldn’t sleep anyways. At around 4 o’clock in the morning his exhaustion won and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

You woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t something new, but you worried about your boyfriends whereabouts. A lot.

You got up and found him asleep on the couch, looking incredibly uncomfortable, his tall frame not fitting into the small space provided. You started to rub your hand up and down his arm to wake him up.

Slowly he opened his blue-green eyes and looked into your e/c eyes. He sat up, stretched and then looked at you like a kicked puppy. If you looked close enough you could even see a pout forming on his plump lips.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?”, you asked cautiously.

After a very pregnant pause he chocked out, “Please don’t leave me. I- I- I just cant live without you, you are my everything!”

You looked at the tear that rolled down his face, taking a path over his high cheekbone to the corner of his lip, with utter shock and heartbreak.

“Oh darling, what makes you believe I want to break up with you?”, you sat down next to him, cupped his cheek and used the pad of your thumb to wipe away a new tear that threatened to roll down his face. “I love you so much, I would never leave you!”

Sherlock released a shaky breath and leaned forward, making your foreheads touch. He cupped your face and whispered with his eyes closed, “I thought you’re going to leave me. I- I was so scared I-“ “Shh, it’s alright, darling. I’m not going to leave you. You’re stuck with me now.”

The last sentence made the detective smile. You furrowed your brows. “What made you think I was going to leave you?”, you wanted to know. He looked hesitant and then admitted, “I heard you talking to Mary about how fed up you were and that you wanted to end things. I assumed that you were talking about us.” He avoided looking at your eyes.

You chuckled a bit but stopped when you saw his puzzled expression. “I want to quit my job. I’m not unhappy with us, silly, I’m unhappy with my boss and my colleagues. I haven’t told you about it because you’ve been so busy with your case.”, you reassured him, “Why did you eavesdrop on our conversation in the first place?”

“You looked worried and I wanted to be sure that I’m not the cause of it. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”, he confessed. You knew that when he dropped the words ‘I’m sorry’ he really meant it.

“It’s alright, you meant it well.”, you told him, “I wish you would have been honest with me from the beginning, but I could have asked you what’s going on when I noticed you acting weird. From now on we know better.”

“You are right. As always.”, even though he whispered the last part, you’ve still heard it.

With a soft smile you stood up, “Come on darling, let’s go to bed.”

He immediately stood up, picked you up bridal style and took you to his bedroom.

He was just glad, he still gets to call you his love.

a/n: if you liked this, please leave some notes! you can now also request fics on my page!

#love #fluff #miscommunication #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc!sherlock holmes x reader #happy ending #angst #sherlock holmes is bad with fellings #first fanfic #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock bbc #reader insert #x reader #female reader #fem reader #gender neutral reader

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rapunzelbro · 2 months

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Lonely night, Lonely Love. Husk x Reader

This fanfic major started off as a rant. I was in my feels lmao. So this came of it. It’s not directly ship but platonic ya know. Enjoy!

Masterlist Taglist

Loneliness can be nice thing. When you’re alone the only thing to worry about is you. And only you. There’s no one else who can get hurt when you’re alone, but yourself.

Loneliness can be a bad thing. Your thoughts spiral into meaningless nonsense. Your mind creeps into those small insecurities that make you realize how shit you are, how pathetic you truly see yourself.

Loneliness can bring out the monsters in you, the thoughtsthat were in your head that you contained, screaming to be let out from your mind.

Loneliness can cause a person to end it all. It’s rather simple of a way out, the monsters are free, the thoughts have spiraled. It’s not too far off from letting those intrusive, depressive thoughts take over.

You dealt with loneliness before, dealt with the monsters, the silence, you learned it all.

You lost the ability to fight back those voices in your head. You lost your ability to trust long ago, if you’re alone why would you need anyone else to rely on?

When you got to the Hazbin Hotel you really didn’t know what to think about any of the others. They already all knew each other, they had their friendships together, and you just showed up. Everyone was very welcome but you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

It’s been almost a month, you got close to the others but not as close as you were with Husk. Husk knew about the trust issues you had, the loneliness that filled you, even with all the people in the hotel. He could understand completely how one would need to not be sober to truly open up. Which he could easily provide, and take away when needed.

He didn’t pry about your past, he would wait until you’re ready to tell, which believe me, it takes a while to be able to learn to trust again, let alone trust him fully.

But when you do share your past with him he is silent and listens fully to you. He doesn’t apologize, he rather just passes a drink your way knowing you would need it.

Yeah you did

You two often spent the most time together, Angel Dust on the occasional appearance too. But you and Husk just had your own special bond, he even taught you how to play cards and you’d often spend long nights playing and that’s also how he ended up with most of the stuff in your room, that you put up for gamble.

Yeah it wasn’t smart.

But hey, you could trust someone. And even if it’s the bartender who has gained your trust, and cleared some of the loneliness in your life, you’d take it.

Husk Taglist: @saturnhas82moons @mixplara @aphestina @brithedemonspawn @vendetta-ari @zamadness @fizziepopangel @the--rebel--princess

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin lucifer #hazbin husk #husk x angel dust #husk x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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quillthrillswriting · 6 days

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sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?

yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.

also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"

enjoy the excerpt from (the upcoming) third chapter!! updates every wednesday!!

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Aang led the way through the temple, and Katara winced at every single skeleton that lined the halls of the stone pathways carved through the sacred building. Aang couldn’t look at them, didn’t let himself look at them. Katara didn’t blame him for it. She hadn’t been able to look at the handful of bodies left after every Fire Nation raid, and yet, here were the bodies of all of his people, his entire culture.

She was snapped out of her spiralling train of thought by the screech of stone against stone as Aang funnelled air through a complex looking lock system, the gears driving it creaking from disuse. Sokka and Katara flinched, but Aang stayed still.

The door opened to hundreds, if not thousands, of stone statues, gazing unflinchingly back at them.

Sokka dropped into a defensive position out of habit, as if the statues would lunge toward them at any minute, and Katara just rolled her eyes and giggled at her brother, pushing past him as she stepped towards the statues in awe. Weaving between them, she stopped at one of a woman with traditional water tribe clothing that made her heart twist with homesickness. She felt Aang standing behind her, his exposed chest through his one-shoulder robes radiating heat in a way that made her face flush with colour.

He reached up over her to brush a finger against the statue’s delicately carved hair. “She has your little…hair thingies.”

Somewhat unconsciously, she reached up to brush her own loops of hair, grazing the white bone-beads with her ring finger. “I didn’t realise the great Avatar paid attention to things like that.”

A teasing smile spread across Aang’s lips. “I think you’ll find that I’m a very attentive person.” He said the words innocently enough, but the way honey seemed to wrap around every syllable caught Katara off guard, sending warmth spreading down her spine as she momentarily forgot how to speak.

Aang grinned again, looking as though he was about to add something, before a chittery, squeaking noise echoed through the room, bouncing between statues. “What was that?” Sokka yelped, jumping away from the statue whose armour and sword he had been examining. The screech of metal against stone sounded from somewhere on Sokka’s side of the room, and both Katara and Aang quickly wove between statues to join him, all three tensing.

From between the statues, the sound got louder, and a helmet dragged between the sculptures, moving haphazardly as it scraped against the floor.

“GHOSTIE!” Sokka yelped, jumping backwards as he pointed an accusatory finger at the helmet. Katara stayed silent, visibly pale. Aang looked back at the two of them, then faced the helmet again. He stepped through those same strange airbending forms, his movement ending with the sharp expulsion of wind from his fist. The helmet blew away, clattering against the stone, revealing….

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

♥ check out the two chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

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aemondsquill · 1 year

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Utter Devotion

Aemond Targaryen x yandere!niece!reader

Reader is Daemon and Rhaenyra's daughter

Synopsis: In which Aemond's devoted wife has enough of his clownery. Hijinks ensue.

Warnings: mention of infidelity, gore and blood, murder, slight angst and toxicity, probably misogyny, FLUFF, lmk if I missed any :)

A/N: omg baby's first fanfic (in 10 years) please let me know what y'all think!

Sweet, docile, little lamb. Those were the words that often described me, the beloved wife of the fearsome Aemond Targaryen. It was a facade my father and I carefully crafted in order to infiltrate the greens when the Stranger beckoned the King Viserys. Unfortunately, I actually fell in love with the fool.

The two months that we've been married I've been nothing but devoted. I worship the ground my dear husband Aemond walks on, he is the love of my life, my muse, and my entire heart and soul. If he was a god, I was his loyal servant. He is the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins.

----------

"My Lady, there are whispers that Aemond allows a witch to warm his bed during his occupation of Harrenhal" Lydia, my ever-faithful chamber maid and confidant tells me. The bile rises in my throat and suddenly my dress feels too tight. Utter betrayal bleeds into my veins and threatens to choke the life out of me. How? After being so loyal and sweet to him, this is how he chooses to repay me?

"Pack my things" I whisper in a clipped voice. I fear raising my voice anymore will display the devastation I feel. I do not know where I am going yet, but I know I need to act fast.

Too many thoughts race through my brain; ways to get even, plots to kill him and his whore, burning down all of King's Landing. Anything for him to feel even a little of the hurt I felt. The thoughts excite me. I can feel the mask I carefully crafted begin to crack. My ugly, obsessive and dangerous side wants to break out and wage war.

My mother had always told me that I was my father's daughter, in the best and worst ways. We're brave and driven, but loyal to a fault. We spill blood willingly and easily. Nothing gets in the way of what we want.

I knew then that I would have to fly to Harrenhal and take matters into my own hands.

--------

Under the blanket of night, I carefully exited the warm bed my lovely, traitor of a husband currently occupies. I knelt down by his side and traced his strong features with my eyes. The slope of his nose, the shape of his light eyebrows, and the beautiful sapphire that sits in his empty socket. My eyes travel down to his plush lips and the urge to feel their petal-softness nearly overtakes me. Heat pools in my lower belly, but anger and sadness ravage my heart. How easy it would be to just kill him now. Too easy.

I donned a thick black cloak and slip through a secret passage that spirals down and out of the castle. The crisp night air pebbles my skin, but I press onward to the dragon pits.

My beast is startled to see me at such an unusual hour. I run my fingers along her black jagged scales and whisper softly for only her to hear. She rumbles in response and allows me to mount her.

The sky glitters with thousands of stars above me with nary a cloud in sight. The wind tangles my hair and the heat from my dragon heats my thighs. For a moment I feel relaxed, almost calm.

Excitement envelops me as I spot the foreboding castle in the distance. I can nearly taste the witch's blood on my tongue as I urge my dragon faster.

---------

And incessant rapping upon his doors startles the young Prince Aemond as he studies an endless pile of scrolls.

"What?!" He barks out, irritated.

"Your wife wishes to enter" the guard replies.

"Send her in" Aemond speaks dismissively. The large wooden door creaks open and in walks his most beautiful bride. His violet eye glances up at her briefly.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, dear wife?" He questions while still attempting to decipher what Lord Lannister has written in his shoddy penmanship.

A wicked glint appears in my eyes as I lug a neatly wrapped brown box in my arms.

"I have brought you a gift from my latest excursion, Lord husband!" I could barely contain the giddiness in my voice and I approached his dark wood desk. He finally fully looked up at me, curiosity swirling in his gaze. I gingerly place the gift upon his desk with a large smile.

If he had been a little more attentive he would've noticed me discreetly shoving my blood-drenched hand behind me.

Aemond begins to tug at the plush pink ribbon with his slender fingers. When the tendrils of ribbon splay out across his desk he grasps the lid and lifts it.

"Wha-what is this?!" He flinches, startled at the cloudy green eyes that stare up at him. I felt proud that I could fit her entire head in that box without cutting off any additional parts.

"You do not recognize her without her body, husband? This is the whore you've been fucking" I speak plainly. A nearly demented smile makes my cheeks ache. He stares up at me with a wide eye, a mixture of shock and...arousal?

"I had heard whispers of you and the Rivers witch. You must understand that I could not simply allow you to besmirch our marriage like this. I have loved you and been nothing but loyal to you, my dear husband" I sneered.

"But all is well. I will forgive you're transgressions, my love" I leaned down to where our noses brushed together and whispered, "if I hear such rumors again I will not hesitate to do the very same to you, your sister, and your lovely mother" I sealed my promise with a chaste kiss against his lips.

"Threatening members of the royal family, wife? I could have your head for such treasonous words" he whispered back, admiration melting into his sultry voice.

"I must ask, where is the rest of her?" Aemond questioned casually, as if he was asking about the weather.

"I allowed my dragon to feast upon her corpse after I was finished with her. I want you to know that she died screaming and begging for her life" I spoke. He chuckled in response, which confused me even more.

"I fear what you might do to the woman who actually dares to sleep with me if this", he gesures to her head, "is all a mere whisper takes."

"You never laid with her?" I asked in astonishment. Relief bloomed in my chest. My husband was indeed not a cunt!

"No, dear wife. I inquired her about her powers, but I never fucked her" Aemond promised. I leapt forward and embraced him tightly. His warm arms slide around my waist and he presses small kisses along my hairline.

"I'm relieved, husband. I feared you were an adulterer! I almost feel foolish" I giggled lightly against his luscious lips.

"I would never forsake our marriage like that, my love. I must say, your devotion to me is highly admirable" he utters softly, "Why did you ever hide this part of you away from me?"

"I did not want to frighten you, my love. I felt if I showed you my true colors then you would hate me" I confessed, slightly embarrassed.

"I could never hate you. You are my beautiful, fierce little wife" he spoke with adoration lacing his words. I smiled at him and kissed him deeply.

"I love you."

"I love you, little wife."

#aemond targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine

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keiththecat · 11 months

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The Tortoise and The Hair

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (You)

Summary: You've been hunting with the Winchester brothers for a while, and you've developed feelings for the older Winchester. Unbeknownst to you, he has feelings for you as well. Will you both admit to these feelings when a coincidence brings emotions to a head?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+, cursing, male nudity (shower), pistol mention, knife mention

Author's Note: This is my first every fanfic! Y/N is your name, y/h/c is your hair color, and italics are thoughts. The mentions toward male nudity are not super detailed, but the mentions are there. Feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.

AO3 link here

"You've got to be kidding me." You run your hands through your hair in frustration.

"Sorry, Y/N, looks like another day without a hunt," Sam continues scrolling on his laptop, hoping he can find something to prove himself wrong, even if just to make you happy.

"There's got to be something. Come on, Sam, I can't be stuck here in the bunker again."

It's been weeks without a hunt. Not a single one. Sam has kept busy with research, but you've been itching to get away. Chuck only knows what Dean's been doing, he's been avoiding you every second of every day. You've even been starting to wonder if you should move out of the bunker and go back to your solo hunting ways. Your stuff is always mostly packed, you could be out of here in less than 3 minutes. Sam being like the brother you never had is the only reason you haven't yet. Well, that and your crush on the older Winchester.

"Y/N," Sam sighs, closing his laptop and crossing his arms on top of the table to look at you seriously. "There's more to this than just boredom, isn't there?"

You scoff, "of course not. I'm just bored. And itching for kills. You know me." You lie through your teeth, hoping Sam will accept this answer and drop it.

"Y/N, you know you can talk to me."

You stare at each other for several painful seconds before you break. "Fine. I just feel like Dean hates me."

Sam places his hand on yours. "You know that's not true. Why would you think that?"

You roll your eyes. "Come on, Sam. He avoids me at all costs. He doesn't even come out for meals together anymore. Let alone not talking to me, he doesn't even talk to you if I'm around! He just motions for you to follow him to another room. You can't honestly say he's happy I'm here." You get up to start walking away when you both hear Dean's yell from down the hall.

"Son of a BITCH!"

With one look at Sam and panic in your eyes, you both take off running.

A few moments earlier....

Dean:

Another boring day. Alone. Ever since you moved in months ago, Dean just can't seem to bring himself to have any one night stands. He tries his best not to ignore why that is. He'll just keep avoiding you and quietly checking with Sam about what's going on, if there are any leads on hunts, how you're doing...

No. He doesn't want to spiral down this hole again. He can't follow through. Bad things happen when he and Sam get involved with anyone. He won't subject you to that. Maybe if he keeps avoiding you, you'll get sick of it and leave the bunker, minimizing your risk of being targeted because of them. He's upset enough that Sam refuses to do the same, instead being nice to you all the time. Hell, you and Sam are practically inseparable, you even have movie nights together.

Maybe he can make his feelings for you go away if he avoids you enough. He can stop thinking about how you light up a room when you laugh, instantly making his mood brighter. Or how your cooking always smells the most delicious, even the most simple foods weave a decadent smell throughout the halls. Or how you're always waiting at the bottom of the stairs after the brothers run for supplies, smile on your face and arms wide open to hug Sam.

Maybe if I stop ignoring her, I could fall into those arms, hold her close, smell that enticing perfume of hers up close...

Somehow you've managed to integrate yourself into every aspect of his life, despite his attempts to keep you out. He's constantly finding your post-it notes with cute doodles in the most random of spots, inside kitchen cabinets and books that have been untouched for months. He even found one under the sink one day, a stick figure drawing wearing a trench coat, an arrow pointing from the word baby to the figure. Sam had to explain that one to Castiel, who then laughed and asked you excitedly if he could keep it.

He shakes his head and runs his hand down his face, as if that will clear the thoughts.

I need to think of annoying things about her. Reasons to keep my distance. Come on, there's got to be something.

And then it hit him. Your hair. Your beautiful, y/h/c hair that he would love to run his fingers through. No, not beautiful, he reminds himself, annoying. It's everywhere, even in rooms you don't frequent, even in rooms he's sure you've never been in.

He'll just have to hang on to this annoyance until he can think of more. If he can manage to think of more. This is useless, he sighs, grabbing his things to take a shower. At least I know I can waste time relaxing with a hot shower and not run into her there. He double checks to make sure the coast is clear in the hallway before heading toward the shower room, hearing muffled voices further down the hall but assuming it's you, busy helping Sam with research.

He gets to the shower room and sets up his things. He turns on the hot water, and steam starts filling the room immediately. He undresses, stepping under the water and letting the heat relax his muscles, tense from his endless debate about his feelings. He grabs his soap bar and starts cleaning, but he feels a tug when he starts to clean his member. Confused, he looks down, finding a long hair knotted around his most sensitive part.

He yanks on the hair, finding it stuck. He yanks harder, feeling a small sting followed by relief with the tension breaks the hair. With the hair pinched between his fingers, he brings it up closer to look at it under the light. He assumed it would be one of Sam's. They mix up their clothes in the laundry sometimes, it would make sense for it to be Sam's hair. But no, luck has never been on Dean's side. The hair is very distinctly from your head.

How did her hair even manage to get there? Damn it, I can't even escape her here... By myself... In the shower... When I haven't been around her for weeks.

He feels the frustration building and his fists clenching. Frustration at not being able to avoid you, at not truly wanting to avoid you, at his member having some semblance of contact with you but nowhere near the contact he desires. It builds and builds until he explodes, "Son of a BITCH!"

Y/N:

Sam rushes ahead of you toward Dean's yell, pistol already in his hands and raised by the time you both reach the shower room, ready for whatever fight he may find. You have a silver blade in your hand, fists raised, eyes scanning for a threat.

"What? What is it, Dean?" Sam asks urgently, not seeing any outward threats to everyone's safety. Dean spins around at the intrusion, eyes widening. You swear you see panic in his eyes when they connect with yours, then Dean frantically grabs his towel, wrapping it around his waist to hide his lower half. You try your hardest to stay focused and not get distracted by his bare chest.

"What is it? Look at it!" Dean yells at Sam, shoving his right hand toward Sam's face, thumb and pointer finger pinched together.

Sam slowly lowers his gun, looking between Dean's hand and his eyes several times in disbelief. "You yelled about a hair??"

"Look at it!" Dean insists, "it's hers!" He gestures toward you with his hand, still holding the pinched hair.

You furrow your brow, "so? It's just a hair? I have a lot of it. I'm sure that's not the only one in here."

"It wasn't just in here. It was wrapped around my head!" Dean yells.

You and Sam look at each other, shrugging. "I fail to see the issue here," the younger Winchester states.

"You know," Dean continued, "my head." He emphasizes the last word with a gesture toward his lower half.

You and Sam look at each other again, eyebrows raised, then Sam throws his head back and bursts into laughter. You lock your eyes back on Dean, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Dean's face is red with anger and what you think might be a touch of embarrassment. "Sammy, it's not funny. It was knotted and I had to pull it! What if it did any damage?"

"Oh, well Chuck forbid my hair do damage to your most prized possession," you mumble under your breath. Sam hears you, making him laugh even harder, doubling over and wiping his eyes.

"What did you say?" Dean asks, dropping his hand and, finally, the hair.

"Nothing," you say, looking away.

"That's it. Sammy, grab her. We're shaving her head," Dean threatens, taking a half step toward you.

"Dean, come on," Sam says, still lightly laughing. "You have to admit, it's kind of funny."

"Is it, Sammy? It's bad enough I can't stop thinking about her all the-" Dean stops himself, slamming his mouth shut.

Your jaw drops. You swear time stops. Have you been wrong this whole time? Could it be possible he has feelings for you too?

Dean quickly leaves, while you stand there frozen in shock. Sam watches his brother go, then turns to you, "you okay?"

"He likes me too, doesn't he, Sam?"

Sam just looks at you silently for a moment, then puts a hand on your shoulder. "I swore I'd never say anything. He thinks he's helping to protect you. He's... not good at this kind of thing."

You're in shock. Or dreaming. There's no other logical explanation. You're thrilled because he likes you too, but also heartbroken that he thinks this is protecting you. You, a hunter for your entire life, who did it all by herself until running into the Winchesters, who took down vampire nests and demons and everything inbetween with minimal or no injuries, are seen as weak in his eyes?

Leaving Sam behind, you storm down the hall to Dean's bedroom door and pound on it several times. "Go away, Sam," you hear through the door.

"It's me. We need to talk."

After several long seconds, you resign yourself to accepting he's not going to open it. Just as you're getting ready to leave, it opens just enough to reveal Dean, stone faced and fully dressed, wet hair sticking up at odd angles.

"Can I come in?" You ask. He wordlessly opens the door a fraction more and steps to the side for you to enter.

You walk past him a few steps and turn toward him as he closes the door. "I know you're better with actions than with words, so I'm gonna talk and I just want you to listen, okay? I'm not weak. I don't need you to protect me. I can make my own choices. And I choose you. And I'm not going to pretend to know what could happen in the future. But I know that if you watch my back and I watch yours, we can handle anything this world, Heaven, or Hell could throw at us."

You slowly drift closer to him as you continue, "I won't pretend to know every little thing about you, but I do know you, Dean. I know how loyal you are. And how you will always put yourself in harm's way to protect those you care about. How you blame yourself for every loss. How you like to sit outside on quiet nights and look at the stars, enjoying the peace that has been so rare in your life."

You're in his space now, and you reach up to place your hand on his cheek. He leans into your hand, closing his eyes. "I don't know how to do this, Y/N."

"Me neither, Dean. But how about we take a leap of faith together and we can figure it out?"

He opens his mesmerizing green eyes, and you notice unshed tears building up in them. Then, faster than you can blink, his lips are on yours.

You always thought the cliche of seeing fireworks was just that, a cliche. But you'll be damned if you're not seeing entire light shows behind your eyelids right now. Every nerve ending in your body lights up as if on fire. Arms wrapped around each other, you and Dean are pressed so close together, not even air can pass between you. He licks your lower lip, asking permission, and you open without hesitation. Your tongues battle for dominance until you can't breathe, and you break apart, both gasping for air.

"So I guess that's it then, huh, sweetheart?" he rasps, smirking, leaning his forehead on your own.

"Guess so, tough guy. Who would have thought my hair would be the key," you laugh.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #female reader #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean x you #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #pov you #pov dean #keiththecat

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davnittbraes · 5 months

Text

Affirmations - Part One

Part of the I’m Here universe.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (not this part but the next one 😉)

Word Count: 2750

Warnings etc: anxiety, lots of negative self-talk, a lil bit of dissociation, LOVE YOURSELVES BABES, Marcus being a danger to my ovaries, brief reference to previous sexytimes

Reader-insert physical descriptors: none here but in Part Two hair long enough to comb fingers through

Notes: takes place a week after I’m Here but you don’t necessarily have to read it before this. Marcus and reader are in a newish relationship, their last time being intimate they pushed some boundaries, and reader confirmed she’s got a thing for letting her partner take control. Wink wink nudge nudge. Aka this relationship is heading in the BDSM direction.

I wrote this for @shirks-all-responsibilities, who rants about I’m Here Marcus so much I thought it damn well time he show her some love in return. I mean I also very much wrote it for me, too, like what is fanfic if not absolute self-indulgence 😂

Oh my god, it’s so late.

You pull into Marcus’ driveway, immediately cutting the engine, paranoid that the sound is too loud in the thick quiet of night covering the suburb.

It’s too late, really.

But he had said he wanted to see you, no matter how late you finished work. That a week was too long without seeing your beautiful smile.

So incredibly sweet - and so very Marcus.

Your gaze flicks to the illuminated clock on the car dash.

Still…

Okay, well, he had replied to your text not long ago, when you told him you were leaving work, reassuring you that he still wanted you to come over, stay for the weekend.

That had been the plan all week, you’d been looking forward to two whole days with him - the man who had rewritten your definition of romance.

No, not just romance - relationships in general. What it means to be with somebody.

To trust someone else implicitly.

To put your soul in their hands and know they’ll treat it like the greatest treasure.

And how that trust could lead to not only a depth of intimacy you’d never known possible, but also incredible, mind-blowing sex.

Last weekend, he’d shown you that. Took control, pulled you out of your own head, stripped away every worry and concern and anxiety and made you come so hard you’d fallen apart in his arms after.

Then, true to Marcus form, he didn’t push it. Didn’t force you to talk about it, just took care of you with his usual sweet gentleness.

But once the pleasure haze had faded and your thoughts came back together, anxiety had immediately started to gnaw at your throat.

What exactly had happened? How had he made you give up control like that, become so immersed in the desire to feel good and make him feel good that everything else fell away?

That was so unlike you, always present, always aware.

Though, it had felt incredible - it had been good for you.

A release that went deeper than an orgasm.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like it. Just that… it was…

Well, you never could stop analyzing every single thing that was brought to your attention. It’s not surprising that this was making you go around in circles trying to figure it out.

Your heavy sigh breaks the silence.

Some instinct tells you Marcus knows.

There had been moments, during that night, when you’d seen it in his warm brown gaze.

An understanding. A knowledge of what you were thinking, feeling, that surpassed even your own.

You need to talk to him.

So you’d been looking forward to this all week, to seeing him again. Struggling to fight back the anxiety that keeps trying to pull you into a spiral about that night, reminding yourself constantly that it’s okay, you can talk to Marcus about it, he’s safe.

You can trust him.

But all that was before you knew that your Friday was going to blow up in your face.

Before problem after problem was dumped on you and despite your every effort you couldn’t fix them all before they inevitably got worse.

And now you’re sitting here, long after you were supposed to be at his place.

The anxiety is gone, now, you’d caved to it hours ago, unable to keep it at bay. It had been replaced by something you can’t identify buzzing with an uncomfortable weight in the pit of your stomach.

You peer at his house through the windshield, chewing your thumbnail thoughtfully, teeth biting into the quick with a tiny jab of pain that distracts you enough to think through the situation.

The porch light is on, and so is the living room light, glowing through the curtains in the big picture window.

Okay, so he’s still up.

And his texts throughout the night were his usual, sweet and caring and light -

But what if you were misreading them?

What if he’s actually upset with you for being so late?

What if he’s playing it off like it’s fine but he’s actually pissed, frustrated that you strung him along all day, that you prioritized work over him, that you had the audacity to show up at this hour and expect him to drop everything to entertain you.

Your stomach turns, rolls, slow and sickly, emotion hot in the back of your throat.

I should just go home, there’s no point in bothering him at this -

A sudden burst of light startles you out of your spiral.

Your phone, in the cupholder, screen bright with a new text notification.

Marcus

Can’t wait to see you, beautiful

Tension bleeds from your shoulders, stomach righting itself with a little flip of anticipation.

Trust.

You trust Marcus. He’s never given you any reason to do otherwise.

And if he says he wants you to come over, despite it being so late, then he means it.

But -

No, this is too much, you can’t just sit here and think anymore -

The need to move shoves you into action, and you throw open the door and get out of the car, grabbing your bag from the backseat.

You’re only three steps to the front door when it swings open, light bathing the walkway.

Marcus meets you before you even reach the door, dimpled smile glowing in the dim light. “Hey. Heard the car pull in.”

Your own smile is an inherent reaction, heartbeat skipping just a bit as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips, one hand slipping around your waist to smooth over the small of your back.

The exhaustion in your muscles leaches out, body swaying toward his, and he pulls back enough to look at you, concern in his warm brown gaze. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

He’s already taking your bag, long fingers slipping through yours, hand on your back gently guiding you to the door and that unknown weight in the pit of your stomach shifts, edges sharp, bringing tears to your eyes.

What is it? Why does it hurt so much?

It’s a little unsettling, not knowing what you’re feeling, especially when it’s something so strong.

What’s wrong with you that you can’t even identify this emotion that feels like it’s boring a hole straight through you?

You’re moving automatically, only vaguely aware of the door shutting behind you, the pleasant smile pasted on your face. Going through the motions, taking off your shoes, jacket, straightening your clothes.

Suddenly, large hands cup your face and a jolt runs through you, so startling it pushes a gasp from your lungs.

Brown eyes fill your vision, blurred by the threat of tears.

Soft words seep through the buzzing in your head - when had that started?

“Are you okay?”

Shit -

You haven’t said anything, haven’t spoken to him since you pulled in. Frustration skips along your pulse. Get it together.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” The practiced phrase comes out as usual, light and dismissive.

Marcus steps closer, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. “Look at me.”

Oh -

It’s just a hint, a whisper of the command his voice can carry - that command that guided you to heights of pleasure you’d never experienced before him. It’s enough to snap through the buzz in your head.

Your vision clears and finally you can really see him. Really look at him.

He’s watching you, intent, frown forming between his brows. There’s only a pause, his expression unreadable - is he angry - no stop it shut up - then he’s sliding an arm around your shoulders and turning you toward the living room.

“Come on, come sit down.”

Relief washes cool down your back.

Yes, good, let him guide you.

A quiet reassurance coats your thoughts, muffling the noise.

Trust him.

He sits you down on the plush sofa, tucked into the corner, and settles in closely next to you. His hands never leave you, drifting down your arms to clasp yours gently, hold them in your lap. Your joined hands rest on your thighs, a counterweight to the one in your stomach.

Grounding. Centring.

Marcus.

He squeezes lightly, draws your gaze to his. “Are you comfortable talking to me right now?”

Embarrassment flushes hot on your skin - it’s so unnerving, how he can see everything about you - but you force yourself not to look away, to keep your gaze on his. Trust. “A lot happened today. Just. A lot.”

Fuck, that’s not very helpful, he asked you a question and you give him this vague -

“That’s okay.”

The buzz flickers, the soft tone of his words scattering.

“What?” You can hear the confusion in your own voice.

A dozen emotions flash across his expression, but the warmth in his eyes doesn’t change, persistent. “It’s okay that today was a lot. You can talk about it, all of it or parts of it, if you want. Or if you’d rather not, that’s fine, too.”

You glance away, unable to look at him, his ceaseless compassion too much to handle right now.

He lifts your clasped hands to his lips, brushes a kiss over your knuckles, that intent gaze still locked on yours. “I can reheat supper, if you’re hungry. Draw you a bath if you want to unwind. Take you to bed and hold you if you’re too tired for any of that. And during, after or in-between any of that, I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me about today.”

The weight in your stomach shifts again, presses up against your ribcage and it hurts to breathe but you manage to nod in acknowledgment.

His gaze tracks the shakiness of the movement, crease between his brows deepening, voice firm. “And if you don’t want to talk tonight, that’s fine. But it’s not healthy to keep things bottled up. Whatever happened, it seems like it’s really affecting you. So you will have to talk about it at some point, either with me or someone else. When you’re ready.”

You nod again - try to, but the movement is too awkward, it feels strange. As if it’s not you making it, it’s not your body, not your hands in his and not your lungs straining for air and not -

Suddenly you can’t see, everything is blurry, everything is gone nothing is real why -

Strong arms pull you against a broad chest and you crumple, limbs folding into yourself, weight in your stomach dragging you down down down -

Desperate, you grasp at the warmth that breaks your fall, hands clutching at fabric over solid strength, thoughts latching onto murmured words against your hair.

Your subconscious instinctively threading into the profound presence that surrounds you, holding fast.

It’s a lifeline. A linchpin that centres your focus, pulls you back into awareness.

Marcus is tucking you firmer into the crook of his arm, shifting your legs across his lap until you’re fully seated there. One large hand cups your head, holds your temple to his lips, while the other passes gentle strokes to your arm, your back, your thigh.

He’s talking, soft and muffled words but clear enough, a steady stream that brushes over your skin.

“Breathe for me, baby, it’s okay, you’re okay, let it out. I’m here.”

I’m here.

Marcus is always here. For you.

Trust.

The weight in your stomach bursts and everything pours out of you in tear-soaked words.

“I’m so sorry I’m so late, I’m sorry I disappointed you and I didn’t want to ever do that because you’re so amazing Marcus and it’s not fair for me to treat you like this - “ your voice hiccups and you have to push through it - “I should have cancelled tonight, I knew I was going to be late, but I was selfish and still wanted to see you and I made you wait around for me and that was wrong and I’m so so sorry -“

“Stop.”

His voice is quiet but firm, enough to silence the mess of thoughts pouring from your lips.

You wait, heart pounding, lungs tight, muscles tensed and ready for his judgement.

No, not judgement - this is Marcus, he cares about you, he’s here for you.

But it’s all still there, the buzzing in your head and the weight pulling you down and it’s too much, too confusing and conflicting and you can’t handle everything.

A whimper squeezes past your throat before you can stop it. Your eyes are closed so tight against it all that you see stars.

He gently eases you away, his arm supporting your back where it bands across your shoulders. “Open your eyes, baby. Please.”

Trust.

It takes everything you have to do so, blinking as his face comes into focus.

The concern that worried his brow is gone. Those warm, brown eyes are steady, but more serious than you’ve ever seen them.

He takes a deep breath, chest shifting where you’re pressed to him. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but you were hurting yourself and I couldn’t let that continue.”

“H-hurting myself?” Your voice catches on the well of confusion squeezing your throat.

A barely-there nod as his thumb swipes through the tear tracks on your cheek. “Listening to those negative thoughts. Letting them speak for you.”

You stare at him. Mind blank. Buzzing thoughts silent.

He cups your cheek, his broad palm soothing on your too-hot skin. “You have your own voice. No one, not even yourself, can take that away. It will always be there.”

There’s no epiphany or flash of understanding. Just a gentle swell, rising and pulling you in, the understanding of his words. They just seep into the fibre of your being and you know.

You know they’re true.

You understand what he’s saying. Those buzzing thoughts, sharp and intrusive, weaselling their way to the forefront until you couldn’t hear anything else.

That heavy weight in the pit of your stomach. A blend of guilt and shame and frustration.

At yourself.

For being weak, for being unable to stop the anxious turmoil from bleeding into this part of your life, your relationship with Marcus, the part that you wanted so badly to be clean of it.

Then there’s disappointment at your inability to control it.

No. Not just disappointment.

Anger.

Because despite trying, so hard, telling yourself that Marcus was good and right and you can trust him - it did nothing.

Those negative thoughts still won out and tainted your perception.

Then there’s despair. Cold and creeping into your bones.

You’re failing yourself.

So many times, you’ve been silent when you wanted to speak, or to shout or laugh or scream or sing.

You’d let others keep you quiet for so long, that even when they were no longer in your life, the habit apparently remained.

A habit you thought you’d already broken after countless therapy sessions, only for it to overtake and control you once again.

Well. At least now you know it’s not right, not fair to you.

Now you know you deserve to be happy.

It had taken a long time, but you’d come to acknowledge and accept that as a fact.

But that didn’t stop you from trying to self-sabotage, apparently.

No, stop. That’s the negative voice again.

Telling you you’re not enough.

That you’ll always fail.

Trust trust trust

Those words beat steadily within your own pulse.

Closing your eyes - not to shut things out, this time, but to let yourself look inward - you lean into the weight of his palm, breathe deep, and trust.

“I think that…” Your words are soft, cracked with hesitation as they come to you slowly. “I know that I do, have my own voice. I know those thoughts will only hurt me, and I have the ability to ignore them. But sometimes it…”

You look at Marcus then, some part of you needing to see him. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that, to hear the difference between the good thoughts and the bad ones. Especially on days when everything else is so loud.”

He’s watching you, expression so soft it pricks tears in the corners of your eyes. There’s no pity, or uncertainty, or doubt, in his face. Just an overwhelming tender emotion, a comprehension that can only come from hearing that same buzzing noise blurring the good and bad.

One of your hands untangles from where your fingers are curled into his shirt, rises to rest over his on your cheek.

Of course he understands. A toxic marriage, a broken engagement, so many other wounds that cut deep and left scars.

Marcus has fought to break habits, too.

He leans in, kisses you softly, your lips then your forehead. “Will you…” he pulls back to look at you, tongue dipping against his lower lip. “Will you let me help you? With the noise?”

Your heart beats steadily.

You know what he means.

The memory of sinking deep into that haze of pleasure, letting go of your ceaseless thoughts. Allowing him to take control of the noise and silence it.

Giving yourself over to him, wholly and completely.

Trust trust trust

There’s no hesitation in your thoughts, in your voice.

“Yes.”

*****

Next: Part Two

Previous: I’m Here

#the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #reader insert #no y/n

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lainiespicewrites · 5 months

Text

I just want to feel safe - Walter Marshall fanfic. Part 1?

Okay. Preface. This story has mentions of sexual assault. This is a personal story. But I've changed a lot of the names and some of the actual story to fit the fic. I think that I've decided this is going to be a series. It's taken a lot out of me writing this but. I really love Walter and I can see this relationship growing into something more than what is here. I also think that from a healing standpoint, I'm gonna write the story I never gave myself the chance to have. Anyway. That's enough from me. I'll let you guys read the story now. I know this is a heavy topic and situation but I'm still always open to comments and feedback. Thank you guys for the support in posting this <3

Plot: OFC reports assault after 2 years and Detective Walter Marshall is assigned to her case. He will stop at nothing to help her feel safe again.

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of sexual assault (retelling the story of what happened.)

Unbeta'd Mistakes are totally my own and I own that. This might be a mess because honestly I was super emotional writing this but it felt good to get it all down.

Please don't share without crediting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m not sure what I expected a police station to be like. Frankly I’d never really imagined myself in one. Kind of funny how things can change like that. All of a sudden you’re doing things you’d never imagine. That’s how I ended up here. In this strangely familiar looking police station. I guess maybe that’s the one thing movies and Tv got right. Police stations for the most part look exactly the same. This whole night started from a list of “Fuck it why not’s” that spiraled out of control. But that explanation alone was not enough to help the officer help me. I looked back at the petite woman in front of me. I’m sure she was a good police officer. I wasn't trying to doubt her skill. But her overly sympathetic nature and deer in the headlights look on her face was making me feel worse.

“I know this is hard.” She spoke softly, placing her hand over mine on the table. She didn’t know. She had no idea what this was like. Being attacked like this. Letting yourself become vulnerable because ‘why not’ I’d known those boys my entire life. When my brother invited me out for drinks with his friends, I didn’t have a reason not to trust them. Not to trust… him. My brother didn’t know. He couldn’t have known. He was betrayed too. “But I need you to tell me what you remember, what happened to you, so we can help you.” I looked around again At the empty gray walls. Out the window into the dark cloudy night sky. It must be almost midnight now. Anywhere but at the woman in front of me. What did she say her name was? Rachel? I focused on the empty desk chair behind her when I finally spoke.

“It doesn’t matter. I remember all of it. Every detail. But we have no case.” I muttered I looked down playing with my hands again.

“Alayna,” She said my name softly. I met her eyes again for the first time since we sat at her desk. “You don’t know that. You did the right thing coming here and reporting it. I need you to talk to me.” She pleaded with me. She didn’t understand.

“No,” I said again. “I do know.”

“How do you know we can’t help you?” She asked her eyes boring into mine. I know she wants to help. I know that but I just don’t see how they can. not after it’s been so long.

“There’s no evidence.” I said.

“Sweetheart, with all due respect you aren’t a police officer we may be able to find something you wouldn’t think to look…”

“It was two years ago.” Rachel paused then. She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair.

“2 years ago?” she repeated. I nodded. She let out a soft sigh. “Sweetie, Why did you wait so long to tell somebody?” She asked. This felt more manageable. This I at least knew the answer for. It was logical. It made sense. Well it doesn’t really make much sense but when you’re bargaining with yourself it does.

“I didn’t think it would matter. I’m still not sure it does.” I said. I swallowed hard. Now or never Alayna. You didn’t walk 3 miles to the police station, in the cold, after a panic attack to not give yourself some kind of peace. I let out a long breath and started again but then the door of the squadroom opened. A tall figure walked in. I couldn’t make out much of him at first. Just that he was very tall, 6,1 or something and had a full beard. He was wearing a heavy winter coat and beanie. I tensed a little when I watched him walk from the entrance to the desk next to Rachel’s. He shrugged off his coat revealing a thick gray sweater. He draped his coat over his chair and pulled off his beanie. His hair was a mess of dark curls. As soft and cozy as he should have looked…Something still felt intimidating about him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t spoken a word since he’d walked in the room. None of us had actually.

“Alayna,” Rachel said my name, getting my attention and finally breaking the silence. “This is detective Walter Marshall. He’s going to be working on your case.” That’s right. When I came in to report, the officer on duty at the station had to attend to a call. When I told them I wanted to report an assault, they told me that they’re psychiatrist was still in the office. I could talk to her until one of the detectives was available. I think they were afraid if they told me to come back later… I wouldn’t. They were probably right. Although I’m not quite sure if it would be because I’d lost my nerve or dying of hypothermia on the walk home. Rachel wasn’t even a detective. Was I really that out of it? Why didn’t I remember that until now?

“Okay,” was all I managed to say.

“I can stay,” she said. I'm not sure if it was for me or the detective. Maybe both. “If you’re more comfortable. If it’s easier for you. Ya know?” she asked. I shook my head and I watched as the detective…Walter, put his hand on her shoulder.

“Go home, it's been a long day,” he told her. His voice was deep but he spoke softly. And surprisingly he had an English accent. “We’ll manage,” his eyes were tired and heavy when they met mine. He offered a gentle smile. I nodded.

“You’re sure?” She asked.

“I don’t want to keep you Rachel. I can talk to the detective.” I said. She nodded.

“Okay, wait right here, just a moment while I catch him up okay? And then you two will get started.” I gave her a slight nod and just stared out the window again. Rachel and the detective went off into a side office somewhere to discuss what I��d already mentioned. This was sure to be quick now. As soon as she tells him how long it’s been, he’ll dismiss me. This was so stupid. I’d kept this to myself for this long. I knew this was a bad idea. Just as I had convinced myself to get up and leave the office door opened again.

“Thank you,” Walter’s voice said from across the room. “Get home safe.” he told Rachel as she waved goodbye. I gave her a small wave. I sat back in the chair trying to relax. But I knew I couldn’t. He came back over to the desk leaning his hip against it, crossing one foot over the other. “Are you comfortable out here or would you like to talk in my office?” He asked. “There aren’t too many people still around this late but, it would offer a bit more privacy than the open squadroom. It’s up to you.” He stated. I thought about it for a moment. Finally, I pulled my eyes from the window to look up at him.

“I think I’d feel better with a little more privacy,” I said. He gave me a sympathetic smile.

I stood up from my spot next to the desk. Then he led me out of the squadroom and down the hall to a small office. There wasn’t much, just a large desk with nothing but a computer and a travel coffee mug on it. The walls were bare other than a standard wall clock. He motioned for me to take a

seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk as he shut the door behind us. He circled around to the other side of the desk, setting a file down and taking a seat across from me.

“You’re reporting an assault, is that right?” He asked. I nodded.

“Yes, not a recent one. I’m sure Rachel informed you.” I said. I felt so ashamed of myself. I was wasting his time. Detective Marshall’s eyes met mine. I didn’t find the same overly sympathetic look in his eyes like I did with Rachel. He wasn’t pitying me. He wasn’t trying to psychoanalyze me. At the same time, it wasn’t cruel or harsh. Not even annoyed. Just open.

“She did,” he spoke after a brief pause. “But I’d like to hear the information from you myself. If that's alright with you?” He questioned. I swallowed hard. I leaned forward and folded my hands on the desk.

“I can do that.” My voice shook when I spoke. “Will I need to write a witness statement too?” I asked him. Telling this story once was going to be hard enough. Seeing it written on paper was going to be gut wrenching.

“Let’s just get through this conversation first. We’ll talk about the rest later, "he said. I nodded. He sat with his forearms leaning on the desk and his hands folded together. He pursed his lips into a tight small smile and nodded toward me. “Whenever you’re ready.” He stated. I swallowed hard. Of course it didn’t necessarily mean that. It was after midnight now. This guy probably wanted to get home. I had to get this out.

“November 12th, or well 13th I guess. It was around 1:30 or 2am so the 13th. My brother, his friends and I had gone out for his birthday. It wasn’t his birthday though, we had to wait until the weekend to celebrate because it fell during the week.” I was rambling. He needed details. I need to stop rambling. “Uh anyway, We were at a bar, earlier that night on the 12th, but I got kind of tired. The boys were picking on me for being a lightweight and leaving early. I left the bar at 11, got home at like 11:15. I went right to bed. I was really tired. The boys were all gonna come back to the house when they were done at the bar. I woke up to the bedroom door bursting open at like 1 am and someone yelling my name. I screamed. It was my brother's friend. Um.” I paused for a second, starting to feel uncomfortable. Did I have to describe it exactly? What did I have to say? But Walter spoke, easing the tension a bit.

“And what’s his name?” He asked me.

“His name is Justin, uh Justin Veach.” I responded. Walter nodded for me to continue as he wrote a note in his folder. He put the pen down and looked up at me again letting me know he was listening.

“Uh He said, ‘It’s okay! Don’t freak out, it's just me! We’re back, come hang out with us!’ Then he came over to my bed and kissed my face which was weird but he was an affectionate guy and well they were still drunk. I didn’t think much of it. He’d known me since I was a baby. He and my brother had been best friends since kindergarten. They were ten years older than me and he watched me grow up.” I shuttered a little thinking about it. “Um so after that he left. After telling me to come down stairs to talk with them again. And I did. We sat in the kitchen. I just sat there sleepy and confused. The boys were talking and eating drunk snacks or whatever,” I kind of chuckled a little. “It was nice. But we were talking about how it’s so funny that I’m old enough to go drink with them now. And Justin kept making these comments about remembering when I was born and that I was such a beautiful baby. It seemed so weird. But looking back. He knew. He knew what he was planning on doing…. We all said we were gonna go to bed. Blake, my brother, told Justin he could sleep on the couch or they could share his bed or whatever. But Justin was coming up the stairs with us and he said ‘I wanna cuddle’ to me, and he was still drunk and I thought he was joking so I laughed it off and said ‘yeah sure’ I let him lay in my bed. But I put myself on the inside. I thought he was just gonna lay there a minute and like it would be a joke. Blake did too. He asked if I was okay before he went to his room. Because he was still kinda drunk and ready to crash. I said. I was. But Justin didn’t just lay there. He took off his pants before he got into the bed so he was just in boxers and his shirt. And,”

I was shaking. I couldn’t do this anymore. I was gonna cry. I didn’t know this man. He was surely annoyed by me and. God he probably thought I was lying. That’s what Justin would tell him. When he confronts him. That I’m lying. Or maybe that's what I wanted. This was so stupid I shouldn’t have come here. I swallowed hard again. I looked back up at walter. I could feel the tears in my eyes.

“Take your time.” He said softly. “Is this when he hurt you?” He asked.

“I can’t,” my voice was trembling now. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, I can’t do this.” I sobbed. I stood up to leave his office. Walter stood and walked to the other side of the desk gently reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, I know that. I wasted your time detective. I’m so sorry.”

“Hold on,” Walter’s voice was low. “Sit back down, and breathe for a moment. If anything else I can’t let you walk out of here and drive home in this state.” I looked at his face. He was concerned. Worried about me. About my safety. I sat back down in the chair. I took a deep breath trying to compose myself again. But I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “It’s okay, You’re safe in here. I’m going to do everything I can to help you Alayna.” Detective Marshall said, crouching down in front of me to meet my eyes again. I nodded. “Do you think you can keep going?” he asked. I nodded again. He stood and leaned on the edge of his desk. His proximity seemed to help keep my calm. I don’t know what was so different between him and talking with Rachel. But when he said he could help, I believed him. Maybe it was the sheer size of this man. Or the gun on his hip. Or maybe there was something in his aura or some other bullshit I didn’t understand that was protective and made me trust him. Fuck maybe I’d gone to far to turn back now and I was too emotionally exhausted not to lean on anyone who would listen. Whatever it was, I continued.

“At first I was just laying next to him. Like I was saying, I thought it was a joke. But he wrapped his arm around me to make me cuddle him.. I guess. He started rubbing my back. I froze up. I started to recognize that his hand was lingering where it shouldn’t but I couldn’t say anything. And this guy he’s .. he’s huge. I mean like 6 foot and like 400 lbs when he rolled over on to me and started touching me I felt paralyzed I couldn’t move but… I couldn’t have pushed him off if I’d tried. I just felt hopeless. That’s when everything happened.” I sniffled softly. I hiccuuped catching my breath. “It was like I was outside of myself watching it all happen…I .. I don’t know if that makes sense? But I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was lay there. I don’t remember if I said no. But,

“You didn’t consent. That’s no. This was not your fault. You’ve already tried to blame yourself. It’s a really common thing, unfortunately, that you can’t react. But that doesn’t mean that you let it happen. Or that you wanted it to happen.” Walter said softly. I nodded at the ground.

“Afterward he, he fell asleep and I showered, I had to get rid of the feeling of him. I slept on the couch, Well I tried to. The next morning he was came down and sat with all of us like nothing had happened. I had mentioned that my back had hurt the night before. And he moved closer to me and rubbed it for me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t react…again. I just. I don’t know. All I could think was, I didn’t wanna start anything. But I also couldn’t make sense of what happened. When he left I changed the sheets. I threw them away actually. My clothes were washed. But eventually I couldn’t look at them anymore. I threw them away too.”

“Why do you think it took you so long to say anything?” Walter asked me.

“I wasn’t even sure it happened. I wasn’t sure I could call it what it was. I mean he was drunk, I just… Just laid there. It took me over a week to tell my best friend. But It took almost 4 months after talking it out with her and one of my other friends for me to face it and call it what it was. But I still can’t say it.”

“And why are you here now? What made you report it?” He raised an eyebrow. I took a deep breath. This has been eating at me so long but. This month. This 2 year “anniversary.” If you could call it that. Has been terrorizing me.

“It’s all I could think about the last couple of weeks. I started having nightmares. Seeing him in my dreams. Before when I dreamt about it, I always got away. Someone always stopped him. But now. Now I’m trapped all overagain. It happened in my childhood home. In the room I grew up in. I’ve moved out since then. I live alone. He doesn’t even live in that town anymore. He lives 3 hours away from me. The chances that I’ll run into him are slim. And I don’t have any

reminders of it anymore. But Sometimes if I wake up and I’m laying next to the wall it sends me into a panic. If I see someone with a similar body type or with a similar voice it shut down. He’s over a 100 miles away. But I don’t feel safe. I’m losing my mind! I’m getting up to check the lock on the door like 10 times before I can go to sleep. What if he just walks in like he did then. He doesn’t even know where I live. But I’ve never confronted him. And he has a wife! And Kids. He did when he did this to me. I can’t get over that. She needs to know but … I don’t, I don’t know what to do! That’s why I’m here, I had another panic attack, I didn’t trust myself to drive. So I walked. ” I was in tears again. He must think I’m so weak. So stupid. What an idiotic thing to do.

“I understand, and first I want to say, I’m sorry that you went had to experience that. It’s a good you were able to tell your friends, but you were seemingly dealing with this alone for a long time. I’m sure that’s taken a toll on you. The next thing I need to ask you, is what you want to do now that you’ve told me.” I took in his words. He was right. This has been so heavy. And I’ve carried it alone for so long. But now that I’m here I never thought there would be options.

“What can we even do? It’s been so long?” I asked.

“Not too long though, if you want to press charges, and see him convited for this, that’s still on the table. If that’s what you want to do then yes, I do need you to write a witness statement. There will be a lot of other legal things that need to be done and signed. Then we can start an investigation. I know you think there isn’t anything here. But well do you trust me?” He asked. Did I? I didn’t know him. But Rachel seemed to. And he had his own office. That must mean he’s some high status detective right? And there was just something about him. Why did he feel so safe. It wasn’t the gun. It was. It was him. I did trust him.

“I do,” I spoke finally.

“I’ve put people away, on much less than what you’ve given me tonight.” He said. That felt good. To know he could lose everything. Like he made me lose my sense of security. But then my stomach dropped.

“W-would I have to see him?” I asked meekly.

“In court yes, possibly in a line up. But definitely in court. We would need your testimoney,”

“I- I don’t know if I can do that, I don’t know if I can face him.” I shook again.

“There will be officers in the court. You won’t be near him. He won’t be able to get to you.”

“Will you be there?” I asked suddenly.

“If you’d like, yes, I can be there.” He said giving me a soft smile.

“Can I think about it?” I asked meeting his eyes again.

“Of course,” He stood and walked back to the other side of his desk. “It’s been a long night emotionally for you, if you’re ready tomorrow to make a decision you can come back in the morning.” He said typing a something quickly on his computer. “If you’ll wait just a few minutes I can gladly give you a ride home. It’s far too cold for you to walk, even it’s a block away.” He offered. I nodded.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s, well its actually 3 miles.” I stated biting my lip awkwardly. He let out a soft chuckle and smiled.

“Well, I surely can’t let you walk that far this late. I’ll get you home safe.” He said. He finished typing whatever it was he was doing on his computer. Then he locked the file in his desk. He stood and gestured for me to lead out of the office. He turned the light off and locked it behind him. Oh God I’d kept him after his shift.

“I’m sorry for keeping you,”

“Oh, no don’t appologize, this is common practice for me. This is honestly the earliest I’ve left in weeks.” He said as we walked back to the squadroom. He grabbed his coat from the desk chair. “Do you have everything?” He asked. I nodded.

He led us out of the station and to his truck in the parking lot. Once we were settled in, I gave him my address so he could drive me home. I watched out the window as he drove down the familiar streets. The drive was silent. The closer we got the more I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Back home. Back home to be alone again. I was so scared. What if he knew where I lived. I didn’t feel safe. It wasn’t long before the detective was pulling up in front of my building.

“Thank you,” I spoke breaking the silence for the first time since we’d left the police station.

“Of course,” He reached into his pocket pulling out a business card. “Take the night and decide what you’d like to do.” He said and then handed me the card. “That’s my cellphone number. If there’s anything else you need call…”

“Would you come in?” I cringed the second the words left my mouth.

“I, I can search the place, If you’d like. If it would make you more comfortable.” He offered.

“I mean, could you…” I can’t believe I was asking this, “Stay?” the word came out barely above a whisper. I sighed. I turned toward the window squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m sorry that was stupid, You probably have a wife, and a family to get home to. That was so inconsiderate. I just. I was afraid and I… I’ll just go.” I opened the door.

“You don’t feel safe, do you?” He asked. I paused and shook my head. I didn’t. I hadn’t for weeks. But I couldn’t ask this guy to give up his time for me.

“I don’t but, It’s okay. It’s just that there’s only one deadbolt lock on the door. And I don’t know sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. And I can’t seem to get any sleep. But that’s not up to you. I have to figure this out. You’ve done so much to help me already detective.” I rambled. Walter let out a long breath.

“You’ve got a lot on your mind right now and a lot to consider.” He said. “I’m sure the lack of sleep isn’t helping at all, You could use a good nights rest.” He stated.

“But it’s not you’re responsibility and I don’t want to take you away from your family.” I said.

“I, well I live alone actually.” He bit his lip awkwardly “Why don’t you stay with me for the night? I’ve got some work to catch up on anyway. I probably won’t be getting much sleep. You wouldnt’t be putting me out.”

“Are you sure?” I asked raising an eyebrow. I’d given this poor guy enough trouble. And he was being so kind. Walter nodded. Honestly. The way I was feeling I didn’t have the energy to consider it any longer. I shut the door and walter put the truck in drive.

It was almost 2 am when we walked into his house.

“I can just sleep on the couch I, I really don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You aren’t,” He assured me. “And please, you can sleep in the bedroom, I rarely sleep there anyway. It’d be nice to know someones getting use out of it.” He smiled. I nodded and he showed me to the room and left me to get comfortable. He said he’d be down stairs likely working in his office if I needed anything. I took in the room everything seemed to be a dark navy color the comforter, the curtains the sheets. I chuckled to myself. That made sense for him.

I slipped off my shoes and slid under the covers. This should feel strange. And it did. But I was safe. And I hadn’t felt that way in a while. I let that feeling take over as I tried to fall asleep. But my mind started to wander again. What if he found out I reported it. What would happen. Or What would he do when they arrested him. What would he say about me. Would he say I wanted it. Tell them I didn’t push them away. Try to convince them that I was lying somehow? He was good at that. And he had a friend from college that was a lawyer. Surely he already had a story. Maybe he’d been prepared since it had happened. I started to shake again. I could feel my heart rate speeding up. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t hear the footsteps up the stairs. I didn’t see him come in. I didn’t even realize that I’d started to cry again until I noticed he was next to me saying my name.

“Alayna. Alayna. It’s okay. You’re okay. Take a deep breath.” He soothed.

“I can’t, I can’t… what if he tries to come after me. What if.. What if he tells them… what if tries to tell them I wanted him to…I don’t think I can do this.” I sobbed. Walter wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“He can’t get to you. We’ll be sure of that. All that matters, is that you’ve told us the truth. As long as you have, and as long as you confirm that in court. No matter what he says or what anyone believes, it won’t matter. I want to help you. I want you to feel safe again. I think the only way we can do that. Is to put this guy away. I’m not gonna stop until we do. I won’t let him hurt you again.” He said. Pulling me closer to him.

“Do you have a sister?” I asked after a brief pause sniffling softly.

“No,” He shook his head and leaning back against the headboard letting me rest my head against his shoulder. “But I have a daughter.” He said.

“Is that why you do what you do?” I asked. He smiled. But he was quite for a moment.

“Not at first. When I was younger and I first started out, it was just something that I liked. Something I was good at. But when my exwife and I had our daughter, a lot of that changed. It became personal. To an unhealthy point honestly.” He chuckled at himself. “I guess to my own detriment.”

“Is that why you’re still working even though you clocked out hours ago? You could use some good sleep too detective.” I stated. Starting to relax.

“I haven’t slept well in ages,” He said. “Focusing on the job, oddly enough, keeps my mind off everything else. There are some horrible people in this world. I don’t have to explain that to you. I get so in my own head about how, it could be her. If I spend anymore time considering the what ifs I’d keep her locked in a tower,” He chuckled.

“I understand that. But surely, If she was raised by you, she’s a smart girl. But.. well I guess,” I sighed. “Nevermind.” Walter squeezed my shoulder softly.

“Thank you, I know what you mean.” He smiled sympathetically.

“I’m going to do it.” I said suddenly. “Press charges, I mean. You’re right. Knowing can still get to me. Knowing he’s out there. That’s what’s causing me all this stress and …I can’t keep going on like this.” I stated.

“I can take you back to the station tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Walter?” I asked nervously biting my lip.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay here? I don’t know what it is I just feel.. Safer when you’re here.” I blushed softly. Walter adjusted so that he was lying on the bed. I moved and laid my head on the pillow.

“Get some sleep darling. I’ll be right here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay that was part one❤️ let me know how you’re feeling about this guys!

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Part 2:

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