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songbirdstyles · 4 years

Text

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

There was something special about Professor Styles.

You knew it, and so did every other girl who took his class. Your less-than-appropriate feelings about him were shared and that should’ve made you feel better about having them - at least you weren’t as obvious as some of the other girls who obviously took a fancy to your English professor. You applauded their efforts, showing up to classes in short skirts and low cut tops in the hopes that they’d catch his eyes drifting down to their chests while he passed out your essays -

But they hadn’t had any luck yet. He was a very respectable man, and more than his looks, that was what you appreciated about him. He was passionate about English, with a curriculum that appealed to you from the very first day and essay topics that forced you to look deeper into every book that the class read. He was one of the youngest professors on campus and you could tell something about that seemed to motivate him - to not be seen as a joke by the older professors, to be taken seriously by the students, some of which weren't much younger than him.

You decided, after your very first class with him, that, in any other universe, you’d have fallen in love with him. Or perhaps tried to jump his bones immediately.

Something of that sort.

As classes progressed you found yourself only liking him more. His classes were as difficult as you’d anticipated and you should have hated it, hated how much work and effort you had to put into every assignment but you absolutely adored it. You loved doing his essays, loved the novels he picked, loved the look on his face when he handed back your assignments with a 100% scribbled on top.

Most of your assignments, at least.

It didn’t really make sense to you, why your 1984 analysis should have gotten a 71%. Truthfully, you’d felt confident while writing it - it was such an easy analysis that you’d decided to go a little deeper, spending more time on it than was necessary, because you were sure he’d be tired of reading the same essay from everybody over and over again. So you gave him something different and maybe you should have stuck to analyzing the same themes that everyone else did.

“If any of you are confused about your grade,” Professor Styles announces to the class when everyone has gotten their essays back, time left in class slowly ticking down, “please feel free to see me after class. M’happy to discuss any concerns with you.”

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes land on you.

Class ends within a few minutes and you take your time packing your things back into your bag, waiting until the last kid has trickled from the lecture hall before swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way down to his office. The door is cracked open and he’s barely sat down at his desk when you knock, flashing him a smile before pushing the door open a bit more.

You clear your throat before saying, “Hey, um, sorry to bother you - ” he interrupts you, telling you that it’s no bother at all “ - I’m just kind of confused on why I did badly on this essay.”

He nods, motioning for you to come in, and you step inside before shutting the door behind you. His office is small and cramped, with bookshelves lining the walls and a couch pressed into the corner. It’s a good vibe, you have to admit, although slightly messy. Perhaps you’d describe it as cozy, and it seems to fit him well.

There’s an empty seat in front of his desk and you sit down in it awkwardly, placing your essay in front of him. His eyes skim the first page before he tells you, “You usually do really well on essays, and this was … a really easy one.”

“I know,” you tell him, leaning forward to try and read what he’s reading. “I just thought you might be looking for something more complex. It seemed too simple.” When you look up, he’s staring at you, and you feel heat flood to your cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“It really is that simple, I promise,” Professor Styles informs you, and he pushes your essay back to you. “But you’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to let this bring down your grade. So, I have an idea for how you can make it up.”

Your mind runs through all the ways you’d want to make it up to him - most of them involve you being on your knees, and you cough into your elbow. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed about it. Fantasizing about your professor from across the lecture hall is one thing, but you’re barely a foot apart from him now and you’re almost nervous he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll do anything.” And you don’t care about the ways he could interpret it. He drums his fingers on his desk, and when you look down at his hand, you notice with a start that his nails are painted - you’d never seen that before, but you’d also never been this close to him, you suppose. You wonder if he gets them done or if he does them himself - you can’t picture him going to a salon, and the thought of him painting his own nails could make you cum on its own.

You don’t realize he’s been speaking until you zone back in, and when you look back up at him, he furrows his brows at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head. “Just - um - could you repeat that?” His eyes linger on you for just a beat too long, and your face flushes again. “So distracted,” he murmurs in a faux chastising tone, and your stomach flips. “What I said was that I’m willing to put this essay in as a 97 - your average for the class - if you would help me with grading some things. Not too heavy, maybe an hour or two after class. I’ve been falling behind with a lot of my classes and I’ve been looking for help, anyway, so it works out for both of us.”

Jesus Christ. Spending an extra hour every day with Professor Styles sounds like a recipe for disaster, and yet it also sounds completely perfect at the same time, and you’re nodding before you can fully process the pros and cons of the situation. “That sounds great. I mean, really - thank you so much.”

“S’my pleasure,” he informs you, giving you a large, dimpled smile. “So, after class, tomorrow - when I’m caught up and don’t need your help anymore, you’re off the hook.”

“Got it.” you stand, grabbing your essay and your bag and making your way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes, and the last thing you see before you shut the door is him, bringing his hand up to wave you off.

---

When class concludes the next day you maintain the same habit as you did the day prior - watching every student trickle out the door before swinging your bag over your shoulders, grabbing the two cups of tea that you’d made before class and making your way down to the front of the lecture hall.

Professor Styles stands in the doorway of his office, holding the door open for you - you make your way inside with a tight, only slightly awkward smile. His eyes roll over the two cups that you’re holding and he asks, with a mildly amused inflection in his voice, “I guess you like tea quite a bit, then?”

You smile, looking down at your cups, and when he shuts the door you hold one out to him. “I do like it a lot, but this one’s for you. You know, to say thank you for giving me a freebie, and also because you look like the kind of guy who loves tea.”

He laughs and your grin widens at the noise - god, it’s like music to your ears, and you would do anything to keep hearing it from him. He reaches out to take the cup from you and brings it up to his mouth, taking a small sip - when he’s done his tongue pokes out to lap up a bit of tea from his lip, and you try to ignore how much the minuscule motion affects you. “This is perfect, Y/N. Just the way I like it. You’re an angel.” Your cheeks heat up, and then he says, “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m probably gaining more from this arrangement than you are, truthfully. People are starting to get annoyed with how I’ve been falling behind grading, which is where you come in.”

Yes, you’d heard the girls next to you whispering about how bothersome it was that they’d submitted three essays in the past month and had only gotten one back. Why does he give out so much work if he’s never gonna hand it back?

It didn’t bother you too much.

“Well - alright, then. You’re welcome for helping you grade,” you tell him, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and settling in, dropping your bag beside you. You take another brief moment to glance around his office, as though expecting something to change, but it’s the same distinctly messy, cramped office that it had been yesterday. At some point, you should tell him that he ought to clean out his space, but that’s not what you’re here for - yet.

Professor Styles nods, making his way to the other side of his desk and plopping down in his spinning chair - it was quite nice, and made you wonder why the one you sat in seemed to be falling apart at the seams. But, then, you supposed teacher salary didn’t leave room for spectacular seating. “See, that’s the spirit.” All at once, the casual discussion between the pair of you died as he dug in the drawers of his desk for something - and then he plopped a large stack of papers on the table between you both. “This isn’t all of them - not even close. You’re very smart, so this should be pretty easy for you. Just read through them, add any notes, things they need to work on, and look at the rubric for a final grade.”

You nod, picking the first essay off the top of the pile and reaching for a pen from the cup on his desk - it’s a coffee mug with the Rumours by Fleetwood Mac album cover on it, and you take a moment to marvel at it briefly. “You like Fleetwood?” you question, voice seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of his office. “Didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

He looks up, then, from where he’d already begun scribbling bright red notes into the margin of someone’s essay. His eyes trail down to the mug full of pens, and then back up to meet yours. “You seem to make a lot of assumptions about the kind of guy I am. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, your voice faux sweet and innocent, and he smiles slightly. “But I’m glad you have an appreciation for really good music. I was worried your music taste would be terrible, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that Professor Styles exclusively listens to Justin Bieber.”

Your professor rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he begins, “you don’t have to call me Professor Styles. Not outside of class, at least. It sounds weird when it’s just the pair of us here.”

“Oh.” You pause. “What should I call you, then?”

“Harry’s fine.”

Harry Styles. The name flows easily off the tongue as you test it out in a teasing tone, your eyes meeting his as you do, and your cheeks flush. You don’t know if it's commonplace for professors to allow random students to drop formalities and call them by their first names but you’ll accept it anyway - all you know is that, when you go home tonight, the thought of calling him Harry will fill your mind until you can’t stand it anymore.

Harry as he buries his face between your thighs.

Harry as he pounds you into the mattress.

Harry as he bends you over his desk - this desk - the one you’re sitting at right now.

You cough into your arm and pick up your pen, pressing your thighs together to try and alleviate the throbbing that’s now affecting your body. You should’ve known not to let your mind wander because you’ve barely been here for 15 minutes and you already feel like you need to go rub one out in the bathroom. But you pause - take a sip of your tea, though it’s nearly gone from drinking it so much in class - and get to work grading Brianna Valeria’s essay on Death Comes to the Archbishop. The rubric sits on the desk next to you and you bury yourself in your work - if Harry notices the sudden silence that’s overtaken you, he doesn’t mention it.

For the rest of the hour, the pair of you work in silence. It’s comforting and surprisingly not awkward, and occasionally you ask his opinion on something one of his students wrote in their essays, but the playful banter you’d had before has dissipated. You’ve finished your tea and you suspect he has, as well, with the way he’s been feverishly drinking it.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly, and you glance up from where you’re in the middle of scribbling red notes into the margins of Alexander Simmons’ essay. “You should probably get going.”

One quick glance down at your phone proves that he’s right, and you rise from the extremely uncomfortable seat you’ve been perched in for the hour - you can practically hear your butt crying in relief. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Harry tells you, handing back his cup, and it’s empty, like you expected. “And - um. You don’t have to call me Harry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just thought it would be less formal, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Ah. He took your silence as you being uncomfortable calling him Harry. Well, it’s better than him knowing just how wet the sentiment made you, but you shake your head immediately. “No. No, I prefer calling you Harry. You’re right - it’s weird when it’s just us.”

He grins at you, then, standing up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“You know, if I’m calling you Harry now, I think you should drop formalities too. Make it equal.”

“Okay … Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Harry,” you tell him, turning and walking out of his office with your phone in your pocket and two cups in your hands, blissfully unaware of your abandoned bag still sitting next to the terribly uncomfortable chair you’d been all too quick to leave.

It’s only when you’ve finished the trek back to your dorm, the sun beginning to lower down into the horizon, that the absence of your bag on your shoulder becomes prominent.

You can’t get into your building without your key and your key is in your bag and your bag is … back in Harry’s office, where you nearly made yourself cum just thinking about him. And the thought of having to go back across campus, back to his office, when he might not even be there, is not favorable, but you need your key and you need to bang out homework tonight, so with a soft groan you spin on your heel, walking away from the warm comfort of your building and making your way back to his.

As summer bled into fall and fall begins to bleed into winter, the weather has changed so drastically in just the past week or so that you tug your cardigan closer to your body, but the air that seeps through the holes in the crocheted sweater send goosebumps trailing up and down your body. The wind whips your face and brings tears to your eyes that run down your cheeks, and when you’re finally at the door of Harry’s building it’s a welcome surprise to walk inside, allowing the warmth to embrace you - even if the shock of the changing temperatures causes your eyes to water again.

His office is on the 2nd floor, so you pull open the door to the staircase and make your way up the two flights. Most professors have gone home for the day, classrooms dark as you speed past them to where you know his office is.

His office is dark and your heart sinks at the sight - there are a few posters pinned to the small window, but you can see the lack of light clear as day. Your hand grasps the doorknob anyway, turning it without any hope that it would open - but then it was, giving you access to his dark office, and by the seat you’d occupied later you can make out your bag.

A breath of relief escapes your throat as you take a step inside, reaching down to swing it over your shoulder before turning to leave. And then you hear it - a small breath, an indicator of someone else in the room, and you whip around to look back around at the office.

Oh.

Harry sits in his chair, face buried in his arms, fast asleep. His hair is messy and in front of him sits the stack of essays you’d been working at early, hardly any smaller than when you’d left. It would nearly be an adorable sight - your professor, passed out at his desk - but it just seems concerning, and without thinking you’ve leaned over the desk, placing your hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Professor?” your voice is soft, barely audible, and you speak louder when you say, “Harry?”

He doesn’t respond, so you say, louder still, “Harry?”

Then he stirs slightly under your touch, and you drop your hand from his shoulder as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on his arms, looking up at you with messy eyebrows and a thoroughly confused expression on his face. “What - what are you doing here?” Jesus. His voice is deep and raspy, sounding as though he’d been sleeping for ages instead of merely less than an hour, and if his present state wasn’t slightly concerning to you, you know that you’d feel the effects of his words between your thighs. But you pause, staring down at him, before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

“Just working on some grading.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the darkened office with an air of distinct confusion.

“With all due respect, Harry,” you tell him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I think you’re burning yourself out. You should go home.”

He hesitates, and then questions, “Why are you here? I thought you left -”

“I forgot my bag,” and you hold it up to demonstrate it to him. “Are you going to go home? I’m serious - you need a break. And to sleep on a bed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and he stands up from his chair. It moves back and hits the wall with a soft thud that goes unnoticed by both of you. “You should go home, too. I need to finish some stuff up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

To neither of your surprise, you don’t move from your spot standing before his desk. You cross your arms over your chest, digging your sneakered toe into the plush rug on the floor of his office - you hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s pale blue and bright against the mahogany floors. The brief silence between you two, daring either of you to speak, fills the confined space and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock behind you, and finally you say, “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re exhausted. I mean, you fell asleep on the essays. How are you going to explain why there’s drool on their assignments?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile in response, looking down at the essay he’d been working on as if to check that no saliva had landed on the words. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually fall asleep on top of student essays, I promise - but you should be heading out now. It’s getting dark.”

It is getting dark, he’s right - the window behind his desk shows the darkness that newly falls over the campus. And the thought of walking home in the dark scares you just a bit, but you’ll suck it up if it gets him to go home too. “Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll help you grade tomorrow. But you’re fucking yourself here -”

(Harry laughs at your choice of words internally, but it comes out as a small release of air and a soft grin.)

“ - so come on. Walk out with me so I can make sure you’re actually going home.”

Perhaps he’s realized he’s fighting a losing battle here, because finally he looks back down at the stack of ungraded essays with a small sigh and then says, “Fine.”

“Great.” Your grin widens across your face, and for a moment you make to hold out your hand to him, to drag him along like you would to any of your friends - but the second your hand raises you drop it down to your side, and heat burns your cheeks. He’s not one of your other friends, you tell yourself, stepping out of his office, hearing him walk behind you. And you can’t hold his hand, even as a joke.

“Where’s your dorm?” Harry asks you as he locks the door to his office and jiggles the handle to check it, and you jump at the chance to forget about what happened - you don’t want to dwell on it. “Is it far?”

“Across campus.” You raise your arm and point in the distinct direction of where your building is. “Closer to the cafeteria, I guess.”

“Christ, you have a trek, then, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The pair of you make your way to the staircase, and from the corner of the eye you can see his head turning left and right down the hallway, as if scanning to see if there’s anyone coming - you can imagine it wouldn’t be great for him to be seen with a student long after classes ended. “I had to haul ass there and back to get my bag.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not until you’ve left the warm building and made your way into the cold air, the sun now having retreated for the night, and immediately you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself to try and provide some semblance of warmth. Harry glances down at you with a bemused smile, and you hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“Well,” you sigh, breath coming out in white puffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t burn yourself out, professor. And get a good night’s rest.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Maybe.” You grin, feeling goosebumps sprout on your skin, and you shiver before turning in the direction of your dorm - the thought of walking home in the dark and cold doesn’t sound too great, but you’ve become good at dealing with it. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He doesn’t respond, and you’ve taken a few steps away when he calls out, “D’you want a ride?”

What?

“Y’know, like a ride back to your dorm. I can drop you off in the back - it’s just really cold and I’m sure you don’t want to walk so far in the dark.”

You turn back around to look at him, his cheeks a light shade of pink - whether from the cold or his offer, you can’t tell. And you’d love to jump in his car, accept his offer without a shadow of hesitation, but - “Is that allowed?”

Harry shrugs, and you know that’s code for absolutely not. “No one has to find out.”

(Your stomach drops, then.)

“Sure.” You take a few steps back towards him, and he spins on his heel, leading you to his car, and you walk in silence until you reach it. By the time you’re both safely in his car - his head turning every so often to check if there was anyone watching the pair of you - you’re shivering desperately, and you know you would have been positively miserable walking back to your dorm in these temperatures. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“S’no problem, really.” His hand goes behind your seat as he turns to look behind him, and you hate the way the simple action makes you feel. “I’d rather know you get home safe than have you walk so far in the dark. Pretty girl like you, can never be too careful.”

You pause, cheek pressed against the cold window, and turn to look at him with a small smile. “Ooh, I’m a pretty girl now?”

“Wasn’t the point, Y/N,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand onto the center console, and if it were anyone else driving you like this, you’d rest your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and pressing your palms together. But he’s your professor, as much as you’re beginning to wish he weren’t, so you slide your hands beneath your thighs. “Which building, again?”

“McKinley,” you respond, voice barely louder than the sound of the heat blasting into his car.

His car smells like eucalyptus and mint, and it’s surprisingly clean compared to his office - you wonder if his house is messy or clean, or a balanced mix, because you can’t quite catch a vibe for whether he’s organized or not. But, no - you’ll never see his house, surely. You can’t.

“I used to date a girl who lived at McKinley,” he tells you, and you exhale slowly. You can tell he’s merely trying to make conversation but the sentiment isn’t making your internal conflicts any easier to manage. “Real nice dorms.”

“They’re alright.” In fact, you’ve been at university for 3 years and resided in 3 different dormitories and they’re your least favourite, with furniture that’s too big for rooms that are too small and bathrooms that can hardly fit more than 5 people, but you don’t tell him that. “Not the greatest.”

“S’what she told me, too,” Harry says, and you smile down at your lap, but you can’t find anything else to respond to that, so you take to gazing out the window.

Within a few seconds he’s slowing down, and you can recognize the back entrance to your building. You reach down and pick your bag off the ground, digging through it to find your key.

When you have it clutched in your hand, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him - to your surprise his eyes are already on you, and you swallow thickly. “Um - thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You hesitate a moment before turning and swinging open the car door. You hop out and, just before you can shut it, he says, “Y/N.” And when you duck your head back into his car, raising your eyebrows, he adds, “Please don’t tell anyone I drove you home. You’re right - s’not allowed.”

“Alright.” Then, before you can help yourself, you flash him a wide grin and say, “Thanks for letting me be the exception, then.”

With that, you shut the door of his car, bounding up to the door of your building, and you swear you can feel his gaze remaining on you before his car drives off, and when you turn back around, it’s gone.

(In the back of your mind, you’re entirely too aware of the fact that merely sitting in his car crossed some sort of line that you didn’t know existed until now, but you don’t really know how far past it you are - not yet.)

“I have a question.”

You look up from the rubric you’d been working at - the student whose essay you’re grading hadn’t done too well on it, but you were trying to give them the most points you could, anyway. Harry’s looking down at his essay like he hadn’t spoken, but when he feels your gaze on him, he continues. “Why did you care so much? Yesterday. Me grading more s’less work for you to do. I feel like you should be loving that shit.”

It’s a reasonable question but, for a moment, you struggle thinking of how to answer it without exposing yourself to him. Finally, you give him a grin and say, “Well, if you were sleep deprived, it would make you mean.” He chuckles softly, and you can tell that’s not the answer he wanted, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. So you add, “I guess I’m used to being the mom friend. Making sure all of my friends get a good night’s sleep and whatever.”

Harry pauses. “So we’re friends, then.”

You shrug, trying to stop the smile from peeking through onto your face. Being friends with Harry sounds positively dreamy and if it could segue into something else - whichitcan’t - you’d be the happiest girl alive.

You nod. “Yeah, aren’t we.” But it isn’t a question, and you can see the way his eyes twinkle at your response.

After a moment, you shift in your entirely entirely entirely too bloody uncomfortable chair, the wood making your butt ache. “I have a question, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick the most uncomfortable chair you possibly could for your guests to sit in?”

“Gets ‘em out of my office quicker.” Harry glances up and meets your glare with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to leave, so you can move to the couch, if you’d like.”

You hop out of the chair without a second’s hesitation, clutching your essay and your pen, flopping down on the couch and feeling your body weight sink into it. God, it’s so soft and your body relaxes into it, the relief of not being confined to the small, wooden chair so magnificent you could scream. Harry watches you with an amused grin, and says, “I feel like you’re being just a bit dramatic here.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.” You sprawl yourself across the couch, head atop of the armrest, staring up at the white ceiling tiles above you. “I’m telling you, Harry, that chair is terrible. You should burn it.”

“So dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up slightly so you can rest your paper on your lap and still manage to scrawl semi-legible notes on this person’s piss poor essay. You wonder, briefly, if this is how Harry felt when he’d graded your 1984 essay, but - well - doesn’t matter now. And you’d fail that essay a thousand times over to get to this point, a point of companionship with your professor that you’re not sure any other student has felt with him before. At least, none that he’s told you about. It makes you feel special, and spectacular, and also the tiniest bit confused.

Why are you so special?

Maybe he’s lonely, or he’s merely entertaining your presence because you’re helping him grade, but you swear you can feel something more hidden within the lines of your relationship.

It doesn’t really matter, though, even if it is just a tad confusing.

“You should get going,” Harry tells you after another 15 minutes of you working at grading the essay. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours, bloody hell, wasn’t watching the time at all.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, though, in truth, you do have quite a bit of homework to work on later. “Don’t really have anything else to do.”

You sit up anyway, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Tiredness is beginning to affect you but you try not to let it.

“Well, in any case, you should be heading out now.” Harry nods his head towards the window behind him, the blinds pulled up so you can see the sun, nearly completely sunk below the horizon, the sky fading from reds and oranges to a dark shade of blue.

“What about you, professor?”

“What about me?” “You’re going home now too - right?”

He looks at you with a faux annoyed glare, but he can’t help the amusement from seeping through his features, and finally he breaks your stare with an exhale of breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever win this against you, will I?”

And you shake your head in response. “Never. So let’s go. Get your things.”

You take the next five minutes to gather all your stuff - resting the essay on top of his desk, sliding your phone and water bottle into your backpack, and zipping your bag shut - as Harry grabs his computer bag and his key. The two of you move surprisingly in sync with each other, sorting all of your stuff from around his small office, before making your way outside with him locking the door behind him.

It’s nearly completely dark, even colder than it had been the day prior. You reach behind you and pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your hair, protecting your ears, at least, from the chill.

You turn and face him, giving him a wide smile. The air is silent around you, surprisingly empty though the bitterness of the cold must be a contributing factor to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Make sure you get a good night’s rest -”

“Don’t want a ride?”

Your grin widens, and his eyes sparkle, even in the darkness, at your expression. “Well, of course I do, but it’s rude to invite myself into your car.”

“You’re not inviting yourself - I’m inviting you. Or, rather, demanding you. C’mon.”

Harry walks fast and you have to speed up your pace to keep up with him, though you suspect that has something to do with wanting to be free of any wandering eyes as quickly as possible. You recognize his car in the parking lot and bound ahead of him, standing by the passenger side door and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up, and for a moment his pace slows as he stares and looks at you. Standing by his car, holding an incredibly oversized hoodie tight to your body, a wide smile gracing your face.

“Staring is rude, professor,” you inform him as he shakes his head, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Your lilt is teasing but you can tell it makes him slightly defensive either way.

“S’hard not to sometimes,” Harry tells you, and you giggle softly.

“So first, I’m a pretty girl, and now I’m hard not to stare at?” You drop your head back against the headrest, blowing air softly out of your mouth as you reach to buckle your seatbelt. “Keep this up, Harry, and my ego’s gonna be too big to even fit in your car.”

Harry laughs at that, resting his hand on your seat to back out of his parking spot. The radio softly plays some pop song that had been overtaking the charts recently, and you hum softly to it before turning your head to look at him. You examine his side profile - perfect, like every other angle of him - as he pulls out of the parking lot, making a left out of it.

He turns to see you watching him, and you watch redness bloom over his cheeks. “Staring is rude, Y/N.”

You smile, about to parrot his previous words back at him - it’s hard not to - but you bite your tongue, gazing at the road in front of you. A light drizzle is beginning to fall, a barely audible pitterpatter on the windshield, and that’s the only noise, for a moment - that and the radio playing, like a thought in the back of your mind.

The drive to your dorm seems to be taking longer than it had been yesterday and you can’t imagine why, but you appreciate just sitting in the car with him. Even if you’re not saying much, listening to his even breathing calms you.

You want to break the silence, though it’s comfortable rather than awkward. You like talking to him, like hearing everything he has to say, but you have no idea what you can possibly tell him that wouldn’t seem forced and awkward. So you sit, curling your legs up to your chest as you stare at the streets, and entirely too soon, the back of the McKinley building becomes apparent.

You want to stay in his car forever. Want to stay with him forever.

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him, your voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the soft car. He nods in response, but for a moment neither of you move. You can’t bring yourself to leave yet, even if you know you have to, that he might have someone waiting for him at home.

“Y/N.” You turn and look at him, your eyes meeting his with your brows furrowed. “Uh - if you ever want a ride home, or to class, you can just let me know. Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Harry’s cheeks are bright pink and there’s too much tension in the car, so thick you feel like you could cut it with a knife, and you lean down, unzipping your bag and pulling your phone out.

He takes it from you once you unlock it, going into your contacts and you watch as he types his phone number in, adding the contact name as Harry S. and you think you’ll be changing that later. He leaves the contact photo blank, which you expected - if anyone saw the name Harry S. in your phone, the contact photo would give it away.

He hands your phone back to you when he’s done, and your fingers graze his when you take it. “Just text me, then. If you need a ride.”

“Alright.” you give him a smile, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“My pleasure,” he says, and you grab your bag, hooking your arm underneath the strap and racing up to the back entrance of your building. It’s only when you get inside, the door firmly shut behind you, that you turn around again, and his car is gone.

10:52 PM

Y/N: hey professor...it’s y/n. just wanna make sure u have my number saved in case of emergencies

Harry S.: How is it you can have the highest grade of any student in my class and use improper grammar while texting?

Y/N: it’s a talent i guess

Y/N: texting like you’re writing an essay makes ppl v uncomfortable, and i speak from personal experience

Harry S.: So you’re uncomfortable right now, then?

Y/N: nooo, ur different

Harry S.: To quote this girl I know, ‘thanks for letting me be the exception, then.’

Y/N: how did u remember that? that makes me uncomfortable

Harry S.: Haha.

Harry S.: You should be sleeping right now. Students need their full 8 hours, don’t they?

Y/N: so do professors, as i keep telling u, but…

Y/N: i had hw to do, also had to make mac n cheese for dinner

Harry S.: You can do your homework in my office, you know. And then you can probably make it to the refectory for dinner.

Y/N: the food at the refectory sucks

Harry S.: Yeah, you’re right.

Harry S.: But I do feel bad that staying to help me grade made you have to stay up until 11 doing homework.

Y/N: well honestly i’d rather be sitting in ur office talking to u than in my dorm doing american lit work

Harry S.: Why’s that?

Y/N: ig i like hanging out with u

Y/N: u should feel honored btw

Harry S.: Believe me, I do. And now you should get to bed so you’re not grumpy tomorrow morning.

Y/N: ig i deserved that… and i’ll only go to bed if u do too

Harry S.: I will.

Y/N: promise??

Harry S.: I promise.

Harry S.: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, professor

After a week, your arrangement has changed slightly.

Every day, you spend just a bit more time in his office. Then he drives you home, in comfortable silence, and from the minute you step into your dorm, you’re fishing your phone out of your bag to text him. Every night that you lie awake, texting him until you physically can’t keep your eyes open, the line that you’ve been dipping your toe across falls back even more.

The stack of assignments that need to be graded are beginning to dwindle, and you hate it. Hate to see the pile of ungraded work getting smaller and smaller, because when it’s gone, you probably won’t step foot in his office again.

Truthfully, and as embarrassing as it may be, Harry has become one of your closest friends at school. He’s funny and nice, and he brought you hot chocolate with powder left unmixed at the bottom after you mentioned that’s how you used to like it when you were younger, and he plays music on his phone at a low volume while you work on grading.

Of course, as your friendship with Harry grows, so does the burning feelings for him that reside in the pit of your stomach day after day. And you know he doesn’t feel the same - he can’t - and maybe that’s painful for you, only slightly, but you’ve become rather talented at hiding those emotions. He can’t know that, everytime he laughs at one of your jokes, your heart swells - and everytime he reads a sentence from one of the essays out loud, using a mocking, deep voice, it makes your stomach flip.

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so passionately about anyone, and that’s scary. Scary to think that the one man you want more than anyone else is the only person you can’t have.

“Y/N,” he says, and when you look up at him from your spot sprawled on the couch, he’s nibbling at the tip of his pen. “D’you think this makes sense?”

And he reads you a few lines written by one of his students - a name you recognize from being in your class, you think, but you’ve been paying attention less and less to other students during lectures. All you focus on is Harry, his booming voice projecting through the hall as he talks about the stories you’re reading, and every so often his eyes meet yours and the smile that spreads across his face could bring tears to your eyes, if you let it.

“Um - I guess. It’s worded kind of strangely, don’t you think? But I’d cut them some slack on it.” Harry nods and scribbles something in the margins of Nathalie Carron’s essay before flipping the page. “Can I put in a song request?”

He nods, then, picking up his phone from where it sits on his desk. The Chain plays softly, not too loud to interrupt your train of thought, but not too soft that you can’t hear it. “‘Course.”

“Heroes by David Bowie.” You glance back up at him, dropping Hannah Joseph’s essay on your stomach. “You like Bowie, right?”

“Who doesn’t, is the real question.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You grin, glancing up at the white tiled ceiling as the song fills the hair, replacing Fleetwood. “You know, we should make a playlist for grading.”

Harry laughs. “A playlist of just Fleetwood and a dash of Bowie?”

“No, no. It can have other stuff, too. I mean, we know what we like.”

“Alright, alright.” He picks up his phone again, and you see his thumbs moving feverishly on the screen. “Y’know what, I’ll make it right now and show it to you for approval.”

“Make it good.” You pause, picking your essay up again. “No Justin Bieber.”

He snorts, and you relish in the noise.

The next ten minutes passes in mainly silence - when Heroes ends, Fleetwood continues, playing Secondhand News, and you hum to the tune. Harry’s ringer is on and you can hear it, the sound of the keyboard on his phone as he searches up song titles, and you rest the essay back on your stomach, writing messy notes with the pen you snatched from the mug on his desk again.

You sit up, suddenly, leaning over to rest Hannah’s fully graded essay on his desk, and instead of reaching for a new one to work on, you push yourself to your knees, resting your palms on his desk and attempting to lean over and peek at the playlist. But he anticipates that - he knows you’re nosy - and tilts his phone towards him, intercepting your attempts to eavesdrop.

“Don’t be impatient,” he murmurs, a smile tugging across his lips as he scrolls through something. “I’m almost done.”

You hum in response, dropping back down onto the couch, stretching your entire body across it, head resting on the armrest. The two of you settle back into a comfortable silence - he’s paused the music, by now - lasting only a moment or two before he stands up from his insanely comfortable chair, maneuvering his way around to the couch where you’re lying. He crouches down next to you, handing you his phone, opened to a Spotify playlist, and you greedily snatch the device from him, flicking through the songs.

Your eyes scan every song, absorbing every song title.

I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash - My Eyes Adored You by the Four Seasons - Your Song by Elton John?

Love songs. Every single one of them.

You push yourself up, sitting leaning against the armrest, as your eyes fall on the last song of the playlist - When I Kissed The Teacher by Abba. You lower his phone to your lap, looking at him with a slightly confused smile adorning your face.

He watches you intently, your heads a mere few inches apart, then reaches down to grab his phone off your lap, and you laugh lightly before saying, “it’s a lot of love songs.”

“They reminded me of you,” he tells you, voice quiet, testing the waters.

“They - they did?” It doesn’t make sense to you - doesn’t make sense that 45 love songs should bring you to the forefront of his mind, that every single time he hears Fooled Around And Fell In Love he should think of you.

They make you think of him, though.

And without thinking - of what you’re doing or of the consequences - you lean in, closing the short distance between your faces, pressing your lips against his so softly that it feels like it’s a mere breath on your mouth.

Harry pulls back, lips barely a centimeter from yours, exhaling softly. “We shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement, already leaning back in. “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Your lips meet again and his hand goes to your face, cupping your jaw, and when he deepens the kiss you whimper into his mouth, bringing both of your hands to the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his curls, tugging on the chocolate brown strands, and he groans softly into your mouth.

It’s everything you’d imagined and more, as the hand not on your cheek drops down to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. The angle is awkward - you sitting on the couch and him kneeling before it - so you unattach your lips, much to your dismay, and swing your legs around the edge of the couch so he’s situated between them. Harry’s eyes are wide, his hair mussed up, and you lean back in without a moment’s hesitation to resume the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and he tastes like mint tea and fucking heaven.

Both of his hands go down to your waist, tugging you to the very edge of the couch so your bodies are as close as they can be, and yours go to the back of his neck, dipping underneath the collar of his button down shirt to scratch at his back. It feels muscular, more toned than you were expecting, and feeling the skin underneath your nails makes you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck -” you groan softly as he moves his lips down your chin and to your jaw, nibbling softly at your skin, as if experimenting to see what you like - your reaction prompts him to move further down, licking a stripe down your neck and to the base of your collarbone. One of his hands - very large hands - slide up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh through your tight shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Harry hums against your collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses across your skin. Your nails dragging down his back causes him to bite down gently to stifle the moan rising from his throat, but you hear it and Goditspursyouonsofuckingmuch. “God, Y/N -”

His praise is cut short by the sound of three swift knocks on the door - he pulls back from you, nearly falling back on his ass with the speed at which he stands, and your eyes flash to the door. Your heart is pounding desperately in your chest - are the doors soundproof? Did someone outside hear you? The thought makes you sick to your stomach, and your eyes meet Harry’s to find the same worry in his orbs.

Within moments he’s back behind his desk, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it out, and you’ve reached to grab Hannah Joseph’s essay off his desk just as he calls, “come in!” in a voice that’s far too cheery for the panic that had just overtaken the both of you.

The door opens and from the corner of your eye you can recognize the girl who walks in - she lives across the hall from you, and her name is … Anna or Emma or something similar. She’s nice, and you should remember her name, but your brain is so scrambled that you can’t think of it.

Harry kissing you. Harry making you a playlist. Harry’s hands on your waist, pulling your body into his.

It’s everything you’ve dreamt of since the beginning of the semester, feeling his touch on you. And when you close your eyes, you try to imagine what would have happened if nobody knocked on the door, and it sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, sitting at his desk as he looks over Anna-or-Emma’s essay.

You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. The girl (who, now that you think of it, may be named Alana) is asking Harry a million bogus questions about the essay requirements he’d just given out and her shirt is so low cut that you’re surprised her boobs haven’t fallen out. Whether that was intentional or not isn’t something you dwell on, but something about sitting on the couch, trying to steady your breathing while your clit throbs violently feels wrong.

“I’m gonna go, professor,” you say, interrupting her question, and she looks at you like you just told her you’re going to give her a million dollars. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry calls as you grab your bag and shut the door behind you. His voice sounds pained, almost, as though he doesn’t want you to leave him alone with a girl whose only goal is clearly to fuck his brains out. You practically run down the hall, which isn’t close to being as empty as it usually is when you and Harry leave at the end of the day.

Your shirt is tight and short sleeved and you can picture your jacket, up in his office, thrown over the back of the couch. You’d been in such a rush to leave that you’d left it, and you’re beginning to truly feel the consequences of it as the cold corners you, attacking your skin, and you could go back up to his office and get it but you just want to go home. The sun is setting, and it’s earlier than when you usually leave.

The walk home is decidedly miserable, the wind sending tears streaking down your cheeks, and your mind is practically going into overdrive. Jesus Christ. You kissed your professor, and he kissed you back. And then you left, like a fucking idiot. He probably feels terrible - feels like he violated you, or ruined his career. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. If you were more respectable you’d go back to his building and apologize for running out, wrap your arms around him and kiss him like you fucking mean it, but all you do is scan your card to get into McKinley and walk down the hall to your dorm.

Your roommate is out - at her boyfriend’s, as per usual, but you appreciate it. Truth be told, you haven’t seen her much since the first few weeks of the semester, but she seemed nice enough. You drop your bag onto your bed and collapse on top of the covers, gazing up at the ceiling.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, brushing your fingertips over your lips with the same feather light touch that the first press of Harry’s lips to yours had felt like. You can still feel it - feel him - if you close your eyes, his hands grasping your hips and his lips trailing down your collarbone.

Slowly, you press your palm to your stomach, trailing it down your torso until you reach the button of your jeans. You undo it with shaky fingers and push them lower down, beneath the hem of your cotton thong, and the first brush of your fingertips against your clit sends a shiver down your spine and a whine falling off your lips.

Harry’s hand on your chest, squeezing your breast through your shirt as he kisses down your neck - oh my god, licking down your neck, biting your skin, his eyes are so wide, his hair is messy from where you grabbed it, and you hadn’t been interrupted he would’ve climbed on top of you, pressing you into the couch, tugging your jeans down your thighs and -

Maybe he would’ve done what you’re doing now, sliding his digits into your heat, fingers longer than yours, hitting every spot that you need him to. Or maybe he would’ve slid down your body, lifting your shirt to suck a deep purple mark into your chest, before burying his face in your cunt -

A very loud moan falls from your lips as you push a finger inside of yourself, curling them immediately to hit the spot inside of you that makes your tummy flip.

But maybe - just maybe - Harry wouldn’t have bothered with that. Would’ve watched, breathing so heavy as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his nice dress pants to wrap your hand around his cock, throwing his head back and moaning as you swiped your thumb over the tip of him.

You’re so close so fast you can practically taste the orgasm creeping up on you, your hips bucking up to meet where your fingers are feverishly rubbing circles on your clit.

And he would’ve slid into you, and he’s so big that he’s stretching you out more than any of your fingers or the guy you’ve been with, and he’d grab your chin and force your head up and kiss you so fucking hard, his hips flush against yours -

With a strangled cry, you curl your fingers once more and then you’re cumming, release coating your fingers as your hips roll into your hand. All you can think about is him and what could have happened, and the fact that you may have ruined the start of something magnificent, but God if the orgasm wasn’t good.

You pull your hand out of your panties, wiping your dripping fingers on the denim of your jeans. For a moment, you merely stare back up at the ceiling, focusing on steadying your breathing, and then you stand up, kicking your jeans off your legs and tossing them onto your dresser. You have a pair of plaid pajama pants crumbled in a pile at the bottom of your bed from the morning, and you pull them over your legs with a sigh. Perhaps it’s not the height of cleanliness, but they’re soft and comfortable, and you lie back down on your bed once they’re on.

After nearly an hour, you still haven’t done anything but sit and do nothing, occasionally flicking through your phone. You wish you could fall asleep but your brain is working far too fast to even think about resting, and -

The sound of your phone getting a notification startles you, and you groan, grabbing your phone to look at whoever disturbed your panic.

Harry S.: I’m behind your building. I have your jacket.

He’s here? Jesus Christ, you just came over him and damn near cried over him and now you have to see him.

Perfect.

Your heart skips a beat, and you jump up without a second thought. You look an absolute fool, stuffing your feet into the first pair of shoes you can find - a pair of slip on Vans that are so dirty they can barely constitute as white - before you’re running out the door, your phone tucked in the waistband of your pants, heading down the hall and out the back entrance where Harry’s black car sits, waiting.

You walk up to his car, pathetically out of breath, and lower your head so you can see him through the window as he rolls it down.

“Hi.” Your tone is quiet, and you clear your throat. “Um, I’m sorry about running off like that. I just got overwhelmed and that girl showing up made me - um - nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, though he’s very pointedly not making eye contact. “M’sorry if I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, or -”

“No, I kissed you first -”

“But I’m your professor.” He says the word with an odd inflection, nearly pained. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. I’m sorry.”

You dig the toe of your shoe into the road, looking down at the passenger seat where your jacket sits, waiting. The tension is palpable and you swallow thickly, then grab the car handle, forcing the door open so you can grab your jacket. You wrap the fabric around your shoulders - the seat heaters made it warm and you could nearly cry at the way it embraces you.

Harry watches you - you can see him from the corner of your eye - and then he looks down at your body, your shirt and your pajama pants with no pockets, and asks, “D’you have your key to go back in your dorm? S’just, you don’t have any pockets … I can’t see it.”

Shit. No, you don’t. You hadn’t thought about that when you were running out to see him. Perhaps he can decide the answer from the way your face drops, because he exhales with a small smile, barely perceptible, and nods his head. “Get in.”

You grab the door handle again, pulling the door open and climbing inside. The seat is toasty and warm and the car is toasty and warm and altogether you feel like both of those adjectives combined. The radio plays softly - or maybe it’s his phone, hooked up to the aux cord, because Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney is a song you recognize reading on the playlist he’d made. You slam the door shut and wrap your arms around yourself, holding your jacket closer to your body, before turning your head to glance at him. He still hasn’t started driving, merely gazing at you, and you feel your skin heat under his eyes. “Where are we going, professor?” It’s a stupid question, because you aren’t going anywhere yet, and he doesn’t look like he plans to start driving anytime soon.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment.” HIs eyes haven’t left yours, and your stomach turns. “How does that sound?”

You exhale softly. “Sounds perfect,” and then you’re leaning in, pressing your cold palms to the side of his cheeks and bringing his face into yours.

Your lips meet and it’s more desperate than it was in his office - teeth clashing and your tongues brushing against each other, as if he’s trying to devour you. His hand rests atop of yours, dwarfing you pathetically, before dragging his fingertips down your arm and up to your shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of your shirt.

Where you’re cold from the air outside, Harry is so warm and toasty, his breath hot against your face when you pull away briefly. He presses his forehead to yours and then leans up, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and smirking at the whimper you let out.

“Wait,” he tells you, voice low and quiet, and you nod slowly. “When we get to my apartment - but not now.”

You nod feverishly and sit back in your seat obediently, desperate for him to finally start driving. His hand rests on top of the center console and you stare at it for a moment - you can do it, do what you’ve wanted to do every single time he’s driven you home - and you place your palm overtop of his. He turns it over so your palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining, and you’re sure he can hear your heartbeat with how loudly it’s beating in your chest.

The line that you’ve crossed is so far behind you that it’s a mere dot in the distance.

The car ride to his apartment is short - only 2 full songs play during it, and you recognize My Girl and I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight from the playlist. Truth be told, it feels as though you’d been in the car for hours and hours, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. You want nothing more than to crawl across the center console and straddle him, kiss him until you’re both breathless and go as far as you’d fantasized about but you have to wait.

Harry’s unlocking the door of his apartment entirely too slow for your liking. It’s as though he’s trying to tease you, make you antsy, when all you want is for him to press you against the wall and kiss you silly.

He lives in a large brick apartment building - one of the newer ones, you know - in an apartment on the third floor. You’ve passed his building so many times driving through town and you never even knew it - didn’t know the man who lived there was someone you’d be so desperate for.

“Come on,” he whispers, though there’s no real reason for the two of you to be quiet - perhaps it just fits the mood. Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you into the now-open door of his apartment, flicking on the light switch residing beside the door.

As light floods the apartment you’re somehow both surprised and also not at all. It’s surprisingly tidy, resembling more of his car than his office, and - to your relief - it’s quite obvious he’s the only one who lives here. You slip out of your Vans and take a moment to look around. A cat sits on top of the couch (her name is Marie, named after Aristocats, you learned from class) and you can’t stop yourself from gravitating towards her, using two fingers to stroke down her back as you peek around the apartment.

Yes, it is quite clean, and surprisingly colorful - there’s a striped rug and red couches and your eyes fly a bookshelf filled with picture frames against the wall. One is him with four other guys, arms wrapped around each other - one of him and Marie - one of him, significantly younger, hugging a girl who looks extremely similar to him.

“Is this your sister?” you ask, unaware of where he is in the apartment but trusting he hasn’t strayed too far from you.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you jump slightly. Harry stands just behind you, and when you turn to face him he’s fighting back a grin. “So nosy, aren’t you?”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling his head down to yours as his hands gravitate down towards your lower back where your shirt rises just a couple inches from your pants, exposing a strip of skin, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “I guess I am nosy. Can’t help it.”

Harry leans down, then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down the bridge of your nose before landing on your lips - you whine into his mouth, pushing yourself onto your toes to try and deepen it, swiping your tongue into his mouth. It’s so different than before - heavier, deeper, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Please,” you whimper against his lips as his hands creep farther down your back, landing on the globes of your ass through your soft pajama pants. “I need you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can hear a sense of cockiness working its way into his voice and you groan softly as he pulls away from you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You need everything. You need everything he can possibly give you and more - you need wish fulfillment of everything you’ve dreamt of since the start of the semester and that includes every single goddamn appendage on his body put to use somehow.

But you can’t possibly begin to tell him that, not yet. His fingers are already trailing down to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the tie that holds them up when you breathe, “Your mouth. Please, I need - I need your mouth.”

It’s not enough for him, you can tell, as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your throat, sucking softly. “M’using my mouth.”

“H - Harry …”

“Where d’you want my mouth?”

You curse beneath your breath, and he pulls his head back to raise his eyebrows at the sound. You bury your hand in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering, “Want your mouth … down there.”

As much as you want it - and Godyouwantitsofuckingmuch - it makes it no less awkward to say it out loud.

“Down where, baby?” Harry asks, voice teasing and so fucking smug. “Down here?” His hand sprawls across your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen and you moan softly. “No … down here, s’that right?”

His hand slides down to your cunt, pressing his palm overtop of you through your pajama pants and you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it even through two layers of fabric. Your throaty cry in response and the feverish nod of your head confirms what he’d been teasing you about, and Harry delivers one last soft kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees before you.

Fuck. You never thought you’d see Professor Harry Styles, the man of your dreams and the one person you considered to be entirely unattainable, kneeling in front of you with his nice dress pants on and a crisp button up shirt. He looks entirely normal, save for his messy hair and lust blown pupils, and you’re sure you look a bloody mess but his eyes still devour you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You drop your shaky hands down to the tie of your pants, undoing it at record speed, and he hooks his fingers in your waistband. Slowly - so slowly - Harry tugs them down and his eyes remain on you as though expecting you to stop him, but you can’t. Finally they pool by your feet and you lift your legs to kick them off, sending them flying near the couch where Marie resides.

Had you known this would be happening perhaps you would have opted for racier panties - your cotton thong isn’t terrible but it certainly isn’t doing you any favours, and you have so many lace ones at home that would have been perfect for the opportunity - but Harry still looks at you like you created the world. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh and then the other, leaning in to suck a dark purple hickey into your skin.

You suppose he has a thing for hickeys.

Your fingers twist in his curls, trying to direct his head up to where you truly need him, and he chuckles softly - the soft exhalation of air makes you whine as it hits your cunt, even through your panties. A soft kiss is what he lands on your clothed clit, and your hips buck up into his mouth. You’d forgotten, perhaps, that you’d had an orgasm less than an hour prior but you’re very swiftly reminded, and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“So reactive,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit through your underwear and sucking softly. “Just the way I like.”

A shaky breath escapes your mouth as you toss your head back, legs shaking and you can’t expect them to hold you up much longer. One of his hands moves to the back of your thigh, kneading your skin softly, and the other dips into the hem of your panties and slowly tugs them down. You’re so wet that the fabric is desperate to stick to your dripping cunt but he manages to roll them down your legs, face to face with your pussy and -

Heat floods through your body and up to your face as you look down and make eye contact with Harry. Now that he’s down there, gazing at your bare pussy, you feel oddly compelled to protect whatever modesty you have left and shut your legs but then he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pushing you back just a bit until your back smacks into the wall, and leans in.

The first stripe he licks up your core sends a choked cry from the back of your throat and then a long whine as Harry focuses his attention on your clit. His tongue flicks the swollen bud, still rubbing circles into the back of your thigh. Your heel digs into his back as he moves one hand up to your cunt, running his finger through your soaked folds before pushing it inside of you.

He curls his finger, mimicking a come hither motion until he brushes against the spot that makes your hips jerk against his face. Harry’s lips wrap around your clit and when your eyes roll back into your head, he takes his hand off your thigh and snaps his fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled against your cunt, and the vibrations roll through your body like an earthquake. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Look at me.”

Slowly you lower your eyes back down to him, meeting his gaze as he pulls his mouth away briefly - smacks his lips - and pushes a second finger into your dripping heat. As he thrusts them in and out, hitting that sweet spot in your velvet walls, you can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your tummy embarrassingly fast, but you want to hold out for him. Want to prolong this as long as you can.

Harry’s teeth brush against your clit and you cry out, barely hearing the way he groans, “So fucking reactive for me, yeah?” but you can hear it and it only makes you moan louder. His tongue draws patterns over your clit and he’s so determined to maintain eye contact but you can tell it’s a struggle for both of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking a thin stripe up one of them as if he can’t get enough of your taste before reaching his arm up so his fingers rest on your bottom lip. Obediently you open your mouth, accepting his digits and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, as he leans back, glancing up at you with heat blazing in his eyes.

“You’re close,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “Can feel it - feel how you’re clenching around my fingers, baby. D’you wanna cum? Tell me how fucking bad you want it.”

Harry pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing a slow circle as you struggle to find your voice before gasping, “Fuck - need to cum so fucking bad Harry - Harry, oh my god -”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, H - Harry -”

“Cum for me, baby.”

He leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your tummy finally exploding. Your head falls back against the wall with a thud that’s hardly audible over your loud shrieks and moans, your leg finally giving out and you damn near slide to the ground before Harry hooks an arm around your thigh to keep you upright.

His tongue flicks at your clit gently, riding you through your orgasm, and when you’re coming down from your high it’s all you can focus on. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever - ever - cum that hard in your life. You’d only been with one guy before who didn’t even know women could orgasm and your fingers never gave you anything so earth shattering.

Your breathing comes out in desperate pants as Harry rises from his knees, moving both hands to your hips as your legs nearly collapse again. Your clit is throbbing and when you press your body to his, leaning up to kiss him so desperately, you can feel his boner, hard against your thigh.

“Holy shit, professor.” It’s all you can manage, pulling away to drop your head against his chest, using the moment to try and steady your breaths. “W - who knew you were so good at that.”

His fingers brush through the ends of your hair, a gesture so sweet and innocent that it could make you forget what just occurred. “A hidden talent, I guess,” he mutters, gripping your chin to kiss you again.

You drop your hands to his waist, gripping his nice button down shirt in your tight grasp, surely wrinkling the fabric as you roll your hips against his. Even through his pants his hard on feels fucking huge and you’ve only been with one guy before and suddenly you’re wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you.

But you’ll try. By god, you’ll try. And you press your head to the wall, looking up at him with lust dilated pupils. “Harry.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” But he already knows, and you can tell he needs the same thing.

You swallow, bucking your hips forward against his boner, and he groans. “I want you to fuck me. Please. I - I need you to fuck me, professor.”

The word makes him moan aloud, and within barely a second he’s grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the wall and across the apartment until he’s swinging open a door and pulling you inside.

Something about being in his bedroom is entirely different than being in his living room, the carpet beneath your bare feet plush and soft. There’s a large television in front of his bed and the bed is made beautifully, a flannel blanket tossed over the end, and you can’t fucking wait to mess it up.

Harry spins you around to face him, attaching your lips once more as he shuts the door. You whimper into his mouth as his hand drops down to your bare bum, squeezing the flesh in his large palm. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice high pitched and breathy, “was nosing again -”

He groans as you drop your hand to the front of his fancy dress pants, trying desperately to undo the button with one shaking hand. It’s a struggle and finally he chuckles breathlessly, dropping both hands down to help you with the task, and finally you reach your hand into his trousers and press your palm against his cock, hot and heavy even through his boxers.

“Bed,” he grunts, backing you up until the back of your knees hit a hard edge and you fall backwards onto his plush duvet. He stands above you, breathing heavily, and for a moment you stare at each other, as though processing that this is happening - and the moment picks up again. Harry reaches down and tugs at the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body and sending it into the corner of the room. Your bra is lace, at least, and decidedly prettier than your panties, and for a moment he stares down at your chest with a look of pure lust adorning his face.

“You look a bit flushed, professor,” you tell him, voice faux innocent and sounding entirely more confident than you feel. “Are you feeling okay?”

Harry chuckles through gritted teeth, and you push yourself onto your elbows so you can work at the buttons of his shirt as he tugs his pants down his legs. “I’ve never been better, in fact.” His boxers are flannel and you can see the bulge in his boxers, and it’s even bigger than what you’d expected.

Your work at undoing his buttons slows down as your mind suddenly flips into overdrive - you must wear the worry that suddenly overtakes you because Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“When’s the last time you’ve done this?” he questions, voice soft and spun sugar sweet.

“Um -” you try and think. The last time you’d done this you’d lost your virginity and that was - “A year ago. Maybe longer.”

Harry nods, nudging your nose with his and giving you one final kiss before rising back up. His hands replace yours as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to go slow, baby. I promise.”

In every fantasy you’ve had about him, he’s not slow - he’s fast, pounding you so hard the bed is nearly louder than the noises you make - but now that you’re here with him? Maybe you need slow.

You nod, and he smiles down at you. He presses his hands onto the mattress and then snakes them beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra, and you lift yourself up slightly so he can undo it and slide your last piece of clothing off of you. He sends it into another part of the room and you can’t be bothered to focus on it because - Christ! - all of a sudden Harry lowers his mouth to your breast, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking.

“Fuck!” you gasp, fingers working themselves into his curls. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp and he moans lowly against your skin. Harry lifts his head off of you, pinching one of your nipples so you cry out.

He lifts one leg to rest on the bed and then grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge. Your legs instinctively spread and he watches you, breathing heavily. “Baby,” he mutters, hands slipping his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Heat burns your cheeks and you shut your eyes.

“Look at me,” Harry tells you, and it’s all you can do to obey. “Want you looking at me while I fuck you. Can you do that?”

You nod, swallowing as he grips one of your calves and hikes it onto the bed, exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to him. You look down your body, where he’s grasping his achingly fucking hard cock in his hand, and then he drags the tip down your slit with a low hiss.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, voice soft and strained, as if he’s holding back and you know he is. But he needs this to be a good experience for you so it can be good for him and that’s what you appreciate.

“Y - yeah.” you push yourself onto your elbows and your eyes meet, maintaining perfect eye contact as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s going achingly slow and -

The stretch aches and you drop your head onto the mattress with a groan, Harry’s hand immediately finding your hand where you’re grasping the duvet feverishly. He bottoms out, fully sheathed in your warm cunt, a low groan piercing the air at the feeling of your walls, tight around him. It hurts - not as much as you’d expected, and the pain that quite literally fills you overtakes the burn.

You squeeze his hand, feeling his other run up and down the inside of your thigh as you adjust to him. “Oh - my god - wait - just - just one second wait one second -”

“Of course,” he breathes, and his voice is shaky with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. “T - take your time, babygirl.”

After a few seconds you push your head up to look at him, nodding slightly. “Okay. I need more, p - professor.”

You can tell he likes when you call him that and in some weird way you love it too - love knowing that the professor everyone lusts for is fucking you, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in, squeezing your hand when you cry out at the feeling. Maybe you’re not the first student to experience him like this but based on his demeanor you think you are - there’s something about him in this moment that feels like a secret you’ve discovered.

“Oh - fuck -” Harry grunts as he moves his hand from your thigh to your hip, pressing your body down with just enough force to limit your movements. It’s paining him, going so slow, you can tell - and you’re already starting to need more from him. You need him to go faster, and with a breathy moan you tell him.

Slowly his pace picks up, his grip on your hip tightening until you’re sure there’ll be fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. With every thrust he fills you up so completely that every perfect spot inside of you is hit just right, and you never knew it could feel this good.

Every noise of his that tears through the bedroom spurs you on, pushing your hips into his to deepen every thrust. And every time you whine or whimper or cry or anything Harry delivers a harder thrust, fucking you so deep that you can feel it in the pit of your tummy.

“God, p - professor,” you moan, the word falling entirely too naturally off your lips even in your heightened state. Harry throws his head back with a high pitched whine, speeding up his pace until the loudest noise in the room is skin hitting skin. “Holy shit - fuck - I’m gonna - gonna -”

“Gonna cum around my cock, baby?” He hisses, pressing the hand that had once resided on your hip into the mattress, gripping the covers tighter so he can rail his hips into yours desperately. “So fucking tight around me, can’t even fucking stand it -”

Your hand, shaking beyond belief, slides down to rub hard circles into your clit. The sensations on your clit and his cock, rutting against your G spot with every thrust, sends you over the edge again - already so overstimulated from the rather intense orgasm you’d had before - and with a loud cry-bordering-on-scream you’re cumming again.

“Fuck!” you moan, hips bucking up against his as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Fuck, Harry, oh my god -”

He’s not far behind you, hips stuttering ever so slightly but he wants to bring you to one more orgasm, securing this day as the best fuck of your (admittedly limited) sex life and he can’t cum yet. Your hand falls back onto the mattress and Harry pulls his clammy hand from yours, bringing it down to replace your fingers on your clit, and immediately you clench around his cock, begging incoherently for something - you’re not sure what - as he presses down on your clit hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock twitches inside of you, and grunts and moans are flying from Harry’s mouth faster than he can control it. Your walls flutter around his dick, his thrusts slowing to lazy pumps in and out. He’s so fucking close, he just needs one more push and then -

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks down at you, your eyes nearly black with desire, tears streaking down your cheeks. “C - cum in me, professor.”

It’s the final straw for Harry, and with a nearly animalistic cry he sheathes himself fully inside of you and cums so hard so fast, it’s nearly violent, and the feeling of warmth that explodes in your cunt sends you into your fourth orgasm of the night -

It’s less intense than the others but still entirely too prominent and when you’ve finally rode out the last wave you collapse against the bed, your head spinning and your legs aching as Harry presses it back down from where it had been perched up.

Harry collapses on top of you, his body suffocating and hot and sweaty and you wrap your arms around him, your desperate attempts at steadying your breathing filling the room. You’ve never cum so hard and so much and you’re fucking exhausted, truthfully.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweat soaked curls. “How was that?”

You exhale with a smile upturning your lips, beginning to feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” you murmur, and a grin breaks onto his face as he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment - no words need to be spoken. Harry shifts the pair of you further up the bed, your head crashing onto one of his pillows as he remains, firmly on top of you, like he never wants to leave.

But you can’t stop yourself from asking the question burning through your mind, and you swallow thickly before mumbling, “Harry -”

He hums softly.

“Is this like - a one time thing?”

His head lifts again, chin pressed to your shoulder blade, eyebrows furrowed. Harry takes a moment to respond, though, lifting his hand to trace a line across your jawline to your lips, and you press a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers when he arrives at his destination. “I don’t think so,” he tells you, and his voice is quiet and vulnerable, as if waiting for you to deny him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his soft lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“‘Course, baby.”

The name makes your tummy flutter, and you think you could listen to him call you baby for the rest of your life. “I’ve dreamt of this,” you tell him, lips merely a centimeter from his. “Since the beginning of the semester, every night.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, and you giggle at his expression. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

You shut your eyes, then. Rest your head on his pillow, feeling warm with the man you adore pressed on top of you, his arms firmly and protectively wrapped around you. Nothing has ever felt more right to you, and you drift off to sleep with a soft smile still gracing your lips.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #yall i am rlly proud of this but yes im sorry it took so long to come out #i had so much fun writing it and im so happy w it #please leave feedback!!! id appreciate it so much

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Exceeding expectations

Valentine’s Day (Masterlist)

Request: Anonymous: Hey this is for the Valentine’s Day promps! Tony, ⚡️, enemies to lovers, 4. & 11.

4. “I bought a dress, shaved my legs, and put makeup on. I refuse to be stood up.”

11. “Cupid just shot me in the ass with an arrow!”

Pairing: Student!Tony Stark x Fem!Student!Reader

Summary: All your life you have been focused on your studies, for you that was all that mattered, but during your third year of university things take a sharp turn and love appears in your life.

Warnings: College AU. SMUT ⚡️

Word count: 7254

A/N: This is very long! It has gotten out of hand. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

At the age of thirteen you had discovered that love, or rather what adults used to call love, because you barely knew what those four letters meant, doesn't always bring you happiness. Jason Filton had sent you a note in the middle of Biology class informing you that you were no longer dating and that his new girlfriend was Sarah Rickman. After reading it, you threw the paper over his head as hard as you could, making all your classmates laugh and you ended up in the headmaster's office. At that moment you decided that love was rubbish, as well as everything else that had to do with it, so you chose to dedicate your life to more important things, such as your studies, and that's how you got a place in one of the best universities in the country.

For the first two years of aeronautical engineering you abhorred any distraction that would make you lose track of your own path. No parties, no conversations of more than ten minutes with anyone that weren't helpful to your future, no going home for holidays, it was all a waste of time that tended to break up your daily routine. Your university lifestyle tended to be unconventional, and unconventional didn't tend to go unnoticed in those places, and it didn't help that you were a year ahead of everyone else and your grades were above average. It seemed that everything stood in your way, but you used to overcome obstacles with great ability, you didn't let anything get to you, especially coming from society.

In the third year things changed, you were offered the possibility of taking two parallel degrees, as many subjects were validated, there was no evidence that you accepted, so in your weekly planning began to appear subjects of mechanical engineering. At no point did it ever occur to you that this choice would bring with it some murky consequences that you did not have in mind. A smarty-pants is not always well accepted in a class when there is already a person who occupies that position, there he was, the cause of all your future ills during the university year ahead, Tony Stark.

It's not that you hadn't competed with people like this before, well, you'd never really come across someone like this before, he was worthy of analysis, one of a kind, any student of psychology or even anthropology would be willing to do a doctorate on him. Although he obviously wouldn't come out of that research alive.

A week after attending those classes, you discovered that he was the same age as you, so he was also advanced in Mechanical Engineering, but the most surprising thing was that he already had a PhD in Physics, which made you wonder what you were doing wrong. Even so, the most curious thing is that he hardly paid any attention in class, he spent the whole time chatting amicably with his colleagues in the back row, but every time he was asked he answered the professor's questions correctly and wittily. He was a scholar, and that got on your nerves, although it was easy for you to hide it.

You avoided getting in his way at all times, but it was very easy for him to do so whenever you were in class, and one point in your favour was that when classes were over you used to lock yourself in your bedroom, and you were lucky that your classmate hardly ever came around, so those 15 square metres were all for you. But even so, the biggest drawback of your third year was not the competition with Tony Stark, it was someone else, James Barton.

James was a boy who shared some Mechanical Engineering classes with you, he was a year older than you and it was more than evident that he was a real inconvenience, because from the first day you entered the Micro/Nano Engineering Laboratory and he sat next to you, you knew you were in serious trouble. You felt the same as when Jason Filton at the beginning of eighth grade invited you for an ice cream in the cafeteria, that's right, that was the closest thing to love you had ever felt, that's why you knew you were in serious trouble.

During the first few months there were no clear developments, mostly because you never noticed any interest on his part. In your case, you hid with all your might the excitement you felt every time Tuesday morning came and you had to share a lab with him, the last thing you wanted was to look like a desperate high school teenager every time you saw him. But by magic, or perhaps fate, things gave you an incentive for your relationship as classmates to evolve.

Apparently James had been down with the flu for a week, so he was unable to attend class that Tuesday, it was obvious to you from the first moment you saw his empty seat. Therefore, Mr. Gregory thought it appropriate, since you always sat next to him, that you could bring him the material he had offered during that class. You were grateful that he thought there was at least a friendship between the two of you, it was an incipient one for you. You were a little reluctant at first, mostly because you didn't think it was appropriate to introduce yourself to him in his dormitory when you had barely spoken a word to each other beyond a morning greeting and a goodbye when you left class, but you chose to accept it as a personal challenge.

It was not complex to find out which dorm you were staying in, nor to find out which room you were in, the complexity was in making proper social conversation, as your social skills were far from what any young person could wish for. Nor did the male gazes cast upon you as you entered the building and began to walk down those corridors to the third floor help, you didn't know if you were in a dorm, a circus or a petting zoo. It made you wonder how those people had managed to get a place at MIT.

You positioned yourself in front of the wooden door with a set of papers and notes from Mr. Gregory's class in your hands, replaying over and over in your mind how you could start an ordinary conversation, but before you could knock on the door someone behind you thought you needed help so with his knuckles he rapped on the wood.

"If you don't knock no one will open the door," said a boy flashing you a friendly smile, perhaps the first you had ever seen in that place, as he continued on his way.

"Come in!" exclaimed a voice behind that door, you knew at that moment it was James.

Taking a breath you slowly rested your hand on the doorknob and turned it slightly, leaving only a small gap to put your head through.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I don't mean to intrude. I'm just dropping off the notes and materials Mr. Gregory gave in class today. He thought they might come in handy for next week's class."

James was lying on the bed, you found that the atmosphere was a little heavy with sweat mixed with his particular scent with hints of cinnamon, but the moment he discovered who his visitor was he sat up and started to pick up some tissues that were scattered on the sheets.

"God... I'm sorry, this is a mess," he said, taking the wastepaper basket in his hands and stuffing everything he could find into it, his tone totally congested.

"No, don't worry about it," you added quickly, stepping into the room. "Don't mind me, I was just coming to bring you the notes and I was just leaving."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, collapsing back onto the bed from flu-like exhaustion.

"That's all right," you gave him a small smile and put the material you had brought on the desk nearest his bed. "I guess you'll understand everything, but if you don't understand anything or need anything at all you can tell me."

"Thank you very much," he said leaning back against the wall, "I appreciate it."

You nodded smiling at him, thankful that the situation hadn't been too complicated, at least so far, so you decided not to push your luck and head for the door.

"Wait," he exclaimed as best he could behind you, causing your footsteps to stop and you to turn back to him. "Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?"

During those moments you were trying to process his request to buy you a drink the dormitory door opened with a thunderous bang against the wall, bringing you face to face with your beloved Mechanical Engineering partner.

"Oops, sorry, am I interrupting something?" he said curiously, contemplating you both gradually.

"Could you not give those bumps every time you come in?" complained James almost incomprehensibly due to congestion.

"Sure mate," having said that he gingerly closed up and walked over to his bed, picked up a book, lay down and pretended to browse through it.

"So?" James looked back up at you waiting for an answer.

It had all happened so fast that your mind had not yet come to terms with the situation, but all you had to do was say "sure", "yes, I'd love to" or "of course, that would be fine", but you only managed to nod with a small smile.

"That's a yes?" he asked trying to clarify your intentions.

"Sure," you managed to say between nods, which managed to extract a smile from your partner. "So... I'll see you next week in class. I hope you get better."

To your surprise you had overcome that personal challenge with great talent, you knew that if your sister were present she would award you the medal for bravery, not only for having talked to a boy, but for having managed to get a possible future date with great elegance, and without hardly expecting it. But what you didn't realise, or at least not until first thing on Wednesday morning, was that you were in for some curious comments from your opponent about the previous day's events.

"So you're going out with Barton," he said almost before he sat down behind you. "I thought your social life was limited to striking up a conversation with the lady at the post office one Sunday a month."

Over time you had learned that the best thing you could do was to ignore that annoying little voice that sat behind you every Wednesday and tried to interrupt you every time you were offering an explanation during class. It was the best way you had found to get through those first few months with him.

But it wasn't all that simple, especially when you and James started a friendship that developed into something a little more serious just before the Christmas holidays. Like any other relationship where two people are attracted to each other the search for intimacy is normal and ordinary, during the third year of university you were lucky that your roommate was practically a ghost and you found the best place to have your own intimacy, because obviously you didn't know why Tony Stark was always in his bedroom, and when he wasn't he used to appear at the most inopportune moments, and worst of all without knocking.

"Are you crazy?" you exclaimed, hiding under the covers. "Don't you know how to knock?!"

"Oh, come on! It's nothing I haven't seen before," he said throwing himself on his bed. "Don't worry about me, I don't care."

At those moments you didn't know whether to get up and cross his face or just not show up there anymore, because things didn't stop there, he used to drag out the subject at hand and make inappropriate comments to you in class, such as "I hope you used protection" or "you forgot your bra" or "if you need any advice you know you can ask me for it". It was quite frustrating, because there was little you could do about it, just ignore him or else he would come over the top.

Apart from that everything seemed to work perfectly with James, or at least that's what it seemed to you, the two months that you had been together things were coming together without forcing them, you met every now and then to go out to eat, you took advantage of the moments you were alone to study and sometimes things generated moments of intimacy, it was the closest thing you had had to a love relationship, although your experience was very basic in that matter in question. So basic that you barely understood a lot of things and you could be very naive about anything to do with social relationships.

Discussions started to become your daily routine, they all came hand in hand because of your clashing characters, he used to have a very evolved social life, three times a week, he even skipped some classes because of the hangover that the night before he had self-inflicted, although you accepted his lifestyle, you didn't share it at all and his constant initiatives to integrate you in his environment didn't usually turn out as he expected. So a constant back and forth ensued from then on, which brought out a character you didn't like.

You began to hear rumours, which you tried to avoid, so as not to get caught in the net. These rumours ranged from whether James had hooked up with Nancy Skelton the night before to whether he had taken her to his room. So every time you sought an explanation he seemed to find himself sufficiently unwilling to offer one. The same thing happened on Valentine's Day.

You had been ignoring the rumours that were torpedoing your ears for two weeks, James had sworn and swore to you that nothing that was going around the halls of the college was true, that he hadn't done anything with anyone at the frat party. You, like an innocent fool, accepted his words, letting yourself be carried away by those green eyes that knew how to make your legs tremble. So that meant that the Valentine's dinner was still on. It was the first time you had bought a dress for a special occasion on your own, you didn't choose to take risks, black was always welcome and straps too, although you really did take risks with the neckline, and with the reddish lipstick. In short, you wanted me to discover that you could also become Nancy Skelton for a night, but apparently I didn't feel like checking it out. You waited for twenty minutes in your room for him to come and get you, but you thought something must have happened, so you headed off to find out for yourself.

Again, as if you were in a circus attraction, and you were the main attraction, you rushed through the corridors of the male dorm with whistles, sexist comments and cheers behind you. It was Thursday night, which meant that the party had started early that evening and most of them had traded blood for alcohol. You knocked on the door, waited a few seconds but no one answered, knocked again, but the case was ignored so you tried to turn the doorknob, but to your surprise the room was locked.

"What the hell?" you asked yourself.

Totally confused you look at your wristwatch, expecting to have got the time wrong, but no, it was 8:35 p.m. just thirty-five minutes later than you had arranged. You stood there for a couple of minutes waiting for him to appear out of nowhere, but the most you could find was one of his mates running past you in his underwear.

"Hey! Do you know where James Barton is?" you exclaimed trying to find an answer.

"In the common room!" he shouted without turning to look at you.

Looking like a complete idiot for not having considered that fact you walked back through the hallway in embarrassment in the direction of the common room, from where laughter, shouting and anything else that involved a group of boys with beer bottles around them was emanating. When you appeared through the door frame there was little time for your presence to be noticed.

"What have we got here?!"

"Oh my god, is this my birthday present?"

"Shut your mouths you idiots!" James stood up from his seat and walked towards you, with a subtle wobble in his body and his eyes completely rolled back in his head. "Is it time already?"

"It's actually been forty minutes," your arms were still crossed preventing his body from approaching yours. You could smell the stench of beer all over him, even his shirt was stained with a few drops.

"All right, all right," he said abandoning the bottle on a bookshelf. "Let's go."

Unable to hold on, and under the watchful eyes and laughter of his companions he offered you his arm, but lost his balance and fell to the ground, right at your feet. You took a deep breath and began to let it out very slowly, but you barely flinched, you couldn't believe what was happening to you at that moment. James tried to get up as best he could and stood back up in front of you, pulling his shirt back on.

"Come on," he made a second attempt.

"No, no James," you said in the most serious tone you could rescue from your broken insides. "I'm not going anywhere with you. But you know what, I bought a dress, shaved my legs, and put makeup on. I refuse to be stood up. So I'm going to take advantage of the reserve we have." You uncrossed your arms for the first time and pointed your finger at him. "Ah! And in case you haven't made it clear, it's over between us."

The cheers went up like you'd just scored a touchdown in the middle of the national finals, but you just kept your composure and got out of the place as quickly as possible. You were so pissed off about the situation, as well as yourself, that you felt the sting running through your veins. You asked yourself over and over again how you had been so stupid as to get into this situation, you, but you couldn't find a coherent answer. You assumed that smoke must be billowing from your head as you cut your way through the labyrinthine corridors to get out of the building as quickly as possible, but just around the corner the one person who could complicate things appeared.

"Hey!" he exclaimed behind you, picking up his pace and coming up beside you. "I was thinking, why go to dinner alone when you can have good company?"

You turned your head to the right, flashing him the most incoherently terrified look you could extract from yourself at the moment, but Tony didn't seem to care enough because even that didn't stop his grin from being wiped off his face.

"Are you kidding me?" your footsteps were rather light. "Oh, of course not! Do you really think I'll accept you coming to dinner with me?"

"Do you have someone better to go with?" his arrogance was pushing you over the edge.

"Of course! Me, alone," you said walking down the steps of the dorm and stepping outside.

"Really, by yourself on the most romantic night of the year, in a small Bistro in downtown Boston?" he said without breaking away from you. "That sounds really sad," he paused. "Do you have a car?"

"Welcome to the world, I don't need a man to go out to dinner whenever I feel like it and there are taxis," you walked as if you were going to miss the train of your life.

"Alright!" Tony definitely seemed to give up and fall in behind you, "See ya!"

You were so upset at the time that the only thing on your mind was to head for the campus taxi rank, and so you did. You were lucky that there were a couple of taxis waiting, so it didn't take you more than fifteen minutes to get to the door of the Bistro, located in the centre of Boston. The place was really charming to anyone's eyes, its round tables were perfectly placed to offer a cosy dinner to any of its diners. The candles offered that romantic air that anyone could want on that night of the year, and the aroma of traditional dishes was wafting from inside, whetting anyone's appetite.

You looked outside through the glass windows to see the couples who seemed to be enjoying a really lovely evening, it was at that moment that your spirited idea seemed to wane, for now it didn't seem to make much sense to go inside and dine completely alone under the watchful eyes of the waiters who wondered what had happened to put you in such a situation. The metre who stood at the door waiting to receive his customers watched you, for you were only a few feet away from him.

"Do you wish to wait inside, miss?" he asked with a pleasant smile.

"No, I..." you shook your head as if to leave.

"I'm here baby," a hand took hold of your waist. "Sorry it took me so long, it's impossible to park in this area."

As you heard that voice and felt that hand on your waist you knew immediately who it was, caramel coloured eyes accompanied by a wide smile were looking at you right next to you, you were about to give him a push if it wasn't for the fact that that metre opened the access door to the place and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene in the middle of the street.

"Did you have a reservation?" asked the waiter, checking the list.

"Yes, under the name of James Barton," said Tony, barely letting you speak.

"By all means, follow me," he began walking among the diners arriving at a small round table just outside the window, where he didn't take a second to light the candle that adorned the table. "Will you have something to drink in the meantime?"

"Yes, what wine do you recommend?" his way of waving his hand embarrassed you, he seemed to want to pretend to be knowledgeable.

"Oh, we have a Château Montrose, which goes perfectly with the meat tastings," he informed her.

"Perfect," nodded Tony, opening the menu.

As quickly as the waiter left, your attitude changed, expressing all your feelings with your face.

"Are you crazy?" you whispered, leaning towards him so that no one else could hear you. "Do you have any idea what that wine might be worth? But more importantly, what the hell are you doing? What are you doing here? What is this?"

"Oh come on, you know if I hadn't come you'd be back in college right now, don't you?" he cocked his head to the side and smiled at you, "Besides, the wine and dinner is on me, just enjoy the night."

"Enjoy the night? With you? Really?" you frowned, it was unbelievable to you that this was happening, but at least he'd had the courtesy to ditch those rock band t-shirts he used to wear and that messy hair, he'd shown up in a white shirt and black peg trousers.

The wine soon arrived and you'd be lying if you said it didn't help the dinner go more smoothly, allowing you to chat like two normal people. You found it hard to let go of that stubborn attitude you have inside you, but when you managed to put it aside you came to discover that Tony could be a lot of fun, even if he didn't share your sense of humour. You spent two hours discovering similarities in each other and also many differences, but it was a fruitful conversation, for the candle that lit the centre of your table was gone. You surprised yourself by observing more than once the features of his face, his honey-coloured hazel eyes, his upturned nose, his full lips and the way he smiled that seemed to bring out your colours every time he did it. But you blamed it all on the bottle of wine you had finished between the two of you.

When they brought the bill he barely allowed you to look at it, as he deposited his american express and smiled proudly at you.

"How about now...?"

"Shall we go back to campus?" you cut him off by stepping outside with a smile you couldn't keep off your face and pink cheeks.

"Well, actually, I was thinking..."

"I'm exhausted," you cut him off again, draping your jacket over your shoulders. "Besides, we have a class first thing in the morning."

" Okay!" he exclaimed in a melodious tone shoving his hands into his pockets. "Then we'll go back to campus."

In three minutes you found yourself sitting inside a red Porsche, which was going at a speed well above what you were used to. From the speakers came the sound of the Australian rock band AC/DC, but without knowing why Tony stopped the music.

"What's wrong?" you asked looking at him quizzically.

"I thought you didn't like it," he shrugged. "You were very quiet."

"First of all, I was listening, I like it," you began, "and secondly, in case I didn't like it you don't have to indulge me, this isn't a date, or anything like that."

"All right," he gave a half-smile and turned the music back on. "So this isn't a date..."

You smiled quizzically at his last words, trying to assume that it had been the alcohol that had given you that little smile and not your subconscious that seemed rather pleased by the last two hours you had spent together. During the drive you couldn't help but laugh when you discovered his imitations of Angus Young, the lead guitarist of the band you were listening to. But the situation changed when the Porsche pulled up right in front of your dorm, but before you had even taken off your seatbelt your door was open and Tony's hand was waiting to help you out.

"Thank you..." you whispered a little reluctantly. "Oh, you don't need to come with me, I think it's rather late, so I'd better..."

" Okay," he nodded smiling, again that wry smile that you knew was going to cause you to either want to come along or not.

"Alright," you said giving up and walking towards the inside of the building. "Don't even think about making a sound."

"Please, I'm all grave," he said behind you as you walked up the stairs, but he didn't keep his word as a stumble caused the sound to bounce all over the stairwell.

"Tony..." you reproached him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he raised his hands in his defence.

Within a minute you had reached the door leading to your room and the awkward moment of saying goodbye was upon you, face to face.

"Okay, well... I guess thank you very much for... dinner and for walking me to the door," you nodded without knowing why in a slightly nervous tone.

"It's been my pleasure," he bowed, his voice sounding utterly confident, the opposite of yours.

"Great... so, I'll see you in class tomorrow," you rummaged through your bag to find your room key and when you had it in your hand and looked back up at him you discovered Tony's gesture biting his bottom lip, so your mouth let out, "or maybe..."

Why the hell had you blurted out those three words, 'Or maybe...' 'Or maybe what?' Your unconscious was working and coming alive in you, your inner self was saying that you didn't want to part with him so soon and that you couldn't wait for him to come into the room with you.

"Or maybe?" a half-smile came to life on his face, showing you part of his tongue running subtly across his upper lip that made your heart race. But finding that you didn't know what to say in that instant, he added, "Are you inviting me in?"

"I..." you looked a little hesitant, but found the courage to face the situation, "Only if... you feel like it."

There was a few moments of silence in which your wives seemed to be electrified.

"All right, but first I think you should know something," he added, breaking the moment of sexual tension that had built up. "The James rumours are true. I caught him and Nancy in our bedroom," he paused and tucked back a strand of hair that had come loose. "I should have told you before."

Why did you feel as if you knew deep down that this event was true? Maybe because it only took you three months of being with James to find out what he was really like, a total prick. But the funny thing is that when you took in those words, the sexual tension returned, making you forget everything he'd told you.

"Okay," you nodded with a blank stare, "So does that mean you don't want to come in?"

Again he made that arrogant smile present again that even as he brought his face close to yours to catch your lips did not disappear. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, crushing your body against the wooden door, preventing you from escaping from that place if you were planning to do so. It was really infuriating, to have his lips between yours and still feel the need to have him closer. You were so lost that the key slipped from your fingers, catching Tony's attention and he opted to pull away from you and bend down for it, you hated those seconds, but instantly you discovered his hands roaming the nakedness of your legs along with his lips rediscovering that new area.

"Come on Tony," you begged, resting your hand on the doorknob so as not to give in to his touch as it slowly crept up your thighs. "Open the door."

With a small nibble on the inside of your left thigh he pulled himself back up to your height to force your lips together as he tried his best to open the door as best he could in the dark. You felt the door offer you passage into a room dimly lit by the moonlight coming through the window. Tony closed the door behind you regardless of the noise he made in doing so.

" Damn it, Tony," you said, pulling away from him.

He took the opportunity to pull your dress up to your waist and wrap your legs around his waist to direct you towards your bed. The position is really intimate, but your head wasn't in the right place to dwell on it at the moment, there was practically nothing romantic about what was happening or what was going to happen in a few minutes. During the ride you opted to get rid of the black dress that seemed to be burning your skin by dropping it to the floor, revealing your naked body only covered by a pair of black panties.

"Shit. Cupid just shot me in the ass with an arrow!" he exclaimed finding his gaze at the level of your breasts.

Tony's body collapsed on the mattress, unable to take his eyes off your body, he maintained an upright, seated position, straddling him. Your gazes connected, in your eyes there was nothing but tension and lust, the passion of two young university students who needed to let off steam as soon as possible. However, inside you both hid a sense of nervousness that you kept from coming out.

Although you'd had sex with James before, you weren't exactly an expert on the subject, but something inside you was working, making it seem like you had no problem with it. In Tony's case you had heard things, but you didn't know how much of it was true or not. Still, Tony's kisses trailing his mouth down your neck were methodical, the way he brushed his tongue, bit into your neck and finished by pressing a soft kiss seemed to transport you to paradise, just as it did him, as you could see it in the hardness forming between your folds. A moan escaped your lips causing your hips to move gently to feel more firmly what was hidden in his trousers.

"Oh, god, do that again," Tony uttered against your ear in a completely gnawed tone of voice.

As if it was a command you were incapable of refusing, you did it again. His hands gripped your thighs firmly and his lips lingered on your breasts for the first time, brushing his lower lip over your right nipple, letting his intense breathing fan it. Your back arched bringing your breasts closer against his mouth, likewise your fingers found themselves stirring his hair. Tony simply played with his tongue against you offering equal attention to both breasts, making sure it was pleasurable, and he assumed he was succeeding thanks to the sounds coming from inside you.

Your hips kept making circular motions pressing against him trying to relieve the need that had built up in your core. Tony seemed to feel the same need so he parted his lips from your breasts and made a sudden movement grabbing your waist and trying to flip you over on the bed, trying because in the process he caused your head to hit the bedside table next to the mattress.

"Shit!" he exclaimed with a surprised look on his face, but your reaction generating a giggle in you, calmed him down expressing a smile. "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay," you say finally taking the position he wanted, lying down on the bed and finding Tony's body on top of yours.

You feel his lips moving over your skin again as he undoes his shirt, uncovering every part of his back with your fingertips. Your whole body was being a mess, the path of his tongue was heading south, his fingertips formed circles around your navel and his mouth had a clear direction, you felt it when his fingers brushed the top of your panties. All you could do was keep your eyes closed with your head on the pillow, bite your lower lip to stop the curses coming from inside you and press your legs against each other.

"Open your legs," he whispered against your skin and then placed a kiss on your lower belly, making all your nerves want to explode. "I'll be gentle, promise."

You feel those words crash against your skin, and as if they were a switch they are able to make your legs open subtly giving way to the fabric of your underwear sliding down your thighs. Tony decides to take his time until he manages to extract them through your feet as he doesn't take his eyes off your completely naked body exposed before him. He slid his fingers around the inside of your legs to again run his lips up and down them so that his hands were free to free himself from your trousers.

"Do you have...?" he asked moving his kisses up your thighs.

"What...?" the word almost came as a plea from your lips.

"Condoms," he said against your skin.

Something in your brain clicked, bringing you back to consciousness in those moments, you lifted your head off the pillow and looked directly into Tony's eyes that were practically over your core in those moments.

"Are you telling me you don't have any condoms?" you asked with a frown, a little gruff at the situation you were in.

"Well, I wasn't really planning on ending the night like this," he lifted his face with a smile from between your thighs, but as he watched your head fall frustratingly against the pillow he added, "Okay honey, don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

As quickly as he uttered those words he managed to get your lower limbs onto his shoulders, meeting again between your thighs. That was the first time you discovered what lips on your clitoris felt like. Your frustration was fully replaced by pleasure, a pleasure that made every part of your body tremble. You really didn't know how you could have missed this for so long. Your hands were fixed on either side of your body gripping the sheet tightly, but there came a point when you couldn't let him pull away from you, so you curled your fingers in his hair. Right now you had Tony Stark kissing and licking your most intimate part and all you could think about was that his movements wouldn't stop.

"Please... Don't stop," you urged between moans, feeling two fingers thrust inside you at your words.

You find yourself in complete disbelief, you're a mess, and you can't help but open your eyes and look at the one causing the disaster, who just like you was a complete mess against your intimacy. That action, along with the speed of his movements inside you and his moans against you, causes all your senses to connect and decide that the time has come to explode. You drop your head back down onto the pillow, arching your back in an attempt to establish a closer connection with him. You're exhaling, screaming his name between your moans without thinking about who might hear you. He continues to consume you, sucking you in as he brings you to full orgasm. Your limbs slowly manage to steady their movements, until the euphoria inside you ends with a soft moan.

Tony subtly withdraws his fingers from inside you as he leaves his wet kisses around your thighs, searching for your gaze amidst the mess of sheets that existed around you at that moment. He finds himself climbing up your body, kissing every part of it gently until he reaches your face where he catches your lower lip between his teeth.

"I told you, I'll take care of everything," he added with a half-smile. "And I think I've managed to exceed expectations."

"It's possible," you kissed him again finding your breathing much calmer. "That means it's my turn now."

With more skill than he did, you were able to get his body underneath yours in an instant, causing his tongue to come out and lick his upper lip. It was obvious that he was tremendously proud of the job he had just done, thanks to how well you had let him know with your facial and guttural expressions. But now it was your moment, discovering that your needs had not yet been fully satisfied and that you had a burning need inside you to feel him in you. Your kisses moved from his lips to his neck, taking on the taste of his perfume. You exerted just enough pressure with your teeth to profess from his throat his sweet gasps that were filling you with madness.

The path of your kisses was present on his chest, which rose and fell because of his accelerated breathing. He was soft, sweat was present on him from the previous exertion, but you hardly thought that fact mattered to you. Your tongue had reached his lower abdomen with great skill, the evidence of which was that Tony had chosen to lose eye contact with your actions and now looked a complete mess biting his knuckles. If it had been any other time you would have enjoyed the scene in front of your eyes causing him to beg, but he had been so good to you and you were so eager to kiss what was hidden by his briefs that you wasted little time in sliding the fabric down his thighs and releasing his erection.

You had been in that situation only once before in your life, so you opted for a marked subtlety in bringing your lips to his tip and licking it clean of his pre-cum. Luckily for you the noises coming from Tony were a map for your movements. you just start by testing the ground, tasting it, feeling it deep in your throat.

"Don't stop, whatever you do. I like that, a lot," his hand wrapped through the strands of your hair as his gaze focused on you.

Those words ignite your movements, you circle his shaft with one hand, accompanying the movements, you find that it intensifies his panting and generates a slight movement in his hips that causes him to thrust his erection deeper against your throat. You bring your free hand to his hips instilling a show of confidence and acceptance of his thrusts, which causes Tony to increase his speed.

"Shit, I'm so close, keep going -," his frantic tone could barely finish the sentence.

You felt the hand disappear from your head allowing you to withdraw right then and there, but his desperation was also shared by you, and just as you had orgasmed against his lips as you couldn't hold him inside you wanted to feel him as much as possible. Throbbing moments later inside your throat, accompanied by curses accompanied by your name coming from inside Tony. His hand returned to its proper place, dropping subtly to your head, enticing you to follow his movements.

Your lewd movements stopped over time as you noticed his limbs returning to their normal function and his breathing resumed its normal rhythm. You withdrew, offering her a soft kiss on the tip, and connected your gaze with hers, which strangely seemed a little embarrassed.

"I hope the walls are thick," you commented with an arched eyebrow.

He merely took in your smiling face and intertwined his fingers with yours to bring you closer to his height. He placed your bodies sideways, intertwining your legs, and with his fingertips he wiped the droplets of saliva from around your lips.

"So... would you say I've exceeded expectations too?" you asked, caressing his bare arms.

"I don't know," he said hesitantly. "I need more than one round to find out."

His half-smile lifted again, in no doubt that that had been the best sexual experience he'd had to date, because not all rumours are true.

Taglist Open (DM)

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#tony stark x reader #college au #college alternative universe #prompts #drabbles #smut #young tony stark #female reader #ocs #tony stark imagines #tony stark au #iron man x reader #imagines #ff #fanfic #fan fiction #masterlist #tony stark smut

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ghostburs-blue · 4 years

Text

Peace Is Momentary

Summary: soulmate!au where your soulmate will appear to you in a time of need. Spencer’s gone 20 years without meeting his; so has y/n. What will happen when fate finally connects them together?

Warnings: angst if you squint, nothing else really

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: this might become a series if people like it enough!! we’ll see ;)

Spencer knows there’s a chance he’ll never meet his soulmate. He knows the statistics, he’s done the research. Yet, he always feels a little bit better at the thought that someone was made just for him, someone who’ll stay with him through it all.

Of course, he assumed he would have found his soulmate much earlier in life. Most people found theirs when they were as young as 16, though always in the same fashion. Spencer was turning 22, 6 years older than the average age of finding your one true love.

Your soulmate would come to you in a time when you need them the most; when your soul calls out to its other half in a cry for help.

Every time Spencer broke down or cried, whether it be over a case at work, his mother’s condition, or quite literally anything else, he prayed that his soulmate would magically appear in front of him. Alas, the cards simply haven’t been in his favor.

Unknown to Reid, about 20 minutes away, you were in the exact same predicament. All of your life, you had waited to find your soulmate. When your parents passed in your high school years, there was a small part of you that was hoping you would find your soulmate right then and there. That... didn’t exactly work out.

You had moved in with your aunt and uncle in a different city and had turned into the epitome of a rebellious child. You wore clothes your modest family would have a heart attack upon seeing, listened to music the church choir you were a part of would scoff at. However, if there was one thing you were good at, it was school.

You didn’t have a ton of money growing up, so you worked harder than anyone you knew to get scholarships to college. You juggled a full time job at your local coffee shop while still in school to get your engineering degree, and boy was it tiring.

“Excuse me lady? I’ve been waiting for 10 fucking minutes. What have I got to do to get a coffee already?” A man with a thick (Boston?) accent leered at you. You groaned internally, proceeding to plaster a much too bright smile on your face in an attempt to hide your obvious disdain for him.

“So sorry sir! Your cold brew will be coming right up,” you exclaimed cheerily, though you felt anything but. Turning away from him, you let your hands fly over the coffee machine to make a drink you’ve made a thousand times over. Your mind starts to wander as you brew the espresso. Did you even have a soulmate? What if they hate you? What if they’re dead? What if-

Your thoughts were cut short as the espresso machine beeps, jolting you back to reality. You quickly finish off the cup, gratefully sliding it across the bar to the rude man waiting close by. You turned around and caught your coworker’s bemused expression; you were too tired to complain.

Spencer frowned as he gazed at the crime scene photos. What wasn’t clicking?

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of Emily’s heels clacking on the linoleum floor. He turned with his chin resting on his hand to see her wearing a pitying look on her face. In one hand, she held a cup of coffee.

He reached out, pointing to the styrofoam cup. “Is that for me?” Spencer asked, secretly hoping it wasn’t so he could get some rest.

Thankfully, Emily shook her head. “No, Reid.” She sighed, looking back up at him sadly. “Listen, I know you really want to solve this case. Don’t get me wrong, we all do. But you’ve been awake for what? 30 hours straight? You might be a genius but even Einstein needed rest,” she finished. Before Reid could protest, she lifted a hand. “Go back to your hotel room and sleep. That’s a direct order from Hotch.”

Spencer frowned unhappily at the brunette in front of him, but he knew when the conversation was over. Grabbing some files he was fully planning to mull over on the comfort of his stiff hotel mattress, he brushed past Emily and headed towards his car.

After a long shift, you groaned as you pushed open the door to your tiny apartment. Immediately, you stripped off your clothes and headed straight for the shower in an attempt to scrub off the now nauseating scent of coffee.

Emerging 20 minutes later with bright red and freshly exfoliated skin, you felt like you were about to collapse at any second. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

Reid sat on the bed, papers and crime scene photos splayed out in front of him. The heels of his hands dug into his eyes as he tried to prevent tears from running down his unshaven cheeks.

You wake with a start, sweating slightly. Looking around, you frown. This isn’t your hotel room, you think to yourself, confused. You gasped when you noticed a man sitting on the bed, looking like he hadn’t slept in months. His clothes were misshapen, hair messy and clearly not brushed. He was boyishly handsome, you decided with a satisfied nod.

The gasp you let out caused him to look up; you both realized what was happening at the same moment.

“You’re my soulmate,” Spencer breathed out, at the same time you muttered “Oh my fucking god.”

For a few more moments, both stared at each other, unsure how to act and what to do.

Reid made the first move, awkwardly scooting over slightly and clearing his throat, patting the now empty space next to him.

You quietly shuffled over, perching politely on the edge of the bed.

“So um... where are you right now?” You offered, genuinely curious as to why he was in a hotel room in seemingly the middle of nowhere.

Spencer laughed. “I uh- I guess it’s a long story,” his voice trailed off slightly as he noticed the look you gave him, the one that said Really?. “I guess that was a stupid thing to say,” he mumbled.

You laughed, hitting his arm gently. “Don’t worry about it. For now, we have all the time in the world.”

And so the night progressed; Reid told you all about working at the BAU and you told him all about, well, working at a coffee shop. You quickly found out Spencer was a literal genius, and you, completely serious of course, asked if he would do all your homework for you. (Spoiler alert: he said no because it “goes against his morals”. What does that even mean???)

You could feel yourself fading as Spencer got happier and happier. You both seemed to realize you didn’t have much time left. You grabbed his hand, staring deep into his eyes. You could feel yourself leaning in, Reid too-

“Wait!” You exclaimed, and the two of you jumped apart. “What’s your name?” You asked breathlessly.

“Oh!” He replied, seemingly surprised that you two had never exchanged names. What he didn’t know, however, was that you were slipping away from him much faster than either of you could have realized. “It’s Sp-“

And just like that, you were gone. You woke up in your own bed to find it was morning, sunlight streaming through your windows. Racking your brain, you tried to remember what he said his name was. Unfortunately, all you could remember was the short 2 letters you heard before you vanished. He hadn’t even gotten your name! How was he supposed to find you now?

Across the country, Spencer woke up with his head pounding. Bleary eyed, he tried to make sense of what just happened. He met his soulmate, then lost her just as fast. He didn’t even get her name!, Reid kicked himself.

The next few days for the both of you seemed like hell. You found out it was practically impossible to find records of government employees, especially from divisions like the BAU. You grew increasingly frustrated while scouring through database after database.

Spencer had immediately called Garcia, but made her swear to keep it a secret. He attempted to give her an idea of what you looked like, only to hear the disappointed sound of Penelope’s voice letting him know that she had a list of about 10,000 people who fit the description. Of course, knowing Penelope, no secret ever stayed a secret for long. No more than a few hours later he was met with a chorus of congratulations from his fellow colleagues, including Morgan’s “I knew you had it in you!”, which was met with a sad frown as Spencer explained the unlucky situation.

Unfortunately, nothing much happened after that. You gave up your search on this mystery man, he did the same. Every day, however, you both woke up and hoped today would be that one special day where they found each other again. Every day, they were met with another heart wrenching disappointment, until one fateful afternoon.

Your back ached as you scrubbed down the counter for what felt like the thousandth time that day. It had been a few years since what you liked to call “the incident”, and you liked to keep it out of your head at this point. You were now in grad school, in a different city. You still worked at a coffee shop, though this one was much more busy and frankly much more stressful.

You stretched slightly, pulling your arms up in the air as you readjusted your torso. You turned when you heard your coworker call your name; he was going to take a break. You nodded at him, letting him know you would take over for him.

There was a lull in the customers in the shop, which made sense considering it was 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon.

You decided to make the most of the break and started to clean the espresso machine in front of you. As you grabbed a dish cloth from the sink, you heard bells in the doorway tinkle slightly as the door was pushed open.

You looked up with your customer service grin automatically painted on, ready to greet the customer. The welcome died on your lips, however, as you realized who it was. It was him.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized something else; he was kissing a girl who was definitely not you.

You forced yourself to walk over to the cash register, clearing your throat to break the intense lip-locking session apart. A faint look of annoyance crossed Spencer’s face as he looked up at who interrupted them.

His first reaction was exactly what you thought it would be. He froze slightly, then slowly walked up to the register with what looked like a death grip on his (girlfriend’s?) hand.

Though it was the girl who spoke, you found your attention kept flitting to the man next to her. You couldn’t tell if she was oblivious, or just didn’t care.

He had... changed to say the least. Stubble covered the bottom portion of his face, and his hair had grown out. His cheekbones looked more defined, and he walked with an aura of confidence that he didn’t have before. Still, you had to admit he looked very handsome.

You were shaken out of your stupor when you felt the gaze of the girl. She looked at you with, was that impatience? You asked for her payment and her name, Stacy, noting it down on both cups before you took her credit card.

You hurried around behind the bar in an attempt to give them the drinks as quickly as possible and get them to leave. How were you supposed to talk to him now? He literally has a girlfriend!

You finished making the two coffees and set them on the counter, calling out her name to let her know the drinks were ready.

“One nitro cold brew for you, and one iced vanilla latte for him,” you handed over the drinks directly to each of them, making a point to shift Spencer’s drink slightly, causing him to look down. He caught your drift as he noticed a little extra writing underneath Stacy’s name.

His girlfriend grabbed his hand, throwing a quick and insincere “thank you!” over her shoulder at you as they left the store. You slumped against the sink, grabbing the countertop with your hands. What in Gods’ green Earth was this?

Outside, Spencer finally got the chance to look at the cup. He smiled as he read what you had scribbled on there.

Underneath your phone number, you had written, “It’s a really long story but I hope you have the time. Let’s talk soon?”

It was nearing 9 pm when you were starting to lose all hope. What if you made a mistake, and that wasn’t actually your soulmate? You shoved a pillow over your face with irritation and groaned, collapsing onto the sofa next to your phone. As you lay in silence, you heard a noise. Your phone was vibrating.

Sitting up quickly, you picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You asked breathlessly.

A familiar amused chuckle rang on the other end of the line.

“Hi, soulmate.”

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madmiriam · 3 years

Text

My Mando (Din Djarin) /oc's backstory idea (includes alot of rexsoka shipping)

Warning!! : I can't spell for toffee and Tumblr deleted all of my proofreaders edits. Obviously she doesn't want to do it all over again so I've had to make do.

(a clan of three by madmiriam (Me)

We all love the mandalorian, Din Djarin is so sexy as single dad and we all love him for it. But this makes it hard to write and engageing original character to go with this perfect specimen of a man, one that we can really connect with. Well I have a salutation, to connect with a character it helps if that character is also connected to a character/characters that you already know and love. So I give you my original character Jaig.

Look:

Like the picture above, originally I wasn't going to have Din and Grogu in it at first but I have a habit of making life difficult for myself, so your welcome.

Personality:

As an adult, she's calm and patient and has a sarcastic sense of humour.

As a child, she has a bubbly personality, a contagious smile, and an insatiable curiosity.

Strengths:

she finds it difficult to truly hate anyone, no matter what they've done, she proffers to look at the reasons behind the actions of others before jumping in for revenge, that's not to say she doesn't get angry at people, but her anger is not fuelled by hate. She has been fully trained in the use of weaponry, such as guns, granaids and other such, and has had a small amount of training with a lightsaber when she was younger. But afters a experiencing a tragedy at the age of 9 she hasn't touched one since, she proffers the us of DC hand guns. She is also a fairly good pilot and mechanic.

Weaknesses:

back when she was a child she had a hard time using the force when when overwhelmed. If the thoughts and feelings of others got to much, she would become force blind. When she grows older, (for certain reasons you will find out later on in. This story) she completely cuts herself off from the force. Unless her emotions get to much go handle, then the force would almost explodes out of her. She also doesn't do well when she's alown. Having grown up in various large family atmospheres. If she is not around people she cares about and loves, she will become closed off a dipressed.

Back story: (now bear with me, this storyline is set before she meets Din, its just an introduction to this character)

Jaig (due to her small Jaig eye like markings, and her father's personal connection to the simble) is the daughter of ex jedi padawan Ahsoka Tano and her mate/husband Captain Rex. She looks mostly human like her father, with the same amber eyes and his family's dark hair. But with the same facial structure of her mother, and a slightly darker and olive tinged skin tone. She also has distinct white making that were almost identical to her mother's. Except instead of diamond shapes on her forehead, she has jaig eye like markings. She was born 6 years after the clone wars ended, while her parents were on the run from the empire. Rex and Ahsoka had found it impossible to part from one another after the events of order 66, and after travelled from place to place avoiding the empire for a long time. Their feelings for one another grow, and they eventually married through the use of mandalorian marriage vows.

They built a home in the stars, and after a few years, to their great surprise and happiness they conserved and had Jaig. Things were finally looking up with the birth of their new found hope for the future.

(Their new found hope for the future/baby Jaig by madmiriam (me)

But it was not to last. It was hard enough to hide themselves, a clone and a ex jedi from the empire. But now adding a force sensative baby to the mix as well, it made it damn near impossible for them all to stay together. Which; after a terrifying encounter with one of the Empires Inquisitors, forced them to make the difficult decision to part ways. Rex would head off insearch for a new home and hopefully find and de-chip as many brothers as he could. While ahsoka would keep traveling around the stars with Jaig. Avoiding the empire and its ruthless inquisitors, whilst trying to help Jaig build up her Shields. They both agreed to keep in touch and once Jaig's Shields were up and safely secure,(which for the average youngling would take 5 years or so) they would rejoin each other and dicided what to do next. But a year after their separation Rex's comms and messeges had stopped all together, and by the time Jaig had reached the age of five and had built up some suitable shields around her mind, neither she or her mother had herd from her father in over 4 years. Her mother was adament he was still alive, but as she grew older Jaig had a hard time believing her. For if he was alive why hadn't he come to find them? Why was he not answering her mothers messages that she still sent on a regular basis?

By the time she was 6 her mother was approached by Bail Organa, in regards to starting a rebellion, and that is what they spent the next 4 years working towards, staying in the shadows gradually building up a resistance to eventually overthrow the empire.

She and her mother met the ghost crew when she was 9 (the same age Anakin had been when he was found by qui gon) and after an uncomfortably close encounter with a mysterious Sith lord called Darth Vader, Jaig's mother disided it was time to bring her father into the fold, and sent Jaig of with the ghost crew to find Rex.

When meeting her father she had opted to wear a scarf to cover her face markings and, chose to withhold her name, and who she was until she found out more about the man who was her father. She was apprehensive about him. As she had no memorie of her dad, for she was only a baby when he left. The only thing she did have, was this warm comforting feeling that she felt whenever her mother spoke of him. A feeling of being held to a large ferm chest in two equally large and ferm muscular arms. Wrapped in a soft wool blanket. Her mother told her that this was the force making an imprint on one of the more emotional moments of her like. But all the same, she proffered to be cautious.

After spending some time with Rex and his bothers. She found her self really enjoying there company. Aspecially her father's. Who dispite having no idea who she was, had already shown that he had a clear paternal instinct. Particularly when teaching her and Ezra how to fish for "Big Bongo". However Kanan who clearly didn't trust Rex or his brothers had spent most of his time hovering around ether her or Ezra protectively, eventually telling them about his exspirence with order 66, an event her mother never talked about.

After seeing the heartbreak on her father's eyes at the memories he and Kanan spoke of. She desided it was time to tell him who she was. But that decision was cut short however when she overheard Rex telling Ezra that he wasn't going to come back with them. Even though he now knew her mother was alive (1 year after separating when the message's stopped he thought both his wife and child to be dead) Jaig ran of in tears when hearing this. She climbing down the ladder of the the AT-TE and walked ferther in front of the walking monstrosity. Away from everyone else. She had finally gotten used to the idea of her father coming back with them. Had become exited by it even. But now, the fact that he was refusing to come with them. Back to his home, his wife, to her. It hurt and overwhelmed her, more than she could say.

She didn't however see what happened after. When Sebine came out and acused Rex of selling them out, of contacting the empire and never answering Ahsoka's messages; at which point he finds out about how Wolfe had withheld all the messages from Ahsoka for 8 years. Thinking he was protecting his brothers from a potentially vengeful jedi. Rex was furious at Wolfe for hiding his own wife's messages to him, and coursing him to miss so much of his only child's life.

Rex: "we have a daughter Wolfe!!! My Jaig, my baby girl doesn't even know who I am because of you!!!"

Wolfe:(was shocked and full of regret when hearing this) "I.. I.. Didn't know... Rex I'm sorry, I didnt know"

Ezra:(recordnises the name) "wait Jaig? you meen our Jaig, Jaigs your daughter?"

Rex: "wait what?"

At this point they hear a shrill scream coming from down in front of the AT-TE. It was Jaig, she was being attact by the prob droid that had been sent by the empire.

The clones immediately go into action. Rex is handed a rifle and gets ready to shoot the prob as it backs his daughter into the ground. His ames and shoots true, killing the droid with one foul shot and then quickly dashes down to retrieve his daughter from under the sparking remains of the droid.

Jaig is in hysterics at this point. Having been taken by surprise by the droid along with the emotional turmoil of potentially losing her father all over again. She then resigned herself to just sit there and cry over how foolish she was for even seeing the attack coming. But now she was being held in the familiar strong arms of her father as he held his only child for the first time in over 8 years.

Rex: "I'm here sh shh, I'm here Ik'aad senaar (baby bird, a nickname he gave her as an infant) daddy's here, daddy's got you"

He says carefully stocking her familiar dark brown hair (that was now flowing free as her scarf had fallen loosely around her shoulders, revealing her beautiful face to her father who's eyes were now brimming with unshed tears) to calm her down as he picking her up and takes her back to the AT-TE. Where the others are waiting with bated breaths. Wolfe was holding a blanket out to wrap his shacking niece into and Gregor quickly dashing off to get her a hot chocolate hoping to make her feel better.

Jaig: "I was angry. Upset. You said you weren't coming home and, then everyone felt so angry and scared all at once. It was to much. (sighs) I have a hard time controling the force when I get overwhelmed like that. I couldn't even sence the prob. I'm. I'm sorry"

She exsplans after she sits down and has a few sips of the hot chocolate that had been placed in her hands. Accompanied a number of comforting back rubs from both her father and her uncles.

Wolfe apologies to her. Explains that he's the reason her father had been out of her life for so long. That he was just trying to protect his brothers but ended up hurting his other family because of it. And tells her he understands if she hates him.

Jaig: "your Wolfe aren't you? Uncle Wolfe? Mum (she has a slight clone like accent that they haven't noticed before) told me about you, said you worked with Grandpa Plo"

Wolfe: 😳"Grandpa Plo? 😂 Boy he would have loved to have herd you say that"

He said, both of them smile at each other, Jaig having forgiven her uncle for his laps in judgment.

All seemed well again until the empire calls them back to get the clones to hand over the rebels. The clones now fueled by the new found need to keep their new family out of harms way, tells the empire where they can stick it, and quickly try to usher the ghost crew along with Jaig into the phantom so they can escape While they all get ready to fight.

Jaig: "but I just found you, mum told me to bring you home, I can't leave you behind, da.. Please don't go"

She says clutching at his shirt as he huged her tight before holding her out to face him,

Rex:"no one's abandoning anyone. Jaig look at me (tilting her head to look. Into her eyes, eyes that matched her father's) we're soldiers Ik'aad senaar, this is what we were born to do, but this time we have something to fight for.. Its going to be OK, (presses his forehead against hers) I love you my Jaig eyes, I've loved you from the I first held you. Ha you were so tiny. I didn't want to let you go back then and I don't want to do it again now, but like last time it's something I have to do, to keep you safe, my Ik'aad senaar, (kissed her forhead lovingly) tell your mother I'm sorry I couldn't make it home, and... And I love her ok."

He says before sending her back into the phantom, closing the door behind her before she can stop him.

Things then pan out like it does in the show, the phantom goes back to help the clones take down the walkers and Rex then decides he's not gonna spend any more of time away from Ahsoka and Jaig and choses to return with them and join the rebellion.

The reauion between Rex and Ahsoka continues the same, but insted of just a hug Ahsoka goes in for the kiss (how it should have always been in my opinion).

(this art work was done by @nottonyharrison (please note: this image was used with the permission of the artist,) please go check them out, as you can see their art work is stunning)

They spend most of there time with the ghost crew, Ahsoka makes the Ghost her base to return to after missions, and Rex teaching combat and war strategies to both Ezra and Jaig, but mostly to Ezra, Jaig was; in his opinion still to young to get to deep into the oncoming war.

Rex:"let her be a kid for a little longer at least".

Jaig and Ezra had eventually become good friends, Jaig looking up to him as something of an older brother, following him every where he went like a little shadow. At first Ezra was annoyed, and try to get away from her at every turn. But after a while he found he quite like having someone look up to him for a change. As before her, he had been dubed the baby of the group with the most to learn. But now he had Jaig hanging on his evey word like it was gold. He found he enjoyed the new found responsibility.

Unfortunately with her shadowing Ezra so much. This meant she got into all kinds of trouble with him. Trouble that mostly involved them running down the corridor with an angry Zeb chasing after them. Zeb really didn't seem to like Jaig very much. Said it was like having two Ezras, and one was quite enough. However other trouble also included a short but terrible trip to malachor, where after being told she can't come along she choses to stow herself away on the phantom in the small rashon hold built into the floor, shielding her mind from her mother as they flow through space.

Ahsoka: (on a call to Rex) "well I definitely out rank you😉... 😟How Jaig doing?"

Rex: "welp she's not happy, she gone and hidden herself in one of thoughs little critter caves again, I'm making her favorite tonight so I know she'll show up by dinner time, but all the same😔..."

Ahsoka: "hay don't take it to heart Rex, you and I both know this is how she deals with being left behind for anything, she finds a small place to hide and sulk it out, just be ready with a plate of nuna and a hug and she bounces right back😄🙁 when she comes out tell her I love her, and I'll be home soon"

Rex: "I will🙂😟... May the force be with you" they hang up.

It's Ezra who ends up finding her, just after they land. Pointing her out to a stressed out Kanan and a very cross Ahsoka,

Ezra: "ummm guys, I think we have a stowaway",

Jaig: "before you get mad..... consider being proud of me, I stayed still for hours in there AND I shielded my mind the whole time, so you non of you even knew I was there"

Ahsoka: "DON'T push it young lady😠what were you thinking!! Your fathers gonna be worried sick!!!! 😤😔 welp since there's no turning back now, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get you back home and thoroughly grounded for a year"

The rest again plays out the same, they find Maul, Maul blinds Kanan, they get the sith holocromb but lose Ahsoka in the fight with Vader, though after seeing Jaig who looks so much like the little snippy girl from his old life, the Anakin in Vader hasitates to kill ahsoka and her child, and insted trys to convince the unwavering togruta to join him with her daughter.

Vader:"the galaxy shall never be safe for her Ahsoka, join me and I can protect her from the emperor. Join me and we can over throw him... Together"

Ahsoka: "how can I trust anything you say. If you were truly Anakin then how can you protect my daughter when you can't even protect yourself"

Jaig: "MUM!!!! MUUUMMMM!!!"

Ahsoka looks at her daughter running to her as the walls of the sith temple come down,

Ahsoka :"I'm sorry Jaig"

She say quietly as she force pushes he child into Ezra outside the temple as it fall around her and Vader out of the site of her family.

When all is quiet and Vader emerges from the rubble, after failing to find his former apprentice, the Anakin in him vows that he will not fail her child, he will do everything in his power to insure his master never find her, even if he has to hide her away himself to do it.

When Kanan, Ezra and Jaig return to base, Rex is in hysterics asking around.

Rex:"have you seen Jaig? Has anyone seen my baby?, its been over two days.. I can't find her..!!."

Jaig:"DADDY!!! 😭"

Rex turns to see her running out of a newly landed phantom in tears. Now knowing exactly where she'd been he quickly runs to her and scoops her up in his arm clucking her close to his chest in relief that she was home.

Rex:"you.. Are going to be the death of me, hey sh shshsh hey, hey what's the tears? what happen? where's your..? ."

(a father's comfort, ruff drawing by madmiriam (me)

He couldn't finish the sentence as he looked around and sure two other people emerging from a now empty ship, neither one of them was his wife. Ezra looked him in the eyes and with out saying a word, he knew. He knew Ahsoka, his Ahsoka was gone. He closed his eyes, sheding one silent tear as he held his girl tighter, and slowly carried her away, away from the crowd, but not away from the heartache.

After the loss of her mother, Jaig's once bubblie personality had diminishes somewhat. She refuses to leave the side of eather her father or the members of the ghost crew. She goes on a few missions with them and liston to every word her father says about ways of fighting, fighting to protect herself and the people she loves. Before heading to a mission on geonosis he gives he one of his old DCs. (its twin had been lost in battle during the clone wars and he had gotten a replacement pear, but he had always kept his first well maintained in case he ever needed it)

Rex: "I know it's no lightsaber, but if will keep you and the others safe when used properly"

Jaig: "I don't want a lightsaber any more, 😔sabers get you killed"

Rex: " not all of them Ik'aad senaar" he sighs kissing her forehead "not all of them".

But even this would not last. When it came time for the empire to attack chopper base. Vader sends his own secret troops of undercover purge troopers to find and retrieve Jaig, and to also fake her death so both the empire and the rebels would not come looking for her. This of corse left Rex in his lowest point yet. After watching the ship he had put his daughter on to be evacuated blow up before it even left the ground. He found it hard to not simply drop all his defences and just calming walk into the flames after her. If it hadn't been for Zeb he probably would have. These kind of thoughts invaded his mind so frequently after that day, it was hard to remember when they didn't. He had lost both his wife and now his child. His hope and his reason for fighting were gone, and he wanted to go after them. But he couldn't. Not while there were still people to fight out there, the people who took everything for him and was still grabbing for more. People who his wife started this whole rebellion to fight against. No, he would keep fighting, as long as there is still even one imperial still left alive he would live and fight, until every last one of then were wiped out of existence. (that's gonna take a while)

Meanwhile Vader and Jaig finally meet properly face to mask. Jaig is having a hard time counselling her fear. But Vader was also having difficulty concealing his pain. Pain that had lingered since the moment he had emerged from that crumbled down sith temple, with no sign in the force or otherwise of his once padawan,. The last family he thought he had, that had not betrayed him, who had(once she had seen his face underneath his freshly cracked mask) said she wouldn't leave him, not again. But she had left him, not by her own design he knew, but she had left him all the same. And she had also left a child behind, a child like the one Padme would have given him if it weren't for both the sith and the jedi.

The jedi, who had forced his hand in turning to the dark side, by telling him he should just let Padme die for the good of the galaxy. The jedi who had abandoned his padawan, his little sister, his first child (if he could go so far as to say) in her time of need, and then exsept her to come back all smiles, acting as though her whole ordel was just a trial to prove herself to them. When it was them who should be providing themselves to her.

And the sith,. The sith who had manipulated him from day one to become what he is now, the sith who had taken every thing he had, his wife, his child, his brother/father figer, his little sister/daughter and his friends. The clones. His home all gone for the sake of his masters new empire😡. Yes he new this had been his master's plan all along, the war the clones, the inhibitor chips. All to gane more and more power for himself and to distroy the jedi in his wake. Dragging Anakin down into the darkness with him, and he would do the same thing to Jaig given the chance. Vader could feel the raw power of the force rolling of her, the energy mix with her fear would be a prime canderdate for Sidious's manipulation, should he ever discover her existence.

No!!! That would not happen, neither the sith or the jedi would have her, he would not alow it.

Jaig:"I know who you are.. I know what you did... You tryed to turn my mother before killing her, but you wouldn't turn me, you hear me, I.. Will.. Not... Turn"

She says her voice shacking with her body in fear.

Vader:"no... You will not..."

Jaig: "then why am I here? I haven't done anything to make you hate me.... At least... I don't think I have"

Vader:"I do not hate you Jaig, like your mother, much to my masters great..... disappointment... I could never hate you"

It was true. He couldn't hate her. Couldn't bring himself to hate her. But he couldn't love her either. He had no more love left in him to give. But he could protector for the sake of someone he had loved.

Jaig: confused "then.. Then please let me go, I won't tell anyone if that's what your worried about, I just want to go home, I want my dad, please I just want my daddy😰"

Vader: "you father's fate is.... Regrettable. However it is a necessary evil, it is emperative that he believes you to be dead"

Jaig: "why what did he do to you? what did any of my parents ever do to you?!"

Vader: "as shocking as it may sound, these actions are not done out of hate. You will know this soon enough but for now, I must focus on getting you as far away and as hidden as possible" he then calls in a trouper with red and black armor.

Vader: "CC-2224 I trust your men are ready"

Cody: "ready and awaiting orders.. Sir"

Cody says through gritted teeth not bearing to even look at his once general's masked face.

Vader:"good, I trust the surgery was a success for all of them?"

Cody: "yes.. Sir.. Though we are all having adjustment issues due to recent ... and.... less recent events"

Vader: "thoughs... issues.... had better not interfere with the performance of your mission commander, you and your men have been chosen for one reason and one reason only, and it is for your loyalty to her safety. I can feel your hatred for me commander Cody (Cody inhails sharply at the sound of his name) but I also know enough about you and your brother's to know that they will not let this anger get in the way. I trust you all know the consequences that await you should you fail"

He ignites his blood red saber to put more emphasis on his point.

Cody:"yes sir"

Vader:"very well, now take her and go, and protect her with your life, I shall make my own way back to base as some as I can, her training with began immediately after my return, so be sure to proper her, but until then you already know what to do".

Cody noded before walking over to Jaig, then bent down and gently but fermly lifts her out of her seat, and quickly carry her out of the cell, down the hall and, through the, docking Station towards a unmarked referbished gunship.

Jaig: "where are we going? "

She said with a soft whimper. She was relieved to be away from Vader but still felt apprehensive with the idea of being taken away yet again in the arms of this.. Purge trooper, at lest she thinks it's a purge trooper, she had never seen one before so she could only guess.

Cody: "sh sh it's gonna be OK little one, I'm taking you some were safe, but we have to hurry now"

Jaig:"why?"

Cody: "no one on this ship other than Vader knows we're here and we have to keep it that way kid"

Jaig:"why would you need to hide from your own men"

Cody:"cuz you never know whos watching, I'll explain more when we get off this ship and into hyperspace"

Once they were on board the gun ship, that had been modified to acomidate long period space travel. The modifications included everything from comfortable seating to a working hyperdrive. Cody set her down in one of the seats and strapped her fermly in before heading to the cockpit, leaving her now surrounded by four more purge troopers (hardcase, fives, dogma and waxer, who I'm gonna say lived, cuz I have attachment issues, boil is in the cockpit piloting the ship) who are all looking at her intensely through their helmets. (hardcase and fives are in borrowed discises, after Fives finds out about the chips he and hardcase desert the army and decide to strike out on their own to try and find out more about the chips and their perpose, unfortunately they were too late to do anything about it before oder 66 happened. They have been on the run ever since, until Vader aproches them, informing them that he has been keeping tabs on them, and had been insuring the empire believes them both to be dead, and tells them of the mission, they agree to help because it's Rex and ahsoka's daughter they'll be protecting, but only under the condition the they only report to a de-chipped Cody and all other clones included in the mission must also be de-chipped as well. Vader had agreed to this as he was going to have their chips all removed anyway, to prevent any itchy trigger fingers being near his new force sensative)

Once they're in hyperspace Cody returns to the main area of the gun ship, where the other clones are crowed around a frightened looking Jaig

Waxer: "is this her? Wow she looks so much like her mum"

Fives: "she has our eyes though, our wonderfully handsome eyes"

hardcase: "and out hair, Ha!! I knew Rex's hair wasn't naturally blonde😂"

Dogma:" technically Hardcase, her hair being brown isn't proof that his is to, she could have just gotten the hereditary Jango gen of dark hair"

Fives:"aww suck the fun out of it why don't you"

Cody: "guys back up, give her some space, your freaking her out, and take off your buckets, I don't think they're helping"

When their buckets were removed Jaig was shocked to see five versions of her father's face looking down at her, all old and a little worse for where's, but all very much clone. She recordnises three of them from her father's holopad.

Jaig: "Fives?"

Fives:😃 "yeah! Yeah kid, that's me your☝️ Uncle Fives (he kneals down taking her hand in his, giving it a quick squeeze, before turning to Cody) she recordnised me first that must kill you😁"

Cody: 😠 "only cus you have a, dirty great 5 on your forehead You Di'kut"

He said before knealing down in front of her

Cody:"hey kid, sorry I couldn't introduce myself earlier, I'm your.."

Jaig:"Uncle Cody"

Cody:😁 "yeah kid (to Fives) SEE!! over there are your uncles Dogma, Waxer, Hardcase and back there in the cockpit is your uncle Boil, I know your probably not used to this many of us, but there's more we're we came from where we're going, though they live un a different fasilaty to ours, but every single one of them would be whiling to keep you safe if they knew. So you don't have to worry, we're not gonna let anything happen to you"

Jaig "but Vader.."

Cody: (places both hand at the side of her head and looks her dead in the eyes) "isn't going to TUCH you, not if we have anything to say about its, he may be our sponser, and he will be coming round every so often to check on you and train you. But you'll have several hundred or so uncles on the planet ready and waiting with fully loaded blasters should he ever try to hurt you, us 6 especially as we're the only clones there that know about you yet and we're gonna be living under the same roof, as you and one of us will always be close by to help you. OK kid, it's all gonna be ok (he says hugging her) your safe now"

Jaig: "but I don't want to be trained by Vader, I said I wouldn't turn and I meant it"

Cody: "it's alright, its alright. The one thing Vader has assured us of, is it he will not be training you in the dark side. And judging by the amount of effort he's putting into keeping you hidden, I'm inclined to believe him. He told us that you must block your self off from the force, what ever that means. Which is what he's going to show you how to do. Apparently it's the only way to keep the emperor off your scent. But like I said, one of us is always gonna be there should he try anything"

Fives:"yeah we'll look out for you kid, I know you miss your dad, and we're pretty poor substitutes, but we're here for you all the same"

Hardcase:"and we're not leaving anytime soon"

Dogma: "well not if we can help it"

Jaig "but where are we going?"

Cody: smile "to the closest thing we clones have to a home... Kamino"

Kamino had changed over the years, once the emperor had ordered to stop to any more clones creation. The cloning fasilaties had been abandoned by the kaminoans, along with all the rest of the untrained cadets who were all shipped of to the mustafa system to be trained and bred as the empires elite force of purge troopers.

The cloning facilities were left to the old now retired clones, to live out their days away from civilisation, many now wolowing in sadness and regret for their actions under the influence of their now un activated inhibitor chips.

The place Jaig and her other uncles were heading, was just a few hundred miles of from the main cloning compound. It had been kitted out with everything they might need, weaponry, shields, a food station, bedrooms, a bunkhouse, a training ground, and a shooting range. The only beings abord were now the clones, Jaig, the cook and the maintenance crew, well I say crew, it consisted of one male Ugnaught named Kuiil and three droid assistants whom he had reprogrammed to help with any and all clean up and maintenance duties.

Jaig would continue to live out there with her uncles for the next 5 years. They would go on to train her with any and all things clone, weaponry, though she had learnt a lot of that from her father's teachings, and the language and teachings of the mandalorian. The boys were insistent that she learn all of what little they knew of their heritage, as they were all descended from Jango, who was of mandolor. Any clone would tell you how proud the clones were of this heritage, and now they had someone to pass it all down to. They even taught Jaig the mandalorian wars songs that they had all learnt as cadets, and the Clone Haka, that had been performed by many clone troops over the years, before battle,. Much to the confusion and quite frankly terror of the B1 battle droids who witnessed them.

Fives: "ha your mum was pritty good at this to"

Jaig: now 12" my mum knew the Haka? "

She said, trying to picture her calm and serene togrutan mother, chanting, stomping and banging her chest along side millions of clones Warriors, all while making different faces and throatle sounds at the droids on the other side of the battlefield.

Hardcase: "oh yeah!! She was a natural, always shouting the chant in her loudest voice and making her scariest war face, like this 🤪😜🤪"

Fives: "and that my dear Jaig, was when your father fell in love🥰"

Vader came over as often as he could spare, when he was sure he couldn't be directed be his master or that anyone following him. Teaching Jaig how to disconnect herself from the force, telling her that if she continues to use it, the consequences would be severe.

Vader:"if the employer was ever to discover you exsisens, he would hunt you down in an instant, and kill anyone who trys to hide you from him. This is why you must never use the force again, and you must never leave. If anyone outside this fasilaty were to learn of your existence, you would be in mortal danger, as would everyone you care about"

Jaig: "but why couldn't my dad come? You could have had both our deaths faked and brought him here with me"

Vader: sighed "he is to mixed up with the rebel alliance, and besides, it was his reaction that sold your death to the universe. A trick I learned from my old master...the hard way"

He said bitterly.

Jaig knew she should hate him, he had taken her from her home, her friends and family. He had taken her mother, and it was because of his foolish decision to trust, a maniac, power hungy, sith Lord, that her family were forced to live in the shadows, and her mother, and father were force into separation when she was just an infant. She didn't like him by any means, she frequently tryed to avoid his at any turn. But she still couldn't feel hatred for him.

Cody: "na that your mother in you, she was never one to hold much of a grudge ether. She got angry at people don't get me wrong but she never hated them. She cryed over the potential execution of a woman who had Framed her for Murder once. And had taken the time to give all her deceased troops, who had tryed to gun her down a funeral. Even though she and your father where now on the run from the empire"

Over the years living there, she became closer with her uncles, or at least most of them. She argued with Boil on an almost daily basis, but they had their moments, she told him and Waxer how she met Numa, who was still fighting for the freedom of her home. She had a difficult time connecting with Dogma. He was very distance from her and didn't talk much. However she did like listening to him read. Dogma who had been a stiff by the book solder his entire life, and had been through so much, found he secretly quite enjoyed the company of his niece. But she spent most of her training with Fives and Hardcase. Both clones always new how to make her smile and told her many stories of her parents during the war, stories not even her parents had told her, (though they never much liked talking about the war), and she had given them a new lease of life, and new perpose. She was probably closest with Cody, he had know her father since they were both cadets, and was determined to teach her everything he knew, but he also showed his softer side with her. There were many a time he would be seen walking down the corridor carrying the young girl who was really getting a bit to big to be held, in his arms fast asleep from a long day.

She had also become quite good friends with Kuiil the maintenance manger, she learnt that he was paying off his debt to the empire through prolonged servitude, he had been in many battles he didn't believe in, until Vader; after seeing his reprogramming skills had, offered him a place on this secret compound. Kuiil had also taken quite a shine to Jaig, she was kind, and eager to learn the inner workings of the machines he fixed.

But yet again, even this would not last. After the destruction of the First Death Star, Lord Sidious had been furious with Vader, he tortured and demoted him. But through his touture he discovered the existence of the child Vader had taken such lengths to keep hidden from him. And through this new information, he devised a plan.

To brake his apprentices even ferther, he would force him to chose, chose between the life of his padawans child, who he had swarn to protect, and the life of his son, that he did not yet know about. But unfortunately for the emperor, he did not bargain for the tactical brilliance of the Clones.

When the empire, came to take the now 15 year old girl, they had already divested their own escape plan. They sent Jaig along with Kuill over to the kaminoan cloning facilities, turned clone retirement home, before the empire even entered the atmosphere. There she was frozen in to carbonite and fastened to the inside of the newly alcoved underbelly of a small one-seater Y wing (to insure the if the empire should come across them she would be well hidden and undetected, Kuiils cover story being that he was delivering supplies to the clones) there Kuiil would then fly far away from any siverlized planet. While, the clones continued to fight and defend the compound as though she was still there, and then proceed to escape themselves, using an old subship left over from the battle of Kamino. But not before bowing the place sky high, making it seem like the empires had fired at the fewl tanks corsing the whole building to be destroyed along with anyone who was inside.

This was not the out come Sidious had wished for, however with the now almost certain death of his ward, Vader plunged ever ferther into the void of darkness and hate. So the desired effect Sideous was planning for was reached anyway.

After being unfrozen from carbonite, Jaig and Kuiil parted ways. She chose to for her father, but it became fruitless. Chopper base had long since been evacuated and the rebel alliance was always one step ahead of her in their attempts to avoid the empire. For 2 years she searched for them, and fought the Empire where she could, until she finally stopped, delving into the belief that what ever family she knew was now gone, she rejoined Kuiil on a deserted planet called Arvala-7, while the galaxy celebrated the fall of the empire. Where for the next 5 years they would both try to live out their lives in peace, working the land and carrying for blurgs, until a mandolorian arrives on their planet, looking for a little green bounty, which starts of a whole new adventure for our now Adult Jaig.

OK guys let me know how I did, and if you would like to see Jaig's adventures with Din Djarin and little green bean Grogu. Let me know. I'm not much of a writer,. But I always got so irratated when reading Din Djarin/oc fics where to make her interesting, they give the oc force powers, with either no build up to it, or she's a run away jedi, which kind of defeats the whole purpose of season 2 were they're trying to find the jedi, so I thought I'd write my own. I wanted to have a character that has both a clear connection to both the mandalorian culture and the force, without making her a mary su. She has a connection to the force. But she can't use it, or control it. Therefore she can't train Grogu to use it. Which would mean they'd have to find the jedi, to help him learn to control his powers. Plus I don't want to just giving her everything with no preplanned reason. So here is my preplanned reason. I know these short scenes and conversations don't really delve much into her personality but that's were you come in. Tell me what you think of her, and what you think she's like as an adult. I wrote a few things like her kind nature and her sarcastic humour. But I could do with some ideas on what you would like to see. Let me know, and...

May the 4th be with you,😉

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chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay · 3 years

Text

// Day 8 //

// Wind //

The wind swept through Marinette's hair. Her new second-hand convertible gliding, seamlessly.

She pulled up to her boutique in downtown Gotham. Business was booming and her newest line sold out almost immediately. She had to order extra fabric almost every day just to keep up with demand. Not to mention her commissions.

Luckily, her new notoriety earned her enough money to buy a second-hand car to carry any materials she finds while 'browsing' fabric and fashion stores (which is usually a lot) and to hire a few new employees to take on the floor designs, whilst she worked on commissions.

She entered the shop and flipped the open sign. Marinette sat behind the counter and pulled out her sketchbook, she could design while working the register, so she would usually be the one on 'desk duty', unless she had to actually assemble her commissions.

The bell rang and a tall man wearing all black walked in. He was about Marinette's age and definitely easy on the eyes.

"Where can I find the owner?"

Marinette smiled, "Right here."

An incredulous look passed his face, "You're MDC?"

"Is that such a shocker?"

He looked at her as if analysing her movements, "I just pictured you… Older."

She squinted her eyes, "What can I do for you?"

…..

As it turns out Marinette was commissioned to make a dress for the man's (who she learned was named Damian) sister.

It would be her birthday in 4 months and a surprise ball organised by his family was going to be held in her honour (pfft rich people). Damian was tasked with getting her dress.

Marinette was given a picture of the girl to know what would suit her, her measurements (rich people apparently have their family members measurements on hand) and the theme of the party, 'Space', not vague at all.

Every once in awhile, Damian would come around to see her progress, make a comment or two and generally be a pest.

Soon, he started to come by once a week, then every day.

He'd play it off as being a diligent client, but none of Marinette's other clients would even stop by until the fitting. Sometimes never.

Marinette, despite her reluctance, became (dare she say it?) fond of Damian's lack of filter. It was refreshing.

What she didn't realise was that Damian was becoming quite fond of Marinette, himself.

…..

An envelope was dropped on her desk, two months before her original deadline (she easily finished in half the time she needed, with maybe a tiny bit of Ladybug luck on her side).

"What's this?" She said picking the envelope up and carefully ripping the tab.

"An invitation."

She looked up curiously at him, before reading the contents,

Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng,

You are cordially invited to the Birthday Ball of Cassandra Cain-Wayne, as Damian Wayne's date.

As you know the dress code is black tie and the theme is 'Space'. Usually, in these invitations, a list of trusted and capable boutiques and designers would be included. But, due to your chosen profession, I assume you can make the necessary arrangements.

Please be aware that paparazzi and press will be covering this event.

We sincerely await your response,

Alfred Pennyworth,

On behalf of the Wayne family.

P. S. We have heard many brilliant things about your designs and we can't wait to see the outfits you make. We wish to make a formal request for you to be the official designer and consultant for the Wayne Family.

"You want me to be your consultant?"

Damian tutted, "And designer."

Marinette read the invitation again before a teasing grin broke out on her face, "You also, want me as your date."

He controlled his face into a composed look, "I may have gotten used to you in the past two months."

She poked his shoulder, "'Gotten used to'? Oh c'mon, Damian. You at least tolerate me, you even want me as your date, that could qualify as liking. Or dare I say it," she gasped overdramatically, "Friends."

Damian tutted, "Maybe, I want to be more than friends."

She smiled at him, "Maybe I do, too."

…..

The night of the ball arrived and after sending Cass' dress, shoes and accessories over to the Manor with Damian, Marinette got ready.

She was careful to make her dress less extravagant looking than Cass', she didn't want to show-up the birthday girl.

Her off-the-shoulder dark blue bodice was complimented by a skirt covered in hand-embroidered constellations. She wore her hair in a low bun decorated with a star hairpiece.

Marinette also put in long chain earrings, one with a star and one with a moon, that were complemented by a choker like chain with dainty stars and planets. Her shoes were gladiator-style silver heels.

Pleased with her outfit, she walked outside her apartment to find her new boyfriend waiting by a limo.

Once he saw her, his back unconsciously straightened, "You look lovely, Marinette."

Marinette looked at Damian's tux, it looked like your average black tie outfit, except if you looked closely enough you could see tiny stars and planets embroidered into it, camouflaged subtly into the tuxedo with its perfectly matching colour, "You clean up nicely yourself, Damian," She straightened his bow tie with a smirk, "Nice tux."

Damian grinned, "Y'know, I got out from a boutique downtown. You might know it, bright colours, amazing clothes, the owner's pretty cute."

"Oh? That sounds like I have a competition, Damian. Do I need to fight a girl for your heart?" She teased.

He held her hand, "You wouldn't need to because I'm head over heels with this girl. Nothing you can do or say could change that."

She smiled softly and lightly pecked his cheek, "Not even this?"

"Hmm, actually try that, again."

She rolled her eyes, playfully, but still kissed his cheek, or at least she tried to. Instead, Damian moved his head at the very last second and captured his lips on hers.

When they pulled apart, slightly out of breath, Damian whispered as a smile tugged his lips, "You have the most convincing argument I've ever seen, Angel. I might just have to reconsider this boutique girl."

Marinette grinned, "Hmm? Well, maybe another argument or two would fully convince you."

…..

After a few more kisses, the two realised that they should leave, lest they be late. They pulled up to the Manor courtyard, that was currently being overrun by tabloids and paparazzi.

Damian exited the car and held a hand out to Marinette. This action alone caused a gasp and whispers to ripple through the crowd, 'Damian Wayne arrived with a date?'

Marinette placed her hand in his and let him help her out. The paparazzi ooh'd at her dress before clamouring for an interview with Damian and his new amour.

"Damian, who is this lovely lady?"

With his hand in hers, he answered, "My girlfriend Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"Marinette! Who are you wearing?"

"It's actually a dress I made myself, I own a boutique here in Gotham."

More questions came.

"How did you two meet?"

Damian answered, "Well, I actually commissioned her to make my sisters dress for this evening, which you'll see later. And I just kept bugging her until, I guess, I grew on her."

The crowd aww'd.

A brash voice broke out of the crowd, "How do you respond to the rumours about how you're the father-to-be of the product of a drunken one-night-stand?"

Marinette's face fell. She knew that voice.

Damian frowned, looking into the crowd for the speaker, "Well, I'd say those rumours are false."

"You bastard!"

A heavily pregnant, sausage haired brunette ran out and slapped him in the face.

Marinette knew this woman. The one and only, Lila Rossi.

"How could you abandon me and your child? For some hussy!"

Damian's demeanor changed from calm to extremely pissed, "Ma'am, I've never met you before in my life. I don't know who the father of your child is, but it's not me. Now, it would do you well not to speak of my girlfriend like that, she is a very respectable woman and I don't appreciate the way you speak of her."

Marinette's eyes narrowed, "You may never have met her, Damian, but I have. She's Lila Rossi. Remember that liar I told you about, from Paris?"

He nodded, suddenly with a scowl on his face, "The one who willingly got akumatized?"

The reporters gasped, they all knew about the horrors of what happened in Paris. The city was under siege for 7 years and after 3, it was made into a No Man's Land. Nobody was allowed to leave or enter the city without permits, and those were only given to the initial evacuees, those who were most vulnerable, like the elderly, mothers and babies, the sick.

Nobody was allowed to leave or enter after that, except military personnel, until Hawkmoth was defeated.

The city itself was ravaged with gangs and was split into territories, wherever the military didn't have control over. It was a massacre and over 30% of Parisians who stayed died of disease, starvation or they were killed and couldn't be revived by Ladybug's Lucky Charm (including Marinette's parents). Everyone else was just killed and tortured over and over again, unable to escape the cruel cycle. Then the impossible happened, the heroes of Paris found Hawkmoth and the Final Battle began.

They say, very few Parisians were actually alive during the fight and can remember in full detail what actually happened. The only thing the world knows for sure is that Hawkmoth died that day, disintegrated by Chat Noir's Cataclysm in an insane attempt to take his miraculous while his powers were activated after the Butterfly Brooch had already been retrieved. He didn't stand a chance.

There was still another year before Martial Law was lifted and the City of Love was free, although few call it that anymore.

The dead were counted and mourned and many survivors couldn't bare to stay in their hometown after the heroes announced their sudden (albeit well deserved) retirement. Only about 40% of the city's original population still lives there. The survivors have been known across the globe to be some of the toughest, most resourceful people alive, it actually became commonplace to put 'Siege Survivor' onto resumés and CVs.

The Siege had a traumatic effect on the entire world, but especially the Parisians, and to hear that Marinette was one of those few, really put everything into perspective for the reporters. And to hear that someone willingly helped Hawkmoth was truly an insult to the dead.

Damian glared at Lila, "Miss Rossi. You are truly a disgrace. When your baby is born, I will take a paternity test to prove it's not mine and I would encourage you to grow up and stop trying to live your silly fantasies with your lies and start living in the real world. You have another person to take care of now and I hope you can realise that."

Lila smirked, "Please, I'll be putting this brat up for adoption the second it comes out."

From across the courtyard, Bruce Wayne shot up and ran over to his son.

"Did I hear 'Adoption'? Oh hello, Marinette, Cass looks lovely tonight."

Marinette grinned, "Thank you, Bruce. I hope she likes the dress."

He smiled and shook his head, "She loves it. I bet she'll insist on wearing it for the next hundred parties. Now, what's this about an adoption? Asking for a friend."

Lila stared at him in bemusement.

The newspapers and magazines certainly won't run out of things to talk about. I mean what did they expect from a Wayne party.

…..

After escaping the drama (and Bruce) Marinette and Damian entered the Manor, so they could take their seats.

As soon as all the guests and (legitimate) reporters arrived, a young woman walked down the grand staircase, wearing a dark blue ball gown covered with stars. She wore spiralling silver heels and a simple pendant. Her dark hair was woven with a golden star hairpiece.

Cass looked absolutely stunning.

Damian nudged Marinette, "You absolutely outdid yourself."

She grinned.

…..

Throughout the night Marinette danced with her boyfriend over and over, laughter emanating from the two of them.

Towards the end of the night, Cass got on stage to say a few words. And few it was.

"Thank you all for coming, tonight. Thank you, MDC, for this lovely gown. Have a good time."

The Waynes smiled at their family member's antics.

…..

A few months later, Marinette sat beside a huge pile of clothes in Dicks room, while Damian sat on the couch.

"Dick, sweetie, I am the family designer and consultant, I swear to fucking God if I find one more disco outfit I will throw hands."

Damian snorted and she turned on him.

"Don't think I won't come after you, Wayne. Black on black, really?"

Bruce walked into the room. "Keep it down will you," He whispered furiously, "The babies are sleeping."

After being plastered on the cover of several magazines for the wrong reasons, Lila couldn't find anyone to adopt her baby. Luckily for her, serial adopter Bruce Wayne offered to adopt the baby, on the condition that she agreed to a closed adoption and wouldn't even think about the Wayne's and Marinette, again.

Surprisingly, the baby turned out to be babies. The twins were born 5 minutes apart on different days. Two girls.

They already had Bruce wrapped around their fingers. Although nobody was surprised.

Marinette grabbed the rubbish bag and threw all of Dicks clothes in there.

"Hey!"

Marinette glared at him, "We're going to give these to a charity shop. And then you need a brand new wardrobe."

Bruce sighed, "I'd argue but it's true and it's not like we can't afford it."

"Hey!"

…..

Outfits

Mari

Cass

@daminette-december2019-2020

Thank you @18-fandoms-unite-08 for beta-reading!

Buy me a coffee?

#Daminette December #Day 8 Wind

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

The Neighbors Son

You meet your new neighbors son.

Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, Mature-ish, angst

A/n: so this is the start of my Clark Kent Imagine series that will sort of run alongside my Bruce Wayne ones, I re-wrote this about eight times so hope you like the final result as for the health insurance I'm British so have no idea how it works I just went along the lines of how car insurance works here.

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @thatgirly81

The Neighbors Son

Martha chuckled as you sat at her kitchen table grumbling over the papers in front of you.

"You do you lot have to do things so weird?! What the hell is this shit ?And what the fuck does that word even mean. Its not a word that's the fucking alphabet in the wrong order! THEY MADE UP NEW WORDS Martha can you take me out back and shoot me please? At this point I think that's my only option" You grunted resting your head on the table. Martha sighed rolling her eyes at your dramatic display you felt her slip the paper from underneath your head.

"Just whats gotten you so work up now girl..... Health insurance? Well its about damn time! You've been here four months .....I can see why this can seem difficult." She scanned the documents and slapped the side of your head making you sit up.

"Come on up, right this one is the best value but doesn't cover dental or opticians, so you have to pay for them, but it covers illness and emergancey care, if you choose the next one up you’ll get that and it also covers for maternity care." She pointed out the different options, you knew that you’d been lucky in England to have the nhs but until now you didn't know just how lucky.

"Can I upgrade? Like at a later date if I wanna have a one?" The older woman scanned the documents.

"Yes but you wont be able to claim anything for prenatal or maternity for at least six months after adding it to the policy." You nodded you didn't really see yourself accidentally falling pregnant for that you'd need to have sex and you've been on a dry spell since being here. You nodded taking the paper from her."So I will just do that then" you said wanting it over and done with she sighed at you crossing her arms giving you 'the look' that every woman got when she became a mother."How many have you looked at?" You shrunk under her stern gaze and rubbed the back of your neck nervously.

"Errr so far? In total? One" she sighed shaking her head at you, before pouring you both another coffee setting it in front of you,she hadn't realized how lonley she had been once the farm house across the field had been empty not until you had moved in, all the way from England you had bought the house with your inheritance selling most of the fields to others in the area just keeping a small two acres around the house for yourself. She had met you the day you moved in coming over to introduce herself see if you needed help, you both instantly hit it off and it wasn't long before she was looking out for you. It was hard for you to adjust to life here, loosing your dad was bad but she then found out that your mother had caused major problems practically chasing you out of the country, the woman had been unhappy with the will and wanted her 'half' tho it wasn't millions it was enough for you to live comfortably in the end you'd had to move as she kept coming around to the house causing problems and harassing you for money, you'd had to get away far away so settled in Kansas. It was different but a welcome change, slower and laid back sure sometimes you missed not being in the Hustle and bustle but you had everything you need, a comfy house ,decent car and an income from your books, you was an author writing adult books, tales of gorgeous cowboys, dominant business men and mafia king pin's all falling in love with the women of their dreams with erotic twists and scenes that would make a porn star blush. Martha had been a huge help since you got here ,she had taken you under her wing watching over you and you'd become fast friends, always finding yourselves at each others houses helping each other out. You groaned as she shook her head at you knowing the look. There was a lecture coming.

"That’s just silly, you should look around compare prices and policies, it could save you a lot of money in the long run, especially you i mean your a trouble magnet how you haven't already ended up in ER I don't know?" You smiled sweetly at her

"Because a have a kind and loving neighbor to patch me up" you said casting a look to the scar on your arm where she had sewed you up after a nasty fall on some farming equipment in the barn. She huffed at you rolling her eyes kids. And you was a kid only twenty seven years old younger then her Clark, sometimes she asked you why you don't go into town and meet some people your age you'd always cringe and shiver saying that they were to immature or just banged on about marriage and kids, which neither interested you in the slightest you were quite happy with things the way they were. Martha looked up as the dog perked up outside whining and yipping happily before she heard him

"Ma? You here?" She smiled as he entered the house wrapping her up in his arms she hugged him back.

"Clark? What are you doing here?" She pulled back a little seeing him upset she cupped his face.

"Oh god whats wrong? Is everything okay? Whats happened?"

"Its Lois...we had an argument I had to leave her Ma, its over she couldn't see past the super-" Martha quickly shushed him as You stood awkwardly thinking it better to leave not wanting to intrude. The man snapped his head in your direction releasing his mum and you were floored he was stunning, sure she had showed you photos of her son but they didn't do any justice. Tall broad and strong his biceps were fucking huge his chest tapered into a perfect v, dark hair hanging in messy curls atop his head some falling forward just skimming his eyes that were a glistening bright blue you felt your pussy clench violently. Fuck. You was so lost that you failed to notice him staring right back at you it was Martha clearing her throat that snapped you both out of what ever trance you'd both been put you under.

"Cheers for the coffee but I should get back and leave two to catch up, anyway this next chapter isn't gonna write itself..... at this point I don't think I’m gonna write it either." You said with a chuckle Martha turned to you putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh no you don't, your going park you butt right there and stay here to search other quotes" you gaped at her looking to her son he held up his hands staying out of it.

"Don't you go looking to him,he wont help you" you huffed crossing your arms

"Did you just give me homework? It sounds like you gave me home work." She nodded

"Damn right, health insurance is a big deal and you don't just pick the first one that pop's up on the internet" you pouted at her trying to change her mind she just stared you down tilting her head then you threw your hands up.

"Oh for fuck sake, fine I will look Jesus Christ" she nodded smiling not missing the way you and Clark was stealing glances at one another, well you stole glances Clark was out right staring. She slapped him upside the head.

"Don’t be rude son introduce yourself" he stuttered shyly flushing at being scolded before holding out a hand towards you quickly.

"Er Clark Kent nice to meet you Mrs?" You took his hand not surprised by how warm it was I mean this guy was hot, it only made sense right?.

"Miss Y/n Y/L/N but just call me Y/n everyone does....apart from your mum she calls me 'a pain in the ass'" he chuckled

"Then we already have something in common" you laughed as Martha motioned for you both to sit at the table smiling knowingly, she saw how Clark couldn't look away how the sorrow in his eyes disappeared as he looked at you. Clark couldn't tear his eyes away from you he gulped eyes raking over your form his mouth gone dry speechless. Wow. You was very attractive like you walked out of one of his fantasies, a tiny homely looking girl light tan with deep chocolate wavy hair in a short bob twisted in a half up do, tiny bun in the back with a few loose strands framing your small face that had a dusting of freckles from being out in the sun, tho he guessed that some were more permanent as they didn'tstop on your face trailing down into you blouse, his breathing hitched as his eyes couldn't help peeking seeing the tops of you breasts spilling over the cups of your bra as you slouched over the table barely resting your elbow on it due to how small you was. His cock twitched you were very tiny the top of your head didn't even reach the top of his chest, he estimated you to be around four foot nine maybe four foot ten he grunted a little, he did have a thing for smaller women, he loved that he towered over average sized women but you were like his dream girl,fuck if he didn't want to fold you in half and fuck you senseless. His pants tightened at the thought, he bet you'd struggle to take him but given the chance he would find a way to impale you forcing your little body to take every punishing inch he grunted a quietly his stomach clenching. He quickly pulled his eyes away before either you would notice trying to calm his slightly ragged breaths this wasn't like him at all, he had been raised a gentleman but sitting here he felt anything but. Drawing his eyes up to yours. Incredible, he got many compliments for his eye but yours were something else, one a light brown honey colour the other was the brightest green he had ever seen, like someone had captured an emerald with in it, he swallowed dryly again becoming hot under the collar twitching in his pants as he continued to assess you. He wasn't sure what you was doing in his Mothers house but he had no complaints whatsoever.

"S-so Y/n your not from around here." his voice cracked a little as he spoke you shook your head at him a little uncomfortable as Martha pottered about the kitchen busying herself with making a fresh pot of coffee, you moved to help her but she just shook her head at you.

"No I moved here four months ago from England, your mum has been helping me get settled, America is a lot weirder than I had initially thought" you giggled a little nervously crossing your legs trying to fight off the building tension between your thighs, it wasn't every day you sat across for a delicious looking male, already picturing him as the main character in your next book with the amount of fantasies you were sure to come you'd probably have enough material for a whole series. He grit his teeth a little as his cock jumped at the melodious sound of your voice and thick southern British accent, he wouldn't admit but your voice had now become his favorite sound of all, imagining just how high he could get it if you ever gave him a chance.

"Wow that’s pretty far, and you chose Smallville why not one of the big cities?" He asked as Martha walked across the kitchen washing up some dishes in the sink, you frowned she never did that when you was here, she was up to something.

"Well Gotham didn't look to promising and I couldn't find anything in metropolis, I didn't have much time to move and when I saw the farm house I thought why not and bought it now I'm just across the field from your mum. I might get a small place in the city at some point but right now I'm quite happy here"

"You haven't even been to metropolis yet and your already thinking of buying a place there? shouldn't you check it out first? Maybe you could show her around when she does visit Clark? Take her to see the sights she'd like that? Wouldn't you y/n?" Your jaw sort of hung open....was she trying to set you up with her son? You chuckled nervously seeing the smirk on the other woman face.

"Oh Martha he's probably busy-"

"No! No I'm not, I'm not busy at all!.....I-I mean sure I could to show you around." He interrupted you then flushed, Martha shook her head the boy wouldn't know sublty if it bit him on the ass. You blushed sipping more of your coffee.

"Well if your sure... but I need to finish my book I've already postponed the release date once, don't think the publisher will like another one" he smiled as his mother set down a cup and fresh coffee pot he refilled everyone's cups as she took a seat at the head of the table sitting back watching you both fumble around your words blushing and stuttering, there was definitely something going on here and she was a little smug and had a feeling she was going to enjoy this next bit.

"Your a writer? What do you write?" You blushed bright at his question. Oh shit.

"Haha Yeah, well I sort of write books, fiction"

"I don't think I've heard of you tho?" you looked down going beet red your pussy dampening your panties at the idea of him lying back in his bed reading one of your raunchy books.

"I use an alias so I don't get any backlash" he looked a little surprised but it wasn't uncommon even some journalists did this mostly if the do honest reviews of shops and services

"Oh so what type of fiction do you write children's books?" You flushed more at his innocence looking to Martha who was snickering quietly to herself. She was going to be no help here whatsoever.

"No..Not children's books...My stuff is more...Mature" you desperately looked to Martha eyes screaming. Help me!. poor Clark tilted his head a little not understanding why you seemed to be getting so embarrassed

"Oh for teens then?" his mother finally cracked up laughing out right at the face you pulled at him deciding to put an end to to sorry affair, it was painful to watch.

"Oh for god-She writes porn Clark! Erotica, Adult fantasies" Clark spat his coffee not ready for that at all, coughing and spluttering,you got up quickly just dodging the drink sprayed in your direction.

"MARTHA!..Oh shit are you okay big guy?" Patting to poor mans back as Martha sat there sipping her coffee smirking into her cup.

"What? Like I'm wrong? we'd be here all day if I'd let that pan out" You flushed at her words as he finally caught his breath before you sat back down and sunk in your seat mortified she just came out and said it.

"Ah okay then wow I didn't expect that....I mean you look so cute...Not that I don't think you can be sexy and cute cos you are shit I mean er what do I mean?...Its just not what I'd have thought you'd write....But there's nothing wrong with that, I imagine its quite hard NO!no not hard...Not that its easy that's not what I meant just that it would be hard-Difficult! difficult it would be difficult to write." Martha laughed out loud having the time of her life as you both flushed bright red, Clark was trying to talk himself out of his own embarrassment, you on the other hand just Blinked at him as he had a melt down so red he looked like his head was going to pop, finally taking pity on him you interrupted his babbling.

"Its okay...I get what you mean...Sometimes its... Difficult but you just you know keep at it..." Martha smiled oh yes you two definitely liked each other, now if only she could find a way to set you up together. An awkward silence fell over the kitchen as you fiddled with your cup a little and Clark trying to look anywhere but you failing miserably, she decided to have some mercy and change the subject and let you know that he was available all at once.

"So you and Lois are over for good this time?" You leaned back in your seat watching his face drop you couldn't help feel sorry for him.

"Yeah, she just kept pushing, wanting me to be someone I'm not, to play that part all the time I'm sick of it! it started got to the point I no longer had any choice, I'd do what ever for a quiet life even if it made me unhappy" Martha sighed at him she had seen this coming for a long time but had to step back and let him figure it out for himself.

"Clark I'm sorry things didn't work out I really am but she would never be satisfied until everything went her way you knew that"he nodded solemnly sighing you could tell who ever this Lois was had meant the world to him.

"I think I knew deep down she wasn't the one, I just thought if I carried on, if I stuck with it she would see how it was effecting me and change just a little for my sake. Just like I did for her you know?"

"She was never going to son, in her eyes you had become what she wanted so she didn't have to change at all but she forgot the most important thing in a relationship that's its give and take she forgot to be what you needed" Martha held his hand he sighed looking at her nodding.

"Well this happened just over three weeks ago and she is still carrying on like we are together, like nothings changed! showing up at my apartment when she feels like it and throwing a fit when i don't let her in and is telling everyone I'm her date to this party now I'm stuck, I don't want to go with her but if I go alone then she's going corner me." he sounded exhausted and fed up and slightly bitter towards this woman and with good reason you knew how this type of thing could were on someone, you'd seen it first hand growing up.

"Party? what Party?" he waved his hand at his Mothers question

"A staff party celebrating another award and I don't want to go alone, if I do I know I will end up going back to her I really don't want to. So need to find someone else but there is no one shes still letting everyone think we're together! and none of them want to be on her bad side. I just need a woman to pretend to be my girlfriend for one night"

"Now Clark that's not fair on whoever you take, your a handsome boy and anyone you take might really like you it could crush them if they find out your using them. You can't use one women to prove a point to your ex it isnt right your father and I raised you better then that." You interrupted before she could lay into him anymore.

"I can understand what he is getting at tho, sorry to interrupt and if I'm being out of line tell me, but she sounds like my Mother, relationships are give and take, you can't just take and take and expect your other half to put up with it, Clark if you need someone to go with you to make it clear your finished with her I will go with you, no strings attached or hard feelings but women who think everything should revolve and change around them and their needs really fucks me off!! especially when they pull that shit on a sweet genuine person, in the end these women just destroy the men their with. I don't know you very well but Martha raised you so you can't be that bad and that's enough for me." You hissed some of the words it was like your parents all over again. Your mother was spoilt and selfish always demanding that your father change the way he was for her, you had watched as he had given up everything for her but it was never enough, he had to play a part and it ate away at him for years sending him into a deep depression, yet she never did anything in return or tried to help him. In the end, you at seven years old had found him trying to commit suicide. The thought of you being the one to find his body was what broke the camel's back he threw her out the next day then tried divorcing her but she wouldn't sign the papers so instead they remained separated she had nothing so you was left in your dads care, he was happier then ever but the damage had been done he never found anyone else, she hung around every few months trying to weasel her way back in missing the money more than her family, when she didn't get her way she tried to destroy any happiness he found. Luckily he had sense enough to rewrite his will and piddle away the money in the account he had left to her his final fuck you to her was when the executor of the will read out that you was left with the car, house and just over seven hundred and eighty thousand pounds the housekeeper Susanna was left the holiday home in Devon and forty thousand pounds and your mother well she got twenty nine pound sixty seven pence and was aloud to have the expensive china that the Susanna had been instructed to smash after his passing....Yeah your dad was a bastard but it was funny as fuck. That’s why you had to leave she kept coming to the house harassing you for money. The restraining order hadn't worked so you decided to move you had the means to do it so went for it, she would never find you here and couldn't use the fact shes your mother to find you because you wasn't a minor the cherry on top the account that your dad was leaving for your mother was what he used to pay for your college and university. Martha sighed knowing why you got so wound up and you was right Lois was similar to your mother.

"You'd do that? Really?" You nodded to him smiling

"Absolutely I ain't afraid of no American.... apart from your mum shes scary as fuck, but seriously I can handle anything she tries to throw at me and you can show me around town while your at it, I'm guessing its in metropolis? when is it?" Martha sat back a little stumped turns out she wont have to set you two up after all.

"Err Its this Saturday ,you sure you want to come what about your book?" you waved him off

"Its fine Clark I can bring my laptop and work on it in the hotel" he nodded grinning wide suddenly excited about this next week then faltered.

"Don't bother booking a hotel you can stay with me for the week after all your doing me a huge favor its the least I can do to repay you" he chose to ignore his mothers raised brow. She had a few guesses at exactly how he was planning to pay you back and she doubted it was just going to be bed and breakfast.... probably breakfast in bed if the looks he gave you were anything to go by, not that she minded you would be a better fit for him anyway. Call it mothers intuition but she got the feeling that Clark would be around a little more now that you were just across the field.

"Oh no I couldn't! a hotel would be fine"

"I insist I would love nothing more then to have you to myself for the week" Martha tried to bite back a laugh, she never realized how cheesy her son was trying to flirt, no wonder he didn't have much success but she could see you fall for it hook line and sinker as you flushed squirming in your seat a little, he smirked at you from across the table getting more confident, he liked to think that he had already caught you. Prick he new exactly what he was doing as he leaned back man spreading, making your walls clench.

"You could spend the week ,we can catch a train tomorrow afternoon if you like, be back in time for dinner there's a nice diner near my apartment" you nodded a little suddenly feeling like one of the women in your books flustered heart racing a mile a minute as the man of your dreams offers to take you away from the boring daily routine. The question was were you brave enough to follow through with it, hell you'd moved to the other side of the world on a snap decision, spending a week alone with a drop dead gorgeous man should be a breeze, it didn't take long to decide giving him a shy smile nodding as you had butterflies in your tummy. His face lit up

"Great I will check the train times It's Sunday service but there should still be some in the afternoon"

"Perfect! I should go and pack then I suppose,Martha if I leave a key here could you watch the house for me and feed the fish when I'm gone" she nodded quickly excited but anxious at the same time, hoping that you would hit it off with Clark but at the same time apprehensive about how fast you was going, after all you only just met, but you were both adults and could handle yourselves and she knew you'd be safe with him.

"Oh is it formal or what?"

"Oh yes, its theme is Hollywood glam"

"Oooo I've got the perfect dress, any way I'm off and will see you both tomorrow be back around eleven tomorrow morning?" he stood nodding walking you to the door making you swoon inside as he opened the door above you reminding you just how big he was, a gentle giant.

"I-I'll see you tomorrow then Clark" he leaned down to your ear whispering

"Can't wait, sweet dream's Y/n I know mine will be" you gasped as he pulled away winking chuckling at your hot cheeks, he could have a lot of fun making you blush he decided as you turned quickly scampering down the stairs away from the house towards yours, who's roof you could barely see over the crops from this distance. He stayed there leaning on the door frame arms crossed groaning watching your ass sway as you made your way into the brakes in the crops what the tractors used to get across the field disappearing into the high crops.

"So you like her then?" he jumped back bumping into the door frame making it creak a little at his mothers sudden appearance, she giggled folding the tea towel in her hands.

"Wow you must have taken a shine to her if your so mesmerized by her or more specifically her backside, that I can sneak up on you,I haven't been able to do that since you were a little boy." he chuckled embarrassed that she'd caught him staring

"Not that I think you would but Clark? don't play with her feelings okay? shes a good kid and had it tough over the past few years and she doesn't need a heart break on top of everything else" he snapped his head to his mom.

"Ma you know I wouldn't-" she fixed him with a look

"You just admitted in there that you was going to use some poor girl to make a point to Lois and I'm telling you now if you hurt her I wont be impressed"

"I wouldn't do that to her, I wont hurt her I promise, but I would like to get to know her more...see if we could you know" she smiled softly at him

"I'm just saying your a handsome man and she could fall for you easily, don't use her as a rebound." he sighed she had a point but after seeing you all thoughts of Lois died.

"I like her Ma do you-do you think maybe she could like me to? this time have a relationship with me, get to know Clark Kent before Superman? that Clark could be enough this time?" that made her pause clenching the cloth in her hands twisting it, there was something in the way he said that, so unsure and hopeless she fumed inside his confidence was knocked she felt like she was speaking to the shy beaten down preteen he once was. He truly believed that Clark Kent wasn't good enough anymore and there was only one person to blame for that,it was with those words she realized that Lois had hurt him and hurt him bad, she sighed pulling him down kissing his cheek then cupped his cheeks making him look her in the eye.

"Now you listen to me and you listen well. You are good enough and you are loved, I don't know what Lois has put into your head, and for her safety I don't think I should know, but you forget it right this instant! you hear me?" he nodded a little still unsure as Martha searched his eyes for a little glimmer of confidence but her heart clenched when she couldn't find any, that confidence from earlier must have been false bravado. Lois was lucky she wasn't going to metropolis herself she's probably kill her for hurting her baby, tho she's sure Y/n was going to rip her apart in her stead it was a pity she wouldn't be there to see it.

"I think Y/n is already smitten with you and that you'd be good for one another. I've only known her four months but She doesn't try to be anything she's not, she takes people as she sees them and doesn't have time for all the games other women play its why we get along so well. And as a side note she has never reacted like that to any one else's attempts at flirting trust me there have been quite a few try when we've been out and she shut them down....Quite brutally now that I think of it. But if your serious about her give it your all I don't think you will be disappointed I think you'd be a good match." she wiped under his eye as they welled a little with unshed tears.

"Y-you really think she could like me?" he asked in a small voice.

"There’s no doubt in my mind that she already does, you think she'd agree to spend a week with you if she didn't? Honestly if you both hadn't made plans I was going to play matchmaker myself. Now why don't you go have a cold shower? and I can start on dinner"

"Cold shower?"

"You think I haven't notice your problem?" he flushed laughing wiping at his eyes and pulling his top down a little trying to cover the tent in his pants as she walked back into the house patting his back.

"Oh shit! You think she notice to?!" his mother laughed shrugging

"Who knows I mean she was checking you out to" as she entered the kitchen he stood there dumbfounded

"What Are you sure? I didn't notice"

"You wouldn't your a man, now go have a shower you are not eating at the table like that" he groaned shaking his head closing the front door making his way up the stairs to the bathroom.

#clark kent imagine #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #superman x reader #superman x you #dc x you #dc imagine #dc x reader #superman x y/n #superman imagine

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dragon-swords-prophecies · 3 years

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Sacrifice Chapter 1

So I'm trying to edit chapter 1 of Sacrifice because I really don't like it and even I can tell how much my writing style has changed in three ish months but I can't figure out exactly whats wrong with it and since I've never shared anything on here ever thats this long and also I need want someone's opinion on this (Please & thank you very much), here's the first chapter of Sacrifice. I already know a bunch of stuff I'm cutting out the awkward romance part specifically i really should not even attempt to write stuff like that its just awkward but I can't figure out exactly what else is wrong with it so this is my solution instead. You sincerely truly don't have to read it if you don't want to I just thought this might be a good idea. And also its something to do if you're bored.

It's below the cut.

Taglist: @golden-eyed-writer

I grinned. Anne and Enna were arguing over the rules of Gin, while Anne, she was Enna’s twin, anyway, while Anne’s kids played tag with my nephew, Zane. Jen and Zebra collided in the middle of the room, and Zane didn’t stop in time, so they ended up in a pile of tangled limbs. My sister emerged from the other room and sighed, then burst into laughter, her wavy, silver tipped, black hair bouncing up and down. We were nearly identical, same silver blue eyes, silver tipped black hair, and dark skin. Our scales were different though. Ana’s smooth, tear drop shaped, silver scales covered her collarbone and wound down one arm; mine encircled my torso. Mine were easier to hide, but more people knew about them. I cast a lot of wind spells.

Ana only showed her scales to people she trusted, so walking in the room in a black tank top was a statement. Anne and Enna were identical, and their names mirrored each other. Blue black hair, Anne’s in twin buns and Enna’s in a half ponytail. Alabaster skin tinged with blue, and blue eyes. They had wings, but Enna was grounded. There was a knock on the door of Lei’s apartment. Lei, a blond Demonsblood, was standing closest to the door and pulled it open, sticking her head out. Two seconds later a boy dressed in the Barony’s colors entered.

“Uh, is there any person named,” He checked the sheet of paper clutched in his hands, “Anne Jones & Enna Helder-Kromlin here?” The twins stood up from the corner and scowled briefly, then Enna darted across the room, grabbed the paper, read it, and swore in Dragon.

“You can go now.” Said Faith, Lei’s redheaded younger cousin.

“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled, then scampered away. “What is it? Dennis explode something again?” Asked Anne, striding over.

“There’s a gnome, blond, asking to see us. The note says she’s carrying the seal of the last baron.” Her twin answered in a shocked voice.

“Mae?”

“Maybe.” While they conversed, and Ana shrugged her jacket off after yanking it on when the door was opened, there was a second knock. Emily, a gnome alchemist and a friend of ours, answered this time, and her lavender eyes stared unseeing into the face of a second messenger. This one had a message for Ana. After reading it, my twin turned to me and grinned. Ana’s smile sometimes scared people. We both had pointed, sharp canine teeth, courtesy of our draconic ancestry. And that had the side effect of looking like you were about to murder someone when you smiled.

“Cerea’s alive. She’s here, with the gnome En mentioned. Joshua recognized the name.” A rush of emotions went through me. Two hundred and seventy four years ago mine and Ana’s home had been burned to the ground by Dizerdrat, an ancient red dragon. Cerea had been the name of a half elf with impressive innate primal magic, who had left when she was twenty, three months befor A'sshyse burned, leaving us the only survivors. The name was a bit ironic actually, A'sshyse sounded like Ashes if pronounced correctly, and that’s all it was now. Ashes and memories.

We didn’t bother to say anything, no one did. Two sets of twins walked out the door, leaving confusion, five friends, and three ten year olds behind. Enna twisted around before leaving, threatening, “If anyone touches those cards I will kill you.” Then she ran, and the second she and Anne were outside they broke out into a full out sprint, matching each other pace for pace. When we got to the main hall area, which had a bunch of alcoves off it that served as slightly more private spaces for meetings and the like, Anne and Enna had already tackle hugged a gnome with curly blond hair, and a black haired half elf stood nearby, awkwardly. Enna was whispering,

"Thirty five years Mae. Thirty five goddamn years. Where were you?"

“I was- Thirty five years?!”

“Yes.” Answered Anne. Mae rounded on the half elf, who put her hands up in a sign of surrender. Before the gnome could get a word out Cerea spoke.

“I didn’t know alright? I’m bad with time.”

“Still. You should have told me!”

“I know. I should have done a lot of things.” It was at that moment she looked in our direction, and saw us. Ana didn’t hesitate, rushing in to embrace a woman she hadn’t seen in nearly three hundred years. I hung back a bit. Not because of my sister, but because me and Cerea hadn’t exactly parted on… civil terms. Half a minute later Ana grabbed my arm, muttering Draconic into my ear.

“I don’t care what happened last time. You never got over it, I doubt she did.”

“Erm, okay-”

Cerea interrupted. “You survived?! What in the nine hells happened to A’sshyse?!”

“Dragonfire.” Ana answered. Then I blurted out, in Dragon, before I had to wait another three centuries to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was stupid, and, and an idiot-” Cerea intterupted in the same language.

“Yes, you were sometimes. But I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said what I said. We were both wrong about the other.” She hugged me tightly, but quickly. As Cerea stepped away I noticed how much toll the last three hundred years had taken on her. She still had raven hair and coffee colored skin, but the freckles that once covered her face were gone. Her eyes still had the same twinkle, but the green was darker, closer to emerald than I’d ever seen them and older than they should be.

“So where were you?” Asked Enna, directing the question at Mae.

“I was petrified. I left right after you guys killed Shallodet, and then it’s a blur until waking up to find my very surprised teacher.”

Enna shuddered at the mention of the name. Shallodet was not a pleasant memory for her.

“Teacher?”

“Yeah. Anne & Enna, this is Cerea Roven. Cerea, these are my sisters. Anne and Enna Helder.”

“Helder-Kromlin. Claimed Mom’s name properly. But I’m not forgetting Helder. It’s hyphenated now. Drove the official crazy.” Corrected Enna. Anne followed with,

“Erm, it’s actually Anne Jones. I might have gotten married.”

“Sorry, what?!”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Hi?” Cerea grinned awkwardly, raising one hand in a half wave for a brief second. “Who’s the Gnome?” Asked Ana.

“I’m Mae Helder. Who are you?”

“Anastasia. Call me Ana. He’s Dash.”

“Hey. So you’re their sister?” I asked, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

“Uh huh. How’d you meet these two?”

“The War.” Answered Ana.

“War? What War?”

“Little sister, you’ve missed a lot. About a decade ago there was a War. Norfolk is gone.”

“Wow. Anything else I need to know?”

“Well, here’s the slight matter of there being a different Baron.”

“What?!”

“His name is Fredrick Falk.”

“Wait. Does that mean?”

“Yeah. He’s gone. Died about two years after you left.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s okay.” The previous Baron had been the first person who had believed in Enna for a long time. When he died she had taken it hard. He had been the latest in a long line of parental figures; and each one had died.

Pike, her adopted mother, had died when she was 10. Her older brother, Zibra, had died when she was nineteen, and everyone thought it was her fault. Everyone except Anne. Her mentor, a half-dragon named Sasha, had died when she was twenty eight. When she was 40 she came back to the capital, only to find Anne missing. She thought it was her fault. Anne had nearly died. Then her Uncle, her mother’s twin, had turned out be her mother’s murder, confessed to killing Zibra and framing her, then he tried to kill both the twins, leaving Enna with thin scars that covered her arms, shoulders, back & torso.

“Anyway, why are you here?”

“Well,” Said Cerea nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. “Gray has heard some things, concerning things. They’re actually what led to me finding Mae.”

“What things?” I asked.

“The forges, the ones under the mountain, are waking up again.”

“I still don’t understand why he would put forges there, of all locations.” Muttered Anne.

“You need to tell someone.”

“That’s why we came here. Under the Code, you need two high ranking Druids to request a meeting with a ruler.”

“That’s surprisingly smart for a twenty five year old.” Said Enna, perhaps the third time in her life she had judged someone because of their apparent age. Cerea, unsurprisingly, burst out laughing.

“I’m two hundred and ninety ish. Can’t remember the exact number. Not 25.”

“Two hundred and ninety four.” I muttered quietly.

“Two hundred and ninety four, then. Either way, I’m not twenty five.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Twenty five is the oldest anyone’s ever thought I looked. I had a couple friends, a few years ago, they thought I was nineteen. Never got around to correcting them.”

“Uh-huh.” I muttered. Cerea had always looked young for her age, and it, plus her innate and extremely powerful primordial magic and wildshaping powers, had allowed her to get away with more things than the average kid would. Most of these exploits were related to stealing jelly tarts, which Ana stole from her and I then stole some of them from Ana. Yeah, fourteen year old me probably had better things to do than steal pastries from a 7 year old prankster, but it was either that or get possessed again, which is not an experience I’d recommend to anyone.

Yes, you read that correctly. Possessed. It’s a very long story that will probably come to light in time. Probably. Either way, we were interrupted by Joshua, the Baron’s 19 year old half-dragon grandson materializing from out of nowhere. His brown curls were more rumpled than usual, and his blue eyes shown with exhaustion. Joshua’s robes, the outfit commonly worn by wizards-in-training, were rumpled, like he had slept in them. He wasn’t strictly half dragon, closer to a quarter dragon. His dad’s dad had been a black dragon. His Mum, the Baron’s youngest daughter, had eloped with his dad and Joshua had only been raised in the court after his parents died in an Orc raid when he was seven. Before you ask, yes most of us had/have sob stories for backgrounds. Happy people who are mentaly stable don’t go out and hunt literal dragons.

Either way, the top half of his face, on a diagonal from right to left, was covered in smooth, black scales. They continued down his neck, and onto one arm. Joshua asked, “So you guys do know each other. I mean, I didn’t think there were a lot of black haired and crazy powerful half elven druids, but hey. There could’ve been more than one. Anyway, Grandpa’s ready to talk to you two. You know how to get there?”

“Yep.” Confirmed Mae, leading Cerea down the hallway. Joshua stayed, leaning against the stone wall.

“Hey.” Anne raised one hand half heartedly, in a sort of wave.

“Hi.”

“So I know how Ana & Dash know the mildly terrifying druid lady, but how do you two know the Gnome?”

“She’s our sister.”

“But neither of you are two Gnomes in a trench coat. So how?”

“I don’t even own a trenchcoat.” Muttered Enna.

“Exactly.”

“She’s our adopted sister, our foster mother fostered her too, though we didn’t know that then.”

“You had a foster mother?”

Anne sighed. “Yes. Pike Helder. Why do you think we speak Gnome?”

“I don’t know. Figured you just knew a lot of Gnomes.”

“I mean, we do, but that’s not the point.”

“Also, I think we would know if you guys were just Gnomes in trenchcoats.” I remarked.

“Yeah, I think you would.” Said Anne.

“You okay?” Ana asked Joshua, probably in response to his disheveled appearance.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m fine. Just stressed.” Ana scoffed, but didn’t say anything more. Enna turned to me. Her arms were crossed.

“Spill.”

“What?” I asked cluelessly. Anne added, “You and Cerea have history. What is it?,” she asked, her body language the same as her twin.

“Nothing, we just knew each other as kids.” “Uh huh.” “So that’s all?” “Yes,” I lied. Anne laughed.

“It’s almost like he thinks we don’t know that he’s lying.” “Yeah.” I looked anywhere except at the twins.

“It wasn’t anything!” I said, coming way closer to yelling than I should.

“You apologized to each other in Dragon when you saw each other.” I swore under my breath. I had forgotten Enna knew Dragon. I tended to forget she knew a lot of languages, Elven not among them in spite of her heritage.

“That was nothing.” I mumbled.

“It was not nothing. I saw Ana’s expression when she saw Cerea. She looked like her best friend had just come back to life.”

“She has.”

“Please. We all know you’re Ana’s best friend. If it’s not you, it’s Zane. Anyway, Ana looked like her best friend had just come back to life. But you, you looked like, I don’t even know how to describe it. You looked a lot like Anne when she got married to Jones. You looked like you were in love.”

“No-o. Not in love with her. Dated her once, sure, maybe we kissed a couple times, but I’m not in love with her,” I protested, turning redder than Faith’s hair, which was very, very red. “Dash, either I tell them or you do.” Threatened Ana, switching into rapid Demonic. Demonic was the one language we both knew that the twins didn’t speak.

“Can we not do this now?!” I replied, in the same language.

“What, you don’t want all our friends to know that you and Cerea were etinye aka?” She asked, using an Elven word.

“No, I would prefer not. And I really think that Cerea wouldn’t either.” “You’d be surprised. She’s changed a lot in 300 years.”

“And how would you know? You’ve seen her about as much as I have.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip and thinking. “I knew she was alive.”

--------End Chapter 1---------

If you've read this far THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#writeblr #chapter 1 #full chapter #fantasy writing #my writing #WIP: Sacrifice #feedback would be appreciated #feedback wanted #sacrifice excerpt #sacrifice full chapter #WIP: Frost & Fire #WIP: Frost & Fire formerly known as Sacrifice

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jenniboo311 · 3 years

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GQ: Spider-Man Goes Undercover on Reddit, YouTube, and Twitter

GQ: Spider-Man Goes Undercover on Reddit, YouTube, and Twitter by jenniboo311

Part 2 of the Social Butterfly Spidey series General | 4115 Words | Chapter 1/1

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The video opens with Spider-Man sitting at a table with only his torso visible, the set background a solid sky blue. He is wearing his signature mask and a simple white t-shirt, forearms bare and defined with lean muscle. He gives the camera a jaunty two fingered salute.

"Hey I'm Spider-Man," he begins in a friendly voice as he flips open the lid of the laptop in front of him decisively, "And I'm going undercover on the internet." The video cuts to a title screen as it types out "Actually Me with Spider-Man" as Spider-Man says off screen, "It's actually me!"

The screen then clears and types out a new message for its audience, "We had Spider-Man create real accounts and go undercover online."

"Let's begin!" He says as the camera cuts back to him typing into the laptop. The video shows his screen as he is typing his username and password into YouTube. Once the site logs in he selects his display picture, a cheeky shot a fan must have captured as Spider-Man swung past upside-down. "First up, let's take ourselves to YouTube."

A brief clip plays from a seven and a half minute humorous compilation of Spider-Man saves, cutting back and forth between impressive confrontations against dangerous criminals with firearms to sweetly helping older ladies with their groceries.

"From user SkepticalOfSpidey, she says," he narrates the comment as it is displayed on screen, "'Is this guy for real? How can a superhero go from dodging bullets to carrying groceries? Like how is this even on his radar? Does he actually care or is this some kind of PR stunt?'"

The video cuts to Spider-Man who replies vehemently, "I absolutely care! And I think it's hysterical people consider me "above" certain things, or they're not worthy of being on my "radar", as though I'm some hotshot. Look, the Avengers are great with the big world ending stuff, and sometimes I'm part of that too, but the little guys need help too, day to day. I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and no matter who you are, your race, your age, your sexuality, your income, whether you're a victim of a mugging or a kitten in a tree, you all deserve help when you need it. That's my personal mission, just to help people. So as long as I'm doing that I'm not ashamed."

The video cuts to show the end of his response being typed out on screen and Spider-Man hits the "Comment" button to post his answer.

Another short clip plays of footage from the scene of a crime where Spider-Man is knocking out a hulking goon in one hit, displaying his super strength. The subsequent comment is displayed on screen as Spider-Man reads it aloud, "'oh great, just what we need: another brawny idiot that uses his fists to solve problems. What we really need is intelligence. Can we get more scientists please?'"

Spider-Man reels back in his chair a little, seemingly taken aback. "Wow! Why are you so angry-" he consults the laptop again for the username, "Chelsea?" He shifts in the chair to get comfortable before responding, "First of all, another? I'm offended on behalf of my teammates. All of the people I work with are very intelligent, so I'm not sure where she's getting that you have to be an idiot if you have muscles. Secondly, I am a scientist, actually. I specialize in biochemistry, though I also dabble in engineering, physics, and programming. I have an IQ upwards of 250, which if you want to compare to the likes of Tony Stark, is around 270, who also kicks ass by the way."

He straightens his shirt indignantly, "Though hopefully I didn't give too much away with that. My point is," he points at the camera, "you can have both brawn and brains. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise, people. Defy the societal norms."

The comment section displays on screen again and scrolls down the page until it hits another comment. "'How strong is Spider-Man?'" He lounges back in his chair and taps the fingers of his right hand on the table idly, "Well, last we checked I could bench press about ten tons. Tony and I ran some tests about eight months ago to find out, so it could have changed since then but likely not by a large amount. So I'm going to say ten tons, give or take."

Another video clip plays that shows Spider-Man swinging confidently on his web before suddenly taking a wrong turn and eating billboard. The jarring collision dislodges his grip and he falls several feet to land on a garbage bin, whose lid caves in immediately under his weight. He reads aloud, "'Ouch. I wonder how that felt.'" Spider-Man laughs quietly, not afraid to laugh at himself. "To be honest with you Joshua, it did not feel good. That billboard actually broke my nose, though the garbage bin helped break some of the fall. There's definitely worse things I could have landed on. I don't get distracted often but it still happens sometimes. Web slinging is hard, okay?!

"Wikipedia!" he says off screen, as the visual on screen shows Spider-Man logging in to the Wikipedia webpage with the username, '[email protected]'.

"Let's see here," Spider-Man says before devolving into mumbles as he reads the information supplied on the website about himself. "Wait wait wait!" He exclaims after a moment and quotes the offending fact, "'His signature weapon is his webbing, which is created biologically and dispensed from a gland in his wrists at the base of his palms.'" The text in question displays on screen and zooms in on the text, "biologically", and then, "gland in his wrists".

"First of all, gross." Spider-Man rests his forehead in his hand, propped on the table with his elbow in a perfect picture of disappointment. "Second of all," he sits up straight and addresses the camera full on, "have you all actually been thinking I've been spurting real webs out of my hands at everything for the past few years?!" After a beat he processes what he has just said and facepalms while mumbling, "Spurting, oh God I regret my word choice."

The video cuts to the text being backspaced as Spider-Man narrates offscreen, "This is incorrect, let's delete it!"

The video cuts back to Spider-Man reaching below the table, leaning slightly to the left to dig something out of his right pants pocket, sighing heavily. He pulls out two simple black bracelets which he pointedly holds up for the camera before slipping them on. "Web shooters: 101," he says before deliberately knocking his wrists together so the bracelets make contact and activate. "Now obviously Tony Stark has gotten his hands on these and they are a little different than the originals, as you can tell by the nano technology," he explains, black colored metal creeping up his forearms to encase them in a type of bracer, "but the base mechanism is still the same as what I designed from the beginning." The nano technology finishes covering his forearms, the device quite noticeable with the stark black of the metal covering the majority of his pale exposed forearms. He flicks his hands back, palms facing upwards to show the camera, as the motion triggers a small device to deploy in the center of his palms. He reaches into his pocket once more and retrieves a couple small cylindrical cartridges filled with a milky fluid which he then deftly loads into the devices at his wrists.

"In a nutshell: web shooter," he holds up his left forearm to present the whole device to the audience. "The trigger," he presents the small button resting in his palm, "and web fluid," he continues, indicating the cartridge now inserted below his wrist. He points to a spot at the base of his palm, "They got the location of the dispenser right, I guess, but it's not coming out of a gland of any kind!" He aims carefully just past the camera and shoots a quick burst by depressing the button at his palm that makes the viewer feel as though he is shooting it at them. "I developed this formula myself, in a lab, with chemicals!" He emphasizes. "It's completely synthetic, not biological by any means, and nobody had to milk me for it." He pauses, staring at the camera for a moment before looking down at the table and murmuring uncomfortably while shaking his head, "That was a strange sentence I never want to repeat." He huffs a quiet laugh.

"Quora!" Spider-Man says as the onscreen graphic shows Spider-Man logging into the website with his fake email. "What the heck is Quora? I have no idea but let's get into it.

"'How is Spider-Man such a darling? He's so sweet and wholesome and is a big, soft, cinnamon roll'," he narrates as the question displays on screen. He shifts around awkwardly and scratches the side of his head, "Aw, I dunno! But thanks Quora, you're my new favorite website.

"'How many people has Spider-Man killed?'" He narrates as the question displays on screen. "Wow guys, that's dark!" He leans forward and clasps his hands together to convey the seriousness of his response. "The answer is none. I haven't killed anyone nor do I intend to. Spider-Man is strictly nonlethal. I only use webs to detain, I don't use blades or guns of any kind. Except these guns." He lightens the mood by flexing his right arm and kissing his bicep. He holds it together for approximately two seconds before exploding in laughter. "Oh God, how do I have friends?" He mutters to himself.

"Next!" He exclaims, searching for the next question. "'Does Spider-Man wear a mask because he's disfigured?'" The question displays for the viewer to see. "Hmm, okay well the short answer is no. That's not why I wear a mask. I don't really know how to quantify my own attractiveness, that's just awkward. I think I'm perfectly average, though I've had people tell me I'm handsome. They were all terribly biased though, so take that with a grain of salt." Spider-Man's grin can be seen in the crinkling of the fabric around his mouth. "I have two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and completely normal teeth. No extra eyes or mandibles or anything. That may sound like a strange thing to say but you'd be surprised how many times I have to clarify that," He snorts. "I cover my face because dealing with so many street-level criminals puts me on the radar of a lot of people who want revenge against me and anybody I care about. So if my identity was known I'd have to constantly watch my back, and my loved ones would be in danger. Of course there are contingencies for if that happens but in the meantime I want as normal a life as possible for me and mine."

Spider-Man clicks away on the laptop until the next question displays on screen. "'Does Spider-Man give autographs and selfies?'" He narrates. "I do, but all I ask is that if you catch me out in the wild and I look busy or distracted, to please not bother me. Most times the people I save are a bit too traumatized to be thinking about getting my autograph at the moment, but if the night is slow or I'm taking a break I'm happy to give an autograph or take a photo with you if you ask. Your best bet is probably at fundraisers and charity events, if I am in attendance, since I'm not focused on crime fighting and am just interacting with people."

The next question displays on screen, "'Is Spider-Man single?'" The video cuts to Spider-Man shifting uncomfortably. "Uh, I'm not comfortable confirming that sort of thing. Like I said, people in my orbit are in danger so I don't want to bring any kind of attention to who I surround myself with, even if their names are as yet unknown. The less information going around about that the better. So all I'll say is that at the very least I am not looking for a relationship." He awkwardly clears his throat before moving on.

"'How strong are Spider-Man's webs?' Strong enough to restrain the Hulk. Seriously," he nods at the camera, "I know this for a fact. We, and by we I mean the Avengers and I, had a code green sometime last year and out of sheer desperation I let the webs fly. By the time I was done he was basically in a cocoon but hey, it worked! Hulk looked pretty cozy actually." His eye lenses squint in amusement.

"Now let's go to Facebook," he says as the video shows him logging into Facebook and selecting a new profile picture, a closeup of Spider-Man shooting the camera finger guns.

"'Who would win in a race between Spider-Man and Captain America?'" He claps his hands together once in excitement, "Me! Because I'm obviously superior to Cap in every way!" He barks out a laugh and mumbles, "He'll let me have it for that comment! No I'm joking, Cap is awesome. I'm actually not lying though. We had a race, because science, and I clocked in at about two hundred miles per hour while Steve maxed at about seventy. Nothing to sneeze at of course, but not quite up to Spidey's par!" He gives another cheesy arm flex, this time with both arms. The video cuts to Spider-Man typing out the last of his answer and finishes it with two flex emojis before submitting it.

"'Do you think Spider-Man has any hidden talents?'" He looks seriously into the camera. "Well if I told you, they wouldn't be secret talents anymore, now would they Gerald?" He cocks his head to the side in thought. "I guess I can tell you that I can dance? I took dance and gymnastics for awhile when I was a kid, which is probably why I'm so agile and acrobatic now. My enhancement made me even more agile and acrobatic, but it was already there to some degree to begin with." He gives a careless shrug.

"'Coffee or tea?' Well I try not to drink either of them to be honest. Caffeine and spiders don't mix! Sometimes I can't avoid it though, lots of late nights being Spider-Man, so in those cases I drink coffee. Funny trivia for you, but I used to love lemonade. I must have inherited some spidery traits because lemon is a deterrent and I can't tolerate it now. I mean it won't kill me, I just find it unpleasant. Don't want criminals thinking they can spray me with lemon juice or something. I'll just be annoyed and smell funky fresh while I kick your ass." His eye lenses squint as his mask crinkles around the mouth. "My beverage of choice is actually apple juice, because I'm twelve years old." He snickers and hits the submit button to post his answer, complete with a baby emoji.

"'How are you doing? Are you getting enough sleep? Do you need a hug?'" He shifts forward to prop his chin on his hand. "I'm doing good, thank you for asking. I am absolutely not getting enough sleep, but neither is anyone else I know so I'm in good company. And I absolutely need a hug. I love giving people hugs and will one hundred percent hug you if you ask me to and I'm not busy. There's lots of Spidey to go around, I love each and every one of you."

He reads the next question silently first and barks a laugh before narrating, "'What even is your life?' Dude, I have no idea. If you had told young Spidey that one day he'd be flipping all over the city fighting crime and battling aliens with a superpowered team of highly skilled famous individuals he'd probably check you for fever and then back away slowly.

"Up next, Instagram! I know all about Instagram, I use it all the time." The video shows him once again logging into the website

"'Does anyone else desperately want a reality TV show with Spidey and the other Avengers? I would kill to watch hours of Spidey being a sarcastic little shit to bank robbers and Tony Stark just being a mess.'" Spider-Man laughs. "Wellllll," he hedges, "you might not have to wait that long. I've been toying with the idea of creating a YouTube channel and posting some shenanigans on there. Now, mind you, it won't be expertly edited or anything, I really don't have the time for that, but it would be something. Keep an eye out for that soon."

The video next displays a picture on Instagram that a fan had posted of a young Spider-Man from his early days coming out of a porta-potty with a string of toilet paper streaming off the bottom of his boot. The comment reads, "'Check out this disaster. What is going on here?'" Spider-Man looks straight at the camera, unimpressed, and deadpans, "Everybody poops, Deborah."

He navigates to the next picture, which is of a kneeling Spider-Man getting mauled by an enthusiastic, fluffy golden retriever. "'Was he a good doggo?'" He reads aloud. "He was best boy. What a good doggo!" He grins big through his mask.

"Now here we go to Twitter," he says as he logs in and selects a profile picture. "This is probably the social media I use the most. I'm thinking about deleting the app off my phone for a little while though, it's starting to consume my life. It's nice being able to connect to the public with it but I'm starting to find it difficult because people get so disappointed when I have to step away. Saying no to people is hard! And I have an extremely busy life so I can't keep this up forever. I've got cats to cuddle and lives to save! Gonna have to dial it back a bit I think."

The screen displays a tweet from user EmmaRox as Spider-Man reads it aloud, "'Do you think the abs are real or does he pad his suit?'" Spider-Man snorts and slaps his chest in mirth. "Well I would think that the fact I can lift a bus is proof enough, but here you go," he says and lifts his shirt to expose his impressively sculpted abs for just a moment before dropping his shirt and shaking his head in embarrassment. "Not padded."

The video cuts to the next question as he reads, "'What do you do in your free time?'" He looks at the camera and his left eye lens shifts as though he has furrowed his eye brow. "Free time? What's that?" He snorts, "No seriously, there's not much of that to go around. If I'm not on patrol or sleeping or training, I'm trying to keep up with my personal relationships and trying not to spend all my remaining time in the lab, with or without Tony. Like I said before, I'm a scientist, so a lot of my downtime is devoted to developing better tech, and to research to advance in these areas." He dramatically sweeps his hand across the top of his head as though he is a diva flipping long hair over his shoulder as he announces, "I'm not just a pretty face, you know." The video cuts to Spidey typing out the end of his answer, finishing it off with a queen emoji.

"'What's the best piece of advice you've ever been given?'" Displays the next question from user, David P. "That's a good question, David. Hmm," he strokes his chin thoughtfully, "I would have to say 'With great power, comes great responsibility'. It was advice given to me by one of the two most important people in my life, and I have carried that motto in my heart ever since. It was advice that ultimately lead to the creation of Spider-Man, actually. I have these fantastic powers, so I consider it my responsibility to do something good with them." He wrings his hands together at what looks to be an uncomfortable topic for him to speak about. After a beat he continues his answer, "The second best advice I've ever gotten, however, was 'It is better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring', which you'll also notice I take very seriously in that I am incredibly ridiculous. I mean if there's a person out there who spouts more bad puns in the face of danger than me, I haven't heard of them." He quietly snickers to himself.

"'If you had to choose three adjectives to describe yourself what would they be?'" He doesn't hesitate when he rattles off, "Genius, witty, humble." He stares at the camera seriously for a moment before he cracks and laughs. "No seriously, uh, probably awkward, smartass, and nerdy." He shrugs for lack of a better answer.

"Reddit!" He says as he logs into the page and selects a display picture of Spider-Man facepalming.

"'Do you have any pets?'" Spider-Man reads. "No. My apartment doesn't allow pets, sadly, but I love animals. And actually I do hang out with Tony a lot and I have to constantly make sure he's fed and watered because he forgets, so I feel like that's close enough." He covers his mouth with a hand to hold in his snort but a strangled one escapes anyway.

The next post shows a piece of fan artwork that is poor quality and is obviously from an inexperienced child. It depicts a heroically posed Spider-Man saving a young boy from a burning apartment complex window. The young artist in question posted the caption, "'I know it's not any good but spiderman saved me and my mom from a fire. I really want to say thank you so I drew him this picture. If anyone gets the chance to talk to spiderman can you please show him this and tell him I love him?'" Spider-Man looks at the picture on the laptop for a long moment and audibly takes several loud swallows. He looks at the camera and says hoarsely, "I love you too, bud. And I'm glad you're doing okay. It was my absolute pleasure to help you that day and I'm so glad I was there. I love your drawing and I think you're so very talented. I'm going to print this out and post it on my fridge so I can see it everyday and think of you. Study hard in school and be good for your mom!" He looks down at his lap and clears his throat, filling with emotion. After a moment he looks up and clasps his hands.

"That's it! We're done!" He says as he shuts the laptop with a snap and his eye lenses squint in a smile. "I hope you enjoyed watching and learning a little bit about me. See you around!"

The video fades to the GQ logo before ending.

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Comments: ----------------

magicalbluecookies omg that last one killed me. Spidey got all choked up Friedfishcat I live for Spidey telling us he loves us. I stan a Spiderboi not afraid of his emotions. kitty22803 Am I the only one who took a screenshot of his abs? TeamIronDad Bahahaha subtly roasting cap and iron man. I wanna be a fly on the wall of their common room, I bet they're all hilarious to watch together lovelyjourneys Does this cinnamon roll ever rest? He needs a nap! And some milk or something! saucysquatch "Everybody poops, Deborah." Dumbledork I will die if he actually makes a youtube channel, please actually make this a thing! enchanted_nightingale Nooooooo dont delete twitter! kim_cc I once got a hug from spidey!! I was crying after he saved me from almost getting hit by a car and he asked if i needed a hug. It was the best hug of my life. Isi1dur Spidey is 12 years old confirmed, someone call the press xoxheartErin Spidey, post a video of you dancing!!! Proof or it didn't happen! Slyrocker Spiderman is asked how's he's such a soft cinnamon roll, proceeds to then prove he's a soft cinnamon roll Hi NOBODY HAD TO MILK ME FOR IT UselessDiamond19 Holy crap his web shooters are so cool! chrissyglikesbooks 250?! His IQ is 250?! Einstein was 160!!!! I feel faint. amillionmiles Spidey eating that billboard is about how my week is going honestly Mira Spidey is such a smart boi! He's going to make a great husband when I marry him.

TotallyNotDeadpool Well I guess this is all we have to live for now that you're out of the MCU

#fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman #social butterfly Spidey #social media #jenniboo311 #GQ #Reddit #Twitter #Quora #funny #humor #ao3 fanfic #Marvel #instagram #wikipedia #facebook #interview

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