drops this here and books it away sorry this turned into a whole ass short story
Synopsis: You unwittingly accept a tour of the sprawling new museum you just got hired at from a very bad man handsome entomologist, who manages to stall you until the lights go out for the night.
Contains: female reader, 3rd person pov but main characterâs features are left vague, violence, chasing, sexual assault, nonconsensual groping, predator / prey dynamics, manipulation, gaslighting, spanking, lightly implied drugging, asa being mean and nasty (but also deceptively charming mmm)
Asa Emory / The Collector x Female Reader | Noctuidae
The woman in the white floral blouse and long green skirt stands well off to the side of the banquet hall while an eloquent speech is given by the director on stage. The museum patrons and curators sit at circular linen-clothed tables in their nicest evening wear. Well-groomed waiters are starting to bring the drinks around along with platters of appetizers.
The woman in the white floral blouse appears outwardly to be watching the award ceremony, but she isnât actually paying much attention.
Turning her head, she glances at one of the patron tables.
The man sheâs been watching is looking very handsome tonight in his dark charcoal blazer and fitted black dress shirt. Then again, heâs handsome every time sheâs seen him striding across the grand hall. She isnât familiar with the gentleman sitting across from him, who she assumes must be his colleague; he seems of a similar age, and his dark blue suit looks just as expensive.
She looks back at the stage, not wanting to push her luck. She doesnât actually know Dr. Emory, not at all. She just knows of him.Â
Heâs one of the curators, which is already intimidating enough. Insect science department. Apparently, he previously taught at a prestigious university, or multiple. Sheâs heard different things about the man from different people.Â
The speech on stage doesnât seem to be stopping any time soon. Sheâs sure it would be interesting, if she was actually paying attention, but sheâs not, so itâs dragging on into monotony.
When she thinks itâs been long enough, she glances at Dr. Emoryâs table again.
She quickly diverts her gaze back to the stage, her cheeks growing very hot.
He was watching her that time. Sitting straight up and watching her.
The director finishes his speech and the audience applauds. The main courses come out to the tables on trays with silver dome lids. The woman in the white blouse, desperately in need of a breather, makes her way towards the door.
In the restroom, she washes her hands and stares at her reflection in the mirror, patting her face with a damp paper towel to touch up her foundation.
Maybe Dr. Emory wasnât really looking at her. Maybe sheâs overthinking it. Why would he be?
She heads for the bathroom door, feeling a bit fresher and a bit more confident in the idea that sheâs making a big deal over a whole lot of nothing.Â
The corridors near the banquet hall are expensively furnished and very long. She can overhear the murmur of the banquet faintly in the distance. Itâll be going on for a while, and now sheâs in no rush to get back. She hadnât chosen the first bathroom she saw, just wandered for a bit before deciding, taking in the sights.
She picks another hall, reaches the end, and turns a corner into an intersection.Â
âOh! Oh my gosh, Iâm sorryââ
She looks up at the man sheâs walked headlong into, and blanks on the rest of her apology.
Her gaze falls immediately to his black leather dress shoes. She tries to step around him, but he steps around her too, at the same time, and she nearly bumps him again. It happens the other way, too. The laugh she squeezes out is very awkward sounding even to her own ears. Her face is flushing with heat now. She hopes her grin is enough to hide her dismal embarrassment.
âWowâpardon me, sir, I really am sorry.â
Dr. Emory is a man with precise features and hair of a color that canât seem to choose between blonde or brown, but the silver at the roots gives away his age. There are a few light scars on his face which sheâd never noticed from a distance, but with his maintained stubble he wears them very handsomely.
His stare, at first, is a bit aloof, but it lifts quickly into something rather amused, and he regards her with a smile that makes her feel a little bit warm in her chest.
âNo, no, thatâs alright.â He straightens his black tie beneath his buttoned blazer, and puts his hands in the pockets of his fitted wool pants.
âGet turned around? The banquet hall isnât back this way, if thatâs where youâre headed off to.â
âOh. Actually, I was trying to get away from it.â Shit, that sounded rude, he probably had a part in putting the damn thing together. âI mean, I didnât mean it like that. Itâs a great party, really, itâs justââ
Dr. Emory watches her, his smile unfaltering, and she stares at his tie, because she canât look him in the face.Â
âBit much to handle?â He finishes for her.
âYeah. Yes, it is. Thatâs exactly what I was getting at.â
âWell, I will say, you certainly didnât look out of place back there. Lovely blouse.â
Her stomach leaps a little and she squeezes her wrist. It was her he was looking at.
She looks up from his tie.
âReally?â She asks. âThank you.â
âNo need to thank me, itâs my honest truth.â Dr. Emory holds out his hand.
âAsa Emory.â He says. âPleasureâs mine.â
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