It's a common law in every school that a student-teacher relationship is forbidden. Unlucky for literature/history teacher Arthur Kirkland, unfortunately for him, he knew this student and had this really long crush for her. So, it's not hard to put two and two together.
Arthur Kirkland was a straight A-student, he was in the school's council for years and also had been the president for three years, he skipped two years of high school because he was that smart and intelligent—nobody can't say that he isn't a real genius and a tad bit rebellious. He has choppy blond hair that makes him looks boyish but he has calm aura and a mature look in his eyes, he has vibrant green eyes and is not big but not small either. He has a sarcastic personality but will go into fire to save his family friends and his loved ones, he will do anything for them without asking questions or to even think rationally. He's almost perfect in every way; smart, sportive, good-looking and very handsome, he's very polite but really sarcastic, striking green eyes that will capture a lot of girls and a deep British voice that could make any girls swoon at his feet. He can do almost everything aside from cooking, don't even try to eat his food; you won't come out alive—how does his soup even turned blue?—and Arthur don't want to know either.
When he got his diploma, he studied at the university of Cambridge and studied law, in mere two years he got his diploma. Most people were shocked that he wanted to be a teacher, he would have a great carrier of being a lawyer and also be a great business man. They didn't understand, Arthur had a great and bright future, and yet he wanted to be a teacher, he said that "I can pass my knowledge to people and they would be grateful for it." it was a simple answer but none of his family pressed further on the subject, because he was a stubborn one—must be a family trait.
He puts his students assignment down, skimming his eyes over the context because he would look at it when he's in his apartment, and where nobody could stress him out. He takes a stack of paper on his desk and put it on his left arm, "I want you to take your book on page 325 and answer this sheet with the information you got." He instructed, placing their paper on their desk, he was last to be on her desk, she sat on the fattest corner near the window. The brunet looked boredly out the window, gazing at the blue sky. She looked up when she noticed his presence, Arthur smiled briefly before walking back to his desk.
He pulled their testes out, wanting to correct it now when they were calm and focused. The young teacher took the first papers that was on top, "Chiara R. Vargas" it says in a curvy handwriting.
Chiara Romana Vargas was a straight A&B-student and was one of the school's best student, a brunet with curly hair, a curl sprouting from her locks and it annoys her as always, she was an Italian transfer student, she has a foul mouth that could make a grown man cry with only words but is respectful nonetheless. She studies Latin and wanted to be an archaeologist. Their families were very close and also on good terms, they invite each other for Christmas and other celebrations. They also known each other from when they were young and are each other best friends for a long time. He was only one year older than her, their mother's known each other from when they were young too, they were there for each other when their husband passed out and were their to support each other and scold their husbands later for passing out.
This was one for literature, they needed to rewrite a Greek mythology of choice it must be creative but it still must be original and recognizable. They were free to do what they want, some took it even far and put aliens in it, it wouldn't surprise him if one of his students did that. Mss. Vargas did an excellent job with being original yet creative, she chooses on of Sophocles' works. She has a way with words the no person could describe and certainly when it comes to writing, she normally has a hidden book somewhere she would write short stories or poems in it. When they were little, she would read it aloud for him.
He looked at his wristwatch—that he got for his sixteenth birthday—and saw that it was almost time to go home, school would be finished in ten minutes, "Wrap it up!" The British teacher announced. He stood back up from his seat and took the book with him, flipping the page so that he could look with them and correct them if necessary. He pointed some points out left, clues for them to find, he almost did his round when he came back to Chiara's desk, looking over her shoulder, "This is wrong, miss Vargas." He whispered. "Look at this sentence." He pointed with his finger.
She nodded understandingly and corrects her sentence when she got what he meant. "Thanks." The brunet whispers.
Rrriiinnnggg.
A loud shrieking sound filled the classroom, announcing them that school is done for today. "Place it on my desk, we'll correct it together tomorrow. Have a good day further."
"Goodnight, professor Kirkland." His pupils muttered, in audible or inaudible voice.
He collects their papers and puts it in a separate map to take home with him along with their assignment. He waits for all his pupils to leave, Chiara is the last to go out the door.
"Ve~ sorella, come on let's go a casa." A cheerful voice chirped. "Oh, hello, Arthur, ah I mean professor Kirkland, ve!" She waves cheerfully, and clutches on her big sister's unoccupied arm.
"Hello, miss Vargas." He greets politely and smiles amiable.
"Sì, sì, idiot, let's go." Chiara agrees with a frown.
When they are outside the school's gate, "Ve~, how are you doing at home, Arthù?" She questions.
"I'm doing fine, Feliciana." He responds absentmindedly.
"Oh, are you coming to our barbecue this Saturday, bastard?" The older brunet grumbles.
Arthur ponders thoughtfully, "We'll see, Chi." was his answer, after all, he has a huge stack of paper in his apartment that needed to be corrected. "Do you want a lift back home?"
"No, ve, we still need to buy some groceries for dinner." Feliciana responds, "But that was nice of you, ve!"
The blond smiles charmingly, "Any time." He waves before taking the opposite direction from them, "Get home safe!" He calls out.
"Sì, we"ll do, ve~."
"Yeah, whatever, bastard."
He got two opposite responses, and he chuckles lightly, heading to his parked car.
He could hear a angry shout of embarrassment and a string of curses that follows, it wasn't difficult to deduce from who it was.
It's a ten minute ride from his work back to his apartment, he parks his vehicle—making sure that it's locked—in the underground parking lot and takes the elevator to the fourth floor, and unlocking his door. Frankly, his apartment was really spacious, two bedrooms, a bathroom with a bath and a shower separately, toilet, a large living room and a small kitchen but he doesn't cook anyway and a storage room.
He puts his shoulder bag down and makes his way to his kitchen, wanting to make a nice pot of tea. He waited for the water to warm up and pours it in the porcelain teapot and he adds Earl Grey leaves and stirs it so the taste would come out, he pours the milk in a separate pot. Arthur places it on his oaken table, going back to his kitchen to fetch his teacup with saucer, a small spoon and sugar cubes.
He takes a seat, pulls his laptop out and the tests, he pours himself a nice cup of tea and drops two sugar cubes in it and a whiff milk. He corrected each test and types their point in his laptop.
Around six o'clock he heard a soft knock, "It's open!" He says loudly, he hears the door creak open and close softly, the gentle tapping of footstep was heard. He closes his laptop and stacks his paper and turns around, "'Ello, Chi." He greats pleasantly.
She scowls, "You know, someone could rob you if you let your door open the whole time, idiot." She says dryly.
"Cynical as always I see." He teases and rolls his eyes.
She scoffs, "Your brother Alistair prepared haggis for you."
His face scrunches up in pure disgust, "Your kidding right?" fidgeting in his seat.
She laughs, "Sì, of course I am, stupid. Who wants to eat that shit?"
Arthur sighs in relief, not wanting to taste that horrible taste again, "Apparently, Alistair does." He deadpans.
"Anyways," she begins slowly, setting her bag down on the floor, "Your mamma asked me if I could come and check on you."
He smiles, she's so worried for his wellbeing, "As always."
"Anyways, I brought you pizza, bastard." She takes a seat next to him, blushing slightly.
"Did you make it yourself, Chi?"
"Sì, who do you think I am?" She says, glaring at him but the blond shrugs it off, digging in his homemade pizza and moans at the taste that overwhelmed his senses.
The Italian girl smirks smugly, everybody does that when they taste her infamous pizza.
When they both were done eating, Chiara fidgets in her seat—a nervous sign—she opens her mouth then shut it, sighing through her nose, "May I study here, Arthur?" She questions timidly, fiddling with her fingers.
The Brit chuckles softly, how cute, and responds, "Of course you can and let me guess. Gilbert's there?"
She nods and puts a disgusted face and gawks, "It's painful to watch." She murmurs, a scowl on her face.
Arthur stifles a laugh, "I can imagine." He cleared his throat, "Do you want help?" The blonds offers, looking away from the screen.
"No." Chiara decides, "I'm not inept, moron." She says playfully.
"Of course not, pet." He laughs and ruffles her hair, avoiding the curl at any cost unless he wants to have Italian fury and wrath directed to him. No thank you sir.
"Shigi!" She shrieks indignantly and punches him in his arm and resumes doing her homework that he gave to her and on of her math teacher. The math problems was already finished—she liked to think logically, everything in math is perfect...nothing can go wrong with the formula, that's what she really likes about math.
The blond shrugs his shoulder and pays his attention back on the screen and the pares next to him. A red ballpoint in his right hand, correcting their faults if there should be one—he have excellent pupils in his class because the last year was really troublesome for him.
He would occasionally look at her, study her facial expressions and returning back to his work so that he wouldn't get busted.
The brunet stretches, her arm reaching over her head and waits for the relieving crack, when it came she sighs contently. She stuffs her books and papers back in her backpack she has brought along with her.
"Done?"
"Almost." was her short answer, "You really pick difficult topics for our homework, bastard." She complains, an irritated in her green-hazel eyes and freckled with gold dots—somehow, that reminds him of the stars in the night sky, shining brightly and enchanting in every possible way.
He chuckles, not faced by the brunet's complains about his difficult homework, "I wouldn't be a change then. Wouldn't it?" He throws back at her, leaving her thinking over his statement.
"No, it would be boring." Her phone starts ringing, "Pronto?" She answers, he doesn't hear the rest of the conformations or where it was leading to because frankly, he never wanted to study Italian, he knew a few languages such as; English (duh), French (because he could make the frog annoyed because he kew everything that was thrown at him), Spanish (he didn't even knew why anymore) and German (somehow he found that it was a funny language, don't ask him why, because he doesn't know that too).
She ends her phone call and runs a hand through her brown curly locks, "They want me back home, it's getting late and dark." She notifies him, he could see a glint of irritation and annoyance in those unique eyes.
He nods understandingly, her family were very protective so he understands them completely, "Do yo want a ride home?" He suggests, "I don't mind." He blurts out without much thinking. "After all, I don't want you to be found out dead in a dark alley, then it makes me responsible." He jokes, only Chiara doesn't really know of it was meant as a joke or he doesn't really care about her wellbeing. She snorts at the last option, he cares to much ad his a "gentleman", right...
"Geez, and I thought you were being nice." The Italian girl says dramatically, her voice laces with sarcasm and places a hand on her chest; the location of her heart.
The Brit rolls his eyes and picks his car keys and trails it around his right index finger, "Coming slowpoke?"
This time she rolled his eyes and flips her hair over her shoulder but walks out the door in the hallway.
"Don't sass at me."
"I did not."
"Did so."
Their bickering don't stop until they were inside the vehicle and and took off on the road.
"Hey, Arthur..."
Arthur hums to let her know that he's paying attention but still keeps his eyes on the road, "Hmm, yes? What do you need, Chi?"
Chiara blushes and bites her underlip, "A-are you coming to the barbecue?" She enquires timidly.
He glances at his side, looking at the fidgeting Italian, he sighs exasperatedly, "I'm going to go as soon as I finish my work." He gives in, how can you not agree when she pulls such an adorable face? It's almost impossible to resist. "We're here." He announces calmly, parking his car infant of the classic two floored house.
She steps out his car, she knocks on the window, slightly smiling. When his window's down, she pulls the door open and hugs him, "Thanks, Artie! You're the best."
He feels her chest pressing against him—so tempting—he blushes at the close contact—she would always hug him like this when the were little kids but now she matured in a beautiful young lady that no one could describe her beauty—and bites his lip, "No problem, Chi." anything for you, he says mentally because to would be embarrassing to say it out loud.
She backs off, giving his personal space again, she beams at him and runs to her house waving him goodnight from her doorstep, "Love you, bastard!" She shouts, saying that in a friendly manner. Their friendship was always rather weird.
"Love you too!" Arthur calls out and drives away, looking at her when she disappears behind the door through his mirror, "You just don't know how much."
The next day most of the teachers were sitting in the teachers lounge enjoying their free time without the stress about dealing with their pupils. The door slamming open, alarming every teacher that were in the room. "Professor Kirkland?!" The said man raised one of his impressive eyebrows, "It's Chiara! She's in trouble!" Gilbert shouted desperately.
By her name, the history and literature teacher immediately stands up hastily, "Where is she?!" He says calmly but his eyes help panic in those green depths. Please don't be what I think it is, please dear lord! He follows the German through corridors, the flight of stairs and through the hallway when he's in the large open courtyard. Panic, fair and worry is adrenaline, he pants slightly searching for the familiar brunet.
The blond sees her standing over the boy, she grabs his collar and delivers a hard blow on his face that makes him stumble a few paces backwards before falling on the ground. He sees two pupils already on the ground, knocked out and then they were with three. He sees her fury radiating of her body, throwing profanities in Italian and English and other languages she knows, screaming bloody murder. She's ready to pounce on the other guy that has provoked her wrath, she grabs a handful of his dress shirt, wrinkling it in fist and shouts in his face making him scared, the poor bloke must be shitting in his trouser right now.
Her little sister, Felicia stands there petrified, she could move, she looks like she was made of stone, the younger Italian girl had a terrified look on her face. She never saw her big sister this angry, so furious that she almost could rip their heads of their body with ease.
Chiara fist came in contact with his face, she knees him in stomach so hard that he coughs blood out, she twists his right arm—and he swears that he could his bones cracking from the force—switching their position so that she's behind him and flips him over her shoulder and twists his hand in a painful angle and kicks him in his balls for good measure.
A shadow's falling on her face, impossible for them to see what kind of glint she has in her eyes, she calmly strides to the trebling teen, twitching her hand before sprinting at the scared teen her fist almost makes impact with his face was it not for the British teacher to stop her arm right there and now, "Stop this immediately, Chiara!" He says strictly, his eyes are blazing with silent rage and he doesn't bother this time to be polite and addresses her with her given name. "Come with me." The blond tugs at her arm, hauling her with him.
Chiara keeps her face strained on the ground, not daring to speak or protest. Her breath is still ragged from the one-sided fight earlier.
The professor has a frown plastered on his face the whole time when they make it to the infirmary and pulls her inside and throws her on the bed in one fluent moment all the while loosening his tie. "You'll be getting punishment for your reckless behaviour.
The Italian girl gulps, knowing exactly through what hell she's going to experience.
A.N:
Hey, it's has been a while don't you guys think so too? Anyways, hello, I've been taking a break from my fanfic account for a few weeks. Of course it isn't a excuse to be slacking off, and I didn't. Promise! I've a Quotev account if you want to take a look at it under the same name. It's mostly for reader inserts, normally, I do have a Davianart account but I don't remember my pen name anymore—way to go me! ^-^'
So yeah, this is a multi chapter story and let's just say that I've feeling incredible creative these days! Anyhow, hope you've been enjoying this so far and let's hope I won't slack on this AU too much like "A new found love on the 7 seas" and I can't guarantee you this. Sorry... I feel so ashamed of myself... :(
Well, hope you have a awesome day
-JessicaStarCrossed