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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: I Know This Much Is True

Rating: M for Mature, 18+, Minors DNI

Fandom: Night Hunter

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC

Word count: 4K+

Series Summary: Walter Marshall has urges, dominant urges to be in control of everything. Sexually and otherwise. Being a detective and father of a teen daughter doesn’t afford him those luxuries. Kamaria Mansfield left a long-term relationship where things turned toxic. She was hospitalized with extreme PTSD as a result. As a newly-hired intern with Minnesota PD, she hopes long hours will keep her mind occupied and hold pessimistic thoughts at bay. Takes place post-film.

Series warnings: past toxic D/s relationship, PTSD, therapy sessions, sassy therapist giving less than professional advice at times, unprotected p in v (wrap it up y’all), mentions of psychiatric hospitals, angst, fluff, mutual pining

Chapter Summary: The meeting of Walter and Kamaria, however brief, is enough to ignite a flame.

Chapter warnings: Therapy session, mention of past eating disorder, blink and you’ll miss it fluff, mention of fat shaming, angst, masturbation, mutual pining

A/N: Bless Grammarly for acting as my beta for this chapter. (Currently looking for a beta, if you have time and patience.) This is quite a long first chapter but I wanted to give Kamaria and Walter an even playing field to start with.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Story Art by me

Cross-posted on AO3

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“I think you are going to be an excellent fit here, Ms. Mansfield. How about you come in bright and early Monday morning and we get you situated with a desk and show you around?” The hiring manager stood up, fixing his blazer before putting a hand out to shake.

“That sounds perfect, Mr. Lind. I look forward to it,” Kamaria took the offered hand and flashed a grin before being shown out of the building. She nods her thanks, turning to walk down the steps of the police station, her long butterfly locks swaying over her shoulder.

‘These steps are decrepit as hell,’ No sooner did that thought occur when her toe catches on a crack and she starts to tumble forward only to be caught by two very strong arms.

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, I need to pay attention to where I-” She stops in her tracks, moving her locks out of her face and looking up to see who caught her in the nick of time. Concerned yet gentle cornflower blue eyes stare back at her, his mocha-colored curls dance in the wind and mesmerize her just long enough to catch her breath.

“I’ve told them these steps are a lawsuit waiting to happen. Are you alright, Miss?” That accent and the timbre of his voice set Kamaria on a journey that settles on surprise. If her espresso skin could blush visibly, it would be all over.

“I’m good now. I got the job and not even an almost sprained ankle can take me out of the clouds today,” Kamaria looks away from his face finally and looks back to the building before looking back at the man. “You work here too?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Detective Walter Marshall,” Walter switches his coffee from his right hand to his left and reaches out to shake hers. He pauses for a second too long, but she barely notices when his thumb grazes the back of her hand slowly.

“Nice to meet you, Detective. Intern, Kamaria Mansfield,” She giggles at her little joke. “Anyways, I have got to be off but it was nice meeting you, and thank you again for saving my life.” She touches his strong arm, giving it a quick squeeze, and walks around him down the last couple of steps onto the sidewalk. She doesn’t notice the way he turns around to watch her walk away to the station parking lot.

Kamaria has just enough time to return home and change clothes to make it to her therapy session on time. She sits in the waiting room fiddling with her fingers, noting that she has to get to the nail salon before work on Monday so her manicure will be flawless. Self-care is very important to her and it makes her feel a bit dainty as well.

‘Dainty is not a word I would use to describe you,’ The words of her ex burn through her mind. She closes her eyes and pictures floating through the clouds at night illuminated by the moon. She is just reaching it as the door opens to her right and her attention is being moved elsewhere.

Her therapist steps through the door and greets her with a wave. “Kamaria, right on time as usual. Come on in, honey.”

Kamaria gets up from her chair and grabs her bag and coat then enters the office. She closes the door behind her and sits on the big fluffy purple couch opposite where her therapist sits with her trademark notebook.

“So, don’t keep me in suspense. How did the second interview go today?” Yada can see the smile forming on Kamaria’s face as she situates herself on the couch.

“Well, I got the job!” Kamaria bounces a little in her seat, excitement about the fresh start all over her face.

“Oh, that is so wonderful. You deserve it, girl. I don’t even have to ask if you are excited, you are lighting up this entire room with that smile,” Yada makes a quick note in her notebook before turning her attention back to Kamaria.

“Now, as sensational as this news is. I do want us to get back to the grander topic at hand,” Yada clears her throat and begins to speak again, “Last week, we talked about your fresh starts. New apartment, a new car, and a new job. But there is one thing you seem to have a hard and fast answer to. No new relationships. And trust me, I understand why. You have been through so much, but you have also overcome so much. And I want you to explain to me again why you feel as though remaining at arm’s length with everyone is the best option for you.”

Kamaria was dreading this conversation at the end of her last session, but she knew that it would come up again, just not so soon.

“I will be completely honest. My trust in people has been tested to within an inch of its life. After everything that happened with Christopher and that mess with Britnee, I don’t have a lot to go on with people. I can be kind and courteous with people around me. But for them to be able to know me, they have got to assure me that my trust isn’t going to be treated like some easy thing to gain and maintain with barely anything in return. I need someone on my side who is going to want to know me for me and someone who is willing to take things at my pace.” She bites her lip, a nervous habit, trying to find the words.

“And for them to take things at your pace, you would need to allow them in to know certain things about your past relationships,” Yada says, nodding her head.

“Allowing someone in back then was easy. I was young and I was able to pick myself up after every scrape. Now, though? It seems like every little bump in the road is a hurdle that I am crawling on my hands and knees to get over,” Kamaria looks to the ceiling and the floor and everywhere but Yada.

“Do you still hear Christopher’s voice at all? I remember you saying you can still hear his snide comments when you’re anxious. Does it happen at other specific times?” Yada tries to keep the conversation going.

“A year. It’s been a year since I was in the hospital. Even longer since I’ve seen…him,” she pauses as her mind races, “I still can’t look at myself in the eyes in the mirror for more than ten seconds without hearing him call me fat or ugly or stupid. When I’m down, I feel like he’s on repeat. When I try and sleep, it’s him all over again reminding me that I can’t fit any of my old clothes. Clothes, mind you, that only fit me when I was anorexic because he forced his portion control on me,” She can feel herself getting angry and closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “I refused to pay attention to his voice when I heard it during my interview, which is something, I guess.”

“That is more than something, that is amazing,” Yada tilts her head and tries to get Kamaria’s attention. “So, I take it restful sleep is still evading you?”

Kamaria nods, not looking up from a spot on the carpet. It is the one spot she tends to use as a focal point when making eye contact is too difficult. She thinks it would be better to find a new spot because Yada is very used to seeing her gravitate toward that specific area where heavy foot traffic has affected the carpeting.

“Kamaria, I want you to look at me and listen well when I say this.” Yada clears her throat a little too loud.

Kamaria looks up at Yada, tears unshed in her eyes, teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“You are doing swimmingly right now, whether or not you have anyone in your life to share it with. But don’t you think confiding in another person who wasn’t getting paid to listen to you would, I don’t know, be fulfilling in its own right?” Yada asks, with a gentle smile.

Kamaria thinks about it for a second before answering. “I mean, my insurance pays so it’s not like-”

“You know exactly what I mean, so don’t even play with me.” Yada wipes the smile off her face and makes a note in her notebook again.

“Ok, ok! I know what you mean. Someone who I can talk to about the little stuff and the big stuff would be nice. A friend would be nice,” She suddenly is very interested in her hands.

“I think now would be a good time to discuss your homework for next week.” Yada gets up and sits at her desk, waking the screen on her computer, and brings up the schedule for next week.

“I figured my homework would be to have a good first week at work.” Kamaria slyly says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, nice try,” Yada nips that one right in the bud. “Your homework next week is to make a friend. I want you to connect with someone at work. I don’t care if it’s your manager or your coworker at the next desk over. Hell, I don’t even care if it’s the mailman. I want you to let someone in. Let them know something more than your name and your position. Give them something to go on, and make them want to get to know you. You don’t need to give them your phone number or your address. But, lending someone an ear on a rough day can go a long way. And something tells me being in a police station all day is gonna have your ears ringing by the end of Monday, so keep that in mind for the others around you.” Yada adjusts herself in her chair and tilts her head to let Kamaria know she is not trying to upset her.

“So my homework is to make a friend?” Kamaria asks, thinking she couldn’t have heard that right.

“Yes, my dear. Your homework is ‘Make a Friend’. And you can do this. You are very charismatic when you wanna be. If you don’t shut people down so quickly, I’m sure you’ll find people who want to get to know you. It’s not like you need to tell the first person you see that you are in therapy for PTSD and that you have trust issues,” Yada turns her attention back to her laptop, before quipping, “You could always save that tidbit for the second person.”

“Yada, you are a mess,” Kamaria giggles despite herself. “So, if I just let someone in a little, then I complete my homework?”

“I don’t like how you said ‘a little’, knowing just how little you tend to let people in. But, yes. Just give them something. Something they wouldn’t find out from your personnel file. How’s that for specificity?” Yada winks at Kamaria over her computer screen.

Kamaria takes a deep breath and exhales dramatically. “Well, that is about as specific as I suspected you would be if I’m honest. Kinda surprised you don’t have a worksheet for this.” She smiles at the thought.

“I can make one if you just give me a second.” Yada holds up a finger at that.

“No, Yada, that was a joke. Puh-lease don’t make a worksheet on me making friends as an adult. This is already halfway to depressing.” She is already overwhelmed and she hasn’t even stepped foot in the office as an employee yet.

“Ok. I won’t make one. Yet. Don’t test me, though. You know I’m a woman on a mission with a template and a little bit of time,” Yada raises an eyebrow when Kamaria tries to roll her eyes at that. “It would be in your inbox so fast, it would make your head spin.”

“From experience, I know that’s true.” Kamaria thinks of the worksheets currently unfinished in her email.

“So, we’ve got your homework set up. And I have your work schedule. So we will be meeting virtually during your lunch break on Friday and see how everything is going and then we will move on from there if that time continues to work for you, ok?” Yada saves the appointment time and comes around the desk to sit back down in her armchair.

“That sounds wonderful, gives me the whole week to give you the hot gossip floating around the office.” And hopefully, I will have a friend by the end of the week…

“Save the hot goss, just give me the deets on who intrigues you and feel free to keep those eyes and ears open for the singles too. No need to jump down their throats, just watch out for jealousy and pettiness.” Yada crosses her legs and turns a wide smile toward Kamaria. “Even though I wouldn’t recommend an office romance, a little office nooky wouldn’t be terrible for you, girl.”

“Wow. That is highly unprofessional but I will remember you want me to get laid.” Kamaria is once again glad she can hide her blush.

“Might be a little unprofessional, but still, you’d be surprised how good an orgasm could be to the soul when it’s someone else giving it to you. Arrangements aren’t exactly frowned upon when certain people have issues with maintaining relationships.”

“Arrangements? Are you trying to be polite about fuck buddies?”

“Call it what you want, just know you don’t have to be alone all the time. Sometimes, all you need is a soft shoulder to lean on and a strong back to realign you and yours.” Yada giggles at her own words and soon Kamaria joins in.

“I swear, this is not how I thought this therapy session would end, but I can’t hate. This is a good way to end it, I think.” Kamaria smiles genuinely.

“I agree. I will see you next week, don’t forget to pace yourself and have a lovely week.” Yada gets up to walk Kamaria to the door before shutting it behind her softly.

That woman doesn’t need to be that intense all the time, but if she wasn’t I’d be a lot quieter and she knows it, Kamaria thinks to herself as she walks down to the parking lot to get back in her car and head to her quiet apartment. She listens to the radio on the way home and thinks of the cute detective that ‘saved her life’. At least, that’s something to look forward to on Monday, seeing his smile again.

After getting some Thai takeout, she makes it home, leaving her shoes at the door. She eats while watching some old Kitchen Nightmares episode on tv. After dinner, she cleans her dishes and the kitchen and then the living room before everything is back in its place and the world seems orderly again.

She retires to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed. Her eyes focus on her favorite painting on the wall, a replica of Salvador Dali’s La Persistencia de la Memoria. Memory is truly persistent. Thoughts of her time with her ex flood her senses and her mind is reeling.

What if I have an episode while at work? What if everyone finds out I was a failed submissive and my Dom, the one that was supposed to love and protect me, hurt me worse than anyone ever has? What if…

This is the spiral she was hoping to avoid earlier in the day. It seems to have found her now, in the safety of her own home. She turns and grabs her favorite stuffed animal, Beary Allen, named after The Flash. She holds him in her hands while counting backward from 10. With each number, she lets go of a negative thought until she is back to 1.

1…her loneliness.

That loneliness drives her urge to make a friend. Yada wouldn’t like to think about what that loneliness could make her do to make a friend, possibly. But she can’t think about what more Yada might be upset about.

She needs to do what makes her comfortable and what will keep her safe. She places Beary back on the bed and opens the drawer of her nightstand to take her melatonin. Taking off her clothes and leaving just her shirt and panties, she lays back in bed. She’s been tense on and off all day long from the interview to therapy to…Walter.

A ruggedly handsome bear of a man. Strong arms ready to catch her like a breath she didn’t know she needed to take. She liked that feeling. That feeling of safety, however fleeting it was. That little flutter moved from the top of her head down to her toes before radiating through her most intimate of places. Usually, she would ignore this arousal until it was too much and she would abuse herself most lovingly. But at this moment, her urges demanded to be sated forthwith.

She moves her hand from the bed to her panties. Lightly rubbing her nether lips over the silken fabric, she pushes in finding her swollen button. Her light moan escaping startles her for a moment before giving in to relax again. Moving her panties to the side, she lets a finger gather her sweet nectar and circles her nub. Her thoughts move to Walter and how he would guide her through her relief.

He might tell her to use all her force on a clitoral orgasm. Or he might even assist with his fingers and tongue, taking her care personally. She imagines his thick digits inside her heat while two of hers slide inside, the other hand focusing on her tumescent clit. She finds that bundle of nerves inside her core and massages it all but gently, her eyes screwed shut and she imagines calloused fingers and a slippery, soft tongue laving on her.

It doesn’t take long before she feels the flames ignite within her, eyes open and aglow with surprise as Walter’s name falls from her mouth. She waits until the flutter of her inner walls ceases, then slowly removes her fingers. She moves to her bathroom to pee and wipe away the remnants of her needfulness. Washing her hands, she avoids looking in the mirror for fear of what her eyes may convey to her.

She crawls back into bed and cuddles Beary, turning off the lamp. Melatonin already working through her system, she turns to her side, smiling at how that was the first orgasm she has been able to achieve in weeks. Earlier attempts were thwarted by time, patience, or worse yet, her psyche not allowing her to feel worthy of peacefulness.

She can’t afford to think whether she would be worthy of Walter’s touch. That would be too much. He’s probably married, just my luck.

For now, she would just bask in the chance to see him again on Monday morning. That will be enough.

Walter spends most of the day in and out of the interrogation room and his office. His latest case is a pain in his ass, but at least the day is almost over. Closer to the weekend and closer to Monday morning to see Kamaria again.

Those few moments with her weren’t enough. He could tell her smile didn’t reach her eyes and he wanted to know why. He wanted to know more about her. Whatever she was willing to give to him, he would embrace.

He could still feel how soft her hands felt, he could still see the look in her eyes when he caught her before she fell. That tiny moment of vulnerability had his heart racing. She felt so small and so in need of his help that his protective instincts were moving him before he could even think to move.

At the end of the day, he leaves his office while grabbing his belongings. As he enters the doorway, Rachel walks up to stop him.

“Hey, I was hoping to catch you to see if you wanted to grab a drink?” A hopeful smile graces her face.

“I’m knackered. I will be lucky if I manage to shower before passing out.” He steps around her, offering a sincere smile.

She steps closer so only he can hear her. “Look, I know we didn’t exactly leave things in a positive light, but I think if we could just talk some things out, we could-”

Walter stops her dead in her tracks and puts a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to make himself appear smaller and less intimidating. “There is nothing to talk out, Rachel. I told you what I wanted. You told me you couldn’t give it to me. From this moment on, we are nothing but colleagues. Maybe one day we can be friends but not until you realize that being around you is hard for me right now. Only time will help that. I’m going to go home. You should too.”

She moves her shoulder and his hand falls. “And I told you, I do what I want when I want. You will never get to tell me what you think I should do again.” She practically snarls at him, all but running back down the hall.

It was true. Rachel was not submissive. If anything, she was just as dominant as he was. And, if he wanted that, that would be perfect. Rachel was nice, attractive, and intelligent. But, as it was, he wanted a true submissive. Someone who would look to him for guidance. Someone he could take care of and dote on.

His mind returns to Kamaria to rid his thoughts of Rachel and her sour attitude as he walks to his truck. His thoughts scream of her amber eyes looking up at him in surprise and her lovely hair cascading back over her shoulders. How he would love to sweep her hair behind her ear to make her smile at him once again.

As he turns the key into the ignition, the radio comes on playing ‘Beggin’ by Maneskin. He tries not to let his mind wander too much on the idea of Kamaria begging on her knees in front of himself, but even a strong man knows when his mind is winning out over everything else.

He makes it back to his home, barely pausing after putting the key in the lock and unlocking the door, closing it behind himself. He kicks off his boots by the door and peels off layer after layer on the way to the en suite shower. He turns on the water, allowing it to get to the right temperature while he stretches his back and feels a few knots untangle.

He steps into the spray and lets the water cascade over his hairy chest before turning around and tipping his head back to quickly wash his hair. He grabs his body wash and starts to lather all over but makes the mistake of lingering too long over his cock. It wakes to his touch and his thoughts go back to how small Kamaria felt in his arms.

As he fists himself, he thinks of how he describes her as small. She has wide hips, a deliciously juicy ass, and a hefty bosom. He wonders if she knows the effect she has on him. If she even gave him a second thought after she left him gobsmacked on the steps. He ponders if she always smells of fresh fruit or if that was just a scent she picked out for the day. Something peachy or perhaps apricot?

He imagines her supple lips wrapped around his cock and soon he’s breathing heavily and spilling over his fist as Kamaria’s name stumbles out his mouth. The water starts to run cold as he watches the evidence of his ministrations slide down the drain. He exits the shower and towels himself off before walking back to his bedroom to what will probably be another night of fitful sleep. At least the orgasm helped him relax a bit.

He pulls the covers down after pulling on a pair of clean boxer briefs and practically falls into bed as his mind settles on that sweet smile and the way her hips swayed just for him, at least that’s what he decides to believe.

Until that nagging little voice in his head tells him that she would never be interested in him or his desires. She probably has a boyfriend anyway, he thinks to himself while tossing and turning in bed all night long.

A/N: Thank you for reading and please comment with your thoughts on this chapter, and do be kind, it is my first time writing in over two years.

Chapter 2

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