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railingsofsorrow · 3 months

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I hate you, until I don't

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: three times you annoyed Spencer and three times Spencer annoyed you, proving the two of you cannot stand each other. . . until the one time that there was less annoyance and more sexual tension.

pairing: s.reid x reader

w.c: 3.6K

warnings/content: inaccurate medical procedures (don't come for me); language; flirting; enemies to lovers; case-related violence; suggestive content (no smut but I'm classifying this as +16).

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━

[The Coffee]

Smoke should be coming out of his ears by now, from the way his neck is pink and you're sure he's also got his jaw clenched by how his furiously he's writing on the board, connecting the leads.

You've been fifteen minutes out of the room and Spencer has figure out the whole case.

“Why are you so angry?”

“I'm not angry.”

You do not need to be a profiler to know he had that answer on the tip of his tongue, ready to give the excuse to someone who asked the inevitable question. Right, you're not gonna fall for that.

“Um. Okay.”

Spencer clicks the pen twice before you settle beside him, perching your hip against the table. His tongue travels across his lips slowly, he's trying to focus but can't.

You don't know the reason. It could be a thousand things given that the local police you were working with have not been exactly welcoming to the FBI butting in on their case. Some cops acted hostile towards the team, but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

By handling it you meant switching your focus to something better: Reid. You both draw limits to be around each other. It's nothing personal (maybe?) but you just don't get along as you do with the rest of the team. That doesn't mean you don't work well together in the field, no. In 80% of field work, you have Spencer by your side exchanging ideas to come up with good conclusions. The other 20% is the time apart you require to breathe away from each other.

You don't hate him. If anyone hates Spencer Reid, they just might have to do a CT scan, that man doesn't have a single bad bone in his skinny body.

You, however, have a field day while annoying him. Though you're not particularly close, you throw harmless jabs at one another once in a while.

You are bored and Spencer is here, therefore...

“I'm not angry.” His tone is final as he lets his eyes fall on you to look back to the board. The crease between his brows deepens. You tilt your head curiously. You don't really care about what got him mad, though it is an interesting fact to see him actually pissed about something. It's a rare image. “Not angry at all.”

You kick his converse playfully, standing up fully. “I said okay, honey. You don't need to jump on my neck for it.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, clicking the pen three times this time. You watch his fingers clenching and unclenching around the pen.

“Don't call me honey.”

Blinking up at him innocently, you turn around and say, “sure, honey. I'm gonna go and grab some coffee.” You raise your index finger before leaving the room, interrupting him mid-speech. “For me only, of course.”

His mug was empty, you had seen as you walked into the room. He had dawned three of those already so of course you said that because you care about his health. Obviously. His scoff as you leave is the icing on the cake.

By the time he finishes the geographic profile, he finds his mug magically refilled with freshly brewed coffee.

━━━━━━━━━

[The Ambulance]

“If you had listened to me—”

“Don't you even fucking start. I have a gash on my forehead. My arm is numb and my knee is throbbing. You really think is wise to come in here and tell me I told you so? Disappear from my sight, now.”

Those words seem to go on deaf ears because he proceeds to crouch down to survey the damage on your face the paramedic is already assessing. His gaze barely falling on yours until it fixates on your head injury, amber eyes narrowing slightly as they usually did while he is concentrated and is about to sputter out some incredibly intelligent fact.

He does exactly that.

“She should have an X-ray of her neck. She's been flinching every time you're turning her head. And a CT scan, she was also hit in the head with a—”

You groan, not sure if it is because of the stitches or just deep-rooted anger towards your coworker.

“God— can you please...” You give a begging look to the paramedic, who seems to be having too much fun by the lifted corners of her mouth.

“— blunt object. Actually, you should be kept for observation for the entire night. Two days if possible.” He glances up at you, who presses your eyes shut instead of glaring, uncomfortable with the way the paramedic touches the sensitive spot on your neck. When you open them again, he's offering her a look of victory.

“Shut up, Reid.”

“It's a good idea.” The woman says for your distaste. Of course it is. Of course you agree with him.

“No, it isn't. I have a flight to catch to get back home and sleep on my comfortable bed, I do not need hospitals or needles or blood.” You intervene, mentally dreading to spend the night alone at a hospital in a city you have never visited.

“Do you have space for one more?” He questions suddenly, eyeing the inside of the ambulance. Your eyes widen at the implications of his actions. Before you have the chance to smash his head against the floor, he has already climbed into the ambulance, sitting comfortably in a corner.

You stare in disbelief. The paramedic isn't hiding her amusement anymore. she's outright laughing.

“Him? Not coming,” you say with finality, aggressively climbing into the ambulance, limping, to lie down on the stretcher.

However, he does come, rubbing in your face the whole way to the hospital about how right he was about the situation and that you shouldn't throw yourself in danger at any chance you get.

Hypocrite, as if he didn't do the same thing.

━━━━━━━━━

[The Book]

“Did you just skip to the end?” Spencer's voice laces with disbelief as he stares holes into the book between your fingers as if you have committed a heinous crime.

You glance up from him and back to the book briefly. “No?”

“You're an FBI Agent, you should know by now not to answer a question with a question.”

“You're an FBI Agent with three PhDs, you should know by now how rude it is to interrupt one's reading.” You send the jab as quick as he had thrown his, rolling your eyes.

“That doesn't apply if you're skipping to the end of the book—”

You sigh, tired. “I have to see if the process is worth it.”

“What?” Spencer shrieks out, switching his gaze from the book to you repeatedly. You press your lips shut, trying to suppress a smile. “What is that supposed to mean? You're supposed to enjoy and get surprised, not know everything—”

“I'll forget about the end if I start reading it.” Which is true, if you read one part of the story without the context from the previous pages, then your mind just wipes it out as you come back to where you were. You had a bad memory of story plots.

Spencer proceeds to get more offended by each word that comes out of your mouth.

“No.”

You let yourself chuckle this time. “What do you mean—hey!” You hiss as he yanks the book out of your hands, shutting it and hiding it behind him as some kid that's trying to hide his favorite toy so others won't find it. “Give it back, Spencer!”

“You have to promise me to not read the end.”

“I don't have to promise you anything.”

“You want this back?” He waves the book in his hands. Your book. He threatens you with your book.

You gape at him, then huff petulantly, crossing your arms like a toddler. To anyone who was watching, the both of you looked a lot like children bickering in the park. “Fine.” He offers you a skeptical gaze, narrowing his eyes with a slight scrunch of his nose and you can't help your reaction, really. Your lips twitch in a smile and you bite your cheek so hard it draws blood so you stop being stupid.

He gives you your book back and pointedly studies your figure as you read, making sure you do not, in fact, skip to the end of the book.

Spencer Reid is absolutely infuriating. No matter how cute he is.

━━━━━━━━━

[The Drunk Confession]

“I would've gotten a divorce if you were my secret lover.” You tell Emily with a slurred speech caused by the seven shots and two margaritas — maybe three, you stopped counting at the fourth shot. The table erupts in laughter at your claim. “No doubt.”

Emily smirks at you, leaning as close as she can across from you, Luke is watching the exchange as if on a tennis match. Garcia slaps his shoulder.

“Every. Time.” JJ mumbles with a roll of her eyes, turning to Spencer who looks bored out of his mind. “Don't you get tired of seeing them flirting every time they get drunk? It's getting old.”

Spencer shrugs, a scowl setting on his face as he glances at you and Emily. He looks away.

“Just ask her out, for god's sake.”

JJ almost spits her drink. “What?”

Spencer rolls his eyes, “you. Emily. Date. Do it.” He doesn't really feel like repeating himself again. Spencer doesn't know why he's so annoyed all of a sudden.

“Well, why don't you do it?” JJ snaps, narrowing her eyes at him, who blinks at her. “Yeah, ask her out instead of judging me like that.”

“No offense, but I don't see Emily that way.”

“Of course you don't and I'm not talking about Emily, Spencer,” JJ says pointedly. “You know I'm not.”

It doesn't take long for all of you to call it a night. The sober ones, at least, because the rest could stay until the morning without complaining, driving themselves to an alcoholic coma. That would have been your case. Fortunately, it isn't.

And now, Spencer is in charge of driving you home against his will because you live close by.

Great.

“I can put on my own seatbelt, thanks.” You frown as he lifts his hand to help you put the seatbelt on. He retracts it with a roll of eyes.

“Be my guest.”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, leaning your head back and closing your eyes as you feel the car being turned on. “Don't worry, m' not gonna puke in your car or whatever.”

Spencer freezes on his way to changing gears. “Are you feeling sick?”

“I just told you—”

He rolls his eyes, “I just meant that driving may make it worse, so if you want, we can wait and then I'll take you home.”

You open one eye to narrow him down suspiciously. It wasn't that bad. You just had drink a lot, and your body is having a completely normal reaction, though it was a bit annoying. But you don't think you're about to throw up.

“Careful, you almost sound like you care about my well-being.”

Spencer drove off the parking lot with a huff, “sure. If you do puke in my car I'll leave you alone in the middle of the avenue.”

A hiccup came out at the same time as your laugh and it ended up turning into a snort, which was not that graceful and you quickly covered your mouth.

He gave you a sideways glance and you told him to keep driving, ignoring the twitch on his lips you thought you saw. No, that was definitely not there.

“You would never do that to me.”

“Try me.”

“I can't believe I had a thing for you.”

“What?”

He almost had the urge to hit on the brakes but controlled himself. You hummed, watching the trees move as the car drove past them in the avenue. You rolled your window down, leaning your face outside a little, scrunching your nose when droplets of rain poked your nose.

"Oh, it's gonna rain."

"It's already raining- what do you mean you had a thing for me? What does that mean?"

"Are you nervous?"

"What- No!" He shifted his attention between the road and you quickly.

You nodded, pretending you believed him and folding your arms across your chest as you leaned back on the seat, closing the car window so you wouldn't get wet.

“You're kinda my type, Spencer.”

“I'm- I'm your type— what does that mean?” He insisted and you rolled your eyes with a groan, you wished you were drunker than this.

“... pretty boy with pretty brown eyes ... smart as hell and has a questionable sense of style. C'mon. It's like you're begging me to fall in love with you." You cleared your throat. "I had a crush on you, as in the past sense."

Spencer squinted. "You just spoke in the present tense-"

"Yeah, I knew you were going to focus on that, leave me alone, I'm drunk."

He pressed his lips together to avoid laughing at your expense.

"Right."

How come he never noticed it? He couldn't stop thinking about it.

“Are you still thinking about it?”

Spencer turned on your street, biting his cheek. “No.”

“Why not?”

He spun his neck to look at you and almost drove into the sidewalk, which made you huff out a laugh.

“Careful, genius. You might crash us because you figure out somebody has a crush on you.”

Spencer scoffed, turning the engine off to glance at you in disbelief. “Are you serious? You just spoke in the present tense again.”

Shrugging, you leaned back on the seat, sideways to stare at him, a little smile playing on your lips because you were enjoying the banter too much.

“Did I?”

“Yes.” he frowned and his nose scrunched in the cutest way possible you just felt like biting it.

“It started when I saw you in glasses.” You admitted, nails scratching against your jeans distractedly. “You were like a knock-off Peter Parker, just cuter and way more attractive.”

He scowled at you but you were able to see the clear pink cheeks he had acquired upon being called attractive. You weren't lying. The biggest lie and cruelty of this world was that Spencer Reid wasn't looked at twice by girls or boys. You would've been fanning over him at high school.

“You're mocking me,” he concluded.

You denied with a hum from deep within your throat. “Nu-huh. I'm not.”

His eyes analyse every micro expression of your face and you stare as he does so. His lips twitch before he speaks and your eyes fall on them.

“We're here.”

He chose to say instead, his brain on slow thinking mode as you stared at him like you were contemplating something in your head.

“You want me to go?”

Spencer blinks up at you, big brown eyes wide as a deer caught in headlights, the corner of your mouth lifts upwards slightly.

“What do you mean? I gave you a ride.” He replied, confusedly. “Do you need help to go up to your apartment? Are you dizzy?”

“Not dizzy.” You shifted, pulling your knees up to hold them. Shoes off ever since you entered his car. “It was just a question.”

“Are you testing me?”

You tilted your head, causing a few strands of your hair to be released from behind your ear as you rummaged through his glove box. A book — of course there was a book in there —, a lens cleaner spray — you wondered if he still used his glasses, just not on the field —, two hair ties — you lift a brow at that — and lastly, his license and vehicle registration — you smile at the picture. He snatched it out of your hand to pull it back on the glove box and close it.

“Why would I be testing you?”

“To make fun of me.”

Your eyes narrowed in slits.

“I don't like making fun of people, less alone you.”

Spencer held your stare for a hot second before he leaned back on his seat with a sigh.

You poked his hip, laughing when he jumped in surprise.

“You're so cute.”

“Stop that.”

“Calling you cute or tickling you?”

“Both!” He shrieked out, holding your hand as you attempted to tickle him again. You adjusted yourself on the seat, studying the way he seemed intrigued by your hand. Or the fact he hadn't let go of it. “I can help you up to your apartment, ” he said after a moment of silence, something stirring in his stomach at the way you were looking at him.

"You want to help me up to my apartment?" Now you are just riling him up for the sake of it. You hold his hand before he can let go of yours, a smirk dancing around your lips. "Sorry, I'll stop."

"You're so annoying,"

"You think so?" Your voice is low, careful. You lean forward slightly.

"Yes," he says with uncertainty. He lifts his other hand slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear because it kept falling on your cheek.

Your throat feels dry all of a sudden, and you swallow hard, shivering as his fingers trail down your cheek. "Spencer."

"Mhm?" He's not paying attention to what you're saying, too busy entranced by your lips to do anything else. You just wish he'd pull both of you out of your misery. Since he doesn't move, you take matters into your own hands and break the gap between the two of you. His breath halts and he takes one or two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, lips parting in surprise. You bask in the effect that you have on him before he pulls you in by the back of your neck and it's your turn to react surprised by his actions. Your back arches and a sound of contentment escapes your throat when his fingers press against your thigh.

You're straddling his lap in no time, his hands all over your body. You lower your lips to his neck, nibbling at his skin, satisfied with the moan he lets out in response to your touch.

Spencer says your name once. Twice. It's the third time that you actually hear him.

"What?"

"You're drunk," he breathes out, chest going up and down unsteadily. "We should- we should stop."

"I'm not drunk." You tilt your head, tracing his swollen lower lip with your thumb.

He chuckles nervously, grabbing your hands to pull it away from his neck and his neck so he could think straight for five minutes. "You are. You taste like tequila."

"Mhm, is that so?"

He groans, eyes dropping shut. "Don't do that."

Your smile widens into a menacing grin.

"Do what, genius?"

"This. You. You know what you're doing." Spencer insists half-heartedly, eyes fluttering open to stare at you. He can't help but stare down at your lips again, letting out a sigh.

Finally, your shoulders slump in dissatisfaction as you realize he wouldn't want to go forward as long as you have an ounce of alcohol in your blood.

"Who's annoying now?" You mumble, burying your head on his shoulders. His fingers trail up and down your bare arms, his hands then settle on your hip, drawing invisible circles there. You feel his lips press against the crown of your head. "You're gonna be the death of me," you whine, wrapping both arms around his middle. Spencer shakes with a chuckle and you smile into his skin.

There is no going back from this. You either screwed up your professional relationship or just initiated something really good.

You don't know which one is worse.

He goes up to your floor with you and you expect him to say goodbye as you step out of the elevator. He follows you to your door and finds the key in your purse that you had spent more than a minute trying to find it.

"You want to stay over?" You eye him, trying to sound nonchalant but in reality, you are expecting a yes.

It's not what you get.

"No." You conclude you screwed up your whole dynamic. He holds your wrist before you walk in and leave him in the hallway, pulling you back and cupping your cheek to press his lips to yours in a rather gentle and less frantic kiss than the ones you had just shared in the car. "Ask me when you're not drunk," he mumbles into your lips and you frown when he withdraws himself from you.

You understand his reasoning, but that doesn't mean you enjoy the thought of spending the night without him, finishing what you started.

"Will you want to stay over then?"

Spencer knows what you mean. You're asking if he will want to stay over after tonight, after the moment has passed and it's another day, or if he wants to forget and pretend it never happened.

"Yes." He doesn't hesitate, kissing your forehead before he takes a step back, ready to leave but not wanting to with the image of you leaning against your doorway, face slightly flushed after your make-out session. "Goodnight."

You munch on your lower lip, opening the door to go inside. He waits for you to close it but you walk out again, his eyes widening as you pull him into another kiss. Just as he's about to place his hands on your waist, you pull back, patting his chest.

"You're still annoying." You say, stepping back to enter your apartment, leaving him completely unresponsive in the middle of your hallway for a few minutes.

God, he hates you.

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taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie @ninkieminjaj ; @hoeshissworld ; @r-3dlips ; @pleasantwitchgarden

#criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #self insert

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anothermansjeans · 4 months

Note

Heyy Idk if this is how you request but we'll see......

Could you maybe do like a singer!reader who writes like dirty af songs abt Spencer and then Penelope shows the song to the rest of the team and they all start low-key bullying him and continue making comments abt it while on a case or something like that??

<33

XOXO-

~W~

okay i don't know any DIRTY DIRTY songs so i apologize if this isn't that great 😭 let me know if you want another one that shows different songs! ALSO I IMAGINE THE READER SINGING A DIFFERENT OUTRO TO NONSENSE EVERY NIGHT JUST LIKE MS SABRINA CARPENTER

cw: implied sex, reader talks sings about getting head and being handcuffed

wc: 610

masterlist

“Oh, hey pretty boy.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen to see the majority of the team huddled around Derek’s desk with amused looks on their faces. He tentatively continued his walk, but immediately froze in place when he heard the video playing from the computer.

“This song’s catchier than chickenpox is.

I bet your house is where my other sock is.

Woke up this morning, thought I’d write a pop hit.

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?

My man’s IQ is one-eighty-seven.

When he’s going down on me I’m in Heaven.

Handcuff me to the bed like I’m a felon.”

Her laughs could be heard from the video, and Spencer’s face immediately turned fifty shades of red.

“So, where were you last night, Reid? You know, when you said you couldn't join us for drinks.”

He rolled his lips into his mouth at Emily’s question. Everyone had an expecting look except for Penelope… She seemed guilty. “I uh, I was at a concert…”

“What concert?” JJ’s question was presented as innocent, but it was everything but that.

“My girlfriend’s,” he mumbled lowly, barely loud enough for them to hear.

“Could you repeat that?”

Spencer glared at Derek, he knew exactly what he was doing. “My girlfriend’s.”

“Well hot damn, you finally admitted it!”

“I wasn't keeping it a secret. I'm just not as open about my love life as the rest of you are.” He huffed and brought himself over to his desk.

“Well, Garcia was kind enough to show us a video she found online and we didn't know what to expect… who else has an IQ of one-eighty-seven?”

Spencer whipped his head over to Penelope with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Her hands went up in her defense. “I just– I love her music and I couldn't make it to the concert in D.C last night so I was watching videos that people took and it doesn't take a genius to know who she's talking about when we know you so well.” Her words were quick, and she was huffing to breathe when she finished her sentence.

Spencer groaned and put his head in his hands.

“I think my favorite song of hers is Nasty.”

Spencer winced at Emily’s words as everyone else laughed. They definitely are going to have a field day with him.

“I love Espresso.” The humor in JJ’s voice was evident.

“So It Goes… and Guilty as Sin? might be the top contenders for me,” and Derek just has to add on. “Tell us, Reid, are scratches down your back?”

Spencer stood up and went towards the coffee machine, ignoring the laughs and references they were making. He was allowed about three minutes of solace before Penelope hesitantly tapped his shoulder with a shy look on her face. “We got a case. Everyone’s at the round table.” He gave a nod at her words and followed her, ears perking up when he heard her singing under her breath, “don't want to wait on it. Tonight, I wanna get nasty.”

He suppressed the groan waiting to come out, and sat down at the table when he felt a buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: made it to philly!! love you, be safe today. text me whenever you're free 🫶

He was about to message back before Hotch walked in, “We’re going to brief as quickly as possible. We're headed to Philadelphia.”

He knew Penelope knew the next stop on Y/N’s tour, and could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face. He was mentally preparing for the jokes as soon as they stepped out of the conference room.

songs that i imagined reader wrote about spencer:

nonsense by sabrina carpenter

nasty by ariana grande

espresso by sabrina carpenter

so it goes... by taylor swift

guilty as sin? by taylor swift

dress by taylor swift

#spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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kaciebello · 4 months

Text

King of thieves

Masterlist Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem) Summary: Luke is naturally borrowing things without asking. He is rather shocked when someone beats him at his own game Warning: no use of y/n author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) Word count: 1,7k Song: Karma by Taylor Swift

May 3rd

Luke was the son of Hermes. The god of messengers and travellers. The god of thieves. It made sense he couldn't help it. Sometimes, his hands just moved independently and suddenly he was carrying a gold bracelet in his pockets. Nonedobletly belongs to one of the aphorides kids. He's used to giving a few days and then pretending to find it in one of the fields. He watched his sibling bring many questionable things to the cabin, with even more questionable origins. That is was he not surprised by his friends' accusations.

“Give it back.” She said, one hand on her hip and the other palm up to him.

“I don't have it.” He argued back. His arms crossed over his chest. The girl just narrowed her eyes.

“I don't have time for this. Give it back.” The girl said as if it would suddenly jog his memory if he took her bracelet with the scythe charm on it. So again, he shook his head, signalling he did not have it. The girl just sighed and let her hands hang around her body.

“I swear if this is another paintbrush situation, I will burn you on a stake Castellan.” Grin spread across his face as he watched her walk away. Possibly trying to retrace her steps, trying to see if she just lost it after all.

She didn't. The bracelet was burning hole in his pockets right now. Had she just searched him better, she would have noticed him moving it from pocket to pocket. He snatched it first thing in the morning, they made a bet during breakfast and shook on it. She did not even notice it. Luke thanks his chams for that.

In his defence, he had all the reasons to steal it. Well maybe not legal reasons, but reasons nonetheless. He turned around on his heel and walked back to his cabin.

–

May 10th

“Are you sure you don't have it?” She said as she circled him, her sword lifted his way just a little bit. Luke couldn’t do anything but laugh. They were both sweaty from all the sparing, and the bright sun did not help. Her hair was messy from all the jumping and rolling around. He found her endearing like this.

“It's been a week, If I did I would have given it back to you at this point.” He turns his body to face her. It was the truth, had he taken it by accident, which wasn't the case. The girl just frowns at him before looking at him in the eyes.

“I feel like you're lying.” She says taking a few steps to him. Her sword taps his chest as she does. Luke could only smile. He knew the bracelet was placed safely in a box that was wedged between the wall and his mattress.

“ Maybe I am, maybe I'm not.” he teases her, placing his hand on the sword. Not worrying about any scratches.

“Which one is it, Castellan?” Now it was his turn to take steps closer to her. They were almost chest-to-chest at this point. Looking at her doe eyes, a smirk spread on his face.

“ Do you consider telling half-truths a lie?” The girl just snickered at him before moving back. he would feel the sword moving and tap him on his biceps.

“Pull your sleeves down, it's distracting.” Luke flexed his mussels one more time before doing so.

–

May 17th

“Did you steal this too?” She says looking at the can of Diet Coke in her hand. Luke just rolls his eyes. He did.

“No, now shut up and enjoy the view.” He took her can and set it aside alongside his. The Girl just shrugged and lay down, watching the stars. Luke followed suit. Although it was his idea to go stargazing, he didn't pay much attention. sure, his eyes were very much watching the stars, but he was mentally screaming. Probably more than the younger campers he could hear in the background. They were so close that their hands were brushing against each other.

His pinkie itched to wrap around hers, but his nerves only allowed him to twitch without actually moving it. The girl was babbling something about the stars but he really couldn't make out any words. Only focusing on the way her voice made him feel. All silly and like he was made pudding.

His ears almost perked up when he heard her sigh. Turning his gaze from the stars in the night sky to look into those in her eyes, trying to figure out what was annoying her. It was like his heart stopped when she turned her whole body to face him. They were so close he could almost feel her breath on his face.

He mimicked her. Resting on his side next to her. To others, they may look comical, but Luke certainly did not care.

“Ya know,” Her eyes shift behind him. “ OH MY GOD, THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A SCYTHE!” She yelped and pointed to something behind him. He could only turn his head before he let out a laugh.

“You're still one that?” He turns to her with moon-crescent eyes. The girl had a look of disbelief on her face.

“Yes, I'm still on that! You stole it and won't admit it!” Her finger poked his chest. He could only grab her wrist and pull her on top of him, shaking them both in laughter.

–

May 24th

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he says over his food. The girl pointed her fork at him.

“Yes, you do. this is like the paintbrushes and the bracelet. Where is my book.” She says. Luke just rolls his eyes as he has nothing to say. For once, this wasn't his fault. Yes he borrowed her paintbrushes once and forgot to give them back, and yes he's currently in possession of her bracelet, but he would never take her books. He's not a monster.

He leans over and takes a bite from her fork. The girl just huffs.

“I wasn't even near your room.” He defences himself. She has nothing to prove him wrong.

“I just have this feeling it was you. It's like my 6th sense.” She says again and looks into the distance. Intentionally avoiding eye contact.

“Well, I don't know what to tell you. What would I even do with your book.”

“Read it.” He raises his eyebrows at her.

“ Medical books?” He questions her. She just nods, as if any of this makes sense.

“Yeah, maybe you wanna steal my job too. Who knows.” She shrugs and returns to her food.

“I do not want-”

“Yes! Sorry for bothering you guys, but I found this book outside by the beach. And you're the only one I know that actually reads stuff like this.” The small Apollo kid places the book on the table and skips away.

The girl's gaze fixated on the book. Her tongue poking her cheek. Luke smirks before chuckling to himself.

“looks like your 6th sense is broken, sweetheart.”

“Oh shut up.”

–

May 31st

Luke was nervous, and he did not like it. He was used to making people nervous, not the other way around. So why was he fidgeting with his fingers? The little box in his pockets burned more and more every minute.

He was standing in the little clearing in the woods. Enough trees for them to have privacy but clear enough for them to stargaze again. He could hear the snap of a twig, making him turn around to the sound.

There she stood in front of him. In his eyes, she looked as much as any goddess could. he was seen if he ever met Aphrodite, she would resemble his dearest friend.

A smile spread across his face and she mimicked him.

“Grover told me to meet you here. He said it was an emergency. You don't look very emergent.” She joked and made her way to him. He let out a huff, but let her to the little blanket that was laid out on the floor. They took their shoes off and sat down.

They both took half of a sandwich he stole from the kitchen today and looked at the stars again. Luke already learned that stargazing gives him time to gaze at her without her noticing much. Today he wasn't so careful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she says, swallowing the last bite of her food, her eyes not moving from the stars.

“Like what?” he cocks his head at her.

“Like I stole something from you.”

“Because you did.” An offended gasp left her as she whipped her head from the stars to him. He just giggled at her expression.

“Excuse you?? I did not. That’s your speciality and we both know that!” She argued back. “There is nothing I could steal without you noticing.”

“But you did.” He says again, moving closer to her. She glares at him while she moves to sit in his lap. Frowning her eyes, she takes a breath to speak again, but Luke stops her by shaking his head.

“You, my little star, have stolen my heart.” He says, looking her straight in the eyes. Again before she can speak he interrupts her. “Also, I have something for you.”

He reaches into his pocket to pull out the little box. Her eyes were glued to it. He turned it around and opened it. Inside was absolutely nothing. Luke's eyes widened in shock and fear. Little whispers of no’s and panicked patting of his pockets.

“What's wrong? Looking for something?” She says flashing her wrist at him. Luke didn't pay it much attention. He started to apologise and grabbed her arm. His palm lands on something cold. he stops and turns her wrist to his vision.

There sat a bracelet with a scythe charm on it. the one that was supposed to be in his pocket. Frozen he stared at it before shifting his eyes at her. She just smiled at him.

“How?” He breathed out. She just laughed.

“I snatched it from you like a week ago. Surprised you didn't notice.” She says it with such ease, knowing she beat him in his own game. He can just shake his head.

His arm sneaked up to her neck as he pulled her to a kiss. She may have stolen his heart and her bracelet back, but from now on, he's gonna steal all the kisses he can.

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

Text

Hearts [S. R] part 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

part 1!

summary: morning coffees become the special moments between you and Spencer, but you also discover that he may have more competition for his love than you expected.

N/A: I never thought this would be so well received and I honestly feel so happy! I am very grateful to all the people who requested a second part, I hope you like it and if you want to tell me something in the comments I will read it with pleasure!

people who might be interested: @c-m-stuff @no-soy-fer @synthsescape @bella-fics @cynbx

That morning Spencer came to his desk with coffee in hand and set it carefully to one side, the sight of his scrawled name looming large throughout.

Spencer <3

What did that mean? It was his name, that's obvious, but it was written with such a careful and clean line that it was very beautiful to admire and the heart drawn next to it was what didn’t quite add up in the whole thing. Reid knew that it was an ideogram used to express the idea of affection or love, so the most logical conclusion was that you were trying to communicate a feeling of that kind, but then he wondered: was it affection between friends? a simple show of affection, he supposed. Nothing further, surely it could not be anything else.

There were days when you and he barely saw each other, as the team had to go out to handle cases in the field and you stayed behind to do literally whatever you could do to complete your service hours, but every morning without fail you looked for him to deliver the long-awaited coffee. You were keeping your promise and for three days you arrived with two cups on the tray, one clean and the other labeled for him: Reid, Spence, Doctor R., all titles followed by a drawing of a heart. When Friday rolled around and you handed him what he thought would be his last cup, you decided to propose a deal.

"Today I was thinking that I could buy your coffee permanently, if you want” you exclaimed kindly, while you watched him from the chair that you had pulled to sit next to him. Some mornings when there wasn’t so much movement you would stay there to drink a few shots of your coffee and share a small moment of the day "It's on my way here and it's obvious that you like it"

“Oh, I… I couldn't even think about it, no. I would take too much advantage of you"

“You're going to pay me back, Reid. I'll just bring it” you laughed, watching him turn red to the ears while he drank a little to try to mask it.

"Then, I'd love to," he exclaimed with a tight-lipped smile. He was a little excited to continue having excuses to talk to you every day and, above all, to drink the delicious coffee that he had already gotten used to.

"Although I'm running out of ideas, to be honest," you said amused, because that day the cup didn’t have any inscription due to that lack of creativity. But as by the work of fate, an idea came to your mind, so you smiled from ear to ear while you took a black marker from your friend's desk and took the cup from his hand. Spencer looked at you carefully and curiously while you were writing and just when you finished Hotch called you from the other side of the tables "I have to go, don't miss me too much" you murmured, handing him the glass and then winking at the boy, who in response only awkwardly raised his hand.

Once you left, he looked at what you had written, less neatly than the other times, and felt himself grinning like a fool:

My fav agent and again that damn heart.

“Y/N”

"Yeah?" you asked, looking up at another of your fellow interns. You had a room where everyone could stay for a while to work on their own business, but on this occasion, curiously, only women had gathered at the table, there were about five of you in the entire building. Among them Jennifer, a girl you liked very much and with whom you could presume to have something like a friendship, and for some strange reason there was also Victoria.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Huh… yeah, I guess" you muttered a bit confused, and even though you didn't know the girl she smiled in your direction.

“Is that brown-haired guy you talk to every morning your boyfriend?”

“Spencer?” you asked, widening your eyes at the surprise with which the question had taken you. You expected her to ask what band you listened to the most, your favorite food, or some other stupid thing, but not that. Now all the girls' attention was on you, including Victoria's inquisitive scowl and Jennifer's amused look “I wouldn't say that”

"And do you think you can introduce me?" she said with more enthusiasm than she intended, and they all laughed collectively.

“I get second in line”

"Girls, girls..." Jennifer intervened and you knew that from that moment the topics of the internship would take a back seat “He may not be her boyfriend now, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want him to be”

"Jenn!"

"Am I lying?" she sneered “You smile every time you see him and you two look so in love whispering to each other every morning. Also, a week ago I saw you go out together at night”

"Jenn," you insisted, muttering to her in the hope that she would notice that you wanted her to shut up. It wasn't that you were ashamed of being associated with him, you just didn't want to spread wrong rumors that might embarrass him.

“How come he's already an agent? He looks very young”

“It's because he's a prodigy, duh. He’s as attractive as he’s intelligent”

"I imagine that being such a smart man he knows perfectly the weak points of a woman" another girl murmured, joining the conversation "If you know what I mean"

“For now we are just friends. That's all" you said trying to end the conversation, completely embarrassed that such a personal matter had ended up as the talk of all the female interns of the FBI. It was supposed to be a serious job and you guys looked like gossipy high school girls.

"Maybe he's waiting for someone better," Victoria said into the air, a venomous tone permeating every word.

"Anyway, if you give up, can you get me his number?" insisted the first girl. You nodded just so as not to break his illusion, but you knew very well that Spencer didn't use a phone beyond what was necessary for work.

Even though you yourself had told him that surely many girls liked him, you didn't expect that he really had admirers so close and to be honest a pang of jealousy invaded you. Victoria was the most obvious of them all, but you knew that being college girls they were more likely to admire the masculine charm of perhaps the youngest member of the FBI. They too were young and beautiful, but you chose to trust that you had the upper hand in winning the man's affections.

You tried as hard as you could to concentrate on your tasks, but now that his name had come up it was hard to think of anything but him. Spencer wasn't a very expressive guy, but you knew that he was comfortable with you or else he wouldn't seek you out or agree to talk to you like you did, although clearly that didn't ensure that he was attracted to you. Maybe he just saw you as a good friend.

At night, when you were about to go home, you tried to look for him so you could see him again with the excuse of saying goodbye, but you were surprised when you saw that he was talking to Victoria in an already empty section. Curiosity to know what they were talking about invaded you and you stood where you were, squinting your eyes to try to read their lips. Reid wasn't participating too much in the chat, you'd even say he looked awkward, but she was shamelessly flirting with him. Perhaps the sudden change in attitude that she had had was what your friend had missed so much and just when you thought of approaching to go save him from the situation, she stood on her toes and crashed her lips against his, leaving you standing just in your place and completely in shock.

You didn't expect her to dare to do something like that, but the reaction he had left you even more surprised, because, although it wasn't so favorable, he didn't seem bothered by the show of affection he had just received either. He just stood in front of her, looking her up and down as if he were analyzing her.

You didn't want to stay there any longer and almost instantly you turned around to walk out the front door, hoping that this had meant absolutely nothing to him and the next day you could look him in the face without feeling the jealousy boiling in your veins.

It was almost time for dismissal when Spencer remembered that he had a file to go through that he'd ignored all morning, and he cursed himself a little for leaving things until the last minute. His coworkers told him that he could finish it the next morning, but he knew that if he did that he probably wouldn't have time to drink coffee with you so he preferred to stay a little later there.

Little by little the offices emptied and when there was almost no one left, he finally finished, feeling the discomfort of the recurring pain in his back due to the bad position in which he sat. He put his things away, put on his coat, and slung his briefcase over his shoulder, ready to go back to his apartment, but a person got in the way when he was about to cross the hall. Due to exhaustion and seeing that it was a female body he assumed it would be you, but when he paid more attention, he noticed that it wasn’t even remotely possible that the ironed black hair was yours.

"Doctor Reid"

"Miss Evans" he greeted her, without losing cordiality, but not with too much emotion either.

"What are you doing here so night?"

"Job. There's nothing else to do around here at this hour,” he said without looking at her. But the girl was determined to get that one-night stand that she was sure you had, lie as it was.

“It's a shame, but I know a bar near here that you might like if you want to have a little fun”

“Bars are noisy and are one of the biggest sources of infection that can exist. Sweat, alcohol, and unknown fluids permeate the environment and it is very probable that the consumption of drugs affects not only those who consume them but also those who are close to them, so I prefer to decline your invitation" he exclaimed, hoping that this explanation would be enough to make it clear to this woman that he wasn't interested.

“So you're more of hanging out in the apartment? I have a lot of great things in mine, including a jacuzzi."

“Jacuzzies are unsanitary” he insisted. If he proposed, he would know that he would find a valid excuse for whatever plan she might suggest.

"What a killjoy, Agent Reid” she giggled, but he wasn't too amused by any of it. "Do you ever have fun?"

"I think my concept of fun and yours diverge a lot" he murmured, still not looking at her directly and ready to end the conversation.

Spencer was about to leave when she raised herself to his height and in a quick movement that caught him off guard, she smashed her lips against his. As she turned away from her the man froze completely in his place, looking at her from head to toe as if she were some strange natural specimen.

"What if I promise there will be more of that?" she asked, in a last-ditch attempt, faking a honeyed voice. He was going to respond when there was something that forced him to look in the direction of the exit door, where someone else was already walking. From the pattern of colored stripes on the jacket he knew it was definitely you and if it was you then you probably witnessed the entire exchange. He felt the urge to run after you to justify himself for something he hadn't even done, not knowing why he was embarrassed or worried that you'd seen that. “Come on, are you really going to say no to all this?”

"Listen to me, Victoria. I understand if having power over others gives you pleasure because you are the least noticed and recognized member of the family, or if you enjoy saying hurtful things to people to feed your own insecurities, but I ask that you please stay away from me and stop trying whatever you're trying. I don't like you, you're a bad person and I won't allow you to kiss me without my wanting it, or to make your sexual advances that won't get you anywhere. So again, I say don't bother me again” he said and without waiting for any answer he walked out of sight of her. Even if he had stayed, Victoria had her ego so hurt that she didn't think of anything to say back and instead she just let helpless tears fill her eyes, followed by a gesture of a tantrum.

When Spencer came downstairs he couldn't find you anywhere and the anxiety in his stomach only increased, wishing he had misrecognized the person who had left so it wasn't about you. The matter didn't keep him awake, of course, but when he noticed the next morning that you weren't at his desk, he thought it was reason enough to worry. Worse still when he noticed that you had left a lonely cup on the table, with absolutely no adorable titles decorating it. It made him feel so guilty, like he somehow knew that you were upset because you'd seen Victoria kiss him the night before and he wasn't worthy of your affection anymore.

Even Hotch noticed that he was more distracted than usual and although he had already seen your exchanges, he thought it would be better not to intervene in anything that had to do with young love. Being a cupid was a more difficult task than the one he already fulfilled at the BAU. So when night came and he didn't look at you anywhere, anxiety was already eating him to the ground, wishing he could have your phone number to at least comfort himself with hearing your voice. Going to your apartment was something he considered, but then it became unthinkable because he didn't even know how you would react.

Victoria became less of a concern as she seemed to get the message perfectly and every time during the day that he crossed her path she just looked away, totally offended.

But when the same situation arose twice, he felt that something was wrong and he wasn't going to endure a third time. It was then that Spencer left the house early that morning to stop by a bakery and buy a couple of fresh sweet buns, hoping that this time you were expecting him. But his disappointment was greater when he saw that once again there was only the bare cup of coffee.

"Didn't you see Y/N?" he asked Elle when he arrived, nervously fiddling with the paper bag he was holding in his hands.

“No, she just left your coffee and left, but I don't know where. She seemed pretty rushed”

Spencer inwardly cursed and sighed in frustration, until a few seconds later he caught sight of you on the other side of the building, carrying a stack of folders and talking on the phone. He didn't hesitate for a moment before running (at first, then he slowed down a bit as he remembered the incessant times Hotch had scolded him for it) towards you so he could finally talk to you.

“Y/N,” he said softly as he reached your side, and he took the bright smile you gave him as you turned to look at him as a good sign.

"Wait a minute" you mouthed, still answering the call you had on the line, and when you hung up you finally turned your attention to him "Hey, Reid. Good morning"

"I bought you this" he murmured, showing you the bag with food inside, and you almost moaned with happiness.

“Food is what I need most to survive the day”

"What are you doing?"

“Two days ago, your boss Gideon thought it was a good idea to make me his personal secretary. So right now, I'll do everything he asks me to do” you snorted, obviously exhausted by the work you had done and by the ones you surely would have to do.

It clicked in the boy's mind and then he understood that this was the reason you hadn't seen it, not because you were angry. Relief ran down the length of his spine.

"Really?"

“I don't even think that's legal, you know? I'm an intern, they don't pay me a penny and they take advantage of me like I earn the same as the fucking president” you complained. Until then he noticed that you were struggling to hold the papers and he decided to stretch out his hands to help you carry them, like a real gentleman "Thank you"

“Where should you take them? I'll accompany you” he offered. You led him through the halls to a file store that even he doubted he knew about, and explained that your job for the next several weeks would be to sort and categorize the case files for a more efficient process of future searches.

“I'm seriously thinking about giving this whole damn thing up and selling hotdogs in some park or whatever. I would be happier and I would earn almost the same” you joked, raising your arms to stretch your back a bit like a cat that had just woken up. The place was completely alone, silent and the lighting was so dim that it even looked gloomy “Did you get my coffees?"

"Yes, I did," he muttered, "I thought you were mad at me though”

"Why?"

"Because..." he hesitated for a moment if it would be wise to mention what he thought was the reason for your anger, until he realized that saying it out loud would simply sound absurd. There shouldn't be a reaction on your part to the facts “you weren't there. And you didn't write anything”

"Oh, I was in a hurry. I'm sorry,” you sincerely apologized. While you were talking to him you thought that you could start to categorize the documents that you would have just brought and you got to it, hoping that he wouldn't interpret that as a sign that you wanted him to leave; luckily Spencer rushed to your side to help you as soon as he could.

"Alright. I'm glad to know you're not upset."

"If I had known that you loved my notes so much, it would have taken me a few seconds" you smiled and when you turned your head you noticed that you were too close to him, or he to you, rather.

You were silent for a few moments until he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to know your opinion about what you had or hadn't seen that night.

"Victoria looked me up the other day," he said disinterestedly. You smiled victoriously for not having to be the first to mention it, even though the matter was slowly burning inside you.

“Oh, I know. I looked at you talking to her” you exclaimed bitterly, without taking your eyes off the files.

"And she too... huh..."

"Calm down" you interrupted him, taking a bunch that were already ordered and moving away from him to take them to a filing cabinet "I saw that too"

“It was so strange”

"It was pathetic," you said without any embarrassment. You finally looked up and noticed some fear in him, as if he thought you meant that he was pathetic "It wasn't even a good kiss"

"And what would one be like?" he replied without thinking. You stifled a laugh and looked at him kindly.

“That's not something I can explain to you, Reid. I would have to show you"

“Well…” he said, finally breaking away from your gaze and staring at you with those big beautiful hazel eyes.

You were surprised that he wasn't averse to it because you honestly didn't expect to achieve anything with that sentence, you just wanted to tease him a bit. Spencer kept looking at you in silence for a few seconds and you knew what that look meant, or at least you thought you did. Those pleading eyes only screamed one thing: show me. Kiss me.

You walked enough steps to close the distance and stand right in front of him, looking down at him with a smile of pure mischief.

“Well, what?"

“Nothing, nothing, I just… I thought you could enlighten me a bit on the subject. As unbelievable as it may seem, I am very uninformed about the standard of what is considered a good or bad kiss” he admitted. Even flirting he sounded like a walking book.

You weren't going to give him time to regret it so you took him by the lapels of his formal shirt and with a yank you pulled him to you. Spencer's breath caught at how sudden the contact had been, and you heard him release the trapped air over your lips, giving you the chance to deepen the kiss. At first he was tense, but after a few seconds you felt his shoulders relax considerably and that's when you slid your hands down the length of his neck until you reached to hold his cheeks. One of your hands left that position only to guide the man's hands to your waist and once you were in this way you took the opportunity to push your body against his a little more, with your torso attached to his. There was no mention of how the tip of your tongue experimentally flicked across his lips and made him sigh audibly.

Spencer nearly whimpered as the heat from your body left his.

“We just shared approximately 80 million bacteria” you blurted out, but he was too flushed and shocked to corroborate denying the information. Just to play with him you decided to give him another kiss, shorter and louder than the previous one "And you just had a good kiss"

You didn't wait for any reaction before separating completely and that made him come out of the trance he was in, still not believing what had just happened. He couldn't even say anything before your phone started ringing with a call.

"I'll see you later?"

"It's up to you," you said with a smile. Spencer nodded and not knowing what else to do he decided to walk out before he could embarrass himself "Oh, and Spence…”

"Yeah?" he answered, trying not to let you notice how it affected him that you called him that way.

“Do you remember the other day when I told you that surely hundreds of girls liked you?” you asked and when he nodded a couple of hairs got messy "Although I'm sure it's true, on that occasion I was only talking about me" you confessed. You couldn't ignore the ringing sound any longer or you'd lose it, so you picked up the hook and started a business conversation, but not before winking at him as a farewell.

Spencer came out of it trying to look as normal as possible, but he still couldn't figure out how he'd have the strength to work objectively for the rest of the day when he'd just gotten such a good kiss from the prettiest girl he'd ever met.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

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wandagcre · 11 months

Note

if ure comfy can u do a one shot or imagine of dom reader and intersex sam ; reader jerks sam off over her own abs (sams) and then licks it off

messy | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sub!Sam Carpenter x Dom! AFAB! Reader)

The party was set on the backyard but you decide to have your own with Sam.

WARNING: sam has a penis, dom afab reader, handjob, cum licking, tease of edging, ball stimulation +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 1.3k Note: first sub!sam entry yayy <3

Sam was an eye candy with her swimsuit bra and her dark shorts. You couldn't stop staring at her when she came out in this attire and you can't help but make an advance; applying the sunscreen on her exposed body and relishing how she got tense with your touch. Of course, you wouldn't have done it without being handsy – wanting her hard enough later on.

While everyone either had their stomach full of the various meals they just munched on or was starting to get drunk, you and Sam kept it light. She caught up with you after the sunscreen moment, how you keep on brushing your back to her front, any sort of skin against her. It didn't help that you looked ravishing to your own swimsuit attire that Sam's cock embarrassingly twitched upon first seeing you.

Now Sam's dealing with a problem that she can no longer hide. She held you by the wrist and whisked you away to the kitchen so she can confront you away from the spectating eyes and ears.

"What're you doing?" she questioned you.

You feign an innocent look. "I was about to grab a drink–"

"No, you're teasing me this whole day! And now it's starting to hurt."

"Okay." You laid your hand on her chest, finally taking pity on Sam. "Buckle up, baby."

"Are you–shit, (y/n) we could get caught!"

You ignore her whisper-yelling. Having sam trapped to the counter with your arms surrounded to either of her side - one of your hands already on a mission, snaked its way to cup Sam's length roughly through her shorts.

"If we get caught, it's going to be because of you, so tone it down." You sternly remind her, slowly resuming to your motions. Sam felt her knees grow weak and sharply inhaled, finding a small relief at your stroking. "What would you like to do first? Want my lips around your needy cock?"

Sam nodded deliberately, gauging of what your desired answer would be. She's afraid of exploding without your permission and your words weren't helping her case by the slightest.

It gave her an image of you trying to take all of her until your mouth was stuffed of her cock and served as a warming place. Your saliva lubricating her and maybe heightening the sensation with your teeth grazing at what your mouth can reach, up to the bottom of her protruding cock head.

She had a growing bulge by now, worse than an hour ago. But here you were, with a devious smile, having a field day with riling her up.

"You're not using your words. Maybe we'll do it later, if you're good." You tease her further, making Sam clench her fists on the side. "Maybe you won't even cum at all."

You kept rubbing her outline of her cock, feeling how it was pulsating and growing – wanting to be freed from its confinement. She was still wet from swimming earlier but that doesn't stop you. Your hands descend, still not underneath, instead you seized her balls and fondled them. The pair was becoming heavy upon your harsh touch, Sam grew hot and a particularly loud whine escaped her lips.

"What did I tell you?"

Sam squeaked and was getting harder by the second and your strokes were becoming firmer and aggressive, she was hooked and wrapped around your mercy.

"No, no, no." Sam weakly protests, head shaking in disagreement.

You raise an eyebrow. Was Sam close to acting bratty? It was rare that she does so. "No what?"

Your fingertips were getting heavily involved, determine to somewhat cup her girth and with the soft texture of Sam's shorts – it was gentle and a perfect contrast to your movements, providing a hell of a pleasure on her end.

It was like you're determined to make her blow without fully stroking her naked length. However, Sam was familiar with your tactics, she knew better that this was a test.

She arched her head back, releasing puffs of breath and tries not to make loud noises.

Gruffly, she clarified, "M-hmm 'kay, anything... what f-fits for me best, I'll t-take it!" Sam uttered with conviction that it inevitably brought a smile on your lips – you're so proud of her.

You coo her, almost caving in. "Shh. It's alright. We'll get there."

Sam looked to be in excruciating pain. A pleasurable one, but it doesn't stop her from the silent cries. She's intensely throbbing and aching for you and your teasing ways. She's hungry for you approval and you're hungry for her to lose her cool.

Admittedly, you also had enough. It was hard to pretend unaffected with Sam's wet look when she jumped on the pool, how drops of water that flowed delicately on her toned muscles only made her even more attractive to your eyes.

Without warning, you immediately freed her from its restraints, pulling the shorts down and reached for her cock – both of you trying to stifle a moan at the welcomed contact. Fucking finally, Sam thought. Warm and naked. This was definitely heaven for her.

Sam's cock sprung hard and was angry red. It didn't take long for her cock to fully become erect, given your relentless strokes – from the base and her shaft. Each pump of your hand was firm and rough, you really tried to cover the entire girth.

But Sam? She was really massive. The veins were becoming prominent as well, proving the thirst it was craving for. Her precum was oozing at the tip and with you meeting the head with a brush of your thumb per pump on her length, it was getting harder for sam to conceal her moans of appreciation.

You almost wanted Sam to ram you with her cock. It was undeniably a mouthwatering sight.

"(y/n)- oh god," Sam was getting sensitive. Her mouth parted and head now hung on your shoulder for support.

"Now be quiet, baby. I'm going to stop if you're loud."

Sam's eyebrows contorted, you see her fighting through it. She takes it upon her, hand covering her own mouth to muffle the erotic sounds brewing in the kitchen.

You feel her cock pulsate harder. It made you squirm, wetness surely ruining your own in panties and it motivated you to stroke better and faster than ever. You didn't hesitate to get on your knees now, wanting to get a better feel and angle of it. The tightening of your fist around her shaft, paired with twisting, made Sam quiver and roll her eyes.

"You can cum for me, Sammy."

It did the trick because soon enough, Sam had her jaw clenched, huffing beside you and with her twitching cock you settle some distance for her to release her load on her sculpted abdomen. Not only her cock veins were bulging, but along the expanse of her neck as well, all from the pressure steaming off her.

"Goodness... gonna c-cum now!"

Sam took her sweet time with catching her breath. Meanwhile, her cock continued twitching and she groaned as you milked all of her cum, directing the release to her stomach. It was a palpable sight; her glorious form softening as she succumbs to your whims.

"Fucking hell..." Sam muttered as the ropes of her release seemed to drag longer.

With her viscous thick spurts of cum vivid against her beautiful tanned skin, your motor senses were already on its way with tongue stuck out and laid flat to sweep away every drop of her load. Sam whimpered with your sight, tickled at the warm wet contact that her brown eyes barely evident as they dilated with lust. She's bittersweet on your tastebuds - one of your favorite flavors - and eagerly lapped as your tongue traced on her abdomen, going through the bumps and scars that heightened your carnal urge to do more.

With the last thread of will within you, you got up on your feet and affectionately pat Sam's cheek repeatedly.

"More treats later, pretty girl. Come on or else they'll start looking for us now."

The awestruck look on her face didn't leave. Sam happily followed you on your way back to your friends, completely satisfied, tailing behind you with hands entwined.

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#gg.writes #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter imagine #wlw #lesbian #scream vi #intersex!sam #requested

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year

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Title: Everyone Else Is No.2 {One-Shot}***

Lewis Hamilton x Attorney Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, Mature 18+ Content, Angst, PLENTY OF WORDS, DIALOGUE HEAVY

Words: 15.2k

Summary: Again, nah.

Note: Inspired by that old August Alsina song "Kissing on My Tattoos". So sorry for how long it is and for the long sentences toward the end, it couldn't be any other way. Forgive the weird spacing throughout, Tumblr has a 1,000 block limit per post, and guess who reached it before correcting the spacing.

Note II: Really interested in hearing what you guys think about this one. Let me know.

As always, thank you guys for reading! I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this.

If you did enjoy this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

-Y/N-

"You're beautiful you know that right?"

You smiled and took a sip of your drink.

"Thanks."

The man sitting across from you, Darius, nodded and before he looked down to his plate you caught his eyes drop to your cleavage. Of course, you thought. This was your 2nd date with him. The first went smoothly though you'd went with little to no expectations for it to be so. Tonight, he said the right things, did the right things, and was the perfect gentleman.

He'd even chosen a great restaurant. The ambiance was perfect for a second date. So far you had only counted 2 things that were less than satisfactory, everything was on point. He was so on point that you wondered if he was acting and not being his genuine self.

You hated the dating scene. Everyone held their cards too close to their chest. No one was ever real about anything. Everyone liked to waste people's time all in the name of fun and sex. These days you only treated dating as a pastime and a way to relieve stress after long hours of working on briefs and reviewing case files.

"A woman with your track record in law. Wheeew. Was it hard?"

You shrugged then wiped the corner of your mouth, "It definitely wasn't easy. I still remember the sleepless nights, and times when I only had 1 meal a day. My parents still remember not seeing me for 3 months because of the bar and my first major case that came nearly right behind the other. They won't let me forget it."

"It looks like it paid off. You're on the partner track. Shit, you'd be the first woman under 35 to make that happen at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw," Darius said.

You bristled, but politely smiled and took another sip of your wine.

"I'm sorry I don’t mean to make this weird I'm just in awe of you."

You studied him for a few moments but found no lie. You could always tell a lie. No matter what the case, no matter who it was. It was your secret weapon and it served you well as a lawyer.

"Thank you, but enough about me. What about you? Tell me about Darius Forrester."

He smiled, licked his lips then looked you directly in the eye.

"I'm pretty much a what you see you get kind of guy. I've been at Berry & Clark for the last 6 years as a criminal attorney. The work is challenging but I do alright for myself.

You nodded. He did. From what you heard his win ratio was nearly 92% and he took upstanding cases. He was a good attorney. Normally you wouldn’t shit where you ate because mess was not your style. You did not want to walk into a courtroom or boardroom and see the opposing counsel was an ex. That one thing gave you nightmares.

So dating lawyers was out of the question. You dipped in every other career field, playing it safe. The further they were from a law career the better. However, after a conversation with your other lawyer girlfriends about limiting oneself in the already limited dating pool, something clicked, and you decided to try it once but only if they weren't in your firm. Darius was your first attempt.

As he continued to tell you facts about himself you listened, but he didn't have your full attention. There was another person who held your attention, a person who though was usually out of sight was never really out of mind.

You heard your phone sound from your clutch resting on the table and both your eyes shot to it. Darius spoke before you moved.

"Go ahead please."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm an attorney as well, Y/N I know you come attached to it."

You smiled, held up your finger to him silently promising it would be quick, then took your phone in hand. You expected it to be Kemi, your paralegal, with files you were expecting, but it wasn't her name on your screen.

MSG Lewis: What're you doing tonight? Going over an endless to-do list of contracts and briefs?

You smirked.

MSG: Not even close.

MSG Lewis: Wow did someone finally decide to live a little and cut loose?

MSG: This sounds an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black.

MSG Lewis: Plead the 5th.

MSG: The Lewis Hamilton out maneuvered. Say it ain't so.

MSG: I'm close to your place. Just got back in town. Can you be ready in 10?

Your eyes flitted to Darius across from you who was taking the time to check his messages as well. You looked over him slowly, noting again how great he looked in his suit and how you liked the effort he had put in the last 2 dates down to the flowers he brought you and the activities you'd done. Things could progress if you chose to allow them to.

MSG Lewis: Is that a no?

MSG: I'm not home.

MSG Lewis: Okay. Where you at, the office? I can come pick you up.

MSG: I'm not at the office. I'm actually on a date.

You waited a few seconds, but he didn’t reply. Why didn't he reply?

"Everything ok?"

Caught off guard, you looked back up to Darius whose eyes were already on you. His brows were knitted with concern.

"Uh--yeah. I uh--I think so."

"A case?"

You thought about it and technically he was right. You were Lewis' entertainment lawyer. You were his personal attorney who reviewed the contracts after the company attorney said they had. You gave it to him between the eyes, never sugarcoating, and told him what was made with his best interest and what was made to capitalize off of him. However, when your services weren’t needed you were friends. Had been for practically a decade now.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you’d known each other that long. You’d known him since he was just another F1 driver rather than the greatest. He knew you when you were going through school always on an empty tank all in the hopes of rising above the tax bracket you were born into. A decade later and he was dominating F1 and you’d more than risen yourself several levels past the tax bracket you’d been born into.

You were on the partner track at one of the largest firms in Europe. You brought in more revenue than most of the attorneys at the firm thanks to your high-class clientele. You'd both worked your asses off to get to this level and enjoyed the spoils of your labor often. You clubbed together, went to dinner, and sometimes did the vacation vibe together. You enjoyed one another’s company.

"A client."

"Oh. Everything cool or---," Darius said.

Another message came in just then. "Everything is cool."

Darius smiled. "Good. I'll be right back, men’s room."

"Yeah."

Darius stood then walked off leaving you with the perfect opportunity to check your phone.

MSG Lewis: Is that right?

MSG: Yeah. 2nd date. Well technically 3rd if you can have 2 dates in one day.

MSG Lewis: Cool. Is it going well?

MSG: Yeah. He's made it this far.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

MSG: When he drops me home Ill text you. Come get me then.

Several moments passed before he replied. Again, you wondered why.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

The remainder of dinner you were distracted. Darius played all his cards right, even scoring himself the green light on a little hand-holding action. You had to admit he was smooth. When he pulled up to your condo building he walked you to your door then went in for a kiss. You hadn’t expected it, but rather than pull away, you allowed it to play out. It wasn’t a bad kiss. He hadn’t been too overzealous, only slipped you a little tongue, and had kept his hands respectful. All in all, for a first kiss it was a solid 8.

With a promise to call to set date number 4 sometime next week, you went inside and allowed yourself to come down. The dating scene was not something you enjoyed often. You always felt like you were performing, like men wanted a certain kind of woman, the perfect woman who they could prance around on their arm to make other men envious and that took its toll.

You never felt you had to perform with Lewis. Never felt like he wanted the perfect you. He made fun of you whenever you were perfectly put together for work meetings and said many times he liked you out of the makeup and heels. After another sigh, you took your phone out and texted him.

~~~~~~

-Lewis-

The ceiling looked like every other ceiling he’d ever seen but that didn’t stop him from focusing most of his attention on it like it was the most interesting piece of construction ever. His eyes should have been focused elsewhere but they weren’t. A loud 'slurp' echoed in the mostly quiet room reminding him again that he wasn’t alone.

"Mm. Why are you so distracted tonight, bae?"

Julissa's voice was as smooth as honey and as seductive as ever. He lowered his eyes to where she was kneeling between his legs and took her in. Her lips and chin were wet as she gave him her bedroom eyes. This was not the first time between them. Usually, it would work but not tonight. Tonight he was struggling to even keep his head in the room.

He watched her tip her tongue out and lick from the base of his dick to the glistening tip. Once there she swirled her tongue around him then sucked his head into her mouth. He’d have to be dead for it not to feel nice but that’s all it was--nice.

He sighed then brought his attention back to the ceiling. "Work."

"Aw babe, when you’re with me work should be the last thing on your mind," Julissa said before lowering her mouth down his shaft. When he felt her tonsils he groaned. His body wanted to like this wanted to give her the reaction she was working so hard for, but something was holding him back. Julissa's mouth bobbed up and down his cock sucking and slurping to her heart’s content trying to get him off, but he knew she had her work cut out for her.

He thought back to your text from 2 hours ago. You were on a date. Well shit, he hadn’t seen that coming. That was the last thing he had expected you to be doing tonight. It wasn’t because you weren’t desirable, or he thought no man would want you. For fuck's sake, you were beyond desirable, you were gorgeous and so damn intelligent. He couldn’t figure out which of those made you more beautiful, your looks or your brains. You also worked hard to be where you were, and you deserved all the praise and attention you got wherever you went.

However, sometimes he wished you got a little less male attention--x that, a lot less male attention. He sighed again. This had been going on for 10 years now. Your friendship had only strengthened but along with a strengthening friendship came a lot of other stuff. Stuff like him taking notice of the fullness of your hips or being tempted to peek when you’d been changing in the backseat of his car, or being painfully aware of how your breasts felt against his chest when you hugged.

That coupled with things he had picked up from you, made the unspoken and ignored things that much more—confusing. There were times when the way you stared at him when you thought he wasn’t looking spoke volumes or the way your hand always lingered on him for a few seconds longer than necessary but not long enough for it to be inappropriate, or the time you'd fallen asleep together on the couch and he'd woken to you wrapped around him using him as your personal body pillow and mumbling his name in your sleep.

Yeah, there was a lot of extra stuff, stuff neither of you ever addressed. The only ones who assessed it were his friends. Miles told him on several occasions that he should be careful before he or you fucked around, and someone ended up hurt. That stuck with him, but not in the way Miles had probably meant it. Rather than taking it the way Miles meant, he used it as a means to keep himself in check, a form of prevention from him crossing the line. He knew if he did, neither of you would be able to go back. It would be impossible and was one fuck up worth a decades-long friendship?

So friends were where you stayed until he added another facet--professional. Years passed, dates passed, flings, non-labeled encounters on both your parts passed and through it all your friendship remained, and nothing changed. Except today there was even more extra stuff.

The feel of Julissa’s lips wrapped around his balls sent his hips jerking upward as a curse left his lips. Julissa moaned and giggled.

“Daddy likes that?”

He knew how he would like it more. As quickly as he revved to that thought he steered away from it. That was when his phone sounded.

MSG Y/N: I’m home. Whatdaya you wanna do? Should I change?

His eye caught the time. 1am. Almost 3 hours from your last text and you were only now getting home. Clenching his jaw he took a deep breath. He had no right to be mad or annoyed right now. He knew where this was coming from. You’d been on a date, and you said it was going well. A date going well had a chance of making it upstairs. He closed his eyes squeezing them tightly. He hoped to God that you hadn’t just gotten it in.

MSG Y/N: Hello?

MSG: You don’t have to change. How about some treats and a view?

MSG Y/N: Okay. Still 10?

MSG: Make it 15.

Pulling himself up he reached down to stop Julissa. She looked confused.

“I gotta go J.”

Now she looked even more confused. He didn’t owe her an explanation, that’s not how this worked between them.

“With your dick out?”

He scoffed then fixed himself as he stood.

“Lewis this’s never happened before. Are--,” she began before he cut her off.

“All good, just—not in the mood I guess.”

She looked offended now. “I’m sorry J. We’ll talk.”

He walked to the door then left her apartment without a glance back. He didn’t feel any way about it because both of them knew what their relationship was and wasn’t. She’d agreed. Once he was in his car, he zipped through the London streets maneuvering the quickest route to your place. Thanks to the time it was an easy drive with minimal traffic. 15 minutes on the dot he swerved around to the front of your luxury condo building then sent you a text letting you know he was there.

A few minutes later, he peeped you from the corner of his eye. You walked off the elevator in a short and tight black dress, impossibly high strappy black heels, and a flowy robe-like jacket that danced behind you as you walked.

“Fuck.”

You were beautiful. Just then the thought that you’d gone on a date dressed like this rubbed him wrong. Some other man had seen this view, a view you gave willingly. Clenching his jaw, he looked through his windshield as he tried to push all those thoughts—all that other stuff to the side as he’d done countless times before. He looked back just in time to see you open the door of his car then climb in. His eyes dropped to your legs but seconds later he corrected that.

“Hi!”

Your smile was bright as if you really were as happy to see him as your voice indicated.

“Hey.”

You reached over and pressed your cheek to his for a bougie kiss. The only thing he could think was that you smelled like a treat all by yourself.

“How are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. Wow, what’s it been? 2 months?”

He shrugged as he shifted gears and took off. “Something like that.”

“Mercedes sure knows how to keep you busy,” you teased.

He tried to focus on the road but from his peripheral, he could see you crossing your legs displaying even more skin.

“What were you doing? You smell like fruits.”

He chastised himself because he hadn’t done a bit of cleaning up before he came. His only thought was you. Julissa’s fruity lip gloss still stained his dick that he couldn’t manage to get hard for her.

“Nowhere special. Just kickin’ it.”

You didn’t press further which said you knew just what he was doing. He clenched his jaw again, this time annoyed with himself. As he drove to the dessert place you told him about what was going on in your life while he shared some bits of his with you. Like always conversation flowed like a calm river. It was something he loved. It didn’t take long for him to pull up to the drive-thru of the vegan dessert shop. When it was his turn at the window he tipped his hat lower and left the ordering to you.

You ordered damn near everything on the menu. You didn’t care if it was cake, cupcake, ice cream, brownie, or whipped cream. You ordered at least 2 of everything. It took the staff a good 5 minutes to prepare it all and when he loaded them in the backseat it was completely filled. When he looked at you with an “are you serious right now” look, all you did was giggle. Fuck, he thought. There went all that extra stuff again.

“There is no way we can finish all this,” he said looking at the bags they’d moved to the front since parking at their destination.

“Speak for yourself. I always have room for sugar, sugar.”

He snorted then shook his head. “Mad whack.”

Your jaw dropped as you gaped at him, and you looked too fucking adorable. You sifted through the bags until you found the dessert you wanted—the vanilla bean cheesecake. Your eyes lit up as you gawked at the large slice that was topped with white chocolate shavings. “It's so pretty,” you gushed.

He watched you snap picture after picture of the treat before you took your first forkful. When you did, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out a completely indulgent, hearty, and dick-hardening moan. The fuck, he thought as his dick spasmed to life. Quickly he moved one of the bags to his lap and looked out the window.

“This is so good,” you obliviously said still munching on cake.

He pulled out the vegan chocolate truffle cake and took a bite. It too was good.

“That looks good. Is it?”

“Try it,” he said holding out a forkful to your mouth.

You paused for a split second then cut off a piece of your cheesecake before you held your fork to his mouth.

“You try too.”

The image that came to mind was that of a new husband and wife feeding each other wedding cake and with it, his throat went dry. He knew if he tried to speak he’d sound like a pre-pubescent boy, so he wrapped his lips around your fork taking the piece of cake then fed you his. Your eyes lingered on one another for a few moments nut when you moaned again his dick spasmed again. with that he turned his head so fast that he was surprised he hadn’t snapped his own neck in the process.

“So good,” you repeated.

The two of you sat there commenting on the desserts you went through in record time. He didn’t indulge in sweets often but when he did he found it was usually with your sugar-addicted ass. You said there were 4 things in life you would never give up, sugar, your favorite perfume, your favorite underwear set, and sex. He believed you on all points. When there were only a few pieces of cake left the silence in the car stretched.

“So—a date huh.”

“A date.”

“I thought you gave up dating.”

You took a deep breath then slowly released it before turning your body at an angle facing him. The hem of your dress hiked a little higher and he forced himself to look away.

“I did. Then I got bored and he asked.”

“What does he do?”

You didn’t answer automatically, instead, you took another forkful or 2 of cake, then you spoke.

“He’s an attorney.”

“I thought you didn’t date attorneys.”

“I don’t but me and the girls were talking, and it clicked that by x-ing out a whole career field greatly decreased me finding someone who could stick around.”

He paused. Stick around? This was new.

“Stick around? Are you—are you looking for something—serious?”

You took a beat then shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought the other day, I have everything I have ever wanted. I am on this partner track, I make very high 6 figures, I have a great condo, my mental health is amazing, I have no debt, no baby daddies or drama, I—I’m kinda a catch but I go to sleep alone 98% of my nights. I come home to an empty place, I have no meaningful text exchanges, there is—nothing fulfilling in my life. I began to wonder if it was time to change all of that last bit.”

Silence stretched again as he thought over your words while studying you. This was the first time he’d heard you speak like this. Usually, you changed the subject or downplayed having any other thoughts than fun, sex, and work. Now hearing the vulnerability in your voice he knew you’d come to a point where all of this, intention-free dating, pastime sex, stress-busting flirting and all the meaningless interactions were unfulfilling and empty. You wanted more, you wanted love, a life, a husband, kids, vacation homes, and retirement funds, you wanted the quintessential definition of it all. He also noted you now found everything he was currently partaking in meaningless and unfulfilling.

Dropping his head, he stabbed the cake still in his hands. The more puncture holes it picked up the less and less he wanted it.

“Fuck, maybe I’m just bored and need a really, really, good fuck.”

He snorted but it was humorless.

“Don’t downplay what you feel, Y/N. Don’t—make what you feel insignificant, so you feel less vulnerable. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s you and me here.”

“It’s just—you—I know those are things you don’t necessarily want and you’re happy with the--.”

“Who said I don’t want those things?”

His tone was sharp and defensive though he hadn’t meant for it to be.

“Uh—you did.”

“No. I said it’s not something I can afford right now with my schedule and my contract extension. I didn’t say I never wanted it.”

You looked away from him to out the window. “Yeah, but your actions say a lot different,” you mumble.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, look at me. What does that mean?”

You sat quietly for a few moments then just when he was about to ask again you blurted.

“There is a difference between I don’t want it now and I don’t want it ever. Someone who wants it someday would leave themselves open to it rather than boxing every interaction they have into--other things.”

“What if I don’t want to open myself to it?”

“That’s clear Lew.”

“No. You don’t get it. What if I don’t want to open myself to it because I don’t want to find the perfect thing—the perfect woman and then be fucked because it’s too soon and too hard to keep her in my world to wait until I can make those commitments because my world is fucked—I’m fucked because I want the world and will actually keep going until I get it anyone else be damned.”

He could feel your eyes on him, and it was his turn to feel vulnerable and exposed.

“You think because you put everyone in one box it stops what’s meant to be from—being?”

He glanced at you with a pained expression, he knew it. He was actually feeling pain.

“Also—you’re not fucked because you want the world. I want the fucking world. Am I fucked?”

“To be determined.”

You both busted out laughing then. You laughed for a good minute then smiled as it tapered off.

“Aren’t you the tiniest bit lonely in the other side of your life—away from F1?”

He didn’t need to think about that. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to tell you. The facts were that he was lonely more times than not. That was when he called someone to come distract him or make him feel good. He’d become an expert in the art of distraction. In his life, he only had time and the capacity for low stress and no mess. He had enough of both already.

He felt your hand creep into his and squeeze gently. Suddenly, there was all this other stuff again. The feel of your smaller hand in his larger one was something he really liked. Usually, when either of you took the other’s hand it was in passing or for a second, but the moment lingered and stretched, and still you kept your hand in his swirling your fingers against his palm and other fingers. He liked this too much.

“You can tell me. I won’t judge you. In fact—I’m lonely.”

His eyes slipped to you. Your head was down staring at your hands. It had now moved to trace the tattoos on his hand with the point of your nail as if his flesh were an adult coloring book. He watched you trace the rose on his pinky, then the planets on his ring finger. When you got to the lined arrow down his middle, he was having trouble swallowing again. Slowly, you traced the spaceship then went up across the sword until you reached his wrist.

He didn’t know if there was rhyme or reason to your movements or if you were just absently doing it. Goosebumps peppered his skin when you went up his forearm. He looked at you just before your eyes met his.

“You are?”

You nodded. “I am,” you whispered.

The air was on but inside the car easily felt like a sweltering 99 degrees. He didn’t know if it was from your touch or if it was the shift in the air between you. Did you notice it too?

“I think it’s okay to be lonely especially looking at how we live. We’re always working, always pushing ourselves to and through glass ceilings and when we do there is no one really there to share it with, not really, not in the way that fulfills,” you said.

Your face was closer to his now. Had he moved closer or was it you? Your eyes met again, and the temperature kicked up again. Fuck, he thought as his dick recklessly spasmed, begging for attention.

“I’m never lonely with you,” he said before his brain could stop his mouth.

A small smile lit your face, “Me too. Never with you.”

The smile slipped. “Well—not always.”

He turned to you more now, curiosity filling him. “What do you mean?”

You stayed quiet for a few moments but kept tracing his skin with your nail.

“There are times I can’t—guess what you’re thinking. Times I can’t—figure you out.”

“Then ask me.”

“Would you really tell me?”

He leaned closer. “I’d tell you anything.”

You searched his eyes, but you didn’t move back.

“Anything?”

He nodded slowly. His head felt hazy like you had him under some sort of spell with nothing more than your presence and the tip of your finger and all he truly wanted was to touch you in return. So he did. Reaching across to your exposed knee, he circled his finger around the smooth skin there. You sucked in a breath the moment his finger touched you and that one action nearly had him pulling you across the partition right onto his lap. Nearly.

So there on a hill that overlooked London, in his car, sitting near enough to a lone road light, you trailed your finger across his forearm while he did the same to your knee. The low light that illuminated the car bathed your skin in amber making him feel like you were on a whole different plane of existence rather than this real proven and tangible one. Your eyes held him in place to the point where he felt like he couldn’t move though he wanted to.

Without even realizing it you were mere inches from him. In fact, you were so close he could make out the hidden colors in your eyes, so close he could smell the fragrance on your skin that went deeper than perfume. This was your essence and by God he was intoxicated. Unable to stop himself, he inched his hand higher gripping your inner thigh. A soft moan fell from your lips and that was all it took for him to press his forehead to yours like the sound was tethered to his very core.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

The sheer might it was taking to keep himself restrained was becoming too much. At this point, it wouldn’t take much for him to abandon those restraints and give in.

“Lewis,” you whispered.

Your voice was raspy and dripping with what he dared label as desire. Fuck, he thought as he squeezed your thigh. He was so close, mere inches and it wouldn’t take much to close the gap between his fingers and your core but still, he fought himself. He was so wrapped up in his own battle for control within himself that he didn’t even realize when your hand rested on his upper thigh. You were dangerously close to kicking the lid off the box of other stuff that he’d worked years to keep shut. Half of him silently begged for you to keep going and kick it off so everything would be out in the open and it would be do or die but the other half of him hesitated still. The unknown was a powerful and sobering drug.

Your hand inched higher, then closer to what was the rock-hard physical evidence that deep down, now closer to the surface than ever before, he felt more, wanted more than what was. He wanted more than he could possibly afford. Still, his hand persisted, it inched higher making your hips jerk forward. The knowledge that he’d hit a sensitive spot sent his system into overdrive making a deep moan from his lips fill the car.

On cue in response, your legs opened a few inches more, making way for his hand. Jesus Christ he thought. There was his consent, you wanted him as he wanted you. There would be nothing wrong with him slipping his fingers underneath whatever underwear you wore. Fuck, he hoped they were lacy and strappy. There would be nothing wrong with him letting your hand slide to the aching dick straining against his pants begging for your attention. Shit, he bet your hands would feel incredible wrapped around him. There would be nothing wrong with him moving closer and finally claiming your lips as his. Damn, he just knew they were as sweet as they looked, that they felt amazing. There would be nothing wrong with him pulling your body against his for more than a clothed hug. There would be nothing wrong with him cupping your breasts and swirling his thumb across your nipple just to see the reaction it elicited. God damn it, he knew your moans would destroy him. There would be nothing wrong with him finally learning what you tasted like, nothing wrong with him finally smearing your wetness across his lips. Holy fuck, he knew you had to taste like pure sugar and cream.

His cock spasmed again then your hand made the move for him. In the same breath with his eyes squeezed tight, he lurched for your hand, gripping you by your wrist stopping you just before you touched him. As he did that his jaw clenched, the only thing he could do to stifle the moan at the tip of his tongue. It came out as a half groan and growl instead. The strangled whine that left you said you liked it, and he knew he had to end this here. It took him some time to find the smallest bit of control to open his eyes, but he didn’t possess enough control to look at you. There was no way he could.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, voice low and so close to a whisper.

He tried to keep the longing, regret, and hope from it. Slowly he removed his hand from your thigh hoping with everything in him that you grabbed it and nudged it higher. You didn’t though, so he turned forward readying himself to drive. You didn’t move for several long moments; you remained there half facing him with your thighs still tempting him to go back and take things further. With his hands on the steering wheel, he trained his eyes forward. He could feel all the antsy energy bouncing off every cell of his body, he could feel all the need in him wreaking havoc on him telling him to stop being a pussy and do what he really wanted to, say what he wanted to, take what he wanted.

His hands squeezed so tightly that the creaking of the leather echoed in the intense silence in the car. Just when he was about to say fuck it, you turned away from him. You softly cleared your throat then buckled yourself in. Sighing, he pushed started the ignition then swerved out of the parked spot they were in taking the route back to the city. As he drove you didn’t speak, you didn’t even move. You kept your head turned away from him looking out the passenger window with your legs crossed away from him. Your body language sent a completely different message now. Before you were open and so close to him. Now, you were so far he wondered if he’d turned Miles’ words into truths.

~~~~~

-Y/N- 8 Months Later-

The loud ‘pop’ of a champagne cork echoed just behind you making you spin in that direction. A group was just behind you laughing and toasting to something you guessed was momentous. You sighed then turned back to the painting you were currently studying. The abstract lines and swoops looked so similar to the slopes of a body. The longer you stared at it the more it felt like an erotic image than some random lines and swirls. There was something about it that stirred something in you, something that you’d ignored and buried so deep, something you hadn’t felt for 8 months.

You drained your champagne glass then squeezed your eyes shut. It had been a long 8 months. You’d worked your ass off times ten taking on more and more clients than before. You brought on 12 celebrity clients and 4 major corporate ones which brought Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw to the top of the field in revenue. You brought in so much money that you’d gotten 7 poaching offers from firms in different parts of the country.

Thanks to those offers that you hadn’t necessarily kept confidential, the interest in you for partner rose to unbeatable levels. Anyone you were competing against for the position paled in comparison. Those 8 months of ass-busting work led to your name being signed on the paperwork titling you as the new partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw. It was so much of a done deal that your bank account proudly embraced your new status.

With that new status came an increase in the events you had to make an appearance at as thee number 1 entertainment and criminal attorney in London. Your calendar quickly filled with meetings, speeches, appearances, court appearances, dinners, and more. You were so booked that the next time you had any schedule free time was 6 months away. You’d catapulted so far out of your original tax bracket that you’d shattered the glass ceiling that tried to confine you and now you wondered if you’d aimed too high.

“Looks like I’m right on time.”

You looked to your right and found Darius holding another glass of champagne for you. Smiling, you took it.

“That you are, thank you.”

“Of course. To you, the youngest and newest partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw and in the greater London area.”

You smiled as the man who’d stuck around through your insane schedule, your hot and cold behavior, your pull you close one minute, push you away the next, your disappearing acts, your reluctance to place a label on your interactions, your give me sex then get gone rule, and more for the last 8 months.

“Thank you, Darius,” you said leaning toward him and pressing your lips against his.

Darius moaned and reciprocated the kiss, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close. You felt like you were thanking him for much more than the toast and the fresh glass of champagne. You felt like you were thanking him for taking your bare minimum and it made you feel like shit.

Darius pressed his forehead to yours and instantly you had a flash back to the last man who’d done that to you. In a split second, your heart rate spiked, and an intense feeling gripped you.

“You don’t have to thank me, love.”

Your reaction to the action ricocheted through you making you pull away from Darius. Turning back to the painting, you gulped down the champagne.

“It’s crazy that your firm has so many celebrity clients and that this many are here to welcome you as partner,” Darius said in hushed tones.

“It is crazy.”

All night you’d been rubbing elbows with actors, musicians, models, athletes, and more. All of them congratulated you on your promotion and wished you greater success in the future. It was touching but a little bit overwhelming. You couldn’t let on though, so for the entire night you’d been performing, and you were nearing the limits of your stamina for it. You’d been performing for the last 8 months. Shit, you’d even been performing with Darius. You’d been performing ever since you were dropped off in those early morning hours those 8 months ago.

“Y/N,”

To your left, your paralegal now turned assistant, Kemi touched your elbow drawing your attention to her.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, you look incredible,” she said.

“Stop saying that please, you’re gonna blow my head up so big I just might start thinking I deserve a higher position.”

She giggled but gave you a look that said “well ya’ do.”

“The big wigs are asking for you, although you’re now one of them so--.”

You snorted while rolling your eyes. “Then doesn’t that make you the big wig assistant?”

She posed then making you laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” you said to Darius as you walked off to find those big wigs.

It didn’t take long before you found them surrounded by a group of about 10 people. When they saw you they waved you over with large smiles on their faces. You took a deep breath and approached them with an equally large smile.

“There she is ladies and gentlemen!”

The group smiled, patted your back, and welcomed you with friendly banter.

“Everyone!”

The music died down and someone handed Malcolm Boyd a microphone. He was your biggest fan, a black man who’d made unfathomable feats in the field and became an incredible mentor and second father to you. He put his arm around your shoulder as he always did.

“I am filled with great happiness and pride calling this woman the new partner here at Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw!”

Everyone began applauding then, drowning out his next words so he paused and allowed them a few moments before continuing.

“She has been with us for 6 years now and in those 6 years she has accomplished incredible things and when she was done with those incredible things she moved on to outstanding things. Y/N has reminded many of us of what it means to be determined and persistent. She tackles every case with poise, confidence, and grace and that confidence has given her that 99% win record.”

Again everyone clapped. You softly smiled at them half embarrassed by the praise but half so damn proud of yourself and happy that your accomplishments were being recognized.

“Just as Malcome said, “Patrick Halsey began placing his hand on Malcom’s shoulder, “Y/N more than deserves this promotion and I expect her to blow all of our minds in the coming months and years. We just might have to add another name to the plague.”

Many in the audience hollered and hooted at that and you couldn’t lie that the greedy ambition within you salivated at that possibility. You still wanted more. You exchanged a look with Malcome who gave you an all-knowing look. You just found your next accomplishment. The founding partners took turns praising you and giving reasons why you’d earned this promotion then raised their glasses to you for the ultimate toast of congratulations. You humbly thanked them and gave a quick appreciative speech before lifting your glass to the audience.

As you drank down the tart liquid, your eye caught sight of a figure you hadn’t seen in person for almost 2 months—Lewis. He stood at the back in a black suit that clearly was made for him. His braids were pulled back in the way he liked when he was tackling more professional events. He looked as good as ever. He lifted his glass of water to you and in response you gave him a tight smile.

The same thing happened that always happened when you met one another ever since that night. Your body went through this strange cycle of reaction, excitement, confusion, hurt, anger, annoyance, and disappointment. It was exhausting. Because of these feelings, you regretted that night. You regretted allowing your thoughts to go so astray that you opened up your ‘what if’ box. You regretted every whisper, every lean in, every almost touch, every lingering look, everything. You even regretted getting out of his car when he pulled up to your condo instead of pulling him by his hair to you and telling him to go upstairs with you. you didn’t know what you regretted more.

The worst part was that you had to continue on like always. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem because that night was not the first night there had been many ‘what if’ nights over your decade-long friendship. The common factor was that both of you moved on and slinked back into the basics of your relationship—comfort and friendship. This time is difficult, so difficult you contemplated passing his case off to another attorney. If it hadn’t been for Malcome talking you out of it he would have been someone else’s responsibility. Instead, you put on your big girl panties and a mask and did something you never thought you’d ever do with him—performed.

When the crowd thinned out and everyone returned to what they were doing you began making your way back to Darius in the opposite direction. You were ready to leave. Before you got far Lewis stepped in front of you stopping you in your tracks.

“Congratulations, Y/N.”

Smiling, you thanked him.

“You look--,” his words stalled as his eyes roamed your body. You noted the conflicted look on his face before it disappeared. “Incredible,” Lewis finished.

His compliment made your body warm and something like hope filled you. Chastising yourself you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. You look nice too.”

Lewis scoffed softly then nodded. You then tried to slip by him, however, Lewis wasn’t having it. Again, he stepped in front of you.

“In a rush to get away from me?”

“Why would you say that? Have you done anything to me for me to want that?”

Silence stretched and Lewis studied you his jaw clenched tightly. Instead of speaking, he looked down, an act of defeat.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

“We’re talking right now.”

He gave you an unamused look, but you kept your nonchalant, innocent one. Unexpectedly Miles approached then.

“There she is--partner lady. Congratulations Y/N.”

You smiled then hugged Miles. “Thank you!”

“This is incredible news, Y/N. So happy for you.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you for coming,” you replied.

“You know me, always this fool’s plus one.”

You smiled then the silence returned for a few seconds before Lewis spoke again.

“Maybe we can go somewhere—quiet after this?”

“Unfortunately I don’t think I can.”

“Why?”

Just then Darius approached and wrapped his arm around your waist resting his hand on your hip. You watched Lewis’ eyes drop to that hand and continued to watch as his jaw turned tight as if it filled with cement.

“Oh wow. Lewis Hamilton,” Darius said turning to you, his voice awestricken. “Babe it’s Lewis Hamilton.”

You nodded as a soft smile played on your lips. “Let me introduce you. Darius, this is one of my clients, Lewis Hamilton, and his best friend Miles Chamley-Watson fencing champion and Olympian. Miles, Lewis this is my—.”

You hesitated and in the same second, you felt Darius’ eyes on you filled with hope. Two other pairs of eyes were on you--one giving complete double eyeball emoji and the other searing you almost daring you to continue. The longer you didn’t speak, you watched Darius’ hope turn to disappointment. Glancing back at Lewis you found his eyebrow up with a curious and confrontational look while Miles was the epitome of if ‘well this is awkward’ was a person.

“This is Darius Forrester.”

You felt even more like shit now. Darius shook Lewis’ hand first then Miles’. While he did Lewis looked him over sizing him up. You knew he was wondering if he was the same man from those months ago when you’d told him you were on a date.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m a fan,” Darius said to Lewis.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I can sign something for you if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at his underhanded jab while a half chortle escaped Miles. Darius on the other hand leapt at the opportunity, handing Lewis the only thing he had, an art bidding ballot. Lewis signed the back but kept his eyes on Darius’ hand on your hip.

“Bidding on some art tonight?”

“I am. There is a piece this gorgeous angel has been staring at all night, it’ll be my gift to her for her promotion,” Darius explained rubbing your hip.

You smiled at him then kissed his cheek. Lewis now looked entertained while Miles’ eyes widened as he finished the drink in his hand.

“Ehm, anyway. So I’m sorry I can’t pencil you in tonight but if you call Kemi and make an appointment she’ll get you on the calendar for a different day for that talk,” you said.

“Plans tonight,” Miles guessed looking between you and Darius.

“Absolutely. I’ve had way too much to drink and plan on taking advantage of that.”

You leaned closer to Darius kicking up your performance another notch. Lewis smirked but also clenched his jaw to that. Miles whistled while nodding his head.

“Go on then Ms. Partner, fly by the seat of your panties or no panties,” Miles teased making you and Darius chuckle while Lewis gave him an unamused look.

“Well, enjoy your evening gentlemen. Thank you again for coming by,” you said before you made a move to walk off with Darius.

As you walked away you placed your hand over Darius’ and slyly slipped it lower to rest on your ass. You knew Lewis was watching and decided to deliver the last blow. Was it petty? Yes. Was it fair to Daius? Not at all.

The next hour or so passed with you roaming around the gallery looking at the art while Darius flirted with you. As you roamed, no matter where you went you saw Lewis from the corner of your eye and no matter how much space was between you, your skin reacted as if Darius’ touch was his. The more you felt that way the reality that Darius’ touch was in fact all his own annoyed you making you feel even worse. You knew what needed to be done and knew it had to be done soon.

The only way you could distract yourself was with glass after glass of champagne. As you emerged from one of your countless trips to the bathroom you bumped into Miles.

“Funny bumping into you here.”

You smiled warmly, “Still here? I thought you and Lewis left hours ago.”

“You knew we were still here,” he accused.

You tried to give an affronted look but failed. He was right. Sighing, your act fell for the first time that night.

“Wow. Feels good to not perform huh.”

You looked at Miles and wondered just how much he knew. He didn’t keep you in suspense long.

“What a twisted web we weave when we practice to deceive.” He scoffed, shook his head then continued, look, I am going to tell you the same thing I told Lewis.”

You perked up then but tried to play it off.

“You better stop playing before somebody gets hurt and by the looks of it, it’s gonna be your homeboy Darius if not all three of you.”

You took in his words then put your mask back in place. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah you do, just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

Your curiosity peaked then. “What are you talking about Miles? What do you think you know?”

He scoffed. “I’m a straightforward kinda guy so I’ll say I know everything. As the neutral 3rd party who is both on the outside looking in and the inside watching this train wreck, I know everything. I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Your eyes lingered and the longer they did the more you got his meaning. Glancing away you tried to pretend like his words meant nothing, but you knew you were failing.

“I get it, I really do; 10 years is a long time to put at risk but are you really putting it at risk knowing all you know? You have 10 years of proof. Man up.”

Miles leaned in, kissed your cheek, and whispered, “Let homeboy go so he can find someone who really loves him, someone who can love him. Your corner is full.”

With that, he walked away leaving you speechless and confused. Your corner was full? You had no idea whatsoever what that meant, and you were tempted to follow Miles and get some clarification, but you decided against it remembering the last time you chased down the rabbit hole. When you found Darius again his expression was somber when he told you that the painting he’d been bidding on was outbid and that he didn’t have it to gift you. After assuring him you were fine, you decided you were more than ready to leave.

Darius got the car as you waited outside allowing the cold air to cool your skin. You didn’t care that you were risking illness because it served as a needed distraction. When you felt a fabric drape over your shoulders you bristled at first but then Lewis’ scent circled you and your body relaxed. Even that annoyed you.

“I don’t need this. Darius will be back soon anyway.”

Lewis snorted. “8 months, is that a record?”

“I think it’s a record for you, but I’ve gone longer.”

He scoffed then shook his head. “No doubt, remember Y/N. I will be here long after you get bored with them all. I’m always here.”

Your eyes locked and his should have been radiating cockiness that matched his words, but instead, they were gentle, open, and vulnerable.

“Will you?”

There was no time to reply because a car horn blared drawing your attention. Darius waved at you as he got out of the car to walk around to the passenger side.

“Good night Lewis.”

You walked away from him then slipped into the passenger side. As you waited for Darius to get in and drive off, you stared at Lewis who hadn’t budged from the curb where you left him. Miles’ words echoed back to you then.

“Just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

“You have 10 years of proof.”

“Your corner is full.”

The word ‘full’ echoed over and over as Darius pulled off. Bullshit, you said to yourself in disbelief.

When Darius pulled up to your condo you sat there marinating in all your thoughts throughout the nearly thirty-minute drive. It wasn’t until you felt Darius’ hand on your exposed knee did you realize he was still there.

“Are you okay? Want me to come up?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “We need to talk Darius.”

When you looked at him his expression said he knew just what you were about to say. Being as gentle as you could, you ended things. Although the old “it’s not you it’s me” line fit the situation perfectly. You dug a little deeper and gave him and heartfelt reason without revealing you were and had been in love with your best friend for 10 years and didn’t realize it until his feelings were already on the line. When you finished, Darius remained the good guy he was and told you he understood and that he’d expected this sooner or later. You thanked him for being good to you then began making your way to the elevators.

Halfway there you dug into the pocket of the jacket you wore and froze. When you took your hand out you held a note with your name sprawled on the front in Lewis’ handwriting.

-Y/N-

I’ve thought for months about what to say to you because there is so much to say, so much that has gone unsaid for so long that I don’t know where to start—how to start. 10 years is a long time especially when neither of us has been 100% honest with the other. I want to end that. Please.

-Lewis

You read then reread the note over and over hoping you would know what to do next but no matter how many times you did, you had nothing. So you walked back and forth in the lobby. When your phone sounded, you found a message from Lewis.

MSG Lewis: Ball’s in your court. I’m outside your building.

You froze then slowly turned and saw his car. It had been months since you’d been in a car with him and the thought of doing it again freaked you out a little. Your eyes met at that moment, but he didn’t move. He was giving you the time to decide for yourself. You turned your back to him then walked to the elevators but stopped halfway. After a few moments, you turned back around and walked to the doors only to stop halfway again and repeat the whole cycle. Still, Lewis didn’t budge. He just watched as your internal debate played out physically.

After ten minutes you stooped down and put your down, completely exhausted by your indecisiveness. Taking a deep breath, you held it and allowed your lungs to adjust. It was an action you often did to help you think and calm down. As your oxygen levels decreased your heartbeat would slow and as it did, there was always one particular beat where you figured it all out. It usually came right in the nick of time.

So you allowed your heartbeat to slow and though you should have panicked you didn’t. You thought clearer than you’d ever thought before.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Miles’ words came back to you again and it was then you gasped filling your lungs with air. After a few breaths, you stood then turned to the doors. It worked all the time. With your head high and back straight you walked toward them then climbed inside Lewis’ car. Without a word, he pulled off then turned back onto the streets.

~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later you walked into a penthouse suite right behind Lewis.

“Why here?”

“Thought neutral ground would make you more comfortable.”

You scoffed and beelined right to the bar, tossing his suit jacket over the back of one of the bar stools. As you mixed yourself a drink you tried not to focus on him, but you did. No matter where he went you knew. You were hypersensitive to him at this point. You’d only meant to make a glass but ended up making a whole shaker cup. You kicked off your heels, climbed onto the bar stool then plopped yourself on the countertop. Once comfortable you crossed your legs and sipped your drink.

“Where’s Darius?”

“Not here obviously.”

“You and I are so alike it’s insane,” he said as he approached you, but he didn’t come close. He stopped at the sectional couches in the middle of the large living area and then sat.

The silence in the room was thick for such a long time you began thinking about leaving altogether.

“Congratulations again. I’m so fucking proud of you. You saw something you wanted and didn’t stop until you got it. You deserve this.”

Your stomach flipped hearing his praise. More than anyone he knew what you’d gone through to get here. It touched you. Looking away from him, you cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

His eyes remained on you as if daring you to look back at him. It was a dare you had to accept. Your eyes locked and you instantly felt it. There was so much to say. Just behind him, you saw something familiar. Squinting, you made out the painting you’d been staring at all night, the painting Darius wanted to bid on for you. It clicked then, the reason why Darius couldn’t win it was because Lewis claimed it first. You scoffed, the man was competitive and dominant to a fault. You couldn’t help but be touched by the gesture though.

Lewis sighed bringing your eyes back to him, “I don’t even know where to start,” groaned, rubbed his eyes then spoke again. “Maybe I’m sorry is a good place.”

You studied him for a few moments then took a mouthful of your drink. “For what?”

“You know for what.”

That night.

Those words hung in the air, and you did your best to remain aloof. Scoffing, you shook your head. “It’s all good Lewis.”

“You’re lying and you know it. I thought attorneys believed in the truth.”

“Who are you to tell me what my truth is?!”

You hadn’t meant to shout it, but you did.

“Because more times than not our truths match up and I am sure that what happened was not all good to you because it wasn’t to me.”

“And what exactly wasn’t all good to you?”

“The way we—I left things,” he quietly said.

You waited for him to continue because there was no way in hell you were going to make this easy for him. He wanted to talk so he’d talk. Lewis shook his head then hung it backward. He sat there staring into the ceiling for almost a full minute before he looked back at you.

“I just—flipped when we were—you were—you wanted--,” he stuttered.

You scoffed again, “Don’t flatter yourself, Lewis,” you said slipping into the barstool and spinning it around so your back faced him.

“What?”

“You and I both know that none of that meant anything to you. It’s all good.”

“Now who’s telling who what their truth is?”

You didn’t take the bait, instead, you kept your back to him and finished your glass.

“You forget, I know you, Lewis. 10 years of friendship and I know you so well that it was my own damn fault that night.”

“Whatdaya know?”

After refilling your glass you turned back around then hopped off the stool and walked toward the large floor-to-ceiling window. “I know that that you were with one of your rotation chicks before you came to pick me up. I smelled her on you. That fruity aroma was all her. I know that because of that tidbit of info, none of it meant anything.”

Leaning against the window you stared down at the view of London. Lights glistened down below, and you imagined everyone scurrying to where they had to go so wrapped up in their own thoughts or existence to even suspect that it all was fleeting.

“Okay, I’ll own that bit. Yeah, I was with one of them but that was only after I found out you were on a date.”

“So it’s my fault. I was on a date living my life, so you decided to get your dick wet. Okay.”

You took another sip from your glass not liking the direction of this little talk he wanted to have.

“I never said it was your fault. It’s just a fact. I texted you because I wanted to see you, wanted to spend time with you and you were spending time with someone else, someone you probably did God knows what with hours before you saw me.”

And with that, you were done here. Finishing the glass you turned and walked to the door.

“Good night Lewis.”

He scurried in front of you blocking your path. “Wait, please. Shit! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Two sorries in the span of twenty minutes, cool. Get out of my way.”

“No, Y/N, please wait.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I’m sick and tired of waiting. I’ve waited 10 years!”

“You’ve waited? I’ve—.”

Lewis threw his hands up then walked away grunting and talking to himself. He looked insane and it kind of made you pleased seeing it. He always appeared so in control, so aware of himself and his actions at all times. It had all gone to shit now. You stood there debating if you should just leave and let things remain how they were until the day you both just stopped talking and checking in and it ended up going on for another 10 years until you were just people who used to know one another, people who’d missed out on something. It was then you realized you weren’t wearing shoes.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“I wanted you that night. I wanted you more than I had ever wanted anyone, including anyone in the rotation. Do you know what I was doing while you were on your date?”

“Getting your dick wet. I know.”

“I was lying on Julissa’s bed as she gave me head.”

You scoffed, “Of course you were.”

“She’d been going for 40 minutes and still I was barely hard. No matter what she did, no matter the tricks, no matter how nice it felt, barely hard. I was lying on her bed with my dick in her mouth thinking about you on your fucking date.”

You looked at him then. Those were words you hadn’t expected.

“My mind went crazy thinking what was happening. The longer that went by without you texting me the thoughts killed me. As soon as I got your message I left. No other thought, just you. I prayed to God that the date didn’t go well enough for you to let him upstairs. Then I saw what you were wearing, and I couldn’t believe I was jealous. I was jealous.”

“Why?”

Lewis looked at you then. “Because he got to see you like that. You’d dressed up for him, wanted to turn him on with that outfit. He’d spent the entire night with you. He’d had what I wanted.”

Well shit, you thought before walking back to the bar. Rather than making another drink, you took up a bottle of champagne and brought it to your lips.

“Do you know what it feels like to want someone so bad that it fucks with you and everything you do? To want someone more than you’ve wanted anything. To want someone in a way that is new to you, so new that it scares you. Do you know what it feels to have this crippling fear every time that someone is in your grasp, but not being able to resist the temptation, the desire to make them yours? Do you know what it feels like to know that you only burn this bright, this hot, this dangerous with one person, and the burn is all-consuming?”

He looked almost hysterical now. “Do you know what it feels like to want the perfect someone for you? I’m talking molded for you in every way while knowing it’s not the right time for you because you both want too much from the world and because you know that because you burn so hot, so bright that you’ll burn each other if either of you ever let go and let it happen? To know you are so similar that you will either destroy each other or ruin one another for anyone else.”

The look on his face was so damn relatable. He’d just said everything you’d thought over the last 10 years. Everything.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me.”

He was practically ranting now. Spewing every single thing that he’d ever thought, confessing it all.

“So because of all that you try to keep up pretenses that you’re friends and nothing more though you have countless moments where you slip up and stare at them too long, or hold them in your arms from a hug for half a minute too long, or let your hand linger in theirs or around their waist to test boundaries because you just can’t not touch them, or even find reasons to do every single thing together. You take those 2 steps forward not realizing you do because the pull is too strong, then you freak out and leap back 5 steps. You do this for weeks, months, years until 10 of them have passed and you have this huge box you’d filled with all the other stuff between you that you can’t express or fess up to until that box just gets stirred by one action, one moment--one night.”

His eyes were locked on yours. Somehow he’d traveled across the room to the bar and was standing right in front of you. Somehow he’d locked you in the frame of his arms leaving you nowhere to run. Somehow he’d managed to inflate your chest with hope right beside your thundering heart.

“Then suddenly—everything has changed, and nothing can be the same ever again,” he finished, his voice a whisper in the completely silent room.

You watched his eyes lower to your lips and your gut flipped again.

“Do you know what any of that feels like, Y/N?”

There were only mere inches between you now and the sheer proximity of his body to yours made you shiver.

“H—how long—have you—felt this way?”

Your voice quivered in a way that made it obvious to him what his nearness was doing to you.

“10--fucking years,” Lewis replied eyes glued to yours.

He took one step to you, “I’ve spent the last 8 months cleaning my life, cleaning my circle because I’ve gotten to the point where I could no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. You’re number one, Y/N.”

You were frozen in place, unsure what to say, and even more unsure what to do. He was right, your truths usually did line up and this was no different.

“And I know it scares you, shit it scares me too. All of this does. I know my life is insane and yours is about to be even more so, I get you still have things you want to accomplish; I saw your face when Halsey mentioned adding your name to the plaque. You want it and I want it for you as well as the world for both of us. Our timing can’t be any worse, but something has got to give, love, because I can’t take another year let alone 10 of this.”

You took a deep, ragged breath.

“Where--,” Lewis began before stopping and chewing his top lip.

It was a nervous tick. “Where do I—stand—with you?”

For 10 years he’d been so hard to read, so nearly impossible to gauge, and here right now in the darkness of the room you could see him as clear as day. He was oh so transparent and scared you’d reject him. Scared you’d decide he was more trouble than he was worth. Scared he’d just showed you his heart and ruined your friendship in the process. Without realizing it you were crying; you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

Sniffling, you wiped it away, “Ehm, I broke up with Darius tonight.”

Lewis looked shocked. Clearly, he thought you were still together.

“Why?”

You wiped the other tear that fell from your eye then looked away from him. All of a sudden the room felt smaller than it was, it felt as if the walls were closing in on you. Lewis cupped the back of your head cradling your skull in his palm making you look him in the eyes.

“Why?”

“For the last 8 months, I’ve been hot and cold with him, I pulled him close one minute then the next pushed him away, I disappeared a lot always using work as the excuse. I was busy, yeah, but it wasn’t work. I was always so reluctant to put a label on what we were doing, every time he brought it up I changed the subject never giving him the answer he wanted. Even when we had sex--.”

Lewis took a deep breath, dropped his head, and harshly released it, clearly displeased with confirmation that he’d had you that way, but you continued.

“Even then it was usually always on my terms, and I always wanted him to leave right after. I was—I was always thinking about someone else, something else instead of him, and for 8 months I never felt anything remotely close to what I felt that night with him. over the months every time I saw you it hacked at whatever was going on between me and him until tonight seeing you again it just--.”

You flicked your five fingers indicating an explosion. I’ve become hypersensitive to you, and I don’t know when it happened. It dawned on me that—I was using Darius and it wasn’t fair.”

Lewis searched your eyes not hiding the hurt in his. You took a step towards him. “You’re right about a few things. Our timing couldn’t be any worse.”

He nodded.

“Our truths usually always line up.”

Lewis looked hopeful then.

“Your life is insane.”

The hope faltered.

“I do want my name on that plaque, and I will get it.”

A small smile crooked his lips.

Another tear rolled down your cheek and again you wiped it away, “I can also no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. Always has been because you’re my number one.”

He clenched his jaw then and the emotion that washed over his face rocked you. Like an earthquake rocking the Earth’s surface.

“I am scared.”

As this tear rolled, Lewis was the one to reach out and gently wipe it with the pad of his thumb. Your lip quivered.

“I’m so scared.”

Lewis pushed forward then, crashing his lips to yours in one swift move. Once your lips met neither of you went slow. The kiss was frenzied from the beginning, both of you wanting it all and not wanting to waste any more time taking it. As his tongue rolled with yours you closed the space between you pressing your body against him. Lewis softly moaned, wrapping his arms around you. When you bit down on his bottom lip he groaned then walked you backward until your back collided with the edge of the bar. Trapping you there once again, he kissed you without holding a thing back and your body responded to him instantaneously.

In a matter of seconds, you both were moaning against each other and completely wrapped up in the new feelings that were consuming you. Lewis cupped your face as he kissed you then ran his hands down to your neck. You couldn’t deny that this felt even better than you imagined. Moaning, you clutched his waist but when that didn’t suffice, you slowly slid your hands up along his toned abs, over his chest taking in the bulge of muscle there. When you wrapped them around his neck, Lewis pressed more persistently against you.

“Mmmm!”

Lewis tore his lips from you and put his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I don’t want to get too carried away. I’m sorry I should have asked first.”

“Consent fucking given,” you said before you crashed your lips to his.

This time you took control. Swirling your tongue with his you didn’t give him time to react or gain the upper hand. You wanted to taste him, and you refused to wait any longer. Teasing his lips, you nibbled his bottom one, taking your time to sensually suck on it until he moaned against you. The vibration shot through you making you feel like you’d only now just begun to truly feel. Lewis’ hands roughly gripped your hips, holding you steady so you could feel that you weren’t the only one finally feeling for the first time.

Heightening both if your pleasure, you sucked his tongue until he groaned. The next thing you knew Lewis’ had you by the hips lifting you onto the bar top. You wrapped your thighs around him and nearly came when you felt his hands pry your legs apart. The heat radiating off of his hand on your bare thigh reminded you of the night in his car and you prayed he didn’t stop again.

As if reading your mind, Lewis met your eyes while he slid his hand higher and higher and higher until his fingers crawled to your inner thigh. Softly he raked his manicured nails against your skin forcing a whimper from you. You bit down on your bottom lip and silently willed yourself not to cum from the anticipation. Suddenly the back of Lewis’ fingers brushed against your sex. Your gasp was loud, breathy, and stretched out as he took his time moving centimeter by centimeter until he’d trapped your clit between his pointer and middle finger. Your jaw dropped all the while he held your gaze.

When he tightened his fingers and rubbed against you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You knew then he was dangerous, and you were going to cum.

“F—ha—fu-huck!”

Your back arched, head fell back as your body moved like it were possessed. Each spasm of pleasure had you bucking against his fingers until you could hardly breathe.

“My god you’re so fucking beautiful when you cum, love.”

You giggled and moaned as the tremors worked their way through you. “Mmm, orgasms and compliments, a girl could get used to this,” you cooed.

“Good. This is your future.”

Lewis moved his hand, brought them to your thighs then lifted them. As he planted your heels at the edge of the bar, you knew what he wanted. Your eyes dropped to his lips then you moaned. Pulling your dress away from your legs you allowed them to fall back to the bar showing him not only gymnasts were flexible.

“Oh fuck,” Lewis groaned.

You watched his eyes drop to your sex and the look on his face was unlike any you’d ever seen. No one had looked at you like this before. He stared where your thighs met like it was the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen, the first of its kind and something he wanted to completely destroy. You now felt like prey spread before him like this, like at any moment he was going to pounce on you.

“Mmm.”

Lewis came closer and closer until he rested on his elbows and was just inches from your sex. The anticipation was killing, and he had to know it.

“I knew you were a lacy knickers kind of woman,” he muttered.

“I take it you’re a lacy knickers kind of man.”

“On you, fuck yes.”

With that, Lewis hooked his thumbs in your underwear and pulled them to the side. He blew out a breath in reaction to seeing you bare for the first time and that breath fucked you up all over again. You threw your head back trying to calm your anxieties, but just when you met his eyes again you found his tongue out sliding against your wet folds.

Oh—my—goooood!”

Lewis moaned and did it again and again until he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Mmmm.”

Lewis pressed your thighs back keeping them spread then went to town. If you’d ever doubted before that his mouth game was incredible you didn’t now. He licked, flicked, and sucked along your flesh making your back remain in a prolonged arch. Within seconds you were whining and writhing as his tongue worked literal fucking magic. The sound of Lewis’ slurping echoed in the living room and that was when your hands grabbed his head. Pulling his hair free you held on and bucked against his mouth.

“Mmm.”

He stuck his tongue out and let you take over. With every buck against his tongue, you called his name and the more the tip of his tongue flicked your clit the more out of control you felt. Your release was so close your body moved more wildly needing it at all costs.

“I’m gonna cum Lewis.”

“Cum for me, Y/N!”

You didn’t need to be told more than once and when you were right on the precipice you felt Lewis slid two digits inside of you. Just like that, your orgasm morphed from a toe-curling release to soul snatching one. You screeched as your body convulsed but he didn’t stop then, he pumped his fingers in and out of you then added a third finger stretching you wide.

“Uuuugh fuck!”

You barely finished your words before Lewis threw you over his shoulder, keeping his fingers inside of you. As he walked through the suite his fingers kept fucking you, readying you for him. When your back met the soft sheets of the mattress, Lewis still hadn’t broken contact. He watched you now as you lay there unable to control your body.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Pulling his fingers free he cleaned two of them off before you sprang to your knees to claim the third. As you sucked his finger you kept your eyes on his. You could see how badly he wanted you, how much he wanted from you, and you couldn’t believe he’d held back all this time. You took your time sliding each button through its slot until his shit was wide open. When you pushed it off of him you took in a sight you’d seen plenty of times only now it was different.

You brought your hands to feel across his torso marveling at each defined ab muscle and each tattoo. When you intentionally rubbed against his beaded nipple you noted the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. How had you never noticed your effect on him? How had you never taken it seriously? Bringing your hands back to his waist you undid his pants. You brushed your palm against the protruding mass straining against his pants which made him shiver as he grunted.

“Oops.”

Lewis scoffed then licked his lips and that was all it took for him to claim back some of the control you possessed over this exchange.

“Of course, you’re a fucking tease.”

You innocently smiled. “I haven’t even begun to tease you.”

“I bet.”

Lewis snuck forward kissing you one peck at a time, over and over.

“Mm, can you take it?”

“Any other night my answer would be yes, hell in an hour my answer will be yes but right now--.”

He cupped your sex with on hand and the back of your neck with the other.

“Mmm.”

“Right now, I have no control left. I’ve remained in control around you for 10 years and right now I just want to let it all go. I want to bury myself so deep inside of you there is no mistake that we belong to each other bad timing or not. It’s you and me, Y/N.”

You groaned as his words only increased the wetness between your legs. You kissed him again, then you turned your back to him and swayed your body against him. Lewis dropped a kiss to your shoulder as his hand crept around to cup the underside of your breast. You leaned forward getting on all fours with your ass poking out to him.

“Undo me?”

He didn’t move for a few moments, and you waited for him to enjoy the view. When you felt his hand rub against your ass you dipped your back lower which only made your ass poke out more. Lewis trailed his hand along your spine that the backless gown proudly showed off. Then he went to your tailbone and lowered the zipper of the dress. Peeping over your shoulder, your eyes locked as you allowed the dress to fall away from your body.

His groan was low—primal. It was all you needed to hear to know he liked the strappy number you wore that was made of fine lace. You expected him to take his time but instead, you felt him peel off the garment leaving you completely naked before him for the first time ever.

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N. So wet and so fucking perfect.”

You spread your legs further then stretched your arms over your head using your head to hold you up. As expected, Lewis flipped you onto your back making you giggle. You roamed your hands over your body, cupping your breasts then sliding them down your abdomen to your dripping core. The entire time, Lewis kept his eyes on every move you made while he pulled his pants and underwear off.

When he stood bare before you, your surprise could not be masked. You didn’t know what you’d expected in your late-night thoughts about what he was packing but you had no way of expecting this. Lewis gripped his length then slowly stroked it as he pressed a knee onto the mattress.

“Scared?”

You bit your bottom lip as you gawked at what the good lord blessed him with. It was unfair and completely intimidating.

“Now I see why everyone in the rotation was so happy being one of many.”

He snorted, bringing his other knee to the mattress between. Slowly he stalked closer like a predator with a deadly weapon in hand.

“There is no rotation anymore.”

“Oh yeah. The LH44 Harem has been disbanded?”

As he crept closer, you slid backward.

“You’re not funny.”

“So am I the first to usher in a new era—a new harem?”

Lewis grabbed your ankle then pulled you back to him making the backs of your thighs slam into the fronts of his. He then hovered over you before dropping an opened mouth kiss on your nipple. Sucking the peak into his mouth he sucked raising your back off of the bed.

“You’re in no harem. I told you, it’s you—and me,” he said nibbling your flesh.

Stared at him letting it all sink in. You brought your hand to his bearded cheek and rested it there.

“Are we really doing this? Like—for real?”

Lewis boxed your face in with his muscular arms and stared into your eyes. “I’ve told you where I stand, Y/N. I’ve told you everything that’s in here.”

He took your hand and placed it over the roaring lion etched on his skin keeping his hand over yours.

“It’s time you tell me what’s in here,” he finished placing his other hand over your left breast.

“You,” you whispered.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Before you could react or even respond Lewis thrust forward sending the tip of his hardness inside of you, stealing your breath, and every thought. A breathy gasp filled the air. Slowly he pushed forward, leisurely filling you giving you time to adjust to his size.

“Haaaa.”

Lewis kept his hand over your heart while holding yours over his as he filled you inch by tortuous inch never taking his eyes off yours. Your entire being was on fire like he was pouring molten lava inside of you with every inch he gave you.

“Oh fu—Lewis,” you panted.

From the way his jaw was clenched, and eyes focused intently on you, you could tell he was feeling everything you were.

“How are you so tight?”

Digging your nails into his chest you tightened your leg around his waist and as if that was his last straw, Lewis flicked his hips forward filling you completely and tearing a scream from both of your lips. Neither of you moved for several moments but with every second that passed by your body blazed. Bucking against him, you slid your hand up to his throat and then gripped it.

“I love you. Fuck me. Now!”

Those words would be your ruin because he did just that without mercy and complete recklessness. Your moans and whimpers melded together rising in decibel and power until the entire room shook with the power of your screams for one another. As he plowed inside of you he didn’t go slow, he followed his basal instincts that were imprinted in his DNA, a need to claim, and dominate.

You’d never felt so out of control in your life. No matter how he fucked you, you couldn’t get enough. No matter how deep he went you wanted him deeper. No matter how he called your name you wanted him to scream it. You wanted every fucking thing he had. You wanted to leave him in shambles. When he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, he held your ass in the air and fucked you so thoroughly you’d lost track of how many times you came. It didn’t matter because you wanted more.

He must have been able to read your mind because there was no way he could tell what you needed this soon, you thought to yourself as he grabbed your wrists and pulled you back, so he had your upper body hovering above the mattress.

“Oh my god, I’m cumming Lewis! Ooh shiiiiiit!”

He took advantage of this new angle and circled his hips as he jackhammered into you, fucking you as you did something you’d never done before—squirted. You screamed from the force of your release, but Lewis didn’t stop, he fucked you through it then torpedoed you into another one that you knew would tear you apart. Racing for it, you slammed yourself back into him relishing the mix of pain and pleasure that only intensified when Lewis bit down on your shoulder.

“You got one more for me, darlin? Cum for me. Soak this dick, pretty girl, drench me so I can fill that pretty pussy up.”

“Aaah!”

You clenched around him as you lost yourself and fell off the cliff and into an endless pit of pleasure. You felt Lewis spasm inside of you before he cursed and shouted his release doing just what he promised. Filling your pretty pussy up.

When the two of you finally collapsed on the bed Lewis held you to him spooning you while still being nestled inside of you. Bit by bit you came back to your body and slowly your body went from violent shakes to subtle tremors and a hazy feeling washed over you. Lewis peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder nipping your skin every now and then.

“Mmm. Oh my god!”

He snorted. “You good?”

“Good? Am I good? Are you—at the risk of swelling your head even more than it already is that was--.”

“Was?”

You searched for the words but couldn’t find the right ones. “It was,” you settled on making him laugh as he held you tighter.

“Naw, I was alright, you—you were,” he said making you snort.

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m being for real for real. It’s a miracle I held on that long, you feel unbelievable, so good, too good. You—are!”

You giggled then moaned, sleepiness creeping up on you.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, I’m nowhere near done with you.”

His manhood inside of you lurched nudging your g-spot and just like that your eyes snapped wide open.

“Watch yourself, I know your weakness now.”

“You?”

“Nope, this pussy.”

Lewis snorted then flipped you onto your stomach again. This time he straddled you as he slowly pulled out of you only to plunge right back in.

“Mmm.”

“Still so damn tight,” Lewis groaned.

“You’re welcome to try stretching me out.”

Lewis jerked his hips forward delivering a bruising thrust as punishment for your your sassy mouth. It was a thrust that took your breath and made you go cross-eyed.

“Mmm, yes!”

“Oh, aren’t you full of surprises. Pretty girl likes it rough and hard.”

He did it again and again, making you hit the bed each time as you buried your face in the sheet to muffle your screams.

“God yes, Lewis!”

“So fucking alike,” Lewis said before lowering his lips to your ear. “Remember I love you 'cause I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

Not waiting for a reply he held your arms to the bed then delivered on his promise. Everyone else was number 2 compared to you being each other’s number 1. Nothing else mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #everyone else is no.2 one shot #black fanfiction

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mydearzero · 1 year

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐃 | 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: What once was an innocent crush on a coworker quickly turned into a full blown infatuation with your boss. She could reprimand you all she wanted, but did she have to wear red while doing so?

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, unit chief!Emily, SMUT, coworkers, very slight dom/sub undertones, office sex, oral sex, grinding, fingering, power imbalance (boss), canon compliant violence, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

2.8K words

it's here folks, enjoy. let's just ignore that everything about emily screams woman lover to build tension okay. this was the quickest 2.8K I've written in a long time so uh yeah do with that info what you will (I'm horny for Emily) - nik

You hadn't had the opportunity to work with Emily Prentiss before she left the team to work for Interpol. You'd only just missed each other, you joining mere weeks after she'd left.

Her reputation preceded her. The team was overly fond of her, even after having faked her own death. You'd seen a picture here or there, but nothing could live up to the Emily Prentiss who met you in New York for the Copycat Killer case.

She'd been in a relationship with some guy Mark, so you'd really tried to look the other way. But when Hotch went on temporary leave during the whole Scratch situation, she volunteered to rejoin. The day she stepped foot in the bullpen, you knew you were in trouble.

You could ignore the heat rushing to your face and your hands getting clammy. You could ignore the knowing glances JJ gave you. You could even ignore the digs Luke sent your way once he'd figured out something was going on. What you couldn't ignore, however, was the story Emily was telling while having had one too many drinks.

"-and my girlfriend at the time freaked out. I tried to tell her it was a fake, but she was already halfway to crying in my arms."

The words repeated over and over again in your head.

Girlfriend.

Her.

She.

You could handle an unattainable crush. Hell. Who hadn't had a crush on a straight girl at least once in their life? But knowing Emily played for both teams changed things. It made your irrational feelings rational. You completely lost the ability to look her in the eyes after that.

You tried to not let your feelings get in the way of your job. The work the BAU did was too important to let that happen.

It didn't last long.

An adrenaline rush got the better of you while attempting to talk down an UnSub. But what were you supposed to do? He'd held a gun to Emily's head. One wrong move and it would've been over. You couldn't take that chance.

Your ears were ringing as tunnel vision took over. The grimy scenery of the warehouse faded into the background. The dripping of the leaking pipes was deafened by your heartbeat. The UnSub's words were drowned out by Emily's haggard breathing. She was scared.

You did what you had to. You took the shot. The man had dropped to the floor, but not before firing a storm of bullets in your direction, only missing by a few inches.

While you'd been lucky nobody had been hurt, the same couldn't be said about the team's reactions to your actions. The flight back to Quantico had been short but tense. You wouldn't be hearing the end of this for quite some time to come.

Though you knew the team would be on edge around you for some time, you hadn't expected what would happen on the very next case.

"You're off the case." Emily's words were blunt.

"What? Why?" You questioned. You'd expected to have to take a psych evaluation. Maybe even redo your gun qualifications. But to be put on the bench? Especially on a local case?

"We've profiled this UnSub as highly unpredictable. I can't have you take uncalculated risks in the field. I appreciate all the work you've done so far, but this is where I need you to step back." Emily looked apologetic.

"The last case was different! I can stay back here with Penelope. Just let me help, Emily, please," you pleaded. Damn your inability to be mad at her. You couldn't, not when she wore that damn red top that complimented her complexion (and boobs) so well.

"I'm sorry. We'll talk when we get back."

Penelope wouldn't let you into her office, so you resorted to catching up on paperwork at your desk. You could've left and taken this as a sign to get some free time. Yet you stayed right there, waiting.

When Penelope finally left her office with her stuff, ready to go home, you knew the case was over. She asked you to late dinner, but you declined, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. She waved a short goodbye before stepping into the elevator, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

It wasn't long before the elevator moved again, doors opening to reveal Emily Prentiss. Just Emily Prentiss. You frowned as she walked into the bullpen, nodding at her office, signalling you to follow her.

"Where's the rest?" You wondered, walking through the door and taking a seat across from the desk. Emily shut the door and turned to close the shutters.

"I sent them home. We'll debrief in the morning," was all she said.

She gestured to the chair across from hers. You sat, unsure of what to expect next.

"I think we need to talk about what happened in New York," Emily left it an open statement. She obviously expected you to do the talking.

"I'm aware my actions didn't look thought through. And maybe they weren't. But I was worried about what he would do to you," you were honest about what had gone down.

"Worried or not, there are protocols we need to follow. You put everybody in that room in danger by making that choice. How is that any better than having me potentially get shot?"

You really tried to focus. It was a serious and consequential discussion. But it was at that moment you realized you'd never actually been alone with Emily. You rubbed your hands on your thighs, trying to rid them of their clammyness and the tension that built in your body.

"I don't know," was your final reply. A weak one, at that. Emily searched your face for answers. She noted the sheen covering your skin and dilated pupils. You felt scrutinized under her gaze. She squinted, slowly leaning back and crossing her arms.

You hadn't meant to look, but the action brought the red top back to your attention. Your eyes dropped to Emily's cleavage, if only for a second. Your mouth went dry as they quickly snapped back up to meet her now amused ones. A coy smile crept onto her face. Emily took a deep breath before speaking again. This time, you knew better, only looking in your peripheral at how her chest raised and fell.

"You know, earlier, you mentioned the last case was different. How come?" Emily inquired. She'd caught that, huh? You felt trapped as you figured she'd deduced the real reason for your careless actions.

You didn't speak as Emily rose from her chair, taking slow strides around the desk. She placed a hand on your shoulder, standing behind you and leaning over the other. Goosebumps raised on your arms as you felt her warm breath against your collar.

"I think I know," she whispered in your ear. You unconsciously craned your neck, allowing her more access. Your heart beat rapidly. The hand on your shoulder slowly trailed down your arm, rubbing up and down.

"Would you have taken the shot if it had been JJ? Or Spencer? Or maybe you would've taken it if it were Garcia. You're such great friends, after all," Emily's tone was taunting. The rising temperature of the room was quickly becoming unbearable.

Her free hand reached for your chin, turning your head to face her. She cupped your cheek gently, admiring the sight of your desperation. She'd barely even touched you. Barely implied anything.

"Is this what your strange behaviour lately has been about?" Emily asked. You bit your lip, not saying a word. She clicked her tongue, getting annoyed at your lack of response.

"Is this not what you want?" She walked around the chair, standing in front of you. You couldn't give in. You wouldn't be able to stop. Not if she gave you a taste. Your hands remained firmly planted by your side as Emily did the unthinkable. She put her hands on your shoulders and draped her legs over yours, straddling you. Your eyes closed at the sensation of having her so close.

The weight of her ass on your thighs was delectable. Her hands trailed down your arms, stopping when they rested on yours. She leaned forward, and you had to suppress a groan at the feeling of her chest pushing against yours. She took your hands and brought them around herself, planting them firmly on her bottom. Your entire body was on fire.

"Look at me," Emily's voice was sultry. You opened your eyes tentatively, immediately dropping them to her lips, which were now dangerously close to yours. She didn't hesitate, kissing you roughly. Her hands came up to cup your face. You finally gave in, properly holding her on your lap as she fervidly kissed you.

You moved your mouth away from hers, kissing down her jaw and sucking harshly at the skin of her neck. A timid moan came from her lips. You'd never heard a more beautiful sound. Her fingers started unbuttoning your blouse as you continued your attack, creating blemishes that contrasted with her pale skin. Once she got the blouse off, Emily's hands fondled your breasts roughly.

"Shit, Em..." You sighed. You leaned back against the chair, admiring Emily in all her glory.

"You look so fucking good in red, you don't even know," you groaned, tugging at the bottom of her shirt.

"I do know," Emily raised her arms, allowing you to pull the shirt over her head. "That's why I wear it."

"You drive me crazy, Prentiss," you finally admitted.

"I think I know the feeling," Emily moaned, taking your hand and crudely stuffing it down her pants. Luckily the waistband was elastic, allowing you to feel the dampness of her underwear as you manoeuvred your wrist to cup her pussy.

"Fuck... You don't know how many times I've imagined feeling your pussy," you confessed. "I've dreamt of the things I'd do to you."

Emily groaned as you pushed her panties to the side, feeling the wetness against your fingers. The positioning of your hand might've been awkward, but you didn't care. Emily opted to go for another kiss as you started rubbing her clit.

The soft noises she made while her tongue was in your mouth were otherworldly. Her hips ground against your hand, desperate for more friction.

Emily hooked her fingers into the cups of your bra, not bothering to unclasp it, simply tugging them down to free your tits. She left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest before taking a nipple between her teeth.

"Fuck- Emily," you whine. She brought her hand up to your other breast, pinching and biting your nipples in tandem. You retaliated by finally circling your fingers over her entrance, pushing two inside.

"Oh! Ah- Fuck," Emily exclaimed, throwing her head back. You curled your fingers in the way you did to yourself while thinking of her late at night. Emily reached behind her, placing her hands on the edge of the desk, creating more space for you to do what you had to.

Emily was becoming less coherent with every pump of your fingers. Your thumb hit her clit harshly with every thrust inside her pussy. Just seeing her come undone like this, on your lap, by your hand, was enough for you to drench your own underwear.

You brought your unoccupied hand to her naked waist, admiring her figure. You couldn't believe you got to see her like this after all this time you spent pining. Her eyes were closed as her chest heaved with heavy breaths.

"Fuck, don't stop," Emily moaned. Her jaw was slack. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the desk tightened. You felt her walls constrict around your fingers. You curled them in a come hither motion as you circled her clit with your thumb.

Emily's arms shook as her moans turned into high-pitched whines, signalling she was getting close.

"Shit! Oh my god," She exclaimed, followed by a loud moan of your name. It was like music to your ears.

She rode out her high as she gushed around your fingers. Your free hand drew soothing patterns on her hip, working her through her climax.

You carefully withdrew your hand from her panties, bringing your fingers to your mouth and sucking them clean. Emily let herself fall back forward, no longer having the strength to hold up her upper body with her arms.

She took your fingers from your mouth, wrapping her lips around them and sucking seductively. She released them and pushed herself off your lap, tugging you up from your seat. She switched your positions, pushing you against the desk before getting on her knees.

Emily reached for the button on your pants, undoing it and tugging it down. She tapped your ankle, signalling you to step out of them and spread your legs. It was a bit awkward with your shoes still on, but you made it work. Her fingers left a trail of goosebumps in their wind as she traced them up your leg to your inner thigh.

She followed the path she'd just drawn with her mouth, hooking her teeth in the waistband of your underwear, laughing as she tugged them down. You smiled at her antics.

Her mouth returned between your legs, licking a hesitant stripe between your folds. The kitten licks to your clit drove you crazy.

"Fuck, please, Em," you begged, bringing your hands to her hair. You couldn't feel more lewd, tits out in your boss's office, said boss between your legs eating you out. The scandal of it all only turned you on even more.

"Can't believe you put your whole job on the line-," Emily scoffed between licks. "-just because you wanted some pussy."

"Not just some pussy," you moaned as she sucked on your clit. "Yours."

"Such a horny little thing for your unit chief," Emily mumbled. The vibrations of her words added to your pleasure.

Your grip on her dark locks tightened as she fucked your entrance with her tongue expertly. You had to put all your weight against the desk to stop your knees from buckling.

"F-fuck, Em. Oh my god," you groaned as she added her fingers to the mix.

You dared to look down, only to be met with the finest sight the world had to offer. Emily gazed up at you through her lashes, dark eyes blown wide and amused. You could see her free hand was between her legs, stroking herself at the same rhythm she had with her mouth on your cunt.

God, did you wish you had Reid's memory right about now.

You didn't know how much longer you could last. Having had the pleasure of feeling her around your fingers, witnessing her expression as she came. It was enough to have you teetering on the edge.

"Ah, fuck. I'm close," you whimpered. Emily moaned loudly, her pace increasing. Your hips bucked against her mouth, chasing the pleasure. Her hands came up to your sides, holding you in place.

You had to withhold from forcefully pushing her head closer, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more more more.

You balled your fists, throwing your head back. The knot in your abdomen tightened, threatening to snap any second.

"Oh- shit, please."

"Come for me." It was like she'd pressed a magic button, your climax immediately upon you as she spoke the words.

"Emily!" You came with a loud cry, grinding your hips against her mouth. It was mindblowing. You'd never come that hard. Emily helped you ride out your high, careful to not overstimulate you.

She rose from her position on the floor, hands never leaving your body as she got back on eye level. You searched her face for regret as both of you stood there, taking in the situation and catching your breath.

She leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your lips. You smiled, kissing her back passionately. She helped you redress your upper body, all while never breaking the kiss.

You separated to pick up your respective discarded pieces of clothing. The atmosphere was light. There was no unresolved tension as you had expected. A mutual understanding had been created.

Emily grabbed her stuff and walked with you down to the bullpen. "Dinner tomorrow, my place," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," you agreed, putting your things in your bag.

"For now, go get your go bag out of your car," she instructed, locking the door to her office.

"Why?" You asked as you walked with her to the elevator.

"Because you can return the favour and have an early appetizer in my bed tonight."

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am-i-obsessed---maybe · 2 years

Text

Growing up suits you (Spencer Reid x GN!Reader)

Imagine graduating from high school with Spencer Reid and years later working on a case with him.

Word count: 600ish

Look at that, a blurb that actually stayed a blurb.

Warning: smoking (herbal cigarettes) and mentions of teenage drug use

You had driven two hours to the middle of nowhere Georgia because your boss had invited the BAU into your investigation. It wasn't how you wanted to spend the day but you could either complain or catch your serial killer. Not both. You chose the second one, so you drove down from Atlanta to meet the BAU at the site of the newest crime scene in a spree of murders over the past year.

When you stepped out of the SUV you took in the scene.

There were small crowds of people looking in, not so many that it was distracting but enough that the local PD had to have officers keeping the crowd back. You showed your credentials to get in and walked up to who you recognized as SSA Aaron Hotchner, the BAU's unit chief.

"Agent Hotchner" You called out, getting the man's attention.

"Agent L/N" Hotch greeted, shaking you hand and leading you to the where the rest of his team were huddled.

"Guys, this is special agent Y/N L/N from the Atlanta field office" Hotch introduced.

"Agent L/N, these are SSA's Rossi, Morgan, Jerau, Prentiss and Dr. Spe—" Hotch wasn't even able to finish before you cut him off.

"Spencer Reid. Wow, it has been a long time" You said and you saw him searching his brain for where you knew him from before recognition flashed through his eyes.

"Last time I saw you you were much shorter and had just gotten your first breakout" You said and his cheeks flushed.

"I was 12" He said quietly and you chuckled.

"I'm sorry, you two know each other?" Rossi asked and you smirked.

"We graduated high school together" You answered and Morgan looked very curious to ask what you were sure would be very embarrassing questioned before Hotch cleared his throat.

"Agent L/N led the preliminary investigation with the Atlanta field office and will be working with us on this case" He said and you all went back to work.

---

You stood on the roof of the local precinct, coat wrapped around you and a cigarette between your index and middle fingers.

"You still smoke" Spencer said as he walked across the flat roof to stand beside you.

"It's herbal, I quit tobacco a couple years ago" You told him and took a puff.

"Herbal cigarettes are actually just as harmful as tobacco products. Even without the tobacco the herbs in the cigarette burn and create tar, carbon monoxide and about 73 other toxins, 40 of which can cause cancer" Reid said and you laughed.

"Right, I'll put this out then" You said, putting out the cigarette on the edge of the roof.

"You didn't have to do that" He said but you shrugged.

"wouldn't wanna expose you to the dangers of secondhand smoking" You joked.

The two of you stood in a somewhat silence for a while. You'd just given the local police your profile and as soon as you finished you'd gone out.

"How's your mom?" You asked.

"She's good. Still back in Las Vegas. How's your brother?" He asked in return.

"He's good. He's in a band touring with some singer, I can't remember who" You said and then silence again.

"So, the team" You said and he flushed.

"I'm sorry about the questions" He said.

"Don't worry about it, they just wanna know more about you. It seems like you all don't tell each other much about your pasts— and you don't have to— they're just curious about you" You said and he nodded.

"High school's not exactly a time I like remembering" Spencer admitted and you nodded. You remembered what he went through. The bullying, the humiliation, you couldn't imagine it. Not that your high school career was particularly pleasant but his was so much worse.

"I understand" You said and smiled, deciding to find a lighter subject.

"But you grew up well, that height suits you" You said and you saw the blush rise to his cheeks.

"Thanks, you uh— you you look really good too" He said.

"We should get in, I can't tell if it's my compliments that are making you that red or the chill" You joked and Spencer was slightly too embarrassed to say anything as he followed you back into the precinct.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #bau x reader #fbi agent reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine

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lauriegraham01 · 1 year

Text

i know you

pairings: will graham x gn!reader

summary: wills just been released from the baltimore state hospital for the criminally insane, he's lost parts of himself and you try to calm him through the storm that is his mind.

wc: 1,202

a/n: inspo from two songs actually: bobby by alex g, i know you by faye webster, and maybe a line of maroon by ts.

will, you have been my rare gift in this life- <3

It's been four days since Will had been released from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Not even within the hour of being released, Jack Crawford had him back on the field. You added to your list of grievances against Jack when Beverly shot you a text saying Will was working on the case of Miriam Lass. You felt defeated as one of the poisons in Will's life had managed to seep his way in again.

Jack wouldn't allow you to visit Will while he was admitted. He said your personal relationship would interfere with the case against him. As your boss, you knew he was in the right, but as someone who also knew Will, he knew the harm he was doing by placing you out of reach.

When Jack came to your office to tell you of Will's attempt on murdering Hannibal, he had expected any other reaction then the one you had given.

"He's been telling you from the start Jack but you won't listen." Looking up at him you see the unamused look on his face from where he stands towering over your desk.

"What are you implying then?" Leaning over he gets closer as he carries an edge in his voice. You know an intimidation tactic when you see one and you remain unphased underneath his gaze.

"You kill Hannibal, you kill the Chesapeake Ripper. Once you see the murders have you stopped, then you'll believe that it was Hannibal all this time."

You get up from your desk and grab your coat as you make way for the door before granting him one last look.

"Just like Will has been telling you."

Now Will's home, but he's not. After spending a few months locked away as a pawn in somebody else's game, he came back a different man. He lost a piece of himself every day. As everyone turned against him, and without having you as an anchor, he questioned his mind, his sanity, and his reality.

Right now you both sat side by side on the front porch of the farmhouse as you watched the dog's play around in the snow. You never thought that you would get this back, to be able to feel things were normal for even a second and Will wasn't battling forces of evil that were far too intricate for you to comprehend.

"I missed this," you break the silence that hung in the air. " Things feel normal for once."

"I don't think normal is something that I can go back to y/n," his voice came out hoarse, sleep still evident in his throat.

"There's still a chance though, right?" You throw a side glance of him as you bring the cup of your coffee within your hands, up to your lips.

Will stays silent for a while. You weren't sure if even you were waiting for a response, understanding if he didn't. His mind is no longer the way it was months before, operating in an entirely new way as he viewed the world through a different lens.

Yet you remained the same in his eyes. His perfect design. He knew that Jack was punishing him by preventing you from seeing him, and not seeing you for a long time caused irrevocable damage to him. The voices in his head told him that you wouldn't believe him, that you couldn't be with a man as broken as he was, that you didn't love him anymore.

He turned his head to look at your face. As you felt his eyes on you, you met his gaze and he felt his heart swell within his chest. He still felt that rush that surged through him whenever he was near you. Will has loved you through your toughest storms, but he didn't think he was worthy of your undying loyalty, love, and patience.

"Where's your mind at Will?" Voice gentle, afraid that he may shut you out at the sudden curiosity.

"I told everyone Hannibal was a killer...and nobody believed me."

There's a pain so evident in his voice that you've never heard before. An ache so profound so desolate, that it just confirms how it'll be a long time before Will would get even a fraction of his mind back.

"I did," you softly affirmed.

"I do."

"How can you love me?"

"Do you remember when we first met?" His eyebrows scrunch up, not understanding the connection or relevance to the topic at hand. Taking his silence as means to go on, you think back to all those years ago to when you and Will were still in your lunchbox days.

"I grabbed your hand and you tore my dress after I got so upset at the amount of mud that caked at the bottom of it. You've cleaned up so many of my messes over the years Will as I have for you. With you, I've felt things I can't express and I know you've lost your way and made your messes but I'll clean it for you."

You reach out for his hand and with fingers intertwined, he feels a sense of comfort-something that had almost become foreign to him. But of course you were the one to remind him of that feeling, because even after this time you were the candle burning in the bleak of the night. The one shred of hope he had left that there was good in this world, that the raging seas that his mind traveled through would one day calm down to still waters.

"Did you ever lose faith in me?"

"No," you immediately replied.

"I told you a long time ago that I had enough faith for the both of us and I meant it." Squeezing his hand, he took note of how your eyes shifted around as you tried to fight off the intense wave of emotions he knew were consuming you.

"I didn't lose it then even when you tried to have Hannibal killed. I know you had your reasons and I could understand why you did what you did. And there's no way in hell i'm gonna lose it now."

"I love you unforgivably Will, without hesitation." Your voice comes out high pitched towards the end as you felt your throat tightening.

"I'm here regardless of the pain, don't ever tell me to go away from you. I know you, Will. I love you."

He lets go of your intertwined hands before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to him. He laid his chin on top of your head as you burrowed your face into the side of his neck. The scent of his aftershave filled your senses and you let out a heavy sigh, grateful that moments like these could happen. Grateful that Will was here and hopeful that there could be a path to healing.

"I know you too, and I love you y/n," he whispers as he pulls back to capture your lips in a soft kiss. The lips that he knew he could always call home.

#nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham x reader #will graham #hugh dancy #jack crawford #madds mikkelsen #slight angst #hurt/comfort #hannibal tv

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ravetillyoucry · 6 months

Text

PUPARIA

Chapter 1 - Parfum D’etoiles

"Every time I get stuck in my sleep, I always have this dream, it's always the same, always." The, obviously artificially, blonde man spoke, pausing to finish his sip of coffee whilst signalling there was more to the story, and not to carry on the conversation without letting him finish.

"It's dark, wet, and raining, and I can't walk. You know how in your dreams you can never run with speed and you're so sluggish, it's like that, but I'm like, army crawling on the ground, like.. my legs are paralysed or something."

His head fell into his hands as he stopped to laugh mid-thought,

"Hah, I don't know, I never know how to explain it. It's so ...visceral. I wake up feeling caked in the mud still. Anyway- at some point I stop trying though, and I just lay there for, I don't know, hours, days, months. All in dream time, of course."

Gesturing to show how long exactly he meant in hand terms, he continued despite the fact his audience was more disturbed rather than understanding how comical it truly was.

"And- and I just feel my body freeze up, everything goes numb and I can't move at all, and I grow like, a shell, something like that, something that's keeping me in place anyway around me."

He stopped for again , his smile dropping when he realised nobody else found it as humorous as he did. Eyes adverting down into his own reflection in the black drink, he grabbed for his hair to fidget the embarrassment away as he realised he got too carried away and failed to read the room.

"Um.. anyway, I always wake up before I like.. hatch. Or something. And I always wake up shrunk after."

"Thats more weird than funny, Hosah." The smallest of the three sitting around the little table in the corner of the busy New York cafe spoke. He, Jeanne, had this specific aura of authority around him that nobody quite understood, but chose not to question.

Hosah chose not to question most things nowadays. Especially his coworkers. He only really had two friends at his job, and they had joined him for lunch today. Jeanne was always considered his closest friend of the two, but he had been seeing an awful lot of the other man, Thierri, recently too.

He could never tell if there was something more to the two than how it seemed on the outside, as the pair were often on jobs together as partners, but there was still an aura of tension between them, like they hated each other or something of the sort.

Deciding not to dwell, everyone awkwardly continued on with the shift in conversation from weird and funny dreams to whatever kind of kafkaesque nightmares Hosah had going on in his head.

After collecting together the coins they each had in their pockets for the bill, the trio made their way back to the main office building where plentiful work was left to be done. Right now all three of them were on a particularly disturbing case.

Shifters going missing for days and being found in increasingly unique circumstances. It was definitely not uncommon for shifters to be murdered, it was normal, almost expected. Hosah found it horrifying. It served as a gruesome reminder of what he could end up as if he didn't watch his back at every waking moment. He wasn't cut out for his job, he knew it deep down, but he was so used to this life, and he couldn't sleep at night knowing the things he knew and doing nothing about them. So he stuck in his unsuitable field, as he was incapable of doing anything else.

It seemed it was a particularly busy Thursday afternoon in the city, as Hosah found himself several people away from his coworkers now. Putting a little speed into his walk, he caught up to both Jeanne and Thierri as they neared the office building, dodging the randoms walking the street in the process.

The office was split into two divisions , division A and division B. The first two or so years working for the agency, Hosah spent in division B. These were the petty things, serving more as a private investigators than law enforcement. It was fun at least, snooping and finding out whether some dude really was cheating on his wife, dealing drugs on the side, or stealing from the cash register.

Division A however, were a shifter crime specialist unit. He'd done a few mediations here and there when in division B, but it wasn't until almost four years ago when he became a permanent member, as he was one of the only shifters in the agency at the time, or at least, he was one of the only known shifters.

Entering the establishment and loading into the elevator onto floor A, the topic had shifted to the new hire. Edmund or something. Hosah didn't really care to learn his name as they rarely stuck around, at least not in the shifters specialist unit. They usually found a preferred place with the B team or elsewhere all together as the mass amounts of cases that had to be covered became overwhelming for the newbie just looking for experience.

Hosah was a known figure across the entirety of both divisions. Whether that be because of his love for showing up clearly not sober, or the fact that, about 75% of the time, he was barely three inches tall, he wasn't sure. He didn't really prefer either of the two to being the case, but it was only logical to assume the latter.

"Oh, yeah Hosah, boss wants to speak to you about that actually. Something about shadowing probably. She didn't say really"

Jeanne mentioning his name awoke him from his day dream.

"What? Seriously?" Hosah wasn't usually trusted to be shadowed by new hires. Plus, he'd been here for almost a month now, he should know the ropes already.

"Mm. Should probably go now if you want to know what she has to say." The elevator chimed and Hosah was left in his lonesome to consider his options. Begrudgingly, he pressed the button to go up another floor, but not before the door was stopped mid-closing by a particularly tall figure he didn't quite recognise.

The new hire.

Hosah retracted back into the metal box he'd be trapped in with the unknown man, unable to shift his expression of confusion as the taller of the two gave an apologetic 'Sorry' under his breath before standing uncomfortably close to the figure in the corner. The seasoned detective stared, partly judging and partly out of curiosity. Sure, he was tall as everyone said, but not as tall as Thierri.

He took into account a number of things about new hire actually. He had a crooked canine tooth that poked out a little when he smiled, and he had two dotted scars under his bottom lip at either side. Those didn't seem to be his only piercings, as his ears also had two or three a-symmetrical decorations. He'd say 'how unprofessional' if it didn't make him a massive hypocrite. Hosah's eyes adverted as the two glanced briefly into each-other's.

Whilst the cornered's eyes stayed transfixed on his shoes, he couldn't help but feel his body tense and his face flush as eyes lingered on him and his every movement. 'Just say something, say what you want to say' was all he could wish for.

"We haven't met before, I don't think. Uh, my name's Edward. Randolph." The taller of the two extended a hand, his coat sleeve too short for his freakishly long limbs. Hosah stared at it for a brief moment before returning the favour and shaking it. Before he could formally introduce himself, Edward interrupted.

"I already know. You're Detective Levi, right?"

The fact he knew who he was proved to be a little unsettling.

"Mmm, just call me Hosah, please. Formality isn't exactly my forte," The handshake was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as it never seemed to end, Edward just kind of wanted to stand there holding his hand it seemed.

He let out a quiet 'Right' in a laugh. It wasn't until Hosah actively withdrew his hand that he let go.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality was only maybe two minutes, the doors chimed open once more. Now they were almost on the top floor of the building, as the next stairwell took them to the roof. Hosah had only occasionally been up here, and he doubted that Edward had been on the master floor at all. He really didn't know why the whole floor was needed when there would only be one office, but this was also where all the archived cases were filed, so he assumed it was mainly to declutter and store things away from the general working areas. He'd never really questioned it, after all.

This floor was particularly different to the three below it, as the wood wall panels weren't covered with the same yellowing wallpaper as the others, and the lights flickered like a ghost was about to appear and disappear again right before their eyes. Definitely a creepy hallway, with the emptiness of the entire floor contrasting the overcrowded division areas, where there was never a moment of silence.

Both detectives stood in the elevator for a while longer than what they had to, until Hosah swallowed down the sickly feeling building in his stomach and took charge towards the very end of the hall, to the office space.

Something wasn't right, this was not going to be a simple shadowing request as Jeanne speculated at all. Hosah wasn't a particularly laid-back worry-free individual, but this situation rubbed him the wrong way entirely.

He put speed into his step as the newbie stalked a few feet behind him. No, it wasn't whatever Boss was going to say that worried him, it was Edward. There was something so fine and specific about him that was off. Of course, Hosah didn't know what exactly that was yet, but the feeling of uneasiness was too distinct to not have any significance.

If there was one thing Hosah trusted, it was his intuition, and he knew that Edward was no normal new hire who'd be gone by the end of the month.

He felt his heart pump through his chest as he was now almost running down the endless hallway of doors and doors of empty rooms, until the two finally reached the end, facing the doorway into unknown territory.

Hosah had only been in Boss' office a handful of times, the room was dimly lit as the curtains were drawn, and the dark, almost maroon red wallpaper didn't help with the already unwelcoming feeling everyone who stepped inside had rush over them upon entering. Both men were beckoned inside upon knocking, the boss spinning her chair to face them like some cheesy movie villain.

"Come, sit, it's important." she called them over toward the two vintage leather chairs facing her desk.

Hosah braced himself for whatever was so important that he was summoned to the usually off limits floor for.

Boss was actually someone he had known in childhood, briefly. That's how Hosah ended up here. Although she was to be referred to as only Boss by everyone in the building, he still slipped up sometimes and called her by the name he knew her as, Jules.

The pair paid utmost attention as she began to speak again;

"Levi, you're one of our longest working employees, and a very valued member of our shifters specialist division," Oh god.

"But, you see, your condition has been.. Less than desirable as of lately, from an employers perspective." Oh, god.

She waited for any kind of response from either of the two, but when met with brief, stunned silence, she continued,

"Which is why I've come to the decision to give you a helping hand, per se, Edward will be assisting you on cases from now on. Since it'd be such a shame to have to let you go over this."

Hosah opened his mouth to speak but he had no words, his mind was racing so fast he couldn't create a coherent sentence. He sat in silence. The smile on Jules' face was nothing but sardonic as she watched him helplessly comply with the newfound situation.

On one hand, he was furious. He'd been humiliated and undermined in front of his junior. Someone he was going to have to be stuck with for the foreseeable future had zero chance of having any respect for him at this rate. But, Hosah also felt guilty.

The moment of embarrassment took him back to the time when he himself had just joined the company, with no experience and no qualifications in the field, he spent almost every waking moment inside this very building as if he was the weird kid looking for a place to sit in the cafeteria. Rejected and outcasted by those that had been here for much longer than him, as if he was invading their space or butting in where he wasn't supposed to.

Hosah almost saw himself in Edward for that brief moment, and held back any protests to the situation as to not relay the same awful feeling of being repudiated. Coughing on his lack of enthusiasm about the whole ordeal, he just nodded, completely avoiding even glancing to see Edward's reaction.

In a literal sense, he was still at his regular height, but boy did he feel small in this moment.

-~-

"So, what did boss have to say?" Jeanne stood up from against his car, opening the door for his coworker before getting into the driver's side himself.

Hosah just sighed, slouching down on the leather seat and hiding his face with his winter scarf, despite it still being the back end of August.

"That I needed help, since I'm shifting so much. Said I'm weighing you down by asking so many favours."

He looked to Jeanne for a response, but he didn't say much. Just a short 'Mm' as he focused on the dark city roads. She was right. Hosah felt bad for asking so much from him, but he and Thierri were the only two people he had to trust in the entirety of New York City. Hell, he was even being driven to the subway station home every night. As they reached a red light, Jeanne spoke up again,

"Well, Edward is sweet. You'll warm to him soon, and if it's seriously all that bad I'll still always be here to lend you a favour or two." his head was now turned so Hosah didn't have to look at the bandaged side of his face.

He was too stubborn to agree, so he just rolled down the passenger window and lit a cigarette.

"He has a key to my apartment. I don't like that. Can you believe her? Just giving out my key to any Tom Dick or Harry? I don't even know the guy yet." He'd reverted to playing with his hair again out of frustration, tapping ash out into the breeze.

"I mean, your apartment is under contract with the company, and it's not particularly out of character for her." If there was one thing Jeanne was going to do, it was try find the most optimistic yet logical explanation for everything Hosah complained about. It was a little annoying at times, but he had come to appreciate his wise insight.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just annoyed, can I be annoyed for a minute?"

"I'm not saying it's not out of line, Hosah. I'm with you, it's weird, but you signed the contract. She does what she wants and doesn't consider her employees, you should know that by now."

He just groaned, exhausted from avoiding Edward for the rest of the day and by all the pent up anger he'd been with holding in the meanwhile.

"There's something not right about Edward, s'all.. Something's wrong with him but I can't put my finger on it." Hosah's hand moved from his hair to his forehead, as if rubbing in exasperation will give him the eureka moment.

Jeanne just laughed at him.

"Ah, really? Honestly when I first spoke to him, he reminded me of you. Same sort of weird, dry humour that doesn't hit with me specifically but others find it charming." He reached out and patted the passenger seat head rest,

"You'll be fine. Trust me."

Hosah did trust Jeanne, he really did, but he couldn't shake the uneasiness still. Sure, he could be overthinking, but no one had ever made him so nervous before. There had to be something sinister hidden beneath the sickly sweet persona. There was no other explanation for the stomach churning feeling that had washed over him as Edward stepped into that elevator and shook his hand. Surely.

The two waved their goodbyes after a short drive to the station, Hosah having to make a mad dash for his ride home as he'd spent too long going down the endless loop of stairwells to avoid being trapped in the elevator again.

He stood on the subway, hand gripping the plastic strap as the movement of the metro pushed him into various different straphangers on the busy ride home, his thoughts lingering on the day and contemplating all the different things he could've said in that office. Still, his mind jumped back to that urge to protect Edward's feelings of rejection. Usually Hosah wouldn't care, but for some reason, his heart pushed him to silence and compliance earlier, something completely out of character for him. If there was one thing Hosah would do, it was protest and fight against anyone or anything he particularly didn't agree with. But for some reason, this was different.

He was almost pulled straight down face first onto the crowded floor as the train halted to a stop. Hosah was too caught up replaying everything in his head to pay attention to his surroundings. Collecting his balance, the detective pushed through the crowds of businessmen and women waiting to get home during the evening rush hour, but just as he was about to head towards the exit of the platform, a familiar voice called him,

"Hosah! Hey, wait up for me!"

Edward.

Although he wanted to pretend he never heard him at all, his body froze in place. Despite it not being intentional, Hosah must have given his coworker a nasty glare as he approached, still stood dead in his tracks.

Slightly intimidated, the assistant still started conversation.

".. So! We get off at the same stop! That's real convenient, seeing as we'll be working together from now on." Somehow Edward still managed to smile through the clear annoyance of his superior, whose neck was craned upwards to look at him.

"Yeah, yeah definitely." Hosah's gaze adverted, now looking back down at the floor like he was earlier.

It hurt to look at him, and not just because of the height difference. He felt his lips purse as the eyes looking down at him, despite his head now being turned away, stayed put with no sign of freeing him. With his heart in his throat, he wasn't sure what else to say.

"Uh, it's sixty two degrees, aren't you hot in a coat and a scarf over your suit?" Edward leant in closer to the smaller of the two's face, which had gotten progressively more red and the interaction continued.

Hosah scrambled to take the scarf off as he too realised how hot it was, deciding to blame the weather and not his embarrassment. His 'Yeah' struggled to be heard through the movement.

Despite the fact he really just wanted to run away until he got to his apartment, Hosah agreed to let his now assistant walk him to his building as to not be a nuisance by standing and chatting on the busy platform or to draw attention to the two by making a scene and fleeing.

The pair weaved their way through the evening crowds of the city, Edward holding onto the sleeve of Hosah's coat to avoid being separated. It wasn't until they'd long left the herds of people that he let go. Conversation was stale as expected. Hosah just wanted to get home in peace in all honesty. He's not tiny right now, so he doesn't need any help.

For whatever unknown reason, Edward still insisted. Nothing was more annoying than being treat as incapable. Afterall, he's a normal person, just like Jeanne, just like the barista that handed him his coffee earlier that day, but probably not like Edward, Edward definitely wasn't normal.

Slamming the door of his apartment behind him, Hosah almost fell to his knees as his legs buckled beneath him. Cradling his head in his hands, hair in his fists, he asked whatever higher beings were listening why he was the way he was and why today had to be such a continuous beating to his ego.

Looking up at the dark apartment, the only illuminations being the street lights poking through the curtains of the balconette and the fairy lights hanging above the TV stand, one thing sat in the corner of the living room haunted him.

An unfinished painting. Hosah groaned, he'd have to come back to it another day, leaving the easel unattended, keeping the mess of old bedsheets along with his long dried oil paint palette on the floor for the foreseeable future.

Too exhausted to properly get ready for bed, he stripped down into his just his boxer shorts and socks before collapsing onto the frameless mattress and subsequently falling asleep for the night, knowing he still had tomorrow ahead of him but deciding to ignore it all together, as he already had enough overthinking to do.

[chapter 2]

#g/t #giant tiny #gianttiny #g/t writing #RRRHRHHDHD IM SCARED #i’ve never posted writing so publicly #Idk writing just feels like 50x more intimate than art #Lmk #Does this suck?#Am I the worst?#AHH!#Puparia_tag #idk i’ll figure it out #oc hosah #oc teddy

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 9 months

Note

Can you tell me the story of the relationship between saint-just and desmoulins? . ..

Because I couldn't understand it properly so yeah ...

The first connection between Desmoulins and Saint-Just is from 2 January 1790, when the former publishes an annonce for the latter’s recently published Organt in number 6 of Révolutions de France et de Brabant:

Organt, poem in twenty verses, with this epigraph: Vous, jeune homme, au bon sens avez-vous dit adieu ? And this preface: J’ai vingt ans, j’ai mal fait, he pourrai faire mieux.

A few months later, we find the following letter from Saint-Just to Desmoulins. It is undated, but can be traced to May 1790. The letter makes Desmoulins, alongside Robespierre, who he wrote a letter to the following year, the only revolutionaries Saint-Just is confirmed to have contacted prior to heading to Paris in 1792. Unlike in the case of Robespierre however, the letter to Desmoulins implies a correspondence was actually picked up between the two:

Monsieur, If you were not so busy I would tell you some more details about the Chauni assembly where one can find men of considerable calibre and quality. I was received in spite of my youth. Sieur Gelli, your compatriot from Vermandois had denounced me. He was thrown out bodily. We saw your compatriots, M. Saulce, M. Violette and others, by whom I was received with great courtesy. There is no point telling you (because you are not fond of foolish praise) that your region is proud of you. You will have known before I did that the department is fixed at Laon. Is that good or is that bad for one or other of the towns? It seems to me that it is no more than a point of honour between the two towns and points of honour are of little importance. I took the tribune; I worked with the intention of carrying the day on the question of the chief place but I did not follow on, I left, weighed down with compliments like a donkey burdened with relics, having, however, the assurance that at the next legislature I could be with you in the national assembly. You had promised to write to me, but I see clearly that you will not have the time. I am free as of now. Should I return to you or remain amongst the foolish aristocrats in this part of the world. At the time of my return from Chauni the peasants from my region came to look for me at Manicamp. The Comte de Lauraguais was greatly astonished by this rustic-patriotic ceremony. I led them all to his house for a visit. They said that he was out in the fields, however, like Tarquin, I had a rod with which I cut off the head of a nearby fern beneath the window of the castle and without a word we made a volte face. Farewell my dear Desmoulins. Write to me if you have need of me. Your latest issues are full of excellent things. Apollo and Minerva are still with you and are not displeased. If you have anything to say to your people in Guise I will be seeing them again in eight days’ time from Laon where I will be going on specific business. Goodbye again: glory, peace and patriotic rage. Saint-Just I will read you this evening since I have only spoken to you of your recent issues by saying yes.

Different feelings can however be found a year later, in a letter Saint-Just adressed to Villain Daubigny on July 20 1791 (it is dated 1792 in Oeuvres complètes de Saint-Just, but Saint-Just’s biographer Bernard Vinot points out that this is most likely an error, since all the events it makes allusions to took place the previous year):

…Go and see Desmoulins, embrace him for me, and tell him that he will never see me again, that I esteem his patriotism, but that I despise him, because I have penetrated his soul, and because he fears that I will betray him. Tell him to not abandon the good cause, and recommend it to him, because he does not yet possess the audacity of magnanimous virtue.

What exactly had happened between the two for Saint-Just to write this about Desmoulins is unknown. The same can be said about the question regarding where and when the meeting between them he alludes to here played out, since neither of them is confirmed to have left their respective towns in 1791.

Yet another year later, in September 1792, both Saint-Just and Desmoulins were elected deputies for the National Convention, meaning the former came to settle in Paris on Rue de Gaillon 7, around 2,5 km from the latter’s home on Rue du Théâtre 1 (today Rue de l’Odeon 28). Aside from the fact both were fervent montagnards, I have not been able to find any connection between them until the second half of the following year, with the release of Desmoulins’ Lettre de Camille Desmoulins, député de Paris à la Convention, August général Dillon en prison aux Madelonettes. In it, Saint-Just, who had accused Dillon of having been asked to lead an uprising to put the dauphin on the throne and declare Marie-Antoinette regent on June 2 1793, got described the following way in a footnote:

After Legendre, the member of the Convention who has the highest opinion of himself is Saint-Just. One can see by his gait and bearing that he looks upon his own head as the corner-stone of the Revolution, for he carries it upon his shoulders with as much respect and as if it was the Sacred Host. But what makes his vanity killing is, that some years ago he published an epic poem in twenty-four cantos entitled Argant [sic]. Rivarol and Champcenetz, from whose microscope, used in the interests of the Almanach des grands hommes, not a single verse, not a single hemistich in France has ever escaped, have in vain gone searching for this; they who have hunted up even the least little scrap of literature have not seen Saint-Just’s epic poem in twenty-four cantos. After such a misadventure, how can he show himself?

According to some sources, the ”he carries his head like the Sacret Host” comment was a reply to something Saint-Just had himself said about Desmoulins. Marcellin Matton published in 1834 an anecdote (which it is presumed he obtained from Desmoulins’ mother- or sister-in-law) in which Guillaume Brune has tea with the Desmoulins couple at the time of the numbers of the Vieux Cordelier being released. The following conversation would then have played out:

”…You [Brune said] are also read by Barère who recognizes himself; by Saint-Just, who promised to make you carry your head like Saint Denis.” ”That’s true,” [Desmoulins] replied, ”I remember it: it was a very bad joke, and my answer was much better. Have you seen my letter to Dillon? In the approach and posture of Saint-Just, we see that he regards his head as the cornerstone of the republic, and that he carries it on his shoulders with respect like a holy sacrament. Was I wrong, and do you think that for such a good joke he would want to kill me? I only ask him for one favor, and that is to wait until he has given a valid response.”

In 1851, the historian Nicolas Villiaume similarly claimed to have had the same story told to him multiple times by Desmoulins’ mother-in-law. Interestingly though, the ”I will make him carry his head like Saint Denis” comment already appeared in works dated 1816 and 1825 (in both cases without any source cited). There, it is instead portrayed as a response to Desmoulins having written ”Saint-Just carries his head like the Sacred Host” and not as the cause of it. In light of this, I think the idea of Saint-Just having actually said it is something that must be taken with a big grain of salt.

The things more reliable sources can tell us about Saint-Just’s attitude towards Desmoulins at the time are less overwhelming. He was away from Paris during much of the period where Desmoulins released and got in trouble for the Vieux Cordelier (from October 17 to December 4, December 10 to December 30, and finally January 22 to February 13), and when he was there during said period, I cannot find him recorded to have spoken about Desmoulins or his journal a single time. Saint-Just also went unmentioned in all of the six numbers of the Vieux Cordelier that were released during the time they were both alive.

When the Committee of Public Safety decided to strike down Desmoulins and the other ”dantonists,” it was however Saint-Just who, like in the previous case with the hébertists, got tasked with writing a report against them. Here he obtained the help of Robespierre, who prepared around 65 notes for him to use as material against them. In said notes, Robespierre presented Desmoulins as less guilty than Danton and Fabre, having instead been more of their minion, a version of the story Saint-Just then stuck to when finishing his Rapport sur la conjuration ourdie pour obtenir un changement de dynastie; et contre Fabre d’Églantine, Danton, Philippeaux, Lacroix et Camille Desmoulins:

Bad citizen (speaking of Danton), you have conspired, you said, two days ago, bad things about Desmoulins, an instrument that you have lost, and you attributed to him shameful vices. […] For six months, a plan of palpitation and anxiety has been hatched within the government. Every day we were sent a report on Paris; we were flexibly insinuated, sometimes imprudent advice, sometimes misplaced fears; the tables were calculated on the feelings that it was important to arouse in us, so that the government would move in the direction that suited criminal plots; Danton was praised there, Hébert and Camille Desmoulins were accredited, and all their projects were assumed to be sanctioned by public opinion, to discourage us. […] What shall I say of those who claimed to be exclusively the old Cordeliers? They were precisely Danton, Fabre, Camille Desmoulins, and the ministry, author of the reports on Paris, where Danton, Fabre, Camille and Philippeanx are praised, where everything is directed in their direction and in the direction of Hébert. Danton had directed the last writings of Desmoulins and Philippeaux. […] Camille Desmoulins, who was initially duped and ended up being an accomplice, was, like Philippeaux, an instrument of Fabre and Danton. It was said, as proof of Fabre's good nature, that when he was at Desmoulins' house at the time when he read to someone a writing in which he requested a committee of clemency for the aristocracy and called the Convention the court of Tiberius, Fabre started to cry. The crocodile cries too. As Camille Desmoulins lacked character, his pride was used. As a rhetorician, he attacked the revolutionary government in all its forms; he spoke brazenly in favor of the enemies of the Revolution, proposed a committee of clemency for them; showed himself to be very inclement towards the popular party; attacked, like Hébert and Vincent, the representatives of the people in the armies; like Hébert, Vincent and Buzot, he himself treated them as proconsuls. He had been the defender of the infamous Dillon, with the same audacity that Dillon himself showed, when at Maubeuge he ordered his army to march on Paris, and take an oath of loyalty to the king. He fought the law against the English; he received thanks in England, in the newspapers of that time. Have you noticed that all those who were praised in England have betrayed their fatherland here?

According to an anecdote published in the pamphlet À Maximilien Robespierre aux enfers (1795), released a few months after thermidor by Taschereau de Fargues and Paul-Auguste-Jacques, Saint-Just and Robespierre had wanted to denounce Desmoulins and the other dantonists before arresting them, but been downvoted by their colleagues:

Why should I not say that [the dantonist purge] was a meditated assassination, prepared for a long time, when two days after this session where the crime was taking place, the representative Vadier told me that Saint-Just, through his stubbornness, had almost caused the downfall of the members of the two committees, because he had wanted that the accused to be present when he read the report at the National Convention; and such was his obstinacy that, seeing our formal opposition, he threw his hat into the fire in rage, and left us there. Robespierre was also of this opinion; he believed that by having these deputies arrested beforehand, this approach would sooner or later be reprehensible; but, as fear was an irresistible argument with him, I used this weapon to fight him: You can take the chance of being guillotined, if that is what you want; For my part, I want to avoid this danger by having them arrested immediately, because we must not have any illusions about the course we must take; everything is reduced to these bits: If we do not have them guillotined, we will be that ourselves.

Regardless of whether this be true or not, on March 30, Saint-Just was one of eighteen men to sign the by Amar drafted arrest warrant for Danton, Delacroix, Philippeaux and Desmoulins, who were all arrested in the night. The next day at the Convention, Robespierre shut down Legendre when he suggested the accused be allowed to come and defend themselves before the Convention, after which Saint-Just entered the hall, mounted the rostrum and read out the act of accusation the two of them had worked out.

Receiving a copy of Saint-Just’s report in his cell at the Luxembourg prison, Desmoulins got around to preparing a defence. In it, he claimed the author of the report had personal reasons for wanting him dead. He also referred to him as ”Monsieur le Chevalier de Saint-Just,” a nicknamed previously used by the girondin Salle:

If I had gotten the chance to print in turn, if one hadn’t put me in isolation, if one had lifted the seals and if I had the paper neccesary to establish my defense, if one gave me only two days to make a number seven, imagine how I would confront M. the chevalier Saint-Just! Imagiene how I would convince him of the most atrocious slander ! But Saint-Just writes leisurely in his bath, in his bathtub, he plots my murder during fifteen days, while I have no place to put my writing desk and only a few hours to defend my life. What is this if not the the duel of the Emperor Commodus, who, armed with an excellent blade, forced his enemy to fight with a simple foil garnished with cork? […] I arrive at the part of the report which concerns me. In living memory, there is no example of such atrocious slander as this piece. And yet there is not a single person in the Convention that doesn’t know that Monsieur the former chevalier Saint-Just holds for me an implacable hatred for a slight joke that I allowed myself five months ago in one of my numbers. Bourdaloue said: Molière puts me in his comedy, I will put him in my sermon. I put Saint-Just in a giggly number, and he puts me in a guillotine report where there isn’t a single true word in my regard. When Saint-Just accuses me of being an accomplice of Orléans and Dumouriez, he shows well that he is a patriot of yesterday. Who denounced Dumouriez first of all, and before Marat and more vigorously than anyone else? Certainly one cannot deny that it was me? My Tribune des Patriotes exists, let Saint-Just read the portrait I there painted of Dumouriez six months before his treason in Belgium, he will see that I have never since added anything to this portrait. And Orléans who he makes me the accomplice of, who doesn’t know that I was the first to denounce him? That the only writings on this faction that the Jacobins have printed and distributed were written by me? Does Saint-Just no longer remember my Histoire des Brissotins? […] There are witnesses to the fact that the great republican Saint-Just, at the beginning of the Convention, said: Oh! They want a republic, she shall cost them dearly! There are witnesses to the fact the ambitious Saint-Just said: I know where I go.

In an unfinished and unsent letter written to Robespierre around the same time, Lucile Desmoulins too held Saint-Just as the main culprit behind her husband’s fate, arguing that he had misled their friend:

…As far from the insensibility of your Saint-Just as from his base jealousies, [Camille] recoiled in front if the idea of accusing a college comrade, a companion in arms. […] Robespierre, can you really complete the fatal projects which the vile souls that surround you no doubt have inspired you to? […] Had I been Saint-Just’s wife I would tell him this: the sake of Camille is yours, it’s the sake of all the friends of Robespierre!

A rumor claiming that Lucile had been sent money from the imprisoned Arthur Dillon conveniently arrived around the same time the trial against the indulgents started getting off the rails. In the afternoon of April 4, after the proceedings had been closed for the day, Saint-Just again mounted the rostrum at the Convention and revealed the discovery of this new conspiracy:

The public prosecutor of the revolutionary tribunal reported that the revolt of the guilty had caused the court proceedings to be suspended until the Convention had taken measures. You have escaped the greatest danger that ever threatened freedom: now all the accomplices are discovered, and the revolt of the criminals at the foot of justice itself. Intimidated by the law, the secret of their conscience; their despair, their fury, everything announces that the good nature they presented was the most hypocritical trap that had been set for the revolution. What innocent person has ever rebelled before the law? There is no need for any other proof of their attacks than their audacity. What! those whom we accused of having been the accomplices of Dumouriez and Orléans, those who only made a revolution in favor of a new dynasty, those who conspired for the misfortune and slavery of the people are at the height of their infamy! If there are men here who are truly friends of liberty, if the energy that suits those who have undertaken to liberate their country is in their hearts, you will see that there are no longer any conspirators on the front line, who, counting on the aristocracy with whom they have marched for several years, call upon the people the vengeance of the crime. No, liberty shall not recoil in front of her enemies; their coalition has been revealed. Dillon, who ordered his army to march upon Paris, has declared that the wife of Desmoulins had received money in order to promote a movement to assassinate the patriots and the Revolutionary Tribunal. We thank you for placing us in the position of honor; like you, we will cover the fatherland with our bodies. Dying is nothing, provided that the revolution triumphs; here is the day of glory; this is the day when the Roman senate fought against Catiline; This is the day to consolidate public liberty forever. Your committees respond to you with heroic surveillance. Who can refuse you his veneration in this terrible moment when you fight for the last time against the faction which was lenient towards your enemies, and which today finds fury to fight liberty?

After having heard Saint-Just’s report, the Convention used this new discovery to order ”that the Revolutionary Tribunal shall proceed with the instruction relating to the conspiracy of Lacroix, Danton, Chabot and others. The President shall make use of every means which the law permits to cause his authority and that of the Revolutionary Tribunal to be respected, and to repress every attempt on the part of the accused to trouble public tranquillity and to hinder the course of justice. It is decreed that all persons accused of conspiracy who shall resist or insult the national justice shall be outlawed and receive judgment on the spot.” This order became essential for getting the dantonists condemned to death the following day.

Saint-Just had however nothing to do with the actual arrest warrant for Lucile, signed the same day by Robespierre, Billaud-Varennes, C-A Prieur, Carnot, Couthon, Barère, Du Barran and Voulland, which would lead to her ending up on the scaffold as well nine days later.

I’m currently blanking when it comes to contemporaries who had anything to say regarding the relationship between Saint-Just and Desmoulins.

#saint-just #desmoulins #camille desmoulins #louis antoine saint just #frev #frev friendships #ask

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fantasticarcadefan · 2 months

Text

Teyvat and the Ascended Pt.2: Discovering yourself

Warning: Religious worship, bad descriptions.

STC - Skin tone color

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

You didn't know what to say. Too much was going through your mind. Who are the ascended? Why do they refer to you as a god? A million more questions race through your head before a voice calls out to you. "Your Grace?" It was Alexi's voice. "Y-Yes, Alexi?" You respond, unsure of what he asked. "Are you okay? We're not going to hurt you." Alexi says in a rough yet soft tone. A million thoughts go through your mind, unsure of what to say. Do you tell them the truth? Do you lie to them? Do you make up a story? You eventually decide that, due to the ability to transport yourself elsewhere, it was better to admit the truth before you find yourself in a worse position than in Teyvat. "Look, I-I think you got the wrong person. I don't know anything about the "Ascended Species" or me guiding you in person." You say, bracing yourself for a mixture of emotional, psychological, or physical abuse. Alexi looks at you and then smiles, "I'm afraid that's not the case my lord. The soul seeker was set to your soul, and in addition, we're passing through a nebula right now, and usually when we do,we often find ourselves going through what is known as turbulence. And ever since you've arrived, the storm has calmed down." Alexi explains to you. "And it makes sense for you to not know of the Ascended. After all, you're only made aware of the world you'll be descending into, with you starting to get visions of the other worlds you created later on from your past."

You're shocked. How are you supposed to react to that. One day, you're running from hunters in Teyvat who're claiming that you're an imposter, the next, your soul, if what they say is true, is abducted by aliens from various species who're claiming that you made each of their civilizations. But another question came into mind. Are you able to get home? And how many other lives have you abandoned when you descended onto each of their worlds? "Crowner of Champions." The beetle alien says,breaking you out of your existential crisis, getting your attention. "My name is Kul-Tan of the Backatta species, representing the Legion of Hantakka. My people and I pride ourselves in being able to find worthy opponents in all fields, originally in just strength, but your descent into our world showed that there are other ways of combat. And I couldn't help but wonder what great beasts you've slayed at your new creation!" Kul-Tan says, ignorant about what you've been facing on Teyvat. "It's not as glo-" You say before stopping mid sentence as you are looking at your skin.

Instead of the (STC) on your skin, your body's instead a mix of a bright white, a void black, a gleaming gold, and a shimmering purple all jump across your body. "Wha-,ho-, the he- what?" You say, unable to form a word about your body's situation. "And that's another reason we see you as our divine creator." Alexi says, slightly amused at your situation. "The creator, you," Alexi says, as he points at you. "Have been known to be both the kindest of souls, devoting time to help those that need it, both before and after your discovery on each of our worlds, and a nightmare to those incurring your wrath." Alexi continues. "The white and dark energies, I assume, are part of your emotions and part of the balance of the galaxy, what the golden and purplish energies represent, however, may be representative of the balance of the world you descended upon." Alexi says, hoping to help you understand. If you had to guess, the golden energy represented Celestia, and the purple energy represented the abyss. "I wonder," you tell yourself, if I knew about this sooner, would the hunt for me have never occurred?" You ask yourself as you get out of Mary's arms and wander the room while you start to think what this could do. After all, if that was true, then you could reveal this form to the Teyvatians and hopefully convince them that you're their actual god, or at least cause enough debate in Teyvat that the hunt could be cancelled or postponed for a while then- "Your Grace?"

You hear Mary call out your title in a concerned tone. As you turn to face her, you can see a mixture of horror, concern, sadness, and rage on the crew's faces. "What do you mean, the hunt for you would have never occurred if you knew about that form?" Mary asks in a cautious and worried tone.

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact #cult au #ocs #fanfic

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Never Thought

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: IM A GODDAMN MACHINE also fic named after this song :D

Summary: You meet the Millers [3.5k]

Warnings: questionable Hollywood motives, Joel being vulnerable, the cutest goddamn found family, probably incorrect foster case/adoption timeline, talks of the foster care system, Tommy being a little shit, yearning idiots

Trouble in Paradise? Everything We Know About the Fight Between Everyone's Favorite Couple

Joel Miller Spotted Landing in LAX ALONE

Lucky Guitarist in Central Park Saw Joel Miller and Girlfriend Before Leaving Her in NYC: "They looked pretty in love when I saw them."

"Do you realize how bad this looks?!" Melanie asks as she paces behind her desk. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting a headache, as she spirals. "Rumors are flying around that you guys had a massive argument backstage at the Tonight Show, and he left because he was pissed at you."

"That's not even close to what happened." You say, and she throws her arms up.

"Please, tell me what happened then because I've been fielding calls from major news outlets wanting to know what we have to say."

"His kid had an emergency. He went home early to take care of her. We didn't argue or have a falling out or anything like that. We actually had a really nice time."

"What kind of emergency?" She asks with a hawk-like determination in her eyes. Times like this make you realize that you never want to get on Melanie's bad side. When she's like this, she's absolutely lethal.

"I don't know." You shrug.

"You don't know?"

"It's not like we had a chance to talk about it! I did the interview, and by the time I was done, he was already on the way to the airport. He texted me that night to apologize and let me know that something was happening with his youngest."

"And it couldn't have been handled without him? If she needed her dad to come all the way home, she better have a fucking good reason."

"She's fourteen, Mel!" You snap, tired of hearing how much his leaving early affected her when something happened with his family. "Jesus Christ, she's a baby, and you're talking about her like she's an adult, which, even if she was, she has a right to call her dad for help," you say. She crosses her arms over her chest as she thinks, and you grab your bag from your chair. "I know these aren't the best circumstances, but I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you blame a child for a decision her father made." You wait for her to say more or argue with you, but she doesn't. You take a deep breath and reach for the door, more than ready to leave her and this conversation here.

"Why do you suddenly care so much about his kid?" She asks suddenly, and you turn to face her, your hand lingering on the doorknob. It feels like she's looking through you. Like she knows exactly what happened in New York but is waiting to see if you'll voluntarily come forward with it. "Wasn't a part of the contract to get involved with families." You shake your head and open the door.

"Then you shouldn't have paired me up with him." You say and leave her office. You're breathless by the time you get to your car. You've never left a conversation with Melanie like that, but you've also never heard her talk about a kid like that. It made your skin crawl to listen to her blame Ellie for just needing her dad. When the fuck did Hollywood get so ruthless that they have to use a fourteen-year-old as their scapegoat for something that's really not that big of a deal?

You're fuming the whole way back to your house, and the LA traffic doesn't do anything to settle the anger in your chest. It's been three days since you got home from New York, and communication with Joel has been sparse. He let you know that he and the girls were okay and apologized again for leaving so abruptly, but that's been the extent of your conversation. Which is fine. You have laundry to do and scripts to read through. You're fine to keep busy, but sleep is a little harder to manage.

You didn't realize that a couple nights sleeping in his arms would affect you so much. Now, every time you crawl into bed, the only thing you can think of is how big it is. Your dreams constantly replay your shared moments in New York, laughing together in the shower, walking hand-in-hand in Central Park, and the creases in the corners of his eyes. You didn't even realize that you were leaving space for a body that wasn't there until last night when you rolled into the cold space reserved for Joel and waited to hit his sleeping figure. For half a second, you considered getting a dog just so the house doesn't feel so empty.

You're folding laundry in your living room when your phone pings, interrupting the podcast you were listening to. You reach for it without a second thought, which you probably should've, considering you're still mad at Melanie, and see a text from Joel.

What are you doing tonight?

Joel Miller, you type. Are you trying to booty-call me?

Do you want me to booty-call you?

Maybe.

Well, I hate to disappoint, but I was gonna ask you to come visit the studio. I've got something I think you'll really like.

What's in it for me?

You leave your phone on the couch as you run upstairs to put your clean laundry away. You rush around your bedroom, stripping off the oversized, stained t-shirt you were wearing and putting on a vintage Talking Heads shirt with a pair of ripped jeans. You take a second to look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing down stray flyaways and swiping a layer of mascara on before running back downstairs. You feel like a teenager getting ready to see the boy she likes, and something in the back of your head wants to be annoyed, but nothing can bat away the butterflies in your stomach. As you grab your purse and shoes, your phone lights up on the couch.

I've got a couple surprises up my sleeve.

Attachment: Location

You smile and tell him you're leaving now. His studio is in the heart of West Hollywood, and you have to stop at a security gate before you're allowed to park in the back next to Joel's car. Somewhere beyond the gates, a camera flashes as you enter the building and follow the studio numbers until you get to the one Joel told you he'd be in. You knock lightly on the door, trying to be polite, but someone on the other side rips the door open abruptly. A big laugh sounds from the other side, and suddenly you're face-to-face with a young man with long dark curls and big brown eyes.

"Oh, hi. I'm sorry, I'm looking for..." you trail off, glancing inside the studio until you make eye contact with Joel. He smiles and waves you in. "Him."

"Oh, you must be the girl Joel's been hidin' from us!" The man in front of you sends Joel a look as he opens the door wider to let you in, a similar twang peeking through his voice. When you fully step into the room, two girls are sitting on the couch across from Joel's chair at the soundboard, and you immediately recognize them as Sarah and Ellie. Sarah looks up and sends you a soft smile while Ellie stays focused on the rubber band she's wrapping around her fingers.

"Don't you go scarin' her! We wanna keep this one," Joel says as he stands and walks over to you. "This is my brother, Tommy. Don't pay him any mind." He says, and Tommy takes one of your hands in both of his and shakes it.

"Pleasure to meet you," Tommy says, and you smile, your brain finally catching you with the fact that you're meeting Joel's family.

"It's nice to meet you, too," you recover. "I didn't know all the Miller men were so handsome!"

"Oh, I like her,"

"Alright, that's enough," Joel scolds and you and Tommy laugh. Sarah stands and jostles Ellie as she does, making her misfire the rubber band at the soundboard, and Joel shoots her a look. She groans and stands beside Sarah, putting on a half-hearted smile. "And these are my daughters, Sarah and Ellie."

"It's really nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you guys."

"I wish we could say the same. This one," Sarah jerks her thumb in Joel's direction. "Is a master at dodging questions."

"Well, I love questions." You say.

You all settle once introductions are done, and you find yourself in awe of the dynamic the four of them have. Tommy and Joel are so at ease with each other, messing around and teasing one another, but still able to have conversations about the album art or release dates. Sarah and Ellie bombard you with questions, occasionally butting into their father and uncle's conversation to give their own opinions. And their questions are not the run-of-the-mill interview questions. No, their questions are deep, thought-provoking, unique questions that you enjoy teasing out with them. Joel was right about Sarah being a little bit more extroverted because she dominates a lot of the conversation, which you love and tell her as much.

"So many people are afraid to ask about things they're really passionate about, so it's cool to see you be so curious." You say, and a little blush takes over her cheeks.

"Thanks," she says. "I'm glad you don't think I talk too much."

"Not at all. I like hearing what you have to say." You say and watch as she fights a smile. You catch Joel's eyes watching over you and the girls, something flashing behind his irises, and you nod to let him know you're okay.

Ellie is a little quieter but really likes hearing about the more technical part of filming something. You tell her all you know about cameras and sound equipment, even promising to take her to set with you one day to show her everything because Lord knows the industry could use more women in production. Eventually, she feels comfortable enough to slump next to you in all her teenage posture, still fiddling with the rubber band.

"Want me to show you something?" You ask quietly, and she furrows her brows before nodding. You reach for the rubber band, which she reluctantly passes to you, and you slide down to copy her position on the couch. "So, the key to this is aim. Power isn't super important, but it's always a little bit more fun," you instruct as you slide the rubber band over your index finger and thumb. "So, what you want to do is lock onto your target, pull this back, and then let it go. Like this," You go over the steps slowly before aiming the rubber band at Joel's head and snapping back, sending it flying through the air until it hits him.

"Ow! The hell?" Joel screeches, and you and Ellie laugh.

"That was amazing!" Sarah giggles beside you, and you three dissolve into stupid, silly laughter. Tommy shakes his head and looks at Joel with a smile.

"You gonna let them do that to you?" He asks, and Joel takes a deep breath, taking in the sight of the three of you having the time of your life on the couch.

"'M outnumbered now."

"Sure are."

As the night progresses and you and the girls further slip into delirious giggles, you feel more and more comfortable with them. You're not sure what you thought would happen if and when you met them, but this is so easy and fun. Sarah tells you about the colleges she's applying to, and Ellie complains about her fingers hurting from trying to learn to play guitar. You advise Sarah about applications and even offer to read over some of her admissions essays, citing your BFA as your sole qualification. You're about to ask Ellie to play for you when Joel checks the time on his watch and slaps his hand over the watch's face.

"Alright, 's gettin' late, and you guys have school in the morning."

"But Dad!" Ellie protests, and he shakes his head.

"No buts. You gotta get some sleep. Uncle Tommy'll take you home."

"Dad doesn't like when I drive. Like at all," Sarah says, and you laugh.

"No, Dad doesn't like when you drive, and it's ten o'clock in the city with the world's worst drivers." He corrects, and she rolls her eyes. Despite their little arguing, both girls walk over to Joel and give him hugs and kisses before following Tommy out the door.

"Hey," He gets Joel's attention as he stands in the threshold of the door, and Joel raises his eyebrows at him. "You bring her round more often, you hear?"

"I'll make sure he does." You say, and Tommy smiles at you, winking before he finally leaves. The second the door closes, Joel gets up from his chair and walks over to where you're sitting.

"Hi," he says quietly as he leans over you and kisses you sweetly. You hum against his lips, and he collapses next to you, grabbing your legs and resting them on his lap.

"Thanks for the heads up, by the way. Are your parents here too, or is it just them?"

"Why? You wanna meet 'em?" He asks, and you slap his arm. "They really liked you."

"You think so?" You ask, and he nods, gently squeezing your ankle.

"I know so. I haven't heard Ellie laugh like that in a good while." He says, and you take a deep breath. His warm hands massage your skin, and the studio is completely still, and it feels just like it did in New York. The thought comforts something deep within you, and you reach out to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He still needs a haircut, you think to yourself.

"Is she okay?"

"She will be, yeah."

"What happened?" The question leaves you before you can stop, but he doesn't tense up or look panicky. He leans into your touch and focuses on the fraying hem of your jeans.

"She got in trouble at school. I still don't know the whole story 'cause she won't tell me, but she came home and took off on her bike. Tommy and Sarah drove around lookin' for her for bout an hour before they called me. They found her pretty soon after at a gas station, but it scared the shit outta me."

"Oh, my God. That's so scary."

"Yeah," he says. "I... didn't handle it in the best way. I grounded her for a month and took away her bike. We got into a big fight about it, and I hate fightin' with her," he sighs. Even though this was days ago, you can see how much it weighs on him still. You wonder if anyone ever panicked that much about how they treated you as a child. "I thought goin' back to Texas would've helped her, but it didn't."

"They were in Texas with you?" You ask, and he nods. Suddenly, the voices in the background of your phone calls and the spottiness of your conversations make sense.

"They went a week earlier and left a week after me to keep the press off them. They also just really missed their grandparents. Figured it'd be a good idea to get 'em outta LA for a while."

"Do their moms live in Texas too?" You get quiet as you ask about the women who brought Sarah and Ellie into the world. You may not know the whole story, but it also doesn't take a geneticist to figure out that Sarah and Ellie have different moms.

"No," he scoffs a laugh. "No, my parents are still in Texas, and Tommy lives there part-time, but that's really it."

"Where are their moms?"

"Sarah's mom left when she was a few months old. Divorced me and signed away her parental rights with the same pen. We haven't seen her since. I reach out to her folks every couple of years, but they never respond. They want nothing to do with either of us." He says, and your heart breaks for both of them. Sarah deserved to grow up with her mom, and Joel deserved to have a partner to help raise her, especially since he was so young.

"And Ellie's?"

"Never met her. Her name was Anna. The adoption agency told me she died a few hours after she gave birth. Left her a note but didn't have much else. No family, no husband, nothin'."

"Oh, I didn't know Ellie was adopted."

"It became official when she was twelve, but she's been with us since she was ten."

"Wow," you breathe, and he nods.

"Yeah," he says. "Sarah met her at school, and her foster home was just a shit hole, and she really just needed someone to take a chance on her. I still don't know why, but I got the paperwork filled out, and she was placed with us two months later. She's been with us ever since. That's also why I knew I had to come home when I heard she ran away. She used to do that to get away from her foster parents so they'd have an excuse to send her back."

"Did they?" You ask.

"Yeah. Six foster homes in two years."

"Jesus Christ."

"It's a lot. I know it is. That's why I didn't tell you bout them earlier. I didn't want to scare you off," he shrugs. "Plus, they're why I punched that photographer." He says like it's common knowledge, and you sit up. You remember Joel and Paul arguing about something when you walked into the room months ago, but you never asked about what. You also never asked him why he punched the pap because it didn't feel like your place.

"What?"

"The guy showed up at Ellie's school. He was tryin' to get pictures of her when the only thing she's done wrong is have my last name. He was yellin' things at me and asking me about her, and I just… snapped," he explains, shaking his head. "It's not right. I shouldn't have done it, but they're my girls. If I can't protect them, then I've got nothin'." You watch tears glisten in his eyes, and you push onto your knees to cup his face.

"You're a good dad, Joel. Possibly one of the best ones out there, okay? And you're not a criminal for losing your temper with your fourteen-year-old," you say. "Ellie's a teenager, and she's been through a lot. You all have. But those beautiful, intelligent, funny, amazing girls love you with everything that they are. I can see that, and I only spent a few hours with them today. They are good people because you're a good person," You stare into his eyes, hoping that the words will imprint in his brain, and he believes it as much as you do. You think Joel Miller could use someone believing in how good he can be. You think he needs it. You think he deserves it. "You are a good person." You whisper, and he takes a deep breath.

He rests his hands on your hips, and you move closer to him, resting your knees on either side of his hips and sitting in his lap. You kiss away the stray tears from his cheeks and feel him relax under your touch. You're sure that you'll need to tell him over and over again how good of a dad he is after so many years of just barely surviving, and you're okay with that. You'll tell him as many times as it takes him to believe it.

He catches your lips before you can get far and kisses you firmly like he's trying to show you everything he wants to say instead of speaking. He tastes like salt and cigarettes as he fiddles with the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against your stomach. There's nothing sexual about it. He just wants to be close to you, and you want the same. He traces patterns into your lower back, his hands splaying across your sides, and you bury your face in his neck. It's quiet and soft and almost domestic the way you two are cuddled into each other. As if you've been together for years, and this is how you greet each other after being away for so long. You inhale his scent and try to make out the shapes he's pressing into your skin.

"I wish I'd met you sooner." He says quietly, the words halfway lost in your hair. You kiss his jaw and squeeze him a little tighter.

"Me too," you mumble. "'M here now. I'm not going anywhere." And for once, instead of arguing or coming up with a reason to refuse to absorb what you're saying, he just nods.

"I know."

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