sapph--ire - Tumblr blog

sapph--ire · 2 years

Text

Immediately sees the word bondage…

Ok so I’m a real glutton for punishment and I LOVE that he’s holding back. I just wanna know whyyyy? Please tell me we’re getting a passionate, secretive copy room kiss at some point? 🥵

Also this phrasing is brilliant, love the way you wrote this scene!

The light side of the night - part 2

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Summary: You meet Walter again on the first day at your new job. But this meeting is slightly different than what you expected.

Parts masterlist

Word count: ca. 3.1k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, angst, smut, bondage, fingering, body fluids. Mention of alcohol, a drunk secondary character, and aggressive behavior. Mention of homicide (no details). Walter being a jerk, pining, fluff.

A/N: Not beta’d, and English is not my native language, so you’d better be prepared for mistakes. Thank you so much for reading!! Feedback means the world to me, and I’d love to hear what you think! 💕

Dividers: by @firefly-graphics

The leather straps which fix your hands behind your back feel warm to the touch. Warm and soft, yet unyielding. Your ankles are tied together with the same kind of straps.

It feels like you’ve been kneeling on the cool tiles with your legs spread wide for hours. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop the muscles of your thighs from quivering. A bead of sweat slowly trickles down your temple. Along your neck, your collarbone, and down the valley of your bare breasts. The sound of heavy breathing fills the almost dark room, and it takes several seconds for you to realize it’s you who makes those noises. Then, your breathing is drowned out by the sound of heavy boots on the hard floor, coming closer with measured steps, stopping right behind you.

You wait, counting your breaths until you feel like you can’t stand the tension any longer. But it’s not fearful tension. It’s an enticing tension that makes your whole body pulsate in the same rhythm as your racing heart.

A hand grabs the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to tilt your head back with a gentle yet firm tug as a soft whimper escapes your parted lips.

“I can smell your wet pussy from here. You’ve been enjoying your punishment way too much, haven't you?”

Although you can’t see him, you’ve recognized his gravelly voice immediately. Walter slowly walks around you, then crouches down in front of you, wrapping his hand around your upper arm. His other hand slides into your panties which are soaking wet, the fabric sticking to your swollen flesh. His fingerpad glides over your slippery skin effortlessly as he circles your clit, making you roll your hips against his hand with a needy moan. You feel his beard tickling your earlobe as he brings his mouth to your ear and snarls, “I’m gonna fuck you now. I'm gonna fuck you until you beg. And you won’t know if you beg me to stop or beg me for more. I’m gonna fuck you until you scream my name.”

But the scream that ricochets off the walls is not yours. Nor is it his.

You sit up in your bed, startled, panting as your heart beats like crazy, flooding your veins with adrenaline. You look around in the semi-dark room, trying to figure out where you are. New apartment. Bedroom. Alone.

The images of your dream slowly fade like fog clearing in the morning sun. But the screams are still there, and the sound of something crashing against the wall makes you wince. The noises come from the apartment next door, caused by your neighbor, Mr. Miller. Or crazy Joe, as Mrs. Torres, your neighbor who lives on the same floor, called him.

When you heard those noises for the first time during your first night here, you immediately jumped out of bed. You quickly put a hoodie over your pajamas and grabbed your phone before you hurried out of your apartment to your neighbor’s door to see if someone needed help. You didn’t expect that your offer of help was neither necessary nor appreciated.

The elderly man angrily stared at you with red-rimmed glassy eyes as he stood swaying in the doorway, his clothes tattered and dirty.

“Help? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?! I don’t need help. Get the hell outta here and never come back,” he slurred, and the smell of alcohol on his breath almost made you feel nauseous. He slammed the door right in your face, and then you stood there, perplexedly staring at the closed door for a few moments before you went back to your apartment. You quickly realized you will hear those noises from his apartment several times a day; screaming, cursing, and objects thrown against the wall. After you've checked with Mrs. Torres that he lives alone, you probably won’t knock on his door again anytime soon.

The sunlight shining through the curtains and the alarm clock on your bedside table tell you it’s almost time to get up. You sink back into the pillows, pulling the duvet over your head with a sigh as you try to hold onto the images of your dream as long as possible.

Holy. Fuck. That’s all you’re able to think. Apparently, Walter has taken up your entire thoughts since you met him two days ago. And since you kissed him two days ago, you correct yourself. You close your eyes, replaying the kiss in your head for what must be the 1000th time. At this point, you’re pretty sure you could never forget what it felt like - even if you tried. The sensation of his soft lips on yours and his warm hand caressing your face seems to be etched in your mind. It was a careful and tender kiss at first, slowly growing more intense, and it somehow shook you to the core.

After such an encounter, you should probably dream about first dates, holding hands, and more of those kisses. Your subconsciousness, on the other hand, obviously chose violence today, gracing you with this scenario, and making you start the first day at your new job with the need for a cold shower. How are you even supposed to be able to look him in the eye when you see him in the office? The mere thought that you will see him in a few hours immediately sends your heart racing.

After you got up, your thoughts won’t stop jumping back and forth between Walter and your job. During your shower. While you get dressed. While you try to eat breakfast and quickly give up because your stomach rumbles nervously. During the bus ride downtown. Even when you stand in front of the police department.

The sun makes the polished silver inscription on the elongated brick building shine brightly while mirrored windows block curious looks from outside. You take a deep breath to collect yourself, filling your lungs with cool morning air before you finally join the stream of people entering the building through the large revolving doors.

Your first stop is the human resources department. A polite smile is plastered to your face as you try to keep up with the information rattled off by the gray-haired HR lady. Then, of course, there's a huge pile of paperwork to fill out. After you've managed that as well, she escorts you to the homicide department.

The smell of coffee wafts through the meeting room where your colleagues - detectives and support personnel - sit together. You smile as you look at one after another while your boss, Commissioner Harper, introduces you to the team. Both Mike and Jen grin widely, whereas everyone else meets your gaze with a friendly nod. Everyone besides the one person you save for last. Walter only meets your gaze for a split second, sending you a half-smile which is more a twitch of his mouth than a real smile. O-kay? This is… weird. But you don't have time to wonder about his behavior as your boss ends the meeting.

"All right, that'll be all for today. Let's go to work! Mike, you help Y/N get settled, okay? Y/N, I have another meeting now, but I'd like to talk to you later. Walter, a word, please." He storms out of the meeting room with Walter in tow, who still doesn’t look at you. Yup, definitely weird. You didn't expect exuberant joy, but at least a smile? Or a seemingly random little touch? And maybe, just maybe, you imagined he would kiss you in the copy room.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Jen greets you excitedly. “I see you survived filling out all that paperwork.”

“Just about survived it,” you grin at her while Mike gives you a hug.

“So, how are you feeling?” he asks you.

“How one feels on the first day of work,” you shrug. “Everything’s a bit overwhelming. And I’m pretty nervous,” you admit. And so damn confused, you add in your thoughts.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Jen reassures you.

“Come on, braveheart. I’ll show you everything. Let’s start with the most important item here,” Mike grins as he guides you to the coffee machine.

The office looks pretty much like an open-plan office in other companies, except for the pinboards with photos of crime scenes and pieces of evidence next to the detectives’ desks.

The desks of Mike, you, and André, the third transcriptionist, are located in cubicles at the back of the large room, far away from the windows.

"Welcome to the cubes - a place where the sun never shines," Mike jokes, and unfortunately, he doesn't exaggerate.

You take a quick glance at your desk and see it’s already equipped with a notebook, monitor, keyboard, mouse, and headset. Mike begins to explain the usual procedures here, and you're relieved to note that you're at least already familiar with the software.

"And here's our to-do list. It's sorted by priority and due date, so you can just start at the top. And that’s all, actually, and I guess you’re good to go. I’ll leave you alone now but feel free to let me know if you need help, okay?”

After he has returned to his desk, you sip your coffee while you get everything ready. Meanwhile, you look out for Walter as inconspicuously as possible, but he's nowhere to be seen. Why, dear God, does the first man you kissed in a long time turn out to be your colleague? How should you be able to focus on working when he’s around? Also, when he’s not around. Especially when he acts as mysteriously as today. You basically have to force yourself to concentrate as you start working on the first transcription.

After writing a few pages, your stomach begins to growl, signaling in no uncertain terms that it's time for lunch. Luckily, Mike and André look around the corner shortly after.

“Hey newbie, we’re going out for lunch since it’s pretty calm today. Wanna join us?”

“Sure! I’ll be with you in a minute,” you answer, finishing the sentence before you grab your handbag and jacket. When Jen sees you’re ready to leave, she calls you over.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but the Commissioner wants to see you after his phone call. He'll be ready in a few minutes. I'll let you know when you can go in."

"Oh, okay, Jen. Thanks for letting me know."

"I'll get you a sandwich," Mike promises. “Still team ham and cheese?”

“Team ham and cheese forever,” you confirm, grinning. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

You sigh as you return to your cube, pondering how to bridge the waiting time. You haven’t come to a conclusion yet when a shadow falls on your desk. You turn around and see Walter standing behind you.

“Hi,” you greet him, surprised but delighted, unable to stifle that glimpse of hope bubbling up inside you.

“Hi,” he answers, visibly tense.

For a moment, you just look at each other, and you can’t help but try to analyze his body language. He looks definitely uncomfortable, standing bolt upright with his arms crossed in front of him, biting the inside of his cheeks. His gaze roams the environment, and he still avoids meeting your eyes. Whatever he has to say, it probably won’t be nice. And so, you brace yourself for what’s to come.

“How’s your knee?” he finally asks.

“Better. As I said, I’ll live,” you reply as casually as possible.

“Again, I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes curtly. “And I’m also sorry about what happened in the bathroom.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“I didn’t know we’ll be colleagues, and I don’t want to get things mixed up. It shouldn’t have happened, and it won’t happen again. Okay?”

You have dozens of arguments on the tip of your tongue, but his stern gaze and determined tone of voice leave no room for replies that start with the word ‘but’. Message clearly received, you think to yourself. And you will certainly not beg.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly - the only acceptable answer coming to your mind.

“Good. Um… I wish you a good start, Y/N. Take care.” He gives you a brief nod before he turns on his heels. And gone he is.

You sit in your chair, dumbfounded, staring at the spot where he just stood while your thoughts begin to spin, trying to process what just happened.

He just gave you the fuckin’ brush-off and this is a worst-case scenario come true. Because what could be worse than getting turned down? Getting turned down by someone you’ll see almost every day.

But why did he do that? It’s only been two days since he kissed you, and there's no way he didn't like it. To be exact, you’re pretty sure he liked it a lot. Just like you.

And the way he smiled at you when he bandaged your knee? That was a real smile. Unlike that half-smile, he gave you today.

And he didn’t say he wasn’t interested. He said it’s because you work together. Would it be different if you weren’t colleagues? But the other way round: If he really was interested, why should working together be a problem?

Jesus Christ, Y/N, you finally scold yourself. Stop overthinking and face it: He doesn’t want you!

You swallow hard as disappointment forms a lump in your throat. Although you’ve just met him, your stupid heart had somehow hoped that the two of you could become… something. Something more than that one-time kiss. The kiss that still sends your heart racing every time you think about it.

You put your head on the desk, exhausted, but only seconds later, a heartwarming laugh makes you quickly lift your head again.

“You’re only halfway through your first day and I already find you like this?” Jen grins at you. Her smile is disarming, and you can’t help but smile back at her.

“Looks like it,” you nod a little sheepishly.

“And does that happen to be related to a certain Detective Marshall?”

“Shush!” you hiss in shock since she didn’t exactly speak softly.

“There’s no one here besides us,” she waves it off. “But I take your reaction as a yes. And does that, in turn, happen to be related to what happened in the bathroom on Saturday?”

“You saw that…?” You quickly interrupt yourself but it’s already too late. Your answer was basically a confession. Shit.

“I didn’t see anything specific. I just thought there was something between you. A spark, or whatever you want to call it.”

Your cheeks feel like they're on fire as you revise your thoughts from earlier: It would be even worse than getting turned down by someone you see every day when everyone knew about it.

You look at Jen, who patiently waits for an answer, narrowing your eyes as you ponder how much you can reveal. She has been teasing you, but in a good-natured, almost motherly way, and she doesn't seem to be a gossip girl. At least that's what you hope when you decide to show your colors, driven by a sudden urge to talk to someone.

“That’s what I thought, too,” you admit and you can hear resignation in your voice. “But apparently, I’m the only one. Aside from you, obviously.”

“Maybe. But maybe I also saw it took him multiple attempts to go to you earlier, and he looked like he wanted to punch someone when he came back,” she smirks.

“Well, giving someone the brush-off isn’t exactly easy," you reason, determined to immediately smother this glimmer of hope because the last thing you need is another disappointment.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” she says with a knowing smile.

“Jen, please! Have mercy on me,“ you whine, only half-jokingly.

"Mercy granted! At least for the moment." She smiles mischievously. "We have to go, anyway. The Commissioner wants to see you now."

As you walk to Harper's office she genuinely says "Just so you know, I can keep a secret. And if you ever feel like talking, I'm here, okay?" And somehow, you can tell she means it.

"Thank you, Jen. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, sweetheart. Now get in there and don't let him intimidate you."

After the conversation with your boss, you make your way back to your desk.

“Hey!” Mike waves you over. “Did Harper give you ‘the speech’?” he asks you in a hushed voice, dramatically emphasizing the latter words.

“If you’re talking about the ‘It’s our job to track those criminals down and put them behind bars. And flawless transcripts, done asap, are your contribution' speech, then yes, he gave me the speech.”

“What he actually wanted to say is we’ve been understaffed for ages, we have thousands of transcripts to catch up on and you’ll have to work overtime,” he translates, grinning.

“At least you warned me,” you laugh.

“But you have to admit he’s good at extrinsic motivation, isn’t he?”

“He most definitely is,” you thoughtfully reply before you move along. Doing transcriptions for homicide investigations feels actually different than doing other types of law enforcement transcriptions.

‘The speech’ didn’t miss its intended effect, and you actually stay late to finish the transcript you’ve been working on. The newbie delivered, you think to yourself as you upload the file and cross the task off your to-do list.

When you leave the office, a number of colleagues still sit at their desks and so does Walter. He seems so lost in thought that you don't even dare to say goodbye.

You put your earbuds on while you wait for the elevator, still searching your music app for the perfect song to calm you down when you enter the empty elevator car. A few moments later, you lift your gaze, wondering why the doors didn’t close, just to realize you forgot to press the button. You shake your head, chuckling at yourself as you press the button for the first floor. While you wait for the doors to close you look through the glass door of the office. Walter still sits at his desk, but now his head isn’t bent in concentration anymore. Instead, his fingers rest in front of the keyboard like he had forgotten what he was doing, and his attention is entirely on you. The smile that lingers on his lips tells you he had watched you in that moment of absent-mindedness. It’s not a scornful smile. It’s a genuine smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and offers a glimpse at the dimples beneath his beard. And it’s so beautiful it takes your breath away.

You feel your lips curl into the same kind of soft smile, without being able to do anything about it. It's only when the elevator doors have closed between you that you remember how to breathe.

Read part 3 here

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#fic rec #walter marshall #henry cavill

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sapph--ire · 2 years

Text

Loving this already, what a predicament?! What’s gonna happen at work?! hehee. Also:

This bit got me, I just wanna scrunkle his hair in my hands uhhhh!

The light side of the night - part 1

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Summary: You just moved to a new city to start a new job. At a party, you meet Detective Walter Marshall without knowing he's your future colleague.

Parts masterlist

Word count: ca. 3.1k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, fluff, hinted oral sex if you squint, mentions of alcohol, mentions of homicide (no details). The following parts will require more warnings. Just getting started! 😉

A/N: This story is about a new beginning and how you can get in your own way sometimes. It's also a story about arriving and two people finding each other.

As far as I can tell right now, it will be an angsty-smutty-fluffy ride and I'd be thrilled if you joined me! 🥰

Not beta’d, and English is not my native language, so you’d better be prepared for mistakes. Thank you so much for reading!! 💕 Feedback means the world to me, and I’d love to hear what you think!

Dividers: by @firefly-graphics

A content sigh leaves your lips when you put four books on the shelf. Almost there! Your gaze roams the living room as you disassemble the last moving box. Finally, countless boxes are unpacked, your stuff neatly stowed away in the closets and shelves of your new apartment, except for two boxes with winter clothes you won’t need for the next months.

You arrived here three days ago to start over. Again. One might assume you’re used to new beginnings because moving from one city to another was a part of your childhood since... Since that day.

For each beginning bears a special magic that nurtures living and bestows protection. You can still hear your mother’s voice, reciting Hermann Hesse every time you had to move again. There’s some truth in those words, for sure. But in your case, every beginning also meant leaving beloved people behind and meeting new neighbors, colleagues, and other people you may stumble across. And you’ll probably never get used to either. You’re not terribly shy around new people, you never were, but making friends as an adult seems much harder than making friends as a kid. Not to speak about maintaining friendships across thousands of miles and different timezones.

You’re all the more thankful you’re not completely alone here. A smile spreads across your face as you look at one of the numerous picture frames on the wall. One photo shows Mike and you at your college graduation ceremony, arm in arm, grinning proudly. The next picture was taken only seconds after the first one; your faces contorted in goofy grimaces. You met him on the first orientation day, and you became friends almost right away. After completing your paralegal studies, both of you became law enforcement transcriptionists. You spent the next decade working for different transcription companies as you moved from one place to another with your family. Mike moved to this city right after college to start working for the homicide division of the local police department, and he has been here ever since.

When you talked to him on the phone three months ago, you mentioned you desperately needed a change. A change from the city you lived in back then. A change from living with your family. Of course, you love your mother and your siblings to death, and you'll gladly support them anytime, but living with them seemed to suffocate you more and more. Long story short, Mike had put in a good word for you with his boss, and you will be colleagues in two days. You’re hired to transcribe interrogations and witness statements, mostly recordings, sometimes live.

The thought about Monday makes your stomach feel like it’s in a knot. It’s not that you’re excessively worried about your skills. You know, you're both qualified and experienced and you have dealt with several homicide cases before. Yet, this will be the first job where every case will be a homicide. Every case will have a victim and a murderer who are someone's child, maybe someone's parent, sibling, friend, spouse or lover. You will listen to those people telling their version about the end of the victim’s life, and you will write their stories down. You already know some of these cases will haunt you and keep you awake at night.

But one step after another. You shake your head, smiling when you realize this is also something your mother says quite a lot. And more often than you'd like, she's right.

You look at your phone, muttering a curse when you see how late it is. Mike and his fiancée Sarah invited you to their backyard bbq tonight to relax a bit and get you among people. You still have 30 minutes until your uber will arrive, enough time for a quick shower. You make your way to the small bathroom to wash away the sweat and dirt of unpacking boxes in an overheated apartment for the whole day. And it's only spring. Summer will probably be a nightmare here, like living in a sauna. You console yourself with the thought of air-conditioned offices because this is where you'll spend most of your day.

After your shower, you stand in front of your closet, contemplating what to wear. Spontaneously, you pull out a cute summer dress - because why the hell not - and a warm cardigan to wear later. A little makeup, pretty sandals, your favorite earrings, and you’re ready to go. You grab your handbag and a bottle of wine before you sprint down the stairs from the 5th floor since the elevator seems to be broken again, making it to your uber just in time.

“You’re lucky,” the driver mutters, studying you in the rearview mirror. “Usually, I don’t wait that long here. This area is a real shithole.”

“I know,” you sigh. But the rent is cheap, you add in your thoughts. “Thanks for waiting anyway.”

The rest of the ride to your friends’ house is quiet as you look out the window, watching skyscrapers and apartment blocks fly by, making room for green spaces and single-family houses.

Mike’s and Sarah’s house looks like most people’s dream: located in the suburbs, country house style both on the outside and the inside, and a huge backyard with a pool.

You make your way to the backyard, where Mike greets you with a big hug, making you immediately feel welcome. As soon as he lets go of you, Sarah pulls you into her arms.

“Y/N, you made it," she squeals. "You look so lovely in that dress! Let’s sit down, you must be exhausted from unpacking boxes."

You smile as you let her usher you to a group of chairs, chattering non-stop.

"And that wine looks so good, thank you so much! Mike, honey, could you bring us a corkscrew and two glasses, please?"

"Yes, ma'am," he grins, bending down to press a sweet kiss on her lips and sending you a wink before he makes his way to the house.

For as long as you’ve known him, Mike has always been a warm-hearted guy who took all sorts of strays under his wing. You haven’t known Sarah for long, but she seems to be just the same kind of person. And there's no denying that you - new in town, painfully single, without family or other friends here - are their latest stray.

There could be worse, you think to yourself as your gaze wanders across the backyard. Tables and chairs are arranged in several groups, beautifully decorated with lanterns and pots with fresh herbs, more lanterns hanging in two walnut trees - a scenery predestined to be photographed for one of those fancy home and garden magazines. Of course, the grill is huge, and there’s enough food to feed an entire army. And they have invited a whole crowd of people indeed - a mixture of families, couples, and singles; mostly friends, neighbors, and a few colleagues as you learn during the evening. You spend most of the time getting to know everyone, shaking hands and doing Smalltalk, occasionally stuffing your face with the best chicken breast and cobb salad you’ve had in a long time. When it got dark, and a bit chilly, Mike lits a bonfire, and everyone gathers around the fire pit to roast some s’mores and warm up by the fire.

At some point, you excuse yourself for a bathroom break. You try to memorize the woman you sat next to by the bonfire as you make your way to the house: Her name is Jen, she’s in her 60s, and she and her husband live in the same street as Mike and Sarah. She has been very friendly and easy to talk to, and the best is, she’s the assistant of your future boss, so you’ll see her again at work.

On your way back out, you hold on to the banister as you carefully walk down the steps of the back porch. In the backyard, you stop for a moment to let your eyes adjust to the darkness.

You tilt your head back to look at the starry sky, and at this very moment, someone comes around the corner of the hedge with quick steps, crashing right against you. The collision pushes the air out of your lungs, making you huff in shock as you fall forward. You extend your hands, trying to break your fall, but it’s too late. Pebbles crunch as you land hard on your knee, piercing and scratching your skin.

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn't see you,” a hoarse voice gasps out.

A broad figure crouches down beside you, and you recognize him immediately. Tall, dark unruly curls, scruffy beard, rugged yet handsome appearance. He arrived a bit later than you, alone. Another stray, you thought immediately. His handshake was pleasantly firm as you introduced yourself to him, exchanging only a few words. Also later, when everyone sat around the bonfire, he didn’t say much. Maybe he’s a quiet person in general, but you also noticed how tired he looked, dark circles under his eyes, even visible in the soft light of the fire. Your gazes met a couple of times across the flames, making the corners of your mouths turn up into small smiles. Walter. That’s his name.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you mumble, a bit embarrassed, although he’s the one who knocked you down. Yet you feel your cheeks grow hot, and you're thankful for the darkness that surrounds you. He carefully helps you stand up, one hand on your elbow, the other one on your hip, loosening his grip as soon as you're back on your feet.

A sharp pain shoots to your knee when you tentatively shift your weight on your leg, making you hiss.

"I don't think you’re okay,” he states, grabbing your elbow to support you again. “Are you hurt?"

“It’s just my knee,” you murmur through gritted teeth.

“Let’s go inside, so I can have a look at it in the light.”

“It’s okay. I think I’ll live,” you try to appease him.

“Just to make sure you don’t bleed to death here. Please?” His face is cast in the shadow, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

Running out of arguments, you let him guide you to the house. Now and then, he puts his hand on the small of your back, actually so slightly it’s barely noticeable. Yet something about him draws you in, making you overly aware of his every move, letting your skin tingle at every little touch.

He opens the door for you, gesturing for you to enter first. A gentleman, you think to yourself, sending him a surprised smile as you walk past him.

In the bathroom, he helps you sit down on the edge of the bathtub. Your eyes follow him as he casually opens doors and drawers, gathering several things to treat your wound.

He seems to take up the whole room, reminding you of a rugby player with his broad back and shoulders, and tree trunk legs. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up to his elbows, granting you a look at his thick forearms. And you can’t help but look at his equally thick and tight ass when he bends down to get a towel from a closet.

Before you know it, he has already straightened up and turned around, catching you subconsciously biting your bottom lip as you check him out. A smirk spreads across his face while a flush of blood rushes to your cheeks, making you lower your gaze in shame.

He turns towards the sink to wash his hands, but this time you keep your eyes from wandering as you focus on breathing evenly, attempting to drive away the heat in your cheeks.

“Damn,” he murmurs as he crouches down in front of you, taking a closer look at your knee. That’s when you remember why you sit here. You turn your gaze to your knee as well, realizing you scraped it pretty badly, dirt and gravel sticking to the wound, a trail from dried blood running along your shin. The view brings back the stinging pain you had somehow forgotten about, making you wrinkle your nose.

“I need to clean the wound first. Can you turn around so I can rinse it?” he asks, wrinkling his nose likewise as if he too felt the pain.

After a bit of shuffling, you sit astride the edge of the bathtub, one foot on the floor, the other one supported on the opposite edge.

Walter grabs the shower head and starts to rinse your wound. Normally, the cold water would have given you goosebumps, but now it feels like a futile attempt to cool down your overheated body. Of course, the fact that he's so fucking close isn’t exactly helpful. You feel the heat radiating off his body as his arm and shoulders repeatedly press against you, and his scent invades your senses - a hint of smoke from the bonfire, mixed with a whiff of his cologne and something irresistible. Him.

When the wound is clean, he wets a washcloth to gently wash dried blood and dirt off your leg. Then, he pats your knee dry before carefully applying a thin layer of antibiotic cream.

His head is bent over your knee, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Meanwhile, you admire the tangle of unruly curls on his head, wondering what his hair would feel like if you buried your hand in it as he buried his head between your legs… For fucks sake, Y/N, keep it together, you scold yourself and your raging hormones.

“Is that better?” You almost jump when you hear his voice.

“Yeah, it almost doesn’t hurt anymore. You do that often, huh?” you manage to reply.

“Something like that,” he smiles as he bandages your knee, his eyes repeatedly flicking between your knee and your face. And what a pair of eyes he has! Blue like the sea on a sunny day with a patch of brown in his left eye, as you notice now.

“There we go,” he murmurs as he secures the end of the bandage.

“Well, thanks for doctoring me,” you answer, tentatively bending and straightening your leg.

“It’s the least I could do after knocking you down, right?”

For a moment, you just smile at each other. You expect him to stand up, but he stays crouched down in front of you, still so damn close. Your smiles slowly fade as you lock eyes with each other, and the air suddenly feels thick to breathe. His gaze wanders to your lips, and then, he slowly leans closer. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears as his lips brush yours, planting a gentle kiss on your mouth. He pulls back just a tiny bit, his hot breath fanning your face as he looks at you inquiringly, carefully watching your reaction. You almost startle yourself when you lean forward, longingly pressing your lips on his. After a few seconds, a part of your brain reminds you that you don't know him at all, that you probably shouldn’t kiss a stranger, and the thought makes you pull back slightly. Again, you stare at each other, mesmerized, your faces only inches apart as none of you makes a move to withdraw further. Then, you lean in at the same time and that's when your mind goes blank. You let your eyes flutter shut as your mouths melt into each other, unable to stop the sigh falling from your lips when he touches your neck, running his thumb along your jaw. You have no idea for how long you’ve been sitting here on the edge of the bathtub, kissing this beautiful stranger, losing yourself in the sensation of his soft lips and his warm hands on your skin.

The sudden sound of steps in the hallway makes you startle apart. Walter hastily stands up while your eyes remain glued to each other, blinking as if you just woke up. Seconds later, Jen appears in the doorway.

“Walter? Ah, here you are! And Y/N, too! Walter, I thought you were already gone, but then I saw your car. Any chance you could give me a lift? My feet hurt like hell. Those damn shoes… Oh boy, what happened here?” she asks, a bit concerned, gesturing at the bandages and towels which are scattered on the floor.

“I was on my way out, but Y/N needed some first aid,” he answers, seemingly nonchalantly skipping the reason why you needed first aid after all.

“Aw, my poor girl! What happened?”

“I stumbled and fell. Clumsy me,” you shrug, your mouth curving into a smile as you send him an amused look, watching in delight as his ears turn red. Cute!

“Of course, I can give you a lift,” Walter hastens to answer Jen without giving her time to answer you, earning another amused look from both of you.

“Thank you so much, dear!” Jen chirps without pressing him further. “Let’s go then. I need to get my beauty sleep before the weekend is over.”

Walter nods, but instead of leaving, he starts to gather bandages and other first-aid utils from the floor.

“It’s okay. I can take care of that,” you offer.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Jen asks.

“Of course," you reassure them, smiling. "It’s fine, really."

“Leave the wound covered for 24 hours and change the bandage daily, okay?” Walter instructs you, all businesslike.

“Okay. Bye Walter. And thanks again."

"Bye, Y/N." He replies as he walks to the door, his expression what can only be described as a poker face. Just before he leaves the room, you see a tiny, conspiratorial smile tugging at his lips and it's enough to give you butterflies in your stomach.

Before you know it, Jen pulls you into a big hug. “Bye, sweetheart! And take care, okay? I’m really looking forward to seeing you on Monday."

“Thank you, Jen. I’m really looking forward to working with you,” you reply genuinely, hugging her back. From the corner of your eye, you see Walter stopping abruptly in the hallway.

“Working with you?” you hear him ask her, irritated, as they walk towards the front door.

“Jesus Christ,” you hear Jen sigh, feigning desperation. “Have you been living under a rock lately, Detective? Y/N is the new transcriptionist who starts on Monday.”

Detective... Wait, what?

You can’t hear his answer, but you see him looking over his shoulder, briefly meeting your gaze with the same level of confusion that you feel, before he follows Jen outside.

When the door closes behind them, you take a deep breath.

You slowly shake your head as you wash your hands, scrubbing traces of dirt and blood off your fingers.

You didn't talk about your jobs earlier, but what you just heard can only mean one thing: You haven't met one, but two future colleagues tonight. And you kissed him. And damn, what a kiss it was!

You press your cool hands against your hot cheeks as you look at your reflection in the mirror, watching an incredulous smile creeping across your face.

And you will see him again. On Monday.

Maybe… Maybe this beginning really bears a special magic.

Read part 2 here

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#fic rec #walter marshall

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