#and a lot of in school classroom time is just the teacher trying to manage 20 kids. which isn't a problem here

[5sospenguinqueen]

Djungelskog | Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Summary: Summer break means forcing Oscar to help you get your classroom ready in time for upcoming school year. 

Fluff. 2024 season. Pinterest pics

Requested: Yes by anon (here)

There's a little blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

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yn_ln last day of term. last recess, last day of chalk drawings. i’ve had a lovely bunch this year and will miss them loads as they move on. looking forward to a much needed break

681 comments

bestfriend feet on the desk? empty classroom? looks like slacking to me

oscarpiastri can’t wait to spend summer break with you 

→ yn_ln it’ll be nice to not have to share you with lando

→ landonorris what makes you think you can get away from me

→ georgerussel63 that sounds like a threat, mate

hattiepiastri does this mean you’ll have time to take me to the babymetal concert? ‘cause mum keeps trying to get out of it 

→ yn_ln do i have to learn the all the lyrics? 

→ hattiepiastri you’re a teacher, learning is in your blood 

→ yn_ln osc, help

→ oscarpiastri no, you chose to befriend her

alexandrasaintmleux omg did the kids do those drawings? 🥹belle

→ yn_ln no, that was lando’s drawing

→ landonorris don’t be silly. i can’t draw that well

teacherfriend i’ll do my best to look after them next year but i know i can’t compete with the fabulous miss ln 

nicolepiastri when can we see miss ln turn to mrs piastri?

→ oscarpiastri this is why i don’t come home 

→ nicolepiastri no, you don’t come home because yn does your laundry now 

oscarpiastri just posted

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oscarpiastri first part of the season done. first GP victory. first broken bone. looking forward to a much needed break for the rib

4,811 comments

landonorris omg stop copying your girlfriend’s caption style

→ yn_ln he can’t help it. he’s obsessed with me

→ oscarpiastri true

→ user1 let us innnnn

user2 does a broken bone mean he’ll win the next race

→ yn_ln only if i'm there

charles_leclerc and what have you been doing to break a bone?

→ oscarpiastri helping my girlfriend empty a classroom. there’s a lot of books in there

mclaren enjoy the break. we can’t wait to have you back racing and refreshed 

→ user3 he’s literally only just left the mtc, give him a minute of peace

→ yn_ln don’t worry. i’ll be putting them in a time out if they try and take him

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yn_ln just posted

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yn_ln my happy place. quick lunch break. dragging my big strong man to carry stuff for me in ikea 

814 comments

oscarpiastri before that bear, i was your big strong man :( 

→ yn_ln you broke a rib. you’re only so useful. the bear can’t break 

→ oscarpiastri it can if i pull it’s head off

→ yn_ln you were a biter, weren’t you?

→ hattiepiastri yes

landonorris why wasn’t i invited

landonorris sushi 🤢

→ yn_ln this is why you weren’t invited 

→ landonorris stop trying to push me out 

→ oscarpiastri i see you practically 10 months out of the year. she can have me for one afternoon

charles_leclerc oh i love ikea furniture! can i help?

→ yn_ln of course you can. we have snacks as well

→ landonorris blatant favouritism 

→ yn_ln yes 

danielricciardo omg the djungelskog. when can i meet him?

→ oscarpiastri he’s called skoggie for short 

→ nicolepiastri the closest i’ll get to grandkids

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Oscar grinned at the face filling up the front of his phone, sliding the button across to answer it. 

“He-”

“Babe, I need more glue.” You exploded, cutting him off before he could even greet you properly. “Oh, and paper.”

“-And I broke the scissors. But the good news is, Lan said he could come and help so could you actually pick up 3 pairs of scissors, please?” 

“Sweetheart, breathe.” Oscar reminded you, a soft laugh echoing down the phone. “I’ve literally only been gone for 10 minutes. All we needed was milk. How did you manage to rope Lando into this?” 

“Rope? He was practically hanging by the phone waiting for one of us to call. I asked if he could spare a few minutes - just to give you a hand moving the desk - and he was already in the car on his way.”

“At least he’s preparing us for our own children one day,” joked Oscar.

“How have you got paint in your curls? I didn’t ask you to paint because I knew you couldn't be trusted to paint,” the exasperated voice of his girlfriend echoed down the empty school hallways. Light radiated from a singular doorway at the end of the hallway, beckoning him forward. 

“Every year, I deal with a class of 30 five year olds, experiencing freedom from their parents for the first time. And yet I feel like I need to watch you more than I do them.” 

“But it was just sat on the side, with the lid off!.”

“So you felt the need to somehow stick your entire hand in it?” 

Oscar leant against the doorframe, watching affectionately as you used a wet wipe to get the paint off of Lando as best as possible. Despite the curly-haired Brit being old than you, it didn’t stop the caring instinct that came with being a first-year teacher. 

One wall was painted a soft lilac whilst the other three had been given fresh coats of white. The chairs and tables had been organised into little groups to help you see each child’s face from the front of the class, and the drawers were freshly stocked with stationery. A little rug and some bean bags were set up in the corner for the story nook, and all that was left to do was start hanging up the wall deco. 

“There?” 

“Little higher,” you remarked, after faking a contemplative pause. 

“Now?”

“Little higher,” you leaned back to really take in the view. “Oh, yeah, that’s good.”

The white t-shirt sat snugly on his strained biceps as he held the board up over his head. The hem rode up as he stretched, revealing a nice sliver of tan, muscular back. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you sighed deeply at the sight before you. How easy would it be to reach and smack-

“Babe!” Oscar called again, turning around to check on you. “I can’t hold this- Are you checking me out? You’re supposed to be telling me where this goes.” 

“You shouldn’t look that good then.”

Clambering down from the ladder, he placed the thick board down on the nearest table and sauntered over to you. Placing his hands on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he trailed his lips down to your jaw and then under your ear. 

“How about we call it a night? This’ll all be here tomorrow, and you can appreciate the view without the t-shirt.” 

When you didn’t smile at his enticing offer, Oscar pulled down to look at you. Brushing a strand of hair back from your face, he frowned at the furrow between your brows. 

“What’s up, sweetheart?” 

“I’m just worried that it’s not enough, you know…”

Oscar turned his head slightly, drinking in all the work you had put together. The butterflies made out of patterned cards that you had spent hours scouring stores for. The paper flowers decorating the whiteboard that you had spent days stressing about. The stack of drawers with each student's name labelled across the front. The days of work that had gone into ensuring that each little person that crossed your threshold was as happy as they could be. A teacher that cared. 

“I know they’re only five, and they’ve never had another classroom to go off but- I don’t know. I just want them to feel comfortable and safe, and happy. I don’t want them to feel like they’re in an institution designed to make them sit in a seat for six hours.” 

“Look at all the effort you’ve put in so far. Without all the lesson planning and actual caring you’ll do when those kids come under your care. Did you ever have a classroom like this growing up? No. Neither did I. You know why, because nobody cares as much as you do.”

Straightening, he swung you up into his arms, bridal style. A cheeky grin pulled at the corners of his mouth when you shrieked in laughter. 

“Now, let’s go home, Skoggie is waiting for us. We'll grab some dinner and take a bath together. What do you say?” 

“Okay, Piastri. Take me home or lose me forever.” 

oscarpiastri just posted

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oscarpiastri dating a teacher means spending summer break painting, cutting, glueing and then being told “it’s quiet time” whilst she decompresses from watching you do all the work 

3,381 comments

yn_ln you wouldn’t stop talking and i was trying to refresh my barbie knowledge

→ user1 princess and the pauper?

→ yn_ln absolutely 

→ landonorris i’m the erika to her annalise 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, you help with one classroom and think you can take my coveted spot? 

yn_ln plus it was hard work taking in the view 

→ oscarpiastri i had a pretty good view afterwards 🛁🫧

user2 idk why but the paint hands make me wanna scream

→ user3 omg i wonder if they made the little hand canvas things loads of couples have done

→ oscarpiastri we did! they’re now hung up over our bed

maxverstappen1 think you can make some more of those flowers for P’s room? 

→ oscarpiastri i’ve got paper cuts on top of paper cuts. don't ask me to do more

→ yn_ln i’ve got loads left over. she can pick the ones she likes best 

user4 the matching pjs 🥰 this couple has my whole heart

→ yn_ln he also has mine! 

user5 i love when oscar’s insta has something other than racing on it

→ user6 i want yn to let us onto hers so bad. i would sell my soul for the couples content on there

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yn_ln just posted

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yn_ln and it’s done. one week of relaxation left before the new term starts. i can’t wait to meet my new bunch of kids. a huge thank you to my constant kid @/landonorris for his help and mess. and an even bigger gratitude to osc. without you, this never would’ve been finished. you helped not only physically but mentally. my rock 💕

1,681 comments

user7 omg am i seeing things? is this actually oscar’s yn? 

oscarpiastri you did an amazing job 🤍 enjoy your last week off

→ yn_ln you better not win any more races without me

→ mclaren you know he can’t promise that 

landonorris maybe if you had been my teacher, i would’ve stayed in school

→ carlossainz55 doubtful 

maxverstappen1 P can’t wait to be in your class

→ yn_ln and i’m looking forward to being her teacher. although it might be hard to fight the urge to show favouritism 

hattiepiastri ew, don’t be cute online

→ oscarpiastri you're just mad that i'm her favourite piastri

→ hattiepiastri we both know that's a lie

→ nicolepiastri it's me

user8 um, can she be my teacher, please?

charles_leclerc i think this is a sign that i need to have children so that you can become their teacher 

→ alexandrasaintmleux let’s stick with leo for now 

→ nicolepiastri i keep trying to convince oscar and yn. you’ll be next, don’t worry 

→ oscarpiastri you have Skoggie. you don’t need any other grandkids

user9 we’re in! everyone say thank you oscar for making her come off priv

→ user10 their couple content is healing my soul

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Request for F1 fics are open.

A/N: Apologies for the delay in getting these out. I've been super busy making jumpers for my upcoming family Disney trip

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119

[blissfulflw]

Hii!! So um 🥺, im not sure how to write a request but um here's mine 👉👈

Loser Fem Reader x Popular Cool Girl Karina

So the plot goes like, Reader and Karina go to the same school and of course Karina is popular at their school and Reader knows it but she doesn't have like the cliche crush on her but she just knows. So one day they were both late and Reader rides their bike and tried to speed up but she didn't check around her corner and was suddenly hit by someone's car. Reader tries to get up fast, embarrassed by the fact that they got hit, someone gets out of the car to check on her, and asks Reader if they're okay, Reader recognizes the voice and realizes that it was actually Karina, so she gets more embarrassed and just brushes off the fact that she got hit by a car and just rides away ignoring the pain. Of course Karina was bewildered by this and just stares at Reader's back as she bikes away. Soon after, still in pain Reader tries to attend school, acting normal like usual, but then Karina recognizes her stuff like that and they talk eventually, like Karina now recognizes that Reader goes to their school and stuff like that.

So yeh thats the whole intro, as for the whole plot you can think of it lol, I just thought it would be a funny story like most introverts would act like they're ok as if they didn't get hit with a 100kg force lol.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝐵𝑖𝑐𝑦𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑠

Pairing- Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem reader

Genre- Fluff

Word count- 6887

Mornings are supposed to be quiet. That’s your thing. The soft click of your bike chain, the chill air brushing your cheeks, earbuds in and the world tuned out. You like your little routines—the ones that keep you out of the way. You’re not trying to be late. You’re not trying to be seen.

But the universe had other plans today.

Your phone never buzzed with its usual alarm. Maybe it died overnight. Maybe the software glitched. Maybe fate just woke up with a sick sense of humor. Either way, you woke up forty minutes later than you should have, heart already hammering before your feet hit the ground.

The panic didn’t settle—it bloomed. You barely had time to wash your face. Forget breakfast. You threw on the first hoodie you saw, a faded one from some band no one remembers, and forced your arms through the sleeves of your ragged backpack. One shoelace was still untied as you slammed your front door and grabbed your bike from the porch like your life depended on it.

The wind felt sharper than usual as you sped down the street, legs burning with every pedal. You could already picture the tardy slip, the teacher’s passive-aggressive sigh. More than that, you hated the thought of walking into a classroom last, everyone looking up to see which loser couldn’t manage to get to school on time.

You leaned into the curves of the street like a practiced rider—sharp, fast, automatic. You were almost there. One more turn and you’d be in sight of the side lot. You didn’t slow down. You didn’t think.

You didn’t look.

That was your mistake.

The honk came too late. Tires screeched against asphalt. Your front tire clipped something hard and metallic, and your body pitched forward in a messy blur of panic and gravity.

The landing hurt. A lot. Not broken-bone hurt, but definitely I’m-going-to-feel-this-tomorrow hurt. Your elbow grated against pavement. Your knee twisted weird. The breath rushed out of you in a harsh exhale as you hit the ground and skidded a few inches before stopping.

You groaned softly, already burning with embarrassment before you could even assess the damage. You pushed yourself up on trembling arms, hoping—praying—no one saw that.

“Are you okay?” a voice called, slightly breathless.

You froze.

You knew that voice.

A car door slammed shut behind you. Shoes crunched over gravel. You turned your head, wincing at the motion, just in time to see her.

Jimin.

Of all people.

The girl walking toward you looked like a magazine cover come to life, even in a simple school uniform. Her blazer was perfectly fitted, her long dark hair falling over one shoulder like it had been styled that way on purpose. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but her skin still had that unfair, flawless glow that made you want to disappear.

You knew who she was, obviously. Everyone did. She was that girl—the one you hear laughing from down the hallway, the one whose Instagram account somehow had more followers than the school’s official page. She was friends with everyone, enemies with no one, and untouchable in the kind of way that didn’t seem real.

And now she was standing over you. Worried. Looking directly at you.

Her brows furrowed as she took in your torn jeans, your bleeding elbow, the blood already soaking through your sleeve.

“You’re bleeding,” she said softly, crouching beside you.

You sat up straighter on reflex. “I’m—uh—I’m fine.”

You reached for your bike, but the handlebar had twisted completely sideways and the chain had popped off. Still, you tugged it upright like that would undo what just happened.

Jimin tilted her head. “You sure? You kinda hit the hood pretty hard.”

Her car was sleek, black, and parked just a few feet behind you. It gleamed in the morning sun, not a dent on it. Of course it didn’t. If anything, your bike looked worse than her bumper.

“It’s fine,” you said again, this time more insistent, your voice rising with panic. “I wasn’t paying attention. Totally my fault. Sorry about—your car.”

Jimin blinked at that. “My car’s fine, but—seriously, you don’t have to—”

You didn’t wait for her to finish. Your face was already flushed with heat, your arm pulsing, and the longer she looked at you, the harder it was to breathe.

You shoved the bike forward, forced the pedal into place, and ignored the sting shooting through your knee as you pushed off. “Sorry—g-gotta go. I’m late.”

“Wait—!”

But you were already pedaling away, crooked and shaky, sweat beading at your hairline as you tried not to cry. Not from pain. Not even from fear.

Just sheer, mortifying embarrassment.

_____

Your knee throbbed with every step as you limped your way through the school gates, trying to make your movements look casual. You weren’t limping. Nope. Definitely not. Just walking with a little… attitude. A swagger, maybe. Definitely not a result of being sideswiped by a luxury car driven by Yu freaking Jimin.

You could still hear her voice echoing in your head.

“You’re bleeding.”

You rolled your eyes at yourself as you shuffled past the front office. She probably said that to people all the time. It wasn’t like it meant anything. She was just being polite. Or concerned for legal reasons. You might’ve dented her bumper with your body.

God, could this day get any worse?

You slid into homeroom just as the bell rang, dropping into your seat with a wince as your knee made contact with the edge of your desk. You hissed under your breath, pulling your hoodie sleeve over the bloodstained cuff. No one noticed. Not that you expected them to.

Being invisible was a kind of superpower. You’d trained for it. Eyes down. Words mumbled. Walk fast. No sudden movements. It worked like a charm. Until now.

Because someone did notice.

And that someone was now standing just inside the classroom door.

Yu Jimin.

Your heart sank. Not again.

She scanned the room like she was looking for someone. And when her eyes landed on you, you could actually feel it. Like a pin dropping directly onto your skin.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Just tilted her head the tiniest bit, like she was still trying to figure you out. You quickly looked down at your desk, pretending to be intensely fascinated by the geometry textbook you hadn’t opened all semester.

Jimin moved to her seat a few rows ahead, her friends already buzzing around her like satellites. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she wasn’t laughing like usual. And—worse—she glanced back at you. Twice.

You were doomed.

_____

You made it through two more classes before you had to go to the nurse’s office. You told yourself it was for the bandages, not the fact that your leg was screaming every time you moved. The nurse barely glanced at you before handing over antiseptic wipes and some gauze. She didn’t ask what happened. You didn’t offer.

When you stepped back into the hallway, you weren’t expecting anyone to be there.

But of course, Jimin was.

She was leaning against the opposite wall like she’d been waiting. When she spotted you, her arms crossed and one brow lifted.

“You,” she said simply.

You froze mid-step. “Me…?”

“You ran away this morning.”

You gave her a flat look. “I didn’t run. I biked. Poorly.”

A corner of her mouth twitched, and you hated how perfect her smirk was. “And now you’re limping. So… not that poorly.”

You glanced around, hoping no one else was witnessing this interaction. “Did you follow me?”

“No,” she said, tilting her head. “You just looked like someone who’d hide in the nurse’s office.”

“Ouch.”

“I meant it in a nice way.”

“You hit me with your car.”

“That was your fault,” she said easily, but not unkindly. “You didn’t check the intersection.”

“You didn’t stop at the stop sign.”

“I did! You just came out of nowhere like a street goblin on a rusty bike.”

You blinked. “Did you just call me a goblin?”

“I said it affectionately.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or die. Probably both. Maybe at the same time.

There was a pause. And then Jimin’s expression softened.

“Hey,” she said, a little quieter. “Seriously. Are you okay?”

Your throat tightened a little. She said it like she meant it. Like she actually cared. You didn’t know what to do with that.

You nodded quickly. “I’m fine. Just a few scrapes.”

“Your elbow’s still bleeding.”

You looked down. So it was.

“Damn it.”

“Come on,” she said, reaching forward before you could stop her. She gently tugged your hoodie sleeve back to look at the wound, frowning when she saw the half-dried blood. “That’s not gonna heal right like that.”

You pulled your arm back on instinct. “It’s fine. I don’t need a—”

“I have a first aid kit in my locker.”

Of course she did. Queen of preparedness.

Before you could protest, she turned and started walking, tossing a casual “Follow me” over her shoulder.

And, somehow, you did.

Her locker was near the science wing, lined with pink stickers and Polaroids of her and her friends. She punched in the combo without looking, then pulled the door open to reveal an immaculate interior: mini mirror, gum, emergency deodorant, mascara, and—yep—first aid kit.

“You run a small hospital in there?” you muttered as she rummaged.

Jimin pulled out the kit and handed you a fresh antiseptic wipe. “Can’t always trust the nurse’s office. The Band-Aids in there expired in, like, 2012.”

You bit back a smile and wiped your elbow, wincing as the sting hit.

Jimin watched you. “You don’t go here much, do you?”

You frowned. “I’ve been here for two years.”

“I mean… like, go here. You keep to yourself.”

You shrugged, not answering.

“I notice things,” she added after a second.

You raised an eyebrow. “Like street goblins?”

That made her laugh. It was warm and real, not the showy kind she used with her crowd.

“Okay, I deserve that.”

“Why are you even talking to me?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it. Your voice was quieter now, the edges a little raw. It wasn’t meant to sound bitter—but maybe it did.

Jimin blinked, surprised. “Because I hit you with my car?”

“That was this morning.”

“So?”

“So you don’t usually talk to people like me.”

She tilted her head, like she was genuinely confused. “What do you mean, people like you?”

You looked away. “Forget it.”

“No,” she said. “Say it.”

“People you don’t notice.”

There was a pause. Jimin leaned back against the lockers, studying you.

“Well,” she said finally, “I noticed you now.”

And for some reason, that made your chest ache a little.

_____

You didn’t expect anything to come of it.

People like Jimin existed in a different orbit. She brushed against the edge of your world today because of a car accident. That didn’t mean she’d stay.

And yet—

You caught her looking at you again in third period.

Not a subtle glance, not an accidental flicker of her gaze. A real, sustained look. She was sitting across the room, one row over and three seats down, next to her usual group. She didn’t laugh when someone showed her something on their phone. She didn’t flip her hair or roll her eyes dramatically the way she always did. She just watched you.

You did your best not to shrink into your hoodie.

When lunch came around, you made your usual exit before the bell. That way you could get to your usual spot in the back corner of the library, where the only noise was the occasional printer malfunction and the rustle of gum wrappers. You didn’t eat in the cafeteria. You’d made that mistake once last year and got bumped so hard into a tray of spaghetti you’d sworn off the lunchroom for good.

But as you reached the double doors to the library, a voice called out behind you.

“Hey!”

You flinched before you turned.

Yu Jimin.

Again.

She jogged up, her bag swinging against her hip. “Where are you going?”

You blinked. “Library.”

“To eat?”

You lifted your sandwich from your hoodie pocket like a badge of honor. “Yeah.”

She frowned. “Why don’t you eat in the cafeteria?”

“Because it’s loud. And crowded. And smells like someone microwaved fish.”

She laughed. “That’s… true.”

“Anyway,” you said, hitching your backpack higher, “you’ve got your table, right? The big round one by the vending machines. With the beautiful people.”

“You know where I sit?”

You gave her a flat look. “Everyone knows where you sit.”

She looked oddly pleased by that. Not in a smug way—just like she hadn’t realized it mattered. “Come sit with me today.”

You stared. “What?”

She gestured casually. “Come on. Just today. I’ll even protect you from any rogue spaghetti.”

Your stomach did a somersault. “Why?”

“Because you’re funny,” she said. “And you got hit by a car. That earns you at least one free lunch.”

You hesitated. Your instincts screamed at you to run. Hide. Retreat to safety.

But then Jimin tilted her head, smiling just a little. It wasn’t her usual confident smirk. It was softer. Curious.

And against your better judgment, you said, “Okay.”

The cafeteria didn’t implode when you walked in with Jimin.

But it felt like it might.

Heads turned. Conversations paused. You saw more than one person lean over to whisper something. You kept your eyes locked on the back of Jimin’s head as she led you through the maze of tables like she didn’t notice any of it.

You sat beside her.

Her friends were already there. Minjeong, Yizhou, and two others whose names you only vaguely remembered. You braced for them to laugh or ask what you were doing there. But surprisingly, they didn’t.

Minjeong gave you a small nod. “You’re the bike girl, right?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Jimin cut in, voice cheerful. “Her name’s Y/N. And I hit her with my car this morning.”

“Ohhh,” Yizhou said, leaning in with interest. “You’re the one.”

“I didn’t press charges,” you said dryly, and the table laughed.

You blinked. You hadn’t meant to be funny.

“You’re okay though?” Minjeong asked, more seriously. “That was kind of dramatic.”

“I’ve had worse,” you muttered. “But yeah. I’m fine.”

“You should’ve seen her,” Jimin said, smiling now as she peeled an orange. “She bounced up like it was nothing. Just dusted herself off and rode away like some kind of anime protagonist.”

“I did not.”

“You did,” Jimin insisted. “Very mysterious. Very main character energy.”

You tried not to turn red. You failed.

The lunch period passed in a strange blur. You didn’t talk much. You didn’t have to. Just being there, with them—part of the conversation instead of outside it—was enough.

And every time you thought maybe you’d said something stupid, you’d glance up and catch Jimin looking at you again.

Not like she was amused.

Not like you were some novelty.

Like she was trying to understand you.

_____

After lunch, things felt… tilted.

You’d expected things to go back to normal. That was always the way with people like Jimin—they touched your life like a meteor streaking across the sky. Bright, fast, unforgettable. But ultimately gone.

Except she wasn’t gone.

She walked with you halfway to your next class. No big deal. She said she was “just heading that way.” But she didn’t even turn down the hallway when you parted—just waited at the corner and watched you disappear into the crowd.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the day. Your body ached in slow waves—especially your knee—but that wasn’t what made your skin feel too tight. It was her.

Yu Jimin.

You didn’t have a crush on her. You were sure of that.

Right?

It wasn’t like one of those stories where the nerdy girl falls for the popular girl and everything goes spiraling. You weren’t imagining holding hands in the rain or carving her name into your desk. You were just…

Noticing.

The way she looked at you like she was listening with her whole body.

The way she made you feel like maybe you weren’t invisible after all.

You hated that it mattered.

When the final bell rang, you moved through the hallway like a ghost. Familiar. Invisible. Safe.

At least until you reached the bike rack.

Your poor ride was still half-broken, its front wheel warped, the chain slacked off and hanging like a busted necklace. You sighed and crouched beside it, trying to fix it before anyone could walk by and see.

“Need a ride?”

You jumped.

Jimin was standing there again, like she’d spawned out of thin air. Her bag slung over one shoulder, a casual breeze ruffling her hair like she was in a music video. She gestured toward her car, parked illegally beside the curb with zero shame.

“I’m good,” you said quickly, tugging at the chain. “Thanks.”

“You’re not good. Your bike’s crying.”

“It’s just—bent. A little.”

“I can drop you off.”

You stood up and wiped your hands on your hoodie. “Why are you doing this?”

Jimin blinked. “Doing what?”

“This.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Talking to me. Offering rides. Sitting with me at lunch like we’re friends.”

“Maybe we are.”

You snorted. “No offense, but I don’t think you need another friend.”

“Maybe I need you.”

The words hung there, heavier than they should’ve been. You searched her face, waiting for the joke. The punchline.

But she wasn’t smiling.

“I didn’t mean that in a weird way,” she added, softer now. “I just meant… you’re different. People around me usually want something. Attention. Clout. A seat at the table. You didn’t even want me to help after I hit you.”

You looked away. “Yeah, well. I don’t really like attention.”

“I noticed.”

She hesitated. “But I want to give it to you anyway.”

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t know what to say to that.

So you didn’t say anything.

Instead, you climbed into her passenger seat like a coward.

_____

The inside of her car smelled faintly like cherry gum and vanilla. The seats were leather. The air conditioner whispered cool air against your skin as she pulled out of the parking lot like she’d done it a thousand times—with one hand on the wheel and sunglasses she didn’t even need.

“You always drive like you’re in a K-drama?” you asked, trying not to fidget with your sleeves.

Jimin grinned. “Only when I’ve got a mysterious runaway on board.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please stop calling me that.”

She didn’t answer. Just hummed something tuneless under her breath and drove.

You gave her your address reluctantly. It felt weird, letting someone like her into your world. You half-expected her to comment on your neighborhood when you got close. Not because it was bad, but because it was normal. Uneventful. A little rundown in spots. A lot like you.

But she didn’t say a word.

She parked in front of your house and turned off the engine, not moving right away.

You glanced at her. “What, you wanna come in and see my extensive collection of socially-awkward trauma?”

She snorted. “Only if you’ve got snacks.”

You cracked a smile despite yourself. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for not suing me.”

She met your eyes, and for a moment, it felt like you weren’t just someone she hit with a car. You were someone she saw.

You unbuckled your seatbelt. “So… see you tomorrow?”

“If you don’t dodge me again.”

“No promises.”

As you stepped out of the car and started toward your front door, you could feel her watching. Not in a creepy way. Just… lingering. Like she didn’t want the moment to end.

You didn’t look back.

But you smiled the whole way inside.

_____

You woke up sore.

Not the good kind of sore that came from working out or some accidental burst of physical activity. The dull, thudding kind. The kind that settled in your joints and made getting out of bed feel like a bad idea.

Your knee hated you.

Your elbow looked like someone had taken sandpaper to it. And your pride—well, that was still quietly bleeding out somewhere behind your ribcage.

You stared at the ceiling, letting the early morning light leak in around your curtains.

And then your phone buzzed.

A message.

From a number you didn’t recognize.

[Unknown Number]: Morning. Don’t bike today.

[Unknown Number]: Seriously. I mean it. I’ll be outside in 15.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You already knew who it was. No name needed.

[You]: How did you get my number

[Unknown Number]: I’m Yu Jimin. I have people.

[Unknown Number]: Also Ningning stole it from the attendance sheet

[Unknown Number]: But mostly I have people.

You blinked, rereading it three times.

[You]: This is weird

[Yu Jimin]: So is getting hit by a car and refusing a ride

[Yu Jimin]: 10 minutes now. Don’t make me get out of the car again.

You stared at the screen.

And then slowly sat up, bones groaning in protest.

_____

Ten minutes later, you stepped outside.

The air was crisp. Clean. The kind of morning that made everything feel a little too real. The sunlight wasn’t quite warm yet, and your hoodie was zipped to your chin.

Her car was parked at the curb.

And she was leaning against the hood like she was posing for a magazine cover.

Sunglasses. Hoodie. Coffee cup balanced in one hand. Looking devastatingly casual.

You walked up, tugging your sleeves down over your fingers.

“You weren’t kidding.”

“I never kid about transportation.”

You eyed her. “You do realize I have functioning legs?”

She smirked. “Barely.”

You opened the passenger door and slid in. It still smelled like vanilla and something floral you couldn’t quite place. She climbed in after you, started the engine with one hand.

For a few minutes, you drove in silence.

Then Jimin glanced over. “You always listen to nothing in the morning?”

You blinked. “What?”

“No music. No podcast. Just vibes and existential dread?”

You laughed, startled. “I guess I never thought about it.”

“Well, today’s different,” she said, tapping her phone. “You’re in my car. That means you get the Jimin Morning Mix™.”

She hit play.

A soft beat filled the car—some Korean indie track you didn’t recognize. Gentle vocals. Dreamy synths. It was… weirdly nice. It didn’t match what you thought she’d listen to. You expected hyper-pop or something loud. This was… quiet. Introspective.

“Didn’t think this was your vibe,” you said.

Jimin shrugged. “People assume a lot about me.”

You watched her for a second. Her hands on the wheel. Her mouth pressed into a line that didn’t quite smile. Her voice had a weight behind it, just for a second.

You looked back at the road.

“Yeah,” you said. “I get that.”

At school, she parked illegally again like she had diplomatic immunity. You followed her in, trying to keep your hood up, but of course, people noticed.

The whispers started almost immediately.

“She’s with Jimin again—”

“Didn’t she get hit by her car or something?”

“Are they… friends?”

You did your best to shrink into your hoodie.

Jimin noticed. Of course she did.

“Ignore them,” she said, holding the front door open for you. “They’ll find something else to talk about tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I’ll make them.”

You turned your head slightly. “You’re scaring me, Yu Jimin.”

“I’m charming.”

“You’re something.”

She laughed.

 That morning, you found her waiting outside your classroom when the bell rang.

You blinked. “Do you not have class?”

“I do,” she said. “But I figured we could walk together. You limped less today, by the way.”

“Thanks. I healed overnight. Like a Pokémon.”

She grinned and fell into step beside you.

It was subtle, the way people looked at you differently now. Some of it was curiosity. Some of it felt more like envy. But the weirdest part?

You weren’t invisible anymore.

And it was because of her.

And the strangest part?

You didn’t hate it.

_____

The final bell rang, but today, it didn’t mean the usual rush to pack up and scatter. Instead, you found yourself standing by the front doors with Jimin, watching the stream of students spill out into the afternoon sun.

“Wanna grab something?” she asked, voice easy but with that unmistakable glint of challenge you’d come to recognize. “There’s a new convenience store that opened a few blocks from here. They’ve got weird snacks and those fancy iced coffees you like.”

You blinked. “How do you know I like iced coffee?”

She smirked. “I have my sources. And I’ve been paying attention.”

You hesitated for a split second, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? Could be worse than sitting in the library alone.”

Jimin grinned and led the way out, her steps confident and relaxed. You followed, trying not to think about the strange flutter in your chest every time she looked back at you with that half-smile.

_____

The convenience store smelled like cold air and plastic wrappers. Bright fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the rows of snacks and drinks like they were treasures waiting to be discovered.

Jimin wandered over to the iced coffee section and picked up a couple of drinks, handing one to you without a word.

You took it, fingers brushing hers just briefly, and looked around. “So… this is your favorite hangout?”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “No. But it’s the kind of place where I can be… normal. No cameras, no expectations. Just me and a bunch of junk food.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as someone who just hangs out in convenience stores.”

“Yeah?” She took a sip of her coffee, eyes on you now. “Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

You cocked your head. “Okay, mystery girl, spill.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, she looked less like the untouchable queen of school and more like someone you could actually talk to.

“My family’s… complicated. I guess I learned early how to put on a show. But that doesn’t mean I always want to be the center of it.”

You nodded, surprised by how much you wanted to keep listening.

“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “I just want to sit in a place like this, drink a bad iced coffee, and not have to be anyone’s idea of perfect.”

You took a long sip of your own drink, feeling like you were seeing her for the first time.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said after a beat. “I don’t usually do this stuff with people like you.”

You blinked. “People like me?”

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “You know. Not part of the usual crowd. You’re… different. Not trying to impress or compete.”

You felt your cheeks heat up but managed a smile. “Maybe I’m different in a good way.”

“Definitely,” she said, smiling back.

As you walked back toward school, side by side, you realized something:

This—whatever this was—wasn’t about popularity or status anymore.

It was about two people starting to understand each other.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

_____

The days after that convenience store trip passed in a strange sort of blur. School felt different — not because classes changed, or the workload eased, but because Jimin’s presence shifted the gravity of your usual orbit. Somehow, the walls you built around yourself felt less necessary. Like maybe someone finally saw the real you, and wasn’t running away.

That afternoon, you found yourself sitting on the cracked pavement behind the school, your backpack carelessly tossed aside. Jimin was next to you, chewing on a straw from a soda she’d swiped from the vending machine, legs stretched out in front of her like she owned the world. Or maybe just this corner of it.

Neither of you said much. You didn’t need to.

The silence wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was easy, like the pause between notes in a song — the part that lets everything else breathe.

You glanced at her sideways. “Why do you always hang out back here?”

She shrugged, eyes fixed on the sky. “Because no one usually comes here. It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

You nodded, understanding that more than you wanted to admit.

“You ever feel like you’re playing a part all the time?” she asked suddenly.

Your heart skipped. “All the time.”

She looked over, and for the first time, you caught a flicker of vulnerability beneath her cool exterior.

“I’m supposed to be perfect. The best. The most popular. But sometimes, I just want to be me — whoever that is.”

You swallowed, your throat tight. “Maybe you’re more ‘you’ than you think.”

She smiled, soft and real. “Maybe.”

For a moment, it felt like the world shrunk down to just the two of you, sharing secrets in the quiet afternoon light.

Then she nudged your shoulder gently. “You know, if you ever want to get away from the chaos — even for a little bit — you can come find me.”

You met her gaze, feeling the weight of her words. They weren’t just an offer. They were a promise.

And somehow, you knew you’d take her up on it.

That evening, your thoughts kept drifting back to Jimin — her easy smile, the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the room, the soft way she’d touched your shoulder. It was confusing and new, and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

The next morning, you woke to your phone buzzing. It was her.

Jimin: Hey. You up? I’m outside.

Your heart sped up, a strange mix of excitement and nerves curling in your stomach. You threw on your hoodie and jeans, grabbed your bag, and stepped outside.

Her car was waiting at the curb, just like yesterday.

“You’re persistent,” you teased as you slid into the passenger seat.

She grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

The morning air was crisp, and the car smelled like vanilla and cherry gum — the scent somehow comforting now.

As she drove, she reached over and lightly brushed your hand.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

Her fingers lingered for a moment before pulling back, but the spark between your skin stayed.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” she admitted, eyes on the road.

You laughed softly, heart pounding. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she said, turning to look at you with that half-smile that made your knees weak. “I’m glad I finally did.”

For the first time, you let yourself lean a little closer.

Maybe this was the start of something neither of you saw coming.

You weren’t sure when it changed.

When a late ride to school became something like ritual. When the silence between you and Jimin turned warm. When your body started remembering the brush of her fingers before your mind could catch up.

But it had.

And now, sitting beside her in the car again — parked at the edge of a quiet overlook just outside town — it felt like you were both pretending it hadn’t.

She hadn’t said anything outright. Neither had you. But the tension lived in the space between your knees, barely a few inches apart. It hummed in the way she kept stealing glances at you and looked away a moment too late.

You were sipping from the iced coffee she’d bought you (again), staring out the windshield at the empty horizon, when she said it.

Quiet. Like she was afraid it might scare you off.

“Do you think we would’ve ended up here if I hadn’t hit you with my car?”

You blinked, lips parted around the straw. “Wow. Way to romance me, Jimin.”

She laughed, pressing her head back against the seat, her hand curled in her lap. “I’m serious.”

You glanced over. Her expression had softened. There was something behind it — like she was trying to say more than her words would allow.

“I think…” you started slowly, “…you would’ve still caught my attention eventually. You’re kind of impossible to ignore.”

She looked over. “Even when you weren’t into me?”

“I never said that.”

Her brows lifted slightly.

You didn’t look at her, not fully. You just stared down at the condensation on your cup and said, “I didn’t have a crush on you. That part was true. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. Or aware.”

“So what changed?”

You swallowed.

“You started seeing me,” you said. “Like… actually seeing me. Not just someone at school. Not just ‘that girl who bikes in too fast and eats lunch alone.’ You looked. And you didn’t look away.”

Jimin was quiet for a long beat. The kind of silence that made your heart race because you didn’t know what would come next.

Then: “I don’t usually get to look at people like this.”

You turned, finally, eyes meeting hers. “Like what?”

“Like it matters.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it hit you in the chest like a punch — all soft edges and raw honesty.

“I’ve had people obsess over me, sure. Crushes. Fans, even. But it’s always from a distance. They’re chasing something that isn’t real.”

“And me?”

“You never chased,” she said. “You just… stayed.”

The words hung there between you, heavy with something unnamed.

She turned toward you fully now, one leg bent on the seat, her elbow resting near yours. “It’s terrifying,” she said softly. “How easy it is to talk to you. How quiet the world feels when I’m near you.”

Your heart stuttered.

“You’re not what I expected,” she continued. “You don’t try to impress me. You don’t shrink away either. You’re just you. And I didn’t realize how much I needed that until I found it.”

You didn’t answer right away. Your mouth was dry, and your chest felt tight in a way that wasn’t unpleasant — just unfamiliar.

“You make me feel… less alone,” you admitted. “Like I don’t have to apologize for being quiet. Or awkward. Or not perfect.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re not awkward.”

You laughed under your breath. “You hit me with a car and I apologized.”

She grinned. “Okay, yeah. That was awkward.”

You looked at her again.

Closer this time.

Her hand was still near yours, fingers barely brushing. She didn’t pull away. You didn’t either.

“I think I’m starting to get a crush,” you said suddenly.

It came out fast. Unfiltered. Real.

She blinked, then smiled — slow and small and dangerous in its sweetness.

“Yeah?” she murmured.

“Yeah.”

You didn’t kiss her.

Not yet.

But something passed between you — electric and impossible to take back. A silent agreement.

Something was happening.

Something fragile. Something real.

And this time, neither of you looked away.

You didn’t want to go home.

Not yet.

The sky was bleeding into that pale watercolor haze between late afternoon and dusk, and the car was still warm with sunlight trapped in the windows. The kind of warmth that makes you drowsy, that makes the silence feel alive instead of empty.

Jimin hadn’t moved since you last spoke — still watching you, her body turned toward yours, her elbow brushing the center console, her eyes soft in a way that made your chest ache.

You were the one who broke the silence, voice low. “Can we just… sit for a little while?”

She nodded. “Yeah. We can sit.”

No hesitation.

No teasing.

Just her voice, quiet and steady.

You shifted, tucking your legs under you on the seat, facing her completely now. The iced coffee in your hand had long since gone lukewarm, but you held onto it like it anchored you to something. Something real.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on your face — not in the way most people looked at you, as if they were trying to figure you out or pick you apart. She looked like she was learning. Memorizing.

You tried to hold still under that kind of attention. It wasn’t easy.

“You know,” she said softly, “I thought I knew everything about this school. All the faces. All the stories.”

You tilted your head. “And?”

“And then you came crashing into me. Literally. And suddenly I realized I didn’t know a damn thing.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest,” she said. “It’s different with you.”

“Different how?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “With you… I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to talk just to fill silence. I don’t have to be ‘Jimin’ with the capital J.”

She paused.

“With you, I can be just Jimin.”

That made something inside you ache — the kind of ache you didn’t have a name for. The kind that only happened when someone peeled back a part of themselves and handed it to you, open and fragile.

And you wanted to hold it carefully. Gently.

“I like just Jimin,” you said quietly. “A lot, actually.”

She let out a breath that sounded like relief. Her smile wobbled slightly at the corners.

Then she reached out — slowly, like giving you a chance to pull away — and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

Her fingertips brushed your skin. Your breath hitched.

“Y/N,” she said, your name soft like it wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but the first time it meant something.

“Yeah?”

“If I did something impulsive right now, would you hate me for it?”

You swallowed, pulse thudding loud in your ears.

“That depends,” you said. “How impulsive are we talking?”

She hesitated, her hand still hovering by your cheek. Her thumb brushed the corner of your jaw, feather-light.

And then she whispered, “I kind of want to kiss you.”

Your whole body went still.

Then warm.

Then weightless.

You didn’t answer with words.

You leaned forward just a little — enough.

That was all she needed.

Her lips brushed yours, soft and careful. A question, not a demand. You answered it by kissing her back — just as soft, just as careful.

When you pulled apart, neither of you said anything for a long moment.

The air inside the car felt different. Heavy with new meaning.

Jimin let her forehead rest lightly against yours.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you biked away from me with half your body bleeding,” she murmured.

You laughed — really laughed — and she did too, and it felt like something cracked open between you. Something easy. Something terrifying. Something true.

“You’re the worst,” you said into her shoulder.

“I know,” she replied. “But I’m your worst now, right?”

You didn’t answer.

You just nodded into her hoodie and stayed there.

And she didn’t move.

_____

The next Monday morning, you walked into school not as “the girl who eats lunch alone,” or “the one who got hit by a car,” but as someone different.

Not because of the stares. Not because of the whispers.

But because Jimin was waiting for you at the front steps.

She leaned against the railing like it was nothing. Like she wasn’t the most talked-about person in the building. Like she wasn’t wearing your hoodie — the navy blue one you’d left in her car two nights ago.

You slowed as you approached, heart thudding behind your ribs.

Jimin looked up. Smiled. That same soft, quiet smile she only ever gave you now.

“Morning,” she said.

“Hey,” you replied.

She tilted her head. “You sleep okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Not really.” She stretched her arms overhead, hoodie sleeves hanging past her hands. “Kept thinking about you.”

It was so casual. So effortless.

Like she’d been waiting to say that since the second you left her car.

You looked down at the sidewalk, trying not to grin like an idiot. “You’re really not subtle, huh?”

“Not with you,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice dipped, quieter now. “I don’t want to be.”

The hallway behind her buzzed with early morning chaos — lockers slamming, friends shouting across the stairs, the shrill echo of the bell. But none of it mattered.

Not when she was standing this close. Not when her hand brushed yours again — this time not a question, but a claim.

“I don’t care what people say,” she said, voice low. “I want to do this for real.”

You looked up at her, heart hammering.

“This?”

She nodded, her fingers gently curling around yours. “Us. I’m not good at slow. Or quiet. But I’ll try, if that’s what you need.”

You squeezed her hand.

“I don’t need perfect,” you said. “I just need you.”

And it was enough.

It was more than enough.

Because the girl everyone thought had everything had found someone who saw her — not the shine, not the surface, but the soul underneath.

And you — the quiet, awkward girl who never asked for much — had been seen too.

Truly seen.

For who you were. For everything you were still becoming.

And this time, neither of you ran away.

[luveline]

more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure. 

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips. 

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.” 

You step over it and almost slip. 

“Careful,” someone says. 

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.” 

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably. 

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you. 

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?” 

“Let me help you with this.” 

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock. 

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down. 

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?” 

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.” 

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving. 

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.” 

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack. 

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.” 

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.” 

“Oh, sure. Of course.” 

“You haven’t heard it yet.” 

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…” 

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.” 

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested. 

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.” 

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly. 

His voice is velveteen. 

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.” 

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.” 

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Can I pay you back?” 

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist. 

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive. 

“How would you do that?” you ask. 

“Is there anything else you… need help with?” 

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too. 

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.” 

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.” 

[tsumuus]

teacher izuku midoriya with a crush on his coworker

The bell rang, signaling the end of another school day at UA High. The corridors were soon filled with the sound of chattering students and the shuffling of feet as everyone made their way out. Izuku Midoriya, now a seasoned hero and a dedicated teacher, walked through the halls with a gentle smile, his eyes occasionally glancing at the groups of students passing by. Despite the many years that had passed, his passion for nurturing the next generation of heroes had only grown.

He made his way to the teachers' lounge, hoping for a moment of peace before tackling the mountain of paperwork awaiting him. As he pushed open the door, he was greeted by the sight of you, sitting on the couch with a stack of assignments in your lap. You taught a different course to the same grade, and your classrooms were right next to each other. Your playful demeanor often lit up the otherwise serious atmosphere of the school.

"Hey, Midoriya!" you called out, waving a hand in greeting. There was a playful glint in your eye as you looked up from your papers.

Izuku's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you. Despite his years of hero work and teaching, he still felt a bit awkward around you. It wasn't just your looks that captivated him but also the way you seemed to effortlessly brighten up any room you entered. He walked over to the coffee machine, trying to act casual as he filled a mug.

"Hi," he replied, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness that only he could detect. He took a deep breath and turned to face you, leaning against the counter.

You tilted your head slightly, a teasing smile on your lips. "Rough day?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, not really. Just the usual end-of-day exhaustion." He paused, glancing at the papers in your lap. "How about you? How's everything going with your class?"

You sighed dramatically, placing a hand on your forehead. "Oh, you know, the kids are great, but this grading is going to be the death of me." There was a sparkle in your eyes as you exaggerated your troubles, and Izuku couldn't help but smile at your theatrics.

He watched you for a moment, admiring the way you managed to find joy even in mundane tasks. He wished he could express how much he admired that about you. Instead, he simply nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

"You always seem to handle it well," he said, his voice soft. "The students really look up to you."

You looked up at him, a genuine smile replacing your playful one. "Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot coming from you."

He felt a warmth spread through his chest at your words. Despite the countless times you'd had similar exchanges, each one felt special to him. He wanted to say more, to let you know how much he valued your presence, but the words always seemed to get stuck in his throat.

As you returned to your grading, Izuku couldn't help but steal glances at you. Your playful nature, the way you interacted with the students, and your ability to make even the most boring tasks seem fun – all of it drew him to you. He admired you deeply, but he was also aware of the awkwardness that still lingered within him, a remnant of his younger years.

Finishing his coffee, he decided to muster up the courage to speak more openly. "You know, it's really nice having a colleague like you," he began, his voice a bit hesitant. "Someone who can make even the toughest days a little brighter."

You looked up, surprised but pleased. "Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot."

He nodded, feeling a sense of accomplishment at having expressed a bit of what he felt. As he made his way to the door, he paused and turned back to you. "If you ever need help with grading or anything else, just let me know. I'd be happy to lend a hand."

Your eyes sparkled with that familiar playful glint as you replied, "I'll keep that in mind, Midoriya. Don't be surprised if I take you up on that offer."

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. "I'd like that."

With that, he left the lounge, his heart feeling lighter. He knew it would take time for him to fully open up, but he was willing to wait. After all, you were worth it.

masterlist

[blossomcola]

hello! can i request all g!p aespa x sub fem!reader please? thank you so much! :]

pairing. school gang!gp aespa x sub!student fem reader

content warnings. dubcon.

the concept that aespa is using for ‘dirty work’ makes me think of a gang!aespa or them as the problematic group of high school... that typical group of unruly students who don't seem to care about the rules and are always in the principal’s office for causing more than one scandal a day.

karina would be the leader or the one in charge of the group, this doesn’t mean that she is the most problematic but she is the one who gives the orders or commands. she would be the first to notice your existence, always looking at you in the hallways when she and her group are leaning against the walls and talking about stupid things, talking to the girls but having their gaze fixed on you with a gleam that you can’t clearly decipher what it is. i feel like she would also be the first to make a move, taking advantage of her beauty and popularity to talk to you because no one can resist her, except you who seems to refuse to have a conversation with her??? the good thing is that karina is stubborn and it doesn’t take long for her to push you into an empty classroom, cornering you against the teacher’s desk and managing to climb onto it thanks to the fact that she is stronger than you. and well, no matter how hard you try to fight, you end up giving in one way or another when one of her hands holds your wrists above your head while the other goes down to reach the waistband of your pants and practically rip them off your legs along with your underwear, exposing your dripping pussy to karina’s gaze <3 of course she gets cocky and it wouldn’t take long for her to tease you, saying “awww, this wet for me?” with a stupid smile on her pretty face... although you can’t complain either because she is quick to slide her cock inside your warm sex, making you whimper pathetically and having to cover your mouth with her palm because karina can be problematic, but getting a report for fucking in a classroom is the last thing she wants! so you just have to lie there and be good to her while she breds you.

the real baddie, giselle. i feel like she wouldn’t be that interested in you because honestly she doesn’t care that much about you but she’s had her eye on you since you always looked at her badly and apparently talked bad about her behind her back about meaningless things or even go so far as to invent things and let yourself be carried away by rumors that other people told you with the purpose of getting you to spread them further. giselle isn’t an idiot and she knows this, but giving you what you deserve for being a loudmouth is the best thing she can come up with. she would ask you out in the parking lot so you could confront her and tell her in the face everything you say behind her back, but you both know it’s too much for you that you’d probably pee your pants trying to be smart with her... so she would have no problem taking you to the backseat of her car and fucking the bad attitude out of you <3 giselle wouldn’t even bother to lift a finger because she would leave all the work to you, so watching you struggle to take her cock completely without complaining or saying anything about it’s something she loves. riding her while she just lies back and pats your ass every now and then seems to be the best way to calm your attitude.

the calmest of all is winter but because she spends so much time drooling over you that she doesn’t have any other thoughts in that little head. i picture her as the type who when you walk past her in the hallway would probably give you a blatant look or she would probably whistle softly but at the same time she would do it in a tone high enough for you to hear it because she wants to get your attention, besides her thoughts are not as depraved as those of karina and giselle. winter is more like... a shameless pervert who can’t be bothered to hide her clear attraction to you, of course. this would lead her to have her eyes on you all the time, practically undressing you with her gaze and making you uncomfortable to a certain extent, but she doesn’t care! and it’s noticeable when one day you’re alone washing your hands in the school bathroom sinks and she just happens to come out of one of the stalls... winter’s presence is more than uncomfortable by nature and it is worse when you cross glances with her through the mirror, but you don’t have time to think much because she is faster and soon corners you against the sink ceramic, pressing her erection against your ass and making you feel the outline of her cock even through the thick fabric of her school uniform jogging pants — winter also takes advantage of this to start groping your body freely, not caring that you try to stop her and move away from her touch :( one hand closes over your mouth to silence you while the other slides between your thighs, pushing your panties aside so winter can finally slide her cock inside you and give you the good fucking you deserve <3 she would even hold your face so you could look at your reflection in the mirror in front of you and see how pathetic you look when you were fucked from behind, not even caring how your legs shake from her rudeness because she would end up bending you over the sink and fucking you until lunch.

and ningning... a mixture of all of them together. your meeting with her is more casual because it’s in the middle of a party, where the place is so crowded that you don’t realize you’re dancing and grinding against it because the lights are colored or flashing, realizing it’s her when you hear her whisper in your ear and let out a soft giggle. at this point you’ve been so used by her group of friends that you don’t know what to expect from her anymore... and well, drunk and silly sex with ningning is <3 she would be so cute, whimpering against your lips as her thrusts become messy and uneven in pace, trying to be tough like her friends but ending up being a cute baby who seems in love with you :( it’s thanks to her that you know that being with the whole group means you’re screwed...

[idanceuntilidie]

Friendly Rivalry

Yandere perfect student x fem(?) reader

AUTHORS NOTE; So this was inspired by that drama I watched by the same title that had some yuri and I was like oh my god! So i whipped something up with that in mind. The reader is implied to be a girl BUT there are no prononus used besides you and such so maybe it can be still considere gn? anyway enjoy cus I sure as hell making a part two.

Remember your breathing exercises? Breathe in, hold, count to 7 and then let go. Now do it enough so you won’t get dizzy later. Your luggage shuffles across the sidewalk. Despite being small it's terribly heavy, it hit your legs on multiple occasions now and you wish you had someone to drive you. No matter, you followed the navigation motivated to get to your destination. After 20 minutes or so you finally arrive at Marble Hills High School The most prestigious highschool in the country for girls. Not many get into this school. You have to be either exceptionally smart or wealthy. It took a lot of work, sweat and restless nights.  You were first in every single class, a shining example to your fellow peers. People treat you differently once you start getting good grades. Yet you wanted more, the high from achievements was not enough. Finally you tried transferring to Marble Hills and by some divine luck you got accepted. With shaky hands you watched as people passed you by, blurring into a blue swarm with pristine uniforms. You can even smell how much money they have. You briefly looked at your shorts and sweater, sadly you were sticking like a sore thumb. You can’t help but sigh, standing makes you more obvious. Slowly you shuffled along, luggage in hand trying to maneuver between people finally seeing clearing at the main building. God finally. You almost ran to the front desk, with the biggest yet polite smile you could muster only to be met with a wall. The woman at the desk had the most obvious scowl the world has ever seen. Oh this will be good. She barely looked at you before saying. “The community college is 10 minutes away.” She admired her red nails. “Well actually..” “Yes?” “I am the transfer, I-” “Oh, it’s you huh?” she finally looked at you, sharp green eyes looking you up and down, finally meeting your eyes and staring into your soul. She didn’t even look away before handing you a schedule that might as well could be a colour wheel. “Your class is 3B, the next building over. Don’t be late.” she hissed and went back to admiring her nails. Your soul might have left at this point as you took the paper in your sweaty hands. Well these years will be lovely.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ In and out. You didn’t manage to get into the dorms in time so still, you were stuck in your casual clothes sitting in a room with a bunch of people chattering away. They eyed you briefly, before rolling their eyes and continuing to chat away. Still shaking you sat in the back, perfectly synchronising with the teacher who walked into the classroom. She was tall, looking just as sharp as the woman at the front desk. Her face barely showed any emotion as she spoke. “Welcome to another year, let’s start with what this school is expecting you all to complete this year.” Your hand moved swiftly along the paper, noting out the books you will need, important tests, mock exams. Finally it came to questions. “Miss! Which class is Vivianne in?” one of the girls squealed. “Pleaaase tell us?” another begged and soon more and more girls chimed in. The teacher only sighed, as she looked at them. Nodding her in disapproval of their behaviour. When she tried to speak a soft knock came at the door, before it opened and a very stunning girl came through. Her soft black hair swayed as she walked in. Somehow her figure made the uniform look good, and her eyes made you pause. You were almost sure her eyes were black until a small ray sun hit them. So in fact they were warm chocolate perfectly matching her olive complexion. It doesn’t take a genius to piece the puzzle together, this is probably; Vivianne. You did see her name pop up a lot while roaming through the halls, most noticeably on the board that showed the prides of the school and all of the achievements. Finally you saw her face to complete the full mental image. “Hello fellow classmates” Vivian Ashworth smiled, yet it didn’t reach her eyes who were empty despite the warm feeling. “Finally, is the ceremony over?” The teacher looked at the girl. She nodded, tucking hair behind her ear. “Good, I expect great things from you this year Vivianne.” Finally the girls probably came to realise their idol came to class with them. They yelled, squealed and some even begged for her to sit with her. You watch this ordeal, wiping off your clammy hands against your shorts. Vivianne looked at the class with a polite smile, probably scanning it for the perfect seat. At some point you locked your eyes with her, the interaction made your breath hitch. Something shined in her eyes now, despite looking empty just a few minutes earlier. She didn’t listen to the begging and pleading and walked to you. Her perfectly manicured hand stretched out to you. Oh, oh no. “Hi I am Vivianne.” she beamed, “Can I sit next to you?” You blinked at her, once, twice. Yet she still had her hand out, smiling cheerfully. She still existed. Begrudgingly you shook her hand, already feeling the stares and the radiating hate. She sat next to you and proceeded to talk your ear off about everything and nothing while you tried not to notice her hand reaching for your thigh under the desk.

God, this will be a long, long day. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Your shoulder slammed into the bathroom stall. You recognised one of them, she sat in front of you, patting the place next to her saying to Vivianne how she saved it just for her. Next to her were two other girls, they didn't look too delighted to be there.

“Hey transfer student.” she smiled sweetly, her nails dug into your shoulder painfully. “I see Vivianne chose you this year huh? What do you want for changing seats?”

“Wow, buying your way again Abby?” one of the girls laughed

“You are just jealous, you can’t do it too.” Abby hissed.

“Cat got your tongue transfer student?”  the third girl hummed as she played with your hair.

You were still against the stalls, good thing everything is so clean here, otherwise you might have thrown up.

“Name your price” Abby spoke again, finally letting go of your shoulder. “Unlike you I can buy anything, just say what you want.”

“If that was the case you would buy better make up, the zit on your forehead is distracting.” You hummed, rubbing your shoulder. Abby's face went red, while the other girls laughed.

“Okay, I can do that. I will think of what you can pay me back with.”

“Listen here little bitch,” Red faced Abby hissed through her teeth. “Don’t get too cocky now, I eat whores like you for breakfast and-”

The bathroom door opened up with a bang and you barely registered who came in before you were pulled out of the room. You felt like your arm was going to pop out of its socket with how much force you were yanked away from the conversation. Honestly you liked the little showdown so this was disappointing.

Viviann smiled proudly as she dragged you through the halls, her hand was soft and despite looking fragile her grip was tight. The students who saw you two were shocked to say the least but still moved away to make way for you two.

“My God Y/N, I couldn’t find you,” the girl giggled “Were you hiding from me? I wanted to eat lunch with you!”

Your mind was blurring but you nodded, letting her drag you away. You did feel like anything you would say wouldn’t change her mind. Amongst the chaos in your head only one thought remained clear. What the hell is happening?

[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

What The NRC Boys Wanted To Be When They Grow Up (circa 4 years old)

Heartslabyul:

Riddle - obviously when you ask, he's going to tell you he wants to be a doctor. every christmas and birthday, he gets a doctor kit. and he likes them! but... if you ask him on a warm afternoon during his free time between the thousand things on his tiny shoulders... he'll tell you he wants to be a painter

Ace - astronaut. hands down. he 100% had those little glow in the dark star stickers on his ceiling and he didn't take them down until high school. on his fourth birthday, his parents got him an astronaut helmet and it was practically welded to his head by the time he turned five. little man yearned for the stars

Deuce - race car driver. he was born with the need to go fast. he would beg his mom to let him watch races on tv and stare with an open mouth as the drivers went around and around and around. he was a big fan of taking big cardboard boxes and running around the yard with them like they were race cars

Trey - dentist. he was an anomaly when he was little: a kid who wasn't afraid of the dentist. he loved going. as a matter of fact, he would often make his friends (mainly chenya) play dentist with him and not understand why they wouldn't let him put his pretend tools in their mouth.

Cater - he desperately wanted to be hannah montana. not like a singer or a dancer, no... hannah montana SPECIFICALLY. the wig, the microphone, everything. he had three hannah montana themed birthday parties in a row

Savanaclaw:

Leona: he could never give an answer when someone asked him what he wanted to be. he knew from a very young age that he couldn't really be whatever he wanted. not in a way that means anything. he wanted to be the king like his daddy, but it was always made clear to him that he could only dream of that. so he just played games and looked at the stars and didn't think of what he wanted to be, just who he was right then. and right then, he was the chess champion of the kingscholar bloodline

Ruggie - cowboy! honestly, he still kind of wants to be a cowboy. he wanted a horse and some cows and a big pasture - the whole nine yards. he never actually got to ride a horse, they were far too expensive, but he would still beg his mom for a cowboy hat and a pair of boots. he got them both when he turned nine and was so excited, he slept with them on. he didn't care that the hat squished his ears and the boots were a little scuffed. he wore them until the soles became more hole than rubber. he still has the hat tucked away in his closet. just in case...

Jack - classic firefighter kid. one day in preschool, a fire truck came to visit in the parking lot, and he was so shocked that he couldn't say a word. the firefighter let the kids sit in the truck and his teacher literally had to pry him out of the seat when they were done, and he cried all the way back to the classroom. the firefighters still made sure he got one of those flimsy plastic hats and a golden sticker of a badge. he thought firefighters were heroes. he still does

Octavinelle:

Azul - scientist. any kind of scientist. he wanted to have a big lab of his own where he could mix up all kinds of chemicals and just... see what happens. obviously at that age, he had very little idea of what scientists actually do but he knew it was the place for him

Jade - he managed to sneak a peek at the original karate kid movie and his life radically changed. from that moment on, he knew he was going to grow up to be a ninja. unfortunately for everyone else involved, this meant he was going to spend years coming up with elaborate plans to sneak up on and attack his brother. his parents quickly became used to the sound of loud, crashing scraps from all corners of the house. but they weren't worried. floyd could handle his own

Floyd - if you try to ask this kid what he wants to be when he grows up and he'll look you dead in the face, say "bagel" and return to his toys. whatever kid

Scarabia:

Kalim - he didn't want to be anything when he grew up, but he wanted to do everything. he didn't want to have a job. in fact, he was never actually told he could do that. instead, he wanted to experience all the joys of life. he wanted to paint and dance and sing and write poems and raise sheep and sail in the ocean and grow figs and play drums and everything

Jamil - this boy practically came out of the womb dancing. he wanted to dance every moment of every day. when there was no one around to play music or kalim was too busy to sing, he would hum little tunes to himself just to have something to move to. he wanted to be one of those dancers who performed all over the world and were applauded with showers of flower petals. he quickly learned that his dream was far from reality. but he kept tapping his toes while he worked

Pomfiore:

Vil - princess. there's no way this boy did not dream of growing up to be a princess. he was obsessed with all things gaudy and sparkly and would try on every single costume available to him. he rarely went to preschool without some sort of mismatched getup on. but his dad didn't care. you can only be this young for so long. so what if his boy wore a crown to school? no one would dare say anything about it, lest they feel the wrath of the schoenheits. vil wouldn't accept any comments that weren't compliments. snide remarks were met with an impressive eyeroll and a flick of his sparkly cape. after all, a princess didn't care what commoners thought

Rook - garbage truck driver. his rich-ass parents were FLOORED when he said this the first time. "honey, don't you want to do something... bigger? like you could run the whole garbage company and make a whole lot of money!" "no! i wanna ride on the back of the truck!" no one could persuade him to dream of anything else. he is immune to your classist ideologies. viva la garbage man!

Epel - he wants to be a vet but SPECIFICALLY a horse vet. like if you mention him wanting to be a vet, he will correct you. the horses around his hometown captivated him and he wanted to be around them all the time. when he was tiny, he would weave around their legs in the pastures and give his family heart attacks. he just loved them so much and they loved him too

Ignihyde:

Idia - he saw sonic the hedgehog once and decided he was going to be dr robotnik. his parents could not decipher why, and they quickly stopped trying to

Ortho - even when he was really little, he wanted to be a teacher. he would line up all his toys and tell them about everything he was learning in preschool. sometimes, the lessons were wrong and idia would pop in to correct him. but that made him mad. he was the teacher not idia! after all, what did idia know that he didn't?

Diasomnia:

Sebek - a swordsmith. not a blacksmith who makes all sorts of things, specifically a swordsmith. he wanted to swing a great big hammer around and make huge, fancy swords. he was often shooed away from the forges and told to stop bothering the craftsmen. but he wasn't trying to bother them, he just wanted to get as close as he could and maybe they would let him hold one when they were done

Silver - he didn't have many ambitions he would admit to. he was a shy kid and didn't like feeling interrogated. but he liked to watch his father play the lyre especially when it was dark and the fire was warm and he was feeling sleepy. lilia always said when he was big enough to hold the instrument, he would teach him to play. maybe it would be fun...

Lilia - he wanted to be a witch. [i hear you saying, "but Ruggie's Biological Father, they're mages so he's already a witch" and i say to you... Wrong]. he didn't just want to cast spells. he wanted a pointy hat and a giant robe and a frog for a friend. once, his mom walked into his room to discover he had her largest cooking pot filled to the brim with no less than nine mystery substances. and it was somehow smoking...

Malleus - being a precocious little boy, he always told people he was going to be a geologist. but he didn't really know what that meant, only that it had to do with rocks which he liked. his dream job was actually wandering around and stuffing his pockets full of rocks. it became a nightly occurrence before bathtime for malleus to stand in front of the bathtub with both arms out to the side and let lilia empty all of his pockets and sleeves and boots. he would laugh loudly as the pile of random stones became a mountain at his feet. lilia would always chuckle, plunk him in the tub, and say "there, now you won't drown"

[starlvcied]

₊˚⊹♡ rin itoshi x f!reader " FRAMED RIVALRY " CHAPTER 001

in which your academic rival, aka the captain of the soccer team, sneaks his way into the photography club with you. ꨄ︎ CHAPTER 001

cw: swearing (a lot) , rin definitely needs therapy wc : 3k

the sun shines down on the soccer field, casting shadows across the grass. you adjust the lens on your camera, the clicking of the shutter becoming a steady rhythm in the background as you move, trying your best to capture the intensity of the game. your fingers are quick and precise as you focus on each shot, freezing the action in time. the soccer players, all in their matching uniforms, run with a kind of urgency, their feet pounding the ground with every stride.

you’ve been a part of the photography club for two years now but no matter how often you’re on the sidelines of these games, there’s always something inspiring about watching the players. you find yourself naturally drawn to the skill, the precision of it all—except for one player.

rin itoshi, the captain of the soccer team, moves differently. the aura he gives off on the field is magnetic, but in a way that makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous. he’s tall, lean, his movements calculated. his sharp, teal eyes never seem to leave the ball, and his hair falls just enough to obscure part of his vision—but somehow, it only enhances his intensity. 

you didn't like him. it seemed as if nobody actually liked rin itoshi. people just pretended to like him because he’s “cool”. he’s a rude, egotistical snob who thought he was better than everyone. you didn't pay him any mind in the halls, or when he would roll his eyes when you got a question right, though. there are a lot of rude people in the world, and your motto was “just smile and nod.”

you snap a picture of him, the ball seemingly suspended in midair as he prepares to strike. just as you click the shutter, a player from the opposing team rushes past you, and you stumble, your foot catching on the uneven turf. ouch.

the next thing you know, you’re colliding into someone—a solid body, a slight grunt, and then the unmistakable feeling of being pinned against the grass. your camera, thank goodness, is still in your hands, though you can feel the strap digging into your wrist from the awkward angle.

“sorry! i didn’t mean—”

but the person you’ve collided with doesn’t respond. you glance up quickly, your heart sinking as you realize who it is: rin itoshi. his teal eyes don’t even flicker toward you. instead, he simply pushes past you with a scoff, his sharp features barely shifting as he continues his stride across the field, his focus entirely on the game.

you’re left standing there like an idiot, with nothing but the faint echo of your own voice hanging in the air. you’ve been so used to getting nods, polite acknowledgments even from strangers, yet, for rin, you might as well not have existed at all. and that pissed you off.

you try to shake off the embarrassment, but it sticks with you like a bitter taste in your mouth. maybe it’s because you’ve never been completely ignored before. maybe it’s because you’ve heard the rumors about him—how he’s cold, distant, and borderline unapproachable. and now you understood how those statements came to be. still, it doesn’t help that he’s the kind of person who has no time for anyone unless they’re on his level—or so it seems.

the next morning, you arrive at school, the early bell ringing through the hallways. you’ve almost forgotten about the incident, tucked it away in the back of your mind where it doesn’t sting quite so much. but then the announcements come, calling for all students to gather in the classroom for a project assignment.

you’re a second year now, and the pressure of being in the student government and managing your club is always there, a subtle weight on your shoulders. so when the teacher announces the project topic, your focus sharpens.

debate. the topic? “do leaders need to be emotionally detached to succeed?” it’s a complex one, but it’s right up your alley. you’ve always been interested in leadership, in the psychology behind decision-making. but then the next part hits you: “for this project, you’ll each be paired with someone and will have a debate against another group.”

you glance around the room, already sizing up your potential partners. it’s all in good fun—until the teacher reads the names. and then your heart sinks.

“y/n, you’ll be paired with rin itoshi.”

you swallow thickly, the name ringing in your ears like an unwanted echo. rin itoshi? the same rin who so rudely ignored you yesterday?

your mind starts to race. the two of you could not be more different in your approach to leadership. you’ve always believed in understanding others, being empathetic and connected. rin, on the other hand, leads through sheer control, his focus on the end result rather than the people involved. emotionally detached? he practically embodies it. but could you find common ground on this topic?

the tension between you isn’t just academic—it’s personal. you’ve heard rumors about his cold nature, his obsession with soccer, and his overwhelming pride. he doesn’t care about anyone unless they can help him with his goals. and now, here you are, forced into a partnership with him for the most important debate of the semester.

the teacher hands out the project guidelines, and you find yourself sitting next to rin. his presence next to you feels almost suffocating. he doesn’t look at you as you sit down, his expression unreadable. his posture is straight, his focus already on the project—though whether that focus is on you or the assignment is unclear. 

this is going to be a long few weeks.

the days that follow the project announcement feel strangely heavier, as though the universe has decided to test your patience. you and rin Itoshi are thrust into a partnership that feels more like a battlefield than a collaboration.

the first meeting, if it could even be called that, happens during lunch. you find him sitting at one of the tables in the library, already with a notebook open, pen poised in hand. he doesn’t look up when you approach, not even when you slide into the chair across from him.

as the nice person you were, you went out of your way to stop at the nearest cafe outside of the place you had agreed to meet up. you ordered two iced americanos and buttered croissants. it wasnt pleasant working on an empty stomach. you got comfortable in your seat before speaking.

“i brought you some co-”

“i don't drink that.” he interrupted with the roll of his eyes, pushing the coffee away from him and back in your direction. your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. okay, maybe you shouldn't have assumed that he liked americanos, or coffee in general, but he could have definitely been more polite about it.

“okay, im so-”

“let’s get this over with.” he interrupted once more, reaching over to grab a ballpoint pen from his bag. you sighed, your eye twitching as you tried not to go off on this guy. it wasn’t worth it.

“so, how do you want to tackle this? should we split the research, or—”

he interrupts you with a single, clipped sentence, barely a glance in your direction. “i’ll take care of the facts. you handle the emotional arguments.” could he stop cutting you off?

your brow furrows at the dismissal. first he continuously cuts you off, and he isn’t asking for your input, isn’t interested in collaborating in any meaningful way. you can already tell that this will be one of those “i do everything, and you just follow along” situations. but you’ve dealt with arrogant people before. and you’re not the type to back down easily.

“i’m not just here to fill in the emotional side,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “we’re supposed to argue the same side, remember? that means we both need to agree on a stance. i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and i have very different ideas about what leadership even is.”

rin’s eyes flicker up at last, his teal gaze meeting yours for the first time in days. there’s a sharpness there, a challenge, but it’s not enough to throw you off balance. not yet.

“you’re overcomplicating this,” rin says flatly, his voice cold as ever. “leadership doesn’t need feelings. It needs results. leaders who rely on emotions are weak.” his words cut through the air, the arrogance thick in them. “so shut the hell up. i’ll prove that whats right in the debate. you just need to back me up.”

there it is—the familiar arrogance that laces every word he speaks. you resist the urge to roll your eyes. he’s treating this as if it’s a one-man show, like your opinion doesn’t matter at all.

“i think you’re missing the point,” you reply, trying to keep your composure. “you can’t discount emotions entirely. understanding them is what makes a good leader. you’ll never connect with the people you lead if you don’t even try to understand them.”

rin narrows his eyes at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s like he’s testing you, trying to provoke some kind of reaction. “are you trying to tell me that a leader should let their emotions cloud their judgment?”

“are you a fucking idiot? no, i’m saying a leader should be aware of their emotions and how they affect others. you can’t just bulldoze over everyone and expect them to follow you.”

there’s a beat of silence, and for a moment, you think he might actually engage with you—maybe even acknowledge your point. but instead, he leans back in his chair, the smirk still lingering on his face.

“fine,” he says, almost bored. “prove it, then. if you think emotions matter so much, show me how they’ll get the results we need.” his voice is a little quieter now, but the challenge is unmistakable. “but don’t waste my fucking time.”

the air between you two is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding passing between you. this won’t be easy. and it certainly won’t be fun. but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to back down. something about the way he challenges you—pushes you to be better, even in this strange, antagonistic way—lights a fire inside of you.

“fine,” you say, your voice steady. “i’ll prove it. but don’t think for a second that i’ll just let you steamroll me into agreeing with you.”

rin shrugs, as though he couldn’t care less about your resolve. “we’ll see.”

you both return to your work, each of you diving into your research. but the tension between you doesn’t fade. it simmers, thick and heavy, like something waiting to boil over.

the next few days blur together, the steady rhythm of research and debate preparation keeping you both busy. despite the friction between you, you can’t deny that there’s something undeniably effective about working with rin. his sharp focus on results, his ability to cut through distractions—it’s almost admirable. but it’s also maddening, because you know he’s only interested in his own perspective. and you’re stuck trying to make him see yours.

you’ve made some progress in gathering emotional case studies, examples of leaders who were able to harness their emotions to drive their teams to success. it’s compelling material, but every time you bring it up, rin shoots it down. “that’s all sentimental crap,” he’d say. “it doesn’t matter if they felt something. what matters is what they achieved.”

it’s frustrating. but you can’t give up. 

finally, the day of the debate arrives. you walk into the classroom, the desks now arranged to represent a court room, nerves buzzing in your stomach. you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, but the thought of standing side by side with rin—who is so self-assured, so completely confident in his ability to win—makes the pit in your stomach tighten.

when rin walks in, he’s his usual self—cold, distant, but somehow commanding. his eyes sweep the room briefly, and then he makes his way to his desk, taking his seat without a word. you don’t even exchange pleasantries.

the debate begins, and the first few minutes pass in a blur of facts and figures. rin speaks with the kind of authority that only someone like him could wield. but you’ve prepared just as well. you know your material, and you’re determined to make your points count.

as the debate progresses, the audience grows increasingly engaged. your argument is strong, but rin’s is relentless. his words are sharp, calculated. it’s clear that he’s trying to wear you down, to undermine your confidence as if you’re the one he's debating against. and the tension between you grows thicker with every word spoken.

the days slip by, and you and rin seem to be locked in a battle of wits, neither of you willing to give an inch. despite the constant friction, a strange kind of understanding is starting to form between you. it’s not friendship—not by any stretch—but there’s an undeniable force that pulls you together, even if it’s mostly out of mutual stubbornness.

and then, without warning, something happens that catches you completely off guard.

it’s a wednesday afternoon when you first notice him.

you’re at the photography club meeting, organizing the week’s shoot plans and sorting through the photos from the last session. the room is small and cozy, filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clicking of camera shutters. it’s your safe haven—your space to let your creativity flow without anyone judging you. as well as the place where you and your two best friends crack up a storm almost 24/7. at least it used to be.

you glance up from your camera, surprised to see rin itoshi standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze sharp as always. he surveys the room, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips, before his eyes finally settle on you. his usual smirk is nowhere to be found, but there’s something just as dangerous in the way he looks at you.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, your tone a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “this is the photography club, not whatever you're thinking it is."

rin doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he steps into the room, a hand on your shoulder as he moved you to the side with the same quiet confidence he always carries. “i’m here to join,” he says simply, his arm dropping to his side, his voice flat but laced with something you can’t quite place.

your brow furrows in disbelief. “join? why would you want to join the photography club?”

he shrugs nonchalantly, though his eyes never leave yours. “maybe i just like photography.”

“‘maybe i just like photography’ my ass,” you thought. you stare at him, trying to gauge whether he’s serious. the arrogance that typically surrounds rin’s every move is still there, but this time, it’s tempered with something else—a kind of unreadable intent. you want to scoff, to call him out on the fact that you both know he’s only here to stir up trouble, but something about his response keeps you from doing so.

“right,” you mutter, clearly unconvinced. “well, this isn’t a competition. if you’re here to just… mess around, fuck off.”

rin doesn’t even blink at your words. instead, he steps further into the room as if he owns the place and grabs the nearest camera, inspecting it with the kind of precision that makes it clear he knows what he’s doing. there’s no hesitation in his movements, as if he’s done this a hundred times before. his gaze flicks over the camera, his fingers adjusting the lens as if it’s second nature.

the other club members watch with a mix of curiosity and confusion. rin Itoshi, captain of the soccer team and the most notorious loner in school, is standing in your domain, looking every bit the part of someone who belongs. 

“i’ll take a few shots,” rin announces, his voice almost bored. “see what i can do with this.”

you stand there, speechless, watching as he lifts the camera and starts taking pictures of the club members. each shot is precise, deliberate. there’s no denying it—he’s good, great, even. he doesn’t just like photography; he’s skilled, his confidence in handling the camera evident.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that this is a game to him. that he’s here to prove something, even if he’s not admitting it. you feel your irritation flare up again, and you can’t help but retort, “you’re not just here because you like photography. you just want to outdo everyone, like you always do.” ‘you stuck up piece of shit,’ you wanted to add, but you didn't.

rin glances over at you, that same unreadable expression on his face. he’s still holding the camera, his eyes flickering with something almost imperceptible. “no need to make everything a competition,” he replies coolly, his voice lacking the usual bite, but the edge is still there. those words sounded funny coming from his mouth. “i told you, i just like photography. where’s the.. leader? or whatever.”

“you’re looking right at her.” you said, placing your hand on your hip. he gave you a scoff and an unconvinced look.

“got a problem?”

“i do not.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but you don’t press further. he’s not giving you anything to work with, and you know he’s not going to back down or admit anything.

“fine,” you say, the frustration bubbling in your chest. “but if you want to join, you better pull your weight. this club isn’t just for show, soccer boy.”

rin simply shrugs. “we’ll see, camera girl.” he says, turning his attention back to the camera. and just like that, it’s as if nothing has changed—except now, rin itoshi, the most competitive person you know, is in your club. and he’s not here for the reasons he claims.

don't feel like proofreading this whoops

tags : @mixolya

[matts-girlfriend]

ʜɪɢʜꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ - ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

word count: 2.6k summary - Chris meets Y/N during his golden boy years in high school. He was fighting to maintain his grades, and the only way for him to continue playing was to pass finals. Y/N was the student tutor and was assigned Chris. After a few months of teaching, Chris develops feelings for Y/N and asks her out. But now that they're seven years into their relationship, Chris is beginning to understand that something is most definitely wrong.

warnings - swearing, angst, substance abuse, drinking, fighting, screaming, mentions of grabbing and bruising (no actual abuse), emotional distress, gaslighting, heavy manipulating, death.

a/n: Hey, pretties. Despite the warning, I'd like to add another major disclaimer: everything in this story is fictional. None of this is based on real events. FAKE SITUATION! FAKE PLOT!

They met when they were sixteen.

It was fall. The kind of October that felt more like a heartbreak than a season — wet leaves sticking to pavement, skies grey with grief, and classrooms smelling faintly of sweat and dry erase markers. Y/N sat three rows from the front in Honors Algebra II, always two steps ahead of the teacher, always scribbling notes in perfectly organized columns. She didn’t talk to anyone. She didn’t need to. The teachers adored her. The students ignored her. She was invisible and invincible all at once.

"Step one / You must accept that I'm a little out my mind""Step two / This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line"

Chris Sturniolo was a walking contrast. Loud, golden, careless. He strolled the halls like he owned them, lacrosse stick slung over his shoulder, jersey half tucked into his jeans like he couldn’t bother. He had the kind of smile that made girls giggle and boys want to punch something. His brothers, Nick and Matt, by him constantly — triplets who somehow managed to be entirely different from each other. Nick, the loud, proud, chaotic one. Matt, the quiet observer with eyes too tired for seventeen. And Chris? Chris was the golden boy.

Until he started failing every class but gym.

Lacrosse was his life. Without it, he was nothing. And the coach made it clear — get your grades up, or get off the team. His guidance counselor suggested a tutor. The library. Tuesdays and Thursdays after school. The name was written on a yellow sticky note in barely legible scrawl: Y/N Martinez.

The first time he saw her up close, he was twenty minutes late.

"You’re late," she said flatly, without looking up.

Chris laughed like it was funny. "Traffic."

She glanced up. Her eyes were sharp, unamused. "You walk here."

He sat down, slouched low in the chair. "Whatever. Let’s just get this over with."

Y/N tutored him twice a week for the rest of the semester. At first, he didn’t take it seriously. She barely spoke unless it was about math. She hated small talk. She hated being late. She hated when he chewed gum. But she was brilliant. And slowly, painfully, he started to improve.

"Step three / Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion"

Then, somewhere between a Wednesday quiz and a Friday makeup test, Chris started to notice things.

The way her fingers trembled slightly when she solved equations in front of him. The way she always wore long sleeves, even when it was warm. The way her voice went quiet whenever anyone walked past their table, like she was bracing for something.

She was strange. But he liked it.

They started dating two weeks before junior prom.

He asked her at the tutoring table.

"Go to prom with me."

She stared. "Is this a joke?"

"No. I mean it."

"Why?"

He smiled. "Because you make me smarter. And I think I like you."

She said yes. They kissed in the parking lot that night, awkward and too fast, but she smiled after. That smile would haunt him later. It was the last time it looked innocent.

"High school sweethearts, line up / Not trying to waste my time""High school sweethearts, shut up / If you're not my type"

Dating Y/N started as an adrenaline rush.

She was intense. Passionate. She loved hard and fast, like she had no other speed. At first, it felt like devotion. Like being wanted, needed. Chris had never felt so seen. She wrote him letters. She made playlists. She touched him like he was fragile glass and then yelled at him like he was the fucking problem.

It crept in slowly.

The arguments started small — he forgot to text her goodnight, and she cried for two hours. He laughed at a text another girl sent, and she went cold for a week. He missed one of their study dates to practice with his team, and she accused him of choosing lacrosse over her.

She started keeping track.

Things he said wrong.

Things he did without her.

People he smiled at.

She never said they were rules. But Chris started to feel like he was in a game he didn’t know how to play. Like she had a manual and he was just trying to stay afloat.

"If you can't handle a heart like mine / Don't waste your time with me""If you're not down to bleed, no, oh / If you can't handle the choking, the biting / The loving, the smothering / 'Til you can't handle it no more, no more / Go home"

She never hit him.

But she knew how to wound.

Chris graduated high school with her name carved into every inch of his soul. He didn’t even realize he’d stopped talking to most of his friends. Didn’t notice how much quieter he’d become.

Y/N was all he had.

They moved in together at twenty.

Chris quit lacrosse. Not because he wanted to, but because the team didn’t want him anymore. He’d missed too many practices. Too many deadlines. He spent more time keeping her calm than he did training.

Y/N said it was better this way. "Sports are childish," she whispered one night as she curled against his side. "You don’t need them. You have me."

He nodded.

He always nodded.

By twenty-one, Chris was a ghost of himself.

No more cleats. No more noise. Just long hours at a grocery store job that barely paid rent, and nights spent arguing about things he didn’t remember doing.

He broke rules he didn’t know existed.

Showed up ten minutes late. Looked too long at the waitress. Laughed too loud. Slept too much. Slept too little.

Every fight started with silence. Then the door slammed. Then the venom poured.

"Do you even give a shit about me? Huh? Or am I just some background character in your fucked-up little story?"

"I didn’t do anything—"

"Exactly. You never do anything. Never defend me. Never show me off. Never put in the fucking work."

"Step five / You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand""Step six / If you can't put in work, I don't know what you think this fucking is"

He stood in the kitchen once, hands shaking, trying to remember what he’d done wrong. The pasta was cold. That’s all. She’d asked him to cook at six. He started at six-thirty.

"You don’t listen, Chris. You don’t fucking care."

He stared at the wall.

Nick and Matt saw it unravel in real time.

They stopped by unannounced once. Chris had a bruise on his wrist from where Y/N grabbed him too hard. He said he bumped into a cabinet.

Nick didn’t buy it.

Matt said nothing at first. Then, quietly, "You can stay with us. Any time."

Chris snapped. "I’m not leaving her. You don’t understand. She needs me."

"No, bro. You need help."

Chris left angry. Every time.

The drinking started slowly.

A glass after work.

A bottle when she screamed.

Y/N didn’t stop him. She’d just watch. Sometimes, she even poured.

He asked her once, in a drunken haze, what would happen if he ever cheated.

She turned her head, smile soft, eyes glassy.

"I’d kill you."

He laughed nervously.

She didn’t.

Chris never forgot that moment.

It haunted every glance. Every smile. Every moment of hesitation.

"Step seven, this one goes to eleven / If you cheat, you will die, die""Can we just be honest? These are the requirements / If you think you can be my one and only true love / You must promise to love me / And damn it, if you fuck me over / I will rip your fucking face apart"

He never meant to break that rule.

But by twenty-two, he was barely holding on. His body ached. His soul was hollow. He walked through life in a fog.

And one night, he just... gave in.

A bar. A stranger. A kiss.

Her apartment.

No love. Just exhaustion.

He left before sunrise.

When he came home, she was asleep. Or pretending.

She didn’t speak the next morning. Just kissed him on the cheek and made coffee. Hummed softly while folding laundry.

He knew.

She knew.

Chris planned his escape like a criminal.

Waited until her eyes closed at night.

Bag under the bed. Phone charged. Keys in pocket.

He opened the door slowly.

Bang.

A gunshot hit the wall inches from his head.

He jumped, looked back, hands raised.

She stood in the hallway. Crying. Shaking. Gun in her hands.

"You lied to me. After everything."

"Y/N, please—"

"I gave you everything. Every fucking piece of me. And you threw it away."

He inched forward. Careful. Desperate.

"Let’s run away. Just you and me. New start. We can fix this. I swear."

She sobbed. Lowered the gun slightly.

He kissed her. Soft. Terrified.

She kissed back. Holding him tight.

Then pulled the trigger.

His body hit the floor with a thud.

She stood over him, shaking, whispering through tears,

"You broke step seven. You cheat... you die."

His eyes closed. He didn’t speak.

She sat beside him.

Held his hand for a moment.

Then raised the gun to her own head.

Pulled the trigger.

Nick and Matt found them the next day. They had came over when they had realized Chris never ended up falling through with his plan on coming to their house last night.

The apartment was silent.

Matt dropped to his knees. Nick froze. Cried until he couldn’t breathe.

Chris’s phone was on the counter.

Last message never sent.

"I need out. Please. I don’t know who I am anymore."

Too late.

a/n: Got this idea when I fell asleep to this song last night and felt the urge to write it out.

taglist:

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@h3arts4nat @izzylovesmatt @sturnioliolo @hsemeria @sturniqloo

@venusbabysblog @chrisslut04 @crazy4weeed @chriscokewhore @chrisswaffles @urfavvvnyasee @sturnzluv @freshluvr @mattthemunchh @poolover123 @pleasantdelusionbear @carpentersturns @emosexyvirgin @emillionaireee @shamelessmilkshakefest @xoxochrissgf @sturniolodollx @joyfulheartwhispers @cutseylady @oopsiedaisydeer @steph1106

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[janeyseymour]

Hey if you're up for a prompt I just thought of this Melissa x reader idea. Reader is a teacher at Abbott and all the teachers and the camera crew think the reader is not good when on camera ie. Smart Reader drops down to all of 1 brain cell like a deer in headlights when facing the lense, but it turns out everytime they've been filmed, either interviewed, or knowing they're shooting B-roll, Melissa has been around and Melissa has started getting suspicious of the situation. Love your work, now I'm off to read more of your writing 😘

hi i know this is so late, but... better late than never? I had a LOT of fun with this one- thank you for requesting!

Camera Shy

WC: ~4.2k (exactly!)

You aren’t an idiot. You’d like to make that very, very clear. You have your degree to teach, you have one masters, and you’re in the process of getting another masters. After this degree, you plan to get your doctorate. You have a few years of teaching under your belt at one of the neighboring districts. So, no. You aren’t an idiot. You’re actually quite the opposite.

But put you in front of the camera, and all of the intelligence in that pretty little head of yours? It’s gone. You’re reduced to all of about half of a braincell. You blush profusely, you stumble over your words, you genuinely just feel so awkward.

At least when you know there’s a camera on you. As everyone has seen from the documentary, as long as they are capturing you from a distance and you don’t explicitly know they’re filming you, you’re good. They’ve actually (with your consent) placed a few cameras around your room that are hidden or disguised so they can get more of you just doing what you know how to do. You’re in the comfort of your own classroom with your kids, and no one else is there. They’ve even managed to snag a couple of clips of you talking to your coworkers when they pop their heads into your room, specifically Janine. She tends to come in quite a bit to chat with you when she has a chance.

What people don’t realize from viewing the documentary is that all of your talking heads are done after the ‘scenes’ are shot, and they just gather you all into the hall or a classroom and call you one at a time to do different talking heads about the different situations you teachers have gotten yourselves into this week.

So when you’re doing your interviews, people are watching you from behind the cameramen. That means all of your colleagues are watching you- specifically that redheaded second grade teacher that you are undeniably attracted to. Your eyes flit to her figure constantly during your interviews or during b-roll shoots where they’re just getting shots of you all talking in the lunch room or before a meeting that Ava had organized in the library or gymnasium.

And you’ve caught her watching you too- acting like a deer in the headlights when the lens is on you. She probably thinks you’re an absolute fool. A young teacher who is just trying to get her foot in the door before heading off to another, better district. The only person who really knows of your brains at this school is Ava because she hired you.

The camera crew has come to realize that you don’t handle yourself very well in front of the camera as well.

“Do you want to keep participating in our documentary?” Rich, the head cameraman, asks you one day.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I think it’s really important that people see how teaching can change lives, and that every teacher has a different approach to teaching.”

“Okay, we just want to make sure that you’re still willing to do this for us,” he tells you gently. “If you want out and would rather just be in the background shots, here’s your out.”

“Oh. I don’t mind… most of the people I mingle with here participate, so I guess it makes sense that I would too. Why?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about yourself or not,” Rich chuckles. “But you’re terrible in front of the camera. You get all nervous and jittery whenever you know the guys are filming you.”

You turn red. “Yeah. I do. But I didn’t go into this profession to be on camera,” you joke. You can’t confess to him that the only reason you’re terrible in front of the camera is because Melissa is usually lingering around somewhere in sight, and you get distracted and flustered.

“But you know there are cameras in your room with the purpose of capturing you teaching your students or capturing the conversations you have with your coworkers,” Rich reminds you.

“Yeah, but I sometimes forget that they’re… if you guys want to come into my room and film, that’s fine with me,” you tell the head of the documentary. “I’ll be fine.”

And you are fine. Because when they’re filming in your room, Melissa Schemmenti isn’t around you.

But still, when you have to shoot B-roll or do your interviews, you are reduced to stuttering out phrases, half of them don’t even make sense. You’re as red as the second grade teacher’s hair, and you can’t help yourself.

After a bit of time, the shoots from within your classroom where they are panning back and forth and the crew is clearly in the room starts to air. And shockingly to your colleagues, you’re able to conduct lessons with the camera crew in your room.

You’re even able to have conversations in your classroom with your colleagues when Rich and his crew are in your classroom.

But still, during your talking heads and any B-roll with the entire staff present and watching, you are a flustered mess who can’t get a single sentence out without stumbling over your words.

After a bit, Rich comes back up to you.

“Y/N?” he asks.

“What can I do for you?”

“Care to do an interview?”

“About?”

“You,” he laughs. “In your room during your prep. We’ve been getting feedback from viewers that they feel they don’t really know much about you other than you get flustered in front of the camera during talking heads.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “Sure, I can do that.”

“My background?” you ask the cameraman that is sitting with you at your desk as you grade papers. “Sure. I grew up in the area, went to Temple, staying true to my Philly roots. Got my bachelors there, graduated top of my class. Headed to West Chester University to get my masters in reading, and I’m currently working on my masters for applied studies in teaching. After that, who knows. Maybe I’ll get a doctorate?”

The person behind the camera raises a brow.

“I know I can come off as a ditz and a bit air headed, but I do actually have the qualifications to be here,” you chuckle. “And I do love it here at Abbott. I think this place could be my home for quite some time.”

That bit airs about a week later, and the next day, your coworkers stare at you as you enter the faculty room the next morning to put your lunch away.

“Yeah?” you ask as you open the refrigerator door.

“When were you gonna tell us you were that smart?” Melissa asks you. “Smart women are hot.”

Immediately, upon hearing her deep morning voice directed at you, and her calling you hot for your brains (something rarely anyone said), you turn beet red.

“Uh,” you stutter out. 

“Sweetheart,” Barbara cuts in. “Forgive us, but most of us thought you were about as ditzy as Janine.”

The woman in question whines a, “Hey!” out, but everybody else besides Gregory nods in agreement. 

“It just-“ you glance over at the redhead who is staring at you. “I-it just never came up.”

It’s later that day that you have recess duty while the rest of the teachers are eating in the staff room together. Somehow, you become the topic of choice again.

“It’s just weird,” Jacob notes.

“Maybe she’s just getting more comfortable in front of the camera,” Gregory states. “I know most of us have had some adjustments to get more comfortable with the cameras and the cameramen.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Melissa sighs. “I dunno. It seems like it’s just during B-roll or interviews though now.”

“Well, we’re all there and watching when we have to do those things,” Janine notes. “But I don’t know why that would make her uncomfortable. She talks to most of us just fine individually.”

Melissa frowns. They all talk to you individually? She’s kept her distance for the most part, and any time that she talks to you, you’re reduced to fumbling for your words. Is it her?

The redheaded second grade teacher decides to toy with this thought for the next few days. She’ll make it known that she’s around for your interviews, she’ll make it very clear that she’s going to be somewhere else during your talking heads… and she’ll move around during the b-roll shoots, even if it means that she’s away from Barbara. 

“Listen up, slackers,” Ava starts a meeting before the crew pulls you individually. “We’re doing our talking heads, and they’ve been a real drag lately. Liven them up!”

“We’re doing our best, Ava,” Janine jumps in.

“Talk about more! Create more of a storyline!”

Today’s talking head interviews just so happen to be about the scene from where they were interrogating you for having quite a few credentials.

“Y/N?” Janine smiles. “Oh yeah, she’s pretty smart- I just didn’t realize she was… that smart, and I went to Penn. We’re pretty much on the same level. She’s a little quieter than the rest of us, but she fits in well.”

“Oh, Ms. Y/N?” Barbara asks. “Sweet girl. Shy. But I didn’t have the slightest clue she was as bright as she is.”

“Me?” you raise a brow as Rich calls your name to take you to the hall. You nod, stand and head along with him. Melissa follows, making it very apparent that she’s watching you. You turn the brightest shade of red that you ever have.

“So, tell us what you thought about the staff asking you about your credentials,” Rich tells you. Your eyes flit to the redhead behind him, and her eyes narrow slightly as she folds her arms across her chest.

“I- uh, didn’t-“ you swallow harshly. “I didn’t think it was that big of- of a deal? I- I know how to- how to teach.”

“How did you feel about Barbara’s comment about you being ditzy?”

“I-it didn’t bother me,” you shrug. “I’m aware I-I can c-come off like that.”

It’s clear they aren’t going to get much more out of you, so he allows you to go, and you can feel your ears burning as you have to brush past Melissa to get back to the library.

“Schemmenti?” they call her name. “Since you’re here, you wanna?”

You thank God you don’t have to walk back with her. That would just be beyond awkward for you, and you’re not sure you would be able to conduct yourself properly.

Melissa leans up against the wall to do her talking head.

“So, tell us what you think of Y/N,” Rich prompts.

“What do I think of her? She’s cute, sweet when she actually talks- insanely shy. I think she’s a good teacher,” Melissa tells the crew. “I think she’s a bit of a ditz sometimes, but if her degrees say anything, she’s bright. I just don’t quite understand why she gets so flustered during B-roll or talking heads.”

“Interesting,” one of the other crew members hums. “Say more.”

“I mean, youse heard what we were talking about during lunch while she was doing recess duty,” the redhead shrugs. “She’s fine with the staff individually, she can handle you guys in her classroom now… but then whenever we’re all together, she sounds like a mor- please don’t air this. I don’ wanna hurt the kid’s feelings.”

“We won’t,” Rich assures Melissa. “It’s more just for our background knowledge so that maybe we can get some other footage.”

The next day’s talking heads are the same. The second grade teacher makes it very known that she will be watching your interview, and you can’t get anything out. Your eyes are wide, and you look like you just saw a ghost.

The camera crew sees the way that your eyes flit to Melissa, and one of them silently signals for a smaller camera to pan over to the woman watching you. She makes eye contact with one of them before raising an eyebrow. Interesting.

“Y/N?” Mr. Johnson is called for his talking head, but they take him to his mop closet. “Sweet, smart girl. Always tidies up her room before leaving… Oh, and something’s going on between her and Melissa.”

The man behind the camera gives him a curious look. “Can you tell us more about that? We won’t air it, but maybe it can lead us to something… new.”

” Can’t tell if she’s terrified of her, thinks she’s hot, or both,” Mr. Johnson laughs. “I seen the way Y/N’s eyes get all big whenever Melissa walks into a room. Ears turn red. It’s funny.”

With Mr. Johnson’s insights, the crew decides to play with this a little. They don’t know that Melissa is already suspicious of it as well.

They have Melissa pulled away when it’s your turn for your talking head of the day, and you’re able to make it through that interview with no problems.

They seat her next to you during one of the B-roll shoots, and you look absolutely terrified the entire time. Your cheeks are flushed, you nervous play with your necklace, and you fidget the entire time.

Then, they have her pulled from it under the guise of having to do another interview. You’re perfectly fine. You relax almost instantly. You stop fidgeting, and you’re able to listen to everything that Ava is going on about- as much as you wish you weren’t listening to some of it. That woman really is something else.

Melissa notices the way that you tense up when she’s around and seemingly relax when she isn’t. She can’t quite explain how it makes her feel. But soon, those episodes start to air as well. And there is a stark difference between the talking heads that you did in front of her and the ones you did without her presence. 

After a few weeks of this game that the crew is playing, along with the game that Melissa is playing, it’s clear to the redhead what is happening. She’s the only one that you rarely interact with. She’s obviously the one who makes you nervous, and she needs to know why.

“Hey, hun,” Melissa comes in with one of the crew members who follows the second grade teacher rather regularly.

“H-hey,” you turn and close your laptop to turn your full attention to the redhead. Your ears turn beet red, as does your face and chest. “H-how can I help you, Miss Schemmenti?” You eye the camera warily.

“What’s goin’ on?” she asks you point blank. “Why’re you weird around me?”

“I’m- I’m not?” you raise a brow at her. “I just- I’m not great with the cameras.”

“That ain’t true, and you know it,” the redhead retorts. “You been so good in front of the camera lately. We’ve all seen it with the new episodes airing.”

You shrug. You really don’t know what you’re supposed to say.

“You don’ like me or somethin’?” she crosses her arms.

“No, M-Melissa,” you stutter out. “It isn’t like that at all.”

“Then what is it? Because you’re only weird when I’m around,” Melissa continues to dig her heels in. 

Again, you shrug.

The redhead presses her lips together in a fine line before cocking her head slightly as she makes eye contact with the camera. Then, she turns on her heel and leaves. They follow her as she leaves before cutting back to you- jaw open and confused.

They pull both of you for interviews later that day, and you don’t even know what to say.

“I- I’m not weird around her,” you say. “I rarely talk to her unless she talks to me first, and even then, I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Is there a reason for that?” one of the interviewers asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “She’s part of the crew that I usually hang with, but she’s- you’ve met her. She’s got a tough exterior, and I’m a little intimidated by her- especially with how shy I already am.”

Her talking head isn’t much different. “I don’t know why she’s so weird around me. We don’t even talk that often.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“She’s part of the crew, but I can be intimidating. I don’ wanna scare the poor thing… I actually do enjoy her presence,” the redhead says, and then her eyes unfocus, and it’s like she’s thinking of something else- you.

Later that day, they find the janitor that wanders the halls. His only comment on the situation is, “Interesting.”

The two of you dance around each other, the way that you have been. Until she starts to go out of her way to talk to you, because “Well, if we hang with the same crew, we might as well become friendly with each other.”

You still turn beet red any time she talks to you. She takes notice.

Finally, she corners you in your room during your prep one day right before school lets out for the year. She’s forgotten about the cameras that are still ‘hidden’ in your room due to the fact that they haven’t used those shots in months- you’ve gotten pretty good in front of the cameramen at this point.

“Oi, Y/N,” Melissa says as she knocks on your door gently and pulls the door so that it’s only open a crack. “We gotta talk.”

Your eyes widen, you bite your lip, and you turn beet red. “Y-yeah. What’s up?”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Get all nervous around me,” she says. “I ain’t that scary, am I?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then why do you get all red whenever I’m around? Stumble over your words? I’ve noticed it for a while now, so I thought I would try to be nicer to you to show you I really ain’t all that scary, but nothin’s working.”

You scratch the back of your neck before running a hand through your hair nervously. You really don’t think you can tell her that the reason you always get so flustered around her is because you’ve always thought she was very pretty, and you’re actually falling for her now that you’ve actually gotten to know her a little better when she talks to you at lunch or during B-roll shoots.

“C’mon, hun,” she prompts you. “It’s just us. You can talk to me.”

You glance over at one of the cameras on your bookshelf before sighing. “I- I don’t really know how to say this.”

“You got it,” she encourages you.

With a deep breath, you quietly admit, “You intimidate me.”

“I gathered that much, Y/N,” the redhead rolls her eyes playfully as she unfolds her arms and sits on one of the desks near yours. “Why?”

“Be-because,” you blink a few times. “Because I think you’re really pretty.”

“Well,” she laughs. “That’s because I am.”

“And I- I’m attracted to you,” you whisper out.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she jokes with you, but then she turns serious. “Wait, what?”

“I think- I think you’re really pretty, and you’re funny, and smart, and you’re really good with the kids, and I just think that you’re a really wonderful woman behind that tough leather jacket you like to wear. I just like you, but you scare me, and I’m scared that I like you because you aren’t like anyone else that I’ve ever fallen for before,” the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your hands fly to your mouth in shock at yourself. You can’t believe you just admitted that. “Oh… Oh, God. Uh, just forget everything I just-”

You’re cut off by her lips being gently pressed to yours to shut you up. Your eyes widen for a few seconds before your brain starts back up and you kiss her back.

“You wanna know why I avoided you for so long?” she asks you once the two of you break apart for air. She’s looking at you with those glowing green eyes. You just barely nod. “When you walked in the front door on your first day, I couldn’t deny the way I felt about you. But I didn’t wanna scare you off- you’re already so timid. So I just let you be and admired from afar.”

“So… why did you start talking to me?” you ask nervously.

“Admittedly,” she chuckles softly as she tucks a hair of yours behind your ear. “The crew had something to do with that. They were constantly questioning me about you once you got more comfortable around the cameras… they realized you were only getting flustered if I was around, and I kind of noticed it too. So I took matters into my own hands,” she laughs. “I guess it paid off?”

“I’d say so,” you whisper. “Wow,” you sigh to yourself softly. “Is this… are you serious about kissing me just now?”

“I am,” she laughs as she leans in again and pecks your lips. “So… dinner at my house after we leave?”

“I think that’d be nice,” you sigh in content.

What the two of you don’t know is that Mr. Johnson just witnessed the whole thing, and before either of you could even begin to think anyone had heard anything, he’s running down the hall to tell the crew what he had just witnessed and that they have to pull the camera from your room to see it too.

—

You and Melissa, now an item but keeping it on the down low, spend most of the summer at the beach… you only find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with her the more time you spend with her. 

But as it always does, Summer goes by too quickly for either of your liking, and you find yourself back at Abbott. During the break, you kind of forgot that the cameras hidden in your room captured the sweet moment and beginning of the two of you. That is, until Rich pulls the two of you aside on your first day back. He takes the two of you into one of the meeting rooms to do a talking head- different from how they normally conduct these shoots.

“So…” he chuckles. “How was your break?” he asks the two of you during a joint-interview.

“Oh,” you turn red. “It was- it was fine.”

“Spent a lot of time at the beach,” Melissa shrugs, but she doesn’t look at you. You haven’t told the crew about your relationship.

“Uh, me too,” you say nervously, hoping it doesn’t give the two of you away.

“Did you two forget that your whole little love confession happened in front of cameras?” he asks you as he stops rolling and lowers his camera.

Your eyes widen, as do your girlfriend’s. The two of you exchange nervous looks.

“Well, we actually pulled the two of you aside to ask if it’s okay to air,” he tells the two of you. “We both know that you’re two of the more private people at Abbott, but we do think it would be great for ratings. Of course though, if you don’t want it-”

“Y-you can air it, if it’s okay with Melissa,” you say quietly. “I- I don’t mind.”

The redhead looks at you before taking your hand and squeezing it gently. “If Y/N is okay with it, I guess I am too… Can’t hide it forever, especially with loudmouth Janine around.”

—

When the first episode of the new season starts airing, the crew had decided use the first few minutes to do a recap of what had happened last school year, as well as a few things that people had missed. They show what had been aired last season, her confronting you the first time- when the cameramen were with her, where you hadn’t said anything. And then of course, it cuts to the shots from your classroom where the two of you had confessed your feelings for each other are there, and then it cuts to a talking head of Mr. Johnson.

“I knew it,” he chuckles from his mop closet. “I told y’all Y/N had the hots for Schemmenti. Hell yeah!”

The rest of the episode, both of your phones are blowing up from your coworkers in absolute disbelief. You laugh as you put both of your phones on ‘do not disturb’ before you’re curling further into Melissa’s side to watch the rest of the episode, a glass of wine in hand. Occasionally, you peck her cheek, or she dots your hairline with a gentle kiss when the show the two of you together. When the episode is over, you both retire up to her bedroom. She plugs in your phones before the two of you get ready for a good night’s sleep. Neither of you bother to respond to the plethora of texts you’ve both received. You’ll handle your ridiculous coworkers tomorrow.

[therealcocoshady]

First day of school

A/N : hey guys ! I went back to school this week so I decided to stick to the theme and I actually wrote a little fluffy Marshall + Lily something. Basically just him feeling all the feels as his baby starts preschool 🥺. I hope you enjoy it ! 💕

Lily was starting preschool this morning and Marshall was a mess. In the past few days, he’d been going through several stages of grief : denial that his baby was old enough to go to preschool, bargaining and trying to get you to agree to letting him homeschool her, guilt regarding the few moments he’d missed in her early life (when the two of you weren’t even together !)… you were eagerly waiting for him to move on to the acceptance phase. She had just turned three and she’d have to go to school at some point. Plus, she was more than ready. More so than the two of you, who were emotional at the thought of your baby girl growing up so fast. You had managed to put on a brave face but Marshall was not there yet. He’d been there before with his eldest daughters so you had figured that he would deal with it rather well but he was actually more depressed than you. You were almost scared he’d bawl when he saw her walk in the kitchen with her brand new uniform of the fancy preschool you had managed to her her into.

- Daddy ! Look ! She shrieked when she saw him. I’m dressed !

- You’re beautiful, pumpkin ! He cooed. Come and give me a hug. Today’s the big day, huh ?

- Yes ! She giggled.

He engulfed her in a warm hug and looked at you with eyes full of gratitude. He was really glad that you’d be the one to help her get ready because, even though he was more than decent at doing her hair, this moment would have been too emotional. Her hair was neatly braided with little bows and she was absolutely adorable, a big smile on her face.

- Are you coming too, Daddy ? She asked eagerly.

- Of course, I’m coming, baby, he said softly. I’d never miss such a big day ! Mommy and I will drop you off, walk you to your classroom and pick you up when the day’s over.

- And we don’t want to be late, so now, time for breakfast ! You reminded them. Look, baby, Daddy made you pancakes !

- Yay, she cooed.

The three of you ate, and you lovingly listened to Lily tell you how excited she was. A few months ago, you had gone to meet with her teacher and visit the school and she had been impatient ever since. In fact, she had spent the whole summer talking about school and she’d had trouble sleeping the night before because she was too excited.

When you took her to school, she was so happy and she didn’t waste too much time on goodbyes. Some of the kids there definitely had a hard time letting go of their parents but it felt like Lily couldn’t get rid of the two of you fast enough. She handed her favorite duck plushy to Marshall, seeing as she wasn’t allowed to take it to class and quickly hugged the two of you goodbye before running inside the classroom and hugging one of her friends that she knew from daycare. Her eagerness put a smile on your face and you knew she’d have a great first day. However, Marshall was silent as the two of you walked to the car.

- She barely looked at us, he sighed.

- She’s excited, you pointed out. It’s a big day for her.

- When did she become so independent ? He asked. One minute she needs us for everything and then-

- And by us, you mean you, you giggled.

- No, he lied. I mean us.

- Marshall, you gently scolded.

- Fine, he conceded. I like it when she needs me. I like being the one she calls for every little thing.

You smiled with understanding and kissed his cheek. You could see the sadness in his eyes. He had always had such a strong bond with Lily, after all. So did you, of course, but seeing as you’d already had to deal with being replaced as your baby’s favorite person when Marshall stepped into your life, you didn’t have as much trouble.

- You’ve been grumpy, you said softly.

- I know, he sighed. I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s a lot, you know ?

- I think I do, you hummed. She’s my daughter too, remember ?

- You’re right. I’m sorry, baby, he said. I’m making it all about myself. If anything, I should be supporting you, not the other way around.

- I’m good, you said reassuringly. I’m glad she’s so excited about school. It breaks my heart to see her growing up so fast, but she’s so full of life, healthy, too… I just feel so blessed to be able to witness it. She’s pretty amazing.

He nodded, and you could see in his eyes that he was deep in his thoughts. The two of you drove home. You had both taken the day off so that you could enjoy Lily’s first day of school as a family. Marshall sat on the living room couch, still holding Lily’s duck plushy, that he held close to his heart.

- The house is empty without her, he sighed.

- Now you’re just being dramatic, you giggled. She’ll be back before we know it. It’s just school, Marsh !

- I know, he shrugged. It’s just that I spent every day with her, this summer while you were working. And I kind of loved our routine.

- Now you get to go back to the studio and do what you love, though, you said with a smile. Just the other day you told me of everything you planned on recording !

- I know, he shrugged.

You lovingly pressed a kiss to his cheek and sat next to him.

- Lily’s lucky to have you as her dad, you cooed. And I’m glad you had a great summer.

- It feels like I haven’t enjoyed it enough, he hummed.

- I hate seeing you so bittersweet, my love, you said. Our baby’s growing up and I know it’s hard on you, but it’s happy, too.

- I’m sorry, he sighed. It’s just… it brings me back, you know ? Eleven years ago, I almost died and realized that I had missed so many important moments with my kids. And now, life has blessed me with Lily and I get to give her my best. Not only do I have another baby, I get to experience life with her. And I know it’s happy, I do. But it’s so bittersweet because time goes by so fast. My eldest daughters are grown up and before I know it, Lily will be an adult. I just need her to be my baby a little bit longer.

You nodded and wrapped your arms around him. He closed his eyes and let you hold him. You stayed like this for a long moment. Marshall turned to you and you got to take a good look at him. You noticed that he had tears welling in his eyes.

- I love you, you said softly. Everything will be alright, my love.

- I know, he nodded as he wiped his own tears. I’m just so emotional. But I’m so proud of Lily, you know ?

- She’s doing great, you said. A testament to what an amazing father you are.

- And what an amazing mom you are, too, he cooed. I don’t thank you enough for bringing Lily into my life.

- Believe me, I know the only reason you married me is that you wanted to adopt her, you grinned.

- Come on, he chortled. You know it’s not true.

You giggled and he kissed you lovingly. You got up and grabbed his hand.

- Come on, you said. I think mom and dad deserve a day of doing nothing and lounging in bed.

- I’m all for it, he agreed.

The two of you ended up spending the day cuddling in bed, munching on snacks and mindlessly watching TV. Basically just indulging in the pleasures of being parents whose time-consuming toddler wasn’t around for the day. But just like any other parents, you couldn’t help but wonder how Lily was doing and you were more than happy when it was time to go and pick her up. When she spotted the two of you outside of her classroom, she immediately ran to give you hugs. She was beaming and apparently happy about her first day. You could see other parents staring at Marshall, who did his best to appear unbothered, though he quickly decided to walk to the car with Lily while you talked to the teacher.

- How did she do ? You asked eagerly.

- She did splendidly, the teacher said in a reassuring tone. Your Lily is well-adjusted ! Rather advanced, too ! There was just one minor mishap…

- Was there ? You asked anxiously. Did she have issues with another kid ? I’m sorry, her siblings are grown-up so she’s sort of an only-child-

- Don’t worry, she chuckled. She just decided to skip nap. She was very energetic today and we couldn’t get her to sleep. She also mentioned that she’d rather nap with her dad.

- Oh, you giggled. I’m sorry. She was extremely excited about school. And, well, she spent the whole summer with her dad so she’s gotten used to napping with him. Did she disturb the others ?

- She didn’t, the teacher assured you. I just let her draw quietly and she did just fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.

When you got back to the car, Lily was telling Marshall all about her day. She seemed to really love her teacher and classmates. She also proudly showed you a drawing she’d made. The two of you were absolutely smitten and reassured that she actually liked school. As soon as you got home, you offered to hang her beautiful drawing on the fridge and prepare some snacks for the three of you while they went to the living room.

When you walked in there, you found Marshall laying on the couch, Lily curled up on his chest, eyes closed, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. Your husband was tracing circles on your daughter’s back as she was sleeping peacefully. You lovingly looked at him, able to tell he was enjoying the contact. He threw a glance at you and smiled. After his little meltdown from earlier, you knew he needed this moment.

- Looks like someone needed a hug from her Dad, you said.

- First days of school are exhausting, he commented. She fell asleep in like three seconds.

- You’re enjoying this, aren’t you ? You said teasingly.

- Yeah, he hummed. She’s still my baby after all.

- She’ll always be your baby, you reassured him. She was your baby from the moment you first held her.

- It’s just so hard seeing her grow up, he shrugged. Soon enough, she won’t need me as much.

- Looks like you’ll still be needed for a while, you smiled as you pointed to the way Lily was clutching at him.

- Hopefully, yeah, he chuckled. Thanks for today, my love.

You smiled and cupped his face before gently ruffling Lily’s hair. He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head and the two of you enjoyed her light snores, looking lovingly at each other.

- The teacher said our baby did very well today, you said proudly.

- Of course she did, he said smugly. She’s our daughter.

- She didn’t nap, though, you continued. Something about telling her teacher that she’d rather have her dad by her side for nap time.

The news brought the biggest smile to his face. He hugged Lily a little tighter while he stared at you with a shit-eating grin.

- She loves you so much, you know ? You said emotionally. I’m so glad you’re her dad. So happy that you’re here for her. And healthy too.

- Me too, he replied with a heartwarming smile. I love being her dad. And your husband, too. Now, how about you join us for nap time, wifey ?

You nodded and, though it took a little bit of flexibility and adjustments, you managed to fit on the couch, snuggled against your husband. You placed a hand against your daughter’s back and enjoyed the sight of her sleeping so peacefully. Seconds later, her soft snores were joined by Marshall’s and you let your eyes shut.

[marveling-cg]

As a teacher, the suit couldn't really have come at a better time.

When he'd graduated from college, he'd been surprised to see Principal Nezu in the crowd with All Might and Aizawa-sensei, and even more surprised to receive Principal Nezu's invitation to teach at UA - in the hero course no less!

They'd assigned him to the 2nd year hero course -- the 1st years, who were often still figuring out the limits of their quirks, needed teachers who might be able to physically intervene if something went wrong

His first year teaching, he'd spent just trying to get his feet under him: he borrowed a lot of the previous teacher's curriculum while he tried to get the hang of classroom management, and and grading, and parent contact, not to mention conducting practical exercises with his students while he was quirkless

But his second year he started making the curriculum his own: his strength had always been his analysis and he wanted his students to have that, too.

He started adding in case studies for each unit; invited his friends in to give talks about declassified or appropriately anonymized cases they'd worked on

By his third year, he'd gotten his unit plans down to a science: intro topic, host guest speaker, complete case study, hold class discussion, conduct practical exercise, students submit a reflection, test

His first unit of the year was always his favorite -- an intro to battle analysis. He'd never gotten Kacchan to commit to coming on campus, but if Deku sent him footage from a fight, Kacchan would send back a recording of his analysis

Once the kids got over the initial hilarity of Kacchan roasting the shit out of hero or villain or both, they usually asked Deku to play the video back a few more times so they could see just which errors Kacchan had caught, how quickly they could arise, how consequential they could be. It was a great way to get them open to Deku's whole approach to the class, and a good way for them to know that he would accept their work in their own voices -- no need to hide their personalities for points

The rest of the units -- meant to get his students ready to apply for their provisional licenses -- all followed suit.

And since most hero agencies had given new priority to community relations, he could schedule through his friends' offices to get them on campus: Tenya, Uraraka, Tsu, Momo, Shinso were especially reliable guests

And while the first half of the year was dedicated to the practicalities of being on the ground as a hero; the second half was dedicated to the heart of being a hero

They looked at rise of the League of Villains and Stain, talked about the plight of heteromorphs; he pulled in primary sources, they discussed their own personal credos (he liked to use Kacchan's and Hawks' as examples of how different and personal they could be while still leading to similar work), discussed the sociological and psychological impact of challenging quirks

All that to say, year four is the perfect time for the suit to fall into his lap.

He's got his professional shit together

And, though he's let himself shed some of the weight he needed to maintain One For All, he's kept himself in good condition

(High school students are so easily motivated by a little good natured teasing, "you really gonna let your quirkless teacher lap you?" has been a remarkably easy way to keep his kids going through tough conditioning work)

So, after he's managed to stop crying on All Might long enough to schedule a call with Hatsume to go over the specs; and stopped crying after that call long enough to process everything she's shared about its function, he realizes he's going to need to train before he can take this thing out in the field

The suit is incredible: a light exoskeleton that'll enhance his strength, 360 degree sensors that will pick up objects moving at certain speeds or sudden changes in air pressure, a light propulsion system that will allow him brief bursts of flight or slightly longer periods to hover, a chord system that he can use to pull himself forward or restrain villains, a diffuser that will set off a smoke screen

He spends another hour or so after the call with Hatsume to cry about how closely they've tried to recreate the capabilities of One For All

And then spends another four thinking about all of the manual controls he'll need to learn to replicate the skills he used to be able to call forth with a thought.

Thinks too about the kind of conditioning he'll need to do in order to not lose speed or an arm to the weight and propulsion of the suit

He remembers fondly a dirty beach half a lifetime ago; remembers, too, a forest trail where a quirkless All Might declared he'd change the future. Deku can do this.

And there's no better way to address the Kacchan of it all:

He'd tried calling Kacchan after All Might had dropped the news -- and been sent straight to voicemail three times in a row; received back a terse text: u r welcome nerd

Which told him Kacchan wasn't ready to deal -- with Deku's tears, or his gratitude, or with a conversation about how Kacchan had dedicated all of his professional career to funding Deku's dream -- as if all the long hours, and parties missed, and extra shifts covered, hadn't all been some sort of declaration of intent about the rest of their fucking lives

Which was fine. What was Deku going to say anyway?

"Was this a proposal, Kacchan? Because if so, my answer is yes."

That could wait. They had the rest of their fucking lives, apparently.

But in the meantime, Deku needed to train. He couldn't afford to rush this. Kacchan would be furious if Deku got himself hurt because he was being reckless.

So he headed over to the gym in Kacchan's building after work, just in time to catch Kacchan coming in for his biweekly workout.

"I've got a plan. I think I'm going to need to dedicate some attention to these particular muscle groups to protect from injury. I think I probably need to gain a little more muscle, too. Then, I want to start training in the suit. I'll need to get a feel for how it works as a whole in combat and rescue settings. But then I want to work on isolations. Can I trigger just this response as quickly as possible in various circumstances. What can I do or not if I've just got control of the arms or just the legs or just one limb. I've put together a timetable. I think, if you'll help me, I could be ready for field work without injuring myself by the end of this school year."

When Deku finally pauses and looks up from his notebook, Kacchan looks visibly relieved, shoulders down from his ears, that gleam in his eye that's signals amusement in spite of himself, the start of smile tucked into the corner of his mouth

Kacchan snatches the notebook from Deku's hands and looks over the charts. Deku barely grumbles at all at Kacchan's free hand tousling Deku's hair while he skims.

"Alright, dweeb, let's get started--"

[visenyaism]

which bg3 companion do you think would be the worst school teacher?

let’s get it on the board:

10. Unquestionably Astarion. he has no patience, is extremely prickly, is always looking out for himself first, hates children, and is bad at planning. he would not want to be a teacher or attempt to do it unless convinced through some kind of elaborate network of trickery or excessive bribery. he’s just not built for it.

9. Minthara. I debated whether to put her or Astarion last because I think that he would be worse at the job but she would probably end up causing more harm. I know she is running fascist panopticon classroom management at all times. type of person to leave the blinds shut at all times so it’s like an evil cave classroom with occasional nasty fluorescents. no one likes it in there.

8. Shadowheart. I don’t have a ton to say here I just don’t think her heart is in it. 

7. Minsc. enthusiasm can get you very very far.

6. Karlach. very very sweet and everyone loves her but also kind of scattered and goes on one billion tangents. could actually convince adolescents to enjoy gym class. 

5. Halsin. I think he would be pretty good at it but I also think a job that requires you to commit to having a routine would be terrible for him so he definitely wouldn’t stick around

4. Lae’zel. Hear me out she is extremely brusque and not always great with people, but the way that she is so straightforward and honest about her intentions, her goals, and what she’s trying to do to get everyone there would earn her a lot of respect very quickly. The people love a good clear consistent routine.

3. Jaheira. wins the award for most gay kids eating in her room at lunch. easily. never has a lesson plan but somehow her kids are always doing the best out of everyone in the building. takes no shit.

2. Gale. D1 yapper just like me for real. canonically IS a teacher. sometimes get stuck on tangents or forgets that students do not want to sit and listen to lectures for as long as he does. me personally I don’t think threatening to blow yourself up would be effective classroom management but male teachers simply get away with five times as much as they should

1. Wyll. One of the highest compliments I can give to another human being is that they would be an excellent specifically middle school teacher and I really think Wyll has the personality for it. he is so patient and warm and kind to others and unwaveringly principled AND extremely self-sacrificing so you know that admin love him. no one knows how he does it.

[wands-natsthing]

I was thinking your starting as a teacher at nevermore (reader is a werewolf) and because they're living on site they only communicate with their husband through texts and stuff. They try to set up a date between the two of them but are denied over and over again, eventually they have a private meeting with Larissa to discuss how they're doing at the new job and they kinda just start rambling about it? Idk I just want comfort from tall pretty lady lol <333

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒

Hellooooo sooo THIS ISNT GREAT AT ALL! But It is a start to get back into writing and posting so I hope you enjoy anon!!

As usual feedback is more than welcomed!! And I enjoy reading the comments and things so much!!

THERES no warnings besides the fact that this is lowkey shit and I’m sorry!

Word count: 790 this is a rlly short one

Ily you all 🫶

Also barely proofread

As the school bell tolled, signaling the end of another day, you sat in your cozy but cluttered classroom. A stack of ungraded papers loomed large on your desk, along with the impending full moon later tonight, but your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

You glanced at your phone, hoping for a message from your husband.

Adjusting to this new job had been a challenge. Each day was filled of bright-eyed students and the unique quirks of teaching supernaturals with diverse powers. However, the real difficulty lay in living on-site while juggling a position that consumed most of your time.

While you tried your best to stay connected, he did not seem to return the same courtesy.

“Hey, love. Can we set a date soon? I miss you.”

Pressing send brought a mix of hope and anxiety. You often found yourself daydreaming of evenings spent together candlelit dinners outside under the stars or cozy nights in. But those moments had become nearly impossible recently, with the chaos of your teaching schedule and the everyday hurdles of werewolf life creeping in. It wasn't long before your phone buzzed.

“I’m busy at the moment. Let’s try again soon?”

Another letdown. You sighed, feeling the weight of disappointment settle heavily in your chest. You needed support and just wanted to share how your day went, stresses, and laughter with someone, anyone at this point.

As the days rolled on, this pattern continued. Text messages flew back and forth, filled with brief exchanges and promises of plans. Yet, the long separation gnawed at your heart, leaving you feeling lonely.

With a mountain of overdue papers to grade, you knew it was only a matter of time before Larissa Weems, the headmistress of Nevermore, summoned you for a private meeting.

You entered her office, nervously adjusting the collar of your shirt. Moonlight combined with a small table lamp lit the room. “Thank you for seeing me, Headmistress.”

“Of course, darling. And please call me Larissa when we're alone,” she said, gesturing for you to sit. Her voice was smooth and inviting.

“I wanted to check in on how you’re adjusting. Teaching at Nevermore isn’t a small feat, especially for someone new.”

“I appreciate that,” you replied, warmth flooding your face at the pet name. “It’s been… a challenge, but nothing I can't handle. The students are incredible,” you said with a small smile.

Larissa nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s okay to feel that way. It’s a lot to manage. I can’t help but notice you’ve been distant. Is it the job, or is something else troubling you?”

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully until finally, the dam broke. “It’s my husband. I've been trying to set up dates, but every time I try, something comes up. I just feel distant from him, and I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.”

Larissa leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady and warm. “Distance can be a heavy burden, especially when you're trying to maintain a connection with someone you love. It’s completely understandable to feel lost among the chaos.” She allowed a moment of silence for you to absorb her words before continuing. “You know,” she said, a playful smile dancing on her lips, “there are other kinds of connections that can help fill that void. Sometimes, a touch of companionship is just what one needs.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, hinting at a deeper meaning.

As you blinked in surprise, Larissa leaned slightly forward, light creating shadows that danced across her elegant features. “I admire your dedication to your husband, truly. But don’t forget to nurture yourself as well. You deserve someone to lean on, someone who can brighten your days… perhaps even a charming headmistress.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, a mix of comfort and thrill at her flirtation. “Larissa, I—”

“Look, you’re a remarkable person, and it’s only natural to crave connection. Life can be overwhelming, but it’s important to embrace all the experiences that come your way. Don’t be afraid to let yourself be cherished, even if it’s just for a moment.” With that, Larissa’s fingers brushed against your hand, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“You are not alone in this, and it’s okay to seek out something or someone that brings you joy.”

Your pulse quickened, caught off guard by the soft intensity of her words. “I’m trying to figure everything out,” you replied, feeling both reassured and intrigued by Larissa’s flirtatious words.

“Just remember, sometimes the heart knows exactly what it desires, even when the mind hesitates. And if you ever need a listening ear or some special company, you know where to find me.” She said with a wink.

“Now, about those ungraded papers?”

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 2: See me

Chap 2. Summary: To be loved is to be seen. You're slowly learning that Joel sees you a lot more than you realize. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for future smut) Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, no smut (yet...pls be patient), tension, banter, a fuck ton of angst, mutual pining, language... I think that's it this go around? A/N: trust me, we're building up to the good stuff. I'm just enjoying developing Joel and the reader a bit more, so pls hang tight. It's all coming soon, I promise.

Masterlist

It had been two weeks since you had last seen Joel. You managed to get through the first round of tests and projects for each of your classes, but as the midterms slowly approached, you began to notice a shift in your students—specifically, Sarah. It wasn’t noticeable at first; she was still chatty with her friends, but her grades were slipping. Then, it became her grades and mood. During lessons, you’d catch her staring out the window blankly or doodling dismissively on the margins of her notebook when you were running through the guidelines for the midterms. She lingered longer after the school bell, choosing not to leave with her friends. After a particularly dull day of presentations, you decided to pull her aside after class. Sarah was reluctant to stay, but you reassured her she wasn’t in trouble. 

“I’ve noticed you’re a bit off lately, Sarah,” you said, leaning against the edge of your desk. 

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” she shrugged. 

She wouldn’t meet your eyes, and you noticed her shifting her weight between her legs the longer she stood in the empty room with you. You feared something was happening at home with Joel, but you didn’t want to explore that topic with your twelve-year-old student. Instead, you gave her a soft smile and tried a different approach. 

“I know you’re on the soccer team. Has that been tiring you out?” You asked.

“I mean, I guess so.”

“When’s your first game?” You were really trying now. 

Sarah tightened her fingers around the straps of her backpack, staring at the floor. 

“This Saturday,” she mumbled. 

“Are you excited? I’m sure your dad can’t wait to cheer you on!”

There it was—the breaking point. 

She looked up at you through blurry eyes, biting her lip to stop from crying. You immediately regretted bringing up Joel. You had overstepped a boundary, and you were paying the price. Dipping your head to meet her at eye level, you placed both hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort her the best you could. 

“Oh, honey,” you sighed. “I’m sorry. Is that what’s been upsetting you?”

She nodded, sniffling back the tears. 

“He’s always working,” she explained. “I don’t really think he’ll make time to come watch me play.”

“I bet he wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assured her. 

“Yeah,” she said, wiping away a stray tear. 

You watched the defeat etch itself into her features, the deep frown across her face, the brightness in her eyes dwindling. You wanted to believe Joel was a good dad, and you had no doubt he was trying his hardest, but that clearly wasn’t enough. Tipping your fingers under her chin, you coaxed her eyes to meet yours. 

“Look, how about I go?” You offered. “I know I’m not the person you want to see on the sidelines, but I would love to watch you play.”

“Really?” She asked, her eyes growing wide. 

“Really,” you promised. 

Your words seemed to have soothed a bit of the ache inside of her, and she left the classroom with a smile growing on her face. If Joel wouldn’t show up for her, then you would. She deserved someone cheering her on; she deserved to be happy. 

Whoever decided to schedule soccer games at eight AM on a Saturday was cruel, but regardless, you threw on some leggings and a sweater and made your way to the school soccer fields. The parking lot was littered with minivans and families walking with lawn chairs tucked under their arms, their coolers filled with juice pouches and snacks dragging behind them. Obviously, you were uncultured in the sports world and came without a chair or blanket…or anything. So, you opted to stand behind the line of parents on the field, swaying under the morning breeze as you watched the kids chase the ball across the field. 

Your eyes never left Sarah while she was on the field; her bouncy curls and lean figure were easy to spot among the other players. She was quick when given the ball, dodging the opponents as she neared the net. There were only three minutes left in the first half of the game, and she had possession of the ball, weaving in and out of the players tracking her moves. You held your breath as she ran closer to the net, the ball easily controlled under her feet. An opponent was gaining on her, trying to kick the ball away, but Sarah did a little twirl and evaded them perfectly to shoot the game's first point. You were cheering and clapping loudly with the other parents on the sideline, watching her teammates swarm her with hugs. But as the cheering died out, you were left with this profound sadness that her dad wasn’t here to see her first goal. 

You let that bitterness grow inside you as you watched the remainder of the game.

When the final whistle blew, the team won 1-0, with Sarah being the game's star player. With a sheen of sweat over her forehead and a juice pouch in hand, Sarah skipped over to you with a bright smile. 

“Great job!” You cheered, welcoming her into a warm embrace.

She squeezed her arms around your torso, babbling off a slew of ‘thank you’s.’ You put aside your anger towards Joel as you grounded yourself in the moment. Sarah deserved this celebration, and you would happily give her every bit of attention you could. 

“Do you need a ride home, honey?” You asked, pulling away from the hug. 

Sarah’s cheery exterior faltered as she looked around at the families embracing their children. You knew where her mind was going. Looking around, she nodded slowly, clutching her drink tightly. 

“My friend’s parents took me here, but I think they’re going out to lunch. I was hoping my dad would be here, but…” She trailed off. 

“I’m happy to take you home, Sarah. Want some food for the drive home?” You offered. 

That bright smile was back as she happily agreed, following you back to your car. 

Both you and Sarah were munching on fries and singing along to pop tunes when you finally parked in front of her house. To your detriment, Joel’s truck was parked in the driveway. Sarah timidly looked between you and the truck as she gathered her sports bag and soda cup, thanking you again for the day spent together. You gave her the best fake smile you could conjure up and watched her head to the front door. 

You sat in front of the driveway for an extra few minutes, debating whether you should confront Joel, but before you could even decide, he was walking down the front porch and towards your car. That bitterness and anger you had suppressed all day surged forward, and you jumped out of the car to face him with a frown drawn on your face.

Joel greeted you with your name falling off his tongue, and you didn’t have time to register the beautiful way it sounded in his Southern accent before you began spewing a litany of remarks about how you felt. 

“Why weren’t you there?” You shouted, your body at arm's length from his. You needed to distance yourself from him, too afraid that your anger would send a hand flying across his face. You had to remind yourself that he was Sarah’s dad and you were her teacher, but that wouldn’t stop you from speaking your mind. 

Joel looked at you with a furrow of confusion and guilt, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. It was apparent he regretted missing the game, but that didn’t matter. Saying sorry wouldn’t turn back the clock and magically make everything better. You knew that firsthand.

“Tommy and I had an early meetin’ with a contractor,” he explained. “Trust me, I hate that I missed the game.”

“You didn’t just miss the game. You missed her first goal,” you snapped. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, rocking his heels. “I appreciate you takin’ the time to go and watch her play. And drivin’ her home… and gettin’ her lunch.”

“I did everything you should have done,” you accused. 

Joel swallowed thickly, his eyes settling on yours with a wave of sadness passing through his irises. Those big puppy dog eyes wouldn’t soothe the anger steamrolling over your professionalism. Fuck being professional. Sarah deserved a dad who was present, and if no one were going to call him out on his bullshit, you’d do it.

“I feel real shitty ‘bout it,” he sighed. “You ain’t gotta remind me.”

“You should feel shitty. She’s your daughter. I shouldn’t have to be the only one cheering for her on the sidelines. Nothing should be more important than that.”

“Would you quit lecturin’ me?” Joel barked. “I know I fucked up, and I already apologized to her. Again, I appreciate you takin’ the time to be there for her, and I’m real sorry for makin’ you do that.”

You huffed a laugh, folding your arms over your chest. 

“You didn’t make me do anything,” you argued. “I wanted to be there for her, but she wanted you to be there for her.”

Joel said nothing at that, only stared at you in stunned silence. You were done with him, letting your anger get the best of you. 

“I know what it feels like when the one person you want to see doesn’t show up. I know that disappointment. Have a great day, Mr. Miller. Tell Sarah I’ll see her on Monday.”

You spun on your heel toward your car, flinging the door open with more force than you wanted. You shouldn’t have brought your past into it; Joel was nothing like Bennette, but it hurt all the same. 

Joel didn’t try to stop you as you drove out of the neighborhood, but he remained at the curb of his driveway, his eyes never leaving you until you were out of view. 

You barely managed to put your car in park before you broke down in tears. Everything was crashing at the surface, and you didn’t have the strength to bottle it away this time. Bennett had been your entire world for five years. Your whole life revolved around him, from going to the same grad school together to moving away from Boston to be with him in his new career. You left everything behind for him and were happy to do it because you loved him. Despite his flaws and the “not-so-picture perfect” relationship, you stayed because you loved him. And in that moment when you needed him to be there for you… he was gone. You weren’t lying to Joel when you said you knew what that disappointment felt like; it was that same feeling that kept you up at night when you wondered if you had done something to deserve it. But Sarah? Sarah did nothing to deserve to be abandoned by her dad. All she wanted was to see that one person cheering her on from the sidelines, to hug her and tell her she was loved. 

She didn’t get that today. 

And you didn’t get that two years ago. 

With whatever dignity you had left, you dragged yourself inside and into your bedroom, flinging yourself onto the mattress. Curling into a ball on top of the comforter, you let the tears continue to fall as you stared at the empty walls where the pictures of you and Bennett had hung before. Every inch of this house was a reminder of the scars Bennett left on your heart. You could have moved out months ago, you could have gone home, but what was the use when the pain would just travel with you? Shutting your eyes, you let the emotions exhaust you until you drifted asleep. 

“Bennett, I told you what time the cake tasting was scheduled for,” you shouted across the kitchen. 

Bennett wasn’t even listening as he responded to a thread of emails on his computer. The law firm he had been working at kept him on a short leash, always requiring him to be there at their beck and call. Between you and his job, his loyalty was in the latter. 

“I know,” he nodded, still glued to the computer screen. “They needed a proxy for the shareholder meeting and asked me to step in.”

“We’ve had this scheduled for weeks now. You can’t expect me to make all these decisions alone.”

“Whatever cake you choose, I’m sure I’ll love it,” he shrugged.

“That's not the point!” You yelled, slamming down the Tupperware you had been scrubbing. 

That caught his attention. Slamming the laptop shut, Bennett’s nostrils flared at your sudden outburst. You weren’t usually this outspoken; you were always the level-headed and obedient fiancé he expected to have. But the entire engagement had been a disaster, between work conflicts and the constant pressure he put on you. Every day, he expected to come home to a fresh meal, never considering that your job didn’t end when three PM hit. Being a teacher meant your responsibilities began at home, when you were hunched over curating the next lesson and grading papers. You never complained about his workload extending into the evening, either. God forbid you ask for more time together. 

“What is the point?” He snapped.

“The point is that I want you there. I want you to be a part of this wedding planning process. All I’m asking for is two hours together, where we eat too much sugar and choose a damn cake flavor. It’s not even about the fucking cake, Bennett. It’s about you being present in this engagement.”

“Are you saying I’m not present?” He accused. “Because I have been as present as possible despite me working so hard to fund this big wedding that you wanted!”

“I just want you there with me for these things. Even if they aren’t important to you, it’s important to me,” you said, your energy dwindling. He always found a way to make you feel bad, and you looked past it for the sake of your heart. You loved him and did everything you could to make him love you in return. If that meant placating your feelings, you’d do it. 

“If it’s so important to you, then just go. You can tell me all about it when I get home tomorrow.”

That was the best resolution you’d get, and there was no use fighting anymore. He would always win. 

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “I’ll do that.”

Bennett rose from his chair and met you around the kitchen counter with a big hug. He rested his chin on your head as you melted into his chest.

“I love you, honey. I don’t want you angry at me all the time. You know I’m trying my hardest to be everywhere all at once. Just work with me, okay?” he sighed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be better about it. I love you, too,” you whispered.

A firm knock on your front door jolted you awake from the flood of memories in your dreams. The shadows in your room were a telltale sign you had slept through most of the afternoon, which would put a hefty dent in the list of never-ending work you needed to finish. Sulking through the house to the front door, you smoothed down your hair and sweater, trying to gather your bearings. With one last heavy inhale, you pried the door open and stood paralyzed at the person standing before you. 

Joel said your name softly, his eyes tired and hair ruffled at the crown of his head. He looked as just a mess as you did, but most definitely for different reasons.

“Mr. Miller,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

He swayed back on his heels, holding your eyes apologetically. It was written all over his face; he didn’t need to say the words.

“Our conversation earlier ain’t sittin’ right with me,” he sighed.

“I overstepped, and I’m sorry,” you said honestly. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

Joel held his hand in protest, shaking his head at your words.

“Don’t apologize, okay? You were right about everything. I shoulda been there, and I wasn’t. I let her down.”

“Mr. Miller, I—.”

“I let her down,” he repeated. “And I let you down.”

You stood in stunned silence, trying to understand his words. Joel watched you turn the words over in your head, his eyes never leaving yours. He said everything you had ever asked to hear from Bennett in just a few words. You didn’t understand the emotions stirring inside you, nor could you control the tears welling in your eyes. This would be the second time you cried today, and now it would be the second time you cried in front of Joel. 

“You didn’t let me down,” you faltered. 

“I did. I want you to see that I’m not a bad father, but I seem to keep makin’ mistakes left and right. She expected me to be there, and so did you. I’m the type of man who makes and keeps his promises, but lately, I’ve been fallin’ short. It ain’t fair to her, and it ain’t fair to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you whispered, wiping your tears. 

“I sure as hell do,” he protested. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, okay? I’m gonna do better about bein’ there for her, and I want you to see that. I don’t wanna keep fuckin’ it all up.”

“Did you tell her that?” You asked. 

“I did, and now I’m tellin’ you. I want you holdin’ me accountable on all this, and I want you to call me out on my bullshit like you did earlier. I needed to hear all that.”

“I was just angry. I didn’t need to be that mean to you.”

Joel lifted his hand to brush away a stray tear falling down your cheek, the touch of his hand on your skin electrifying you. You flinched away, trying to curl into yourself. He noticed your movements, letting his hand fall back to his side. You glanced down, watching him clench his hand into a fist as if he were trying to control an urge inside of him. You were trying to do the same; being near him scared you. It shocked you to see someone act mature and actually own up to their faults; it was something Bennett rarely did. You couldn’t make sense of it. 

“There ain’t a single part of me that’s mad at you, okay? Don’t ever be afraid to speak your mind—at least not with me,” Joel said. 

You only nodded, too afraid that if you spoke now, you’d succumb to an ugly sob. Joel’s broad frame was shadowed and looming over you in the dying sunlight, a cloud over the haze inside your mind. Joel didn’t understand the weight in those words, the way they sewed shut the empty holes left inside you. It wasn’t Bennett saying them, and it definitely didn’t rewrite the past, but it was writing the future. It was a future with the possibility that you weren’t as broken as you thought. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. “I—just thank you.”

“Somethin’ tells me you ain’t been told these things before, huh?” Joel prodded. 

“It doesn’t matter. I appreciate you taking the time to come out here, and I’m sorry again. I promise I’ll be better about my anger,” you laughed, hoping you’d be able to brush it off with a forced smile. 

Joel saw right through you; his lips tugged down into a frown. You watched the crease between his eyebrows appear as he watched you minimize yourself right back down to zero. It wasn’t easier that way—making yourself small. Too big, and you’d be too much to handle. You were tired of being too much for anyone; it had already been your downfall once before. 

“Whoever made you feel like y’need to apologize all the time is a real piece of shit,” Joel huffed. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Miller. Thank you again for stopping by.”

“It’s the least I could do. And y’know what? I’d be happy if you joined me at the rest of her games. She loved havin’ you there, and I know it would mean a lot to her to see you on the sidelines again. Think that’s somethin’ you’d interested in?”

“I’ll think about it, yeah,” you smiled. 

“Yeah? Good,” he exhaled. 

Joel met you with a genuine smile, his eyes dancing over your face. You swayed in the doorway, unsure of what to do now that the conversation was coming to an end. A strange part of you didn’t want it to end; the stillness with him had managed to bottle away all of the lingering memories of Bennett, even if only for a moment. You’d take this over, crying yourself asleep like so often did. 

“You should head home to Sarah,” you sighed. “I hope you have a good weekend, Mr. Miller.”

“You have a g’night, alright?”

You watched him walk down the porch steps, the muscles in his back tense as he retreated back to his truck. You should have walked your ass back inside, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Before opening the truck door, Joel glanced back at you, waving a quick goodbye. You waved back and waited until his truck dissolved into the distance to finally shut your door and sit in the blaring silence. 

You watched the night fade away from the comfort of your couch, a half-eaten sandwich in front of you and a wine glass in hand. Not only did you overstep your boundaries as a teacher, but you overstepped every possible rule between a teacher and parent. Despite what happened at the bar with Joel, he was still Sarah’s dad and completely undeserving of the anger you had toward him today. He was slipping behind every brick wall you had built up around you, a fortress no one could penetrate, yet he was managing to do it so effortlessly. And it was infuriating. How were you supposed to protect yourself from him? Bennett had been the perfect man at the start, always saying the right things and showing his love in so many different ways, but even with the rose-colored glasses on, that all crumpled away as time moved on. Nothing about your relationship was perfect, yet you tried to mend the broken pieces in hopes the possibility of marriage would solve all your problems. But clearly, it didn’t. It never even made it to marriage.

You weren’t even considering dating Joel, but that didn’t stop you from doubting he would be any different than Bennett. Sure, he might seem interested now, but that would change once he saw every damaged piece of you. You were hardly controlling your emotions, as it were, so why would you spend the time sharing the rawest parts of yourself with someone who would end up leaving?

I’ll do better, you told yourself. Bottle it away.

Another week passed by without fuss; the students passed their practice exams and had even begun working on their group presentations on the new poetry unit you had created. After next week's midterm exams, you’d be on a plane heading to Boston to see your family during the fall break. You hadn’t been home in over a year, and you were well aware of the fact your parents and sisters missed you. It’s not that you didn’t miss them, but going home was another reminder of all you had lost. But you’d steer clear of the roads you’d traveled down with Bennett, you’d avoid the bars and restaurants he had taken you to, and you’d absolutely banish all thoughts of returning to the Public Garden where he had proposed. Every corner of your hometown was haunted by the ghosts of what had been, but you’d brave it for the sake of family. 

You had forfeited any thought of going to the soccer game out of sheer self-preservation. Being around Joel more than necessary was putting you at risk for an inevitable heartbreak, and it just wasn’t something you were ready to deal with. You didn’t want to let Sarah down, but Joel would be there for her, and that mattered more than you standing on the sidelines. She didn’t need you there; you’d only gone to the game to fill a void within her life. Joel was going to stick to his word, and you’d be able to maintain your teacher-parent relationship once again. You still had yet to forgive yourself for Saturday’s outburst. 

It wasn’t until Thursday when Sarah approached you, that you were reminded of the game.

When she approached your desk at the end of class, she had her textbook in hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder. You were feeling particularly drained from the day after spending most of the night tossing and turning between nightmares, and you had to muster up the strength to keep things light between you and her.

“So,” she started, a bright smile plastered on her face. “My dad said you might come to the game Saturday.”

“Oh, yeah. I—I haven’t decided yet. I’ve got to make sure everything is prepped for testing next week,” you lied.

“Oh,” her face fell. “That’s okay. I know the exams are important.”

Fuck.

You were transported right back to the kitchen with Bennett.

“I’m sure the prep work can wait till after the game,” you smiled, already giving up on your initial plans to avoid everything—everything being Joel Miller.

“If you don’t want to come…” Sarah trailed off, looking down at her sneakers.

“Hey,” you said softly. Her eyes traveled up to meet yours again. “I’ll be there. You have my word.”

Sarah perked up, nodding her head enthusiastically. 

“I’ll tell my dad! Maybe we can all get lunch after!” She babbled excitedly. 

Oh, Christ. 

“I’m sure you guys will want the day together,” you smiled, your patient wearing. “Go enjoy your night, Sarah. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Don’t forget your notes on Shakespeare!”

“Bye, Miss Smith!”

You watched her sprint out of the room to catch up with her friends, and you sunk into your chair, dreading what may come during the weekend. 

Maria stopped by your classroom after the final bell, skeptically looking at you while you gathered your work bag. Thankfully, you both had Thursdays free of crosswalk duty, and you were ready to get home and sulk away under the guise of cheap wine and a bubble bath. 

“You’re extra grumpy today,” Maria noted, slinging her large purse over one shoulder. 

“I’m not grumpy,” you huffed. “I’m fucked. Completely fucked.”

She barked a laugh and watched you stuff files into your bag before you grabbed your keys and shooed her out to lock the door. The hallways were empty, except for a few teachers trickling out, and you walked a pace quicker, trying to escape the building before anyone else stopped you. 

“Why do I get a feeling this may be because of a certain parent?” She asked, shoving into you playfully. 

“Yes,” you grumbled. 

“Explain!”

“Ugh, okay. Listen, all of this is against my own will, okay?” 

You peered over at her, seeing a wicked smile splitting across her face. If anyone was on board with your confused emotions towards Joel Miller, it was Maria. She had been all for it since day one, and you knew she wouldn’t shut up about it until she saw you and him together. Which wouldn’t be happening. 

You dive into retelling the events of Saturday, including the outburst and the conversation with Joel that had followed. All through your rambling, Maria was squealing like a little girl and inserting small remarks here and there—all of which revolved around the idea that you should fuck out your feelings and get it over with. 

“Maria,” you snapped. “I’m not going to fuck him! Would you quit that?”

She shrugged, laughing off your stubbornness. 

“All I’m saying is that there is clearly some sort of chemistry between you both,” she sassed. “One night of hot sex might clear your mind, and you can resume your up-tight ‘teacher-parent’ bullshit you’re trying so hard to keep.”

“It’s not bullshit, Maria,” you argued. “It’s called being professional.”

You both had made it to the parking lot, and you tried to inch closer to your car in hopes of coming out unscathed from this conversation. But Maria was anything but relentless. 

“You really need to get laid,” Maria huffed. “Dust off the cobwebs and get back out there.”

“I’m perfectly fine with how my life is right now. I don’t need to get laid, and I certainly don’t need to be in a relationship.”

Maria grabbed your hands in hers, leveling you with a stern look under her thick mascara-coated lashes. With her lips set in a firm line, she squeezed your hands.

“It’s been two years,” she sighed. “Stop letting Bennett control your life. He’s in the past, and you need to find a new future—preferably one where you’re happy and in love.”

You squeezed her fingers in return, giving her a sad smile. You knew somewhere inside you that she was right, but it wasn’t in the cards for you right now. Not when you still had so much healing to do. 

“Thank you, Maria,” you whispered. 

When you arrived at the school, the soccer game had already begun. Your car sat idle in the parking lot for nearly twenty minutes until you finally found the strength to head toward the soccer fields. Among the line of parents on the sidelines, Joel was standing further away, his body swaying against the windy morning as his eyes stay focused on the field. You walked up slowly, smoothing out your t-shirt and running sweaty palms over your jeans. You definitely didn’t spend too much time getting ready for a simple game. As if he felt your energy circling him, Joel turned toward you with a beautiful smile breaking across his face. 

“I was hopin’ you’d show up,” he said. 

“Good morning, Mr. Miller,” you greeted. 

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself beside him, so you mimicked his stance and folded your arms over your chest. With the morning sun rising above the soccer field, you watched as his skin glowed in the sunlight, his tanned skin illuminated in the soft hues of the sunrise. He was undeniably gorgeous, but you forced that thought away along with all of the unruly ones that seemed to constantly evade your mind. 

“Sarah’s doin’ great out there so far,” he mentioned. “Got herself close to scorin’ a goal ten minutes ago. No doubt she’ll get one at some point.”

“I bet she will. She’s amazing out there.”

Joel beamed at your compliments of his daughter, his eyes tracking her as she ran across the field. A teammate shot the ball to her, and you both stood silently as she kept control of it toward the goal. Instead of taking the shot herself, she crossed the ball to another teammate, letting them score the first goal of the game. The parents on the sidelines sounded off with a round of cheers, and you and Joel joined in on the excitement. 

“She’s a team player,” you commented. “That’s a good quality.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled proudly. 

This. This is what you had hoped to see for Sarah. A dad who was present and proud of her accomplishments. You could give her all the applause in the world, but his voice cheering above the rest was what mattered the most. 

There was a lull in conversation for a while as you both watched the game with rapt attention. You tried hard not to notice the way Joel shifted closer to you or the fact that he had dropped his arms so that he could casually brush his against yours. Each touch of his skin against yours was like a wave of heat rushing through your body, an electric current that started with him and ended with you. There was no doubt he did it on purpose, but you did nothing to stop it. You were losing the war between self-restraint and vulnerability. 

“How’s she likin’ class?” He asked, making small talk. 

You shrugged, glancing at him with an easy smile. 

“She’s one of the best kids in her grade. This new unit we’re working on will be a challenge, but I know she’s up for it.”

“What’s the new unit?”

“Poetry.”

Joel snorted a laugh, his fingers brushing against the denim on your leg. You shifted to glare at him, amused at his response. 

“What’s so funny, Mr. Miller?”

He ran a hand through the curls atop his head, giving you a lopsided grin. 

“Nothin’,” he chuckled. “Just don’t understand why poetry is so popular in schools nowadays.”

“Poetry has always been popular,” you said pointedly. 

“Has it? Must not have paid much attention back in the day,” he smirked. 

“It’s my favorite unit to teach,” you confessed. “I think poetry gets a bad rap—clearly—but it’s important to understand the way words can convey so many layered emotions in the simplest of ways.”

Joel eyed you as you spoke, nodding along with you as you spoke. Even if he wasn’t completely sold on the idea of poetry, you enjoyed how attentive he was to the conversation. In the distance, you heard the parents cheer again, and you glanced at the field to see Sarah running with the ball toward the goal. 

“Look!” You said, pointing toward the field.

Joel snapped his head back to his daughter, watching as she sent the ball soaring into the net. You jumped up and down, clapping at her goal and yelling out her name in excitement.

“That’s my girl!” Joel cheered. “Way to go, Sarah!”

Sarah looked over at him, her cheeks rosy from the play, and shot him two thumbs up. Joel returned the same hand gesture; his cheeks stretched wide with a smile as he watched his daughter dance into an embrace from her teammate. 

“You were sayin’,” he pressed, his eyes sliding back to you. 

“Oh,” you laughed. “That’s okay. I don’t want to bore you with all the school talk.”

“You ain’t borin’ me. I wanna hear what you have to say.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, realizing he wasn’t just asking these things to make small talk. He sincerely wanted to know the things you were interested in and the work you did, which was far from what you received from Bennett. Half the time you talked about your lessons, Bennett would just aimlessly nod while typing his emails and debriefs, his attention far away from you.

“Well, I’m starting off by teaching them about Shakespeare,” you explained, watching Joel open his mouth to make a retort. You held your hand up in defense and continued. “Before you go complaining about Shakespeare, I’ll have you know he’s one of the most renowned dramatists in history. His stylist choices in his playwrights were unlike anything else, and his work has completely impacted modern-day English. It’s because of him that we have so many words and phrases in the English language. Say what you want, but he really is worth learning about.”

Joel studied you for a moment, his lips curving up at the corners. You weren’t used to rambling off about useless things, more because you never really had the chance in the past. It was exciting to talk about the things you were passionate about, and you didn’t realize you’d find that moment being with Joel Miller. 

“Maybe I need to read some of his work,” Joel said. “What’s your favorite?”

“My favorite?” You blinked at him. “Oh, um, it’s cliche, but my favorite is Romeo and Juliet. That’s what I’m starting with on the unit.”

“Sarah got a copy of it?” he asked. 

“She should, yes.”

“Might need to steal it from her so I can see what all this fuss is about,” he smiled, bumping his arm into yours. 

“You don’t need to do all that,” you muttered. “I’m sure Sarah could tell you all about it after she’s done reading it.”

“I’m sure she could,” he acknowledged. “But maybe I'd like to do the research.”

“Research?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

Joel leaned into you, his face drawn closer to yours. 

“Yeah, research,” he repeated. “I wanna know why y’like it so much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, all words seemingly melting from your brain. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? He wanted to take the time to understand your interests… but why? Once again, Joel was proving to be everything you never saw in Bennett. And it scared the fuck out of you. Because you couldn’t date Joel, nor did you want to. Giving yourself up to another person, exposing those vulnerable parts of yourself like that would just be inviting the possibility of another heartbreak. 

“I can save you the time and tell you instead,” you offered. 

“Nah,” he smiled. “I wanna find out myself.”

The game came to a close, with the school team winning 2-0. Joel embraced Sarah when she ran off the field, wrapping her into a gigantic bear hug and planting a kiss on her forehead. You gave her a small high five, congratulating her on the win. You followed them out to the parking lot, watching as Joel kept his arm wrapped around Sarah’s narrow frame. From this angle, they looked like the perfect father-daughter duo, and your heart seized with happiness knowing he had kept his word. 

Digging through your purse for your car keys, you said a quick goodbye and made a beeline for your car. You wouldn’t insert yourself in the rest of their day; you needed to find some distance between you and Joel before he started crawling further under your skin. But as you tugged open your car door, a warmth grew behind you, and you turned to see Joel standing a few steps away. Sarah was nowhere in sight, so you figured she was already waiting for him in his truck. 

“Yes?” You asked, standing idle between the open door and Joel’s tall body. 

His eyes bounced between your lips and your eyes, never settling on one too long. 

“Look, this is gonna sound forward of me, and I can probably guess your answer,” he started. “But can I take you out to dinner sometime? As a ‘thank you' for everything.”

“Mr. Miller,” you sighed. “I appreciate the invitation, but this needs to remain purely professional. I’m Sarah’s teacher, and I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes trailing to the ground. Despite every cell inside your body screaming yes, you needed to stick to your rules—whatever the hell they were.

“I figured you’d say that,” he mumbled. "Listen, let me give you my number at least. If you ever change your mind, or if you need someone to drive you home from the bar, y’can shoot me a call. Is that okay?”

“I…” You trailed off, considering his offer. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

You searched for your phone in your purse, handing it over to him with shaky hands. His fingers brushed against yours as he took it, a crackle of energy bursting through your skin at his touch. He must have noticed, too, because his eyes met yours before he typed in his number. With a few more clicks on your phone, he handed it back, brushing his hand over yours once more. 

“I sent myself a text on it,” he confessed. “Now I have yours, just in case of anything, y’know?”

“Yeah, just in case.”

Joel gave you a soft smile before turning and walking away. You watched his figure fade into the cars still filling the parking lot and caught him glancing back at you one last time. You stared down at your phone, seeing the text lit up on the screen. He had sent one simple word to himself: your name. Not Miss Smith, not ‘Sarah’s teacher’, but your name. 

You opened his contact information and typed one simple word: Joel

[vinylfoxbooks]

25 Days of Jegumas | Day 1 | Day 12 December 13 - Party | @noblehouseofgay | wc: 873

“Why does Harry’s school have multiple Christmas parties?” Regulus complains, finishing putting his coat on, “In what world do children need to have two, one this far away from their break?”

James laughs, “It’s not a Christmas party, love. This is parent’s day. The kids are going to present what they’ve been working on throughout the year so far to us and we’re going to get to talk to their friends and classmates. Lily and Pandora are going to be there, too.” 

Regulus sighs, “I guess. And we’re there for both Harry and Luna?”

“Of course, what kind fo question is that. Luna is your goddaughter and my step-daughter.”

Regulus hums, “I guess, just as long as we don’t have to be there for very long.” 

James shakes their head, “Harry is going with Lily and Pandora tonight, so I’m sure that we can make some excuse as to why we might need to leave, or we can tell Lils and Pandora and they’ll be fine with it.”

“Don’t be rational while I’m complaining.” Regulus pouts just a bit, putting his shoes on. 

James hums, pulling Regulus to a stand and towards their body, “It won’t be that bad, and we’re not even there for the entire day.” 

“But I have to leave the warmth of our home and my office to go to something where I have to deal with gross, sticky children and parents that are way too attracted to you.”

James laughs softly at that, “We’ll have Lily and Pandora there. I know that they don’t believe that we’re married, but if I have Lily step in for me then I’m sure it’ll be easier. This will be the first time that the parents see me with anyone other than you.” They hum, linking their arm through his and guiding him out of the house, “And don’t talk like that about Harry’s classmates.” 

“I’m not wrong,” Regulus pouts, smiling gently at them and letting them guide him to the passenger side of the car. They make a show of opening the door for him, which Regulus rolls his eyes aat before getting into the car. James closes the door and circles the car to get in as well.

Lily and Pandora are doing well when they meet James and Regulus in the parking lot of Harry and Luna’s school, albeit a bit tired from all their traveling. But they’re bright and they’re happy and James and Regulus pull them both into hugs and kiss their cheeks. When their greetings are done, James smiles at their ex-wife, “Rrgulus has requested that you play the role of James Potter’s wife so the parents don’t try to flirt with me and they finally find an ‘real’ reason to back off.” Lily laughs softly but agrees, reaching out her elbow for James to take. Regulus says something -- probably snarky -- to Pandora as they slot their elbow with hers before doing the same with his best friend. The two couples enter the school and check in, get their badges, and head to the classroom that their children are in.

There are a couple adults in the room, a couple talking to the teacher sittting at the back of the room and two sets of parents kneeling near their kid’s’ tables. 

“Papas! Mamas!” Harry calls from where he’s curled next to Luna with sheets of paper in front of both of them and they’re sharing crayons. The little boy pops up, taking a second to help his step-sister up as well before the two are stumbling over to the four and pulling them into little, enthusiastic hugs. Luna seems thrilled to be seeing James and Regulus since she hasn’t seen them since Lily and Pandora went on their trip. And with that, Harry grabs at James’ other hand and pulls them towards Mrs. Kelly, their teacher. 

Mrs. Kelly smiles at them when she’s finally able to pull from her previous conversations, “It’s lovely that you all managed to make, there isn’t much strcutre here. The kids can just take you to see their artwork and you can read about the inspirations of it on each of the papers in the groups. You’re good to leave when you see fit, just come here and sign out, which I need you to sign in. You can also check out Harry and Luna but let me know and write that you’ve done that if you want to.” The family nods, so the teacher nods back and heads to talk to another set of parents that just walked in. 

Harry and Luna spend about thirty minutes pulling the adults around the little room and showing them their respective artworks before all of the art has been seen and they’re signing out and pulling Luna and Harry out of the class, artowkrs in their bacpacks. James and Regulus say their goodbyes to the kids and head to their car while the ladies get the kids in their carseats. 

“See,” James says once they’re in the car and heading home, reaching to rest their hand on his thigh,  “I told you that it wouldn’t be that bad.” 

“I guess you were right.” Regulus rolls his eyes, putting his own hand over theirs.

Day 14