Jul 26
Henry Cavill as Walter Marshall NIGHT HUNTER
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Maldives
seen from United States
seen from Belarus
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Maldives
seen from Netherlands
seen from Singapore
seen from China
seen from Ecuador
seen from Maldives
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from Singapore
Henry Cavill as Walter Marshall NIGHT HUNTER
Never Going Back
Warnings: this fic contains suggestions of criminal activity and neglect. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is the next June fic! (It’s late. Sorry)
Walter Marshall + “Let me kiss you. Just once.”
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
The pounding on the door startles you away. The whole trailer shakes with the force of it. Your head spins as your eyes snap open and reality slowly pieces together, though not all of it fits.
You’re on the fold out bed that converts to a table in daylight. Your brother sleeps on the couch and your dad gets the only private room in the cluttered trailer. You sit up groggily as the hammering knock comes again; at the top right of the door.
“Police, open up. Now!” A voice barks.
Your feet tangle in the blanket as you scramble to obey. You nearly tip over the edge as you leave the ratty comforter hanging down to the floor. You garble dumbly as you try to straighten up yourself and your vision.
You look around. The couch is empty and your dad’s bedroom door is shut.
“Dad? Ricky?” You call out. Your voice is crisp not only from sleep but disuse. You can’t remember the last time you spoke so loudly. “Hey!”
No answer.
You stagger into the door and lean on it as you slide back the latch. It quakes as once more a fist batters at it. “PD. Open up now. Show your hands.”
You twist the latch and the door pushes open from the other side. You stumble as a light shines in your face. “Hands up. Show your hands. Palm out.”
You shakily do as you’re told. You don’t know what’s going on. The police come around but your dad or brother deals with them. You usually just hide. That’s all you ever do.
“Against the wall.” An officer grabs you and spins you into the closest wall. You whimper as he pins you there with his knee against the back of your legs and his elbow in your back.
Other shadows march in, aiming lights and barrels all around. The strip the foldout bed and flip it up roughly. You quiver as you try to see over your shoulder.
“Head forward.” The officer commands. “I’m searching the suspect in custody.”
You whine. Suspect?
The man gruffly grabs at your, hooking his arm around to claw at your shirt, down your chest across the back of your shoulders, down your sides. He kicks your feet apart as he searches for pockets and anything hidden in your stained jogging pants. Just three days of your sweat.
“She’s not one of them,” Another officer says. “Take it easy.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s fucking one or related,” another responds. “She’ll be questioned but no need for all tht.”
You shy away at the former suggestion. You would never. As pathetic as you are, still living with your family, you’re not that. No, no man ever wanted that from you.
“Grinton,” a taller officer approaches, “join in. I’ll take the witness.”
“Fine.”
“You find anything good, you’re welcome,” the second officer says. “I’ll write the commendation myself.”
“Pfft, whatever,” the man pushes off you and you whimper again. “Fucking desk jockeys.”
The first officer stomps away as the other lingers. “Hey, miss, let’s step outside, okay?”
He gestures you to the door aas the police continue to ransack the trailer. You descend the three steps to the ground in your bare feet. The officer follows you out.
“Come on, we’ll go by my vehicle.” He nudges you gently.
You nod and follow his thick finger to a big grey truck. He walks you over and directs you to stand by the side of the hood. He holsters his gun and goes to the back passenger door. He opens it to grab something then returns to you.
“Water,” he offers the bottle. You take it and murmur, “thank you.”
“No problem. Not a very peaceful awakening, huh?” He asks.
You shake your head as you try to uncap the water. Your mouth is gritty and dry. You can’t get a grip as you tremble. Your eyes drift over to the officers streaming in and out of the trailer.
“I’m Detective Marshall. I’m leading this investigation. You’re not under arrest right now but I am going to question you.” He pauses and watches you struggle with the bottle. He opens his hand. “Here.”
You hand it over. He cracks the seal easily and hands it back with the cap loosened. You take it off and drink slowly.
“I’m going to tell you your rights. Make sure you listen, miss.”
You nod and put the cap back on, hands unsteadily twisting it.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions.” He stops and watches you. You nod again. “You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.
“Knowing your rights, are you willing to answer my questions?”
You rock slightly then stop yourself. You don’t understand. Sure, your dad and Ricky get into some shady stuff; pot, drinking, and their scummy friends, but they never hurt no one.
“Uh, yes. I understand. Um, but I don’t know anything.” You utter.
He leans in, a curl falling forward. He’s tall and wide. He wears a black shirt under a black jacket, a holster across his shoulders and on his belt. His badge hangs around his neck. His blue eyes shine in the moonlight.
“Miss, you’re going to have to speak up. There’s a lot going on right now.” He girds.
“Ahm, sorry,” you clear your throat. “Um, um,” you squeeze the bottle and the lid pops off, water splashing out.
“Alright, miss, let’s get you sitting down.” He offers.
He motions you along the truck and opens the back passenger door. You see the case of bottles on the floor. He points you to the seat. You climb up awkwardly and sit sideways to face him, his hand on your elbow as he helps you.
“I… I understand. I can answer… try to.” You say louder but not more confident.
“Alright,” he says. “Everything is being recorded for your safety and mine,” he taps his chest and you notice the box attached to his gun harness.
“Ok…” you sip again. His eyes follow the movement.
“What’s your name?” He asks. You answer barely, choking on the syllables. “How do you know Carlo….” he says your last name.
You blink. “He’s…” your lip trembles. “My dad…. Is he okay?”
He hums. “And Ricky….”
You bite your lip. You frown. “My brother,” you eke out.
“You reside here with them?”
“Yes, sir.” You gulp. “I… I clean up and I cook when I can. I just… I stay inside. I don’t… are they hurt?”
“We’ll get to that. Now, miss, I need you to focus on my questions. Can you do that?” He adds on your name, like he knows you.
“Yes, I’m trying. I’m sorry. I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be scared, alright?” He assures. “When’s the last time you saw your dad or your brother?”
You shudder and sway. “This morning. Or… yes… I made coffee and Ricky didn’t like it. And dad, he… he was in a real bad mood. He didn’t even want his.” You bring a hand up to shakily rub your cheek. “Are they in trouble?”
“Miss, you answer my questions, okay?”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you cower at the stone in his voice. “I didn’t mean to. I promise.”
He stares at you, his brow twitching. He takes a deep breath. Your eyes twinge with the heat of tears ready to spill over.
“No need for sorry. I’m not mad. These questions are for your safety. No one’s trying to hurt you or get you in trouble.”
You nod and gulp. “I just… I just… dad said not to talk to the police.”
“I’m sure he did,” he scoffs. “Alright. I think that’s enough for now. We’ll get you to the precinct and wrap this up there.”
“Oh? Am I… being arrested?” Your voice cracks.
“Detained. For further questioning.” He explains evenly. “I’m just gonna keep you out here in my truck, okay? You want the heat on? Some music?”
“I… I am a little cold,” you chatter and hug yourself. “Thank you, sir. Uh, Detective.”
🚨
You’re put in a room alone. It’s cold. You’re sat at a table. No shoes, no coat, still in your jogging pants and your dad’s old hole-pocked Budweiser shirt. You shiver and rub your arms.
The door opens and jars you. You hunch as you try to warm yourself. You don’t have a bra on. You hid your nipples behind your crossed arms.
Detective Marshall greets you by name. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He comes in. “No one offered you a blanket?”
You glance over at him and shake your head.
“Christ.” He growls. He’s just a grizzly in the light. Thick hair, thick beard, thick shoulders. He doesn’t have his holsters or his guns now. That’s a little reassuring. “Alright, I’ll go get that. You want coffee or something?”
“No thank you. I don’t like coffee?”
“More water? Tea?” He suggests.
“Sir, I… I’m fine. Just cold. Thank you.”
“Alright. I’ll be back.”
He’s quick. As promised, he returns with a blanket. He drape it over your shoulders and you pull it snug around you. He sits across from you as he puts down a notebook and pen, alongside his phone.
“Alright. So, I think we shouldn’t have much more to go over tonight. You’ve been super helpful already. Really just looking to understand what your brother and dad have been up to the last few days.” He begins.
“Right, um, I don’t know much. I stay… home.” You slant your lips.
“You work?” He prompts. You shake your head and look down.
“But you said you do stuff at home. Sounds like you do put in work.”
“Yeah, that’s… that’s chore. No one else’ll do em.” You shrug.
“I’m not gonna sit here and beat around the bush with you, sweetie. Be very honest with me, do you know of any illegal activity your dad and brother might be involved with?” He asks.
You stare at the table. You push your thumbs together under the blanket. You don’t want to get them in trouble.
“I know you’re a good girl, huh?” He leans in, gripping the pen in his hand. His large hand with thick fingers, coarse hair on his knuckles. “You don’t want them to get hurt. I’m not looking to do that. We need to find them to help them.” He sniffs. “So you be honest because if you’re not, that’s an obstruction charge.”
“What? No, I…”
“Can’t be so quiet, sweetie.” He chides.
You sit up and look at him. Your cheeks pinch as you fight back tears.
“I know they smoke… uh pot. But I don’t know anything else.” You confess. “I hate the smell and… They tell me go out back when they got friends over.”
He scribbles on the paper.
“You know any of these friends names?” He asks.
You purse your lips and nod. You just want to go home. So you’ll answer his questions. Pot isn’t so bad. Certainly it could be worse.
🚨
“I think that’s about it.” Detective Marshall states. “We’ll just have you sign your statement and you’re free to go.” He closes the notebook. “It’ll take a couple to get it printed out but you can go wait in the hall.”
You nod and stand up. You look down and let the blanket fall off your shoulders. You fold it up and offer it to him. He stares at you, eyes scaling up and down.
“No shoes?” He drawls.
“No uh… no.”
“Hm, I can get you some sandals before you go. Jail issue but they’ll do you.” He says. “Keep the blanket. It’s frigid out.”
You dip your chin again. He leads you out and puts you in one of the chairs along the wall. You cling to the blanket and wait. You listen to the chatter of the officers, the printer skimming, and the snorts and coughs of other people waiting for questioning.
Marshall comes back and gives you a pair of socks and rubber grey sandals. “Sorry we don’t go anything else. They’re probably a bit big on ya.”
“That’s okay.” You stare at your knees.
“Alright, come up to the counter to sign your statement when you’re ready.” He leaves them in your lap.
You put on the socks and sandles, then flop up to the counter. You sign the printed statement as Marshall looms on the other side.
“You need a ride somewhere? It’s late.”
“Um… home?” You say. “If it’s not too much, I… I don’t got no money.”
“Home? You can’t go home. It’s an active crime scene.” He says.
Your eyes go wide. “What? I don’t got no where else.” You pout.
“No mom? Family?”
You shake your head.
“Friends?”
You bat your lashes as panic and fear floods your chest.
“Alright, alright, we can help you out. How about I call the shelter, see if they got any beds? If not, we’ll figure something out for the night, alright?”
“I… I… I’m sorry,” you rock as you squeeze the folded blanket. “I… I don’t know what to do.”
“Just go sit down and I’ll get it sorted for you,” he assures.
“Okay.” You sniffle and turn to shuffle back to the hard plastic chair.
“Walter, you’re such a sweet old teddy bear,” one of the officer says to him, getting only a growl in return.
🚨
“No beds,” Marshall stands in front of you as you get up. “But I got a place you can stay the night.”
“Oh, uh… I’m…”
“Sorry? Come on. You’re not the one who made this mess.” He tuts. “Here.” He offers you his jacket, the big black heavy one. “You’re tired. So am I.”
“I… thank you.” You hang your head.
He puts the jacket over your shoulders. He nudges you and ushers you along the fluorescent tinted hallways. A few times he has to scan his badge to get you through.
You come out into the cold night, your breath pluming frostily from your lips. He takes you to the same gray truck. Your sandal slips on the step as you try to get in and he catches you. He gets you in the seat and buckles you in. You press yourself away from him as you watch.
He chuckles. “Sorry, habit. I’m used to buckling people in.”
He backs up and shuts the door. You lay the blanket on your lap, your hands lost in the lengths of his sleeves. He gets in the driver’s side and turns the engine.
“You can close your eyes. It’s not far.”
You don’t. You watch the cones of the street lights and the black street. He makes a few turns and pulls into a town house. You peer around curiously.
“You’ll have to be quiet. Faye’ll be sleeping.” He says.
You look at him.
“My daughter. It’s ok. You’ll crash in my bed and I’ll take the couch so she’s not surprised.”
You nod. “Thank you, Detective. It’s… too nice.”
“Walter. This isn’t an interrogation,” he reaches to squeeze your shoulder. Before he pulls away, he pets your cheek softly. “Come on. Let’s get you in bed.”
He gets out and comes around to open your door. He brings you up the walkway and guides you inside. He uses his flashlight to take you through the dark into a bedroom at the end of the downstairs hallway.
He offers you some clean clothes; his. Made for a man bigger than most. He leaves them for you and suggest the shower in the bathroom attached to the room. You thank him and he leaves.
Alone, you don’t know what to you. You’re embarrassed. You’re lost. What do you do now? What’s going on with Ricky and your dad?
You change into his clothes and slip into bed. Despite your displacement, you drift off easily. You dream of the precinct and the cold walls and metal table.
You wake to humming sound. You can smell pine. A soapy scent. Your lashes flutter as you lift your head. The bathroom door is slightly open.
The thrumming stop as metal cranks. You listen to the soft noises that come after. The door opens with a puff of steam.
Detective Marshall, no, Walter, steps out. He has only a towel around his waist, the curls on his head shiny with dampness, and the hair on his body too. It’s thick and dark and goes from chest to stomach…
“Oh, sorry, did I wake you? I was trying not to.” He grips the towel tighter. It’s too small for him. “I’ll just grab some clothes and scram. I gotta get Faye to school.”
“I’m sorry. I can go.” You sit up. “What time is it?”
He shakes his head. “Early. Stay. We need to talk when I get back.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry.”
You lay back down and roll so your back is too him. You feel like you’ve seen something you shouldn’t and when you close your eyes, you see his body. Yikes.
🚨
When you hear Walter go, you get up. You change back into your own clothes and bring his out with you. The place is empty. It’s nice. A lot nicer than the trailer.
You sit by the front door, on the bench with the cubbies for shoes under it. You hear his truck and his footsteps before he enters. He grunts in surprise as he sees you. His hands are full; a tray of paper cups and a paper bag balanced in one.
“You’re awake.” He says. “I brought breakfast.”
“Oh, you don’t gotta… that’s… a lot.”
“Just BLTs. Little place the detectives love.” He says casually. “Come on, can’t let you go on an empty stomach.”
“I… thank you.”
You wring your hands. You don’t have a plan. You don’t have anywhere to go. So you won’t insist too much.
“I can take that stuff.” You offer.
“Sure, just through there to the right. We’ll eat at the table.” He hands over the food and drinks.
He comes in shortly after, sans his puffer coat and boots. He sits beside you. That’s close.
“Um, Mr… sir. Walter.” You say. “When can I go home?”
He puts a cup in front of you. “Hot chocolate.” He sifts in the paper bag. “You like cheese on your BLT? I got cheddar.”
“Walter?” You urge.
He sighs. “Not anytime soon. I’m sorry. But, I’ve been thinking it over. We can make room here.”
“You said something about a shelter–”
“You ever been to one?” He asks.
You shake your head.
“Even if you get a bed, you won’t get any sleep. Trust me. It’s not safe. Especially for someone like you.”
He unwraps the bagel sandwich and puts it in front of you.
“But…” you begin but have no true argument.
“Look. I know you're not involved in whatever your family got themselves into. Shit happens. Wrong place, wrong time. I talk to all sorts and I know when someone's lying.” He taps his finger on the wrapper. “I know you're not.” He slowly drags his hand away. “And I know you should eat.”
“I… thank you.” You sit back and look at the sandwich. It looks and smells so good.
“I saw the food in that place. Lack of.” He mutters. “You won't go hungry here.”
You say nothing. Ashamed.
“But one thing in return.” He glanced over and you shyly return his gaze. “Don't tell Faye how we know each other. Just tell her… you're an old friend.”
🚨
Faye is nice. Fifteen years old. Sarcastic to her father. Curious with you.
She asks who you are. You recite the lie but tell her your real name. She asks why you're friends with someone as crusty as her dad. You shrug. She laughs. He doesn't react.
She tells you about her friends and all the drama at her school. It's a good distraction. When you were her age, you did your best to stay out of that stuff. When it came your way, you were always the butt of the joke.
It’s a week and you’re still not sure. About where you’ll go next. About yourself. You still feel like an intruder in Walter’s life.
You make up for it by cleaning and cooking. You never asked and he never did either. You just started doing it to feel less lost.
Faye helps you that night with a simple dish. Pasta and chicken. The ingredients here are much nicer than at home. Is it still your home?
“So, I guess, I’m confused because I really like this person and they seem to like me too,” Faye says as she stirs the sauce. “I don’t know. What if I’m misreading?”
You give a gentle smile as you check the noodles. “Um, sorry, Faye, I… I wouldn’t be the best for… to know…” She leans in a little. You raise your voice. It’s a bad habit. Mumbling. “Um, I never really, you now, had a boyfriend or whatever…”
“No? Well, she wouldn’t be a boyfriend.” Faye says. You look at her, surprised. She hesitates. “Sorry, I said too much–”
“No, no. That’s great!” You assure her. “Is she pretty?”
“The prettiest,” she says. “And so bubbly but what if I’m too much of a bitch? What if I’m too sarcastic.”
“You never know unless you try, right?”
She quiet for a moment, tapping the wooden spoon to get the excess sauce off before putting it down. “But you never did. You said so.”
You shrug and look away. “Guess I never really had the… opportunity.”
“I’m… I didn’t mean, I–” she stammers.
“It’s okay. Really. It’s a choice.” You lie. Is it a choice when no one ever wanted you?
Another lull rises. The water spits as it boils around the noodles. You turn it down.
“Ladies,” Walter startles you. “Smells good in here.”
“Dad.” Faye spins. “You’re early.”
“I am?” He checks his watch. “I guess.”
“Hi,” you say quietly as you grab a strainer.
“Faye, why don’t you go chill. I’ll help finish up.” He insists.
“Sure. I gotta text Hera.” She slits out. You wonder if that’s the girl she told you about.
“Here,” Walter approaches and takes the strainer. “I’ll hold, you pour.”
He goes to the sink. You grab the pot of noodles and carefully approach. You pour out the steaming water to drain the pasta. You press against Walter as you do.
He dumps the dry noodles back into the pot and you put it back on the unlit burner. You stir the sauce as he sidles up next to you.
“Almost done. Think I can handle it.” You say.
He leans in. Oh, you’re mumbling again.
“No, it’s okay. You and Faye, seems like you’re getting along.”
You nod.
“That’s good. You know, her mom left when she was real young so…”
“I’m sorry for her.” You say.
“I think I do a good job. Or try to.” He says as he turns to watch you. You focus on the sauce, wondering if you should add more seasoning.
“So um, I overheard a little. Just you know, I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Oh?” You blanch.
“I’m happy she could tell you that. I guess I’m too much of an asshole for her to trust me like that.” He snorts.
“No, you’re not. You’re a good dad. A good guy.”
“I… can be,” he says. “But uh… were you just saying all that to make her feel better or…”
“What… do you mean?”
“You never… had a boyfriend?”
You sweat and not because of the stove. You shake your head.
“Never?” He asks again.
You put your face down and shake your head more vehemently.
“How’s that? As pretty as you are.”
“Walter,” you babble and put the spoon down. You turn away from him. “It’s not… you don’t have to…”
You try to walk away and he catches your arm. He pulls you back to face him. You hit his chest and look up at him. You squeak.
He stares down at you, hands firm around your arms. His breath plumes from his nose. He leans down.
“Let me kiss you. Just once.” He says quietly. “Then you can say you have.”
You gape at him. You don’t know what to do? If you say no, it would be so awkward, but what about if you say yes? What does it mean? Just once?
“Please,” his voice quivers. “Let me kiss you, sweetie.”
You squirm and swallow. “I don’t… I don’t know how.”
“Let me show you,” he leans down until you feel the graze of his lips. “It’s just a kiss.”
Just a kiss. That’s it. Don’t think too much.
“Okay…” you whisper.
He presses his lips to yours. You squeak. His tongue flicks across your lips and you twitch. He pokes and you let him in. You stand there dumbly as he smothers you, his hands squeezing tighter and tighter.
He pulls away at last. You’re both breathless. You put your head down and wipe his saliva away with the back of your hand. He rubs up and down your arms.
“Was it good?” He asks.
“Walter…” you croak and look up. You chew the hem of your sleeve, trying to hide behind it. “When can I go home?”
His eyes flash and his jaw tenses. His nostrils flare just a little.
“We haven’t found your family yet so… not today.” He drops his hands. He turns and grabs the wooden spoon to stir the sauce himself. “You don’t like it here?”
You frown. “No, I didn’t say but… I don’t belong.”
His cheek dimples. “Who said that?”
“No one, I just…” You trail off.
“If you asked, I’d tell you you do.” He says quietly. He turns off the burn and adds the sauce to the noodles. “You know where you don’t belong. In that dirty old trailer with criminals.” He snarls as he mixes the pasta. “I think I’ve taken damn good care of you.” He drops the spoon against the side of the pot and faces you. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
You look down.
“No, look at me. Tell me.” He commands.
You lift your head and peer up at him. “Yes, I… I like it here. You’ve been so nice and… I’m sorry.”
He sighs. “I’m not sorry. But I will be when… if you leave.” He reaches for you and traces a line down your throat. “You don’t have to, sweetie. I don’t want you to.”
Henry Cavill for Longiness. February 2025
Undercover model.
Warning- Drunk reader, pure fluff.
The bar hums with laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft thrum of music. You settle into your seat, surrounded by friends who’ve coaxed you out of your usual routine.
You sip your drink, the taste more comforting than you expected. One drink turns into two, then three. It’s easy to lose count after a while, to lose yourself in the warmth spreading through your veins. The night is a soft blur of faces, stories, and the glow of neon lights outside. You laugh too loud, talk too much, but tonight, you're too carefree to care.
As the night stretches on, your thoughts begin to blur with the alcohol in your system. You stand up, feeling the familiar wobble in your legs. You tell yourself you're fine, giving yourself a confident nod in the reflection of the bar's window. You’ve got this. You can make it home.
The cold air hits you like a slap in the face as you stumble out of the bar and into the street. You laugh at the way the ground seems to sway beneath your feet. Your body tells you it’s time to go home, but your mind can’t quite process how to get there.
You take a step forward, but the world tilts too far. Before you can even register what’s happening, a firm hand grips your arm, pulling you back just as a car speeds past, its headlights blinding.
“Careful there.” a voice says, low and steady.
You blink, trying to focus on the man who’s just saved you from a messy accident. His jaw is sharp, his eyes intense beneath the shadow of his brow, his body built like he could’ve crushed the car that almost hit you. A figure of power and authority, but also… something more. Your head spins.
“Thanks,” you mumble, your words slurring, your lips curving into a smile that feels a little too flirtatious given the circumstances. “You’re…uh…you’re a lifesaver.”
The man raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching, but it’s clear he’s not impressed. “I’m Detective Walter Marshall.”
You frown. “A detective? Huh.” You giggle. “You look more like a Greek model than a cop!”
He blinks, clearly thrown off by your slurred words, but he doesn't let go of your arm. “You’re drunk, miss. I’m going to take you to the station.”
“No need,” you say with a grin, trying to stand taller but wobbling instead. “I’m fine. I’m just, uh, walking home. Really, I’m okay?”
Walter doesn’t seem convinced. He shakes his head and sighs, leading you toward his car, your feet barely keeping up with his steady pace. The lights of the station blink in the distance as you both arrive.
Inside, things get even more amusing, or at least, to your drunk mind, they do.
Walter sits you down on a bench, trying to ask your name, your address, something to help him figure out how to get you home. You, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling at him, your words tumbling out in a haze of flirtation.
“Are you sure you’re a detective?” you ask, leaning a little too close, your voice low and teasing. “You’re far too good-looking for that.”
His jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think you might’ve actually flustered him. But he doesn’t back down. “Please, Miss…”
You laugh. “No, seriously. Who are you trying to fool? I think you just wandered in here from a runway somewhere. Do you model on the side?”
And it does not stop, you go on a drunk ramble.
“Do you want my address, to come to my place?” “You are asking my number to sext me?”
“Versace? Hugo Boss? Come on, I know you are a model…”
The officers around you exchange glances, some chuckling softly. Walter looks exasperated but still incredibly composed, which only makes him more attractive in your eyes.
You continue to flirt, oblivious to the serious conversation Walter’s trying to have with you, until a familiar voice cuts through your haze.
Just then your flatmate and best friend enters the station.
“Damn, dear...” Tyler says, shaking his head as he steps into the station. “What did you do this time?”
You blink at him, smiling widely, happy to see a familiar face. “Tyler! You know this guy? He’s a detective! A model detective!”
Tyler just sighs, walking up to Walter. “Yeah, that’s my best friend. Sorry about her, she’s had a little too much to drink. Thanks for looking out for her.”
Walter looks at Tyler, and for a moment, you swear there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He nods, his demeanor still professional, but there’s an unspoken understanding.
“I’ll make sure she gets home safe!” Tyler adds.
You blink again, realizing that the spell of flirtation is wearing off. You try to stand but fail, your knees buckling beneath you. Tyler catches you with a laugh, guiding you out of the station with Walter watching from a distance.
“Goodnight, Walter! You sexy undercover model!!!!” you call back, waving with a sloppy grin.
You hear a low chuckle in response, and though you’re too drunk to fully understand it, something tells you that won’t be the last time you see him.
And with that, Tyler helps you out into the cool night, the memory of Walter’s sharp gaze lingering in your foggy mind.
The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding in your head. It’s like a jackhammer drilling into your skull, and your mouth feels as dry as the desert. You squint against the sunlight streaming through the curtains and groan, wishing you could crawl back under the covers and forget everything that happened the night before.
But as the fog of sleep clears, the memory starts creeping back in, and your eyes snap open.
Oh God.
You remember Walter. You remember the way you’d drunkenly flirted with him, the way you’d practically melted in his presence, calling him a “Greek model...” and teasing him in front of everyone at the station. Heat floods your cheeks, and you bury your face in the pillow, groaning. How could you have been so… embarrassing?
“Tyler,” you mutter, still half-dazed, “Please tell me it was all a dream. Please tell me I didn’t actually flirt with a detective.”
Tyler’s voice comes from the doorway, the same teasing tone he always uses when he’s about to spill a little too much information. “Oh, no, that was real. You definitely flirted with Detective Marshall. The whole station heard it.”
Your body stiffens, and you push yourself up into a sitting position, eyes wide in horror. “What?!”
Tyler walks in, grinning like he knows exactly how mortified you are. “Oh yeah. You had a whole routine. I had to come in and bail you out before you started asking him to take his shirt off or something.”
“No!” you gasp, trying to remember the specifics. “Did I… did I really say that?”
He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, you did call him a model. And you told him he was too good-looking to be a detective.”
Your face turns crimson, and you bury your face in your hands. “This is a nightmare. I can’t believe I did that.”
Tyler chuckles and pats you on the back. “Hey, you’re not the first person to flirt with a cop, but you’re definitely the first to do it while wearing a drunken smile like you’re auditioning for a rom-com.”
You groan again. “I’m so embarrassed. I have to fix this. I have to apologize to him.”
Tyler raises an eyebrow. “You’re really going to go after him after that? Bold move, dear. Bold move.”
You ignore him, grabbing your phone to look up the police station's number. The plan is clear! You’re going to make things right. You can’t just leave things like this, not after acting like an absolute fool.
Later that afternoon, you find yourself standing outside the police station again, clutching a tin of homemade cookies you’d baked in an attempt to smooth things over. You’re nervous, your palms sweaty, but you tell yourself this is the right thing to do.
The officers at the front desk look at you with a knowing smile when you walk in, clearly recognizing you from the night before. They exchange amused glances, clearly enjoying the spectacle that was your drunken escapade.
One of the officers, a woman with short, spiky hair, leans forward, eyeing the cookies in your hands. “You here for Detective Marshall?” she asks, a little too cheerfully.
You nod, trying to stay confident despite the gnawing embarrassment in your stomach. “Yes. I, uh… I wanted to apologize. I… uh… wasn’t myself last night.”
She smirks. “I think we all noticed that. But don't worry, he’s around. I’ll point you in his direction.”
With a wink, she leads you down a narrow hallway to where Walter’s office is. You feel the butterflies in your stomach flare up again as you approach the door. This is it. This is your chance to make things right.
You knock softly before pushing the door open, your heart racing in your chest.
Walter’s sitting behind his desk, his back to you as he reads through a pile of paperwork. When he hears the door open, he glances over his shoulder, his sharp gaze locking onto yours.
“Miss…” he says, his voice as calm as ever, though you can sense a faint amusement behind his words. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
You swallow hard, stepping forward with the cookies. “I, uh, I just wanted to apologize for last night. I was… drunk. And embarrassing. I’m really sorry about all the flirting and the ridiculous comments.”
Walter studies you for a moment, his eyes softening just the slightest bit. “You don’t need to apologize. You were… amusing.”
Your cheeks redden again. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”
He chuckles, finally standing and walking over to you. “Well, in that case, thank you for the cookies.” He takes the tin from your hands, his fingers brushing yours just for a second, making your heart flutter.
Before you can say anything else, the door to his office swings open, and a few of his fellow officers step in, including the spiky-haired woman who guided you here.
“Oh, look who it is,” one of them teases, a grin on his face. “Marshall, I didn’t know you had a fan club.”
Another officer smirks. “I guess you’re more popular than we thought, huh?”
Walter’s face tightens, but his lips twitch slightly as if he’s suppressing a smile. He glances over at you, and you’re sure you can see a flicker of something behind his eyes.
You turn to leave, feeling like you’ve done the best you can to fix things, but just as you step out of the room, you hear one of the officers tease Walter again.
“You’re not going to tell us you’re really just a detective, are you? We all saw how she looked at you.”
Walter’s voice is low and controlled when he responds, though you can hear the subtle edge to it. “Keep it up, guys. Keep it up.”
You exit the station, a small smile playing on your lips. Things weren’t as bad as you thought, and as much as you had tried to avoid it, something tells you that this won’t be the last time you cross paths with Detective Walter Marshall.
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Spa Paradise Masterlist
Summary: Your honeymoon ends in shards. You pick them all up. Man by man… 😈
Pairing: OC!Husband x Wife!Reader, Various characters x fem!Reader (see chapters for details)
Warnings (series): mentions of divorce, angst, smut, lots of it, unprotected sex, group sex, fingering, sensual massage, arm kink, virtual sex, food play, spanking, dirty talk, degrading, teasing, cuckolding, more to be added
A/N: This is going to be a collection of one-shots with Y/N and our masters of Spa Paradise. This will be a multi-fandom collection. Bear with me. I’m a hoe…
Spa Paradise (Prologue): Honeymoon
Spa Paradise (Day 1) – Massage: Bucky Barnes
Spa Paradise (Day 2) – Sauna: Dean Winchester
Spa Paradise (Day 3) – Virtual Relaxation: Jake Jensen
Spa Paradise (Day 4) – Cooking Classes: Steve Rogers
Spa Paradise (Day 5) – Hydrotherapy: Arthur Curry
Spa Paradise (Day 6) – Yoga: Sam Winchester
Spa Paradise (Day 7) – Personal Training: Walter Marshall
Spa Paradise (Day 8) – Meditation: Frank Castle
Spa Paradise (Day 9) – Expert Lectures: Tony Stark
Spa Paradise (Day 10) – Forest Bathing: Thor Odinson
Spa Paradise (Day 11) – Guided Excursions: Rick Flag
Spa Paradise (Day 12 to...) – more to be added
Spa Paradise (Final Day) – Group Therapy…
Spa Paradise (Epilogue) – Legal Advice: Andy Barber
Just Fixing Things
Title: Just Fixing Things
Pairing: Retired Cop!Walter Marshall x Female Reader
Summary: A quiet Sunday morning turns into anything but when Walter decides something in the kitchen needs his attention but now he also wants yours. But even on weekends work needs you.. but your husband has other plans, and he’s not letting go without leaving a reminder.
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Domestic Fluff, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, mild dominance/power exchange, possessive behaviour,.. soft dom!Walter, domestic setting, established relationship (married)
A/N: Decided to jump onto @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Househusbands AU mini challenge
The sound of the wrench clinking against metal had been going on for twenty minutes now. Not loud, just steady. Persistent. Like everything Walter did.
You had leaned on the doorway to the kitchen, still in your sleep shirt, his shirt, technically. The oversized cotton hung just past your thighs, worn thin from years of washes. You hadn’t meant to linger, but the view was… distracting.
Walter was half-under the sink again, broad back flexing beneath a faded grey t-shirt, riding up just enough to show the slope of his lower back. His jeans were slung low on his hips, dusty and worn at the pockets. Barefoot, like he always was on Sundays. The man had a whole drawer full of socks and never touched them unless it was snowing.
He had grunted softly, adjusting something with the wrench. You were almost certain the leak had been fixed on Friday.
“Walter,” you had called, voice still husky from sleep.
A pause. “Yeah?”
“You already fixed that pipe.”
“I know.” Another metallic click. “Just makin’ sure.”
You had padded into the kitchen, feet bare on the warm hardwood, crossing your arms as you watched him emerge from under the sink. He had moved slow, deliberate, like his body still ached from years of chasing monsters. His beard was thicker now, salt-and-pepper shadowing his jawline. Hair longer than he used to keep it, curling at his nape.
When his eyes had found yours, they were already warm.
“You don’t trust your own work now?”
He had smirked, the scar above his brow tugging slightly. “I trust it just fine. Doesn’t mean I don’t check it twice.”
“Uh huh,” you had said dryly, eyeing the perfectly dry sink. “And this has nothing to do with the fact you get to spend an hour on your back while I stare at your ass?”
Walter had straightened to full height, towering, arms glistening faintly with the sheen of effort. “If you wanted me on my back, sweetheart, you only had to ask.”
Heat had curled low in your belly at the sound of that gravelly voice paired with his casual, teasing grin. Damn him.
“Bold talk for a man elbow-deep in plumbing,” you had muttered.
He had stepped closer, dragging the grease rag from his back pocket and tossing it on the counter without breaking eye contact. “You’ve been standing there for a while now. Quiet. Watching. Figured you wanted something.”
Your breath had hitched. He was close enough now that you could smell him- soap and sweat and the bacon he cooked earlier. That specific, masculine warmth that never quite faded from his skin.
“Maybe I just like seeing you domestic,” you had murmured, lips tugging up.
Walter had tilted his head slightly, studying you the way he used to study suspects, except softer. Always softer with you. His hands had found your waist, big palms settling easily, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. You had felt a smear of grease on your hip and shivered.
“You like this?” he had asked, voice low. “Me playing house?”
“I like you, playing house.”
He had leaned in then, so close you felt his beard brush your cheek, the whisper of his lips at your ear. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Your hands had fisted in the fabric of his shirt just as he dipped down, lips pressing against your throat, gentle, reverent. His beard had scraped in the best way. You had let out a sound—half sigh, half whimper. He had chuckled into your skin.
“You’re not cold,” he had said, lips brushing along your jaw. “But you’ve got goosebumps.”
You had swallowed, barely able to speak. “Maybe I’m just excited to see what you’ll fix next.”
Walter had pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. There had been something smoldering in his gaze, something that hadn’t dulled with age or time. It was quieter now, less reckless. But it still burned. And right then, all of it was focused on you.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” he had said roughly, voice dropping. “But they all involve this shirt coming off.”
You had bitten your lip, heart skipping.
Then, without warning, his hands had gripped your thighs and lifted you up onto the counter like you weighed nothing.
You had gasped, laughing breathlessly. “Walter-”
He had stepped in between your legs, dragging you to the edge until your hips were flush with his. One big hand had braced your lower back, the other slipping up under your sleep shirt.
His other hand had come up to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking gently along your jaw before he leaned in to kiss you, slow, deep, the kind that made your knees weak even when you weren’t standing. His beard had tickled, the scrape of it making you hum against his mouth.
But you had pulled back suddenly, hands pressing against his chest.
"I have to go," you had murmured, guilt already creeping in.
His brows had furrowed. "What?"
You had glanced at the phone buzzing on the nearby counter. "I have to get back to the office. They need final revisions before Thursday’s handover. And someone's changing their mind about direction."
Walter’s expression had darkened, something shifting under his steady calm. "Really? Today?"
"I know... I'm sorry." Your voice had softened. You hated how often work pulled you away from quiet mornings like that. From him. From Faye, when she was over. But it wasn't optional.
"What about what I need?" he had asked, and the words came out like gravel. Heavy. Dangerous.
You had blinked, heart skipping. "What you need?"
His hands had grown more insistent, one sliding higher beneath your shirt while the other pressed at the small of your back, pulling you closer. He had rolled his hips just enough that you could feel the bulge of his jeans thick against your center.
"Surely they can't expect you right away," he had said darkly, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. His palm had dipped between your thighs, fingers teasing along your underwear. "This is supposed to be our time."
You had felt a twist in your stomach, arousal and guilt, tangled together. You had worked so hard to give him room to breathe, to recover from a line of work that had started to tear him under, and yet... there he was, eyes burning, hands hungry.
"I know..." you had whispered.
He had pushed aside the thin cotton of your underwear, thick fingers sliding slowly along your center, teasing through the wetness already forming there. Your breath had caught.
"Already wet for me," he had murmured, mouth ghosting over yours again, beard scratching at your skin as he tilted your chin up with one calloused hand. "How am I supposed to let you walk out the door like this? What kind of husband would I be doing that?"
His touch had circled deliberately, slowly, making it impossible to think. You had arched into him as his fingers found that tender bundle of nerves, breath stuttering, hands grasping the edge of the counter to ground yourself.
"Undo my belt," he had said, voice low and firm.
You had hesitated for only a second, the command sending heat through your veins, fogging your mind in the best way. There had been something grounding- relieving- about letting him take over, letting the burden of decision and leadership fall away. You had reached between you, fingers trembling slightly as you worked open the buckle, then popped the button on his jeans.
Walter had groaned softly, his finger teasing your entrance, collecting the slickness before returning to those slow, devastating circles. You had whimpered, lips parting against his jaw.
"Move forward," he had murmured, guiding your hips with his free hand, "and put me in."
Your breath had hitched, the air thick with need, your fingers reaching down again—this time to do exactly as you were told.
He was hot and heavy in your palm, the weight of him sending a pulse through your core. You swallowed hard, brushing your thumb along the tip, and Walter hissed through his teeth, his forehead pressing to yours.
“That’s it,” he rasped. “Nice and slow.”
You guided him toward you, heart hammering, thighs trembling slightly against his hips. His hands never stopped moving, one gripping your back, the other still teasing lazy, maddening circles against your clit that made you jolt and moan.
And then you pressed your hips forward, the head of his cock slipping through your slick folds as you angled yourself just right.
“Fuck,” he growled as he slid into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you open in that slow, careful way that always made you feel so full it stole your breath. “Goddamn, you feel good.”
You clenched around him involuntarily, your head tipping back against the cabinets as your fingers gripped his biceps.
He didn’t thrust, not yet. Your husband stayed still inside you, buried deep, his hand slipping up your spine, guiding your shirt higher until it bunched around your ribs. His mouth found your collarbone again, kissing, sucking, teasing as his cock pulsed inside you.
You whimpered, rocking your hips just slightly.
“Not yet,” Walter warned, voice ragged but steady. “You wait for me, sweetheart. I’ll give it to you when I’m ready.”
You nodded shakily, every nerve in your body wound tight, the overwhelming fullness of him paired with the friction of his hand working you in slow circles.
“I’ve been patient,” he muttered against your skin, thrusting shallowly once, then twice, just enough to make your thighs shake. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been walking around in nothing but my shirts once you’re home? Teasing me. Then running off to that damn office.”
You moaned, barely coherent. “Walt…”
“No,” he growled, pinning your hips. “You don’t get to rush this. I’m going to make sure you feel me for the rest of the day. Make sure you can’t sit in that office chair without remembering what you left behind.”
His rhythm deepened then, slow, punishing, precise. The thickness of his cock pressed right into that spot inside you that made your vision blur, each deliberate thrust wringing gasps and moans from your lips.
Your head tipped back, hitting the cabinet behind you with a soft thud, as stars danced behind your eyelids. He felt too good- too big, too deep, and too in control. You couldn’t think, could barely breathe. All you could do was feel.
“That’s it, baby,” Walter rasped, his voice barely holding together. “You’re so beautiful when you let me take you apart.”
His mouth found your neck, hot and wet and desperate, tongue sliding over your pulse before he scraped his teeth just hard enough to make you jolt. Your hands scrambled across his back, gripping the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. One hand slid into his thick hair, pulling him in as your legs locked tighter around his waist.
His hips moved in slow, controlled circles, the kind that said he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew your body inside and out, knew how to draw it out, build it, break it.
“I’m gonna make something real nice for dinner once you get back,” he murmured against your ear, voice gravel and smoke. “Something hot and rich. Make the whole damn house smell like comfort.”
You whimpered as another wave of pleasure crested.
“But don’t stay too long,” he added, thrusting deeper, slower. “Not when I’m doing all this for you. Not when I’m waiting. Just like you waited for me, sweetheart. Let me do that for you now.”
Emotion laced through the heat in his words- need and love and aching gratitude and it made your whole chest tighten. Your climax hovered on the edge, trembling just beneath the surface, and when he reached between you again, circling your clit with maddening, practiced precision….
your body arched and broke.
You cried out, vision going white, fingers digging into his shoulders as you came hard around him, pulsing and gasping as his name spilled from your lips. Walter held you through it, letting the tension roll through you, never stopping, never letting go.
He followed just moments later, buried deep with a ragged groan against your neck. His arms locked around you, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you, panting against your skin like he’d just come home from battle.
Both of you breathed heavily, foreheads pressed together, the kitchen spinning just slightly in the haze of release. Walter peppered soft kisses along your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.
“My little advertising queen,” he murmured with a fond, husky smile, nuzzling his nose against yours. You wrapped your arms tighter around him, wanting to stay right there- bare, full, safe.
But the moment shattered when your phone began to ring, its shrill tone echoing from the bedroom.
You groaned. “Shit…”
Walter’s jaw tensed as he slowly pulled back, helping you off the counter with gentle hands even as his scowl deepened.
“Ergh. I need to get that,” you muttered, kissing the corner of his mouth.
He didn’t say anything, just stood there, jeans still undone, muscles taut, watching you leave. As you disappeared down the hall to clean up, he ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath, “Swear she keeps this up, I’m gonna tie her to the damn bed just so she can’t leave.”
Provider
Attn: Started this little idea a while back and after Sleep Token’s “Provider” dropped it’s helped me finish it. I hope y’all enjoy!
Word Count: 1,836
Pairing: Walter Marshall
Summary: Walter just wants to take care of you.
Warnings: 18+, kidnapping kinda?, oral (female receiving), fingering, p in v sex, being fucked dumb, creampie
Working at the local diner was supposed to be a part time gig, but life happened so you ended up being on full time. In that time you’d managed to befriend the grumpiest man you’d ever met.
One day he comes in to find you alone during the lunch rush, doing your best. It’s hectic and work aside you’d already had a shit day after your boyfriend broke up with you. It was totally unexpected, and had really hurt, seeing how you’d only been good to him. Somehow you managed to push through until a patron began berating you over a simple error with their order.
“What seems to be the problem here?,” Walter says as he approaches. “This stupid little bitch…,” the man begins before Walter gives him an absolutely glacial stare. “Watch your mouth,” he nearly growls. It’s all too much. You turn and run out the back door, needing some air. Walter follows quickly, concerned about your wellbeing of course.
He finds you pacing the alleyway frustratedly, hands pressed against your forehead as you breathe heavily. “Hey..,” he says trying to get your attention to no avail. “Little Dove,” he then says as he gently takes your forearms in his hands to make you stop. “I’m just so tired Walter,” you shudder. “You’re having a rough day I—,” he begins before you start raging.
“First Garrett breaks up with me. Can you believe that? I know I’m not perfect but I’ve done… so much for him, and he has the audacity to tell me it’s not enough! Then I come work at this shithole with even shittier people to wait on. They are so MEAN, and for what? A stupid burger? I— You know what? I wish I could just quit… Yeah. Maybe find someone to take care of ME for a while,” you say before laughing hysterically.
“Dove…”, he trails off. “Who am I kidding?,” you then say before wiping your face. “You know what you need?,” he then asks. “What?,” you question before he pulls you in closer. “A real man that will take care of you,” he nearly purrs. It sends a tingle over your body that makes goosebumps erupt despite the warmth outside. “I don’t think—,” you begin. “I’m right here Little Dove,” he replies softly. You look up into his cerulean eyes and it takes your breath.
Sure Walter had always been attractive, you weren’t blind, but the way he was looking at you… like he burned just for you— it was almost too intense. “Come on,” he says, pulling you back inside. He finds the manager, Rick , who flinches when he approaches. “She fucking quits,” he hisses before pulling you out of the door. You’re all but stunned, unable to find your voice, even when he takes you to your dingy apartment and starts packing up your things.
You’re in this stupor you can’t seem to come out of. The next thing you know, you’re in his house and he’s unpacking your things… putting them next to his. Finally he’s running you a bath. “I’m sure you’re aching after being on your feet love. Go ahead,” he says, pointing to the bath. You blink up at him before seeming to regain some of your facilities.
He’s waiting expectantly, and suddenly this seems like maybe it isn’t so bad. No one’s cared this much before so you shrug away your doubts and begin to undress. Once you have he holds out a hand and helps you into the tub. “That’s a good girl. I’ll be back,” he tells you. When he does he returns with snacks and beer. “I wish I would’ve had wine Dove, but this is all I have right now,” he tells you.
“T— thank you Walter,” you murmur. He smiles wolfishly before nodding. “I’ll just be out here,” he says before leaving you to your bath. You soak, have your snacks and drink your beer before accidentally dozing off. When you awake you’re tucked tight into Walter’s bed. You blink hazily before sitting up and finding yourself swallowed up in a cable knit sweater. After rubbing your eyes you throw the covers back, and make your way out into the house.
“There she is,” Walter smiles while sitting a plate on the table. “I hope roast and veggies is alright,” he says as he pulls out a chair. “Oh—,” you mumble as he helps you into it and sits beside you. You become acutely aware that you’re totally bare beneath his sweater as his thigh brushes against yours. “Walter you really—,” you begin before he shushes you.
“It’s all going to be okay now Little Dove. Now open up,” he tells you as he brings a forkful of food to your lips. You do as you’re told and let him feed you dinner. Approval etches his features as he begins slowly caressing your thigh while feeding you. “A— aren’t you going to eat?,” you ask him. “Once you’re done,” he murmurs.
Your heart races at how his eyes darken. His hand sinks into the meat of your leg a bit as he grips you tighter. You can’t help yourself, your nipples harden to the point of sensitivity and you shift slightly, feeling the slick coating your pussy. The thought of ruining Walter’s sweater crossed your mind and your entire body feels warm.
Walter can’t help but take notice of your flustered state. “What’s the matter love?,” he questions with a bit of a smirk. “I— well…,” you babble. “Do you like the way I’m touching you?,” he rasps. Your eyes shift to your lap before he lifts your chin so that he can meet your eye. “Tell me,” he says. “I- yes. I’m… I’m making a mess of your sweater,” you reply, still embarrassed. Walter lets out a feral sound, and before you can blink, you’re sat on the table in front of him.
“Can I see Dove?,” he asks while pawing at your legs. “Why— why are you doing this?,” you question, needing to understand. “From the moment I saw you, I’ve wanted you. Wanted to be a provider for you… To protect and care for you. You’re so sweet, deserve so much more than what you’ve gotten. I can be so good for you if you let me,” he replies, lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Will you let me?,” he breathes against you.
The admission short circuits your brain and you’re saying yes before you can change your mind, and that’s when his lips crash against yours. It’s hungry… so hungry it takes your breath. His lips leave yours and trail to your jaw, then your neck. You mewl as his rough beard scrubs against your skin. You cling to him as he continues his assault on the sweet spot he’s found. “And what of the state of my sweater now?,” he asks teasingly.
To his surprise you push him back, lift your bottom of the table slightly to pull the sweater from beneath you, then spread your legs to present your glistening pussy to him. Your chest heaves in anticipation, and in surprise at your own boldness. It doesn’t last long. Walter’s reaction is nearly instant. You’re on your back, legs up on his shoulders as he buries his face in your pussy.
It’s like the kiss, hungry and rough but God it feels so good. He makes you come, hips jerking against his face, hand tangled into his curls as you ride it out. When you calm down you feel him smiling against you before he pushing two fingers into your entrance. “Even sweeter than imagined.. Now if only I could have this,” he says with an emphasizing curl into your gspot. “Please… please Walter,” you beg as the pressure quickly builds.
“Tell me what you want Dove, and it’s yours,” he says, not letting up. “Wa— nt.. your cooooock,” you squeal as you clamp down around his fingers. Before you’ve had proper time to calm down, he’s up. His sweater torn from your body and his big cock slipped into your still pulsing cunt. “Fu— fuck,” you whimper. Unbeknownst to you he’d had it out the entire time, stroking the ache as best he could as he played with you.
“Fuck’s right. So fucking tight love. You should see how good you look right now. All fucked out just for me, stretched on my cock. I’ve dreamt of this,” he says with a groan as he starts stroking into you. Before it’s over his big frame is covering yours, hands clasped to the other side of the table to keep it from moving. He’s fucking you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and you’ve come more times than you can count now. At this point you’re a glossy eyed, drooling, blubbering mess.
“That stupid little ex boyfriend ever fuck you this thoroughly?,” he huffs against your ear. It vaguely registers and you shake your head. “N— never,” you whine. “After this, you’ll stay with me won’t you? Let me take care of you?,” he questions, hips still snapping into your slick hole. “Yes. P— please Walter. Wanna stay,” you manage, tongue feeling heavy. “Good girl,” he praises before you clamp down around him once more.
“Going to let me fill up this tight little pussy now Dove, yeah?,” he says as his cock swells. “Want it,” you mumbled before he slams deep into you. Walter shudders against you, cumming harder and more than he ever has in his life. Once he’s finished he pulls out and takes you in… a complete mess because of him, just like he’s wanted since the first time he set eyes on you.
His cum starts dribbling out of you and he takes a bit and swipes it up to your clit. “One more for my little love,” he comments, stroking you until your thighs are shaking. “Come now, let’s clean you up,” he says before scooping you up off the dinner table. He washes you gently, making sure to be especially careful with your tender sex.
“Did you get full Dove?,” he asks as he holds you against his chest beneath the warm water. “Mmhm. Sleepy,” you say with a yawn, making him chuckle. “I suppose you should be,” he comments before leaning down to give you a kiss. It’s still tinged with that hunger from before but much softer. You sigh into it, and that’s all Walter needs, he holds you tighter, protectively as you cup his face in your hands.
“How long could I have had this?,” you ask, looking up at him. “From the moment we met, love. You were taken though, and I am a gentleman,” he says, making you giggle. “You kidnapped me then fucked me stupid on your kitchen table,” you shake your head. “I simply took what I wanted Little Dove, and now.. you want me as well, yes? You said you’d stay with me,” he says, feeling unsure. “I do want you Walter, and I still want to stay, if you’ll keep me,” you say softly. “I’ll keep you love, as long as you’ll let me,” he replies.
The War Horse Rebellion-10
Biker Syverson x OFC Allie Hilton
I know this is Walter, but he's stepping in for this chapter for us, so it fits.
Synopsis: Allie Hilton is on the run. For the first time in her privileged life, she can only rely on her own wits to escape a life she was destined for, but also one that she never wanted. What happens when Allie flees as far as she can before running into a small town that just happened to be governed by a large male motorcycle fleet? Well Allie, meet the War Horse Rebellion. Put on your riding boots, it's going to be a rough ride.
Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Allison “Allie” Hilton
Warnings: OFC has abusive past, narcissistic parents, references to abuse, teasing, flirting, consensual groping, curse words, some sexual references, missing persons, turmoil, police arrest, mention of guns, crying, krazykimmy, Walter Marshall, August Walker, big confrontation
MINORS DNI! Must be 18+
I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.
This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!
Chapter 9:
I look at Walter and he can sense my unease. “I don’t know all of the details but I trust Austin fully and he said you needed protection so that’s why I’m here. Nobody will touch you without your consent, do you understand?” I nod with discomfort aching through my body.
“You don’t have to do this but if you want to, I won’t leave your side.” He reassures.
“Just, stay with me please.” I whisper as I grab his hand and squeeze.
We are led to a large conference room and I see my parents through the glass. Mother is wearing a pale blue wrap dress paired with nude Louboutin’s and her hair in a tidy chignon. Always the picture-perfect image of poise. My father stands with his arms crossed wearing one of his many navy Tom Ford suits as the harsh fluorescent lights reflect off of his shiny shoes.
“My darling! Thank God you’re alright!” My mother stands and quickly wraps her arms around me. I hear Walter grunt as he’s about to physically remove her but I slightly shake my head to let him know I’ll allow it.
“We’ve been so worried about you!” She says with a voice almost too shrill to be believable.
My father doesn’t hug me, just appraises my appearance as he glances over me from head to toe. A look of relief covers his features, yet I don’t assume naively like I once would that it’s for my well-being.
My mother fluffs my hair in false concern and straightens my necklace while my father appraises the large imposing man next to me. Noticing the badge hanging around his neck, he extends a hand to Walter.
“Thank you for rescuing my daughter, officer. I can’t imagine the circumstances but I’d like to write a check to your department, a donation, for your efforts.” He touts. Walter arches an eyebrow at the oddly timed display of machismo but doesn’t respond.
Gently grabbing my mother’s wrists, I push them away from me as they flutter aimlessly over my form. Disdain and confusion cross her face as I step back from her.
“Why are you both here?” I ask meekly.
“What do you mean? You’ve been missing for over a month!” My mother says with truism.
“I haven’t been missing. I chose to leave, and I chose to come here.” I reply and my father audibly scoffs.
“Good God. Did you let that motorcycle riff raff brainwash you? Who would choose to leave your lifestyle to come and live here in the squalor with a bunch of criminals?” My father rebukes.
“Those ‘criminals’ are better people than you ever could be. They care for me and genuinely want to know me. All of my life, you both treated me with complete disregard until there was something that I could do to benefit you.” I felt Walter’s gentle hand of encouragement rest on my back to remind me of his presence and I realized that I was shaking.
“Did you ever truly love me? Or were you too busy wrapped up in yourselves to care?” My voice softens in childlike hope.
“Young lady, you stop that this instant!” My father slams a fist down on the table and both my mother and I jump. I notice that neither parent answers the question, but I don’t let myself dwell it.
“No.” I say firmly.
“This transactional relationship between us ends now. You both are narcissists who were forcing me to marry a man that not only did I not love, but abused me. Spencer beat me so badly after you left that night that I feared for my life and I couldn’t even turn to my parents for help. I lost consciousness for who knows how long! Do you realize how fucked up that is? My parents who were supposed to love me and care for my well-being gaslit me and coerced me into staying with a terrible human being for their financial and social gain.”
“He shouldn’t have hurt you and I plan to talk with Paul about that. I know Spencer has a temper but I never imagined it would lead to this. I could add a clause into the contract if that would give you a sense of security? We can make him do therapy or anger management classes. An indemnification clause could be added to the business contract where we could require financial compensation, from their company of course, if Spencer breaks our agreement. Keep in mind that it goes both ways, however. There are many methods to come to a resolution here and it seems as though Paul will be agreeable to find a solution that benefits all parties.” My father, always concerned about his paperwork, suggests.
I scoff. “You don’t get it. You’ll never get it. So, you won’t get me either.” I take a deep breath and look them straight in the eyes.
“I am happy here in Texas and will not be returning to Charlotte. I will not be marrying Spencer or attending any of your events in the future. Please, take me out of your will. Donate my inheritance to a charity one day, so that you can actually do something selfless for once in your lives. I will always have some degree of love for you as my parents, but I want to live my life without you.”
My parents, who can’t fathom me walking away from money, look at me with shock.
“I know this presents a scandal for you, but I’m done pretending to be who you want to be. I have loved you and obeyed you the best that I could, regardless of the personal sacrifice it was to me. I’m sorry, and I wish you both the best.” I say and turn to leave with Walter hot on my heels. I hear my mother’s dramatic sobs as my father yells something that I can’t full decipher but I don’t turn back. Walter leads me back to my original room and stares at me like I’m a caged animal who is about to erupt. I pace for a moment and then take a deep breath.
“Fuck, that felt good.” I say as my body still trembles with adrenaline and fear. Invisible tear tracks stain my flushed cheeks but I don’t even bother to scrub them away.
“That was incredible.” He says with a tight-lipped smile. We hear muffled yelling in the distance seemingly coming from elsewhere in the building and I assume it’s my father having a rare but not unpredictable temper tantrum at his lack of control. Walter smirks and shakes his head slightly with the exasperation of knowing that August has indeed arrived and is wreaking havoc somewhere in this building. He wonders idly if he’ll have to post two separate bail payments tonight. Thank goodness Faye is with her mother, Angie, this weekend.
Detective Alverson returns silently looking somewhat apologetic as he had also witnessed my interaction with my parents.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hilton have left the premises. I believe you’ve answered all of the questions that I had for you, but I’m going to give you my card with my number if you have any questions or additional information that you think is pertinent for me.”
I nod, and reach for the card. “When will Austin Syverson be released? Is he going to be charged with anything?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any information about his timeline or charges. I do know that he is still here being questioned. The lead investigator for his case will review your statement as well as the answers that you have given and go from there.” I sigh and fidget with the business card in my hand.
“I would like to apologize. I saw a different side of your parents just now and I know my questioning tactics can be harsh. It was not my intention to cause you any additional distress.” I bite my cheek to keep from letting my thoughts run free at the hellacious experience and just offer a quiet and polite, “thank you.”
“There’s one more thing.” He hesitates.
“Both Mr. Elliott Senior and Junior are here and are requesting to speak to you. More so, demanding, to speak to you before you leave. I wonder if you might be open to putting closure on this matter while in the safety and monitoring of officers.”
He’s here, somewhere in this building. I had comfort only a moment ago that Sy was also somewhere in this building and now my tummy twists with dread.
“No. Absolutely not. She doesn’t need to speak to them. They’ve done enough.” Walter growls and Alverson somewhat shrinks back with a submissive nod of his head.
“I’ll do it.” I say and Walter looks at me disappointedly.
“No, Allie. Austin was extremely clear on the phone. Send August to help him with his legal matters, and for me to come to you and keep that guy as far away from you as possible.”
“They won’t stop. I thought I was free and I was wrong. They’ll just keep spreading lies and potentially show up unannounced if I don’t. He’s right; at least confronting them here where I’m not alone is the safest idea. Think about what will happen if Spencer shows up somewhere and Austin is there.” I look at him meaningfully. Walter’s head dips down and he scrapes his hand through his beard.
“He’d kill him.” I see him wrestling with the loyalty factor in this decision before he huffs and nods in agreement at my argument.
“Maybe he’ll hesitate before killing me for allowing this since I’m family.” He grunts and I smile softly.
“I’ll protect you from Austin if you protect me now.” I softly smile with unconvincing humor.
I glance at Alverson who looks somewhat relieved. I know how Spencer’s dad can be and he’s a hard man to say no to, and I suddenly pity Alverson slightly.
“I’ll be back in a moment. I will make sure that there are additional officers present.”
“I want a minimum of five officers in the room with video and audio monitoring. If either of them makes an attempt to touch her, I will not wait for verbal de-escalation to act. Understood?” Walter barks and Alverson responds with a quiet “Understood.”
About ten minutes later, Alverson comes to retrieve us. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and hold my head up high with false confidence as I follow Walter to the same conference room that I had my previous confrontation in less than half an hour ago.
“He doesn’t touch you.” Walter grunts and I nod, shakily.
“Both men have been warned not to touch you or approach you.” Alverson whispers. Wow, so maybe he does have a small backbone when faced with powerful men. That, or he’s even more afraid of what Walter will do.
Entering the room, Spencer’s face lights up. Paul has his typical used car salesman smile on that he wears when networking a room or filming a television commercial. In the past I would also plaster on a fake a smile simply to present myself as graceful and to put others at ease. Not today. Today, I scowl at both men in front of me.
“Allison, thank goodness you’re okay! We have all been so worried about you. Spencer in particular has just been overwhelmed with grief at your disappearance.” Paul acts and I just stare at him.
“Sweetheart, are you hurt? Have you been able to eat? Where have you been? I have so many questions that I don’t even know what to ask first.” He charms and I continue to blink at him.
“She must be in shock, Spencer. Rightly so! I was told that you were being kept by a criminal gang? Don’t you worry, dear. I’ll make sure to take care of everything. The most important thing is that you focus on getting home and getting to a therapist. I can’t begin to understand how traumatized you must be!” Paul speaks with a disingenuous tone.
“I am traumatized.” I respond darkly.
“Oh dear, don’t you worry. We’ll have you back to yourself in no time. It’s all over.”
“I am traumatized from your abusive son who beat me to a pulp and left me covered in glass and blood on the floor. I am traumatized by my narcissistic parents who have spent my whole life bread crumbing me into submission to their advantage. I am traumatized by the callous way that you negotiated my life as a bargaining chip to force your grown son to start acting like a decent human being. I am traumatized by the way you used me to secure business dealings with my father, in order to gain more money and power at my expense.” I get louder and sterner with each sentence.
“Nothing about the past month has traumatized me. In fact, this past month has healed me and provided a feeling of freedom that has never existed for me before.”
Spencer squints at me with daggers in his eyes as I speak. Paul quickly darts his eyes at the officers in the room as I list the ways that I have been emotionally and physically harmed.
“Allison, I’m so sorry that you feel this way. Let me assure you, I had no idea! Your parents assured me that you loved my son and were ready to begin a life with him. Can you blame me for wanting my son to marry such a beautiful woman and have children of his own?” His charisma falling flat.
“I am ready for grandchildren to love and carry on our family name and simply tried to secure the lifestyle that I believe my family deserves. To be provided for and never need to work or worry about money again. I viewed it as my gift to you and Spencer.” He bullshits.
“Well, I never wanted that lifestyle and I certainly don’t now. Spencer is nothing more than an overgrown child with access to thousands of dollars at his fingertips. He beat me, Paul. Does that sound like the ‘family man’ you’re hoping to market to the public?”
“Allison, I understand you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately and clearly in distress as you’ve potentially been brainwashed, but I cannot allow these allegations to continue and for you to defame my son in such a way by alleging that he physically abused you.” He states with a calmness that sends chills all over my body.
“I’m not alleging anything! Tell them Spencer! Tell them how you slapped me outside the event room that night and split my lip. Tell them how you almost beat me to death at my home when I refused your marriage proposal!” I scream and Walter gently places his hands around my waist to keep me from flipping the large table in front of me with rage.
Spencer sneers, “I would never hurt you, Sweetheart. I don’t know what you’re talking about but I love you and we’ll get you the mental help that you need. I promise, the best doctors that money can buy.” He sits straighter.
“LIAR!!!!!!!” I scream as I charge toward him but Walter picks me up at the waist and the young deputy from my interrogation grabs my arm and gently pulls me from the room. My vision clouds once again with tears and a tinge of red as the rage sears through my body once more. I don’t even notice that Walter is no longer behind me as the young man escorts me back to the room that I’ve spent so many hours in tonight and I slam the metal chair closest to me into the wall before falling to my knees in despair. Walter enters a minute or two later and surprisingly, wraps his body around me on the cold unforgiving floor.
“Austin will be released soon. Until then, I know that I’m not him, but I’m so proud of you.” He whispers as his arms wrap around my shoulders. I turn and sob into his chest, using him as a Syverson decoy until Austin and I can be reunited. The sleeves of his sweater are bunched up at his elbows, showcasing his thick forearms with a smattering of hair similar to Syverson’s. I try to imagine the tattoos that Sy has on his arms and am frustrated that I am blanking on the details of each one. Walter gently rocks me back and forth on the floor of the interrogation room. When my sobs grow quiet and my hiccupping breaths calm, I hear him speak.
“C’mon. I’m sure you want to get out of here now. We can leave.” I nod against his chest and take comfort in that his body feels like Sy’s against mine, even if the cologne is different.
He helps me from the floor and together we walk to the elevators, my exhaustion covering me as if I’m running on metaphorical fumes. After exiting the lift, we drift toward the main lobby where I see the majority of the Rebels camped out in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Annie rushes up and hugs me tightly as she reaches to wipe the fresh tears that fall from my eyes.
“Oh, Allie girl. Are you alright, love?” I see Bananas over Annie’s shoulder who looks unusually morose and I whisper, “Eliza.” Annie glances back and nods me toward him. I immediately walk up and hug him as Annie thanks Walter for coming so quickly.
“I heard, I heard ‘Liza got arrested and I’m so sorry, Ben. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” I stutter out.
“Allie, shhh. Don’t you worry about it. She’s about to get out here shortly. We figured you, Sy, and Eliza would all need rides so everyone came to wait. We didn’t know what else to do. You can’t think this is the first time she’s ever been arrested? That girl is a loaded pistol. That’s actually how I met her. She trying to fight a man twice her size for slapping her ass outside a bar. I’m telling you, she was absolutely eating his lunch and I have never been more turned on in my life.” He smirks at me and I release a half laugh, half sigh in my exhaustion.
“She’s one of a kind. Bout time you wife her up.” I smirk and he smiles tiredly.
“It’s in the works.” Bananas whispers.
“You okay?” He takes in my swollen, splotchy face and I feel my chin tremble but force myself to take a breath.
“This is all my fault.” I whisper.
“No, it’s not! It’s Kimmy’s fault. We know that.”
“I just, I had no idea they were searching for me and I promise I never accepted his proposal. He…he was abusive. My parents wouldn’t help me and I just, ran.” I explain breathlessly. It’s amazing how I couldn’t tell this group any of this before, but now that everything is out in the open my words come out like vomit.
“He has money. They all have money and power and I didn’t know how to get out of it. They were trying to make me, and I just, I just wanted to be free. I didn’t want to be with him. I ran away. Sy warned me that my problems would follow me to Gruene and he was right. I should have told you all but I was embarrassed and I’m just so sorry.” I ramble as Annie wraps an arm around my waist and Mike puts another arm around my shoulders.
“You ain’t got nothing to apologize for.” X speaks, his deep voice startling me since I haven’t once heard his voice in the five weeks that I’ve been here. My eyes widen and I give him a grateful smile.
“I made a statement, to one of the officers here, that you arrived to town covered in injuries. I couldn’t say how it happened for sure of course, but they told me that it matched Syverson’s story.” Annie speaks and I feel relief wash over me.
“They said they’d call us when Sy was ready to be released.” Mike tells me.
“Do you think, he’ll hate me?” I tremble.
“God no! That boy has been head over heels in love with you since you drove into this town. He’s probably just worried sick about you.” Annie tuts. My body begins to sag with exhaustion as Mike and Annie support my weight.
“You’re dead on your feet, Allie. The adrenaline is wearing off. Let me take you to Sy’s. I’ll let August know where we are so they can come to you when they finish up here.” Walter offers and I nod. Annie, Ringo, Julie, and Bananas each hug me before Walter directs me to the doors.
“Look down and don’t speak. Stay under my arm.” He directs and I see maybe news crews and cameramen out in the parking lot. The late hour causing the others to retreat is likely my saving grace at this moment. I use my long hair to my advantage and trust Walter to navigate me safely to my destination as multiple camera flashes blur my already weak eyes. One woman runs beside our brisk pace asking questions, and continues to probe even though she receives no response. Walter helps me up into his truck by my shoulders before he hops into the driver’s side and takes off. Within minutes of the engine cranking, I’m steadfastly asleep with my head pressed against Walter’s thick shoulder. I don’t even stir when the engine cuts off and Walter carefully carries me inside and places me in a bed. Syverson's bed.
Chapter 11
A/N: Next chapter, Allie and Sy are finally reunited from this whole ordeal and I can't wait for them to get back together!