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#walter marshall drabble
Note
Can you write a smutty headcanon about Walter marshall please? 🥺 He's my fav 💚
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Hii hun❤️
I'm gonna try, but I can't really tell with Walter, even though i love him, so this is going to be heavily influenced by how other writers (especially @littlefreya and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether) see and write him.
Also, i read your name as "superdick" again 😂 i guess I'll never read it right 😂😂🙈
Warnings: smutty stuff, random, no coherence 😅
somewhat a pleasure dom/ service top, something in between (if he has time that is)
Can read your body perfectly
Knows how to please you, how to tease you
Willing to try everything you ask him to
You don't have to tell him what you need, he knows, and he'll provide, even if don't have much time
KING of quickies. Has mastered the art of making you both feel satisfied within a short period of time because he always seems to be on the run
Loves a good blow job before he has to leave for work
Pays you back when he comes home with his head between your thighs
Uses his beard to his advantage
Loves how much you hate love it when he teases you l rubbing his bearded chin and cheeks against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs
Keeps it very clean and well groomed for that reason too (not mainly ofc) because you want beard burn but not a rash
Loves seeing you tied up and in sexy lingerie
Sometimes takes a few days off between cases to spend them in bed with you
Doesn't love police role-play, but his reluctance is only pretend. Likes using handcuffs on you and bending you over the kitchen counter or back of the couch
But also likes it if you take charge
Leaning dom, but kinda a switch. Wants to turn off his mind from time to time after very difficult cases, so he's thankful for the moments you tell him what to do
Also gets off on being bossed around by someone smaller and weaker than him (like... almost everybody is)
Loves fucking you from behind but also needs to see your face, so basically that's why you installed the floor length mirror in the bedroom
Prefers bed over couch or kitchen counter. After a while it gets uncomfortable.
Likes to mark you up but in places only he can see. Scared of people seeing them and thinking he's hurt you (isn't leaving bruises on your so illegal in the uk? It stems from that)
Fucks you rough but doesn't like spanking you. At least not much. Doesn't want to hurt you.
Honestly... From very gentle to very rough, he does everything.
Loves creampie-ing you.
Doesn't want to deal with another kid after Faye though, so he got the snip.
Shower sex! If he goes home to 'shower' it's mostly an excuse and he really needs to get off. Fucking you in the shower? Two birds one stone.
Loves and hates it when you send him dirty texts at work.
Yep, will go home to 'shower' after especially raunchy texts.
Honestly... Prefers watching TV or napping with you in his arms over having sex though. He just wants to hold you.
I think that's all I have 😊
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winter2112rose · 2 months
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hi rose!! i see you wanted some asks so i wracked my brain and thought of one!
pick one character and tell me how you would like to spend a lazy Sunday with them:
Walter:
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Sy:
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August:
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Thanks for the ask hun 😘. Just one?! Oh that's hard 😂.
Of course I have to go for my Walter 🐻.
Naughty stuff below
Okay so it’s Sunday and Walt has the day off for once, I'm thinking a lie-in followed by waking up to Walter peppering kisses over your shoulders, down your back. he rolls you over onto your back and lays himself between you legs and nestles himself between your legs. He makes you cum using that spectacular mouth of his, marking your sensitive skin with his thick beard. Followed by some old fashioned missonary, where you cum on his cock as he spills his seed inside you.
Afterwards he runs a bubble bath and you both relax in the warm water, bathing each other. He even lets you wash his soft chocolate curls as he knows how much you enjoy it.
Then during the day you either go out together or if it's his weekend with Faye, then you go out as a family of three.
Finally, you go for a nice meal or go home and get a takeaway, if alone you get pjs on and curl up on the sofa and watch film, then head to bed where you strip each other naked and Walter worships your body until the early hours. Imprinting new hsppy memoirs for him to cherish during the hard days at work.
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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year
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Worth it
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Masterlist
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A/N: More fluff? More fluff! Based off this horrible little shitpost from yesterday. So here we have 16 y/o Walter, and his 10-ish year younger, annoying baby brother Mikey. God help me, what have I become?
Characters: Walter Marshall, littlebrother!Mikey, OFC
Summary: Walter is babysitting his little brother Mikey while their mom is away for the weekend. He's also on a date...
Word count: 1.3k
Warnings: Fluff. Vague hint at 'underage'(?) sex (They're both sixteen.)
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@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 (I'm almost sorry to bother y'all with this)
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“Walter! Walter, look!” The only thing I can do is glare at the little kid jumping around the room. My date is already distracted by the unruly projectile that is my baby brother. She was seconds away from kissing me, for fuck’s sake.
“Oh my god! Is that your little brother?” Oh, fuck no! Not again. The little bastard always does this. Whenever I have a girl over, Mike just has to swoop in and steal the show. They all think he’s adorable. And they’re not wrong, but they’re also not stuck with him every goddamn day.
“Yeah,” I growl. “Mikey, you’re supposed to be in bed. Get lost.”
“I can’t sleep!” Of course he can’t. You need to sit still for longer than thirty seconds to be able to sleep, and Mikey just can’t do that. It also may or may not be slightly before his bedtime on weekends, but I just want the couch and the TV – and Christina – to myself for a few hours.
“Mike, for fuck’s sake! Come on, back to bed!” It’s a good thing mom is not here to hear that language, because I’d be in trouble. In fact, I'm always in trouble. I'm already banned from going out tonight because mom decided I'd make a fine – free – babysitter. She usually pays me to watch her youngest spawn – of Satan – but there was a homework mishap again – Mike’s doing – and trouble at school means trouble at home. Did I blame the kid? No. He’s my little brother. My annoying, obnoxious, and right now; cock-blocking, little brother.
“No!” Of course not. Because why would this little rat listen to me so I can have a quiet evening with my girlfriend? Who the fuck knows.
“Mike, seriously, get the fuck out of here! Chris, hold on a minute.” I get off the couch to chase after Mikey, but he’s fast.
“Walter,” Chris says as she turns the TV off. It’s a good thing she has the common sense to do that, because that movie was not suitable for a six year old kid. “He’ll get tired.”
“Neveeeeeer!” Mikey says as he runs past her. He’s just doing laps around the living room now.
“He means that.” I slump back on the couch, next to Christina. “Mikey, can you stop screaming, please? And go back to bed.” This kid is exhausting. And he hasn’t even been here for five minutes. He stops running right in front of Chris.
“He wants to kiss you. That’s why I have to go sleep.” The little snitch.
“Is that so?” Chris laughs and looks at me, I can’t do anything other than just shrug. She’s not stupid, she knows I’d be happy to do more than hold hands on this damn couch.
“It’s the weekend. I can stay up until nine.” Chris gives me another look.
“That’s not tr...”
“Walter Marshall, you are a terrible liar!”
“Mum was supposed to take him to grandma!” It’s a weak excuse for sending your baby brother off to bed well before his bedtime, I know that. But I just wanted a few hours to make out with my hot girlfriend, is that so wrong?
Chris quickly covers Mikey’s ears. “Your mom is gone until tomorrow, right? I wouldn’t worry about curfew: My folks are out of town and I’ll happily stay a little longer...” She hesitates for a moment. “Or… Stay the night? But be nicer to your brother, that would really help your case right about now.” I shoot Chris an apologetic grin while I rub the back of my neck. I probably shouldn’t have tried to lock my baby bro away. And he is quite the little charmer, most girls I bring home – there have been like three in the past two years, settle down – love him to bits. He’s a carbon copy of me when I was his age, and not to toot my own horn or anything, but I was fucking adorable. So is Mike. He’s bouncier, though. And impatient, and hyperactive, and loud. Very loud.
“Hey, Mikey, do you want to watch a movie with us?” I say. Yeah, he’ll be in bed a little late, but if it wins me some brownie points with Chris right now...
“Can we watch the Lion King?” And he’s jumping again. Fantastic.
“No, we can’t watch the Lion King,” I say sternly. Not unless we want him to keep running for another hour.
“Why can’t we watch the Lion King, Walter?” Now Chris is the one pouting at me with sad puppy eyes. In fact, both of them are now pouting at me with sad puppy eyes. This is a nightmare.
“Because,” I say as I grab Mike off the floor and put him on the couch, “the songs make him all hyper.” Chris seems to accept that as a valid enough reason.
“How about Ice Age?” The look on Mikey’s face is a very clear ‘yes’.
“Oh, I love Ice Age!” Chris says. Her voice is genuine, as is her smile. She crawls onto the chaise and gets comfortable with a blanket.
“Can I sit with the pretty girl?” Mike doesn’t wait for an answer and just crawls over the couch towards her until he’s in her lap.
I grab some drinks – Chris is smart enough to ask for water, because the first thing Mike yells is: “I want some too!” – and make myself comfortable on the couch a solid Mike-width away from Chris. I manage to still put an arm around her shoulder, although Mikey is trying very hard to push me away. It’ll be fine. He gets snuggly when he gets tired – and he honestly can’t keep this up for that much longer.
“Hey, stop pushing your brother,” Chris says. It’s a fucking miracle, but he actually stops and looks at her.
“What’s your name?” He asks her. Oh she’s falling for those big blue eyes, I can just see it happening.
“Chris,” she says.
“That’s a boy’s name!” Mike laughs.
“It’s not a boy’s name, it’s my name. And it’s short for Christina,” she explains patiently. It’s the kind of patience I have with him on vacations, when I don’t have homework or girls or ice hockey to worry about.
“Christina is a pretty name!” Mike says. That, and forty more things before the opening credits of the movie are through.
He doesn’t make it past the first half with the chatter, though, and just before the end, he’s curled up in Chris’ lap – fast asleep.
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Mom comes home just as I have to leave for my hockey game.
“Thanks, Walter,” she says, and I silently thank her for staying out overnight. I head off as fast as possible, because I’m going to be running late if I don’t. Chris is coming with me. She’s already waiting in her car – supposedly to pick me up, but the truth is that her car never left the driveway. It’s a quiet drive, with a couple of awkward flirty smiles as we both remember last night.
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We even win the game. That’s an understatement: we demolish the other guys. This is starting to look like a really great weekend! Chris kisses me goodbye when she drops me off back home, and it fucking takes my breath away. I walk into the kitchen ready to tell mom everything about the game, when I hear Mikey’s voice right as I stroll around the corner.
“...and then this morning she made me pancakes!”
“This morning?” Mom asks, and I wish the ground would disappear from beneath my feet. “Mikey, baby, go watch TV.” Mike immediately gets up and disappears into the living room. Mom shuts the door behind him.
“Walter Marshall, you are in some serious shit,” she hisses.
Eh. Worth it.
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deandoesthingstome · 2 months
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hi charlie! it's me again with more questions 😋
what do you think walter smells like? does he have a favorite cologne?
Hey Nonny!
So I gave this some thought and have a few ideas.
First, I feel like movie Walter is a basic bar soap and water kinda guy. I'm not even sure he knows what body wash is. 'Fresh from the shower' is probably just whatever he grabbed from the store last time. And I feel like he sticks to a very basic, clean scent.
I also don't think he bothers with cologne with any kind of regularity. Might not even own any. It's extraneous; he's already taken time to shower and change and stopping to spritz cologne takes that extra moment he could be working any case.
At least, that's how it's always been. Especially since the divorce. But then he met you. And he'd technically already dressed and was on his way out the door when he stopped, hand in mid-air as he reached for the handle.
You always smell so good. Everytime he's been around you. Of course he's picked up your scent, and knows just when he's about to run into you at the coffee shop or grabbing groceries. He either winds his way through the evaporating aroma to settle behind you in line, or sniffs the air as the scent enters his periphery, ready to scoot down the aisle so you can grab what you need off the shelf. Maybe he dares hope you're looking for a top shelf ingredient he's conveniently available to reach for you.
Anyway, it's a first date, and he's never been one to sweat it for these things, usually set-ups that go nowhere. But maybe he ought to dig that bottle out of his top drawer for this one.
It's earthy and musky (you'll mention it later, in the throes of the effect its gonna have on you), and mingles perfectly with his own natural scent (which you'll also mention, because not that you don't appreciate the effort tonight, you also want to know what a deep noseful of just 'Walter' would be like; maybe sans cologne next time?) And he won't last after you admit that. Is pleased this first date is going so well, but knowing you want more is sending him into overdrive.
So yeah, maybe he smells like that?
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keanureevesisbae · 2 years
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Walter Marshall x fem!reader
Summary: You're a famous singer and during one of your performances, your eye lands on a handsome security guard and once you set your eyes on something, you really want to have it.
Wordcount: 1.2k
Warnings: sex, slight bondage, mention and use of sex toys.
Time spend on stage, was the best time of your life. You were born to be a performer. Everything about it, you loved and adored. The crowds, the fact you got to sing and dance to entertain, it was everything your heart desired.
There was just one inconvenience to this fame: you hadn’t had sex in a very long time. You were too busy for a boyfriend, let alone date around. Thankfully, you had a vibrator packed in your bags and made sure to carry it around you during the tours.
But toys do not equal the feeling for a real dick.
During tonight’s performance on the tour however, your eyes had landed on a very attractive security guard, whose stoic gaze and muscled arms crossed in front of his broad chest made your heart skip quite a few beats. During the interlude, you had written a note for him and somehow you had managed to unnoticeably slip it in his front pocket of his shirt and now you were waiting near the back entrance.
You were hoping he was gonna come, but you were not sure. When you were about to give up and call a cab to bring you to the hotel, the backdoor opened and revealed the handsome looking man.
He didn’t seem surprised to see you there. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he marched his way over to you and caged you in between his arms, your back pressed against the wall. ‘If your fans only knew,’ he said in a low tone, ‘the notes you give to security guards during your shows, they’d think less of you, I know that for sure.’
You giggled, pushing up his shirt, placing your hand on his bare lower back. He felt warm, like a human heater. ‘Notes I give to one security guard,’ you whispered. ‘You’re one of a kind.’
‘Is that so,’ he said, not quite believing you. 
Normally you didn’t do this. Maybe once you slept with one of your back up dancers when the two of you were drunk, but you never did something like this. However, for this particular security guard, you would gladly make an exception. You had never seen someone this gorgeous, this handsome. 
Someone who looked like you desperately needed to fuck.
‘You want me to take you here in the alley or do you want to remain some of your modesty and take me back to your hotel room?’
‘As appealing as fucking you in the open sounds, maybe you could go with me to the hotel room. I can even provide you with something to drink.’
‘My car is back here,’ he said, ‘but before you can get in: take off your underwear and give it to me.’
You’ve had quite some sexual rendezvous, but this had never happened to you before. You stepped out of your underwear and gave it to him. He nodded in approval and pushed the flimsy fabric in his pocket and gave you the keys of his car. ‘Don’t wreck the thing.’
That was easier said than done, because mister security guard placed his large hand on your thigh, fingers brushing over your exposed and swollen lips. He chuckled, continued to tell you to keep your eyes on the road and thankfully the roads were clear, because if not, you definitely would’ve wrecked the car and you don’t know how glad you’d be if the paramedics found you commando, while the security guard had your underwear stuffed in his pocket.
You walked into the hotel after you parked the vehicle, the security guard in tow, as you swayed your hips with every step you took. It was silent in the elevator, you and the guard staring ahead of you, anticipation for what was gonna be next building up.
‘What’s your name?’ you finally asked, as you two were walking towards your hotel room.
‘Walter,’ he said. ‘Walter Marshall.’
‘Nice to meet you, Walter Marshall,’ you said.
He chuckled, darkly and intensely. ‘Let’s see if you still say so in an hour.’ 
✌︎ ✌︎ ✌︎
Walter had woven his belt around your wrists, tying you to the headboard. He had found your toys rather quickly and was intent on using them on you. Excessively. You had been a moaning mess, desperately trying to keep it down a notch, because your manager and the guys from your band were sleeping in the rooms next to you, however with Walter’s way of using those toys on you, it had been proven to be rather difficult not to scream of pleasure.
You were a shivering pile of human on the bed, even after he had undone the belt around your wrists. He checked you, up and down, kisses the tender skin of your wrists before he undid himself from his clothes. Slowly every piece of clothing had been shredded and goodness gracious, was this tree of a man blessed in every compartment. 
Walter bended you like a pretzel, made you see stars and totally wore you out. At this rate, you were unsure if you were able to perform tomorrow. His hands kneaded your ass when he took you from behind, your breasts when he was fucking you as he sat between your legs and pushed your hairs out of your face, before he pushed three of his fingers in your mouth.
The bed was drenched with your fluids and sweat and you couldn’t keep in the cries anymore, not caring about who would hear you. 
‘Can you keep up?’ Walter asked in a cocky tone.
You wanted to play it off cool, however your appearance contradicted whatever you want to say to appear in control. You must look like quite the sight, as the tears had probably messed up your stage make-up, your entire demeanor probably giving away how he has fucked the daylight out of you.
‘Barely,’ you groaned. ‘Fuck, you feel so good.’
He chuckled, brushing some of the hairs out of your face. ‘As do you, miss.’
His semen were shot deep inside of you and you enjoyed the feeling of being filled up. It had been so long since you were properly fucked and filled in this manner. You let out a strained whine when he pulled out and he plopped next to you on the bed. 
You had to catch your breath, as your thighs were sticking together from the mixture of your fluids. You turned to your side, placed your head on his sweaty hairy chest. ‘Can I take you with me on tour?’ 
He chuckled. ‘You’d want that?’
‘Me, myself and my toys will not do the trick after what you did to me,’ you said, kissing his chest. ‘Come on, I’ll pay you.’
‘And why do you want me to go with you?’
‘To be my personal bodyguard,’ you said. ‘Quite the fantasy, isn’t it? Fucking my bodyguard.’
He groaned in approval. ‘On one condition.’
‘Just one condition and you’ll come with me for the rest on the tour as my personal bodyguard?’ you asked just in case. ‘As my fuck buddy?’
He nodded. ‘Just one condition.’
‘Shoot.’
‘You call me ‘sir’ or ‘mister’ during the rest of the tour.’
You couldn’t help but laugh. ‘That’s doable. Maybe I’ll even spice it up and call you daddy.’
✌︎ ✌︎ ✌︎
Taglist: @diegos-butt // @cherry-gemz // @crazybutconfidentaf // @sillyrabbit81 // @thelastsock // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @summersong69 // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @xuxszx // @liecastillo // @sofiebstar // @eldarwen333 // @omgkatinka // @abschaffer2 // @pterodactylterrace
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The Farmer's Daughter 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Walter Marshall
Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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You stand on your tiptoes, a dangerous choice as you stand on a wooden stool, reaching to clip pegs around the folded edge of the linen sheet. You clasp it over the cord in three places and reel along the length, bending to pull a wet pillowcase from the basket.
“You’re grinding on the clutch,” Walter’s voice carries through the barn door before he emerges, “you need another driving lesson.”
“I know how to drive stick,” your brother, Timothy, argues with the larger man. “It’s not the clutch.”
“Ermph,” the other man grunts in return.
“Thanks for having a look though,” Timothy slaps his arm lightly.
He gets another grumble from the chronically grumpy man. Walter is older than your brother, by quite a bit; and you too. He’s tall and burly and his brow never truly loses its furrow. He’s fonder of your father than Timothy; you’re sure if he didn’t feel some kinship with your father, he’d never venture this far.
Walter is a big, burly man. He has a lumbering gait you can recognise even as he’s at the property’s edge, and his curly hair falls messily around his chiseled face. There’s a touch of silver in one curl but his age doesn’t show otherwise.
You refocus on hanging the laundry. You stand on your toes and strain to clip the beg on the line. The stool wobbles and you put your feet flat, steadying it. You suck in your lower lip and look around. Timothy’s gone, you hear him back in the barn clattering through the toolbox, but Walter remains. He narrows his eyes at you as you give a sheepish smile.
“Hi, Mr. Marshall,” you say.
“Hey,” he returns in his way.
You don’t expect much more so you wind the line further and once more bend to take another piece of clothing. You quickly forget his presence and go back to your precarious game. Back on your toes, the stool tips and you gasp, a scream catching in your throat as you brace yourself for the violent tumble.
You don’t hit the ground though. You barely even tip as you're caught under the arms. You open your eyes as Walter holds you well over the ground. He does so effortlessly. 
“I… Mr. Marshall, thank you,” you breathe.
“You shouldn’t do that,” he grits.
“Um, I know,” you wiggle your feet and look at the ground, “um, can you put me down.” He does just that and you laugh at yourself, “thanks.”
“Hm,” he sidles down to the basket. 
To your surprise he takes out the next sheet and easily throws it over the line. He holds out a hand but you just stare at his calloused palm. What is he doing?”
“Pin,” he demands gruffly.
“Oh, uh, sure,” you step up and place a pin in his hand. His fingers brush around yours as he closes them. You retract your reach as he clasps it over the linen. He puts his hand out for the next and again, you hand one over.
“Don’t do it again,” he says as he grabs the next piece of laundry.
“Mr. Marshall, I won’t, but you don’t need to–”
“It’s fine,” he carries on, set on his mission of putting out the drying. “Your father wouldn’t be happy if I let you hurt yourself.”
“Erm, I guess,” you give him another pin.
He’s silent as his blue gray eyes fixate on his chore. He bends to grab more, drapes the cloth over, and takes a pin to secure it in place. You work in wordless rhythm until the basket is empty and the line is full.
“How is he?” He asks.
You put your hands behind you and wring them, “better. Ma says he’ll be home next week.”
He nods and looks at you. He crosses his arms, straining the fabric of his long-sleeved tee. It’s warm out, enough to dampen his shirt with sweat. Still, he doesn't seem to mind.
“If you need anything,” he peers around the fields, “big place for just you and the other one.”
“Oh, Tim? Yeah, we manage.”
He scratches the scruff on his chin and shifts his stance. You’ve never seen him flinch before, never hesitate or doubt, but in that moment, he seems unsure. He clears his throat and drops his hand.
“Well, have a good day,” he bows his head slightly. “Have your brother take down the laundry.”
You look away guiltily, staring at the stool, “you, too, Mr. Marshall.”
He backs away a few steps and you cautiously glance at his boots as he does. He stops and you hold your breath.
“I don’t mind Walt,” he says.
“Right,” your voice flutters, “Walt.”
He twists on his heel and continues across the grass to the trodden road. He follows it down towards the fence. You tear your gaze away and gather up the basket and the stool. You leave them on the porch and sit in the shade as sweat speckles on your forehead.
Your heart is still racing, likely from your near disastrous slip. You think you will have Timothy take down the sheets. You may even convince him to help your fold.
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The Backwoods AU
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𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰MASTERLIST!𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰𖠰
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loganbcrnes · 3 months
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Thinking about possessive Sy, where he takes you from behind so he can see your pretty face in the mirror. In my opinion Sy is loud. full of growls and sweet moans. the need to cum in your wet and slippery cunt. Balls slapping against your cunt. he'd get so desperate and full your hair back to kiss you. When your arms ache, he lays his bulky body over you, his arm still grabbing your hair back so you don't look away from the mirror. he gets closer and finds your lips in a messy kiss again, sucking at your tongue, getting his down your throat, giving you the most intense eye contact before pulling away and demanding you look at him while he fucks you.
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princessaxoxo · 7 months
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。゚゚・。・゚゚。 ゚。Masterlist  ゚・。🌷͙֒
𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 💌
𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 ˚₊‧꒰ა 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ✿ 𝘢𝘰3 ✿ 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥 ✿ 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘯
𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 - 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥-𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘣𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘪 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘰3, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳.
𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 18+ 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺.
𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬. 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
𝓗𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵
𝓖𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓪
𝓜𝓲𝓴𝓮
𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓽
𝓐𝓾𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓻
𝓢𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓶𝓮𝓼
𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵
𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷
𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝔂𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷
𝓚𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷/𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓲 𝓚𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓯𝓯
𝒻𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻: ꕤ 𝓈𝓂𝓊𝓉: 🍒 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉: ❦
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Woke up in such a grumpy, godawful mood. I'm gonna think about how different characters would react to help me out.
Try to Help
Jake Jensen, Steve Rogers, Hal Carter, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König
Their first instinct is "problem! Must fix!" Never mind if they're actually the cause or not, you're not feeling well so they need to step in to help you out however you need. Whether it's trying to make you laugh, pulling you in for cuddles, getting you your favorite foods, or upping the amount of kissing you get, they'll get you to smile again somehow.
Of course, they can go overboard sometimes and you end up snapping at them. Then they give you those sad puppy-dog eyes and it breaks your heart, just making the situation worse. You reassure them that you know they're just trying to help it's just that this help isn't working. So they immediately try something else. They will get you to smile, damnit!
Give You Space
Bucky Barnes, Jonathan Pine, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Curtis Everett, James Mace
These guys understand that bad moods happen, you can't always control it. So they give you space, while still doing little things (like keeping your coffee/tea warm) to remind you that you're loved. They know you'll be back to your usual self in time. You just need to process some things. They'll give you all the time and space you need because you're worth the wait.
Turn it into a Grumpiness Competition
Nick Fowler, Walter Marshall, Lloyd Hansen, Johnny Storm, Marc Spector
Oh, you think you're the only one in a bad mood?! You think you can out grumpy them?! It's on! You will be at each other's throats all day but that's how they like it. It's foreplay for them, seeing your spitfire attitude is entrancing and they can't get enough of it. So they'll keep trying to out grumpy you until one of you snaps and pulls the other into the bedroom for some fiery hot sex that leaves you both wondering what the hell you were angry at to begin with.
So, thoughts? @alicedopey did I get your guys correct?
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what your boyfriend Mike uses Google for 😆
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🦝
Omg, I love this. dumb puppy 😂😂😂 okay, here the little scene/ shitpost i promised:
Warnings: drunkeness, animal bite, stupidity and silliness. and i literally haven't written in months so this is kinda crappy
Somewhat a part 2 here
All the guys are meeting on Sy's ranch for a family hangout. Of course there is alcohol involved and Mikey decides to go out to get some fresh air. He spots the raccoon, and drunk as he is, he thinks that a wild raccoon is a good animal to try to play with. It ends with the raccoon getting pissed and biting him in the leg. So Mikey googles what to do.
He barges into the living room, still holding the raccoon. "I said apologize! or else!" he slurrs, catching the attention of all the guys.
August... August just rolls his eyes, grabs his bottle of beer and leaves the room. "I've had enough of his crap," he mutters.
Sy bursts out laughing. He's the most drunk of them all, so he doesn't really notice Mike's bleeding leg.
Walter sighs. "What happened?" not really going cop-mode, but enough to make Mike answer.
"Fucker bit me, and now he won't apologize!"
"Why...why should he apologize?" Walter kinda wishes he had disappeared like August.
"Google said so...?" Mikey shrugs.
"Google says to elevate and put pressure you fucking moron," Evan interrupts, rushing in with a med kit.
Sy deals with the raccoon, still laughing, while Evan fixes Mikey's leg. Walter wonders how he can be related to these guys. August wishes he was blissfully unaware of what was going on downstairs, but to his regret, he heard everything.
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winter2112rose · 3 months
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Question to my lovely fandom friends who are writers.
I’m a bit thick and forgotten what the length a Drabble should be is it 200 word or less or 500 words or less?
Trying to snap myself out of writers block and then realised I’m not sure which part of my masterlist I would post the drabbles too! 🫣🙊
As always any advice appreciated and
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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 10 months
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🧸Mikey
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Sunday dinner
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Masterlist
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A/N: I feel the need to apologize for this. It was supposed to be a comfort fic, I know, but instead we get a whole lot of angst and not a lot of comfort. We're still in the babybro!Mikey AU, and it maybe helps a little to have read Astraphobia (shameless self promo, I know)
(This was written from a promt from this ask game!)
Characters: Walter Marshall, littlebrother!Mikey
Summary: Walter visits Mike in his dorm after the death of their mother.
Word count: 600
Warnings: Angst. Lots of hurt, very little comfort. Parent death. Whole lot of grief.
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“Bear?” I take the fluffy dog Walter is holding out to me. Fucking hell, I haven’t seen this thing in years!
“It… eh… I found him at mom’s place.” Walter swallows hard. ‘Mom’s place’. It sounds so silly now. There is no ‘mom’s place’ anymore. There is no ‘mom’. “Thought you might… I don’t fucking know, man.”
“Come in.” I step aside to let him past me. There’s not a lot of room to move, it’s a dorm room after all. He takes my desk chair, I fall back onto my bed, crushing Bear against my chest. It’s obvious we’re both going to cry at some point. Now, it’s just a matter of who goes first. Won’t be me. Can’t be me. Fuck. It’s me.
I didn’t sleep at all for two nights, then I cried myself to sleep the next two. Suffice to say, I’m not in a good place right now. My whole afternoon was lost to thinking about how I’d keep myself from spiraling tonight. Because tonight is Sunday night – and on Sundays, I always went home to have dinner with my mom. And now I can’t do that, because mom. is. gone.
“I can’t believe I bailed on dinner last week,” Walter says. Now that he isn’t at a loss for words, his voice sounds about as hoarse as I imagine mine to be. “Didn’t even have a good excuse. Tired from a long shift, that was it.”
“She called me an hour before she… I hung up on her. Figured I’d call her back after basketball practice.” Obviously I never got the chance. Both of us stay quiet for a very long time. Sometimes one of us cries, sometimes we both do, but we don’t say a word, and neither of us moves. After about an hour, Walter gets up.
“I should probably get going,” he says softly. Somehow, the idea of him leaving hurts me. I’ve already lost my mom… I can’t lose my brother as well.
“Are we just never going to see each other anymore.” My voice is weak – weaker than I’d like it to be. Walter’s hand drops off the door handle.
“Why do you think that?” he asks softly. I can hear his voice breaking halfway through.
“You’re a lot older, and you moved out a while ago. And we only ever saw each other at mom’s place, and now mom’s gone and…” I don’t even know if there are more reasons for me to think that. The fact that we never really got along? Mom swore it was just because there are ten years between us, that things would get better as I got older… I just hope I’m gonna get a chance to find out she was right about that.
Walter looks at me for a second and then wraps me up in a hug. And not the cool, manly, bro kind of hug. No. A massive, brotherly, ‘we’re both fucking hurt’ kind of hug. When I sit back down on my bed, he sits next to me.
“I didn’t want to bring this up yet,” he says, “but I’ve been dealing with some of the legal stuff…” I’m about to get angry when he assures me he hasn’t been making any decisions without me.
“I don’t want to sell the house,” he says, explaining that she left it to us, I get a say in things, but he’d really like to move back there.
“On one condition,” I say hoarsely. “We have dinner together on Sundays.”
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princessphilly · 2 years
Note
For your requests; how about Walter Marshall on the police hockey team? He gets all riled up in the game and you have some after game lockerroom fun to help him let off steam?
Gonna do this as a headcanon. I know you’ve been waiting for some fucking in the locker room smut from me
Tagging: @ysmmsy @marytudorbrandon @a-little-counter-esperanto @chara-hugs @newlibrary @himbos-on-ice
It had been a terribly hard game
The fire fighters always played dirty and they won on a last minute goal
The guys had undressed, showered, and left quietly
But you didn’t see Walter, long after the last guy left
So you tiptoed into the locker room to see a naked Walter on the bench, head in his hands
You went over to say hey but before you could say anything, he pulled you into his lap
“I need, I need, I need you but I can’t be gentle,” is what your giant said to you after several minutes of you in his lap
“Okay,” was all you replied
One hard bruising kiss before your skirt was flipped over. Panties soon hit the ground.
Thick fingers prepped you for the heavy cock waiting for you. You kissed Walter again, showing him just how excited he was getting you
When Walter decided you were ready, he slapped your ass before nipping your bottom lip
He entered you slow, relishing the way your cunt gripped his cock as you took him
But soon his thrusts became fast, needing to get that desperate edge off
You weren’t close but Walter was
As soon as he felt himself ready to cum, Walter slipped out of your pussy, cumming on your thighs
You looked down at the ropes of cum on your skin for a second before two strong hands picked you up
It always amazes you how Walter can hold you in his hands so easily as he maneuvered you two to where you were straddling his face as he laid on the bench
“Use my face, girl, I want you to soak my beard.”
You didn’t have to be told twice as you rode his face to your on orgasm
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keanureevesisbae · 2 years
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Walter Marshall x fem!reader
Summary: Walter is now your bodyguard.
Wordcount: 1.3k
Warnings: sex, slight spanking, orgasms.
So, naturally, Walter became your private bodyguard. Wherever you were, he was in a close radius to you. When there was an enormous pile of paparazzi, the cameras ready to blind you as they desperately wanted to take a picture of you, he took off his jacket and shielded you from the flashes. 
Walter was a natural bodyguard, always making sure you were safe.
Everyone who wasn’t working for you suspected you were dating, because of the way he looked at you and you looked back, but in all honesty: you weren’t necessarily dating.
You were solely fucking. 
It was what worked best for you and despite obviously developing feelings for him (have you seen the man?), you’d kept your distance, not wanting to lose this fuck buddy.
Walter knew exactly what he was doing and you did not want to lose that. He knew how to push your buttons. He knew how to keep you in line with just one stern look. While you were ready to risk it all for him, he always had your public image in mind, not wanting you to fall off your well deserved pedestal. 
But that was to the public. The second the door of your hotel room closed, he had you naked in a matter of seconds and then fucked the living daylight out of you.
After one of the most amazing shows of your life, you were still buzzing afterwards. You were in the back of the car, while Walter drove you, your manager and some of the backup dancers back to the hotel. You were still loudly singing, enjoying the aftermath of an awesome concert. 
Your manager and the backup dancers made their way to their own hotel room and you dragged Walter with you by his shirt. He followed you and securely closed the door behind you. 
You got on the bed after you kicked off your shoes and stood on the mattress. ‘Mister Marshall, what did you think of the show?’
‘I thought it went amazing,’ he said, as he took of his blazer. ‘Careful, you’ll fall.’
‘You’re too uptight,’ you said, jumping on the mattress. 
He simply rolled his eyes and right in time, managed to catch you as you almost slipped off the mattress. ‘Gorgeous you are, but stubborn as hell.’ He dropped you on the bed and undid you from your clothing. Thankfully you already got rid of your stage outfit and your make-up, because as beautiful as it is on stage, it’s too much off stage. In true Walter fashion, he had you naked in seconds and kneeled in between your spread legs, his hand dangerously around your throat, but his thumb simply caressed your tender skin. He did not obtain you from oxygen, he lovingly touched you. It was moments like these you wondered what he felt about you.
You bridged the distance, wrapping your arms around his neck and gently giving him a kiss. You did not want to let him go, not ever. 
However, before things could go to sentimental, he pulled back and whispered: ‘Good girls get punished, miss Jumping On the Bed.’
And punished you got. He fucked you well, like he always did. Because you were so damn loud, he pushed his tie in your mouth, however it only drowned out some of the noise you made. Like always, he was rough, but tender in the way he checked up on you. He knew you well, he knew your limits, probably even better than you did yourself. 
Walter normally wanted you in doggy style, but today he pushed you down flat on your stomach and entered you from behind. It felt so deep, so good and you buried your face in the pillow. While the tie and pillow drowned out some of the noise you made, it wasn’t 100 percent sound proof. 
Walter caged you in underneath his large frame, his lips close to your ear and he pressed mindless kisses on your temple. You came who know how many times and by the time he had filled you up like he always does, making sure not a drop goes to waste, your legs were unable to stop trembling. 
‘Are you alright?’ he asked you.
‘I am,’ you whispered, as you tried to catch your breath. 
‘You learned your lesson?’ Walter chuckled, as he smacked your bottom. 
‘No jumping on the bed,’ you tiredly laughed. ‘Got it.’
✌︎ ✌︎ ✌︎
That night, he held you close, kissing you softly on the forehead and when you woke up in the middle of the night, desperate for some more, he had indulged and softly made love to you. He had never made love to you, only overstimulated you using your toys, fucked you till you saw stars and bend you to his preference. This was different. He took his time, looked you deep in your eyes and kissed you like he had never done before.
You were falling for him, you realized that, but you didn’t say it to him. You didn’t want to scare him off. Not even when you were making love and hesitating whether or not he might feel the same about you.
The next morning you were rehearsing for the second and final show in this city. Walter and some other members of the crew were standing in the middle of the large stadium, carefully watching every move you made. 
When it was time for a quick break and the back up dancers all ran towards the water bottles, you marched up to Walter, who raised his eyebrows in surprise.
You didn’t know where this confidence came from, but he appeared to be quite surprised. Especially when you wrapped your arms around his waist, placed your chin on his chest and said: ‘You look cute, even from a distance.’
‘Miss,’ he said, however he couldn’t keep unfazed anymore. ‘You’re clingy and people are watching,’ he then noted, brushing some of your hairs from your face. 
He was right, you had been clingy all morning in the hotel room. Barely were able to let go of the big man as he went to shower, as he got breakfast for the two of you and you kept looking at him as he was watching the rehearsal, not wanting him to miss a thing.
‘You mind?’
‘Not a single bit.’ He sighed and said: ‘I’m done with pretending you are not crazy about me.’
You scoffed. ‘As if it’s not the other way around.’ You were taking a guess here, but judging by his smirk, you realized you might be correct.
‘Oh, you don’t even know.’ He kissed your forehead, before leaning down and kissing you on your lips. ‘Last night,’ he whispered against your lips and you just knew he was referring to the love making when he said: ‘is all I can think about now.’
‘Me too.’
You kissed for who knows how long, but it felt so good. 
‘Guess we’re dating now,’ Walter said. 
‘Guess so too.’
‘Alright,’ your manager said, who sneaked up on you two. You both looked up at her, only to see the rest of the crew staring at you with raised eyebrows and crossed arms. ‘We take it you two are now dating and not just obnoxiously fucking?’
You didn’t even feel embarrassed, though that might come later.
‘We are,’ Walter said. 
‘Okay, where’s the bet?’ your manager asked.
‘The bet?’ You parroted. 
She smiled. ‘Yes, the bet, the large piece of paper, where we wrote down our guesses when you two were finally going to admit you weren’t just fuck buddies, but real dating. I put my money on this date and I think I was the only one, which earns me a twenty from everyone here.’
‘You took a bet?’
‘We must do something when we can hear you two—and then I actually mean you girl, because you are fucking loud—go at it like rabbits.’
‘Told you you were too loud,’ Walter said with a smirk, before leaning down and whispering: ‘I’ll teach you that lesson later on.’
✌︎ ✌︎ ✌︎
Taglist: @diegos-butt // @cherry-gemz // @crazybutconfidentaf // @sillyrabbit81 // @thelastsock // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @summersong69 // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @xuxszx // @liecastillo // @sofiebstar // @eldarwen333 // @omgkatinka // @abschaffer2 // @pterodactylterrace
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nuggsmum · 2 years
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Nuggs! Always happy to slide into your asks! Coincidentally I'm missing your leading men something fierce today 🥺
How would a coffee shop meet up between Sy from Applewine Valley, Auggie from Unexpected and Walter from The Light look like?
🥺👉👈 (no pressure to answer it feel free to ignore)
Love ya!
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Ohhhhh. Ok ok ok. I did a thing. Thanks for the prompt baby… I was kinda missing my guys too 🖤 thanks for distracting me - I needed it today 😘
It’s short, it’s stupid, it’s not edited. 🥰
Swirls of powdery snow skirted across Main Street, the frigid temperature outside clashing with the heat from the ovens out back causing the tall windows of The Burnt Biscuit to fog over.
Cassie was filling the glass case with pastries and donuts for the early morning crowd that was due to start arriving in the next hour or so, snow or no snow, these guys never missed their morning coffee and breakfast on their way to work.
Smiling to herself, she reflected on how the years had changed her life. Four kids, a successful bakery and a new identity. It was never where she thought she’d be. It was never what she’d have dreamed she needed.
The love of her life could be heard in the kitchen, muttering about almost being out of chocolate chips.
“I put some on the order last week, they should be in tomorrow.” Cassie called absentmindedly rearranging the donuts.
“You’re the best, Princess.” He called.
A smile froze on her lips as the front door opened. It was too early for customers. Everyone in town knew they didn’t open the doors until five, even if they were left unlocked.
Two men stood just inside the door. Two very large men. Two men who looked oddly familiar but she couldn’t place it. One shook the snow from his curly hair as he looked around the shop, while the other dusted off his close shaven head, staring right at her.
“Sorry to intrude on you so early, ma’am.” The short haired man said, the drawl of his Texas accent floating over her like honey. “We’re looking for August.”
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
“Just a second.” Cassie said quietly as she turned and walked as normal as she could manage through the double swinging doors into the kitchen.
“Just like I imagined she’d look like from the way he talked about her.” Murmured the other, his British accent as smooth as the Texans.
Fear crept through her as her imagination ran wild.
Are they the bad guys? The ones that August had mentioned so many years ago… the ones he said could use me against him? I thought all this was over.
August stood completely still, his hand hovering over the oven handle, watching his wife as she stopped just inside the door and sank against the wall, staring at him like a deer in headlights.
“They’re here.” She breathed, tears brimming the corners of her eyes.
His heart quickened as he stalked to the cabinet he kept the muffin tins in. Flipping the side panel open, his hand wrapped around the gun he’d kept there for the last eight years. It wasn’t lost on him how it felt like the touch of an old, forgotten and unwanted lover. A shudder ran down his spine at how at home it felt in his hand despite his repulsion to the weapon. He’d put this life behind him, even though he’d never stopped being vigilant. His wife and children were everything he’d never let himself want, and now that he had them, he would burn the world he’d saved to keep them safe.
“Stay here.” He whispered to Cassie, pulling her to his chest and kissing her one last time, just in case.
Stepping through the door, gun raised and finger on the hair trigger, his breath left his body in one relieved sigh and couldn’t help but crack a sideways smile at the sight that greeted him.
“You could have called, you bastards.” He growled, the gun falling to his side as he lowered his hand.
The man with the closely shaven head turned to the curly haired man with a smirk.
“Gun drawn, ready to shoot us between the eyes. You owe me twenty bucks, Walter.” He laughed when August rolled his eyes.
“No, you said twenty bucks he shoots us. No shots fired, you owe me twenty dollars, Sy.” Walter murmured. “Will you please tell your wife that she can put down her gun?”
“You really did stumble on the perfect woman for you, didn’t you?” Sy laughed glancing over his shoulder.
August looked at him quizzically then followed Syverson’s gaze to the front window, where Cassie stood, a small pistol trained on his cousins.
“That’s my girl.” He chuckled, his sideways grin stretching the scars on his face taut.
“I guess we were all lucky in that way.” Walter mused as August gestured for Cassie to come inside.
Sheepishly, she poked her head in the door.
“Sorry.” She muttered.
“Come here, Sweetheart.” August pulled her to his side.
“Cassie, my cousins Walter Marshall and John Syverson.”
“Jack.” Corrected Syverson. “Or just Sy.”
“We used to call him junior when we were kids and it always made him cry and and punch us in the face. Or try.” Walter laughed.
“Only because my mom hated it and I didn’t want her to hear it.” He growled, looking like he was about to rip the curly hair off Walter’s head.
“Nothing wrong with being protective of your mother.” Cassie said quietly, looking up at August, thinking of what he had done for his own mother. She could help but note a different kind of smile on his face than she’d ever seen there before. This was a happy part of his past. He loved his cousins, it was clear.
Syverson nodded at her and winked.
“Why don’t I get you all something to eat and some coffee?” She offered, wanting to let her husband spend time with his cousins.
Once the three large men were settled into the small office in the back, coffees and an assortment of pastries and breads on the desk, August swung the door shut as more of the staff began arrived for the morning rush.
“Do I want to know why you didn’t mention this?” Walter gestured at the side of his face.
August sighed.
“Don’t pry, you big ninny.” Sy bumped his shoulder into Walters.
“We don’t keep secrets.” Walter said quietly.
“Oh, we don’t?” August snapped, his steel blue eyes meeting his cousins matching ones. “Care to explain why you didn’t call when you went off after your fathers killers? Just stole a fucking boat and sailed off to your death?”
Walter looked away, guilt eating at him. “There wasn’t time.”
“Hey. It’s over now.” Sy said sternly, effectively cutting through the tension.
“I could have helped.” August continued.
Walter shook his head.
“No, your wife was eight months pregnant with your, what? Third kid?”
Sy nodded, “And Izzy was laid up on bed rest with the twins. Same excuse he gave me.”
“You both had finally found your lives. Settled down. I wasn’t going to risk that for a fools mission. I didn’t have anything so it wasn’t really and issue.”
“And look how that turned out.” August’s sideways smile made Walter blush a little.
“Yeah.” He muttered sheepishly. “Though the honeymoon is certainly over. Irene threw a book at my head when I told her I was going to see my cousins.”
“Why?” August looked surprised. To hear his cousin talk about his new wife, she was sweetness personified. A veritable angel.
“She was mad I didn’t tell her I had cousins.” He shrugged.
“Understandable.” Sy chuckled. “Izzy was pissed too. She only knows about my dads side.”
“There’s enough of them to test anyone’s memory.” Walter laughed.
“Yeah. Like rabbits, runs on both sides apparently. How many are you at now? Five?” August glanced at Sy.
“Well… might be six. Izzy was throwing up yesterday morning. But that might have just been the dead mouse the cat dragged in.” He grinned.
“So are we going to skirt around the reason you two decided to darken my doorstep instead of just messaging me as normal?” August asked, sipping his coffee and watching as his cousins exchanged a dark look.
Walter sighed and gestured for Syverson to spill the beans.
“It’s about Gramps.”
August narrowed his eyes.
“He’s dead. Has been for thirty years. What kind of death trap suicide treasure hunt did he leave for us?”
“That’s the thing. He’s not dead.” Water tossed a folder onto the desk, a photo of their maternal grandfather, absent father of their mothers, in his prime sliding out of the dossier and settling in front of them. “And from what I understand the old bastard is in deep trouble.”
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