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you-get-me-closer-to-god · 8 months

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Vamptember Day 2

“Dissection / Rome / Bathed”

SUMMARY: Rotting away in your room, going no where with your research, you take them up on the invitation

PAIRING: Platonic Armand, Daniel, and Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,923

WARNINGS: none!

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Day two going strong! I managed to up it to nearly 3k words so that’s pretty cool! I used Rome as today’s prompt because mmmmmmyeah you’re gonna hear about all the information I’ve collected about 16th century Italian artists.

It was getting cooler in the mornings. The blaring, continuous, unforgiving, unrelenting hellfire heat, was actually subsiding. And it was getting cooler in the mornings. Your skin sung, and your lungs breathed in clean crisp air that was still damp from the sprinklers running earlier. Never mind it was going to heat back up later, you didn’t care. You were going to be inside all day anyway, but you weren’t going to miss the morning for anything in the world. And it had an affect on everyone, not just you. An extra pep in the step, more smiles returned, rushing to the next class was suddenly out of style.

And you didn’t flinch this time when the cashier gave you the total for your six dollar latte. -Okay, maybe you did a little bit. But it certainly tasted better than usual.

As your shoes hit the stone walkway in tandem with the music in your headphones, you took your time to appreciate the beauty of your campus, which was a lot harder in the afternoons with its 90 degree weather.

The large old oak trees that flanked nearly every corner and walkway, were still holding onto their green foliage. Stubborn things they are. The red brick building, which looked like a great castle or church to you more than anything, towering above all, an ancient watchful guardian.

The usual backyard birds were scattered here and there, mourning doves sat atop roofs with their little round chests poking out, the males sporting a dusty pink color proudly. Starlings pecked in the grass together in their many numbers like someone threw a dozen little black polka dots onto the ground which then magically sprung to life. But what really got you excited, were the crows.

Sure, some people had them all year round, a proper nuisance with their blaring and grating caw, no particularly special plumage to admire. But to you they were a true sign of fall that you cherished, and hearing their guttural yalp was like stepping on the first fallen leaf. Like smelling a bath and body works pumpkin candle. Like buying an orange wool scarf.

Joggers in bright shirts and shorts past you, a man from across the street cussed at his dog, who lifted her wide head up to bite at her leash and tug on it with all her might, paws digging into the sidewalk. The poor old man comically thrashed around. You weren’t sure what her end goal was, but you were rooting for her.

Reluctantly and with a heavy heart, you silently bade goodbye to the morning air as you opened the heavy door to join the masses for class. It’ll be back, you reassured yourself, and even colder tomorrow.

The early hours crept by, and much sooner than you wanted, the afternoon’s heat bled through the windows of your room. You were trying to get some research done for an art history essay, but you found yourself reading the same paragraph over and over about some obscure cathedral in Italy’s capital, desperately searching for information you could use. The lecture you had earlier wasn’t about the cathedral’s architecture, nor a note worthy icon on its walls, but of a teensy tiny little alter piece the size of your thumbnail, which you couldn’t find anywhere in the book.

And your professor wanted a three-thousand word essay on something that didn’t even have a damn Wikipedia page. It was understandable to think he wanted to give a unique assignment, instead of something like a study on the Sistine Chapel, or the Pantheon, but what the hell were you supposed to do with this?

You didn’t even waste your time with the library, surely any books of worth to you were already checked out by your ever so caring and sharing classmates. You even turned to Reddit, which usually had an overflowing cup of obscure and near-useless information, but not a single internet incel was interested in Roman altarpieces from the 16th century, surprisingly.

Which left one solution that you could think of.

And- to be fair, they did offer. Which should be reason enough to go. What were his exact words on the letter? “Have no hesitance”?

But you were hesitating, and why wouldn’t you? You hadn’t even told them your name and he wanted you to come by their apartment for a study session? And no, don’t think for a second the implications were lost on you. They weren’t. It could’ve been a ploy for a trafficking scheme, for all you knew. You could have your liver torn out and sold on the black market. All these seemed perfectly sane reasons not to go.

However that wasn’t what was stopping you.

You were nervous. And deep down you knew all your fears were a little ridiculous and highly unlikely. And It was that kind of thinking which kept you self-sabotaging any kind of potential relationships and left you continuously lonely. And god, were you tired of being lonely. You were tired of coming back in the middle of the night to your dark empty room with absolutely zero phone notifications, and realizing you didn’t speak a word aloud all day.

And that alone was reason enough to risk it. If the world was so ugly and evil that you couldn’t even visit a classmate’s apartment for help without being killed, then it was a world you didn’t want to live in anyway.

You slammed the book shut and put on some shoes, grabbing your car keys and the note with Armand’s address on it.

Yes, the mysterious Armand. What kind of name was that anyway? You had looked it up almost as soon as you got home last night and discovered it was of French origin. That clicked, you could definitely hear French influence in some of his pronunciations and words. You had to ask him later. Maybe he could help you pass your French exam.

The drive to the address was a quick one as the complex resided just outside of campus, just like you remembered. You had passed it multiple times on your way home for holidays and such, and you gawked every time at the sheer amount of wealth it exuded. But that was coming and going, actually driving into the neighborhood gave it all more time to impress you.

You were definitely not in the same tax bracket as the little Frenchman. Daddy’s pockets must be to China, they’re so deep.

You pulled in, parked your car, and walked into the building, trying not to stare too long at the crown molding. You took an elevator up, and glancing down at the paper once or twice, until you found the correct door down the hallway.

Swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you lifted your hand and knocked, knuckles rapping against the wood. What were you even going to say? What if the one day you came over, was a bad time?

The door opened suddenly without giving you time to react, and a tired face squinted back at you, arm leaning against the doorframe. You eyed the reading glasses pushed up onto his tousled blonde hair, the comfy pants he wore were almost exactly what you were wearing a couple minutes ago in your dorm.

“Hey, I’m sorry, is this a bad time? I figured I’d take you up on the invitation.“

“No, come on in.”

Daniel dropped his arm from the doorframe and opened the door wider. You gingerly stepped inside, thanking him and walked a little deeper into the apartment as he closed the door behind you. It didn’t look like a serial killer’s apartment, the place was nice. Warm brown leather chairs gathered around a low coffee table in the living room, a rather large sound system sat near the back wall, the kitchen was near spotless except for a used coffee pot which looked quite weathered.

“We were starting to think we scared you off.” He said, picking up some stray pages off the floor and setting them on the table next to an open laptop.

“He can get a bit,”

He made a gesture with his hands.

“Enthusiastic.”

“Not at all, I just didn’t want to intrude.” you replied, shifting your weight onto the other foot.

“I’m really grateful, you know. This semester is really kicking my ass.”

He nodded and gave a short laugh as he closed the laptop and sat down. You followed his lead and sat on the couch across from him, sinking into the cushy leather awkwardly. You noticed a large flatscreen tv mounted to the wall behind him, and your eye was drawn to a vast collection of DVDs stacked on a small bookshelf next to it.

“You guys watch a lot of movies?” You observed.

He glanced to where you were looking and shook his head disapprovingly, turning back around.

“Armand’s little hobby. Well one of many.”

He looked a bit better than last you saw him, his eyes were brighter this time, and he moved a little sharper, though the dark circles still remained.

“Speaking of, I should mention he isn’t here right now. But he’ll be back pretty soon.”

“I see. When does he get back?” You asked.

“I’d say…”

Daniel leaned forward and peered to his right before answering you, you mirrored him unconsciously, but you were a little confused. There was no clock you could see on the wall. In fact, nearly the whole wall was a window, you wouldn’t be able to hang much of anything on it. It was a gorgeous view however. The sun hung down low, dipping down behind the city buildings in the distance, the sky melting into a deep orange color.

“About an hour or so. You know, I don’t think I’ve actually introduced myself.”

You were incredibly appreciative he said something, otherwise you probably would’ve forgotten again. You both told each other your names, and a warm feeling bloomed in your chest. You couldn’t believe you almost convinced yourself out of this. When was the last time you shook hands with a stranger and made an acquaintance? Third grade?

“So, what can I help you with?” He started, clasping his hands together.

You explained to him the assignment you were given, telling him about the 16th century alter piece and how hellbent your professor was on the importance the piece had for the renaissance era. You told him about your struggle to find any data on it, books or articles, you’d take anything.

After a moment, Daniel just gave a small laugh. A hint of crows feet appearing at the corners of his eyes.

“I’ll try my best to help you,” he said, “but it’s Armand you really want for this. I’m telling you, there never was a better topic of conversation for him.” He stood up.

“In the meantime I’ll pull out some books of his and see what sticks.“

There you both sat straight across from each other, flipping through page after page of dusty old books. You actually saw a lot of works you liked in these books and pointed them out to Daniel occasionally, noting colors and symbols that caught your eye. You learned that you and him had very different taste. He eventually got up and turned on a few lamps in the room as night began to fall.

Yawning a little, you didn’t realize you’d been there for so long until a clatter down the hall caught Daniel’s attention, his grey eyes lifting up from his book, over your shoulder to the front door.

“That’s probably him in the elevator.“ He mumbled. “Took his sweet time tonight.”

You twisted your body to watch the door. There was a sort of unexpected thrill that held your attention as footsteps grew louder. They approached closer and closer until stopping, the front door unlocking with a click.

As the door swung open, he glided in, turning and locking the door behind him. Clad in simple jeans and crew neck, his vibrant red curls were windswept. He looked like a kid on summer break ready to slink through the city with his friends. His dark eyes sparkled when his gaze fell to you sitting on the couch, and he made a serene smile.

“Oh, my friend, a pleasant surprise!”

You sat up and he crossed the room toward you and Daniel. He stretched out his hand to take yours, the rings on his fingers were chilly, as if he had just been walking through a refrigerator. His eyes bore into yours and he began to speak, his accent slightly thicker than usual.

“I cannot express to you how regretful I was when I realized Daniel and I had walked all the way home without first being informed of your name. I assure you I was taught better than that, my friend. Please, release me at once of my suspense, and I hope you harbor no ill will towards my forgetting myself.”

He held your hand there in an airy grasp, his dark eyebrows furrowed gently, as if to show you he meant business.

Immediately you told him your name, which he repeated back to you with such a seriousness that forced you to hold back a laugh, his accent modifying it slightly, but you didn’t mind.

“Daniel, I cannot believe you allow me to be so rude, clearly I am interrupting.” He said, releasing your hand. “But, forgive me, it is hard not to notice my own books on the table. Could I be of any use?”

Daniel shook his head, smiling at Armand’s theatrics.

“Actually, we were counting on it. All these books of yours and not one mention of an artist we’re looking for.”

“Artist?” His interest was piqued.

You piped up, describing the alter piece, its size, it’s setting, you told him about the cathedral it was painted in, and how impossible it was to find any information on it. Slowly, his focused expression formed into one of recognition, then frowned into indignation.

“Yes, I know the artist.” He turned slowly and picked up a thin paper back from the stack on the table and opened the book.

“There is entirely nothing wrong with learning the masters.” He said with a touch of venom that he unsuccessfully tried to hide, flipping to a certain page. “Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Botticelli.”

Then, turning the book to face you, he waited for you to grab it before pointing to a full page on the exact elusive piece that you and Daniel were searching for all evening. Your jaw dropped silently as he continued ranting, Daniel put his glasses back on and read over your shoulder.

“Even the later artists of Baroque, Caravaggio, Gentileschi, Bernini, all masters of their craft. The techniques you could learn from just one of those artists, are never ending. And these professors choose to waste your time, sending you on a wild goose chase for that.” He gestured to the book you held.

“An untitled sketch by an amateur student scribbled carelessly some five hundred years ago.”

You were hoping for a tiny sliver of information, even just a date would’ve sent you over the moon, but what he provided practically had half your essay done already. You didn’t know how to thank him, you felt a great weight lift from your shoulders.

“That same professor has been foolishly contradictory for as long as I can remember. If ever you should truly want to learn, I beseech you to contact me first before ever stepping foot into another one of his classes.”

He huffed frustratedly, and began putting his books back on the bookshelf silently.

“I can’t thank you enough.” You began, closing the book and holding it so carefully, it could have been a bomb. You were going to call your mom about these two and fire your therapist.

“It is not a problem, please keep it. Knowing that man, you are going to need it later.” He turned after placing the last book back on its shelf. Daniel slipped by him, walking over to the coat hanger and donning a denim jacket.

Armand grabbed your attention again.

“Would you do us the honor of joining us for dinner? There is an impossible amount I would like to talk with you about, if you’d let me, of course. It is one of Daniel’s favorite restaurants, so he is guaranteed to be in an agreeable mood.”

Your stomach lurched at the sound of dinner, there was nothing you wanted more in the world than a warm meal that actually consisted of the three main food groups. But you were completely broke, and the amount that you wanted to eat did not agree with the amount that you could pay for.

You frowned and opened your mouth to decline, when without skipping a beat, he spoke up again, sensing your apprehension.

“Completely my treat. Please.” His voice was like a silver bell, or like a cool bandage on a burn, it smoothed any rough edges of anxiety or worry. And there was no way in hell you were going to turn down that offer.

So together you left the apartment. “The three musketeers” Daniel had called you and Armand laughed a little too hard at it, echoing it all the way down the elevator with delight.

As you all collected into a rather sleek and bougie car to take you to the restaurant, you wondered what kind of odd situation you were getting yourself into…

_______________________________________________

@the-vagabond-angel chapter 2!!!!!

#the vampire chronicles #anne rice #tvc #vampire chronicles #lestat de lioncourt #iwtv #vc #interview with the vampire #armand #books #vamptember #the vampire armand #devil’s minion #the devil’s minion #Armand/Daniel #tvc fanfiction #vc fanfiction #the vampire chronicles fanfiction

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umichenginabroad · 2 years

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Bearing the Forty Foot, Seeing Glasnevin Cemetery, and Food!

Hey readers! I’m Aidan McKiernan, and I’m studying abroad in Ireland with the Big 10 STEM and Irish Studies program with UCD. Week 3 is just wrapping up now, and it’s been another fun one. I’m getting a bit homesick these days and missing some people back home, but there’s a ton of fun times and cool people to meet here, so it’s hard to feel down for long. The coolest things we did this week were taking a trip to the Forty Foot, a swimming area on the east coast of Ireland, and a trip to Glasnevin cemetery, a surprisingly impressive site. Of course I haven’t slowed my ungodly ice cream consumption rates, and I tried a few new notable places as well.

Starting off last Sunday evening, I visited La Caverna, an Italian restaurant, with a group of friends. We had quite a group, so we split up into two tables. My group had to wait a bit to be seated, so we decided to try McDonalds in Ireland. The food options are pretty similar to what we have in the States, but they had a curry-flavored dipping sauce for the nuggets which I wasn’t familiar with and was pretty good. I also picked up a strawberry and cream frappe, which was quite good. After that we got our seats back at the restaurant, and I ordered a traditional carbonara.

Carbonara from La Caverna- it was super!

We got a new physics lecturer this week who happened to be better than our previous one. Also, our labs this week were much more manageable than the past ones. In my other class, we had a brilliant new lecturer on Irish history, who was very entertaining. There is a 1500 word essay I’m writing on Irish emigration that is due this coming Wednesday, but finishing that shouldn’t be a big deal.

On Wednesday we took a trip to Dún Laoghaire for a dip in the Forty Foot and to try Teddy’s ice cream, rumored to be some of the best. Despite its name, the Forty Foot is really just an eight foot jump into about 20 foot deep water. Though I was misled about the height, the coldness and saltiness of the water definitely went beyond expectations! I was shivering for the next few hours, but it was definitely worth taking the plunge.

Me, trying to soak up some sun and totally not posing dramatically. (photo by Nate)

After drying off and a short walk, we grabbed ice cream from the famous Teddy’s ice cream. Personally, I had to double up, so I got a classic cone and a Ferrero crunch. The ice cream certainly lived up to expectations, even if I was left shivering and on a sugar rush.

Me, amazed by my sweet ice cream picks- loved them both. (photo by Noah)

Saturday saw a trip to the Glasnevin cemetery, one of the biggest cemeteries in Europe. A stunning 1.6 million people are buried here, including many Irish legends like Michael Collins. By the way, that's more people than the entire population of Dublin! The headstones and scenery here was very pretty, a pleasant distraction from the morbidity.

A small fraction of the innumerable, ornate headstones we viewed.

Before our guided tour I stopped into the SI Café for a quick breakfast croissant (and an ice cream cone!).

A nice hot ham and cheese croissant from the café, much needed for the cloudy, windy, sub-60°F weather.

After the tour, our bus was a bit late, so a few of us took a quick walk to a bar called Gravediggers for the so-called best pint of Guinness you can get. …it wasn’t great.

Later that day I went to town with a couple friends for dinner. We got rejected from a couple places for wearing sweatpants, but we eventually found a really nice restaurant where I got a hearty beef stew.

Dinner at Quays Irish Restaurant with Daniel, Chase, Carson, Me, and Justin (left to right) (photo by Justin)

And finally, this Sunday has been pretty relaxed. I’ve just been catching up on sleep and doing some classwork. So that’s just about everything for this week, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading. Join me next week for another post!

Aidan McKiernan

Computer Science

University of Michigan

#umichenginabroad #AidanMcKiernan #ipesummer2022 #ipeireland

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it. you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though. After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all? Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared). He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did. Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered. The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed. You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him. You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him. Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around. You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention. If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers. With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk. Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter. “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded. By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous. Idiotic. A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you. “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged. “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing? “Thank you. I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense. But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?” His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious. “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him. He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression. His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore. “I’m here, aren’t I? Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that? I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me. It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm. “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium. Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course. And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar. “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time. You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there. Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen. And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds. You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit. All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything. The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex. As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd. Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway. It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted. “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were. But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck. “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear. “Can you do that for me? Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped. “I can take it! Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head. “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on? Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers. You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you. Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly. You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point. "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly. He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air. He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive. The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed. He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss. Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him. Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing. His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately. "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.” It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear. You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly. "Oh, you like that idea, hm? You want to be full of my come? Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast. You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated. As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade. Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks. No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair. It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks. If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry. I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed. He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye. “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss. And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again. He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss. Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss? But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class? Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it? And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios. You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him. And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now. The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class. As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options. There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself. Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable. Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned. "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk. Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was. “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed. “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice. You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly. “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed. “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly. "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours. And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel. “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed. "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again. "A man can only take so much. I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked. "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist. Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod. It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag. “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened. Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded. “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.” He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips. “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs. “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair. He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit. Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way. I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed. "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear. "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me. Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

cooking lesson

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you cook for the everyone during the teams annual dinner

warnings - none

word count - ?

team dinners almost always occurred at rossi’s.

they didn’t happen often due to the teams busy schedule but when they did, it was a pretty fun and special time. rossi usually took the liberty of cooking as his pasta was unmatched.

for this time, rossi had offered you the chance to host the cooking lesson. at first, you were incredibly confused. usual rossi, aka the senior profiler and pretty much dad of the team, liked teaching.

“well i need to see my legacy in the works. besides, i think for once i would like to sit back and enjoy a glass of premium italian wine,” rossi spoke, motioning with his hands to further get his point across.

“alright i’ll do it.”

a look of surprise washed over your dads face. “wait really? i was sure you would say no.” you laughed, “i just need the ingredients.”

“give me a list and i’ll get it,” rossi answered.

you quickly grabbed a piece of paper off of your desk as well as a pen. after scribbling down the ingredients; flour, eggs, sausage, bell peppers, onion, garlic, crushed tomatoes, and white wine. rossi nodded, already knowing what dish you were planning to make.

“i’m going to head to the store. dinner is in six hours so plan accordingly with everything,” rossi explained. you smiled at your dad before leaning back on your bed to relax before the night.

forty five minutes before the team was set to arrive, you headed downstairs. you wanted to start on the actual sauce beforehand since everyone would be making their own homemade pasta. it was a slightly scary thought, having adults who mostly eat takeout due to their time traveling cooking from scratch.

soft music played through the speakers in the kitchen. you hummed along, gathering the ingredients from the fridge and cabinets. since tonight’s lesson was reversed, you were going to pre-make the sauce while the pasta would be homemade.

rossi entered the kitchen to the sounds of sizzling as you sautéed the vegetables. “sauce coming along okay?” your dad asked. you nodded, “everything should be ready soon.”

“anything i can do you help?” rossi offered.

“if you want to set out the bowls of flour and then the eggs on the counter that would be great. i already set the table so that’s the last thing that needs to be done,” you replied. your dad worked around you in the kitchen, placing out the ingredients at everyone’s designated station.

when the first team member arrived, it was hotch, you were just cleaned up some dishes. “hi uncle aaron,” you greeted, still elbows deep in soapy water. “you can take a seat wherever. dads down getting a bottle of wine but he should be up soon.”

just like you had said, rossi was back in the kitchen only a moment later, greeting the unit chief like you did. the two agents engaged in a random conversation, you zoning out until the doorbell rang again.

rossi excused himself to answer the door. derek and penelope were the next to arrive. after that it was spencer, then emily, and finally j.j. glasses of wine were handed out to everyone besides you, much to the enjoyment of the three girls who accepted the glasses eagerly.

“alright everyone,” you started, changing your apron as you did so. “making homemade pasta can get a little messy so just be wary of that.”

“first step is the flour. i set bowls out for all of you with the right amount. you want to pour the flour into a pile and organize it into almost a mountain shape,” you instructed, doing it yourself as an example for everyone. “next hollow out the middle but leave a layer of flour at the bottom.”

“crack the eggs in the center. i’ll collect the shells from everyone,” you ordered, heading around the side of the counter to take the eggshells. after tossing them in the trash, you handed everyone a fork.

“emily,” you warned upon seeing her already attempt to poke derek beside her.

“now whisk the eggs, combining flour periodically. if you do it right, it should turn into dough. once both of them are combined, use your hands to kneed it,” this step should be fun to watch.

rossi was an absolute pro at this, that was obvious. everyone else, on the other hand, was struggling quite a bit. you had to correct the adults several times on how to act and properly cook.

“penny no, do not try and eat the dough.”

“derek stir slower. last time i checked the eggs did nothing to you.”

you were using a certain type of flour that didn’t make the dough need to sit in the fridge to chill. instead, you could go right in and cut the long strips after flattening the dough. intending knives was a whole experience on its own.

“jesus christ spencer! be careful with the knife. you’ve almost cut yourself four times. j.j. keep an eye on him please?”

“you’re doing perfect uncle aaron.”

the kitchen was an absolute mess. flour was spread across the counter in random places other then the pile you had sprinkled out for everyone to use. just as everyone was finishing up flattening and cutting their own dough, you figured you needed to start the water.

“dad?” you called, successfully gaining the attention of your father, “keep an eye on your other set of kids okay?”

rossi chuckled at your words while you rummaged through the cabinets to find a pot to boil the water in. you heard rossi lecturing the team on their mistakes as you did so.

the rest of the night went much more smoothly. you had cooked the pasta made and added the sauce before dishing it into bowls. emily was a couple of wine glasses in, giggling at every single thing someone said.

when everyone was finished eating and you were done cleaning up, you figured you might as well head upstairs to give them some ‘adult time’ to talk about work or personal things that you didn’t not want to hear. before you went, your dad stopped you.

“thank you for the cooking lesson figlia,” rossi thanked, a chorus of similar replies from the rest of the team.

“anytime,” you replied, a smile on your face.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @tinylumpiaa @rumplebutterbitch @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @the-quarantine-diaries @ah-blossom @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @spenceneedsahug @jjandreidsgirl @zoseph @spencerreidxoxo

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #bau team #bau team x teen reader

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nalledimessi · 4 years

Text

Eating candy

Pairing: Damon Salvatore & Reader

Word count: 1066

Warnings: Nothing +18 but little insinuation.

Drabble topic: Eating candy

Author’s notes: Hello! I’m back again with a new drabble. Thanks for all the likes and new followers. I really appreciated it. I dont own the gif, credits to the owner.

-Who tell you could sneak out of my bed?- your boyfriend question you leaning on the doorway of the en-suit bathroom.

-No one- you smile at him, applying the last bit of makeup on your face.

-And where you think you are going?- he walk to surround his arms in your waist, rest his chin on your shoulder and look at you on the mirror -If you don’t remember, there’s still a vampire that want you dead because of your family hunter’s side- he affirm.

-I can take care of myself- you remind him -after all I was raised to be a vampire hunter- you add.

-You’re a badass but no one will lay a finger on my girl- he said lending closed to you.

-You’re been overprotective and possessive- you announce to him.

-Only with you- he plant a kiss in your lips -besides I don’t want that your uncle Alaric give me a lecture-

-Right- you express joyfully -I want to get some candies from the store- you answer previous question.

-Candies?- he raised a eyebrow -why we need candies?-

-Tonight is Halloween, Damon!- you turn around in his arms to face him -and you don’t have any single candy at home to give the kids that come asking for treat or trick- you declared.

He kiss your forehead -Alright, wait for me- he pull from you and walk out of the bathroom.

-Are you coming with me?- you ask amused.

-Don’t be so surprised- he shout from his wardrobe -I promise Alaric you won’t leave my side-

-I will make breakfast- you propose, leaving the room in direction to the kitchen.

You where finishing eating when he enters the kitchen, bathed and dress, he drank the blood you set for him on a glass in the counter and drink it in a go.

-Ready?- he ask you.

-Yeah, let’s go- you said walking to the entrance.

-Let’s get over this- he said opening the door for you -any place you want to go?-

-No, just that have a big aisle full of candies- you request to him.

-Right- he answer before starting the cart and drove to the store.

Once you where on the store you make a beeline to the candy aisle and start to add bag after bag in your cart.

-Mark my words, we will end eating candy for weeks with all you have already throw in the car.

-Nothing is enough when it came to Halloween candies, Damon- you express to him with a grin.

Why you are so obsessed with Halloween and candies anyway?- he question you.

-It’s really silly- you almost whisper.

-Hey- he call you to reach your attention -nothing is silly if involved you- he declared while he set his hands in your arms.

-It’s the last happy memory that I have with my parents before they pass away- you reveal to him and he immediately hug you.

-You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want- he tell you caressing you’re back.

-I want to- you pull away from him.

He kiss your head -Ok, just don’t here, later. Now are you done with all the candies or you would get more?-

-I want some more- you smile to him.

-Right- he nod -I will get a few things for dinner, don’t get in trouble while I came back- he teased you before disappearing from your sight and reach, once he was sure he bring his phone out of his pocket -I need a favor brother-

He was with you after half and hour later, ingredients for a proper Italian meal.

-Did you finish?- he ask leaving the ingredients in cart.

-Yes I think I have enough of all- you look to the 10 or 12 bags from different candies in the cart.

He leave the bags on the trunk and then open the passenger door for you -Let’s go home now- he give you a tender smile.

-You don’t have to walk on shells for me, you know?- you told him once he was inside the car -I said I would tell you, just you need to ask-

-Fine, would you tell me?- he ask while driving back to to the boarding house.

-Dad for once was at home on Halloween night, but knowing what he know going outside wasn’t in his plans, instead we decorate inside our home and we watch the Halloween special while eating candy.- you explain to him -not long after that they pass away-

-And then you went to live with Alaric- he add.

-Yes- you confirmed to him looking outside the window, when the boarding house come to your view.

You could see Stefan and Lexi in front of the driveway looking at the entrance. A smile start to form on your face when Damon’s Chevrolet Camaro stops.

Several headstone where place on the entrance, white bed sheets hang from the ceiling, and few skulls scattered on the steps.

-How?- you question Stefan and Lexi.

-Damon- Stefan answer you.

You turn to see him taking out the bags of the car and walk to you -Did you like it?-

You smile and run to him hugging by his neck -Thank you-

He pass his free arm by your waist -I would make anything to make you happy and I think we can make new memories- he whisper to you.

-I would like that- you pull away from him.

-Let’s go inside, watch some movies while we eat some candies- he guide you inside.

-Are you two staying?- you ask Stefan and Lexi on the entrance.

-No, we were about to go when Damon call- Lexi answer -but we will back later tonight and help- she add.

You followed Damon to the kitchen, where you take out a bowl and a bag of mixed candies and then start your way to Damon’s bedroom. He reach you a few minutes after you sit with your back to the headboard on his bed.

-Come here- you ask patting the place next to you.

He follows your instructions, sit next to you and wrap you around his arms without saying anything you watch the movie.

-Want more candies?- moving the bowl to him.

-I prefer to eat other kind of candy- he said in a seductive voice.

You pass your arms trough his neck and pull him over you.

#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #damon salvatore x female #the vampire diaries #tvd #halloween #eating candy #drabbles #damon x reader #damon x human reader #Damon Salvatore fan fictions #damon x you

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flowesona · 4 years

Text

The Hierophant - Yandere! Namjoon x reader

The Tarot Series

“He’s one of the best in the country. Trust me, (Y/N), you have to go to every lecture, even if you don’t want to.” The girl beside (Y/N) rattled on, only stopping every once in a while to take a sip of her Red Bull.

“If you don’t want to go, I’ll gladly take your place, you know.” Her friend continued. “I swear, he’s like… perfect. Gorgeous, smart, rich… I would gladly hop on that, ya know?”

“Oh come on, don’t degrade yourself like that. He’s going to be some musty professor that’ll talk about Sigmund Freud for far too long then set us three chapters to read for tomorrow.” (Y/N) was dreading meeting her new psychology lecturer, no matter how enticing the ideas her friend was feeding to her may be.

“If you say so. But you better run now, or you’ll be late.” Her heart dropped when she checked her watch, seeing as she had two minutes to get to a classroom four minutes away.

In a matter of seconds she gathered all of her leftover lunch together and shoved it in her bag, not even sparing a moment to say goodbye to her friend before dashing off, heart pounding as she ran.

Just as the clock-hands of her watch hit one-thirty, she made it to the classroom, swinging open the door and making her way to the first available seat her eyes landed on, which just so happened to be in the aisle on the first row.

However, once she’d dumped all her bags at her feet, she found that the professor wasn’t there. All of the students were just talking amongst themselves.

“Today was the one day that it’s okay to be late.” The guy next to her chuckled, watching her catch her breath. “What kind of example is he setting for us?”

(Y/N) chuckled breathily, but as if like magic a tall, lean man entered the room, a pile of books and papers stacked on top of each other impressively.

“Good afternoon.” His deep voice reverberated around the room, immediately silencing all the small murmurs. “I apologise for not being punctual, but I had to help one of our more senior members of staff find her keys.”

Kim Namjoon was far from the crumpled old man she’d expected him to be. His face didn’t show a single sign of ageing, despite him having an aura of maturity and expertise that put him high above every other person in the room. His face was neatly combed out of his face, his black rimmed glasses were stylish and perfectly clean. He was the epitome of a perfect man, if such a person could exist.

He smirked seeing the stunned expression on his students’ faces.

“I’m sure that you had very different first impressions of me. But I would like you to hold back until you know more about me. I hope that we can all develop a good relationship.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted across the room, until they met with (Y/N)’s own curious eyes, with something unreadable in his eyes that sent a shiver down (Y/N)’s spine.

Once he’d started the lecture, (Y/N) felt as if she was in another country. The technical way he spoke, his hypnotising good looks. It felt impossible to keep up with him, and before she knew it everyone was packing away their notes. She was stunned for a few seconds but followed suit, unfortunately ending up as the last person in the classroom besides the professor.

“What’s your name?” (Y/N) jumped when she noticed Namjoon in front of her, his large hands resting on the desk.

“(Y/N).” She replied quickly, standing up and ducking her head so she didn’t have to make eye contact.

“(Y/N), if you don’t mind me saying, you seemed to be quite unfocused for the majority of the time. If you need me to slow down my talking pace for you, you just need to ask.” The young woman felt her face flare up in anger at his patronisation. Sure, what he was saying was true, but there was no need to talk to her as if she was unique. Surely the other students were struggling to concentrate as well?

She chose not to respond, slinging her book bag over her shoulder and leaving without a goodbye, determined to study as hard as she could and prove him wrong.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Yet no matter how many hours she spent pouring over textbooks, podcasts, any kind of material she could get her hands on, none of it seemed to work for her. In a moment of desperation she’d downloaded a few of the books written by Kim Namjoon himself, only to give up a few chapters in due to the overly sophisticated language that made every sentence feel like a chore to read.

(Y/N)’s severe lack of understanding was reflected in her grades. Constantly failing tests or just barely scraping by for the entire year. It wasn’t until the end of the year that she decided she would have to sacrifice her pride and talk to Namjoon.

She knocked on his door, waiting for him to call out ‘come in’. Sure enough, she heard his voice - a little raspier than usual - invite her to enter.

The inside of his office was different. It looked messier than usual, and the man himself looked slightly ruffled, his tie undone and suit jacket lying on the back of his chair.

“(Y/N)! How can I help?” He asked, sitting up to look slightly more composed than his surroundings.

“Is something wrong, professor?” She asked, concerned about how the usually neat and proper scholar had fallen.

“Oh, it’s… nothing (Y/N). But thank you for your concern. What brings you here, anyway, besides the pleasure of my company?” Namjoon asked, running a hand through his slightly damp hair to smooth it down.

“I think it’s best that I withdraw from this course, professor. I keep on failing the exams and there’s no way for me to catch up and pass this year. I just can’t afford to keep studying a subject I don’t understand.” He sighed.

“Take a seat for me, (Y/N). We can talk about this.” (Y/N) wanted nothing more than to run, to leave this university and all the pain it had caused her behind, yet she ultimately had no choice but to sit down and shut up.

“So you’re worried about failing? That’s why you want to drop out?” Namjoon queried, brows furrowed as if he was deep in thought.

“Yeah. There’s no point in me paying nine grand a year if I can’t understand what I’m studying.”

“What if I offer you extra credit? From what I can recall, your exams weren’t too bad so we could probably get you a passing grade.” The scholar offered, reaching for his laptop and opening a spreadsheet with a single click.

“We can get you an extra 5%, which should bring you up to Third if your grades don’t improve in the summer exams. I’ve got a range of topics, and I’ll tutor you on whichever ones you choose when you have free time.” His words could not have been sweeter music to (Y/N)’s ears, knowing that passing was not just a fallacious dream and that she wasn’t a hopeless case.

“Thank you so much Namjoon, I’m really grateful for this opportunity!” She smiled, but before she could leave he spoke again.

“Of course, I don’t have to help you if I don’t want to.” (Y/N) froze as he continued. “This will cost me a lot of my valuable time, and I’m under no obligation to tutor you outside of work.”

“Please…” (Y/N) whispered, tearing up.

“You don’t have to pay me, if that was what you were thinking.” He stood up, approaching her until he had her backed up against the door. “I’d rather you pay me with your company. Tonight, you can come to dinner with me. Just one date, so we can get to know each other more intimately, and I can find out about the student I’m giving up my few spare hours to help. Does that sound good?”

“This is sexual harassment… if I reported you you’d be at least suspended by the school board…” (Y/N) choked out, trying to appear tough when her insides were jelly from such close contact with Namjoon.

“You can.” He chuckled. “But then you’ll fail and drop out. You don’t really want that, do you darling?”

(Y/N) swallowed and nodded, breathing out as Namjoon stepped away from her.

“Be ready at seven tonight. And wear something nice, darling. Don’t make me regret my offer.”

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The feeling of Namjoon’s eyes lingering on her figure was bittersweet. She was slightly flattered, but slightly intimidated. This man held her academic career in his hand, and she had to play along with his game if she didn’t want to fail.

‘Maybe it isn’t so bad that he likes you.’ A voice was whispering in the back of her head. ‘He’s “gorgeous, rich, smart”... right?’

She glanced over at Namjoon, immediately meeting his eyes. His hand settled itself on her exposed thigh, the cool metal of his rings contrasting with her warm skin. It stayed there until the taxi pulled up outside some esteemed restaurant, Namjoon pulling out his wallet to pay the driver and telling him to keep the change as he helped (Y/N) out.

She felt slightly awkward as he led her in and asked their water about the booth reservation, feeling the judging eyes of people around her. No doubt criticising her for going on a date with an older man. They were already labelling her as a gold digger, a whore.

“Don’t look at everyone else.” She jumped slightly when she heard Namjoon whisper in her ear. “Just keep your eyes on me, darling.”

Namjoon was clearly more comfortable in this environment than (Y/N). Easily pronouncing the name of some expensive Italian wine for them, along with a dish that she’d never heard of for them both.

But (Y/N) followed his advice, and just kept looking at him as he poured two glasses from the graft of wine, observing the slight bob of his Adam’s apple of he drank from his own glass.

“(Y/N), you should try some.” He indicated towards her glass.

“I-I don’t drink.” She said, but after a few moments of awkward silence, she decided to take a sip.

She hated the taste, but refused to show it on her face, giving him a small smile before setting down the glass.

“Now, (Y/N). Tell me why you decided to take Psychology when you don’t understand the subject?” Namjoon asked.

“I just want to understand people. I thought maybe if I understand why people are the way they are, I can help them.” She explained, taking another sip from her wine. Now that her tongue had adjusted to the bitter palette, she was pleasantly surprised by the taste.

“I see. Not many people take the subject for such a noble cause.” He commented. “Most of my students take it since they want to learn about serial killers or social experiments.”

“And why did you choose psychology as your profession?” (Y/N) retorted.

“There’s something about it that spoke to me. Jungian ideas on how we present ourselves - our persona - versus who we really are - our anima, if you will. I feel like there’s more to a person like you, (Y/N), and I want to see that.” The young woman felt like her head was spinning, from the lights all around her to the alcohol in her system.

“I’m sorry, I need to go to the bathroom. Where is it?”

“Just through that door.” Namjoon smiled watching her walk off. It was so fascinating to talk to her one-to-one. Her mind was something that wasn’t quite captured on her social media, no matter how many hours he spent pouring over her Facebook or Instagram, desperate to see who she really was, and why she drew him in like a magnet. But now, being in a more private environment with her and seeing her real self rather than what she presented online, Namjoon felt that she was even more enticing than before. Of course, he’d jumped at the opportunity to privately tutor her, but he had an idea for things to be more permanent. He didn’t want to just be her quick fix, he wanted to be her everything.

And so, with a glance to make sure no waiters were going to enter, he pulled a small vial out of his pocket, tapping its contents into (Y/N)’s water glass. It wasn’t a particularly strong drug, nor was it fast acting. He would be able to enjoy the rest of their night, and then by the end she would be his.

“Sorry. I don’t think I’m good with alcohol.” (Y/N) gave him a weak smile as she slid back into her seat.

“Don’t worry about it, Darling. Just have some water, okay?” Namjoon said smoothly, as she gave him a gracious nod. As the meal progressed, however, (Y/N) felt her headache getting worse and worse.

“Namjoon, this has been a lovely evening and all, but I need to go home. My head is killing me and I need some ibuprofen.” (Y/N) groaned after they’d finished their desserts.

“Of course. Let me pay the bill and then I can take you home.” Her professor said, rubbing a hand on her back to soothe her as he beckoned their server over.

Just as Namjoon was helping her into the car, (Y/N) felt her mind slip away, collapsing onto the seat.

Namjoon simply explained to the driver that she was unwell, sitting her upright and giving him the address to his own house. The driver didn’t question anything, although with the slight twitch of his lip it was clear how he saw (Y/N), as some rich man’s whore who’d had too much to drink.

Evidently, (Y/N)’s image was nothing compared to her professor, and she still had much to learn on how he worked. Luckily, he was more than happy to teach her, to train her mind, for his own, more personal price.

#yandere #kpop yandere #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere namjoon #yandere kpop #yandere namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #yandere kim namjoon #yandere oneshot #yandere RM #yandere rm x reader #yandere kim namjoon x reader #yandere bts au #yandere bts x reader #RM x reader #the tarot series #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader

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kalypsichor · 4 years

Text

don’t be cruel [ john lennon x reader ]

summary: You come to class in the shortest little skirt and Professor Lennon is so distracted he can barely teach. Afterwards, he tries taking matters into his own hands... only to be interrupted by the very subject of his fantasy.

prompt: my own fucking post, bc I have no self-control warnings: oral sex, dirty talk, professor kink... this is basically porn and I’m not sorry. oh also there’s dante’s inferno discourse, if that’s upsetting to anyone

i have nothing to say. this is filth. see y’all in the second circle of hell lmao (also, can you spot the 🥪 hint?)

i was gonna schedule this for 9 am or something but... apparently some of y’all are still awake if my notifs are any indication. so. enjoy. it’s almost 4 am for me

This is so, so wrong.

You’re not that much younger than John, with you in your early twenties and him just approaching thirty. Still, he’s your professor. You’re his student. There’s an unspoken taboo about the whole thing, a clear line that should never be towed. John’s a rational man—after all, he’s a Literature professor—and he knows these things in his head. They’re as clear as day, as obvious as Brontë’s warnings against forbidden love throughout Wuthering Heights.

All that rationality flies out the window when you come into class this morning wearing a short skirt that makes John almost drop his chalk.

You greet him with a nod and a smile, as per usual, but John can’t bring himself to smile back. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes. So when a flash of hurt streaks through them, he misses it, having already turned his back to write the day’s lesson on the chalkboard.

All of class, John is distracted. Not distracted enough for his students to take notice, of course; he’s familiar enough with the topic and his students are too busy scribbling notes to care. Still, John can’t stop thinking about running his fingers over your ass, about bending you over his desk and fucking you, your pretty little skirt bunched up in his hands. Maybe he’d wrap his tie around your wrists. Make you beg to be touched. And John would give in, if only to hear you whine when he teases your clit.

Thank god for the podium at the front of the room. John’s always been an active teacher, walking up and down the aisles as he lectures, sometimes even sitting on his students’ desks just for the hell of it. Professor McCartney calls it dramatic, but John knows that it brings so much more to his teaching. It keeps his audience engaged, which is exactly what he needs when he’s trying to get them interested in some dead 13th century Italian guy’s rhapsody on death.

Unfortunately, he’s got the worst hard-on ever right now, and even moving slightly behind the podium is causing the fabric of his slacks to shift agonizingly against his erection. John curses having tied his belt so tight this morning.

He’s halfway through the class, basically talking to a dead room of glazed eyes and drooping pens, when you raise your hand.

“Sorry, Professor Lennon.” John inhales sharply at the way you say his name and almost misses your next words. “But just now when you mentioned Beatrice, did you mean that she symbolizes divine love? Because isn’t that the whole reason she can take Dante to heaven, whereas Virgil is limited by human reasoning?”

“Yes, that’s right. What did I say?”

You bite your pen and John’s gaze is immediately drawn to the shape of your lips around it. He swears that he can see you almost smirk a little when you speak again.

“You called her ‘forbidden love.’”

Okay. Maybe John is more distracted than he thinks.

The rest of the hour, Johns finds himself glancing at you even more often. And though you’re sitting in the back of the room, John thinks that he catches you looking right back.

For the first time in his career, John has to agree with his students: the end of class can’t come quickly enough. The moment that last straggler pushes out of the lecture hall, the double doors closing behind them, he pushes off from the podium and rushes into his office, not even bothering to lock the door. John just needs some sweet relief and he finds it when he leans against his desk and unbuttons his slacks.

The moment John takes his cock in hand, he groans and lets his head fall back. Fucking hell, he’s been wanting to touch himself since you walked into class in that stupidly short skirt. He knows that this is improper, especially in his own office, but John couldn’t care less right now. He strokes himself with one hand, bracing against the desk with the other. And then his mind veers off and imagines that it’s you touching him. Your hands are so much smaller than John’s. The thought of them wrapped around his cock makes him swear, your name tumbling from his lips before he can stop it. Fuck, he’s getting close, and in his head he can hear you edging him on, can hear you calling his name—

“Professor?”

There’s no time to hide. John can barely even react, eyes jolting open to see your wide, shocked ones… glued to the sight of him masturbating.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t hear you knocking, I...” His babbling trails off when you don’t seem to be freaking out. And when you close the door behind you, turning the lock, something else entirely shoots through his body.

“I heard you saying my name.” You walk to where John is standing, his hand still wrapped around his cock. “Were you thinking about me?”

“I, uh. Look, I didn’t-”

The sight of you dropping to your knees in front of him is the hottest thing John has ever seen. Involuntarily, his hand jerks and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Tell me, please?” And how can he say no when you’re looking up at him like that, biting so innocently at your lip?

Something inside John lurches and he stumbles right across that line separating right from wrong.

“Fuck, I was.” John’s voice pitches a note lower, tone more confident and now it’s your turn to catch your breath in your throat. “Been thinkin’ about you all class, birdie. You knew what you were doing, paradin’ around in that little skirt. I bet you wore it for me, hm?”

You nod your head, a little shyly, and place a hand over his, not quite touching his cock. Still, the sight of your much smaller hand on John’s makes his grip tighten and he grunts. The sound goes right to your core.

“Wanna feel you in my mouth. Can I?”

John barely gets the chance to nod before you’re mouthing at his tip. His hand falls away immediately, joining the other in gripping the desk at the feeling. You pull away a little and lick all the way from up from the base, flattening your tongue against his veins, before taking his cock into your mouth.

You go down on him slowly, so slowly, and the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his length makes John groan. His eyes want to fall shut but he forces himself to watch your pretty lips stretch around his cock. It’s worth it, especially when you flick your eyes up to look at him. The sight of you makes his hips jerk involuntarily and you gag, pulling backwards with a wet pop that sends another wave of arousal coursing through John.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand to brush away the tears that have welled up in your eyes, but you shake your head. Wordlessly, you guide both of his hands into your hair and go down on him again—and when you take in as much of his cock as you can, you look up to John as if waiting for something.

When he understands, he finally lets himself close his eyes.

“God, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” John pulls out of your mouth a little before sliding back in, gasping at the warmth. “Taking your professor's cock like this. Mm, fuck—you feel so good.”

John increases his pace, starting to really fuck into your mouth. His grip tightens in your hair and you whine.

“What if Professor McCartney walked in right now, huh? I bet you’d keep sucking me off. Would you?”

The blush across your cheeks darkens and John takes note of it, something piping up in the back of his mind. But then you’re moaning around his cock and the vibrations are making his knees weak. He’s gonna come, soon, and his words devolve into grunts and curses as his hips jerk faster and faster into your mouth. Your throat has got to be tired by now but you’re not stopping or pulling away. The thought that you actually enjoy this, that it’s turning you on to be on your knees for John, is what sends him over the edge.

You let him finish in your mouth, swallowing all of it—or at least, as much as you can. Still, a little bit of John’s cum makes its way down your bottom lip. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls you up to your feet and kisses you. It’s soft, a distinct contrast to the fervor with which John had just been fucking your mouth with, and a little bitter with the taste of his own cum on his tongue. You whine when he swipes a tongue across your lip and the sound turns into a high pitched moan when he bites down where he just licked.

“Professor-”

“Call me John,” he says, pulling away and seeing a shy smile cross your face.

“Okay,” you say. You close the gap between your lips and kiss him again. “John.”

Just to make sure, though, John has you scream it for him when it’s his turn to get on his knees.

* * *

THERE IS NOW A PART TWO 🥪🥪🥪

#john lennon x reader #john lennon smut #the beatles x reader #beatles smut #kalwrites #professor kink #dante is about to punt me into hell #sorry #professor au

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Wedding Preparations

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author’s Note: So, this was going to be one part, but I decided to make it three. Back to my roots with Jack Ryan on this one. This was requested by @hiqhways. Hope you like it!

Warning: Abduction.

Pairing: Jack Ryan x Reader

Summary: For every bride, there are things you need to be prepared for as your wedding day approaches: from the possibility of last-minute guests to unknown allergies of some distant relative, or catering mishaps and, God forbid, rain. And you had mentally readied yourself for all of it, even the chance that red wine spilled on your wedding dress.

What you didn’t prepare for was being kidnapped the night before your wedding.

Rome, Italy.

Upon the Spanish Steps at the Piazza di Spagna, amongst the hustle and bustle of Rome’s afternoon, a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, descended the steps.

She was beautiful, undoubtedly, and dressed like so many of the city’s socialites were: red bottom heels paired with an expensive black dress, large sunglasses covering her face, and a string of pearls around her neck. In her arms, an array of bags from stores across the city, and when her feet hit the bottom of the steps she was greeted by an awaiting black car and chauffeur. With the extra set of hands, the young woman had all her bags into the trunk rather quickly, and had a chance to breathe before she slipped into the backseat of the car and her phone rang out.

“Ciao… Yes mom, I realise that you wanted to see the dress before the wedding tomorrow, but I had to go pick it up earlier than I expected.” Her voice was more than surprising, an American accent coming from a woman who dressed so very Italian, and caused a few glances from passers by as she closed the door and signalled for the driver to go.

“Look, when does your flight get in?” She asked, removing her sunglasses and pulling out a pen and paper, starting to jot down flight details given by her mother on the phone’s other end.

“Well, it’s simple. Alessandro will pick you up from the airport in a few hours, and bring you straight to my building. We can invite Monica and Layla over, pop some champagne for it, and you can all see the dress.” The young suggested with a smile playing on her lips, her voice bubbly and warm to match her cheerful disposition.

“Yes, I promise you it’s beautiful. Do you not think I have good taste?” She asked, listening to her mother on the other end. Over the course of a minute or so, her smile faded, and she let out a long sigh.

“Mom, he’s a busy guy. His most recent trip is finishing tonight, ok? You’ll meet him at brunch tomorrow.” The car slowed to a stop, the driver parking and walking round to open the young woman’s door. She stepped out, pressing a kiss to the older gentleman’s cheek in thanks before returning to her call.

“I know you wanted to meet him sooner, mom. If you had met us while I was in DC this wouldn’t be an issu-“ she was cut off, and slipped her sunglasses back on as a few people began to aid the chauffeur with the bags.

“Look, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.” With that, she ended the phone call, taking a deep breath before heading into the building before her.

Her day had been long enough to begin with, the last thing she had needed was her mother on the phone.

“Come on, where’s the blushing bride who left here an hour ago?” A voice called from down the hall, the steps quickly approaching the young woman were sure, bouncy, like his good mood had affected his walk. “Your mother called your office thirty minutes ago, was it her?” He asked, and the woman gave him a pointed look.

“Mike, where’s Alessia? She has my schedule for the afternoon.” She asked, beginning a quick walk towards the staircase as, behind her, the chauffeur and two men in uniform emptied the contents of her car and placed them inside the building walls.

“Come on, Y/N, cheer up.” Mike pleaded, nudging her a little, and causing her to pause in her tracks. After a moment of glaring at the man beside her, she broke into a smile.

“It’s your fault this mission has been drawn out, Kelly. I am having to stay in this embassy until Lord knows when and I just…” She teased, and let out a happy sigh. She couldn’t stay mad at anyone for very long, what with tomorrow being her wedding day.

“Good news on that front.” Mike responded, leading her down a hallway to their right, and off the original route to Y/N’s office. A left turn and four doors later, the pair entered a control centre, the current base of operations for a high priority case. The team was swarming with people, including Y/N’s assistant, Alessia, who hurried herself over upon the woman’s arrival.

“Ambassador Y/L/N.” Alessia muttered, handing over a black notebook planner. “Your meetings for the afternoon.” Y/N smiled at her assistant, glancing over the scheduled meetings.

“Nothing this evening?” Y/N asked, glancing between both Mike and Alessia.

“No, ma’am. You can be at Villa Taverna before your mother even lands.” Mike told her with a grin, the expression reflected by the woman at his side. “Now, would you like to see what’s happening on the ground?” With a quick nod, Mik led her further into the room, pulling a chair out for her and offering her the seat. Y/N took it gratefully, Mike drawing the room’s attention to him and the Ambassador. Without prompt, one officer handed her a stack of manila folders, at least 35 separate folders all a novel in depth.

“Madam Ambassador. Each file contains information on those arrested today in Milan. These files,” The man continued, bringing two more stacks of files to the table. “Are those arrested in Rome.” He took a step back, Y/N reaching for a file from the top of a stack, her eyes skimming over the pages before closing it over.

“Mike, your team has done an excellent job. And I,” She paused for a second, smiling a little more, “It’s a really wonderful way to end five years in the office. Thank you all, for your dedication and service to the United States. It’s truly been a pleasure.” She stood from her chair to a round of applause, and Mike squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.

“Five years went by so fast.” He remarked, the team slowly getting back to work around them.

“Is he still on the ground?” She asked, and Mike nodded. Her smile didn’t waver at the response, she knew the commitment her fiancé’s job required; her own job insisted it as well. “Alessia, will you do me a favour? The bags Alessandro brought in, is there any chance you could take them to the Villa?” She asked with pleading eyes, her assistant only smiling.

“Of course ma’am. I directed wedding gifts there as well, I hope that’s alright.” Alessia checked, but the smile on her boss’ face assured her that, like always, she had done the right thing.

“Mike, I am a phone call away. If anything goes wrong, anything at all, please let me know.” Y/N urged, and with a promise from the embassy’s chief of staff, she and Alessia headed back out to the foyer, parting ways as Y/N slipped back into the black car, this time flanked by a military escort as she headed towards the Palazzo del Quirinale.

—

Y/N Y/L/N had led a rather fulfilled life, that much was true, but had she not been so very fortunate she would have never ended up an Ambassador of the United States, nor would she have met the love of her life. To understand how she had come to exchange pleasantries and receive a wedding present from the Italian President, one had to look back to Y/N’s earlier years.

Y/N was born in New York City, and raised in the metropolis by her mother, father, and nanny. While her parents were loving, kind people with well-paying jobs, her father being a well-to-do businessman on Wall Street, her mother a doctor turned socialite, Y/N Y/L/N did not grow up with any connections to the US government, nor did she have much understanding of the diplomatic sector. That is, until she reached high school, where her interest in politics and modern affairs truly took root. From the ages of 15 to 23, Y/N became engrossed in the diplomatic sector of her country, and the work so many Ambassadors do abroad on behalf of the US Government.

After excelling in high school, Y/N was offered placement at Harvard, and began her college career two years early, studying International Affairs and Politics to doctorate level by the age of 23. Her countless hours of studying and excellent grades had been noticed by the Harvard staff, and after her dissertation was handed in, a paper that provided a new methodology for the future of the diplomatic sector, her Dean recommended her to the US Ambassador to Uruguay.

By 25, Y/N was working in Uruguay as the Ambassador’s secretary. By 26, she voiced concerns on elements of the diplomatic sector directly to the President of the United States at an informal dinner, and offered him her dissertation to read. By 27, with her recommended changes implemented, she became the youngest female Ambassador of the United States, posted to Italy after the untimely death of her predecessor.

And not only had her career received great fortune, but her romantic endeavours also.

During her third year of service to Italy, Y/N decided to take a two week ‘vacation’ home: she had been invited to speak at the George Bush Center for Intelligence, in Langley, Virginia, and her parents had demanded a visit from her the next time she was on US soil. While a part of her had wanted to correct them, that the Embassy and Ambassador’s address in Italy were both on US soil, technically, she refrained, knowing she needed a holiday.

Upon her arrival at Langley via a helicopter from New York and after a two hour long lecture on the importance of diplomacy, and her revisions to the past methods used by the US government, Y/N had begun packing her belongings as her auditorium slowly emptied, planning to head back to New York that evening.

“You know, I’ve never seen someone hold a crowd quite like that before. Especially on a topic so dull.” The comment caused Y/N to literally spin into the chest of its host, a strikingly handsome man. “You alright, Madam Ambassador?” He asked, and took a step back to help her steady herself.

“Quite. I would argue your point, I really would, but I don’t think there’s much point.” She said after a moment of studying his face. He smirked at that, holding out a hand to shake.

“And why do you say that?” He asked, Y/N’s hand clasping around his own, the pair lingering in each other’s grasp.

“If I tracked terrorists for a living, I would probably think diplomacy was rather tiring too.” When she smiled at him, the man before couldn’t help but smile back, even though it was clear she knew who he was.

“Doctor Jack Ryan.” He introduced himself nonetheless, letting go of her hand after they shared a firm shake.

“Dr Y/N Y/L/N, United States Ambassador to Italy.” She responded, but the tone of voice was friendly, flirting almost. She glanced down for the first time since they began talking, finding a duffel bag sat at the Doctor’s feet. “Where to next?” She asked, picking up her own bag. It prompted Jack to do the same, the pair headed for the door.

“Venezuela. My flight leaves in twenty minutes.” Doctor Ryan explained, the pair automatically quickening their pace towards the main entrance to the building.

“I’m touched that you stayed for my lecture, Doctor Ryan.” She replied, coming to a stop at the elevators: he was off to the landing strip, she was up to the heliport.

“Please, call me Jack.” He asked, a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t have missed it, I read your dissertation a few months ago, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear you speak, Madam Ambassador.”

“Please, call me Y/N. It was nice to meet you Jack.” She bid him farewell, stepping into the elevator with a smirk on her lips and a faint blush on her cheeks.

What started that day as a polite conversation soon became more. Jack’s work with the CIA had him travelling fairly often, and after Mike Kelly moved to CIA’s Chief of Staff position in Italy, Y/N and Jack now acquainted by a mutual friend, Y/N’s next visit to DC led to a first date with America’s Golden Boy, followed by another, and another.

While most of their relationship was long distance, Jack travelled to Italy when he could to see her, and when four months before he had received word on a terror cell in Italy with ties to the Mob and ISIS planning a series of attacks on America, he followed the money right to Rome.

A month into the case, he proposed to Y/N.

And now, three months after that, he was out in the field, arresting the men who had brought him here in the first place, and Y/N’s time as Ambassador for Italy had come to a close. After the wedding, they were both headed back to DC, Jack for a promotion at Langley, and Y/N for a high-ranking administrative position within the CIA.

—

There is nothing quite like a sunset over Rome, and as Y/N looked out her car window, watching the street lamps across the city buzz to life and the sky become a canvas for colours the light painted, she had never felt so happy to have lived in the amazing city. She had formed her career here, spent half a decade living and improving and living in Rome. It would be the place where she married the man of her dreams in only a few short hours, the place she would soon be visiting every year come her wedding anniversary.

For so long, Rome had been her home, yet she wasn’t sad to leave. Because, while Rome was where she had lived, somewhere along the way her home became a person, rather than a place.

Jack was her home now, and no matter where they were, it would always be him that made a place home.

“Signora Ambasciatrice.” Alessandro called from the driver’s seat, pulling Y/N from her train of thought. “Siamo a casa. Hai bisogno di una mano con qualcosa?”

“No Alessandro. se potessi andare all'aeroporto e prendere mia madre, ci vediamo domani.” Y/N responded, stepping out of the vehicle and pulling her keys from her beg. Her day had been long, but nothing except good news and fond farewells.

“Certo signora. Buona notte.” Alessandro bid her a good night, driving off down cobblestone roads and out of sight.

Y/N watched him leave, unlocking the gate and making her way to the front door. She had seemed to arrive just as the guards were changing, not that she cared very much. She unlocked the front door, switching on lights as she entered her residence, and finding her shopping from that day placed neatly on the table in her entryway. Alessia has even taken the time to hang up the wedding dress Y/N had decided on, in hopes of minimising wrinkles.

Locking her front door and stepping out of her heels, Y/N gazed at the wedding dress for a few moments. Her mother would be at the villa in a matter of minutes, her friends possibly less time. And she wondered if she should surprise them, to already be in her wedding gown when they arrived?

The grin that settled on her features sold her on the idea, and she lifted her dress and the white heels she had picked out before heading to her bedroom to change. Quickly changing out of her work clothes, she took a few moments in her en-suite to brush her hair out of its tight bun and brush her teeth before heading back to the bedroom. The dress fit like a glove on her, the shoes perfectly sized, and Y/N had to take a moment to really process how she looked.

It was a fairly simple lace number, with an A-line neck and open back. Some might call it bland. But, those people wouldn’t see the details Y/N saw: how the floral lacing depicted her favourite flower; or how she chose that specific shade of creamy-white to emphasise the colour her skin had turned in the Italian sunshine. They didn’t see the cinching at the waist was done with the stitch her grandmother used when she embroidered, or that the button fastenings were made with the same type of white gold as her engagement ring that Jack gave her.

It was her dress, and hers alone.

Y/N was not a vain woman, she never had been, though she couldn’t help but feel like a queen in her wedding gown. Had she not been so mesmerised by the details her dressmaker had done so well to include, she might have heard a clicking coming from the vent above her closed bedroom door, though it was unlikely.

In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Before Y/N knew what was happening, she was struggling to breath, choking on the air surrounding her, and passing out on her bedroom floor.

Once the clicking from the air vent stopped, two masked men entered the room, having to unlock the door from the outside to get in. They were soon followed by another man, all three carefully lifting the bride-to-be out of the room and to a waiting van parked around the corner.

The security cameras caught it all, but by the time the change of guard arrived at the same time as Y/N’s mother, the van was long gone, and the US Ambassador had been kidnapped.

—

“Mrs Y/L/N, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened. Slowly.” Mike Kelly spoke into a satellite phone, running a hand over his head and sighing. It was 8.30 in the evening, and Mike was waiting for the return of Jack and Greer before heading for dinner. The three had planned for a meal to celebrate Jack’s last night as a bachelor, and the pair would be back from Milan in less than five minutes. “Ransom note? Wait, hold on.” Kelly pleaded, taking a second to wave over Alessia. He needed someone writing notes, and she had stayed late to finalise Y/N’s last acts as Ambassador, digitising everything. “Mrs Y/L/N, you are on speaker phone. Can you please repeat what you just said?” Kelly asked.

“Alessandro and I just arrived at the house Mike, and Y/N is missing. Her phone and purse are still on the bed, the guards found a canister in one of the air vents…” Y/N’s mother rattled off, her panic switching to anger through the sentences. “It’s his fault, isn’t it?! That fiancé of hers.” She snapped, and Mike shared a look with Alessia.

“Mrs Y/L/N, please. We’ll be on the scene as soon as possible.” Mike sighed, running a hand through along his jawline. Hey, you deserve a break. Take the posting in Italy, the CIA had offered, and like a fool, Mike had jumped at it. After the cleanup job he was tasked with in Venezuela, he thought a quiet posting in Rome would do him good.

Now an Ambassador had been kidnapped from right under his nose.

“Where is he?” Y/N’s mother asked, and Alessia cleared her throat.

“He’s landing just now, ma’am.” She squealed, and the woman on the other end laughed coldly.

“Michael, get here and find my daughter.” She demanded, hanging up the phone. Mike and Alessia stopped for a second, both trying to figure out what the hell they should do.

“Don’t you both look happy to see us.” Their thoughts were interrupted by a low voice of a tired Jim Greer, walking through the doorway to Mike’s office with a travel bag in hand, and beaming Jack walking in behind him. Despite the tools of the day, Jack couldn’t wipe the grin from his face.

He was getting married the next day.

“You guys alright?” He asked, glancing around, surprised to not see Y/N when Alessia was in the vicinity. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, and Mike’s face fell. Alessia walked out of the room, holding back a sob, and suddenly both Greer and Jack were on high alert. Something was wrong. “Mike, where is she?”

“We don’t know.” He responded, dialling up an extension on the phone and waiting a moment. “I need everyone back on the floor. We have an emergency.” Mike finally met Jack’s eye as he said the rolling words, hating he had to be the one to break Jack’s heart the day before his wedding.

“The Ambassador has been abducted.”

Tags: @hiqhways

#jack ryan x reader #jack ryan #tom clancy #dr jack ryan #fanfiction #fanfic #jack ryan fanfiction #john krasinski

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deans-mind-palace · 4 years

Text

Suspirium (Pt.9)

Pairing: Prof!Sam x Reader

Summary: You’re in your last year of your Classics and Mordern Languages studies and you’re majoring in Latin and English. Then you get assigned to a different Latin teacher. And damn, he loves his subject. Too bad that he’s also hot. What is just a childish crush soon develops into something way more complicated.

Word Count: 1,466

Warnings: Tears

Author’s Note: Next chap. We’re about halftime, I think...? Dunno. Doesn’t matter. Have fun. Isn’t Brooks a cutie? :)

Like always, my tag lists for Sam (thereby also for this story) are OPEN

Or you catch up here: Suspirium - Masterlist

"So? Aren't they a great couple?" Francois asked you as you stumbled blindly into the kitchen in tears. You nodded silently, turned to the side and wiped over your eyes once. When you turned around, Francois was already looking at you closely. "What happened, mon cherrie?" he asked and looked worried. You shook your head wordlessly, for your throat was too tight to make a single intelligible sound. "Did one of the guests say something, ma colombe? I will have him thrown out. Sans hésitation." You smiled a little about Francois' care, despite the lump in your throat. Then you took a deep breath. "No, I'm fine. I'm just a bit on edge. I had a busy weekend, that's all." you tried to talk your way out of it. François nodded sympathetically. "Take a break. I'll have this girl stand in for a while. What's her name again?" His French accent came out strongly between words. "Victoria," you helped him. He sighed dramatically. "Exactly. This girl. Victoria." Victoria had been working here for nearly seven months, but Francois had not taken the trouble to remember her name. He called her, a talentless girl and a disgrace to the restaurant trade, after that one incident a few months ago. "I hope she doesn't drop all her plates again. This girl has two left hands. It was a disgrace last time, je vous le dit." Gratefully, you went into the break while Francois, once again in his element, roared Victoria's name through the kitchen, his moustache moving upwards like in a comic strip.

Unfortunately you had to cross the dining room for that and Sam's table was also close to the exit. Eyes closed and through. You almost made it. You had just met the look of Sam's date. She smiled at you with love and you felt sick. You had never asked yourself until today if Sam was in a relationship. You wouldn't have believed he was cheating on a woman, but here you were. And his girlfriend was wonderful. She seemed warm, open, friendly with wit. At once, self-doubt caught up with you. What did he want with you? Why you? You were nothing compared to her. You hadn't even slept with each other and besides, there was a wonderful woman sitting at his table. Wasn't she enough for him? Was he just bored? Was he just looking for distraction? God, how many students had there been before you? It was too beautiful to be true. The best men were always taken. Why wouldn't Sam be in a relationship at that age?

Angry at your own stupidity, you'd bite your lips as you walked by the table. Don't look. Don't look at them. Like a mantra, that sentence swirled through your mind. You were just thinking you'd made it when you heard a chair being pushed back across the floor. "Cassie? Would you excuse me a second? I'll be right back." his deep voice came to your ear. Just a few hours ago he was whispering sensual things in your ear in that deep voice, and now... Now he had a girlfriend. Or even fiancée?! The thought made your stomach turn. You never would have wanted to betray anyone if you knew that... Of course you didn't do any better with Adam, but there was more to it than that.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind you down the hall. You quickened your pace. "Y/N? Y/N, wait, please. I can explain all this. Just wait a moment." You were almost jogging, and you just dodged a dishwasher. "I don't want to hear it, Sam. Leave me alone and go back to your girlfriend. Do what you want with her. I don't care what you do with her. I don't care about you, Sam." Suddenly he grabbed you by the wrist, it was a sure grip, but he didn't hurt you or anything. He pushed you against the wall, and you cursed yourself for a moment because your breathing was faster. "Let me go, Sam." Your eyes glared at him angrily. "But I care about you," he replied calmly. You hated him for being so calm. "I don't want to hear it. Let go of me. I mean it, Sam." you growled.

"Me too," he whispered. Then he filled the distance between you so suddenly that you didn't know what was happening to you. His lips laid down on yours with a sudden fire and passion that you almost felt like you couldn't breathe. You almost got carried away and returned the kiss. Then anger came over you, making you think clearly again. His girlfriend was sitting in the next room and he kissed you in the hallway.

You pushed him away and before Sam knew what was happening to him, your hand landed on his cheek, leaving a crimson print on his skin. He was surprised and didn't say a word, so stunned he was. "How dare you, Sam Winchester? Stay away from me."

You ripped your purse out of your locker and disappeared. If Francois did fire you, you wouldn't last a second in that place with Sam. You were proud of yourself when you managed to walk out the door without looking for him again.

The next morning you thought about skipping Sam's lecture. But you didn't want the exposure and bad grades weren't worth it. You would just go to the office and register for another course. Of course you didn't like that. Sam was one of the best Latin professors ever and many students would do anything to get the place you gave up now. But the thought of sitting in his lecture and pretending that nothing happened seemed unbearable to you. You would change the course and send him an email right afterwards that you unfortunately had to resign your post as teaching assistant for personal reasons.

Again and again you opened a new email on your laptop, but you just couldn't bring yourself to type the words that would seal everything. As often as you opened the laptop, you closed it again without having finished a sentence. You had skipped all your lectures, but at least you had written an email to Sam by the evening.

Good evening Professor Winchester, For personal reasons, I unfortunately have to ask you to pause our meetings indefinitely for the time being. Thank you for your understanding. With regards Y/N L/N

Your lower lip trembled a little and your nose tickled while you suppressed a sob as you sent it. Then you did what you always do when you're not feeling well. You called Brooks. "Is everything all right? I didn't see you at all today. You've been acting weird lately," said Brooks. You sniffed at his words, and he picked up right away. "Can you come over?" you asked and everything felt a little numb. Brooks didn't ask any questions. "I'll be right over."

It only took 15 minutes before your doorbell rang and Brooks walked in the door with a huge pizza from your favorite Italian restaurant and a six-pack of beer. He immediately put everything on the table in your little kitchen and pulled you into his arms without saying anything. Silently the tears ran down your cheeks and stained the fabric of his blue shirt dark. For a while he just held you close to him, then he lowered his chin slowly onto your head. "Whose car do I have to hit with the baseball bat? I still got a pretty good swing from high school." he whispered softly. Even with the tears, you had to laugh. Brooks smiled at you and led you to the couch.

And then you started talking. The dam broke. You told Brooks everything. From the moment you first met, when he spilled his coffee all over you, to the moment you sat together in the café, to the moment you kissed for the first time and he invited you to his place. Finally you finished with your latest encounter in the restaurant.

Brooks remained silent for some time, even after your last words had long faded into silence. Eventually you started eating pizza and drinking beer, but Brooks still didn't say anything about Sam. You watched Birdcage together because the movie just always made you smile and happy because you loved the characters and their quirks so much. Even after that he didn't say anything about Sam. Only very late in the evening, just before you fell asleep on his shoulder, he finally told you what he thought about it.

"You love this man. And you should at least give him a chance to explain himself, or this "maybe" will haunt you for the rest of your life."

When did your friend get so fucking wise?

Wanna get tagged for recent updates on this story? Head to my bio and add yourself to my Sam taglist or drop an ask in.

Sam Tags: @ashthefirefox @rintheemolion @fortheentries @vexhye @traceyaudette @zeppette @thewintersoldierswife @outofnowhere82 @mimzy1994 @myopiamystical

#sam x reader #sam winchester #sam x you #sam x y/n #professor!sam #professor!au #spn #suspirium #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fic #spn fanfic series #spnfamily #spn fandom #spn fanfiction #supernatural fandom #supernatural cast

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softspiderling · 5 years

Text

swanky fortune - part nine | t.h.

Summary: Tom almost made you forget the downsides of spending time with a famous movie star, but then again, it wasn’t really his job to remind you of them

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Mad Love by Mabel

Author’s Note: helloooo I literally was procrastinating writing this chapter even tho I wrote a third of it right after I posted part eight I’m a desaster

Warnings: a lot of cursing and slightly steamy scene I guess? lol idk

Word Count: 4,3k

Masterlist

Tom pressed on the call button before he put his phone to his ear, patiently waiting as it rang. It was still fairly early in the morning and he was sure that you were still asleep, so he climbed back in bed after having brushed his teeth not wanting to wake you too soon.

The same couldn’t be said about his best mate, though.

“You better have a good reason for calling me this early,” Harrison groaned when he picked up the phone and Tom grinned.

“Good morning to you too, Haz. Late night?”

“Harry and Tuwaine dragged me out clubbing again and we didn’t come home until three, so yeah,” he sighed through the phone. “Don’t tell me you’re just calling me to ask me what we were up to last night.”

Tom turned in his bed and looked at the different framed photos you had on your desk. You had insisted on sleeping in Luisa’s bedroom and let him have yours the night before. It was odd to see your room without you in it, but he felt like he got to know you even more with every detail he discovered in your bedroom. It wasn’t like he was snooping around, but the way you decorated your walls or what kind of things you had on your desk really said a lot about a person.

“Uh no, I was actually calling to tell you about my own night.”

“OH!” Harrison sounded much more awake now and Tom could picture him sitting up in his bed to be fully aware.

“Definitely tell me about your night. How’s Y/N? Did she like your surprise?”

“She’s great,” Tom answered with a smile on his face and Harrison hummed. It was a brief answer and definitely not enough details, but Harrison knew his best friend to know what this meant.

“I see. Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Uh we went out for drinks and I met her friends, who were really nice by the way and uh, yeah. Oh, and we kissed.” He mentioned nonchalantly and with a grin he heard Harrison splutter.

“You did?! You div, why didn’t you lead with that? That’s so great to hear! How was it?”

Tom laid back on his back and stared at the ceiling, his cheeks pink when he thought of the kiss from last night.

“It was really good Haz. I just couldn’t help myself- she was wearing my leather jacket and her cheeks were red from all the beer we’ve had and then, ugh. There’s just something about her.”

“You really like her a lot, huh?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Does that mean you’re together now? You know, officially?”

Tom hesitated, biting on his lip.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. We haven’t really spoken about it.”

Harrison groaned and Tom winced.

“Mate, this is basically just the same that happened the last time you two kissed. You have to talk to her about this. I mean, what even are the two of you?”

Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know, Harrison. I’ll talk to her today, I swear.”

“You should. It’ll help,” Harrison promised, before he let out a loud yawn.

“Alright I’ll let you get back to sleep. I think Y/N’s up now, so I have to get up,” Tom said into his phone and pushed the blanket to the side as he sat up.

“Okay then. Let me know how that talk goes, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Haz. Love you, mate.”

“Love you too Tommy,” Harrison said before he hung up.

Tom shut his phone off before he ran a hand over his face with a groan, stilling when he heard a knock on the door.

“Tom you up?” you asked, your voice muffled through the closed door.

He swung his legs out of the bed and opened the door with a breathless smile.

“Morning love!” he greeted you brightly and he could tell that you needed a second to avert your eyes from his naked chest, a hint of pink on your cheeks.

“Morning.”

Tom smirked and reached out to stroke over your cheek gently. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

Scoffing, you flipped him off and headed to the kitchen, with Tom trudging behind you, tugging a t shirt over his head.

“Do you want coffee or tea?” you asked as you headed over to your coffee machine to get it started, glancing at his direction when he grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet.

What the fuck was he doing feeling so comfortable in your kitchen already? Then again, he did spend god knows how long in your kitchen cooking for you. It made sense that he got familiar with all your cupboards and shelves.

“Coffee,” he replied, with a teasing grin. “I only drink English tea, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and turned the coffee machine on, turning around to reply to him, when he caged you in with his arms, placing the mugs on the counter on either side of you. The goosebumps on your neck started spreading to your arms when he swooped down to kiss you, his hands holding your cheek gently.

Though caught by surprise, you reciprocated the kiss with a soft sigh, your hands snaking around his neck to pull him closer. Tom quickly got the hint and it wasn’t long until he hoisted you up on the counter, his mouth still working yours eagerly as he licked into your mouth with his tongue, pressing his body closer against yours.

Your toes curled at all the sensations you were feeling at the same time and you felt a shudder run down your spine, before you pulled away from him, your mouths separating with a smacking sound. Turning to the side to push the mugs towards the coffee machine, you knew he was staring at you because you could feel the blush creeping up your neck.

Regaining your composure, you turned back to face him and Tom was grinning fondly at you.

Dork.

“Stop staring at me,” you demanded and he poked your nose with his finger before he moved to pour your coffee mugs, a smug grin still clearly visible on his face.

“So,” he started, handing you your coffee while preparing his own. “What’s on the agenda today?”

You pursed your lips, stirring milk and sugar into your coffee. “I was thinking of going to lunch at a lovely Italian restaurant I know and then I really hope that you brought some sunglasses because I’m going to show you around the city, because the weather is amazing.”

Tom glanced out the window with his coffee mug on his lips, humming in agreement. “Sounds like a good plan. Do you think you can show me your university?”

“Why would you want to see my university?”

“I just want to see how you spend your days and I guess I like how different it is compared to my life,” he shrugged and you eyed him in amusement before nodding, thrumming your fingertips on the counter.

“Yeah okay, why not. It’s probably not going to be that crowded either.”

You suddenly were reminded of the last time you almost got crushed by screaming fans and paparazzi and shook your head out before jumping down from the counter.

“Breakfast?”

“Breakfast.”

The two of you didn’t fumble long with breakfast, eager to spend the sunny day outside and with stomachs filled with some scrambled eggs and toast, you walked out in the warm summer air, the sun shining brightly on your naked skin.

Even though it hasn’t been 24 hours since your last (admittedly very awkward) outing, it still felt like a lot has changed between the two of you even without having to talk about it. That was why it was almost an instinct for you to reach out to lace your hand with Tom’s and the smile that resulted from that made it even better.

Your first stop was campus and taking the subway, which was slightly more crowded than you thought it would be, had Tom hide his face in the crook of your neck, with his cap backwards on his head and your hand resting lazily over his shoulder.

A few looks from passing people were shot in your direction but it was more of a disapproving of the PDA you were showcasing than a sign of recognizing a famous actor walking among them. But you couldn’t say that you cared, honestly. You were too busy giggling at his behavior, your skin warm from the sun and from his warm breath that was fanning out on your collarbone.

Campus was luckily not that busy. There was the occasional student rushing through campus but you knew from your own experience that they were far too preoccupied with their own thoughts and worries to notice their surroundings.

“So the library is over there and the cafeteria is in the building next to it,” you told Tom, walking backwards so you could look at him while you talked.

“I mostly spend my time in the library to do research or to study, like basically every other student and yeah. Lecture halls are over there and this is our beautiful campus,” you concluded with a dramatic flourish of your arms.

“Have you ever thought about a career in tour guiding?”

Tom was wearing a teasing smile and you tsked when you fell back into step with him. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?”

“I do actually, yeah. Didn’t you know that my dad is a comedian?”

Lunch was equally amazing. For the first time since you’ve known Tom, he was taking advantage of his stardom and asked for a private little corner table at the restaurant, which the staff were happy to give to you.

“Oh my god I’m so full,” Tom groaned, looking down at his half-eaten pizza. You shrugged with your shoulders, putting your napkin down on your empty plate.

“I told you not to order a whole pizza. Their whole concept is huge pizzas, what made you think you’re any different from the rest of their customers?” you chastised him and his eyes darkened, the crease between his eyes deepening.

“I always finish my food, how was I supposed to know that their pizzas are huge?”

“Because I told you and so did the waitress, Tom.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled and flagged down the waitress to wrap up the pizza to take home. You and the waitress exchanged knowing looks when she picked up your plates, with Tom narrowing his eyes at you while he put his wallet on the table.

“Nuh-uh!” you protested and snatched his wallet off the table before he had time to react. “You’re not paying for lunch.”

Tom whined, holding his hand out to demand his wallet back from you. “Y/N! Give me back my wallet!” You shook your head and dropped his wallet into your purse, smiling at the waitress when she handed you the bill.

“Just let me pay for god’s sake, Tom and stop whining about it.”

“Thank you and have a nice day!” the waitress said when you paid the bill, clearing the rest of the table while you and Tom bid your good byes, leaving the restaurant.

“That was so rude of you,” he told you and you frowned, glancing at him.

“Why was that rude? 20% tip was more than enough.”

He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer as you walked on the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind.

“I was talking about you taking my wallet when I was offering to pay for lunch, dummy.”

Pleased, you shrugged with your shoulders and glanced up at him with a smile. “Just because you’re loaded doesn’t mean I’m going to let you pay for everything, we’re in the 21st century.”

You could see him smirk out of the corner of your eye and smiled to yourself, leaning your head on his arm. The rest of the day was spent with showing Tom around the city you’ve grown to love since you’ve moved here for university. It wasn’t the biggest city, but it had some beautiful spots and was definitely charming. The good weather made a lot of people spend their days in the park or getting ice cream, but nevertheless you two managed to keep yourselves on the down-low.

After stopping at food truck for a quick dinner, you made your way back to your apartment. It wasn’t that late yet, but all the walking and the sun constantly shining down on your made you weary and tired.

“How was that petty of me?”

“I literally saw you grinning so hard when the old man told that woman off for standing directly in front of the subway door when it opened.”

Laughing, you pushed open the door of your apartment building, looking back at him, your eyes crinkling. “I hate it when people do that, so the woman had that coming.”

“That is literally the definition of petty, love.”

Heading up the stairs, you two continued squabbling and it felt good to be so carefree and light, especially because Tom made you feel like you were the only person left on the world. Throughout the day he had kept all his attention on you. You were pretty sure that he never even glanced at his phone for more than the five seconds he needed to take a picture. You wished for every day to be like this one.

But unfortunately, it couldn’t be.

And you were reminded of that fact in form of a well-dressed man standing in front of your apartment door, the sound of your laughter pulling his attention away from his phone to the two of you. Puzzled, you looked at him and Tom stopped in his tracks when he came up the stairs behind you.

“Jeff, what are you doing here?”

Jeff, you’ve heard that name before.

“You weren’t picking up your phone.”

“Yeah, because I’m not working right now,” Tom ground out and it dawned on you. Jeff, his agent. The same agent who he had an argument with before you left Los Angeles.

The man who was standing front of your door because Tom wasn’t answering his phone.

“Doesn’t mean you can ignore my calls Tom.”

Both men seemed annoyed and you eyed them carefully, pulling the key out of your purse. “Uhm, do you maybe want to come inside? I don’t think you want to talk about this where my neighbors could hear you, do you?”

“No, it’s fine, Y/N-“

“That would be perfect, thank you.” Jeff interrupted Tom and you pressed your lips together before unlocking the door, letting the two men step inside before closing the door.

“Uh, you can go into the living room,” you offered awkwardly and Jeff nodded curtly, waltzing through the doorway like he owned it.

Tom furrowed his brows when he looked at you, reaching out to squeeze your arm gently. “I am really sorry about this Y/N, I didn’t know that he was going to come here, honestly I don’t even know how he knew that I was here in the first place. But he’ll leave shortly, okay?”

You gave him a tight smile and nodded, following him to the living room where Jeff was sitting at the living room.

“Alright Jeff, get it out with,” Tom sighed, motioning for you to sit before he sat down next to you.

Jeff raised an eyebrow at you. “You think it’s appropriate for her to stay for the conversation?”

Wow.

“I can leave,” you said, standing up but Tom grabbed your hand, looking at you with pleading eyes, so you sat back down, folding your hands on the table.

“Her name is Y/N. And I’m not letting you scare her off in her own home,” he told his manager and Jeff leaned back in his chair, shrugging.

“Fine with me. I think Y/N is distracting you from your work and it’s not good.”

You blanched at his words and even though Jeff didn’t seem to like having you here for the conversation, it was certainly looking he was taking advantage of your presence.

“How is she distracting me when I’m not even working right now?” Tom asked, taking the cap off his head and tossing it on the table. There was an edge to his voice and you already knew at this point that this conversation was not going to be pleasant.

“You know that you’re always working, Tom. Right now you should be promoting Far From Home and urging your fans to be going to the theater to watch the film instead of strolling around the city,” Jeff spoke sharply, sending an icy look in your direction.

Holding your gaze as he stared you down, you didn’t even blink until he averted his eyes back to Tom. It wasn’t hard to tell that Jeff wasn’t overly fond of you.

“I did everything SONY has told me to do and more. You know I like staying close to my friends, have you even seen my Instagram posts?”

Jeff scoffed and opened the folder he was keeping under his arm. “I mean more like interviews and photoshoots with magazines. Do you even know how many people want you on their cover? This is your prime and you should take advantage of that.” He pointed at different high fashion brand names that were listed in his folder, seeming excited, but Tom only pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We already talked about this,” he groaned in annoyance. “Why do you keep bringing this up when you know that it’s my decision to make and that I don’t want to do it?”

Snapping the folder shut again, Jeff’s jaw ticked when he lifted his gaze to look at Tom before glancing at you. “You working another promotional method then?”

You felt uneasy, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

“I am not sure if it’s working, though.”

“What are you talking about?” Tom asked, confusion written across his face.

Jeff pointed at you. “I think fans like Zendaya better than Y/N so maybe you should get back to your colleague.”

“Excuse me?” You were appalled at the accusation and your cheeks tinted red, embarrassed, while Tom sported a similar redness to his face, though he wasn’t exactly flustered.

“Are you fucking serious right now Jeff?”

Even though you knew that Tom’s anger wasn’t directed at you, you still flinched his tone, but he quickly reached out to take your hand in his to calm you, and probably also yourself down, while his eyes were trained on his agent.

“Not only did you come here unannounced but now you’re also insulting Y/N, Zendaya and me at the same time? Even though she was so nice to invite you into her home instead of turning you away like she should have?”

“Tom-“ Jeff started, but Tom shook his head, cutting him off.

“No, Jeff, now it’s time for you to listen. You know how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me but I am an adult and I can make my own decisions. And just because I owe a lot to you doesn’t mean you can go around acting like I’m working for you when it’s actually the other way around. The only reason why I’m not firing you right this second is that my mum actually went through a lot to hire you as my agent, so we’ll talk about this after my break,” Tom finished, standing up so quickly the chair almost toppled over hadn’t you grabbed it just in time.

Jeff was staring at Tom with wide eyes and even though he was quivering a bit, he got up as well, leaving without another word while Tom held the door open for him. Too bad Jeff didn’t take the tension with him when he left, because you didn’t dare to say a word when Tom returned to the living room, looking exhausted and tired.

“I’ll just head to bed if you don’t mind,” he said timidly and you nodded quickly.

“Yeah, of course, uh, you can go ahead and use the bathroom first.”

Tom gave you a small smile and trudged into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Taking a few deep breaths to compose yourself, you went to get changed. As you pulled your pajamas over your head, you heard the bathroom door open followed by footsteps, before another door shut close faintly. You peeked into the dark hallway and you could see a strip of light coming out below the door of your bedroom, before it flickered out.

Your heart was heavy at the sight, and after a quick visit to the bathroom, you climbed into Luisa’s bed, still shaken up about what just happened. Admittedly, Jeff was out of line coming at Tom and you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you were really distracting Tom from his work, because that was the least thing you wanted to do. You tried to fall asleep, but your mind kept wandering back to Jeff and all the thing’s he’s said.

Minutes, maybe even hours passed.

Tossing around in the bed, unable to sleep, you glanced at the clock, sighing at the time it was showing. The blankets pushed back and legs swung of bed, you got up. Maybe a glass of milk would help.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen with the light from your phone guiding you, you poured yourself a glass of milk before drinking it quickly, sighing with the empty glass in your hand. Putting the milk back into the fridge, you returned to Luisa’s bedroom when you heard a clatter from within your own bedroom.

With narrowed eyebrows, you stopped in front of the door and knocked lightly, waiting for a few seconds before Tom opened the door for you.

He looked tired and his hair was messy, but he didn’t look like you had just pulled him out of a good night’s sleep.

“You okay?”

Tom nodded and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. “Yeah, I just can’t sleep. Sorry if I woke you.”

You could tell that he was still aggravated and it didn’t take mind reading for you to know that it was about Jeff.

“You didn’t wake me. Can’t sleep either,” you told him and gave him a small smile, before rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

“Uhm, I’ll let you get back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

You gave him a small wave and walked back to your bedroom.

“Y/N, wait,” Tom called out and you turned to him. “Do you, uh- Would you maybe like to sleep with me?”

He cringed, his cheeks pinking.

“I mean, in your bed. Share, I mean.”

Smiling dumbly, you nodded a yes and brushed past him into your bedroom, while he closed the door behind you. You quickly climbed into the bed and under the covers, leaving plenty of space on the other side of the bed for Tom.

Laying pin-straight on the mattress, a far cry from the usual starfish you usually did, and you let out a breath when he slipped beneath the blankets on the other side of the bed. A couple of minutes passed while you stared at the ceiling and you weren’t sure if Tom had already fallen asleep, but you inched your hand in his direction anyway.

It slowly crept across the mattress until your fingers grazed his hand and you stilled, holding your breath. You finally exhaled when he intertwined his fingers with yours and a smile spread on your face, before you rolled over to your side, just to see him mere inches away from your nose.

“Hi,” you whispered and he smiled at you, reaching out to stroke the hair out of your face.

“Hi,” he mumbled back, staring at you with soft eyes before he spoke up again.

“I am sorry about Jeff. He was out of line and he never should have come here. I’ll deal with him as soon as I get back to work, I promise.”

Frowning, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“You don’t have to apologize on his behalf, Tom.”

The crinkles in his forehead were deep and it was clear to you that he might be even more upset about his agent’s behavior towards you than you were.

“Yes I do, he’s my agent and if it weren’t for me, he never would have been so rude to you.” He said quietly and scooted closer to him, leaning your forehead against his.

“Jeff is his own person and he makes his own decisions, just like you are your own person, remember? He made his decision to be rude so it’s him who should apologize to me, not you. You didn’t do anything wrong, you have to understand that,” you told him and he smiled at you, placing a soft kiss on your nose.

His voice was quiet, but still gentle when he said: “Thank you Y/N.”

“’course,” you whispered, snuggling closer to him and he wrapped his arms around you, as the two of you slowly fell into a deep slumber in each other’s arms.

There was a certain weight around your shoulders when you woke up slowly, your nose pressed against something warm. Your eyes fluttered open when you realized your face was smushed into Tom’s chest and with a dopey smile, you closed your eyes again. You weren’t sure what it was that woke you, when a phone pinged again and then again and again. It sounded like it was coming from both sides of the room.

“Tom it’s your phone,” you grumbled and he groaned, rolling over to check his phone while you checked yours.

It was a bunch of messages from all of your friends and a few from the twins and Harrison, and what seemed like a thousand of new instagram followers, and as you opened Luisa’s text, you heard Tom mutter a quiet:

“Oh fuck.”

Luisa: GIRL YOU’RE IN THE TABLOIDS????

Luisa: [picture attached] MASKS OFF! Tom Holland swings out of London to meet his real-life Mary Jane and it’s not Zendaya! Swipe up to read more!

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jeong-uwu · 4 years

Text

Friends to Lovers ~ Huang Renjun

a/n: What even is a platonic friendship????? and also severely unedited

genre: bulletpoint-scenarios, teeth-rotting fluff, maybe a teeny bit suggestive, gender-neutral reader<3

warnings: none

Word count: 2,3k

an anchor

that’s what you would call renjun

an anchor that kept you grounded when life got to rough

he was your childhood friend

I know that renjun always is a childhood friend in fics, but he just fits that concept so well, okayy??

you’d known each other since you were wearing diapers

renjun was two years your senior

and when it came to you, he had often taken an older brother-role

he’d always make sure that you ate enough, got enough sleep, and as you got older he’d be more and more protective over you

he made sure that you had good friends that treated you right

and if anyone wanted to date you, they had to go through him first

although renjun was a quiet boy, he was rather popular among the girls

his prince-like looks and calm demeanor combined with his protectiveness when it came to the people he cared for made both boys and girls swoon

his friends were also really popular

they were seven boys including renjun

as a freshman, the university-life was a new experience to you

luckily, you were attending the same university as renjun, you even had similar majors (you were a pychology-major whilst he majored in sociology), meaning that you mostly had classes in the same part of the campus.

he was your saviour, litteraly

he showed up at your dorms every day to walk with you and make sure you didn’t miss your classes

he’d also always invite you to eat lunch with him and his friends, an invitation you usually accepted

it was lovely to have someone like renjun to watch out for you

but let’s be real

he could be a bit too overbearing

if someone he had a bad feeling about, which were practically everyone, tried to approach you, he’d be super clingy and keep them away from you

like the lengths he’d go to would suprise you

whenever someone were remotely interested he would practically glue himself to your side

which was why you were so suprised when you got a text from your friend telling that she had, with renjun’s blessing, set you up on a blind date

you looked over at said boy who was seated beside you

nudging his shoulder, you gave him a pointed look

“are you sure about this?”

his shoulders slumped and he let out a huff

you knew he understood what you were talking about

“I know that I’ve been somewhat overprotective. And, I know that you’re old enough to date, even if I don’t like it”

He sighed dramatically

“I have realized that it is time to let my child go”

you snorted at his antics, making him pout before turning back to his food

leaning onto his shoulder, you wrapped an arm around his waist

he tensed under your touch, but you just brushed it off

“thak you injunnie, it really means a lot to me”

he just huffed in response, paying more attention to Chenle and Jisung who was in the process of seeing just how many plastic-straws they could fit up Donghyuck’s nose, than your conversation

the day of your blind-date was quickly approaching, and unfortunately, so was your anxiety

your friend would constantly assure you that it was going to go amazing, and that you shouldn’t worry too much

but heheh

you did worry

big time

even though you were too embarassed to say it out loud, this was your first date ever

and that made this whole thing even more nerve-wracking

the day of the date you had your friend come over and you spent several hours just picking out clothes and making sure that you were looking your best

when you were finally pleased with your appearance she walked you to the door

the whole way from the bathroom she tried to calm your raging nerves, assuring you that the person you were meeting was lovely, and that you’d love them

and then, off you went

walking to a nearby italian restaurant, where you were supposed to meet

whoooooo

boi were you ready to puke from nervousness

arriving at the restaurant you decided to wait outside

it was in the middle of August, so the weather was still pretty warm, and you’d rather not enter the restaurant alone

you looked at your watch

[ 6.57 P.M ]

it was still three minutes until you were to meet your mysterious date

and you could hardly stand still, thousands of images of how they might look floating through your mind.

[ 7.12 P.M ]

you were starting to become a bit anxious

brushing it off you told yourself that they were just running a it late, and that they’d be there soon

you pulled your jacket closer

carefully scanning the people passing by you

hoping to find someone moving in your direction

[ 7.34 P.M ]

By now it was obvious that your date wasn’t coming

and you were on the verge of tears

you quickly started making your way back to the dorms

praying to god that no one had seen you standing alone outside the restaurant for thirty minutes

ths was just your luck

imagine being stood up on your first date

what a catastrophy

you couldn’t help all the thoughts flooding your mind

maybe you weren’t pretty enough, maybe your height was wrong or maybe it was your personality?

but then again

how would they know that?

they didn’t even bother to show up

as soon as you got to your room your eyes finally started to water, breaking through the invisible barrier you had set up

with tears flowing freely, you flopped onto your bed

you immediatedly knew who to call

renjun

he picked up almost instantly, his smiling face filled the small screen

“hey! are you back already? wait... y/n, wha- why are you crying, what happened?!”

that only made more tears enter your vision as violent sobs wrecked through your body

“he... I- I got stood u-up”

renjun’s expression turned hard at your words

“that little-”

his words got cut off by another one of your sobs, and he turned his attention back to you

“hey, y/n, I know you, and i know for a fact that you’re blaming yourself right now”

All he wanted to do was to come over and hold you and tell you how amazing you are and make sure that you know that it wasn’t your fault that you’r date didn’t show up

“don’t you dare think that this is your fault in any way. It is Not.”

you looked up from your pillow at his voice

although his words were soft, you could sense an undertone of anger

“p-please don’t... don’t be ma-ad at me, please”

renjun’s expression softened

“hey, look at me. I’m not mad at you, okay?”

he took a shaky breath

“Never you”

you smiled sadly at him

“thank you, I- I don’t know what... what I would do without y-you”

silence

“hey, y/n..”

“hm?”

“don’t cry, please”

he hesitated

“also, I, uh, I think I might be in love with you”

your eyes widened at his words

so did his, when he realized what he had said

“renjun, I’m-”

“oh god, I’m so sorry y/n, I really didn’t mean to say that, I- I think I have to go now”

the phone-call ended with you feeling more troubled than you were in the beginning

you fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted by the days’ events

meanwhile rejun was absolutely FREAKING OUT

immediately he was like

Oh No

he had known you since you were born, and he definetly felt that he stepped out of line by telling you how he felt

he knew he’d proabably say it sometime, but he was not prepared to let you know now

his timing was also especially bad, considering your situation

he was beating himself up about the situation

big time

a little part of him couldn’t help but feel relieved though

he had finally said it

even though he hadn’t given you any time to actually respond

and that he knew that the chances of you reciprocating his feelings were slim

he was happy

he wasn’t sure when he first had realized that you meant so much to him

but, he had known it for a while

just passively sitting on the sideline and watching others flirt with you throughout all of high-school had almost droven him insane

but he knew that you saw him as an older-brother figure, and therefore he didn’t make any moves

at least not until now

the next morning, opening the door to your room, you felt a pang in your heart

of course renjun wasn’t there

poor baby was too embarassed to talk to you

it didn’t come as a shock after yesterday’s events, but it still kinda stung

walking to your first class you were determined to hunt him down at some point

you needed him to help clear up your mind

but boi, did you underestimate him

he’d even skipped a class because you were waiting outside the lecture-hall

like he tried his absolute best to avoid you

every time you’d gotten eye-contact with him, he’d turn bright red and scurry off in the opposite direction

throughout the day it became evident that he had told jeno about your situation

he’d send you knowing looks whenever renjun changed directions just to not run into you in the hallway

during the lunch you went over to the usual tabe where you’d sit with the rest of the boys

it didn’t come as a suprise that renjun mumbled some lame excuse about going to the toilet when sat down in your usual spot beside him

much to the others suprise

jeno finally pulled you aside

“hey, y/n, renjun has only told me a little bit of what happened between you, but I really thin that you should talk to him”

you let out a defeated sigh

“I know, I’ve been trying to get a hold of him all day, but he just keeps avoiding me”

your shoulders slumped and you fumbled with the sleeve of your jacket

“I’ve seen that, I’ll try talk to him though, maybe I can get him to realize that he’s being stupid”

you smiled, although it didn’t quite reach your eyes

“thanks man, you’re an angel”

he threw you a wink before turning back to the table

just in time to see jaemin choke on his coffee that hyuck had destroyed with salt

it wasn’t until your last period that you managed to hunt renjun down

due to a headache, your criminology-professor had decided to let your class go early

running toward his’s social movements-class

you made it just in time to see him walk out of the lecture-hall

you knew he hadn’t seen you yet, as he was standing still, peacefully talking to jeno

so you took your chace

renjun’s eyes widened as he felt your familiar grip on his wrist

“Hey, jeno, I hope you don’t mind me borrowing renjun for a moment”

as you dragged him away, jeno’s laugh ecchoed behind you

you could feel that renjun had given up

he just silently followed you to the school’s roof

looking like a puppy that was about to get scolded

when you got to your destination your whipped around to face said puppy

his gaze was uncertain as he looked up to meet your eyes

“what do you think you’re doing???”

your question obviously caught him off guard as he started fumbling with the hem of his shirt

instead of looking at you he’s just spewing out apologies

and you’re just there like.. boi??

stepping closer, your hands find their way to his cheeks, softly cupping them

the movement startled him, and he looked at you with big eyes, moving between your mouth and your own eyes

he couldn’t even remember the last time you were this close to him

you slowly brought your face closer to his

pressing a feather-light kiss on his lips

OMG OMG OMG

and renjun’s mind just completely shuts down

the feeling of your body pressed to him, your lips on his

renjun thinks he might burst with happiness

when you pull back he’s amost unable to talk like

“what?? just?? happened????”

and you can’t hide the blush dusting your cheeks

“I... uh.. Ikindalikeyoutoo”

the words are rushed, as you just want to get it out as fast as possible

and judging by the shit-eating grin that was forming on renjun’s face, you know that he heard exactly what you said

but this lil’ rascal just goes

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, could you repeat it?”

by now your face was the attractive colour of a fire-engine and you tried to hide it in your hands

renjun smiled fondly at your embarassed form, feeling as if he was flying

pulling your hands away from your face, he dipped his head down to make eye-contact with you

you looked up to see him pouting at you

“you don’t get to hide your beautiful face now that I can finally admire it without having worry about being caught”

you almost choked on your salvia at the statement, and he smirked

omg, he smirked - is that allowed???

he let his hands travel from your hands to your waist, trapping you in his embrace

your hands instinctively moved to his neck, tugging softly at his hair

the feeling of your hands against his neck making him shiver, mind going into a frenzy over the closeness of your bodies

he hummed softly

obviously enjoying th feeling of your hands playing with his hair

after a while of just enjoying the moment, adoring your face and reveling in the feeling of finally being able to embrace you

he eyed your lips as he whispered

“I don’t think you know how long I’ve waited to do this”

and he kissed you again

#huang renjun #renjun #nct dream #nct scenario #nct scenarios #nct college au #nct au #nct #nct renjun #fluff #fanfic #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #bullet points #neowritingsnet #neowritingsnetwork

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grisdidthis · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER ONE: FIRST SIGHT

AKA, blessed fucknuggets, why do these fools feel the need to put themselves through high school, my sources tell me that the US school system isn’t all that to begin with, what gives?

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

(Warning: this got long. Looooong. Hence, cut, so that I don’t murder your dash like Edward doesn’t murder Bella in this chapter.)

Welcome to the first entry of a live-read that no one asked for, in which I’ll go through the first chapter of Midnight Sun, i.e. a retelling of the first Twilight book from Edward Cullen’s POV. Not to be confused with Grey, a retelling of the first volume of a Twilight fanfic with the serial numbers filed off, or the Life and Death edition, a retelling of the first Twilight book in which Bella Swan is genderbent into a dude called Beau, who utters the immortal line “I knew I must look like a gorilla on a greyhound.” Which still tickles my humerus to this day.

I’ve waited for this novel to drop so long that at some point I’d stopped waiting. If by some freaky turn of chance you stumbled on this without knowing about the hoopla surrounding the publication, here’s a Wikipedia link. The gist is that the first few chapters of the WIP got leaked, the author got upset, the book got shelved until ??? and no further information about it was forthcoming until a while ago, when out of the blue arrive the news that it’s getting released in August.

My first thought was “Oh, yay, something actually NICE is happening this year!”

My second thought was “Please let it be good, so that I can laugh outrageously at [name redacted] for mocking my enjoyment of this series!” And. Look. I know what’s said about Twilight with regards to its literary merit and Stephenie Meyer’s abilities as a writer. A lot of it is admittedly accurate. However, the metrics by which I measure the value of a book are a) did it entertain me? and b) did I gain anything by having read it? And yeah, those are personal and subjective items, but objectivity is a lie, Jesus enjoys using toasters to take selfies, and if ten years ago I hadn’t been looking for a place to post my 50k+ epic Renesmee-centric fanfic, I wouldn’t have met the people who are currently my best friends.

Which is to say: I’m too attached to this series to give a fig what color the prose is. Deal.

And yet. Me hoping that Midnight Sun would be good, in a way that people who don’t have my level of emotional investment might acknowledge, wasn’t… that farfetched? Because the last book Meyer released before this one, The Chemist? Is an improvement on all her previous work. A huge improvement! It’s competently written! The characters read like they were intended to be flawed, messy people.

The main romance isn’t the kind of fucked up that Bella and Edward’s is, where you can pen treatises on why they’re omg so unhealthy. It’s the kind of fucked up where five seconds after meeting her love interest, the protagonist drugs him unconscious, kidnaps him, sticks a urinary catheter up his ding dong, straps him to a table and tortures him for information until the guy’s ex-CIA identical twin drops a plane on the barn they’re in and crashes through the ceiling all “HANDS OFF MY BABY BROTHER YOU DISCOUNT MATA HARI!”

Then they all make friends and go on a road trip together because a shady government organization is after them.

That’s not a fucked-up relationship that you write an essay analyzing the fucked-up-ness of. It’s something you stare at, stunned and, if you’re me, torn between thinking “Holy shit, this is so my brand of heroine!!!” and “How much crack was Auntie Steph on when she wrote this?” And it’s beautiful. I want ten more like it. So my hopes for Midnight Sun are tempered by the knowledge that, being a retelling of an established narrative, it can’t go all-out with the batshit. But I’m still optimistic that some part of it will give me that warm “Awww, you’ve come a long way from where we first met, author! Good on you!” feeling.

Now let’s (finally!) get started on the chapter proper.

…oh wait there’s an author’s note.

…uhm. Yeah. My dreams. About those. *fixed stare at faraway bonfire* Actually, let’s not talk about those and just move on to Edward Not Liking High School, thank you. Yeah. That’s good.

Edward Cullen doesn’t like high school. Edward doesn’t like that people think. Edward doesn’t like that the human student body is beside itself with the arrival of some new chick. Edward thinks his adopted siblings are super basic. (Rosalie = shallow, Emmett = simple, Jasper = psycho two seconds away from jumping off his chair and going on a rampage.) We don’t get to hear his utterly unbiased assessment of Alice, because she butts in and starts a one-sided telepathic convo about how Jasper is two seconds away from jumping off his chair and going on a rampage. You know. Normal sibling stuff.

WHY DO YOU PUT YOURSELF THROUGH THIS HASSLE, WHY!

(Let me take this opportunity to share my pet crack theory that Carlisle Cullen is secretly the most twisted, evil vampire in all of vampiredom, and that the sending the young ones to high school bit is something he does solely because he gets his evil fix by feasting on the emotional toil it inflicts on them. Also why he’s a doctor; he can ignore the call of blood, because being surrounded by the pain of patients and their loved ones already keeps him fed. I mean. He was chilling with the Volturi way back when, and Aro gives off a handsy vibe. No way he didn’t get his mind read in every which way, and if that happened - if he were reaaaalllyyyyy that nice, why would he still ping them as a threat of any kind?)

(This has holes in it, I know. And clashes with my other pet crack theory, which posits that the whole immortal child/Let’s Catch Them All: Cullen Edition was in fact the fallout of a Very Bad Italian Breakup, with Aro being the pissy ex who wants sole custody of the kids.)

Whatever. It still makes more sense than them going through “the inert state between active periods” when. My dudes! College is right there. Some places you can even sit out 90% of lectures and still get your diploma if you don’t feel like faking one, so Jasper would be all set! And you can pick different subjects! Diversify! Why must it always be med school rehashes, there are other worthy professions! And whole fields that are useless for getting-a-job purposes, but still interesting and enriching for those who have the luxury to pursue them. Let Emmett do Viking Studies, for fuck’s sake!

This amuses me much more than it rightfully should. I’m a child.

The Cullen clan tries to pep talk Jasper into not getting his murder on. Jasper is like OMG WILL YOU GUYS LAY OFF, while Edward is busy doing his judgy Edward thing and thinking to himself that Jasper should accept his limitations, that it’s a bad idea to have him at school at all, blah blah bleh, and you know what, I’m with you there, Ed.

Although we all know that this is just setup for the irony that will ensue as soon as Bella the Delicious klutzes her way into his line of smell.

Oh yah! Enter Bella. Edward can’t hear her thoughts. Jessica Stanley is a b-word. Edward wonders whether not being able to butt into the new girl’s head may be a red flag for vampire Alzheimer. Biology class next! The teacher is a man “of no more than average intellect” and, lord. It’s lucky that Edward is the mind reader in the family, because imagine if it were one of the others and they had to put up with listening to him bitch about the world at large, nonstop, at all hours of the day. And night, since these guys don’t sleep. Angela Webber is the only soul in the whole school whose thoughts have the Edward Cullen seal of approval. I feel sorry for her. I also feel this weird sense of hey, this all seems familiar in senses other than being a retelling, have I been here before?

Wait.

WAAAIIIIIITEEEEE.

*googles for the old version*

*runs first chapters through copyleaks*

*kubrick stare* MEYER, YOU LAZY SO AND SO, HOW COULD YOU!

*slams head on desk*

Well. At least I know what I’m in for. HONESTLY! It’s been. It’s been THIS MANY YEARS since the leaked version appeared, and that was a first draft, how in the… she’s way better than this, now! Was this novel produced in a terminal state of $#%CARING#NOT?&FOUND?! Is half of it just going to be the same old thing with a thin veneer of polish? I’m.

*sigh* You know what, I’m okay. We’re just going to call this first part a re-read. It’s been ten years, so I remember not a whole lot of the specifics, so at least I won’t be bored. BUT COME CHAPTER 13 I EXPECT TO BE SWEPT OFF MY FEET, DO YOU HEAR ME?!

Biology. Bella walks in right past a fan and gives Edward a throbbing throat boner. How awkward. Then she goes and sits right next to him and saucily tosses her hair around like he’s not actively plotting her murder and that of the rest of the class. The cheek of the thing!

Fortunately, Bella’s tasty ass is momentarily saved by a stiff breeze.

…I think we may have found the solution to Jasper’s control issues. The Cullens just need to start carrying air freshener around and spray the murder out of him every time he starts looking peckish. It would look weird if anyone else did it, but since they’re all pretty and rich, it’s more likely that the trend will catch on and cause Febreze sales to skyrocket.

Anyway. We’re not done victim-blaming Bella for…

…at least another couple of pages, but at least Edward gets his head out of his ass long enough to recall that hey, vampire! Oxygen is optional! But he still spends another lot of words grumbling about what a hassle it is to be forced to hold his breath in order to dampen his murderous urges. This is why you are a virgin, Edward. No, I don’t mean the planning the assassination a classmate’s assassination, plenty of serial killers still manage to get laid heaps, consensually, even! It’s the fact that you’re this much of a buzzkill that’s the issue.

Live, laugh, love, you dumbass disco ball!

Yep, he’s still on about how he’s going to kill her, totes kill her, he feral dangerous vampire, rawr. The miracle of adequate indoor airflow only got him to railroad a quartet of brain cells into thinking up smarter ways of snuffing Bella out. Now he wants to lure her to the forest. No, he’s going to kill her at home! He hates her! No, he hates himself and is projecting!

So he flees to his car, plays some calming music, breathes in and out and thinks about his family and how disappointed they’d be in him if he were to help himself to a Swan shake. Well, I’m nobody to shit talk anyone’s self-soothing routine. I’d probably throw in a truck of food + a bath, but he’s had 100+ years to figure out what coping mechanisms work for him, so let’s just let him do his-

Edward.

EDWARD.

…do you actually think this is an appropriate time to start a ginger-off with some random desk lady? Yes, we know you’re the One True Redhead To Rule Them All. (Though Kvothe from Name of the Wind may beg to differ, and I don’t know who would win that fight.) I mean, really? You pull this crap when you just barely talked yourself out of a murder? And then you call her eyes flat! What!

One of my favorite comic book series, Y the Last Man, features a scene where two characters discuss what it is that truly binds people together. One of them presents the argument that stronger bonds are formed not by shared love, but by shared hates. By which they mean not a kiss-kiss-slap-slap, enemies-to-lovers relationship dynamic, but like… you, being someone who really hates coleslaw, having a partner who likewise hates coleslaw, with whom you can indulge in tireless verbal roastings of coleslaw and who will never get tired of your complaining, because the fire of their loathing burns every bit as hot as yours.

I’ve always felt that this concept resonated with me deeply. And if you apply it to Bella and Edward, by its standards, they have the real deal. Go through the namesake chapter in Twilight-the-book, and you find Bella thinking similarly judgy thoughts, being irked by the same shit that no one normal would bat an eye to, going “Ugh!” and “Gah!” at everything that makes Edward wince internally. So their love will be eternal for sure. Perhaps not in an epic way. They’ll live boringly ever after, until they’re ancient and onion-skinned and lurking at passerby humans through the geraniums on their windowsill, exchanging “Holy crow, I can’t believe she bought a hydrogen engine car just to show off!” / “Awful! She should know that thinning the deer population so that they produce less flatulence is the most sound way of controlling toxic emissions!” And then probably gazing at one another like idiots for an ice age or two.

Edward wants to be moved out of Biology class. Goes back and forth with the desk lady, who obviously wants to tap that, because of course she does. Every hot-blooded woman within spitting distance must crave his alluring icicle, even as he mentally eviscerates every minuscule detail of their appearance.

Except Bella, because she’s soft, translucent, deep-eyed and edible. And, I mean. You can complain all you want about “you’re different from anyone else I’ve ever met, you’re SPECIAL, better, more beautiful, more everything!” being a dead horse of a trope so old and beaten that by all rights it should have turned to smelly glue, but. That pony is still kicking. And by kicking, I mean selling. And it sells because being made to feel special, even if it’s happening by proxy while you’re immersed into the thoughts of a fictional character, is nice. Readers enjoying that experience and seeking out fiction that provides it shouldn’t be considered so… mock-worthy as I’ve seen it be, in discussion of works that feature the trope prominently.

Which doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t be nicer if Edward’s narration were focused solely on elevating Bella, instead of also viciously kicking down everyone in the vicinity. Man, we get the message, okay? You don’t need to act like you’ve swallowed a Simon Cowell before coming in for school.

I swear, it’s almost a relief when Bella interrupts, heralding the triumphant return of the throat boner. Edward’s thoughts about the people around him are actually LESS gratuitously bitchy when he’s contemplating how to best murder them.

At least this time he is able to extract himself from the situation and flee speedily. (Which… in Biology, what exactly was preventing him from asking for a bathroom break? Or just saying he was feeling poorly and getting the fuck out of there?)

He meets the sibs. Only Alice has any clue of what is going on because visions, and she doesn’t explain anything to the others, who just stand there baffled while Edward decides to get his shiny ass in his shiny Volvo and run off to Alaska. Probably because it would ruin the serious mood of the scene if she told them and Jasper started doing happy cartwheels at the prospect of no longer being the only fuckup in the family.

END CHAPTER. Same time tomorrow, hopefully, and I’ll TRY to be less longwinded. Try.

#TWILIGHT #MIDNIGHT SUN #EDWARD CULLEN #GRISREADSMS #MIDNIGHT SUN SPOILERS

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