#Emily Inquires | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mydearzero · 8 months

Note

i need jealous spencer SO BAD if he sees a guy flirting with you it would drive him crazy, no thinking, he just has to have you and everyone needs to know that you're his and only his, smut pls with praise (“good girl” 🥰) THANK U SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for the request and for reading!! I got inspired to write this as a continuation of Prey, so that's what it'll be! I hope you enjoy ♡

Predator | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Prey, but can be read as a standalone.

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You apparently have a knack for picking up FBI agents. But if prison has taught Spencer one thing, it's that sharing is not his forté.

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, SMUT, professor/student relationship, age gap, dom/sub, dom!Spencer, sub!reader, public sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy, possessiveness, praise kink, a lil bit of degradation, exhibitionism. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

You didn't know what you'd expected after finally getting what you wanted. Sure, you weren't going to date your professor. Yet, you had expected Reid to at least acknowledge what had happened between the two of you. Maybe tell you to keep it to yourself, bribe you to not tell a soul.

Nothing. Not a peep.

It didn't help he was only on campus sporadically. You tended to forget teaching was only his temporary side gig. He had to go back to catching bad guys. So much for your eye candy.

You couldn't let yourself dwell on Dr. Spencer Reid. It was a one-time thing, and he probably regretted it. He'd let his desires get the best of him.

You sighed as you applied some chapstick, checking your hair in the mirror before turning to put on your coat. It was just drinks with friends, but you were in no mood to be social. You hadn't told them about your stint with Spencer and weren't planning on telling them anytime soon. They just knew you were hung up on someone and would likely try to set you up to help you get over it.

It wasn't fair you were even hung up about it. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just so intriguing. It was hard to see him go. You sighed and locked the door behind you, greeting your friends and getting in the car towards O'Keeffe's.

Loud music, conversation and laughter met your ears as you entered the bar. You threw a quick glance around the crowded room, spotting an open spot at the bar. You got the attention of your friends, pointing to the free space.

Spencer chuckled at one of Penelope's jokes, but his smile quickly dropped as he saw you walk into the team's favourite bar. You obviously hadn't spotted him, engrossed in a conversation with a girl he'd previously seen in his class. He sighed, sipping his drink and trying to pull his attention away from you.

"What is it, Spence?" JJ inquired. He shook his head in dismissal.

"It's nothing, just a couple of students from my class," Spencer explained, letting his eyes wander over your body just this once.

"That doesn't look like nothing, boy wonder," Emily raised an eyebrow, following his gaze.

"Just some unfinished business, is all. Nothing interesting."

Nothing interesting. Spencer scoffed to himself. Even he didn't believe it. He was glad his break from the BAU was over, not having to force himself to ignore your inquiries any longer. He'd been reckless, and now he'd have to live with the consequences. The consequences haunted his mind every time he closed his eyes.

Please, Spencer. Please.

Your desperate words echoed around his head. He should've never given in.

"Do tell more, my inconspicuous sage," Penelope leaned her head on her crossed fingers, a big grin on her face.

"There's nothing to tell, Garcia. They're my students," Spencer shrugged. He had a superb poker face, but nothing could be hidden from his team.

JJ narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure it out. Emily was way ahead of her, letting out a pleasantly surprised scoff. "You animal! You slept with one of them!"

"Will you keep it down?!" Spencer whisper-yelled. Realizing he hadn't denied it, he looked at the glass in his hands, refusing to meet the girls' eyes.

"I see you, Casanova. Wouldn't have pegged you the type," Penelope laughed. Spencer shook his head.

"Because I'm not! It was a mistake," it was more to convince himself than the others.

"So, which one is it?" JJ questioned, wanting to discuss his type with the girls.

Spencer refused to look in the direction of the bar, not wanting to give anything away. "Can we please just change the subject?"

"No can do, Spence. Now, is it the tall, leggy blonde? Oh! Is it the one talking to the newbie?" That caught Spencer's attention.

"What?" His head snapped up, turning to where you were leaning against the bar, Luke Alvez whispering in your ear. Spencer's grip on his glass tightened as he observed your pleasant smile. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out what Alvez possibly could've said to paint that smile on your face. The smile he'd wrongly presumed was reserved for him.

"Oh, that's the one, alright." Emily laughed. Spencer snapped out of his jealous tunnel vision, trying to appear unaffected by the situation. Damn you, Alvez. He was supposed to go and get drinks, not flirt with girls barely over the legal drinking age. He crossed his arms and tried to tune in on the girls' conversation.

"Look at him, definitely jealous. Crossed arms? Refusing to look in their direction? Chewing the inside of his mouth? Classic signs of jealousy." JJ spoke, gesturing to Spencer's body. He really regretted agreeing to go out.

He watched you throw back the last of your drink, laughing at a story Luke told.

"Do you have any pictures?" You asked. Luke had been telling you all about his Belgian Shepherd, Roxy. You couldn't even remember how the topic came up in the last ten minutes you'd been speaking with him.

Luke was classically handsome. Toned, too. You admired his features, but condemned yourself for comparing them to a certain professor's. You'd approached him as he waited for his drinks, asking if you'd previously met. He looked familiar. You just couldn't put your finger on why. Surely you would've remembered meeting someone as handsome as him.

The mystery man had told you that, no, you hadn't met, but introduced himself as Luke Alvez.

Luke showed you a few pictures of his adorable dog before continuing the conversation. "So, what do you do?"

"I'm a full-time student, currently. You?" You got comfy leaning against the bar, enjoying his company.

"I actually work for the FBI," Luke informed you. You nearly choked on your drink, instantly realizing why he'd been familiar. You'd done your research.

"You wouldn't happen to be a part of the BAU?" You winced.

"Yes, actually! How'd you kn-"

Luke was cut off by a harsh grip on your upper arm. Your head turned, only to find the hand to be attached to the source of your dread.

"Spencer? What are you doing here?" You tried to be casual, but you were panicking. Was he here with Luke? Or was it just a coincidence?

"I could ask you the same thing," Spencer dejected.

"I was actually talking to my new friend Luke here," you tugged your arm out of Spencer's grip, a challenging expression on your face. Luke looked uncomfortable, clearly already having figured out how you'd learned he was a part of the BAU.

"Why do you have to be so fucking diff- No, you know what? I'm not doing this. Let's go," Spencer motioned towards the door of the bar. You furrowed your brows in confusion. First, he wanted nothing to do with you, and now he expected you to just leave with him without question?

"What? No, I'm not leaving. I'm here with friends. Besides, why would I leave with you, Professor?" You questioned. Luke's expression changed to one of surprise. That definitely wouldn't have been his first guess, seeing as you'd called him 'Spencer.'

"Is that Professor Reid? Oh my god, hi!" One of your friends finally noticed what was going down. Spencer gave her a tight-lipped smile and half-hearted raise of his hand. Their attention quickly returned to their previous conversation.

Spencer looked agitated, taking a deep breath to recollect his bearings. "Please, just come with me," he pleaded quietly. You crossed your arms and huffed.

"You can't go making demands, Spencer! Not when you've been ignoring me!" You tried to keep your volume down, trying to not give away what had obviously happened.

Luke took that as his queue to leave, but not before earning a nasty look from Spencer. He raised his hands in defence. When Luke returned to the table, he was met with excited whispers from the girls.

"I've never seen him like this," JJ exclaimed. They were all observing as you were arguing with Spencer.

"I take it you know what's going on there?" Luke sat down, putting his beer next to Spencer's unfinished glass.

"Oh, newbie. It's a true scandal. Our resident genius was very jealous of your new lady friend," Penelope clapped her hands together in excitement.

"But she's his student, right?"

"Exactly why it's such a scandal!"

The team observed your body language as well as Spencer's. They noticed your defensive stance, a change from the relaxed one you'd had when talking to Luke. Spencer, too, exuded a different energy. He was clearly in charge of the conversation, domineering stance looking like his second nature. It was clear there was a side to him they hadn't seen, intentionally hidden away.

"Oh Ehm Gee, look!" Penelope clamoured.

Spencer had had enough, dragging you towards the bathroom instead of the door like he'd initially intended. He'd tried to hold back, but you made it so damn difficult.

"Where are we going? Let me go," you struggled in his grip, nearly tripping over your feet as he dragged you to the bathroom.

"You clearly need to be taught a lesson in respect," Spencer spat, pushing you into the women's bathroom and closing the door.

"Stop it, Spencer. You're acting childish," you scoffed, trying to push past him out the door.

"I'm being childish? What was that back there, then? Flirting with my coworker in front of me? That's a new low," Spencer mocked. His body language was hostile and distant. He was feeling worse about it than he was letting on. He clearly had unresolved feelings about your situation, just like you did.

"I didn't even know he was your coworker! Or that you were here! And you've ignored me every time I've tried to talk to you! You don't get to stake some sort of claim over me!" You defended. Did he really expect you to just wait around for him?

"I'm not staking a claim! I just assumed we had an understanding!" Spencer's voice was rising with every sentence he spoke. The small bathroom seemed to only get smaller as he towered over you.

"What understanding, Spencer? We only fucked once," you sneered, rolling your eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Spencer's tone shifted, simmering anger underlined with something you couldn't place. You searched his face for emotion but only found his tightened jaw and eyebrows raised in question.

"So what if I did?" You challenged, crossing your arms. He wasn't backing down, staring into your eyes. You felt your resolve crumble little by little.

"Bend over," Spencer demanded, motioning to the sink with his head.

"I'm not bending over some gross bar sink! Especially not for you," you tried pushing past him again, to no avail. His hands found your upper arms, turning you around and pushing you over the sink.

"You'll listen to me if you know what's good for you," Spencer whispered in your ear. The dampened bass thrumming through the closed bathroom door had nothing on your heartbeat.

You awaited his hands against your ass, but they didn't come. You stayed in the position he'd put you in, waiting. Spencer stepped back, and you didn't dare move a muscle.

"Hmm, good girl. See how easy it is to just listen?" He ran a hand over your back, stopping at the hem of your bottoms. You didn't reply, waiting with bated breath.

"Now, do you remember the rules?" Spencer made eye contact through the mirror. You felt yourself nod before correcting the behaviour.

"Yes, Sir," you were quick to stammer the words.

"Good girl..." Spencer trailed off, hooking his fingers into your waistband and pulling everything down to your ankles, leaving you exposed.

He admired your pussy, kicking your legs apart to give him a better view and access. He wasn't wasting any time this time around. He placed his hands on your ass, squatting down to be at face height with your nethers. You jumped and tried to contain your reaction as he licked a stripe between your folds. Your hand slapped over your mouth, begging nobody could hear what was going down.

"Wait, Spencer. Lock the door," you remembered.

"Shut up. Did I give you permission to speak?" Spencer spoke against the warmth between your legs.

"N-no, Sir," you answered. Your eyes darted to the unlocked door again, anxious someone might walk in. It was a public bar, after all. You wanted to question him. What if someone walked in? But you knew better, keeping your lips sealed.

Spencer resumed with his mouth on your cunt, slowly devouring and driving you crazy. Tremors built in your legs as he sped up his advances. The wet sounds of his tongue lapping at your clit reached your ears, sending blood rushing to your cheeks. You clenched your eyes shut and balled your fists, doing your best to withhold your reactions.

"Fuck..." The soft whimper left your mouth as Spencer sucked harshly on your clit. It was almost enough to send you over the edge. Almost. Spencer seemed to know as much, teasing endlessly. You wanted to beg, plead with him to make you cum, but you knew any words from your mouth would urge him to do the opposite.

The doorknob clicked, and you tried to kick Spencer away from you. His grip on your hips was unwavering as he maintained his eager actions.

The door flew open, and an unknown girl shrieked at the sight before her before quickly backing out the door. You'd hidden your face to the best of your ability, but there was no doubt what was going on. The least you could do to spare your dignity was hide your identity.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest at the intrusion. Even though you hated that you'd gotten caught in such a compromising situation, you couldn't deny it was a little exhilarating to know anybody could walk in at any moment while Spencer had his way with you without a care in the world.

"You liked getting caught, didn't you? That's what little whores like you get off on," Spencer muttered against your pussy. You shook your head, denying his accusation.

Spencer got off the floor, and you met his gaze through the mirror. "No? You didn't like it? Then why'd you get so wet," his words were emphasized by the fingers running through your sensitive folds. You whined at the sensation, biting your lip.

"Fine, have it your way," Spencer sighed, leaning over and finally locking the door. The damage had been done, anyway.

"Get up and turn around," Spencer ordered. You quickly obeyed, spinning to face him. Your ass pressed into the sink as Spencer stepped closer. He observed you for a second, his right hand coming up to cup your cheek in a strangely intimate moment.

He quickly snapped out of it, bringing the hand down to your chin and gripping it tightly. You attempted to beg him to continue without words, but he was taking his sweet time. While his touch was no longer tender, the unexpected kiss he planted on your lips could only be described as delicate. A promise.

His lips quickly moved down your neck, sucking harshly in any open spot he could find. His hand went up to your hair as he put the other on your waist. He tugged strategically, intentionally messing up your put-together appearance. This, combined with the trail of bruises he was leaving on your neck, made one thing clear: He was marking his territory. A fond feeling you wanted to ignore, perhaps to preserve it for later, bloomed in your chest.

Spencer pushed you backwards onto the stone sink. You crossed your fingers it was a sturdy one, knowing what Spencer likely had in mind. He stepped between your opened legs, unbuckling his belt with one hand as the other remained on your thigh, rubbing the skin and driving you crazy.

He reached into his underwear, tugging his rock-hard cock out of its confines. He held it tightly in his fist, stroking it as he kept rubbing his fingers closer and closer to your heat. You would've easily been able to take his teasing if he hadn't left you hanging on the edge with his mouth. The seconds he spent stroking himself lazily as he watched you felt like torturous hours.

Finally, he made contact, tapping the head of his dick against your clit crudely. The sensation made you jerk backwards. He placed his length between your lips, lazily sliding yet never pushing inside. Every time the tip hit your clit with the upwards motion of his hips, a meek noise escaped you.

"What would Luke think if he saw you like this, huh? Think he'd still be all over you if he knew you were such a little slut for me?" He accentuated his words by finally thrusting inside, pulling a moan from your throat.

"Bet you'd like that, huh? Having him walk in here? Have him watch as I ruin your little pussy?" You cried out at his words. You couldn't help but imagine it.

"But you're my good girl, huh?" The slide of his cock against your walls felt phenomenal. You felt yourself tighten at his words. The ridge of his tip got stuck on your entrance, and Spencer chuckled.

"So tight for me. My pussy," he continued pushing inside, ignoring how you squeezed around him.

"Say it," he urged. "Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"You! Belongs to you, Sir," you whined. You felt your body slowly slip off the sink with every push. You brought your hands to Spencer's shoulders as leverage to keep yourself upright.

"That's right, all mine," Spencer moaned. His voice was raspy. It was the sexiest thing you'd ever had the pleasure of hearing.

"Let me hear you," he coaxed. You took it as permission to finally speak.

"Please, Sir, more," you begged. You no longer had control over your body, throwing your head back and nearly crashing it into the mirror. Your throat was quickly becoming hoarse with the pleas and whines escaping it.

"More what, sweetheart?" The nickname sounded anything but sincere, just like the last time he'd used it in his office.

"Fuck- Spe- Sir, harder, please," you were gradually losing your sanity. Your nails dug into the skin of his neck in desperation.

He fulfilled your request, speeding up the momentum of his hips. You could only hope the music from the bar drowned out the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt with every harsh thrust. The wet squelches coming from where your bodies connected were vulgar.

"Fuck, baby. So good. Such a good girl for me," Spencer babbled as he leaned forward to plant a messy kiss on your lips. You kept him close with the hold on his neck.

You brought your hands up to his delectable locks, tugging harshly when he hit the magic spot inside of you.

"Spencer! Oh my god, please, don't stop," you exclaimed. He continued pounding into you roughly.

"Nobody can fuck you like I can, nobody will make you feel like I do," Spencer groaned. He was right. He'd ruined you for anybody else the second he'd set foot on campus.

"O-oh, shit..." Spencer whimpered. If his rough voice was sexy, then Professor Spencer Reid whimpering in your ear in desperation as he neared his climax was on another level. The filthy whispers and sounds falling from his lips were enough to bring you back to the brink.

"Fuck, Professor," you moaned. It snapped something in Spencer, whose hips stuttered. His pace turned brutal.

"Say that again," he commanded. Who knew his official title would've set him off?

"Please, Professor," you whined. The noises falling from your lips sounded foreign to your ears. Frenzied moans left you as Spencer brought his hand to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

"Good girl," Spencer moaned. "Such a good girl for me." You could tell he was about to cum, mirroring your own predicament.

"Fuck... Let them hear, baby. Tell them who's making you cum," Spencer's hips pressed hard against your own.

"Spencer, oh- shit," you were no longer holding back.

"That's right, cum for me."

His words sent you over the edge, vision momentarily going black as your toes curled. You felt your legs shake as Spencer pushed inside one last time, cock pulsing as he shot his cum deep inside. It was concerning how quickly you'd come to love that specific feeling.

He allowed you a second to catch your breath before he pulled out of you, tucking himself back into his pants and buckling his belt. He wasted no time, gathering some toilet paper from one of the stalls and carefully cleaning you up. He threw the paper in the toilet and flushed it, turning his attention back to you.

He bent down, placing a peck on your mound. "All mine."

You scoffed at the action, pushing him away. "You sap."

"Caught me," Spencer smiled softly, helping you off the sink. You pulled your bottoms back up, cringing at the wet feeling of his cum trickling down.

"Spencer, I can't go out there like this," you gestured to your exterior.

"You can and you will, c'mon," he placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you to the exit. You did your best to rearrange your clothes to look somewhat presentable, but there was only so much you could do with your dishevelled appearance. The messy hair, ruined makeup and blotches splattered over your neck would be enough to give away what had happened.

Your eyes searched the bar for your friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. You grabbed your phone, and with all the notifications, your suspicions were confirmed. They'd left without you.

"Spencer, can you drive me home?" You tried turning to him, but he kept pushing you to the table where his team and Luke were still seated. Luke wolf-whistled at your appearance. You tried to shrink into yourself or to hide behind Spencer, but he wouldn't allow it. This clearly was some kind of dick-measuring contest to him.

Spencer sat down next to Emily, pulling you into his lap. "Knock it off already. They get it," you groaned.

"So, you're taking Spence's class? How's that working out for you?" The blonde next to Luke questioned. Spencer put a drink in front of you. You didn't question its contents, taking a sip before answering.

"Well, I guess we had some disagreements over some of my work, but it seems we've found a way to work that out," you joked. There was no use in being sheepish about it. Spencer had made very sure they understood exactly what your dynamic was.

"So it seems." Luke chuckled. You gave him an apologetic smile. He shrugged it off, raising his glass to clink it against yours.

Spencer's arm around you tightened. He'd 100% gotten his message across, but that didn't mean he liked you talking to Luke, or anybody, for that matter. If there's one thing Spencer learned from prison, it would be that sharing definitely wasn't his forté. Especially not you. No... You were all his.

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soulofapatrick · 3 months

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In the Quiet Moments - Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: A case makes you admit your feelings to Hotch

Words: 1.8K

Warning: none, just fluffiness

Y/N's POV

The jet cabin is cloaked in a heavy silence, a stark contrast to the usual banter and camaraderie that fills the air after a case. Each member of the team occupies a space, physically present yet emotionally distant, lost in their own thoughts and the weight of the horrors we've witnessed. I hate this part of the cases, the cool down. The somber atmosphere that feels suffocating when things don’t go as well as they could have. The exhaustion on everyone’s faces. The guilt in their eyes.

I’m stood by the coffee machine, nursing a hot cup to keep away the nightmares. Everyone’s doing what they can to distract themselves. Spencer’s taken the couch, his lanky frame stretched out across it and my coat as his pillow and soft snores emitting from him. In the nearest four seater to Spencer is sat Rossi, he’s playing a game of chess with Emily to distract themselves. Morgan’s sat in the two seater with his headphones on and JJ’s asleep opposite him, leaving Hotch sat on his own in the other four seater.

The soft glow of the cabin lights casts a gentle halo around Hotch, illuminating the worn lines etched into his features. There's a subtle furrow in his brow, a testament to the weight of responsibility that rests upon his shoulders. His gaze, fixed with unwavering determination, traces the lines of the case files spread out before him, each page a glimpse into the horrors we've witnessed.

Despite the exhaustion that hangs heavy in the air, Hotch remains steadfast, his posture rigid with resolve. His jaw is set in a firm line, the faintest hint of weariness lurking beneath the surface. In the quiet solitude of the cabin, he seems both distant and yet achingly present, a pillar of strength amidst the chaos that surrounds us.

As I watch him from across the cabin, a surge of empathy washes over me, mingling with the exhaustion that gnaws at my bones. Hotch's unwavering composure belies the turmoil that rages within, a silent battle fought in the depths of his soul.

It what makes me decide who to sit with. I need to feel someone and that someone would usually be Spencer but he’s taken up too much of the couch for me to join his sleeping form so I head towards Hotch.

My steps tentative as I don’t want to disturb the quiet peace, approaching Hotch as the soft hum of the jet engines create a soothing backdrop. Hotch looks up, his gaze meeting mine with a flicker of acknowledgment, a silent invitation lingering in the air between us.

Hotch's gaze softens as I gently push his shoulder, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes at my playful pout. With a subtle nod, he shifts over to the window seat, making room for me to slide in beside him. The warmth of his presence envelops me like a comforting embrace as I settle into the space next to him, the gentle hum of the jet engines a soothing backdrop to the heavy silence that surrounds us.

"What are we looking at?" I inquire softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I pick up the nearest folder, my heart sinking at the gruesome images that greet me. Hotch takes the folder from my hands with a shake of his head, a silent gesture of protection against the horrors contained within despite me being a member of the BAU and seeing this stuff on a daily bases.

With practiced efficiency, he begins to stack the folders, creating a barrier between us and the darkness that threatens to consume our thoughts. I meet his gaze with a mixture of determination and vulnerability, my silent plea for solace echoing in the depths of his gaze.

"What do you need?" Hotch's voice is gentle, a beacon of calm amidst the chaos that swirls around us. But instead of answering, I find myself drawn to him, a primal instinct guiding my movements as I gently manoeuvre him into the corner of the seat, his warmth enveloping me like a protective shield.

I lay my head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against the backdrop of our shared exhaustion. With a faint smile, I hand him a case file, the words barely a whisper against the material of his suit jacket.

"I sleep, you work," I murmur, the weight of our shared burdens momentarily forgotten in the quiet intimacy of the moment. And as the jet hurtles through the night sky, carrying us home to the familiar embrace of the unknown, I find solace in the unspoken bond that binds us together, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us all.

His scent surrounds me, a mixture of leather and cologne, familiar and comforting in its simplicity. It’s a scent that speaks of strengths and resilience, of the countless battles fought and won in the name of justice. And as his hand finds its way to my hair, the gentle caress sending shivers down my spine, I can’t help but lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut as I bask in the warmth of his presence.

In this fleeting moment, nestled against his chest, I feel safe, cocooned in the protective embrace of his arms. His heartbeat, steady and reassuring, lulls me into a state of peaceful oblivion until it suddenly picks up when I burrow a hand under his suit jacket and into the fabric of his button-up shirt. It brings back that yearning I’ve been trying to bury, a desire that simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to engulf us both in its fiery embrace. I long to lean up, to press my lips against his in a silent confession of the emotions that swirl beneath the surface. But he’s my boss, and I’m just his friend and college, bound by the unspoken rules that govern our professional relationship.

As I nestle against Hotch's chest, a pang of longing courses through me, igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both. I find myself nuzzling at his shirt, the fabric warm against my nose and cheek, his solid and toned chest a testament to the strength that lies within. In the hushed stillness of the jet cabin, I hear Hotch’s breath hitch, a subtle indication that he, too, is affected by the tension that crackles between us.

His voice, when he speaks, is quiet and measured, a soothing balm against the storm raging within, “What’s on your mind?” Hotch’s words are laced with an undercurrent of curiosity, a silent invitation to share the burden that weighs heavy upon my heart. And as his gaze meets mine, I see something flicker within the depths of his eyes, a vulnerability that mirrors my own.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes dip down to my lips, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken desires that simmer just beneath the surface. And in that moment, I see the truth reflected in his gaze, a yearning that echoes my own.

Summoning every ounce of courage I possess, I run my hand up from his chest to his cheek, the touch tentative yet filled with longing. His stubble grazes against my palm, tactile reminder of the intimacy that binds us together. And as my fingers slip into the soft tufts of his black hair, I see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a question hanging in the air between us.

I’m shifting my body slightly, bringing my lips tantalisingly close to his, I feel the tension crackling through his entire being as if he wants this but he wants to remain professional. Uncertainty hangs like a veil, casting a shadow over the moment, yet I can’t help but be drawn to the magnetic pull that binds us together.

“Stop me if I’m reading this wrong.” I murmur, the words a soft whisper against the canvas of our shared intimacy. It’s a plea, a silent beg for him to guide me through this uncharted territory of our desires.

And then, in a heartbeat, everything changes. Hotch surges forwards, his lips meeting mine in a breath stealing kiss that ignites a firestorm of emotions within me. It’s a symphony of passion and longing, a silent confession of the unspoken desires that have been lingering between us for far too long.

His hands find their way to the small of my back, drawing me closer in a gesture of unspoken longing. His touch is both gentle and possessive, a silent promise of the depth of his desire. His lips, warm and velvety against mine, ignite a firestorm of sensation that courses through my veins like liquid flame. It’s a kiss that speaks volumes, a language of passion and longing that transcends the boundaries of words.

In his embrace, I feel alive, every nerve ending ablaze with the intensity of our shared connection. It’s a if the world fades away, leaving only the two of us suspended in a timeless embrace, lost in the depths of shared desire. Hotch makes me feel cherished, desired, and understood in a way I’ve never experienced before. In his arms, I find solace, a sanctuary from the chaos that surrounds us, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us.

But, just as we lose ourselves in the depth of our shared desire, a sharp wolf whistle pierces the air, snapping us back to reality with a jolt. Morgan is standing before us, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he observes our flushes cheeks and disheveled appearances.

With a nervous laugh, I jump apart from Hotch, the remnants of the coffee spilling across the table in a chaotic mess. My cheeks flame red with embarrassment as I fumble for words, the panic evident in my trembling hands.

Morgan’s laughter echoes through the cabin, a lighthearted reminder of the camaraderie that binds us together. With a playful wink, he saunters away, leaving Hotch and me to contend with the aftermath of our momentary lapse in composure as we hear Morgan telling the others what he just witnesses at the end of the cabin and hearing the gasps and giggles and laughter.

I glance at Hotch who’s cheeks are as red as his tie, his expression a mixture of amusement and affection and I can’t help but smile despite the embarrassment that lingers in the air.

“Get some sleep, we’re gonna need it.” He mutters, pulling me back into his arms so my head is on his chest again and this time I let his heartbeat begin to lull me into the sweet bliss of sleep as he pours over the now slightly coffee stained case files, not quite sure if this is all a dream or not.

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

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rainydayathogwarts · 5 months

Text

Not drunk

just a short little 500 word blurb this week while I'm working on a longer Emily Prentiss fic for next week.

James carried you up to his dorm, smiling slightly at the way you giggled, admiring his face. "You're so big and strong Jamesie" You slurred, allowing him to place you on his bed, throwing his sheets over you. "Mhmm?" James inquired, turning around to leave when he heard you mutter "Stay. Please." He grinned, moving the covers so he could join you under them, your arms immediately wrapping around his torso.

"You're so fluffy and cuddly." You murmured into his t-shirt. "I think you've had a little bit too much to drink tonight." You gasped. "'M not drunk!" James chuckled, nodding along. James looked down at you when he felt your fingertips graze his bare abdomen from under his shirt, raising his eyebrows at you. "Can you give me a kiss?" You whisper at him shyly, as though it was taboo.

"One kiss and you'll go to bed, right?" You hummed, nodding at him, not realising how much you disliked that negotiation. James bent his neck down to press his lips to your awaiting ones, and you hummed, one of your hands moving up to play with his hair. You deepened the kiss, pressing your body into his, feeling your boyfriend's hand come down to rest on your lower back, pushing you deeper into him. James pulled away from the kiss ever so slightly, but your lips had already begun wandering to his jaw and down his neck. "What happened to our deal there sweetheart?" He asked, giving up and letting you push him back so you could straddle his hips.

"What deal?" You echoed. James coughed to hide a moan, moving uncomfortably under you to try and hide his growing boner. He put his hands on your hips, completely stilling your movements and looked you straight in the eyes. "One kiss and then you'll go to sleep." He stated. You pouted slightly, sitting back directly on his dick, oblivious to how James tightly shut his eyes for a few seconds, breathing out deeply. "But I can't sleep without you." "I'll tell you what, I'll stay right here with you, but you have you try and sleep." You nodded, immediately moving to lay down on his bed, feeling the mattress dip down as he followed your movements, wrapping his arms around you to spoon you.

James let out a shaky breath when you moved your hips so your ass was pressed up against his hard-on, biting his lips when you let out a groan. "Mhm, Jamesie? Can you take my bra off. it's uncomfy." His eyes widened, hands immediately going to undo the clasp of your bra, getting somehow even harder when you moaned in comfort. "Tha's better, thanks baby." And luckily for him, you were asleep in mere minutes. He sat there contemplating for a second before he got up, rushing to the bathroom to finish himself off, panting above the sink.

In the morning, there was a note next to the bed saying "I'm sleeping in your dorm, couldn't risk getting hard again. xx J"

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coltishcaterpillar · 1 month

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Unmasked / Platonic!Father Alastor x Teen!Daughter Reader

Chapter I: Introduction

Summary:

Two days after the Extermination, a bored Emily reads through private records of Heavenly residents and sinners alike.

During her mindless scrolling, she comes across a vintage diary smelling of old paper, from the late 20s-early 30s. It details the life of the teenage adopted daughter of the Radio Demon; up until her death at aged 16 on January 11th, 1934.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Racism

April 4th, 1932

Have you ever seen a top hat, what one really looks like on a person?

Neither have I, until today. At the end of Merritt Street, there’s a small accessories store that sells jewellery and clothing alike.

I used to frequent there, but I’ve never been a fashionable girl. I’m a larger fan of browsing; just admiring the beauty of art from afar, rather than acquiring it.

I never realized how much I missed the little establishment until I saw my favourite businessperson; Anne Brewster. A short, tout woman she was. Her skin had a grey tinge to it, a pointy nose that popped out her features; bright brown eyes and hair as white as pearls, short and thin as straw.

I greeted her with my usual demeanour. Quiet and curt, a straight wave and a superficial smile. The woman has a tendency to chatter; most of the time I don’t have time to interject, so I just listen.

I went in the shop with Elbert Graves; a fellow classmate of mine in mathematics. He’s not my ideal source of company, I’ll admit. I get along much better with other girls, but this helpless boy is always on my tail, and I can’t bare to tell him to get lost.

We came across a jet-black top hat with a golden ribbon wrapped around its rim. It was on display, but there was no glass so we assumed we could sample it. Elbert looked utterly ridiculous in it; far too flashy, and way too gigantic for his pea-sized head.

I managed a small laugh, as that’s the reaction he would’ve wanted from me. Ever the jokester…

I took a seat on the cushioned chair in front of the store’s entrance. Whilst Elbert was fooling around with other gadgets, Anne took to speaking with me.

She spoke a great deal about her grandchildren, and then inquired me about Papa.

Pa doesn’t usually wander about these places, but he knows Anne from university; they attended the same one in Shreveport, in September of 1908. Pa wanted to become a broadcaster post-secondary (to which he achieved) and Anne wanted to edit the local newspaper part-time; she was getting old, but didn’t want to stop working. She didn’t end up pursuing it, however, she dropped out her third year to take care of Rachel (her eldest grandchild who was 5 at the time.) Then, she inherited this business when Mr. Brewster, her father, died. He owned the shop.

She asked about his job was working out for him. Pa never speaks about work when he arrives home; usually he’s more interested in my daily activities. I don’t listen to Pa’s radio channel anyways, because the subjects he covers doesn’t appeal to me.

I just told her he was thriving; because in a way, he was. Pa was rarely in a sour mood. Of course, he gets moody when I do something out of line from time to time, but his attitude is always uplifting.

Elbert excused himself to the restroom at the back of the desk; that’s when she started talking about adolescent things. Boys…..

“Elbert is a such a handsome boy, don’t you agree?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“His chin is too long, and his head is too small for his broad shoulders. Not to mention his personality isn’t to my tastes. He’s far too extroverted and cheeky.”

“Oh, come now, my lovely. Surely, we can’t all be picky! What ever will you do when you grow into a young woman? Who will be around to take care of you?”

“Pa will, no doubt.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Your father will be far too senile to care for you when you’re in your prime! You need a strong man!”

“Too senile?! Surely, you jest. Pa may be lanky, but he’s very capable. He was only twenty-five when he adopted me, he’ll only be middle-aged by the time I’m an adult.”

“You say Elbert is cheeky, but I see a lot more cockiness coming from you than I ever have with him.”

“Only an outside observer can properly assess my personality. Perhaps you just see my persona differently than I.”

“Is that so?”

The bell hanging from the door rang; in came a man, dressed in a business suit, a large briefcase held in his right hand. He had been more wrinkly than I had last seen him: Anne’s partner, Mr. Devereaux.

He has a very thick Yorkshire accent; Anne and him met while she was on vacation in London; Mr. Devereaux was studying photography. When they first met in late 1864, they weren’t sure whether or not they could ever be together. Anne is a very brown woman, you see. Very. Mr. Devereaux is about as white as a sheet. People often look down on….colourful couples…? More harshly. They aren’t allowed to be married, so they had to improvise.

Forgive me for not mentioning this sooner, but Anne is actually good friends with my Grandma. Pa is half-Creole, you see, and my Grandma’s roots come from there. So, the Brewsters are actually well-acquainted with my family.

Mr. Devereaux sat his briefcase beside the door, across from where I was seated. He flashed me a toothless smile; quite literally, since they all rotted out of his mouth due to age.

I gave him a curious look back.

“Back from business, old man?” I tease.

He chuckled; giving me an affectionate pat on the head.

“Oh, well, look at you! Already at it with the nosy interrogation, I see! I’ve missed you, sweet girl.” He smiled.

I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t answer the question….

He turned his attention to Anne quite quickly. Leaning over the desk, he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“The trip went smoothly,” He told Anne, “Janice sent you a letter. It should be in the mail soon, my darling.”

Janice was their daughter.

“Lovely.”

He turned his entire body so it faced me, with an inquisitive look on his face. He then turned and whispered to Anne,

“Al is out late again?”

“I don’t know, my sweet. I’ve seen her out and about all day with Elbert, he must be. It’s nearly nine.”

“I thought his radio shows were done by four?”

“Perhaps the schedule’s changed, dearest. Let’s not be nosy, it’s not our business.”

I let out a deep breath through my nose, standing up. Pa likes to hang around a few stores after work, so I tried my best not to let their observations get to me. Perhaps he was already home!

Anne leaned over from behind Mr. Devereaux.

“Could you go check on Elbert, hun? He’s been in the restroom for quite a while.”

I sigh. Without a response, I head toward the back desk, into the small hallway that had the restrooms.

I knocked on the door, firmly.

“El?” I addressed him by nickname.

“Mhm?” His hun echoed off the door.

I raised an eyebrow. “What have you been doing in there these past fifteen minutes? It was eight-forty when you went in, it’s five to nine already!”

Within seconds, he came out of the door, an awkward smile plastered on his face. A blush dusted his cheeks as well; I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he have the runs?

“Finished?” I asked him without judgment.

“Yes.” He said, curt.

I lead him back to the entrance of the store, passing Anne a smile. I turn my gaze back to Elbert.

“I’m going to be leaving now. I hadn’t realize how late it was. Will you be alright on your own?” I asked, a tint of concern in my voice.

“Of course. See you later?” His tone was hopeful.

Without a pause, I said, “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

I said my goodbyes to Anne and Mr. Devereaux, and sent my regards to Janice.

When I exited the store, it wasn’t as dark and drab as I thought it would be; I still heard birds chirping, and I could see my way almost perfectly. Just another perk of springtime, I suppose.

When I arrived home, Pa was indeed on the couch, his legs crossed, with a newspaper in hand; black coffee was situated on the side table.

“Home at long last, my dear!” He put his newspaper down; and I ran over, kissing him on the cheek.

“Sorry, Papa. How long did you have to wait?”

“Oh, not long at all!” He chuckled heartily.

I turn over to the rounded wooden table in the dining room; a large cloth bag sat on it; my eyes lit up in curiosity.

“Now, now,” Pa waved his finger, “I know that dangerous gaze. Don’t go peeking around my things, dear.”

I put on a thinned-lipped smile, leaning on the armrest.

“What, do you have something to hide, Papa~?” I leaned in, teasingly.

It was meant to be a joke. A rhetorical question. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice his fist clench up, if only for a moment. His body language was saying something different than what his mouth was.

“Is it really too much to ask to keep yourself out of my business?” He bit his lower lip.

When Pa took that tone with me, I knew it was time to pipe down. I decided to change the subject, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Elbert and I took a stroll around the avenue.” I said, tracing along the armrest.

I could FEEL Pa’s eye roll without even looking.

“Out with that wretched boy again, are we?” He took a casual tone as he sipped his coffee, but I knew the mere thought of Elbert irked him.

Pa has never interacted much with my friends, so I thought El would be another drop in the ocean. I think his hatred of him has something to do with that one time he came over here.

Everything was alright until dinner time.

The few hours earlier, Grandma treated us with a generous amount of Jambalaya. She always makes the best, after all.

Elbert made an….observation? While we were eating and it made Pa freeze.

“This is some slave food! Who made it, a peasant?”

All I remember was Pa’s grip tightening so much on the fork. I leaned over to where he was sitting and rubbed his arm a little.

I disliked the comment too. That was my Grandma he was speaking about….

After El left, I noticed Pa staring at the wooden spoon on the shelf. I know that blasted piece of cutlery all too well….

Pa is good at discipline. Even when my other friends came over, he’d always make an effort to chastise them if they didn’t say please or thank you.

Long story short, I think Pa wanted to beat El. That’s probably why he was showing such immaculate restraint at the table. I can’t imagine another person disciplining somebody else’s child would go…smoothly, anyway.

He had valid reason to hate him, I suppose. I’m not fond of Elbert either, but…how do you find it in your heart to say no? I suppose I’ve never really had a backbone, but…it seems that he’s really fond of me.

“How was work?” I asked with a smile.

“It held all of its classic theatrics! You should find it in your soul to listen to my shows, my dear.” He beamed.

I was deep in thought.

“Don’t I hear enough of your voice already?”

Pa chuckled his little chuckle that always made my chest warm.

“You can never have too much of your father!”

Time went on as usual; a few moments later I decided to pack up for bed; Pa went upstairs to get his radio ready to listen to. He always does before he sleeps.

I took that as an opportunity to ponder; I turned my gaze back to the bag on the table. Pa notoriously hunts, but it was far too late for food, so it made me wonder.

I slid toward it with my socks against the hardwood. I breathed in deeply; perhaps there was a certain scent? All I could smell was the dusty fabric; nothing more.

With a sigh, I decided to leave it for now. Maybe it’s….best that I don’t.

Y/N

——————

Emily blinked once. She recognized the background; that this child of one of the hotel staff in Hell.

Taking the historical piece of literature to St. Peter, she inquired,

“St. Peter, hi! I was just wondering if there is a girl here in Heaven named Y/N L/N?”

St. Peter smiled in delight, getting out his holy book, scanning through all the people with your name; going roughly by last name. His face fell as they came to an end.

“Unfortunately not, Em! It’s…strange, considering the circumstances. Sixteen is very young for a person to end up in Hell…but she isn’t in Heaven.”

Emily frowned, eyeing the diary in her hands. Perhaps she’d find the answer in there….

#hazbin hotel #1930s #alastor #platonic alastor x reader #alastor x reader #child reader #fanfiction #hazbin hotel emily #implied murder

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erwinsvow · 6 months

Text

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞

summary: you and aaron are having a hard time deciding on a baby name.

word count: 1.5k

author's note: eeeeeeee x3. cannot stop writing for aaron, especially domestic, happy aaron. not bau!reader but i stole elements from that story too, linked here. i really loved this one!

now spinning

You had thought time would fly by during pregnancy, or at least that’s what everyone else made it seem like. You felt like all you’d heard so far was warnings to enjoy this time with ‘just the two of you’ and spend your days preparing as much as you could.

You’d taken it very literally—your evenings after work were spent reading baby books and prepping food to store in the freezer.

Your days off from work, and even the rare, treasured weekend Aaron has off, is spent looking at paint samples (all yellows and greens, even though you’ve known it’s a girl since the two of you had Jack take a big bite out of a cupcake with raspberry frosting inside) and browsing websites for a car seat and a stroller. Aaron digs through the garage for Jack’s old things, and comes out with a sturdy wooden crib and a beautiful bassinet.

Aaron doesn’t worry as much as you, of course, and he has the best dad instinct you’ve ever seen. It comes so naturally to him, you almost worry about yourself. Will it be this easy for you?

You have experience parenting now, thanks to Jack and all the time you spent with him and Aaron even before you got married, but he barely counts. He’s an angel child—one who asks for extra servings of vegetables, does his homework without being asked, and never complains when you have to remind him to tidy up his room.

Besides a few puzzle pieces and various, outgrown sports gear scattered throughout the house—your house, your family home, you think fondly— he always puts away his belongings in the proper place.

He even reminds you and Aaron of his upcoming school projects and which commitments he penciled in for—a friend’s birthday party next weekend (When should we go get the gift?) and a class field trip next month (They need two more chaperones. Should I ask Uncle David?)

You’re convinced you’ll never have it this easy with another child. You start over preparing the week you find out you’re pregnant, after Aaron smothers you in kisses and hugs.

He takes you out to dinner with the team—another rare, treasured event, but not because he doesn’t want to, just because they’re always on a case—and you break the news to them when you turn down a glass of wine from Emily, who looks at you quizzically. No more wine for nine months, you had said. Ten, JJ corrected.

You’re seven months now, halfway to eight. Pregnancy brain is very real and has affected you like crazy. You keep forgetting to go grocery shopping and then you keep misplacing the paper grocery list Aaron keeps on the fridge with a little magnet. You and Jack have been eating a lot of take-out, and he’s not complaining but he still inquires about his vegetable intake over slices of pizza.

“You know, the baby is the size of a coconut right now,” you tell Aaron on the phone, rubbing your stomach. Your back has been killing you lately, another thing you had read about happening nearing month eight in your baby books of horror.

Aaron offers a massage when he’s around but it always hurts the most when he’s gone. Besides, his massages are what got you into this predicament in the first place.

Jack is asleep on the sofa right next to you. He had asked to watch Star Wars before bed—it’s a Friday night and he has no soccer practice tomorrow, and you are a perpetual good cop who can’t say no—so you had cozied up with him and a bowl of popcorn on the couch while The Empire Strikes Back played quietly in the background. You move your hand back to stroke his hair while he sleeps.

“Really, sweetheat? A coconut?” Aaron says. The team is up in Connecticut, and though he’s gone and you wish he was here with you, you’re thankful he’s in the same time zone.

You’re not sure about the case and can’t stomach the gory details anymore, but you think they must have made some strides since he’s staying on the phone with you and not in a rush to leave.

“Uh-huh, that’s what my book said. Never knew a coconut could kick this hard.” Aaron laughs on his side of the call, a sweet sound. You smile. “Maybe she’s kicking now to let us know she wants to play soccer like her big brother.”

“A prodigy in the making. Speaking of, does Jack have practice tomorrow?” Aaron likes to remind you of these things because he knows you keep forgetting.

“No, nothing tomorrow, I triple checked. And this little brainiac is just like you, keeps reminding me so I don’t wake him up at seven-thirty tomorrow.”

You hear Aaron laugh again. It all feels very domestic. Your mouth hurts from smiling.

“Aaron, it’s getting to that time. We need to pick a baby name soon. Any crazy ex-girlfriends or female serial killers we need to avoid?”

“Well there’s certainly a few. Serial killers, that is, not the other thing. What are you thinking so far?”

“Well my book said-” Aaron groans on the other end. “Hey! Don’t knock my book, it’s helpful.”

“Honey, your book had you convinced the baby would be missing fingers and toes if you had a turkey sandwich.”

“Deli meat is bad during pregnancy! So is sushi, thank you very much. I’d rather not risk my baby’s digits just because you wanted subs.”

“Reid said that’s not true and everything’s fine in moderation.”

“I’m sorry, has Reid ever birthed a human before?”

“Point taken. Your book also said your heartburn isn’t a big deal because it just means the baby will have a full head of hair-” “JJ said that too! And she said Henry had lots of hair-”

“And it also said sex during pregnancy is bad. Remember that?” Your face heats up. Damn him, making you blush even when he’s hundreds of miles away.

“Oh, whatever. Just tell me which names we have to avoid. I think we should do something with a J, though. Make it matching.”

“Very sweet, honey. Jordan? Juliet? June?”

“Hmm,” you ponder carefully. Even if it’s silly, this feels like one of the biggest decisions you’ll ever make. “I like them all but I don’t love them. They’re too… something. Too new maybe.”

“Older names, then? Joy, Josie, Julia?”

“I like those too. Should we really name our child after a Beatles song though?”

“I think that’s a great idea, don’t you?” You can almost hear it in Aaron’s voice—he’s relaxing for the moment. Either they’ve already caught the unsub or you have a bigger impact on him than you thought you did.

“Well if we’re gonna do that then we should at least use Eleanor or Michelle. Or Lucy! I like Lucy.”

“I’d prefer not to name our daughter after a song written about hallucinogens.”

“Aw, you're no fun. How about Anna?”

“What happened to wanting to match with Jack?” he asks.

“Ah, let the kid have his own identity. If he had it his way we’d name the baby Leia or Yoda.”

“Leah’s not bad. Pretty and simple. Four letters, keeping the trend.”

“That’s not a Beatles song!” You hear Aaron groan.

“You have too many demands, honey.” “No, I’m just picky. You should consider it a compliment, I’m choosy and I chose you, remember?”

“Vividly. Prudence, then?”

“Oh, that’s pretty.” You try to picture it written on holiday cards and homework sheets. Prudence Hotchner. You say it aloud to test the feel of it. “Prudence Hotchner. Prue Hotchner.”

“Sweetheart, I was joking.”

“You should never joke around a pregnant woman. I like it, it’s so pretty. Pretty Prudence.”

“You don’t think it’s a little old?”

“Well, her father is an old man who wants to name her after a Beatles song, so yeah, it’s very fitting. Doesn’t it just roll right off the tongue? Prudence Hotchner? We could call her Prue.”

“Prue is very cute. I like Prudence Joy.”

“Oh, I love Prudence Joy. Prudence Joy Hotchner. I like it so much. I’m tempted to wake up Jack and ask if he likes it. Will you ask the team if they like it too?”

“I will, honey. Isn’t it time to sleep now?”

“Yes, I’ve just been putting it off. Jack’s asleep next to me, I have no idea how I’ll get him upstairs without waking him.”

“If you wake him he’ll be able to fall asleep again, as long as it’s quick-” “I know, honey, don’t worry about us.”

“Can’t help it.” You can’t stop the smile that spreads, cheek to cheek. You have a feeling he’s smiling too.

“You’ll ask the others, right? About Prudence?”

“Yes, honey, I will. I’ll see them in a little bit, I stepped out to call you while I made another cup of coffee.”

“Oh, Aaron, it's so late for coffee,” you chide, lovingly. Don’t drink a whole cup please. I wish you guys would drink tea instead. Or at least decaf.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I gotta go now. Kiss Jack goodnight for me?” “Of course.”

“And play Prudence her song, then?” You can’t contain the smile on your face.

“Of course. Good night from all three of us, Aaron.”

#hope everyone likes this one!#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch imagine #hotch drabble #aaron hotch

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jogetsobsessed · 5 months

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Little Life - Paul Lahote

It was a seasonably warm day as the sun shone through the canopy of the towering evergreens. The buzzing of honey bees darting from flower pot to flower pot and the rustling of squirrels running along tree branches.

The small laughter and water splashing added to the forest's serenity. Hissing came from the grill as burgers and hot dogs were flipped. The sound of a soccer ball being passed back and forth and PG trash talk mixed with the Sunday afternoon melody.

The creaking of the old porch swing, one that held so many core memories for so many different people creaked as your feet pushed against the old floorboards of Emily's front porch.

Gazing out past the porch steps and into the vast front yard you couldn't help but smile when your daughter erupted into a fit of giggle as her dad cupped his hand and poured a small amount of water on her head.

The wobbly water table was gifted to you and Paul from another young couple on the reservation after their son outgrew it. There was no doubt in your mind that it was gifted to them as well. You were probably the sixth or seventh family to own it. The years of usage were evident as the paint faded after spending long summers baking outside in the stuffy heat. But it didn't matter to your little girl.

Since the rain had begun staying away and the temperatures started to pick up, the pack had gotten back into the routine of the weekly family-style barbecues. Today was the first day that it had been warm enough to break out the old water table and your daughter was jumping up and down with excitement when she saw Paul loading it up in the back of the pickup.

You watched as she talked Jared and Kim's ears off and as they nodded along probably having no idea as to what the two-year-old was talking about. Paul pushed himself off the ground, leaving your daughter to talk about her nonsense, and strode towards you.

Emily decided to go and find Sam at the grill to inquire about how much longer lunch was going to take, leaving the other half of the porch swing empty. She and Paul shared soft smiles as they passed each other on the front step.

“Don't tell Em, but I think Kim has her beat for a favorite aunt,” you laughed at his statement. No matter how much your daughter loved Kim, she was always going to love Emily just a little bit more. Those two had been connected since you and Paul showed her off to the pack when she was just a few days old. Emily offered to be her babysitter when she found out you wanted to go back to work once your baby girl had hit eight months old. Which was an offer you and Paul gladly accepted, feeling at ease at the thought of your girl in the caring hands as special as someone like Emily.

“Kim can butter her up all she wants but there is no way,” he laughed, this time wrapping his arm around your shoulder. His warmth brought you happiness and comfort even in the warm summer months. “What even is she talking about I don't know if I have ever seen Embry so confused".

“I think she’s trying to tell them that story we read last night, but you know it's coming out of a two-year-old mind, one who fell asleep before she even heard the ending”.

“Oh boy".

-----------

“Sweetheart you need to come eat something”, you called over to where your daughter was still standing in the grass, playing with her toys in the shallow water of the play table.

You saw her physically recoil at the thought of not playing so she could eat lunch and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. Why did toddlers have to be so defiant?

After calling out to her a few more times you looked over at your husband who was standing at the grill with Sam, your pleading eyes burning holes into his.

You watched as he pushed off the grill and waltzed over to the water table, crouching to your daughter's height.

Everyone was invested in this battle between her and the two of you all of them turned from their spots at the picnic tables so they could see if Paul was going to be victorious.

Your daughter seemed to be putting up a good fight, even cocking her hands on her hips as she tried to reason with her dad. But luckily, Paul knew how to resist the puppy dog eyes.

After a long standoff, you could see your daughter starting to cave once she saw Emily come outside with a platter of freshly baked famous brownies. A few of the boys saw it, so they each grabbed a couple and threw them on their plates, talking loudly about how they wanted to eat the whole platter.

That was enough for your little girl. She set her toys down and stretched her arms up towards Paul. Triumphantly, he picked her up and carried her towards the picnic tables, where you had a plate of pre-cut food waiting for her.

“You need to eat your lunch, and then you can have a brownie that your aunt Emily just made.

------------

The day faded into night as the cotton candy sunset faded into darkness. The glow of the fire lit up the front yard at Emily’s and provided enough warmth to ward off the brisk early summer nights.

With great force, you had convinced your daughter to trade her polka-dot swimsuit for a light sweatshirt and sweatpants.

Now she was sitting on Emily's lap, Sam helping her make another s’more. You knew all that sugar was powering her awake since she had skipped her nap earlier in the day. She had to have been exhausted, you knew that more likely than not Paul was going to be carrying her inside once you got back home.

“How’d we get so damn lucky?” you and Paul were snuggled under a blanket the log the two of you were sitting on was just perfect in size for the pair of you. The clear night sky had caught your eye so you only hummed in response. No matter how many years you lived in the great Pacific Northwest, you would never get tired of its beauty. “More importantly, what did I do to deserve this perfect little life? I've got the most drop-dead gorgeous wife on the plane and the most perfect daughter”.

“Yeah, I don't know how you swung that how much did you have to bride the big guy upstairs”, you cackled at your joke as Paul chuckled and pulled you closer.

“You know your something huh”.

“Says you”.

You shared a nice moment of comfortable silence as both of you watched your daughter bounce around from pack member to pack member victoriously showing off the s’more that she assembled with the help of her favored aunt.

“You wanna know something”, you questioned, your eyes never leaving your daughter.

“What”.

“I'm glad I get to live this little life with you”.

#edward cullen #fanfic #imprint #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #x reader #fem reader #sam uley #seth clearwater #jogetsobsessed

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annab-nana · 4 months

Note

For your sleepover!!

Hawkins high puts on a winter formal you wanna take eddie but scared he will just want to stay friends. Robin and Nancy talk you up to ask him to the dance. But what you don’t know is that Steve is talking Eddie up to ask you to the dance🥺🥺🥺

EMILY ALL YOUR IDEAS ARE GOLD I LOVE THEM (p.s. i had a lot of fun writing this one)

warnings: not proofread, kinda long for a blurb

❀ masterlist ❀

"why do i even have to go to winter formal anyway? i could just stay home. i like that idea. let's go with that plan," you said hopefully and got up to walk away. however, robin's arms around your waist tugged you back to your seat. so much for that plan.

"no, just no," she told you, resulting in your annoyed huff.

"i don't get why you can't just ask him," nancy shared, a thoughtful expression on her face. "the worst he could do is say no and he won't do that."

you looked at her incredulously. "i can't ask him because i'm not you. not everyone looks like you and has the innocent sweet charm you have. not everyone is fawning over me. not everyone can pull steve and jonathan. and yes, that is the worst thing. it is the absolute worst thing in the world. you don't realize how big this is. i..."

you trailed off to train your eyes on the floor and take a small break before you got too worked up. this was stupid. it was all so stupid.

"i've been in love with him since we were kids. i can't throw all that away. i'd rather go with him as friends than embarrass myself by asking him for more when he just wants to be friends and nothing more. i just can't risk it, okay?"

you looked back up at the girls, both of their faces full of pity but nancy's held some guilt in it as well. it made you feel awkward and want nothing more than to be somewhere else.

this time when you stood, neither of them made any moves to stop you and both watched you walk out of the empty classroom.

"i feel bad," nancy told robin who shrugged in response.

"it was worth a shot," she spoke, trying to retain some optimism. "let's just hope steve is having better luck with eddie."

currently, he was not.

"she's my best friend, steve," eddie said for the fifteenth time as if steve wasn't very aware of that fact.

"most couples are friends before they start dating, munson. you don't just fall straight in love. you like them before you love them and you won't ever know if she loves you if you don't try. do you really want to live never having tried to tell the person you love that you love them?"

"this is all so easy for you to say. you're fucking king steve," eddie shared before watching steve's shoulders deflate. he always forgot that he hated that nickname now that they were friends. "sorry."

"it's fine."

"it's not," eddie fought prior to getting back on track, "what i was trying to say was that you have girls falling at your feet everywhere you go. forgive me if i am not a hundred percent on board with how easy you are making this seem."

steve stepped forward, clasping his hand on eddie's shoulder to make sure he had his focus. "it is that easy, though. she loves you, man. anyone can see it."

steve tried to plead with eddie with his eyes, but eddie's expression changed from pure helplessness to slight suspicion.

"what do you know?" eddie inquired.

uh oh, steve thought as his eyes widened ever so slightly and his hand dropped from eddie's shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck.

"i- i don't know what you mean. i-"

"harrington." eddie's tone was one of warning.

"nothing, i know nothing."

eddie stepped up to steve, his eyes baring into steve's. "if you don't tell me whatever it is that you know, i'm telling henderson that it was you that broke his bard miniature, not tews."

"damn it, eddie," steve grunted as he ran his hand over his face. you were surely going to kill him if nancy or robin didn't beat you to it. "you can't say i told you, got it?" eddie's nod was so small, steve almost didn't see it. "she's in love with you, man. i was pretty sure because it was so obvious and then, a couple weeks ago, she drunkenly told me she was in love with me but she thought i was you. so, i asked her about it the next morning and she made me swear not to tell, but here i am telling you. anyway, she is absolutely in love with you and the winter formal would be the perfect time for y'all to get together if one of you would just ask the other. nancy and robin are trying to convince her to ask you right now."

steve had never felt so guilty in his life—not even when he broke dustin's bard and blamed it on tews—but in his head, he was making the right thing happen, so it didn't matter in the long run.

eddie's silence was starting to get on his nerves though.

"come on, man. say something. my ass is on the line here."

"she's in love with me?" eddie questioned in utter disbelief.

"so much it makes me sick."

"oh fuck, i- i gotta go."

"good luck," steve shouted eddie's way as the metalhead bolted out of the empty theater room.

when eddie found you, you were angrily switching out your books in your locker. you were nearly done when eddie ran over to you, but you didn't even notice him until he pulled your locker door back to look at you.

the action surprised you, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.

"jesus, eddie," you griped while grabbing your last book and shutting your locker door with an unintentional slam. "what do you want?"

if he wasn't on cloud nine with the news he just heard, your sour mood would've affected him.

your words must not have registered in eddie's head because he continued to stare at you like he was in some sort of weird daze.

"dude, are you high?" his eyes weren't glassy or red, but his pupils were blown.

you watched as he came to his senses and regained consciousness enough to speak.

"no, no," he answered, shaking his head, "but i have a question for you."

"okay, what is it?"

"i wanted to see if you wanted to go to this winter formal thing with me? like actually go with me?"

any other day, you would've been elated to hear that, but you couldn't fight the thought that nancy and robin were behind this. you wanted him to ask you because he wanted to, not because he was told to do it.

your frustration presented itself in the few tears that lined your eyes when you rolled them in annoyance.

"who put you up to this? nancy? robin? steve? someone else who thinks they know what's best for me?" you shook your head at it all. "god, i need this day to end."

"hey, no," eddie spoke softly in the way he always did when he was trying to calm you down. his hands came up to cup your cheeks, making sure your eyes were on him. "no one is making me do this. i just finally have the courage to quit being such a pussy and ask you out. we don't even have to go to the dance if you don't want to. we can do whatever, y/n, but i want to be with you. i don't want to spend the rest of my life regretting not knowing what could have been because i was scared of losing you."

you swallowed while your eyes bounced between his momentarily. "you really mean all that?"

a single tear fell from your eye, but it didn't get to travel far down your skin before eddie's thumb wiped it away. "every damn word."

a watery chuckle escaped you and a genuine smile spread on your lips. "yeah, i'll go with you."

"really?"

you nodded and surged forward to kiss his lips, pulling back to say, "you bet your ass, munson."

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurbs #blurbs #rebelemilu #❀ emily ❀#winter wonderland sleepover ✧*:･ﾟ

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startwelve · 3 months

Text

🎨The muse

Benedict Bridgerton x fem reader

Synopsis: Benedict asks his maid to be his muse...

Warning: Slight smut and English is not my first language.

The day was rainy, though the sun persisted in the sky. The room echoed with the pitter-patter of rain against the windowpane and the soft brush of the brush against the canvas. Benedict held his breath as his eyes glided between the painting and his model.

"Could you stay still for a moment?" he raised an eyebrow.

"My apologies. It's the first time I've posed for such a purpose," the model responded.

"I understand."

The night before, Benedict ventured into the servants' quarters and requested the youngest and most beautiful, Emily, to be his muse. Though she initially refused, she eventually agreed to the offer of generous remuneration. Now, she sat on an elegant sofa, clad in a dress she could never own… All hidden from the Bridgerton family and society to avoid any scandal.

Benedict's eyes roamed over Emily, from her reddish hair to her pale shoulders, and back again. Her attire, too revealing for his taste; but the canvas would not judge.

Benedict dipped his brush into a jar of paint and began to apply colors to the canvas with swift strokes, a faint smile dancing on his lips as he worked.

He continued painting, his brush moving skillfully to capture the essence of his model. He paused for a moment, furrowing his brow slightly.

-"Miss Emily, could I request a few minutes of your time after our session concludes?" There was a pause, then he continued. "I mean, after I've finished my representation of you?"

She frowned, not understanding the implication.

-"Oh, yes, of course."

-"Thank you, Miss Emily." Benedict's eyes returned to the canvas, his concentration unwavering. After a few more minutes, he finally set down his brush and took a step back to admire his work. "Would you mind observing my progress so far, Emily?" he inquired.

-"Yes, may I move now?"

Benedict smiled.

-"Of course, you may move now." He reclined on a table, waiting for Emily to leave the sofa. He couldn't wait to show her how he had captured her beauty on canvas.

She rose and approached the canvas to gaze upon it. Upon seeing it, she was astonished.

-"Is it me?" she whispered.

Benedict nodded.

-"Yes, it is," he replied, with a slight blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks… lovely," he added. "I've tried to portray you as you are, as you appear before my eyes."

Her cheeks colored, and she thanked him in a whisper, while nervously toying with the fabric of her dress.

Benedict smiled gently but remained silent. He noticed how Emily's dress had caught his attention, and he couldn't deny that it had a similar effect on him.

Clearing his throat, Benedict resumed the conversation: "Miss Emily… you are an extraordinary woman; I truly enjoyed this session… But I also must complete this portrait. Would you be willing to pose for me again?"

She nodded, though some doubts lingered in her mind.

"Let me ask you a question," Emily said.

"Of course," Benedict responded, intrigued to know where her question was leading.

"Why did you choose me, a maid, as your model when there are high society ladies who would be willing to do so?"

A gentle smile appeared on Benedict's face.

"Ah, of course," he replied slowly. "It's because I'm an artist, Emily, and I see you as you are. High society ladies have been pampered all their lives, so their appearances are somewhat artificial, and their minds often lack substance," he explained. "But a maid like you, a simple and hardworking woman, possesses an authenticity in your beauty and personality that I find inspiring."

She didn't know what to respond, and they both fell silent, creating an atmosphere between them until she asked:

"May I ask another question?"

Benedict nodded and encouraged her to continue.

"Of course, ask, Emily," he said, with a slight smile on his lips as he looked at her.

"Where does this beautiful dress come from?"

Benedict chuckled softly as he watched Emily, the picture of innocence and wonder.

"This dress," he said, walking to the dresser behind her. "It belongs to my lovely sister, Daphne…" he said casually.

Emily looked at him in disbelief, unable to believe it.

"If your sister found out I borrowed one of her dresses, she would dismiss me."

Benedict put a finger to his lips, asking Emily to keep the secret.

"No one needs to find out, alright, Emily?" he asked, looking at her as if his life depended on her answer. She nodded, and Benedict let out a deep sigh, releasing the tension that had been building up unnoticed. "Thank you, Emily," he said, with gratitude in his tone. I assure you I won't allow anything to happen to you. Now, shall we continue working on this portrait?" he asked, approaching the easel to resume painting.

She settled on the sofa, and Benedict began painting again, adding shadows and lights to the canvas. He had grown accustomed to seeing Emily on the sofa, in her dress.

After a few minutes of intense concentration, Benedict reclined again on the table and stared fixedly at the canvas, with Emily's figure in front of him.

"Emily," he began, addressing her. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Would you be willing to be my muse… not just today, but for… a long time?" he said, shifting his gaze back to Emily's eyes once more.

His words hinted at something more, something that transcended the simple request to be a muse. However, perhaps Emily didn't care about what lay behind this proposal. After all, Emily was quite delighted with the dress she was wearing…

"I… your muse?"

"Yes, Emily," Benedict began, his tone becoming more confident with each word. "I want you to be my muse for all my paintings, as long as you allow me," he said, looking deeply into Emily's eyes. "Your beauty is extraordinary and inspiring, Emily, and I want to capture it in every work I do. And if you permit me, I'll paint you every day," he added, waiting for her response.

"I don't know what to say."

"Just say 'Yes,'" Benedict whispered, taking slow steps towards her.

As the wind howled outside and the rain beat against the windows, Benedict's eyes met Emily's, while he held his breath, awaiting her response.

"Yes…"

When Emily's voice broke the silence that had settled in the room, Benedict's heart beat fast. He took another step towards Emily. He couldn't believe that she had agreed to pose for him day after day. The idea excited him tremendously.

"I'll paint you with all my heart," he promised finally, with his eyes fixed on Emily's.

She smiled softly.

Benedict sat beside her, and a hand rested on her cheek. He leaned in slowly and kissed her lips. Benedict's fingers slid to the buttons of Emily's dress as he moved closer. He unbuttoned one, then another button, before allowing the soft folds of the dress to slide off her body, setting her free.

Benedict's eyes continued to admire Emily's body as he bit his lower

lip. He wouldn't stop exploring until he had seen every inch of that body, and then… he would paint it, over and over again…

Benedict's hand moved to Emily's arm, his fingers tracing lines along her skin. She looked away, her cheeks flushed.

"Look at me," he said, gently stroking her chin.

The heat between them was palpable.

Benedict's finger traced the line of Emily's bare shoulder, smiling as he saw how the light made her skin glow. His eyes traveled every inch of her body.

Benedict's hands returned to Emily's chin, forcing her to look at him.

She couldn't believe what was happening between them, and a feeling of desire took hold of her.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, with his eyes fixed on Emily's lips as he spoke.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Emily…" Benedict whispered. "I want to hear something more than your 'thank yous'…" he said, his eyes fixed on her lips. As he spoke, his fingers moved to the button of her corset and began to unfasten it.

Benedict watched as Emily's cheeks flushed, while her body slowly became exposed to him. As the corset fell, he allowed his hands to gently return to her cheeks, her hair now falling on both sides of her face.

"You're breathing so fast," Benedict whispered, running his fingers gently along her collarbone. "Let me calm your heartbeat, Emily…"

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, he emitted a soft sigh.

Benedict smiled as he used his hands to gently push Emily back onto the sofa. With her bare back against the sofa, Benedict leaned forward and began to kiss her neck softly, before moving his lips to kiss the soft part of her shoulder.

He could feel Emily's heart beating between his fingers. "I believe…" he whispered, taking a second, before speaking again. "I believe I enjoy making you feel this way, Emily."

Emily's breath became heavier the longer they spent together, and a slight blush covered her body, as the heat between them was enough to fill the room.

He continued to trace his fingers along Emily's body, while kissing every part of it. Slowly, but surely, they were heading where both minds were thinking.

As the sound of the rain outside faded away in the midst of the pleasure between them, their breaths became one.

Emily's arms wrapped around Benedict as their lips met once more. And when they finished, Benedict's chest rose and fell at a rapid pace.

Benedict's eyes filled with amazement as he stared at her. He hadn't realized he could desire something more than just her body; he wanted her mind, her soul. Was it possible what the poets wrote? Was it possible to fall in love in a day?

#fanfic #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict x you #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton netflix #benedict bridgerton x maid #x reader #fem reader #reader fanfiction #female

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the-au-thor · 4 months

Text

Bestfriend Blurb #6 | Spencer Reid

Yep, as I always say: if you ask, you'll receive. You asked for them to figure it out. You asked them to finally say it out loud. Here we go! Hope you like it. If you have anything to say, just say it please. And remember this is not my first language and I tried to translate this the best I could. Also I love you, thanks for your love

Remember this is one of a series of blurbs you could read in the links down below:

#1- When he preferred your smile

#2- When he proved he knows you well

#3 - When he wanted you to choose him

#4- When you wanted to make him smile

#5- When you he loved you and you loved him back

Summary: Spencer and reader are bestfriends that love each other, just they haven't done anything about it. Let's see how they'll figure all out.

Words: 1.5k

Warnins: none

You saw Spencer leaving Hotchner's office, appearing to have a serious conversation, but Hotchner had a half-smile and seemed content with whatever they discussed. You hid behind your laptop as your boss briefly glanced in your direction. Spencer started descending the stairs, and you sank further into your seat, but you still felt his gaze on you. You listened to his footsteps leaving the room, then straightened up to make sure he was really gone.

Your heart paused from the marathon it started this morning when you saw him enter the office after you left a note in your apartment explaining "you had to do something (absolutely nothing) before arriving at Quantico". You let out a deep sigh of relief, deciding you could finally focus on the paperwork from the previous case.

"What are you doing exactly?" Emily's voice interrupted you from her desk.

You moved your gaze from the glass door to look at her, as if she had caught you doing something mischievous. "Me?"

Emily dropped her pen on the desk and leaned back, studying you slowly.

"No, my nemesis who has risen from the dead, Doyle," she replied sarcastically, then leaned against her desk and whispered, "Why are we hiding from Reid?"

You furrowed your brow and leaned back in your chair, letting out a nasal laugh. "I'm not hiding from Spencer..."

"You are. You know it. I know it; J.J, Rossi, and Derek know it."

Derek turned a page of his report and nodded without taking his eyes off the file. "Oh yeah."

"Yup," David agreed from his seat.

You looked at J.J on the adjacent desk, and she shrugged while munching on an Oreo, nodding her head slightly. You turned back to Emily, who wore one of her know-it-all smiles and shrugged.

"García doesn't say yes only because she's not here," she added, and then her expression shifted to a slightly more concerned one. "What happened? I thought Reid's surprise would cheer you up.

"You looked at them in surprise. "Wait, did he tell you?"

"No," Prentiss chuckled.

"We are profilers," Rossi glanced at you from the corner of his eye, sipping from his coffee cup with a small satisfied smile. "We know things."

You gave him a annoyed look and sulked in your chair.

"The surprise was good, thanks for asking."

"I didn't ask; I affirmed. I know whatever the boy genius orchestrated made you very happy, which brings me to ask, why aren't you happy?" Emily inquired with curiosity.

"Well, what is this? One of your tenacious and terrifying interrogation room talks?" you asked everyone, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Derek finally stopped looking at his work to pay attention to you with a sigh.

"Sugar it is very simple, either you tell us what's going on, or we profile you."

You rolled your eyes, knowing they would somehow figure out what was happening with you. On one hand, you were tempted to let them profile you; perhaps they could unravel the mess inside you that you couldn't even identify.

"Don't you think it's weird?" you asked, but none of them seemed to understand what you were talking about. "This, his surprises, don't you find it strange?"

David pressed his lips together but remained silent. J.J then let out a surprised laugh.

"What do you mean? It's... Spencer we're talking about. The Spencer who took you to a Peter Gabriel concert because he knew you were dying to hear 'Solsbury Hill' live, even though he hates crowds," she reminded you.

"The one who didn't reveal certain details in cases so that you could provide them and not feel less in your first months at the BAU," Derek recalled with a half-smile.

"He didn't do that..."

"No, of course not," Prentiss laughed. "Because he also doesn't let you win at chess" she added ironically.

"Hey, I've become very good at chess"

"Not better than Spencer," Derek clarified with a sing-song tone.

You gave him a displeased look.

"Thanks, huh?"

"It's just the truth," Emily genuinely chuckled at your stubbornness. "The point is, Spencer does these thoughtful things for you. It would be strange if he didn't do anything to congratulate you on your exhibition; something we all know meant a great challenge for you."

They all nodded in silent agreement with Emily. Without words, you had no choice but to stop arguing with them. If such behavior was normal for Spencer, did that mean you were perhaps reading too much into it, and your love for him was truly one-sided? Could it be that all this time, Spencer had just been himself and hadn't shown any interest in more than a platonic friendship with you? Since yesterday, you had acted like a coward because you had discovered you loved him, and there was a possibility he felt the same way. After all, who gives up a date just to spend an afternoon locked in with their best friend watching Doctor Who reruns that they could watch any other time? You panicked; he was your best friend, and even though you promised that if something happened, it wouldn't affect the friendship, you knew it was inevitable. Besides, he was also your colleague, and that kind of fraternization within the FBI was practically impossible. There would be tough decisions, inquiries, interrogations, and a probationary period to prove that the relationship wouldn't affect your performance in the field. But what scared you even more was that you could just lose him. Because you loved him so much; you loved how he closed up whenever strong emotions came into him, and you loved stripping away each of his layers until he let you in. You loved listening to him chatter endlessly about something he was passionate about or thought you might find interesting. You loved that he knew so many languages but sometimes struggled to understand the slang of his own mother tongue. You loved his pure heart and always innocent intentions. You loved seeing him with his peculiar weapon and how, in every case, he wished he didn't have to use it. You didn't want to stop loving him just because you couldn't give him what he needed.

"Hey, we didn't say Spencer does that with everyone," J.J, who seemed to read your intrusive thoughts perfectly, saved you from drowning in them, bringing you back to the surface. "He's like that with you," she added firmly, as if wanting to make it clear.

You tried to breathe but found it difficult. It was as if the air had suddenly become dense. You were about to hyperventilate when Hotchner came out of his office at the same time Spencer entered again, looking relieved. Hotch looked at you and then at Spencer, nodding with a solemn gaze before addressing everyone.

"I must announce a new decision that the bureau established starting this morning; Reid will begin to reduce his fieldwork hours to teach university classes."

You furrowed your brow, and your gaze inevitably turned to Spencer, whose eyes were on you as if expecting some kind of reaction. It would come, for sure.

"What?" you asked. "Why?"

The guys turned to Hotchner, awaiting an answer just like you.

"By Spencer's own request" Hotch frowned, somewhat confused, surprising everyone and making everything suddenly move around you.

Thoughts began to bombard you like a meteor shower. Spencer knew; he had found out what you felt for him and was starting to distance himself so as not to hurt you because Spencer was like that. He was considerate even when breaking your heart. Obviously, he would discover your feelings; he was an eminent profiler and knew you like the back of his hand.

"Hey..." you heard your name on Spencer's lips because he had identified the panic on your face and the distress in your eyes.

You looked at him, trying to hold back your tears and compose yourself as best as you could. With false calmness, you placed your hands on the table and then verbalized a decision that seemed to be the most reasonable thing to say.

"I resign."

A sepulchral silence invaded the room, and if you hadn't been so focused on keeping a decent image for a little longer, you might have heard the surprised squeal that came from Derek's throat. Without taking your eyes off Hotchner, you stood up and excused yourself to go to the bathroom because you weren't sure if you could maintain a decent appearance for much longer.

You held on until you crossed the door to start running towards the elevator and try to escape from something that was encapsulated in your head, dulling it, and trying to push the tears out of you. You pressed the elevator button that would take you away from Spencer when you saw his hand preventing doors from closing. You saw his face on the other side of the elevator, and you stayed inside, looking at his stern face and inquisitive gaze; he was searching for some kind of answer in your own face. He would have it, for sure.

"What was that?" He asked

Your lips trembled with nervousness, and then you decided to be completely honest.

"You don't have to leave; I'm leaving. This has been your job since before I arrived, and you shouldn't have to do this for me..."

He frowned almost offended. "What are you talking about?" he asked, taking a step forward and stopping the elevator pressing a button. "What's going on with you? You ignore me the entire weekend, and suddenly you decide to resign to take care of my feelings? How considerate!"

This time, you furrowed your brow. "Ignore you?"

"I'm not an idiot," he accused, making a small accusatory gesture with his hand. "You made your gratitude waffles and left them on the table with a note?"

"I had to go for a run; I wasn't performing as I should in the field, and..." you started to explain but he interrupted you.

"Lies," he lamented. "Lies! You hate sports as much as you hate mornings," he recalled. "And you did the same thing today," he cornered you with his words. "How am I supposed to think you don't want me to leave when you've only been pushing me away?"

That question completely disarmed you; you had left no choice but to opt for silence. You saw him press his lips with determination.

"What do you want?"

Flustered, you gasped, unable to give a neutral answer that would protect you from a broken heart.

"I don't want you to leave."

That genuine response seemed to calm him. His face and shoulders relaxed until the furrowed brow became history, and there was only a hint of weariness in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving, and you don't have to resign," he clarified. "It was a decision I made in conjunction with human resources."

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Why would you involve yourself with human resources?" you asked.

Spencer took the time to answer, silently studying you.

"Because I have to prove that I can do my job even when there are feelings involved and assure them that you can do the same thing."

A tingling sensation began to coat the walls of your stomach, and damn if you didn't already know what Spencer was insinuating, but you had to ask him.

"Your feelings have never stopped you from doing your job. Why would the bureau be concerned now...?"

Spencer let out a laugh and briefly looked away from you.

"It's different now because I fell in love with you," he admitted so honestly, so directly, so bravely, and without a hint of fear that the shame for your own fears silenced you. There was something effervescent inside you that numbed your tongue and destabilized any reasoning. Spencer took a step toward you, somewhat hesitant, but he didn't let his shyness stop him. He cradled your face with one of his hands, and his eyes studied your expression. He seemed excited. "And my dear, you fell in love with me," he murmured the last part, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes to caress your cheek with the soft pad of his fingers. "And I knew you would have fears; I knew your mind would play tricks on you. I knew it in the gallery; that I had to make sure that not a single one of your fears would come true."

You could live a thousand different lives and never do anything remotely worthy of deserving someone like Spencer.

"Spence..." you cried distressed, returning the gesture and cradling his face.

Because while you chose to isolate yourself and heal wounds you didn't yet have, Spencer was trying to eliminate anything that could cause you those wounds in the first place.

"Hey," he tried to calm you while continuing to caress your skin in circular motions. "That's why I talked to Hotchner this morning. That's why I talked to human resources. That's why I'm going to reduce my hours in the field. Because by taking a step back, I'll be closer to you," he admitted as your tears fell down your cheeks and he wiped them away one by one, brushing his nose against yours. "I want this, do you want it?"

You nodded, but you knew it wouldn't be enough; you had to say it out loud.

"I love you too, Spencer. And I'm scared that everything will change" you confessed with a trembling voice.

You felt his soothing smile just millimeters from your lips.

"It will be better," he said before pressing his lips against yours.

You let out a little squeal when the tip of your tongue brushed the smooth surface of his lips. Your back pressed against the cold wall of the elevator, and his chest collided with you as his other hand tenderly caressed your hair.

Nothing in a million years could have prepared you for what a single gesture from Spencer was making you feel. While his lips moved over yours with controlled emotion, and you stretched because you had been so far from him for so long that you needed to be as close as possible now. And for the first time, you didn't need your camera to capture the moment because you knew there was nothing in the world that could make you forget this first kiss.

Spencer watched you as you reluctantly pulled away. He had to maintain control; he could stick to you as much as he wanted at home later. For now, there was a mess to repair in the office with Hotchner; so he took your hand, and waited for the elevator to descend and the doors to open. He didn't expect to face the expectant gazes of your colleagues waiting for both of you outside the elevator. Hotchner had his arms crossed, and Penelope, who apparently had been informed by her not-so-discreet friends, observed your intertwined hands and opened her mouth in surprise.

"Is it done?" she shouted. "And did you wait until I wasn't in the room for everything to happen? Lunatics, I love you, but you are a pain in my elegant ass. I hope you're happy; I bet on this months ago, and frankly, I expected a faster move from you. Now I'll have to give my money to Emily and..."

Hotchner interrupted her to look directly into your eyes.

"I'll ignore your resignation from a few minutes ago, and honestly, I hope something like that doesn't happen again. I didn't bet money, but I did bet on you with the bureau; I vouched for your professionalism, and I know I won't be wrong. But don't make me doubt."

You felt Spencer's fingers give you a calm squeeze, ensuring that you wouldn't hyperventilate again in front of your unit chief because it wouldn't look good.

"Of course, sir. It won't happen again."

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Hotch remained serious, and then out of nowhere, he broke into a cheerful smile.

"That's what I wanted to hear. I'm very happy for you guys."

That brought your soul back into your body, and it was the green light your colleagues needed to let out a cheer and congratulate you.

Penelope jumped at you, and Derek at Spencer, while receiving your friend's hug, Spencer watched you, with that look of appreciation that had been directed at you all the time, and then you smiled at him. You gave him that smile that Spencer was willing to choose over anything every day for the rest of his life.

And things changed a bit. But not as your fears predicted. It turns out that now Mondays were Doctor Who Mondays too; the popcorn actually tasted better, and as you nestled between Spencer's legs and he cradled you in his arms that evening upon arriving at your apartment, your home, you knew it wasn't because of the butter, nope. It was because Spencer Walter Reid had chosen you, and you had chosen him.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid bestfriend blurb #friends to lovers #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #david rossi

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slutforsilverfoxes · 9 months

Text

Two Dirty Martinis and One Olive(r)

[A continuation of Oliver with a Twist 🖤]

—————

“I just miss him so much,” you sniffle, scrolling through an album simply yet effectively titled with the olive emoji and a green heart. “Do you think he knows that I’m coming home? Or do you think that he thinks he’s getting abandoned over and over again? Oh my gosh, that’s so sad,” you lament aloud, bottom lip trembling while you stare into your cat’s soulful eyes on the dim screen.

“How much has she had to drink?” Aaron murmurs to JJ as you continue pining for your fur baby and talking Emily’s ear off across the table.

“Well, none of us really ate today, and she’s had one green tea shot and one-” The blonde grimaces as you down the rest of your glass and amends, “Make that two dirty martinis.”

You pop the singular olive swimming in the last dregs of the alcohol into your mouth before your eyes grow comically wide. “I just ate my son,” you declare, your statement accompanied by a gasp.

Aaron smooths a hand over his face to resist laughing at your antics and excuses himself to get you a glass of water. Leaning against the bar while waiting for a bartender to become available, he studies the way you talk so animatedly, emphasizing your thoughts with your hands, and the way everyone around the table has an easy smile on their faces while they listen to you. This team has always felt like family, but your presence has made them complete.

He can’t help but think of his own little family of two, and he wonders how Jack would feel about a new special friend in his dad’s life. Aaron’s seen the way you interact with children on cases, and he has no doubt that you and Jack would get along exceptionally well. Plus you have a pet? His son would be elated to have a cat to-

“What can I get for you, sir?”

He’s abruptly pulled from his daydream of the two of you coming home from a case to your two-legged and four-legged sons, the back of his neck heating up as he turns to face the bartender. Clearing his throat, he requests, “Just an ice water, please. Thank you.”

Beverage in hand, Hotch overhears the last of your statement to your best friend on his return to the table, “…would be nice to come home to a man.” Emily raises an eyebrow at him over your head sleepily nestled in the crook of her neck, and he fixes her with a look that clearly reads Don’t you dare.

She dares.

“Any man?” the brunette smugly prompts.

“There is this one guy,” you confess in what you believe to be a whisper but in reality is heard clear as day by the whole table. You let out a hum and a dreamy smile spreads across your face. “He’s perfect. At least, I think so.”

Aaron focuses intently on a bead of condensation running down the glass holding your ice water, fighting the urge to confess his love for you right here and right now in front of the team. His other option, which isn’t looking entirely unfavorable, is to place the drink on the table and flee the scene.

“But he’s so dumb,” you announce with a huff of frustration, and Hotch swears the world around him comes to a dead halt with a record scratch.

Stifling a laugh at the way the man in question’s sheepish smile has immediately melted into a frown, JJ inquires, “How so, hon?”

“I mean, what’s taking him so long?” you demand. “I’m pretty cute, I think. I’m clearly single thanks to this fuckin’ job. And I’m-” You wave your hands around in front of you before clarifying your meaning, “-putting out all the signals, y’know?”

“Well, why don’t you just ask him out, mamas?” Derek offers. Your girlfriends’ heads swivel in his direction with narrowed eyes, and he shows his palms in mock deference, mumbling a placating, “Damn, okay,” around the lip of his beer bottle.

A sigh rattles out of you as if Morgan has grievously inconvenienced you before you explain, “I can’t, dummy.”

“Why not?”

Aaron can’t wait to hear this.

Your best friend rushes to cover your mouth before you say something you’ll regret when sober while Penelope and JJ jump in to change the subject, but your muffled voice escapes through Emily’s fingers anyway. “HR says fraternization between a unit chief and their agent is a big no-no,” you elaborate, stretching out the word for emphasis. Aaron’s palm is damn near frozen now from stupidly standing there holding the glass, but his feet simply won’t move. “And trust me,” you carry on, bowling over Emily’s desperate attempts to shush you, “I wanna fraternize with that man,” you declare giddily.

Aaron clears his throat to announce his presence, hoping that the dim lighting in the bar will mask his pink-tinged cheeks. You turn to see him standing there and your face splits into a wide grin, your alcohol-addled brain seemingly not connecting that he bore witness to the entirety of your confession. “Hotch!” you cry happily. “You’re back! And you brought me a water,” you sigh, reaching for the glass.

“Figured you could use it,” he mumbles quietly, pulse racing when your fingers brush as the glass exchanges hands.

You assert, “You’re the sweetest ever,” and he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at that.

The girls are studiously avoiding eye contact with him while Derek is staring at him, dumbstruck, and Spencer is quietly calculating the odds of you two confessing your feelings to each other before the night is over with a small smile on his face.

Hotch finds himself really wishing Dave hadn’t turned in early tonight. Or that he, too, had embraced being a senior member of the team and gone to bed instead of celebrating closing this case over drinks.

“Y’gonna just stand there all night?” you ask sweetly before patting the spot in the booth beside you. Aaron looks to his original seat to find that JJ and Penelope, still averting their eyes, have somehow shifted to the edge of the booth, leaving virtually no room for him to squeeze back in on their side.

Equal parts hesitant and hopeful, he slides into the space next to you feeling like a schoolboy with a raging crush when his leg tingles at the spot where the warmth of your thigh seeps through his slacks.

Oblivious to his racing pulse and thoughts, you lean your elbow against the tabletop and your cheek against your palm, looking up at him with a soft smile and a simple, “Hi there.”

“Hi, Y/N,” he murmurs back, and you gasp, “You said my name!”

“I say your name all the time,” he argues.

“Nu uh,” you protest, “it’s always Y/L/N or Agent or Agent Y/L/N.”

He hums in response, unwilling to admit that your name on his lips makes his brain a little fuzzy and his hands a little shaky.

“I like when you say my name,” you confess in a whisper, and Aaron can actually feel his heart swelling when you look at him like that, like he hung all the stars in the sky just for you.

In all honesty, if that’s what you wanted, he would defy gravity to make it happen.

“How’s Ollie doing?” he asks to change the subject, needing you to talk about something that makes you happy so he can keep seeing that beautiful smile on your face.

“Oh my gosh, so good!” you squeal excitedly. “He’s so, so smart. I taught him to sit and shake before meal time. Wanna see?”

“Of course,” Aaron smiles.

With a sly grin, you negotiate, “I’ll show you my kid if you show me yours,” and Aaron’s heart is now trying to actually escape out of his chest. “You…want to see pictures of Jack?”

“Of course,” you echo back. “How could anybody not love that little cutie? He’s got your dimples, y’know.” Your concentration shifts to your phone then, looking for the video of Oliver offering you his paw while Aaron sits there with a goofy smile on his face that has those very dimples making a rare appearance.

The next morning, armed with the logic that you’ll surely need to stave off a hangover, Aaron knocks on your hotel room door and asks you out to breakfast before your flight back home.

—————

Find the third & final part of Aaron, reader, & Oliver's story here!

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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foxintheferns · 4 months

Note

For a Paul imagine: reader has a date night planned, and it would be the first time in a while. But, Paul forgets and switches patrol shifts with someone else. Reader waits up, but eventually realizes Paul forgot and goes to bed.

A/N: Thank you for this one, LOVED writing it. But ummmmmm it gets a lil spicy and they don’t even rly fight so I honestly failed at my own game. He’s just too persuasive, you know? Even the him that I create from my very own thoughts 🫣🙄

CONTENT WARNING: sexual implications, body licking/biting, heavy on the sexy vibez purrr

[All dressed up, just for me?]

The pack’s patrols have been endless lately. A small group of slightly-too-interested bloodsuckers had been circling in around the Olympic Peninsula, and had unfortunately plucked off a couple of fisherman who had been out on their boats right off the beach. Sam and Jacob wanted all hands on deck for perimeter patrolling, and your imprinted lover, Paul Lahote, was their right hand man. You couldn’t remember the last time that Paul had been home for more than a night in a row, and you’d gotten quite used to -although not happy with- the feeling of an empty bed. You and Paul hadn’t gone farther than a few handsy make-outs in over a week, with Paul typically passing out as soon as he was home and only being woken from his sleep with a phone call from Jacob, or a howl coming from the forest outside the house early in the morning. The other day, you’d expressed to Paul how much you felt you needed a date night.

Paul had been exhausted, home for the first time in two days and apparently barely coherent. “Yeah! Um…,” He had yawned, lazily stretching out his lanky, muscular body and throwing his arm around you as he laid next to you in the bed, “Let’s go to dinner…Saturday night, we can do uh - oh, dinner at the Riverside?”

He had scratched his head, his eyes blinking as he stared across the room at the TV playing a movie.

“That sounds amazing.” You had happily sighed against him, feeling reassured that Paul had seemingly made an effort. You knew he loved you so deeply, and you knew there was nothing that could ever pull him away from you, what with his imprinting causing him to only truly ever see you. But, at the end of the day, the Alpha’s commands came first, and if the pack needed Paul, he was there in a heartbeat. Those commands came so often lately that you weren’t sure Paul even had a moment to realize that he hadn’t paid much attention to you. You’d been helping around the reservation, going to your job at the local farmer’s market, and hanging out with Emily throughout the long days.

Emily had even asked you how you were holding up, noticing that you seemed a bit quiet when you were visiting her last week.

“What’s up, (y/n)? Everything going good with you and Paul?” she had inquired, her hawk-like eyes seeming to observe you quietly for the entirety of the time you spent kneading breaddough together at her and Sam’s kitchen table. You hadn’t met her eyes, slightly embarrassed that she had so easily seen through your facade of…okay-ness.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, no everything’s good,” You had proclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm, putting more force into your kneading as your internalized emotions presented themselves. Emily had stopped moving, staring at you intently from across the table. You had continued to knead your dough vigorously for several more moments, feeling her eyes burning into you, before you paused as well and finally looked up to meet her gaze.

“Okay…,” You mumbled, your shoulders slumping in defeat, “So everything is not good.” To your surprise, a wave of relief had washed over you as you finally said the words out loud. You had been going crazy, not entirely sure if the lack of affection and attention was in your head, or if you were being selfish, or if it was simply a reality you needed to accept as the pack’s Third in Command’s ‘imprintee’. Emily had nodded slowly, a knowing and empathetic smile creeping onto her lips.

“(y/n)… it’s not easy being an imprintee, I get it. Sam’s been gone every night, too. And if he’s not gone, he’s thinking about being gone, and thinking about who he needs to tell to go on shift. But it’s truly not a reflection of their love for us, I can promise you that.” She spoke in a soft and low voice, staring at you with her gentle brown eyes.

You shook your head, starting to poke at the bread dough again, “I don’t know, Em. It’s like he doesn’t even see me right now.”

She nodded understandingly, “Oh, (y/n),” She murmured, a sad and careful look in her eyes. “Because his soul is attached to yours so deeply, (y/n). You are part of him. He may genuinely, honestly forget that you are two separate beings sometimes, that you are a human who can’t hear his thoughts and know how deeply he loves you ALL the time. He may be so comfortable and happy with you that he forgets you aren’t part of the whole wolf thing, too. It sounds silly, but he’s still a man, after all, underneath all the magic and power.”

You smiled as you remembered Emily’s words, feeling more at ease as you prepared for your date with Paul. There’s nothing to worry about, you told yourself. You stared at your reflection in the mirror now, as you finished doing your hair. It was now Saturday evening, and you were waiting for Paul to finish his day shift. Dinner at the Riverside Restaurant - that was the plan for tonight. Paul had suggested it himself, so you felt reassured that tonight would be a good thing for the two of you. You were giddy with excitement, happy with how you look and looking forward to some long-awaited intimacy with him. You slid into a dress that Paul hadn’t seen yet, a silky spaghetti-strap number with a high leg slit up the right thigh, showing off a generous amount of long, toned leg. You decided to make it a bit more alluring and added a sparkly leg chain from your drawer, one you’d never worn, pulling it up and around your thighs and ass under the dress. You strode over to the floor length mirror in the corner of the room, nudging the dress down to sit perfectly against you, and adjusted your hair. You felt pretty. In fact, you looked pretty damn hot, and you knew without a doubt that Paul would think so too. He never failed to act shocked and overly impressed at your appearance, even when he woke up next to you every day and saw you at your greasiest, or most exhausted.

You grabbed your phone off the dresser next to the mirror, glancing at the time. 6:18pm. Paul usually gets off shift around 5:30, and you wondered for a brief moment if there could’ve been some emergency causing him to be late. Your face paled and you felt your heart rate increase the moment you let yourself consider he could be in danger. Nonetheless, his job was insanely dangerous, and it crossed your mind whether you liked it or not.

You quickly shot him a text.

Hey! Comin home soon?

You decided to try and busy yourself while waiting for him to arrive. You sprayed your favorite perfume on, checked your makeup and hair one last time, and went down the stairs of the cozy house. A crackling fire always helped you relax. You grabbed some of the wood Paul had carried inside the other day, and started to get a fire going in the living room fireplace. Paul had taught you quite well how to make a fire, and you were proud of yourself when you got it going relatively quickly. You lit your favorite candle as well, and decided you’d take the extra bit of time before Paul got home to clean up the house. You figured since he’s been so busy, and so tired, a clean place would be a nice gift for him to come home to. And, keeping your hands busy always helped time pass faster for you. Cleaning felt therapeutic at the moment. You got to work, vacuuming the living room, putting the clean dishes away, and throwing a load of laundry into the washing machine, folding and putting away the clothes from the dryer. You left your phone on loud, knowing that you’d either get a message from him or he’d walk through the front door any minute now. After you finished making the house nearly spotless, added another log onto the fire, and still hadn’t received a message from him, you decided to check the time again. Surprisingly, over an hour had passed, and it was 7:30. You were starting to worry.

You clicked Paul’s contact, calling him. After 6 rings, you heard the beginning of his voicemail - ‘I’m busy, you know what to do’ his gruff and cocky voice came through on the recording. You hung up before the beep, rolling your eyes. You stared down at your phone. Exhaling slowly, you tried to think of reasons why he wouldn’t be answering your text OR call, and would also be late for the date. You tried desperately to not let your mind go to horrible places, and decided to text Emily.

(Y/N): Hey Em- is everything okay with the boys? No answer from Paul, we had a date planned tonight.

Within the minute, Emily responded:

Emily: Sam stopped by only half an hour ago before he went back out, said everything was going fine… maybe call one of the boys? pretty sure Embry took tonight off, he’ll have his phone.

You stared down at her message for a few moments, relief washing over you once you realized that the pack wasn’t in any life threatening danger, but confusion hitting you in it’s place when you realized that that would mean there was nothing stopping Paul from getting home over an hour ago. You swallowed, trying to calm yourself. You flicked through your text conversations until you came to Embry’s name, and tapped the icons until you were calling him.

It rang twice, then Embry’s soft voice came through the phone speaker.

“(Y/n)! What’s up, honey?” Embry was always a sweetheart to you; all of the boys were. You knew they all loved you deeply, and it was hard for them not to - they could hear and feel all of the thoughts that Paul had for you.

“Hey! Um- just wondering, do you know where Paul is?? We had a date planned for tonight and he should’ve been home a while ago…,” You said into the phone, running your fingers through your long hair and starting to pace around the living room, your bare feet padding across the thick carpeted floor. You heard silence for a moment too long.

“Embry? You there?” You asked, unsure if you’d lost connection.

“Uh yeah, (y/n), sorry…I’m here. I, I-didn’t know you guys had a date… I asked Paul if we could trade shifts cuz it’s my Mom’s birthday tomorrow and she wanted to celebrate tonight. He said no problem and that he had nothing goin’ on. I’m sorry, if I’d known I would’ve never asked him,” Embry’s sympathetic voice came through the phone, and your heart dropped.

“Oh…,” you murmured, trying to push aside the sudden onset of shocked pain that washed over you, “No worries, Embry, it wasn’t your job to know about it. Thanks for telling me. I hope you guys have a nice celebration tonight… tell your Mom I said Happy Birthday, yeah?”

“Aw man, (y/n), I’m really sorry, I’m sure he just forgot, you know? He’s rly gonna hear it from me for this one, though, don’t you worry. The guy’s gonna wish he remembered…and yeah, thanks, I’ll tell my Mom,” Embry responded lightheartedly, his tone sincere.

You managed a light chuckle, “Thanks, Em - I’ll see you soon, have a good night.”

After you hung up with Embry, you stood for a moment in the same spot in the living room and let your arms fall, your phone slipping from your hand onto the couch. You felt just about everything you could feel: anger, hurt, betrayal, confusion, disappointment. Above all else though, you felt alone. You seemed to be chronically alone, lately. This was the one thing you’d asked for. After weeks of Paul prioritizing the pack, which you’d understood and had patience for, you had finally expressed that you missed him; that you needed this. That something was missing. You knew now that he hadn’t been truly hearing you. You exhaled loudly, falling back onto the couch dramatically, and stared at the loudly crackling fire in front of you. For a few minutes, you sat stuck in your thoughts, unsure what to do with yourself. Suddenly, your phone dinged loudly. You quickly reached for it, turning it upright to see the screen. You were slightly disappointed to see a text from Emily instead of Paul, your anxiety having built up as you sat in silence, but then felt comforted at the fact that your best friend was always in your corner.

Emily: Did Embry answer! Where’s Paul?

You sighed, reading the message, and began to type back.

(Y/N): Paul apparently gladly took Embry’s shift when he asked to trade. Said he had ‘nothing going on’

You saw the (…) bubble pop up, showing you that Emily had begun typing the moment your text sent.

Emily: Wtf. Paul can be such an airhead, I swear! I’m sure he forgot, (y/n), hope you don’t think for a second that he’d ever do that on purpose

(Y/N): Oh, I know. There just seems to be a lot of forgetting happening recently

:( wearing a new dress and everything

Emily: :( love you (y/n) <3 I bet you look bangin, lady! Call me if u need me okay? Maybe take a bath or something, do a self care night, ya know?

You almost smiled at Emily’s text, and would have if you weren’t feeling so defeated.

(Y/N): Love you Em

You tossed your phone again to the side and decided to throw a few more logs on the fire. You ambled into kitchen, poured yourself a glass of rosé and put your favorite show on, getting under one of the massive fluffy blankets and settling in to try to relax. By 10pm, you were strewn across the big couch, the warmth of the fire having lulled you into a gentle snooze.

You woke with a start to the feeling of hot hands on your skin.

“Baby”, you heard the deep, rough voice murmur against your ear, hot breath hitting your cheek. Your eyes slowly blinked open, and you could see Paul’s massive frame over you as he knelt in front of the couch, one hand on your waist and the other caressing the back of your head.

He pulled back and smiled an immensely apologetic smile, the hand on your waist squeezing gently.

“Hi, sleepy girl,” He said softly, his rich brown eyes gentle and bashful. You didn’t respond, your brain glitching, confused and tired as you tried to piece together why you were mad at him, a difficult task when the man sat right in front of you. His features became more troubled when you didn’t respond.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, (y/n).”

You stared back at him, still not answering, and noted his shirtless torso only inches away from your face. When you peeled your eyes away from the abs and back to him, you caught his gaze stuck on your bottom half, and looked down to see what he was staring at so intently. Oh, that’s right. The dress. The slit that ran up the side of your leg was open, your entire thigh and right buttcheek exposed, and a large portion of your bikini line being put on display. You were glad you’d shaved. The faux fur blanket covered the rest of you, your half-bent leg being the one thing sticking out from under the fluffy cover. His eyes were stuck, his gaze lingering on the body chain that wrapped around your thigh, sparkling and glinting in the glowing firelight.

“(Y/n)…,” He whispered, swallowing hard. You watched as his Adam’s apple lifted up, then fell back down with the movement. His breathing hitched, and he finally flicked his eyes back to yours. His features were serious now, his brows drawn together.

“You have to know that I didn’t mean to forget, baby. I truly, honest-to-god didn’t mean to. Embry shifted like 10 minutes ago when he got home from dinner with his Mom just to let me know that you’d called him, and I had like 5 missed calls from Emily once I shifted back and…God I feel awful, (y/n), I figured if I traded shifts with Embry tonight, I’d get tomorrow off and we could spend the whole day together I-…I am so so sorry.”

You looked down, not bothering to hold his apologetic eyes, and took your bottom lip between your teeth as you absorbed his words and thought.

He bent closer, his large hand leaving your waist to caress your face, both hands framing your head now.

“I know it’s more than that, too. There’s no excuse for tonight but… I know I’ve been neglecting you, baby. I realize that now. You’ve needed me and I haven’t been there. I haven’t been there for you and I’m so, truly sorry for that. I’ll do better, I will. It’s easy to forget sometimes that just because you and I have this eternal bond, that doesn’t mean I can just forget to show you I care. And I care, (y/n), I care so much. You are who I’m thinking about when I’m out there on patrol, when I’m protecting this town. You are what gets me up every day. You’re the most important thing in my life. You know that, right?”

Throughout Paul’s rambling monologue, you had lifted your eyes, finally meeting his intense brown orbs. He held your face, gently and quietly speaking his words, not pulling his gaze away from you even for a single moment. He had brought a smile to your lips at several points in his little speech, and you felt wetness begin to prick in your eyes at his words. He had felt it too. He knew something was off between you, too. You felt an emotional release at his acknowledgment of what you’d been holding in for weeks. You could feel his love, deep and primal, radiating from him- oozing from his very being.

He continued to stare, his eyes narrowing and his hands shaking you ever so gently.

“Answer me, (y/n). You know that, right?,” he repeated, his tone and face still serious, but a glimmer of playful energy in his eyes now.

You couldn’t help but break into a wide smile now, and a light giggle fell from your mouth. His face broke into a massive grin at the sound, and he planted a hard, wet kiss on your lips, his mouth soft & hot. He groaned very lightly into the kiss, then pulled back to stare at your face again, proceeding to plant quick and delicate pecks over and over, along your mouth and then your cheeks, around your temples, down your jaw and along your throat. He kept going until you were a giggling, squealing mess beneath him. His hands fell to your waist and he gripped you against the couch, holding you hostage as he continued attacking you with his lips. “Okay, okay! Stop!” You finally broke your silence, your breathless voice coming out in begging pleads as his kisses and strong hands held you captive. He pulled back, his dark eyes now filled with a new expression. It was one you recognized, and hadn’t seen in a while. His gaze fell, trailing down your throat and along your chest, moving downwards until it fell yet again on the exposed, supple skin of your thigh. His jaw suddenly tightened, and his tongue left his mouth briefly to swipe across his bottom lip.

“Christ, (y/n). I really missed out, huh?” His eyes were still on your legs, and his left hand reached out to let the tip of his middle finger drag along the skin of your thigh. “Never seen this dress before,” he muttered, lowering his head to leave soft, hungry kisses, beginning at your knee and moving up until he reached the inner side of the open slit. He flicked his gaze up to your eyes. “You got all dressed up, just for me?”

“Mmm, really should’ve remembered our date, huh Lahote?,” You responded smugly, a smirk on your face as you took in the view of his slightly desperate expression. His eyes darkened suddenly at your words, and he moved his mouth up your body, leaving kisses wherever he could find skin. Between kisses, he murmured deeply against you, his hot breath sending waves through your core. “And what were you planning on us doing after this date, (y/n)?” His eyes shot up to your face now as he lowered his mouth down to the top of your thigh, letting his hot tongue slowly drag across the exposed flesh. You felt your face flush and your heart begin to thump harder in your chest. With his keen wolf senses, you knew he could likely hear the change in your heartbeat, and your fear was confirmed when a mischievous chuckle left his mouth.

“Mmm, yeah. That’s what I thought…,” He squeezed your thigh with his hand, the muscles in his forearm flexing, “That’s what this dress was for, huh? Is that what you’ve really been needing?” His tone was soft, his deep voice babying you, the way that only Paul knew how. He nipped softly at the flesh on your inner thigh, another rough groan escaping his lips.

You decided he didn’t get to be rewarded for his mistake so easily, and snapped your legs closed, crossing your arms over your chest and furrowing your brows. His eyes snapped up to your face, his expression darkening again. He tsked; shaking his head and scowling slightly at you. When you remained still, your arms crossed and your chin lifted in defiance, he narrowed his eyes. Then, his features softened, and he lifted his massive body so that he completely hovered over you. Heat radiated from him, and you secretly ached for him. You wanted him to lower himself down, so that all of him was touching all of you. You stared up at his face, which was now only inches from yours. He could read you like a book; he knew forgiveness came easily to you. There was no fooling him - you knew he was very likely seeing the want in your eyes. He leaned in slowly, resting his soft lips against yours tenderly. When he pulled back, he gazed at you lovingly, now going along with your feigned hesitation and apparently, full of remorse again. Oh, the games this man sure can play.

“Baby…,” he whispered, leaning in against your ear, his hot tongue swiping along the delicate skin below it.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Can you forgive me?” His voice was rough, hunger for you laced throughout but with a tone that was now a beg, filled with a tangible desperation. You knew he’d do whatever it took to gain your forgiveness. And you were ready to let him beg for it for as long as you felt necessary.

A/N: I could totally go further with this. And perhaps, if I was asked nicely, I would 😏

#Paul Lahote #Paul lahote imagine #twilight #twilightxreader #Paul x reader #imagines #fanfic #paullahote #twilight imagines #fanfiction #paullahoteimagine

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chiffxna · 11 months

Text

A Love Too Dark (01)

The Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Chapter 01 - A Deal With The Devil

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC.

This story will contain 18+ mature themes, dark romance, toxic behaviour, blood, violence, stalking, manipulation, a lot of smut, dubious consent, non-consensual content, yandere Marquis de Gramont, power play, and power imbalance, obsession, dark Marquis de Gramont, and abuse of power. The list will be added more as the story progresses. Minors, don't read.

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 02

"I have to go now, mom," Yn Ln announced to her mother.

Upon hearing her say that, anyone would envision her saying that as she prepared to leave the house and informed that to her mother who was probably cooking in the dining room or handling house chores. Her father was probably napping or watching the television. The usual situation to a healthy family with a normal life, I bet one would say.

But no. It was the complete opposite.

Yn got up from the chair and put it back under the table where she had taken it previously. She glanced at her mother in the hospital bed. The older woman was quietly watching her with a pair of tired eyes, but upon realizing her daughter was looking at her, she put on a weak smile and said, "Be careful on your way home, dear."

Yn stepped closer to her bedside and grasped her hand. She regarded her mother with a sympathetic smile, "It'd be nice if you could come back home too."

Her mother tightened her hold on her oldest daughter's hand and replied, "Soon enough, honey. Soon enough. I just need to stay in the hospital for a long while. The doctors will do their best for me, you know. Then we can go home together."

Her mother was always an optimistic person and very patient. Her kindness knows no bounds and it's what kept her going through all the pain and suffering she had to endure. It hurt Yn so much to see her lying in that hospital bed, weak and frail. Her illness had taken a toll on her body and Yn wished there was some easy, quick way to make her better, but she knew the only path was through the expensive medical treatments needed for her recovery.

As Yn let go of her hand, she gave her a small peck on the forehead and whispered, "I'll visit you again tomorrow. Take care, mom."

Yn stepped outside the hospital and called for a CarRyte. She glanced at her wristwatch, realizing it was already seven in the evening. Her worry started to grow; she had an eight o'clock shift at the casino and she needed to be punctual, knowing her employer was particular with timeliness.

Soon enough, her ride arrived fast enough for Yn. She got into the CarRyte, breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in the seat. She closed her eyes and tried to relax but her mind was racing. She was worried about her mother and the mounting medical bills. Since her father had long deserted them, Yn was the one who had to take care of the family and was responsible for collecting enough money for her mother’s treatment.

Upon arriving at the casino, she went straight to a door on the side of the building. A notice with "No Entry" was glued to the door, though she did not heed it since she knew it was actually a door for the casino's staffs only. She then entered an empty corridor and headed straight for the staff's changing area. She was welcomed by her female co-workers who were all wearing a seductive black bunny outfit with bunny ears atop their heads. Each one had applied makeup differently - some went for a lighter look and others had gone for heavier makeup styles.

As she sat down at her table, a woman in her late twenties - already dressed up in their uniform which was the seductive black bunny outfit - approached Yn and said with an urgent tone, "Oh, Yn! Thanks God, you're finally here!"

Yn glanced at her with surprise and inquired, "Emily! What's the matter? Something happened?"

Emily suddenly placed a set of the bunny outfit on its hanger and hung it beside Yn's makeup table. Her actions were hasty and hurried which caused Yn to watch her with puzzlement. Emily paused as she gazed back at her best pal, then proceeded to shake her head in confusion before uttering, "Well? Get ready, girl! Mr. Malone told us all to finish up as soon as possible!"

That got Yn to immediately start her skincare routine while asking with urgent tone, "Oh, he did?! Why?!"

“Oh dear, you didn’t check your phone again, did you?” Emily shrugged as she hurriedly dragged a chair to sit beside her friend. She replied, "I don't know why but he did say there's something he's going to tell us. He wants us to be ready thirty minutes earlier than usual."

"Don't tell me he's going to scold all of us again," Sophia, one of their coworkers, who was sitting at her makeup table which was located next to Yn's, spoke up, apparently overhearing Emily.

"What did we do, though?" Emily said, rolling her eyes, as she began helping Yn in her makeup. She continued, "He praised us for our excellent work last night."

Emma, another coworker, stated, "Maybe he had checked the CCTV and saw Sophia sneaking a drink from behind the casino."

Sophia scoffed in response, "I wasn't sneaking! I was just taking a break and having a sip of... water."

The rest of the girls laughed in unison, knowing that Sophia just blatantly lied since there was a delay in her answer, a crystal clear sign that she was lying. Plus, she was notoriously famous among them - even Mr. Malone knew - for taking sips of alcohol behind the casino during her breaks. Yn hurriedly put on her light makeup with Emily’s help, still worried about what Mr. Malone wanted to tell them. She knew he was a strict employer but she didn't want to disappoint him, not when this was the highest paying job she'd ever gotten. Not when her mother's life depended on it.

Once Yn had done her makeup and slipped into her bunny costume, she stepped out of the staff's changing area with the other girls. They all then assembled in the casino, still devoid of customers since they hadn't opened yet.

There they saw Mr. Malone talking on the phone, seemingly anxious over something. Once he saw them, he hung up the phone abruptly without saying goodbye to whoever on the other side of the call. It was his habit to hang up curtly.

"Took y'all long enough," Mr. Malone began, "Right. I'm gathering you all here to tell you that tonight we will have a very important customer. A VVIP. A very, very important VVIP. He's rich, important, and very influential."

Some of the girls behind Yn tried to restrain their grin after hearing what their employer said. They were very much interested in this VVIP in an instant upon knowing it's a male and that he's rich. The latter added, "I want you all to cater to his needs and whatever he wants. Give your two hundred percent of excellent service for him!"

Then his voice dropped to a dangerous tone. The others knew this as a warning tone for them. He said darkly, "If I hear even one word of complaint from him about one of you, whoever it is will be fired on the spot."

Every girl instantly tensed up. Yn felt a lump form in her throat. She knew how high the stakes were. This job meant everything to her, and if she were to lose it, she wouldn't have anything to fall back on. She clenched her hands together, determined to give her best performance. She glanced around at her coworkers, who all seemed to share her anxiety. They all knew how strict Mr. Malone was, but this felt different. This felt like their livelihoods were on the line.

Mr. Malone stated, "I believe having one bunny-girl to accompany him tonight is crucial to ensure perfect service, so... Yn, would you be up for it?"

Yn was stupefied. She sensed all eyes were locked on her as she remained speechless. Mr. Malone noticed the startled look on her face and commented, "What? You accompanied a VIP last night and received nothing but praises from him. You could do the same for this VVIP tonight again, ain't cha?"

He made it sound so simple. But Yn was uneasy this time, aware that a mistake or unlucky accident might lead to her dismissal from the job she had done so well for months. Yn hesitated, unsure if she could handle the pressure of catering to a VVIP. She thought about the high possibility of losing her job and the fear of not being able to provide for her mother if she gets fired.

Suddenly, Amelia, another coworker of hers, put up her hand and spoke up, "Mr. Malone, I volunteer to accompany him, please."

All eyes, including Yn's, were thrown to Amelia. All of them were astounded and in disbelief. Mr. Malone looked at her skeptically, "Are you sure, Amelia? You've only been working here for a month. I'm not sure if you're ready for this level of service yet."

Amelia replied with confidence, "I'm sure, Mr. Malone. I'd love to take this opportunity."

Mr. Malone thought for a moment before nodding his head. "Alright then, Amelia. You'll be accompanying the VVIP as his bunny-girl tonight. The rest of you, all the other customers also deserve the best service from you. Got it?"

The girls all nodded their heads in agreement, relieved that the decision had been made and that they were not holding a huge risk of being fired above their head, though they were still under the risk if the VVIP even muttered a word of complaint about any of them.

Mr. Malone said, "That's all. Remember. Two hundred percent of excellent service. No complaint from him. Oh, and don't forget your mask, ladies."

All of them dispersed to prepare for the opening. Yn headed to the table behind the main casino and opened the first drawer. There she saw a bunch of new, plain black masks and grabbed one. Once she put it on, Amelia came up to her and said with a smile, "Hey, Yn. Could you get another one for me?"

"Sure," replied Yn as she picked one and gave it to her.

Amelia thanked her and put it on. She looked back at Yn and heaved out a sigh, saying, "Gosh, I'm nervous. I'm starting to regret volunteering."

"Hey, don't be nervous," consoled Yn, "You were confident to take on the job. Get that confidence back. You can do it, Amy."

Amelia smiled, though she could not hide the anxiety gleaming in her eyes. She then turned her body fully to face Yn and, with a soft and low tone, she said, "Umm, sorry if it seemed abrupt... like I'm taking that opportunity away from you. I just want to..."

Yn raised both of her eyebrows, awaiting Amelia to finish her sentence. The latter appeared at a loss for words, pondering on what to say next, that it gave a short delay in her sentence and made her feel awkward.

"I just want to prove that I could handle VVIPs," disclosed Amelia to Yn, "I know that Mr. Malone thinks less of me because I'm new. So I want to show him that I can do this."

Yn put her hand on Amelia's shoulder as a gesture of comfort and the former said with a soft smile, "Amy, don't overthink like that. As strict as Mr. Malone is, he is patient and he wants you to take all the time you need to improve. That's how he treated me before. He let me handle the easy tasks, then one day he suddenly said I'm ready and he told me to be a VIP's bunny-girl that night. You need to trust him and the process."

Amelia smiled at Yn, feeling a bit self-assured, though she ended up asking her, "Is it too late to back out now?"

Yn squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and responded, "Perhaps not too late, but hey. Try this opportunity first. Maybe the VVIP tonight is a good customer. You may never know."

Amelia took a deep breath, clearly attempting to soothe herself down, before she put on the mask. Yn also did the same, properly donning the mask, covering her nose and mouth with it, before she looked back at Amelia.

"You're wearing it tonight?" inquired Yn.

Amelia sent her a sly smile and said, "Yeah. Mr. Malone didn't exactly tell us who the VVIP is, so I'm wearing it just to be safe. Wouldn't want an elderly man groping me even though he's a billionaire."

Yn chuckled, "That's true. Anyway, I have to go and set the mask signs near the entrance. Good luck, Amy!"

Amelia replied back with a chirp, "You too!"

Yn went to grab a few stainless steel signage stand which depicted the mask system in this bunny casino. The signage plainly showed that there was such system here in the casino to protect the staffs and bunny-girls.

Yn brought the stands to the entrance and placed them on either side of the entrance door. She sent a smile to the casino bouncer before she looked back at the stand and read it:

Bunny-girls with mask, do not harass them in any way.

Bunny-girls without mask, may be propositioned for private rooms and physical contact with consent and tipping.

Yn took a deep breath and adjusted her bunny ears and the mask on her face, ensuring it concealed her nose and mouth properly. She then walked into the casino and helped her coworkers in preparing for the opening. Eventually, Mr. Malone opened the main door of the casino and announced its opening to everyone. Almost instantly, customers began streaming in as the music blared and the bunny-girls started attending to guests' needs.

As the night wore on, Amelia found herself concentrating deeply in her duty. She had become so preoccupied that any thought about the upcoming mysterious VVIP eventually faded from her mind. As she glanced around and checked on her fellow colleagues, it appeared that they were also busy serving and tending to the customers as well. The sense of responsibility was shared by everyone present.

Just then, Mr. Malone's voice echoed through the casino, "Attention all bunny-girls! The VVIP has arrived. I repeat, the VVIP has arrived. Please prepare to greet him at the entrance."

Yn's heart raced as she made her way to the entrance, joining the other bunny-girls as they all left the patrons they were tending to and lined up on both sides of the red carpet. She could feel the nervous energy in the air as they all waited for the arrival of the VVIP.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps growing louder against the marble floor caught Yn's attention. She glanced towards the entrance, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw a man with his bodyguards entering through the entrance.

He was tall with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. Adorned in a dashing all-white three-piece suit which was impeccably tailored to his muscular frame, accentuating every inch of his chiseled physique, he exuded an air of confidence and power that commanded attention from everyone in the casino. His piercing cold eyes looked straight ahead, briefly scanning the line of bunny-girls, including Yn.

For Yn, she was visibly transfixed and speechless at how gorgeous he was. Her mouth opened slightly as she gaped at the tall man in white. Her eyes widened and her gaze lingered on him for several seconds, unable to look away. His chiseled features and commanding presence had a captivating effect on her. The way he moved with confidence filled her with admiration and awe.

And she could tell that she was not the only one feeling the same.

Some of the bunny-girls in both queues visibly inhaled in complete awe of his stunning irresistibility. Very few even exchanged knowing glances and smiled in elation at the fact that they got a very charming customer.

"Goddamn, he's hot as fuck," whispered Emily.

Sophia joined in the hushed conversation, "Amelia is one lucky bitch."

"I know right," replied Emily, "If I knew he would be this sexy, I would have volunteered as tribute right away."

Emma chimed in a whisper with a dreamy gaze towards the VVIP, "I want to make out with him."

Emily added, "Bitch, I wouldn't just make out with him. If I have nothing to lose, I would've have knelt down in front of him by now, you know what I mean."

Those who heard her tried their hardest to refrain from chuckling. That's when Yn realized something. Most of the bunny-girls started to sneakily remove their mask. When some of them caught each other doing the same thing, they merely grinned mischievously and hid away their cloth. They were obviously hoping that they would catch the interest of the captivating VVIP.

Yn then cast her eyes onto Amelia who was supposed to be the attractive VVIP's personally bunny-girl. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of Amelia's fully revealed and blushing face. She had already removed the mask as soon as she laid her eyes on her customer. Yn chuckled inwardly in amusement.

As the VVIP strode closer to the end of the red carpet where stood Mr. Malone and Amelia, the former bowed respectfully to him and said, "The Marquis de Gramont, welcome to the Bunny Club Casino! I'm Adrian Malone, the owner of this establishment. Allow me to personally welcome you on behalf of the entire staff. If there is anything my humble establishment can provide for you, please don't hesitate to ask. This way, please."

The Marquis did not utter a word. Instead, he merely nodded his head in acknowledgment and let Mr. Malone lead him towards the luxurious VIP room. Amelia followed suit with the VVIP's bodyguards which was all clad in dark suits.

"Good luck, Amy!" Emma shouted in a whisper to Amelia, "You'll definitely need it!"

Amelia turned her head around to look back at her colleagues and sent them a thumbs-up and an excited grin, evidently feeling enthusiastic at having such dashing customer as her first personal client. She then entered the VIP room with the rest of them, disappearing from the others' view.

Yn smiled warmly, hoping that the new girl would have a great experience. She needed something to help her grow, and maybe the fact that the VVIP was quite attractive could give Amelia's self-esteem a much-needed boost.

"But oh my God!" Emily chirped to the rest of the bunny-girls, "He is the Marquis! Oh my God! The Marquis!"

"What's a 'markis'?" Emma asked innocently.

Emily sent her a silly deadpan stare and corrected her, "It's Marquis, you innocent goof. Marquis."

"That's how I said it, right?" said Emma, "Markis."

"It's Marquis," Emily then proceeded to spell it slowly for Emma. Once the latter got it, Emily added, "Anyway, a Marquis is a nobleman. And not just any nobleman, he's one of the most influential and powerful figure in all of France. It's like he's practically royalty. That means he's got the wealth, power and connections! And he's here, in our casino!"

"Yeah, no wonder Mr. Malone warned us to do our best service. It's because the VVIP is a Marquis," Sophia interjected, suddenly sounding grim out of the blue, "But hey. Now that we know who he is, I heard he's a powerful French aristocrat but he also seems to be involved with the underworld, you know. He is dangerous."

Yn was taken aback by Sophia's sudden dark comment. She had never heard anything about the Marquis. This was her first time learning and meeting him and she'd already heard of unsavory rumors about him. Sure, it's just rumors. But Sophia was known to be well-informed about the latest gossip in the casino. She couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to her words.

"Woah, that's crazy. Is that true?" Emma asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Sophia shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't know. Just rumors, I guess. But he's not someone to be messed with, that's for sure. Just be careful, girls."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Don't start with the scary stories, Sophia. It's probably made by some geezer who is jealous of him. Sure, he's rich but that doesn't necessarily mean he's dangerous and is involved with crime. And we all know that not everything that people talk here is true."

Yn nodded in agreement. She didn't even want to think of any possible risk of danger tonight. Not when Amelia was with the man in question.

"Well, if Mr. Malone allows such man walk into his casino, I'm sure everything will be fine," Yn said, trying to change the subject, "In the meantime, let's focus on our duties. We don't want to keep any of our clients waiting."

The others nodded in agreement, and the bunny-girls dispersed around the casino floor, tending to the needs of their customers who were enjoying with everything the casino had to offer.

Approximately thirty minutes had passed and every staff was fully focused on their task, living up to their boss' expectation and ensuring that the customers had nothing but the best experience at the Bunny Club Casino. Yn was in the middle of serving a round of drinks when Emily appeared next to her and whispered, "Hey, you notice that Mr. Malone hasn't come out of the VIP room yet?"

Yn threw a quick glance at the door of the VIP room before she looked back at her close friend and replied, "Maybe he's discussing about something with the Marquis? He is not going to let someone as important as that getting away."

Emily snorted, "Maybe he wants to make another casino in Paris? Well, that does sound like him. But aren't you curious why the Marquis came to our casino in the first place?"

"Maybe he wants to enjoy it while he's staying in our country," Yn guessed as she picked up the glasses and used plates from a table which a bunch of patrons had just left.

"But fishy, you know," commented Emily, "But Amy is one lucky girl. Even if the Marquis is shady, he's practically sex on legs."

Yn couldn't argue on that. The Marquis was undeniably attractive. But she didn't want to think too much about someone who was way too good for her or someone who’s going to stay a stranger to her. That was how she evaded being attached to any man whom she saw no future with.

Suddenly, Emma rushed towards them, looking panicked, "Guys!"

Yn and Emily's eyes widened in surprise at her unforeseen appearance. Emma gasped out in panic before she told them, "Amy's crying! She's in the staff's changing room!"

Yn's heart sank at the news. She knew in an instant that something terrible had happened in the VIP room and unfortunately the victim of the situation was Amelia. Yn and Emily exchanged wide-eyed glances before the three of them rushed towards the changing room.

As they got closer, they could hear the sounds of Amelia's sobs getting louder. Yn's heart raced as she pushed open the door to the changing room and found Amelia sitting on a couch with tears streaming down her face. Her makeup was smudged and her hair was a mess. Sophia was already by her side, consoling her to no avail apparently. Upon hearing the door opening, Amelia looked up and noticed the three girls, her eyes puffy and red.

"What happened, Amy?" Emily asked, her voice laced with concern.

Amelia sniffled and wiped at her eyes before finally speaking up, "It's the Marquis..."

She delayed as she took a shaky breath, somehow not breathing properly due to her crying fit. Sophia started rubbing her back up and down as Yn, Emily and Emma stayed standing before them.

Amelia's voice was scratchy and strained, broken up by her gasps and sobs, as she tried to explain, "I was standing by the sofa while he was talking with Mr. Malone. Then... he saw that huge wall painting in that VIP room. You guys know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Emma, "There is a huge abstract art in that room. Yn actually brought that."

Yn nodded her head, recognizing which painting that was and wordlessly admitting that it was that same painting she had given Mr. Malone one month ago.

Amelia spoke up, "Yes, that. The Marquis stared at it and he didn't even listen to Mr. Malone's offer to collab together. Then he spoke about how that abstract painting is full of meaning and whatever it is. And I laughed. Suddenly, he looked at me but he seemed angry. It's like I offended him but I didn't! I just snorted!"

She continued, "Then, while he's glaring at me as if I'm a cockroach, he said to Mr. Malone that a collab with this casino would be stupid since he's hired someone uneducated like me to work here!"

Amelia's face crumpled in fresh tears as she buried her face in her hands. Her sobs intensified as she recounted the Marquis' words, causing Sophia to rub her back even harder. The rest of the bunny-girls in the room were speechless.

Yn felt a lump form in her throat as she thought about the Marquis' arrogance and his ability to make Amelia feel so small. She knew that the Marquis was a powerful man who had a reputation for being difficult to deal with, but she never thought that he would be so cruel to someone who could not control herself from laughing.

Emily moved to sit next to Amelia on the couch and put her arm around her, "Don't listen to him, Amy. He's just a snob. You're talented and smart. You don't need his approval."

"But... but..." Amelia stammered while sniveling, "What about Mr. Malone? The Marquis ridiculed me. He complained about me. Mr. Malone would fire me! I don't want to lose this job! Even if I have to dress in this sexy bunny costume, it pays well! We get tips every day! I can't lose this!"

Yn's heart sank as she watched Amelia break down further. She knew how desperate Amelia was for this job and how much it meant to her. Like Yn, she also came from a family with financial problem. Yn couldn't let the Marquis' rude behavior ruin everything for Amelia.

"We won't let that happen, Amy," Yn said, her voice firm and full of conviction. "We'll talk to Mr. Malone. We'll make sure he knows that the Marquis was the one out of line and that you don't deserve to be treated that way."

Amelia looked at Yn with tear-filled eyes, hope shining in her gaze. Sophia nodded her head in agreement and Emily joined in saying, "Yeah, forget about him. He's a fuckwad! And we'll convince Mr. Malone for you!"

Yn, Sophia, and Emily exchanged determined glances, all agreeing to help Amelia in any way they can. Without even discussing it properly, they knew with a glance that they would altogether rush into Mr. Malone's office and persuade him forcefully. Seeing the overwhelming support from her friends, Amelia wiped away her tears and smiled warmly at them, the first one in a while.

"Thank you..." Amelia said, her voice filled with sincere gratitude, as she looked down and wiped the dried tears on her cheeks.

Yn smiled back at her, "We are here for you, Amy. You may not get to see Anita. She recently quitted as a bunny-girl but she kept telling us that bunny-girls stick together and help each other out. That's exactly what we're going to do."

Amelia's smile widened as she stared at Yn. The dense, oppressive atmosphere in the room suddenly dispersed, replaced with an uplifting sense of camaraderie and support as they all shared a moment of unity and solidarity. They all knew that no matter what, they would always have each other's backs.

Suddenly, the door to the changing room was pushed open. They looked to see it was Rachel, another bunny-girl who was not close with them. Rachel observed them for a moment, sensing that some drama had transpired. She then noticed the puffy and red eyes of Amelia and her smudged makeup. Understanding dawned in her head, knowing that something bad had happened while Amelia was serving the VVIP.

She didn’t ask for any detail. Instead, she turned to someone else and informed, "Yn, Mr. Malone called for you at the VIP room."

With that, she spun around and left the dressing room. Everyone was quiet after her statement, taking some time to process what they had heard. A nervous energy filled the air.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open again and Rachel came in halfway, looking at them. She then added, "Now."

That seemed to snap everyone out of their trance and Yn glanced at her friends, noticing the uneasiness on their face. Amelia seemed particularly worried for her. Knowing there was no escape from the predicament, Yn took a deep breath. She then excused herself before heading out with Rachel away from the changing room.

Once they arrived at the door of the VIP room where bodyguards were stationed, Rachel left, leaving Yn to prepare herself for what's about to come. The latter took a moment to compose herself, even checking if the mask on her face was properly put on, before pushing open the door and letting herself in quietly.

Black and gold furniture dominated the room with velvet sofas and chairs; a grand chandelier hanging in the center. Gleaming golden accents adorn the walls and luxurious rugs ran across the floor. The whole ambiance was regal, hinting at sophistication and power; the lighting was dimmed, creating an intimate atmosphere.

There she saw the Marquis de Gramont, standing in front of the huge abstract painting. Even the way he stood screamed power and confidence. His eyes were fixated on the gigantic wall art as if it was an entity he wanted to understand. It was that moment Yn figured that the Marquis was a person who truly appreciated and cherished art which explained why he spoke lowly of Amelia for laughing at a painting.

"Psst!"

She threw a glance at the source of the sound and realized it was Mr. Malone. He gestured for her to come closer to him. Once she did, he whispered at her with a reprimanding tone, "Yn, take over Amelia's place! She couldn't keep her mouth shut and the Marquis is pissed! Now do your job and get his desserts from the kitchen!"

In an instant, Yn rushed off to the kitchen to get the desserts which the Marquis had requested. The delicacies were ready to serve by the time she arrived so she wasted no time, snatching them up from the counter before scurrying back to the VIP room.

As she opened the door, she heard multiple voices in the VIP room. It was the Marquis and Mr. Malone conversing and the subject was apparently about more paintings in the establishment.

"Yes, I agree!" Mr. Malone sounded enthusiastic of the idea, but for those who knew him well like Yn, she knew it was just a facade to make the Marquis happy. Mr. Malone continued, "That's an amazing idea! Aesthetic paintings all over the casino would surely liven up the space! If you want, you could recommend suitable paintings for my humble establishment!"

The Marquis turned around after staring at the abstract painting for so long. He strode back to sit down on the black and gold sofa. Yn took another deep breath before she approached him with a tray of desserts in her hand.

The Marquis didn't even look at her when she approached him. He was too engrossed staring at the abstract painting again while absentmindedly listening to Mr. Malone who was trying his best to flatter the Marquis and keep him happy. Yn surmised that he was a man of refined taste and didn't like to be disturbed when he was deep in thought so she took extra care not to make any noise as she set the tray of desserts down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Art evokes emotions and enhances the atmosphere," the Marquis spoke up, rendering Yn speechless as this was the first time she heard him speak. His French accent was clear and distinct. It actually made him sound intelligent and intimidating. He added while Yn was carefully placing his desserts on the table, "It's crucial to display more paintings in a casino. It creates a captivating and immersive environment for patrons to enjoy."

"Such beautiful words, sir!" crowed Mr. Malone, "I see that you really appreciate art and beauty, and I couldn't agree more. I am honored to have you see my establishment!"

The Marquis didn't respond. Instead, while Yn was arranging the placement of the desserts on the table, he reached out to grab one of them without glancing at her. He took a small scoop, savoring the flavor.

Yn got up to her full height and walked away to stand by the side of the sofa the Marquis was sitting on. That's when he gestured to the abstract painting which he had been staring non-stop and inquired Mr. Malone, "I like this. Where did you buy this?"

Yn tensed up and Mr. Malone stuttered, a bit taken aback by the sudden question. He sneaked a glance at Yn and responded, "Umm... I did not buy it, sir. My staff here, Yn, actually handed this to me for my birthday."

He even gestured to Yn as he disclosed how he had gotten the painting. Suddenly, the Marquis lifted his head and looked at Yn properly for the first time. She stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She stayed mute, choosing to stare at the floor to not make eye contact with the Marquis so as not to offend him. She could feel his piercing gaze on her as he looked her up and down, taking in every detail about her.

For a moment, the Marquis said nothing. He continued to stare intently at Yn, making her feel uneasy. She could feel the intensity of his gaze and it made her skin crawl.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Marquis spoke up, "Yn. And your last name?"

Yn's heart skipped a beat as the Marquis addressed her. She took a deep breath before responding in a low voice, "Ln, sir."

The Marquis nodded slowly in response, his eyes still glued on her figure. The deep resonance of his voice seemed to linger in the air as he enunciated her full name as if savoring the taste of it on his tongue, "Yn Ln."

Yn subconsciously looked at him as her whole name was mentioned. She then made eye contact with him. His eyes were deep pools of darkness that seemed to drink in her very soul. It was an intimidating yet mesmerizing sight and she felt as if time had stopped and all was silent around her.

Then, as if feeling shocked and in disbelief at what she did, she swiftly looked away, staring hard at the floor as she prayed inwardly that she did not screw anything up.

The Marquis smirked to himself, amused by Yn's reaction. He then took another bite of the dessert on the tray and leaned back on the sofa, his eyes still fixed on her.

His voice was smooth and velvety as he said, "That painting is impressive. Who is the painter?"

Yn could not help but feel like he was testing her and what she knew of the painting. She cleared her throat before responding softly, "It is Wassily Kandinsky."

The Marquis nodded thoughtfully, still staring at Yn intently, "Ah, Kandinsky. I figured. I've always found his work to be intriguing. The use of color and shape to evoke emotion is quite remarkable."

He finally tore his gaze away from Yn, shifting them to Mr. Malone who was standing anxiously next to the sofa the Marquis was occupying. The latter told him with an air of authority and power, "I want more paintings like this in the casino. Find me more of Kandinsky's works or any other abstract art that you think would fit the atmosphere here."

"Certainly, sir," Mr. Malone responded, "Does that mean you agree to have my business under your wing? Twenty percent cut for you?"

Yn's eyes widened as she silently observed. Hearing that, she then had an inkling of the true purpose the Marquis came to the casino.

The Marquis suddenly stated with a small smirk, "Forty for me."

Mr. Malone's face fell in disbelief at the Marquis' counteroffer. "Forty? But sir, please reconsider. This casino-"

The Marquis leaned forward on the sofa with his hands still holding the desserts, his eyes turning sharp and cold as he spoke in a low, menacing tone, "Do not question my terms, Adrian Malone. If you want my protection, forty it is."

Mr. Malone was nonplussed. The VVIP stared at him with a smug look before he added, "Unless you want to increase my cut to fifty."

Mr. Malone swallowed hard, knowing that he had no choice but to agree. "Of course, sir. Forty it is."

The Marquis leaned back on the sofa, grinning smugly, feeling satisfied with Mr. Malone's compliance, "Then we have a deal, Malone."

He turned his attention back to his delicacies and scooped a spoonful of ice cream. He closed his eyes and savored the sweetness, relishing the taste as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Yn watched him silently. There was a certain air of mystery surrounding him that screamed danger. She couldn't help but feel intimidated and scared of him, even though he was tasting the desserts like a child.

Suddenly, the Marquis opened his eyes and looked at her. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he caught her staring. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly smile as he said, "Would you like some?"

Yn averted her gaze meekly, feeling her cheeks flush, as she shook her head, "No, thank you, sir."

"Are you certain?" the Marquis asked, his French accent thick and his voice holding an amused tone.

Yn swallowed hard, looking at him through her eyelashes shyly. She could feel his piercing gaze on her and it made her feel uneasy.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Marquis chuckled softly as he stared at her unwaveringly. All of a sudden, he rose to his feet with his desserts still in his hand. Then he began to make his way towards Yn, causing the bunny-girl to be alarmed and anxious. His gaze was deep and sharp as he strode towards her slowly, taking his time while exuding an air of power.

Yn stared at the floor, feeling a huge sense of unease wash over her, as she heard his footsteps growing louder towards her. Soon enough, he stood in front of her. The height difference between them was huge since he was a very, very tall man.

She was no longer staring at the floor. Instead, it was his chest and his dashing three-piece suit. The fabric hugged his figure perfectly, making him look even more imposing. She kept her gaze on his chest, not wanting to meet his gaze and make eye contact.

The Marquis then bent down, leaning his head downward that his face ended up entering Yn's view. Her eyes widened in shock and terror as she couldn't help but look up to meet his gaze. He was bending his head down to have her look at him directly. His tall, powerful figure loomed over her as his head dipped down, head-level with hers. His face was stern, unflinching and demanding her attention. His expression conveyed a sense of power and dominance over her as if he was expecting her to obey his commands.

With his face close to her, he smirked and said, "Finally, you look at me."

Yn was transfixed by his gaze, her wide eyes unmoving as she observed his face. His expression was firm and fierce, yet at the same time there was a hint of smugness and confidence in his smirk as he studied her. His deep eyes seemed to bore into her and she could feel the power emanating from him. His close proximity to her made her feel vulnerable. She was speechless under his gaze, unsure how to respond but it seemed that he was fine with her making eye contact with him.

While he fixed his deep gaze on her, he addressed to someone else, "Malone, explain to me about the mask system here."

That caused Yn to register that she was still donning the black mask, concealing her nose and mouth effectively. Mr. Malone was taken aback by the sudden question directed at him and he explained, "Umm... To protect the bunny-girls, I establish the system that the girls with mask are off-limits. Customers are not allowed to harass them or touch them in any way without explicit consent. However, the bunny-girls without masks can be asked for a private room and physical contact is allowed within limits."

The Marquis nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Yn's face, "Interesting."

Mr. Malone breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the Marquis seemed to approve it. However, the Marquis wasn't finished with Yn as he asked her with a smirk, "So, Yn, remove your mask for me."

Yn's heart thudded in her chest as she stared at the Marquis, her body frozen in place. She knew she couldn't take off her mask, not now, not ever. Taking the mask off would reveal her true identity to some stranger and would bring danger to herself.

"I-I can't, sir," she stuttered out, her voice barely audible.

The Marquis raised an eyebrow, his smirk remained as if her denial was a joke to him, "And why not?"

Yn bit her lip, her mind racing. She had to come up with a plausible excuse, and fast. "It's uh... I feel much safer wearing a mask."

The Marquis gave a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. His lips then parted to let out a deep and throaty chuckle. But then, in the blink of an eye, the smirk fell and his features hardened. His voice deepened as he spoke with an undeniable authority, "Take off your mask."

Yn's eyes widened with fright as she stared at the Marquis, her gaze only broken as she shifted it towards Mr. Malone in hope for help. However, instead of support, she found only his hard frown and stern gaze, conveying his lack of help. Yn's heart plummeted and she knew there was no escape from the situation.

Trembling with fear, Yn slowly lifted her hand to remove the elastic strap that held the mask in place. Her fingers fumbled as she struggled to undo the clasp. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to remove the mask and reveal her face to the Marquis.

For a moment, he stared at her intently, his gaze scanning her features with an intensity that made Yn feel exposed and vulnerable as if she was standing naked in front of him. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his intense stare.

"Hmm," he harrumphed thoughtfully, his voice low and husky that way.

Yn felt her cheeks flush, feeling somewhat embarrassed at how he judged her. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply stayed mute, keeping her gaze on his chest.

That's when she saw him scoop a spoonful of ice cream and neared it towards her mouth. He dipped his head down again, letting his face enter her vision, before he said with a smirk, "Open your mouth."

Yn hesitated for a moment but the Marquis stared at her expectantly, the spoon still held up to her lips. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth, allowing the Marquis to feed her the ice cream. The cold sweetness of the ice cream flooded her senses as it melted within her mouth.

The Marquis watched her carefully as she savored the treat, his eyes glinting with amusement. He seemed to be enjoying her reaction, relishing in the power he held over her. Yn felt the intensity of his gaze and it made her feel both intimidated

He slowly withdrew the spoon from her mouth and looked her in the eye with an intensity that made her feel exposed. His eyes glittered with amusement as he then licked the spoon, savoring the melted ice cream on its surface. The whole sight caught her off guard and she quickly looked away in embarrassment. The act seemed almost dirty and sinful and she couldn't help but feel intimidated by the power the Marquis held over her.

A smirk curved his lips before he suddenly turned and walked away from her. He put away the cup of dessert and strode towards the door of the VIP room while saying, "I'm delighted to have come to an arrangement with you, Malone. As a result of our meeting, it is established that I am the new owner of this casino. And you shall remain in charge as the managing director."

As he arrived at the door, he spun around and gave a pointed look at Mr. Malone and asked firmly, "Am I right?"

"Yes, sir!" replied Mr. Malone, seemingly hesitant to say it, "I will tell every staff about this."

The Marquis tilted his head with a smug smile, "Good. And as for you, Yn..."

Yn became alarmed once again. He turned his gaze back towards her and wore a smirk on his face as he said with his voice low and velvety, "Merci et à la prochaine fois, ma dame."

Yn felt a shiver run down her spine at his words, not understanding what those words meant. The Marquis then stepped out of the VIP room and he was quick to be joined by his bodyguards who were waiting for him outside the door. Yn was then left alone with Mr. Malone.

As soon as the Marquis left, Yn quickly put on her mask and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Mr. Malone looked at her and gave out a huge sigh and said, "Well, at least that went well. A deal is secured."

Yn nodded, still feeling a bit shaken from the encounter. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "Yeah, but he's… intense."

Mr. Malone chuckled, a twinkle in his eye, "That's the Marquis for you. He's not one to be trifled with."

Yn looked at him, confused, and she inquired, "But that man, the Marquis... I've never heard of him before."

Mr. Malone's expression turned serious, "The Marquis is not someone you want to cross, Yn. He's a powerful man with connections in all the wrong places. Even if he's from France, he could find you and ruin your life if he wants to. You should be careful around him. But, now that he has agreed to have us under his wing, this business would be well-protected in finance and safety."

Yn slowly nodded, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her. She couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in her stomach but she knew that there was no turning back now. The deal was done and they were now under the Marquis' protection.

But, working with the Marquis would be dangerous, she mused. And she did not want to see him anymore for the rest of her life but it seemed like she didn't have a choice. As Mr. Malone stood up to leave, Yn couldn't help but feel a pang of consternation as she watched him go. She was alone now and the Marquis's words were still ringing in her ears.

"Merci et à la prochaine fois, ma dame."

She didn't know what those words meant but they sounded sinister. Yn shook her head, trying to push away the fear that was gripping her. She stood up and started cleaning up the room and leftover desserts.

NEXT : Chapter 02

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