#this is directed at my fucking math teacher because he’s a dick

[honeydewedlemon]

fuck you. Just. Btw.

[asterkiss]

4. "Just remember if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English" with Mabel and Bill please?

4. Remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.” Highschool!AU time! Because why not? This... took on a life of its own. Have some MaBill makeouts. Nothing too raunchy but teen rated.

- BREAK IN

'Hold this.’

Mabel almost dropped the backpack as the blond threw it in her direction. She grunted, holding it with both arms as he began fiddling with the door lock before them.

‘Jeez, what do you have in this thing?’ she said, eventually dropping it to the floor between her feet. ‘You’re worse than Dipper with his millions of books.’

His face soured at that even as his gaze remained focus on the door lock. ‘Rule one for tonight, don’t bring up Pine Tree.’

‘Why? Because he beat you on the maths test?’

He shot her a dark look, and she smiled brightly. ‘Kidding, kidding.’ She didn’t want to piss him off and have him stop helping her.

He regarded her for a moment longer before resuming his actions. A moment later there was an audible click and he stood up straihgt. ‘Alright, we’re in.’

The pair entered through the door, walking into the high school which was eerily quiet and empty in the dead of night. They’d come through a back door leading into the end of a corridor on the first floor.

Mabel pulled out her flashlight except his hand came out and plucked it out of her grasp. ‘Hey!’

‘No lights, idiot,’ he said, and she could just make out his stern expression from the light still filtering in from outside through the open door.

‘Well how are we meant to see?’ she asked as he closed the door behind them, plunging them into complete darkness.

‘Give it a second, your eyes will adjust. Don’t you know anything?’

Mabel frowned, not appreciating the jabs he kept shooting at her. Then again, Candy had warned her that Bill Cipher was an asshole when she mentioned she would be asking him for help.

‘I am sorry I can’t help you Mabel, but I am too ill to get out of bed. If you really want to fix things, you should go to Bill Cipher in my computing class. He is an A-Grade asshole but when it comes to computer hacking he is second best to me. Make sure you tell him that when you ask him for help.’

So she had. And he’d gotten really annoyed, insulting Candy and stating he’d help her out just to prove he was number one. Mabel wondered why it was the smartest guys that were somehow still the dumbest.

‘Rule two, stick by me and don’t go wandering off.’

They began to walk down the corridor, their footsteps echoing throughout the empty building. Her eyes did eventually adjust and she could make out his shilouette walking ahead of her.

‘Sooo, any other plans for tonight?’ she asked, disrupting the quiet atmosphere. ‘Other than breaking in with me, I mean.’

‘Eating babies and kicking some puppies.’

'Huh?’ Mabel looked at the back of his head in bafflement before a second passed. ‘You’re messing with me.’

‘You could tell?’

‘Do you act like a dick to everybody?’

‘Yep, it’s fun! You should try it.’ He glanced over his shoulder as they walked past a window, his face briefly allumianted and revealing the amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘I bet the old codgers in this place would have a hernia if you suddenly switched it up and told them to fuck off.’

‘I’m not going to do that!’

He shrugged, resuming his attention forward. ‘Have it your way, be boring.’

‘I’ll be nice!’

‘Same thing.’

>

>

>

They eventually found their way to the teachers office, where Bill pulled out his laptop from his bag and conncted himself to a computer. Mabel stood behind him, swaying on the spot as she watched him do... well, whatever it was you needed to hack in.

'Are you in yet?’ she asked after several minutes.

‘No.’

More minutes passed by.

‘Now?’

‘No.’

More minutes.

‘What about now-’

‘Do you ever shut up?’ he asked, shooting her an irritated stare.

Mabel blinked back at him. ‘Not really. I drive my brother up the wall.’

Bill glanced back down at his laptop. ‘You and your brother are both annoying in different ways.’

Before she could respond a light suddenly flashed through the door and they both froze as the sound of footsteps drew near. Bill cursed, closing his laptop and plunging the room into darknesss once again. He dropped to the floor beneath the desk, grabbing her arm as he yanked her down alongside. She released a small yell of surprise at the abruptness of it, the sound piercing through the air before he could slap a hand over her mouth.

‘Hey! Who’s in there!?’

Bill swore under his breath, his warm hand still covering her mouth. There wasn’t much space under the desk, and she was practically kneeling in his lap.

As the door to the room began to creak open, he whispered in her ear. Mabel shivered as his lips brushed against her, his breath fanning over her skin. Being all alone in the dark with a guy was kinda exciting.

But then she reminded herself who it was and quickly shoved those thoughts aside. Down girl. 

‘Rule three: if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English,’ he hissed. 

They remained silent as the security guard walked through the room in the dark, his flashlight meandering over the desks and flooring. As the light shone on their side of the room, it lit up their positions briefly and she flinched as it revealed just how precarious their positon was. His face was inches from her own, and the dancing shadows cast by the moving light only served to highlight his features. His hands were still on her, one covering her mouth (almost as if he didn’t trust her to be quiet) and the other gripping her elbow and was it her, or was it suddenly warm in here?

They both stared at one another, her eyes wide in panic and his scrutinising as he regarded her expression. 

The light eventually went away, but she knew he was there. Her heart beat rampantly against her ribcage, willing the guard to hurry up and leave so they could move.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the door closed. Mabel pulled herself away with a gasp, taking in a deep gulp of air she didn’t realise she’d been holding in.

But then, just as she was about to stand she heard the door open - again!?

Bill’s grip on her arm tightened, and she felt his hand reaching around her head as he tugged her back towards him.

He covered her mouth again before she could make a sound, but this time he didn’t use his hand.

Mabel’s mind internally screamed as she felt the unmistakable sensation of his mouth over her own. What, what, what!? Whaaaaaaaat!? Was she dreaming right now? Was this a hallucination? What. Was. Happening!?

As his hand left her elbow to snake around her waist, he tugged her closer so she was pressed flush against him. She would have gasped if she was able, but instead he took the opportunity of her lips parting to plunge his tongue into her mouth.

Into. Her. Mouth.

Oh my god. She was defintiely dreaming. This didn’t happen. Her mind was melting, all thoughts turning to goo and dripping away until there was nothing left behind except the feel of his lips against hers. 

Wow, he was a really good kisser.

‘There’s nothing in here, Ian. I checked.’

‘You sure?’

She froze at the sound of two voices, her mind returning somewhat to reality as she became aware of the guards standing in the door. Bill pulled his lips away and she thought he was stopping to listen to the security, but instead she felt something wet against her bare neck as his lips brushed over her skin. She jumped, eyes wide in the darkness as her heart threatened to burst out of its ribcage. She could feel a tight sensation coiling in her stomach, lips pressing together to contain a whine and when he began to suck on her skin she gasped. Was he giving her a freaking hickey?

‘What was that?’

‘What was what?’

Both of his hands grabbed her face as his mouth crashed against hers again, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she kissed him again. Oh look at that, she was kissing him back. When had that happened? I mean, could you blame her? There was only so much hot and heavy a girl could take from an attractive guy (yes, he was attractive, she could admit that!) before she gave in.

‘Be quiet,’ he growled between kisses, and although he meant it as a warning the deep voice made her stomach flip. 

She wasn't sure how long she sat there making out with Bill Cipher, it felt like forever but in reality it was probably only a couple of minutes.

Her mind was completely frazzled when he finally pulled away leaving her dizzy. Her lips felt swollen, her hair unkempt, and she was pretty sure she'd have a hickey on her collar bone come morning.

'All right, they're gone,' Bill said, grabbing his laptop as he resumed his seat and acted normal. He opened the device up, powering it back on. 'It should take me long to get in and out.'

Mabel looked up at him from the floor, all coherent thoughts long gone.

'Uh....' Were they just meant to act like that hadn't happened?

He peered down at her, and she noted how tusseled his hair was from where she'd run her hands through it several times. Other than that, he didn't seem worked up one bit.

'What class is it you want changing?' he asked, arching an eyebrow as he looked back towards the screen.

Mabel blinked, trying to force her mind into gear again. 'Class?'

'Yeah.'

Mabel stared at him for several seconds before finally struggling to put a sentence together. 'But I'm not trying to change my grades.'

Bill paused in his movements, slowly dropping his gaze back down towards her. '...Then why the hell did you want me to hack into the school database?'

Mabel paused. She'd orchestrated this whole thing to get into the student files and find out some information on one of the most popular guys in the year. She figured if she knew his birthday and stuff like that she'd have a shot over the other girls.

(Not unhinged and stalker-ish at all).

But that seemed stupid now. And honestly, Mr. Whats-His-Face was long since cast from her thoughts curtesy of the fella in front of her.

Yeah, there was no way she could admit the truth now.

'Kidding, ha!' She forced a laugh. 'Of course I want you to change my grade for, uh..... maths?'

Bill looked fowards. 'Maths, huh?' A moment later. 'Wow, you really suck at this. I ain't putting it too high or that'll be suspicious. A passing C will do ya, right?'

'Yeah...'

Bill worked away and Mabel pinched herself on the arm but no dice, this apparently wasn't a dream.

What the heck?

>

As they left the building behind and walked down the streets, she observed the boy from the corner of her eye.

'Sooo, are we not going to talk about what happened?'

'Hm?'

'I'm talking about the smoochville that happened back there!' she cried, not able to hold it in anymore. She stepped in front of him, jabbing a finger in his direction. 'You stuck your tongue down my throat!'

Bill blinked. 'You didn't seem to mind.'

'Th-That's not the point,' she replied, face red. 'Why did you do that?'

He paused for a moment, appearing to consider her question. 'Three reasons, I guess.'

'Three?'

'Yup. First of all, I know it would piss off Pine Tree if he found out I swapped spit with his twin sister.'

'Wha-' Mabel's face turned even redder this time, but from anger. But before she could yell, he steamed on.

'Second, to keep you quiet.'

Mabel's face twisted, anger rising. She was going to punch him in the face.

'And thirdly,' Bill said, suddenly leaning closer with a wry smile. She scowled as they stood eye to eye, hands clenched at her sides. He remained unphased by her obvious malice however, reaching out to push a lock of hair behind her ear. 'Because I wanted to.'

'You asshole-'

'I might wanna do it again even,' he tumbled on, straightening up as he leaned away.

Mabel faltered at that. 'Huh?'

'If that's alright with you,' he added, winking.

Her mind had short circuited again. She looked up at him in bewilderment. 'Why?' she asked, eyebrows drawing together as her expression became pinched. 'To piss off my brother?'

'Well that can be a bonus,' he replied casually with a shrug. 'Main reason is I think you're attractive and liked kissing you.' He arched an eyebrow. 'Is that good enough for you?'

'Uh...' Mabel was caught off guard. Usually she was the one coming on to guys in a forward manner, not the other way around. 'Only if you don't tell Dipper.' Not only would her brother freak that she was making out with his arch-nemesis, but that way she knew he wasn't fooling around with her just for the sake of sticking it to her brother.

He thought over her words for a moment, before grinning and reaching out a hand. 'You got yourself a deal.'

'Sure?' She took his hand, shaking on it. This was bizarre.

'See ya tomorrow,' he brushed past her and walked away into the night, leaving her alone with only her thoughts for company.

The girls were not going to believe this.

[the-invisible-queer]

There was at least two very old interview moments I can think of where Joe talked about being in school (one about being picked on for being a slow reader and one about how one year he went by JJ at school without telling his parents and when the teacher called him that to his mom she was like ????? lol) so they definitely did at some point, however they also still seem to consider themselves homeschooled so joking about it is fair game since they joke about it too lol. There was a time Joe and Nick were playing some game on Ellen or something and when Nick got asked to solve like a math problem Joe was like “he can’t do that he was homeschooled” lmao

I'll never stop making fun of them in that way unless one of them asks me to stop but I doubt that will ever happen even if my delusions comes true

No one makes fun of the Jonas Brothers more than the fucking Jonas Brothers

We need a longer better family roast than what Netflix gave us

I want the gloves OFF

Honestly let Courtney Miller from Smosh direct it

I want a Smosh type roast where nothing is off limits (except obvious boundaries)

Because that shit would be incredible

Because honestly the wildest part of the family roast were the dick jokes but even those were tame for what they were

Even though Pete's "winter is coming but Sophie is not" lives rent free in my head forever

[urmomsspeciallady]

Chapter Three- for now i'm only people watching

people watching - conan gray

POV: Kenneth McCormick

I don't think I really ever.. Worry. I've never necessarily had to. Whatever I'd worry about would usually be gone by the next morning.

But whatever that was.. That was different. Why I worried that much about my friend, I'm not sure. I mean I have a right to worry, it's just.. Weird that I showed it.

I closed my locker and the clang could be heard down the hall. Nobody paid any mind to it; everyone was all caught up in their own conversations.

I walked down the halls alone, if I'm going to be all emotional I'm NOT doing it infront of any of my friends. I wafted past each group of people, finally entering my first period classroom.

Sitting at my desk, I lay my head down. Yesterday was rough. And it was.. different. More different than usual. I'd like to say it was the reason I'm suddenly so emotional, but normally I don't get caught up on that. It's always been easy to hide. So why now?

The first bell rang. Five minutes.

I pull my hood further over my head trying to achieve full privacy as I rest. Chatter enters the room as my classmates arrive to class.

My peaceful attempt at a nap was soon interrupted by one obnoxious voice.

"Why hello, Kenny."

Without sitting up, I raise my middle finger in Cartman's direction. I can smell that shit-eating grin from here.

"Kenny~. Since you wanted to be a good boyfriend to Butters~ and make him not do my math homework~, you get to do it."

A plop of papers sounded right next to my head.

"Thank you, Kenny~, I knew I could count on you~."

I sit up and stretch all whilst giving Cartman what I like to call a death-stare.

"No fuckin' way. Nice try, fatass."

"Ay!" Cartman points a finger in my face. "I'm not doing it and Butters isn't doing it so that means you do it!"

A simple roll of my eyes is the response I give him.

"Fine, fine," he settles down. "If you would prefer not to, I can always get you a room." He stands up and yells "To suck Butters's dick in!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! I'm not- Butters doesn't- God! Just do your own goddamn homework!"

As Cartman opens his mouth, the bell rings. Being saved by the bell would be the right phrase.. If it wasn't for Cartman.

At this point, the teacher has not yet entered the room, meaning the whole classes attention was on him.

I stand up and slap his homework back on his desk. Then I pick up my bag and move all the way to the back of the classroom.

He's got a tremendous stick up his ass and I am NOT going to deal with it this early in the morning.

---

First period went as smoothly as it could've after that whole fiasco. Second period gave me a bit of a break. Third period was actually pretty fun. And now I set off to 4th and 5th period.

I have a 2 period block for that class and, what would you know, it's got my friends (plus one dickhead) in it. Not especially looking forward to it. Not after..

A couple claps on my shoulder causes me to whip my head around. Kyle walks behind me with a giant grin.

"Boy you really made Cartman mad!"

"It's not really that hard."

He laughed at this and nodded. "That's true. I just wanted to let you know how fucking funny it is to me. He kept saying shit about you and Butters making out and how that connects to his math homework?"

We both laugh whilst we walk into the classroom. Kyle sets his bag on his desk and I drop mine on the ground next to my desk.

"But are you really?"

"What?"

"Are you really with Butters? Making out, fucking eachother, all that shit."

I tensed up a lot more than I assumed because Kyle definitely noticed. "What? No. Cartmans just saying that because he's.. Well he's fucking Cartman."

Kyle shrugs and takes a seat. "Alright."

A few seconds later, Stan enters the room and takes a seat next to Kyle. He greets me and they start talking about God knows what.

People file into the classroom and before I know it, the bell is ringing.

Leo rushes into the room and practically collapses in his seat behind me, Mrs. Garrison following soon after.

"Alright class, have I got the lesson for you. About Mr. Slave."

The whole class is either on their phone or asleep, all pretending to pay attention though.

"Who remembers Mr. Slave? Right, right."

Does she ever actually figure out any lesson plans?

"Well when I was out shopping, guess who I saw? No, not Mr. Slave. I saw-"

The door to the classroom opens and in walks Eric Cartman.

"Eric, you're late."

He halts in his steps and puts on a charade. "Oh, oh thank you Mrs. Garrison, I had no idea!"

His charade promptly drops as he moves to sit behind Leo. Fucking hell, he is getting on my nerves today.

As Mrs. Garrison continues her story, I hear Butters and Cartman talking behind me in hushed voices.

Stan and Kyle were happily texting each other underneath their desks.

On the other side of the room, Wendy and Bebe giggled to each other.

Clyde set his feet atop his desk, almost leaning back into Tolkien who was too asleep to care.

Everyone in the room was doing their own thing.

I reach for my notebook and begin doodling whatever comes to mind.

Boobs.

Lots of boobs.

Me.

Mrs. Garrison who never shuts up.

Me sleeping.

Boobs again.

Butters.

Cartman being an asshole.

Kyle and Stan being gay.

Boobs.

Butters.

With flowers and hearts and.

I shut my notebook and shove it back in my bag.

A forlorn glance at the clock tells me there are 10 minutes until lunch.

10 more minutes.

----- end of chapter

< previous ~ next >

[cyberphuck]

Retired American High Schooler here, I went to school in metropolitan areas in both northern and southern California in the 90s

1. If you had a driver's license and a car, you could drive yourself, but a lot of high schools would also make you buy a student parking pass. Living in a place where it's possible to take the city bus to school is alien to me, I either walked, was driven, or took a school bus to and from school. The bus gave me an opportunity to beat up other kids.

2. No school I went to had uniforms, but we had a weird and arbitrary dress code that changed depending on what the adults thought was poisoning teenage minds at the time: no jelly shoes, no short skirts, no flip flops or open toed sandals, no hats of any kind, no solid-color outfits or bandanas in case a gang member got super lost and wandered into suburbia and saw you and exploded into violence before he could ask directions, no black trench coats in case it caused you to have a bad childhood and access to guns (this was in 1999, we were so innocent back then), no visible bra straps, etc etc etc. If you (read: a teenage girl) were caught violating dress code (read: wearing clothes that made the math teacher stare at you) they made you change into sweats that hadn't been washed in two years. (Catholic schools had uniforms mostly.)

3. Yes you had to pay, sometimes a lot for frankly shitty food. You could eat outside as long as you were 1. On campus and 2. Not having fun. If it looked like you were having fun a staff member would come and harass you.

4. All three of the high schools I went to had mascots: the Granada Matadors, the Shelby Huskies, and the RUHS Seahawks. To my knowledge we didn't have a guy in a costume, but we did have official school spirit colors and shirts, which at Granada we wore on Fridays.

5. Yes. Sports were a way (at least we were told at the time) for kids to build teamwork and leadership, and to do something they had pride in as well as something they enjoyed. In a lot of places, sports practice and meet ups were also a place for boys to learn stuff they didn't or couldn't learn at home like how to dress nicely and how to treat others and make them feel included. Maybe it's because I was girl shaped or whatever, but I never ran into a Mean Jock-- if you were a dick to someone, your coach would hear about it and you'd get in trouble.

Anyway sports are most popular if you have a good rival school that you can hate. We hated Livermore high. Fuck those guys.

Disclaimers: the schools I went to had money, were in areas populated by predominantly middle and upper middle class white people, and I graduated before "no child left behind" and school shootings changed a lot of American high school culture. The most common depiction of "TV" high schools are schools in Southern California, particularly in the LA Basin, in the mid to late 90s, and that's where I was, and when I was there (Redondo Union High School's campus shows up in a couple of movies, but not good ones).

jock anon here! I have more questions about western schools because I always wondered how much is true :

Do you really drive to school?

Do you not have uniforms?

Do you really pay in the cafeteria? are you allowed to eat outside?

Do you have mascots?

are school sports THAT big of a deal?

(Sorry if these sound stupid but I really wanted to know )

To answer, I grew up on farmland in rural Canada

If you have your own car and a driver's license, you can drive to school. It's definitely too far to walk, but some people might bike. The city bus only goes through every four hours, but the school bus isn't too bad. If these don't work your guardians might drop you off before they go to work.

No, we did not have uniforms, that's rich city bitch shit. I personally enjoyed the fishnets and stompin boots combo but no, no uniform. Loosely-enforced dress code, too.

Yes, the cafeteria costs money. There are snack programs for If you don't have money but it's usually apples and granola bars, sometimes mac n cheese for a dollar or something. We can eat anywhere we want, just not the library, gym, or art rooms, and nobody's allowed up the trees.

We had a mascot but we didn't really use it. There was a costume but I think I only saw it twice.

I could not have given less of a shit about team sports, and I was *on* a sports team. We didn't really watch the teams play, either. From what I've seen in America it is NOTHING like they do. No parades or parties or sirens in the street, just trying to make it to nationals, maybe get a scholarship. (Didn't work for me, I was an art kid.)

It doesn't sound stupid but maybe ask an American for Wilder stories, holy fuck the sport team I saw had a fire truck wailing around town when they won once holy fuck damn near shit meself

[uhhhhyandere]

I love, love, love you ❤️ I was hoping I could request where the main character begs for Yandere Light to let her get a doggo bc she’s so lonely since he made her quit a job. Like full on having a full ass fit. I’m talking full blown brat shit. Just how he would react and what she would have to do to convince him if you catch that drift 😏😉

yeah, i know what i said in my last post. whatever. never believe anything that comes out of my stupid mouth i am the single biggest sob in the universe. 

um… i took this in a… direction to say the least. someone has to stop me from riding suck n’ ride smut bc… it always goes like this. 

next light smut there is going to be ass-eating or i swear to god my name isn’t kerry literally all im thinking about is giving him a rimjob. really. this is where we are at folks. 

warnings: smut, face fucking (oops), dick sucking, sex, rough sex. he not happy boi

word count: 3.5k 

All you did was watch dog videos anymore. Of course, you watched them because you literally had little else to do during the day, but you just… happened to be more open about it when Light came through the door. Did it have anything to do with the fact you’ve been thinking about getting a furry friend to keep you company from the silence of an empty house and the dark recesses of your mind?

No, of course not. It had nothing at all to do with it, and it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that if you ask him directly, he would say no before any more words could breach the air. You would have to be creative, because when Light said “no,” there was no more argument, and you wanted this argument.

“A Pug. Wow. Beautiful.”

“Look, it’s a—it’s a Corgi. Oh my—wow. That’s amazing.”

You’d play around with different sizes.

“This Mastiff? This gentle giant? Can do nothing wrong.”

“This Bichon matches with the snow!”

And you’d talk about listings you just happened to see online from the local shelters.

“This one—wow. All of her shots. She looks so nice. Oh, and potty trained! What a girl. Damn.”

“He’s sitting down—oh a paw. I see a paw. Can he do the other paw? Oh, yes he can. Also has all his shots. Wonderful.”

Considering the man you lived with, you were pretty positive that he figured out your intentions day one or day two max. It’s been about a week since you’ve been… outgoing in your interest. At this point, it was a game as to who would break first. You bet he was waiting for you to get annoyed with his ignoring of anything you said related to the subject with how blatant he was with shirking you off, forcing you to simply ask.

You weren’t going to make it so easy on him. Though he happened to be the king of hiding his emotions, you knew you had to be getting to him. Light would never admit it, and he would certainly never show it. He wanted to keep that satisfaction as far away from you as possible.

So, you turned up the heat.

Before, you would break off the dog topic after a time, wanting to etch it in your daily schedule only bits at a time. Now? It’s the only thing you talk about, no matter the actual subject at hand.

“There’s another event we have to—.”

“The animal shelter is having an event in the park next week for adoptions.”

“I’m going to have to go for groceries soon.”

“Look at this weenie dog dressed in a weenie costume.”

“I—.”

“Doggo cute.”

It was only a matter of time until—.

“This French Bulldog is—.”

“Y/N.” His voice was clear, demanding. Even after all this time, like a teacher scolding elementary students, it immediately brought you to silence. You sat on your shared bed, legs crossed, as he leered down at you from the bathroom. “I would say it was cute at first, but you know it’s a waste of time to try asking anything indirectly. As if I would succumb to your manipulation, but I let you carry on. You would get bored. You would stop and think and realize that it was pointless to keep it up, but you persisted. I thought to myself maybe you were just trying to see if I would crack and give you the satisfaction of indulging in your antics, and I was right.

“It begs the question. Why didn’t you just ask directly? Easy. Because I would say no, and you would be correct. To allow something else besides me your devotion? Not likely. But what? Did you think showing me videos of Shibu Inus and Pomeranians would make me want one first? You have the logic of a six-year-old, Y/N,” Light began to unbutton his shirt, “Did you honestly think it would work? Or did you simply want to get a rise out of me?” He removed the shirt entirely, then lifted his undershirt over his head just as easily. Light tossed the fabric into the hamper, leaving a pale, lithe abdomen on display. He turned to fully face you and took two easy steps forward. “Why would you want one in the first place? Have I not given my fiancée enough attention recently? Is this your way of getting back at me, hm?”

You were almost at an even height to his belt buckle, but you did your best to ignore that as his eyes demanded attention upwards. His gaze was near malicious, but not quite so. Ah. Lascivious. That’s what they were. You swallowed the knot out of your throat.

“Y-you wish.”

“Your hesitation is very resounding. Then, if you’re so sure, indulge me. Don’t tell me you wanted a distraction from your loving husband-to-be. I know you didn’t want something else to focus on besides me when I’m away at work, so tell me. Tell me why you desired a filthy, shedding ball of fur. Your answer may earn you some mercy.”

You unfolded your legs from underneath you as your foot began to numb under the weight of your leg. Your hands glided back and forth on your thighs. Was there a point in lying? No, scratch that. Was there a point in lying to someone who already knew the truth? Well, his own truth that Light would undoubtedly make yours. There was little purpose in making it worse on yourself.

“No, you’re—uh—right.” Light set his hands on his hips.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m just… lonely when you’re at work. So… yeah.” You risked a peek upwards. Oh, geez the smirk on that fucker. “I’m sorry.” His arms rose from his hips to cross over his chest.

“For?”

“Huh?”

“What are you sorry for? Annoying me for days with your drivel? Wanting a mutt? Lying?” You furrowed your brows. “Oh, that one confused you, hm? Alright, well, if you won’t admit it, I can do it for you. Lonely-“ he scoffed- “You can’t be serious. Such a blatant lie from your lips. The second time you are insulting my intelligence. I’ll ask one more time. Where does your motivation lie?”

“I’m not lying!” You hissed, jumping off the mattress to stand. “What—just what am I supposed to do all day cooped up in this place like a goddamned prisoner? Clean? The place is clean. Cook? As if you’d even let me try. Watch TV? My brain is rotting. You don’t even let me help kids with math anymore online. Just what am I to do? Next thing I may just throw myself out the window—,” Hands gripped your shoulders, causing a slight pain at the intensity.

“You think I’d let you? I expect you to stay here and be good and thankful that you are where you are. I, just as much as you, know—knew women who died to be in your shoes, and you’re ungrateful to be alive and safe? You want more?” You tried to shrug out of his grip, and he allowed you to take the steps away from him.

“I’m asking to be a human being, for fuck’s sake! I’m going to sit here and go crazy. Isn’t it enough that I don’t fuck with the rules anymore? I’m quiet. I don’t say anything. I put every façade you ask me to. All I want is something for me! Something to distract me from literally going insane here! To distract me from everything.”

 Light’s eyes sometimes spoke more truth than his mouth ever could. Right about now, the browns were all-consuming, aflame with ire, but his lips were upturned in a challenge.

“A distraction. Caught in a lie, Y/N. Bad form, even for you. After all this time, you still can’t face reality, dearest. I knew you’ve been pitting your mind in some gutter you call the truth. Makes this all easier to accept, but to go to the physical extent? I won’t allow it, and you won’t be able to recess your mind for long, so enjoy that pleasure while you can.” He paused, countenance recessing to something more composed. “You love me, don’t you, Y/N?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation, no lie in that affirmation. It was the easiest of his questions to answer. “I love you.” Light inhaled deeply, chest flexing with the exhale.

“With love comes compromise, correct?” You responded with a glare. His tone was all too insinuating. “So, let’s compromise, yes? I hate arguing with you.” He reached an arm out, hand open. Your eyes glanced between the extended limb and his eyes before cautiously taking it. His hand squeezed and pulled you in tight. Light twisted and adjusted you so when he fell onto the bed, you landed comfortably on his lap. Releasing your hand, he brought his own up to gingerly glide his fingers across your cheek, a trail of bumps in its wake as it curled into your locks. Almost like a lover. Almost.

His fingers seized the strands and pulled, forcing your head back and opening your neck for his mouth to latch. “Then compromise, dearest. Prove to me what you think you deserve.” He spoke against your skin, open-mouth kisses with a hint of teeth between his words. “And I’ll make judgement.” His hand let go of your hair and traced to the back of your skull to slant your lips onto his impatient ones. The other wrapped itself to pull your body closer until he pushed you off with an unexpected force, almost knocking you to the ground.

From the unbalanced position, you watched him adjust his position to lie in the center of the bed, head angled to watch you from the pillows with both his hands as another cushion for his crown. Light smirked, watching you stand straight. “Well, go on. Compromise.” 

Light was never on the bottom. It was non-negotiable. Being anything else was utterly unacceptable for a god. This situation, despite the physical placement of both bodies, was no different. You may be the one crawling on top of him, fiddling with his belt buckle, but he had every bit of this situation in his control. Under his watchful gaze, you removed the strip of leather and threw it across the room.

“You’re going to have to help me here,” you muttered after undoing the fly. Wordlessly, he obliged, allowing you to slip the trousers off of his person. You glanced at his feet. Thank god he took his shoes off already, so he only lied in his boxers.

No, you would never be accustomed to this.

“You always look like it’s your first time,” he remarked. “As if you haven’t seen my cock before. From my recollection, you should be quite familiar with it by now.” You inhaled sharply. “Unless you don’t want to compro—.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, crawling to straddle his legs. “Just be quiet,” you said more quietly. You reached out to rub the only half-erect cock through the fabric. Only small groans were elicited above you. Light was not a noisy one, to say the least. It took your first, painful, terrible experience of deep-throating to even get him to moan fully.

“Do you think teasing is going to get you anywhere?” His voice is always composed during sex, and it really was alarming because… you really couldn’t relate. You glowered, fingers digging under the waistband and pulling. He helped again, lifting so you can get the fabric off. “If you think you’re doing anything fully clothed, I should take a cold shower.”

You made quick work of taking the layers of comfort clothes you had on, off. “You really know how to put on a show,” he deadpanned.

“Shut. Up.” You returned to your position, seeing his cock now fully erect from your previous work. You were sure you were wet, but you ignored it as best you could. You had a feeling you would not be serviced tonight. Before you can even lean down, he spoke again.

“Beg for it. Beg for the honor of sucking my cock. Convince me you deserve it if you believe you are so entitled.” There was not a single physical restriction to keep you from taking it into your mouth, but his words were powerful enough to keep you still. Light was daring you to try and misbehave, and you really couldn’t help the physical reaction his words always do to you.

“Please—,”

“Pathetic. I can have any girl in my bed. I can stick my cock in any person interested, and here you are, an ungrateful brat who wants more. You’re making quite an unremarkable argument for yourself. Perhaps I will take away—.”

“Please, Light. Allow me the honor of sucking your cock, of you fucking my throat. I want the privilege of swallowing your seed. Fuck—please. I’ll do anything.” You leaned down close, but not touching anything. You only lifted your eyes up to his. “Please. I know I’ve been bad. Please, let me make up for it.”

Your words in bed were always forced. He knew you hated dirty talk as much as you did, therefore he always made you speak, always made you confess how much you craved him, wanted him, and whenever you spoke it was hardly ever in lies. Your embarrassment was too prominent in your body language to tell him otherwise.

“Go on, then. Show me.” You licked up his length first, then around the head and back down. “Teasing will get you nowhere,” he repeated. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and took him in, inch by inch. Light was incredibly average despite his ego. It wasn’t impossible to fit the entire length into your mouth with slow adjustment, but that didn’t mean it was fun. You would continue to work his length, getting more and less intense with your pressure and the speed your head bobbed. Still, there was little reaction from him, not there really never was any mind the grunts you could make out. Your inclinations to keep going, and you did until you pulled back.

“How’s—,” His hand was at the back of your head immediately, forcing your head back down, pushing his cock down your throat, pushing until you could feel his balls against your chin. No hair. He was pristine down there. You convulsed, gagged, choked, but he did not release his grip. Hand keeping its hold, he dragged your head up just a hair enough to thrust upwards. Water began to pool at the waterline of your eyes. You had to relax your throat, or this was going to be just worse.

But it was hard, so hard at the pace he was thrusting at. You squeezed your eyes shut and took it the best you can. Listening to his quiet grunts and groans, you forced your lips to continue covering your teeth, but you could not force your throat to loosen. Drool pooled at both sides of your mouth, carelessly falling into both him and the sheets along with the liquid of your tears. 

“Your throat is so fucking tight. That’s it. Choke on my cock. This is what your dirty mouth deserves.” Your limited experience could be to blame for its restricting. That, or the selfishness of the man whose grip on your hair tightened even more right before he allowed you to breathe once more.

And breath you did. Gasping, reeling for air as drool continued to leak down. From beneath your hair, you looked at Light, his eyes wild and alive with lust. Small heaves from his smiling mouth mixed with your wet and heavy ones. “Do you think you deserved that, dearest?” You finally wiped your mouth and shook the spit from your arm. “You’re lucky I am so generous. Come. For doing such a decent job.” His hands patted his hips. Swollen eyes met his. “Ride me, before I change my mind and fuck you into the mattress.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you moved to straddle his length. “Oh, your pussy is glistening. Did me fucking your throat really do that much to you? You loved to be controlled, don’t you?” You did not answer, shaky hands guiding his cock so you can sink onto it. You groaned at the feeling. “Tell me how good it makes you feel. How only I can make you feel like this.” You bit your lip, sinking down another inch or so.

“God, Light. Your cock feels so good. Only yours can make me feel like this. No one—no man, no woman, no person—can make me feel anything—like—this—fuck!” You sunk down to the hilt before you lifted yourself again, easing yourself up and down his length. “It’s so good—so good.” Light allowed you more time but decided your gentle pace was not enough to soothe him. He roughly grabbed you and flipped your positions.

“Too slow, Y/N. What did I say about teasing?” He brought his hips back and then snapped them into yours. You screamed, and you wondered if the neighbors would call again, but his pace did not relent.

“Light—please. It’s too—too much! It’s too fast. I can’t…” He smiled, a wicked grin over you.

“And you won’t. Don’t you dare think about cumming. I decided you don’t deserve it. This is your compromise. You get to live, marry, and get fucked by me, and only by me, and I will only have eyes for you. You’ll never feel like you need a… distraction again.” You clenched your teeth and pushed your head farther into the pillows. “I feel you clenching onto me. Don’t you dare think about disobeying me.” His thrusts were even, balanced.

“Please, please, please let me cum. It feels too good. You feel too good. I’ll do anything.”

“Then don’t cum.” You threw your hands back and gripped the headboard, feeling it rock in rhythm to his thrusts. They were beginning to become, sloppy, wild, he was close while you were holding back for dear life. “Y/N. You are mine and mine alone. Your body. Your actions. Your mind. I am the only thing you are allowed to think about.” With one final push, his seed released, filling and coating your insides. He rode it out, making sure every drop stayed. He hated to have to wash the sheets after, though your drool stains remained.

Pulling out, he retreated and stood, ignoring your writing, unfulfilled form. “Come. You aren’t going to sleep like—get those hands away from there. Let’s get you clean before you ruin the sheets even more.” Like before, he extended his hand to your heaving form. “Alright, alright, I’ll take care of you, but you need to get cleaned up first.” An unstable hand fit into his own. His gently pulled you to stand and allowed you to lean your weight onto his.

Hot water cascaded down your body. Though Light effortlessly scrubbed washed his hair, you could not bring yourself to match his speed, and by the time he was already done, you hadn’t even washed your body yet. You heard an incomprehensible mutter amidst the running water as he left you alone. He was washing his face as you finally emerged, wrapped in your towel. No romance tonight, you figured. Not that it was any different than any other night. You followed, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and taking your pills while he huddled in bed.

You could only dream of romance anymore. Getting your pajamas on, you approached the empty side of the bed. Before you could get on, Light shifted, opening his arms and staring at you expectantly. You froze. Did… did he want…? “Well, come on.” Ah. Was this supposed to be the ‘I’ll take care of you,’ he mentioned earlier? You supposed he would never wash you in the shower, so this would have to be it. You swallowed and fell into them, feeling his arm wrap you close to him so you lied nearly on your stomach, face buried in the crook between his neck and shoulders. His arm lied around your neck, the other near your elbow on the arm that sprawled on his chest. Oh, hello? What is this?

Ah. This is the quote-on-quote, attention he promised as a fiancé. His eyes remained closed as you stared. How forced was this? You wondered if he hated it, if he saw it was succumbing to your wishes, but it was unlikely. Perhaps it was him showing the physical love outside of sex that you lacked thinking it would keep you from having another outburst as you did before. Him keeping his side of the compromise so you would keep yours.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes before you thought too hard about his actions. The more you thought about it, the more—and less—real it all became, but if he was offering more conventional couple things: cuddling, dates, attention, you would not pose another argument.

“So, no dog?” you whispered.

[im-a-space-gay]

Fic for the Mix-Matched AU

Why yes, I actually looked up what drabble meant, and found that is the wrong term for this writing and probably the one for the Gay Gamers AU. Whoops. Anyways, I didn’t label it when I posted for it earlier, but the Mix-Matched AU is a slow burn Analogical AU where Virgil’s a nerd and Logan’s a punk. Good day.

Edit: Why yes, upon getting half way into this three days ago, I accidentally deleted that version and I am upset but now going to try and rewrite it. Yay. Also, Virgil doesn’t care which pronouns people use for him, just a heads up.

~~~

Virgil pushed his glasses up and held his jacket closer to himself. Patton sighed, making grabby hands at the thing.

“Come on Virge, you’d already said you’d do it.”

Earlier that day, Patton begged Virgil if he could fix the jacket, since it had gained a new hole when he got cornered yesterday without anybody there to help him. The beating was easy to hide from the others, as it had all been aimed at his chest or arms, but one of the boys brought a darn knife that cut a huge tear into his jacket. He shrugged off questions about it pretty easy, only getting a couple suspicious looks.

Anyways, after giving in to Patton, he now had to uphold his promise and give the jacket to Patton to fix as they were about to turn separate ways to walk home.

Virgil frowned and hugged it close, having already taken it off to give. He squeezed it again before giving it to Patton.

“You’re really attached to this thing, huh?” Patton asked softly, holding it as if it’d fall apart at any crazy movements, which it’d probably would. Virgil shivered, rubbing his arms before nodding.

“I’ve been through a lot with it,” he smiled at the jacket before walking down the road, calling a farewell over his shoulder.

I wonder how I’m going to live as a naturally cold person without my only jacket, he thought hugging his arms closer.

——

When Virgil woke up the next morning, he sighed at the loss of the extra warmth the jacket provided, sitting up and fumbling for his glasses.

Only for his glasses to not be found.

“What...?” He mumbled, forgetting about the jacket in favor of finding his sight. He felt around the bedside table, the bed, and the floor, only to not find his glasses.

He huffed, standing up and shakily finding his way to the bathroom, stumbling more than once. He searched the counter with his hands before finally finding what he needed; his contacts.

Virgil put them in before picking out the usual long sleeved shirt under a T-shirt that nobody knew he wore thanks to his jacket. Doing what else needed to be done before he left (including trying to find his glasses, and he looked literally everywhere before he had to go).

The walk to school was pretty normal, besides trying to push up nonexistent glasses and shove his hands in his jacket pockets before settling with his jean pockets instead. What was decidedly not normal was how when he entered the school, he glanced around to find people staring in his direction, whispering.

Odd, he thought, quirking an eyebrow and listening in quietly.

The most common phrase among the females was “he’s so hot” while it was “I’d fuck her” for the males, making Virgil more confused. Perhaps there was a couple behind him? Or new students? That made the most logical sense to him.

So he continued on like normal, though if the halls were strange, first period was so much more strange. In advanced calculus, more students kept looking in his direction instead of the teacher’s.

They really need to focus, he thought quietly, glancing between the teacher and a small math problem he was doing for fun. This lesson was a... how would Janus and Remus say it? A “kill or be killed” lesson. They wouldn’t last after this if things kept going this way. Oh well. Not my problem.

The bell signaling the end of the period rang, and Virgil couldn’t even get up from his seat before someone was there. It was the second smartest teen in the class, smartest going to yours truly. His name was Matthew, if Virgil remembered correctly.

“Hey there miss. I noticed you didn’t seem to be paying much attention, and thought I would offer you some help, as this lesson could probably determine your grades for the rest of the semester.”

Virgil tilted his head slightly. Most people assumed him to be male, not female. How peculiar.

He quickly changed the confused expression to a smile, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“No thank you, I’m quite alright. On the contrary, this is one of the more simpler lessons this class goes over.” Matthew looked surprised for a second at his slightly flowery language before his expression turned irritated, which Virgil felt a bit of himself from the reaction.

“No it’s not. It’s not easy at all, and most people have trouble understanding it,” he said, as if he was all high and mighty, which really peeved Virgil off. It was as if this guy didn’t know he was talking to the smartest kid in probably the entire school.

“I never implied it was easy. I implied that this course goes over harder lessons. Anyways, I’m sure if you looked, you are to find I am not most people, sir.”

“Bullshit,” the boy cussed, and Virgil felt his annoyance grow. “Girls are stupid without the help of men, therefore you are like most people.”

“Females are not stupid, and whatever gave you that impression is simply wrong,” Virgil glared. He should’ve known he was a sexist jerk, his aura was always too repressive around females. “Females are probably a lot smarter than any male could be, because they are given the opportunity to search and prove themselves to those with minds like you, you sick bitch. And maybe, you shouldn’t assume what is in a person’s pants sir. I could have a vagina, I could have a dick, I could be intersex for all you know, so don’t go talking to me like I am any lesser than you simply because you wrongly believe females have less intelligence and assume I am one without the question.”

Matthew stared at him with a jaw that has found its way onto the floor, and Virgil only vaguely registered another student’s gaze toward him. He huffed, and stepped around him, walking out.

“I hope you have an awful day sir.”

He heard a whistle from the classroom he left, trying to look as composed as he normally would.

What an absolute cretin, was all he could think, hoping to god the rest of the day would be normal.

Of course, these prayers were not answered as his day continued. Apparently overnight half the school now saw him as female and addressed him as such, not that he minded, but it was still really weird. He also got many stares from both students and teachers alike, and more offers for tutoring even though he was most likely smarter than the people offering. At least he got no more sexist people to deal with.

When lunch finally rolled around, he was relieved.

Finally. A moment of hanging out with idiots of which I am fond and reading. Thank fucking god.

Approaching the table, he could see the twins and Logan already there. At last, something that was ordinary.

He sat where he normally did at one of the corner seats, pulling out the book he was currently hacking away at.

Before he could open it though, Remus spoke.

“Well hello beautiful.” By the sound of it, he was flirting with yet another female, and Virgil didn’t see the harm of looking to see what unfortunate soul Remus had his eyes on this time.

Glancing up though, he flinched at seeing the three boys staring at him, expressions ranging from Remus’s poker face, to Roman’s confusion, and to Logan’s confusion that was quickly fading into a cold look.

He stared at Remus and glanced behind him before realization dawned on him.

“Are you talking to me?” He asked, feeling as confused as Roman looked.

“Who else would I be talking to?” Remus asked, leaning over from his spot at the opposite corner of the table, and Virgil didn’t back away purely because he was used to the invasion.

“Literally any female in this building,” Virgil deadpanned, and Remus didn’t have enough time to respond before Patton was sitting across from Virgil.

Virgil wanted to ask about his jacket, but also got cut off before he had the chance.

“Oh hello! I’m Patton, he/him!” The fashionista said joyfully, and oh god now Virgil was really confused. He couldn’t compute anything as he normally could.

“I know?” He said, more question than statement. Logan glared at him, which really freaked Virgil out because oh dear Logan’s never looked at Virgil with anger before.

“How do you know that?”

“Logan, calm down!” Patton said sternly before looking back at Virgil. “Although you do look awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

Virgil froze, raising his eyebrow.

“Is- Is this a joke or...?” He trailed off, and nobody could react when Janus plopped between him and the still-glaring Logan, making him unreasonably happy.

“Hey Virge,” Janus waved at him, having been the first time anybody has gotten to see the nerd. He looked at the book in his hands with the tiniest bit of interest. “Whatcha reading today?”

Virgil teared up a bit as he suddenly hugged Janus, making the emo go stiff under him.

“You are the only person who has acted even remotely normal towards me today, and for that I forever thank you and ask you to never change, you beautiful creature,” he said, feeling Janus awkwardly pat his back as he slowly melted into the hug.

“Wait,” Roman said, and Virgil looked up to see the other four looking at him in shock. “Virgil?”

“Yes?” He answered hesitantly, raising an eyebrow again.

“YOU’RE VIRGIL?! THE VIRGIL?!” Roman shouted, and nobody looked over, used the group’s antics. Virgil got out of Janus’s arms and flailed his arms as he also yelled.

“YES?! WHO THE FUCK ELSE WOULD I BE ROMAN?!”

“WELL YA DON’T LOOK LIKE THE NERD! SAY SOMETHING ONLY HE WOULD KNOW,” Roman glared, crossing his arms. Virgil huffed as he started to count on his fingers.

“Logan really likes Crofters, Patton is fixing my jacket, Janus has at least three pet snakes that I know of, Remus set me on fire once -which really wasn’t cool, pun intended for Patton-, you’re a bitch, but everybody knows that, our group chat is called Idiots+1=Chaos, and if anybody offers me tutoring ONE MORE TIME I WILL LOSE IT, BECAUSE YES I KNOW CALCULUS, YES I KNOW WHAT A SYNONYM IS, AND YES AND KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MITOSIS AND MEIOSIS.”

“There’s a difference?” Patton whispered to Remus, who shrugged. Virgil turned his hateful stare towards Patton, dimming it down some.

“Mitosis is the division of body cells and meiosis is the division of sex cells. Mitosis only splits into two cells while meiosis becomes four.”

“Yep. That’s the nerd alright,” Remus said, nodding, and Virgil slammed his head into the table.

“What. In the name. Of great Aristotle. Could cause you to think. I was someone else,” Virgil said into the table, and he felt Janus patting his back for comfort.

“Well, you’re not wearing your jacket or glasses,” Logan butted in, sounding guilty for the reasons of which Virgil did not know.

“Oh, so I’m suddenly Superman,” Virgil said, moving so his chin was laying on the table as he stared into the abyss. “One second I’m a nerd, and boom, before you know it, I’m someone suddenly everybody thinks is worth their time. Wow. So amazing.”

Virgil was endlessly bitter. Mostly for the fact that he didn’t get the memo sooner.

“Pretty good Superman,” Logan said, and Roman started.

“Yeah! Ending sexism left and right!”

“I guess...” he mumbled before he sat up straight and looked at Roman in question. “How did you know about that?”

“You didn’t see the video?” Janus asked in his normal dead inside voice. Virgil shook his head.

“Video?”

“Yeah!” Remus said this time, laughing. Virgil turned to him, feeling more and more like he was in a cliche movie. “A kid recorded you absolutely destroying that guy and posted it on every social media! Kids are calling you ‘Silvertongue’ because nobody recognizes you!”

Virgil felt his eye twitch. He stared at Remus, and everybody looked back with concern before he slammed his head again a lot harder than before.

“When will my jacket be done?” He near growled into the table. Was his face bruising? Probably. Did he have a nosebleed? Yeah. Did he care? Absolutely not.

“I can probably finish it today, and you can come over and we can have movie night since it’s Friday,” Patton said, and wow was that fear in his voice? Damn.

“Please. I just want something normal to come out today,” he mumbled. He sat up and stared at the others with a glare even as he felt blood starting to run out of his nose. “If I don’t see one of you four there too, I will either commit suicide or homocide.”

“Shit Virgil you’re bleeding,” Logan said, and that sounded like the overprotective punk he knew and loved. Virgil looked him dead in the eye.

“I am perfectly aware, and yet I cannot bring myself to care.”

Logan swapped seats with Janus so he could clean the blood off of Virgil gently.

“Where are your glasses anyway?” Remus asked as Logan finished up, Virgil leaning on the punk as he glared at the table.

“I don’t know. When I went to bed last night, I put them where I always do, but when I woke up I couldn’t find them anywhere in my house, so I had to resort to my contacts,” he explained, sitting up and checking he didn’t get blood on his book.

For the next twenty minutes of lunch, everything was normal. Roman and Remus fought, Janus was mostly silent, slipping in a suicidal joke here and there, Patton complaining about math class, Logan watching in complete silence, and Virgil reading. And if Virgil slipped his hand into Logan’s at one point, who could tell besides him and Logan?

Maybe that was the problem.

Virgil felt a tapping on his shoulder, and looked up to see a female standing before him.

“Yes?” He said, which at least got the attention of Logan and Janus as they looked over. The girl fidgeted before sticking her hand out towards Virgil, which he took with a questioning look.

“My name is Cherry.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Cherry,” he said with a smile, and was about to tell his name before Cherry continued.

“I was just wondering if uh...” she trailed off, glancing around. Virgil became confused, barely noticing the way Logan’s hand tightened around his or the chatter at his table stopped. “If I could have your number...?”

“Sure,” Virgil said, giving her a paper with a number on it and watching her walk away as he let the happy facade melt into irritated exhaustion.

“That number wasn’t yours,” Janus said, and everybody else looked at him as Virgil shook his head.

“All day. Females asking for my number and males giving me theirs. I’ve just started giving the numbers I receive.”

“Seriously?” Roman laughed, and he only laughed harder when Virgil nodded. “Oh those girls are in for a surprise!”

“Imagine how the males will feel,” Virgil snorted before looking back at his book. “That someone actually texted them. Can’t wait to see how long it takes them to find out they’re not talking to ‘Silvertongue’.”

“You are so cruel,” Janus said with a smile, and Virgil shrugged.

“Don’t suddenly give attention to someone who doesn’t want it, I guess.”

[princecharmingmendes]

Heartstrings | Chapter VII | Shawn Mendes

“ ‘It’s like a best friend, but more. It’s the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It’s someone who makes you a better person, well, actually they don’t make you a better person… you do that yourself because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. It’s the one person who knew you, and accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens..you’ll always love them.’ - unknown”

“Shawn was a huge believer that the ‘soulmates’ situation’ was the most stupid thing on the planet, specially since it was such a rare thing to find someone with the same mark as you. He would do anything he could to prevent the so called 'destiny’ from happening, but could he?”

hi, i hope everyone’s doing okay and this is another chapter to the series. Shawn's finally understanding that he's wrong and things might change, so just have a little bit more patience and faith on it. i'm sorry this is not the best chapter so far, but things are really complicated hear and i didn't want to leave you guys without this weeks chapter, i came up with many different scenarios and this is by far the best one and im still not 100% happy with it, so i'm sorry. I'll just stop rambling, anyway i hope you like it, and please give me some feedback.

*Word Count: 2,9+K.

*Warnings: cursing, violence; pushy, rude, disrespectful dude (if that's triggering, please don't read it).

*Posted: April 23rd, 2020. 

                                                    -*-

“No” I said pulling my arm back and taking a deep breath “now leave me the fuck alone”

“Oh, darling, but we were starting to have f...”

“She told you to leave her the fuck alone, which part of it you didn’t get?” I heard his voice and I could feel my blood running cold.

Shit, this is going down.

“Of course you would show up, the fucking prince charming, or at least that’s what you like to pretend to be”

“At least I’m not a stupid asshole who needs to stalk girls around campus and be so insistent that they give up”

“Go find another girl to pin, Mendes”

“Go fuck yourself, dude” Shawn said with his face starting to redden.

“I’m trying to” Byron said with a smirk on his shitty face.

“Shawn, just don’t, I can handle it, leave me alone”

“But...” he said finally turning to look at me.

“Please” I asked looking over at him and I could see his pleading eyes begging to take control of the situation and I shook my head “Please, leave”

“Fine, I’ll be at the library” he said walking past through us, not before bumping the guys shoulder with his own.

“Now we can finally talk”

“No, we can’t, I have somewhere to be and you probably shouldn’t talk to girls like this, we don’t like it and it’s rude”

“No, kitten, don’t piss me off, I’m trying to be nice here, don’t want to get on my bad side, huh?”

“I don’t want anything with you, and that’s not nice at all” I said ready to turn around and leave again “you should stop being an idiot before someone goes to the police or something”

“You’re starting to annoy me, princess” he said crossing his arms above his chest.

“Couldn’t care less, bye”

“You’ll be begging for me to want you next time, bitch”

“Me and all the other girls who are clearly into you right?” I said with venom practically dripping off my mouth as I started to walk back to my dorm.

“You can say shit about it, it’s not like many boys talk to yo...” my fist collided with his face before he could end his phrase and before I could even process my actions.

“Hey!” I heard someone shouting from behind me, making me turn around in the same direction, being met with one of my teachers who happened to be passing by “Y/N, you can’t just punch people!”

“I didn’t just punch him, he’s been extremely disrespectful and annoying, and apparently lost sense of the world ‘limit’ so it was proper self defense”

“No, it was not, both of you are completely wrong, Mr. Byron, you already have a detention to do, so I’m giving you two extra weeks, and you, Miss Y/N, you’re going to help another student on organizing the library every night starting now for a whole week, close it when you both are done”

“But we’re in college!” Byron tried to protest.

“That’s an excellent point, which means both of you shouldn’t be doing this, especially you Byron”

He mumbled a curse before heading other direction. I just sighed and got back in the library, I mean, it couldn’t be that bad, this place was like my second home, and also, I loved books anyways. But I felt the blood draining from my face when I say those mop of curls trying to pile a bunch of books randomly, with a frown on his brows and a pout on his lips. You’ve got be kidding me. I got in and started sorting other books in other table when I felt his gaze falling on my figure, but I completely ignored him. He cleared his throat twice but I didn’t even blink, too focused on organizing books by their section and in alphabetical order.

This deafening silence lasted for a while, almost making me forget his damn presence on that library. I couldn’t completely ignore him when he started sighing and trying to find out where the books were supposed to be, he even dropped a whole pile on the floor, but I didn’t dare to look back at him. The only thing that made me turn around was a loud ‘thump’ and him letting out a “outch”. I saw him kneeling on the floor with a bunch of books around him, one of his hands was on his forehead and the other one on the table in front of him. I turned back to my work and started placing the books back on their places.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Can we please talk?”

“I never said we couldn’t”

“But you’ve been ignoring me”

“I haven’t, I’m not just following you around like I used to, you made it pretty clear earlier today that you don’t want me around”

“That doesn’t mean you should ignore me”

“I wasn’t ignoring you, even though that’s all you’ve been doing lately”

“Okay, I deserve that” he said getting up again “I’m sorry”

“For what exactly?”

“For being a dick”

“Okay, but will you keep on acting like it? Because honestly you’ve been a bitch and then nice and I don’t want to believe you mean it and be an idiot the moment we leave this library”

“I deserved that too”

“What do you want?”

“Why?”

“You called me”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, can you help me sort this stuff?”

“I’m already doing it”

“I know, but I honestly don’t know what I’m doing, and if you helped, maybe we could end this sooner”

“So you could go back to your bad boy life away from me? Sure!” I said going to his side.

“Again, I deserved that”

“Have you ever been to the library?

“Yes, I just don’t get the system of organization, you generally helped me out and I helped you with any math related situation”

“That was before”

“Okay... I...”

“You deserved that for hurting me, I know”

“I might have been too harsh and stuff, and I’m sorry for that, and I’ll give you time to consider it, I’m sorry for saying all that”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know, okay? I’m more lost than you right now”

“Shawn, this is exhausting, I had a bad day or semester and I just want this to be over”

“I know, I know, I know, I want this to be over as well”

“Shawn... I’m the one begging you please now”

“Okay, but can you still help me out? I’m lost” he said sighing and I just nodded, starting to pile up the books like they’re supposed to.

We actually spent a great amount of time only talking when it was necessary, with me explaining the sections and how to actually organize them, and he only spoke to me when extremely necessary. I was so pissed at him due to his attitude and also due to the fact that he decided to completely push me without saying the reason, and right now he’s acting like nothing happened. Well, at least he’s quiet now.

“Hm... I saw what you did to Byron” he said and I only hummed in response “Y/N... I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have suggested what I did today”

“Or acted like a dick without an apparent reason”

“That too”

“And then pretending you care”

“I never did that”

“Oh no? What was yesterday to you?”

“I didn’t pretend”

“Oh, you didn’t?”

“I never stopped caring”

“That’s not what you said”

“I... I know okay? I’m sorry for everything... there’s just so many things going on and I’m just as confused as you”

“I doubt that” I mumbled and he sighed running his fingers through his curls.

“I mean it, I shouldn’t have done any of the things I did to you and I’m sorry, I can’t change what happened, I can only change what will happen, so can you please forgive me?”

“Shawn...”

“It doesn’t have to happen today or tomorrow, I can be patient, I just need you to give one more chance, please, Y/N, you’re not the only one hurting here”

“It sure seems like it...”

“I know, but I’m too tough to show that” he quoted himself from a few years ago with a playful grin threatening to show up and pleading eyes.

Damn it, Mendes, not those puppy eyes.

“I’d have to think about it”

“Sure” he said giving me an honest smile “thank you, honey”

“Whatever, Mendes” I said trying to hold back a smile that threatened to appear.

After that, I got back into organizing stuff, but the silence between us now was a lot lighter and almost pleasant, if it wasn’t for the fact that we were stuck on a library as a punishment and it would last a week, at least for me. Shawn kept stealing glances at me and he wasn’t trying to hide it, which was odd.

“Can I ask you two things?”

“Uh, sure” he said somewhere behind a shelf.

“First, why are you even here?”

“Got caught sneaking out a girl’s dorm room, two weeks here, this is my last one”

“Oh”

“Now I have company, by the way, that was a really good punch, he deserved it”

“Thanks, the second one is... I don’t remember much from last night”

“I know”

“Did I...?”

“You what?” He asked, head poking out of the corner of one of the heavy bookcases.

“Did I said something to make you say what you said today?”

“No, it was... I just realized something and I thought that was the smartest move to make, which wasn’t, we both ended up getting hurt and it sucked, and it only lasted like... ten hours”

“Was it because you kissed me?”

“What?!”

“Nothing... Hm, I’m done” I said turning around to grab my stuff.

“Wait, I can drop you off, just let me place two more books in place and we can head off”

“You don’t have to”

“I know, don’t want you walking around alone”

“Okay” I sighed sitting at one of the tables.

Any other day and I would’ve ignored him and walked to my room, but after today’s encounters it might be best if he took me there. I waited what seemed like five minutes when I finally saw the curly haired boy coming to where I was waiting and grab my backpack for me. I jumped off the table and we both went to his jeep, that was parked not that close to the main entrance. The night got chilly quickly and he noticed me curling into myself, and he quickly peeled off his leather jacket, giving it to me, which I tried to deny but knowing him for as long as I did, I knew it was pointless. I just gave up and put it on, being quickly engulfed by warmth and his scent, which was pretty addicting.

Tyler was standing next to his jeep, leaning on his own car, talking to a few of his friends and laughing, probably his study group, but when me and Shawn got closer, he stopped laughing and stared at us like we were two aliens on campus. I felt my face heating up, so I just gave him a tight lip smile and a little wave, which he quickly corresponded still looking like he saw a ghost. I climbed on Shawn’s jeep and I saw him staring at Tyler with a slightly suspicious look on his face, so I just placed a hand on his bicep and he seemed to come back to reality, starting the engine and driving back to my place.

The ride was quiet besides the soft music playing on the background, which I quickly recognized as John Mayer, making a smile cross my lips. It didn’t go unnoticed by Shawn, who started to softly singalong with it. It took him less the five minutes to get to my dorm, and it still took long, but he was driving rather slow and I wasn’t complaining, I was getting a free ride home. He parked outside and stretched to get my backpack from the backseat for me.

“Hey... about what you asked...”

“Forget it, please” I asked and he sighed nodding “thank you, and thank you for the ride”

“It’s okay” he said placing my backpack gently on my lap.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Yeah”

“Why don’t you like Tyler?”

“Why do you like Tyler?”

“He’s nice to me, he’s hot and he’s funny”

“So am I”

“Are you?”

“Yes!”

“You used to be”

“I still am”

“You’re going to have to prove it”

“I will”

“Good luck, and hey!”

“What?”

“You didn’t answer me”

“You’re smarter than I thought”

“Always underestimating me?”

“I’d never do that”

“Whatever, answer me”

“Tyler’s literally the worst”

“You two were going out with the same girl?”

“No, you know I don’t get attached”

“Than what is it?”

“He’s a player, and I’m the one who’s saying it, I just don’t want him to break your heart”

“So what if he’s a player? I’m not saying I’m in love with him, I just want to have some fun”

“I know you”

“You don’t, not anymore”

“Y/N... I know you get attached easily, and I know you care, and I know he’s not good enough for you”

“How could you know that? How could you know who’s good enough for me or not? Honestly, Shawn, you know nothing”

“Honey...”

“And by the way... who’s good enough for me? You? Cause you’re the one to break my heart here, not him, and we weren’t even romantically involved, imagine if we were, maybe you should be sorry, cause right now I’m pretty sure you didn’t change at all, goodnight” I said swinging the door open.

“Hey! Wait! I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean to offend you, you just asked why I didn’t like the guy, that’s the reason, I’m sorry” he said and I took a deep breath.

“Fine”

“And what I meant when I said you get attached easily is not a bad thing, I think it’s just because you actually believe in love and this sort of stuff, and that’s not a bad thing, and I just don’t want to see you feeling bad due to some idiot who can’t treat you the way you deserved to be treated, and I know I’m not good enough for you, God knows how much I thought about it since the day we’ve met, I’m sorry” he said I my heart swelled at his words.

“I’m sorry too, I guess I overreacted, I think I’m on the edge today”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s okay, you should rest a bit, today was pretty stressful for you”

“I know, thank you, Shawn, for real”

“It’s okay, goodnight, Y/N” he said as I got off his car.

“Night, Shawn” I said closing the door and climbing the steps to the main entrance to my dorm room, seeing him pulling off and heading home.

I got up to my dorm room and Mel instantly smirked when she saw me, and that’s when I noticed I still had his jacket on.

“Oh My...”

“Don’t even start, Melissa”

“Okay... why are you so late? I left like, a thousand voicemails! I know you get lost when you’re with Shawn and stuff, but you could’ve warned me”

“Sorry, I was in a sort of detention”

“What?! Why?”

“I punched Byron”

“Why?! What did that son of a bitch do this time?”

“Same as yesterday, only this time I made sure he got the message, but a teacher saw us, and Shawn happened to be already in trouble and library duty, I just had the luck of lack of it for receiving the same punishment”

“So how was it?”

“Not that bad, we sorted a few strings that were loose and I think he wants to change, maybe go back to how we were before”

“That’s nice”

“You don’t seem surprised” I said as I took off his jacket and placed it on my closet, sending him a quick ‘forgot to give you your jacket, sorry, x’ text.

“I talked to him after seeing you that sad today”

“What?! Why?! When?”

“Because I happen to care about you both and he looked like shit today, I just knew it was for the same reason you looked the same, maybe even a bit better. I met him in one of our classes, and I just sat down and said a few things”

“Which were?”

“You should ask him, he’s the one I was taking to”

“Rude” I said jokingly going to the bathroom to change into my pj’s.

“But you still love me” Mel shouted from the bedroom.

I went through my night routine normally when I saw my phone’s screen lighting up with Shawn’s name on it.

From Shawnie:

‘you know, if you want to keep on stealing my clothes i might have to buy more’

‘kidding, i would let you keep it if it wasn’t my favorite leather jacket’

To Shawnie:

‘oh, okay, when do you want it back?’

From Shawnie:

‘chill, i’ll pass by tomorrow or whenever to pick it up, don’t worry ‘bout it, see you tomorrow x’

I decided not to reply, just lock my phone and go back to bed and hope he wouldn’t drive me crazy and keep on acting like this for good. Maybe I’ll finally have peace.

Boy, was that a lie.

                                                    -*-

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[zertzertzhang]

Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down CH.2

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, and taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

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First chapter link here > https://zertzertzhang.tumblr.com/post/627185848305270784/stand-and-deliver-my-life-turned-upside-down

Chapter Two: Circus

The second Vianne stepped out of the car, she realized her mistake. The school wasn’t what she expected at all. Garfield High broke the scale...in a bad way. Chipped walls decorated the main hall, flooded with overflowing trash bins and rusty pipelines. It had to have been decades since the last renovation, with the building looking like something she saw from abandoned prefectures. 

Like all other complexes she’d seen around there, the place was standing on its last two feet. This was supposed to be the best building around. 

Her white Giuseppe sneakers stepped on something sticky, and it was a challenge to hold in a disgusted snort. There was dried gum everywhere on the sidewalk, making Vianne wonder why they even bothered with trash cans in the first place. She winced when it was clear that her shoes would be torn to shreds by the end of the day.

Then came the worst part of her arrival; people stared. And it wasn’t some half-assed look you gave to a passersby on the streets. Students were either throwing her a look-over or straight on gaping. It could’ve been the way she was dressed, or the fact that she was probably the only Asian mingling in the midst of Latinos and very few Caucasians. Most likely both.

Ironed blouses and slim denim were not in fashion around here. Among the rest of the population with oversized shirts and baggy mom jeans, Vianne was the runt of the litter. She wanted to jump back into the car, go home, and put on an invisibility coat. The dirty look she saw from some of the girls did nothing to calm the queasy storm in her stomach.

“-That fresh meat?”

“It’s a fuckin’ chink. What’re they doin’ here?”

“Heh, looks like a lost puppy.”

The boys were doing a terrible job at whispering. Vianne wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at passive aggression or just plain stupidity. She glared in their direction, lips pulled into a slight frown as she entered the building. A cold sweat broke through her back, stretching its spindly fingers around her body in a tight cocoon. 

Ignore them and get on with it.

Her mind screamed at her to keep walking, and she obliged. Repeating the mental mantra, Vianne soon found her way into the main office with her slip in hand. A handful of police officers crowded in one tiny space, speaking in rapid Spanish. Order did not exist in this school; the secretary was talking to five people at once, without the time to think about the things she said. Voices filled with agitation hung in the air. 

Vianne was this close to thinking she had entered the wrong room when a small figure spotted her from behind.

“Miss? Can I help you?” A small tap on her shoulders sent her whirling around in alarm. Her little outburst startled the short woman behind her as well. When Vienne finally registered the lack of threat in front of her, her cheeks flushed bright red.

“Sorry! I’m looking for Racquel Ortega. It’s my first day and I was told to come here to get my finalized schedule.” The young woman spoke so fast she swore her lips would fall off. 

The curly-haired woman in the maxi dress looked surprised. “Ah, that would be me. Are you Vianne Yang.”

Vianne nodded. “I was supposed to meet my TA instructor for math. It’s my first period.”

Ortega smiled warmly. “Yes. Welcome to Garfield High. Please follow me.” She held out a hand, and Vianne shook them without hesitation. 

The duo weaved back and forth in the crowds, desperate to dodge the flying paper balls. Ortega would yell once in a while at a group of boys before pointing to the office behind her. The way her docile demeanor went from zero to a hundred freaked the young woman a bit. But Vianne couldn’t blame her. Had she been in her shoes, she would’ve quit before she even started.

As it turned out, her instructor was a retired engineer. Of all places, Vianne didn’t expect that to come from a high school teacher, particularly in this neighborhood. Ortega did an excellent job at filling in the details. It would seem that Jaime Escalante needed a breath of fresh air from the corporate environment. 

Vianne almost felt sorry for him. There was no relaxation here; she’d be surprised if the teachers weren’t dropping dead from exhaustion because of the students. Garfield, from what she’d seen so far, could drive a devout nun to insanity. 

The increasing voices of everyone around spiked her anxiety to new levels. She was doing her utmost best to not break down and cling onto the older woman for dear life. The mass of bodies was like an unforgiving current, threatening to wash her away if she slipped up.

They reached a door with the sign ‘Math 1A’ scribbled on the whiteboard next to it. Someone had decided that a drawing of a dick was appropriate to be placed right under the description. The person even added a smiley face onto the artwork, showcasing their enthusiasm. Real classy. 

“Racquel please come to the front desk. Racquel please come to the front desk.” Ortega’s walkie-talkie crinkled pitifully, before choking out a command. The math advisor sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She nudged Vianne closer to the door. 

“Here’s the classroom. Mr. Escalante should be there already. Good luck with your school year.” A tight smile appeared on Ortega’s face, and within seconds, she was making a mad dash back to the main hall. All alone, Vianne was left standing there feeling like a complete fool. She blinked at where Ortega was previously, and the sense of dread overwhelmed her. On cue, the bell rang its warning. Everyone groaned in unison like a chorus before the wave of students began flowing into the classrooms. 

Lucky for her, she had no need to run to class. Grabbing the nob with renewed strength, Vianne pulled herself into the room. There was one person at the front desk; a middle-aged man nearing his sixties stood near the chalkboard, hand moving furiously as he wrote down an equation. She prayed that this was going to be the right person.

“Mr. Escalante?” Vianne cringed at her pronunciation of his name. She herself knew what it was like when people screwed up hers in the past. But this man had an entirely different level of difficulty. Ortega’s way of saying it felt so natural compared to hers, which sounded like an insecure toddler butchering their first word.

The man turned his head to face Vianne, eyes widening a fraction. His oversized glasses gave him a sage-like appearance despite the head, or half-head, of dark hair. The bald spot in addition to his very casual attire made her think of a grandpa who was likely to yell at the kids across the lawn. 

At the sight of her dumbstruck state, he quirked his lips. “Yes, how may I help you?”

The slight South American accent trailed after his speech, giving away his ethnicity. Vianne felt her mouth open and close, but the nervousness took the words from her mouth. She stuck out her hand that held the transfer letter. Escalante better have known about this, or she’ll flip a lid.

“I’m Vianne,” she explained. “Your TA. I think Mrs. Ortega already told you about me?”

Escalante’s brows rose to new heights, his amused smile broadening. “Yes! Miss Yang, is it? Welcome to my class!” The elongated hiss in his way of speech, coupled with the wild gesture of his arms painted the picture of a mad scientist in her head. It was nearly endearing.

“I’m afraid there’s not enough chairs for an extra student,” Escalante said. “Please stand here and wait for everyone to arrive so I can take a headcount for the others.”

Vianne obeyed without a word and flattened herself against the wall next to him. In response, the door was barged open, and the group of students flooded the room like a swarm of wasps entering their hive. Restless chatter buzzed her ears as she took note of everyone that rounded the class. It was hard to catch what most of them were saying; Spanish wasn’t the language requirement she took back in Napa.

Knowing French wasn’t the best course to help her in this situation. And even then, she only took it up to level two. The people before her all wore the same dazed expression, jeering in loud volumes and hooting on the sides.

Someone shot a rubber band across the room, hitting one of the boys square in the face. Angry shouts erupted from both sides as the rest of them began to laugh at the brawling duo. More paper balls were thrown, and Vianne could hear some of them yelling ‘bitch’ to one another.

It was a fucking joke. The whole class was a joke––scratch that––the whole school was a joke. And Vianne was the poor audience that bought the overpriced ticket to the hellhole circus. There was not a word that could describe the boiling feeling in her gut. She couldn’t believe it; this was the place she had to deal with for another year. 

There was no way the teachers here could’ve survived each day without going into a catatonic state before school ended. Vianne drummed her fingers against her books without mercy. A panic attack was just inches away from happening if the class refused to settle down. And from the look on Escalante’s face, it would appear that they shared the same sentiment.

A scowl donned his face, creasing the heavy lines on his forehead. If it weren’t for Vianne’s distracted state, she would’ve been frightened by those narrowed eyes. 

“Come now!” Escalante’s voice boomed throughout the small room. “You don’t want no mama’s chancla when you get home, no? I’d love to see you fight with your parents around.”

The overt threat was not lost among the students, with some of them slinking away in defeat. Others ‘booed’ at the command, but made no extra attempts to disrupt the already late start of the lecture. It took about five minutes to get their total attention to the board, and that alone fried Vianne’s brain.

“Orale!” Escalante’s mood quickly brightened at the cooperating mass, his smile twinkling with interest. “Allow me to introduce my new TA. She will be your lovely assistant for the rest of the school year. Any extra questions, she will answer for you.”

His hands gestured to her like a magician preparing his new subject for a spin. But only in this state, nothing was magical. It became clear that Escalante was waiting for her to present herself; the man eyed her expectantly, his grin not budging an inch. 

Vianne felt her cheeks flush so hot that it put the musty LA weather to shame. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. “Hi, uh, I’m Vianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you all...uh, hope I could be of some help.”

An urge to facepalm was strong. Had her grades been irrelevant to her stay in Math 1A, she would’ve made a beeline for the door. The reception after her introduction was a nightmare, because everyone began jabbering all at once.

“The fuck?!” A young man with a messy afro glared at her. His buddies around him sniggered in agreement.

In the front, a chubby male with curly hair snorted. “Booooring!” His female friends rolled their eyes and swatted him on the shoulders. But their giggles weren’t held in for long.

Vianne wanted to find the nearest cliff and throw herself from it. If she converted to Buddihsm now, maybe she’ll even have a decent shot at getting a nice reincarnation.

“First you, now the chink?! This is messed up man!” A few more hostile tones rose from the back. 

Her eyes flared. Vianne changed her mind; she didn’t want to throw herself off a cliff anymore, she wanted to throw them. Her body trembled with brewing rage under her skin. The nerve of the scoundrels! As if she wanted to be here! If it were up to her, she wouldn’t even spare them the time of day. Like an uncontrollable tick, her temper fired in sparks. A snide retort was about to make its way to the public when Escalante’s hands came up in a flash.

“Silence!” The tone of his command left no room for arguments. “Another remark as such, and all of you will be spending Saturday school for a month!”

The teacher was practically bristling from head to toe. His friendly disposition came and went at a dizzying speed, tugging Vianne onto an emotional roller-coaster. However, she was nonetheless grateful for the save. One thing was for sure, skin color was not up for debate in his classroom. At least she found an ally in desperate times. 

At his outcry, the students grumbled amongst themselves and quieted down. She still received dirty looks from the girls, but they were mostly silent. One youngster in the front row with earrings gave her a lopsided grin and tutted with refined casualness.

“Yo ese! Does that mean if you assign sex homework I can ask her number?”

A few other boys cheered from the back, throwing their thumbs up as if they heard the best joke in record time. The girls cringed and sent disgusted scowls their way, with one of them commenting about how horny the bastards were. Only one person in the audience didn’t react. The girl with short, curly hair looked at Vianne, a pitying stare adorned her guise. 

Humiliation wasn’t something Vianne dealt with on a daily basis. And the sudden onslaught nearly had her burst into a tearful temper tantrum. Glancing over to Escalante, she could see the patience waning from him as well. The class was saved from another wrath from either of them when the bell rang again. 

Without a second thought, everyone except for the girl with short hair bolted for the door. The insult Vianne had prepared was lodged in her throat, unable to make their move. Was this a mistake? She was sure that it wasn’t even halfway through the first period, they still had more than an hour left. Time was a foreign concept to her in this town, and she figured her mind must’ve been playing tricks on her.

“Um, is class over?” It was a rhetorical question. But what answered her caught her off guard.

“Give it a minute,” the girl said. Her pencil tapped with a delicate rhythm against the desk as she wore a tired expression. Vianne stared at her with disbelief before turning her head to the instructor. Like the girl, Escalante showed no interest in leaving, instead opting to go towards the window. 

Curiosity got the best of her, and she soon joined him by the blinds. “What’s going on?”

“They rigged the bell again.” From Escalante’s frown, she reckoned that this was a common occurrence. Following his gaze, her eyes landed on a group of young men congregated before the main school alarm. All of them were donned in dark clothing, wearing baggy jeans and beanies. The distance made it hard to see their faces, but Vianne thought she caught sight of a tall figure moving amongst them. He was laughing obnoxiously, while engaging in a bro-shake with a shorter male. 

None of that was relevant, though, because the bell rang again, this time from the superintendent. His red face deepened to a shade of purple as he and the principal began their rounding of the rioting teens. The mob of students were herded back to their respective classrooms, all groaning and whining at the ‘unfair treatment’ of their lunch break.

“Lunch isn’t for another two periods!” Principal Molina shouted. “Get back to class!” His finger pointed to the doors, and his eyes bulged like an angry bull’s.

“Shut the fuck up!” A few students jeered. More paper balls were thrown, but there wasn’t anything Molina could do about it.

All the while, Vianne and the girl sat dumbstruck as they stared at the whirlwind of people coming back to their seats. Vianne swore that if this was how it was going to be for the rest of the day, then she’ll gladly accept them leaving on their own accord.

After another ten minutes wasted on trying to get her classmates to settle down, Escalante wiped his brow with a handkerchief. The toll of the students had taken its effect on him as well. But the sly grin never left his face, unbreakable like hardtack.

“I told you it was futile to escape,” he taunted softly. “There’s always a bigger fish in the pond.” 

Vianne sent him a disbelieving look. Was the man not afraid of backlash? But the rest of the class only ignored him and glared, defeated. The class TA let out a breath of relief, for a moment she feared that it’ll lead to another brawl, this time at the instructor.

“Turn to page fifteen! And I want all of your homework turned in to Vianne right here. Once you’ve done that, work on problems one through ten on the multiplication of fractions.” The command was calm and precise, not a word stuttered. Escalante corrected the glasses on his nose and squinted at the chalkboard, not giving a fuck about the moaning teens.

It was Vianne’s cue to get to work. She didn’t hesitate, and began roaming around the room collecting wrinkled papers. With time, she learned that the girl who stayed behind was Ana, the frizzy-haired girl behind her was Claudia, and next to Claudia was the redheaded Lupe. Neither of the two gave Vianne much of a glance, preferring to ignore her existence as she took their homework.

Not bothering to tell them about the mutual disdain, Vianne clicked away happily. She soon found out that the man who kept asking for sex was Tito, his lopsided smile broadening when she came to take his paper. 

“How ‘bout we do a trade,” Tito suggested, licking his lips. “My work for your number.”

Vianne wished very much to flip him off and top it with a whack on his head. But she chose to snatch the homework from his hands without a word. A snort escaped her as she turned around.

The boy next to him, Frank ‘Pancho’ Garcia, hooted. “Rejected!” 

Tito scoffed. “Tsk, tsk. Playin’ hard to get I see.” He waved a casual hand and went back to his workbook. “It’s her loss.”

That’s what every virgin says. Vianne rolled her eyes at the added comment. The stack of writings were presented to Escalante, who took it with a gracious ‘thank you’. His lack of reaction to the jeers made her question just how much he was going to take because of his job. The probability of him being numb to the antics was high.

 Just when Vianne thought her task was done for the time being, the door creaked open. She raised a brow; there were three more seats left in the corner, so it made sense that there were more people coming in. Facing the entrance, Vianne tried to get a better look than using the corners of her eyes. 

Her stomach lurched at the sight, and she had to bite her lips to keep from hyperventilating. If her memory served her right, then those were the exact same boys she saw loitering around the alarm. The shortest one with a bandana stalked up to the front, head bobbing with self-assured arrogance. His hollow eyes stared at her with mild interest before they hardened when Escalante came into his view.

“Kimo,” he drawled. “Who’s the freshie?” The languid demeanor gave away his stoned state. Vianne made a subconscious step away from him and his pals, eyeing them warily through her glasses. He smirked, showing off a row of white teeth, seemingly glad at her reaction.

“You’re late, Chuco.” To her side, Escalante came into the conversation. “Vianne’s your new TA and I need you to sit your ass on a seat.”

Chuco gave a slighted look her way before he sauntered past her to the back, followed by his buddies. Vianne didn’t realize how tall the teen she saw through the window was until she was mere inches away from him. Dressed in an oversized bomber jacket and jeans too big for his waist, the towering youth could easily pass as a man in his twenties. A good feet taller than her would be a low estimation. 

What on earth are his parents feeding him?! 

Vianne stared straight on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing her discomfort. Like Chuco, he also paid her no attention as he strolled next to the ‘leader’, plopping down on the desk in a bored manner. 

It made sense that Escalante would want their homework as well, so she made a begrudging advance in their direction. Her feet padded across the room, drilling needles of dread into her legs with each stride.

“I need your homework, please.” Vianne tried to sound as polite as possible. But the grinding of teeth made it hard to sound sweet. 

Chuco leered. “Ain’t got no homework, chica. Do the problems in ma head.”

One didn’t need a degree in astrophysics to know he was messing with her. Vianne grinned a little too forcefully and sighed. “Fine. Please turn to page fifteen and work on problems one through ten.”

She walked over to his tall companion, prepared for another unpleasant conversation. “Homework, please.”

The young man proceeded to pull his beanie lower over his ears. At that, Vianne was millimeters away from flipping her shit. Did the blockhead not comprehend? Or was he messing with her, too? Her father did say that certain people around the area couldn’t speak English, so she tried to push the excuse in a better light. Maybe he really didn’t understand her.

“Give me your tarea, por favor?” She tried to remember the basic Spanish from her previous encounters. But her knowledge decided to ditch her last minute. “Uh, Speak Ingles?”

He looked at her, eyes wide with what she hoped was understanding, and his lips twitched. Then his brows joined in, before he busted out laughing. Chuco howled along with him, slapping him on the shoulders with glee. 

“Sometimes,” the tall youth answered. He smirked, tilting his head in her direction. Vianne balled her hands into fists as she watched on. The tips of her ears burned with a passion.

“Orale Angel!” Chuco high-fived him hard. “Nice one!” The duo continued their chorus of laughter, completely oblivious to the subject of their jest.

Vianne wished that turning invisible was a possible feat. It was adamantly clear that this was going to be a long year. The storm inside her grew, barely holding the thunders at bay.

:

:

A/N: As per usual, shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for encouraging and helping me get over writers block and whatnot ;)

[moonlit-imagines]

Switchblade

Richie Tozier x Hocksetter!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: y/n doesn’t like the way that their brother’s friends step all over other kids, so y/n decides to stand up to them

Derry wasn’t full of the best people, or the most interesting, but nobody seemed to care at this point. Every once in a while you’d see someone a little out of the ordinary, but sooner or later, they’re just another face.

You were stuck in Bowers’ stupid gang thanks to your older brother, Pat. He insisted that you’d be safer with them, but you called bullshit. You hated the way they treated the other students, they wouldn’t listen to you.

“Henry, get it together!” You shoved him. “You have no good reason to fuck with a bunch of kids! Stop being a little bitch and pick on someone your own size.” Henry clenched his jaw and glared at your brother.

“Listen, Hocksetter two point oh, I don’t take orders from you.” He walked towards you, but he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you.

“Maybe you should.” You stomped away and left your group in the dust. You maneuvered around the hallway of students with your skateboard under your arm and found your class. Geometry. A real snooze. You sat near two of the kids that Henry insisted on fucking with so bad. Tozier and Uris. A year ahead in math, but you knew Tozier was about to flunk this class. You graded papers after school every week.

You tapped on Richie’s arm, but he flinched and pulled away. You pulled back and gave him a half smile as he stared in fear.

“Sorry, sorry,” you whispered, “I was just making sure you were okay. I’m sick of Henry treating you guys like shit.” Richie stared at you through his glasses, his bug eyes only communicated confusion.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled and turned away. You hummed and tapped your pencil on your desk. You saw Stanley eying the two of you curiously.

“Mr. Uris, eyes up front.” Your teacher instructed. Soon, the bell rang and everyone swarmed out the door. Stanley and Richie joined a line of losers and discussed what had just happened.

“What did y/n say to you, Rich?” Stan asked.

“Nothing important.” He shrugged. Stanley sighed and headed for the front doors of the school with the rest of the losers, eager to get home and finish his 1200 piece puzzle he had gotten over the weekend.

But life wasn’t so simple. Bowers and his gang snuck up from behind and grabbed Richie and Bill by their collars. And they immediately began insulting them, which didn’t bode well for them. But you caught sight of the brewing altercation and ran over before it could escalate even further.

“You son of a bitch, Henry!” You punched his back. “Let go of them, asshole!” He unballed his fists and turned to you. Reg, Vic, and Pat blocked the Losers from running off.

“I’m sick and tired of you being soft, y/n. You aren’t in charge!” He pushed you to the ground and your brother stepped forward. “Back off, Hocksetter!” You crawled to your feet and delivered a punch to his jaw.

“What are you guys standing there for? Run!” You told the kids. Bowers spit on the ground.

“I’ll deal with you later, brat.” Bowers told you. “Go after them! Those little shits don’t get off that easily!” You dropped your skateboard and left them in the dust. You were able to catch up to a few of the losers.

“Why are you helping us?” Eddie asked as he shook his inhaler.

“You think I wanna stoop to their level? I hate the way they treat everyone and I’m ashamed that I’ve stood idly by and let them do what they do.” You admitted. “They’re fuckin’ crazy, you guys. I don’t think they’d care if they killed you.” The kids eyes went wide. “Go on, get moving! Where’s Richie?”

“He ran into the woods. He thought he could lose them that way.” The new kid told you.

“They’re not gonna stop until they find you. They’ll pound on your doors if they have to.” You shook your head. “But you’ll be safe in your houses. Henry’s dad’s a cop, so if he trespasses, he’s fucked. You guys are probably in the clear if you leave now, so go. I’ll find your friend and get him home safely. Good luck.” The kids nodded and rushed in each direction to get home. You hopped a few fences and reached the woodland part of Derry. Kid couldn’t have gone far.

The twigs and leaves snapped, crackled, and popped under your boots. The trek was starting to get boring, you were losing hope in finding this kid, but it was either you or the gang.

Finally, you saw the kid leaning on a tree. He had his headphones on, nodding his head along to the music. Great minds think alike. In your times of trouble, you’d turn to music, as well. He was apparently working on homework, but as you stepped closer, you startled him and he pulled out his switchblade and threw his headphones down.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry!” You lifted you arms. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You always carry that knife?” You asked.

“Recently.” He muttered. You stepped closer and kneeled down.

“Relax, Richie. I don’t want you to get hurt. My brother and his friends are grade A assholes.” You looked at his work. “Geometry homework, huh?”

“I’m gonna fail, but I’ll probably die first.” He joked.

“Not on my watch.” You reached a hand out and helped him up. “Bowers and the crew aren’t gonna stop until they find you, so I’m walking you home, got it?”

“Why?” He asked.

“Did you not just hear me? They’re gonna kill you.” You told him.

“I can get home by myself, I don’t need an escort.” He argued.

“Shut up, I’m trying to help you. Maybe I’ll even help you pass Mrs. Sullivan’s class while I’m at it.” You picked his bag up and handed it to him.

“Why help after all this time?” He asked.

“Because, I couldn’t let you get harassed any longer. I’m genuinely sorry that I didn’t do anything sooner, but if we don’t go now, you’re fucked.” You began walking.

“Fuck.” Richie groaned. He swallowed his pride and stomped alongside you. You smirked and shook your head.

“Where to?” You asked.

“That way.” He pointed. “Jesus Christ, my mom’s probably gonna invite you in for cookies.”

“Great, maybe I’ll get laid, too.” You chuckled.

“Hey, mom jokes are my thing!” He protested. “I’ll fuck your mom if you look at mine!” You stuck your hand in your pocket and reached for a cigarette, then pulled a lighter out of the other. “Oh, look, here comes cancer.” He rolled his eyes.

“What, you want one?” You asked, pulling another out.

“Of fucking course I do.” He snatched it and stuck it in his mouth, then you lit it for him. He put on a Bugs Bunny impression. “Very nice, see? Would you look at that, see?” You chuckled at him.

“I’ve never seen your wisecracking self, only the scared little boy running in the wind.” You commented and he shoved you.

“Maybe you’d see it if your mullet-wearing disgrace of a friend would back the fuck off.” He took his cigarette in between his fingers.

“Hey, listen here. Bowers is not a friend. Bowers is a bitch.” You told him. “He cries when he gets embarrassed and he’s a lying dirtbag. You know that Marsh girl?”

“Yeah, she and him were together, right?” His question made you cackle.

“Hell no! That poor girl’s reputation isn’t true in the slightest. She kicked Henry in the dick because he backed her against a wall.” You laughed.

“Holy shit, that’s great.” He walked into the road. “Why haven’t I heard that story before?”

“Nobody dares expose him for the pussy that he is.”

The pair of you exchanged jokes for a few blocks, then found Richie’s house.

“Get your ass in there.” You gently pushed him to the door.

“Not unless you come in with me.” He retorted.

“Your mom better be in there.” You patted him on the back. He rolled his eyes and opened up the door.

“This is my glorious home, drop your shit wherever.” He told you. “My room is the third door on the right.” You walked in and sat down on his bed. He came in about three minutes later with two slices of pizza.

“Oh, nice.” You reached for a slice, but he pulled away.

“Back off, these are mine.” He said with his chewed pizza in his mouth. You frowned at this and he laughed a bit. “I’m kidding, take it.”

“Good one, four eyes.” You took the other slice. “So you just let anyone into your house? Until like three hours ago you hated me.”

“Hates a strong word. But yeah, I hated you.” He sorted through his bag and found his geometry homework. “You showed us that you’re not an asshole though, that’s what matters. Now help me pass this stupid class.”

You spent the next few hours helping Richie out with his homework, but his mom came home and it got a little awkward.

“Who’s this, Richie?” His mom asked.

“Y/N was just helping me with some math homework.” He told her.

“Well, that’s sweet. I’m getting dinner ready, would you like to eat with us?” She asked you.

“Sounds great! Thank you.” You smiled and she left the room. You nudged Richie with your elbow and he pushed your shoulder.

“Next time were going to your house and I’m gonna flirt with your mom the entire time.” He told you.

“Oh, so there’s a next time?” You asked.

“I’m hoping so.” He put his books down.

“Well, Bowers is at our house a lot, so I don’t advise going there.” You grabbed his hand.

“You’re right, probably for the best.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’ve said it yet, so thanks for the save. If you didn’t walk me home, I probably would’ve pissed myself.”

“Anytime, Rich. You’re a pretty cool dude.” You poked his side.

“I’m definitely cooler than you.” He snarked.

“Oh, shut up.” You told him.

“Make me.” He leaned forward. You took a shot in the dark and kissed him, and lucky for you, he kissed back. You took a second to pull back.

“Well, we’re moving fast.” You remarked.

“I’m not complaining.” He kissed you once more, but his mom knocked on the door. You each flew back and played the roles of tutor and student.

“Okay, so a squared plus b squared equals c squared, got it?” You explained to Richie. He was leaned over with a hand propping his head up and nodded.

“Oh, look at you two. Anyways, dinner’s ready! Come on out.” She smiled and walked away, so you and Richie let out a small fit of giggles. His face was bright red.

“Really? The Pythagoreon Theorem? I know that one!” He told you.

“Well, apparently not according to last weeks test.”

[pandastern]

Gravity (Bakugou x OC)

Part 2: New Girl In Town (past)

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count: 2005

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected.

part1

“According to the papers the principal gave me, you got in here based on recommendation from... Europe?”

“Yes, sir,” Artemis answered as she followed her new home room teacher.

Shouta Aizawa was indeed a very successful pro hero, but despite his reputation as Eraser Head, he sure was one weird fellow.

If she hadn't known better, she would have taken him for some homeless person. The yellow atrocity he called a sleeping bag wasn't really working in his favour here though, she thought to herself.

Not that it really mattered, she supposed. After all, appearance wasn't always important. Unless, of course, you knew how to use it in your favour.

“Interesting. The semester has already started, though. Why do you think you can show up later in the course than anyone else? Just because you're an exchange student doesn't mean you get special treatment.” Aizawa's voice cut through her train of thought.

The slight edge to his tone didn't go unnoticed to Artemis.

“The transfer process took a little longer than it should have done. I also had an injury that needed to heal first,” she replied with a shrug. “I was told by the head office it wouldn't be a problem. I don't expect special treatment, sir. I'm more than capable of pulling my weight in class.”

Artemis understood that in this school, teachers made the rules. This kind of tyranny prepared each student differently for their eventual goal: to become a pro hero. Not that she was interested in that. Being a hero nowadays was nothing more than a job. Congrats, you could use your quirk, but at what cost? She wondered how many students were aware of all the restrictions that had been put in place for people like them.

“Do you, now? Your confidence is admirable, but let's see if your actions actually match your words,” the teacher scoffed.

Narrowing her eyes, Artemis studied the man in front of her. Hobo aesthetic or not, there was a danger that lurked beneath the surface, and she'd be a fool to underestimate him.

“All right, class, get in your seats and shut your traps. We've got a new student here with us today,” Aizawa said, kicking open the ridiculously large classroom door. “Ms Moon, introduce yourself quickly and take a seat. I've got a lesson to teach.”

The entire class of 1A perked up. A new student? That was something almost unheard of. Katsuki Bakugou let out a scoff. Another extra in this class. Great. He tore his crimson eyes from the window and looked towards the front of the class.

A girl stepped in. She was rather short for his taste (not that he had a particular taste in women – that was a fucking waste of time). Her long hair was tied up in a ponytail and was coloured... several shades of red. He had to admit he'd never seen such a strange colour combination. Red, auburn, ginger and bright orange ran through her hair, making it look as though her head were literally on fire. Was that a hairdressers' appointment gone wrong? Or had she really been born with hair like that?

Not that he cared, obviously.

Turning towards the class, the girl bowed politely and surveyed the room. Big, luminous, emerald eyes fell on Katsuki, sending a chill down his spine.

What the fuck?

“Hello,” she said. The accent in her Japanese was prominent, though not in a way that made him cringe as it did with so many foreigners, he had to admit.

“My name is Artemis Moon and I've transferred here from a school in Europe. I look forward to working with you all.”

It took just those few words to make the hair on the back of Katsuki's head stand. Something about this girl was... wrong. Again, those creepy catlike eyes met his, and the corners of her lips curved slightly upwards. Katsuki was quick to decide – he already hated her. From the way her posture was as straight as a goddamn soldier's to the calculating glint in her freaky eyes, everything about her just flat-out pissed him off.

He could hear Kaminari and Mineta high fiving each other in the back as the girl, Artemis, moved through the rows and took a seat between Uraraka and the pink girl whose name he'd already forgotten again. She smiled as she made exchanged a few words with them. This seemed normal enough, even though Katsuki could clearly see that the beaming smile this Artemis gave her classmates never truly reached her creepy eyes. How did no-one else notice that?

Morning classes were surprisingly unspectacular for Artemis' taste. Stuff like English wasn't too hard for her, but maths in Japanese was just murder. She'd already figured that as a foreigner, she'd have some sort of problem in that department.

At lunchtime, a very cute, bubbly girl named Ochako Uraraka took Artemis by the sleeve and practically dragged her to the cafeteria. Not that she particularly minded. Artemis was grateful at being introduced to her classmates in this friendly manner. It was a nice group, she found, easy to talk to and get along with.

“Say, Artemis,” a rather outgoing girl with pink skin named Mina (if she remembered correctly) asked. "How do you like UA so far? Is it better than your old school in Europe?”

“Well,” Artemis said, taking a bite from her tempura shrimp, “It's... different. UA High really does have a different standard. The students are nicer, too!”

She gave her new friends a wink.

“In my old class, everyone was constantly at each other's throats. That was because you got kicked from the course if you don't produce the right results.”

“What?!” Izuku Midoriya gasped. “That sounds horrible! What if you were having a bad day?”

“It wasn't as bad as that. But if you failed several times in a row, well, you were fucked.” Artemis shrugged.

The conversation moved along to where she was from exactly and what her family was doing. She made sure her answers were satisfactory but still vague. Neither topic was something she particularly liked to talk about. She hadn't made her way all the way to Japan to be reminded of the shithole she had come from, that was for sure.

As the conversation shifted back to the upcoming classes, Artemis suddenly felt someone's eyes burning into the back of her head. She turned and noticed the same boy from today's class sitting behind her. He'd been staring at her before, when she had introduced herself. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was plotting her death.

“Uhm...” She tapped Uraraka's shoulder. “What's his problem?”

Ochako followed her gesture to the ash blond boy sending a murder stare in her direction.

“Oh. That's Katsuki Bakugou.” She looked a little worried. “He's... something else.”

Raising a brow, Artemis turned to look at Mr Grumpy Pants again. She had the urge to go over and tell him that a picture of her might have lasted longer, but starting an unnecessary fight on her first day seemed like a stupid thing to do.

Suddenly, Bakugou shot up and stomped over to her. Did he have a mind reading quirk or something?

He stopped in front of her and glared down, lips pulling into a snarl. “I don't know who you are, but don't you dare get any fucking stupid ideas. You ain't special just cause you're from Europe or an exchange student. I'm the best person here and I'll stomp your ass into the fucking ground, so don't even try! Fucking loser!” Every word that came from his mouth dripped with arrogance and venom.

Wow, Artemis thought. What an absolute ass. Was he trying to intimidate her? She felt Midoriya shrink some sizes next to her and that told her everything she needed to know about this dick.

She put on her sweetest smile and beamed at Bakugou. “Hello, Artemis! Nice to meet you. My name is Grumpy McTwatface,” she purred in a sickly sweet tone. “Hello, Grumpy McTwatface! How can I help you?” She held out a hand and shook it with her other in a mocking handshake.

Across the table, Kaminari and Mina snorted into their soda glasses. A vein popped up in Bakugou's temple, throbbing dangerously.

“What the fuck did you just say? I'm gonna fucking kill you!” he roared.

Was he being serious? Right here in the cafeteria? Artemis couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Oh, boy. You have a pretty temper there, my man.”

The vein on his temple grew. This shouldn't be as fun as it was. She really shouldn't provoke an obviously short-tempered twat on her first day, but she'd never been good at resisting temptation. Especially if Bakugou's reaction was so damn rewarding.

Artemis turned towards her new friend and sighed deeply. “You know, I spent a summer in France once. My Brother and I still had some firecrackers left over from New Year. He dared me to stick them into those portable potties they have on construction sites, and since both of us were particularly bored, I lit them and did just that.” She gave Bakugou a side glance and continued nonchalantly, “The end product of that little joke reminds me particularly of you... Katsuki Bakugou, was it? A flaming pile of shit.”

He was fuming. Artemis could practically feel the rage radiating off him. The scent of nitroglycerin hung in the air.

Bakugou's hand shot forward, grabbing a fistful of her blouse and ripping her out of her seat onto her feet.

“I'm gonna blow you to bits,” he hissed.

She really shouldn't have risen to it. Artemis knew she should do her best to diffuse the situation. She knew that provoking this guy and making an enemy was a very stupid move. But something about him just asked for it.

“I highly doubt that,” she purred with a smirk. “Barking dogs don't bite.”

Artemis could see her own death in his eyes. Maybe it should have scared her, but the kind of life she'd lived up to this point had made her too destructive to fear for her own safety. His rage pushed her further. There was a thrill in this back and forth that she couldn't explain.

Before Bakugou could respond, the sound of a loud bell cut through the loud noise of chattering students in the cafeteria. Using this distraction, Artemis tore herself from his hands and grabbed her bag off her seat.

“Well, this was nice!” she chirped. “Shall we go?” She turned towards her new friends, who'd been watching the altercation with a mixture of astonishment and worry. Izuku, especially, looked afraid for her life.

“Don't think I'll let you off easy. I'll kick your ass in combat training!” Bakugou snarled at her before turning and stomping off.

“Good lord, that man needs a chill pill,” Mina sighed. “You should be careful, Artemis. If you provoke him too much, he'll go off on you.”

“Oh, I'm counting on it,” Artemis chuckled.

“All right, kids! Time for combat training.” Aizawa's somewhat bored voice echoed through the training grounds.

Artemis stood with her classmates in a little group as the teacher explained the rules of today's activity. His eyes remained glued to her. Something in Artemis' gut told her Aizawa was planning something she wouldn't appreciate. Maybe that was revenge for giving him lip earlier. She sighed and tugged on the jacket of her sports uniform. For a tracksuit, it was rather constricting. She preferred to have her arms bare. Oh well...

Feeling the burn of two crimson eyes on her, she shifted her attention towards Bakugou. He was staring again, shooting daggers at her. Guess she really had pissed him off big time.

“Artemis Moon!!

“Huh?” Artemis hadn't even noticed Aizawa had addressed her. “Yes?”

“I would appreciate it if you paid attention in my class.” The teacher raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “You and Bakugou, into the ring, now.”

Well, damn.

[enragedbees]

Wretched/Deluded

Pairing: Prinxiety, side Logicality

Summary: As Virgil helps Logan get ready for a date, he reminisces back to when they first met in high school.

Warnings: Swearing (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Words: 3030

Song rec: Factories by Autoheart (This is less of a theme for this chapter, but more of the theme I’m using for the fic in its entirety!)

A huge thanks to the lovely @fall-sunflowers for being my beta reader!!

Taglist: @xionbean @thenewlarislynn @emo-disaster @darkstrange-son @starwarsdestroyedme

I love reading your comments! Please let me know what you think! :)

Read the companion to this story!

Next

——————————————-

Chapter 1: To Put Together Me

         ~ -222 days from The Beginning ~

Virgil heard the front door of his apartment slam shut.

        He switched the tab on his laptop from Tumblr to LinkedIn and got up from the couch, leaving the screen open and facing out as if to prove that he’d been doing what he was supposed to. His roommate walked through the kitchen, grinning.

        “Hey.” Virgil walked across the room and leaned against the wall. “You look happy.”

        “I am.” Logan opened the refrigerator and grabbed a water bottle. “I have a date tonight.”

        Virgil grinned. “You finally asked that guy you met?”

        “‘Finally’ seems rather melodramatic. I waited a perfectly reasonable amount of time before asking him out.” Logan cracked his water bottle open. “I’ve only known him for two weeks.”

        “And for two weeks you haven’t stopped talking about him.”

        Logan rolled his eyes. He took a drink and set the bottle down. “How goes the job hunt?”

        Virgil grimaced and sat back down on the couch. “I can’t find anything worthwhile.”

        “Maybe I can ask Patton tonight if he knows of anyone who’s hiring.” Logan offered. “He knows the city well.”

        Virgil scoffed. “You can’t ask that on a first date. He’ll think that’s the only reason you took him out.”

        Logan’s eyes widened. “Okay, I won’t.”

        Virgil grabbed his laptop. “When are you picking him up?”

        Logan checked his watch. “About two and a half hours.”

        “And what are you wearing?”

        Logan looked down at what he had on. “I was just going to wear this.”

        Virgil stopped. “You’re kidding, right?”

        “No. What’s wrong with it?”

        Virgil shook his head, eyes wide. “You can’t wear your daytime clothes on a date! Especially not when he’s already seen you in them that day. Do you want to look like you don’t care about going out with him?”

        “Well, obviously, not,” muttered Logan.

        Virgil sighed loudly and stood up. ”Come on, I’ll find you something.” He clasped Logan on the shoulder. “I guess some things never change.”

        Logan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “It’s not like I’m helpless without you.”

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Virgil lightly pushed against Logan into his room and started to rifle through Logan’s closet.

~

        ~ -3110 days from The Beginning ~

Virgil Terek had no friends.

        And he was okay with that. He enjoyed being alone.

        It’s not like he wasn’t likable. He wasn’t an outcast. People were nice to him and he was polite back.

        Virgil just didn’t make an effort to put himself near other people. If he auditioned for the school musical, he’d be immediately adopted by the theater kids. Same with choir, or art, or any kind of sport, all things he could excel at. He simply didn’t want to.

        Virgil didn’t want to join a group where he’d always be on the outside. He might have had a couple friends, but he was too far behind to ever be a part of some tight-knit collection of people who had been in that club together since childhood. Virgil would sit with them at lunch, hang out with them on the weekends, go to their birthday and graduation parties. But they wouldn’t ask to work with him on group projects in class. They wouldn’t pick him for their team in gym. Every time they made plans, it would be, “Oh, and you can come too, if you want, Virgil.”

        And it was far too dangerous to have a single best friend, instead of a group of people. Virgil would never depend so much on one person. He’d just get hurt when they left for someone else.

        Virgil was happy where he was. At lunch he sat in silence with the other kind-of-loners like him and did homework. At home, he read or wrote or listened to music or watched television or dicked around on his phone. Virgil was content.

        The lack of friends eliminated distractions from what really mattered to Virgil. He could focus on what he wanted to do, and never had to worry about not having enough free time to do it.

Virgil Terek entered the ninth grade with complete indifference. By that point, he had learned his place in the world. As long as he maintained his grades and took all his required courses and interacted with his parents every once in awhile, nobody bothered him. He was free.

        And Virgil had never had a problem maintaining his grades. Being categorized as a “gifted student” sometime in elementary school, he never struggled with completing an assignment or needed to study for tests. Virgil was placed in the advanced classes throughout elementary and middle school and had no problem breezing through them without trying or even enjoying it.

        He took Geometry CP freshman year because it was the logical next step. He had no idea how much different an advanced high school course was from an advanced middle school course. When Virgil didn’t immediately understand a concept, he didn’t ask for help. When he only halfway understood the quadratic formula or didn’t memorize the order of the postulates and theorems, he didn’t study, because he had never had to before, and everything worked out on its own. Virgil started getting the worst test grades he had ever received in his life.

        A few weeks into the course, he was barely pulling a D+. His parents and teacher kept getting on his case, Virgil didn’t know how to fix his grades, and he felt his freedom slipping away.

        Other students complained near him about doing poorly, but their worst was always a grade Virgil would kill to have again. And the most annoying part was the new student in his class who never complained, who never was unprepared or confused, who seemed to have already mastered every topic in the course yet participated and accomplished classwork with vigor like it was the most interesting thing going on in his life.

        Over the course of a few weeks, Virgil saw his irrational hatred of the kid intensify. Every time he got a poor test grade or failed assignment, he grew angrier at the kid who had no problems with the material. Everything about him annoyed Virgil. He was a freshman who had just moved into town, and he was still better than Virgil. He was very tall and very thin, which should have made him awkward, but he wasn’t. He dressed every day like he was going to work, tie and all. He spoke so professionally, almost robotically. He was stuck up and arrogant and took every chance he could to correct someone. But he had an A+ in Geometry.

        Virgil, slumped at his desk in class while the teacher passed back their most recent tests, let these thoughts stew. He begrudgingly took the paper his teacher handed back to him, upside down and folded, with a stern but encouraging glance in Virgil’s direction. Virgil grimaced and turned it over.

        A big red D- sat leeringly at the top of the page. Virgil sighed. He looked to the front of the room at the new kid, who was flipping through the test, observing it with noticeable interest, looking over the unmarked pages before setting it back on the desk with an obvious A+ at the top.

        Virgil rolled his eyes to himself. None of his closest acquaintances were in the same math class, and he didn’t feel comfortable asking the sophomores and juniors in the period for help. This kid who didn’t know Virgil and therefore, didn’t have a reason to turn him away, might have been Virgil’s only chance to get his life back to normal.

        He groaned inwardly. He wished he had another option.

        When the period ended, Virgil walked up to the kid, who was packing up his backpack.

        “Hey, how’d you do on the test?” Virgil asked. He hated small talk, but he was about to ask a complete stranger for help, and Virgil felt that he at least owed it to the kid.

        “I got one-hundred percent,” answered the boy. Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

        “Cool. I didn’t do so well.” Virgil slung his backpack over his shoulder and they walked out of the classroom. “I’m Virgil, by the way.”

        The kid furrowed his brow. “Like the poet? What kind of a name is that?”

        Virgil glared at him. He decided didn’t need straight A’s that badly. “Alright, fuck off.” He started to walk away.

        “Wait, I’m sorry.” The other boy at least looked sheepish. “I don’t have much of a filter or an understanding of social etiquette. I tend to speak whatever I’m thinking without realizing the effects of what I say.”

        Jesus, this kid. Virgil was sure he had just recited that from a textbook he picked up somewhere. He sighed. “Okay. I don’t think that makes it better, though.”

        The kid stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Virgil. My name is Logan Schlenke.”

        Virgil gingerly shook his hand and they continued down the hallway. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I’m kind of doing really badly in Geo and I can’t help but notice that you know what you’re doing.” He sighed. “Is there any way you can help me when I don’t understand what’s going on?”

        “You want me to tutor you?” asked Logan. “Sure, I can do that.”

        “It’s not tutoring, I just want a little help with the content.”

        “That would be called tutoring,” Logan offered.

        “No, I don’t need –” He stopped himself and gritted his teeth. “Fine, whatever, call it tutoring,” Virgil muttered. He bit his lip. “But you’ll do it?”

        Logan stopped. He looked at Virgil thoughtfully. “I’ll help you under one condition.”

        “Seriously?” Virgil groaned. “What is it?”

        “It’s become evident to me that in order to have a productive and enjoyable high school career, one must be on good terms with their classmates,” Logan said. “I’ll help you understand Geometry if you help me to understand how to interact with people.”

        Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m your best choice to learn people skills, man. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kind of keep to myself and don’t talk to anybody else.”

        “That’s not true,” Logan commented. “I’ve seen you talking with lots of people and everyone likes you. Besides, I don’t want or need actual friends. I just need to get along with the other students in the school.”

        Damn. This kid. Virgil was already regretting the decision. There had to be an easier way to pass Geo.

        He let out a breath. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

        Logan stuck his hand out again, and Virgil shook it. “It’s a deal,” Logan smiled.

        The two exchanged contact information, and Logan walked into his next class, leaving Virgil shaking his head in the hallway.

        Over the next few days, Logan went to Virgil’s house after school and worked with him on the content they learned in class.

        “Your main problem seems to be that you never learned how to study,” Logan noted. “If you practice teaching yourself the concepts you don’t understand in class, soon you won’t need someone to reteach it to you.”

        Virgil scoffed. “Why should I teach myself something when there’s a teacher getting paid to do it?”

        “Teachers or other professionals are useful to help explain a concept to students. Not all teaching styles work on everyone, so sometimes it’s necessary to find out how you learn best and teach it to yourself,” Logan explained, maintaining a remarkable amount of patience. “You should also pay attention in class more often.”

        Virgil tried to help Logan interact in social situations, but he had no idea how to teach him, or if any of what he knew would work for Logan. Logan tried his best, though, putting the same effort into studying people skills that he did in his schoolwork.

        “So, maybe, when you want to say something, just…don’t, for a bit. Until you think it over and decide it’s an acceptable thing to say,” Virgil offered.

        Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I’ve tried that?”

        Virgil rolled his eyes. “Look, dude, I’m not really sure how it works for you, anyway. But if you want people to like you, you can’t say things that make you look like an asshole. Just…calibrate, I guess.”

        Logan’s eyebrow raised, but he said nothing. He jotted something down in a notebook.

        “And you have to lose the tie.”

        “Why?” asked Logan, genuinely confused.

        “Nobody wears ties to school unless they have to dress up. Don’t you own, like, a single t-shirt or something?”

        Horror flashed across Logan’s face. “Why would I wear a t-shirt to school?”

        “So you look like a normal human teenager and not a child trying to run for president.”

        Logan pursed his lips but wrote in his notebook again.

        Virgil took a breath. “Tomorrow, try wearing jeans, a nice t-shirt, and an unzipped hoodie. And brush your bangs forward a bit, your hair doesn’t have to all be going in the same direction.”

        Logan looked at Virgil like he had told Logan to wear nothing but a bathrobe to school, but he wrote it all down.

        And the next day, Logan walked up to Virgil at his locker, wearing skinny jeans with a brown belt, a long-sleeve gray and white raglan, and a green hoodie. He had his hair swept to the side, falling gently over his forehead, just high enough so it didn’t impede his vision.

        “Whoa.” Virgil grinned at Logan.

        Logan smiled sheepishly back, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “I feel ridiculous.”

        “You look great, man,” said Virgil. And he really meant it. He could already feel a difference in the energy surrounding Logan. He could feel the other students no longer seeing him as an outlier or a stranger, but as someone who could be anyone else in the school. He’s one of us, they seemed to think out loud.

        And, for the first time, Virgil realized that Logan was actually a really attractive guy. He just hadn’t known how to express himself. For some reason, Logan had tried to confine himself to a professional, more mature style. But in this outfit, he looked comfortable, relaxed, more laid-back and easygoing. Though he was almost definitely nervous of switching up his style so suddenly, Virgil could see in the way he carried himself that Logan felt more like himself in this outfit, not trying to prove to everyone that he’s someone he’s not.

        They began walking down the hallway. “The most important thing about wearing this today is being confident in it. It won’t have as much of an impact if you doubt yourself.” Virgil said. “I know it’s a big change, but you’ve got to believe that you do look good.”

        “You told me I did,” Logan said. “I have no reason to distrust you.”

        As they walked, a few kids in the opposite direction smiled or nodded hello to Logan. He smiled back

        “How do you feel?’ Virgil asked.

        “I feel good.” Logan nodded. “I had no idea how much something as small as what I wore could have an effect on how I’m perceived.”

        “You’re already starting to seem like a real person to the others,” Virgil smiled. “Keep this up and I’d bet anything you could get any girl in the school.”

        Logan laughed out loud. “We’ll see. How did you do on the pop quiz in Geometry yesterday?”

        “I got a B,” Virgil grinned.

        “Well, that’s certainly an improvement, but I know you can do more. Are you free again this afternoon?”

        Virgil sighed. God forbid he be proud of less than his best. “Yeah, my place again?”

        Logan nodded and turned into his first period classroom for the day.

        As the days passed, Virgil slowly grew more confident in his abilities to learn and understand things himself. He noticed that he started asking questions in class when he was lost, and he noticed seeing Logan smirk with pride every time.

        Logan slowly grew more accustomed to social interaction. His robotic syntax and word choice didn’t change, but with the change in style, it began to seem quirky and intelligent rather than just arrogant. And though he still, with nothing but good and helpful intentions, corrected anyone who was wrong about anything, Virgil helped him to do it without making the other person feel stupid. Logan made friends, built connections, and started making a place for himself in the school.

        Virgil soon became confident in his ability to study and learn things on his own, which was a huge source of pride for him. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to properly study. As one last benchmark, Logan went an entire chapter without tutoring or explaining anything to Virgil.

        At the end of the chapter, his teacher handed him his test, upside down, with a pleased smile. Virgil turned over the paper to see a 96% A crowning the top.

        Virgil ran up to Logan at the end of the class as they walked out together. “I can’t believe I did it!”

        Logan grinned. “Congratulations.”

        “Man, I could not have done this without you. Thank you so much for everything,” said Virgil.

        “You’re welcome.”

        Virgil pulled his phone out. “Do you want to come over today? I have to text my mom but I know she’ll be fine with it.”

        Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “Is there another class you’re having trouble with?”

        “What?” Virgil looked up at him. “No, no. Not for studying. Just to hang out.”

        Logan raised his eyebrows.

        “Like, for fun?” Virgil continued.

        Logan’s face lit up. “Okay. Sure.”

        He turned and walked away, beaming. As Virgil watched him go, a realization hit him. He had been trying for so long to get his life back to normal, back to being alone and untethered. But now, he’d never be able go back to that life.

        “Goddamn,” he muttered.

        Virgil Terek had one friend.

        He walked away, shaking his head and laughing at himself, but unable to keep a smile off his face.

[onewfantaesy]

Step Family AU

About two weeks into Taemin’s eighth grade year, he’s sitting at his usual lunch bench in the morning before school with Kai. They’re trying to get that night’s math homework done - their teacher already has a pattern for what problems will be assigned for each section - when Sehun comes up to them. He’s a sixth grader, finally at the same school as Taemin and Kibum, and he brings his tall friend over who Taemin can’t remember the name of.

“Hi, Taemin!”

“Hi, Sehun,” Taemin greets back, putting a polite smile on his face.

Sehun grins and turns back to his friend, saying in a haughty voice, “See! I told you I knew an eighth grader!”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Kibum’s voice snaps, and Taemin lets out a quiet groan while Sehun just looks confused.

“Oh motherfucker,” Taemin mutters, and Kibum stomps over and glares at him.

“What are you doing talking to my little brother?” Kibum demands.

“He came up to me, asshole,” Taemin snaps back.

“Are you two trying to indoctrinate him into your bullshit?” Kibum asks, and Taemin really gets pissed off then, but he sucks in a deep breath as a flash of hurt crosses his face.

“We weren’t doing anything!”

“What are you talking about?” Sehun demands.

“Don’t talk to my little brother,” Kibum tells Taemin.

“Don’t tell me what to do, dick-face.”

“What the fuck did you call me, you little shit?”

“You heard me, dumb fuck.”

“I will fucking pummel you into the ground if you and your dumb little friend drag my brother into your lunatic bullshit,” Kibum threatens.

“Why don’t you just fuck off?” Taemin hisses, then slams his math book closed and stands up. “Come on Kai, lets go.”

The two of them walk away, Taemin holding on tight to Kai’s arm. Then Kibum turns to Sehun and shoves a finger in his face.

“You stay away from that freak, do you hear me?”

“What the hell is your problem?” Sehun snaps. “Why are you so mean to him?”

“It’s none of your damn business,” Kibum says. “Just stay away from him, he’s crazy.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Sehun whines, but he grabs Chanyeol’s arm and stomps off in the opposite direction Taemin went with Kai.

After school that day, Sehun glares at Kibum and then asks Boa in a very overly-innocent voice, “Mom, is Taemin in a cult?”

“What?” Boa and Kibum both ask, snapping their heads towards him.

“No,” Boa laughs. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because Kibum told him off today for talking to me because he said he was going to ‘indoctrinate me in his bullshit.’”

“You little-”

“Kibum!” Boa gasps, and she looks beyond pissed off at him.

“Mom, I-”

“Your brother is just confused,” Boa says in a flat voice. She’s clearly very angry. “Don’t listen to him. Taemin isn’t in a cult, you can talk to him all you like.”

Sehun smirks at Kibum in such a bratty way before he goes running up to his bedroom, and Boa turns to give Kibum a hard stare.

“You need to stop antagonizing him,” she warns. “He’s going through a lot and you constantly saying shit like that will only make it worse.”

“Mom, you don’t-”

“I have half a mind to send you to a therapist, Kibum,” she threatens. “So knock it off with the attitude. I’m not going to put up with it. If I hear one more word about you saying something like that to or about Taemin, you will regret it.”

“Okay.”

“Go to your room. Do your homework. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

“Okay.”

Meanwhile, just a few blocks away, Taemin is getting home from dance practice and staring at himself in his bedroom mirror. He does look like a lunatic, he convinces himself. Kibum is right. Everything he does is bullshit. And if he stopped now, if he really got better, then it really all would have been fake. Would have just been for attention.

Because of that one encounter, Taemin goes on a three day fast. To prove that it isn’t bullshit. Even if he’s only proving it to himself.

[elareine]

You still look like a movie (DickWally, side JayTim)

When Gotham Academy offered him a position, Wally jumped at the chance. He’d trained as a teacher here, after all, and he thought the city could use all the help it could get.

The memories of grad school were a mixed bag, as these things tended to be. Living prices in Gotham had been low, still were, which had been what allowed Wally to truly break away from his father for the first time. He’d made his first best friend here and had his heart broken.

That had been ten years ago, though. When he arrived at school the week before the term started, Wally was determined to make new memories.

His hiring had been kinda last-minute, so he didn’t expect any arrangements to have been made for his first day. Apparently, the old teacher had been kidnapped by a clown-penguin or something? Gotham was so weird.

But there was a figure waiting for him at the gates. And he looked familiar.

Wally blinked. “Jason?”

Jason Todd grinned and ground out his cigarette. “Hi, Wally. I’m your welcome committee.”

So Dick’s delinquent little brother had grown up to become a teacher, too, huh? Who’d have thought? The students they met on the corridors clearly liked him, though, judging by the enthusiastic greetings they got. Jason was kinda doing a half-assed job of showing him around, though, soon abandoning it entirely to drag Wally into one of the classrooms.

A pale, dark-haired young man gave Jason a wave, then smiled politely at Wally. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Wally was about to introduce himself, but Jason intervened. “Wally, this is Tim Drake. He teaches CS and, occasionally, Math. Tim, this Wally, our new Chemistry teacher.”

“West?” Tim asked, peering at Wally’s face. “Wait, are you that Wally?”

“Uhm.” Wally didn’t know how to answer that question.

Luckily, Jason seemed to know exactly what Tim was talking about. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

Wally watched in confusion as Tim’s smile suddenly turned a lot more genuine. “Welcome to Gotham Academy, then, Wally. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Wally was just going to ignore that. “Thanks. Good to be here. You another brother?” Wally had always bet Dick that Bruce Wayne’s adoptions wouldn’t stop at two. That man screamed ‘father energy’ as loudly as ‘will not be in a stable long-term relationship.’ Of course, he’d adopt.

“Sort of.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Definitely. You know that if we’d divorce, Bruce would sign the papers in a heartbeat.”

“I’m a grown man.”

“You think that’ll stop him?”

Oh. Okay, then.

One of the reasons Wally had been so eager to leave his old school had been the constantly-reinforced need to stay in the closet. And here he was and the first two dudes he met were married to each other.

“Anyway,” Tim pointedly turned back to Wally, “Dick will be so happy to see you.”

Would he, though? And more importantly - “Does he teach here?”

“Does he ever.”

“Jason’s just here on loan,” Tim explained. “He usually teaches at the other end of town. Dick’s the one that roped him into this.”

“That’s cool. That you’re doing that, I mean; in my old school people always refused to help out even when we didn’t have an English teacher for six months—”

“Right,” Jason said. “Let’s get going.”

This was good, Wally thought as he followed Jason through even more corridors. He’d get to see Dick again, but he’d have time to prepare for it. Once he sorted through the mix of dread and joy rushing through him at the prospect, he’d be fine. Great, even. Totally cool.

They turned a corner, and Jason called out: “Yo, Dick, check out who just joined our school!”

Dick Grayson turned around to where he’d been talking to one of the administrators, and. Uh.

Wow.

Dick, as a teenager, had been short and wiry. As a young man, he’d been the epitome of an athlete, lean and with a flexibility that had caused Wally some sleepless nights.

As a man in his thirties, he was a total fucking knockout, Jesus. Where had that jawline come from?? Wally hadn’t acquired anything like that. It was unfair!

“Wall-Man!”

“Robin!” Wally called back, unable to resist that smile or the hug Dick immediately drew him into.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” Dick grinned. “Awesome to have you here, Walls.”

See, that was the thing about Dick. He might be one of the weirdest people Wally knew, thanks to his family, but also the nicest. He’d even pretend it hadn’t been Wally’s massive, creepy crush on him that had caused him to flee to the other side of the planet.

“Yeah, well, last thing I heard, you were in China. What in God’s name possessed you to come back here?”

Dick shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, man, it always comes back to this, doesn’t it?”

Considering the situation, he and Dick in a hallway in Gotham, Wally had to agree. “I guess.”

When the silence stretched on a bit too long, Dick finally looked away from Wally. “Hey, Jason, if you want, I can take over the tour—”

Jason had already left.

It was incredible how easy it was to fall back into old patterns with Dick. Two months in and Wally was as regularly a guest in Dick’s office as Dick was at Wally’s apartment after work, which is to say, almost every day, including today.

“Do you need anything else?” he heard Dick say. The group of students shook their heads, so Wally had no qualms about walking in.

“Walls, hey,” Dick smiled when he saw him. “Lemme just finish that form, and I’m all yours.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Wally was dying to tell Dick about the shit John from 4a had tried to pull away, but it would need to wait until the group of students that was still lingering outside had moved out of earshot.

“See, I told you he’d be taken,” he heard one of them say. “Guys like that don’t reach their thirties single. He’s certainly not interested in you.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Don’t be sad,” a third voice interjected helpfully. “Mr Grayson is like the hottest teacher around. No shame in losing out.”

Wally would very much like to tell them how much he resented the implication he would go for a teenage girl if Dick were slightly less hot.

Wait, what was he thinking?

Wally glanced at Dick. He was still focused on his paperwork and hadn’t heard anything.

Good. Last thing Wally needed was for his stupid crush to fuck things up between them again.

“So that’s happening again, huh?”

“...why are you crowding me into a wall?” Wally asked curiously. It was quite impressive, really, the way Jason towered over him despite not being that much taller. If Wally weren’t so sure he could outrun Jason, he would even feel slightly intimidated.

Jason backed off a bit, still glowering. “Just be glad it’s me and not the munchkin parade. Damian was all for locking you two into an attic at swordpoint.” He pointed his thumb vaguely into the direction of Dick’s office. “I’ve heard the students discuss running interference, Wally. This has to stop.”

Wally sighed. Trust the Waynes to have figured him out. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not obvious enough, apparently.” Jason snorted. “Do us all a favor and actually kiss him this time. He’s a dumbass who thinks this has always been one-sided.”

“Well, yeah.” Wally’s brain decided to skip right over ‘kiss him,’ because what. “It has, I’m just being stupid; I know Dick isn’t interested in me that way, but it’s so nice to have him back, he’s my best friend and I missed him so much, that’s more important than being in love with him.”

“I think that you need to kiss him,” Jason said again, more loudly, and why was he speaking so loudly, almost as if he wanted someone else than Wally to hear it—

Wally turned.

Dick was gaping at him. There wasn’t a better word for it. Even he couldn’t make that level of ‘wtf’ look attractive.

Of course, he’d heard all of that. Wally wanted to sink into the ground. “You, uh. Maybe wanna talk about that?”

“Yeah,” Dick nodded. “Yeah, I think we should.” He made toward his office but abruptly turned back before he’d finished the movement. “No, actually, we should follow Jason’s advice.”

Wally heard grumbling behind him. “I’ve been saying.” He’d tear Jason a new one for this, he swore, right after he found out what Dick meant by that.

And then he did find out and forgot all about Jason Todd, because Dick was—rather predictably, but still incomprehensibly to Wally—kissing him, and that was more important than anything else.

The first few years after Dick had left, Wally had idly fantasized about this. In his mind, there had been elaborate love confessions that displayed a degree of coherency neither of them ever possessed in real life; kisses in the rain, maybe, or at an airport; Dick somehow swooping in and rescuing Wally from what his life had become.

Later, when he’d started getting his shit together, the phantasies turned more mundane. What it would be like to have Dick with him again. How Dick would laugh at Wally’s impression of his annoying boss; whether he’d get along with Wally’s new friends; what Dick’s opinion on fidget toys might be.

And yes, how it would feel to be kissing him the corridor for the entire world to see. That, too.

The answer?

Even better than Wally could’ve ever imagined.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Idle Threats

Wow, this was not supposed to be this long, but hopefully it makes up for all the not writing I’ve done for the past month :)

Word Count: 8041

Pairings: Platonic Deceit and Logan. (With background LAMP)

Summary: No one has ever stood up for Dee so he decides to do it himself, in front of the class, in front of the brand new substitute teacher. And he almost regrets it. 

Quick Taglist: @felicianoromano @jemthebookworm @holliberries @stricken-with-clairvoyancy 

Read on AO3 || Master List 

Dante Ethan Ekans hates every single teacher in his school. Three years into his high school career and he had come across every single teacher—every single one of them—and he hated them all. He had sat through every lecture, done every assignment, battled in every single class discussion. He had done everything the school system had asked him to do.

And he is still staring at a low D average in all his classes.

It should have been impossible: the grading system was set up so that as long as students just showed up they were receiving a C grade.

And well, Dante had always been proving the impossible, possible. He had survived his own birth, survived the car crash that killed his father, and survived the worst of his mother’s psychotic tantrums. He had dragged himself to school with bruises on his wrists and broken fingers wrapped messily in old bandages that made his handwriting into an atrocious disgrace just so that he could at least get an education, get a chance at a scholarship, get a chance to leave town.

And he is in his third year of high school, the year most colleges start to look at prospective students, and he is getting a low D average and he couldn’t do a single thing about it.

It’s like the entire teaching staff had unanimously decided “hey, you know that kid whose face is all messed up with the burn marks from the car crash at age six? Let’s just ruin his entire life by grading him unnecessarily harder than everyone else in the school, turning a blind eye to when the other students mess with him, and loudly announcing how he needs to do better on his essays if he wants to get better grades in front of the whole class.”

Dante—and fuck if he hated that name. No one was called Dante anymore—had done everything he could to get his grades up. He studied twice as hard and twice as long as everyone else. He had swallowed his pride and asked the teachers for help (and been told to pay more attention in class) and for extra credit (and been denied). He had tried to argue grades and been sent to the Detention room for vulgar language and an attempted assault on a teacher (which was a blatant lie).

Not to mention that one asshole of a teacher, Mr. Walker, who had told him that not only was make up for females, but his use of cosmetics was an unacceptable cry for attention. Dante then had to stand there in front of the class with his cheeks burning red and his peers snickering as he told the teacher that he wasn’t wearing any make up, and that the burns on his face were the real deal, and that he couldn’t wash it off even if he wanted to.

So Dante Ethan Ekans—Dee for short; Dee was what his friends would call him, if he had any—has no hard feelings when he heard that Mr. Walker had been in a bad car accident and would not be back for the rest of the school year. What a complete shame that would be. How would they ever move on?

Apparently, there’s a substitute coming, one of those long-term ones that only ever dropped by for times of emergency. Dee had overheard the head of nutrition (a sweet, mother-like man that all the lunch ladies adore named Patton Hart) and school resource officer (who Dee doesn’t know the name of and kept far enough away from. He doesn’t need to be any closer to any law enforcers than he already was) talking about the teacher: about how strict he was, about how the kids had no clue what was coming, about how Mr. Hart should redesign the menu with the majority of the student’s favorites because this week was going to be rough with a capital R. They both had laughed after that, and Patton had caught sight of Dee and asked him if he needed anything in the kindest tone Dee had ever heard.

(He had run after that, had run as fast as he could without making it seem like he was running away. The last thing he needs is anymore people to look at him with pity, with cruelty, with smug better-than-you expressions that appeared the second Dee dared act vulnerable. The last thing he needs is to open his mouth and tell the truth.)

Dee isn’t expecting anything amazing to come out of the substitute teacher. He expects it to be another beanpole old lady who snaps anytime someone made a noise and confiscates phones on whim and assigns them all worksheets that were to be done and handed in by the end of the class period, no exceptions.

He’s usually one of the first into the science room because the class he has before it is Math which just down the hall, but he’s barely out of the room when Mrs. Johnston’s shrill voice slices through the student chatter.

“Ekans!” She screeches, “Ekans! A moment!”

It’s not a moment. It’s never just a moment with her. The bell rings and the halls empty and Dee stands in front of the math teacher for another three minutes listening to her tell him that he’s been doing his math the wrong way and if he doesn’t start doing it the way she taught in class she’s going to have to dock him more points (like there’s more to dock him in the first place), regardless of the fact he doesn’t understand the way she’s been teaching and his way is actually based on how a college professor explained it on the YouTube series he looked up for help.

He can see into her classroom, the one that’s filled with obnoxious freshman who are lounging around while they wait for their teacher to be done berating Dee. He can see the way they all point and snicker and make fun of the half of his face he can’t do anything about.

“And now you’ve made me waste time for my next class, Mr. Ekans.” Mrs. Johnston says, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry,” Dee says robotically, and his hands tighten around the strap of his backpack. “It won’t happen again, Ma’am.”

But it’s a lie, because it always happens again.

But it’s a lie, because he’s not really sorry at all.

Because she might have missed the first few minutes of class, but she controlled the rate the students learned. Dee felt his own nails tear into his palm as he opened the door to the classroom where the new substitute was-- the one who’s voice was already droning on about what they were learning, already through the roll call, already letting the whole class know he was not going to tolerate any monkey business at all.

Dee glances at the teacher, who in turn does not break his lecture, but nods to him and to one of the several empty desks in the room. He’s young, nerdy looking, but Dee can’t think of anyone he knows who would have the guts to say it to the man’s face. He had a cold look about him, like he didn’t know how to smile and wasn’t in the mood to learn.

Dee throws himself into the closest empty chair, keeping his head down and tries not to make too much noise when he picks through his backpack for his notebook for the science class.

He’s so focused on not disrupting the teacher, not causing anymore eyes to fall on him, not helping the already terrible opinion the man has of him, that he wasn’t even paying attention to who he was sitting next to until it’s far too late to change seats.

And he finds out when sees another body drape over the desk to his left out of the corner of his eye and Dee freezes on the spot. He’s not hearing a single thing the new teacher says, not hearing whatever he’s mentioning about the quick technical drawing he has on the board, and definitely not hearing the notes he should be taking down. His tongue grates against his teeth as Kyle slides his chair an inch his direction with a weasel-ish expression on his face.

“Hey, Ekans,” Kyle murmurs just loud enough for Dee to hear.

Dee refuses to look at him, but it’s not like he’s seeing anything in front of him either. His fingers squeeze his pencil, and the soles of his feet rest firmly on the ground, like it can keep him from moving at all.

“Ekans,” Kyle says again louder, but not enough to stop the teacher. “The boys and I took some notes for you.”

They aren’t notes. Dee can see the header so neatly written on the top of the paper, so innocently telling him it’s a list of reasons no one likes him and what to do about it (and worse). It’s not original, its not new, and Dee stubbornly refuses to give him the satisfaction of taking it.

Dee can hear the rest of his friends, the idiots, the dicks, and those two girls who never had anything nice to say, snickering behind them and further left. He can see a motion that looks like one of them nudging each other, and he feels the familiar kick of someone’s foot against his chair.

He wants to say he’s used to it.

He doesn’t think lying to himself is healthy.

Lying to everyone else? Yeah, sure, he’s been doing that since middle school. He’s drowned in his fake apologies for things that weren’t his fault and his torn himself apart to appease people who need to feel like they’re better than others just to keep his own mind sane.

Honestly, he’s a little sick of it—all of it. He didn’t ask for his face to be the discolored mess that it was, didn’t ask for his mother to sometimes lose her mind, didn’t ask for everyone around him to be assholes. He remembers, vaguely, the doctor who had treated his burns (one of them?). At six years old, he can’t even put a face or a name to the form, but he can still hear the voice in the back of his mind telling him he’s lucky, so very lucky.

He could have lost an eye. His arm. His life.

Dee hasn’t felt lucky since then.

The foot kicks his chair again, Dee jerks. Someone laughs. The teacher says something about a test with a pointed clip to his tone. They settle down long enough that the teacher turns away and rambles on about the schedule he’s going to keep them on, blah, blah, blah.

Kyle leans over again. “Ekans—”

“Shut up,” Dee hisses. He regrets it a second later. Because there was a metaphorical door there and Dee had just flung it open and allowed Kyle to walk on in.

“Damn Ekans,” Kyle snickers, “You don’t have to be such a little bitch about it. Does your brother know your such a little bitch?”

Dee’s hand tightens on his pencil.

“Maybe we should tell him,” Kyle muses.  Dee doesn’t have to look to know the expression on the other’s face. “He goes to Mind Elementary, right? Just down the road?”

Dee counts backwards from Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

“It would be super easy just to sit down and have a chat with him. I wonder if he knows how big of a freak his brother is? I bet he’s too stupid to—”

Dee does not make it to six.

“If you so much as look at my brother, I’ll put you in the goddamn hospital,” Dee says.

The room seems to breathe for a second. Dee glares at Kyle and his stupidly pleased weasel face and beady green eyes that look like forest moss eating the carcass of some animal. The room seems to breathe for a second and Dee realizes with a fiery anger it was because no one was speaking.

The teacher had stopped. Which meant that everyone’s attention is on him.

“Mr. Ekans,” The substitute says a hand reaching up to adjust his glasses, and Dee flinches. “Is there something you would like to add to my lecture?”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes into the class, and the man already knew his name. Kyle grins sharply, smugly. Two of his friends do an underhand five in the seats behind them. Dee thinks he hates everyone in the room at that very moment.

“No,” Dee says, through gritted teeth, “sir.”

The teacher hums. “Interesting, could that be because Mr. Phillips was providing an ample distraction in the middle of my class time?”

That was the moment that Dee realizes he had gone to school with Kyle for three years and had never heard his last name before.

After all, Kyle was every teacher’s favorite. If they didn’t know him from his numerous club activities (drama, art, debate, every honor club you could think of), he often brought them presents on the first day of class and was invited over for dinner every Saturday evening within the first week of class. No one addressed him by his last name.

The substitute teacher didn’t look pleased to be the first. Neither did Kyle.

And frankly, neither did Dee. (Because it wasn’t like it would last. It wasn’t like by tomorrow all of Kyle’s misdeeds would be forgotten and this teacher--this temporary teacher--wouldn’t be wrapped around Kyle’s finger like all the others.) Dee’s stomach clenched at the thought, a bit of envy, jealousy, anger clawing up his throat and making the burns from so long ago itch.

“Well?” The teacher says—and no, Dee checked, he had not written his name on the board. “Mr. Phillips?”

“I was just offering him the notes.” Kyle says, “He came in late. I was trying to be a help and he threatened me!” He looks at his friends who all nod earnestly like Kyle isn’t lying through the skin of his teeth.

“Curious how I do not believe that,” The teacher counters. “This is my classroom, Mr. Phillips. If I thought Mr. Ekans needed notes, I would have provided them to him. Additionally, your actions have caused more harm than good as I am now wasting more of this class’s time, and seeing how this is the last class of the day, I only have your attentions for approximately an hour and fifteen minutes.” He stops for a moment, his eyes darting between Dee and Kyle in a way that Dee does not like.

“Perhaps this is for the best.” He says suddenly, “It would do well to get this out of the way now. Both of you, up here.”

Dee freezes.

Kyle hisses under his breath and heaves himself out of the chair with false gusto. He makes a gesture to his friends that carries a round of giggling up to the front of the room.

“Mr. Ekans,” The teacher says. “That means you, too.”

In no way shape or form is Dee at fault here. He knows he’s not. Kyle and his friends have been picking on him for years and getting away with it and leaving charcoal rocks in Dee’s stomach from every encounter. Standing up feels a lot like striking a match and the entire trek up to the front of the room feels like lowering it to the rocks.

Dee’s face is already burning by the time he side by side with Kyle again. He stares stiffly at the whiteboard, glaring at a smudge of black marker from the last class.

“I am not your normal teacher,” The substitute says. “A lot of the things that were condoned in his class will not be in mine. You will not talk when I talk. You will not be on your phones unless I tell you to. You will not pass notes. You will not make idle threats—”

Dee isn’t sure what comes over him, but that charcoal fire in his stomach explodes outward and engulfs his entire body. For a split second everything turns red, every noise of all the twenty-two other students in the class fades to nothingness, and Dee turns sharply to the side.

Maybe its because Dee had a little bit of hope buries somewhere deep in his mind. Maybe its because he knew that teachers weren’t supposed to pick sides or hold prejudices. Maybe its because Dee spent a whole ten years being “lucky” enough that he survived everything thrown his way just to let another teacher turn a blind eye to the students’ interactions.

Maybe its because Dee was just so very tired of the smug look on Kyle’s face.

His fist connects before anyone realizes he even moved. Kyle yells, and he goes crashing to the floor. Dee’s knuckles pulsate with pain, and he pretty sure he tore the skin off on when it scraped Kyles stupid teeth. Several kids scream.

Dee looks back at the teacher, meeting his somewhat surprised gaze with his own angry one.

“There,” Dee spits, “It’s not an “idle” threat anymore.”

So he finds himself sitting in the front office hands jammed in his pockets and shoulders up to his ears. Part of him wonders if he can fold into himself until nothing exists. The secretary running the phone and letting parents in to pick up their kids, keeps side eyeing him, as if he’s a circus attraction she can’t quite believe is real.

Dee’s head is still ringing with the teachers voice telling him to take the quickly scribbled note and go to the Vice Principal’s office, but the edges of his adrenaline and his anger keep him from feeling the paper cut and the bruising on his knuckles that surely was coming.

He tries to convince himself he’s sorry for doing it, but if Vice Principal Joan tells him to apologize to Kyle in person Dee might have to take a short walk off the roof.

It had felt…good. It had felt great. It had felt a lot like a mistake too.

There was no way he was getting out of this one, no empty promises to do better could make up for assaulting another student. Not to mention that substitute teacher most definitely hated him now, and rightfully was about to join ranks with ever other teacher in the school.

VP Joan was going to suspend him, and then they’ll call Dee’s mother, and then Dee was never going to get into college, and he was never going to leave this town, and he was never going to overcome the scarring on his face that he had been so damn lucky to survive in the first place.

“Dante Ekans,” A voice calls from the hall of offices where all the staff had desks. Dee only recognizes VP Joan because of their face in the school newsletter and sometimes on the papers. They did a lot of fundraisers like kissing a pig if the students raised “X” amount of money, or one dollar to buy a strip of duct tape to tape them to the wall.

Dee goes with them into their office. It feels cluttered, but there is enough space for Dee to sit down and VP Joan to look stressed. Papers, mugs, several action figures Dee vaguely recognizes rest on the desk. There were awards on the walls and teaching certificates along with superhero posters Dee thinks probably aren’t the most professional until he sees it was signed by the cast of the movies.

“So,” The VP says, “Want to tell me what happened?”

The answer is no, Dee does not want to tell them what happened. Because even when Dee tells the truth, even when he lays down his words barren in front of the judges, even when he cries or yells or shows any validating emotion, his scarred face makes him appear less trustworthy. It happened before where Kyle said what he wanted and the teachers decided that must have been what happened and that Dee had lied and made everything up in yet another desperate cry for attention.

So, no, Dee doesn’t want to tell the VP what happened, because he’s so sick of being turned into the bad guy when he’s not. (Okay maybe punching the guy was a bad example here. Maybe Dee just wants to keep himself from digging a bigger grave with this one).

Dee stares at the wood grain in the VP’s desk and lets the silence hold out. It’s comforting in a way.

VP Joan taps their fingers on their side of the desk. If Dee shifts a little he can see the little blue unfolded note that the teacher had sent him with, and although he doesn’t know what it says, Dee knows it probably bad.

Like “Student Ekans interrupted class with a threat against unarmed peer and then acted upon said threat. Suggested course of action is immediate expulsion” bad. Or something worse.

“Mr. Ekans,” VP Joan says, followed by a sigh, “Fuck this shit.”

Dee blinks at the sudden language—language he’s pretty sure is not allowed in the school. Most of his teachers get after him for that (especially the ones who can’t get him with anything else. His last English teacher was a fan of cutting him off mid book discussion whenever he used a swear, until Dee just began to hold his tongue completely.)

“Look, I don’t know what you did that Logan needed you out of the classroom.” VP Joan says, “And I don’t really have any work that a student can do, uh, legally. Why don’t you go see if Patton—uh Mr. Hart to you—needs any help.”

Dee stills, “What?”

VP Joan holds up the blue paper, and the black scrawl that reads “Please entertain Mr. Ekans for the rest of the block” makes Dee’s eyes cross slightly.

“I’m not…in trouble?” Dee says. It sounds like a dream, like saying the words out loud will make the reality crack and fall apart.

“Should you be?” VP Joan asks, “Don’t answer that. Dr. Ackroyd and I go way back, but I’m still surprised he agreed to fill in here for the rest of the year. We need a competent science teacher, so I’ll turn my head to whatever complex puzzle he’s solving.”

Dee doesn’t understand what that means. He really doesn’t care either.

“Don’t forget your bag,” VP Joan says as they usher Dee out of the office and towards the cafeteria where Patton Hart might be found. “I’m sure I’ll see more of you, Mr. Ekans, but until then have a good day.”

It’s ridiculous, Dee thinks, like its part of a dream. Maybe it is? Maybe Dee punched Kyle and Kyle hit him back and he hit his head on the white board marker tray and now he’s hallucinating.

But he doesn’t think hallucinations were this real: he can hear the sound of each teacher teaching, laughter from some of the rooms, and the muttered conversation between two teachers who have a free period this block and don’t spare him a glance. He can hear the sound of the tape ripping as a couple of students hang posters on the walls for Cheerleading tryouts, can feel the sturdiness of the tile floor under his feet as he tries to catch the reflection of the artificial lights on the polish, can smell the lemon cleaner from the trolley outside the bathrooms that signifies they’re being cleaned at the moment.

He finds Patton Hart sitting at the only table left set up in the cafeteria. He’s laughing leaning forward with a bottle of Windex and a rag at his elbows, but it looks like he’s already cleaned everything that needs to be cleaned. Standing next to him is the resource officer, and Dee still doesn’t know the man’s name. It wasn’t like they talked very often. Still, the man looks smug and happy, and absolutely thrilled that he managed to get a laugh from the nutritionist.

Dee slows his pace, a half step for every real step he could be taking when he realizes that he doesn’t have a clue what he’s supposed to say. At best? Mr. Hart would set him up with some busy work to do, like cleaning lunch trays maybe (where there any of those left?). At worse? He’d demand to know why Dee wasn’t in class, and then drag him to said class and Dee would get to be the middle of a commotion all over again. Perhaps it would be better if he ran for the bathrooms and hid there until the end of the day. Then he’d sneak out with the rest of the students, avoid Kyle, pick up his brother, and make it all the way home before anyone stopped him.

His shoe scuffed the ground when he goes to turn around. His heart jumps to his throat, when both the staff members pause to look at him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Mr. Hart says, “You need something?”

The Resource Officer shifts to put his hands on his belt. Dee tries not to watch too intensely. His mouth dries up again, and he tries figure out what combination of English words isn’t going to ruin this chance to walk free of consequences. He hates that he remembers a time when he wasn’t afraid to talk to people, hates that he has to swallow the lump in his throat and fight the urge to stare at his shoes while his fingers tear at his bag’s straps.

“VP Joan,” Dee says finally, “sent me to you.”

“Me?” Mr. Hart blinks, pointing to himself. “Hmm, that’s not normal. Did they say why?”

Answering the question is a straight forward thing: VP Joan said that he had nothing for Dee to do, so he sent him to Mr. Hart. But Dee also knows that will lead the conversation to why he was sent to VP Joan in the first place and he really doesn’t want to tell anyone else how he managed to dodge the repercussions of decking another kid by some type of miracle and have that change.

The silence holds on a second, two, three, too long. Dee’s head drops to stare at his scuffed up converse (an ugly yellow pair that he had stolen from a GoodWill bin in the outer parking lot of a shopping complex late one night two years ago, which he had worn until they were a dusted brown).

“Kiddo?” Mr. Hart asks

The Resource Officer shifts again, “Wait, I know you!” He raises a hand casually turning back to Mr. Hart, and hopefully missing the way Dee’s shoulders tense. “He’s got Walker for last block.”

Mr. Hart claps his hands and turns back to Dee. His eyes sparkle behind his black framed glasses. “Oh, that means you were in Logan’s class! That’s amazing! He’s a great teacher!”

“Hardly!” The Resource Officer scoffs. “Logan probably scared them all out of their minds! He’s the worst!”

“Roman!” Mr. Hart hits him on the arm, “You take that back! Logan is the sweetest teacher this school is ever going to see!”

“Of course, you’d say that, Pat!” The Resource Officer- Roman?- says, “You never had to be tutored by him!” For a man who could probably bench press three “Logan’s”, Dee thought it was a little weird how he shuddered unpleasantly. Although that was not as weird as trying to make sense of what the two adults were talking about.

Honestly he wasn’t sure they were talking about the same person at all: The teacher-- Logan, Dr. Ackroyd (that’s was VP Joan had said right?)-- was stern and stiff and, sure, a little scary, but then again Dee didn’t exactly have stellar experiences with any other adult either. Still he couldn’t see what about him was “the sweetest teacher in this school”.

And the fact that Dee had been in his class for about ten minutes before he was sent right back out. He still wasn’t convinced the teacher wasn’t planning some big, huge, insurmountable class project to give to Dee as a punishment for punching such a nice kid like Kyle.

Mr. Hart stood up from his seat looking directly at Dee, “Come sit down, kiddo! Are you hungry? There’s some left ice cream sandwiches from lunch this week that I’m going to need to throw out before the weekend.”

Dee very much doesn’t know what to do. He’s not sure he nods, but Mr. Hart disappears into the cafeteria kitchen anyway so that Dee and the Resource Officer are left alone. Dee’s fingers ache whenever he moves them, so he takes extra special care to use his non-dominant hand to shrug off his backpack. The burn scars on his forearm and on his shoulder blade work in tandem to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

When he looks up, Resource Officer Roman is staring at him. His brain whirls with something to say, something defensive that will get the adult to keep his comments to himself, and please, please, don’t ask about them. But everything that comes to mind is nasty and ugly and he can’t say it to someone with a taser on their belt.

For a room that could fit upwards three hundred students for lunch, Dee feels trapped and claustrophobic.

“So,” The adult says, “What’s your name?”

“Ekans,” Dee says immediately. He stares down at the table.

“That’s…that’s a terrible name, kid.” The Resource Officer says. “Did your parents pick that one out or--?”

“Dante Ekans,” Dee says sharply, and squeezes his aching fingers tightly because the pressure overrides the pain even if its just for a second.

“Ah! Dante! Like the Poet! Writer of The Divine Comedy!”

Dee sinks lower in his seat, “Yep.” The centuries old text of a guy traveling through hell and purgatory and idolizing a guy that had been dead even longer than him. Like he hadn’t heard that one before. It was just another reason to hate his name.

Mr. Hart chooses that moment to come back, bouncing on the balls of his feet, sliding on the freshly polished floor, and those curls of his dancing. Resource Officer Roman immediately forgets all about Dee and Dante’s Inferno and all those things that adults like to think when they saw him. It’s a relief.

Kinda.

Mr. Hart sits down right next to Dee, ignoring his previous seat completely. Dee’s shoulders bunch up to his ears, he’s sure, and the way his mouth dries out is far from expected. But the man just hands him an ice cream sandwich that the cafeteria sold for a dollar during lunch shifts, and Dee takes it.

(He’s had one before, like once. For his birthday last year where he borrowed a single dollar from his mother’s and bought himself one birthday gift. It had been sticky and too sweet and the chocolate had clung to his fingers and he had thrown half of it out, but Dee had loved it. His mother had screamed when she found the money missing, screamed and tore his hair and Dee hadn’t said a word.)

Dee takes his time unwrapping the treat, part of him upset that if Mr. Hart knew why Dee was there, he wouldn’t be giving him a free ice cream sandwich, part of him wishing desperately he could save it and share it with his brother, part of him wanting to shove the entire thing in his mouth because he deserved it for having put up with this stupid shit for ten years.

“What nothing for me?” Resource Officer Roman asks petulantly.

Mr. Hart smiles at him innocently. “Oh, I have something else for you Ro! It’s just gonna have to wait until after work!”

“Oh yeah?” The Officer smiles, leaning in closer, “And why is that, my dear Pat?”

“Because you can’t eat and work, silly!” Mr. Hart laughs, “What if there’s an emergency? You’d show up all covered in ice cream…!”

Dee takes a large bite of the ice cream sandwich and silently presses “f” to pay respects for the resource officer. The obvious flirting seemed to have absolutely no effect on the man between them, and Dee wasn’t sure if it was the innocent nature of him or if he was trying to let the officer down nicely.

“Ah, my dear Pat,” The Officer says, “Always looking out for me. What would I do without you? Die, surely!”

Mr. Hart laughs, the freckles on his cheeks glow. Dee glances at Resource Officer Roman’s face and is not surprised to see the blatant “smitten” expression. He looks like some anime character seconds before the “heart eyes” started. It’s almost embarrassing. Dee takes another bite of the sandwich.

“Ah, I thought I’d find the three of you here.”

Dee chokes on the bite of the sandwich.

Resource Officer Roman jumps, letting out a yelp that was surprisingly high pitched for a man of his stature. Dee coughs to dislodge a glob of chocolate breading that got stuck  when his throat closed suddenly in a panic. The only one who doesn’t seem a little bit startled by Dr. Logan Ackroyd’s appearance is Patton, who jumps up from his seat and leans forward on the table with literal stars in his eyes.

“Logan!” He cries happily, “It’s been so long!”

“Too Long,” the Substitute teacher agrees, and Dee is uncomfortable with the amount of warmth in his expression—its a stark contrast to how he had looked in the classroom, to how he had looked at Dee. His hand pulses again, his fingers twitching in the pocket he had refused to take it out of since he had sat down.

“Logan,” Resource Officer Roman says, with a sniff of distaste that’s clearly artificial. “I can’t believe they let you back into the country.”

“Roman,” The teacher responds, the warmth sizzling in the air. “Your mother says hello.”

“When did you see my mother?”

“Yesterday, I helped her grocery shop. She called me the son she wished she had.”

The Officer flaps his hands, with a noise that sounds stuck between offended and flabbergasted. Dee feels a bit of the ice cream drip down his palm.

There’s a bizarre feeling in the air, a tension? No that wasn’t right. Dee can’t place the reason for the electricity in the air that the teacher had brought, buzzing and sparking between the three of them. Mr. Hart doesn’t seem to have a bad thing to say which meant that Resource Officer Roman had every right to hate the man at the other end of the table (since he was obviously hitting on Mr. Hart, ugh). But somehow the words and the tone don’t match at all. There’s no jealousy, no thinly vailed hatred that Dee was so adept at noticing.

(If he’s honest, he thinks the Resource Officer is eye fucking the substitute Teacher right there in front of him and that even more terrifying than the alternative.)

“I see you have both entertained Mr. Ekans, here.” The teacher says turning to Dee with a sharp piercing gaze. Dee stomach drops out.

Here it is. End times. Dee finds himself sinking backwards like he can hide in from the words that are coming. The burns on his shoulders sting with a phantom pain that’s all too familiar, and not at all real. He stares at the half melted ice cream mess in his hand because it’s easier than meeting the accusatory look of his teacher who was going to hold him accountable for injuring the “perfect” student.

“Don’t you have a class to teach, Calculator Watch?” Resource Officer Roman says, “Unless you murdered them all already. Bored them to death at fourteen! Tragic!”

“Your snide comments have no equal, Prince.” The Teacher shoots back, “They are sixteen and seventeen, and I left them for a mere moment to talk to Mr. Ekans. They believe I am picking up more worksheets for them to do in the coming weeks.”

No one says anything for a second, and Dee feels it in his bones the way the attention shifts. All three adults are looking at him, and he feels the need to defend himself in any way that’s possible. What could he say? That Kyle was a douche? A bully? Like any of them would believe that. Dee was the one who had threatened and then assaulted the other. Not to mention he looked like the bad guy in everyone’s stories. Short of the fangs, he was the monster that hid under kids’ beds.

(And he wasn’t thinking that just because once he had seen several of his brother’s friends run off screaming as he approached him in the pick up area of the elementary school, because he couldn’t blame a couple eight-year-olds for being scared.)

Dee’s mouth is halfway open with some half baked, insincere apology he doesn’t mean and hates to say when Dr. Ackroyd speaks.

“I came to ask how your hand was fairing.”

Mr. Hart’s head tilts to the side. Dee glares at the other side of the room and wishes he had slid into the restroom when he had the chance to. Cowardly? Maybe. But he’s never met anyone who liked facing consequences either.

“Kiddo?” Mr. Hart says. “What happened?” He sits back down, causing the table to shake and Dee to squeeze the rest of the ice cream from between the chocolate breading and onto the table.

“There was an altercation in my class,” Dr. Ackroyd says. “Mr. Ekans ended up punching another student.”

“Oh dear!” Mr. Hart cries, and Dee for the life of him can’t figure out why he suddenly grabs the rag at his elbows and gently cups the ice cream mess that is his out-reached hand. It’s the wrong hand, but Dee’s brain short circuits in the second their hands touch. (He’s not sure why that happened either and refuses to give a second to think about it.) Why was Mr. Hart trying to help him? Didn’t he see that Dee was the villain making threats and acting on them?

“I didn’t even notice! Are you alright? Do you need ice? A bandaid?”

“Am I gonna have to write a report for this one?” Resource Officer Roman groans, “Why are you trying to give me extra homework again, Logan? We graduated years ago!”

“If I remember correctly, you got off a minute and a half ago, Roman,” the Teacher says, placing himself in the seat directly across from Dee, “So therefore, no, you will not have to write an incident report for this event. Additionally, those extra homeworks were the reason you graduated at all.”

Dee glances at the clock in the corner, surprised to see there’s still twenty minutes of class left. Did the Resource Officer really get off early? Dee had never heard of that, but then again, he had never cared before either.

“It’s the other hand, Patton.” The teacher continues.

Dee gets the feeling he’s being analyzed. Mr. Hart coaxes Dee’s other arm from his pocket, and it stings where the lip of his jean pocket rips over his knuckles. He has to turn so that Mr. Hart can look at his fingers and the black nail polish on his nails where his mother hadn’t been able to scrub it off. But it’s turning away from Dr. Ackroyd and his calculated stare and for that Dee is grateful. He hides in his shoulder.

“Mr. Ekans,” The teacher says, “Might I inquire what possessed you to acquaint Mr. Phillips with your fist in the middle of my class?”

The word “no” is at the top of Dee’s tongue, clicking against his front teeth valiantly, although the silence is preferable. Somehow, he doesn’t think he could win a game of silence against the gaze of the teacher. Somehow the silence seems much more dangerous than speaking the truth.

But before it gets out, the Resource officer is suddenly right next to them, “Did you just say he punched Phillips? Like Kyle Phillips?”

Dee doesn’t have time to even panic.

The man is already turning to him a grin lighting up three-fourths of his face. “It’s Official, Dante Ekans! You’re my new favorite student!”

“Roman!” Mr. Hart says, “You can’t pick favorites! Kyle is--”

The Officer leans back with a scoff, “I’ll stop you there, my beloved baker! I had to hold you back from physically fighting his mom at the last PTA meeting!”

“Yeah but—”

“You wanted to burn their house down!”

Mr. Hart sticks his tongue in his cheek and bites it. “Their entire family is just so awful to everyone.”

Dee imagines what it would be like if Mr. Hart had burned down their house, if Kyle had lost his dad, if Kyle had been just as disfigured at Dee was. He hates it, he hates the smug feeling in his stomach, because he knew better than anyone how much life sucked and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Shouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Dee hisses where Mr. Hart’s rag rubs over his knuckles. The scraps were red, but at least it didn’t look like they were bleeding. He must have ripped the first couple layers of skin off, but that’s all.

Dee stares off in a direction where no one else was. It was easier than looking at the adults. The words caught in his throat, warbled and stuttered and barely more than a mumble.

“He started it.”

Did he sound like a five year old? Yes. Most definitely. Absolutely.

“I see,” the teacher says. He folds his hands deliberately in front of himself, in a fluid motion that Dee watches like a hawk without turning his head back. The tone gives him pause, because Dee can’t find any amusement in it, any hint that this new teacher is just humoring him because he wants a laugh or why-ever any of the teachers that ever listen to him do.

“I assumed as much from his attitude during my class. I’ve already set aside time to speak to him and his mother about his inexcusable behavior.”

Dee freezes as the teacher goes on to talk about proper class etiquette. He doesn’t hear a word after “inexcusable”. It makes his chest hurt, his eyes burn, and his scars itch. Its uncomfortable, its wrong, its different. Because no one has ever called Kyle’s behavior bad. The floaty feeling from earlier comes back (without him realizing it had been gone) and Dee is certain that this is somehow a twisted dream.

A twisted dream he wants so bad to be reality. A dream that Dee doesn’t want to wake from.

“—of course. If instances continue at this pace I would be obligated to—”

“You’re serious.”

The words plop out of Dee’s mouth and land on the table between him and the teacher in some type of ugly blob. He hadn’t meant for it to be so weak, so pathetic, but his tone to wobble somewhere between the four syllables just so much that the teacher’s mouth snapped shut and Mr. Hart’s gentle hands paused from examining his knuckles. Dee wants to take it back, wants to yank the words from the air and pretend they were never there.

Dr. Ackroyd adjusts his glasses and their eyes meet for the first time. Dee thinks it’s a lot like staring into the galaxy, into the great expanse, and knowing that it was also staring back at him.

“I’m very serious. I wear a necktie.”

It sounds like a joke when he says it, and maybe there’s a flicker of his lips that tells Dee is alright to laugh at it.

Dee feels like crying instead.

“I think you’ll find I’m not like your other teachers, Mr. Ekans.”

Mr. Hart smiles at that, smiles the whole conversation, smiles like the sun is shining and the birds are singing and global warming isn’t gonna end all life on Earth by the time Dee is thirty. He lets go of Dee’s injured hand and Dee finds he misses the warmth and the gentle touch. “I have some bandages in the back. Ro, can you help me?”

The Resource Officer makes some noise but the nutritionist takes him by the wrist and drags him into the kitchens. Dee thinks the man is too gay to have really protested anyway.

The teacher and him sit silently as the echoes of their voices, of Mr. Hart’s laughter fades until its just them in their own little untouchable bubble.

“Mr. Walker, your previous science teacher, left me several notes about his classes.” Dr. Ackroyd says, “As well as the grades.”

Dee itches the burns on his neck, a little angrily. He doesn’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. It’s midway through the year and there’s very little he can do to bring his grade up as far as it needs to go for science alone. Not to mention English, Mathematics, and History.

“He mentioned that I might find you to be a difficult student, but I disagree with that assessment.” Dr. Ackroyd prompts Dee to look at him again, “I get the impression you are a very bright student, Mr. Ekans, and very few people choose to see that part of you. I’ve met a lot of students in my time teaching in the United States and abroad. Most of them get by with less than a fourth of the effort than you’ve most likely put in. However, I can’t change the grades that your teacher has already declared for you.”

He pauses, “I can however enter a grade that hasn’t been posted yet.”

Dee dares to let his chest fill with that unfamiliar feeling, that whimsy mystical emotion everyone called hope.

“As it happens, you have a 62.45 percentage in this class as of right now. Mr. Walker was notoriously slacking when he entered any of your grades, so many of your grades are resulting zeroes from missing work, including the midterm from last week.”

The midterm that Dee had finished five whole minutes before everyone else and handed into to Mr. Walker directly. The one that he’s sure the teacher had finished grading before the end of school bells had rung.

Dee hangs on the teacher’s words, too desperate for the chance Dr. Ackroyd was offering to be embarrassed about how pathetic he was acting. He was starving and this ridiculous teacher was dropping him breadcrumbs.

“So, if you are open to recreating the work that has gone missing and putting time aside to retake a midterm I will provide, I would be more than happy to enter in the missing grades.”

“You’d…you’d do that?”

Dr. Ackroyd seems surprise that Dee would even have to ask.

“Of course. I see no reason to withhold grades as long as you put in the effort, Mr. Ekans.”

Dee doesn’t care if it’s a dream. If its fake. His knuckles hurt, his chest constricts, he’s not sure he can make words even if his life depended on it. A lump forms in his throat, thick and heavy and dangerous. Because that’s all he’s wanted, all he’s needed since he was six: just someone to treat him like everyone else.

Not Lucky. Not pitiful. Just Dee, by himself, putting in the effort for the education he needed.

“Just please, if you could refrain from making anymore, ah, serious threats against the rest of the student populace.”

And that’s all it takes for him to break.

Mr. Hart comes back hand in hand with Resource Officer Roman and they find Dee attempting to forcibly remove an onslaught of tears from his face before the bell rings to release the students, and Dr. Ackroyd appearing as incredibly uncomfortable as possible as a slew of confused apologies tumble from his mouth.

And all either of them do is smile.

Dante Ethan Ekans hated every single teacher in his high school.

(Except one. And a Resource Officer. And a Nutritionist.)

[Sequel]

[marril96]

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 6: With Friends Like These...

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena is surprisingly generous, and Crowley is a drama king.

Editor: @cherrypierowena

The Sunday tutoring session went as well as the first one. You still had a long way to go, but at the very least you were starting to understand the few lessons that were on the test.

For a mean girl, Rowena was an amazing teacher. You could tell learning was something she was really passionate about, as was spreading the knowledge she had.

If only she were like that — that patient, that, dare you say it, nice — at school.

You might have even liked her.

Was that why Sam liked her? Her genuine interest in knowledge? Was that what they were talking about when they hung out?

If yes, you could somewhat understand where Sam was coming from. If you only knew her as a dedicated geek, you would like her, too.

But you didn't.

The majority of what you saw of her was meanness. Bullying. Snobbery.

A few hours of studying together couldn't erase that. Couldn't erase the fact that not only had she made the choice to be that way — she'd fought tooth and nail for it.

She was a mean girl by choice.

When the bell rang that Monday, Ms. Hanscum asked for you and Rowena to stay behind. Rowena rolled her eyes. You did the same. You'd had enough of math.

"So," Ms. Hanscum said in her ever-present overly cheerful tone, "how's it going, girls? Made any progress?"

"Yup," you replied. Not as much as she probably expected, but it was something.

"Great!" she beamed. "I knew this would be a great arrangement!"

"It's bloody epic," Rowena mumbled under her breath sarcastically.

You snorted.

Ms. Hanscum frowned. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Rowena said, picture perfect smile mirroring the teacher's painted on her mouth.

Ms. Hanscum grinned big and bright. "I'm so happy for you girls! This'll help you both out. You'll see."

Right. Because being forced to spend time with someone you disliked was so helpful.

"You gonna be ready for the make up exam?"

The question caught you off guard. "Um… well…"

"She totally will," Rowena cut in. You threw her a look she ignored.

You'd gone over a few lessons. There were still a lot of things you didn't get. A lot of things you were insecure about.

You would study, but you doubted it would help much.

The majority of the things that were on the test were still a foreign language to you, and that meant another big, fat F.

"Excellent!" Ms. Hanscum said happily. She reached into a paper bag she had on the desk, took out a donut and bit into it. Pointing at the bag, mouth full and smeared with powdered sugar, she asked, "Donut?"

Rowena made a face as if she'd just been offered rotten meat.

"Sure," you said just to spite her, and took a donut of your own. You took a large bite, basking in the sweetness. "They're awesome!"

"Right?" Ms. Hanscum said. "There's this bakery down the street from where I live. They make excellent donuts! Take another one."

You did as you finished the first one, then bid goodbye to the teacher and headed outside.

"You're disgusting," Rowena said, expression matching her words.

You smirked. "I know."

She rolled her eyes.

"What's with the whole 'she'll totally be ready' shit?" you asked.

"That." She shuffled her feet nervously. Looked around as if in search of spies. "I was thinking — maybe we could study today, tomorrow, and the day after, too."

She what?

"You crazy?"

As if two days wasn't enough.

She wanted to add three more days to it?

"We don't have to," Rowena said, annoyed. "Just saying we could."

"Isn't that a bit much?"

She shrugged. "There's quite a bit we still haven't covered."

"Maybe I don't struggle with that," you said.

She looked at you in disbelief. "Do you?"

If only you didn't.

There was no point lying. "Yeah."

She smirked. Triumphant. Smug. "So, what do you say?" In a nonchalant, overly fake tone, she added, "It's fine if you don't want to. It's your grade."

Did — did she want you to say yes?

"Fine," you said.

Your friends were going to just love you missing out on hangouts to study with her.

"Four o'clock?"

"Works for me."

It was a deal.

*****

"So?" Dean asked first thing he saw you at lunch break.

"So what?"

But you already knew.

"What was it like, studying with the evil skank?"

The hot topic in your friend group.

"Quite fun, actually," you said.

They all, except for Sam, looked at you as if you'd just admitted to killing a litter of kittens.

Awful, pathetic, and horrible were some of the expected answers.

Oh, well.

You lived to disappoint.

"What?" you said defensively and took a bite out of your sandwich.

Crowley looked you in the eyes, then, seeing you were serious, did the sign of the cross.

You rolled your eyes so hard Rowena would've envied you.

Seriously?

He wasn't even religious. His only gospel was You Only Live Once and he lived its word to the fullest.

"Fun? Fun?!" he said dramatically. Loud enough for the entire school to hear him. A few people turned their heads. Most ignored him, having gotten used to his theatrics. "You call spending time with my sister — alone — fun?!"

"Yeah," you said nonchalantly.

His face flushed red as a cherry. Or a bomb inches away from explosion. Which, given the circumstances, seemed like a likely scenario. "That's it!" he proclaimed. "Friendship over!"

God.

What was it that made you want to be friends with him in the first place?

Oh, right — this very behavior.

You sure knew how to pick them.

"Were we ever even friends?" Crowley kept ranting. Eyes wide. Hands flying in all directions as he gestured like a madman. Accent thick in every word. "Was everything a lie? Are you a lie? Do you even bloody exist?!"

"Oh, come on!" you said, irritation sparking through you like a rush of heat.

You were beginning to comprehend why he and Rowena didn't get along — they were too damn similar!

"You've gone team whore!"

You shot him an incredulous look. "'Cause I liked studying with her?"

"That's how she gets you!" he explained. "Pretends to be nice. Sucks you in. Digs the claws in. Then you're hers! You might as well be dead!"

"You're overreacting." You looked around. "Why are y'all so quiet? He's overreacting. Right? Tell him he's overreacting."

"He's overreacting" Sam said.

Your man! "Thank you!"

Castiel frowned in confusion. His signature move. "You really liked it?"

"Yeah," you replied. "She's a great teacher."

Crowley let out an inhumane noise that might have been a squeak.

Or a pterodactyl mating call.

"She is!" you said defensively.

"Wow," Meg said.

Dean scowled suspiciously. "You hit your head? Did she hit you in the head?"

"Jesus Christ!" you exploded, having had enough. Your gang was always a bit weird, but this was ridiculous. This was fucking crazy! "I just think she's a good tutor. Doesn't mean I like the girl!"

"You liked being with her. That's pretty much the same thing," Dean said.

"No, it's not," you argued. "Why do you even care? I mean, Sam's friends with her."

"Sam gets his at home."

The younger Winchester shot him his signature bitchface.

"You hate her," Dean added. "You've always hated her!"

More like disliked her.

Severely.

She hadn't — yet — done anything to make you hate her.

Even still…

"It was just one study session!" you defended.

Meg held up two fingers and said in a deadpan manner, "Two."

"Two study sessions," you corrected. A sigh escaped your mouth. "I don't get what the big deal is. Like I said, she's still a bitch. She's just also a good tutor."

"She'll fuck you over," Crowley said. "She'll play with your heart, then tear it out and eat it right in front of you!"

"Okay, drama king," you said exasperatedly. "You're right. You're completely right. Can you stop now?"

"She will eat it!" he exclaimed dramatically.

"I'm starting to think you're jealous."

He scowled.

You smiled, sugary sweet, overdone.

"Don't worry. You're still my favorite MacLeod. Even if you're annoying."

He flipped you off.

You returned the favor.

"I'm no fan of ginger-bitch, but I'm starting to see why she hates drama king here," Meg commented. "So fucking glad I'm an only child."

"Says the girl who sucked Lucifer's dick up until recently," Crowley retorted.

Meg shot him a look that threatened murder. "He wishes. Do you also wish I sucked your dick?"

"I'm not that desperate. Besides, a man my size? You couldn't handle it, darling."

She laughed. "Trust me, sugar, I've handled bigger and better."

She squeezed Castiel's arm as she said that, prompting him to blush crimson and turn his head.

Crowley snickered. "Never a real man, then."

"Clarence is plenty real," Meg said. Her way of calling him angel. "You? A waste. Might as well change your name to Tiffany and parade around in a pink dress."

Damn.

She was ruthless.

"I'd still look bloody fabulous," Crowley said, head high in feigned pride. "Better than Feathers here. You two are perfect for each other."

"Why, thank you!"

"It wasn't a compliment."

"It was to me."

"You take everything as a compliment. Like all those things Lucifer said to you. The rumors he spread. All compliments, right?"

Meg scowled. He'd hit a nerve. "Piss off, Fergus."

Uh oh.

There was a reason he'd insisted that everyone — including the teachers — called him Crowley. He hated his birth name. Loathed it to the depths of his soul. He claimed it sounded like a venereal disease and hated his mother for giving it to him.

Rowena, naturally, insisted on calling him that and only that.

His friends, on the other hand, called him as he preferred.

Meg sure knew how to run her mouth.

But then, she wasn't his friend. The two of them could barely stand each other, and had only hung out because she was dating Castiel, who in turn was sort-of-friends with him.

Calling them acquaintances would be generous.

"I'll piss on you, Meg," Crowley retorted.

Meg grinned. "Oh, you just know what turns me on, don't you?" she purred.

He flipped her off.

She laughed.

Good ol' Meg and Crowley. Always a great distraction.

As they bantered, Castiel, as well as you, Sam, and Dean stood there awkwardly. Unsure what to say. How to react.

Then you revealed that you would be studying with Rowena today, tomorrow, and the day after, and, to your grievance, all the attention and drama was back on you.

*****

"You what?"

Olivette was livid. She remained calm, but her tone, the strain in her voice, the ice on her face were dead giveaways of the storm that brewed inside. Tranquil fury. Lightning before the rumbling thunder.

As expected, she hadn't taken the news of Rowena having three tutoring sessions with you this week well.

Neither did Lucifer, but he, at the very least, had the decency to keep his anger to himself.

"You're really tutoring Dumbo three days this week?" he said. "Seriously?"

"It wasn't my bloody idea!" Rowena said. "Ms. Hanscum said I had to. And tried to force-feed me donuts."

She made a face.

Olivette made an even more disgusted one. "That bitch is such a pig."

"I drew the line at that," Rowena said.

Okay, so she said a wee lie. Or a couple. Or a bit more.

She couldn't exactly admit it was her idea. What would that look like?

A shudder ran through her at the thought, cold as ice.

"So you can't hang out today?" Olivette asked.

Rowena shook her head. "Or tomorrow, or Wednesday."

'What about us?" Lucifer whined, pouting like a child.

She pulled on a smile. He was an arse, but he could be impossibly cute when he wanted.

"She doesn't care."

He said something not very nice under his breath. "This is such bullshit!"

"I'll make it up to you," Rowena said, lacing fingers through his. Squeezing them together in a tight knot. Her eyes wandered from his to Olivette's. "Both of you. Friday night, I'm all yours."

The truth was, she was looking forward to studying with you more than the outing she'd arranged with them.

She thought having popular friends would be the best thing ever, but the truth was, it was the opposite.

She hated it.

Hated watching Olivette and her little posse bully girls they deemed fat and ugly and boys they deemed unworthy of looking at them.

Hated watching Lucifer shove kids into lockers and threaten them for nothing but the sheer thrill of it.

Hated being there when it happened.

Hated laughing along with them, encouraging them without a single word as their victims' eyes wandered to her in search of help, of mercy, only to turn down in disappointment at finding none.

A part of her knew it was worth it. The life she had — she'd fought for it. So what if a few people had to suffer?

At least it wasn't her.

Never again.

Now, she was on top of the food chain.

Didn't mean she had to like all it entailed.

She needed an out. A vacation. A wee bit of time away from it all. Needed something to make her forget all the bad she did — all the bad she was still doing.

She was a good tutor. A bloody great one.

And, for a girl who never did anything to better herself, you made for good company.

You did as told. It took you a while from time to time, but you did all the work she gave you. Contrary to what she thought, you weren't dumb. You just needed a bit of guidance.

There were sarcastic remarks and eye-rolls, often mutual, but other than that, tutoring you was a pleasant experience.

It was, dare she say it, fun.

"You'd better," Lucifer purred, then pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss.

"I promise," Rowena muttered as they parted for breath. Then his lips were on hers once again, and she gave herself away, let him do with them as he pleased.

That was the way things worked between them. She gave. He took. Anything he wanted, he could take, no questions asked.

Just like Olivette and her posse.

Oh, well.

Everything came with a price stamped on it in large, bolded letters.

Rowena knew what she was getting into.

She'd made her bed. Now she had to lie in it.

*****

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