#/ and 43 in actual age .
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Just one of the many great tragedies of Mishanks' relationship is that sometimes Shanks wants to feel wanted just as he is, that even beyond the strength he is worth the effort he is worth being loved and unfortunately that just isn't something Mihawk can over him it's just not something he can do, not as he is now at least. That's a level of emotional maturity that he just does not possess to be able to disentangle the strength from the man that makes no sense to him. Strength is all there is. Shanks is a person, has a life outside of his strength, his power is just another aspect of who he is but for Mihawk strength is his whole person, if he is not strong then he is nothing. If shanks is not strong well then....he's nothing to him.
And God that's a lonely way to live.
#Man age 43 only friends 2 decade long situationship and his kids claims he's never been lonely more at 6#the ways having known Perona allow Mihawk to engage in a healthier relationship with Shansk are just gold to me#Because I mantain the fact that young mishanks was very chaotic and some would characterize unhealthy#she teaches him to care for people outside of how well they could measure up to him in a fight#I dont know their relationship seems to make his life fuller kind of#like its implied that he only started his garden after Zoro left#Like he stops seeing the Humandrills as annoying pests and actually starts letting them help out with his garden#he letler use all his good wine to make sangria and adopt errant freaky bear cubs#he even fucking secretly planted cocoa trees (cause he's a fucking weirdo) just to make her favorite drink like come on#he just lets this shrill girl barge into his life and make a home there with minimal objection.#She makes his life full in ways that his relationship just couldnt Zoro. she is so essential to his growth as a character#(you know if oda focused on him longer than once every 12 years)#I love it#one piece#throwing thoughts to the void#dracule mihawk#op#hawkeye mihawk#akagami no shanks#mishanks#shanks#red haired shanks#akataka#mihawk x shanks#perona#perona one piece#ghost princess perona#goth family#goth fam#one piece goth fam
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What will win:
my desire to write DA fics
vs
my seething hatred for medieval stereotypes (“haha they thought bathing was bad!!” “haha their streets were filthy and they threw wastewater out of their windows”)
#chia rambles#dragon age#do I wanna write my DA2 MGIT fic??? yes.#do I wanna write a medieval setting where this stuff is actually real??? no.#like ok Ferelden I understand it’ll smell bad what with the dogs and the mud and all#but like even then#people in medieval times had noses???? they were people??? they enjoyed being clean???#especially true pre-industrialization#but technically it’s canon in Thedas and I HATE IT SO MUCH#THEYRE A MEDIEVAL SETTING#AND YOU WANT ME TO BELIEVE THEY DONT HAVE COMMUNAL BATHHOUSES???#insane#kirkwall I can accept bc it’s a shithole#but the rest of the world?????#no#and even then would the magisters settling down accept a place w/o running water? if they’re inspired by the Romans#mmmmmm don’t think so#I mean THE SEWERS EXIST#WHY WOULD THEY HAVE SEWERS AND NOT COMMON BATHHOUSES#it’s canon that Dorian bathes so Tevinter DOES have higher standards of hygiene#but also that pisses me off so much because again MEDIEVAL PEOPLE DID BATHE#(clenching my teeth) then MGIT was like I’m gonna take a bath! and DA character No.43 gasped and went you silly girl!! its once a week!!#FUCK OFF#worldbuilding#da2
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Don't forget: Never believe an unsourced claim on the internet just because you agree with it!
If a person or organization quotes from "studies" but doesn't provide a link to any of those studies, ask for a link to one of those studies in a courteous and curious, non-hostile manner!
If a person or organization uses statistics and percentages but doesn't provide a link to the study they sourced those numbers from, ask! Again, in a courteous non-hostile manner!
This is also useful if you disagree with the unsourced claim and want other people to think critically about the fact that there currently is no way to know if the maker of the claim is lying or not.
Here are some phrase templates/examples to better illustrate what I mean.
"Interesting! I'd like to know more, can you please link me to the study or studies where you got this information, Thank you!"
"Wait, really? I had no idea. Can you provide a link to the study so that I can read more about this issue? Thanks!"
Don't just reply with "Source?" because that can be seen as a sign of hostility and in that case you're more likely to be sent vitriol than the source you asked for.
Chances are even if you are polite, you won't get a response containing a link to those studies, but for me at least it's an important tool to remind myself that you shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet.
People on the internet can lie. Numbers can be made up. Always ask for the studies referenced in "studies show..." statements and "[number]% of [demographic]..." statements.
#internet literacy#resource to combat misinformation#stay safe out there#no i do not agree with the tweet screencap that spawned this post but internet literacy is still important.#'don't believe everything you read on the internet' still applies in this day and age.#Studies show that 43% of claims that start with 'studies show...' are actually just the result of people making things up#including this one. i just chose a medium-ish number at random and went with it.#82% of internet users just believe every statistical claim in their feed. Can you believe it?#I hope not because I made that number up too
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characters: lets live together
people on tumblr: this of course means theyre canonically having sex, no what are you talking about i dont do headcanons my blog is all stuff based on canon
#yes i could very well just bloody forget about it and move on but i dont feel like it#it was a post i saw ages ago one of those random things that comes back to irritate you#oh look 3:36 and i still havent started that bloody essay#i mean all im doing is vauging which is perfectly find im not bothering the person who posted it or anything#like i was but im not now cause i made a fake apology then felt bad about nit sticking with it when i got a reply#wtf#i mean i do think im better off not doing that now cause it was sort of rubbish#now if i just completely forgot about all of this and went and got an actual life how much better#it wasnt about this specific thing btw just like general boredom and stuff obviously im not sending hate over something this petty#i mean it actually started with a reply to an anon ask i sent where i made an effort to be polite even though i already found those opinion#really annoying and thr reply was slightly rude so i was ruder back and then sent an even ruder one#then a couple of months later i was bored and for some reason i really dont know decided the best entertainment was sending random asks the#anyway another update its 3:43 and i still havent started that essay#not doing it the first time is why ive got to redo it#i applied for am extension cause i had 2 same day and i couldnt make myselflike i lyed and said mental health issues only dont actually kno#if i really was lying and just lazy or if i actually had mental health issues then during thd extension i got really bad toothache and coul#nt do anything not even sleep and it lasted for almost two days and i did one but i was too lazy and tired i couldnt eveb be bothered to#apply for special consideration even though i wouldve got it cause it meant getting a doctors note and its so much effort abd the waiting#lists are fucking ridiculous and i might not have got it and when i called about the toothache they said fuck off and see a dentist which#you have to pay for and also probably has a waiting list so i was just like fuck off ill just redo it even though it fucks some score or#other up i dont remember what it all means i better not bloody lose any money over this fucking hell#and my batterys only 4% now#i should get an award for how off topic can you get on a tumblr post#also how boring#and how much i repreat stuff
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Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)
art kid luke hughes
#joy i feel like i should’ve known it would be you wrecking my shit by saying this ->#no one tell me what it’s about i want to think about jack as a fixed point forever#like. please. please. why would you. & also why are these like miyazaki/indie coming of age documentary closed captions u know what i mean#anyway in a moment of brief insanity i thought about the devil!nico snapping his fingers to make jack first overall wherever he wanted#and the concept of things that would always have happened it’s just a matter of how you get there#no matter where your eye starts it always ends there no matter where your threads weave in the web of fate all the knots end up tied. fixed#(nolan going to vegas) it’s just the path you took to get there was a little different is all.#hi. it's me. five+ hours later. remember the brief aforementioned moment of insanity#yeah so we lost it in a completely different directions sorry?#if i had a nickel for every time i entered a hughes brothers induced narrative webweaving fugue state i'd have two nickels#which isn't a lot but relative to the amount i think about them kinda is and also it's weird it happened twice#also i'm not apologizing for hearing “art kid” with fixed point (one perspective? my googling of art terminology did not yield results.#luke baby girl i think you've got the wrong term.) and immediately jumping to science (math and ecosystem management) because. that's art#luke hughes#jack hughes#quinn hughes#vancouver canucks#new jersey devils#my cat would very much like for me to go to bed and snuggle however. i was possessed. (AND i just learned how to do small text)#so now all of you get to have worms for brain at 12:30AM too ok ily good night!!!!!#i lied actually i need to tell you guys things because number one EYE have no idea where this came from number two the things i do know#i have no idea if the red string meme it's all coming together points make any sense to anyone but me. SO FIRST#function defined by itself (43 superscript added by me) it's luke defining fixed point. he's cited.#perspective used to stage narratives!!! the history of perspective in art is honestly so interesting and i think actually this started#because i was trying to find a definition for fixed point in art and couldn't get one but found the article talking about#how historically perspective is used for geometric and architecture in paintings to add reality i.e. vermeer's squares#because our brains are SO hardwired to believe perspective “the illusion of geometric regularity and spatial recession... is nearly impossi#liv in the replies#said more but tumblr ate it bc it was too many tags & now we're on hour six i am not rewriting just know it was good. past/present/future l#it was not well articulated & i wanted to do perspective lines & also it could be better collaged but if it looks bad.. that's a u problem.
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Look Chan I know we've all been single for a while here but I don't think you understand the concept of Valentine's Day
#like. a few years ago he sets up a whole date for stay and then friendzones everyone at once. one shot KO#and now i guess he wanted to up the ante by 'breaking up' with us and accuse us of cheating#like excuse you sir i have a life and dont even have bbl and also was watching Deadpool one and two what do you have to say to that HUH??#anyway#hi Chris how ya doin#becka was right and i did like the sequel better#i just don't have much of a taste for revenge arcs#like you're just mad the whole time and then once theyre dead then what? its the inigo montoya dilemma#Becka's probably going to kill me for saying that now that ive given deadpool a fair shot spiderman is still my favorite#he's just an actually nice guy y'know?? and funny! like nobody has beef with spiderman!!#but yeah nothing like being killed by a 14yr old who has a fixation on knife collecting and knows how to use them better than me#and yes I'm talking about the real girl and not firefist#i love her tho and she's basically a mini version of the current me#not even me at her age because i wasnt like now!me at her age no. a mini version of now!me#14yo me would have had an aneurysm at the thought of watching an R rated movie lol#which is a solid reason why I didn't watch it when it came out when I was 16-17#gasp its 1:43 perfect timing okay bai
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honestly is it even an old man if hes younger than my dad
#my dad is having his 50th birthday tomorrow and vitos 43 in mafia 3. so is he even that old#like sure he looks middle aged. well perhaps then hes middle aged and not old.#(remembers passage of time) actually im older now than vito was at the start of mafia 2. im going to be 20 this year. oh jesus
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📜Roll Call
A/N: my favourite, moody professor. feral. he's actually such a twat.
Content Warnings: coarse language
Sexual Content: Degradation, spitting, light bondage, spanking, slapping, age gap (10 years)
Word Count: 21.5k
Now, sit straight for Professor Styles.
***
Oxford University, 1992.
“Are you actually going to put the effort into my class or do I have to get you a tutor?”
It wasn’t what she was hoping for after handing in an assignment. She fought back the hot tears that sprung into her eyes and hoped he didn’t see how wet they were. She was exhausted, overworked to the bone trying to balance her studies and a part-time job.
He’d handed back the papers at the end of his class, and not long after escaped to his office down the hall. She’d chased after him, fumbling to keep up with him while her mind was jumbled over the failed grade. She’d done plenty of assignments with him and he’d passed every single one.
“I… I don’t understand. I studied the material—“
“Well, clearly you didn’t study it enough. The years are all mixed up. If you want to be the historian that you say you do, that usually comes with not mixing up dates. I mean,” he held the paper in front of him, reciting the words she’d written. “Julius Caesar was assassinated in March, 43 BC. Incorrect. He was assassinated in March, 44 BC. You should know this, it’s basic stuff.”
“I’m sorry, I swear it was a simple mistake—“
“Simple mistakes will cost you your grade. In fact, it has.”
Her heart dropped. “Is there anything I can do? I can fact-check and write it all over again. Please. I want to pass this paper. I—I need to pass.”
He was always this mean. This… hurtful. He had no leniency towards so much as a falsely placed comma, and she could see her incorrect information pained him deeply. He was right. It was basic stuff, and internally she knew it. However, she’d been slammed with studying and had simply made a mistake.
But he had no patience, no care if anyone in his class was overwhelmed with what he pushed onto them. He’d been given the same load when he himself was studying. In his view, being pushed to the brink was what made him great at what he did. So, he showed his students the same respect as his professors once had.
“What makes you think I have the time to give you special treatment, Violet? I have enough papers to grade as is, adding yours to the pile all because you made a mistake will only set me back.”
“It’s one paper.” She begged, near on in tears again. She eyed the plaque that had his name engraved in the gold, avoiding his eyes.
Leaning back in his chair, he eyed her through his wide-framed glasses. He tapped his fingers against his thighs, clad in soft beige plaid pants. Her eyes fluttered towards his sweater, the striped shirt underneath. She lost herself in the pattern as he mulled in his thoughts.
“I want it on my desk tomorrow morning by nine o’clock.”
She could have jumped at the relief she felt. “Thank you, sir.”
“Just this once. I won’t be so easy on you if it happens again.”
“It won’t happen again.” She grinned, grabbing the paper from his outstretched hand.
"Since you're rewriting it—do you want my honest opinion?"
"Of course." She whispered, always one to accept constructive criticism. She knew he wouldn't hold back and she mentally braced herself.
"I was bored reading your paper."
She gulped, blinking in surprise but he continued, not concerned about hurting her feelings. That wasn’t what he was there for—to teach her.
"I expected more from you, Violet. To be frank, I’m disappointed. There was no depth to it. No excitement. You did the very bare minimum. You gave me a bunch of facts, with some of the dates mixed around. What’s more, is that nothing about this piece made me want to read it. Tell me, what makes history so exciting?"
"Uh, I guess learning about—"
"The stories. The stories make history so exciting. Stories of the people, their daily lives, and the fight for survival and victory. History would be nothing without the stories it tells."
"Yeah, I understand, now. You're right."
"Of course I’m right. Retelling history has to be gripping. Write it again and pull me in."
His eyes scanned over his pager, alerting him that a staff meeting was about to commence. He stretched out his neck, grabbing his folder and eyeing her as he stood.
He hated the way his eyes observed her frame. Soft corduroy pants, a graphic t-shirt of a band he had never heard of. Her hair was in a bouncy ponytail, half splayed over her shoulder as she twirled a lock between her fingers.
What he didn’t hate was how she feared him. Her eyes were wide with intimation as she stared at him. She was clearly so desperate to please him, not wanting to disappoint him or let him down.
She wanted to do this paper for him as much as she did for her grades. That’s why his tactic was to be cruel. To keep her at arm’s length, but also to keep his mind at bay from wandering into risky territory.
"Is there anything else?"
"Oh, that's all—"
"Great. I have somewhere to be."
The expectant look he gave her threw her off, but she very quickly gathered his meaning. She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and gave him a soft smile, hoping to lessen his harsh expression, yet all to no avail. His expression remained the same. She turned to leave, barely getting through the threshold before his voice reached out.
“Nine o’clock, Violet.”
“Yes, professor.”
She left his office, winding her way through campus, smiling at her classmates as she passed them. Oxford University. Rich with history and success. Abundant with opportunities fit for her dreams. It knew no bounds of imagination, with its old and infamous buildings and all the tales held within them.
There was something about history that made her feel alive. Reliving the past through depictions, art, studies, and discoveries. It was what drove her.
So when she’d landed her dream Ancient History class, taught by a very highly adored historian, Harry Styles, she knew that she had a lot to prove.
She raced back to her flat after a stop at the supermarket for brainfood and energy drinks. She got stuck in, completely starting again, double and triple-checking her facts to be sure.
Her Walkman kept her company, and she cycled through her favourite CDs. She even went above and beyond, adding small details to her work that weren’t overly relevant but she knew Professor Styles would enjoy reading.
As grumpy as he was, she wouldn’t deny that she had a soft spot for him. For his focused gaze, his deep voice as he stood before the class and taught, and how his dimples flexed when he was talking or hiding his irritation.
Oftentimes, she’d allow herself to admire him. To see him as a simple man. Rich in thought and graceful in the way he so confidently carried himself. He was effortlessly smart and passionate. Young but full of experience, which she found impressive amongst the older faculty.
In his early thirties, it was remarkable how far his career had soared already.
He was gorgeous. Poised and proper, with inklings of something more unhinged that she could sometimes spy through his carefully placed mask.
But then she’d shake her head and chastise herself for thinking such thoughts about someone so above her.
He was known to be a sucker for details and personality. He hated textbook answers, even though his whole career and teachings relied purely on facts. So, she spent extra time being a little more pedantic than usual.
She wanted to impress him. He was one of the most successful historians of his impressively ripe age of thirty-two. She’d never wanted to let him down and she had to prove to him that she had what it took to be in his class and be worthy of his teachings. It was what motivated her to piston through her assignment and perfect it.
She was going over her paper, adding some final flares when her flatmate knocked on her door.
“Vi, you’ve been working on that for hours.”
“I know,” she wrote furiously, so hyper-focused on the spread of papers and books in front of her, “it’s due tomorrow.”
“You need a break, come get a drink with us.”
Violet was that person that worked herself to the bone to maintain her grades. She was a people pleaser, and that trait stretched to her professors. She clung to every word they said and took every assignment seriously.
“Due tomorrow, Alice.” She repeated, barely blinking as she wrote and mouthed the words out to herself.
“Please take a break before you lose your mind.” Alice could sense her friend falling into that mindset where she neglected everything aside from whatever assignment was due.
Violet sighed, pausing her work and turning to face her. “Who’s we?”
She soon found herself dressed in an attire that completely contrasted her university jumper and sweat pants. A tiny green dress, and a little makeup applied to her tired face to make it seem as if she were actually getting any appropriate amount of sleep.
They made their way to the local bar they often frequented, meeting their group of friends who had already started on the drinks. It was then that she realised was extremely overworked and tired.
Her study load was never-ending, piling on top of her until she was suffocating. She had to take some time for herself tonight or she’d go crazy. Her mind was constantly whirring with assignments and tests and studying.
Her paper was mostly done. She’d have a few drinks and then head home to finish it off. It was only nine o’clock, and she figured an hour or two wouldn’t hurt.
By ten o’clock, she was feeling lighter. She stayed true to her word, only having two drinks before cutting herself off. She knew she’d have to leave sooner rather than later, but her friends were renewing the energy she had been lacking. She couldn’t leave the source of such liveliness.
There was one guy in the group who had been pining after her all year. They shared a few classes together, including Ancient History with Professor Styles. He had a bright smile and a sense of humour that she enjoyed.
“Hey, Vi.”
“Hi, Charlie, how are you?”
“I’m good, yourself?”
“Not bad.”
“Glad to hear it.” He smiled. “Can I get you a drink?”
He made her laugh all night, stuck to her side to enjoy her smile up close. They flirted, sending each other sultry gazes and warm, suggestive touches.
She couldn’t even deny that she wished it was someone else she’d rather be with tonight. A certain professor who wore glasses, sweaters, and displeased frowns. Perhaps that was why she threw herself head first into Charlie, wanting to forget about her sinful desires.
She felt warm and gooey, needing something to focus on other than that damn paper and the professor who was expecting it.
So, when he led her down the hallway, kissing her lips and her neck, she didn’t hesitate to get lost in him.
Too lost to see her professor sitting at the bar watching as she pulled Charlie into a supply closet.
“I have to say, Miss Walters. I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”
She huffed out a breath at his expression. It was like he was almost smug about it. About her having to rewrite a whole paper, work that would take weeks crammed into one night.
He was being truthful. The paper would have been difficult to complete in one night, he’d known as much when he told her that he wanted it the next morning. It was a test.
He didn’t want to be played around by his students. He was tough on them for a reason, and barely ever handed out second chances as he had done with her.
So, to know that she had been out last night when she should have been at home was an insult. She’d fluttered her eyelashes and taken advantage of the one sliver of good nature he had in him. And here she was, a pleased smile on her face with her paper before his very eyes.
She was wearing makeup as if to hide how tired she was. It wasn't because she had stayed up all night writing his paper, but he already knew that. He looked at the assignment dubiously, doubting its contents.
“Well, I did it. Correct dates and everything.”
“It’s longer.” He said, flipping through the pages and noticing that there were a few additional ones compared to the initial few she had handed in.
She absorbed her surroundings, his office was deep woods and dim lighting. His desk was large and cluttered with books and assignments to grade, and the room was framed with bookshelves, awards, diplomas, and expensive-looking knick
knacks.
“I took your advice and made it more exciting.”
He wanted to reprimand her. Tell her that adding extra fluff didn’t equal excitement or any weight to her assignment. But he swallowed his sour mood and nodded, placing the paper flat on the desk and leaning back in his chair.
His outfit was darker than his usual palette and style of light colours and unique sweaters. Instead, he donned a black shirt, a black suit jacket thrown over the top with charcoal pants. She could tell that he was in a bad mood, somehow even more irate than usual.
“I’ll review it over the weekend.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut. She very clearly wanted to say something and he raised a brow in encouragement.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the second chance. I hope you enjoy it.”
Enjoy it? He’d never had a student wish that he enjoyed something they handed in. They simply wanted to meet the criteria and pass.
She turned to leave, feeling overwhelmed by his scrutinising gaze. She’d handed in the assignment, and had a bit of time to cram in some study before her first class of the day, which just so happened to be with the grumpy professor.
"Violet."
"Yes?"
He tapped his neck, eyeing hers. "I want that covered before you come to my class."
Her cheeks flushed with heat, her hand coming up to cover the hickey on her neck. She thought she'd done a good enough job with her concealer this morning, but apparently not.
She didn't even have the nerve to reply before she left the room, utterly mortified.
He stared after her, wondering if he'd embarrassed her. Probably. He disregarded her feelings, viewing the mark on her neck as inappropriate. He wasn't sure why the hickey bothered him so much.
Perhaps it was because she'd clearly had a late night last night, and it wasn't with the company of his teachings. He watched her take that man into that supply closet and the evidence of that was staring him in the face.
He didn’t want to look at that fucking hickey on her neck because then he knew he’d have to face the reality of the fact that he was jealous.
Jealous of one of his other students putting his hands and mouth on her. His student in that tiny green dress, cheeks flushed with arousal and drink. He imagined it. How she'd taste on his tongue. The sounds she'd make. The way she felt.
He had felt pathetic about the whole thing, sitting at the bar all alone and sulking. He’d polished off his drink at the bar after watching it happen. He’d just as quickly gone to his cold and empty home to wallow with a bottle of tequila and some Aerosmith.
Fuck. He couldn’t think about this. About her soft thighs in her tiny skirt and her bouncy ponytail. Or the way she called him professor. It wasn’t right and he felt sick about it.
He checked his pager, seeing it blank and sighing. He needed something to do so he couldn’t keep thinking about her. And then she’d be staring at him during his class, her eyes wide and wandering.
Almost panicked about the prospect of being near her again, he picked up her paper and began reading it to distract himself.
Following a strenuous battle with her concealer and the sizeable hickey on her neck, Violet entered Professor Styles’ classroom. It was mostly covered, there wasn’t a lot she could do in the way of hiding it completely. However, in the back of her mind, she was perplexed that he found it his place to even say anything.
Surely he just wanted to mortify her. He had been a student once, he knew the means of getting lost in dark hallways with another warm and desperate body.
She spotted Charlie sitting in the center of the seats and he waved her over. She smiled, shaking her head. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him just yet, especially considering he was the cause of her marked neck.
She took her usual spot up front, always wanting to bathe in the professor’s teachings, and found herself lost if she was stuck in the middle of the seats.
Professor Styles wasn’t in class yet, and she took the time to prepare her notes in an organised spread on the desk in front of her. She didn’t even notice him silently enter, setting up at his desk with a look of disinterest.
Her body felt heated. Not the warm embarrassment of him pointing out her hickey, but because his gaze was on hers as he set down his satchel. She held his eyes, right until he looked away to retrieve the folders that held the material he needed for the class.
Decidedly ready, he stood at the center of his territory up front, his suit jacket parting as he slid his hands into his pockets. He eyed the class through his glasses, noting that no one had realised he’d entered the room yet. Except for her.
He sighed, wrinkling his nose before looking down at his oxfords. He cleared his throat, somehow garnering everyone’s attention in a split second. He leaned back against his desk.
“As you’re aware, I’m obligated to drag you on a class trip abroad in the coming weeks. I’ve heard your suggestions as you’ve not so subtly given them to me.” He eyed the mouthy students in question. “However, the board and I have discussed it and we’ve come to a decision.”
Students started chattering loudly, and Violet sent a friendly smile to her friend next to her but otherwise kept her attention on Professor Styles.
“Quiet, or you’ll be staying behind while I go on holiday by myself!”
His demand was heard loud and clear, and everyone became tight-lipped and watched him. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, already dreading the idea of this trip.
The university board had been grilling him about it, and he’d been pressured into making a decision that pleased them with ridiculously limited time to sort it out.
“Pompeii.” He said simply, letting it sink in for his students.
Violet felt a rush of excitement. Pompeii—preserved in Naples, Italy, was rich with history and had been on her bucket list for as long as she could remember.
It was a monumental part of history, and she could not wait to see it in its glory and stand where devastation rocked an ancient city so long ago.
The class talked loudly, bursting and bubbling with enthusiasm. Professor Styles remained unphased by it all, waiting until the chatter had died down before he spoke again.
“We’ll be staying in Naples, however, the focus of our trip will be Pompeii. This will be your final paper and will be half your grade. This isn’t a holiday or a time to slack off. You’re here in this room for a reason, that applies to this trip as well. Think about the history there. The people, the politics, the daily life. The power of nature and the terror that it entices.” He took a slow breath, as if bored or tired. Perhaps both. “It wasn’t my first choice, naturally. But seeing as it is one of the most famous natural disasters in ancient history, the board saw it fit to touch on, considering it differs from any other material we’ve studied so far.”
“Can’t we go to Paris instead, Professor Styles?” One of the girls at the back of the glass giggled. It was clear that the only reason she took this class was for someone nice to look at. “It’s the city of love.”
“Love?” He laughed but it was void of humour. “If you want love, you’re in the wrong place. Maybe if you spent less time daydreaming, and more time paying attention, you wouldn’t be failing my class.”
Violet laughed under her breath, doodling in her notebook. His eyes went to her at the sound, wondering if she found the girl's suggestion funny or his response.
She looked up at him, brushing her hair over her shoulder. He clenched his jaw and looked away, locating the documents that contained everything regarding the trip.
He handed piles to the desks in the front row, telling them to take one and pass it back. He stopped before her, placing the papers in her waiting hands and staring at her with an unreadable expression.
“See me after class.”
“Me?”
His voice was low and deep. “Yes, you.”
She was perplexed. See him after class for what? He said that he’d go over her paper during the weekend, so she doubted it would be about that.
Maybe he wanted to torment her about her neck some more. Really rub in the embarrassment and taunt her for it.
It was hard to focus during the whole class. She jotted down notes every now and again, but her mind was honed in on him. Even more so than usual. The authority in his tone as he told her to cover her neck, his confident stance, and the way his lips caressed words.
He rambled on about the trip, what to expect, and in turn what he was expecting from them. He adjusted his glasses, searching the student's expressions and finding her eyes. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek before looking back at his notes.
By the time class had ended, she had written down things she wasn’t paying attention to. She’d been paying attention to him. Only him. And she couldn’t even fool herself into her fascination with him strictly existing just because of his teachings. It was far past that now.
She gathered her things, the room emptying of students. She stood, her gaze falling to him, stood behind his desk organising his folders.
She approached his desk, standing before it. She noticed that his jaw clenched, looking up at her from the frame of his glasses and raising his brows.
"You wanted to see me?"
“I did.”
She waited as he righted his desk, ensuring everything was in order before he finally regarded her.
“Your paper. I want to talk to you about it.”
Her stomach dropped. “The paper I just handed in?”
What would he have to say about it considering it had only been mere hours since he’d received it? She felt a flash of irritation, wondering if she’d ever be able to please this man.
“I don’t have time this week, so it’ll have to be next Monday. You’re my last class so I’ll be able to give you all of my attention.”
She felt warm at his words. At the promise of having his full attention, her body was alive with need and desire. His eyes were so intense, deep, and thick with thoughts she could see the complexity of.
But as the foggy haze of her absurd fantasies cleared, she frowned. Monday? It was Thursday now. Why didn’t he bring this up closer to the time? Did he just want her to stew in her worry until Monday?
Surely he couldn’t have read her paper already. Maybe he’d read the first paragraph only to crumble it up and lob it into his trashcan.
“Is it that bad?”
He shot her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “Monday, Violet.”
As she left the classroom, completely vexed and anxious, Charlie caught up with her.
“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”
“Who?” She felt like she was barely there as she navigated the old building toward her next class.
“Styles. I mean, that paper we just did, for example. He ignores all of my hard work and focuses on the shit I’m doing wrong.”
Violet shrugged, “I mean, isn’t that what makes him a great professor? He points out what you need to improve on to do better.”
“Whatever. I feel like there’s no winning with him. At least we have this trip. You and I can ditch the group and do our own sightseeing.”
She didn’t miss the way his eyes sparkled at his suggestion. And maybe if she wasn’t so hung up on someone she had no business being hung up on, she’d reciprocate Charlie’s enthusiasm.
Monday. She’d be seeing her favourite, constantly disgruntled professor on Monday.
It wasn’t hard to keep herself distracted until then. She attended her classes, her study load growing as each one passed. Her flatmate held a party on Saturday night, in which she’d spent most of it pressed up against Charlie, however avoiding his advances of something more.
He was sweet and funny but he wasn’t what she wanted and she was just a fuck to him. She felt bad that she’d even let that night happen. She’d just needed to feel something, something that wasn’t the ever-pressing crush she had on her professor.
She was wrecked with intolerable thoughts about her assignment. Was he going to fail her again? Tell that she wasn’t cut out for his class that she’d battled so hard to get into?
By the time Monday came around, she was a nervous wreck. She settled herself into a private nook in the library, her Walkman on hand and her collection of her favourite CDs.
She read every single piece about Pompeii that she could find. She wanted to be even more prepared for the trip, and have a better understanding of what it might entail.
And maybe having more knowledge of it would impress her professor.
Her last class on Monday was with him. As she entered and took her usual seat, he was setting up his material, dressed in plaid pants and a cozy looking sweater.
He used the knuckle of his pointer finger to adjust his glasses and flipped a pen in his other hand, staring over his class agenda.
She just loved watching him. There was something in his mannerisms that was so fascinating. He was mesmerising in the way he carried himself. From his large hands, which she always stared at, to his ever-expressive eyes.
The first time she’d spotted the cross tattooed on his hand, she had to go into the bathroom after class and slip her hand between her legs to quell the dampness there.
With a deep sigh, he focused on the class and ran a hand through his curls, though they fell back into the middle parting as always.
He seemed even more put off today. He spent most of his time voicing more details about the trip to Naples and running through multiple checklists before handing them out.
Where he would usually throw her a glance, he didn’t even look at her today. Not once. His seemingly permanent frown was set deeper.
Instead of his usual drabble, he had some poor soul at the front of the class read out the daily lives of those who lived in Pompeii before its demise.
She jotted down notes, but her eyes kept flickering to where he sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed as if he were being read a lullaby.
As class came to a close, he stood, telling everyone to start preparing for the trip.
“Please refer to the list I handed out, and if you have any questions…” He twisted his lips, clasping his ringed fingers together. “Don’t.”
Her nerves were running haywire, sending electric currents through every part of her body as she stood with her bag and began to approach his desk. He was busying himself with the sprawl of clutter on the expanse of the aged wood.
She stood before it, and he looked up briefly before gathering a stack of papers and sliding them carefully into his satchel.
"Not here." His voice was so low that she felt it swirl in her ears like a thick, dreamy fog.
She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling intimidated to be alone with him again. Until a student approached the desk and asked for his aid on a project, and all she could do was stand there and wait.
"I just don't know how to make the connection." The student said.
He leaned over, staring at the paper. He nodded and then looked at Violet, "go and wait in my office. I'll only be a moment."
She felt her heart drop to her stomach at the authority in his tone. He looked at her for a second before focusing on the student who needed his help.
She tried to brush off her nerves as she arrived at his office and sat in the chair in front of his desk. She had no idea what was about to happen, but since it was regarding her assignment, she was beside herself with anxiety.
He stepped into his office with a sigh, running his hands along his thighs before taking a seat. He sifted through the drawer in his desk, taking out her assignment and reading over it.
“I’ve read your paper.” His voice was void of any emotion and it made her feel uneasy.
She wasn’t sure what to say, so she picked at the hem of her dress and avoided his eyes. He held up her assignment and stared at it.
“Violet… this is one of the best things a student has ever handed in to me.”
She took in a sharp breath, looking at him with wide eyes. She almost didn’t want to believe him. Or what was more believable was that he’d be jesting and then fail her. This wasn’t like the usual grumpy professor that she knew and she didn’t know what to make of it.
“I—Thank you, professor.”
“I could tell that it had potential when you handed it in. I’ve written some notes for you, but I wanted to go through them with you now.”
This was unheard of. He graded papers, jotted down brief notes behind his reasoning, and moved on. But this… this was beyond anything he’d ever done.
He was known for being insufferably unfair to his students. Yet he’d given her a second chance, and was now praising her work and wanted to express why.
“Okay.” She nodded, adjusting in her seat and trying to calm down her racing heart.
“Overall, it’s a well-thought-out paper. You have complete control of each point made and where your sources come from without sounding too recited. There are facts here, and you’ve shown how the influence that ancient Rome had in its prime is perceived nowadays… impressively. You’ve portrayed its people and politics really well.”
“Thank you.” She was struggling to believe this was actually happening.
“This is why I made you redo it. What you initially handed in was bland. But this is… you. Your authentic self and thoughts.” He gestured to the paper. “You’re passionate, and I can feel that when I read it. You’ve taken every aspect of what makes ancient history so fascinating and made it your own.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now.”
There was a flash of emotion across his face, his dimple appearing ever so slightly with a quirk of his lips. “Take my praise. I don’t give it often.”
“Wow, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His tone was suddenly warm, and his gaze brushed her neck for a second before finding her eyes once more.
“Professional opinion aside,” she toyed with the question on her tongue, feeling overwhelmed, “did you enjoy it?”
There it was again. Her question made his brow furrow in thought. He rarely enjoyed reading his student's work. Oftentimes, he was too preoccupied doing his job to feel any sense of enjoyment.
Why was it so important to her that he enjoyed it? He’d praised her work, and she wanted to know if he relished in reading it.
No one was as surprised as him when he found himself nodding slowly. “I did, actually. I like that it kept me intrigued and that I could sense how deeply you feel for the past.”
She wasn’t in his class for the wrong reasons, like he could see a lot of his students were. Some weren’t interested in anything past staring at him for an hour and then bullshitting their way through every paper they had to write. But she had a reason to be there, a drive to explore the past.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
Her expression was so burning and focused on him that he felt it in his gut. He remembered how she looked in that guy's arms and he swallowed, wondering if she would be just as soft in his.
He cleared his throat, shaking off the fog of her. She crossed one leg over the other and he blinked at the sight of more skin exposed under that sweet little dress she was in.
She released a breath as he stood, relieved that this whole interaction was one of positivity. She was elated that he had enjoyed her work, and moreover was elated that he had praised her as he did.
But as he stood, he rounded his desk and went behind her before he closed the door to his office.
She felt a wave of adrenaline wash over her, being alone with him. She questioned if he was even allowed to close the door, but she didn’t want to stop it from happening.
She watched as he walked in front of her, leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed.
“Why history?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, everyone has a reason for their majors. Whether you’re in it for archiving, research, or curating, you’ve got a reason for choosing history. My question is why.”
She straightened under his scrutinising gaze. He adjusted his glasses before his hands rested back on the desk, curling around the lip of it. She stared at his rings, mesmerised.
“I find it fascinating to observe how humanity has changed, to see how we’ve improved and what we still need to work on. I like studying the past, preserving the stories, the art, the structures they left for us to see their legacy.”
He was floored, although his expression remained a trained unreadable one. To meet someone with these values wasn’t uncommon. However, she had a way with words that he adored.
Like every aspect of his own passion was laid out on her tongue and given back to him in a gentle vocal caress.
“So, you’re just as intrigued by their way of life as well as learning from their mistakes?”
“In fewer words, yes.”
“You’re in it for the right reasons.”
“Are there any wrong reasons?” She frowned.
“Greed.” He said simply, not giving any clarification.
“Why do you teach?”
He tilted his head, his hands smoothing down his strong thighs. “I have a lot of experience in the field, as you may know. I wanted to extend that knowledge to people with the kind of drive I admire. The lust for research and preserving history. I’m good at it, and I have a lot to give you so that you can be just as good.”
His choice of words turned her mouth dry. I have a lot to give you. She knew he meant a lot of his wisdom and knowledge, but his eyes were sparkling with something she couldn’t decipher.
“I love your class.”
“Is that so? Is that why you asked if I enjoyed your paper?”
“Yes.”
He pursed his lips. “Are you trying to impress me?”
She smiled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. I like the assignments you give us and the way you teach. It’s informative and exciting at the same time.”
“I like that,” he said, mulling deep in his thoughts, “it’s a nice change. To have someone care about their studies as opposed to struggle through them.”
“Oh, the struggle is still there.” She laughed and she spied a hint of a smile teasing his lips before he could disguise it.
He took a step forward and her eyes followed as he gauged how close he wanted to get. She gripped the arms of the chair as he stood in front of her, a jeweled hand reaching out to brush a few strands of her hair away from her face.
She hoped he couldn’t tell how hard she was shaking. Their eyes didn’t leave one another as his fingers brushed softly down, moving her hair away from her shoulder so he could look at her neck before he retracted all touch completely.
“You covered it.” He mumbled, his voice so low that she thought she imagined it.
“I did.”
“Good gi—“ He cleared his throat loudly. “Good. It’s not professional.”
Her brows raised at his almost slip up. She wondered if he was going to say exactly what she thought he was. And she almost begged him to call her that. Just once. Just so that she could go home and think about it in the shower, alone with nothing but the memory of him.
He leaned against his desk again, his gaze searing. She couldn’t breathe and pressed her thighs together to dull the ache his touch had left.
“Do you want to impress me, Violet?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m going to give you some extra work to do for me.”
For me. Her eyes fluttered. “You are?”
“I am.” His voice was slow, dreamy. “For my enjoyment, and your benefit.”
This, he thought, is where he should stop. He could feel the vapour of arousal lick at him in warm swirls. The way she was looking at him had him near crumbling. So innocent and intrigued by the prospect of impressing him. He wanted to reach out and touch her again, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself again. From going too far.
“My benefit?”
“Yes. I’ll reward you, of course.”
“What kind of reward?”
“Whatever the teacher’s pet wants.”
Her entire body became warm and gooey, though her nerves did not settle. Instead, they amplified the longer he simply stared at her, unwavering.
“What does this extra work entail, Professor?”
He didn’t smile—although he wanted to, and straightened. He rounded his desk, producing a small stack of papers, the top one decorated with his sprawl. He walked back over, handing it to her.
He looked her in the eye, his face serious. “Only do what you want to do. Extra work and rewards. Do you understand?”
“Okay.” She said simply, feeling overwhelmed and heated. As if he had read her mind, viewed her deepest, darkest fantasy of being his pet and making it a reality. Her mind was buzzing with what extra work he’d have her doing.
“There are only a few things there.” He nodded to the papers. “Some extra assignments if you can do them as well as this one. Also, some preparation for the class trip if you’re up for it.”
She scanned through the list, seeing the assignment topics from subjects he’d vaguely taught them about. She felt a twinge of excitement at the idea of doing more for him.
“And my reward…?”
His lips twitched like he was amused. “Extra credit, of course.”
She felt a pang of disappointment. But then what else was he meant to offer her? She wasn’t about to turn town extra credit or the chance to impress him. She was already on his radar as someone he could count on. The thought made her all giddy and warm inside.
“I’m very grateful, professor.”
“You have potential. As you finish each one, come and see me.”
“Thank you, I will.” She nodded. She’d try her absolute hardest to complete them, and as he said, only the ones she wanted to. She eyed the list again.
He stepped forward once more, and she braced herself for the contact again. She was still spiraling from when he touched her. Her cheek still tingled from his fingers and she felt desperate to have that feeling renewed.
But then someone knocked on the door once before entering. “Hey, Harry, I—oh. Hello.”
Another faculty member she recognised from the economics department. Her cheeks flushed as he eyed her before looking at the grumpy professor in front of her.
Harry. She’d always known his name, but hearing someone actually call him by his first name made him seem more… real. Less like a history robot and more like the man she fantasised about.
“Forgive me.” He cringed, “I didn’t know you had company.”
“That’s generally why you knock.” Professor Styles grumbled, however checking his watch with a sigh.
“I did—"
“Get started on those, Miss Walters. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”
Blushing, she stood and ducked her head, leaving the room hastily. The list was crumpled in her fist as she made her way home. Alice was ready to ask her about her day, and they quickly got distracted watching reruns of some old sitcom. But the list he’d given her stayed on the forefront of her mind.
And as the week dragged on, she made her way through the few assignments he’d given her. They weren’t full-length assignments and differed heavily from the kind he handed out to the whole class, as he’d stated. She found them quite easy, the basis of them fitted her strengths.
Had he tailored these to her? Had he enjoyed her work so much that he wanted more? It was like he’d hand-picked his favourite topics they’d briefly covered in class and was now asking her to do what she pleased with them.
She spent all of her time between classes in the huge library. It was undoubtedly her favourite section of Oxford, and she spent many hours getting lost in the ornate building, the old books, and the history they shared.
She sat at one of the aged desks, a sprawl of books in front of her as she finished up her second extra assignment. She took on his advice. She double-checked her facts, and added drabble that made the paper more exciting and gripping to the reader. Him.
She’d even gotten a head start on the third assignment he’d given her. Although she knew she’d have to spend more time locating sources for the topic, she figured it would look good if he saw that she’d started it. All she wanted was to impress him. To prove herself. She knew she had the talent, and he was fully appreciating it.
As her day wrapped up, she found herself swirling through the halls towards his office, a completed assignment in hand. Considering their class trip was only in a matter of days, she figured he’d be too busy to see her.
She approached the oak door and knocked, hearing his voice on the other side telling her to come in.
She opened the door, and his eyes fell on her immediately. On her pretty yellow dress and the hem that fell to the middle of her thighs. Her hair was in its usual ponytail held together with a pale blue scrunchie. He liked watching it swish through the air as she walked.
“Hi,” she said softly, while his expression was hard. “I finished another assignment. Do you have time?”
Technically? No. He had a pressing amount of things to grade. But the hope on her face and the way she looked so fucking pretty made it impossible for him to turn her away.
He moved his work aside, clearing his mind so that she was the only thing on it. “Take a seat.”
She took a deep breath and entered the room fully, leaving the door open which was a detail he didn’t miss. She placed the assignment in his hand and he felt the urge to read it immediately. To be wrapped up in her thoughts.
“Didn’t take you long, did it?” His voice rolled through her ears like a steady stream tumbling over smooth rocks.
“I felt inspired.”
“By what?” He tilted his head.
“Not what,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “Who.”
A sliver of a smile touched his lips before it was gone without a trace. “Okay, then. Who?”
“You.”
“Me.” He parroted as if he didn’t believe her.
“You always have inspired me, but hearing what drives you and how you came to teach made me want to work harder. To give history as much as you’ve given it.”
He felt something warm him. He was almost bashful at her praise, where usually it would inflame his ego. But coming from her, from her earnest and sweet heart. It was different.
“I’m glad you find my teachings useful.”
“They really helped with this paper.”
“How did you find it?”
She mulled over her thoughts. Endearing. Intriguing. Enriching. “The perfect amount of challenging. It made me think but my thoughts came naturally.”
“Good.” He pursed his lips. “I knew you’d apply all that I’ve taught you and pull through.”
“And I hope you enjoy it as much as my last one.”
“I’m sure I will. Come and see me tomorrow after your last class and I’ll give you my notes.”
She liked the idea of hearing his musings on her own work. He saw her potential and her drive. Enjoyed what she handed in and told her how much and why.
“Tomorrow.” She smiled a little, standing and slinging her bag up to her shoulder. “I can’t wait.”
There was something in her tone at the sentiment. The hue of it. A soft, wispy colour as pretty as her dress. He wondered if it was flirtation but quickly threw the idea aside.
He couldn’t wish for such things with his student, no matter what signals she sent him. But she was his little teacher’s pet now, and something about having that claim on her was driving him mad.
After a grueling study session in her well-loved nook of the library, she went home to pack for the trip to Naples. There was a checklist criteria for what to bring and what to leave behind.
She threw some of her favourite summer dresses into her suitcase, a few pairs of shoes, and a few extra outfits of baggy jeans and band t-shirts.
She had class with Professor Styles the next day, in which he’d handed out light material in preparation for the trip. Essential knowledge and ground rules.
It seemed he viewed the whole ordeal as a burden. An annoyance. He was taking twenty students away, with only one other member of the faculty joining to help him out. A teacher, who happened to be from Naples, would be staying with their family between class adventures.
He’d rather be sunbathing in Naples than traipsing around ancient ruins with students he despised. Mostly.
He didn’t acknowledge her for the whole lecture, save an initial glance as she’d taken her usual seat. But he’d almost switch off any form of warmth he had towards her when they were in the class environment.
He was his usual grumpy self, impatient with everyone and snapping at anyone who was talking when he was.
She had a free period to end her day, and she used it to finish up some assignments for her other classes as well as work on one of the extra ones he had given her. It was about half done, but she knew to prioritise her other class papers over this one.
She made her way to his office again, and this time it somehow meant more. She felt the weight of entering his space, and it was because of how he seemed to change around her.
That icy demeanour of him melted just enough for her to see the genuine man that lay beneath it.
She knocked, waiting for him to tell her to enter before opening the door. His outfit palette today was soft browns and beige, his glasses perched on his nose while his eyes gleamed behind them.
He looked at her briefly before nodding to the seat and turning back to his work, his expensive ballpoint pen twirling between his fingers. She stared at the bright yellow pen with a smile, noting how it was the exact opposite of his mood; bright, sunny, and cheerful.
She sat in the chair and realised that she felt less and less nervous with every moment she spent alone with him. She’d never felt uncomfortable around him per se, but his intimidating nature was a constant reminder that she couldn’t want him. Shouldn’t want him. But she did.
His jaw worked on a piece of gum, and he frowned as he adjusted his glasses and continued writing on whatever he was working on.
She decided to get comfortable, settling deeper into the chair, figuring he was deeply enthralled with his work. She eyed the bookshelf to her left and scanned his personal library.
She didn’t even realise that he was trying to get her attention, too focused on his book collection, searching for clues as to who he was. Who he was outside of this office, outside of his profession.
“Violet?”
“Hm?” She turned to face him.
He retrieved her assignment from under a stack of other ones he was grading. “I’m wondering why every assignment you’ve given me hasn’t been as good as these last few.”
Oh. Her brows raised. It was a compliment to her most recent work while putting down everything else she’d given him prior to these. She’d always had the drive and passion, but it was evident that something had changed.
“I guess I just felt more inspired. I’ve enjoyed these topics a lot and felt compelled to do them well.” She frowned. “I thought I’d done well with every other assignment, though.”
“You did—obviously, as I passed you. You clearly didn’t do them as well, however, hence my praise.”
“That’s very nice to hear, especially from you.”
His lips quirked at her sheer and utter adoration for him. She valued what he had to say, looked up to him, and the influence he’d had in the younger demographic of Ancient History.
“Well, you deserve it. You work hard, and you’re driven by your passion. That’s rare to come by.”
She could only imagine what he himself was like as a student however many years ago. Like her, he’d studied at Oxford, and after not too long in the field, had felt the need to come back but as part of the faculty.
“Thank you.” She replied, unsure of what else to say. She felt like she was being pinned to her seat by his searing gaze and she wriggled in it, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Help me with this itinerary for the trip.”
“The itinerary?”
“It’s mostly done. There’s a bunch of books and brochures here, if you see anything you’d particularly like to do, add it to the timesheet and make it work.”
She gawked at him like he’d grown three heads. Her? Help him with the itinerary for the class trip?
“Isn’t this your job?” She felt brave enough to ask. “Like, am I allowed to be doing this?”
“Yes it is, and yes you are.” His tone was so final that she didn’t feel a ribbon of unease lace through her mind.
She scooted forward so that she could use the desk, while he sat at the other side and graded papers. She scanned through the travel brochures and circled things she thought could be educationally beneficial, and eventually started going through the itinerary.
She loved planning and organising, and she wondered if he knew that. Maybe he’d picked up on how pedantic she was about her own class planners and thought this little job would be fun for her. He wasn’t even marginally wrong.
Over her work, she risked quick glances at him. Ones that dared to adventure over his posture, his stern, and concentrated expression. The way he chewed on the tip of his pen, how he would take off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.
He was so endearing and she found herself watching him more and more, getting lost in how effortlessly beautiful he was.
He was still grouchy and short with her when she asked questions, and she had smiled whenever he’d huff and grumble under his breath at whatever he was grading.
“You seem particularly melancholy today.” She observed softly, and his eyes flashed to hers before he placed his pen down and laced his fingers together, leaning forward on the desk.
“Am I always melancholy?”
“I think so.”
“And you’re always vibrant.”
As bad as his mood appeared, he seemed to enjoy her company.
She mulled over the itinerary that he’d drafted, editing bits here and there. She had a sprawl of books on his desk, scanning through top tourist spots and mapping out the best walking routes.
There was a moment where he took a break, stretching his arms high over his head with a soft groan she almost missed. She hadn’t even realised that she was looking at him, enamoured and intrigued by his display of exhaustion when he always seemed so energised.
“Stop staring.” He stared at her over the frame of his glasses, his head tilted down.
She blushed, looking down at the itinerary. “I’m not.”
“I saw you.”
“Sorry.”
He watched as she focused a little too hard on a not-so-interesting book and he smiled. He’d called her out, as if he hadn’t been staring at her, too.
She hadn’t realised the time, unknowingly lost in her work for almost two hours. His pager beeped and he checked it, flipping his pen between his fingers as he read.
He reached over, grabbing the itinerary, pretty much complete, and nodding as he scanned it. He could see the depth and excitement that she had added to it and he suppressed a smile.
“I’ll go over this tonight.”
“I added a few different things there. Restaurants, as well as some historical sights and important cultural landmarks.”
He nodded, impressed. “Very good, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“As for the next assignment, I want that tomorrow.”
“We fly to Naples tomorrow.” She frowned,
“I know.”
His icy and cold guise returned. He was her professor demanding something, and she could hardly turn him down. The paper was half done and lucky for her, it wouldn’t be difficult to complete.
“Okay.” She nodded, standing and gathering her things. “It’ll be all yours tomorrow.”
He didn’t respond, turning back to his work. She’d learned to decipher his cues, and took his silence as her own time to leave. She had a lot to do before their trip and she took one last glance at his solemn expression before leaving.
As she closed the door, his eyes went up to the door. Then to the chair where she’d been sitting. His office now felt like a void of who he wanted to be. Influential, important, inspiring. All things that he rarely felt while he was stuck in an old classroom all day.
But then students like her came along. The ones alight with wonder and fascination that wanted to have his success touch them. They weren’t in his class simply because it was a requirement. They were in his class because they were eager to harbour influence of their own.
She spent all night going over her pack list, finalising her outfits and essentials for a couple of nights away. She dotted back to her paper often, wanting to have it complete. She struggled to wrap up her conclusion, and no later fell asleep on her bed, surrounded by her books and topic materials.
Her alarm went off, shrilling deep in her skull. She groaned, killing the sound and stretching. Checking the time, she noted that she only had a matter of hours until she needed to be at Heathrow airport.
She was in some type of trance as she got herself ready. She showered, ate a light breakfast, and readied her luggage. At the last minute, she grabbed the assignment that needed to be done and shoved it into her purse.
After securing a seat on the train, she got to work on it. Tossing back and forth between an abundance of different conclusions. Why did preservation matter? Why were artifacts archived how they were? How were stories of history pieced together?
All such basic questions to her whirring mind, and yet she struggled to encapsulate her thoughts in the unique way that she knew he loved. With a sigh, she put it away. She’d finish it on the flight.
After she arrived at the airport, she headed towards check-in, her small turquoise suitcase in tow. That's when she saw him, and she stopped dead in the hustle of travelers.
She had never seen him so paired back. He was dressed far more casual than his dress pants and sweaters and suits. But he was no less fashionable. She eyed his black, loose fitted pants, the worn vans on his feet, and yellow-stained sunglasses. As loose as his pants were, his t-shirt was anything but. A graphic white one that hugged him and left little to one's imagination.
And tattoos. Lots of them.
She'd only ever seen the cross on his hand and the inklings of something on his wrist. But she could see that his full arm was covered with them. Smatterings of ink, personal depictions, and dedications.
The ship on his upper arm rippled as his muscles flexed, his designer suitcase in his hand.
He looked grumpy, like always. However, the yellow sunnies over his eyes concealed some of his irritation.
His eyes found hers and he peered at her as she approached. She smiled, shy and suddenly nervous about this trip, and moreover, him.
She noticed that the rest of her class was already present, and Charlie wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he greeted her. Professor Styles' mouth twisted at the physical touch between the two before clearing his throat.
No one was paying attention until he stuck his fingers into his mouth and released an ear-piercing whistle, quieting down and facing him.
“Roll call. Be quiet.”
It took some time for every student to settle down, far too excited and chatty to keep quiet enough for him to call out everyone's name to confirm their presence.
As he called out Violet’s name, she raised her hand and watched his expression sour at Charlie's arm still wrapped around her.
Not wanting to be inappropriate, she slowly stepped away from Charlie, who was far too concerned with scoping out the other girls who were around.
They gathered, waiting in line to check in per Professor Styles’ instructions. He handed out the finalised itinerary that they had both worked on, and now everyone had their own copies. She wanted to approach him, but he was busy keeping everyone organised while the other teacher talked at the front desk.
It wasn’t until they were on air side, that he found her in line for coffee and pursed his lips.
“Did you finish the assignment?”
“Almost.”
He raised a brow, his arms crossed and accentuating his muscles and how inked they were. “Almost?”
“Yes, almost.” She affirmed, not missing his look of surprise at her tone, but she continued. “I’ll finish it on the flight.”
“We’ll be in the sky for five hours, Violet. I expect it to be done, so don’t get distracted.”
She almost snorted. What could possibly distract her on a flight? And right on cue, Charlie popped up next to her with a cheeky grin.
“How’s it hangin’, sir?” His grin widened as he stared at their disgruntled professor.
“Fine.” He grumbled, staring Charlie down before looking at Violet. “I want it before we land.”
As he sauntered off, Charlie released a sharp breath. “You’d think he’d crack a smile considering the fact that we’re going on holiday.”
“Of course, you’d see this as a holiday.”
“I heard our hotel has a pool.” He bumped his hip against hers.
She gave him a fake smile, worming out of his hold. “Can’t wait.”
Half way through the flight, she’d found herself polishing off her paper, just how he ordered. The conclusion was strong and unwavering, her skill and passion shining through each word.
She’d managed to avoid sitting next to Charlie, instead, she was next to two girls she enjoyed talking to, although they were a bit quiet during class and outside of it, it was so different. Everyone seemed to busy themselves with studying the itinerary for the trip, bubbling with excitement.
She read over her paper twice, thoroughly proud of it, and she couldn’t wait to have her favourite professor read it. She knew he was a few rows back, and stood, remembering that he wanted it before they landed.
Standing with a stretch, she made her way towards the back, scanning the faces for his, and finding those expressive eyes almost immediately. He was sitting alone in a row of three seats, and she wondered if he’d just gotten lucky or paid for three tickets.
His attention had been on a book before he’d found her eyes. She didn’t get the chance to study the cover of it before he was tucking it away and staring up at her expectably as she came to a halt by his row.
“Yes?”
She held up the completed paper with a look of triumph. “It’s done.”
He felt at odd sensation of pride wash over him. To be fair, he had given her quite a lot to do. And for her to finish it within such a small frame of time, while maintaining the immaculate value of her work, was an incredible feat.
So, he actually smiled. It was small but big enough that his dimples indented his cheeks a little.
“Attagirl. I knew you could do it.”
Her cheeks flushed at his praise and his smile. Two glimmeringly beautiful facets of him that she’d never seen, especially the latter. Fuck, his smile. So soft and serene and dreamy. It was verging on heartbreaking that he didn’t wear it more.
“I hope it’s good.”
“Knowing you… it will be.”
“You’re too kind.” She said bashfully.
He flipped through the assignment, nodding his head with pursed lips. He opened his mouth to say something, gesturing to the empty seat next to him before the sound that accompanied the lighting of the seatbelt signal interrupted him.
He sighed, adjusting his glasses before buckling up. “You better get back to your seat.”
She nodded, unaware that it took everything within him to not invite her to sit on his lap.
They landed in Naples in the early hours of the afternoon, and were shuffled onto a waiting bus towards their first destination of the trip. Professor Styles had done a roll call and had already lost all patience with the loud group he was stuck with.
Their luggage was sent to their hotel, where they’d be turning in after their activities. They were given a tour of the huge city. The driver pointed out landmarks as they passed them.
The expanse of the ocean was pristine cerulean, invitingly crisp, the shore framed with exquisite buildings that crawled up the steep cliffsides. It was bright. Awash with blues and yellows and pinks and reds. Hues that depicted such a lively city so well.
Violet practically had her face pressed up against her window in the bus, admiring how glorious it was. It was densely packed with culture and entertainment and history. She was itching to get out and explore, smell the fresh air and taste the experiences on her tongue.
Their first tourist spot was the National Archaeological Museum. Professor Styles separated his students into two groups, one with him, and one with the other teacher.
To her delight, she was with him, and by the look in his eyes, he was just as happy about it. Maybe he even planned it that way. What he didn’t plan on, however, was Charlie sneaking into his group so that he could be with Violet. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the flash of irritation that almost blinded him.
The museum was phenomenal. Showcasing historical artefacts that had been unearthed by many. There was an abundance of exhibitions, which they were led through by their professor.
She took photos on her disposable camera, one of which had him in the frame, and she wouldn’t realise until she got her film developed.
Following the tour of the largest part of the museum, he turned to face the group. He had noticed Charlie being a nuisance, especially towards Violet and he made a point to ask her about it if he got her alone. He cleared his mind, trying to remain professional but struggling when she was staring at him like she was.
“Archaeologists and historians work together to teach the world about history. About daily lives, historical events, and structures. They excavate the history, and we tell its story. I hope you all feel inspired by what we’ve seen today because I want you to choose a piece and include it in your assignment.”
The group murmured, gathering their notebooks and fluttering around the exhibitions, attempting to find one that could merge in with the topic seamlessly.
Violet found herself on the second floor of the impressive building, completely enamoured with how beautiful it all was. Rich with history and chronicles of the past.
She found a detailed model of what Pompeii had been in its prime. Detailed, intricate and precise. Her eyes wandered the tiny streets where people walked thousands of years ago.
It changed her perspective, seeing it all laid out in front of her gave it so much more weight in her heart. She felt the passion and interest wrap warmly around her like how the Italian sun had kissed her skin; new, inviting, and blissful.
She took a few pictures of it, wanting something to refer back to just in case. As she stared through the lens, she felt a presence behind her. Her professor, stood tall and intimidating, though his expression was composed yet warm.
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” He nodded towards the model.
“It’s amazing.” She breathed, sharply aware of him standing next to her.
His shoulder brushed hers and she froze. She wanted his touch. Wanted him to out his hands on her and praise her. She hadn’t stopped thinking about when he reached out and brushed her hair away in his office.
“Is he bothering you?”
It appeared that their minds were in two separate places. Her, desperate for his attention, and him, desperate to keep Charlie’s attention off of her.
“Who—Charlie?”
“Because if he is,” he continued, frowning. “He can do his assignment back home.”
And perhaps knowing that she and Charlie shared a night together, sending him away wouldn’t be strictly for her benefit. He felt protective over her, and yeah, he was jealous. He wanted her and he hated to admit it. But seeing her here, in this city, in this room, felt like the final nail in the coffin.
“It’s fine, I can handle him.”
If only she knew how much he saw the depth in that statement.
“Okay, just let me know.”
“Why?” She was perplexed. His tone was almost… territorial. It was more than a teacher protecting his student.
“Because I want to take care of you.”
Her eyes fluttered as they found his, and she felt a rush of arousal spark between her legs at the sheer hunger on his face and in his tone. Fuck. This couldn’t happen. He was her professor.
This was far from appropriate but the way he was looking at her like he wanted to devour and savour her at the same time was driving her wild.
She didn’t know how to respond, but let him take her hand and lead her towards some shelves in the back of the room. They housed artifacts from Pompeii, preserved from excavation sites.
She barely had a chance to look before he was leading her on towards the Gabinetto Segreto. She frowned, halting.
“What is this?”
“My favourite exhibition.” His eyes told her nothing but mischief, and he made sure the coast was clear before ushering her in.
She was taken aback. His favourite exhibition threw all inhibition out of their minds. Sexually graphic paintings, carvings, molds, and statues. Incredibly erotic and lewd.
He watched her in the room, thankfully empty of any other museum visitors. She approached a particularly sensual painting, framed in deep marble, a woman on top of a man, both in seated positions.
“What do you think?” He asked her, his veins thrumming with life and excitement.
Her cheeks were warm, and she was very aware of his gaze on her in the room full of sexual depictions. “I think… people have always had fascinations about bodies. About sex. It’s humanising to see it depicted so early in human civilisation.”
Was it normal for that to turn him on so much? She was clearly feeling the intensity of the room and yet was in her mind enough to give him an answer that reflected her passion for his class.
“Mm.. and how does it make you feel?” His voice was so low as he came to stand behind her.
“Feel?”
“To be surrounded by ancient erotic art. How does it make you feel?”
She let out a shaky sigh, unsure of how to answer. She felt lightheaded and heated and knew the only way to quell it was to have some attention between her legs.
He picked up on her silence, thinking maybe she couldn’t gauge what kind of response he was wanting. “I’ll start. It makes me feel like recreating every piece of art in here.”
Her eyes widened at his confession, feeling so shocked that he would go in that direction but so pleased that he did. Was he just as deep in lust for her as she was for him?
“Me too.” She breathed out, and he swore lowly.
“These were all excavated from Pompeii and Herculaneum. They were kept in brothels, homes—anywhere, really. They had an appreciation for erotica and displaying it. So they allotted this space in the museum. For a time, they only allowed men to come in here and view it.”
She could listen to him talk for hours, and then she realised that she did. And loved every millisecond of it. How his lips caressed words, how he spoke a few octaves lower than most, but it was still a milky and warm voice that rang through her ears.
“Lucky me.” She smiled. He wondered how she truly felt. Aside from the obvious, she found it almost funny to think that people thousands of years ago were fortifying lands and yet found a common ground in sexual art.
He huffed out a laugh and her heart just about stopped at the noise. “Not as lucky as whoever had this hanging on their wall.”
He pointed to a large painting of a couple embracing, his skin golden against the woman’s fair skin. The preservation was amazing, aside from slight erosion of the colour and some cracks near the bottom.
“It’s very intimate.” She observed. It was—like everything else in the room—sexual. But the strokes of paint were soft, their hold on each other even more so. Love. Care.
He wanted to know if someone had held her like that. So gentle, savouring every inch of skin. Worshiping her like the piece of art that she was.
After a filling dinner at a nearby restaurant, they all found themselves at their hotel. They gathered their room keys, and each partnered up to share a room for the trip. As Violet and her professor were the last two standing in the lobby, they eyed each other awkwardly.
“This has to be a mistake.” He frowned, staring at the concierge. The other teacher was staying close by with family. Harry was sure that he’d requested his own room in the hotel. This couldn’t be happening. “Is there another room available?”
“I’m afraid not, sir.”
He sighed, clenching his jaw. He wanted to hole up in his room and order expensive wine and listen to music. Now he had to face the reality that he’d be sharing a room. With her. Maybe he’d sleep out in the hallway.
Instead of making a scene and taking out his frustration onto the person at reception, he stared at Violet, whose eyes were wide with what appeared to be apprehension.
“I can find another hotel to stay at.” He said lowly to her.
“With the number of people you’re caring for, I would advise against that, Sir. The nearest hotels are also fully booked.”
Harry glared at the concierge. The concept of staying in the same room as one of his students was a harsh pill to swallow. A jarring sensation. He was being faced with one of his deepest fantasies but now all he felt was that he was a creep.
He sighed, and met her eyes. “Come on.”
She blinked away her surprise and followed him. She could see how tense he was as his knuckle jabbed the button to call the elevator. She bit her lip and stared at him.
“Professor—”
“I swear to you I demanded a separate room.”
She frowned, seeing the worry in his eyes. He thought she saw this as something he had planned out. He felt sick about it.
“It’s out of your control. They clearly messed up the bookings, it’s fine.” She assured him, although her nerves were shooting through the roof. She had no idea how the night was going to go, or the rest of this trip, for that matter.
They arrived at their room and he took a deep breath before opening it. It was lavish, thought she expected him to book nothing less. A small seating and kitchen area, and a set of double doors that must have led off to the bedroom.
He located his duffel bag dropped off by the staff and rummaged through it. “I’ll take the couch.”
She stood awkwardly in the room. “Oh, okay.”
He took his toiletry bag, sauntering into the en suite in the bedroom. “Just gonna shower.”
Her eyes followed him, his tense body language putting her on edge. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable. Once she heard the shower turn on, she quickly changed into her sleepwear, soft silk pants, and an old t-shirt.
To keep herself busy and keep her anxiety at bay, she began working on her assignment for the class trip. Taking notes and jotting down observations she’d made. She was cozied up on the window seat, overlooking the city with a soaring heart.
He came out, his hair dripping, wetting his white t-shirt. The grey sweats on his bottom half left her speechless. Now, this was the most dressed down she’d ever seen him.
“We should get some sleep.” He said, eyeing the notebook in her hand.
“Yeah, o—of course.”
“And don’t worry I… I’ll see about getting another room tomorrow. Surely they’ll have a free one by then.”
“I don’t mind.” She blurted out, worried that he thought she was seeing him as utterly inappropriate. “It’s not… I mean, it is kinda weird but this whole mix-up is out of our control. We’re adults. We’ll make it work.”
“You’re right.” He huffed out a breath, seemingly relaxed at that. They could make it work. It was going to be a mission to shelf his attraction to her, but he kept putting on his professional hat, even though her wandering gaze was warming him up inside.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” She breezed past him, and he could smell her sweet scent.
“Good night, Violet.”
She paused at the door, about to close them when she turned back to look at him with a sultry expression that made his dick hard.
“Sweet dreams, professor.”
Suffice it to say, his dreams were anything but.
“Listen up! I’m not in the mood to repeat myself.”
It had been an eventful morning and they hadn’t even left the hotel yet. They were piled into a bus, and Charlie was sitting next to Violet, chatting her ear off.
She couldn’t keep her eyes off her professor's disgruntled expression. How she’d seen more of him than any student had before.
How he’d hidden his smile when she offered to make him coffee that morning, how his voice was far deeper after sleep.
How he’d effortlessly slipped back into his cold and disheartening demeanour after he’d gotten dressed. A pair of grey slacks and a light blue dress shirt. She tried to brush it off and pretend it didn’t bother her, but she wanted his warmth and all he gave her was soft glimpses of it before he shut her out again.
“Remember what we are here for. Keep your minds open and explore this unique opportunity. I won’t be supplying material when we return to class, so gather everything you need today. Is that understood?”
The students nodded, hearing him loud and clear. Violet checked that she had her notebook and disposable camera on hand, feeling inspired to make this assignment her best one yet.
Pompeii was everything she had dreamt of and everything she never knew she could experience. It was a phenomenal sight to see. To really walk the streets which had been wandered down before. Where lives had fled as Mount Vesuvius unleashed its wrath, coughing up poisonous ash and spewing deadly lava.
She trudged through the fallen streets, imagining what it must have been like. Danger looming. Harrowing screams. Grasping for valuables as they fled.
Her disposable camera seldom left her hands, and the click of her taking shots set off Charlie’s impatient streak in him.
“Let me give you a personal tour.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
“I really want to focus on this.”
“Come on, Violet. You’ll have way more fun with me.”
She sighed as he attempted to take the camera from her hands. “Charlie, please. It was one night and it won’t happen again. Let it go.”
“Why the sudden switch up?” He frowned.
“I just… I want to focus on passing this assignment, okay?” And she was bored of him. Another, far more intriguing man has eclipsed her every thought.
“Fine by me. I’ll show someone else around.” He sauntered off and she glared at his back.
She rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the task at hand. At being in such a beautiful place, struck by such a disaster.
The class had all spread out by that point, and she fought to stay by herself. She worked best that way, alone with her thoughts. No pressure to fake her interest in anything aside from the historical site before her.
She sat at the edge of a small field, framed by stone arches and fallen buildings, crumbling walls. She began to sketch out the scene before her, listening to music on her Walkman, lost in her work as Duran Duran blessed her ears.
She felt the presence of someone sitting next to her, and she looked up, surprised to see her grumpy professor. His mouth moved as it formed words and she frowned, pulling her headphones off.
“I’m sorry?”
He looked amused, albeit annoyed that he had to repeat himself. “I said, I didn’t know that you could draw.”
She smiled sheepishly, staring down at her drawing. “It’s just a rough sketch. I’m a visual learner, so it helps, gives me something to refer back to if I need it.”
“It’s pretty good. You could incorporate it into the assignment.” He seemed impressed.
“That’s allowed?”
“Only because I said so.”
She bit her lip to hide her smile, although he saw her cheeks become a stunning shade of pink that he associated only with her. Like saturated carnations or his favourite ice cream, boysenberry with strawberry swirls.
She was worming her way into his brain like a rotten apple and he could only sit and watch the decay.
“I just called the hotel. They’re still fully booked—”
“Last night wasn’t horrible.” She said. “We both kept to ourselves and slept well. Unless you want a turn in the bed tonight.”
It was his turn to blush now, and she didn’t miss it.
“The couch is fine.” He grumbled, embarrassed.
She wanted to tease him. To tug that soft side of him out. But a large part of her knew he’d reprimand her for it. Use his authority on her. Not that she’d mind, but it wasn’t a way to get through to him in the slightest.
“What’s on the itinerary, then?”
He shot her a look. “You should know, considering you did it.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like what I chose. If I remember correctly, I put us down for an afternoon of relaxing at the beach and self-appointed activities.”
“I never did ask what self-appointed entails.”
“Well, it could entail a number of things. Exploring the city, working on papers, grading papers,” she leaned in towards him. “Anything, it’s just downtime.”
“Downtime.” He parroted.
“That’s a completely foreign concept for you, isn’t it?”
He stifled a laugh and nodded. “Any and all free time I have is spent on you,” he cleared his throat, “my classes, I mean.”
“Maybe take some time to relax today, then. Even if just for a few hours before dinner.”
“I’ll try.” He sighed, staring down at her Walkman. “You always carry that thing around.”
He was a lot more observant of her than he was ever going to admit. And they both picked up on it. He stared at her red and white sundress for a time, wondering if she’d worn it just for him to agonise over. He had been all fucking morning. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.
As she opened her mouth to respond, he stood with a gruff, “I need to check in with everyone else. Keep working.”
She did, the sun browning her skin, her tiny sundress the only thing he could think about as he talked with other students and showed them around.
She ventured Pompeii some more, taking pictures, penciling quick sketches, and let her eyes wander over to him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. But he always was, and they both looked away quickly.
Charlie seemed to forget all about the rejection she’d given him by the time they were at the beach and lounging on sunbeds. Violet had taken a dip, but was mostly into reclining in her little yellow bikini.
She slipped her shades up onto her head as she took in the scene before her. Most of the students had joined them, a few had ventured into the city.
But it was a rarity any of them got to see the sun and sand like this, so they practically melted in the experience, vowing to never leave.
She let her eyes scan the beach, her book tucked into her side on a dog-eared page. She enjoyed people-watching. Seeing her fellow students thrive under the golden sun, and seeing families make memories.
And Professor Styles. Stretched out on a sunbed far from everyone else. Yellow swimming shorts, bronzed skin, decorated in tattoos, both arms flexed as he stretched them above his head.
Her mouth dried at the sight. How toned and prominent he was. She could easily imagine herself sitting on top of him, mapping out each tattoo, licking, kissing, biting. Admiring.
As if he could sense her eyes on him, he looked up, a lone finger sliding his shades down to look at her. And lip quirked up on one side in a subtle smirk that made her toes curl. So, he got especially cocky when he was half-naked.
She tried to turn her attention back onto her book, but it was an effort to think of anything else other than him. She craved his touch, even though all he had given her was a whisp of it in his office.
They were dangling themselves in front of each other, temptation and lust awry, waiting for who would take the plunge first.
Following a game of cat and mouse, trying to catch each other’s eyes, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner at a local restaurant.
She beat him to the room, grabbing a quick shower, almost ready by the time he entered the room.
He could smell her sweet perfume as he entered the room, the air humid from a long shower. She was sitting at the vanity in the bedroom, swiping mascara on her wispy lashes.
Her eyes met his in the mirror, disappointed to find him dressed in a t-shirt, those same yellow shorts allowing her to see his tattooed thigh.
“How was your downtime?” She asked him.
He came up behind her, still watching each other in the mirror. “It was good. Although, a girl was gawking at me the whole time. Didn’t think my body was that atrocious.”
He was teasing her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, and so she played along.
“I’m sure atrocious was the last thing on her mind.”
“You think so?”
“Maybe you should have asked her.”
“I thought about it.”
She held her breath. “Did you?”
“Mm. Thought about inviting her over to my sunbed… asking her what had captured her attention. I knew what she was thinking but I just wanted to hear her say it.”
“Say what?” She breathed out. His eyes were so intense. Molten and demanding, holding hers with such a ferocity that she felt it between her legs.
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now Violet, when have I ever given you the answers to a test?”
She released a shaky sigh, tilting her head away from him, allowing him access to her neck.
He smirked at her eagerness. “You’re a bad girl. Finish getting ready.”
“Then stop distracting me.”
He growled deep in his chest, taking a step away from her. “Don’t talk back, Violet. Ever.”
He sauntered into the bathroom, locking the door with a click. She fanned herself with her hand, quickly slipping on a white summer dress and heading downstairs to hang with her classmates.
Everyone was unaware of the fact that she and their professor were sharing a room, and she cringed to think about how they’d react if they found out.
The attraction they had for each other was undeniable, but she saw it as harmless flirting. Until… he touched her. Until he took her into that erotic room. Until he told her not to talk back. She was fucked.
He led them to the restaurant, pointing out architectural phenomena, and different historical sites for them to make note of. He looked so pretty that it hurt. Light pink dress pants and a matching blazer, a white singlet underneath. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, his curls falling down on his forehead messily.
She lagged behind, and he noticed, subtly falling back, She was stopping to take pictures of different buildings, in awe of the structures and local ways of life.
He slowed his pace, keeping close to her just in case. She wasn’t overly warm towards anyone else in the class, and it made him feel glad in the sense that she focused on his class, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she had many friends outside of class.
Perhaps that’s why he was so protective over her. How territorial and irrational he became towards her. How enamoured by her he was. Buy her words and her confidence, whether in corduroy pants or little sun dresses.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear relaxed, but he was crawling out of his fucking skin. He needed her. Wanted her. Had to have her. He just didn’t know how to do so. He sucked at talking to women, but he knew how to fuck.
Just getting them on their backs was the hardest part for him. He had never struggled with men, but women terrified him for some reason. Especially women like her.
He kept watching her like she’d drop a clue behind a step on the cobbled street.
And when he noticed that one of her sneakers had become untied, he felt his heart begin to race.
The group was further ahead, and he fell into step beside her, grabbing her hand to garner her attention.
She turned to look at him with wide eyes, her camera clicked, and as she spun around, his face fell perfectly into the frame. But the two of them were too focused on his touch to notice.
“Your lace is untied.” He explained simply, his touch gone.
She looked down, “oh.”
“Let me,” he knelt down on the ground, lifting her foot up onto his raised knee. She gasped at the feel of his fingers wrapped around her ankle. How they softly caressed her skin before they got to work tying her lace.
His ringed fingers were a wonder to watch. So precise and nimble. She felt her cheeks tinge pink as she stared down at him on his knee for her. And when he looked up, it was almost as if he was in awe. Worshipping.
His hand slid up her ankle, cupping her calf and sliding higher. And then he dropped his touch, realising how inappropriate he was being.
“Thank you, professor.”
His jaw clenched slightly before he stood, adjusting his suit jacket. “We should catch up with the others.”
They were the last to enter the restaurant, and the universe pushed them together once again with two remaining seats. Next to each other.
Her leg was still burning from his touch and she wanted to experience it over every inch of skin on her body.
It was a wonder she could even focus on eating. He was so powerful in his presence. Even when she wasn’t looking at him she could feel him. This tar-thick sensation next to her, begging to be pulled in, begging to have her attention.
He ate his meal in silence, drinking a cider, offering bits to the conversation here and there.
She was a nervous wreck. She could smell his cologne. How it was sweet and spicy and sultry all at once.
At some point, restless and on edge, she crossed her leg, her foot accidentally nudging his ankle. He shot her a look through the corner of his eye, his mouth on his drink.
She blushed, apologising to him under her breath. But he moved his leg towards hers a little before retracting. Intrigued, she extended her foot out again, letting it trace up his leg.
“Careful.” He warned lowly.
She stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Or what?”
“You don’t want to start trouble with your professor, do you?”
She pursed her lips. “Maybe I do.”
“I pegged you for a good student, Violet. Perhaps I was wrong.”
“I’m a good girl where it counts, professor.”
“Then be a good girl and go settle the bill. We need to get an early night.”
He handed her his card, watching as she stood and went to pay. He eyed her thighs at the hem of her dress, remembering how soft she’d felt as he tied her shoelace. How lulled her expression became when she was teasing him under the table.
He thought about how it felt to be kneeling before her. How if he leaned forward just a little, he’d be able to see up her dress. See the colour of her panties. Flick his tongue out and get a long-awaited taste.
He skipped the dessert menu because he knew nothing would satisfy the sweet tooth he had. Only she could quell the craving.
Fuck. He couldn’t share a room with her tonight. Not unless he wanted to fuck her against every surface of it.
The walk back to the hotel was tense for the two of them. They tried to avoid each other, she tried to spark conversation with other students, while he conversed with the other professor who was probably triple his age and insufferable to talk to.
He felt especially creepy when he realised the most interesting conversations he’d ever held had been with a student of his. One who was ten years his junior.
The other professor split off, heading to his family home while Harry was in charge of leading everyone back to the hotel.
He was back to his short and curt self, subdued by his own thoughts. She eyed him, wondering if he regretted getting so comfortable with her. Because she sure as hell didn’t regret anything.
Everyone parted ways, heading to their designated rooms, while she lagged behind, completely on edge.
Their eyes met as they leaned on opposite walls in the hallway. Waiting. Gauging.
“I should find somewhere else to stay tonight.” His voice broke through the tension.
Her heart dropped and she started to panic at the prospect of him leaving her. “You don’t need to do that.”
He sighed, torn. “Violet…”
“I promise I’ll behave. You won’t even know I’m here.”
He watched her, internally debating. Could he behave? And would she stay true to her word? It was later in the evening now, and he hardly felt like trudging around the city until he found an available room.
He sighed again and nodded, entering the room wordlessly. She followed after him, watching as he stripped off his jacket and ran his hands through his hair.
She slipped into the bedroom, and as she went to close the door, decided to leave it slightly ajar. An invitation.
He sat on the couch, spreading his arms along the back. His mind was a jumbled mess, the only clarity were liquified swirls of violet skies that gave him a sense of constant.
His eyes found movement in the gap of the bedroom door and his mouth went dry. Violet pulled her tiny white dress over her head, her matching white bra and panties revealed to his hungry stare.
She pulled her hair free from its ponytail, the yellow ribbon falling to the ground in a tiny silk puddle.
She bent over, unlacing her sneakers before pulling them off. He knew he had to look away. But he couldn’t. He was staring directly between her legs. The softness of her hips and her thighs. His stomach clenched.
Reaching back, still facing away, she unclasped her bra and let that fall to the floor carelessly. He internally begged her to turn around. But he knew that if he saw her bare tits it would be game over. He already felt like he was going to finish in his pants.
And then she stepped out of view, appearing moments later in a white silk camisole and matching shorts. He looked away quickly as she exited the bedroom, trying to hide the fact that she’d put on that show just for him.
“Can you please help me?” her sweet voice caressed his ears.
He still didn’t look at her. “With?”
“My necklace.” She came to stand in front of him. “It’s tangled.”
He eyed the dainty jewelry around her neck and wondered how his hand would look in its place.
“Do you ever take yours off?” She nodded to the cross pendant dangling from his neck.
“No. It stays on. Always.”
“Even when you—”
“Turn around, Violet.”
She giggled and turned while he stood, his body shaking with desire. She scooped up her hair out of the way, a few strands tangled in the clasp of her necklace.
“You like doing that, don’t you?”
“Doing what?”
“Teasing me and acting oblivious to it.” His fingers began to unwork the tangles of her necklace.
“How do I tease you?”
“Well, the little show you just put on is a great place to start.”
She smirked. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He growled and brought his hand around, cupping her throat and encouraging her to lean fully against him.
“Don’t make me out to be a fucking pervert, Violet. Prance around in your tiny little shorts all you want, just as long as you know that you’re doing so for me.”
“We’re not in the classroom anymore, professor. No need to boss me around.”
“Brat.” He said through his teeth. “I’m always the boss.”
She gasped out in the authority in his tone, at the sureness in his actions. His hand around her throat just like she’d imagined a million times while he taught a class.
“I know you daydream about me.” He whispered in her ear. “I can see your mind wander when you’re sitting at the front of my class. You think about all the things you want me to do to you.”
“That’s a bold assumption.” She continued to tease him.
“Mmm.” He rumbled in her ear. “And I bet you’re wet right now.”
“You’re wrong.” She whimpered.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
She stepped away, staring up at him. “H—How?”
He feigned a bored expression, shoving his hands into his pockets with a sigh. “You’re a smart girl, Violet. Figure it out.”
All confidence she had was shredded away by his condescending tone and she released a shaky breath. Prove it? She sat down on the couch, finding his eyes willingly.
Fuck. This was everything the both of them had been daydreaming about. Releasing the tension that had been building between them ever since she started his class.
He would have stopped her if she didn’t want this. And she wouldn’t have given him a show if she didn’t’ want it. She slipped a hand down her shorts, her eyes lulling while his widened at the scene.
Her fingers found her core, throbbing and wet already. She whimpered, trying to look unfazed but he could see how much her legs were shaking.
“That’s a good girl. Let me see.”
She retracted her hand from the silk of her shorts and displayed her fingers, glistening with her excitement.
He grabbed her wrist, investigating the wetness. He tutted. “Now, what are we going to do about this, hm?” His eyes met hers and she melted.
“I don’t know.”
His gaze hardened on hers. “Part of your studies have been based on problem-solving, Violet. I know I’ve been doing my job right. The question is: have you been a good student?”
“Yes,” she whispered, shaking.
“Is that so? Then tell me how we solve this problem that you have.”
“Problem…?”
“You’re sitting in front of your professor, dripping for him. Tell me how we can fix it before you make a mess.”
She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Touch me.”
“Raise your voice when you’re speaking to me.”
She cleared her throat, mildly embarrassed. “Touch me.”
“Touch you? I could fail you for this behaviour that you’re displaying. I can’t think of one reason not to.”
“Please,” she whispered, “please, touch me.”
He sat on the coffee table opposite her. “I can’t risk it… we can’t—”
“Please. Just once, it’s all I will ever ask of you.”
He stared at her, his expression disgruntled. Like she was causing him actual annoyance by asking him such a thing.
“Fuck it.”
He took her fingers past his lips, saturated with her wetness, and sucked on them. Cleaning them and tasting her. Heavenly and sinful.
She gasped as he did so, unable to even wrap her head around what was happening before his lips met hers, his hand on the nape of her neck.
“Kiss me.” He ordered against her and she obliged, whimpering as his tongue found hers.
He stood and leaned over her, pushing her back into the couch. He pulled away momentarily, as much as it pained him.
“You want this?”
She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him but he shook his head.
“Words, Violet. I need to hear you say it.”
“I want you.” She assured him, glad to finally have the words leave her mouth.
“Show me,” he breathed out. “Show me how much you want me.”
He sat back on the table again, leaving her panting and shaking while he slipped his glasses from his face. She bit her lip, finding every ounce of courage that she had before slowly slipping her shorts down her legs.
His eyes never left hers as she got herself comfortable, and he untangled her shorts from her ankle, his cock hardening further when she giggled playfully.
She spread her legs a little, her hand finding its way back between them. He hissed as she played with herself, and he could hear how wet she was as well as see it.
He leaned forward, his hands on her thighs. “Are you this wet for me during class?”
She shook her head slowly.
“Are you lying to me?” His hands smoothed up her legs and he could feel how hard she was shaking having his touch on her.
“No…”
“Mm...” His hands found her sensitive inner thighs and her legs spread further, enticing him in. “I think you’re lying, Violet.” His thumb brushed her sensitive clit and she gasped. “I think…” A little more pressure. “You sit in my class, fantasising about me.” Small circles. “And then you go home, get yourself off and imagine that it’s me doing it.”
“Please—”
“Am I wrong?”
“Fuck,” she cried out as his fingers built up speed and pressure. “No, you’re not wrong.”
“I never am.” He smirked, pulling her so that she was laying down flat on the couch.
His mouth found her cunt in a deep kiss and she rolled her hips up towards him, his hands cupping under her thighs to keep her where he wanted her.
Her back arched at the sensation of his mouth. So wet and hot and skilled. She’d known how good he was with his mouth, as she’d listened to him talk for hours. But this was something else, and she knew she’d never look at his lips the same again.
His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he moaned against her, loving how sweet she tasted. How she was shaking and he’d only just gotten started.
His tongue found her clit in delicate flicks, sucking and nibbling it until she was gasping.
The straps of her camisole fell down her shoulders, and her tits came into his view. Her nipples were pebbled from the cool air and he reached up, pinching and squeezing them with deft fingers.
All he could think of was the fact that she was lightyears better than anything he’d viewed in Gabinetto Segreto. But he knew that before he’d seen her naked.
His ears were ringing with how good she felt and he couldn’t wait to feel her wrapped around his cock. God, he’d grasp onto the feeling forever. He could already see himself begging shamelessly at her knees for a pity fuck.
Her hands came down and entwined with his curls, determined to make a mess of them. She had spent far too many hours admiring the perfect shape of them and the precise middle parting.
He groaned as she pulled them, his eyes finding her blissful expression. He ate her like he’d never had a satisfying meal in all his years. After tasting her, it felt like he hadn’t. And nothing would ever suffice again.
She brought Gabinetto Segreto fucking shame.
He gave her a finger, testing the waters with what she could take. Her body went lax before tightening up in pleasure. His jaw dropped at how warm and snug she was.
“Oh, pet. You’re going to get me addicted to this pretty little pussy, aren’t you?”
She whimpered, rolling her hips up in desperation. The way he was talking to her. Encouraging her and talking her through it. It was all so surreal.
“Professor…”
“What?” He pulled away, annoyed to have her interrupt.
“It’s okay.”
He frowned. “What?
“I—It’s okay. You don’t have to…”
“Don’t have to what?” He was getting pissed off now.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“What, make you come?” He frowned further, bewildered.
“It’s hard for me to do that.”
His eyes softened and he crawled up her body, his hand cradling her jaw tenderly. “Has anyone ever made you come, pet?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Just my vibrator.”
He pouted a little. “That’s a shame, isn’t it? I bet you get so creamy… so relaxed and soft.”
She could feel his hands massaging her body, but she felt lightheaded with how he was talking to her.
“I can make you come, pet. As many times as you want.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You don’t have to do a thing. You just lay back and let your professor look after you, okay? You deserve it after all of your hard work. I’m very impressed.”
“Really?” Her eyes were wide.
“Really. Daddy’s going to reward you, now. Would you like that?”
Her eyes lulled the second that word fell from his mouth.
“Yes.”
“My good little pet.”
His mouth found her core again, reveling in her taste and the feel of her. He helped her relax enough that she could simply feel the pleasure and nothing else. She had been so stuck in her mind but now all she could fathom was pure bliss.
He gave her two fingers, massaging a spot inside of her that she had not discovered before. It was overwhelmingly intense. Pressure and sensitivity and euphoria.
“Relax, Violet. Can you do that for me?”
She focused on keeping relaxed, but almost laughed at his request. How could she relax with his head between her thighs?
She must have done a good enough job because he moaned, closing his eyes and kissing her cunt almost romantically.
He wanted to watch her. To guide her and talk her through it. He came up, licking inside of her mouth, sucking on her tongue.
You’re doing so well.
So sweet for me.
You’re milking my fingers, pet.
Breathe, that’s it.
He could tell she was close and he was watching her in awe. Watching her write in pleasure that only he had ever been able to entice from her. He was far too in his head to feel smug about it, but he knew he’d come back to that later.
“Oh…”
“That’s right,” he coerced. “You’re gonna come all over my fingers, I can feel it. Fuck, do it on my tongue instead.”
He swiftly placed his mouth on her again, paying all of his attention to her clit while his fingers worked inside of her. She was pulsing and it drove him to take her harder, moaning against her.
His arm tensed, the veins in it prominent, snaking around his muscles. He couldn’t fathom why the men before him hadn’t got her here like this. He was addicted to everything about her. Her body and her mind. Her jaw dropped in pleasure.
His mouth latched onto her clit ferociously, and the intensity of it knocked her over the edge of bliss. She writhed around, crying out as it overwhelmed her. He pinned her down, helping her ride the wave.
“Thaaat’s it, pet. What a good girl.” He soothed her as she came down.
She gasped out, grabbing his wrist as he slowly fucked her with his fingers.
“Fuck.” She smiled, meeting his eyes.
“How did that feel, hm?” He checked in, his mouth and chin drenched in her. He kissed her inner thighs, pulling away.
“So good.”
“Yeah?” He came over her. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?”
She barely had time to register what was going on before he ripped her silk camisole from her body, discarding it behind the couch.
“Hey!” She yelled out. “That was expensive.”
“Daddy will buy you another one.” He promised, his eyes falling over her bare breasts. “Fuck, look at you. Gorgeous little thing.”
She moaned as he gripped her breasts, toying with her nipples. He spat down on her chest, wiping his spit around her tits with a devilish grin.
“You’ll let me do what I want, won’t you, pet?”
“Yes.” She whispered, meaning it.
“The next time you’re in my class,” he pinched her nipple. “I’m gonna make you sit on my lap. Make you read out your paper while I play with your clit and fill your cunt with my cock. Make you cream all over me while everyone watches.”
“Professor—”
He stood abruptly, ridding of his shirt and pants, allowing her to see him as bare as she’d ever seen him. His inked torso and arms. His strong thighs and toned tummy. She felt her insides melt and warp.
He grabbed her hand and placed it over his clothed cock, hard and throbbing.
“Feel what you do to me?” He asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to hold her still while her hand felt him. “I get so hard every time I see you. I can’t fucking stand it.”
Her mouth was watering and she shifted forward, kissing along his length. He growled lowly, feeling his cock twitch and his balls tighten.
“You’re a naughty pet. Come to my class in those tiny dresses because you know I think about pinning you against the wall and slipping inside of you.”
“I wish you would.” Her eyes were wide, staring at his.
He tilted his head, gripping her hair in his fist, his rings catching. “You do, don’t you? Little whore.”
She nodded eagerly, whimpering when he pushed her face forcefully against his crotch. He leaned down, his fingers finding her pussy, slick from her orgasm. He hummed, gathering her wetness and spreading it along his covered cock.
“Messy girl. Clean me up.”
“Make me.”
He glared darkly, his nostrils flaring at her disobedience. He gripped her hair hard enough that tears formed, and he moved his hand to pinch her jaw until she opened it.
“Tongue out.” He barked and she slowly did as she was asked. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, clean me up or I’ll fuck my fist and make you watch.”
He spat on her tongue and she hummed, swallowing before leaning forward and licking off her wetness from his crotch. His brow furrowed at the sight. His feisty little pet.
She sucked on the tip of him over his boxers, and he whimpered before pushing her away. He quickly rid of his boxers, impatient. He had to be inside her. He prided himself in his ability to last but that seemed to be irrelevant when it came to her. Just looking at her naked and pouting was enough to set him off.
She reached for his cock, hard, a bead of pre-come on the tip. He throbbed in her palm, so hot and ready for him. He ran his hands through his hair, his body tingling.
She took him past her lips, her eyes fluttering. His head fell back on his neck as she took his tip, sucking and flicking her tongue against the slit. He encouraged her, his hand tangling into her hair.
“Take more.” He rasped, moaning loudly when she fit half of him in.
She used her hand to work on what she couldn’t fit yet. He was losing it, spitting down on his cock to get it nice and wet before forcing her to take all of him.
She choked on him, her eyes watering as she gagged.
“Fuck,” he gritted his teeth, his abs flexing as he pushed his hips forward.
Tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. His thumb wiped under her eyes, smearing it further. He wanted to destroy her.
He took her throat in slow, rolling thrusts, allowing her to breathe and watching when she tapped his thigh when she needed a break.
She picked up her pace, and his knees buckled. He attempted to pull away but her hands wound around his thighs, holding him in place.
“Pet,” he whined, “you gotta stop.”
She eyed him mischievously, moving her mouth harder. Faster.
He swore, grabbing her hair and practically ripping her from him. He threw her back and slapped her cheek before gripping her jaw and pressing his face against hers.
“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”
She giggled, her cheek stinging, but it fuelled her arousal.
He clenched his jaw, holding hers harder. “You promised you’d behave.”
The feral rage in his eyes made her gulp. She did not fear him, per se, but feared what he’d do to her as punishment. Feared that she’d like it too much.
She wanted him warmed up to her. But she wasn’t sure that he was capable of that.
“I am behaving, professor.”
“I don’t think you are.”
She frowned, pouting. His expression softened, loving how she looked all vulnerable when she did that little face.
He cupped her reddened cheek, looking at her wet eyes and swollen lips from his cock.
She opened her mouth to protest, to apoligise, or to plead. She wasn’t sure.
“I—”
“Shh.. sit back and take my cock, pet.”
The willingness in her eyes melted him and she fell onto her back, pressing her legs together with her knees bent and swaying them side to side.
He took a step forward, fisting his cock with a shaky breath. He had fantasised about this for so long and now that it was finally happening, he couldn’t believe it.
“You look so good.” He complimented, his voice low. His hands ran down her body, feeling every inch and every curve. He settled over her, hitching her leg high over his hip.
“So do you.” She breathed out, her hands running down his sides, feeling the muscles flex.
“You were made for fucking.” He spoke his thoughts, running the tip of his cock between her slick folds. “Made to take me. Made to be used by me.”
She whimpered, rolling her hips up. “Take me. Use me.”
He kissed her, pushing his hips forward a little. She made a soft sound as he pushed inside of her, able to take the tip of him before her body tensed.
“You’re so big.” She whimpered, wide eyes staring up at him.
“You can take it.”
He held her in place, pushing forward and breaking through her tightness. She gasped as she took half of him, and he reached down, rubbing her clit to lessen the sting.
She mewled softly, her body relaxing as he slowly took her. He pushed all the way in, and he swore quietly as she rippled around him.
“Attagirl.” He praised. “I knew you could do it.”
“Oh… my god.” She moaned, her eyes watering at how fucking good he felt. He was so big that she felt him everywhere. He was pressed snugly against that spot he’d found not long before and the pressure of it was blinding.
It was the fact that they definitely should not be doing this that made it feel so much fucking better.
“I’m going to move now.” He informed her, retracting his hips until only his head remained inside of her. He slammed back in forcefully and she cried out, her back arching.
He didn’t stop. He screwed into her relentlessly, pounding her down into the couch. She couldn’t get a single breath in with how hard he was fucking her. His touch never left her clit, until he wrapped his arms around her and stood, holding her up as he fucked up into her.
She bit into his neck, his skin warm and damp beneath her. Her nails embedded themselves into his shoulders, trying to hold on as he took her.
He pressed her against the wall, his head dropping back with a growl. She watched him in awe. The sheer power he exerted on her body was blinding. He was so in control, so feral and animalistic but in control nonetheless.
She had never had someone fuck her like this. He was confident in the classroom, but having him even more so while he was naked and inside of her was something she never knew that she’d experience.
She gripped onto his hair, near on sobbing as he took her. “Professor…”
“Harry.” He gritted out, his curls a mess.
“H—Harry, please.”
“Please, what?” He breathed out, grunting. “Tell me—fuck—tell me what you need.”
“Touch me.”
His hand wound around her throat, his gaze searing on hers. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, pet.”
“My clit.” She whispered out. “I need it, please.”
“Fuck, say my name again.” He huffed, staring at her desperately.
“Please, Harry. I need it.”
He groaned, pushing two fingers in her mouth until she gagged, getting them wet. Then he connected his fingers to her clit and rubbed in delicious circles. Her toes curled, her hands raking down his shoulders and sides as he took her.
“You like that?” He checked, knowing full well she loved it with how tight her pussy was around him.
She nodded, whimpering as he slapped his hips against her.
“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Your pretty little cunt is squeezing me like a fist. Dirty girl letting me use you like this.”
He placed her on her shaky legs, slipping down to his knees. He aided her in placing a leg over his shoulder, opening her up to him. He latched onto her core with a loud moan.
“Taste so good.” He said between licks, her core trembling around his tongue. “Love feeling how my big cock is destroying your pussy.”
He ate her, addicted. He held her up as her body became weak with pleasure. His fingers found her core, fucking her with two fingers while his mouth sucked and nibbled and licked her clit.
She looked down at his face, seeing his eyes closed as he ate her. He was enjoying it just as much as she was. Her professor was on his knees for her.
From tying her shoelace to eating her out in a matter of hours.
He loved being able to taste his cock while he ate her. Able to taste where he’d claimed her and destroyed her. His dick twitched, missing the warmth of her. Wanting to spread his cum inside of her and watch it leak out.
He grabbed her, bending her over the window seat. She stared at the view of the ocean as he stared at the view of her.
“Spread your legs.” He ordered.
She bit her lip, looking back at him. She pressed her legs together and wiggled her ass.
He glared, slapping her ass. “Whore.” Another slap, to which she cried out, clawing at the window. “I said open your fucking legs.”
He kicked her legs open forcefully, spreading her cheeks and staring at her dripping cunt. She moaned as he massaged her skin, his thumb dipping to press against the tight opening of her ass.
He spat down on it, massaging gently before he bent his knees, guiding his cock back to her drenched heat.
She held back her pleasured cries as he fucked her, his skin slapping mercilessly against hers. His thumb played with her ass, watching as she moaned and flowered open to him. His to use.
“Good girl.” He praised. “Take me so fucking well. You love having my big dick fill you up, don’t you?”
She whimpered, rolling her hips back against her thrusts.
He slapped her side. “Don’t you?”
“Y‑Yes, Harry!”
He grabbed her by her throat, pulling her back while he kept fucking her. His lips found her ear, biting on the lobe.
“Call me daddy.” He growled. “Call me daddy and I’ll let you come again.”
She could feel the swirls of it blooming and she swore, her walls clenching around him.
“Please, daddy.” She whimpered, loving calling him something so naughty. “Please let me come.”
“You need daddy to rub your pretty little clit? Huh?”
“Fuck, please, yes I need it.” She gasped, her tits bouncing, drawing his attention to them. He played with her nipples. Twisting and tugging before his touch veered south, finding her clit with an expert touch.
She exploded around him, her body growing lax against him. He allowed her to melt onto the floor, not stopping his thrusts as he helped her through her orgasm. He screwed her on the ground, grunting animalistically in her ear.
They were sweaty messes, writing and naked on the floor as he took her, feral and obsessed. He lifted her ass up, taking her harder and harder, his hands gripped tightly onto her hips.
She clawed at the carpet beneath her, trying to hold onto anything that would keep her steady against his intense thrusts. The sheer power he had was astonishing.
He picked her up, sweeping knick-knacks and a lamp off a side table with a smash, throwing her against the newly cleared surface. Her chest was pressed against the cool wood, and he quickly began fucking her again.
Her knees betrayed her, and he spun her around, sitting her up on the side table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, their bodies pressed tightly together, sweaty and needy.
He pinned her back to the wall, his hand around her throat. They watched where they were connected before locking eyes, moaning before kissing with an intensity that made her toes curl.
He couldn’t get enough of her. His body was wound so tight with arousal, the feeling of finally having her driving him wild.
“Fuck,” he panted, “so fucking good.”
She purposely pulsed her cunt around him, his head going dizzy.
“St—god, you have to stop.”
The expression he wore was hardly an incentive to stop, and she did it more.
“Stop, stop.”
Pulling back, much to her dismay, voiced with a displeased moan, he stepped back from her. He grabbed his cock in his fist, playing with himself while she sat there watching. Desperately writhing, her chest heaving.
She whimpered as he fucked himself harder, the pleasure displayed clearly on his face. She shuffled forward a little, wanting to be the only form of bliss he felt.
He glared. “Did I say that you could move?”
“No, but—”
“Do as you’re told or I will come all over my hand while you watch.”
She bit her tongue, settling back into place with a pout. He chuckled lightly, his stomach tightening at the sight. He wanted to come so fucking bad but he wasn’t done with her.
“Get on all fours, pet.” He instructed, his fist still wrapped tight around himself.
She slowly lowered herself to the floor, on her knees in Infront of him before getting on her hands as well, on all fours just like he asked. He smiled proudly at her, watching her wait for the next instruction.
“I want you to crawl to the bedroom for me.” He purred. “Slowly.”
She bit her lip, hiding her smile, trying to remain unfazed. She did as he asked, just as she always had. Always wanting to impress him. He stalked behind her, watching the way her hips were shaped, watching how her ass swayed as she crawled, watching how her hair fell over her shoulders. She looked back to meet his eyes before picking up her pace a little.
He felt something spike in his bloodstream, and he ran after her, grunting as he picked her up and threw her onto the bed.
“You’re a fucking tease.” He chastised her as he followed. She crawled away, curled up at the top of the bed. “You want to run, pet?”
She shook her head, a mischievous smile lighting up her face as he narrowed his eyes.
“I better make sure you stay put.”
She watched as he went out to the lounge, fishing through his duffel bag before heading back to the bedroom. He began wringing a sage green tie between his hands, eyeing her.
He made his way towards her, gauging her expression. “Give me your hands.”
She did as she was told, mesmerised.
“Good girl.”
He tied her wrists up, not too tight, but tight enough that she wouldn’t slip out. Then he tied them to the white iron headboard, her arms stretched up. He couldn’t resist reaching down to bite and lick her nipples until she was whining and begging him to take her.
“You want this cock?” He shuffled forward until he was kneeling over her chest.
She nodded eagerly and he gripped the hair on top of her head. “Open your mouth. Taste your pussy on my cock before I give it to you again.”
She opened, her eyes fluttering when he pushed his dick into her mouth, all the way, not letting her adapt to his size. Just letting her taste him. Feel him.
“So pretty with your mouth full, aren’t you?”
She choked, her eyes prickling with tears that threatened to roll over before he pulled away. And then he was flipping her over, pulling her up onto her knees and elbows and fucking her so brutally that she feared the whole hotel would hear.
He made noises that were animalistic. Feral and unhinged. He fucked her so hard that neither of them could see straight. Hitting her so deep she could feel it in her throat.
He wasn’t sure he could last much longer, and he wanted to hold her. He moved her to her side, spooning behind her. He lifted her outer leg up, slipping his throbbing cock into her drenched heat with a deep, rolling moan.
His fingers found her clit again, and she reached back to kiss him messily. Their tongues met, wet and unashamed. He wanted her to come again, and his cock screwed into her relentlessly while he drew tight circles on her clit.
“Come for me.” He panted. “Please. I need it. Give me another one, all over my cock. You can do it, pet.”
She whimpered, her brow furrowed as he growled, taking her harder than he had all night. Her orgasm shattered her before she knew it was upon her.
She keeled forward, and he wound his arms around her to keep her steady while she came, crying out his name so loud that he had to give her two of his fingers to bite down on.
He swore at how tight she became when she climaxed, her walls pulsing and clenching around him. He fought to hold on, but his body was overworked and she felt so fucking good.
With a whine, he untied her hands and gently moved her onto her back, slipping inside of her with a long sigh. He took her, deep and slow and with a fluidity that had her legs shaking.
He wanted to come staring into her eyes. With her legs wrapped around his waist. His name was on her lips as he pounded into her relentlessly.
“Will you tease me again?” He asked her, his eyes searing.
“Yes.” She gasped out.
“You’re my little fuck toy.” He was a mess. “Mine to fuck and fill with my cum. Reward you for your hard work in my class. Make you come every time you pass.”
“All yours.” She breathed out, desperate to get him there. “I’m your dirty secret, professor.”
“Can’t fucking stand how you make me feel. Filthy fucking girl. Tell me you want my cum.”
“I want your cum, professor.”
“How bad do you want it?”
“I need it so bad. Please, fill me up with it.”
He growled out her name, burying his head in her neck and biting on the skin. His orgasm rocked through him, and he fucked her through it, not caring when she cried out in discomfort.
He wanted this. To fill her. Claim her. Stake his mark seeing as she’d sought after him. Teased him and poked until he gave in. He’d rip every one of those sundresses off her for a taste of how magical she was.
Like visiting all seven wonders of the world and discovering millions of new ones all at once.
***
I hope you enjoyed x
#harry styles#harry styles filth#harry styles one shot#harry styles smut#hslot#harry styles fanfiction#hes#smut#hs
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43 was a decent season for new age survivor especially towards the end but i am permanently stuck in tocantins so i’ll continue to be mad at it
#i get to hate on it because i’m cool and funny about it and not like. outright attacking people#at some point you just have to admit you don’t like the new age and move on#like it’s clear they don’t plan on going back to the old game#personally think 43 was decent and just struggled with editing#because i guarantee all the stupid plays and questionable moments had actual reasons we didn’t get to see#i was more mad right after watching the finale but i attribute that to my tocantins rewatch the day before#not sure how i feel about 44 though. that preview was something
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Guilty Pleasure | Series Masterlist
Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x reader Summary: You're home from college for the summer, staying with your parents in Austin, TX. So is your dad's best friend, Joel Miller. Rating: Explicit, 18+ minors DNI 🔞🔥 [-> click here for AO3 version <-] Series warnings: Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 43), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU.
Part 1 You don't remember Joel looking like this - or you reacting so strongly to him. Part 2 After having gotten yourself off twice to the thought of Joel, your paths cross again in the kitchen. Part 3 Sunday dinner with your parents and Joel is... weird. But also hot. Part 4 Somehow you end up in the car with Joel for five hours. With all that heat outside, you just can't be held responsible for what happens next. Part 5 One thing you weren't prepared for: the sight of Joel using the pool in the backyard. One thing *he* wasn't prepared for - you needing some help to put on SPF. Part 6 An open bar and Joel in a tailored black outfit mean trouble at your father's garden party. Enough reason to do something you haven't done before.
Part 7 You've thought about this moment so many times. Now you're actually standing there, your hand on the doorknob of Joel's room, and you can hear his heavy breathing already.
A/N: If you know me, you're probably just as shocked as I am to see a dbf!Joel fic by my hand. Totally get it if it's not your thing. However - if you've read and enjoyed other fics by me, you may wanna give this one a try after all. Thank you to @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @lotusbxtch @sin-djarin @mountainsandmayhem
@qveerthe0ry @perotovar
encouraging me to write a wild idea that suddenly came to mind. This came together shockingly fast with ideas and feedback from all of them, so thank you babes for supporting and enabling me!
And yes, of course this series is named after the Chappell Roan song 'Guilty Pleasure' because of allll the reasons.
main masterlist | AO3 | fic updates
#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#dbf!joel#dbf!joel miller
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Forgive me if this is a dumb question but if Mabel was gone for "1 week" but it's actually been 30 years how old are they? How old are the Grunkles?
Not a dumb question at all! Mabel is still 12. Dipper is 43. There doesn’t seem to be an exact age on the Grunkles but considering that they were between 8-10 in “1960 something” Ford is still in his mid to late 50s pushing 60. This means Stan is in his mid to late 80s pushing 90.
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ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | Sukuna X You | CHAPTER INDEX I /PROLOGUE (Part 1-68)
-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur
CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters (uraume, gojo, geto, shoko, nanami, choso, maki, nobara, mei-mei, etc.)
GENRE: full-length smau + prose | bad boy x good girl | college au | a lot of firsts | aged-up characters | strangers to lovers | smut | fluff | angst | ooc depictions - soft sukuna ftw
TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol and/or smoking | mentions of injury, promiscuity and bullying | pet names because they're cute with 2D men | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises
AKI’S NOTES: Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated, and I actively respond to comments as well as Asks. Also, if you’re interested, I will include you in the tag list. Just message me through whatever avenue you’re most comfortable with. Happy reading!
MASTERLIST
A/N: Yup. Intrigue and a video right off the bat.
CHAPTERS: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15
16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30
31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45
46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60
61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | CHAPTER INDEX II
ADDITIONAL NOTES: i will be using pics and other media which would fit situations and make the smau-ness of this piece a little more realistic and entertaining when i believe it’s appropriate/fitting to the plot (as i've done with my other smau). having said that, with regard to inclusivity, i just want to put it out there that they will not necessarily be aimed as the exact descriptions to fit a supposedly generic reader nor will they be representative of a specific race or color. it’s all for the simple fact of media availability, for funsies and the fact that i don’t exclusively write in consideration of those aspects when using reader-insert characters unless i specify it. thank you for understanding.
TAG LIST: CLOSED
PLEASE READ: If you wanna be included in the tag list, please make sure that your “Exclude __(tumblr username)__ from Tumblr search and recommendations” setting is OFF so I can actually tag you guys and you'll get notifs when I update. Thank you very much.
Here's a reference for the instructions from domainofmarie. Thank you very much, my friend. This is very helpful.
A/N: I have another version of this story somewhere on the internet with different characters, and I thought, why not make it a Sukuna smau. So excited for this! This'll probably come out this weekend lol or the next if push comes to shove.
© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240514]
PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.
#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x y/n#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna smau#sukuna fluff#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna fluff#ryomen sukuna smau#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jjk#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen smau#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smau#jjk fluff#jjk smut#social media au#smau
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Sweet sugar
Sugar daddy!Jenson Button x female!sugar baby!reader
Summary - Everyone thinks Jenson would make the hottest sugar daddy, but what they don’t know is that he is one step ahead of them already
Warning - implied sugar daddy/baby relationship, age gap, swearing
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username
Jenson Button you could be a sugar daddy! OMFG!!!
Liked by jensonbutton and 3,036 others
username HE LIKED GIRL! HE LIKED
username He’d be the sugar daddy of sugar daddies!!!
username A girl can only wishhhh
username I mean it’s possible, he’s single and he’s rich
= username OMG CAN YOU IMAGINE
jensonbutton posted a story
username Jenson?? Who is that?? Is this a soft launch??
username If this is a soft launch, I am love it!! The matching outfits!! Her feet over his lap!! She’s living the dream!!
username I need more!! I crave more!!
username ‘The calm’ babes stoppp
username That girlie is luckyyy
yourusername
The simple life 🤍
Liked by jensonbutton and 5,917 others
username Gorgeous girl
yourbestfriendsusername Living the lush life actually!! I need to learn from youuu
= yourusername Best decision I’ve ever made 😋
yourfriendsusername Missing you at Uni babesss
= yourusername Miss you tooo 😚
jensonbutton posted a story
f1gossip
New wag!! Y/n L/n, a uni student, was spotted in Melbourne with ex racing driver Jenson Button. Jenson is also seen in the likes of her latest post. Thing is she’s 21 years old and Jenson is 43 years old, is this some sort of sugar daddy/baby relationship?? 🤔🤔
Liked by username and 4,638 others
username Stunning girl 😍
username Don’t know how I feel about that age gap tbh
username That chick who said Jenson should be a sugar daddy actually manifested it!!!
username As long as they are both happy, I’m not gonna question it
= username Oh ofc! It’s their relationship, they are both of age so I don’t see the problem imo
jensonbutton
Secrets out oh well, now I get to show off my sweet sugar 🥰
Liked by yourusername and 89,572 others
Limited comments
fernandoalo_oficial Happy for you!
= jensonbutton Thank you Nando 😊
yourusername 🤍🤍🤍
= jensonbutton 😚😚😚
yourusername
Loving you always 🥰
Liked by yourbestfriendsusername and 67,638 others
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#formula one#formula one x reader#jenson button#jenson button x reader#jenson button x you#jenson button x y/n#jenson button f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 2023#formula one x y/n#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula one x you#mclaren#brawn: the impossible formula 1 story#renault
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Here is how I calculate the bat-families current ages using evidence from the comics that the writers love to ignore bc there is no way for their now canon ages to match their cannon age gaps. (If you don’t want to wait, results are the 2nd set of bullet points)
Here is what we know about their current ages:
Dick is 28 or 27(somewhere around there) in the current Nightwing run(if he’s 26 tell me and just minus one from the final results)
Jason is, I think, 22 or 23 as of Task force Z or something if I remember right
Tim is finally 18
And Damian is 14 as of the newest Robin series
Here is what we know about their canon age gaps:
We know that Jason and Dick are 7 years apart. Why? In Batman 416 we find out that that Dick is 19 and Jason is 12 when they first meet in post crisis
We know that Tim and Jason are 2 or 3(2.5 really) years apart. Why? Jason dies when he is 15. Following his birthday and Tim being 13 when he becomes Robin, they have to be 2.5 years apart. I’ll use 2 and 3 for simplicity.
Tim and Damian are 6/7 year apart. Why? Tim is 17 in Red Robin and Damian is 10.
Cassandra is less than a year older than Jason. Why? We find out when Bruce shows her Jason’s grave.
Duke is 16 when we meet him. Damian is around 12. Tim is still 17. So Duke and Damian are 4 year apart.
Per the original 40s comics, Dick and Bruce have a 14 year age gap. In the 2002 run, they have a 10 year age gap.
So how do we make sense of this.
Damian is the most recent and cannon age we know so we have to use his age to find everyone’s actual age. Red is cannon ages.
Damian(14) + 6/7 = Tim(20/21)
Tim(20/21) + 2/3 = Jason(22/23)
Jason(22/23) + >1 = Cassandra(22.5/23/23.5/24)
Jason(22/23) + 6/7 = Dick(28/29/29/30)
Damian(14) + 4 = Duke (18)
Final ages
Damian is 14
Duke is 18
Tim is 20 or 21
Jason is 22 or 23
Cassandras is <23.5
Dick is 29 or 30
Now Bruce. In the original comics(1942), Dick is 8 when his parents die, but is retconned to be 12 in the 2002 comics. I’ll do both timelines. Bruce’s starting age is hard to agree on. I see 22 a lot and given the out come of this, it makes sense because Bruce is currently in his 40s.
Using the 1940s ages, Dick and Bruce have a 14 year old age gap. (22 - 8 = 14) Given that Dick has to be 29 or 30, Bruce is 43 or 44. These ages make sense in cannon.
Using the 2002 ages, Dick and Bruce have a 10 year age gap. (22 - 12 = 10) Given that Dick has to be 29 or 30, Bruce is 39 or 40. These make less sense given the ages he would adopt the other kids and what we know in cannon.
Bruce is 43 or 44
Stephanie would be 21 or 22 by the way.
Barbra is older than Dick by a sum. Probably less than 35.
I would love to know what you think. Did I mess up with anything?
Edit made: I fucked up Duke's age. He'd be 18 bc he's 4 years older than Damian. 14 + 4 = 18
#dc#dc comics#Batman#Bruce Wayne#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#redhood#cassandra cain#batgirl#black bat#orphan#Duke Thomas#signal#Tim Drake#Red Robin#Damian Wayne#damian al ghul#Robin#batman family#batfamily#batman comics#batfam#meta#comics#my post#detective comics#stephanie brown#barbra gordon
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Richard actually preferred to spent his Spring Break lounging around his quaint and peaceful university town. But, since his Uncle drove all the way down to pick him up unannounced, simply because Richard is in the same state now, not like he could just shush that man away so he lazily packed his bag and hit the road with the 43 years old hulk of a DILF
They didn't talk much throughout the long trip into the farmland as Richard pretended to fall asleep before eventually really falling asleep on the way there. But he's dead wrong to assume that his Uncle is unaware of his avoidance. In fact, that very attitude is the sole reason why his Uncle came all the way down to pick him up. It's time to mold Richard into the perfect Dawson boys, and Spring Break provides the best timeline in order for Richard to hit his final alteration right during summer
When the pair arrived at the sprawling farm, Richard realized how stinking rich his family must be with all these acres of land under their possession. It's been more than a decade since he last visited the family farm, but clearly this visit will leave him with the memory about the family farm much more clearly. His uncle let him rest for the remainder of the day, he even fell asleep right after his quick dinner and cleaning himself. But Richard didn't expect that he needs to do some hard labour the following morning!
"Your cousin Adam is spending some time with his sickly wife while Steve took off for the entirety of this Spring Break to spend time with his kids. So I need your help, boy,"
"Wait, Adam is married?"
"Yes, a year ago, don't you remem--- oh yeah, you were on your gap year trip,"
The tone his uncle used irked Richard a bit, gap year trip, but he let it go. His mind is focused on the fact that Adam is the same age as him, and he's married? At 20? 19 if he considered the fact it happened a year ago.....what a totally different life the two of them have. His uncle snapped Richard's out of his mind as he told the pale, gangly-looking Richard to put on the boots before helping him around the farm and the ranch. Richard at first doubted that he could fit into the boots, but somehow it fits him just right. So, off he goes with his uncle
Day after day, the routine remained the same. He will wake up at around 5 or 6 AM, have his loaded breakfast and head out with his uncle. He surprisingly found himself enjoying the routine, he even started to address his Uncle with "Sir" and cooked the breakfast for the two. He simply didn't notice the change in his reflection on how his skin tanned on its own, how his form straightened rather than hunched per usual, how all his clothings somehow altered to solely consist of black t-shirt, jeans and some plaid shirt and he just didn't bother to ask his uncle for the whereabouts of his other clothing. He also failed to notice how his uncle has been subliminally planting in his subconsciousness that he enjoyed working in the farm, that he preferred to be called Dick since Richard sounded too posh for him, that Dick has always been interested with farming and the idea to continue the family's business, that Dick wanted to recruit some good trusted friends of his to join the family's business and how he needs to pivot to study about agriculture or farming in uni.....well, scratch that, he will probably drop out later in the summer and learn better about farming or agriculture by working with his Uncle.
Imagine the surprise his roommates got when Richard went back from his Spring Break 30 lbs heavier and looking like a Southern farm stud with his outfit and the way he got this drawl out of nowhere. And he apparently have a souvenir too for them
"Got these from my Uncle, now, try to put these babies on and tell me how it feels,"
---
Fast forward to summer, not only Dick really followed through with his drop out plan, he brings along his now much-more fitting roommate to join him in the farm
Hey there, a bit rushed with this execution but hope it's still an enjoyable read
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♡ I knew it, I know you - FC 43 ♡
Based off the song: I knew it, I know you by Gracie Abrams
Summary: You and Franco dated but when things took a turn with your career, your world got turned upside down.
Author's note: i was told i should add additional parts to this plot so lmk if that's something you guys would like to see <3
WC: 3309
CW: fights, brief mention of a car crash, a bit of angst i think
You swore to god, you hadn’t thought of him in ages. But there he was, plastered all over social media as a driver for Williams for the remainder of the season in F1. The man who absolutely destroyed you. But you had also destroyed him. You had destroyed each other towards the end of your relationship.
You and Franco dated back when the two of you were in F2 and F3. The two of you had hit it off almost instantly, already so drawn to each other. You weren’t gonna lie, the two of you almost weren’t a thing. You are terrible at not only initiating, but also keeping conversations going. But the fact that Franco was so bold and carefree, he was able to stick with you till you opened up out of your shell, which was truly insane to you. And you’re grateful for him and everything he has done for you, no matter what went down all that time ago.
The two of you were always there for eachother, whether one was winning races or not. You would always scream the loudest when he won. Every single time he was on the podium, you’d be so incredibly proud of him, standing there watching in awe, tears streaming down your face. You’d never met someone so perfect.
He was so different from anyone you’d ever met. He was valiant, hilarious, strong, and so beautiful, on the inside and out. He knew you’d often struggled with your mental health and maintaining relationships, whether platonic or romantic. But he stayed, he actually stayed, through all your faults. He loved you anyway. He was the best thing that ever was yours.
But now it’s like he’s on another planet, you wonder how the weather is there.
While you were proud of him for making it to F1, you still couldn’t help but feel a bit of annoyance. The two of you would often talk about the future together. The plan was always to work your asses off and make it to F1 together. He was gonna be the first Argentinian driver in ages, and you were gonna be the first woman in ages to drive in F1. During this time, you guys were gonna save money and buy your dream home together. He’d always wanted a big patio where you two could do barbeques together, where he could bring his family. He also wanted a pool where everyone could enjoy their time together, away from the cameras and chaos.
But now those dreams are just that. Dreams.
The breakup wasn’t necessarily mutual or on good terms. Franco initially wanted to work things out and talk but you didn’t think it’d fix anything. Things were already getting rocky as your racing career was coming to an end. After a bad accident all those years ago, you weren’t able to get back in the car. And for that, you were so angry. Racing was all you could do, you didn’t have a backup plan. Your anger got the best of you and you were taking it out on those around you. Franco got the worst of it though wanting to do his best to help you, but all it did was make you feel pitied.
Things just kept spiraling from there, til you officially ended things with him.
It was the night after the F2 race in Monaco. You had been there the whole weekend, cheering on all your friends. You were making your way to see Franco but you were stopped by a journalist. You weren’t really in the mood to speak to a stranger but you decided it wouldn’t do any harm to stop for a minute or two.
The journalist was a young man, about your age and a bit taller than you.
“Hello, thanks for taking a moment to speak with me.”
You simply smile at him, still not feeling all that sociallike.
“I just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright.”“Sure. Hit me.”
“My first question is, how does it feel to have had to drop out of racing due to your crash back in Australia?”“Oh well, you know, it didn’t feel great. I’m super disappointed in my performance from that day and of course not being able to race again has been a big struggle. I miss it a lot, but there’s nothing I can do now besides keep going. I’m still gonna come to some of the races and cheer on and support my friends.”
“Amazing. Now, how does it feel to know you won’t be the next woman in Formula 1? To know that you’ve essentially let down so many women, young and old, with you leaving the sport?”
You were honestly baffled by that question. Why the fuck would he ask that? Who in their right mind asks that?
You seriously had no words, so you simply nodded your head and walked away.
When you reached Franco, he could practically smell the rage emanating from you.
“Amor, what’s wrong?” going to touch your arm, before you quickly pull away.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
Your shortness with him wasn’t new at this point, so he stayed quiet till you guys reached your flat.
Once you guys had walked in, he was quick to ask what happened at the track that led you to be stomping around with smoke coming out your ears. You told him everything that happened with the journalist, and he was nothing but sorry that something like that had happened to you. He knew how hard your transition was into a life without racing.
“Baby, I know things are hard right now, but we can figure it out. This isn’t the end.” Franco tried to reason with you. But all you could see was red, feeling an intense pressure and heat in your chest.
“You don’t even get it. My career is over, everything I’ve worked towards is gone. I have nothing left.”
Your words hit Franco, like a knife. You had nothing left? What about him?
“There are so many things you can do. We’ll find something that works for you. Stop being negative and actually try.”
“Fuck you. I am trying, you don’t understand how hard this is. Everything’s working for you. Your life is perfect and amazing. Stop pitying me. I’m not a child.”
Somewhere in the chaos in your mind, you had lost all sense of where you were and who you were talking to. All you knew was that you were screaming everything you felt.
Your mind was racing, you weren’t making total sense.
After the race today and having dealt with you these past few months, he was tired. He wasn’t gonna coddle you and go easy on you anymore.
“Well you’re sure acting like one. You need to grow up. Shit happens and you have to deal with it. Not everything will work out in life, you just have to deal with it.”
“Easy for you to say. Your life is perfect and you have everything you want.”
“If I had everything I wanted, then I wouldn’t have a girlfriend who’s giving up. I’d have a better girlfriend.”
What? Did he really just say that? I hate when we fight, sucks when we fight.
“I can’t pretend I’m sorry, when I’m not sorry. All I’ve ever done was my best when it comes to you and us. Unfortunately your girlfriend is awful.”
You looked him in the eye one final time, “Get out. We’re done.”
“That’s it? You’re gonna give up so easily?” he lets out a huff, “Typical of you to give up, again. Let me know when you’ve grown up.”
With the slamming of the door, he was gone. That was the last time you saw him.
After a few days of radio silence from you, Franco felt abandoned. He’d already felt lost when you told him to leave, the second the door slammed closed, he almost went back in through the door to fix everything. It felt as if you didn’t care about his feelings, like he’d been cut a thousand times. Franco actually struggled to keep it together. He didn’t realize how much he needed you in his life. He didn’t realize how he depended on you, on your support, your touch and how it kept him sane and stable when everything around him was just pure chaos.
It was hard for him to race after that day. And words could never describe how his heart hurt when he got called up to F1, when he got a seat. He immediately thought of you, he was living your dream after all - he couldn’t even share the experience with you, you weren’t by his side anymore. You were gone.
Until now.
Since that day, you have been working on yourself. You were in therapy now and continuing school to become an engineer. You thought, maybe since you can’t be in the car, you could work around it or with it. Things had been looking better. You started to surround yourself with love and support from your friends and family.
You were on a work trip in Texas, helping a company work on a new up and coming project that could be innovative, when you got a call from an old friend. Oscar had seen through social media that you were in Texas, and invited you to see the race at COTA. When he initially offered the invitation, you almost didn’t go since you didn’t think it’d be a good idea, considering how you and Franco had left off. But it had been years, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You would be able to go and support the rookies and maybe make up with Franco.
It’s not like you didn’t feel love for him anymore. Maybe you two could work things out and get back to where you were. So you told Oscar you’d be at COTA.
“That’s great! I’m so glad you’ll be able to make it. It’s been so long and I’m sure Lily would love to see you too.” “Omg, I’m so excited to see her again! I’ve missed her so much.” “Yeah. So, I’m sure you’ve heard. Franco is driving for Williams for the rest of the season, so he’ll be at COTA. Will you guys be able to keep it civil if you run into each other?”
“I can. I’ve lived a lot and I’ve let the rain in since everything. It’s just a matter of how he’ll react.” “I’m not gonna lie, I think he’s been waiting for an apology from you. Er, at least he did for a while.” “Yeah, he deserves one from me. I was pretty shitty to him, I know that now.”
“I’m glad you were able to sort everything out on your end, hopefully you two can be friendly again.” “Maybe. I gotta go, Osc. Talk soon.”
“Talk soon.”
The amount of various feelings flowing through your body was making you physically shake. You were excited, nervous, happy, and everything mixed into one.
You pull up Franco’s contact, thinking it’d be better to reach out and arrange a meeting rather than bombarding him at the track.
You must have typed and deleted about 50 messages before settling on a simple “hey”
Franco didn’t expect to see your name show up on his screen. He chuckled bitterly at the irony of life, bringing you back onto his path after being the one to send him away. He doesn’t even know how he feels about you anymore.
“Hey” he replied
“How are you?”
“I’m okay. You?”
“I’m okay”
Three minutes pass, you simply just stare at the screen, not knowing how to proceed. You watch as three dots float on the corner of your screen.
“What do you want?”
Damn, harsh much?
“I was wondering if you wanted to meet up sometime this weekend? Oscar invited me to watch the race and I thought maybe we could talk. I think I’ve calmed down since the last time we spoke.”
“Sure. I don't know when exactly I’ll be available but I can text you closer to the weekend”
“That sounds good. Thanks for being cool about this.”
“No problem, see you soon.”
He was quick to cut the conversation. Maybe he's just busy. You decide to put your phone away and focus on some work stuff.
The weekend comes around quickly and you find yourself wandering around the paddock alone. You weren’t able to make it Friday, but at least you’re here for qualifying. You managed to get a few minutes with Oscar and Lando, catching up a bit before they had to get ready for qualis. You made your way to where you were gonna watch the race, texting Franco at the same time.
He was letting you know he’ll be able to meet up with you after the race today. You were so incredibly nervous because you wanted things to work out between the two of you. You missed him. He was your best friend, and you guess that was the worst part of losing him. If he just said when, you’d play again because you felt more in brief moments with him, than with anyone else.
You sat down and watched the qualifiers, screaming and cheering everytime one of your boys passed someone or did something impressive. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed this. Watching and cheering on your friends from the sidelines. It felt good to watch them achieve their dreams, even if you couldn’t reach yours. Franco ended up in P6, which was impressive considering he’s only raced a few times in an F1 car, and he’s in a Williams car.
After about 20 minutes, Franco texted you, letting you know to meet him in his driver's room. You made your way to his room after getting lost for about 8 minutes, when someone eventually felt bad for you and pointed you in the right direction.
You walked up the steps to his room, standing there for a minute, nervous about seeing him. It’s been about 2 years since you last saw each other. You wonder if he looks any different now. Of course you’d seen his pictures around, but sometimes the cameras don’t catch certain things. Like how his eyes are essentially a kaleidoscope of everything you’ve ever loved, how his nose crinkles a bit at the bridge when he’s happy.
Fuck it, enough stalling. You knock on the door and wait there for a response. After a minute, you don’t hear one so you assume you didn’t knock loud enough. You raise your hand to knock again when the door swings open. When it opens, your eyes quickly find his.
He looks deep in your eyes, trying to find a glimpse of the past in them, a recollection of the memories you shared together, but it’s like you’re not there anymore. Sure, you’re standing right infront of him, but the you that he knew, the one he fell in love with, is missing.
“Hey” he said softly.
“Hey”
You two stood there in silence for a moment, sort of processing that you’re seeing eachother again in person. As if your brains are trying to decipher whether this is real or a hallucination.
The silence breaks when Franco shakes his head and clears his throat,
“Come in.” he says, holding the door open for you.
You walk in, brushing past him.
The room is spacious, quiet, yet suffocating.
You walk to the middle of the room, feeling a bit self-conscious. Turning back to face Franco, you watch as he closes the door and turns his body to you.
“So’’ he says.
“So”
“What did you want to talk about?”
“I wanted to catch up, see how you’re doing. A lot has changed since the last time we saw each other.” you look down, swallowing a gulp before continuing, wringing your hands together, “I also wanted to apologize, for everything. The way I had acted all those years ago, especially towards the end. I wasn’t being fair to you and all you wanted to do was be there for me.”
“It’s fine.” he replies, leaning against a counter, crossing his arms over his chest, not giving you an ounce of emotion.
The burning sensation he feels in his chest now isn’t love anymore - instead it’s a mixture of pain and anger, feeling a riot form in his emotions. He’s wasting time on listening to someone who kicked him to the side without caring about how you had let him down when he needed you the most.
Well, you didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t that dry and short answer.
“That’s it? I came all this way to come and see you and apologize, and all I get is ‘fine’?!”
“I said ‘it’s fine’ actually.”
Why was he being like this? You get that you fucked up a lot and that you had hurt him, but if this was how he was going to act, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue this conversation.
“Why did you even agree to talking to me, if this is how you’re gonna act?”
“How am I acting?” “Like you don’t give a fuck. Like you just wanna gloat, see how badly I was doing. You don’t know how to step outside yourself.” “You think so little of me? It’s not my fault you can’t sit with the hard thing.”
“Well when the proof is in the pudding then yeah. Are you even sad about the fact that we don’t talk anymore? That all we had is gone?”
“I’m not the one who ended things, you were. You’re the one who ruined us.”
“I blew all my plans, just to get to talk to you today. I’m trying to fix everything that I broke but you’re not letting me.” “Maybe you aren’t trying enough.” he says as he pushes off the counter and walks towards you, stopping a few inches from you. Close enough that you can feel each other's breathing.
“Not trying enough? Or not enough for you? For your deluded self?”
“I’m not the problem here, especially considering I’m the one driving in F1.”
“I should be the one with this chance, not you! All you have is an inflated ego and your shallow thinking.”
“I was the one who worked my ass off to get here. I’m sorry you couldn’t join me in this like we had planned, but it’s not my fault that things fell this way.”
“I should be in your seat, not you!”
“No, you don’t deserve this seat. I actually put in the work to be here.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I earned my way through those races. I was one of the best.”
“Keyword: was.”
“You know that crash stopped me from driving. I can’t get back in the car.” “Can’t or won’t”
“Can’t”
“No, you’re just a fucking pussy. You’re too scared to get back in the car cause you know you can’t do it. You can’t amount to anything.You know that even if you get back in the car, you’ll never get a seat in F1.”
You stand there for a beat. You never knew he could be so mean. Maybe you brought it out of him.
It’s all your fault. You’re the problem.
You feel the tears threatening to spill. You take a breath before saying, “I thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose.”
He looks you up and down, lip twitching, “I guess I lied. I had the wrong idea about you.”
An all too familiar sight, his back, as he walks out the door, again, because of you.
You really thought you would get what you wanted. But what did you want?
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