#and now I have no strength to study for my exam on Friday

[anoonimthepoorchad]

Today was a messed up day for me, as well as for many people in Kyiv, as it began with an air raid at 3 A.M., and the loud sound of explosions followed by the sound of the air raid sirens. Those were 10 ballistic missiles russia sent to our city, ruining apartment blocks and causing fire. Everything happened so fast, it was impossible for anyone to run and hide in any kind of a shelter. Now I'm afraid to sleep in my bed at night.

Yesterday I enrolled in a blood donation event at my university, all by my own initiative. I always wanted to be a donor and I finally got a chance to try this out. But I was unprepared for the food restrictions and mostly stayed half-hungry for the whole day, as well as the following morning. It also took me a lot of energy to get to the university on my own, because of the sleepless night and the lack of nutrition.

Mostly the people who were donating blood were the kids from the military department of our university, I guess it was compulsory for them to take part in this event, while I came on my own choice. I did the needed tests, got my blood type and pressure checked, drank some sweet tea and went to the classroom to have my blood drawn.

I'm not the type to be afraid of blood, nor was I forced to come here. I even argued with my grandma over me choosing to donate blood when some of my other relatives had problems with this before. Everything was fine until the very end, like 2 minutes before the needed level was reached. My body decided that hunger, tiredness and all the stress I've been under these days was enough and tried to make me unconscious. And when the doctors tried to help me, my stomach turned against my breakfast and ruined my sweater in the most embarrassing way possible. After that the pressure was normalized and I finished the donation without any complications, so I'm glad they didn't have to throw the whole portion of my blood out. The doctors made some jokes about hungry students (a funny stereotype in our culture) and made sure I had regained my strength before I went home.

The mobile service is yet to come back, so back then I only told my parents that everything was over successfully and went home, where I had a good amount of rest and washed my clothes. I still feel a bit lightheaded but mostly I'm very embarrassed. It's scary how it feels to succumb to your own body and I feel like I should have commanded it to obey and not to embarrass me in front of everyone. But I know that back then I barely understood what was going on around me, I had no power over myself at all. Still, next time I'll just make sure to eat well and to sleep well before donating blood. It just feels like I was a big child, helpless and dirty, and that I made a trouble for everyone. It ruined my happiness over finally trying to help my community.

[iron-niffler]

god im tired

[kskbli]

(x . x) ~~zzZ

25.04.2024 (1)

ive been at home since my last entry and i’m back on medication again afters 3 or 4 years

i visited my doctor last friday and ive been taking my meds since then . . .

i know it takes time when youre on antidepressants till they start working but since i started taking them ive been getting worse, it’s like my eyes are slowly opening and im starting to see how depressed i actually am

theres not a single day where i was able to wake up early the past days and it makes me so frustrated, because i want to wake up early! i want to go on walks in the morning! i want to see the sunrise! but my body doesn’t want to

i slept for 12h today and fell asleep again for 2h at 5pm i just don’t get it

doing the dishes or even the smallest thing like putting a plate back where it belongs seems like living hell for me

my apartment is so messy no matter how much i try to tidy it and when it’s tidy it feels empty and cold but at the same time i don’t have the strength to decorate it

i wish there was someone who could clean my apartment, do my laundry and make me food for once just so i don’t have to do something for a single day, does that make sense?

i especially feel bad for my cat . . . i haven’t played with her in so long, she loves going outside and i actually even bought her a harness so she could safely go outside with me but the weather has been super cold lately and when it’s sunny outside i don’t have the motivation to stand up

doing nothing all day, clenching my jaw, if my girlfriend wasn’t with me the last couple of days i would have forgotten to eat

i hope i get better till monday . . . my final exam in german is on the 2nd of may and as of right now picking up a piece of paper seems like too much work, i don’t even want to think about studying

i was thinking about what i should do and tried drawing or playing games but both just annoyed me, watching tv is annoying, cleaning is too much work and i’m not tired so i can’t go to sleep

22:38

[partnersrelief]

2023 GED Roll Call

Behind each portrait of the new 2023 GED students is a story of overcoming challenges and the impact of conflict to pursue the dream of completing their education.

Meet Thet Htar San.

"My name is Thet Htar San. My father gave me this name. I was born in peri-urban Yangon in 2006. I am 16 years old. There are 6 members of my family. As my father worked hard day and night, his sleepless nights increased and he began to suffer from severe headaches. Sadly, my father’s illness could not be treated in the best way and he died in 2009. After my father died, my family was in a lot of trouble because we had to borrow money from others to pay for my father’s medical treatment. My mother was dependent on her family. At the time, my mother was just 27 years old, my younger brother was 1 year old, my sister was 5 years old and I was 3 years old. My grandmother and my aunt supported us.

My aunt, grandma, and mother raised us from a young age to be well-educated and I attended middle school and high school in South Dagon Township. The way I grew up was very simple because I’m not from a rich community.

In 2022, I moved to Chiang Mai and am now studying at the SEED Center to take the GED exam. I am excited to attend the GED class! I am living here on a student visa which is very expensive. I live in an apartment and I cook by myself. Monday to Friday I go to school and Saturday and Sunday are my holidays. I study every day for 6 hours.

My English is not at the expected level for the GED, so I am working harder. I always practice, but writing and speaking are my weaknesses. Despite my best efforts, I am sometimes afraid to speak to others, so those two skills have become my weakness. That’s why I always study at home, trying to turn a weakness into a strength.

Now, I am trying to get the highest GED score. The GED teachers are very good, so I hope to get the best score and I will try my best.

After I finish the GED, I will attend university. My dream is to go to university in Europe. I want to study my favorite major internationally because the education abroad is so good. I want to study Botany and Paleontology as my majors. I want to be a doctor in the future."

We’re so grateful for all the ways your love in action is lifting up these students so their education is not stolen from them by conflict.

Donate Now.

[lifemantra]

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[creature-once-removed]

.

[fanficshiddles]

Losing Control, Chapter 21

‘Emilia Cooper, stay behind after class please. I need to discuss your work with you.’ Professor Laufeyson said firmly just before the end of the period.  

Emilia huffed, wondering what now. She hadn’t been cheeky at all during his class this time, as she was really stressed with some exams and the death of her parents’ anniversary looming…

When the rest of the class left, Emilia went to the front and stood on front of his desk, waiting.

‘Put your hand out.’ He said simply.

She raised an eyebrow at him, but did as he said and held her hand out, palm up. Loki reached over and placed something into her hand, giving her a squeeze in the process.

When she looked, she was surprised to see it was a key.

‘What’s this?’ She frowned.

‘A key.’

‘I can see that, but what for?’

‘My place. So you can let yourself in whenever you wish. Any time of the day or night.’

Emilia was a bit stunned, unsure what to say. Part of her wanted to cry, just at how sweet he was. He knew how stressed she was just now with everything, he had said last night he wouldn’t pressure her to be with him just now when she had so much on. But he wanted to be there for her, for whatever she needed.

This was his way of telling her: I am here for you, but I won’t suffocate you. You let me know when you need me.

‘Thank you, Loki.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m fine though, really… But this will be handy to sneak in and steal your food.’ She teased a bit, making Loki smirk.

She tucked it into her pocket, then was about to go round his desk to him but students started coming in for his next class.

‘I expect that work done by Monday, Miss Cooper.’ Loki said firmly, and loud so the first lot of students heard and didn’t suspect anything.

‘Yes, Professor.’ Emilia nodded then ducked her head and headed out.

Loki had some marking to do that evening and Emilia had lots of studying to do, so they didn’t see each other that night.

Until the early hours of Friday morning…

Loki was asleep until he felt movement in his bed, then he felt Emilia crawling into bed behind him, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her face into his back.

He took her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing her softly.

‘Couldn’t sleep, kitten?’ He hummed quietly.

‘No…’ He could hear the shakiness in her voice, and he felt some wetness when she pressed her face against his bare back.

Loki turned around so he could face her. He cupped her face and wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks. He tugged her in closer to him, arms tightly around her as he kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair.

He didn’t say anything, knowing there was nothing to be said. He just held her and stroked her hair until she fell asleep soundly in his arms.

In the morning he cooked her breakfast before they headed into Uni. At different times of course so as to not arouse any suspicion.

Loki knew she had a day full of exams, whilst he had an early finish due to no classes in the afternoon.

So he had another plan up his sleeve.

-

Emilia was exhausted, it took all her strength she had left to walk home after Uni finished. But then the thought of having to find something for dinner made her want to curl into a ball and cry. She just wanted to go to bed and sleep, but her stomach was rumbling as she had skipped lunch so she knew she should eat something.

She was confused when she got home to find her door was unlocked. Was she really that tired she forgot to lock it? Panic set in until she stepped inside and could smell something delicious in the air.

Loki popped out of her kitchen with a big goofy grin on his face.

‘Loki?’ She frowned, confused.

‘Hey, kitten. I know you’ve had another stressful day, so I decided to cook you dinner.’ He walked over and kissed her forehead, then helped take her jacket off.

‘Uh… Wow, thank you… Have you cleaned up in here?’ She said as she looked around, noticing her flat was a lot tidier than it had been when she left it.

‘Yes. Again, I know how stressed you are right now. Thought it would take something off your mind.’ Loki grinned rather cockily.

‘Housework is the worst. So thank you so much for doing that too.’ She smiled and hugged him tightly.

‘You’re welcome… I’m not all bad and scary, now, am I?’ He grinned and leaned back a little to look at her.

She shrugged and smiled more. ‘I dunno about that, you are still a bit scary.’ She teased, making him chuckle.

He gripped her chin and kissed her softly. Then slipped a hand down to her backside where he gave her a gentle squeeze.

‘I’ve ran a bath for you. Dinner will be another hour, so why don’t you go relax till it’s ready.’ He hummed over her lips.

‘Bloody hell, you’ve thought of everything.’ She giggled a little, making his heart soar.

‘I always do.’ He winked at her.

Emilia headed off to the bathroom to enjoy the bath. The hot water was nice lapping against her skin as she relaxed into it. She ended up so relaxed she almost fell asleep, but she fought to keep herself awake so she wouldn’t drown.

But then suddenly she had the thought of… how the hell did Loki let himself in?

Once she had washed and rinsed her hair, she got out of the bath and dried herself. Then put on her dressing gown and headed through to the kitchen.

Loki turned to see her with her hair wrapped up in a towel and her arms folded across her chest.

‘What’s wrong, kitten? Didn’t you enjoy your bath?’ He queried.

‘How did you get in here?’ She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Loki suddenly looked very sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. ‘I uhh… I stole your spare key a few weeks ago. For emergencies.’

Emilia’s eyes widened. ‘What? I wondered where that went, as I was going to give it to you after you gave me yours!’ She squeaked. ‘So you’re not only a persistent, pervy professor stalker, but you are a thief now too.’

‘I guess I am.’ Loki nodded with a smirk. ‘And do you have a problem with that, hmm?’ He prowled towards her, making her back up till she had her back to the wall.

‘I guess not, if you keep feeding me and giving me orgasms.’ She shrugged as Loki pressed against her with his body, trapping her.

‘I’m sure I can manage that.’ He chuckled and kissed her.

That evening after eating dinner, they snuggled up on the sofa with Emilia on Loki’s lap and watched a film. He didn’t initiate sex with her, he just wanting to comfort her. She was too sleepy for anything that would use up energy anyway, so she was glad for just a relaxed night too with lots of cuddles and affection.

-

On Saturday, Loki had more work to mark so he went back through to his place to do some work in his spare room, which he called his study. Though Emilia always teased him that it was just a spare room, nothing fancy.

He was a few hours in when he heard his door opening, he smirked, knowing it was obviously Emilia.

She walked in a little sheepishly when she found where he was. He saw she had obviously been crying, he turned to her and opened his arms out to her. ‘Come here, kitten.’

She rushed straight over to him and crawled onto his lap, straddling over him. He held her tight and rubbed her back softly as he kissed the top of her head repeatedly.

‘It’s alright, my sweet kitten. It’s all going to be alright.’

They stayed like that for a little while, hugging while he comforted her.

‘I unfortunately do need to do some work… But I get the feeling you need distraction too. So, why don’t you be a good girl and take off your leggings and panties, hmm?’ He said in such a seductive tone that Emilia didn’t know how she didn’t cum on the spot.

She slipped off his lap and did as she was told, while Loki unbuckled his belt and put it neatly to the side on his desk, then he unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out, stroking a few times till he was nice and hard.

Emilia’s mouth watered a bit when she eyed him up, but Loki turned to her and pulled her to stand closer. He pushed his hand between her thighs, making her part them a bit more for his access, and his long fingers began prodding around her sweet cunt, lightly stroking over her lips and dipping in slightly when she started getting more aroused.

‘Mmm, so easily aroused for me. Such a good girl.’ He purred as he slipped a finger up into her. He pulled his finger out after she moaned, and slid it up over her clit a few times, then pulled away. Making her whine in disappointment.

‘Come on, get on my cock.’ He patted his thigh again and helped her onto him, she gasped out loud as she straddled him and sank down onto his cock, his hands were firm on her hips to pull her down, not letting her ease up or take time to adjust as he filled her entirely.

‘Ohhh, yes. Suck a lovely cockwarmer.’ He growled and his cock twitched inside her, making her mewl in delight.

She was about to start moving on him, but he swiftly smacked her bum.

‘Did I say you could move, kitten? Hmm?’

‘N… No… Sorry, Sir.’ She trembled, slightly surprised at the telling off. But it aroused her to no end.

‘You do as you’re told and keep still. Your job is to keep my cock warm while I mark this work. Can I trust you to do that without any trouble? Hmm?’ He asked as he gripped her chin roughly, making her look at him.

‘Y… Yes, Sir.’ She whimpered.

Loki pressed a kiss to her lips, gave her some praise and then tucked her head to his shoulder so he could shift the chair closer to the table again, the movement making her moan. He smirked cockily as he picked up his pen and continued doing his work with her draped around and on him.

But her hands began to wander at the base of his neck, then through his hair and she tugged lightly a few times. Deliberately trying to get a reaction out of him.

And hell, she got a reaction. But not what she had been hoping for. Her wrists were swiftly grabbed and tugged behind her back, where he used his belt to tie them together at her lower back.

‘Sir, that’s not fair.’ She whined and pouted, she tried bouncing a bit on him. But that earned her a really hard smack to the bum, almost making her jump off him entirely.

‘FUCK!’ She yelped out, of course that caused her to get yet another smack.

‘SIR!’ She snarled at him.

‘I said, behave. No more whining.’ Loki said firmly, squeezing her cheeks together roughly as he gripped her face.

‘But how am I supposed to just sit here on your cock? It’s not fair!’ She whined again, even with her cheeks squished together.

‘I warned you, no more whining.’ He released her cheeks and opened the top drawer of his desk, she tried wriggling again, but he clamped his other arm firmly around her and dug his fingers in, making her halt her movements.

Her eyes widened when he pulled out a ball gag.

‘Do you always keep weird things in your drawers?’ She smirked as he brought the gag up to her face.

‘Always for emergencies when my kitten is being a brat.’ He smirked and narrowed his eyes at her, then pressed the gag to her mouth. ‘Open.’

She shook her head defiantly and kept her lips tightly shut.

Loki wasn’t going to let her get away with it that easily. He used full force of his swing and smacked her ass again, making her howl in agony. And it had the desired outcome as she opened her mouth so he could shove the ball gag in place. Then he tied it behind her head, making sure not to catch her hair in it.

She snarled at him through the gag, only making him laugh in amusement.

‘I will have obedience from you, kitten. Whether I have to forcefully take it or not.’ He growled and thrust his hips up, making his cock nudge deeper into her. Her eyes rolled back and her forehead fell against his shoulder.

In the position they were in, he was incredibly deep inside her, it felt far too good. But it was also SO torturous as she wasn’t allowed to move.

‘Now, you will sit silently and cockwarm me as I work.’ He said firmly and kept an arm clamped tightly around her waist, keeping her lodged down on him.

Whenever she attempted very slight movements, grinding down against him or squeezing her inner muscles, she would get a very sore swat to the backside. So she soon learned and just whimpered through the gag against his shoulder.

It was absolute torture, and he kept her like that for best part of an hour, until he was finished with his marking.

Then he leaned back and tilted her face up, she was drooling from the gag, such an erotic sight that she actually felt him harden even more within her, making him feel deeper than ever, if that was even possible.

‘Oh, kitten. Such a pretty sight, all frustrated and just desperate for some movement.’ He cooed and traced his fingers lightly over her features on her face, her skin tingled at his touch.

‘Do you want to cum?’

She nodded desperately, eyes pleading with him.

‘I supposed I could allow it.’ He twitched within her, making her tremble.

He held her hips firmly and began moving her around on his cock, still keeping deep so she could feel that really deep pressure building up. His pubic hair was scratching against her exposed clit, sending her hurtling towards the edge she craved.

And it didn’t take much for either of them. As soon as she started cumming on his cock, he came too and filled her up.

Loki panted hard and bit down on her shoulder, while she shuddered on his lap and was extremely sensitive. When he’d cum, he didn’t pull out though. She did feel him go slightly soft inside her, but he remained there.

‘Ohhh, kitten. So wonderful you are.’ He took the ball gag out of her mouth, she breathed in deeply, glad it was out. Her jaw was a little bit achey as she had never had anything in it for that long before.

Loki reached up and gently massaged her jaw. ‘Sore?’

‘Just a little.’ She shrugged and placed her head on his shoulder again.

She could already feel him growing a little harder inside her again, her walls fluttering around him in the aftermath of her orgasm helping him along.

‘Thank you.’ She whispered and nibbled on his shoulder. ‘For distracting me.’

‘Any time, kitten.’ He smoothed his hand up and down her back softly, just enjoying the moment of peace with her. While they were still joined in the most intimate place.

‘I… I thought I would be ok. Normally I am… Though sometimes I stay with Sky for a few days. But I think each year it gets harder, not easier. I don’t know why. But I just, let my mind get the better of me when I’m alone it seems.’ She opened up to him.

‘It’s bound to be a difficult time, darling… You know you can just stay here for the rest of the weekend, you don’t need to come and go. Unless that’s what you prefer. It’s entirely up to you.’ Loki said softly.

‘I’d like that.’ She smiled against him. Then she leaned back a little to look at him, her forehead was all sweaty and so was his.

‘I uhm… I always go lay fresh flowers on their graves. Would you… Would you come with me tonight?’ She asked, feeling a little shy about asking that for some reason.

But Loki smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Of course I will.’  

[hxseok-honee]

sundress || part 23

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 23] || say it back

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : [you always end up stickin’ to me // somehow, somehow] stuck with me x the neighbourhood

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_________________________________

Wednesday, 01 December, 7:16pm

“How’d you get in?” Y/n’s standing in the doorway to her bedroom, peeking her head out and seeing that Yoongi’s almost at the top of the stairs. He’d texted her that he was here, but by the time she’d found her slippers, he was already inside Gryffindor Tower.

“Some first year let me in… I think he was scared shitless by the fact that I’m a Slytherin and on the brink of death.” He’s not wrong -- the closer Yoongi gets to her door, the more she can tell how out of it he is. He looks pale, dark circles sitting under his eyes like bruises. Dragging his feet, he’s holding back a yawn as he finally comes to a stop in front of her.

“You studied hard today.” It’s a simple observation, made mostly on the basis of how heavy his bag looks, filled with textbooks and notes he’d probably had to beg Jin for. Yoongi only nods, finally letting out the yawn he’s been fighting.

“Who knew you actually had to do work in order to pass your classes?” He gets like this every finals season, cramming and pulling all-nighters to make up for his absolute hatred of consistent studying. Y/n had long stopped scolding him for it, only leaving him to sleep undisturbed for the first few days of winter break once all the exams were over.

With a smile of comfort, Y/n reaches for him, taking one of his hands in both of hers and pulling him with her into her room. Before he can step fully inside, however, he’s putting his other hand on the door frame to stop himself, shaking his head. She shoots him a look of confusion.

“You’re not coming in?”

He shakes his head again, stepping back to stand safely outside in the little corridor. Y/n moves toward him, confusion written all over her face. Yoongi grins fondly at her.

“It’s better if I don’t.” Y/n knows what he’s trying to say -- that he’ll only distract her from studying and would rather leave her to do her work in peace. She appreciates how considerate he’s being, but it doesn’t mean she’s not a little disgruntled.

“But you came in last night.”

“Yeah, I did. And this morning you were scrambling to do last minute review.”

“I would have done that whether or not you’d stayed.” She’s lying, and they both know it. Yoongi’s well-aware of Y/n’s meticulously planned study schedule. He knows how flustered she gets when she doesn’t stick to it, but he’d been unable to resist her invitation to stay the night after a whole day of cramming for his own exams. He’d missed her so much yesterday -- just as much as the day before and just as much as today -- so he’d given in, thinking of nothing but being able to hold her while he slept.

But when he’d seen how crazed she’d been this morning, pacing her room frantically while she’d tried to absorb the information in her notes, he couldn’t help but feel guilty that she’d stopped studying last night to come to bed. So he’d spent the day building his mental strength, reminding himself again and again that he couldn’t say yes to her tonight. No matter how much he wants to.

“I promised myself I’d let you study.”

Y/n pouts when he says it, and it takes all of Yoongi’s self-control not to step into her room and agree to stay the night again, if only to put a smile on her face.

“But I finished all the important finals today. Yesterday was my Herbology thing, and today I had Transfiguration, and those were the hardest ones. I just have Potions tomorrow, which won’t be too bad -- and we have Charms on Friday, so we have to study for it together, anyway!” She’s searching for excuses at this point -- they’d already agreed to study for Charms tomorrow night, so there’s no reason Yoongi won’t see right through her flimsy arguments. But she can’t help wanting to keep him here.

Even though she’d admittedly been a bit stressed this morning about her exam, all day she’d only regretted not being able to stay in bed with him longer. He’d looked so pretty sleeping peacefully in her bed and equally pretty when he’d woken up confused and frazzled that she was across the room instead of next to him. If she’s honest, he’s all she’s thought about today.

Yoongi tilts his head and eyes her while she tries to come up with a reason for him to stay, his chest swelling in endearment.

“The last two days, you were totally fine and I was the mess -- what’s up with you? Did you miss me or something?”

She nods right away, not even bothering to hide it anymore.

“Yeah, I did -- so you should stay.” She feels her face warm when Yoongi snickers, clearly amused by how forward she’s being.

“You know I can’t — but I’ll stay tomorrow night when we study. How’s that?”

Y/n sighs, nodding because she knows he’s right, that she won’t finish studying tonight if he walks through that door. But then she shoots him a look, because he’d walked all the way up the stairs from the library to her room just to not stay, and Min Yoongi is fundamentally opposed to unnecessary physical exercise.

“Why’d you come all the way up here, then? Just to say hi?”

Yoongi snorts, nodding as he steps in close to her.

“To say hi… and to get this.” Leaning in, he sets his lips on hers, inhaling deeply because he’d really needed this today. When she snakes her arms up and around his neck, he smiles, only angling his head to fit his mouth against hers more comfortably.

It takes him a minute, but he finally pulls away, only going so far that his lips are still brushing against hers when he speaks to her, almost breathless.

“Yeah… that’s definitely what I came up here for…”

Y/n smiles, rolling her eyes fondly at him.

“You walked up all those stairs for a kiss?”

“It was one hell of a kiss — I feel like I can keep studying now.” Yoongi can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes his chest when she leans her head forward on his shoulder and sighs, a quiet giggle slipping out.

“You’re an idiot.” He’s heard that line a million times, more often in the months they’d been pretending to date. But it warms him every time, because he knows she only says it when he’s making her smile against her will. When she can’t help but adore him. He’s quite fond of those three words, if he’s honest.

“I should go… you have to finish studying and get some sleep.”

Y/n lifts her head, frowning slightly. Yoongi leans in quickly, catching her lips just as she’s parting them to complain again. He kisses her once, and then again when she still looks like she has something to say. She opens her mouth one more time, but he can see that she wants to smile, so he knows she’s only pretending so she can get another kiss out of him. He gives her one anyway.

And then he steps back, prying her arms gently from around his neck and putting some distance between them — he can feel his willpower slipping away and he knows he needs to leave now before he ends up not leaving at all.

“I love you.” It comes out with the same tone he’d use to say goodbye, because he’s already backing away toward the stairs, but he’s waiting for a response before he fully turns and leaves. Y/n only leans against her door frame, watching him, so he stops. He refuses to leave until she repeats it back to him, something she’s clearly aware of, if the smirk on her face is anything to go by.

“Say it back, asshole.” He sounds so affronted that she can’t help but throw her head back and laugh, entirely amused by him. When she looks at him again, she sees that he’s feeling the exact opposite, a deadpan expression on his face while he waits.

She opens her mouth to echo the words back to him, because she’s not so terrible as to leave him hanging forever, but then she’s pausing. Because Hoseok’s words from Monday night are suddenly flashing through her mind.

Maybe you’re… actually attracted to him?

Y/n looks Yoongi over, taking in everything about him all at once — the way he’s standing, running his fingers through his hair while he shifts his weight back and forth on his legs. The way he runs two fingers over his collarbones, which he only does when he feels awkward. The way she can see the black ink of her name peeking through the white fabric of his uniform. The way his lips are just swollen enough from kissing her that she feels proud to have been the one to do that to him.

The way he’s looking at her right now, eyes full of bemusement because he’s wondering what she’s thinking about. He’s waiting patiently, because he really isn’t going to leave until she says it back to him. He never does. Just like he’s never left anything unfinished between them, always making certain, even if nothing else in their lives is going right, that at least they’re doing okay.

So, while she’s not quite sure what the difference between adoration and attraction is when it comes to Min Yoongi — while she’s not sure about Hobi’s speculation, that what she’s feeling is anything more than just the affection she’s always had for this boy in front of her — she is sure of one thing.

“Yeah… I love you, too…”

[imagine-loki]

Losing Control, Chapter 21

TITLE: Losing Control CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 21 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is your Professor at University.  RATING: M

  ‘Emilia Cooper, stay behind after class please. I need to discuss your work with you.’ Professor Laufeyson said firmly just before the end of the period.  

Emilia huffed, wondering what now. She hadn’t been cheeky at all during his class this time, as she was really stressed with some exams and the death of her parents’ anniversary looming…

When the rest of the class left, Emilia went to the front and stood on front of his desk, waiting.

‘Put your hand out.’ He said simply.

She raised an eyebrow at him, but did as he said and held her hand out, palm up. Loki reached over and placed something into her hand, giving her a squeeze in the process.

When she looked, she was surprised to see it was a key.

‘What’s this?’ She frowned.

‘A key.’

‘I can see that, but what for?’

‘My place. So you can let yourself in whenever you wish. Any time of the day or night.’

Emilia was a bit stunned, unsure what to say. Part of her wanted to cry, just at how sweet he was. He knew how stressed she was just now with everything, he had said last night he wouldn’t pressure her to be with him just now when she had so much on. But he wanted to be there for her, for whatever she needed.

This was his way of telling her: I am here for you, but I won’t suffocate you. You let me know when you need me.

‘Thank you, Loki.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m fine though, really… But this will be handy to sneak in and steal your food.’ She teased a bit, making Loki smirk.

She tucked it into her pocket, then was about to go round his desk to him but students started coming in for his next class.

‘I expect that work done by Monday, Miss Cooper.’ Loki said firmly, and loud so the first lot of students heard and didn’t suspect anything.

‘Yes, Professor.’ Emilia nodded then ducked her head and headed out.

Loki had some marking to do that evening and Emilia had lots of studying to do, so they didn’t see each other that night.

Until the early hours of Friday morning…

Loki was asleep until he felt movement in his bed, then he felt Emilia crawling into bed behind him, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her face into his back.

He took her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing her softly.

‘Couldn’t sleep, kitten?’ He hummed quietly.

‘No…’ He could hear the shakiness in her voice, and he felt some wetness when she pressed her face against his bare back.

Loki turned around so he could face her. He cupped her face and wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks. He tugged her in closer to him, arms tightly around her as he kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair.

He didn’t say anything, knowing there was nothing to be said. He just held her and stroked her hair until she fell asleep soundly in his arms.

In the morning he cooked her breakfast before they headed into Uni. At different times of course so as to not arouse any suspicion.

Loki knew she had a day full of exams, whilst he had an early finish due to no classes in the afternoon.

So he had another plan up his sleeve.

-

Emilia was exhausted, it took all her strength she had left to walk home after Uni finished. But then the thought of having to find something for dinner made her want to curl into a ball and cry. She just wanted to go to bed and sleep, but her stomach was rumbling as she had skipped lunch so she knew she should eat something.

She was confused when she got home to find her door was unlocked. Was she really that tired she forgot to lock it? Panic set in until she stepped inside and could smell something delicious in the air.

Loki popped out of her kitchen with a big goofy grin on his face.

‘Loki?’ She frowned, confused.

‘Hey, kitten. I know you’ve had another stressful day, so I decided to cook you dinner.’ He walked over and kissed her forehead, then helped take her jacket off.

‘Uh… Wow, thank you… Have you cleaned up in here?’ She said as she looked around, noticing her flat was a lot tidier than it had been when she left it.

‘Yes. Again, I know how stressed you are right now. Thought it would take something off your mind.’ Loki grinned rather cockily.

‘Housework is the worst. So thank you so much for doing that too.’ She smiled and hugged him tightly.

‘You’re welcome… I’m not all bad and scary, now, am I?’ He grinned and leaned back a little to look at her.

She shrugged and smiled more. ‘I dunno about that, you are still a bit scary.’ She teased, making him chuckle.

He gripped her chin and kissed her softly. Then slipped a hand down to her backside where he gave her a gentle squeeze.

‘I’ve ran a bath for you. Dinner will be another hour, so why don’t you go relax till it’s ready.’ He hummed over her lips.

‘Bloody hell, you’ve thought of everything.’ She giggled a little, making his heart soar.

‘I always do.’ He winked at her.

Emilia headed off to the bathroom to enjoy the bath. The hot water was nice lapping against her skin as she relaxed into it. She ended up so relaxed she almost fell asleep, but she fought to keep herself awake so she wouldn’t drown.

But then suddenly she had the thought of… how the hell did Loki let himself in?

Once she had washed and rinsed her hair, she got out of the bath and dried herself. Then put on her dressing gown and headed through to the kitchen.

Loki turned to see her with her hair wrapped up in a towel and her arms folded across her chest.

‘What’s wrong, kitten? Didn’t you enjoy your bath?’ He queried.

‘How did you get in here?’ She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Loki suddenly looked very sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. ‘I uhh… I stole your spare key a few weeks ago. For emergencies.’

Emilia’s eyes widened. ‘What? I wondered where that went, as I was going to give it to you after you gave me yours!’ She squeaked. ‘So you’re not only a persistent, pervy professor stalker, but you are a thief now too.’

‘I guess I am.’ Loki nodded with a smirk. ‘And do you have a problem with that, hmm?’ He prowled towards her, making her back up till she had her back to the wall.

‘I guess not, if you keep feeding me and giving me orgasms.’ She shrugged as Loki pressed against her with his body, trapping her.

‘I’m sure I can manage that.’ He chuckled and kissed her.

That evening after eating dinner, they snuggled up on the sofa with Emilia on Loki’s lap and watched a film. He didn’t initiate sex with her, he just wanting to comfort her. She was too sleepy for anything that would use up energy anyway, so she was glad for just a relaxed night too with lots of cuddles and affection.

-

On Saturday, Loki had more work to mark so he went back through to his place to do some work in his spare room, which he called his study. Though Emilia always teased him that it was just a spare room, nothing fancy.

He was a few hours in when he heard his door opening, he smirked, knowing it was obviously Emilia.

She walked in a little sheepishly when she found where he was. He saw she had obviously been crying, he turned to her and opened his arms out to her. ‘Come here, kitten.’

She rushed straight over to him and crawled onto his lap, straddling over him. He held her tight and rubbed her back softly as he kissed the top of her head repeatedly.

‘It’s alright, my sweet kitten. It’s all going to be alright.’

They stayed like that for a little while, hugging while he comforted her.

‘I unfortunately do need to do some work… But I get the feeling you need distraction too. So, why don’t you be a good girl and take off your leggings and panties, hmm?’ He said in such a seductive tone that Emilia didn’t know how she didn’t cum on the spot.

She slipped off his lap and did as she was told, while Loki unbuckled his belt and put it neatly to the side on his desk, then he unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out, stroking a few times till he was nice and hard.

Emilia’s mouth watered a bit when she eyed him up, but Loki turned to her and pulled her to stand closer. He pushed his hand between her thighs, making her part them a bit more for his access, and his long fingers began prodding around her sweet cunt, lightly stroking over her lips and dipping in slightly when she started getting more aroused.

‘Mmm, so easily aroused for me. Such a good girl.’ He purred as he slipped a finger up into her. He pulled his finger out after she moaned, and slid it up over her clit a few times, then pulled away. Making her whine in disappointment.

‘Come on, get on my cock.’ He patted his thigh again and helped her onto him, she gasped out loud as she straddled him and sank down onto his cock, his hands were firm on her hips to pull her down, not letting her ease up or take time to adjust as he filled her entirely.

‘Ohhh, yes. Suck a lovely cockwarmer.’ He growled and his cock twitched inside her, making her mewl in delight.

She was about to start moving on him, but he swiftly smacked her bum.

‘Did I say you could move, kitten? Hmm?’

‘N… No… Sorry, Sir.’ She trembled, slightly surprised at the telling off. But it aroused her to no end.

‘You do as you’re told and keep still. Your job is to keep my cock warm while I mark this work. Can I trust you to do that without any trouble? Hmm?’ He asked as he gripped her chin roughly, making her look at him.

‘Y… Yes, Sir.’ She whimpered.

Loki pressed a kiss to her lips, gave her some praise and then tucked her head to his shoulder so he could shift the chair closer to the table again, the movement making her moan. He smirked cockily as he picked up his pen and continued doing his work with her draped around and on him.

But her hands began to wander at the base of his neck, then through his hair and she tugged lightly a few times. Deliberately trying to get a reaction out of him.

And hell, she got a reaction. But not what she had been hoping for. Her wrists were swiftly grabbed and tugged behind her back, where he used his belt to tie them together at her lower back.

‘Sir, that’s not fair.’ She whined and pouted, she tried bouncing a bit on him. But that earned her a really hard smack to the bum, almost making her jump off him entirely.

‘FUCK!’ She yelped out, of course that caused her to get yet another smack.

‘SIR!’ She snarled at him.

‘I said, behave. No more whining.’ Loki said firmly, squeezing her cheeks together roughly as he gripped her face.

‘But how am I supposed to just sit here on your cock? It’s not fair!’ She whined again, even with her cheeks squished together.

‘I warned you, no more whining.’ He released her cheeks and opened the top drawer of his desk, she tried wriggling again, but he clamped his other arm firmly around her and dug his fingers in, making her halt her movements.

Her eyes widened when he pulled out a ball gag.

‘Do you always keep weird things in your drawers?’ She smirked as he brought the gag up to her face.

‘Always for emergencies when my kitten is being a brat.’ He smirked and narrowed his eyes at her, then pressed the gag to her mouth. ‘Open.’

She shook her head defiantly and kept her lips tightly shut.

Loki wasn’t going to let her get away with it that easily. He used full force of his swing and smacked her ass again, making her howl in agony. And it had the desired outcome as she opened her mouth so he could shove the ball gag in place. Then he tied it behind her head, making sure not to catch her hair in it.

She snarled at him through the gag, only making him laugh in amusement.

‘I will have obedience from you, kitten. Whether I have to forcefully take it or not.’ He growled and thrust his hips up, making his cock nudge deeper into her. Her eyes rolled back and her forehead fell against his shoulder.

In the position they were in, he was incredibly deep inside her, it felt far too good. But it was also SO torturous as she wasn’t allowed to move.

‘Now, you will sit silently and cockwarm me as I work.’ He said firmly and kept an arm clamped tightly around her waist, keeping her lodged down on him.

Whenever she attempted very slight movements, grinding down against him or squeezing her inner muscles, she would get a very sore swat to the backside. So she soon learned and just whimpered through the gag against his shoulder.

It was absolute torture, and he kept her like that for best part of an hour, until he was finished with his marking.

Then he leaned back and tilted her face up, she was drooling from the gag, such an erotic sight that she actually felt him harden even more within her, making him feel deeper than ever, if that was even possible.

‘Oh, kitten. Such a pretty sight, all frustrated and just desperate for some movement.’ He cooed and traced his fingers lightly over her features on her face, her skin tingled at his touch.

‘Do you want to cum?’

She nodded desperately, eyes pleading with him.

‘I supposed I could allow it.’ He twitched within her, making her tremble.

He held her hips firmly and began moving her around on his cock, still keeping deep so she could feel that really deep pressure building up. His pubic hair was scratching against her exposed clit, sending her hurtling towards the edge she craved.

And it didn’t take much for either of them. As soon as she started cumming on his cock, he came too and filled her up.

Loki panted hard and bit down on her shoulder, while she shuddered on his lap and was extremely sensitive. When he’d cum, he didn’t pull out though. She did feel him go slightly soft inside her, but he remained there.

‘Ohhh, kitten. So wonderful you are.’ He took the ball gag out of her mouth, she breathed in deeply, glad it was out. Her jaw was a little bit achey as she had never had anything in it for that long before.

Loki reached up and gently massaged her jaw. ‘Sore?’

‘Just a little.’ She shrugged and placed her head on his shoulder again.

She could already feel him growing a little harder inside her again, her walls fluttering around him in the aftermath of her orgasm helping him along.

‘Thank you.’ She whispered and nibbled on his shoulder. ‘For distracting me.’

‘Any time, kitten.’ He smoothed his hand up and down her back softly, just enjoying the moment of peace with her. While they were still joined in the most intimate place.

‘I… I thought I would be ok. Normally I am… Though sometimes I stay with Sky for a few days. But I think each year it gets harder, not easier. I don’t know why. But I just, let my mind get the better of me when I’m alone it seems.’ She opened up to him.

‘It’s bound to be a difficult time, darling… You know you can just stay here for the rest of the weekend, you don’t need to come and go. Unless that’s what you prefer. It’s entirely up to you.’ Loki said softly.

‘I’d like that.’ She smiled against him. Then she leaned back a little to look at him, her forehead was all sweaty and so was his.

‘I uhm… I always go lay fresh flowers on their graves. Would you… Would you come with me tonight?’ She asked, feeling a little shy about asking that for some reason.

But Loki smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Of course I will.’  

[1kook]

skirt chasers - drabble iii

this a skirt chasers drabble in case u couldn't tell uhhh here’s i and ii lol

summary; “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?” warnings; alcohol mention, tit sucking, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, uhh making out??? ratings; mature (18+) misc; educational abolitionist!jungkook, drunk jk, mentions of throwing up lol, jk is an anatomy frEAK, more skirts, more jk has questionable kinks wc; like barely 2k

notes; i wrote this in like 40 mins bc i couldn't stop thinking about STIMBO jk from skirt chasers and how cool he is enjoy xxxx also i barely rmr shit from anatomy bc it was the worst course of my life so pls bear with me

His first mistake is getting drinks with the boys. You like to think you know your boyfriend pretty well, know what he’s good at, where he excels, where he thrives, and well. Drinking doesn’t rank too high on the list.

Jimin calls a little past midnight. “Kook’s on the table,” he slurs into the phone, too loud and too sloppy for a Wednesday night phonecall.

“Ha?” you mumble back, rubbing your eyes until you see stars. The room is dark, practically spinning from how out of it you are. Chaeyoung is dead asleep in her room, so even whispering feels like a crime. “Where are you guys?”

Some bar on the south side of town, that strip where all the newly turned twenty-one year olds go to get wasted. Jungkook’s supposed to be studying for some big exam he has on Friday— at least, that’s what he told you —so it takes a few minutes of convincing on Jimin’s part until you’re shrugging your coat on, blindly navigating through your apartment for your keys and wallet. You briefly consider taking an Uber, but ultimately decide you’d rather get stabbed to death on a public bus so at least your family can sue the city afterwards.

Jungkook is indeed on the table, except the table has long since tipped over. So now he’s just sprawled across some dirty bar floor, puppy-soft head of curls spilling over his forehead. He’s so cute, so adorable. You want to kill him. “Up,” you command, channeling the strength of twelve football players to haul your beefy boyfriend off the ground.

“Baby,” he beams, looking at you but not actually looking at you. “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?”

You don’t even know what that means, can’t even question him, because then Jin is angrily yelling at you to cover his tab. You pay with a stiff middle finger, flail the three dollars in your wallet at him, before sweeping away your poor damsel in distress. “You’re supposed to be studying,” you huff, can’t even be mad when he stops to throw up in a bush outside the bar. You’re so embarrassed, pretend you don’t know him as you pull up the bus times on your phone.

He’s huffy by the time you get on the bus, sniffling against your neck as he cries about his common hepatic portal vein thing— you don’t fucking know.

Chaeyoung isn’t too impressed with you when you bring him home, dump him on the couch while she steals your AirPods from your room. “Explain yourself,” you demand, and his head rolls back.

“I hate school,” he complains, slaps a hand down against his forehead. You’re certain he’s concussed himself this time. Then he’s bending over, head held between his hands. “Wanna cry.”

You sigh, kneeling in front of him. “You’re almost done,” you comfort him, hand on the back of his head. He’s so sweaty, and smells like all his friends colognes at the same time. “You’re smart, baby, you can do this.”

Your words have the opposite effect, because then he’s rocking forward childishly, nearly rams your skulls together and kills you. He’s reached the point of his insobriety where he’s too sad and huffy to think, sadly leaning against your shoulder as if that’ll somehow solve all his problems. You doubt it will, but there’s really nothing much you can when Jungkook reaches this point, so you settle on softly patting the back of his head until the fool is fucking snoring against you.

Chaeyoung blesses you with her divine retribution the next morning by using up the last of your body wash, and then you’re left to deal with a hungover Jungkook on a Thursday morning. You’re pretty sure he had a class that morning, but he wakes up too late for you to even try to convince him to still go, and then he’s moping on your couch in last night’s clothes. You’re getting ready for your internship, blouse half buttoned, pencil skirt wiggled up to your waist.

“Abolish exams,” he mutters, numbly staring at the ceiling as you wipe his face with a cleansing towelette. He doesn’t seem remotely interested in the shower or the pancakes you made, which lets you know this is a much more serious issue than just a drunken episode. “Aren’t they stupid?” You nod. “Sure, test me on every damn thing we’re learning right now as if science isn’t always changing and I’ll have to keep learning anyway.”

He looks over at you, under-eye bags absolutely horrendous. “Tests are stupid,” you agree, and it seems to be exactly what he wants to hear as he sinks into your arms, face buried in your chest. “Too stupid for smarty-pants Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook groans, flops over you on the couch all smelly and gross. “They test you for memorization and not comprehension,” he adds, finally wiggling out of his stinky clothes.

With Jungkook, you can never tell where things are going. One minute he’s cursing the education system and the next he’s kissing along your neck in his rambling fury. “As if I these materials will somehow become nonexistent once I’m working,” he huffs, hands on your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, fingers digging into his biceps as he mindlessly kisses down the valley between your breasts. “Shit’s so fucking stupid,” he spits, bunching your skirt around your waist.

“Jeon—“

“I’m just trying to be a fuckin’ pediatrician, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, hastily undoes the front buttons on your blouse. Your black bra comes into view, heart pounding in your chest as Jungkook makes quick work of reaching behind and undoing it, pushing it away, and cupping your breasts in his palms. He guides one of your legs around his waist, tucks it around him as he gets to work raining down kisses on your tits. “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, pretty pink lips leaving smooches down your chest.

You bite down on your lip, watch through hazy eyes as those big doe eyes flick up at you, tongue swirling around your nipple. “N— Not tired anymore?” you pant, hands in his hair. It’s still dry and knotted from last night’s adventures, but you don’t mind. Not when Jungkook’s hard cock is flush against your thigh.

“Nah,” he confirms, rolling his hips forward against your core. Oh he was horny horny this morning. Or was he angry horny? You don’t care, either way you were winning. “I serenaded you last night, y’know?”

You snort, but it morphs into a whimper when he captures your rock hard nipple between his perfect teeth. “Not a serenade,” you whimper, fingernails running along his scalp, “if I’m not there.”

Jungkook leans back, lets you breathe for a second as he unbuckles the front of his pants, jeans pulled down around his thighs. And of course he’s hard as fuck by now; this was Jeon Jungkook you were dealing with. He could get it up and going in two seconds flat at the mere sight of your collarbones. “You were there,” he insists, capturing your hand in his all romantic like until you’re flustered and shaking him off. He levels you with a cheesy grin, presses your palm against his chest. “Here.”

You gag. “That’s disgusting.”

Jungkook laughs, all squeaky and airy because he’s never given a fuck about looking cool in front of you. His next words only prove your point. “Why? Don’t like being nestled against my left lung and esophagus, all sexy like?”

You roll your eyes, tug your panties aside to give him a full view of what his dorky anatomical talk has done to you. “Dick me down or go away,” you say, pointer finger nudging his chin up when he stares too long

He snaps his teeth at you, almost bites your finger, the fuckin’ weirdo. “Sassy today,” he teases, presses the tip of his cock against you. Both of you groan, watch as he glides himself up and down your folds, angry mushroom head pushing against your clit. “Always so wet for me,” he mumbles shakily, eyes zeroed in on your wet folds and how slick they feel against him. “Didn’t stretch you out again.”

“Yo— You’re mean about that anyway,” you pant, pulling him closer by those firm ass cheeks of his. “I can tell when you’re using me as a reference model.”

Jungkook gasps as if he’s genuinely scandalized by your claim, follows your wordless command and finally lines himself up with your quivering entrance. “I’m a hands-on learner,” he offers, his cheeky smile still on his face until he finally sinks into you and his features twist up all pretty. “Your pussy’s just so pretty, baby,” he grunts, hand on your hip.

Your face feels warm, from the pleasure that rolls over your body and the vulgarity of his words. “Shush now,” you say, try to sound strict and in command, but he’s got his other hand cupping your jaw, looking at you like you’re a goddess and not some dorky college student in their even dorkier internship uniform.

“Temptress,” he mumbles, pushes past your clenching lips until he’s flush against you, your walls spasming around his cock because he just feels so good. “Tried to sneak past me in that tiny skirt.” He draws back, lets his swollen head catch at the entrance before sliding back in, pace slow and sensual, too intimate for some random Thursday morning. “Little doll just needs to be fucked in the morning, doesn’t she?” A pitiful whimper catches in your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head with every glide of his dick back inside of you.

“N- Not my fault you have naughty eyes,” you whimper, hand coming up to bite at your knuckles as Jungkook continues to fuck you so sweetly. “Fuck.”

Jungkook ducks over you, wavy hair tickling your forehead as his hot breath fans across you. Smells like the mouthwash you made him take and hints of last night’s alcohol. “Can’t help it,” he husks, capturing your lips in his. Sloppy and wet, tongue clashing with yours as he guides you along, hips slowing to rhythmic ruts that have you moaning after each roll.

A few drawn-out thrusts later and you’re coming, body so sensitive this early in the morning, and it certainly doesn’t help that Jungkook looks like that (sweaty and worn, dark eyes watching you writhe beneath him). Surprisingly, it takes him a few more rushed thrusts before he follows, barely managing to pull out in time before his sparkling cum is splattering over your tummy and the skirt bunched around it. “No,” you whine, melting into the couch. “Jeon, this is my only one,” you complain, rubbing a hand over your eyes as if that’ll somehow make your legs work again enough to push him off.

Jungkook says nothing as he tucks himself back into his boxers, chest heaving from exertion as he crashes back onto the couch. “Liar,” he responds after a moment, out of breath and half asleep again. He’s still technically hungover. Hand lazily drawing circles on your knee as you sit up, wiggling your skirt back down. He gives you this indecipherable look. “I hid the other one under your dresser.”

You smack his arm. “Why the hell would you—“

He tackles you back into the couch, presses the stain into your skirt. It must feel gross against his naked tummy, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. “Makes me too horny,” he announces, pout pressed against your neck. “I had a teacher fantasy the other day. Did I tell you?” You roll your eyes, resigning yourself to this new life squashed beneath your boyfriend. “You were my high school anatomy teacher and I failed, so you made me stay after school for supplemental lessons—“

“That’s an abuse of power,” you point out, back to carding your hands through his now sweaty and greasy hair. “And you would never fail an anatomy class, that’s literally your comfort area of study.”

“Listen,” he stresses, lifts his head until he’s peering at you with these humongous Bambi eyes. “You spanked me and—“

“Go get my skirt.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[punkpoemprose]

Advent 2021: December 6th-  Virtual Chemistry Pt. 3

Universe: Modern AU/ College AU/ Cam Boy AU

Rating:  E (Explicit, this is filth)

Length: 3318 Words

Summary: Anna is a lonely college freshman who is just trying to get through her chemistry coursework and not totally embarrass herself now that she’s finally on her own. Kristoff is a master’s student, funding his degree through a combination of student teaching and weekends as CamKris, a camboy. Some fluff, some angst, and a whole lot of sex stuff.

Friday rolled around like it did every week. Students flooded into the classroom a full five minutes late or not at all, and Kristoff nursed his thermos of coffee like it could give him the strength to make it through the day. Really it just gave him enough caffeine to make it to his afternoon nap after he’d finished on campus for the day and could go back to his marvelously small, not-student-housing apartment across town.

He saw Anna drift in late as well, and while he was almost certain that was the norm for her, he couldn’t really be sure. He’d just started noticing her recently and he was already trying not to. He didn’t want to be unfair as a TA, and frankly he thought that being a master’s student attracted to a Freshman, even if she was just three years younger than him (he’d checked) was probably not the best idea he’d ever had, and he’d had some pretty bad ideas.

Class went by uneventfully, though he was pretty sure the guy with his hood up in the back row was excessively pregaming on vodka out of his hydroflask and that the girl with the aisle seat by the clock on the left side of the room was sending selfies with her boobs squished together for most of class, but as long as they were being quiet about it, he really didn’t care. The professor he’d been assigned to only had a couple rules for his class and they mostly boiled down to “if you bother other people I will have my TA kick you out, but if not this is your time and you use it however you want they pay me the same no matter what.” Kristoff respected that. He was a good professor, his lectures were educational, his office hours were well posted, and he didn’t make Kristoff do too much work beyond grading, handing out papers, and taking attendance.

He'd heard the horror stories about the professors who expected their TAs to teach the class while they napped. It was after hearing some others complain that he realized that despite the unfortunate way his assignment affected his sleep schedule, he hadn’t really drawn the short straw after all. Realistically it was a rather medium sized, average, run of the mill straw.

It could always be worse.

When the end of class came and students came up to complain about the grades they’d been given for their exams, he sighed as he watched Anna walk from the room. He’d wanted to thank her for the cookies and return her dish, but instead he was faced with two crying girls who were worried about the minimum GPA needed to rush some amalgamation of Greek letters in spring semester and a group of overachiever study buddies who wanted to argue points back from him. None of them really liked the answer of “I grade blind using a key given to me by the professor so it’s fair”, but blessedly the professor stepped in to insist they take it up with him in office hours.

Once he managed to collect himself and shove his things into his bag, he figured that the red head would be long gone. He’d thought that it would be for the best anyway, he could always just set the plate at her station before lab on Monday. It wasn’t as if she’d needed to talk with him about anything, and he knew that he was reading too much into her kindness anyway.

He’d thought he’d felt her eyes on him during class, but he supposed that it might just be because she was glancing around trying to stay awake. Plenty of students did that, and he’d once or twice been given the great joy of watching them shift their eyes madly around the room in a bid to stay awake. He could understand the necessity. While he was usually engaged in some grading or other work, full of coffee, and actually enjoyed chemistry, he knew that basic gen chem wasn’t the most engaging lecture and that it being at 8am wasn’t the most conducive to rapt attention.

When he spotted her leaning against a pillar outside of the chemistry office, headphones in and staring at her phone he did a double take. The office wouldn’t open for another half hour, and while he supposed that she could be waiting for the professor, to ask a question or to follow him to his office, he thought for a half a second, heart racing, that maybe she was standing there waiting for him. He dismissed the thought and huffed out a breath, continuing down the hall towards her and the office. He was determined to use his key, drop off the paperwork he needed to hand in, hand her the plate in his bag and then walk away.

Anna, however, seemed to have very different thoughts about the matter because as he approached, she looked up from her phone and smiled broadly. It was all he could do to keep his heart from racing out of his chest as he took that grin in. She was like bottled sunshine, all brightness and warmth even so early in the morning. She could just turn it on, even though he’d just watched her stare disinterestedly at her phone like she was about to fall asleep standing, and that was a skill he thought he’d never be able to master.

He almost looked over his shoulder to see if anyone else was behind him, but he didn’t. It felt nice to let himself pretend that she was happy to see him.

He smiled back instead, knowing that it probably looked a bit flat compared to hers. He couldn’t bring himself to turn to see if it was a grin meant for someone else because, despite everything, he wanted her to smile at him like that.

Thinking she’s cute was enough of a problem. Now I want her attention. I’m a glutton for punishment.

“Hey!”

He did look back behind him then, checking to see if she had been waiting on a classmate and was greeting them, but when he saw no one and turned to see her still smiling at him, he tried to pull himself together.

“I… uh… Hi Anna.”

She looked like she wanted to laugh, and he had to admit that if he were her, he would laugh. He was painfully awkward outside of a classroom setting, and he choked the minute the pretty girl he’d just been thinking about said hello to him. He could hear his sisters laughing at him from miles away.

He cleared his throat, mentally shaking off the fact that he was star struck by her smile and surprised to know that she was saying hello to him after all.

“Can I help you with something?”

She sighed, “Probably not. I was waiting on the secretary because I saw a flyer about tutoring appointments, and it said to see her to set them up. I didn’t realize the office didn’t open for another half hour… I mean why would you have classes so early that the office isn’t even open, right? But yeah it didn’t make sense for me to walk back to my dorm just to turn around and…”

He heard her out, wondering why she was looking for a tutoring session anyway, given that from what he could tell she was doing well enough. He hadn’t looked at her grades, he could, but he never did, and normally he remembered the bad grades at least, so he figured that she must be middle of the pack if not better.

“Why do you need a tutor?”

She looked up at him like she was surprised that he’d asked, and he was already kicking himself for making him tell her why she was seeking out help. He supposed it was well within his job description to ask though, he was being paid to support the professor and to aid students. He tried to tell himself that he wasn’t asking because he wanted to continue this conversation with her by whatever means possible.

“Well the last two lectures have gone completely over my head and normally I can watch some videos on youtube or something and get it, but this time I’m still lost so I think I need some one on one assistance.”

“I can do one on one.”

She flushed and so did he. There were literally hundreds of other ways he might have phrased that better.

“I… I mean no one ever comes to my office hours anyway and I have to hold them so if you want, I can help you work out the last couple lessons. It’s part of my job anyway and then you don’t have to pay for a tutoring session.”

She looked up at him like he’d just said something in French, like she understood a few words but that the sentence was lost on her. He thought that it was at least better than leaving the statement the way it had been before. The last thing that he needed was for her to wait it out and tell the department secretary that he’d invited her for some “one on one time”, especially when the truth was that he did think he’d like some one on one time with her. She was beautiful and thoughtful and even though he shouldn’t be spending any time outside of professional bounds with her, it was a very grey area given that they were both students.

He reached into his bag and handed her the plate he’d been carrying, deciding that if nothing else, having handed it over to her meant that if she wasn’t interested in his help, he could make a clean get away. Achieving that, he thought he might manage to devote the rest of the semester to pretending he didn’t think she was gorgeous. It would be next to impossible of course. Even with the best of intentions behind the attempt he could recognize that it would fail miserably.

He hadn’t had a crush since the fourth grade when a girl on the playground had picked him first for kickball. She’d moved away a week later which was the extent of his entire romantic history. He was good at being alone.

She took the plate from him, her fingers brushing against his as she looked between him and the object.

“You returned it?”

It was his turn to be confused.

“I… yeah? I washed it when I finished the cookies and stuck it in my bag to bring it back to you. I know most people only have a couple plates in their dorm rooms so I wanted to be sure you got it back.”

She flushed again, further confusing him, as she tucked it into her backpack in return. She took her headphones out of her phone and added them to the bag before she pulled it back onto her shoulder and looked at him expectantly.

“So, you and me… when do we start? The tutoring thing I mean…”

He couldn’t help but grin at her.

“Well I mean… I’m not free tonight or tomorrow morning or Sunday evening… but middle of the day today or evening tomorrow is an option. I have office hours on Monday, but I’m happy to work with your schedule.”

“How about now?”

He swallowed. She was giving him that smile again, the one that she’d given him when she’d spotted him walking her way, the one that said that she was happy to see him.

“Now? Like right now?”

She shrugged, “Why not? I skipped breakfast because I was running late, so maybe we could start in the café downstairs? My treat?”

He thought about his schedule for a minute, mostly deciding that the work he’d planned on doing before spending most of the afternoon and evening psyching himself up for the terrible work decision he’d made, was something he could push to tomorrow morning when he needed to take his mind off the terrible work decision he’d made. He wanted to go with her. He wanted to take her up on her offer and help her and maybe get a few more of her smiles.

I’d move the Earth and stars for another one of those smiles.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” he said, deciding that it really couldn’t hurt, “You don’t have to treat me though.”

“Too late,” she said, walking along ahead of him, “My treat and if you don’t pick out something, I’m just going to buy a little bit of everything because I don’t know what you like. So yeah, that’s your advance warning.”

***

He’s smart.

She already knew that of course. You kind of had to be smart to be a grad student let alone a teaching assistant and a lab facilitator. What she hadn’t expected was the way it was all so effortless to him. He opened her textbook, did a quick buzz over the section that they’d been learning about that week, and pulled out a notebook and marker to start drawing out some molecules.

“So you know that when atoms bond to form molecules they have to share electrons, so there’s two main kinds of molecules, nonpolar molecules that share their electrons evenly…”

He pointed to the drawing he’d made on the paper and then reached across the table to grab one of the three muffins she’d bought, which he then tore in half and took one end of.

“But polar molecules don’t share evenly. One gets all the negative charge, and the other winds up positive.”

He took the other half of the muffin and she couldn’t help but giggle when he ate both pieces and washed them down with coffee.

“I’m amused that the absence of muffin makes me positive in this analogy,” she said, unable to help herself. She had never really thought of chemistry as something she could enjoy talking about. She wasn’t sure if it was the muffins and coffee improving the situation or whether it was him, but her money was on it being him.

“Well if the muffins are electrons it makes sense, right? Plus you seem like you’re a lot more positive than I am anyway.”

She blushed at that but tried to keep herself focused. Not only did she really need to focus on the work, they were also in semi-public. The last thing she needed was a rumor to fly around that Anna Arendelle, the girl with no friends, was trying to get into her TA’s pants. She could imagine it now, everyone in her dorm whispering behind their hands, Oh it’s so sad really, she’s just so desperate.

It would hurt, even though it was true. She was desperate. She knew that she was desperate for friends, but also, she knew that this, the way she felt around Kristoff, was more than that.

It’s just a little crush. Keep your calm Anna.

“Oh, I don’t know about that…,” she said with a huff, “I can be pretty negative.”

He gave her an odd look and she glanced back at the drawing he’d done to refocus herself. Maybe some day she’d be able to look back on her college years fondly. Maybe everyone had a rough first semester that had them constantly feeling sorry for themselves.

“So a carbon oxygen triple bond is a polar molecule, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, his focus returning to the work at hand for which Anna was grateful, “An O2 molecule would be nonpolar because they share the electrons equally between the two oxygen atoms, but carbon and oxygen don’t share equally making the carbon end positive and the oxygen end negative. Keep in mind we’re just talking about diatomic molecules right now, it’s going to get harder when we move on to larger molecules next week.”

She groaned and took a muffin for herself, eating it probably too quickly. It tasted sweet on her tongue though, and it was a comfort.

She’d gone to finishing school when she was younger, a dying industry that she’d just about killed. She could imagine her teacher Madame Gerda having a heart attack seeing the way she slammed her coffee to wash down the muffin she’d all but inhaled. University was no place for the social graces of a high society lady, not that she’d even been close to high society since her parents passed away.

Ladies take small bites. A lady never stuffs her face. Ladies sip. A lady never “chugs” like a ruffian.

“It’s alright,” he said, “You’re going to do just fine. You ready for me to talk about dipole-dipole force or do you need me to go back over what we just talked about?”

He was a very good teacher. She’d always liked the way he’d explained things in lab, though she was beginning to suspect that it might have more to do with the fact that she liked his voice a lot. If she thought it wouldn’t make her the biggest freak on the planet she would just close her eyes and listen to him talk for a little while. The familiar sound of his voice still confused her, but she wanted to wrap herself in it like a blanket. She wanted it against her ear, against her throat, murmuring things relating to an entirely different type of chemistry.

She swallowed hard and tried to think about the stern voice of her etiquette teacher again.

Ladies do not think about coitus at brunch.

She was worse than she thought. Maybe the madame would hunt her down to sew a scarlet A to her shirt and she’d be done with it.

“Anna?”

She had been staring into space, and Kristoff had taken notice.

“Sorry… I, um… what were you saying?”

She could feel herself blushing, but he was polite enough not to focus on it or point it out. She was able to pretend that maybe he just hadn’t noticed. It was impossible that he hadn’t of course. She was so pale, and her hair being so red meant that every blush had her lit up like beacon.

“It’s alright,” he said for the second time, “I was just wondering if you needed me to go over anything again before we moved on.”

She let out a sigh and let herself just feel the emotions that came along with his attention for a moment. She was starved for it, and allowing herself to pretend that his focus on her was more than just about lessons helped her calm down.

Maybe at the end of the semester, as long as he isn’t going to be my TA again, we could hang out or something.

She thought of the girls on her floor again, how obviously desperate she was for connection. She shook it off, returning her focus to Kristoff.

She was pretty sure that she understood everything so far, but she also wished that she hadn’t, just to listen to him explain it again. She could listen to him talk all day, even about something as boring as chemistry.

“Yeah. I think I’m good. It makes sense now, thank you.”

He smiled, a small, shy thing that was there and gone in a flash, like he was glad he’d done well.

“Okay, so dipoles are like magnets. They want to bond because of the opposite charges on either side of each molecule…”

She did her best to focus on the task at hand, and not on his arms when he rolled up the sleeves of his button-down. The fabric bunched above his elbow, and she noticed the way it strained against his biceps. Even his forearms were toned and so much larger than her own. She imagined that arms like his were plenty strong enough to pin her to a wall.

Ladies do not imagine being ravished by their chemistry tutor.

She’d long since decided that being a lady was an incredibly boring way to go through life.

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch2)

Read on AO3

Jamie was sat, feeling maudlin and staring into the depths of his pint after a particularly difficult day. If Jenny had been beside him, she’d tell him to wise up and be grateful for the situation he was in. But he still wasn’t used to being so far from home, away from his parents and Lallybroch. He wouldn’t let himself say it out loud but he even found himself missing the tinny aftertaste of a pint of Tennents that he had yet to find on sale south of the border.

He knew his parents were over the moon about his acceptance into Oxford, how could they not be? Jamie had walked around Broch Mordha with his mother and father a few days after he’d received the happy news and found that the standard twenty minute scoot around the shop was considerably stretched out to allow his parents to stop and boast to every person they could about their youngest son’s achievement. Jamie had smiled sheepishly and thanked people for their well wishes but if he was being entirely honest, there was a knot in the pit of his stomach every time someone mentioned him leaving home.

Jamie tried not to let his nerves get the better of him as he settled into his new home those first few days. It wasn’t just that he stuck out like a sore thumb as the 6’ 4 red headed Scot that was almost as broad as he was tall. It was the fact that the people seemed to be looking at him funny. He made the mistake of asking someone for directions and ended up on the receiving end of a joke about his accent, the man making a mean comment about Jamie being asked to join Oxford University as some attempt to reach whatever entry quota of undergraduates hailing from underprivileged backgrounds. It didn’t matter that he was there on the merit of his exam results that he had worked his arse off for, the same as everybody else. Jamie Fraser was a working class lad from the Highlands, not some self-entitled Etonian arsehole whose father knew somebody who knew somebody. He was surrounded by future Lords and Dukes and he knew that if he heard the words ‘titan of business’ again, he was going to have to start cracking some overprivileged skulls.

And so he sat in The College Bar on a Friday night, hidden away in the corner upstairs where he could sit in peace and brood over his very fortunate situation that he didn’t feel so fortunate about. The only thing that he made the whole thing worthwhile was the girl who lived a few doors down from him in Merton College.

The first time he saw Claire Beauchamp she was fighting a losing battle with a cardboard box that looked like it had already taken a few bashings. Jamie had moved into his dorm a few days prior and was out that morning in an attempt to scout a route for his morning runs. He was keeping a close eye on his AppleWatch, making sure that his heart rate was staying in the optimal zone when he encountered one of the more colourful expletives he’d had the pleasure of hearing before.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!”

His head swivelled on his neck and his eyes landed on her.

Her long arms were wrapped around the box, trying to keep it steady on a propped up knee while the glaring at the taxi driver who was stood fiddling with his phone rather than helping the poor lass. Irritated at the absence of chivalrous manners, Jamie jogged towards the car to offer help.

“Are ye managin’? Here, let me,” he moved to her side and grabbed the next box, lifting it without thought and immediately straining as gravity worked quickly against him. “Christ, lass, what have ye got in here? Rocks?”

“That one contains books, laddie,” she spat back in frustration at him, trying her hand at matching the Scottish brogue and failing miserably. Jamie found it utterly adorable and couldn’t help but smile as he placed the box on the pavement and unloaded the next one which was thankfully much lighter. After wrangling her suitcase from the boot of the car, he tried not to watch the delicate movement of her limbs as she paid the fare.

Trying to pretend that he hadn’t been avidly watching her, he faked a jump of surprise as she thrust her hand towards him, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

He liked her instantly. He found himself thinking, who the hell introduces themselves with their full name anymore? What an interesting wee thing she was.

“James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,” he returned the gesture, shaking her small hand in his large one, damning the tough skin of his calluses for keeping him from feeling the exact texture of the soft skin of her palm.

“That’s too many names.”

“What?” The question burst out of him in an exasperated laugh. “No, it’s no’. ’Tis the number of names my parents gave me and if ye want tae live a good long life, Sassenach, ye winna get intae the bad books of my wee ma.”

“What’s a… sassanatch?” Her head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“Sassenach,” he corrected her pronunciation with a wry smirk. He knew that if he tried to give her anything but the truth, she would see through him in an instant so he decided to answer honestly. “It means ‘outlander’.”

She snorted at him and rolled her leopard eyes into the back of her skull.

“Sorry to break it to you, Toto, but I have a feeling we’re not in Scotland anymore.”

“Now that I am painfully aware of,” he sighed, sending a cursory glance around the quad that they were standing in and almost willing it to magically transfigure itself into the hills of his home.

“Not enjoying it so far?”

“Jus’ takin’ me a while tae get used tae it, naebody spiks tae ye here. Said hullo to the man in the shops and he looked at me like I’d twa heids.”

He was putting it on a bit, thickening his accent to amuse her but he was delighted to see that it was working. She laughed, looking at her feet and then sighing at the boxes that he had stacked into a neat pile on the pavement. She looked wistfully at them and cast a sideways glance at the man in front of her, an idea forming in her mind.

“Rather large, aren’t you, Fraser?”

He grinned wolfishly at her, “That I am.”

“What if I make you a promise to say hello to you every time I see you? In exchange for a small favour?”

“And what would that be?”

“Help me to my room with my things?” She sent him a dazzling smile to try and convince him but he had already resigned to himself that his morning workout had changed from cardio into upper body strength training.

“Wisnae going tae let ye carry these yerself, I’m no’ that cruel,” he smirked as she triumphantly pulled out her phone, bringing the information of her dorm up on her screen.

“You’re a saint. I’m staying in Merton, you wouldn’t happen to know where that is?”

He tried not to look too enthusiastic as he felt the universe click things into place, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

And that day was the first day of their story together. With Claire holding open doors, Jamie managed to get her boxes to her dorm in three trips and they bantered the entire time, her quick wit shining from her and almost doubling him over with laughter at one point. Without really making an effort to do so, they seemed to find themselves in each other’s orbit more often than not, walking to lectures together despite chasing completely different degrees and finding that they enjoyed the same very specific spot in the library that offered the most sunlight with the least amount of noise. He surprised her the first time he appeared with the correct number of sugar packets for her to dump into her coffee and he beamed when she peeled the gherkins from her burger and dropped them onto his plate, knowing that he would eat them for her. They came to know each other, slowly showing the parts of themselves that not many people were allowed to see. She banged on his door in the late afternoon after a particularly bad seminar and his hand found the perfect purchase against her shoulder as she laid her head on his and cried, admitting to feeling overwhelmed and burnt out in such a competitive environment. In turn, he let her in on his feelings of inferiority which she quickly shot down, telling him that he was not only the smartest person she knew but the kindest and that was no small thing. Soon enough, they were practically inseparable, both having their own friends but somehow always ending up in each other’s company. Jamie began to relax into his life in Oxford, knowing that as long as he could do it with Claire, well, it might not be so bad.

“Nice to see you didn’t wait for me, Fraser,” she puffed as she sat herself down on the stool across from him at their usual table in the pub, unwinding her long scarf from around her neck as she greedily eyed the pint that was sat waiting for her. Claire took a long drink before setting it down again and sighing heavily as her fingers, stiff and bright red from the cold, attempted to undo the buttons of her coat.

“Ye call me and tell me tae meet ye in the pub in ten minutes and then ye show up half an hour after. What am I meant tae do, just sit and stare at the ‘hing?” Jamie muttered in response, not meeting her gaze as he picked at a piece of dried candle wax that had dripped and solidified on the table. He had been studying in his room when she had called, demanding that he meet her and even though he would rarely say no to her, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t let her stew for a bit. Trying to hide a smirk, he pulled his eyes up to see her face, immediately regretting his teasing. “Sassenach? What’s worst wi’ ye?”

“It’s nothing, it’s-“ she finally managed to pull her arm free of her coat only to thrust it deeply into her pocket, retrieving her phone and staring at it with a furrowed brow. “Bloody bastard, he hasn’t even text me.”

His ears pricked up at the mention of a ‘he’ but Jamie kept his mouth shut, raising his pint glass to his lips to stop himself from blurting out all the questions that were brewing behind them.

“Why are all men total pricks, Jamie?” She took a deep drink from her own glass, her eyelids drooping slightly at the relief the cold liquid brought her before she wiped her lips with the back of her hand which she then waved in his general direction. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Och, I dinna ken, ye’ve called me worse things in our time thegither.”

That earned him a laugh and he watched as her shoulders relaxed slightly, her slight frame melting back into her chair.

“Bad date, was it?”

Claire snorted, the sudden expel of air causing one of her curls to dance around her face, “I don’t suppose it counts as a bad one if the guy doesn’t even show up.”

“He pied ye?” Jamie’s skin felt hot as anger licked at his insides. Her face scrunched up in confusion, as it did sometimes if he used a colloquialism from home that hadn’t quite found its way across the border.

“What?” she asked before deciding that it didn’t matter, carrying on in her irritation. “He didn’t show! No call, no text, nothing.”

“Good riddance then. Where did you find this one?” He asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Part of being her friend was watching from the sidelines as men, and some women, fell at Claire’s feet. Not for the first time, Jamie found himself ruminating on the fact that her name in Gaelic, Sorcha, meant light. She drew people in and without meaning to, they soon found themselves to be in her orbit.

“We quite literally bumped into each other in the library. He’s reading History.”

“And what would a history man be doing in amongst yer medical textbooks, Sassenach? Sounds like a bit of a creep to me. Or mebbe he was lookin’ up some horrible rash he’s got on his-”

“Same again?” She interrupted after downing more than half of her pint in an attempt to catch up.

She was already out of her seat before he had the opportunity to answer. He enjoyed, probably a little too much, watching the sway of her hips and the way her curls bounced as she bounded down the stairs towards the bar and he leant backwards, letting his head rest against the wall and sighing in frustration. She was going to spend the rest of the night sneaking glances at her phone, hoping that this new guy would try to get in touch with her and he would have to suffer in silence. He would tell her that she has nothing to worry about, that whoever this guy was would have to be a fool not to crawl over broken glass to get to her.

Because that’s what Jamie would do. If she ever asked him to.

After a second round and a third and a fourth, they came to be sat on the same side of the table, hidden away in the alcove that their table was situated in. They were both drunk although Jamie would never admit to it, saying that a Scot was never drunk as long as they could stand upright. Their shared laughter was getting louder and Claire’s gestures were getting bigger, sloppier, as the frustration began to pour from her.

“I mean, I’m reading medicine, for Christ’s sake! I have good prospects, I’m only minimally neurotic, I don’t think I’m that terrible to look at. So what’s my problem? Am I just destined to be alone for the rest of my life?” A massive hiccup ripped through her, followed by a laugh as she brought her hand to her chest as though the act would calm them. Jamie’s eyes fell to her hand, trying so hard not to let his eyes focus on the breasts beneath it. Realising that the drink had made his reflexes slower, he pulled his eyes to face forward, staring at the floor and worrying that he’d been caught.

“I dinna think so.”

Her index finger stabbed a little too hard at her phone, the screen lighting up and showing no notifications, “It’s not like there’s a line of men waiting patiently at my door.”

“Then they’re eejits.”

A whirlwind of curls twisted towards him, a slight smile that was playing on her lips admitting to her surprise. The words had left his mouth before he realised it and the moment he did, red creeped insidiously up from the collar of his shirt, seeping into his cheeks.

“Eejits, huh?”

He looked at her then, blue eyes fixing onto their honeyed counterparts, humour dancing across her face mixed in with the light that was cocooning them.

“Every man who doesnae fall at yer feet tae do yer bidding is an eejit,” he conceded.

“Are you including yourself in that list, Fraser?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, not needing to lend even more credence to what they both already knew but were too afraid to speak out loud. That he was completely under her spell and happy to be there.

“I think ye’ll find ye had me cartin’ yer wee boxes tae yer room within minutes of meeting ye, Sassenach.”

Claire bit her lips between her teeth, trying her hardest not to smile, “Your mother raised you to be a gentleman.”

“That she did. Which means I buy the next round and then I’m walking ye home,” Jamie said.

“Not heading to see Annalise tonight?”

Rising to his feet, he fought back the urge to snap at her, irritated at the mention of the girlfriend that he hated being reminded of when he was with Claire and simply replied with, “Not tonight.”

Something playful and dangerous glinted in the amber eyes and she leaned forward on her elbows, as though she was stalking her prey.

“Then I shall delight in having you all to myself.”

By the time Jamie returned with their drinks, the moment of flirtation had passed. Claire was back frowning at her phone and tapping a single bitten fingernail against the wood grain of the table. Determined to distract her from falling down the rabbit hole of despair, their final drink was spent teasing, telling funny stories to each other about the idiotic things that had been said in their seminars, gloating about who got the best marks on their last essay. Before they knew it, Claire’s scarf was being wrapped around her neck once more as the two of them stumbled into the cold night air.

They had stayed a little later than last call, a classmate of Claire’s being the barman on staff and allowing them to finish their drinks while he wiped down the bar and cleaned the lines. It meant that they were alone as they walked, not amongst the mass exodus of warm bodies that had left the bar twenty minutes previous. Jamie watched from the corner of his eye as Claire furiously rubbed her hands together in an attempt to introduce some heat. With the alcohol loosening the usual restraint that he kept firmly in check, he turned to her and grabbed her small hands in his and brought them to his mouth, blowing the hot air from his lungs against her skin. Even through the drunken fog, he felt the flickers of electricity that seemed to pass every time their hands touched. It wasn’t unheard of for their hands to find their way to each other’s in those long study sessions when both of them were tired and stressed and in need of a comfort. A gesture that said ‘It’s okay, I’m here with you’. Things were always easier if they touched.

Slowly, he became aware that she was holding her breath, confirming it by sweeping his eyes from her hands to her face. She was staring at him, like a leopard stalking its prey. No smart remark or witty retort fell from her lips which were parted, allowing her breath to leave her in little bursts that betrayed how fast her heart was beating. The drink making him bold, he began to lace his fingers through hers, the only sound on the street being her sharp intake of breath as he pressed their palms together. Jamie became immediately more aware that their faces were closer than they ever had been before, that her body was pressed lightly against his and he suppressed a groan at how easy it would be to pull her closer and lose himself in her. His eyes caught her her tongue darting out to wet her lips and he wondered if she realised that she had done it. He couldn’t stop looking at her mouth, her pretty pink lips forming shapes that he wanted to know the taste of.

“Jamie…“ her breath was sweet against his mouth. It was an invitation but there was a hesitance there that he recognised and he knew that she was thinking the same thing he was. That if they did this, if they kissed, nothing would be the same again.

“Aye?”

“Can I…?”

An imperceptible nod of his head was all it took for her dart towards him but she stopped himself just shy of his lips. His mouth was hovering above hers, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. Jamie held himself there, basking in the anticipation of a moment that he had dreamed of so many times. This wouldn’t be another first kiss to regret.

A small whimper escaped Claire’s lips as she softly pressed her mouth against his and it was all it took to undo him, his whole self filling with the need to taste her the moment that their lips met. Jamie raised a shaking hand to her face, to cup her cheek and kiss her slowly, deeply, wanting to drink in every part of her that he could.

He was kissing Claire Beauchamp. And it was everything.

[oligbia]

Rat

Chapter 3

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The first week of classes at UA went by with ease. Hero training was intense, a current focus on strength building right now, but Mr.Aizawa was already speaking about a future plan to start working on quirk development and teamwork.  The academic classes quickly started to pick up in lessons, tests and deadlines already approaching. You found the material pretty mundane, topics you had studied before. However, like she had promised, Hado did frequently need help. 

She asked for help during Friday afternoons, a way to review the week’s materials. The two of you were seated in your living room, the Musutafu heat still brutal. Hado was sprawled out on your floor, acting as if she was about to melt. Beads of sweat formed along your hairline, you peered over your books to look at Hado. 

“Hado, it really isn’t that warm. You need to do this work before it gets late.”

Hado groaned, rolling from her back to her stomach, resting her head on her hands. “C’mon L/N!” We should at least take a break! You can’t work in this heat!”

You rolled your eyes. You had to admit to yourself, a break did sound sort of nice. “Fine, but after that we need to do things. We have a math test on Monday.” 

You hopped up, getting a few popsicles from the freezer. You brought them back, offering her a cherry one. She humed contently, taking the popciple into her mouth, licking at it. You enjoyed your own, giving into the heat. 

“We’ll start doing team ups in training soon, and I was thinking about it.” Hado’s voice was casual. She still managed to take you by surprise every time she brought up hero training. She never seemed like the kind to be thinking that far ahead. 

“What about?”

“Well, as great as you are, you're not good for combat like Amajiki or I would be.”  

You tried to hold back your displeasure. You were aware you didn’t have a conventional quirk for being a hero. You couldn’t really teach all the rats in the world combat, and rats are only so deadly. Hand to Hand combat wasn’t something you were particularly keen with, so that was out of the question. You were going to fall behind soon if you didn’t figure it out. You knew you wouldn't be a combat hero, you were best off being a rescue and recovery hero, but you still had to pull ahead in class somehow. 

“But, I think you could play an3 important role in our teams!” 

Your eyes locked with Hado’s as she bit off the end of her popsicle. You gave her a look that tried to convey you wanted to hear more. She looked at you, whispering a small ‘oh!’.

“See, Amajiki is really good at close combat. And I’m good at far away combat. But, if we are both busy, we can’t see what's happening around us. Because if we want to fight off villains while also rescuing, we need a third person, and that's you, L/N-chan!” 

You blinked, following her. She was smarter than she would ever let on, once you get over the fact she struggles with math. “Are you suggesting that I would play some kind of control center type role?”

Hado nodded, “Mhm! You are like, the one keeping us safe, while also doing the rescuing to let us focus more on the fighting! Then, if it gets bad, you can come in like backup!” She threw a handful of fake punches, pretending like she was fighting some invisible villain, eventually falling to play dead. She whispered through her pretend dead act, “See, this is when you come to rescue me.”

A small smile grew on your face, finding her amusing. You didn’t know many heroes who worked in a support hero role. Thinking on it, you suppose a hero like Mr.Aizawa or 13 are the closest you could think of. The idea wasn’t undesirable, it was probably better for you. 

“If you wanted to try it out, I think that Amajiki and his friend, Toagta, are going to go train tomorrow morning. We could always join them.” 

You shrugged. “Maybe, we need to do this week’s academics first. You can't be a hero if you flunk out of first year.” 

***

No human should ever willingly wake up before the sun is up. But, there Hado was, throwing tiny pebbles at your window at the crack of dawn. You had learned a few things about Hado in the week you’ve known her: She was incredibly stubborn, She was extremely kind, She was smarter than she let on, She was never going to understand the quadratic equation, And she was never tired.

You threw the covers off you, opening the window. The summer air was cooler now, waking you up by sending a chill up your spine. You yelled down at her as quietly as you could. “Hado! What the hell are you doing?”

“L/N, are you not a morning person?” She pouted, not appreciating her harsh language. 

“It’s…” You looked at your alarm clock, horrified, “It’s 4AM Hado! What do you want?” 

“Training with the boys, silly! C’mon, the train leaves in, like, 20 minutes!” 

You rolled your eyes. You were already awake, might as well go. You threw on some hero tee shirt and shorts, pulling a zip-up jacket over your shoulders. You ran down the stairs, leaving a note for your grandad, and left the house. 

Hado waited at the door, rolling between the balls of her feet and her heels. “C’mon slow poke! We’re going to be late!” 

Nejre linked elbows with you, pulling you alongside her. The two of you sprinted to the pretty much empty train, hopping on right before it rook off. The two of you stood together, holding into the upper rail. Hado smiled, watching the land and city pass by through the window. 

You hadn’t done any training with someone, or really much training at all. You had done some stamina training and a little muscle work, but when it came to the entrance exam, no one was really sure what to expect, so you didn't have much of an idea for what training to do beforehand. You knew that one on one training with Hado and Amajiki was maybe possible- you weren't sure either of them had any idea how to do hand to hand combat either.

The train stopped at your platform, Hado flashing you her sweet smile before walking out. You followed behind her, like a baby duck following its mother. The two of you made your way to the beach, the morning sun slowly rising from the sky. 

“I’m not really sure what to expect, honestly. I think Amajiki said his friend had a really powerful quirk though.” 

You nodded, remembering Amajiki’s friend. He was the blond who frequently could be caught frequently staring at you unapologetically. You kinda remember his dark blue eyes, they were always somewhat inviting and equally unsettling. 

The two of you finally approached the beach, Amajiki’s figure able to be made out in the morning’s shadow. Hado ran before you, messing with Amajiki’s hair when she reached him, thanking him for inviting you both. You gave him a small wave, which he returned with a small nod. 

“Mirio is over there, he was stuck in something. He is probably fine now.” 

“Stuck?” you asked, confused about what someone could get stuck in at the beach at close to 5 AM. 

“His quirk- sometimes he gets a little stuck in objects.” 

Hado giggled, “C’mon sillies! Let’s go!” She locked grabbed both of your wrists, both of you being drug behind her as she wandered into the beach.

Hado and you ended up seperating from the other two, Hado walking you through how to use your upper arm as a defense from someone else’s punch. You weren’t bad at the blocking part, it was the anticipating and timing that kept throwing you off. The two of you were just taking turns at throwing fake punches at the other, quickly getting into a rhythm. 

“Do you know what you want your hero name to be? We get to pick those soon.” Hado threw a jab your way, your arm barely making it up intime to shield your face. 

You shook your head, throwing one back at her. “Not really-”

Hado shrugged as she flawlessly defended herself. She was defending herself easily but her jabs felt weaker in comparison to yours. She threw a jab at you, your arm not reaching her in time, her weak blow landing in your shoulder. 

You looked at her defeated. She moved her shoulder in circles. “L/N, you need to teach me how you throw punches. Mine are weak.”

You tossed your jacket aside. “Well, with a quirk like yours you really don't need to be able to throw punches. You have a distance advantage.” 

Hado beamed, “You remembered!” 

You shrugged, “It was a solid plan, Hado. I remember good ideas.” 

The two of you heard a large bang in the distance. Amajiki looked like he had somehow turned his arms into long strands of seaweed, trapping Togata. Except-

“Is he naked?” Hado said it before you could. Togata was most definitely naked, and he was waving at the two of you from a small confinement of seaweed that definitely did not hide more than you wanted to see. 

Hado broke into a fit of laughter as your face turned bright red. You had never talked to Togata, but you had somehow already seen him naked. 

Hado pulled you behind her as she ran to the boys. 

“Amajiki, you can turn into more than just animals?!” 

Your face was still burning red as you avoided the glances Togata was most definitely sending your way. His voice was chipper as He broke himself free from Tamaki’s comfinments. “His quirk lets him manifest to living things- plants are technically living.”

“Could he turn into a person then, like if he ate their blood or flesh or something?” Hado poked at Amajiki’s seaweed arm that was still attempting to cover Togata’s privates. 

Amajiki looked at Hado with panicked eyes and babbled about anxiously, “Why would I ever eat a human-”

Toagata pulled a pair of pants on, “Sorry about that ladies, it's hard to control my pants when I use my quirk!” 

Hado smiled innocently, somehow unphased by the very naked boy infront of her. “It's alright! My name is Nejire Hado, and this is my friend Y/N L/N! She’s a little anti-social, so you won't hear much from her.” 

You looked at the ground, mumbling. “I’m not anti-social, just uninterested in conversation right now.” 

Togata fastened the belt on his pants, “Oh well that's too bad! I’ll just have to talk to you another time!” 

You let out a “mhm” trying to be polite, but it was hard when you had just seen this kid naked. Hado didn’t seem to pick up on your discomfort. “Togata, you’ll have to ask L/N about her quirk sometime, it's really cool! Oh! And she can tell you about hero equipment! She knows all about it.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know all about it, just basic stuff. I’m able to read, I'm not a support student.” 

Togata smiled warmly, “That's still more than me. I’ve never been a good student,  that's why I wasn’t able to get into 1-A!” 

You blinked. How was he so upbeat while literally calling himself dumb?

“Well, me and L/N need to go finish up our training! We’ll see you boys later.” Hado sang the end of her statement, waving the two a goodbye. Tamaki nodded and Mirio waved frantically as the two of you wandered off to finish some training. 

When you were gone, Mirio turned to Amajiki. “Tamaki, what is L/N’s quirk?” 

“Something with rats. She’s able to control them somehow. I’ve really only ever seen her use it a few times.” 

Mirio’s smile grew into a small frown, a finger scratching his chin as he watched you and Hado throw some more punches around. 

“That seems like a neat quirk, why wouldn’t she want to develop it.”

Amajiki smiled, almost laughing. He placed a gentle hand on Mirio’s shoulder, smiling at the blond. “Not all of us are praised for our quirks, Mirio. She may still need to come around to it.”

Mirio nodded, looking at the violet haired boy. “Huh. Alright.” Mirio watched a little longer as you nailed Hado in the shoulder, frantically apologizing. He smiled softly, something about you undeniably drawing him in. “Let’s go mess around more, Tamaki. I bet if you ate some crab you could make little pinchers!” 

[a-dorin]

tempestuous | darth maul

word count: 5.043k 

warnings: nsfw, 18+, professor/student relationship, sexual tension, smut,  nudity, sexual innuendos, dominance kink, age gap, cursing 

a/n: hello everyone! due to the response i received, this is the second chapter in the professor!maul au! i am so happy with the overwhelming comments of kindness. you guys rock :’) thank you for keeping me sane during quarantine. as always, the first chapter is linked below. enjoy :)) 

ardor

summary: weeks have flown by, and you find yourself under immense amounts of pressures with midterm quickly approaching. not only are you stressed with the academics, but you can’t seem to shake a certain professor out of your head.

“(y/n), did you have rough night?” barriss chuckled, handing ahsoka an iced coffee before sliding into her own spot, “here, i got you a little pick-me-up.” 

wrapping your hand around the cup, you swirled your straw around, “thank you, barriss. i guess i’m just a little stressed out with midterms approaching.”

“a little?” ahsoka giggled, covering her mouth, “(y/n), we love you, but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck. is everything okay?”

you rubbed your temple, a dull aching seeping into your skull, “i’ve been pulling some all nighters lately.”

“well if you ever want to study for with us, you’re always welcome,” barriss’ blue depths shone, her lips curved into an encouraging smile, “ahsoka and i are a little nervous about the midterm as well, especially for this class. professor maul hasn’t given us any sort of notion on what the exam may be.”

“i hope it’s something simple,” you grumbled, taking a sip of the matcha latte, “again, thank you for the matcha, barriss. i appreciate it.”

barriss laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, “anything for you, (y/n). after all, you’re our new best friend.”

“she’s very right,” ahsoka shot you a wink, prodding you with her elbow, “you should come to the library with us tomorrow night! i know, it’s lame, but it’s pretty empty on the weekend. we have a good chance at snagging one of those study rooms. and if we get our homework done friday, we can always meet up before that party saturday night!” 

“you guys party?” you arched a curious brow. 

barriss and ahsoka rolled their eyes simultaneously, the togruta letting out a huff, “we know how to have fun too, (y/n). after all, they say that the bookworms know how to let loose.”

“whatever,” you couldn’t help but laugh, pulling out your laptop. 

it was now about halfway through the semester, with midterms approaching on the horizon. the looming fact that you had about five exams, along with working extra hours with your internship, were beginning to take their toll on you. the internship at the hospital was running smoothly, and you were performing so well that you were offered extra hours. of course, you couldn’t help but accept the offer. 

yet, it came with a cost. although it was only two nights a week, they asked if you could stay a few hours later than normal. so, every tuesday and wednesday, you strolled into your apartment well past one in the morning. 

rex helped in every way he possibly could. whether it was cooking you dinner, making you coffee, tending to your laundry, as well as keeping the apartment tidy, he was adamant about making things easier for you. which, you greatly appreciated. there were even times he charged your laptop and made runs to the printer. last night was one of those nights where you didn’t get back till late, so to say you were exhausted was an understatement. 

although it was your first class of the day, and 9:56 a.m., sleep still hung heavy in your mind. the comfy clothes hanging on your frame weren’t much help either, the coziness of the fabric lulling you to sleep. a university of coruscant hoodie, a few sizes too big, was almost like a blanket. and the grey sweats were comforting. shaking your head, you attempted to focus. 

the class fell silent as he entered the room, causing you to perk up in your seat. today, he was clad in a pair of black slacks, the color of his button up and blazer corresponding with his pants. his shoes were freshly polished, glossy in the sterile light. the monochromatic outfit brought out the color of his crimson skin, his amber orbs nearly glowing. as usual, the silver chain hung from his neck, this time, settled on bare skin, as a button or two was left undone. 

you nearly choked on your matcha, as you drank in the sight of him. maker, was he gorgeous. mind buzzing, you mustered all of your strength to not admire for a moment too long. it was already embarrassing enough the sheer amount of instances you saw him on campus. 

now that you were enrolled in his class, you saw him everywhere. whether it was grabbing a meal to-go in the dining hall, bumping into him at the gym, or mumbling a greeting as you passed him in the halls of the psychology wing. it was odd, yet you paid no mind. a part of you yearned to see him, to just admire his features. 

professor maul didn’t seem to mind the encounters either. every time, he would chirp a greeting, his tone smooth and cordial. even though he was formal, you couldn’t help but notice a gleam in the golden pools as he spoke. it was almost as if his eyes were roaming your body, glittering with lust. 

just the mere thought of his lips on yours sent a faint blush painted across your cheeks. shifting in your seat, the realization that class began washed over you. letting out a quiet sigh, you typed notes as he spoke, his voice clear, thick with authority as it rang through the lecture hall. 

“now,” he cleared his throat, backtracking to the pedestal to the left of the space, “i compiled a list of terms and parameters of your midterm exam.”

groans of frustration erupted like a volcano, maul’s eyes blazing with amusement, “may i discuss the exam with you first or are you all going to complain?”

“i hate him,” ahsoka muttered under her breath. 

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, teasing, “what if the exam is a breeze?”

“the midterm will be no walk in the park,” maul announced, gathering a thick stack of papers in his hands.

 your eyes wandered to his hands, and how they sprawled over the stack with ease, how they were would fit so well over your breasts. a shiver ran down your spine as you pondered of his hands all over your body, relishing every inch of your skin. his voice snapped you out of your fantasy, his gaze settling on you, a smirk creeping onto his lips. 

“for the exam, i ask that you research an individual or authoritative figure who is a ‘monster’ in our society. once you conduct your research, you will give me a brief presentation. the presentation will be done orally, through a video format. the deadline is printed on the assignment sheet. there are no exceptions, so plan accordingly.”

biting your lip, your cheeks reddened under the eye contact. however, his attention was taken away from you, eyes flickering towards a student near the top of the lecture hall. 

“does this mean we can talk about president palpatine? he’s a tyrant!” 

“i can’t believe he almost banned the frats!” another complaint rose from a classmate.

“if that’s who you would like to report on,” a bubbly, lighthearted laugh escaped his lips, the sound flowing like sweet honey into your ears, “you might have your work cut out for you. that is my boss after all, so i am not sure how biased i can be.”

the rest of the class droned on, ahsoka and barriss lost in their note-taking, their stares fixed to their laptop screens. meanwhile, you found yourself getting lost, daydreaming. maker, did you ache to experience just one kiss. to trace the tattoos all over his chest and shoulders as you unbuttoned the article of clothing. gnawing on your cheek, shame burned through you as you realized that you were beginning to feel a sensation in your core. the mere thought of maul had your folds slick, wet and desperate for him. 

soon, class was over, students herded to the doors. you followed ahsoka and barriss, conversing about tomorrow’s plans. you were anticipating the study session tomorrow, as you needed it.

after all, you weren’t paying much attention in class these days. 

*******

“so, are we wrapped up for the night?” ahsoka yawned, her eyes bleary with sleep. 

a rumble in the distance shook the library, a thunderstorm wreaking its havoc over coruscant. you, barriss, and ahsoka were finishing up, the building nearing closing time. it was 10:32 p.m., the three of you hunkering down in a study room for the past two and a half hours. however, the session was helpful, the three of you passing notes, sharing what you did and didn’t have. you were all caught up, thanks to them. 

“i believe so,” barriss nodded, shoving a notebook into her bag, “(y/n), would you like us to walk with you to your apartment? we can share an umbrella and give you one.”

“i’ll be fine,” you shrugged, glancing at your phone, “i think i might wait out the storm for a few more minutes. besides, my roommate has a girl over. i don’t want to impose on them.”

“you sure?” concern flashed across ahsoka’s face, “it’s not a problem to us.”

“you guys can go,” you teased, winking, “i can handle myself. besides, there’s no one in here besides the twi’lek at the front desk.”

“whatever you say,” barriss huffed, adjusting her hijab, “see you tomorrow!”

“see ya,” you waved to the two girls as they left the room, “text me when you guys want to meet up!” 

“we will,” ahsoka called, giving you one last grin before they disappeared from your field of vision. 

exhaling, you rose to your feet, slinging your bag over your shoulder. strolling out of the study room, the lights of the library were dimmed, a few students lingering, milling around the front desk or nose deep in textbooks, scrambling to finish their work. 

eventually, you made your way to the lobby, leaning against the brick wall. rex promised that he would text you when his friend was on her way, yet there were no message on your screen. no missed calls. nothing. frustration welled up inside of you, creeping into your thoughts. surely the girl wasn’t staying the night. rex didn’t mention anything about it to you earlier. 

“hey there,” an all too familiar voice rumbled, “do you need a lift?”

turning ever so slightly, your eyes widened at the figure before you. maul stood in the doorway, donned in a pair of grey joggers, a university hoodie on his top half. the hoodie was black, which was a prominent color in the zabrak’s wardrobe. you picked up on that the third day of class. his brows were furrowed, lips pursed. it was almost as if he was concerned. 

“i’m fine,” you muttered, “just waiting on my roommate to give me the all clear.”

“i remember those days,” maul mused, “savage used to have all sorts of women over when we rented an apartment together for grad school. it was downright horrid.”

“i bet,” you sucked in a breath, anxiety swirling as you read the time once more. it was 10:48 now, more and more students filing out of the exit. 

“you all right?” he inquired, his voice low, “if your apartment isn’t too far from here, i can give you a ride. it’s storming pretty bad out there.”

“isn’t that illegal?” you snorted, a glimmer of hope rising as rex’s called id lit up your phone, “hang on, i gotta take this.”

“heyyyy,” immediately, you sensed that rex was walking on eggshells, “do you have a place to stay for the night?”

“rex, i thought we talked about this.”

“well,” he mumbled, “she wants to stay the night. i’ll do all of your laundry tomorrow if you say yes.”

“rex this isn’t the right time to bargain with me,” tears brimmed your eyes as the horror crept in. you had nowhere to go. 

“please?” his voice was sickeningly sweet, “pretty please?”

“fine,” you caved, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“thank you-” rex began, but you hung up before he got the chance to finish. 

storming out of the library, tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing effortlessly with the icy rain as it cascaded down, piercing through your clothes. you sobbed, your cries deafened by the thunder. maker, you were so furious. how could rex do that to you? especially so last minute? the only place you could go was your car, and you didn’t even have a fresh change of clothes. 

“(y/n),” through the roar of the thunder, you heard his voice. 

“oh great!” sobs racked your body, “now i have to deal with you too-”

his hands grasped your cheeks, pulling you in. lips collided with yours, his touch warm, as you crumpled completely. fingers tangled into your wet locks, desperate to bring you closer to him, to feel your lips mold so effortlessly with his. the kiss was fiery, burning with a passion. a desire for you. it was exhilarating, intoxicating, your mind buzzing, losing any sort of coherent thought as the rain pounded against the cement, lightning illuminating your surroundings. 

“now,” he pulled away, leaving you breathless, “do you need a ride?”

“i don’t have anywhere to go,” you could barely string the words together.

“you’re welcome to stay at my place.”

“are you sure?” you wiped your tears, yet the effort was fruitless. your clothes were soaked, you were chilled to the bone.

“yes,” he took your hands, “come on, let’s get out of here.”

“what if someone sees us?” anxiety bubbled within you. 

“my hood is up,” he began to make his way towards the parking lot, clicking a button on his car keys, “besides, i’m wearing black and so are you.”

“i guess you’re right,” you muttered, a shiver rippling through your being.

as he approached the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for you as the rain pattered against the pavement. slipping off his sweatshirt, he shoved it into your hands, “here, put this on.”

“i-i’m not wearing a shirt underneath,” the words were a stutter.

“and i’m not fifteen,” maul scoffed, ducking so that he could slide into the driver’s seat, “you’re going to get sick out here and mine is somewhat dryer than yours.”

hesitantly, you made your way into the passenger seat, your eyes widening as you noticed the interior, “this is a tesla.”

in the darkness, you picked out the brightness of his grin, his incisors flashed, poking against his lips, “indeed. my apartment isn’t too far from here. i need to let savage know that we’re no longer having drunkfest.”

“drunkfest?” you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“drunkfest,” maul affirmed, his thumbs dancing across his phone, “we get absolutely wasted every friday night to forget about the awful moments of the work week.”

“interesting,” you settled into maul’s hoodie, grateful for the slightly drier fabric. his scent flooded your nostrils. it was a strong scent, with traces of leatherwood, spices, and bergamot. it was heavenly, with just the right amount of cologne. 

“it is interesting,” his eyes focused on the road, the lights of the city whirring by as he drove, “even though i’ve gotten completely trashed every single time, i can’t seem to shake you off my mind.”

blush flooded your cheeks, your breath hitching in your throat, “i see.”

within minutes, maul pulled into a parking garage, turning off the engine. he helped out of the passenger seat, “let me carry your bookbag for you. the textbooks probably need to sit out for a few hours. i’m sure you don’t want to pay for new ones.”

“i don’t,” you sucked in a breath. 

the zabrak slung your bag over his shoulder with ease, locking the car behind you. the two of you entered the elevator on the level, and maul pushed his desired designation. a wave of silence crashed over you, but it wasn’t unnerving. it was more relaxed, maul humming a tune as the elevator whirred. 

eventually, you were standing outside his door, the zabrak shoving the key into the lock. pushing the door open, you couldn’t help but marvel at the decor, furniture, as well as the viewports. the apartment was luxurious, screaming wealth. yet, maul remained humble, not uttering a single word. 

the floor was a flint concrete, glossed over with a polish. in the den, there was a massive patterned rug, intricate patterns of black, white, and crimson woven together. the couch was a sectional, a dark grey. the shelving and tables were black, paired with subtle hints of scarlet or grey decor. there wasn’t much wall decor, besides some vintage posters from the old days of coruscant. framed photos of zabraki were scattered, and you inferred that they were feral and savage, maul’s younger brothers. 

“there’s a hall leading to the refresher. it’s on your right, i’m going to set out your books to dry. before you shower, leave your clothes in a pile by the door. i’ll throw them in the wash for you. and if i pop in, don’t scream. i’m going to lend you some of my clothes,” the zabrak murmured, “take your time in the shower. i don’t want you getting sick.”

“what if i need help getting the right water temperature?” you arched a brow. 

his eyes narrowed, gleaming, “i think you’ll be fine, princess. call me if you need anything.”

your cheeks reddened, “okay. i’ll be in the shower.”

maul mumbled something incoherent, and you wandered through the den, discovering the hall that he mentioned. once you found the refresher, you peeled the damp clothing off your body, grateful that there was a towel hanging outside the shower. exhaling, you tossed your clothes outside the door, turning on the water. after adjusting the temperature to your liking, you stood underneath the stream, grateful for the warmth as it seeped into your skin. 

the shower was just as elegant as the apartment, with glass doors and a steel shower head in the shape of a square. it was far better than the shower in your own apartment, as you didn’t have to worry about wasting hot water or any spiders. steam billowed into the space, hugging the doors of the shower, droplets of water condensing on the glass. 

“i’m coming in to drop off some clothes,” the zabrak’s voice entered the room, “holy fuck do you always have the water this hot?”

“do you not?” you chuckled. 

“it feels like a sauna in here,” he chuckled, teasing, “anyways, i’ll leave you be.”

letting out a content sigh, you turned the water off once he left. opening the door, your eyes scanned the space for the light switch. after a few seconds, you found it, flipping on the vent. hopefully that would help with the amount of steam that clung to every single item in the refresher. 

on the counter, there was a black turtleneck, along with a pair of briefs. patting yourself dry, you slipped on the briefs first, then slid the turtleneck over your head. it was getting late, the clock on the counter reading 11:36 p.m. yawning, you pushed open the door, padding into the hall. 

maul was nowhere to be found, a frown forming on your lips. where could he had run off to? surely he would’ve mentioned something to you. yet, your curiosity crept in, urging you to explore. holding your breath, you noticed a door, inferring that it was maul’s bedroom.

the door creaked as you tapped it, the draft pulling it open. inside, the floor was the same as it was, a king-sized bed in the middle, pushed against the wall, supported by a black wooden bed frame. there was a dresser, along with a walk-in closet. the most breathtaking aspect were the viewports, acting as a wall. the lights of coruscant glowed, the room overlooking the city. rain flowed down the viewports as thunder rumbled. you felt drawn to them, awestruck by the beauty of the sprawling city.

“you like the view?” your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. 

“don’t scare me like that!” you pouted, folding your arms across your chest.

“don’t go snooping around,” maul smirked, matching your energy.

your heart thudded as his eyes drank in the sight of you, in his turtleneck. the sweater was a little large, hanging loosely in some areas. the briefs hugged your thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. your nipples poked through the fabric of the sweater, the cool air sending a shiver running down your spine. 

“gods,” he breathed, licking his lips, “i-i don’t know what to say.”

“i’m sorry for wandering off,” you mumbled, your cheeks hot as shame burned through you, “i didn’t mean to-”

“just stop,” maul shook his head, taking a step towards you, “just fucking stop. you have no need to apologize.”

the air in room crackled like the lightning outside as he took another step forward, an old t-shirt clinging to his torso, the same pair of grey joggers hanging loosely on his hips. your throat tightened as you noticed the way his chest rose and fell, the zabrak’s breathing ragged. 

“it seems as if i can’t shake you off my mind,” he panted as the space between you dissolved, “lately, all of my thoughts have revolved about you.”

“what do you think about?” you swallowed thickly. 

“do you want the hear the answer?” his face was merely centimeters away from yours, “or would you rather experience it?” 

“i want both.”

his hand reached out, gently grasping your jaw. the touch was light, feathery as his fingers traced your heated skin. you melted, nearly collapsing to the floor. 

the zabrak’s eyes glowed, the amber now hardened into a deep honey hue, almost a chestnut brown, “can i kiss you?”

you nodded, almost a little too quickly, “yes.”

a low, guttural growl dripped from his lips, “i couldn’t resist you before. but fuck as soon as i saw you in my clothes, i just can’t fucking take it any longer.”

the kiss was hungry, an open-mouth, lustful kiss. his lips crashed into yours, yearning to explore the taste of your mouth. the zabrak’s hands laced into your hair, tugging at the roots, gripping tightly. a whine echoed through the room as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue delving into your mouth. a hand slid down, resting on the nape of your neck, holding you steady as the kisses grew hungrier and hungrier. 

“get on the bed,” he commanded, his tone thick with authority, a hand untangling itself from your hair and tugging on the hem of the turtleneck, “and take this off.”

the way the words rolled of his tongue struck you to your core, your folds growing slick as the anticipation grew. fingers wrapping around the hem, you tugged it off, your breasts bouncing. the zabrak practically groaned as he admired your exposed body, a hand palming his cock as it hardened, the outline prominent in the light. 

obeying his order, you laid on the bed, your back hitting the soft comforter. maul slipped off the t-shirt, almost pouncing on top of you. pinning you down, his mouth connected with your neck, trailing sloppy kisses down, onto your collarbone.

“if only i could leave my mark on you,” his breath was hot, coming out in pants, “i would paint you like a canvas.”

“you can,” the words were a broken moan as his tongue dragged across your collarbone. 

“oh?” you could feel his lip curved into a smile, “you want me to?”

“ye-” the reply was shortened as maul’s lips wrapped around nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive area. 

his tongue drifted from your nipple to your flesh, nipping and sucking, a satisfied purr erupting from the zabrak as a rich burgundy mark appeared, “i hope you’re aware that you’re the most beautiful woman i have ever met.”

“i don’t think so.”

within seconds, his mouth was hovering over the waistband of the briefs, “you better fucking believe you are, (y/n).”

“i- oh my god,” the tearing of fabric rang off the walls as maul ripped the briefs off your frame. 

“usually i take my time with this,” maul murmured, his gaze burning with lust, “but fuck i need you. i need to feel you take my cock.”

“please,” you whimpered, squirming as he parted your thighs.

“holy fuck. how are you so fucking wet? you’re soaking and i haven’t even touched you.”

the zabrak was appalled, a flash of awe painted across features as he took in the sight of your dripping core, your pussy aching. desire burned through your being, threatening to consume you whole. maker, you never knew you wanted someone this badly. exhilaration rushed through you with every touch, his fingers slipping between your folds. 

“i’ve thought about you like this,” maul was enticed, almost in a trace as your juices coated his fingers, “i’ve thought about the way your body would be underneath mine, your eyes begging for me to fuck you till you can’t take it anymore.”

“i’ve thought about you in class.”

“in class?” his voice faltered, “(y/n), that’s sinful.”

“it’s not as sinful as how i’ve wanted you to fuck me for weeks,” your cheeks were flushed,. 

“oh gods,” maul groaned as a finger entered you, “i’m going to make you mine.”

“please,” your hips bucked forward, his finger plunging further into you, “i want to be yours.”

“you’re going to be mine princess,” he purred, “i promise i’ll give you what you’ve been yearning for.” 

hastily, the zabrak tugged his sweats off, kicking them to the floor. your nearly choked on your spit when his member sprang free from the constraint of the fabric. his cock was massive, the largest you had ever seen. yet, it wasn’t too large that you couldn’t take it. crimson and black patterns wove all around it, his shaft ribbed, precum dribbling down his length. 

“tell me how much you need me,” his voice shifted from a coo to a growl as fingers wrapped around your throat, “tell me how badly you need professor maul to fuck you senseless.”

“i need you to fuck me,” the words were a broken whine. 

“louder,” his grip tightened, “say it louder. i need to hear you.”

“i need professor maul to fuck me,” the words were enough to bring the zabrak to the edge, to make him unfold. 

“good girl,” his tone oozed with praise, low and husky. 

he lined his tip at your entrance, slowly inserting himself into you. maul’s hand loosened from your throat, gripping the headboard for leverage. your moans were breathy, laced with bliss as your walls expanded, wrapping around his cock.

“that’s such a good fucking girl,” maul leaned in, nipping at your ear, “you take my cock.”

the zabrak thrust into you, his tip brushing against your g-spot. throwing your head against the pillow, your body almost went limp, collapsing. the pleasure was overwhelming, burning through you like a fire. but maker, did you want more. you needed more. 

maul watched as he fucked you, one hand steady on the headboard, the other on the mattress, gripping the sheets. he was plowing into you now, showing no mercy. the moans bouncing off the walls were rich and so loud, fueling his desire to keep going. the zabrak lost all inhibitions minutes ago, his thoughts blurred, eyes glossed over. 

the way you felt was heavenly, every single thrust euphoric. 

maker, was he losing control. 

tightening his grip on the headboard, his knuckles were almost white. he was completely feral, unhinged, detached. 

a horrid cracking filled the zabrak’s ears, and he glanced up towards the headboard. the wood split into two, a lengthy, crack down the middle, stemming from his hand. 

“oh shit,” you gasped. 

“look what you made me do, angel,” a smirk stretched across his lips, “you’re going to fucking pay for that.”

your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he slammed into you, balls slapping against skin. his cock throbbed, swelling. with every throb, your walls tightened, the pleasure building in your belly. eyes squeezing shut, you felt every inch of him buried in your soaking pussy, balls deep in you now. 

“maul,” the zabrak nearly unfolded right there, “i’m going to cum.”

“let go baby,” his lips brushed against yours, “you can cum. cum for me.”

the orgasm racked your body, maul’s mouth connected with yours, the moans muffled. your thighs trembled, stars bursting in your vision, the pleasure almost blinding. 

with no strength left, your body went limp, collapsing into the mattress. 

his thrusts were more languid, sloppy with every stroke. maul came moments later, filling you up with it all. 

“fuck,” he cursed under his breath, a sheen of sweat clinging to his body, “are you all right?”

“i’m fine,” your inner thighs buzzed, soreness creeping into the muscle. 

every inch of skin the zabrak touched tingled, as if your body was savoring the memory.

maul cleared his throat, his cock still inside of you, “i kinda lost control.”

“kinda?”

“a little bit,” he chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, “it’s been so long since i’ve last had sex. it doesn’t help that i’m in heat, either.”

“you’re in heat?” you pressed, brows furrowing. 

“perhaps,” the color of his eyes returned to their normal hue, amber flowing into crimson, “let’s get you cleaned up. it’s late.”

“is it past the professor’s bedtime?” your tone was snarky. 

“don’t tempt me to fuck you again. because we both know damn well that i will.”

glancing up, you noticed the broken headboard, “how much is that going to cost?”

the zabrak let out a huff as his cock slid out of you, drenched with a mixture of juices, “i don’t know. it’s the least of my concerns at the moment. stay here, and don’t move a muscle.”

swinging his legs over the mattress, maul strolled towards the refresher, retrieving a rag to clean up the mess that you made. you sunk into the bed, questions ringing through your mind. 

yet, you couldn’t help but notice a prominent feature. in the light, the tattooed skin glowed. but there was something different about the way his thighs transitioned from flesh to an ashen metal. 

maul’s legs were cybernetic. 

and your curiosity about the zabrak, your professor, skyrocketed.

***

tagged: @sapphicstars , @maulieber , @starflyer-104 , @alwayshappysith , @doobiwankenooku , @magicalkitkat12 , @dartheldur , @princessayveke , @multifandombtch , @spaghetti-666 , @lis-ard , @swimmingsloths , @sithmando​ , @mother-0f-monsters​

[sapphirelass]

Not you too... - NevillexSister

Hi! So... it’s been a while, but I have been extremely busy with school work and... well to be honest that’s my only excuse XD Anyhow, with maths and physics exams out of the way, it’s finally time for a new uplifting story.

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

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

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

Word count: ≈1600

Warnings: Torture, The Cruciatus Curse, The Carrows, Light swearing, Extreme angst...

OC: Louise Longbottom (born 1981)

Enjoy!

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

1998

March

Hogwarts

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?!”

The frightened first-year trembled and tried to back away.

“I...I.. I was just on my way to the Ravenclaw com…”

Alecto grabbed his jumper and pinned him to the wall. 

“Oh I don’t think so! This isn’t the first time we’ve caught you wandering around, Matthews, and I’m afraid we can’t let you get away with it…”

Amycus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the young boy’s throat.

“DON’T YOU DARE!!”

A furious sixth year Gryffindor sprinted through the corridor, her right hand clutched around her wand.

“Leave him alone! He’s eleven!? And has done nothing wrong! Levicorpus!”

Amycus was hoisted into the air by his ankle as the older student carefully approached the younger.

“Hey, are you oka-” 

But before even getting a chance to comfort the boy, the tip of a wand was pressed forcefully against her throat. The young Ravenclaw knew better than to stick around, especially when Alecto Carrow disarmed his saviour and pushed her against the wall.

“Longbottom… No bloody surprise there, c’mon!”

Amycus was back on his feet and, sadly, a fight between one wandless sixteen year old and two death eaters could barely even be called a fight. The Carrows grabbed an arm each, and made their way towards the dungeons.

***

Neville was, despite the gloomy atmosphere, in high spirits. It was Friday, his last class of the day had been herbology, and he hadn’t received detention a single time that week. He entered the common room and sat down on the sofa with a copy of A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions.

Later that night, Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan climbed through the portrait hole and approached him slowly.

“Hey!”, he said, “Everything good?” 

“Neville… Where’s Louise? Is she okay?”

Neville frowned, “Wha.. Why shouldn’t she be? Where is she anyways, I thought she was with you?!”

“Neville…”, Seamus began, putting a hand on his shoulder, “She-”

“What, Seamus!?”

“She ran into the Carrows.... They were threatening some Ravenclaw first-year and she interfered before she could help herself.”

Neville felt his blood run cold.

“So? What did they do? Where is she?”

“I don’t know, we thought she would be back by now… We… we thought she was with you.”

Neville closed his book, not bothering to look for a bookmark, and left without a word. He didn’t dare to think about what could have happened to his sister, but he knew that he had to find her. Making his way through the corridors, he kept trying to tell himself that she was fine. That she was okay. That he would find her unharmed. Deep down, he knew it was highly improbable, but one can hope, right?

***

“Incarcerous!”

A thick, bloodstained rope wrapped itself tightly around her wrists and ankles, effectively preventing any movements or attempts to escape. 

“You, Longbottom - you and your ‘good-for-nothing’ brother have had your fun. I think it’s about time we teach you a little lesson.”

She sent the professor an angry glare. “So you’re finally going to start then?”

“What?”, Alecto spat

“Well, you are our teachers after all. One would think you would have planned on teaching us stuff from the beginning - it is your bloody job - but I’m glad you finally wanna give it a go…”

With a furious look on his face, Amycus grabbed Louise’s jumper and threw her violently to the floor. He charged and delivered a rough, well placed kick to her cheek before pulling out his wand.

“You really are a stupid little blood traitor, aren’t you? Do you honestly believe you’ll get out of here unharmed?”

“That kick was rather nasty so no, I think it’s too la…”

Her response was interrupted by a swift wand movement followed by a single word.

“Crucio!!”

Louise let out an ear piercing scream and began shaking violently. It wasn’t unexpected, yet she had feared this moment her entire life, and the realization that the time had finally arrived was just as horrifying as the pain itself.

“Maybe that’ll teach you something. Then again, your family never were the brightest of our kind, were they? Not even this lovely curse got the message across so… perhaps a few more times would suffice!”

The death eaters smirked evilly.

“CRUCIO!!”

“CRUCIO!!”

“CRUCIO!!”

***

Hours later the torture momentarily ceased, and Louise’s pained screams had drifted further and further towards what most would call hoarse whimpering. She was shaking, struggled to breathe, and no longer fully capable of taking in all that happened around her. 

“Well, well, well… looking rather shaken, Longbottom. Had enough yet? What do you reckon, sister?”

Alecto looked down at the trembling sixteen year old with disgust. 

“It does seem like the message has sunken in… But don’t you, dearest brother, feel like we should grant her some more… long lasting evidence of what she went through? Something more... physical?”

“What a splendid suggestion! Will you do me the honours?”

“Gladly!”

She pulled a small dagger from her cloak, though Louise had by the time almost passed out and lacked the strength to turn around and look. The girl lay motionless on the cold floor as her teacher grabbed her Gryffindor robes and threw them roughly into a messy pile. Alecto rested her hand on Louise’s collarbone, and repeatedly pierced her delicate skin. 

A couple of minutes later, the siblings stood back to admire their work and muttered sectumsempra before finally leaving and locking the door behind them.

Louise still didn’t react, but was moments later resting in a puddle of her own thick, red, hot blood.

***

“Lou?!” 

“Lou?!!!” 

“L..Lou?” 

As soon as Neville laid eyes on his sister, he ran up to her and pulled her into his arms. The word ‘traitor’ written across her neck caused him to look away for a moment, but he held her close. She was unconscious and her breathing was very shallow, but there was no doubt about it - she was alive!

“Louise, please wake up for me. Please”

 She was barely bleeding anymore, but had lost copious amounts of blood and was in need of immediate medical care.

“Neville, we’ve got to bring her up to the Room of Requirement.”

“But she needs healing!?”

“Yes, but it’s not safe here. They might return, c’mon.”

“Fine, let me just…”

He bent down and untied the ropes before picking her up. Seamus brought the cloak and they left the dungeons hoping that they, for the love of Merlin, would make it without getting caught.

***

“I...not..that!”

“Nev… just saying… don’t know… she’ll… what they did!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m gonna give up!?”

At first it was all incoherent, but eventually she started to pick up full sentences. The pain did however return as soon as she woke up, and she groaned slightly, causing the conversation to die out.

Her brother was by her side in an instant.

“Lou!? How… I.. Are you okay? Here, let me help you!”

He reached out to help her into a sitting position, but she flinched and moved away from his touch. This reaction caused his heart to completely shatter, and he raised his hands in surrender as a few tears left his eyes.

“Lou”, he muttered carefully, “it’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you, I could never…”

She looked back at him, eyes filled with dread and an uncertainty completely unlike anything he had ever seen before. 

“C’mon , L”, Seamus said as he put a hand on her shoulder, “‘tis just us.”

This move, though a very gentle one, caused her to quickly withdraw further as her breath quickened.

“Shut up Seamus”, said Ginny angrily, pulling their Irish friend away as Neville sat down on his knees. He was careful not to touch his sister - the thought of him scaring her being far too much for him to handle - and then placed his wand on a table a few feet away.

“Lou”, he said, once again holding his hands up in surrender, “I won’t hurt you, okay, just… do you know where you are?”

She didn’t respond, but did however look less terrified than before. Deep inside, Neville realized that Louise calming down should make him feel better, but there was something about her that gave him the creeps… There was something uncomfortably familiar about her posture, the nervous shifting and the way she seemed to be staring into nothing, yet he found himself unable to put his finger on it.

Then it hit him. He immediately understood who she reminded him of: 

Their Parents

He closed his eyes tightly and shuddered at the thought. It-it wasn’t possible! It couldn’t be...Neville Longbottom had never been so afraid in his life, but he knew what he had to do. He had to ask. He had to know.

“Lou?”, he repeated softly, “Lou, do you know who I am?”

Not receiving an immediate response worried him, but he gave it the benefit of the doubt - Maybe she just needed some time? 

So he waited. 

30 seconds. 

And waited. 

A minute. 

And waited. 

Five minutes.

No answer.

That’s when it burst. Neville broke down completely. He put his head in his hands and let the tears flow freely, having absolutely no desire to stop them.

“No…”, he stuttered, “No, no, no...not... not you too…”

“Not you too”

~ L

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