#Elementary Teacher Resume

[careernextplus]

Clean Resume Template Google Docs, Word & Pages, Minimalist Executive Resume, Simple Modern Smooth Template, Minimal Resume Template 2023

[cartoon-skeleton]

group work is Not It. I should have known better than to enroll in an engagement course that involves planning workshops with a group of other students……. guess who is doing all the work! :^) Back in tha day my teachers called me a ‘natural leader’… fun fact!!!! I am actually not! I do not like being in charge! it is actually just that people take advantage of me! Hope this helps

[biru-thegoose]

the lesbian urge to show up in a male-dominated, heteronormative industry and let them deal with my presence is strong this evening

[pipwritesoccasionally]

two little lines

toji x reader

in which you find out that you're pregnant and fear toji's reaction.

because of pregnancy this is technically an AFAB!reader, but I did my best to keep it gender neutral. though I did use the pet name "doll" (sorry it feels so toji), and I don't exactly know if it's gender neutral.

despite this technically being AFAB, if you're AMAB and want to read I am not here to yuck your yum.

wc: 1551

look at me mixing it up with a toji fic after three straight nanami fics!

pt. 2 pt. 3

______________________________________________________________

two little lines. all it took to seemingly destroy your entire life was two little lines on a pregnancy test. 

sure, it had been two months since your last period, and sure, you were in a long-term relationship, so pregnancy was something that was technically plausible. however, you just couldn’t fathom how you had been so careless. i mean, having two kids was enough, but a third? 

no, your husband was definitely going to leave you, and the thought of it made your heart clench. 

‘fuck,’ you thought, vision blurring. ‘everything is just going to end because of two stupid fucking pink lines?’ 

you’re lucky toji was off on some other random bounty hunt, giving you time to hide the test before going to pick megumi and tsumiki up from school. the floorboards creak as you run to the kitchen, throwing the test in the box with your favorite snacks, knowing toji would never look inside it.  

silence fills the house, creating a sharp juxtaposition with the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. there has to be some way to calm down before going to get your stepkids. you tried everything you could think of, from splashing cold water on your face to walking around to holding an ice cube in your hand, until eventually you got to a point where you felt like you could pretend. 

keys, wallet and stress in hand, you got in the car and headed to their elementary school. the kids were there, standing on the curb, and you waved as you approached. there seemed to be an argument before tsumiki opened the passenger-side door, megumi grumbling as he slid into the backseat. 

“how was school?” you asked, and the kids scrambled to talk about what they learned, from the different types of clouds to their times-tables. 

“it was super fun and the teacher said that we have a new project coming up about the types of clouds! we get to make diaramas of them and it sounds really fun!” tsumiki exclaims, the smile evident in her voice. 

“that does sound fun! you’ll have to tell your dad all about it when he gets home,” you feel your brows furrow at the mention of toji, but you quickly resume your role of the happy guardian so as not to cause any problems. 

the house comes into view minutes later, and megumi runs inside. you turn to get out before tsumiki sighs softly. 

“wait,” she says, and you turn to her. “is something wrong?” 

‘curse her for being so observant,’ you think, but you shake your head quickly. 

“nothing for you to worry about, just worried about your father, as always,” which technically is not a lie, just not fully the truth. 

“oh, well you know that he’ll be okay! he’ll be back and then he’ll stomp around the house talking about those ‘damn sorcerers’-” tsumiki deepens her voice to imitate her father, but you stop her. 

“hey! watch your language!” she opens the door and runs inside, laughing the whole way, and you smile softly. you really do love those kids, even if they aren’t yours by blood. 

the house is cold when you enter, and you make your way towards the thermostat. however, before you can even turn the temperature up, a sour taste climbs up your throat. you feel sweat drench your brow, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to throw up. 

you run up the stairs, throwing yourself in front of the toilet to empty your stomach. footsteps pad up the stairs, and you feel a little hand rubbing against your back. 

“(y/n)? are you sure you’re okay?” tsumiki’s soft voice brought tears to your eyes, more running down your cheeks as you retched. it took a minute or two to get everything out of your system before you sit back on your heels. 

“sorry, i guess i’m a little sick. we should have some microwavable meals in the fridge, do you think you could make some food for you and megumi?” she nods, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. 

‘he’s going to find out soon,’ you worry, brushing your teeth to rid the awful taste from your mouth. ‘i guess i should get some rest so i don’t have to face him when he comes home.’ 

you sink into your shared bed, blankets reaching out to hug your body, and you drift off to sleep. 

the bed sinks, pulling you out of your slumber. you begin to turn to face your husband before you’re reminded of the events from earlier. your pulse is rapid, and you think about pretending that you’re still asleep before toji speaks. 

“hey doll. ‘miki said that you weren’t feeling well earlier. you’re not hurt, are you? i can handle whoever it is for you.” you smile at the softness he only displays for you, but how can you explain that the person causing you stress is none other than him?

“i’m okay. it’s probably food poisoning or something. you did cook dinner last night,” he frowns, groaning lowly. 

“i’m not that bad. the brats said it was fine enough,” you laugh at him, burrowing into the blankets. your husband slides his shirt over his head, revealing his broad shoulders riddled with muscles and scars. mindlessly, you reach out to caress him softly, and he slides into bed beside you. while normally you’d ask to lay on his chest, you’re worried being that close would make him aware of your irregular pulse. 

“goodnight babe,” you say, curling back into yourself and closing your eyes, knowing that if you look at him now his confusion would cause the truth to tumble out. 

“night doll,” he hesitates, weight settling in on the other side of the bed. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you wake up to a quiet house, something that sets you off immediately. two elementary school aged kids does not bode well for a quiet house, and so you sit up, reaching to your right to find toji’s side of the bed cold to the touch. 

‘okay, something’s up.’ 

you walk down the stairs to the kitchen, calling out for the kids, only to see that their shoes aren’t by the door. toji’s in the kitchen, looking through the fridge. 

“hey babe, where are the kids?” you normally get them off to school, but it seems that maybe you’d slept in late. 

“they’re at school,” he says shortly, taking you aback. 

“okay. sorry i slept in, i must have been really tire-” you stop when you step into the kitchen, seeing your positive pregnancy test on the counter. the whole world freezes, and you can feel everything crashing down. 

“oh that? yeah, it was weird. i tried to bring your favorite snack to you in bed when the box was making a weird sound. found that at the bottom.” he gestures haphazardly, cracking the dam holding the next wave of your anxiety back. 

“it’s a friend’s-”

“don’t bullshit me. were you even going to tell me?” his voice is low, eyes piercing. 

“toji-” 

“were. you. going. to. tell me.” he enunciates. 

“i didn’t know how! i mean seriously, you have two kids to worry about, the last thing you need is a fucking baby! i get it, it’s over. i’ll go get my shit,” tears are running down your cheeks as you tear out your heart with your bare hands. you turn to leave, making your way upstairs, when a hand grabs your wrist softly. 

“wait–doll. fuck.” he turns you to face him. “you don’t have to leave.” 

“of course i fucking do. should probably go now before the kids get back. i don’t want them involved.” you take another step, but his grip remains firm. 

“i said you don’t have to leave. the brat’s mine too.” 

“wait. you want to keep it?” he looks to the side, rubbing his other hand against his neck. 

“of course i fucking do,” he mirrors, and your eyes widen. 

“you mean…you’re not mad?” 

“i’m mad you didn’t tell me, not about the brat.” your eyes water, and before you know it you’re sobbing into his chest. 

“what is this all about? you really have such a low opinion of me to think i’d kick you out?” his voice rumbles through his chest against your ear. 

“you’re just so busy, and i thought…i thought that you would be mad,” you sob even harder, not knowing where the emotions end and hormones begin. 

“so what? i’d just kick you to the curb?” 

“i mean, you have two kids already…maybe a third would be too much.” he starts to chuckle, causing you to pull away from him. 

“what’s so funny?” 

“that you seriously thought i’d kick you out. i don’t break promises, doll, and marriage is just a big promise. besides, you’d probably get custody of the brats. they like you more than me.” 

you run your hands over your face before reaching out to play with his hair. 

“you’re really not mad?” you repeat, and he rolls his eyes.

“no dumbass. besides, i can’t let any other men see how hot you are carrying my kid.” you snort, circling your arms around his neck to pull him closer. 

“love you, toji.” 

“love you too, doll.” he says, your lips meeting.

[janeyseymour]

Hey so I was wondering if you could do a fic about a Melissa X daughter reader where we start working at the school and nobody catches on that we are Melissa’s daughter and the keep putting the pieces together until they finally get it. Maybe something like where Janine and Jacob go to Melissa’s house for cooking lessons and we are just like there and that’s how they find out. Or alternative idea where we are Melissa’s daughter and we start dating someone from Abbott like Ava or Janine and how that would play out. Sorry that’s a lot. Thanks

Relatively Related

written in the midst of the week before spring break and hoping that it isn't absolute trash :)

WC: ~2.5k

Growing up with Melissa Schemmenti for a mother, you saw what it was like being a teacher. You grew up hearing the horror stories that came with being a teacher in a center city school in Philadelphia, and you knew the horrors of growing up in a different part of Philly and going to that neighborhood school. While she didn’t much mind what you did with your life, she had always thought you would be a good teacher. And when you decided to go to college for education at West Chester University, she knew Abbott would take you in a heartbeat. It didn’t even matter that you were her daughter and she was quite the accredited teacher- West Chester’s name had enough to secure you a job anywhere in Philly that you wanted. You had vehemently denied working at her home away from home for quite some time, and yet here you were, with a bit of nudging from your mother, interviewing to become the new third grade teacher at Abbott Elementary. 

“C’mon, hun,” she had sighed over dinner a few weeks ago. “I think if you would give it a shot, you would like it… I know Abbott ain’t no suburban school, but it’s a hell of a lot better than some of the places you’ve applied.”

“I just don’t want people thinking I got the job because you’re my mom,” you tell her truthfully through a mouthful of ziti.

“Y/N, if you wanted the job, I could get it for you without an interview.”

“Isn’t that essentially what would happen if I applied and checked off that I have family within the district?”you challenge as you raise a brow.

She rolls her eyes. “You act like they actually look at resumes. Please, they’ll take pretty much anyone who has a pulse and a certification… how you think I got stuck with Darlene as a part of my team?”

“I guess.”

“And besides, you have your father’s last name… how are they gonna know you’re my daughter if you don’t have my last name?”

You have to admit, she’s right. So you send in your resume. And two days later, you receive an email saying that they’d like to see you for an interview. 

Your interview is practically a joke, and you’re offered a job on the spot. That night, Melissa and her work wife Barbara take you out for dinner.

“To Abbott’s newest member of the team,” Barbara makes a toast to you. “May it take you far in life.”

That was three years ago, and since then a lot has changed. A new principal has come in, there’s been a massive turnover in teachers, and you find yourself as a first grade teacher now. The only thing that hasn’t changed? The only one who knows you’re true identity at the school besides you and your mother is that Melissa Schemmenti is your mother. 

This year, a few new teachers start: Jacob Hill as the eighth grade social studies teacher, and Janine Teagues as the other second grade teacher.

And as much as your mother loves to rip on new coworkers of yours, you find yourself quite drawn to both of them. Sure, they’re a little nosey and love to hear all of the new gossip and find all of the deep secrets that are hidden in the walls of this old bomb shelter turned elementary school, but you like them. They haven’t found you out, not that you or Melissa really care, but it’s quite nice to have that little bubble around the two of you. 

They’ve come close though. Like the time that it came about that you share a name with Melissa’s daughter- who at this point they’re starting to believe doesn’t exist with the lack of pictures or stories.

“I’m telling you, I have a daughter,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she taps away at her phone. “I’m texting her right now.”

That is true- she is indeed texting you. Sure, she’s just texting you to tell you that you need to pick up lentils on the way home, but she isn’t lying to them.

“Show us.”

The redhead rolls her eyes, but she shows the two of them your conversation. “See? I’m just telling her she needs to pick up lentils if she wants me to make dinner tonight.”

Jacob’s brow raises as he catches the name at the top of the screen. “That’s odd… your daughter shares the same name with Y/N!”

“Well that would make sense,” your mother sighs, and you know she’s about to just out the two of you.

“It’s not like my name’s uncommon,” you jump in quietly. “I mean… really. Y/N. Not the most unique name in the world.”

Barbara raises a brow in your direction, and you give her a pleading look. “She’s right,” is all your mother’s work wife says. 

That seems to stop the conversation for now, but the adrenaline rushing through your bones doesn’t quit until you safely pull into your driveway that day- lentils in hand.

“I’m home, Ma,” you call as you open the front door. Her head pokes out from the kitchen. “And yes I got the lentils.”

“Good,” is all she says before heading back into the kitchen. You follow in her direction and set them next to her before picking up the glass of wine she’s already poured for you and sipping on it.

“Aye,” she clicks her tongue. “No hello? No ‘how was your day?’”

“I saw your forty minutes ago,” you snort.

“An’ a lot coulda happened in forty minutes,” she replies. When you raise your brow at her, she sighs. “Okay, so in that forty minutes I drove home, changed into my lounge clothes, and started dinner… but I was also thinkin’-”

“That’s dangerous,” you quip. At the look she gives you, you raise your hands in surrender. You might be a grown woman, but Melissa Schemmenti was still your mother. 

“I was thinkin’… you reacted kinda weird when I went to say that you were my daughter.”

You shrug. “I just don’t see why it’s anyone’s business but ours.”

“There’s gotta be more to it than that, hun,” she says as she stirs in the lentils.

“Jus’ don’t want anyone thinkin’ I’m some sorta nepo baby,” you sigh. “I got this job on my own, an’ I don’t need shit from the Abbott crew.”

“They ain’t gonna give you shit, ‘specially once they know you’re mine, and I know a guy,” she laughs,

“Little do they know, half the time, I’m your guy,” you tease her.

“Well, if that’s what it is, that’s fine. I won’t say nothin’.”

“Thanks Ma,” you smile as you kiss her cheek. “I got some grading to do, so if you have anything that needs graded, just put it next to my stack.”

As time goes on, the group starts to catch on a bit more… like:

The fact that you’re just as good a cook as your mother. You’re always bringing in new things in your Tupperware containers- that just so happen to match Melissa’s… because they came from the same house. You quickly cover that one up with a roll of your eyes and a, “So we both shop at Marshalls, the containers ain’t that special.”

Or when you manage to get pink eye from one of your kids, and Janine notices that you have the same emerald eyes as your mother. “Green eyes aren’t as rare as you think, Janine,” you huff as you grab your lunch from the fridge before leaving for the day.

There’s the instance where you’re getting fiercely protective of your students as one of the teachers from Addington makes their way over to flaunt the fact that they have more resources down the street, and you fold your arms over your chest and square up with the woman in true Schemmenti fashion. That time, Gregory takes notice, but he’s new at this point, and you just roll your eyes as you storm away down to your mother’s room to rant. 

But no one ever really finds out. Not until…

“Kid, I’m having some people over for dinner tonight,” your mother tells you. “You joining?”

“Nah, I have some grading and prepping to get done tonight if I can,” you say. “But can you save me a bowl?”

“For a price,” she smirks.

“Hand me your spelling tests I know you’ve been stalling on grading,” you chuckle. She just points to her bag, and you go and pull them out before heading up to your room. “Have fun with your friends tonight. Love you, Ma.”

“Love you too, you little shit,” she calls back lovingly.

You’ve spent hours grading papers, and now you’re pouring over your lesson plans for the next week. You realize that you should probably do a craft that has to do with the upcoming holidays, and you find a few cute ones online. You know that you and your mother have a plethora of crafting supplies in the basement- you just don’t know what of. So, you start to make your way down the steps when you hear two very familiar voices: Jacob’s and Janine’s.

Knowing though that if you don’t go and look in the basement now, you never will and will just end up buying all new supplies and adding to the ridiculous amount of pipe cleaners and glitter glue you have stashed away.

You make your way through the kitchen. The three of them seem to be deep in a cooking lesson while also snacking on a few of the things your mother had already whipped up and don’t have a clue you’re walking through.

“You need any crafting supplies while I head down and see what we have?” you casually ask your mother as you pass.

You stop to watch as your two coworkers’ heads whip around in a near comical unison, mouths dropped in shock.

“Y/N?”

“Hey,” you give a half-committed wave. 

“What are you doing here?” Janine asks.

You furrow a brow and fold your arms over your chest. “I live here?”

“You live with Melissa?” Jacob gasps.

“Yeah? She’s my mom?”

“She’s your-“ Janine points a finger at you before turning around and looking at Melissa. “You’re her-”

“I told you guys I had a daughter, that she wasn’t fake,” your mom smirks. “You believe me now?”

“How did we never know?!” Jacob admonishes.

“Well, for starters: I don’t have the Schemmenti last name. Secondly, who’s business is it to know who my mother is?” you quip. “You know how private the Schemmenti family can be.”

They both look beyond shocked. “Well, why don’t you join us?”

“I really do have to go check for pipe cleaners and paper plates, and I know how to cook,” you laugh. “But I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

You head down the steps, and you hear your mother call, “The big jawns!”

“That’s what I figured, Ma!”

“What the hell?” Jacob whips around to your mother, and you laugh because you know she’s about to get grilled on the fact that you were indeed her ‘secret’ daughter.

You find what you need before heading back up the steps and for your room. “Have a good night y’all!”

The next morning, you’re sitting in the lounge sipping your coffee and sulking over the fact that you forgot your lunch on the counter this morning. Luckily for you, your mother brings it with her when she sees that you left it on the counter. She slips it into the staff fridge before sending you a text that it’s there. She preps her coffee and settles in next to you to grade a few more papers before everyone else stars trickling in to watch the news.

“Uh, hello?” Jacob questions when he walks in and everyone else is here now too. “Are we not going to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” you and your mother ask at the same time.

“You two!” He gestures wildly between the two of you. “That you guys are related!”

“You two are related?” Gregory asks with a brow lifted.

“Uh, yeah!” Janine tells him.

“How do you know?”

“She told us last night when she called Melissa ‘Ma’!”

“Why didn’t any of us know this?” Jacob continues on.

“Know what?” Ava asks as she comes waltzing into the lounge to grab a coffee.

“That Melissa is Y/N’s mother!”

“I knew,” Barb states with a smirk on her face.

“Oh, damn! I was starting to think Melissa being a milf was just a rumor. I am happy to find out that it is entirely the truth,” the principal grins. “Greg, grab me a tea bag so I can sip on this tea!”

“There isn’t any tea, Ava,” you roll your eyes. “Yes, Melissa is my mom, but it really ain’t that big a deal.”

“Oh, it definitely is! Why were you so secretive about it?! Hmm?” Jacob asks as he sits next to you.

You shimmy away from him just slightly with a huff. “Because nobody needs to know a Schemmenti’s business except a Schemmenti. And, I didn’t want nobody thinking I got this job because of who I’m related to.”

“Y/N, please. You’re good at what you do, hun! You could get this job without the Schemmenti name, and you did!” Your mother cuts in and jostles you slightly.

“I also didn’t want to hear you-“ you look to Ava. “-calling my mother a milf more than I already do.”

“She is! And now that I see the two of you next to each other, I definitely see where your future is heading too!”

“Ava!” You, your mother, and the rest of the group scold.

The principal just shrugs. “Jus’ sayin’ the truth. Bye, y’all.”

Once she’s gone, you’re bombarded with questions. What’s it like having Melissa for a mother? Is your father really as bad as your mother makes him out to be? What was it like growing up? If you saw the horrors of Abbott, why did you work here? What were you like as a child?

“Enough,” you finally groan. “This is why I didn’t want people knowin’. I may be Melissa’s daughter, but-”

“Isn’t it weird calling your mom by her first name?” Jacob cuts you off.

“I’ve been yelling her first name since I was fourteen and realized she didn’t always respond to Mom or Ma, but always Melissa,” you reveal. “Now: she may be my mom, but I’m still a damn good teacher who got this position on my own volition. And y’all better stop asking these questions, or I know a guy.”

“And I’m the guy,” you mother states proudly, a proud grin on her face.

“No you ain’t. Uncle Vin is my guy.”

“While we’re at it,” Melissa sighs. “Stop asking me to get weed from my guy and just ask Y/N instead. She’s my guy for that.”

[darkworkcourier]

I was wondering, could you write Ghost x fem!reader hand to hand combat training that leads to them making out

YES'M COMING RIGHT UP

reader doesn't have a nickname or any identifying features other than, idk, having hair i guess? also no real warnings except for making out and some suggestive stuff. y'know, promises on the horizon. 👀 i didn't want to go much further in case all you wanted was just makeouts.

---

"No. Hands here. Right. Just about level with your chest."

It's hard to focus with Ghost's hands on your wrists, guiding you into a stance that feels off. You're accustomed to one particular style of defense, and he shifts you into another that makes your muscles ache.

You furrow your brow. "Is it supposed to feel like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to throw my rotator cuff out?"

He shrugs, resuming his original stance—one where his hands are lower, parallel to his waist, arms spread like he's going to hug you. "Just means you're using muscles you're not accustomed to exercising," he replies.

"You saying I don't exercise?" you joke.

"Just hold your hands there."

You do, and he gives you about two seconds of warning before he comes at you.

Going up against Ghost in hand-to-hand combat is terrifying. There's no other word for it, no way to describe it outside of using terms like 'pants-shittingly scary'. He's a wall of muscle garbed in black, mask cementing the vision of a very buff Grim Reaper launching himself at you, dragging you into death in some judo move. You're still not accustomed to it, even this many months into your assignment with the 141. The second he moves, that fight or flight instinct screams flee, idiot! and you flinch.

He stops before touching you, sighing like an overburdened elementary school teacher. "You did it again," he says.

You fall out of the stance and raise your hands helplessly. "What do you expect me to do? You ever see yourself in a mirror?"

He ignores that latter question. "I expect you to defend yourself," he replies. "You're gonna meet people far bigger than me out there."

Doubt it, you think. You don't need to remind him that you have gone into the field before, and that you earned your place in the 141 through skill and tenacity. However, at this point, you still haven't seen someone like Ghost out there.

"Okay," you say, rallying yourself and raising your hands again. "I got this. Big, scary dude coming at me. No problem."

You think he raises a brow at you. Not something you can see, but you feel it. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Yep. Totally good."

Ghost goes back into the first pose with his arms out. He hunkers down, looming at the edge of the mat like a very large specter of the imminent end, and yet all you can think is can you use those arms for something else, please.

Which is why you miss the two second warning, and promptly get knocked off your feet by a skeleton-garbed missile of a man.

Because it turns out that he only corrected your stance from the waist up, and you completely forgot what to do with your legs. You didn't brace, didn't set your feet shoulder-width apart to lower your center of gravity and make you more solid. That, and Ghost has such a size advantage of you that it feels a hell of a lot like someone shooting a grenade launcher at a lawn chair.

All to say, you topple and hit the mat hard. Air whuffs out of your lungs, compressed under the sheer weight of Ghost. Sparks dance in your vision for one hot second before you come back to yourself, registering aches in brand new places and the feeling of one of Ghost's (impressively beefy) thighs between your legs.

Unfortunately, robbed of all oxygen, all you manage to eke out is a sad wheeze.

"Fuck," Ghost groans. He manages to hoist himself up on his forearms, lifting the stone weight off your chest so you're not getting compressed like a panini. "Ugh. You okay?"

It takes an embarrassingly long time to get your breath back, and a moment longer to work around the ache in your ribs from having a bulldozer of a man on your chest—not even in a sexy way. "Yeaaahhh," you force out, gritting your teeth and blinking away the last jittery sparkles in your vision. "Gimme a second."

He does, but you register that he's not getting off of you. In fact, he's holding pretty damn steady and not doing something in the name of good teamwork like, say, standing up and helping you off the mat, or asking if you need medical assistance, or making fun of you. Instead, he's most definitely staying quiet, and when you look at him, you suddenly feel pinned anew.

Because he's staring, and it's made so much more intense by the greasepaint around his eyes, drawing out his dark eyes by contrast. You feel his gaze like added weight, and it keeps you still, unable to scoot out from under him even though he's given you room to do so.

Your breathing's back online, but it's not steady, and your mouth is very, very dry.

"Um," is all you can say, and you're proud of yourself for getting that much out.

His eyes flick down, watching your mouth move. They widen when you lick your bottom lip to give it some reprieve.

There's no training for to do in this situation.

And there's certainly no training for— for lifting up his damn mask and revealing a mouth that you're pretty sure you've had wet dreams about. Plush lips, faint silvery scars, fine stubble. God damn, and he was keeping this a secret.

"Ghost," you try again, searching for anything to say. Any word, any question, any kind of affirmation that can give you a litmus test on what the hell is going on here.

Rather than explaining himself, his eyes find yours again and he says—in the lowest of low rumbling voices, "Is this okay?"

How do you say yes or, perhaps, fuck yes without sounding desperate? It's like he reached into your head and plucked out those fantasies you've kept under lock and key since you joined on and saw him for the first time. Hell, you're not totally sure this isn't one of those dreams right now.

So you nod. Just two quick jerks of the head, fabric on the mat definitely fucking up your hair. You can hear the static next to your ear, but you could care less.

Because once Ghost's lips are on yours, nothing matters.

He's so warm, lips deceptively soft (what did you think, they were going to be as calloused as his fingers?), the tang of sweat on his skin, his forearms bracketing you. He's in every direction, kissing you and siphoning out the air again, leaving you gasping when he pulls back.

One breath.

Two.

And he kisses you again, like a confirmation that yes, this is very real and it's happening to you. He didn't trip and fall and kiss you on the way down. His right arm comes up so his fingers brush against your cheek, and then he cups the side of your face with his enormous palm. You open your mouth against his, tasting him, hearing his heavy breathing in tandem with your own.

At the same time, your mind rushes to make all the connections to figure out how you got here, how Ghost is on top of you when he's supposed to be teaching you how to defend yourself. How—

How you missed all of those signals.

Too-long glances at meetings; hands brushing yours when he passed you documents, ammo, rations, a radio; the way he kept close to your six so it was never undefended; every nickname from him teeming with a little more whimsy than you thought him capable of. Never once did you stop and consider if that was how he treated everyone in the 141, or if that was saved for you.

You never asked the question, but you're sure as hell getting an answer.

His tongue brushes against yours, sealed between your lips, teasing whines out of you. He hums in satisfaction, or possibly pleasure; vaguely, you wonder if he's wanted this just as badly, or if this is a spur of the moment decision and he's enjoying the payoff. Regardless, you can't ignore the slight pressure of his thigh between your legs, riding up higher and higher until—

Until you get an incredibly stupid idea.

He doesn't get a two second warning. What he gets is your arms around his back—the hug you wanted and now he gets—and the sudden upward jerk of motion that sends him flailing backwards. In a move you had no idea you were capable of, he's now on his back, mask still riding up to his nose, eyes wide, expression damn near cartoonish.

"Wh—" is all he gets out before you're kissing him.

You're the one bracketing his hips with your thighs. You're the one pinning him down and making him breathless. And, damnit, once you pull back enough to get a look at his face, you're the one getting him to look up at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

You grin, leaning in close and whispering, "Is it supposed to feel like this?"

He licks his lips, and your eyes trace the trail of his tongue. "Like what?" he asks, quieter now than you've ever heard him.

Your answer is another firm kiss, the ache in your muscles shifting course and alchemizing into something far hotter, liquid heat settling between you. And you pull back one more time, dropping your head so your lips brush his ear. You swear you feel him shudder.

"I think we have a few more forms to go through," you say.

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

Almost Lovers

You had been in love with Eren Jaeger since you were kids. Over the years, you've had multiple chances to get together, but nothing has happened. How long can you wait for him to do something ?

Read on AO3 here

It was impossible to think about your upbringing without thinking about Eren Jaeger.

The two of you had first met when you were about to turn four. Your family had moved across the country, your Dad getting a promotion which prompted you to pack up and leave. Although you were small at the time, completely unaware of the change, you still remember the awe on your face when you came to a stop in front of your new home. It was a beautiful, two story home with a neatly manicured lawn in a quiet suburban neighborhood.

Your parents were busy guiding the movers, instructing them to place furniture in certain rooms. They had immediately set up the porch furniture, placing you on the bench before resuming their previous activity. Your little legs had been swinging aimlessly, humming to yourself as you watched the movers go in and out.

“Hello there!”

A woman was standing at the foot of the driveway, a plate of cookies in one hand. Her other hand was placed gently on the shoulders of the boy hiding behind her legs. Your Mom, upon hearing the voice, came rushing out. The two fell into an easy conversation, introducing each other before she was led to where you were sitting.

“Honey, this is Eren. He’s our neighbor from across the street!”

The first thing you noticed about Eren was his eyes. They were big on his face, staring at you wide-eyed with a pair of beautiful, cerulean eyes. His thick brows were furrowed, his lips pulled into a frown.

“Hi, Eren.”

You two were inseparable from that moment.

The two of you held hands on the first day of preschool, wailing loudly whenever the teacher tried to separate you two. Throughout elementary school, the two of you always chased each other on the playground. When you moved onto middle school, the two of you still hung out in between classes, occupying the same lunch table as you laughed loudly with your new friends Armin and Mikasa. High school was no different, even with the throes of puberty.

Eren hit his growth spurt during Christmas break of sophomore year. He had gone to Turkey to visit his mother’s family, and when you finally saw him on the first day back your mouth went dry. Eren had always been lanky, never quite fitting into his average height. Now he was well over six feet, shoulders broader and arms bigger as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“How was your break?”

His voice had dropped two octaves, now a deep, sultry tone. You had swallowed nervously, trying to pat the top of his head awkwardly.

“I guess the puberty fairy finally hit you,” you had said nervously.

This change caused a shift in your friendship. The two of you remained close, but there was now a sort of . . . tension in the air. Everyone teased the two of you, always asking when you would finally get together. You had always brushed it off, rolling your eyes as you bumped shoulders with Eren.

“Me? Dating Eren? Gross.”

The reality was you had been in love with him since the day you had started puberty. It was such a stereotype, you knew, but the hormones that were suddenly flooding your body had your eyes opening wide to Eren Jaeger. He was suddenly your dream guy, every little thing he did always being scrutinized by you. When you started high school, everything was ramped up to one hundred. The time you two spent alone had you nervous, wondering if he would finally wake up and realize you were the one for him. Whenever his hands brushed against you when you were walking home, or when he wrapped his arm around you when it was cold, you felt your heart beating so fast you were afraid it would burst out of your chest.

The two of you had gone to Prom together because, well, who else would you two go with? When he had pulled you close, his hands placed gently on your waist, you had fought the urge to kiss him. Instead, you placed your head on his chest, turning your head to peer up at him.

“I’m really happy right now,” you had murmured.

He had smiled in response, nuzzling his face against the top of your head.

“Me too.”

When you both decided to attend the same college, you figured maybe now would be the time for Eren to reciprocate your feelings. Unbeknownst to you, Eren had been in love with you since the day you had met. He had remembered your shy face, staring at him as he had tried to hide behind his mother’s legs. The two of you had the same interests and had countless playdates together. He had loved chasing you in elementary school, watching your hair flow behind you as you ran away. During middle school, he had taken note of the small changes you were going through - your face thinning out, your hips widening, and your chest slowly growing. When he hit his growth spurt in high school, he had been satisfied to see the look of surprise on your face upon seeing him. On Prom night, holding you in his arms, he realized he wanted to be by your side forever. With college approaching, he wondered if it would be worth the risk to tell you about his true feelings. What if you didn’t feel the same? What if you met someone else?

To bury his feelings, Eren began dating in college. And he dated. Eren Jaeger was known throughout your campus as a notorious playboy. He and Armin were roommates, but the poor blond was often kicked out so Eren could fool around. You always offered your room to Armin since you were rooming with Mikasa. Your heart always broke upon hearing him complain about the “girl of the week” and how a new one would be showing up next. It wasn’t uncommon to see Eren making out with girls at the parties you attended, his arm always wrapped around them tight before they sauntered off to hook up. You always watched it happen with sad eyes, taking a long swig of your drink in an effort to forget.

The two of you had drifted apart, and you each blamed school. The reality was that you didn’t have the heart to face Eren, and he was ashamed to see you. Every girl he slept with just wasn’t you, and he feared that he was in too deep to confess his feelings to you. You weren’t sure what your reaction would be if he began talking about his latest conquest, so you avoided him.

Meanwhile you remained single. You threw yourself into your studies, determined to graduate at the top of your class and get some sort of internship related to your major. When you weren’t in class, you were at the library or in a study room in your dorm. Eren always casually asked Mikasa if you were seeing anyone, to which she always replied with a frown and the same question.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Eren didn’t want to know the answer.

The only time the two of you ever crossed paths consistently and talked was at parties. Eren was out every weekend, while you did once you got enough school work done. He wasn’t a lightweight per se, but he drank enough to the point that he was juuust drunk enough. When that happened he always stumbled over to you, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I miss you,” he would murmur. “We used to be so close.”

“Yeah,” you would reply. “I know.”

You would always pat his back awkwardly, which would just prompt him to pull you closer. Your heart would beat faster, his familiar smell engulfing you and making your throat constrict. He would kiss your forehead, pushing your hair back to smile goofily down at you.

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

Every single time, a part of you would give in, but the sane part of you always took over. You would shake your head, trying to take a step back.

“You’re drunk, Eren.”

“So? I know what I’m doing.”

You would flush at the double entendre.

“No, Eren, it’s okay.”

A flash of hurt would cross his face before he would disentangle himself from you and go find another girl instead. You would watch as he found a girl, making out with her before disappearing. You would take a long swig of your drink, heartbroken and desperate to forget.

Freshman year ended uneventfully, and sophomore year of college came around. You continued to room with Mikasa while Eren remained with Armin. He seemed to get slightly serious, spending more time hitting the books instead of on girls. He began accompanying you and Armin to study sessions, and the two of you began falling back into your old patterns. He would hold your backpack for you as you walked and always made sure to bring your favorite drink before going to the library. When you got cold from the library AC, he would remove his sweater and give it to you, wrapping an arm around you to try and warm you up.

Armin would watch in amusement, quirking an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Jeez, get a room already.”

The both of you would flush, stuttering out denials before looking away and refusing to look at each other again. Armin would chuckle, placing his study materials out before reminding you two to do the same.

Movie nights were the same. You and Eren always cuddled up together, leading Mikasa and Armin to ask if they should leave to give you two privacy. This resulted in pillows being thrown at their heads, which they always dodged with a laugh.

Eren wasn’t seen with as many girls, and he focused on hanging out with you and the rest of your friends instead. He wouldn’t get as drunk but maintained a good level where he could enjoy himself. On the few occasions where he did get drunk he continued his prior actions of hugging you tightly and asking to go home with him. You were always so close now to saying yes, yes please Eren, take me home, but it just didn’t feel right.

You felt as if there was some weird back and forth with Eren now. When asked about his dating life, he would shrug and say he simply wasn’t as interested anymore. His attention had seemed to shift to you, and you felt as if you were kids again. You relished in his touches, always leaning subconsciously into him. You looked forward to movie nights, cuddling tightly into his side and inhaling his scent. Sometimes his hands would find yours under the blanket, interlacing your fingers and not letting go for the entire movie.

You were falling in love with him all over again.

The only person you talked to about this was Mikasa. She urged you to just tell him already.

“You don’t see the way he looks at you!”

“I don’t know, Mikasa,” you had sighed. “What if I just misread everything?”

“Then the both of you are really stupid.”

First semester of sophomore year came to an end, and your second semester began. You were finishing up your general education classes and were beginning to take classes for your major, which was taking up more of your time. Mikasa made sure to take you out when your stress levels got too high, dragging you by the arm away from your desk and into your shared bathroom.

“Go take a shower and make yourself look hot!”

Parties were now a part of your social schedule, and your tolerance for alcohol was now greatly established. You enjoyed yourself, laughing with your friends as you played beer pong or danced together. Eren always made sure to cling close, his hands always on some part of your skin as the night went on.

Your conversation with Mikasa still echoed in your head. You don’t see the way he looks at you! Anytime you were with Eren, you tried to catch him looking at you from the corner of your eye. It was during a St. Patrick’s Day party that you finally realized what Mikasa had meant. Eren’s eyes immediately softened upon seeing you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he stared at you. It was like the world slowed down for him when he looked at you, and you realized you needed to tell him how you felt before it was too late.

You were dreading the conversation, and you began to distance yourself from Eren out of fear. He had noticed, always looking for you whenever you were out but you always managed to slip away. It was the last party before Spring Break when he finally managed to catch you.

The nights were cool, the last chill of Winter finally behind you. You were on the patio of Jean’s house, leaning against the railing as you took in the sight of the college town below you. Sighing, you pressed your cheek against your hand as the muffled sound of the party behind you rang on. The door slid open, and you figured someone was coming out to smoke.

“Hey.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. You slowly turned your head to see Eren standing there, his hands tucked deep into his pockets.

“Hi.”

He slowly walked up to you, coming to stand beside you and lean against the railing too. It was silent for a moment as you both drank in the night.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed a moment,” you said, giving him a fake smile.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Why would you say that?” you frowned.

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve just been busy,” you lied.

It was silent again, but you broke the silence this time.

“Are you okay? Why did you decide to come out?”

He hesitated before sighing, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck nervously.

“Um, I got into it with Hana. We’ve been trying to get back together, but it’s not going too well.”

You felt your heart shatter in your chest. Hana was the one girl that Eren seemed to always go back to, regardless of how many other girls he hooked up with. There was something about her that always drew him back, and you were usually told about the situation from him directly or through Armin.

“Is that right,” you mumbled.

“We’re not quite on the same page yet.”

Yet.

“Uh huh. Why do you think that is?”

You felt yourself going numb at your question. Damn you.

“Well, um, we’ve just been on and off for so long I don’t quite think we ever established what it is we wanted out of the relationship.”

“What do you want from her, Eren?”

He blinked, swiveling his head to look at you.

“What?”

“The question isn’t complicated.”

“I-I, I guess I don’t know.”

“So why are you wasting her time?”

He frowned, turning his body to face you.

“I like her. We get along really well. Sometimes I feel like I can’t stay away from her.”

Something snapped inside of you, and instead of confessing your feelings for him, the frustration of your will we won’t we relationship bubbled up to the surface.

“What the fuck are we doing, Eren?”

He began to blink rapidly, green eyes wide with confusion.

“What do you mean? We’re talking, I’m telling you about -”

“I don’t mean that,” you whispered. “I mean about us.”

The silence between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife. He was at a loss for words, eyes slowly turning to look down at his feet. His silence spurred you on, hot, angry tears silently rolling down your face.

“I’ve been in love with you since the summer before sixth grade. I woke up one day and realized you are the only person I want to be with. I pined after you in middle school, and I hoped that things would change in high school.”

His gaze had lifted to meet your face, watching as more tears fell down your cheeks.

“I thought everyone teasing us would make you realize that I was the one for you. I waited for you to confess to me. When we went to Prom together, I almost confessed my love for you then. Instead, I chickened out and told you I was just happy. That was my way of confessing to you, Eren.”

He remained silent, letting you vent without interruptions.

“Then we came to college, and I lost you immediately. I lost you to all the girls you took to bed. It was like you weren’t the Eren I knew anymore. So I gave up. I threw myself into school and tried to forget you. But it was so hard when you were always making an effort to make out with them in front of me.”

Hurt immediately crossed his face at your words, but he continued to remain silent.

“But then you came back. It was like nothing had happened, and we were back like before college. I thought I finally had my chance. I even told Mikasa about this whole situation to see if this was all in my head. She encouraged me to confess to you, and I was going to soon.”

You stood up straight, sniffling as you angrily wiped at your tears.

“I can’t keep doing this anymore, Eren. I’m tired. My heart is tired. I have to either let you go or keep chasing after you, and I can’t do it anymore.”

Finally finished, you stared at him, your tears finally drying. Eren didn’t say anything, his face flickering through various emotions. You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you pushed past him.

“Incredible. I’ve just opened my heart to you and you just don’t care. I should have known.”

“Wait -”

“It’s too late, Eren,” you said, voice flat. “Don’t bother coming after me.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond before going back into Jean’s house, squeezing through the throngs of party goers as you made your way outside to the front. The walk back to your dorm wasn’t too far, and it gave you time to clear your head and let the rest of your tears fall uninterrupted. You sobbed into your sleeve, shaking your head as Eren’s face as you had spoken playing repeatedly in your head.

By the time you got back to your dorm, you had dozens of missed calls and about fifty texts from Eren. You hadn’t bothered to open your texts, opting instead to leave him on delivered. His texts were all the same, asking you to call him back and apologizing for not saying anything to you sooner. You shut off your phone, crawling into bed and falling into a fitful sleep.

***

A week went by, but you refused to leave your bed.

Mikasa was worried about you, urging you to at least get up and eat a small meal, but you refused. You sent an email to your professors stating you were suffering from a stomach bug, and they insisted that you rest up and focus on your course work later. Most of the day was spent sleeping, only waking up to use the restroom and drink some water before going back to sleep. Mikasa begged Armin to stop by and try talking to you, but it made no difference. In between fits of sleep, you overheard them whispering whenever he stopped by about Eren and how he had “fucked up the whole situation”.

You had kept your phone off, knowing that Eren would keep trying to contact you. There had been one time where he had actually showed up at your door, but Mikasa had angrily sent him away.

“Haven’t you done enough damage?”

The following Sunday after the party, you finally pulled yourself out of bed. Mikasa had been out late, so she was asleep as you walked on shaky legs into the bathroom. You took a long, hot shower, taking your time to deep wash your hair and shave your entire body. The reflection in the mirror showed how hurt you looked, but you swore that you would never let anyone else break your heart the way that Eren had.

When you returned to your room, Mikasa was sitting up, rubbing her eyes as she let out a big yawn. She studied you silently for a minute before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’ll treat us to breakfast. You should eat something small.”

She didn’t ask any questions while you ate, which you were thankful for. When you got back to your dorm, she braided your hair and pulled out her self-care kit. The day was spent pampering yourselves, and you felt ready and refreshed to throw yourself back into the semester.

You avoided parties on the weekends and opted to stay in watching Netflix. You were trying to do whatever you could to avoid Eren, and so far, you had been successful. When you weren’t studying, you were with Mikasa, Sasha, and Connie. Jean had begun hanging around, and the two of you began getting close. Eren had always started arguments whenever he was around Jean, so you had never been able to have a full conversation with him.

It didn’t take long before a spark developed between you two. He was funny, kind, and incredibly smart. The two of you began studying together, sitting quietly next to each other as you furiously poured over your work. He would treat you to dinner after, and the two of you spent the rest of the night laughing and creating inside jokes. His family came from the wealthier side of the town you had grown up in, but it meant that you would be able to see him once school was out.

The two of you officially began dating during Finals week. You were excited to spend the summer with him free of stress from school. Word got around quickly in your friend group, eventually getting to Eren. Things with Hana had quickly fallen apart, and he had spent the rest of the semester beating himself up for ruining things with you. He had tried to contact you non-stop, but Mikasa had told him it was for the best if he stopped.

“She’s moved on,” she had told him. “She’s left you behind.”

Upon hearing that you and Jean were together, Eren felt his heart break. He had been hoping the time apart would be healthy for you two, and he had hoped to try again with you at the start of junior year. Instead, he would have to settle with the fact that he had lost you forever.

[joekeerysguitar]

erasing the lies

not friends/slight enemies to lovers <3

overview: you are an a+ student who is well rounded, very disciplined, and hard working gets asked to tutor the most obnoxious, lazy, and rude boy who ever stepped foot on this planet… steve harrington. unable to say no, you help him.. but what you uncover is something completely unexpected..

included: angst, fluff, mutual feelings, happy ending, cursing, relationships, use of y/n

authors note: heyy everyone! sorry about not uploading or writing anything in a longggg time. i’ve been super busy lately and just trying to enjoy the summer but i’m back! came up with this super cute idea and i hope you enjoy! thank you for all the love on the rest of my fics!! much love, nina <3

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“Mhm… yes.. she’ll be down shortly” The phone hits the receiver as your teacher spins around catching your eyes. “Y/N, the principal would like to see you.” She smiles her fake toothy grin as she resumes her lesson.

You feel the eyes on you as you quickly stuff your bag with your notebooks and pencils trying to get out of being the center of attention. You could hear the slight whispering of the class which feeds your inner thoughts.

“Oh shit, what did I do?”

“Am I in trouble?”

Quickly shutting the classroom door behind you, you exhale taking in the stale air of the empty hallway of Hawkins High School. You quickly walk down the hall as your heart beats wildly out of your chest. You can feel your stomach churn as you reach out for the door nob of the brown glass door that reads “Main Office.” The small bell at the top of the door rings alerting the secretary as you quickly step inside and shut the door gently. Taking a deep breath, you chase the butterflies away in your stomach as you loosen your shoulders and walk up to her forming a smile with your cherry lips.

“Uh hi, I was called down by the principal.” You mutter with a small smile.

“You must be Y/N?” She asks reading at a post it note on her desk. You nod trying to quickly get this interaction over with. “Have a seat dear.”

You walk over to the small sofa chair in the corner of the office. Bouncing your leg, you can feel the nervousness creep up from your core once again as the same questions float through your mind like clouds on a breezy day. You look around the room and notice old school yearbook photos, sports championship awards, and other boring memorabilia. Before you get a chance to read any, the door swings open to the person you did not want to see… the principal. He is older, with short small wisps of hair that adorn his mostly bald head. He is wearing a blue suit and you can see his beer belly slightly protrude from his attire.

“Come on in Y/N”

You quickly get out of the seat and follow him into the small crammed office. Your eyes immediate lock onto a very recognizable face here at Hawkins High. This face belongs to someone who’ve you have despised since elementary school. Someone who used to practically rule over the school, date every girl in the 5 mile radius, and keep his hair perfectly in place every single day. The King of Hawkins High was sitting right before your eyes.. the one and the only Steve Harrington. He just feverishly looks up at you before darting his eyes away and fiddles with his fingers embarrassingly. Your mind floods with endless questions as you take a seat next to him.

Steve Harrington is known for being the arrogant and snobby rich jock who’s only personality trait is hooking up with 50 girls a month. Rumors go around that his ex girlfriend Nancy Wheeler broke up with him because she cheated with Jonathan Byers and didn’t want to get risked getting caught. All you know is that you don’t want to mess with him or even talk to him. He fails all his classes, always goes to parties, and barely has his parents home.

Trouble.

The principal clears his throat, “I probably assume you two have never met. Let me introduce you two. Y/N this is Steve, Steve this is Y/N.”

Being polite you turn your head and put on a fake smile as he returns the favor before you both quickly look at the principal once again.

“Now I called you two down here not because you’re in trouble but I have an important question to ask.” He says flicking his eyes between you two.

Okay not in trouble.. that’s a good sign.

“Y/N, now I know you are in many advanced classes and receive very high grades.” You nod and smile agreeing with his statements. You feel Steve shift in his chair uncomfortably as you look over and see his face blush as red as a tomato. “Well, Steve here does not receive the best of grades. Right now, if he doesn’t pass his classes, he will be unable to qualify for graduation.” You nod you head as your head whirs with millions of thoughts…

“Pfft, no shit it’s Steve Harrington”

“Unable to graduate? I could never.”

“What does this even mean?”

“Well I was wondering if you would be interested in tutoring him? Either once or twice a week would suffice.” He says with a smile as he looks at you.

Your heart drops just like the roller coasters at amusement parks. Your stomach does a flip as you can feel your organs rearrange from inside. Your face starts to heat up as your palms begin to get sweaty. You’re bad at making decisions especially ones that require things you don’t like.

Tutor Steve Harrington? Shoot me now!

Looking over at Steve you notice him look up at you reading your face for any response. You just look at him and look at the principal as the thoughts zoom around your brain.

You don’t know what to do.

Should I be the better person? Should I help the douchebag? You decide to go with your gut, you can’t ever say no.

You look up at the principal. “Sure, why not.” You smile as you look over to Steve who just looks at you like his prayers got awnsered.

He knows your really smart. Really really smart. And pretty cute too. You know, maybe this whole tutoring thing would work out in his favor. He passes his classes and he gets a new chic.

“Perfect, thank you Y/N!” He smiles as he hands you Steve’s grade sheet. “He specifically needs to work on Physics and US History.”

You glance at his grade sheet as you read the grades.

Physics- D

English- C

US History- F

Geometry- B

Oh boy, these grades aren’t looking too hot.

The principal buds in again. “Tutoring could be 1-2 hours at either persons house. He must be fully prepared by the last month of school.” You nod your head placing his grade sheet in your bag.

“Steve why don’t you thank Y/N for helping you with your studies?” He demands looking at Steve.

“Thank you Y/N.” He says timidly looking up into your eyes for a split second.

His eyes were really pretty. Brown with a hazel undertone. They shined with the morning sun glimmering through the half drawn shades.

You just smile back at him and reply “You’re welcome. Does tomorrow night around 6:00 at my place work?” He nods as you exchange addresses.

You leave the office with a million thoughts in your head.

How are you supposed to tutor someone you hate. Out of all people it is goddamn Steve Harrington. The rich, snobby, and rude jock who knows nothing but of parties and alcohol. You’re not gonna enjoy these sessions, you already know it. Seeing him is bad enough, how you have to talk and teach him twice a week for the next several weeks. Might as well just dig your grave now.

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“He will be here any min- ding.. I’ll get it.” You yell through the house. Steve had just ringed your doorbell. Your blood pressure just rose off the charts. You quickly run over to the front door and open it. There is Mr. Pretty Boy himself with his books cradled in his hands. He is wearing a dark green polo shirt with his usual blue jeans. He flashes you a charming hello smile as you step to the side and let him in.

That smile. Oh boy, made you feel different.

“Hi, how are you?” You ask watching him look around the house.

I’m sure he’s definitely judging it. Rich boy isn’t used to small rooms…

“I’m fine, how are you?” He asks catching you in the eye as you find yourself get lost in them.

Shake it off.. you gotta hate him…

Steve knows that he has this horrible reputation and he knows that people who don’t know him see him as what he used to be. His goal is to change that, whatever way possible. He hasn’t had a ton of friends since the whole situation. Heck, he dropped Tommy and his silly girlfriend. He really had no one.

He had hope.

Maybe you could be his first actual friend…

If he could prove to you that he changed…

He could even prove to himself that he won’t make mistakes ever again..

“Follow me.” You say tucking your hair behind your ears as you guide him to your room.

Your room was small and quaint. White walls with white decor. The accent the room was baby pink as you had several pictures of flowers or beaches on the wall. It was your comfy spot. Made you feel safe.

As you enter the room you walk over and sit down on your bed swinging your legs as they dangle off the floor. Beside you are the books you set out to study and practice with. Steve just looked around with a curious gaze in his eyes before he set his stuff down on your desk and walked over to sit beside you.

“Let’s get started.” You say turning to face him while you grab the Physics book from off the pile.

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“What’s the awnser to Question #7?” You ask as you stare at his pondering complexion. You wait a few seconds. “Hello? Earth to Steve?” You ramble as you wave your hand in front of his face.

“What.. sorry.” He jumps back into reality looking bored.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly as he looks up into your eyes.

“Can we do something else?” He asks trying to read a reaction from your face.

“Yeah, Math or Social Studies?” You ask totally clueless.

“Not school Y/N.” He drags readjusting himself on your bed.

“Then what?” You ask a little harsher then expected. He looks surprised at your response.

“Jeez, you’re a little cranky.” He says sarcastically as he takes the book from your lap and places it on the ground. You watch as he fixes his hair after it gets into his face.

His hair is really nice. Dark thick hazelnut colored hair that is always perfectly styled and hair sprayed. They don’t call him “The Hair” for nothing.

You zoned out for a minute while studying his lucious locks and now he is taping your shoulder lightly to regain your attention.

“Sorry, just confused what you wanna do since the whole reason why you are here is to pass school.” You brush a piece of fallen hair from behind your ear.

Steve is not gonna lie to himself. You’re pretty cute, even when your cranky.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks looking confused as he looks into your darting eyes.

You search your brain for a response. You question telling him a lie or telling him the truth. Taking a deep breath you spit out the truth.

“Not currently. I mean it’s just a weird situation. You know, you’re popular and a jock and every girl on the planet is obsessed with you. And I’m not popular, a nerd, and never has had a boyfriend. So yeah this is a little awkward. Plus considering the fact that I thought you absolutely 100% hated me prior to this.” You blurt out with a nervous chuckle as you examine your fingers.

“What did I do to make you think that I hated you?” He asks inquisitively while still looking at you as he sees the blush to your cheeks.

“I mean in elementary school you did push me into a muddy puddle.” You say looking back up at him and smiling a bit.

He chuckles and says jokingly, “That’s the reason why? I’m sorry I did that Y/N but… maybe you deserved it.” His voice turns serious. “But on a serious note, let’s just scratch this whole stereotype thing and start fresh, okay?” He asks looking right into your ocean blue eyes as he extends his hand forward.

“Deal.” You laugh as you shake his hand. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you!”

“I’m Steve, nice to meet you too!” He smiles brightly.

Hard feelings vanished..

For the remainder of the night, you two talk small talk about what you two enjoy and things that are happening in your lives. To be honest, you don’t mind him. You enjoy his quick remarks, his flirty attitude, his humor, and most of all his company.

On the other hand, Steve never thought he would speak to you a day in his life. But here he is, talking about movies, people, etc with someone he just met 24 hours ago and hell he was enjoying it too! There was something about you, something that made him incredibly happy inside. Something that filled a void no one has even filled before.

By the time the night was over, you already exchanged phone numbers and planned your next session.

Steve nor you could not wait for the next time you saw eachother!

Something definitely changed with him over the years. You’ve learned so much from him and how he has grown to better himself. It feels like someone took a pink eraser and erased all the lies right off the paper. It was good as new!

Deep down you had a feeling though and Steve was definitely feeling it too..

Deep down you had a crush..

On Steve Harrington..

The person who you refused to even speak to about 24 hours ago..

And he had one on you too..

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

It was three days later and you and Steve were in the exact same spot practicing questions. You could tell by his body language that he was getting tired and bored. He got up and started to wander around your room with his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips. Steve was bored of studying, you two have been studying flash cards for two hours and he was at his wits end. Steve loved the little breaks or stupid activities the two of you would do when you both were tired and needed a break. He loved spending time with you, either if it was teasing you or just having a simple friend to friend conversation. You guys have gotten closer over the time spent together and he clearly recognizes that. At first, you used to be shy and more reserved but the more time you’ve spent with him, the more you’ve come out of your shell. He loves your fiery remarks or playful teasing you always delivered right back to him after he said something to you. He loved watching you become pissed at him or become sarcastic and quick-witted with him after he would ask a stupid question or pull a dramatic stunt. So, per usual he decided this was the time to do yet another stunt he had brewing in his heavily hair-sprayed mind.

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” You question as you watch his eyes glaze over your desk as he reaches his purple sleeved arm over towards a book on it. “Put that down.” You bark as you get up and race towards him. The smirk only growing bigger on his face as he hears your distress.

“What is this?” He asks with squinted eyes as he begins to open the pages but before he could get a good look, you reach for it. Using his height advantage, he stretches his arm towards the ceiling which now suspended the book over your head.

“Give it to me! It’s my diary, put it down!” You beg as you brush up against him as you try to grab and reach it. He laughs as he stands in his tippy toes to get it higher as you jump to try to reach it. You’re practically chest to chest as you can feel his chest bounce quickly with each sharp laugh. He is getting a kick out of you freaking out. Suddenly, you realize you two are really close, too close for comfort. He senses your body language switch and suddenly returns to a more calm and collected state. He can feel his laughter fade as a small smile sits on his lips. He can feel his heart pick up as he locks eyes with yours as he resists the urge to pull you closer or look at your lips. You look even more beautiful up close as he notices the faint freckles peppering your cheeks and nose.

You stop as you lock eyes for a minute. Steve is a few inches taller than you but you two are face to face. Inches away from eachother. You examine his face close up. His hair is slightly disheveled with strands hang in front of his eyes. He has moles freckling his face like stars on a clear night. Your eyes flit down to his lips as you notice how cheery red they look close up. Quickly you look at him again, fearful of getting caught staring. You could feel your cheeks slightly blush and turn warm as you just stare into Steve’s brown sparkly eyes. The more you try to pull away, the more they pull you in. Steve feels the same way as he feels nervousness creep up from his core as his lips curve into a slight smile. He pulls the book down as he continues to lock eyes with yours. He has no idea how long it’s been. His mind is mush as he finds himself darting from your eyes to your lips..

“Here.” He whispers breathlessly as he hands you the book slightly backing up but keeping the eye contact.

“Thanks.” You reply as you blush a little harder now as you walk to your desk to place the book down and then you both return to the spot on the bed and continue.

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

In a matter of a two weeks, you two have gotten extremely close. You would if never imagined that you would be good friends with the most popular guy in school, the one all you’re friends tell you to stay away from.. yet he just draws you in. The endless amounts of nights where he calls you on the phone asking about homework as it suddenly turns into a three hour call where you two ramble about random topics. You’re falling faster than you thought you would.. crumbling as he created cute nicknames for you and knows everything that makes you tumble over in laughter. He’s a complete opposite of you and your morals, yet you two seem to attract like a magnet.

Steve has learned to know you like a book, using his charismatic and charming personality he knows exactly what makes you blush or makes you laugh. As the study sessions go on, he picks up on your body language and your habits. He enjoys listening to you ramble for hours on end about friends or your family. He’s never really felt such an instant connection with someone before especially only knowing them for a few weeks now.

Today marks the last study session before Steve’s test. The last time you’ll see him roll his eyes at a physics question, the last time he will tease you about your stupidly high grades and how smart you are, the last time you two don’t focus on the task and do other things. You feel sadness forming in your heart hoping that after this, he continues to want to talk on the phone or even hang out. You love seeing him wave and smile at you in school or meeting you at your locker to talk. But you’re scared, you’re scared that he’s gonna put on his cocky jock attitude and won’t speak to you again… completely cut you out. You’ve seen a different side to him that you’ve never seen before. He’s sweet, considerate, and gentle around you. Never fails to have you think about him endlessly once he leaves your house or you hang up on the phone…

Little do you know, he feels the same. The same feeling poking him in the gut, the feeling where you want to hold on and never let go.

You’re suprised when your doorbell rings earlier than usually. You glance at the small watch on your left wrist as it reads “4:00 pm.” But you two agreed on 7:00 pm the night prior. You quickly brush your hair behind your shoulders as you open the door.

“Hey Steve, you’re early.” You say with a smile as you notice him blushing a bit in embarrassment. His cheeks are a slight pink as he smiles at you.

“Uh hey Y/N, sorry I’m early.” He pauses for a second. “Are you busy? Am I interrupting anything?” He asks a little more concerned now as the blush intensifies on his cheeks.

You shake your head as you chuckle a bit. “No.. no.. you’re not interrupting anything.”

“Okay good, I was wondering if I could just come now.. I know it’s our last night so I wanted some extra practice before the test tomorrow morning.” He says reading your face for an answer.

Now if he was Pinocchio, his nose would grow larger.. because he is lying. His pants are on fire.

“Of course, come on in!” You say with an enthusiastic smile as you move to the side to let him in.

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

“Okay last physics question, I promise.” You say with a teasing smile as he rolls his eyes. You ask him a pretty difficult question as you could see the gears practically turning in his head. He answers correctly as a beaming smile forms on your lips. You notice the pure excitement on his face at your reaction.

Steve cannot help but to feel his heart flutter to see the reaction you just gave him. A huge proud beaming smile.. one that makes him want to melt into a big puddle on your bed. He thinks your reaction is the cutest thing, you’re the cutest thing and he feels like it’s the right time to ask his question.

Once you two calm down a bit and all the books are put away, you’re staring Steve right in the face. He’s just smiling gently at you, his eyes dazzling in the soft light of your room. You feel the butterflies form in your stomach as you break the comfortable silence.

“How do you feel for tomorrow? Good? Bad?”

“I think I’ll be okay, pretty nervous” He says with a shrug as he smiles a bit hesitant at you, you notice how his demeanor has changed. He seems more nervous and quiet now.

“You’ll do great, trust me!” You say trying to lighten the mood as you earn a smile from him. You give him a comforting smile as you grab his hand and hold it in yours gently squeezing it.

Your touch practically sends Steve to the moon. He just feels so happy, he feels all the nerves and worries washing away as you gently hold his hand in comfort. He truly believes every word you’re saying.

He clears his throat before asking a bit nervously. He’s been thinking about this plan all night and all day. He wants to celebrate with you, regardless if he passes or not. He wants to treat you for volunteering your time to help him. And of course, he just wants to spend some time with you. You make his day with these sessions as you constantly giggle at his jokes making his heart soar or seeing you smile so beautifully. You’re like treasure to him, he wants to cherish you forever.

“Y/N, do you possibly want to go and get ice cream with me when it’s all done and over with… like a celebration type of thing?” He asks with a gentle smile as a hint of pink crowds his cheeks.

You let his statement settle in the air as you feel your heart pick up at the words. Without a second thought you reply, “I would love too, Steve!” You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you smile unstoppably at him. You see his eyes open wide in happiness in response as the smile grows bigger on his freckled cheeks.

Head over heels..

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

Steve has refused to tell you the outcome of his test until you two were seated on the back trunk of his car indulging in your ice creams. His treat, of course.

“So Steve…” You say pausing to swallow. “What did you get?” You push the spoon around the sprinkled covered ice cream as you wait for him to respond.

Steve places his icecream down as you copy him looking at him more curious now. You watch the sides of his mouth curve into a grin. “I passed, everything!” He says excitedly. You can’t help but to squeal in surprise as you wrap your arms around him for a hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” You say muffled against his shoulder. You can feel his broad arms wrap around your lower back as he hugs you back. You can feel the sudden chill from the ice cream melt away.

You pull away as you look him dearly in the eyes with a sincere smile on your face. “See, I told you that you could do it!” You say smiling even wider. You’re so so so happy, this made your day.. your week even.

Steve has never seen you this happy for anything ever. Heck, Steve has never even had anyone this happy for him. He just feels this overwhelming sense of accomplishment and joy that fills his entire body.

You both are now just looking at each other with huge smiles, enjoying the comfortable silence. Steve feels like he should make a move, before he loses you. He’s afraid that after this, your friendship could disappear. You would go back to your friends and he would hang out with his. And he didn’t want that. He wanted to be with you.

“So what was the final sc-“ You’re interrupted mid sentence as he presses his lips delicately against yours. You gasp into his lips as your eyes dart shut. His hand gently caresses your cheek as your body freezes. He pulls apart smiling and blushing madly as he looks at you lovingly. You just stare like a dear in headlights at him. You’re shocked and can’t even process what just happened.

Steve Harrington just kissed you.

Your cheeks are a crimson color now as you smile shyly at him. Without a second thought, it’s your turn to confess how you feel. And by this, you press your lips against his once more. His lips are pillowy soft and taste sweet from the ice cream. One of your hands cups his cheek while the other rests gently on his shoulder. You can feel his hand come and press against your lower back as he pulls you closer to him as the other pulls hair behind your ear delicately. You pull apart with a smile as you become nervous and shy around him. You can feel the absence on your lips as butterflies course through your tummy.

Steve is genuinely surprised that you feel the same way. He would never think that you, a smart and determined girl would ever fall in love with a dumb, cocky jock. He’s only known you for about a month now but it feels like it’s been years. You two just instantly clicked. Maybe opposites do attract..

He just feels overwhelming happy as he just stares at you with the biggest gushy smile and sparking eyes as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to him. You rest your head on his shoulder as you two just watch the sun set behind the trees, feeling totally in love.

Maybe people aren’t as bad as they seem..

People can change, people can grow..

And all you know, is you love Steve for who he is and who he became..

Because the lies were erased clean off the page.

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

thank you for reading!! <3 hope you enjoyed the fic!!

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Just a Nudge in the Right Direction ~Barbara Howard xFem Younger!Teacher!Reader

Summary— Reader is younger and a newer teacher at Abbott. She’s been harboring a liking for Barbara. What happens when she finally tells the older woman? Anon request— 🥸—Hey!! ❤️❤️ I love your fics so much! These are just some ideas I had for! Feel free to mix it up if you want.! 33 10 5 Barbara Howard × reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#5. “Shut up and kiss me already”

#10. “Well… I didn’t expect that…”

#33. “Don’t do that... Let me see you.”

Warnings: age gap (all legal), kissing, confessions of feelings, light teasing, light flustering, light insecurity, happy endings, etc.

Enjoy (;

Monday’s always brought chaos to Abott Elementary. The sound of paper clattering to the teacher lounge’s floor, had you in the room in seconds. You quickly helped the poised kindergarten teacher in picking up the fallen pile of papers.

“Thank you, Sweet girl…” Barbara breathed out with a smile.

“Of Course, Ms. Howard!” You exclaimed lightly.

You heart always fluttered when she had a pet name for you…

“I don’t usually have people take care of me…” the older woman mused aloud.

“Don’t worry about it” you quipped, a big smile on your face.

Barbara then walked off with a nod, leaning you in the break room to daydream about the woman. Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by a chuckle across the room. You turned around and found, Melissa smirking and chuckling to herself.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, sweet cakes.” The redhead chuckled, “When are you going to tell Barb…?” She teased.

You went red in the face and quickly looked away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” you mumbled, crossing your arms in defense.

“Uh huh, totally…” the woman sarcastically replied, “You know you better tell her before someone else does…”

You rolled your eyes lightly and went back to your classroom, your face bright red.

You thought about Melissa’s comments throughout the day. And the redhead did have a point. You didn’t want someone else telling Barbara how you felt about her.

You had to tell the woman…

The thought made shivers run down your spine. You took a deep breath and resumed your work.

By the end of the week, Friday evening, you had finished all your work for the day, although your mind was completely somewhere else. You had decided that you had to tell Barbara. It had been bugging you all week.

So you made your way to the woman’s kindergarten classroom as soon as school was out. Ms. Howard was waving her last student a good weekend when you entered.

“Hello, Darling. How may I help you?” Barbara said lovingly, clasping her hands together and giving you a warming smile.

That nickname sent butterfly’s fluttering a dozen inside your stomache…

You cleared your throat as you felt your heart begin to race. You took a deep breath for beginning,

“W-would you perhaps… I… ummm” you stammered.

Barbara gazed upon you with her soft and loving eyes. She put her things down on a desk, that she was holding ready to leave. And she came up to you close and took your hands into her own.

“Breathe, sweet girl. What’s on your mind?”

Your heart melted at her pet name and kindness for you…

You felt like a kid. Heart ablaze and emotions racing.

“I—I like you…” you whispered.

You immediately shut your eyes as you said those words, too afraid to look at Barbara or anything else, in gear of the older woman’s reaction.

You heard a small gasp. And then her warm hands squeezed yours lightly and reassuringly.

“Don’t do that... close your eyes like that, sweetheart. Let me see you.” Barbara hummed with warmth.

Her warmth spread and corsed through your body, giving you courage to open your eyes and look at the woman. She was smiling lightly.

Did she understand what you had said…?

“No Ms. Howard, I like like you…” you said in a low tone, trying to emphasize the likes to convey your intent.

Her eyes gazed upon you intently, and they widened as she really took in what you meant. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and Barbara chuckled lightly at your tone.

“Well… I don’t know what I was expecting. But I didn’t expect that…” she breathed out in a large smile.

“Your—You’re not… mad…?”

Barbara’s eyes flashed from warmth to light concern.

“No, not at all. Why would I be, Darling…? I’m flattered if anything.” The older woman reassured you, “I didn’t think, you or anyone like that would be interested in… well little old me”

Barbara spoke, adding a little flair to herself at the end when she spoke of herself.

Wait what??

“Why wouldn’t people… wouldn’t I be interested in you?” You immediately asked.

Barbara looked at you deeply with warmth once more and she squeezed your hand once more.

“Thank you, you are too kind, sweet girl…” Barbara cooed.

You blushed some more. And looked back to the ground, biting your lip. When you looked back, her gaze mesmerized you. Her eyes were dark and easily to get lost in.

Your eyes fluttered to her lips and then back up to her eyes. Her gaze did the same. You began to pull closer to the woman, before she spoke.

“But, aren’t I too old for—”

“Shut up and kiss me already”

Your lips quickly connected after that. Her lips were soft and plump, how you’d imagine them to be all this time, but so much better in reality. She kisses you with warmth and slow burning passion. It was light and slow.

From the hallway, Melissa chuckled to herself knowingly while leaving for the weekend.

~~~

Barbara Howard Masterlist

[marvel-ous-m]

Been thinking about modern AU Elementary School Librarian!Eddie and Substitute Teacher!Steve.

Eddie, who doesn’t really know how he ended up working at the school. A series of events that made him luck out, he supposed. He had always loved books, and practically lived at the public library in between working at the shop and sleeping. He had gotten to know the librarians there over time, had familiarized himself with the Dewey Decimal System from browsing the aisles, and had begun to explore different genres of books after finishing his sci-fi/fantasy bucket list. One evening, while he was curled up on one of the couches in the corner, re-reading The Hobbit for the hundredth time, a little girl with fire-red hair and her front two teeth missing ran up to him and begged him to read to her. He had glanced around the room for a moment, searching for the girl’s parent, but came up with nothing. At a loss, he decided he might as well read to her.

They got through three books that the girl- Max, she had said her name was- had picked out. By the end of his time reading to her, a small group of kids had crowded around him, and a couple of parents were on the outskirts of the makeshift circle smiling at him, clearly pleased that their kids were enjoying “story time”. One of the librarians noticed too, apparently. As Eddie was leaving to walk back to his apartment that night, he was slid a printed-out job posting for the librarian at the elementary school. Eddie never really saw himself as a ‘kids’ guy, but reading to them had been the highlight of his day, and they had all said he’d done the voices well… maybe this would be a good thing. Certainly better than the muscle strain he had almost daily from fixing cars.

So he submitted a resume. He got a letter of recommendation from the librarian who slid him the job posting, and somehow, even without having any certification past his High School Diploma, he landed an interview. They had been desperate, apparently. It was a tiny school in their tiny town and they needed someone to fill in. After only fifteen minutes, he got offered the job- pending results of a four week job shadow with the retiring librarian they were trying to replace and background checks. Two months later and he had become a well-established faculty member at the school, ‘Mr. M’, who did the best monster voices (according to the kids), decorated the library to make it look like it was out of a fairytale (with the help of the art teacher and his now-best-friend Robin Buckley), and even filled in for the music teacher on occasion. It was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Roughly three years after he was hired, he finds one of his lunch breaks being interrupted by Mrs. Harrington’s 3rd grade class. She had always been a bit of a bitch, but she never operated off-schedule. Eddie put his lunch away and observed as the kids flooded into the library and ran around, all finding a book to read or an activity to quietly play with. Will Byers (one of his favorite kids- not that he had favorites, but he totally did) ran up to him, holding watercolor markers and giving him puppy dog eyes. Eddie sighed and rolled up his sleeve, then helped Will sit on his desk so he could reach Eddie’s arm better. Will had asked about Eddie’s tattoos at the beginning of the year, wondering why there wasn’t any color on some of them, and then had been determined to color them in. And Eddie? Well, he couldn’t say no to the kid. Plus it was pretty adorable to have his ‘metal’ tattoos covered in washable marker.

“Will! Did he say you could do that?” Eddie looked up at the exclamation, surprised to come face-to-face with somebody who was definitely not Mrs. Harrington.

“Wait- who are you? Do I need to get the security guard?”

“What? No- no, I’m Mrs. Harrington’s substitute. They sent an email out about me I think? I’m- her son, actually. But you can just call me Steve. Or- probably Mr. Steve in front of the kids? I’m still kind of new at this- my mom called me last week and said she needed to stop teaching for a while because she needed to go on my dad’s business trips with him, she’s always been a bit suspicious of what he really does on the trip, and since I just got my teaching certification she figured it would be best for me too be her substitute- and shi-oot, shoot, I’m totally over sharing right now- it’s just the kids begged me to come here and they weren’t doing our math activity so I kinda panicked-“

“Whoa, alright, slow down big boy.” Eddie chuckled under his breath, then grabbed a sticky note and a pen with his free hand and scrawled out his number. Once he was done he handed it to Steve with a smirk. “I’m absolutely terrible at checking my email. So there ya go- the first number is for my cell- teaching these rascals can be a handful, especially with Henderson and Mayfield in your class, so feel free to text me anytime. We can talk about school or… other things.” Eddie let his eyes take in the man in front of him- and damn, this guy was hot.

Steve blushed, stuttering as he spoke. “A-and the second?” Oh shit, he wasn’t just hot, he was cute too. Eddie suddenly wanted to make Steve this flustered all the time.

“Second number is my extension for the phones here, if the kids get to be too much I can come down the hall for a visit and get them focused while you take a break. They have library time on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1pm to 2:30pm.” Eddie smiled at him, softer this time. “I’m sure you’re doing a great job. They’re just antsy because of the change- but I think they’d like anybody more than your mom- um, no offense.”

“None taken, she’s a bitc- um, a not super nice lady.” Steve coughed, smiling nervously. “Still getting used to kid-friendly language.”

Eddie shook his head fondly. This was certainly the start of something very interesting.

[lizcameron]

Mr. Maybank | Part One

Pairing: Teacher!JJ x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Summary: The new long-term sub down the hall takes an interest in you. The longer you spend in his presence, the more you begin to realize he’s anything but a sub.

Word Count: 1506 Warning(s): hinting at Dom!JJ and innocence kink, angst, mentions of intercourse

You were writing the day’s learning objectives on the whiteboard at the front of your classroom when you heard footsteps entering your room.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I think I have the wrong class,” a voice said.

You peered up in the direction of the door and spotted a man in a sport jacket and wide-rim glasses looking down at a sheet of paper.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Pickett’s class,” the man continued. He was tall with broad shoulders and dark blonde hair that brushed the top of his coat collar at the nape of his neck. His shirt was just fitting enough that his pectoral muscles pressed against the pale blue fabric. A strong jaw outlined his face, and icy blue eyes peered up at you over the rim of his glasses.

Your mouth hung open slightly as your mind went blank for a moment. When you noticed the awkward silence, you quickly blinked the daze out of your eyes.

“Uh- It’s- uh 2 doors down,” you managed to get out.

He gave you a polite nod, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smug smile.

What on earth was that? Had you forgotten how to speak? You shook the fog out of your head and resumed your task, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks.

As soon as you dropped your students off with the cafeteria monitors, you headed straight for the teachers’ lounge for a coffee refill. All morning your mind kept drifting to images of muscles straining against button-down shirts and perfect teeth bared in a handsome smile. You must not have gotten quality rest because you found it incredibly difficult to focus.

Upon entering the lounge, your eyes went wide when you saw the man from earlier that morning standing at the counter, pouring his own cup of coffee. You approached the counter, avoiding looking up at him while you waited silently for him to finish pouring. He held the coffee pot out to you without a word, and you took it gingerly.

“Thank you,” you said sweetly.

“So you’re Mrs. Y/l/n? I’ve heard of you, the teacher who can get through to even the toughest kid. Impressive,” he admired.

“Miss, actually - I‘m not married. And it’s not anything special, I just recognize that every child craves connection. Some of them just show it differently,” you remark, deflecting the compliment.

“You know, not many teachers care enough to cultivate a connection. The fact that you do with every student is very special,” he tributed, ducking his head to catch your downcast eyes. Who had this guy spoken to to know so much about your relationships with your students?

“Well thank you, Mr. Maybank,” you say with a glance at the badge on his lanyard. He was a substitute, but his ID indicated that his regular campus was the middle school. What was he doing at the elementary school?

The man’s gaze heated at your formal address. “You can call me JJ outside of my room,” he said, his voice low and deep. There was a flash of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes.

Your cheeks and chest heated under his watchful eye. “Oh… um, Y/n,” you replied, offering your own name.

You stepped closer to place the coffee pot back on the warmer. JJ stepped back, grabbing your waist to move around you. You gasped quietly. Focused only on the feel of his hands, you hardly noticed the brush of something else against the back of your dress as he left you.

Your computer pinged, signaling a new email as you waved goodbye to the last student after the final bell. You strode over to your desk, sitting down to clear your inbox before you left for the day. There at the top of the list was an email from JJ.

Join me for dinner. 7 PM at Miller’s.

You walked down the sidewalk that led up to the entrance of Miller’s Restaurant. It was a casual seafood restaurant just two blocks from your house, so you’d been there a few times. The food was good and the atmosphere nice, but you didn’t much favor eating out. You’d much rather cook an easy dinner and curl up in the comfort of your living room than brave the crowds of tourists at a beachfront seafood restaurant.

You’d warred with yourself over the decision to meet JJ for dinner. You weren’t often the subject of male attention, and you preferred it that way, favoring the company of children during the day and peaceful solitude at night. In the end you’d decided to throw on a solid, navy, knee-length dress. Your hair was half-down, the top tied behind your head by a thin ribbon. You’d elected to wear white sneakers since you were walking the short distance from your home to the restaurant.

As you approached the host’s stand, you scanned the tables for JJ. When you didn’t see him, you looked up at the host and smiled. “I’m meeting a JJ,” you proffered.

The host looked just over your shoulder and nodded. “Just in time -  your table is ready,” he beamed.

You looked behind you to see JJ strolling in, dressed in the same clothes he wore to school, having shed the coat and unlooped the top few buttons of his shirt. He flashed an approving grin at you as he approached.

“After you,” he conceded. You turned and followed the host to your table. When you felt an unexpected hand settle on the small of your back, a blush crept up your cheeks. You were directed to a booth in the back corner of the restaurant where JJ motioned for you to slide in first. You obliged, and JJ scooted in beside you. A passing waiter took your drink order before leaving the two of you alone in each other’s company.

“I was surprised by this invitation,” you blurted. “I’ve hardly spoken two words to you. How could you possibly find me interesting enough to ask me to dinner?”

“What can I say? ” JJ replied. “I wanted a chance to hear you speak more than two words. Do you not want to be here?” he poised, angling his body toward yours. When his thigh brushed against yours, you tensed nervously.

“No, I- uh. Yes, I do. I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just not used to-,” you pause, searching for the words. “I’m a little rusty. I haven’t been out with another adult in a long time,” you admit, cheeks turning pink.

JJ’s eyes flashed and he clenched a fist on his leg. “What do you mean you haven’t been out with another adult?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“I keep t-to mys-self mostly, outside the company of my students,” you stammered.

“You’re telling me you don’t see friends? Haven’t been on a date?” JJ spat the last word, making you flinch. His jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t think of what you had done to make him suddenly so angry. This was already turning out to be something you regretted.

You inhale deeply before responding, attempting to squelch the tears that threatened to well up at the rudeness of this man who didn’t even know you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, but no. I haven’t made many friends since moving here, and I haven’t been on a date in-,” you pause, mentally counting the time since your first boyfriend brutally broke your heart in college. “Five years - since my sophomore year.”

JJ clamped his eyes shut and drew in a ragged breath before fixing his intense stare on you. “I take it that also means you haven’t been touched by a man in five years,” he snarled.

Your eyes blazed with indignation. “You are unbelievably ill-mannered, Mr. Maybank. I will not subject myself to another minute of your disrespectful questioning,” you grated through clenched teeth, feeling uncharacteristically brazen at the man’s impertinence.

Just as you slammed your hands on the table to push yourself up and leave, a hand clamped down on your thigh, forcing you back down. You blanched and snapped your eyes to JJ, who bit his lips between his teeth before licking them.

“I thought I could make it at least through drinks with you,” JJ strained, making you want to shove his hands off of you and storm out of the restaurant. His rigid hand on your leg hitched further up your thigh as he continued. “But you’re just so, so good,” he cursed. “And it makes me want to do very bad things to you.”

Your lips part slightly, and your legs press together. JJ growled as he gripped your hand, yanking you along behind him. He snatched up a glass of brown liquor from the bar, throwing it down his throat and slamming it back down as he passed.

“Let’s go, sweetheart, before I take you right here on this bar.”

Well that escalated quickly. I was clearly craving something as I wrote this. This fic started out as an innocent, boy-next-door-esque piece before it morphed into something darker. An unfinished, fluffy Teacher!JJ piece still sits in my Google Docs waiting to be finished…

Please leave allllll the feedback. It’s been a long time since I’ve written creatively, so any analysis is helpful and much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[careernextplus]

Modern Teacher Resume Template

[evanfms]

From Halloween-born nerd to billionaire playboy, Evan Marquez traded coding marathons for champagne toasts, transforming his streaming platform vision into the empire known today as Netflix.

[  nicholas alexander chavez,  cis man,  he/him,  muse 13,  n/a  ] welcome  to  excesstv,  EVAN  JAY  MARQUEZ  —  or  should  i  say  the  troublemaker?  …  a  quick  google  search  tells  me  you’re  a  TWENTY SIX   year  old  STREAMING PLATFORM FOUNDER who’s worth $5B.  you've  called  avalon  home  for  FOUR  YEARS,  however  something  tells  me  there’s  more  to  you  than  a  flashy  resume  and  penthouse  35A  on  your  door  ?  it  seems  you’ve  managed  to  earn  a  reputation  around  the   city   for  being  MANIPULATIVE,  yet,  upon  further  investigation  it  seems  you're  also  quite  CHARMING.  but  hey,  thats  the  kind  of  mix  that  keeps  people  guessing.  i'm  sure  as  a  SCORPIO  you're  used  to  people  commenting  on  your  CUSTOM  ROLEX  / MUSKY, AND CLEAN-SCENTED NICHE PERFUME LINGERING IN THE AIR, CUSTOM COCKTAIL GLASSES AND HIGH-END BARWARE GLEAMING ON THE BAR, A SPACIOUS GARAGE FILLED WITH AN ARRAY OF CARS  but  still  we  can't  wait  to  watch  you  flourish  (  or  fail  )  these  next  few  weeks  … 

Full Name: Evan Jay Marquez Date of Birth: October 31st, 1998 Age: 26 Zodiac Sign: Scorpio Gender: Cis Male (He/Him) Height: 6'2 (187 cm) Eyes: Dark Brown Hair: Dark Brown Parents: Mother: Elena Smith, elementary school teacher Father: Carlos Marquez, auto mechanic Net Worth: $5 Billion Hometown: Born and raised in a small town in Arizona Current Residence: Avalon, New York City – Penthouse 35A Profession: Founder and CEO of a successful streaming platform

Evan Jay Marquez was born on a chilly Halloween night in 1997, in a small, unassuming town in Arizona. The eldest of three siblings, he grew up in a modest household where his mother, Elena, an elementary school teacher, and his father, Carlos, an auto mechanic, worked multiple jobs to make ends meet. From a young age, his parents instilled in him the importance of resilience and dedication, even when money was tight. Though life wasn’t easy, they fostered his interest in technology and education, sparking a passion for coding and innovation that would ultimately define his life.

In high school, Evan was the classic underdog—shy, bookish, and a little awkward. His days revolved around his computer, video games, and sci-fi novels. Although he excelled in academics, his social life was almost non-existent, and his quiet demeanor often made him a target for teasing. Popular girls overlooked him entirely, and while he had a few close friends, his true solace was in the digital world, where he felt both free and in control.

College marked a turning point. Accepted into a prestigious university in Silicon Valley through a scholarship, Evan found himself surrounded by ambitious and innovative minds. This culture of possibility inspired him to reinvent himself, ditching his old, nerdy image for a more confident version. He began working out, refining his style, and building the foundations of a streaming platform now recognized worldwide as Netflix. In his sophomore year, after countless late nights and failed attempts, the platform finally took off, gaining rapid traction and transforming him into a tech sensation almost overnight. As his company soared in popularity, so did his confidence—and his bank account.

This glow-up brought a whole new world of attention, especially from women. The once-overlooked nerd now sported a chiseled physique, a polished style, and a billionaire's lifestyle. Yet, this attention came with a price: Evan never truly knew if people were drawn to him or to his wealth. Despite his playful, flirty demeanor and the charm he used to keep people at arm's length, he wrestled with a quiet insecurity, hesitant to trust anyone fully.

His relationship with his family remained rooted in love, though success created an undeniable strain. His parents were proud yet struggled to relate to his opulent new world of luxury and fame. Whenever he visited home, he showered them with gifts and nostalgic memories, but a lingering disconnect persisted, widening with each return to his lavish penthouse in New York.

Now, living in a sleek penthouse in the heart of NYC, Evan’s personality is as captivating as his billionaire lifestyle. Playful and charming, he’s the type who lights up a room effortlessly, wielding his charisma with an edge of mischief that makes him irresistible yet unpredictable. Known as a master flirt and unapologetic troublemaker, he has a magnetic pull that draws people in while keeping them guessing. Beneath his polished exterior, though, lies a more complex, manipulative side—someone who knows exactly how to twist situations to his advantage and enjoys the thrill of control. For Evan, relationships are a game he plays with skill and finesse, savoring the chase but always maintaining his distance, guarding the parts of himself he isn’t ready to reveal.

[thecooler]

Magnetar

You are a mature student at the University of Ooo. You tell people that you resent the term mature student, because, in your own words, it makes you sound like an “old fart.” People respond by telling you that your whole everything makes you sound like an old fart.

Fandom: Adventure Time

Pairing: Simon/Betty

Additional Tags: POV First Person, POV Second Person, Grief/Mourning, Alternate Universes

Word Count: 3,368

AO3 Mirror

Simon Petrikov

You are a mature student at the University of Ooo. You tell people that you resent the term mature student, because, in your own words, it makes you sound like an “old fart.” People respond by telling you that your whole everything makes you sound like an old fart. Regardless of your linguistic preferences, though, you, Simon Petrikov, are living in a college dorm about thirty years and change after you last expected to be.

It’s just you in the room. Last time you were in dorms, you had this wad of a roommate named David, who left his laundry on your side of the room and ate your ramen packets without asking. You’d often told your fiancée, Betty, about David. She always giggled at the disdainful lilt your voice would take when you said his name— David, like you might say the name of your least favorite grade school teacher, or your weirdest ex. David wasn’t your weirdest ex, though, that was a different guy, though his name was also David, which Betty always had a good laugh over the first time you told her.

Betty is coming over later tonight, after you’re done with classes. You love her very much. You’ve been seeing each other for what feels like forever.

You pull a pair of matched socks out of your drawers and slide them on, then adjust your bow tie. You look in the mirror, and for a moment, you see a flash of blue. You blink, and find it’s just yourself staring back. Your hair’s started to grey. Betty thinks it looks good on you.

Betty Grof

The school library has always been something of a safe haven for me. In elementary school, being weird meant that I didn’t keep friends for long, and the librarians were always terribly fond of me. They’d give me little tasks to do, like wiping down tables with a cloth or putting a book or two back if I was good. I relished in these small favors. I’ve always yearned to be useful.

In high school, I managed to make friends, because high school is when people who are ahead of the game realize that being weird and being cool are basically synonyms. And some people still give you grief, but when you have friends, it’s a hell of a lot easier to ignore those people. I didn’t need to spend time in the library, then, to avoid my own loneliness. But I returned anyway, because I found the scent of books and the old, dusty carpet in my hometown’s old library to be a comfort. When I turned sixteen, the director of the library took pity on me and gave me a job. By the time I made my way to University, I was already well on my way to building myself a decent resume.

I don’t remember how I got this particular gig, and it doesn’t really matter.

All that matters is that in this life, this is the library where I met Simon Petrikov.

He’s inevitable, a cosmic force that I feel myself drawn to in every universe. He was a bit older, when I met him here, in his first semester. He was looking for an old volume from Kant. He’s always stubborn— he paced around for a good hour before he asked me for help. When he did, I looked at him and smiled and said, “Are you saying you kant find it?” and he’d laughed way more than the joke called for. He always laughs like that at my jokes, like he thinks I’m the most brilliant person to ever walk the earth. Like he’s never once looked in a mirror.

Simon Petrikov

Your first class is at eight am and all the way across campus. You often joke about how it’s fine, because you could use the cardio and the regular sleep schedule. But you always end up leaving ten minutes late if no one’s pushing you out the door, and you don’t think you’ve ever once jogged willingly in your life. You walk at a regular pace across campus, and you’ll get there when you get there. You don’t usually miss much in the first five minutes anyway, though you don’t love the glare your professor shoots you when you creak open the old, heavy wood door.

You sit in your usual spot and listen to the lecture, but it all sort of starts to blend together. You’re suddenly quite tired, and you can feel your eyelids drooping when shuffling starts around you. With a start, you realize it’s time to head to your next class. You blink and stand up suddenly, stumbling when vertigo gets the better of you. A young man you don’t recognize rests a steadying hand on your shoulder and says, “Come on, Simon, I’ve got you,” and his blue eyes look rather sad.

He’s young, you think, too young to be here, until he’s not. You blink, and he has a beard and a chest tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his tank top. You swear that wasn’t there before. “Simon?” he says again, his brow furrowing. You don’t remember telling him your name.

You look at this young man, and you find yourself at a loss for words. You recognize in his gaze a familiar sense of prolonged grief. You’ve never met him, but somehow you think you’ve known him your whole life, or at least his.

“Are you okay, man?”

You nod, slowly, and it doesn’t seem to convince him. “Betty’s coming over tonight,” you say, “I must have  gotten distracted thinking about it.”

Betty Grof

Once, when we were a lot younger, and before the crown changed everything, Simon and I went hiking together. Usually, when we went on excursions, they were meticulously planned. He had every step of our journey plotted out on a spreadsheet or a numbered list, the creation of which was usually his favorite part of the whole thing. Which wasn’t to say he disliked the excursion— more so that he really liked making lists and spreadsheets.

But we’d gone without this time. I worried it was because I teased him about it, even though he knew it was good-natured, or at least I’m pretty sure he knew. I didn’t think he was actually upset, because Simon always wore his feelings on his sleeve, and when he was worried, he got this crease between his eyebrows. On such occasions, I’d kiss his cheeks until he relented and forgave me, for which I was declared a menace to society. So I don’t know exactly why he decided to forgo the spreadsheet this time, but he refused to make one, even when I tried to nudge him to in the hours before we left.

So we went off into the bush on the outskirts of Seattle, near a farm that some friend of Simon’s owned. We had two backpacks full of trail mix and a sleeping bag, but no tent, because Simon said that he’d been orienteering since he was old enough to walk, and he’d get us out of the bush before we needed to sleep.

Naturally, then, we did not make it out of the forest in time. Instead, we found a nice, open clearing, and we lay down on the grass together and looked at the stars. Simon was fidgeting with his shirt sleeves.

I said, “It’s really okay, Simon. You know I don’t mind a little roughin’ it,” and I waggled my eyebrows. It wasn’t really an innuendo, but I’d never been one to miss an opportunity for a double-entente, no matter how half-baked. I meant it, too. Laying under the stars next to the Simon Petrikov was basically a dream, even after five years of dating. I think it’d been five years. Time is different here, it’s hard to tell. Hard to remember how time moves for mortals.

He turned on his side and he looked at me. Back then, before Evergreen’s crown took root in his mind, his eyes were a deep, thoughtful brown. He said, “You would really tell me when I’ve got a bad idea?”

I turned over and smiled, “Would it stop you if I did?”

And he’d closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and breathed, “No.”

Above, the cosmos shone down, ambivalent to us. It would be hundreds of years yet until we tried to make it ours, and in doing so, fell apart.

Simon Petrikov

You walk to your next class with the unfamiliar old friend. He says he shares the class with you, though you don’t think he seems like the Anthropology type. He pats you on the shoulder and laughs at pretty much everything you say, even when you aren’t making a joke. This feels to you like condescension, but you can’t detect anything other than earnestness in the boy’s face. He looks to be in his early-to-mid twenties, but his eyes are much older.

Your daughter, Marceline, joins you. She has a guitar strapped to her back and you know from experience she isn’t above busting it out in class if she thinks it’ll make the situation funny. Her girlfriend, Bonnie, walks beside her. These are two more people you’ve known for impossibly long, and yet you struggle to pin down any specific memories associated with them. It’s as though your mind is a blank slate, with information slowly being accumulated atop it. Marceline doesn’t look like you, and you don’t think she looks like any of your exes, either. You wonder how the two of you met, then, but you know this is not something you can ask.

She looks back across the hall at you, and you abruptly realize that you’ve stopped walking. You’re staring at her, with her hand in Bonnie’s back pocket, and you feel light— happy. But you don’t have the context for these emotions. Your mind feels like an unorganized mess, as though a cosmic being has reached in and shuffled things around, removed some with the intent to put it back, only she forgot. And now nothing makes sense to you, even things that should be second nature.

Marceline’s brow furrows and her lips tug down into a frown. She presses her palm against the small of Bonnie’s back and whispers something to her, before walking back towards Simon while the other girl makes her way towards class. Somewhere along the way, the boy vanished, like as soon as he was out of your line of sight, he ceased to exist. You tense with the realization that the world around you feels more empty than it ought to be.

Marceline places a hand on your shoulder and meets your eyes. In the reflection of her deep brown irises, you see yourself with ragged white hair, and then one of you blinks, and it’s you again. “Simon,” she says carefully, biting her bottom lip and tapping a finger against your shoulder. She takes what feels like several minutes to decide what she’s going to say, though it can’t be more than thirty seconds.

“Is this about–?”

Betty Grof

There’s a reality where we got the crown (we get it in most of them, one way or another), but it wasn’t you who put it on. Simon took it out and came up behind me and popped it on my head. I remember hearing him say boop and start to laugh, and then the universe exploded around me. This, in my current state, says very little. It’s difficult for me to conceptualize what it would have felt like for my mortal brain, but I think that it was agony. It was, to my best approximation, something like having your skull split open, and then unceremoniously pouring the steaming hot knowledge of the cosmos inside.

Which is to say it was probably about as overwhelming for Simon as it was for me.

But when Simon put on the crown, in that first reality we endured together (for him. There is no first for me, nor a last, they are all as one, but it was the first reality my mortal flesh experiences, and so it is easier to describe it as the first) he only lost me. He thought, at the time, that the madness drove me away, and it took him a thousand years to learn the reality of the situation.

Perhaps it is a mercy, then, that in the reality where I don the crown first, I know immediately what happened to my Simon. The crown slips off my head, and I find him, body entombed in ice, save his head, which lolls lifeless and heavy to one side.

There’s more that happens after that, but I don’t stay long.

Simon Petrikov

Eventually, you’re able to convince Marceline that you’re quite alright, but maybe you could stand to eat soon. The two of you cut class, which makes you momentarily feel like a bit of a wild child. The University has a hall of student-run food outlets, and they vary from quite bad to decent. You are partial to the Greek-themed shop, because the chicken isn’t dry and you’ve always been a fan of tzatziki. You often keep a big tub of it in your fridge, when you aren’t living on campus.

You eat with Marceline, and she tells you that she and Bonnie are doing well, that she thinks Bonnie will graduate at the end of next semester but she’s probably going to take another year. She doesn’t mention what either of them are studying. You think that you should remember that. Why don’t you remember that? 

She asks you if you have any plans for tonight, and you tell her you have a date. Something tells you that you shouldn’t mention who it’s with, and she doesn’t pry, but she does give you a look that feels very sad, and you don’t like how it makes you feel.

Betty Grof

Simon always planned what we were going to do. While he did that, I managed time. Those sorts of things tended to get away from him. He’d get all wrapped up in research, in exploring every last inch of our ventures, and suddenly, he’d look up and it’d be night already. I always knew exactly what time it was. I learned to read the stars and the trajectory of the sun when I was young, and I’d always found comfort in the notion that no matter where I was in the world, I’d know when I was.

Now, time bends strangely around me, and there is equally no future to plan nor past to recall. Everything is happening, has happened, and will never happen. It is not something that my mortal mind was born to conceive of, though I suppose I’m well past that now.

I know all our realities, Simon. I know each of our beginnings and our ends. There are worlds where we die with our hands clasped together in the face of nuclear destruction. There are worlds where you go on without me, and others where I go on without you. There are realities where we linger together for decades, until the inevitability of death pulls us slowly and together into her arms. I spend more time than I should ruminating on these realities.

Simon Petrikov

Sometime after lunch, you end up back in your dorm room. You think you like it here, more so than you’ve liked a lot of your apartments. For one thing, you have easy access to a good library, though the University’s fiction section, as is often the case, leaves something to be desired. You have room for an armchair and a nice standing lamp. You often fall asleep in that chair, and your back does not thank you for it.

There will be none of that tonight, though, because again, you have a date.

You already look good— you always look good— but you like to dress up. Betty usually dresses comfortably, though she’ll put on her best if the situation calls for it, but a regular Friday evening date does not. She’ll be here in a sweater and slacks, and you’ll think she’s the most beautiful thing in the universe. You know, at this point, very little about the universe. You think you know quite a bit, but you’re mistaken. It’s better that way. Our mortal brains aren’t designed to comprehend such concepts. I would know.

Regardless of how good you currently look (very), you strip out of your blazer and button-down. Your tie is a clip-on, which you wouldn’t be caught dead with on a date. Betty doesn’t understand why it matters if they basically look the same, and doesn’t seem to get it no matter how many times you emphasize that it’s the principle of the matter. But that’s fine; you’re dressing up for you, and a little bit for Betty, but mostly for you.

In the end, you aren’t ready until two minutes before your date’s supposed to start. You’ve put on another nearly identical button-down which you insist is your nice one, as well as some nice black slacks and a matching suit jacket. Your tie is properly tied and not clipped on, like some sort of amateur. You fiddle with it in the mirror until you hear a knock on the door, right on time.

You glance away, and out of the corner of your eye, you once again see a flash of blue, but it’s gone when you whip your head back around. You inhale deeply, and exhale slowly through your nose.

I knock again.

You answer.

???

We’re in your dorm room. You’re looking at me, in that lovelorn way you always wore on date nights. It’s like warmth found a home in your eyes, like I can see the burning of your heart through them. You invite me inside and tell me you’ve put the kettle on for tea. You got the English breakfast tea I like.

We’re holding hands under the stars. The dewy grass seeps through clothing that’s too thin for the midnight chill as we sleep under the cold and unforgiving night sky. We’ll survive, but our aging bodies won’t thank us, and when we develop colds a week from now, we know who to blame.

We’re old together. Wrinkles tug at your face in a way I think is terribly handsome, but which you often fuss over. Day by day, simple things grow harder, and when your eyesight starts to go, you cup my face in your hands and whisper, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t see your beautiful face.” I reassure you that you have lived without the sight before and will again, but this doesn’t soothe you. I wish it would.

We’re a thousand years beyond a time we should have ever been allowed to live, and I’m sacrificing my mind to restore yours. I never have a single doubt that you would do the same.

I know now that this is true, I’ve seen it come to fruition, in another life.

The bomb goes off while we lay, hand in hand.

You die cradled in my arms.

We’re in the dorm again, and you’re looking at me with an expression I cannot comprehend. I’ve known you for countless lifetimes, and yet there are still times where you perplex me.

“I don’t know where you end,” I say, and without missing a beat, you return, “I don’t know where I begin.”

Our realities, everything we are, is a web of entanglement from which neither of us can escape, no matter how powerful we become. My end is your beginning, my beginning your end, and everything in between those times, folding in upon each other in an incomprehensible cacophony of misery. I know all, and yet, at times even I struggle to understand it.

You are there, and then you are not.

I can always reach you, in a way, if I so choose. But we will never be as we once were. I know too much now.

Were I capable, I would weep for the loss.

[d3d9]

Official Akira Pre-movie Timeline

Character childhoods, historical events etc.

hiiii Akira tumblr, I haven't been around here much but here's a translation I did. I've never seen this full timeline translated anywhere, so maybe it'll be of interest !😳

(I did a condensed version on Twitter a while ago, but I figure it's easier to follow in its original format .)

(Long post under the cut)

Source is the book Poster & Graphic Akira released in 1988. Also a special thank you to my old friend Shina-san for the photos from the book, I don't yet own a copy myself !!

1970

Nezu's birth - Born in Chiba as the third son of farmers.

1976

Colonel's birth - Has an older sister and an older brother. His father served in the Japan Defense Agency, JGSDF major.

1977

Nezu age 7 - Started elementary school.

1982

Nezu age 12 - Started middle school. Excellent grades.

1985

Nezu age 15 - Started high school.

1988

Nezu age 18 - Started law school. The disaster of Akira’s awakening occurred. In the chaos of the next 3 years, he studied life as a black marketeer. During that time he became acquainted with the people of this underworld.

Colonel age 12 - His father died to Akira’s first awakening. (He was on a special mission, suspected to be related to the Akira Project). After the world war (which ended after 3 weeks), until he was 15 he spent the next years of chaos with his mother and siblings. These events would profoundly shape his later development. (Until 1991, Japan lacked a governing body and was controlled by the US)

1992

Colonel age 16 - Started night school. Studied while working.

1993

Colonel age 17 - Having regained autonomy, Japan emulates the US and establishes an American-style military.

1994

Nezu age 24 - As university resumed operation, he returned to school.

1995

Nezu age 25 - Graduated. Passed the bar exam, and became a lawyer.

1996

Colonel age 20 - Graduated night school. Enrolled in the newly established military academy (National Defense Academy).

1999

Colonel age 23 - Graduated military academy with excellent grades. Admitted to Officer Candidate School on recommendation.

2000

Nezu age 30 - From around this time he begins to appear in politics.

Colonel age 24 - Graduates from Officer Candidate School. Enlists in the Army as a First Lieutenant.

2001

Colonel age 25 - Studies abroad at the US Department of Defense.

2002

Nezu age 32 - Hears about Miyako-sama, and becomes a devoted believer.

Colonel age 26 - Returns to Japan. Establishes the Army Special Forces. Becomes its commander. Promoted to Major.  Dispatched in the Soviet-DPRK War, which had been ongoing since 1996. He is awarded a decoration for his service.  

2003

Colonel age 27 - Through matchmaking by his superior officer, he gets married.

Kei - Born in April. Her father, born 1967 (age 36), is a teacher. She has an older brother. They're 14 years apart.

2004

Kaneda - born in September (at this time, schools would have September enrollment and August graduation). His father born 1977 (age 27). His mother born 1978 (age 26).

Yamagata - born in November. His father is a Yakuza.

Colonel age 28 - By creating a new unification of land, sea, and air defense systems, he successfully allows Japan to gain independence from the US protective defense system.

2005

Nezu age 35 - He trains diligently under Miyako, and establishes himself. From around this time he separates under a new sect of Miyako's religion, and starts a political organization, becoming its president. Behind the scenes he is backing anti-government activists at the same time.

Kai - Born in January. His father works in the construction industry. He is blessed with a good home environment.

Tetsuo - Born in July. His father born 1980 (age 25). His mother born 1981 (age 24). In 1984, as part of the Akira Project, experiments were conducted on children around the age of 10, and genetic manipulation was (secretly) performed on newly born children. The effects of this skipped a generation and manifested in Tetsuo… and are gradually beginning to show in other children.(His grandfather was a genetic engineer. He participated in the Project. He died during Akira's awakening in 1988)

Colonel age 29 - He and his wife separate. They have no children.

2006

Yamagata age 2 - His father is arrested. He will serve 25 years. His mother makes a living as a hostess.

2008

Kaneda age 4 - His little brother is born. His parents open a laundry service. His little brother is born with a disability, and goes between home and treatment centers since the time he's 2 years old.

Yamagata age 4 - His mother gets a boyfriend. A little brother is born.

Kei age 5 - Her father dies. (Illness)

Tetsuo age 3 - His father (a graduate student), who's been sickly since birth, develops pneumonia from the common cold, and dies. His parents were never officially married, so as his father's child born out of wedlock, he's poorly received by his mother's side of the family.

Colonel age 32 - He is appointed commander of the nation's top secret 'Akira Plan' as Colonel. (The 'Akira Plan' began 3 years after Akira's awakening in 1988, when the US began investigating, and in 1996 it was turned over to the Japanese government. Since then, despite organization of records and repeated experiments, there hasn't been much progress. This may be why the US let go of it….) The heads of government began to feel threatened by the Colonel's excessively growing power, so even though it was a top national secret, they appointed him to this do-nothing position to force him to withdraw from the front lines, as a means of dismissal. …As for why the Colonel resigned himself to this sinecure, perhaps it's because he was seeking answers about his father's death, or trying to fulfill his father's dying wish, or maybe he himself saw potential in this investigation…. There are various possibilities, but one can only speculate.

2009

Yamagata age 5 - His mother gets another boyfriend. A little sister is born.

Kei age 6 - Starts elementary school. Her older brother is 21. He's already a student activist while also supporting the family.

Tetsuo age 4 - His mother remarries. Tetsuo is adopted by another family. But he can't get used to his new home and is gradually shunned as a gloomy child.

2010

Kaneda age 6 - Starts elementary school. Due to the fatigue of nursing his younger brother, his father collapses.

Yamagata age 6 - Starts elementary school. Another little brother is born.

2011

Kai age 7 - Starts private elementary school. Gets excellent grades.

Tetsuo age 6 - Starts elementary school. At this time he starts repeatedly running away from home.

2012

Kaneda age 8 - Changes schools due to his little brother changing treatment centers. His mother runs off. They live off of government assistance. His father shows a distinct turn towards alcoholism. 

2013

Kaneda age 9 - His father is deemed unfit to take care of the children, so Kaneda is sent to an orphanage. His little brother is kept at a hospital. Half a year later, Tetsuo comes to the orphanage.

Tetsuo age 8 - His parents try to return him, but his birth mother won't accept him, so he's sent to an orphanage. He then meets Kaneda.

2014

Kei age 11 - Starts middle school.

2015

Kaneda age 11 - Graduates from the orphanage and goes to a boarding middle school. He's separated from Tetsuo.

Yamagata age 11 - Starts middle school. His mother continues to have children, both boys and girls. She also keeps changing boyfriends.

Kei age 12 - Her older brother is arrested as a suspect in a major incident. (Something like the Mikawashima train crash). There are rumors that it was a US plot against the organization her older brother was connected to. Following this, Kei's family was supported by donations from her brother's group, organized by her brother's junior, Ryusaku.

2016

Kaneda age 12 - His defiant attitude stands out in school.

Yamagata age 12 - Caught by the police for shoplifting. He was stealing sweets for his little siblings.

Kai age 12 - Goes to the same private academy for middle school.

Tetsuo age 11 - He's adopted again by another family. He then starts middle school.

2017

Nezu age 46 - He may be doing it to spread the religion's ideals, or he may be using the religion for his own desires, or perhaps both….?

Kaneda age 13 - A complete juvenile delinquent. His grades are above average.

Yamagata age 13 - His mother joins a new religion. He leaves home.

Kei age 14 - Her older brother dies in prison. The authorities claim it was a suicide, but it's suspected that he was tortured. Kei leaves home and asks Ryusaku if she can become an activist too.

Tetsuo age 12 - Becomes truant. Frequently runs away from home.

Colonel age 41

2018

Kaneda age 14 - Expelled after a brush with the law. Starts at vocational school.

Yamagata age 14 - Starts at vocational school.

Kai age 13 - His father runs away from home. They find him. His father confesses: "I'm gay, and have been deceiving our family this whole time…." 

Kei age 15

Tetsuo age 13 - Due to misconduct with an elementary school student, he gets in trouble with the police. From this point forward he stops going to school.

2019

Kaneda age 15 - Forms a motorcycle team at the vocational school.

Tetsuo enrolls.

Kai age 14 - As junior representative, he reads an essay titled 'Is Life A Joke' to the graduating seniors, and is suspended. One week later, he turns in his notice to withdraw, and enrolls in vocational school himself.

Tetsuo age 14 - His parents convince him to go to vocational school. He reunites with Kaneda, and is admitted. There, he joins the motorcycle team.

[softguarnere]

For Whatever We Find

His Girl Friday (Iron Man!Nix AU)

Lewis Nixon x OFC

Summary: The way he can go from a near death experience to business as usual irks Minerva in a way she can’t even begin to describe. God, if this idiot would stop and process things like a normal person for once, maybe they wouldn’t find themselves in half of these damn messes. A/N: Anyways! I had unstructured free time and no self-control, so here's the blurb the world absolutely did not need but that I was only too ready and too willing to provide! Warnings: Arc Reactor goo?; the author abusing her italics privileges

Minerva doesn’t hate her job. But most days, she strongly dislikes a lot of things about it. 

For starters, she never knows if Nix is going to drive Nixon Nitration Works  into the ground, or if he’s going to do something impulsive and leave her to clean up his mess, or if he might randomly decide to leave the country without telling anyone, or – 

Well, it’s not the worst job she’s ever had. It’s certainly not the best, though. There’s definitely a reason that when Sobel hired her to be Nix’s girl Friday, he had scoffed at the line on her resume stating that she used to be an elementary school teacher before looking up at her and saying, “Then you’re definitely qualified to handle Lewis.” 

Qualified doesn’t even begin to cut it anymore, though. Especially not right now. Minerva is nowhere near qualified enough to be doing this. 

The miniature Arc Reactor she’s holding feels like it could slip from her grasp at any second thanks to the goo that coats her hands. The goo that smells, and that Nix keeps assuring her is not from his body, but some sort of discharge from the device. You know, as if that’s any sort of comfort for her. God, when she became a PA, she thought she would be fetching coffee and denying requests for interviews – not performing in-home cardiac procedures. 

But this? 

“Nix, it’s gonna be okay,” Minerva assures him. Back when she taught elementary school, that was always the first thing she would say when a child would run to her with a scraped knee, paper cut, upset stomach, or any other ailment. The first and most important step was always calming them down so that they could deal with the situation. Now, Minerva finds herself repeating it over and over, turning it into a mantra. 

Nix doesn’t even seem to be listening. Which, to his credit, might be because Minerva has just accidentally ripped a magnet out of his chest – “Like a trout lure,” Nix had snarked when she did it – and sent him into cardiac arrest. 

“You’re just gonna attach that to the baseplate,” he instructs her instead of responding to any of her positive affirmations. “And make s-sure you –”

Hearing him stammer breathlessly is the fire under her ass that Minerva needs. Because if she doesn’t fix the mess she’s inadvertently caused, then she’ll have accidentally killed her boss. And that’s maybe the last thing she needs right now. 

With all her strength, she shoves the device into his chest, feeling the magnet take hold of the base. Nix lets out a sort of monotone yell the second that it connects, his eyes going wide as the monitors behind them beep frantically. 

Oh, God! She���s killed him, she’s killed Lewis Nixon, of all people, while trying to save him – 

In a split second, the beeping slows back to a normal pace. Nix’s features relax, and he gives her a deadpan look when he asks, “Now was that so hard?” Then he makes sure that the Arc Reactor is securely screwed into his own chest before proclaiming with a confidence he really shouldn’t have in this situation, “Ni-ice.” 

Minerva gapes at him for a second. Her time as a teacher put her into some gross situations and brought her into contact with all sorts of disgusting substances and fluids, but this really takes the cake. Her goo-covered hands still hover over her boss somewhat frantically as she waits for her next instruction or for the need to jump into action to arise again. Because that’s what Minerva Revels does. It’s what she’s always done – she fixes things and cleans up people’s messes.

She’s dragged out of her moment of introspective shock by the sound of laughter. Loud, genuine, boisterous laughter from beneath her. Beneath his five o’clock shadow, Nix’s face lights up as he looks at her, taking obvious delight in her expression.

Nix has made fun of her before, teased her for things, but the audacity of this – 

Minerva doesn’t care that he maybe almost just died because of her. She uses one of her goo-soaked hands to shove his shoulder. 

“Do not ever, ever, ever ask me to do something like that ever again!” She snaps with a scowl.

Damn him, Nix doesn’t look the least bit fazed by her outburst, by the fact that she’s ordering him around. Instead, he blinks up at her and admits, “I don’t have anyone but you.” 

Minerva blinks. What sort of thing is that to say? Of course he has other people besides her. He’s got Sobel and Winters and – 

But with everything going on since he got back from Germany – with his heart, with Nixon Nitration Works, with everything – who does he have besides a gal Friday that he can boss around and scare half to death at least five times a day? 

It’s maybe the most vulnerable that Minerva has ever seen her boss, and she feels the corners of her mouth tugging down into a frown without her consent as she looks at him. And Nix, for his part, must realize the implications of what he’s just said, because he raises an eyebrow in a manner that’s halfway sardonic. 

“Anyways.” He hops up from the chair he’s reclined in and starts to walk around his lab as if nothing has happened. 

The way he can go from a near death experience to business as usual irks Minerva in a way she can’t even begin to describe. God, if this idiot would stop and process things like a normal person for once, maybe they wouldn’t find themselves in half of these damn messes. 

The smell of the goo on her hands makes her gag, and she shakes them, hoping to rid herself of some of the slime until she can get to a sink. She almost knocks the old miniature Arc Reactor from its precarious perch in her frustration. 

Her hands are still so slick that she almost drops it as soon as she picks it up. She glances at Nix, a new thrill of frustration shooting through her as she watches him cleaning up his supplies from his in-home surgery. 

“What do you want to do with this?” 

Nix pauses, turning to look at her. He frowns. 

“Oh that?” He shrugs. “Destroy it.” He taps the glowing device in his chest as if to say, I’ve got it covered. 

Minerva is about to give him a lecture, to tell him that he should keep it in case of an emergency, because you never know what’s going to happen – but she feels her mouth snap shut in a way that’s most uncharacteristic of herself. Usually her interactions with Nix have a lot more snark and a lot more unsolicited advice that goes completely unheeded. 

But there’s something different about today. She’s always been worried about Nix and what he might do to himself, but this . . . This is different. He seems almost numb as he looks at her. It’s like he doesn’t even care what happens to himself anymore. And why should he, when the worst has already kind of happened to him? Then again, when did he care about what happened to himself before?

A wave of empathy washes over Minerva as she glances down at the Arc Reactor in her hands and nods. “Will that be all, Mr. Nixon?” 

Nix’s expression softens, albeit infinitesimally. “That’ll be all, Miss Revels.” 

Hesitantly, Minerva turns to leave the lab, although she pauses at the door when she hears Nix snarking at and bossing around his robots. She feels her heart soften a bit as she watches him. Because it makes her realize that, sadly, Nix is right: besides his faithful robots, he’s only got her right now. 

Despite the goo on her hands, Minerva keeps as tight a grip on the Arc Reactor as she can while she heads back upstairs to wash them. She might be Nix’s girl Friday, but that doesn’t mean that she has to follow his every order if it goes against his best interests. She’ll keep the Arc Reactor somewhere safe, just in case. His heart almost stopped today, and Minerva isn’t going to let the risk of that happen again. Not on her watch.  

Not when she’s starting to suspect that there might be proof that Lewis Nixon has a heart.