#what do you think happens when your kid gets both of the teachers in our classroom sick? bc i know for a fact there are zero substitutes

[stochastiz]

parent handing me their infant who has been obviously ill for the past 3 days they've been dropped off to me and is currently coughing at me while using a drool-and-booger-slathered hand to poke my face: "oh no, are you not feeling well?"

“everyoneeee is sick right now” (loud coughing) “i have a cold but i’m still going to class because i can’t miss it” (loud coughing) “5 people were missing in my english class today, isn’t that crazy?” (loud coughing) “can i ask a personal question? why do you wear a mask?”

[cats-in-the-clouds]

my sister got engaged and we’re all really happy for her but my bitter rain cloud of a dad (who naturally she told last) is giving her a bit of passive aggressive grief about it despite her boyfriend being like the best man of our generation (presumably either because he’s not catholic or because my dad sees them as young dumb unemployed people who aren’t ready for marriage or because he’s mad he barely has any real love with his own wife or something). so like pray for us? i wish i knew what to do

[noxiwrites]

Forbidden

Synopsis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

The new teaching assistant is too hot for his own good, distracting most of the girls in your class.You're not too bothered by him, he's just another pretty face- until you get pulled by him for failing the class. It's every girls wet dream, getting taught by the hot new teacher- and you find yourself slowly falling into a sickly sweet situation.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Age gap, inappropriate touching, arguments, angst, eventual smut, obsession, hidden relationship, public sex.

Word count ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

2.9k

Add yourself to my tag list | Masterlist

I II III IV V

You’re going out. You’re not quite sure how you’ve let Molly drag you out, convincing you that you just need to drink a bit and clear up some head space from what’s been happening recently. Once you told her what had happened, and how you’d stopped again, she’d be adamant that you just needed to see what ‘competition’ was out there- aka, all the ‘ugly boys in town have nothing on Rafe’ and then you’d be okay shagging him.

“Do I look okay?” You ask her, standing in front of the mirror as she applies the final bit of her lipstick. Molly scoffs, rolling her eyes at you.

“Are you kidding? It’s any girls wet dream to look like you, yes you look okay.”

She finishes her lipstick and you take a step back, looking at your outfit one final time before you’re being dragged out of your apartment and to Ryan’s car outside. He doesn’t drink, you’ve discovered, so he’ll happily drop you and Molly off and pick you up once you’re finished. You both clamber into the back seat, adjusting your skirt once you’re sat and listening to Molly talk her boyfriends ear off.

It’s not long before he pulls up at the side of the road, wishing you both a fun time as Molly is practically dragging you out of the car and into the bar right next to it. It’s Friday night, loud, lots of people pushing around and you eye the crowd.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You yell over the music, as Molly looks over at you, gaze hardened. She’s still got her hand wrapped around your arm as she drags you up to the bar, waiting to be served.

You have a look around. There’s plenty of guys here who aren’t that bad looking, yet you’re just not interested. Molly hands you a glass of something that you don’t bother to question as she leads to over to a table in a far corner, a bit further away from the crowds. You take a seat, face crinkling when you take a sip of your drink and it’s straight vodka.

Molly giggles at you spluttering, taking a sip of her own drink. “So, you need to tell me more about Rafe. You can’t just tell me you’ve kissed him and think I’m okay not knowing more,” she leans forward on the palm of her hand.

“It literally was just a kiss, Mol. He touched me a little but I froze up before he could do anything else,” she nods, staring at you like she’s expecting more.

“Go on,” she says, and you’re not quite sure what else she wants from you, so you say the only thing that comes to mind.

“When I told him to stop, he turned 60 degrees on me, like he thought I regretted it or something,”

Molly takes another sip of her drink. “Doll, that man is totally obsessed with you! Of course he’s gonna be upset when you tell him to stop something he thought you were both enjoying.”

You were enjoying it, you think- the way you reacted to him would tell you exactly that. You can’t, though, get it out of your head that he’s your teacher.

“I don’t know Mol, it just seems weird because he’s our teacher,” she raises an eyebrow at you.

“Teaching assistant. Maybe that’s what’s stopping you, the thought of shagging a teaching assistant even though he’s hot,” the crowd gets especially loud after her statement and you look up, half expecting everyone in the bar to be listening in and judging you- but they’re just watching some sport on the tv.

You sigh, swirling your straw in your drink as you think about it. If that’s the bit that’s holding you back, then how do you get around it? Molly reaches over the table, grabbing your hand.

“Girl, don’t worry. Tonight I’m gonna convince you that it’s okay to shag him, hand on heart,” she smirks at you, raising her glass and clinking it against your own. The notion brings a smile to your face.

So far, Molly has had a great time convincing you that all the other guys in town aren’t worth your time- and so far, it’s working. You’ve had three guys try their luck and each time, you’ve turned them down.

You’re sat in the fifth bar of the night, feeling a little tipsy from whatever Molly has been passing you to drink, and you’re actually enjoying yourself. You're thinking more and more about Rafe- about how he looks, how he smells, how he acts.

It’s confusing you, you’ll admit- you’re not sure what exactly it is about him that makes you so nervous. You’re not grabbing for his attention like everyone else in class- yet you find yourself slowly wishing to see him more and more. You’re not quite sure what to make of those feelings, or how to even put them into words for Molly to give you advice.

Five minutes later, Molly comes back from the bathroom, phone in hand. “I’m so sorry babe, I’ve got to go- Ryan’s had a bit of an emergency.” You nod your head, downing your drink with her before hugging her goodbye. She turns to leave, before turning back to you.

“Are you gonna get home okay?” She asks, and you swallow, standing on shaky legs. You’re a little more drunk than you thought.

“Yeah- I- I should be fine,” you muster out, smiling at your friend. She raises an eyebrow, contemplating, before giving you a kiss on the cheek and rushing out the bar.

You decide to wait a few minutes before exiting yourself, pushing the bar door and being blasted by the cold night air. It makes you regret wearing so little, as you pull your phone out of your bag and opening Uber.

Molly is already long gone, the sidewalk littered with other drunk people. It’s currently seven o’clock, already dark- and people are drunk. You scoff, realising you’re just as bad as everyone else.

You stand, looking at the prices to go to your home when an idea pops into your head. Campus is still open, and most of the teachers stay late on Friday so they don’t have to work weekends.

You could, in theory, go see Rafe. While you’re not level headed- while you’re not thinking straight, because you’ll be able to speak easier and maybe even move a little further with him.

Maybe. Maybe doesn’t stop drunk you from selecting your building on campus, and climbing inside the Uber when he pulls up in front of you. You hiccup as the Uber pulls away, and he looks at you through the rear view mirror.

“Fun night love?” He asks and you smile.

“Yeah, not been bad,”

He clears his throat, turning onto the Main Street that leads to campus. “And you’re headed to the university now? Why’s that?”

You smile again, looking down at your nails. “I’m going to see my boyfriend, he’s working late,”

The words fall from your lips and you don’t even mind them, drunken stupor fueling you along. The driver nods as he pulls into the campus, navigating the windy roads before you see your building and he pulls into the car park. You thank him as he stops and he wishes you a goodnight as you shut the door and watch him drive away.

You breath out, wrapping your flimsy little cardigan around you as you turn to face the building. You’ve no time for normal thoughts as you see Rafe’s classroom light is on and you grin, slightly stumbling as you walk towards the front doors of the building.

The hallways are quiet, apart from the clicking of your heels as you make your way towards the door of your class. You’re thinking about all the possibilities, all the outcomes of what might happen. You know you’re tipsy, but you’d remember every second of tonight.

You hiccup, giggling as you think about Rafe’s biceps, hand hovering above the handle of the door, when you finally look through the little window on the door.

And your heart stops. You think this is the fastest you’ve sobered up, blinking your eyes a few times to make sure you’re seeing what you’re seeing. It’s not a mirage. No smoke screens.

Rafe’s sat in his chair, legs spread, chin resting on the palm of his hand as Kendra sits cross legged on his desk, holding something out of your view. You can see her twirling her hair around her finger, and Rafe laughs at something she says. You can’t swallow. You breathe out, shallow and ragged, the all too familiar feeling of bile rising in your throat.

Why does this bother you so much? Why do you want to cry, want to scream, want to rip her head off her shoulders? You’re not sure.

You’re frozen on the spot, watching as she pushes his shoulder back and he swings around in his chair, smile on his face. You’re locked onto the two of them, unable to shift your eyes- until you see the smile drop from Rafe’s face, his eyes gazing directly back into your own. Kendra turns, looking at what Rafe is looking at, and when she sees you, she smirks.

Like she’s proud.

“I won, bitch,” she mouths, and you finally unfreeze. A tear slips down your cheek and you’re mad you’re crying over a guy you’ve kissed once. Once. And he started it. That, somehow, makes it worse. You turn, setting a quick pace back down the hall. You hear the door open behind you, barely, but nothing else when your ears are ringing this loud.

Why is it bothering you that much? Why?

You swing the front doors of the building open, out into the cold, which has started a spout of pelting rain, really adding to the way you feel. Your ears are blaring at you as you walk down the sidewalk, pulling your phone out of your bag and tapping the screen, ordering an Uber to pick you up at the end of the block.

A hand reaches for you, grasping your arm and spinning you. It’s Rafe, to your displeasure, saying something to you. His mouth is moving, but you’re not hearing him.

“Will you just stop? It’s not what it looks like,” you make out and you scoff, ripping your arm from his grasp. You shrug, ignoring the way you want to cry, trying to act indifferent. You should have known better.

The ringing subsides as you continue to walk down the sidewalk, hearing Rafe’s footsteps behind you, his voice sounding like background noise. You turn.

“I’m not bothered about what you’re got to say, to be honest. You can go,” you say, turning around again. You can see your Uber from where you are and you speed up a little, hoping to make it to the car before you’re completely soaked.

“Look- let me explain, please,” he all but begs, and you’re sure you can hear the desperation in his tone. You don’t give him the pleasure of seeing your face crumple, wanting to give in.

“I don’t care Rafe. It’s not like we’re together, you can see who you want.” You reach your Uber and feel his fingers slide against your arm, leaving a tingle- but you’re too quick, opening the door and sliding inside the backseat, telling the driver you’re ready to go.

When you’re pulling away, you look over your shoulder out of the window to see him still stood in the rain, watching the car pull away.

You can’t believe you could have been so stupid. How could you have not seen? It should have been so obvious to you, so fucking obvious- but you were gullible, stupid. You let yourself believe tonight that he wanted you, and for the first time, you knew you wanted him too.

The Uber pulls up outside your estate and you thank the driver, using your card to get into the side gate as you walk around to your flat. With shaky hands, you open the door and are greeted by whiskers, who meows at you from the hallway table. You smile down at him, scratching between his ears.

“You’re the only guy who won’t let me down, huh?” He blinks up at you slowly as you sigh, giving him a final scratch before dropping your keys into the bowl and taking your heels off, padding down the hall.

Whiskers follows as you head into your bedroom, taking off your soaked clothes and wrapping yourself in a towel to dry off, finding some old clothes to change into.

You chuck your phone onto your bed, taking a seat on the edge. Your head falls into your hands, breathing deeply as the scene flashes through your mind again. And again. And again.

Even when you try to sleep, it plays. Kendra’s mocking words haunt you, even in deep sleep- and you wake up in the morning, feeling heavy. Despite the lack of good sleep, you get up, getting yourself ready for work.

You feed whiskers, wishing him a good day before leaving the house. You see a flash of red on your doorstep and you back up, pulling your key from the lock.

Red roses. A dozen, along with a box with a bow on the top. They’re wet, a card stuck in the top of the roses soggy as you pick them up and read the card.

All it says is sorry, but somehow, you know who they’re from- and it makes you wonder how he knows where you live. Or how he got in. You scoff, walking down your front path to the bin and chucking it all in, before unlocking your car and heading to work.

It’s a slow day in the coffee shop, despite it being a Saturday. You’re exhausted, messing up orders and just being overall clumsy. Lots of familiar faces come and go, and you hate seeing people you know when you’re at work.

You’re stood at the counter, drawing up some signs for some new treats when the bell above the door chimes.

“Welcome in, what can I get for you?” You ask, out of instinct, not looking up as you finish the last parts of the last sign.

“I’ll have a black coffee and your number, please,” you recognise the voice and flutter your eyes up, to see Tobey stood at the counter, smiling down at you. You blush, processing his order.

“Six dollars, please,” he plucks his wallet from his pocket and hands you a twenty, and you give him his change before making his coffee. When you hand it to him, he inspects the cup before looking back at you.

“My order is wrong,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows, confused. “Oh? How so?”

He grins down at you. “I haven’t got your number yet.”

You roll your eyes, turning around to slot the sign into the baking tray with the right sweets. “Have a nice day, Tobey,” you sigh, picking the tray up and walking it over to the big display. You don’t hear the door bell again and glance over to see him watching you.

You observe him back. He’s not bad looking, dark brown hair falling in a neat fringe over his forehead, green eyes and a fairly sharp jaw. Today, he’s wearing some sweats and a hoodie, different from the jeans you remember last time.

You sigh, walking back to the counter and looking up at him expectantly. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Let me take you out,” he responds straight away, taking a sip of his coffee. He smiles, holding it out. “This is good, thank you.”

You’ll admit, this is a different side to him from what you saw in class that time. Yeah, he’s still as persistent, but he’s been nicer about it this time.

“I don’t know,” you begin, trailing off as you stare out of the window, images of last night flashing through your head again. It angers you, pisses you off, to even think about thinking about it.

“Cmon, just one? If you don’t like it, then fair enough. I’ll back off.” He tells you, running a hand through his hair. You weigh out your options, contemplating what could happen. And then you remember last night again.

“Okay, what the hell. I’ll give you my number and you can pick me up sometime.”

Note ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Helloooooo 🫶🏻 sorry this took me so long I’ve been at work 😪 anyway, I’ve just watched the new Noah beck movie, Sidelined, and was wondering if any of you guys would be interested in me writing something for Rafe inspired by that? Love yas, let me know what you think 🥰

Check out a teaser for a new series here <3

Tags ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

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[covenofagatha]

Okay hear me out Agatha x Reader age gap fic. The reader and Agatha have been together for awhile I was thinking like she used to be your college professor before you graduated, The reader has a monthly night out scheduled with friends from school but Agatha like usual declines in your offer to join you all. Agatha just doesn’t have interest in the “young people bars” and hanging out with old students is strange to her, though it’s a little upsetting you don’t push too much before relenting and going on your way. A little bit into the night despite your efforts in avoiding said persons advances you’re being continuously hit on by either a stranger in the bar or a friend from the group that is your choice! But the resolve would be Agatha showing up cause she felt guilty about always declining, her witnessing and then defusing the situation (jealously obviously). I absolutely love possessive Agatha and love everything you’ve written so far! Whether it ends in smut is also completely up to you!!!

Hope you enjoy and thank you for the very detailed request!! This will be a two-parter and the next part will be based on a request I got about jealous reader x Professor Agatha.

A lesson in jealousy (Part 1)

Agatha gets jealous when she finds you at a bar and a guy is already talking to you.

Word count: 2100

Tags: marking, jealousy, making out, slight thigh grinding

“I was thinking of ordering pizza for tonight?” Agatha muses, already looking at you when you turn your head to face her. 

You’re sitting on the couch in her office, nose buried in a book for one of your other classes. Agatha was your professor two years ago and there had been a spark, at least on your end, so you had kept in touch. 

It wasn’t until a year ago when you had bridged the gap between a professional relationship and something more when you had kissed her one night after getting drinks at a bar across town. 

You had immediately pulled back, apologizing incessantly, but much to your surprise, she had dragged you back in for more. 

That night was the first of many that you spent in her bed. 

Although she was no longer your teacher, you still attended the college that she worked at, so there was a bit of a gray area. Meaning, you two had to keep it under wraps. 

“Oh, sorry,” you say, finally answering Agatha’s question. “I’m going out with my friends tonight. It’s our monthly bar trivia thing that we always do. I think I told you.” She hums and you frown. “What?” 

Agatha shrugs. “Seems like we haven’t had a quiet night in awhile, that’s all.” 

“You could always come tonight,” you offer hopefully. Her nose wrinkles and she raises an eyebrow and you know why she’s being like this. “You could just happen to show up and I’ll just happen to see you and I’ll invite you to join our team. It’ll be fun!” 

And yet you know her answer before she even says it. “That’s not really my scene, baby.” You pout and slouch down further into the couch. She has never once taken you up on an invitation, even though you practically beg her every time. She rolls her eyes exasperatedly. It’s an old game for both of you. “Come on, hon, you know I have no interest in going to a bar with a bunch of college kids on a Friday night where everyone will be drinking and making noise and I taught most of your friends. I just think that it will be weird.” 

A flash of anger bubbles up to protect you from the hurt you feel deep down. Would it kill her to do something for you? “I’m also a college kid who will be out drinking and ‘making noise’ and you were my professor two years ago. Is that weird?” 

She sighs heavily and pushes her chair back, patting her thighs. She wants you to come over, but you grit your teeth and don’t give in. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant, obviously. Just spending my Friday evening with a bunch of college kids isn’t what I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

You stand up, shoving your books and laptop in your bag and Agatha scoffs and says your name. You meet her eyes, disappointment written all over your face. It kills you to show her how much her rejection hurts, but you’re tired of it. 

“Come here, please,” she says softly. You grumble but obey. You slide off your backpack and sit on her laps, tensely putting your arms around her neck. Despite how mad you are, you still fiddle with her strands on her nape that aren’t in her bun. She leans in to kiss your lips but you don’t let it go any further than a press of her mouth against yours. You won’t give in that easily. 

“You never come,” you whine. 

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know, sweetheart. I just worry it might be risky for us to be seen out in public like that. Why don’t you come over after and we can have a movie night or something? I’ll take you to a bar tomorrow night, I promise. Just the two of us.”

You can see there’s no use trying to fight her on this. No matter what you say, she won’t come with you and you’d rather not have to open up and tell her how you want to just spend a night with the most important people in your life: Agatha and your best friends. You also feel a little insecure about being so young. She is over twice your age and you worry that sometimes you aren’t enough for her, or that she thinks you’re too immature. “Okay,” you say, voice small. 

She squeezes your waist and gives you another peck. “That’s my girl. Don’t come over too late and I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks and you force a smile and climb off her lap. 

“I’ll see you later, Agatha.” 

“Hon, you don’t have to leave right now,” she calls but you’re already walking to the door. You wave a hand as a goodbye and you moodily walk back to your dorm. 

You sulk the rest of the day and debate whether or not you even want to go out to the bar, but ultimately decide that you deserve it. You don’t need Agatha to have a good time, as much as you’d like her. 

“There she is! It’s been awhile!” Natasha exclaims when you get to their table and claps a hand on your back. You wince but pull her in for a hug. You’ve been swamped with homework and when you do have free time, it’s spent with Agatha, so you have barely seen your friends in the past month. 

“Sorry, I’ve been so busy,” you mumble while greeting Wanda and Maria, also at the table. 

“First round is on you for neglecting us!” Wanda says and you laugh and happily go to the bar to order beers for the group. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks when you finally make your way through the crowd. 

“Four Pilsners, please,” you almost have to shout. Someone next to you bumps into you roughly and you jump. 

“Oh shit, sorry.” A guy about your age turns around, with shaggy dark hair and blue eyes. Something about his features is so familiar. 

“You’re good,” you say. “Do I know you?” 

He stares intently at your face, trying to place you. He snaps his fingers. “Professor Harkness’s class, freshman year. Something about witchcraft. I sat in the row in front you. You were like the only one who actually knew what they were talking about. I think you were her favorite by a long shot.” 

You blush at hearing that someone else picked up on Agatha liking you. “I don’t know if I’d say that,” you say coyly, smiling a little at the thought of the older woman. 

“I’m James. So, uh,” the boy says, sliding a hand nonchalantly around your waist. You freeze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone at a bar?” 

“I’m not alone,” you quickly say, stepping back so his hand falls off, and you point to the table with your friends. “We’re here for trivia night.” 

His face lights up and he motions toward a different table with a group of guys. “We are too, but they all suck. Can I join your team?” 

“Um-” You’re trying to figure out how to let him down gently when the bartender puts down the four beers in front of you. You reach for your wallet but James slaps a $20 on the counter. 

“I got it,” he says proudly and then before you can protest, he grabs two of the beers and you follow with the other drinks, dumbfounded, as he walks over to your table. Your friends give you quizzical looks but you just shrug tiredly. You can’t find it in yourself to care that much right now. 

The host of the trivia game comes around to each table and hands out the paper for answers and a pen. He asks the first question: when is Taylor Swift’s birthday. 

You immediately say the answer and James pats his hand on your shoulder but it turns into more of a rub. Your eyes widen and your friends bite back a smile. 

“I’m actually seeing someone,” you say and take his hand off of you. Your friends look even more surprised than he does. Even though you’ve been dating Agatha for close to a year now, you’ve been really secretive and change the topic whenever your love life comes up with them. 

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he says, raising his arms like he’s trying to show you that he’s harmless. He moves to touch you again but a hand darts out and grabs his wrist. You turn and your jaw falls open. 

It’s Agatha, and she is positively fuming. 

“I think she said she’s taken,” she growls and James backs off. 

“Professor Harkness,” he stutters. “I wasn’t trying to do anything, we were just having a good time.” He turns to you, eyes pleading. It’s almost funny how scary he still finds the older woman. “Tell her, we were just talking.” 

You wish he had said anything but that. Agatha whirls onto you. “Were you?” She hisses and you gulp. She scoffs as you protest and storms out of the bar. 

Ignoring the looks from your friends, you chase after her down the alleyway. 

“Agatha, wait,” you yell. “He kept hitting on me and I was trying to let him down gently but he kept trying. I told him that I was with someone else! I’m sorry.” 

She spins on her heel and advances toward you. You stop like a deer in headlights and she shoves you against the brick wall before you can think. Her hands grab your wrists and pin them to the wall. You struggle futilely. 

“Is this your pathetic attempt of getting back at me?” You furrow your brows in confusion and she laughs sardonically. “I was feeling so guilty earlier. You looked so sad when I didn’t want to come and I thought that maybe I could try, for you. I always say no and what a nice surprise it would be for my girlfriend if I showed up. And then what do I find? My pet is flirting with someone else. Not just someone, a sleazy college boy who would probably cum after two pumps because he’s so incompetent.” She’s snarling, her face an inch away from yours, and you hate how turned on you are. 

You’ve always liked it when she got possessive over you. 

“I didn’t want him,” you say levelly. “I only want you.” 

She huffs like it’s a joke. “Sure you don’t want the college fuckboy? Or any of the other people in the bar? They’d never hesitate to join you for trivia night.” 

And then it hits you. She’s jealous because she’s insecure. She also worries about the age difference. 

Your heart swells and you break free of her grasp to grab her cheeks and pull her in for a long and filthy kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue swipes against yours and she fits a thigh between your legs. 

“I’m all yours, Agatha,” you groan when she tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes flash. 

“You better be,” she warns and entangles her fingers in your hair so she can tilt your head to the side and sink a bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your hips buck on her thigh and you gasp when she sucks roughly. She trails up your neck, doing the same thing over and over, and you’re quickly reduced to a moaning, desperate mess. 

Her other hand trails down to hold onto your hip, just feeling you shakily grind against her, trying to get some relief. 

“Should I go back inside and get James to come out and watch this?” She asks against your skin, still marking you up. “So he knows what happens when he touches things that aren’t his?” 

You inhale sharply at the thought and wish that she would just drag you back inside and fuck you right there on the table in front of everyone. 

“Please,” you beg. She actually giggles and pulls back to admire her handiwork on your neck. She lightly traces over the marks and you shiver under her touch and intense gaze. 

Agatha smirks when she meets your eyes again. “That should let everyone know who you belong to. And you, in case you need the reminder.” 

You pretend to think for a moment. “Maybe I could use a refresher. Why don’t you show me who owns me?” 

Her eyes darken even more as she pulls you back in for a searing kiss that she ends too quickly. 

She yanks her thigh from out between yours and grabs your hand, dragging you to the car. 

“Oh, I’m going to, baby.”

[greg-montgomery]

Friends to lovers with hotch. Bau!Reader has been pining forever but is deciding to move in after seeing Aaron and Beth be with each other. New guy also happens to be a single dad with a boy in jacks grade. Jack is not happy about another boy stealing his mom figure yk? Father son duo working together to get the girl.

Tbh idc what you write coz its always good. And im a sucker for jealous hotch ALWAYS

okay can i just say that when i saw this ask i got obsessed with the concept immediately!!! like that’s so cute???? also while writing this i was thinking “jack is such a little sweetie he wouldn’t have an attitude” but then i thought of this tiktok and remembered he can actually be salty af <33 LMFAOO

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Jack hadn’t spoken a word the entire ride from school. Aaron was used to his bubbly sweet voice filling the car, telling him all about his day; so the silence was deafening.

“Nothing,” he replied, dropping his small bag on the floor and running to his room.

The truth was, Jack had been pretty moody lately and it was all because of you. Well, it wasn’t your fault of course, but it was your absence that had Jack throwing tantrums in a way he never used to before.

As Aaron’s best friend, your presence in his house, in his home, was a constant. Movies, dinners, board game nights…Jack had grown used to you. And he absolutely adored you.

When Beth came into Aaron’s life, though, things started to change. You were pulling away from him, from them. At first, Aaron thought that maybe you were jealous; and if that was true, he would drop Beth in a heartbeat and run into your arms. After all, she was only a distraction to him in order to get over you.

All those dreams of him were shuttered one day, when he had called to ask you if you’d join him and Jack for a movie night, only to be told you had a date: a date with the dad of one of Jack’s classmates. You told him the two of you met when you went to pick up Jack from school one day, and Aaron cursed the moment he had asked for your help. If he knew the dads there would be all over you, he wouldn’t have let you set foot into that damned school in the first place.

“Jack?” Aaron said, knocking on his door.

“Go away!”

“Jack, please talk to me. I want to help.”

There was a long pause before Jack finally opened the door and let his dad in.

“What did you do to her?” he asked with tears in his eyes.

“Buddy, what are you talking about?”

“Y/N. Why isn’t she your friend anymore?” Jack looked incredibly sad and it broke Aaron’s heart.

“We’re still friends,” he answered, softly. “What makes you think we’re not?”

“She’s never here anymore.”

“I know,” Aaron said. “But that doesn’t mean she’s not our friend anymore. We’ve just both been busier than usual.” He wasn’t technically lying, but he still felt bad.

“Why couldn’t you get together like they do in the movies?” Jack raised his voice. “Now she’s with Charlie’s dad. And she packs Charlie lunch and makes him sandwiches that look like dinosaurs like she used to do with me! It’s not fair, she was ours first!”

Well, that explained why he was so mad after school today.

Aaron couldn’t find any words to say, and how could he when he was just as jealous as his son? Jack was right; you were theirs first. And they’d win you back.

--

“And dad told me we’ll go get ice cream later with Y/N!” Charlie exclaimed, but Jack did not share his enthusiasm.

“Okay,” Jack answered, rolling his eyes.

“And maybe we’ll go to the movies after. She said she loves watching cartoons! She doesn’t think they’re boring like all grown ups,” the kid continued, not realizing he was making Jack upset.

“I know, we watch cartoons all the time together,” he replied.

Right next to them, their fathers had a separate conversation, but very much similar to theirs.

“The kid loves her already,” Charlie’s dad, Nick, said, watching you from afar. They were all waiting for you to finish your little chat with that teacher friend of yours, so they’d finally leave the school building.

“And how can he not, I mean she’s so great,” he added.

“She is,” Aaron agreed, though gritted teeth.

“I’ll take them for ice cream now so they can bond a little more. This girl loves ice cream.”

“Yeah, I know.” Who did that guy think he was? Thinking that any detail about you would be news to Aaron. Of course he knew you loved ice cream. He knew you better than anyone. Anyone.

“Sorry!” you said, walking fast towards their little group. “I hadn’t seen my friend in a while.”

“That’s alright.”

“It’s okay.”

Aaron and Nick talked at the same time, which ended in them sending annoyed glances to each other.

“Well, we better get going then,” you said with a smile.

As all of you walked out of the building, Aaron heard you telling something to Nick and Charlie. “Can you wait for me in the car? I’ll be back in a minute!”

To Aaron’s surprise you approached his car with one eyebrow raised. Oh no, you were mad.

“Y/N,” he said, but you cut him off.

“Why are the two of you being mean to Nick and his son?”

“We’re not mean to them,” Aaron said, but Jack’s voice was louder. “Because we hate them!” he said.

“Jack.”

“What? It’s true. You said that Mr. Nick is ugly and a jerk!”

“Jack, language!” his dad scolded him.

You turned your gaze to Aaron. “Is this true?”

He sighed, in defeat. “Jack, can you please get in the car? I want to speak with Y/N.”

“Fine,” he said, and followed his dad’s request.

“So?” you said when you were finally alone.

“So…I may have said some things about Nick.”

“Why?” your soft voice asked.

“Because, I can’t stand the thought of him with you. God, Y/N, I can’t do this anymore. I want you. I want you to be mine. I wanna be the one who takes you for ice cream and the one who brags about you to the other dads.”

“Aaron…”

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

“Of course, I feel the same way, you idiot,” you said. “But then Beth showed up and I thought it was one sided!”

“Beth’s in the past.”

“She is?”

“Yes. She didn’t mean anything to me. It’s always been you,” Aaron admitted.

“Wow…” you said, placing your palm on your forehead.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I have two people waiting for me in the car right now. And I don’t want to just  blow them off.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll talk to Nick tonight. I promise,” you said, touching his hand. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Aaron smiled.

“She touched your hand,” Jack said with a smirk when his dad got back in the car.

Aaron stared at him through the rearview mirror with furrowed eyebrows, but Jack could read him very easily. So he just giggled.

--

“Ew!” Jack yelled, his face forming a disgusted expression at the sight of you and Aaron kissing.

“Hey, you got your wish!” Aaron told him. “You should be grateful.”

“You know what I think?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“That our little Jack is jealous because he’s not getting any kisses.”

“No!” he giggled, as you and Aaron chased him, ready to cover his chubby cheeks with sweet kisses.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Can u write an enemies to lovers fic of Grayson X reader??? Plsss!!

thank you for your request and I apologise for the delay in writing it, my request list has been mountainous for a little while now and this particular fic actually also had lots of rewrites before the final piece. It began as an academic rivals sort of thing, then became family-feud but finally ended with whatever this is. I’m praying you enjoy this 🤍🤍

title: we’re just project partners

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re partnered with the one person you hate to complete a project you love… but what if he’s not as bad as you thought

warnings: swearing, gray-bae is being a nasty little b-word (BUT ITS FOR THE PLOT OKAY)

a/n: I am alive!! It’s just taken me a week and a bit to post again, I’m writing three fics at once so this one just happened to be done first

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I roll my eyes, eyeing the names on the board.

It just has to be him doesn’t it.

“There must be a mistake,” Grayson says. I turn my head to look at him, for once we can agree on something.

“No there is no mistake,” the professor tusks, “class dismissed.”

Everyone gets up and begins to pack their stuff, chatting about the project and their partners and various other things. It sucks when you have no classes with your friends, but it sucks even more when you get partnered with your rival for a project.

I’m about to walk out of the classroom when I hear my name.

“Y/n l/n, come back a moment!”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes, I just want to go home. I spin around and sluggishly walk back to the teacher’s desk where she stands and beside her is the infamous arrogant prat Grayson Hawthorne.

“You have to change it,” Grayson snaps quickly, his voice so insistent, so sharp. I look up to see he’s gesturing to our names beside one another’s. Classic Hawthorne. Thinks he can command people to do whatever he pleases just because he feels entitled enough to do so.

“What you gonna do, bribe her if she says no?” I scoff, arms folded.

They both ignore me but my lip still quirk upwards, proud of the pathetic joke I’d made, even if I was the only one who found it funny.

“There will be no changes Mr Hawthorne,” our professor replies sincerely.

“You don’t understand,” he shakes his head so vigorously I have to bite back a laugh, “I can’t work with her.”

“Well you’re going to have to,” she says, “this is 30% of your grade for the year.”

His eyes widen and he almost looks panicked. Almost. Nevertheless it amuses me to see the stoic, ironclad blonde crack for mere seconds.

“Professor please,” he says so desperately he’s practically begging, which I’d always thought was too beneath him to do, “she’s impossible.”

“I’m impossible?” I raise my eyebrows.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to our teacher, “anyone but her. I’ll do it by myself if I have to.”

“I’ve told you once and I will only repeat myself one more time, there will be no changes made,” she says too calmly, “I don’t see the problem, you are both excellent students with some of the highest marks I’ve seen in my time. You need to get past whatever this little tiff is and move on. Bounce off of each other, enlighten each other, create a show stopping presentation.”

Such a teacher answer to give. Played off to be inspirational, really just a nice way of saying get on with it or you fail.

“On the contrary Miss, I think Hawthorne here is the only one kicking up a fuss, I haven’t uttered a word,” I point out.

“That may be true but don’t you think I can see the vicious looks aimed at both him and me?” she asks, accusation in her tone.

So maybe the dirty looks weren’t as sly as I’d thought them to be. Still, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie through my teeth, sweetened smile to sugarcoat it further.

“Perhaps it should be discussed in a detention then, I’m free after school tomorrow,” she proposes, her smile even sweeter than mine.

“No, no, that isn’t necessary,” I say quickly, “I’m suddenly horribly aware of the looks I’ve been giving.”

I’m not the kind of girl who gets detentions, actually I’d never gotten one in my life and I didn’t intend to change that. My record was perfect, it was going to stay perfect. My professor, annoyingly, knew that a bit too well.

“Good, I suppose no detention then,” she says, “and what about you Mr Hawthorne, would you like to discuss your stubborn means to switch partners in a detention with me?”

“No thank you,” he grits through his teeth, his jaw nearly set in stone. I fight back a grin at his irritation.

“Challenges are good for the mind,” she smiles, “and I have a feeling you two will very much challenge one another. You once told me you liked a challenge, no?”

“I do,” Grayson nods slowly, then side glances at me, “but not of this kind.”

I think it was meant to be an insult towards me but it was so poor it didn’t even come close to mildly hurting me so I don’t bother to respond.

“Try something new, branch out a little,” our professor shrugs, “and who knows, you may even enjoy each other’s company.”

“That is very optimistic,” I scoff at the same time as Grayson says, “that will never happen.”

“Only time will tell,” she replies with a whimsical look in her eyes, “good luck.”

We exit the classroom in the coldest of silences. Any colder and we would’ve had an ice palace with an interesting rendition of ‘let it go’. I vote Grayson plays Elsa.

He actually barely spares me a glance, with his jaw all clenched and tightened. I wonder at one point if he’s breathing. He’s so tense, the feeling smothers the air around me, suffocating any sense of relaxation. I turn to leave the building.

“Where are we going?” he questions, too assertive for my liking.

“I’m going home,” I tell him bluntly.

He furrows his brows, “why?”

“To get changed,” I deadpan.

“Why?” he repeats. I try to read his emotions but they’re not clear enough to define. He’s accustomed to hiding them.

I stare at him, “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, we’ll meet here in 15 minutes,” he decides.

I don’t reply as I turn on my heels and walk away.

***

After getting changed and piecing together all of the things I might need to study, all my notes and books and highlighters and pens, I walked back over to our ‘meeting place’. As I approach Grayson is already stood there with a sour expression on his face. Of course he’s already there.

“You’re late,” he tells me, his voice so bitter I wonder how many lemons it would take to rival it.

“No I’m exactly on time,” I sneer, flicking my phone in his face.

“It’s been 15 minutes and 43 seconds, so technically you’re 43 seconds late,” he smirks. I almost feel sorry for him because I can see how proud he feels after saying this, sense the smugness burning in his chest.

“Did you count?” I try extremely hard to suppress my laughter.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t waste my breath on that,” he rolls his eyes, then pauses slightly, “… I set a timer.”

“Of course you did,” I purse my lips with a sigh.

His screws his face up, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean you’re a weird person who would time someone going home to get changed,” I shrug, attempting to walk past him.

Talk about being late, when he was the one stood here chattering on about meaningless subjects. He ignores the comment and briskly stands in front of me to block me from walking any further.

“What are you wearing anyway?” he asks, looking down on me with great distaste with all but his eyes.

“Clothes,” I deadpan, staring down at my much loved and slightly over worn band tee-shirt.

“They’re awful,” he tells me bluntly.

“Was that meant to hurt me?” I raise an eyebrow. I mean sure, it hurt a little, but I didn’t actually care what he thought. Or I shouldn’t at least.

“You could’ve picked something a little nicer to wear in public,” he continues, so cut-throat and cold.

I look directly into his mellowed silver eyes and wonder how someone with such soft, inviting eyes could be so sharp and jagged with the words he uses.

“Worried I’ll ruin your street credit,” I tease, “sully your good name with my sports leggings and band t-shirt?”

“I’m just surprised at your lack of care for your appearance,” he replies, a slight discomfort worming its way through his features. It makes me smile a little.

“I just think I’m not as fixated on it as you, I mean what’s with your outfit, James Bond? Do you own anything that’s not a suit and tie,” I ask.

“Matter-o-factly I do,” he replies bluntly as if to end the conversation.

So of course I continue it, “so do you just stare at those clothes then, hanging in your walk in wardrobe.”

His eyes snap up and his stare is suddenly so piercing it hurts to hold eye contact, “how do you know I have a walk in wardrobe,” he practically spits, in a defensive tongue.

I snort, “that was a joke, but yeesh rich boy you’ve got it all.”

“Rich boy, how original,” Grayson comments.

“I’ve got more,” I shoot back with that smile I know makes his blood boil and skin singe.

“Spare me them,” he responds, “sweetheart.”

A forbidden fluttering occurs in the pit of my stomach, it’s as if eight hundred butterflies have decided to dance a jive there. Some feeling between guilt and shame settles in my chest. The word sweetheart shouldn’t make me feel anything, least of all from the mouth of Grayson Hawthorne.

But it was the way he said it, so softly, so smoothly, the word just rolled off of his tongue like he’d called me it for years. It almost sounded nice. The guilt weighs heavier on my chest and I snap out of it. I don’t feel anything. For anyone. Least of all him.

“Awww you’ve got a nickname for me too Goldilocks,” I reply with a laugh to bury the truth.

“Did you not hear the spare me part?” he tusks, beginning to walk.

I shake my head, walking a little faster than usual to keep up with his strides, “sorry I usually don’t listen when someone irrelevant talks.”

He scowls at me and I wink back.

“Did your face get stuck in a permanent scowl as a child or were you just born unhappy?” I cock my head to the side and narrow my eyes.

“Do you ever shut up?” Grayson asks flatly.

“My therapist told me not to hold back,” I shrug.

“Doesn’t that explain a lot,” he says dryly, shooting me a look that makes me feel inferior. I go to bite my tongue, but ask myself when I’m trying to hold back. I don’t owe him anything.

I stare at him, “don’t look so disgusted blondie, just because you’re too up yourself to admit you need help doesn’t mean all of us are.”

“I don’t need help,” Grayson replies, each word candid and dull.

Something in me almost feels sorry for him. Did he really think he didn’t need help? Did he really feel that alone and isolated? I wanted, in that moment, to reach out and be there for him. Then I remember who he is.

“Whatever you say,” I sigh.

“We’re working at my house,” he responds abruptly, as we get to the end of the street.

I fold my arms and raise my eyebrows, “says who?”

“Me,” he shrugs.

“And who are you to tell me where I’m working?” I ask.

“I’m your partner and I’m making a decision,” he presses on, stubbornly. Little does he know, I’m twice as stubborn and I’m not going to back down.

“I don’t think you really understand how this whole project thing works,” I say.

“I’ve done plenty of projects and I can very much assure you, I understand what I’m doing,” he grumbles back, clearly annoyed that he isn’t getting his way this time. Someone has to teach him I suppose.

“Oh great,” I smile sickeningly sweetly, “then we’re not working at yours.”

“Why on earth not?” he screws up his face as if I’ve just told him I want to skin a cat alive.

“I don’t want to,” I reply simply.

“Well I do,” he argues back.

“That’s a shame,” I shrug softly, leaving him with no option.

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his perfect hair, “you are insufferable.”

“That the worst you got Hawthorne?” I giggle a little, turning left to walk down the pathway.

“And impossible,” he says, following me.

“Oh you wound me,” I say hyperbolically, putting I hand in my head and feigning a dizzy spell.

Grayson rolls his eyes, he’s done it so many times now I’m worried they might get stick here soon, “can we just work?”

“Where?” I shoot him a lopsided grin.

He sighs, most likely suppressing some very colourful language, “why don’t you decide seen as my ideas oppose you.”

“Much like your entire personality,” I let him know.

“My personality is fine,” he replies, probably trying to soothe his rapidly declining pride under that suit of his.

“Mhmmm,” I nod sarcastically, “and I have a unicorn that shits cupcakes called Craig.”

“Really?” he wrinkles his nose, “profanities?”

“Oh no is it too beneath the great Grayson Hawthorne to say fuck every now and then,” I laugh.

He tenses and mutters something under his breath. I don’t quite hear the words but you can see he’s fuming. It ignites something in me, a spark. I like seeing him furious. I really like it.

“Where do you want to work?” he asks me, grey eyes a little too distracting for my liking.

“The library,” I tell him, my answer almost immediate.

He tries to mask his horror but fails miserably, “in public?”

“You’re not going to get cholera,” I snort.

“Can’t we just work somewhere nicer,” he complains.

“The library is nice,” I tell him, “and they have a coffee stand outside and I want coffee so that’s where we’re going.”

“And you call me demanding,” he mutters underneath us breath.

***

We walk to the library bickering about how fast he walks and how slow I apparently walk. In my personal opinion I think he was walking fast on purpose, he obviously disagreed.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask him, it now only just dawning on me that he was leading the way yet he didn’t know where the library was.

“I’m not an idiot,” Grayson spits back, nose in the air, posture upright and powerful.

He always carries himself like that as if he’s saviour of the world and we should all bow down to kiss his presumably pedicured feet.

“Are you sure?” I tease him.

“Certain,” he snaps regimentally.

“We’re here,” I say halting conversation to walk up to the coffee stand.

“I knew that,” he mumbled.

He glances at the cart, looking it up and down like it needs to be judged and inspected to his high standards.

“What is this?” he interrogates me.

“It’s called a coffee cart in english but in rich boy it might be called something else, I haven’t studied the language yet,” I respond coolly.

“Is this even safe to drink?” Grayson says, some variant of worry wavering in his tone.

“It’s coffee,” I deadpan, “not raw chicken.”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner.

“I like it and I’m getting some,” I tell him bluntly, “you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“No,” he checks his watch, “I need a coffee, this’ll have to do.”

I don’t bother wasting my breath to respond but make a mental note that maybe the Hawthorne wasn’t so different from me, addicted to coffee.

“Hey Jack,” I wave, walking closer to the cart.

I’d known Jack for a good eight years of my life, he was my rock. The smile in endless clouds of grey, the light at the end of the tunnel and of course, most importantly, the coffee provider to my caffeine deprived being.

“Bonsoir sunshine what can I get you,” he grins his usual grin at me, the witty mischief-ridden grin is known since I was nine years old. His eyes slide over Grayson judgementally though when he realises I’m watching him he immediately flicks back to his job.

“The usual of course,” he makes sure.

“You come here often?” Grayson raises an eyebrow, interrupting my answer.

“Just every day,” Jack says, before I can get a word out. I shoot him a look.

Grayson looks at me, “every day?”

“I really like coffee,” I explain with an exaggerated hand gesture.

“Coffee is bad for your health,” he responds almost immediately.

I suppress the hundreds of colourful words exploding in my mind settling for a more well-mannered reply, “well it’s good for my mental stability.”

“She’s addicted now,” Jack adds, “she’ll get withdrawal symptoms without it.”

“Shaking, sweating, you name it, I get it,” I continue.

“That sounds like a serious health condition,” Grayson says, his eyebrows pinching together. It was so soft I could’ve mistakened the expression for concern. But of course, why would he be concerned for me. I must’ve been reading it wrong.

“Hence me buying this coffee,” I tell him.

“Blueberry muffin, on the house,” Jack offers me, as if he didn’t every Friday.

We had a deal, I was allowed to take a free blueberry muffin that came out of his earnings if he kept up to date with his school work. Jack had always had a problem with handing things in on time and concentrating and school wasn’t his strong point. He hated going and was so close to dropping out too many times. That was until I made him stay. I talked him into it and he promises me he doesn’t regret it. It seems this week, he’s turned in all assignments on time.

I smiled, “you mean on the cart?”

“Sure whatever,” he brushes it off, “anything else?”

His eyes dare to skim over Grayson again though he is quick to come back and meet my gaze, his cheeks flush like he’s a child who’s done something wrong.

I turn to Grayson, “what do you want?”

“I’ll pay for myself,” he says shortly, looking slightly offended at my question.

I screw up my nose at him, “I wasn’t going to offer to pay for you asshole.”

“Play nice, sunshine,” Jack teases.

I glare at him and his smile quickly fades.

“You can’t play nice with that,” I glower.

He shoots me a look, the turns to Grayson, “what can I get you sir?”

“It’s not the evening,” Grayson replies.

Jack’s eyes are lost in a blanket of confusion, “sorry?”

“It’s not the evening it’s the afternoon,” he clarifies, as if it made the meaning of his sentence any clearer.

“You’ve lost me sir,” he shakes his head with furrowed brows.

“You said bonsoir but it isn’t the evening,” he chastises, “it’s afternoon and therefore you should’ve said bon après-midi.”

Jack turns to me, bewildered, “is he on drugs?”

“Probably,” I shrug. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rich kid had private access to that sort of stuff, he probably had the lawyers to cover it up as well.

“Are you…” Jack hesitates, “…you know?”

He makes an odd gesture with two fingers as I confuse to stare at him blankly.

“No I don’t know,” I reply.

“Are you with him,” he asks, “romantically.”

I almost choke on my own spit as I bark out a laugh, “oh god no.”

For a fraction of a second a look of relief passes over Jack’s features. Something uninvited tugs at my insides but I quickly ignore it.

“You’d be lucky,” Grayson scoffs.

“Oh he fancies himself,” Jack grins, clearly amused.

“Yeah it’s an ego thing, his is massive,” I explain.

“No it’s not,” the blonde insists.

“In denial as well,” Jack smirks, folding his arms.

“Always,” I say, then turn to Grayson, “now what do you want to drink because if you don’t tell him now I’m taking mine and ditching you.”

“Black coffee, no cream, no sugar,” the answer was instant, rehearsed.

“Ooo you made a hardcore friend,” Jack snickers, I want to slap him.

“We are not friends,” I make clear.

“Yeesh okay,” he raises his eyebrows, lifting his hands up as if he’d been convicted of a crime.

“And let’s be realistic here, rich boy probably has a massive sweet tooth and is too embarrassed to let people know,” I say with a sly smirk.

“Oh one hundred percent!” Jack nods, handing me my cup and muffin.

“I do not,” Grayson mutters, but loudly enough for us both to hear.

“That’s confirmed then,” Jack winks at me.

I giggle as he hands Grayson his drink. We exchange payment and then comes the dreaded point where I actually have to leave to get work done. Usually coming to the library for me was getting to see Jack and getting my coffee, not the actual going to library part.

“See you tomorrow,” I smiled sadly.

“Hopefully without thunder face here,” Jack says.

“I can hear you,” Grayson says curtly, before taking a sip of his coffee.

“I know,” Jack shrugs.

“I hope so too,” I reply to his previous comment, “bye!”

“Bye,” he salutes me as I turn around and begin to walk.

I’m aware that Grayson is by my side but neither of us speak. The only sounds come from our surroundings and the alternating elongated sips of coffee were taking to avoid talking. I practically inhale my muffin, after skipping lunch as school had booked my time table that way.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Grayson says suddenly with a sour expression on his face.

“The way he looked at me was none of your business,” I reply sharply, indicating for him to drop the subject unless me wanted a fight.

“Well I didn’t like it,” he continued. Fine, he wants a fight.

“I don’t really care,” I shrug, “he’s Jack, he’s been a friend since freaking kindergarten, he’s got no dishonourable intentions.”

A slight exaggerated lie on my part, but I wasn’t ashamed. It feels like I’ve known Jack that long anyway, the technicalities don’t matter.

“You don’t know that,” he states.

“I know that better than anyone now back off okay?” I snap, “or you and I will have a real problem.”

He laughs, “you’re almost adorable when you’re angry.”

“Adorable?” I say, fantasising spitting in his face after that comment.

“Almost,” he corrects me.

“I can throw a good hard punch and I’m not afraid to,” I warn him.

“Oh I’m sure you’re not,” he says, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips, “I can see as much in your eyes.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, raising my voice a little.

He stays quiet and averts his eyes, deciding to ignore me a continue walking.

“Oh ignore the question, real mature,” I roll my eyes, “so glad I’m having a proper adult conversation.”

Silence hits again, like a sonic boom of nothingness. He doesn’t even look at me. It’s as if I don’t exist, as if in the last three seconds I’ve become an irrelevant invisible being.

I stop Grayson in his tracks and force him to meet my eyes, “stay away from Jack,” I practically growl, “or I’ll fail this assignment on purpose.”

“We both know you wouldn’t damage your perfectionist reputation for petty revenge,” he murmurs, our faces only inches away from one another’s.

“I have a talent for getting myself out of things,” I cock my head to the side in an art of competition, my cheeks flushing at the realisation that I could feel his warm breath on my face.

“How funny,” he counters, “me too.”

His eyes are narrowed to challenge me. Okay Hawthorne, game on.

***

We’ve been researching for an hour with no further conversation. Since our previous altercation neither one of us had so much as looked up from our laptops. The only reason I knew he was still sat opposite me was the sound of his keyboard typing. I get out my textbook and begin to highlight the lines I need to use

“Why are you using six different highlighters?”

The first thing he says to me in an hour is that? I don’t bother looking up.

“Why do you care?” I ask, my eyes flicking over to my work, my hands continuing to highlight information.

“It’s annoying me,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” I reply slowly, “it sounds like more of a you problem to me.”

I look up. Grayson is staring right at me, his steel eyes cold looking on my face. He opens his mouth to reply but my surprise gets there first.

“You wear glasses?” I gape.

“Seen as I’ve had them on for the last hour that would make sense,” he teases.

“I never see you wear them at school,” I explain.

“That’s because I don’t,” he pauses, “why were you looking at me in school?”

“It was just generally, like I’d waste my time looking at you,” I roll my eyes.

Then catch his for a moment. My head tilts to the side. Something feels off about him. He looks warmer, softer, calmer.

“What?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

“You look weird,” I blurt out before my brain can filter it.

“How lovely of you to say,” he replies dryly.

“You don’t look like you,” I say, “you look more…”

Human. That’s what I want to say but I trail off instead.

“More what?” he prompts.

“It doesn’t matter,” I shake my head, getting back to my book. I can feel his eyes on me.

He stares me down quizzically, like he’s trying to work me out, “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Highlight my textbook in peace? Yeah,” I scoff, “but that’s not really happening anymore.”

“You’re trying to get under my skin,” he seethes.

“By highlighting my book?” I raise my eyebrows.

“In six different colours,” he reminds me, as if I don’t already know.

I sigh, “I dare say that coffee made you even more of a bitch.”

He rolls his eyes, “you really feel the need to use those words?”

“No but I feel the need to punch you,” I retort.

“Well I’m right here, why don’t you?” he challenges.

“Because I have a level of self control,” I shrug gently.

“Are you quite sure?” he asks me.

He doesn’t realise I’m not the kind of girl to question myself just because a man did first. I’m not that kind of girl at all.

“Are you quite finished?” I reply, just a smoothly to mirror him.

“No.”

Our eyes linger on each others and it feels like we share a million unspoken conversation through the patterns of our irises. I’m fixated on him like I’ve been fixated on no other before. It’s not me but that doesn’t make me pull away. His gaze becomes more concentrated, harder to ignore without unwelcome feelings arising so I look back down to my highlighters and pick up for where I left off, except now I had a thumping heart in my chest.

I slide a sweaty palm on my trousers keeping it hidden under the table. I finish up my highlighting and then begin type up the final few notes I have to get done. After that, it’s over. I get to leave, I get my freedom, I get to breathe.

“I’m finished,” he announces when I’m mid sentence. Why is his tone always so articulated, so definitive?

“Okay I’m nearly there,” I say, frantically typing the last of my notes.

“Bit slow,” he comments.

I roll my eyes with no energy to reply. He’s done me in today. I’m exhausted at the thought of more bickering. With a few more clicks of my keyboard I complete all that I wanted to.

“I’m done,” I exhale, “just send me your work so I can proofread and check the facts.”

“You doubt my skill?” he raises an eyebrow.

I shrug, “I don’t know you well enough to trust it.”

“Then send me yours,” he purses his lips, “and I’ll do the same.”

“Okay then,” I say, sending him over my copy slowly.

He opens it and begins to read as I open his. My eyes are just in the middle of the second paragraph when there’s an untimely interrupted.

“It’s a waste of time,” he says suddenly, irritation thick in his tone.

“Not if I find mistakes,” I sing song, not taking my eyes off of his page, knowing full well I’d have to reread this sentence and other four times.

“You won’t,” he snaps.

“Oh take it out!” I exclaim finally, growing too exasperated to keep my feelings at bay.

He grows suddenly extremely confused, providing a perfect answer, “what?”

“The stick, wedged up your backside!” I whisper-yell, exasperated, “just yank it out already.”

“Excuse me!” he widens his eyes, looking highly disgusted.

“You’re rigid as a board, you never smile, your muscles are literally tensed, chill out a little,” I breathe, “I literally just want to check over the notes, why is it nearly world war three?”

“Your imagination is quite something,” he comments, practically ignoring all that I’d just said.

“So is your expressionless face,” I answer with a small shrug.

Grayson’s lips twist into a smile, “you think my face is quite something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Hawthorne,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“I’ll try not to,” he replies.

“It must be hard for you,” I tease.

“Not as hard it is for you to admit you like my face,” he continues to smirk, annoying twinging through me with each curve of his mouth.

“If liking it means I want to spit in it, then yeah I really like your face,” I reply.

He leans over the table, getting closer, “you’re revolting.”

“Get the dictionary out for the next adjective,” I taunt him, “there��s one behind you.”

He doesn’t respond and I take that as my win. His eyes just become fixated on my notes all of a sudden. My stomach dances a little. I feel nervous, why do I feel nervous? It’s just Grayson, reading my notes… but my leg is bouncing up and down and I’m holding my breath without realising it. The clock has never ticked so loudly.

I focus on his notes and unfortunately realise he’s right. There are no mistakes. How annoying. I wanted to make him feel stupid for being so arrogant but he had a right to be. His work was practically perfect. Of course there are things I would’ve written differently but it didn’t taken away from the fact that his work was masterful.

“There’s a mistake,” he says suddenly.

Damn it.

“What?” I ask.

“In your work,” he smiles, almost proudly.

“Okay?” I say, “that’s why we proof things, hence proving my earlier point of the important of proofreading.”

“You got the date wrong,” he explains.

“Which one?” I furrow my brows, dates were the first thing I checked usually. It wasn’t like me to make mistakes on them unless I was distracted.

“1922 should be 1923,” he counters, showing me on his screen.

“Must’ve been a typo,” I shrug.

“Or poor research,” he replied smugly.

“Well I’ve written down 1923,” I tap my pen on my paper notes, “so it must have been a typo,”

“Well you should proofread more carefully then?” he says.

“Maybe I should’ve,” I nod.

He’s got nothing left to say. He can’t argue with me if I’ve agreed with him. Silence hit us like the dead. You could cut the tension with a knife.

“Just correct it,” I finally breathe.

“I will,” he says, tapping at the keys.

“Done?” I ask once he’s finished.

“Done,” he consolidates.

“Great so now we can leave,” I say, standing up, a little too eager to get out.

“Not yet,” Grayson tells me, his words slow and staccato.

“What is this? Some sort of damnation? I want to go home,” I exclaim.

“Well we need to seal our work with our fingerprints,” he explains.

I stare at him blankly, it feels like he’s just said something to me in a strange foreign language, “what?”

“Put fingerprint recognition onto the data base so only we can open our work,” he clarifies, as if it makes it any easier for me to understand.

“Why?” I ask cluelessly.

“So no one can hack into it,” he replies.

“Why do you say it likes it’s obvious?” I say.

“Because it is obvious,” he shrugs.

“Only you would have a fingerprint recognition for school assignments,” I roll my eyes.

“Well I want them secure,” he says.

“Clearly,” I snort.

He opens his mouth to reply but I interrupt him before he can get there.

“Let’s just get this over with, I want to go home tonight,” I sigh.

“Fine,” he says, “you just have to tap here.”

I place my finger where he directed it but it didn’t work. Huffing, I jab my finger at the screen a few times harshly. I’m surprised I don’t break the screen.

“I said tap, not murder,” Grayson says.

“I’m imagining it’s your face,” I growl back, still tapping relentlessly at the uncooperative piece of technology.

“It’s cute you think you’d even get close to touching my face,” he replies cooly.

I smack his forehead sharply. His reflexes aren’t fast enough to register it until the act is done. He sits there, stunned and blinking.

“Still cute?” I ask, batting my eyelashes.

“Adorable,” he growls, a sarcastic venom dripping from every letter.

I groan, as the fingerprint fails me again, “it’s not working.”

“You’re doing it wrong,” he tusks.

“Come on then genius,” I roll my eyes, “show me how it’s done.”

I’m surprised when he takes my hand gently and guides it to the screen. That familiar jolt in my stomach returns. He’s so delicate with me, as if I’m worthy of being treated fragile. He applies light pressure to the tip of my thumb so the fingerprint recognition goes through, his eyes fixated on the screen. Mine are on him.

“There, that’s how it’s done,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. The screen lit up green.

He let go of my hand and a wave of shame rolls over me because I’m disappointed he let go.

“Good then,” I nod, mentally telling myself to stop thinking such nonsense, “I need to get home.”

“It’s 6pm,” he deadpans.

“And I need to get home,” I repeat, remembering what an aggravating human being he could be. It washed away any tentative hand touch in an instant.

“But the assignment-“

“We have three weeks,” I say, “don’t get your kickers in a twist Barbie 2.0.”

“The names keep getting better,” he grits through his teeth.

“Well practice makes perfect,” I tease, enjoying myself a little too much

“Doesn’t it just,” he smiles sarcastically.

I sigh shaking my head, “why did she have to pair me with you?”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you got the better end of the bargain,” he says with a laboured laugh.

I pause and stare at him, “how?”

“You were partnered with me,” he states, “I’m coherent, cohesive, co-“

“Too many co words Mr,” I cut in.

“But I got you,” he says.

“You say it as if I’m a piece of shit on your shoe,” I practically spit at him. I hate the way me makes me feel inferior.

“Well you’re not exactly pleasant to be around,” Grayson defends, leaning back in his chair.

“Ditto.”

“You’re annoying, irritating-“

“They’re literally synonyms of each other,” I yell over him, earning myself a stern look from the librarian.

“I mean you’re clearly very argumentative,” he says, gesturing his hands as if I were proving his point, “but I wouldn’t put it past you, after all I’m presuming your background didn’t give you lessons in etiquette.”

I clench my jaw to keep it from dropping. I knew he was nasty but I didn’t know he could be cruel.

“My background?” I question him. I know what he means, I just want to see if he’s brave enough this stick his neck out and explain it

“You’re a scholarship student,” he shrugs.

“How do you know that,” I ask quickly.

No one is meant to know that. The headmaster assured me no one could possibly find out and yet Grayson Hawthorne knew. How funny. He only shrugs in response, he wasn’t going to let up that information. He could see it meant something to me.

“I know you think you’re king of the world and all that but it wouldn’t kill you to take your head out of your ass every once in a while and breath some fresh air,” I raise my voice a little, wildly furious.

“Must you be so creative with your insults,”he asks dryly

“Must you be so blatantly rude with yours,” I shoot back.

“So it’s not true?” he replies.

“You don’t have the right to judge me on what you think you know about my life,” I snap fiercely.

He raises his eyebrows, “sorry, did I hit a nerve?”

“You hit nothing,” I mutter.

He smiles to himself, he knows he hit something.

“I’ll be leaving now then, see you later,” I say, the annoyance too thick in my tone for me to hide. I stand up and grab my bag.

“Wait!” he calls.

I spin around, “what?”

“I need your number,” he says slowly.

“You don’t need to sound so desperate,” I smirk.

“I need it to text you the times to meet up and work on the assignment,” he clarifies with an infamous eye roll.

“You don’t need to use that as an excuse blondie,“ I say.

“How can someone some on so intelligent be so utterly exasperating,” Grayson groans.

My cheeks heat up. He thinks I’m intelligent. He values my mind.

“It’s a talent,” I grinned back.

He rolls his eyes as I write down my number and hand it to him.

“There.”

“Thank you,” he nods at me.

“Wow,” my eye widen in shock, “you can be civil!”

“Every once in a while,” he shrugs delicately.

I almost smile but suppress it. Quickly I stack all of the books I’d borrowed to out them away on my way out. Though as I go to carry the pile his voice stops me.

“You’re never going to able to carry all of those books,” he says.

“You don’t need to underestimate me Hawthorne, you’ve done that too much today,” I tell him.

“Watch me defy your so called fact then,” I retort, lifting all eight volumes on top of one another into my arms.

“I’m not underestimating you,” Grayson replies, “I’m stating a fact.”

It’s heavier than I’d estimated which is the first shock. They sit unstably, wobbling and threatening to come cluttering to the floor. But he could not be right. I wouldn’t buckle. I wouldn’t drop anything. I’m not a failure.

“Need some help there?” he tilts his head to the side.

“No,” I say, my strained voice giving me away.

“You look like you’re struggling,” he comments.

“Well I’m not,” I reply, feeling that my face is rosy from sheer effort.

He looks at me, “are you sure?”

“Very,” I grunt, my arms burning with the weight.

“I’ll save you the stubborn act and the library damage fee and take some,” he rolls his eyes.

“I said I’m fine-“

He takes a large sum of books from the top. My arms relax slightly as I glare at him.

“If you drop them you’ll like an idiot,” he explains.

“I wouldn’t have dropped them,” I state.

“Okay, whatever you say,” he replies.

“Don’t use my saying on me,” I say.

“It’s not yours,” he shrugs, “you didn’t create it.”

“I used it earlier, that’s close enough,” I tell him.

“Sure.”

We come to an abrupt halt in conversation and both turn back to back to put the books back to their respected areas. I see one in my pile that has a page marked. I flick to it and pause to skim over the contents.

“What are you reading?”

He almost makes me jump, I didn’t hear him sneak up behind me.

“An article,” I say, tying to keep my voice from trembling after the shock.

I can feel him now breathing down my neck, his chest almost touches my back. My pulse races, skyrocketing a little too far.

“Who’s it by?“ he asks.

My eyes flick to the bottom of the page where I read aloud my response, “am anonymous writer.”

He scrunches his nose up, “what good an article with an anonymous author?”

“It’s not about who wrote it, it’s about the impact it has,” I say.

“I disagree, if I wrote a life changing article I’d want people to know I’d written it,” he replies.

“Of course you want more,” I scoff, stacking the books a little too aggressively.

Classic Hawthorne. The second I think he might not be so bad he goes ahead and reminds me of exactly why I hate people like him.

“Want more?” he furrows his brows.

“You want the glory of it, your name talked about, your legacy preserved,” I snap.

“So I can’t want anything?” he shoots back with venom on his tongue.

“You’re a rich, stuck up prick, like all the rest of them at that school,” I laugh bitterly, “your grandfather is a billionaire, what could you possibly want that isn’t already at your fingertips?”

“You don’t have the right to judge me on what you think you know about my life,” he quotes me.

“Bite me Hawthorne,” I snarl, spinning around.

He catches my wrist and the corners of his mouth lift to form a smirk. A twinge of hatred shifts in my stomach as I glare at him.

“Any other requests?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t play that game with me,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

“And what game might that be?” he asks, our faces inching closer by the second. The butterflies madly gnawing on my internal organs.

“You know what you’re doing,” I mutter, as my fingers clasp around his wrist too.

His smiles broadens and his silver eyes ignite, “and what is it that I am doing?”

“Stop,” I snap at him. We’re so close now that our foreheads could touch with the slightest of movements.

“Stop what?” he questions me, his voice so hushed it send a shiver down my spine.

“I’m going to strangle you,” I growl, the sound coming from the back of my throat. An uninvited passion rippling through my tone.

“I’d like to see you try,” he murmurs, snaking a hand around my waist. A soft gasp escapes my lips at the warmth and tenderness of his touch. He holds me like I’m breakable. It makes me vulnerable and I hate it yet I don’t tell him to stop. I come to horrible realisation that maybe I don’t want him to.

“I swear to god Hawthorne-“

“Shhhhh,” he says, eyes pinned to mine.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly. All the oxygen previously in my lungs had been sucked out mercilessly by his tentative being.

“Just shut up for one second,” he snaps.

Fury lights inside of me and the spark of rage burns brighter than ever, “don’t tell me to shut-“

“Shhhhh,” he murmurs, placing a gentle finger to my lips.

My mouth obeys without my brain’s consent and my voice ceases. It’s just him and I and the silence around us. My heart thumps in my chest, so loudly it rattles through my ears. Slowly, almost cautiously, my own hands slide up his back as if some other world force is tugging them that way. I know I don’t want to do this but a familiar aching for deprived feeling was forcing me to.

“What are we doing Grayson?” I say, the words barely heard.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, “all I know is, you drive me insane.”

“Funny,” I smile softly, “you drive me insane too.”

His pupils dilate as we get closer. An entrancing monochrome kaleidoscope, only black and grey. Our foreheads meet, pressing into one another. It feels so natural, so right. His hands tighten slightly around the small of my back, as my eyelash graze his cheek, tickling him lightly. I can feel his breath on my face and his heart beating against my own. Our lips go to meet and-

“We’re closing the library now.”

I jerk backwards to suddenly my back smacks into the shelves of books behind me. Pain surges through my spinal cord and I bite my lip to keep me from crying out. My eyes become glossy as previously stacked books thump to the floor. I look up to see the librarian standing there.

I cough, picking up the books, “thanks, we were just leaving.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t say another word. I feel my cheeks burn a feverish red. I don’t meet Grayson’s eyes as I spin on my heels and charge out.

thanks for reading my loves 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[ferrstappen]

unscheduled school visit l Max Verstappen

a/n: hello! i got this quick idea while working on some requests/school work. hope you like it and pls pls feel free to leave feedback <3 it really motivates me <3

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x female reader.

summary: the twins' teacher calls, the twins got in trouble. Max is in disbelief.

Max was a strict parent. 

Not in the way people may think, and not in the least similar to how his dad was with him, but Max always was concerned on how the twins were doing in school, only in first grade, but still. He was always working on instilling discipline and hard work to Luca and Mila, so in the future they can be whatever the hell they want to be. Max knew money was never going to be an issue, so it was up to them to take all the opportunities that meant.

He always tried to take them to museums when they joined races, often tried to switch languages, even encouraging other drivers and people in the grid who interacted with the kids to speak in their different languages. 

It was always fun to watch Charles speaking to Luca in French or Italian as Luca slowly tried to come up with an answer and was always met with a high five, or Mila asking Checo why Carlos had a different accent. 

The smile never disappeared from your face when you get home from running an errand or attending a meeting that couldn’t be held on Zoom, to Luca and Mila chatting about what they learned on school today or silently doing their homework on the family room while Max watched them, himself also getting some things in the meantime.

The point is the twins were smart, both you and Max putting all your efforts to gently and effectively find what they like, what they don’t. 

You know your kids. Both of you would put your hands on fire because of them. You trusted them because Max and you were raising them good and the twins were great beyond words could explain. 

So when you receive a call from school telling you to come over, you quickly reached Max who was on the sim, driving through Imola with his eyes closed. 

“Babe, school called and we have to go,” As soon as you announced the news Max turned around, seat and steering wheel lightly shaking. 

“What do you mean? What happened?” Max was instantly on his feet.

“I don’t know, Max. Their teacher called,” You told your husband as his eyes opened widely. 

“Their? Is it both of them?” Max was in complete disbelief of what he was hearing.

“It appears so. I’ll cancel a meeting and we go.”

You didn’t leave him alone for thirty seconds, you swear, but when you came back Max was on the phone, asking the teacher to put Mila on the phone. 

He knew his daughter too well. She was outspoken, assertive, didn’t think twice. Luca was more cautious, wise and maybe a little timid. 

“Pap, he was trying to pull Luca’s hair and stealing his crayons, and Luca was letting him because he didn’t want to cause any trouble!” an agitated Mila informed Max, speaking a broken dutch. 

“Are you okay?” Max calmly asked his frantic daughter. He knew she was disquieted, trying to sound more sure of herself than she actually was. 

“Yes,” she said in dutch, but in the back her teacher told her in a sweet voice to speak in a language they could all understand. 

“Okay baby girl, mama and I are on our way, see you in a bit,”

During the drive to La Condamine to reach the International School of Monaco, you discovered a side of your husband you had yet to see. It was fun. 

“She is not apologizing!” Max told you, eyes not leaving the narrow road.

“Max, she pulled the kid’s hair,” You reminded your husband, who softly shook his head in disagreement. 

“Yes, because the idiot kid was bothering Luca and pulled his hair! If anything that kid should be apologizing to Luca, his sister just defended him!” His lisp was more prominent as you reached the parking lot overlooking the several yachts.

Max noticed the other child’s parents already walking inside the school, there weren’t many students in the Early Years building. He pressed the gas harder than necessary, making the engine of the family Aston Martin roar like they were in the paddock. 

Your eyes rolled at his antics, but still it made your insides feel giddy at the thought of your husband being protective and loving. 

Luca’s arms were wrapped around you as soon as you walked inside. Kneeling to reach his height, your heart broke at the sight of his disheveled hair and wet cheeks, his beautiful eyes red. Luca tried to not sniff and stop the tears, trying to be brave when he felt your hands on his cheeks and kissing his forehead, asking if he was okay. 

At the same time, Max sat next to Mila whose eyes didn’t leave the other kid’s sight, whom you learned his name was Oliver. Max knew his daughter wanted to shed a tear, but didn’t let it show, so he just gave her a reassuring look before listening to the teacher who had the three of them in charge.

Curtly shaking hands with Oliver’s parents, Max politely ignoring the poor attempt of one of ���the idiot kid’s” dad to start a conversation, obviously starstruck by your husband the World Champion. 

Yes, it was Monaco and everyone knew each other, and it didn’t take a genius to deduce the two Verstappen named kids on the class were the children of the Max Verstappen, but he was often away and it was mostly you who attended parent-related stuff, but now there was the chance to have a conversation directly with him. 

Oh well. 

The four got inside the car, Max adjusting the seats before getting in the driver seat. Mila and Luca loudly sighed, knowing what followed.

“I don’t know how to address this. I’m moved and proud that you look out and defend each other, but M, baby, pulling someone else’s hair is not the way,” you softly told your daughter. “and Luca, honey, I know it’s hard but when someone invades your space and is rude, but you can tell the teacher before it makes you feel bad and leads to this,” 

Max’s eyes followed the twins movements through the rearview mirror as you talked to them, soon reaching your home. You grabbed the backpacks and Max helped the twins get out of the car.

He reached Luca’s door first. When he was out, he left a kiss on his forehead and ruffled his hair, softly reminding his carbon copy that he was a little lion, still with lots to learn, but no one ever could make him feel like this. 

Then he reached Mila’s door. Her eyes now were a bit glossy, but he knew she was just like him, Mila would never show weakness. He reminded her that she can take some weight off, let her guard down with her parents before kissing her hair. 

You watched the scene unfold from afar, not knowing what he told them, but sure they were the right words.

Then giggles reached your ears, eyes immediately rolling. 

He was fist bumping Mila, giving her a nod of approval.

For God’s sake, this wouldn’t be the first time you’re called to school, that’s for sure.

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard Part 4 (Steddie & Plus Size Reader)

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N, SMUT, overstimulation, choking, light degrading, use of the stop light system, DP, dirty talk, lots of praise and aftercare.

ANGST, LOADED IN ANGST, *dances in angst*

This chapter begins with a meeting and people in Hawkins being shady bitches in regard to Eddie being a professor and the play the school is putting on. Mentions of Y/N's weight (so brief, more than anything is alluded to when it comes to the lingerie in the play), Mentions of what happened in chapter 1 with her assault. Martin's dad is a dick and victim blames, brings up her father and Steve's.

Steve loses control a bit with Y/N and they get into a fight. Boys get jealous slightly. Um...OH cliffhanger ending but not quite like my others. You'll see. It will make you feel things but...you'll see!

Word Count: 6138

Series here/Donate to Me

You listened quietly as you sat in the back of the auditorium, listening to the parents, faculty, and dean of Hawkins University speak. You told Eddie and Steve you would be in your dorm and asked them to call you when it was over but both men seemed so on edge all week the moment they found out about the meeting. 

The coach told you a lot of times these meetings were randomly called when parents wanted to complain about a “murderer teaching on campus” but something seemed off as the day slowly approached so you snuck in before it began through the booth entrance and waited for it to begin. 

“Ah you little troublemaker.”, Theo teased as he sat beside you. “Got a weird vibe to? Yeah, Ms. Lilah was talking about this meeting with a friend while I was at work so I got curious.”

“Alright professors and parents let’s get started.”, the dean announced trying to hush the people in the room. “Now this meeting here was called forth by some of the parents…”

“Pfft ‘called forth’.”, the boy beside you whispered as you smiled his way. 

“We’re concerned about how downhill this school seems to be going!”, one woman yelled.

“There’s a killer still teaching class, our football team keeps losing and they’re doing plays of satanic garbage now?!”, screamed another. 

“Ok, Ok! Let’s not let this get out of hand.”, the dean shouted as he sighed. 

Both your men were sitting in a corner and you could tell they were already annoyed by their demeanors alone.  

“First and foremost—”

“First and foremost, satanic garbage? Really?”, your theater teacher interrupted as she rose to her feet. “It’s a play about being yourself and—"

“By parading around half naked?”

“Oh, Mrs. Martinez, I didn’t know you were a fan of the film.”

“Pfft, we don’t watch that filth in my house. This town has enough chaos in it.”, the woman spits. 

“It does which is why I feel like these kids should be open to expressing themselves. Everyone in my play is consenting and perfectly fine with the wardrobe.”

“They may be but WE aren’t. Why would I want to see people like Benjamin Lineck and Y/N Y/L/N parading around in that attire?!”

Eddie leaned forward, prepared to say something before you see Steve bring him back. 

“What’s wrong with that? Both my students are brilliant performers and have worked hard for their parts. Why don’t you be man, Paul, and say what your real issue is? You don’t think a boy or a full-figured woman like Y/N should be ‘parading around’ in lingerie.”

“Full-figured? Really? How about—”

“Hey! Enough!”, the dean shouted trying to regain control. “We aren’t here to bad mouth students. Your concern is the material in the play which was also a concern of mine. From the scenes that I’ve seen I’m not worried and it seems Lilah here has taken great care to keep as much detail focused on the story.”

“Recast it.”

“What?”, Lilah laughed. “No way. Even the dean just said your problem is with the material not my actors. No way.”

“It seems the problem is Y/N.”, Martin’s father sighs aggressively. “She’s the lead in the play, right Lilah? She’s the reason my son was kicked off the team and we’ve been losing—”

“No, your son was kicked off my team for assaulting an innocent girl.”, Steve defended. 

Theo’s hand reached for yours and desperately seeking comfort you threaded your fingers through his. 

“He also made threats and disrespected me and another professor.”

“Your friend the murderer?”, Jared countered. 

“You know what? I’m really sick of your fucking attitude.”, Eddie growled as he stood up placing himself chest to chest with the other man. Trying to calm him, Steve placed his hand on his chest to bring him back to his seat but he just pushed against him. “You people accused me and hunted me down based on how I dress and a fucking game I play! You’re doing the same thing with Y/N and I’m not going to let you!”

“ENOUGH!”, the dean shouted so loud even you jumped and Theo ran his thumb along your skin trying to calm you. “This is my school and I WILL be heard! Now, in regard to Mr. Munson and his employment here, he wasn’t charged with a crime and is an excellent teacher to the students of this school. We have evaluations every semester and his marks are always high. This matter has been discussed at length and unless there are new developments it will not be brought up again. As for the play…I will take a vote amongst the student body and faculty and if they deem it inappropriate I will cancel the production. We already know how you parents feel. For the football team, Mr. Harrington have you found a full-time replacement for Martin Click as of yet?”

“No, sir. I didn’t want to replace him fully until your investigation was finished. I’ve been using his back up but Mr. Hunter stated the pressure from the town has been too much. He, uh, left my team last week.”

A heavy sigh left your chest at his words; he hadn’t told you that. 

The dean nodded as his eyes took in the angry faces below him. 

“Stay low, ok? And stay here.”, he whispered as Theo let go of your palm and tip toed to the aisle. “Excuse me.” All eyes turned towards the boy in the back as he waved their way. “Uh, I know I’m not supposed to be here but I may be able to help. I was a quarterback in my hometown. I never tried out because it kind of seemed like…people had their fantasy team in this town.”

“Oh yeah because this is a good first impression and who we want representing our team.”, another parent snarked. 

“Yeah but at least I don’t tear girls shirts and push them to the concrete.”, Theo shot back.

“Allegedly!”, Martin’s father yelled. 

“No, not anymore. Based on Y/N’s testimony to me and the confrontational conversation I had with Mr. Click Junior, I agree with Coach Harrington’s decision to remove him from the team and I hereby expel him from my campus.”

“What?! You can’t do that!”

“I just did. This meeting is over and everyone drive safe.”, the dean sighed as he rolled his eyes. 

Scooting back to your side, Theo waited for people to leave as he blocked you from sight with his body but unfortunately he couldn’t hide you from everyone. 

“How does it feel, Y/N? Ruining someone’s life?”, Martin’s father shouted with distain your way. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”

Your eyes widened in anger as you stepped towards him but a fist blocked you as it flew across the other man’s face. Theo straightened in front of you as Eddie held Steve back so he didn’t hit the man again. Jared spit blood to the side as he squared his shoulders. 

“I can’t wait to tell your father what you’ve been up to, Steven. I know he gave up on you a long time ago but I imagine he never fully understood how bad things could get with his name’s sake. The final nail in the coffin would be if you and the freak here were fucking but even you wouldn’t sink that low would you? Still have some standards?”

As the man spoke, Steve kept try to push Eddie out of the way to get to the man in front of him but the metalhead kept his ground. 

“Get out of my auditorium now.”, Lilah growled as she put herself between everyone. 

“Or what?”

“Try me, Jared. I have no problem taking you out but I imagine you do with me. Want to uphold that ‘reputation’ right? Your son isn’t that smart I’m afraid.”

The man huffed as he promptly turned on his heel and slammed open the doors as he left.

“Are you alright, Steve?”

“M’fine.”, the man grumbled as he flexed his hand and winced at the pain in his knuckles. “What are you bothdoing here?!”

“I talked her into coming. I had a feeling something was off—”

“You lie and defend her a lot. Are you two an item?”, Eddie snarks causing you narrow your eyes his way. 

“No, Mr. Munson, we aren’t. Theo is my friend and just helped defend me.”

Their seemingly calm but annoyed eyes racked over you but you had been with them long enough now to recognize when they were furious. At you or the situation though you weren’t sure.

“Don’t listen to what they said, Y/N, honey, ok? None of this is your fault and fuck them. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Lilah.”

“Theo, why don’t you walk Y/N back to her dorm and—”

“Actually, I’m, um, going to my mom’s house but if you could walk me to my car I’d appreciate it.”

“No detours, Y/N. Just straight to the house, ok?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Munson.”

***

You knew what Eddie meant and didn’t stray as you headed to their house. After letting yourself in, you hastily got an ice pack ready before you heard a car squeak and the front door fly open. 

“…have to talk to me! I don’t like when you get silent like this!”, the metalhead shouted as he followed his boyfriend into the living room. 

“You! What were you doing there?!”, Steve shouted when his eyes found yours. 

“You both seemed concerned about the meeting so I just…I wanted to know what was going on.”

“You could have gotten in a lot of trouble if the dean or any of those other fucking people noticed you there.”

“I-I-I didn’t expect them to blame me like that—”

“Of course you didn’t, little girl, because you don’t know this town like we do!”

“Just because I didn’t have a ‘posse’ come after me before doesn’t mean I don’t know how cruel people in Hawkins can be! You think Martin Click is the only one to hurt me and make fun of me!?”

“Well, you definitely have a good amount of people protecting you.”, Eddie sassed as he folded his arms across his chest. 

“Really? I haven’t forgotten about that comment you made. Theo is my friend and he’s a good guy—”

“That fucking made out with you on my desk AND we get to see kiss you on stage constantly.”

“Oh my fucking God! I’m not doing this with either of you! I just wanted to make sure Steve was ok—”

Reaching for the ice pack you had been holding, Steve threw it hard against the adjacent wall making you jump back as Eddie’s eyes scanned him over with concern. 

“I’m fucking fine. What I’m not fine with is you sneaking around and putting yourself in danger!”

“Said one of the men who puts me in danger by being in a relationship with me!” 

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips as his eyes darken and he straightens to his full height. 

“I’m sorry…”

“I’ll bet your fucking are.”, Steve growled before abruptly reaching forward to grab your throat. “You’re always sorry.”

“Baby, let her go.”

“She’s fine, Eddie. Right, Y/N? Tell him you’re fucking fine.”

“I’m…I’m fine…Mr. Munson.”, you responded, your voice incredibly strained with how hard the other man’s palm was wrapped around your neck. 

“Ok, sweetheart.”, he replied cautiously as his gaze shifted between you both. “You remember the word right? If you get uncomfortable…”

“Yes, sir. Ahhh!”

Guiding you to the bedroom, Steve practically pushed you the entire way and all but threw you on to their mattress. As he tried to pull down your pants, he became annoyed, tearing them with his hands before tugging them the rest of the way on to the floor. 

“Wear these fucking tight pants like a fucking slut.”, he grumbled as he roughly yanked your legs apart. “Don’t fucking cum, little girl. Do you hear me?”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Harrington.”

He was ruthless with the way his tongue flicked and sucked between your legs, bringing you to the edge multiple times before taking away your pleasure. Eddie gently propped you up with your back to his chest and you were grateful for the feeling as you pressed your sweaty forehead to his cheek. 

“You’re doing really good, pretty girl.”, the professor whispered as his palm brushed your damp hair away from your face. “Steve, how many more—”

“As many as their needs to fucking be, Edward!” The metalhead’s head ticked to the side at his name. His partner only ever did that when he was extremely upset and wanted to feel in control. “My fucking dad, this town, and those stupid fucking people think they can tell me how to be or who to fucking love? Keep your legs open, Y/N! After everything I’ve sacrificed for these people and it’s not enough.”

“You—You both are—mmm ahhhh—more than enough for me.”, you cry and Eddie kisses your cheek.

 “Oh please! Like you fucking care.”, he spits as he pushes two of his long, thick fingers inside you. “You can leave whenever you fucking want to… go off to fucking…Hollywood with your young, buff boyfriend who can apparently to it all it seems. He can keep you safe better than we can since loving you is putting you in more danger!”

You barely registered it but his partner did as his wide eyes scanned over Steve. You were too busy trying not to cum as he didn’t pull back this time but had yet to tell you it was ok. 

“Steven, stop.”, Eddie commanded in a firm tone that the other man ignored. “Red, Steve, stop. NOW.”

When the man’s fingers only slowed but didn’t completely come to halt, your professor slid out from behind you and shoved his boyfriend away from you. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“The fuck is wrong with you?! She said she knew the fucking word, Eddie!”

“Yeah and I know you! What the fuck was that?! You tell her you fucking love her this way?! After saying she doesn’t care and that she’s going to leave us, you fucking asshole! That’s not fair to her. We can’t take her out on dates or show her off but at least us conveying how we feel shouldn’t be hidden under all the bullshit you just did.”

“Eddie…”, you sniffle as they glare each other down. “It’s ok…”

“Get the fuck out.”, Eddie commands as he points past Steve towards the door.

“This is my house to. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

Your professor steps forward and bumps his boyfriend with his chest, making him stumble backward as Eddie guides him towards the bedroom door. 

“We agreed that we’d protect her so that’s what I’m doing. I’m protecting her from you.” Steve’s eyes widened as he glanced around the room as if finally recognizing where he was and who he was with. “You don’t want to leave fine but I’m not letting her anywhere near you till you get yourself together.”

With one final shove, Eddie pushes him out into the hallway and slams the bedroom door in his face locking it tightly behind him. 

As quickly as he can muster, the metalhead lifts you into his arms and places you on the edge of the tub as he fills it with water. 

“I-I-I was doing ok. You didn’t have to stop h-h-him.”, you cry as you wipe your eyes. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. Everything is alright. You may have been able to handle it right now but sometimes Steve… goes overboard…when he’s angry. I think it comes from years of growing up with his parents but even when we fight which is rare he has a bite to his words.”

After carefully guiding you into the bath, you remain silent as you allow him to clean you and massage any part of your body he can reach. 

“I’m sorry I went to the meeting. You both seemed so worried and I couldn’t wait. I didn’t expect them to turn on me like that.”

“You’d be surprised how quick they turn.”, he sighs. “We were worried because Steve already knew the town was pissed off about their recent losing streak so he assumed they wanted to talk about what happened with Martin. I didn’t expect them to talk about your play or you like that.”

Your fingers reached out to caress his face and he smiled as he placed his hand over the back of yours. 

“Thank you for trying to defend me with his father.”

“I’m sorry for what he said about yours. Y/N, your dad would be so proud of you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Not even with you two?”

Eddie heavily exhaled as his eyes closed and he shook his head. 

“No, baby, not even with us… what is wrong is hiding you…hiding that you’re ours and that we can protect you. Y/N, when that kid stood up for you and I saw him shield you behind him, I was glad he was there but also really fucking jealous.”

“I know. I heard it in your tone.”, you giggle as his grin widens for a moment.

“Yeah, yeah. What I mean is… I couldn’t push you behind me. I couldn’t tell those people to fuck off because you’re my girl and I’d take a fucking bullet for you. I almost died trying to save Steve and my friends and I’d do it again to save you. I don’t even need to think about it. You and Steve are safe with me and I want all of Hawkins to know that.”

Your lips tenderly find his before he helps you out of the bathtub and dries you off. 

“Eddie? Do you love me to?”

Pausing for a moment, he smirks your way and slides one of his shirts over your head. 

“You caught him saying that, huh?” After getting you into some comfy shorts, Eddie climbs into his bed with you and you promptly curl up into his side resting your head on his chest. “I’m sorry he said it like that.”, he whispers as his fingers play with your hair. “Um, what if I said that I do love you…very much…”

“I would say that I love you to, you and Steve, but that scares me. I don’t want to ruin your careers or the life you’ve made here.”

“I would probably say something back like how it scares me to but not as much as how hard I fell for you. It was the same with Steve. I wasn’t expecting to fall for him but here we are 10 years later. I—we—also don’t want to ruin your life either. You deserve all the good things, Y/N.”

“So do you.” Quietly, he continued to rub your head as you listened to his steady breathing as his chest rose and fell. “Eddie…I love you.”

Pulling you tighter to him, he tenderly kissed your forehead. 

“I love you to, Y/N.”

##################

In the middle of the night, the sound of low grumbles woke you as you opened their bedroom door and tiptoed out into their living room to find Steve asleep on the couch as he tossed and turned. 

“No…no… please…”

As he groaned, you fell to your knees beside him and tenderly moved his hair away from his face. 

“Don’t…don’t hurt her…please…”

“Everything’s ok, Steve. Shhhhhh, baby. I’m right here.”, you tried to sooth as his nose scrunched in what looked like pain. 

“Run, Y/N…Run!” With that his eyes snapped open as he shot up, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

“Whoa! Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, Steve. I’m here.”

He didn’t say a word as he forcefully pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you as he cried. You continued to pet his head as you held him to your chest, whispering comforts as you tried to calm him.

“People in Hawkins were trying to hurt you. I tried to tell them…I told them you did nothing wrong but…they wouldn’t listen… you were so scared…I couldn’t…”

Your lips kissed his sweaty forehead before trailing down his cheeks to dry his tears. 

“Steve, everything’s ok. No one’s going to hurt me but if they did I know you and Eddie would keep me safe.”

Leaning back, his large hands cupped your face as he kissed your lips. 

“I’m so sorry for yelling and taking my anger out on you. That asshole was saying all that bullshit and then he mentioned your dad and I just lost it. It made me think of Eddie and what he went through…I just felt so out of control.”

“I know, Mr. Harrington, I know.” At your words, his head hung as he pulled away but you quickly grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you again. “Use me to find your control again…both of you.”

As your gaze shifted towards Eddie who had been watching from the hallway, Steve’s lips kissed your cheek before trailing down to your neck. 

“Please, Mr. Munson...use me.”

The metalhead slowly stepped forward and descended to his knees in front of his boyfriend as you moved off his lap out of the way. Lifting his hips, Steve helped him pull down his shorts, groaning when Eddie spit over his tip and stroked it along his length.

Cupping your cheek in his palm, he brought your lips to his, lightly whimpering against them as his partner enveloped him into his mouth and bobbed his head. 

“Fuck, baby. That’s it.”, Steve mewled as his fingers threaded through his long hair. 

When his free hand lightly tugged at your shirt, you got the message and as soon as you tossed it aside he lowered his head to your breast eliciting a soft moan as his tongue swirled and sucked on your nipple. 

“Both of you…use me.”, you repeat with heavy pant as Steve grips Eddie’s throat to passionately kiss his lips before guiding him beside you on the couch as both sets of hands roam along your skin and their mouths suck at either side of your neck. “Please.”

“Sweetheart…you always say…you need time because…our cocks are too big. I don’t think you can handle that…right now.”, Eddie exhales out between each kiss of your skin. 

“But we’ve—”

“We’ve done some stuff yeah because you were curious but that’s different.”

“Please, Mr. Munson. Pleeeeeeeeease.”, you whine making Steve chuckle. 

“Yeah, Professor. Show her how it’s done.”

Eddie playfully narrows his eyes at his partner before falling back against the couch to remove his boxers. When you straddle him on his laps, out of habit, your hands run along his bare chest making him mewl as his fingers take hold of your thick waist. 

“Whenever you’re ready, princess.”

As Steve starts to stand, you quickly take hold of his shoulder and place a tender kiss on his lips. 

“I love you.”

The coach blinks a couple of times as he scans over the softness in your face. They never expected to meet you let alone start a relationship with someone they trusted so completely as to tell you their deepest, darkest secrets. While Eddie was in the hospital after their battle, he would sit beside him in the chair and imagine what a life could be with him. 

He pictured dancing at metal concerts outside of town or even screaming along to one of Eddie’s songs as he played on stage. He envisioned lying in bed with him while holding his hand kind of like he had been for the past couple of weeks except the metalhead would be smiling and laughing at something goofy Steve probably said. He imagined holding him to his chest as he slept, playing with his hair, and reminding him in every way he could think of that he was safe.

Since they started seeing you, he pictured dancing at a wedding with you in a beautiful white dress that showed off every one of your gorgeous curves while he and Eddie were in crisp black tuxes. He saw you at a game he was coaching in the bleachers with the man you both loved at your side holding a baby that looked exactly like him while they clapped their little hands at something happening on the field. 

Steve saw a future with you both he desperately wanted and would do anything he had to, to protect you both.

“I love you to, Y/N.”

Your grin grew as you focused on Eddie again, surprised when you were met with his lips. 

“I love you to, pretty girl.”

Clinging to his neck, you lowered yourself onto his cock as you whimpered at the familiar stretch. 

“I love you to, Eddie. So much…fuck.”

“There you go, baby. You got it.”, he cooed as you rolled your hips slowly. “Take your time. We have all night.”

“God, you feel so good. Is…is it going to hurt. I mean more than when we…”

“When we put the toy inside your ass?”, Eddie finished for you. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m not going to lie to you. But then it will start to feel good.”

Your forehead falls on his and he cups your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Did I tell you I was Steve’s first?” He smiled when you giggled and shook your head. “Oh yeah. Obviously, he had been with women before but he had never explored that part of himself.”

Lips kissed your back and the metalhead scooted his body down till his neck was leaning against the back of their sofa. Something cold made you gasp before Steve’s lube covered fingers ran between your cheeks. This part you knew from playing with them prior and your eyes squeezed closed as Eddie continued to watch your face. 

“We had been together for about three months—fuck, I could sit here for hours inside you telling you stories—and he asked me if we could try. Y/N, I swear, the way those big, beautiful eyes looked up at me…I thought I was gonna bust.”

After placing a palm on your shoulder to steady himself, your breath caught in your throat as you felt Steve’s cock lightly press against your hole.

“When I started to slide inside of him? Fuck me, baby, he was so tight I lost my fucking mind.”

As slowly as he could, the man behind you began guiding himself into your behind. Your fingers that were clinging to the base of Eddie’s neck dug into his skin as you bit your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

“It’s alright, honey. You’re doing so—fuck—so good.”, Steve whispered. “I’m going to push a little more in, ok?”

You nod aggressively before you remember the rules.

“Y-Yes, Mr. Harrington.” As he continued, a sharp burn coursed through your body as you lifted your head and grunted in pain. “Wait! Wait…yellow, please…wait.”

“Ok, pretty girl. That’s alright. Tell me when you’re ready. L-Like he said, I could let you warm my cock all night and I’d still cum.”

“He came before I even started moving.”, Eddie continues as his thumbs stroke your skin. “I fucked him a couple more times that night and then after we laid in my bed talking about the future.”

“Ok, green. Y-You can keep going.”

“Good girl, baby. Thank you for telling me.”, Steve praised, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. Taking ahold of your waist with both hands, he subtly rolled his hips bumping into something inside you that had your eyes rolling. 

“Shit. Was that the spot, sweetheart? Your pussy just choked my dick.”

After a couple more minutes pass, you feel Steve’s warm body and you realize they are fully sheathed inside of you. You had never felt anything like this and the overwhelming ecstasy of the moment had tears falling down your face. 

“What color, Y/N?”

“G-Green, Mr. Munson. I’ve never felt anything this g-g-good before. Mmm—use me. Please…I need you to.”

Testing the water, both men thrust their hips and a moan they had never heard from you escaped your lips. Your own movements took over as you bounced against them, their guttural grunts of approval keeping you motivated. 

“Atta, girl. You like—mmph—feeling us inside you at the same time?”

“Yes, sir. Fuck, you both feel so good.”

While Steve pumps into you, Eddie plants his feet and thrusts up to meet each of your movements with a hard one of his own. Their hands cling to you tightly, sure to leave bruises you don’t mind wearing. 

A sweaty chest leans against your back, pushing you against your professor’s chest and you laid your head on his shoulder as you listen to both boy’s lips smack together as they passionately kiss. 

“I’m sorry.”, Steve murmurs softly.

“I-I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“I hate—oh, fuck—I hate the way they s-still talk about you. You’re both…perfect.”

“Shhhh… don’t focus on that right now, baby. Just…feel our beautiful girl. H-How tight her holes are…fuck. E-Every time your cock slams into her, s-she—mmm—squeezes tighter around me.”

Pulling himself halfway out, skin slaps against skin as his cock roughly hits that spot deep inside making you moan and clench around Eddie. 

“Like that?”

“Fuck, Steve. Just like that.”

Limply, you cling to the man in front of you as you allow them to take over. Matching each other’s rhythm, it doesn’t take long before your orgasm washes over you and crashes like a wave as you shudder against them. 

“Good girl, princess. Good fucking girl.”, the long-haired boy praises as his fingers thread through your hair to hold you tightly against him as they chase their highs. 

Steve cums first, his palm gripping the back of your neck as he slams his release into your ass and after a few more rough thrusts Eddie follows coating your walls with his spend.

“I know, honey. Shhh. It’s ok.”, the coach softly comforts when he hears you groan as he carefully pulls out and Eddie does the same. 

Taking you in his arms, he carries you to the bathroom and holds you to his chest as his partner gets the bath ready. Wincing as he lowers you, they continue to murmur soft praises before Steve climbs in with you and the other man sits on the tub behind you as you lean against his leg. 

“How are you feeling?”, the pretty boy asks, smiling when you nod. 

“I’m worried about you.”, you answer gently as Steve tilts his head. “Jared said he was going to talk to your father. I don’t want him to cause trouble for you both.”

His gorgeous eyes scan over you and his boyfriend as Eddie pours warm water against your skin making you moan as you tip your head back so he can kiss your forehead. 

“My dad already thinks I’m a fuck up like he said. I don’t imagine how much worse Jared can make it unless I tell him about me and Eddie.”

“After the quake, he didn’t try to make amends? I would think something like that would bring a family closer.”

“It brought us closer.”, he grins as he gestures between himself and the man he loves who smiles back. “It made me realize I wanted to be happy. My parents weren’t even in town when everything happened.”

“Are you going to let Theo try out?”

“Can’t say no to someone who wants to see you safe to.”, he chuckles. 

“Speaking of, we may be a bit more protective for a while, sweetheart. You have no idea how Martin will react to being expelled or even the town as a whole so.”, Eddie advised as his eyes flick towards Steve who nods in agreement. 

After getting you clean, the long-haired man carries you to their bed where you fall asleep tangled in their arms. 

######################

Walking down the hallway, you can feel eyes bore into you as you stroll past. The dean had sent the survey asking students and facility their thoughts on the play but that was nothing compared to the gossip of Martin Click being expelled and being fully removed from the team. 

“Hey, Y/N.”, Theo beamed, ignoring the people around him. “Coach Harrington put me on the team as the new quarterback.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m excited. Let me walk you to class.”

As your eyes search his, you see something behind them.

“Coach Harrington asked you to keep an eye on me, didn’t he?”

Pursing his lips, he nods as he loops his arm through your own and leads you towards Eddie’s room. 

“He said after last night and with everything going on, he trusted me to look after you. He’s a good guy unlike his dad.”

“Have you met him?”

“Ah no but like everyone else I’ve heard the rumors and small-town gossip about the Harringtons.”

As soon as you reach your next class you pause noticing the sign that read “Class Cancelled.” You had just seen Eddie that morning and he hadn’t said a word about cancelling class. Opening the door anyway you are met with complete and utter chaos. 

The desks had been flipped over with the chairs thrown randomly around the room. His own desk that he taught from was on its side with all his papers tossed every which way on the floor. On the board in front of the class “FREAK” was scrolled across in big bold letters. As you headed for his office you noticed the lock had been busted and it was even more messy with all his books and documents damaged. 

Images were dangling from the ceiling above and as you pulled one of them down, you realized they were pictures of the people that were killed in 86.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s strained whimpers caught your ear and you found him in the corner with his knees to his chin, his head down in his folded arms with one of the pictures scrunched in his hand. 

“Go get Mr. Harrington. Now.”, you commanded sternly.

As soon as Theo ran out of the room, you knelt by your professor’s side and slowly pulled the picture from his desperate grasp. It was a school photo of Chrissy Cunningham taken for the yearbook in her cheerleading uniform, her smile bright on her adorable face. 

“Eddie, it’s ok. Come back to me, baby.” 

His head shot up when your fingers touched his hair as his palm instinctively grabbed your wrist. 

“Fuck…fuck, Y/N. I-I-I’m—”

“No, no. It’s ok. Come on, let’s sit in the classroom and wait for Steve. You shouldn’t be looking at these.”

When you rose to your feet, he promptly wrapped his arms around you as he pressed his face into your stomach and cried. Neither of you cared in that moment if you got caught or if someone walked in. He just needed to feel safe again. 

“Jesus Christ.”, Steve panted from running to the room as his wide eyes took everything in. “Eddie, baby.”

Falling to the floor, his partner immediately clung to him as he climbed into his lap. While rocking him back and forth, he whispered comforting words as you stepped back to give them some space. 

“His office is trashed to.”, Theo relayed. “When we spoke, it was heading to the locker room so he probably hadn’t seen it yet. It’s nothing like this though.”

Your wide eyes suddenly meet his.

“Oh, no. Lilah.”

“Y/N, WAIT!”, your friend calls as you run out of the room towards the auditorium. 

You hear your theater teacher shouting before you even open the door. 

“Those little shits are going to get it! I’m not letting this town fucking scare me away!”

In the middle of the stage were all the set pieces she and her team had worked so hard on, now in shambles and charred as if they had been burned right there. 

“We don’t know it was them.”, the town sheriff sighed as his deputy continued to take pictures. 

“Of course it was them! Are you fucking kidding? Martin gets expelled and then the morning after they set my stage on fire with my things!? That’s just a coincidence?!”

“Mr. Munson and Coach Harrington’s offices were destroyed to.”

Lilah looks at you completely shocked before anger fills her face as she gestures your way.

“See?!”

“Is everyone alright?”, Chief Hopper asks right as all three men appear behind you. “Alright. I guess I have an idiot and his father to go talk to.”

#################

@joannamuns9n @dckweed @corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @too-efn-old-to-be-here @eddiexmunsonlover

I think I got everyone

[g0ldenbritney]

TATE LANGDON ABCS (sfw)꧂

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN🎃..sorry i skipped some letters im a lazy bitch

A = Affection

physical touch for sure, playing with your hair, holding your hand (or holding pinky fingers because thats cutesy as fuck), kissing cheeks and noses (im a SUCKAA for nose kisses and so is he<3). Im just imagining you leaning in to kiss his nose, but he thought you were leaning in for a lip kiss, and it ends up being kinda awkward and you bump into eachother😭😭. Tbh i can’t see him being great at communication especially because he’s a literal teenage boy but though he might now be able to say it he can definitely show it with acts of service like helping with chores

You were at school, trying to focus on your worksheets and actually listening to the teacher speak about..whatever she was teaching, all you can think about is getting back home and all the homework and fuckin chores you had awaiting for you.

once you did get home, you opened the front door and you could smell how good the house smelt, on more exploration the entire house was cleaned and all your chores were done. You walked into your room and your homework was completed on your desk..i mean all the answers were wrong but its the thought that counts.

B = Best friend

Im going with alive Tate for this, I have a mood board on Pinterest for this!! (adrienjoyer)

Sharing cigarettes, sharing cds, sharing shoes, sharing clothes, FREE RAIN OF HIS STUFF. He will let you have anything, need a pencil in class…actually he doesn’t have one either but he will scavenge around for one—and if he only finds one? It’s *our* pencil now. (i need to smack that mans ass on the stairs) (i do that to all my friends) Oh? You have 10 bucks? Well he has 7…that mean its OUR 17 dollars to spend on pizza

(based on a scenario that actually happened to me LMAO 😭😭)

It was late at night, you both were hanging out at your house and it was like 2am, suddenly you both have the craving for pizza..you both counted your cash and quarters, you had 13 bucks in total so you thought a small pizza would fine..yeah no. Tate called up the local Pizza Hut and ordered a small pizza with nothing but cheese and pepperoni and it was 22 FUCKING DOLLARS?? And so you both ran around the house looking for quarters…

you ended up paying the money in quarters to that poor pizza delivery girl at 2am.

C = Cuddles

Depends on how he’s feeling tbh, i can see him as a chest layer. Lying on your chest as you stroke his hair, or the other way around he would be just fine with that as well.

D = Domestic

OF COURSE!! I can see him totally wanting that but like..not till he’s like 30. He wants to do all this stuff first before he settled down, but he definitely wouldn’t mind a partner..some kids, a dog maybe. He’s pretty good at cooking, if you count Kraft mac and cheese and grilled cheese or really anything with cheese.. (the man likes cheese what can i say) and he REFUSES to use a dishwasher, he will be washing dishes old style and you cant stop him.

E = Ending

no.

G = Gentle

Sometimes he might go to far, if you two are just friends and hes joking around and he actually hurts your feelings he would squeeze your shoulder and tell you a quick “sorry.” And it usually makes you feel better. He is very gentle with you when you’re having a bad day maybe just upset or stressed about exams he will maybe rub your shoulders or something and maybe get you to laugh to calm your nerves. If you are in a good mood, hes still gentle, holding you, holding your hands, being careful.

H = Hugs

He loves them!! I dont even care what you have to say or as much as he tries to push you off when you hug him he LOVES HUGS. If you two are just friends and you hug him he might be a little hesitant but he will hug you loosely back. This is totally pointed towards me because im very physically affectionate with my friends and hug them after school everyday, if you, like me, run up to him at his locker and basically throw yourself at him he will laugh and let you hug him and yap. If you’re dating and you hug him he will definitely hug you back and kiss your head :)

I = I love you

He thinks the whole “3 month rule” is bs. He’ll say that shit whenever he wants to. If he wants to say “I love you” immediately after you starting dating god damnit it will happen!!! He definitely says he loves you if you’re just friends to

J = Jealousy

Actual jealous baby

Im just imagining someone flirting with you in class do you immediately tell him as soon as you can because you tell him everything and he genuinely TWEAKS THE FUCK OUTTT, like hes actually geeked

like wdym someone else might have a little crush on you…NO. That person will become his biggest opp and you are told to stay away.

You were in 1st hour and you were assigned partners, luckily you knew the person you were assigned with thought they were a little strange…but they started subtly flirting you. They said sorry for being awkward and they “get nervous around people like you” which sounded like a flirt to you

so when you got to lunch, you immediately told Tate, he literally could run to that kids class right now and fight but he just whips his head around at you

“I hated that guy anyway…stupid.”

K = Kisses

Can range from sweet little ones to full blown makeouts hickeys..he prefers sweet ones on the face in the daylight but at night this man is freaky asf. His kisses are soft and slow but he can be a bit quicker if you really want him to

Q = Quizzes

he had a notebook for stuff about you, if you accidentally drop a little fun fact about you he will know about it and he will write it down, ranging from your favorite juice or if you have a mole under your jaw. He knows it all. If he ever forgot anything and i mean ANYTHING about you I dont think he would forgive himself

T = Try

Tbh i dont think he would put a lot of effort in, he just likes to be around you. (Though the mcdonalds dates are FIRE.) he likes having sleepovers with you at tour house only, watching movies, eating snacks till you feel ill, cuddling, if you’re down to get Applebees that would be even better and you would both ask the waiter for the gummy sharks in your sweet drinks separately (yes ive done that before). But if you really really wanted anice romantic date maybe he would give you flowers or something

U = Ugly

Nail biting (you put bandaids over his nails so he’ll stop :)), excessive social media usage (this guys is chronically online holly shit freaking 4chan user), ive always imagined him little tics, like twitching when hes anxious.

X = Xtra

i want to bake him a cake

Z = Zzz

THIS MAN CAN NEVER SLEEP ISTG

he tosses and turns but no matter what he cant sleep without you or if you give him a stuffed animal

OHH MY GODD IF YOU GIVE HIM A STUFFED ANIMAL I CANT

imagine him holding and cuddling it, and i know this doesnt relate to sleep but imagine him being all sad and crying into it because it reminds him of you😭

[thebearer]

Annnnnnd how would Lip act in the situation of the devastation fic

i’ve had to think about this tbh. bc he kinda already had his own version with the unexpected pregnancy news of freddy.

but i started thinking in terms of lip’s reader leaving and taking the kids with her, and genuinely, i can’t think of a situation where that would happen and she would come back. like they’d be done.

now, with that being said, i could see lip and you getting into a fight- a huuuuugggeee fight. bigher than the one when you found out you were pregnant with amelia. this is based off of lip with best friend!reader who’s a elementary school teacher. she does pretty well, has a salary and insurance so wayyyy better than anything lip grew up with, but they’re not rich by any means. truly comfortable. lip’s working at the auto shop, still doing odd ball jobs but more full time, got promoted to a shift supervisor and got a raise. you both share a bank account together bc it makes it easier.

debby (bc it’s always debby and i’m a debby hater sorry) does something stupid. stupid enough to need bail money, stupid enough that she might get franny taken away or placed into custody elsewhere. debby calls lip, wailing and frantic for money, and lip, of course, rushes to give in.

comes to you all frantic and manic. “hey, uh, i-i need to move some money alright?”

“move some money? why?” you frown. “lip, are you- is everything alright?”

“debby got arrested.” lip mumbles. he’s known you for a while, a long while, he knows your disdain when it comes to debby and her carelessness. more so, his incessant need to always pull her out of the hole she dug herself in. “she needs money for bail.”

“woah, woah, hold on.” you stop him. “you’re- you’re not- lip, absolutely not.”

“what?” lip snaps. “absolutely not? what-“

“-lip.” you glare at him lightly. “no, we-we don’t have that kind of money right now. jude starts daycare next month, and the daycare fees are going to double-“

“-yeah because you insist on puttin’ them in that fancy ass one by your school.” lip scoffs. “couldn’t leave them with mrs. mcgee. too fuckin’ good for that.”

“yeah, i am too good to leave my babies with a lady who chain smokes and watches the price is right all day.” you glare. “i want my babies to go somewhere safe and- that’s not even the point right now. lip, no. you’re not doing it. we can’t afford it.”

“we can fucking afford it. don’t start this shit with me-“

“-lip, we might have the money for it, but that does not mean we can afford it. that’s our savings, our safety net-“

“-and this is my family. my sister.” lip gritted his teeth. “isn’t that what the safety nets for, huh? for shit like this? unexpected bad shit?”

“not for debby.” you snap, finality in your tone. “not for someone who continues to make bad decisions and not learn from them and then wants you to run and get her out of it every time. i’m sorry, lip. this time i’m not letting you do it.”

that escalates bc one, you told lip he couldn’t do something which just made him turn more stubborn, and two, he’s blinded with irrational rage.

“what about franny, huh? she’s your fuckin’ niece, you’re gonna just let her get put in the system-“

“-franny is more than welcome to stay here. i will gladly take her while debby’s figuring shit out, but you have kids you need to think of. two kid that are yours that you need to think of, lip!”

“don’t you fucking dare.” lip snarls. “don’t you use my kids against me.”

“i’m not using them against you! jesus, lip, you don’t get to just come in here and tell me what we’re doing with our money! that’s my money in there too, ok? i’m telling you right now, if you fuckin’ use my money on this, and not think about our kids, you might as well just not come home.”

lip is furious, leaves without another word, slamming the door hard behind him leaving you in the house with freddy and baby jude. you’re fuming, upset, hurt- he’s feeling the same. lip is furious, furious at you telling him what to do.

he ends up at ian’s house after coming dangerously close to going to the alibi. ian talks him down, tells him you’re right, which was not what lip wanted to hear.

“debby can wait. she’ll get out soon enough and she can figure it out.” ian rolls his eyes. “she shouldn’t have been such a fuckin’ moron.”

“what about franny then, huh? you’re gonna just let her go into the system? let cps get her until then?” lip spat furiously.

ian scoffs. “franny is with carl right now. he’s bringin’ her here tonight.”

lip burns with embarrassment, feeling petulant but still pissed. “hey, word of advice?” ian smirks. “quit bein’ a hard headed jack ass and go home and apologize to your wife before she comes to her senses and leaves your ass for good.”

and lip is still mad but it’s dwindling, a guilt replacing it instead. he just needed to calm down, to think straight. walking back to your house, he had the time to.

lip jammed his key in the door, the ridges not sliding the usual way, not clicking. so he tried again, turning the key with no luck- it didn’t budge. he pulled on the knob, twisting again and again but nothing. “stupid fuckin’ piece of shit door.” lip grumbles, knocking on the door.

he waits, huffing, knocking louder. when there was still no response, lip goes to pull out his phone, only then does he see the pink envelope with his name on it on the welcome mat.

lip opens it up to find a note:

“phillip,

since you insist on doing whatever you want without asking me or considering our family, i decided i would do the same. you can go stay with debby since you chose her over me and my kids.

ps. don’t bother with the lock, i had them changed xoxo”

he found his car keys under the envelope. lip was furious, absolutely fucking furious and sick and upset and just overwhelmed with every emotion possible. you hadn’t even given him his lighter, so he took a walk to the corner store to buy a pack of spirits and a lighter. he called you on his way back, not surprised when you didn’t pick up.

“hey, you know, i know you think you’re bein’ real fuckin’ funny but this shit isn’t funny, ok? i didn’t choose debby, i didn’t do shit, alright? so let me back in the house and let’s be adults about this.”

then another voicemail.

“alright, seriously? you’re not gonna let me in? you’re not gonna let me come say goodnight to freddy or jude? that’s fucked up. really fuckin’ fucked up.”

“you’re bitchin’ me out about not spending money, and-and you get that done? get the locks changed? how much did that cost huh? you can use money to be petty and childish but i don’t get a say in what i want to use it in?”

“ok this is ridiculous. let me in. talk to me. be a fuckin’ adult.”

“seriously? where the fuck am i supposed to sleep tonight? i know you’re fuckin’ seeing’ these- i can fuckin’ see you! just let me in!”

you don’t budge. don’t reply back, don’t answer the calls. he knows better than to bang on the door, wake jude or freddy up, and truthfully… he’s a little terrified at the moment. very scared that you’re truly done with him, that ian was right and you’d come to your senses.

so he slept in his car. in the driveway, thankful it was warm that night and he had a few spare shirts and things in the back. he waited until the next morning, when he knew you’d be up with the boys, to ring the doorbell.

his anger had vanished to fear and guilt, retreating back to you with his tail tucked between his legs, all sad eyes and gentle apologies that you deflected with anger still bubbling.

it definitely took him a while to make it up, a very long while before you actually gave him his new key. he had to make it up to you, work on his communication and his sharing especially with you.

[stubz]

"Maverick is here."

"Hi Maverick! Want some coffee?" the human groaned.

"Only if it's Irish..."

"Heh, if only."

The two humans tried but couldn't help the shift of tone when talking about the youngling. Couldn't help the sighs or forced enthusiasm when it came to Maverick.

Maverick, age 6, species Ewelsjay, and the unknowing arch nemesis of Kim and Max.

.

"Maverick get down from there!" the man shouted up to the child dangling from the fire sprinklers.

"But it's fun!" giggled the child.

"They're not for climbing! Get down now!"

"No I'm no-!" the sprinkler snapped.

"I told him," he growled running towards the crying youngling. "a million times I told him don't climb the sprinklers! They're not for climbing! But did he listen? Nooooo."

..

"Maverick! What happened!?"

"Mr. Aurum, Maverick climbed the fire sprinklers and fell when they broke. Luckily it wasn't that high and he landed on the mats, he only has a bruise and scrapped knee."

"And you let him??"

"..No. I did not. We have told Maverick multiple times not to climb them because of this very reason."

"Oh Mavy. You need to listen your teachers. I'll have a talk with him."

"See you tomorrow then."

...

"And he looked at me as if I let his kid climb the sprinklers!!" he took a swig of his Irish coffee.

"Tell me about it...the guy acts as if it's always our fault. One time he told me it was my job that his kid puts his bag in his locker. His 6 year old kid...he's 6 years old! I tell him and sometimes he does it but most of the time he looks me in the eyes and says you do it."

"Exactly! We're not servants!"

"Gah please let them move or switch schools!"

....

"All right kids, foods ready so line up."

"But before you grab a plate let us tell you what's just for the humans today. The kitchen made an accident today and put in too much of a spice that can be dangerous for other species, it's the blue pot. Okay? Only humans can eat that."

"Human kids, only have a little to start with because its spicy. If you like it then you can have more later."

The kids nodded and started to serve themselves, only the humans taking food from the blue pot.

When they ate the adults chuckled and smiled watching their fellow humans eat the spicy curry. Some kids loved it for the spice or flavor while others chugged their milk. They're non-human friends laughed or gasped.

"Human Kim, can I try some?"

"Sorry Maverick but not today. It's not safe for some of you kids. We'll have this again on Friday though and we'll make sure it's safe for the rest of you kids."

"Aw. Okay." the human cracked a small smile and ruffled his golden hair.

"How about you try some of this? It from the same place on earth."

"It's green!"

.....

"Excuse me, Max and Kim? Maverick told me something very concerning yesterday."

"Oh, what was it?"

He told me that yesterday there was a dish just for the humans. That no one but humans were allowed to eat it." the Ewelsjay glared at them.

'Here we go' they both thought.

"Mr. Aurum the kitchen made a mistake when making one of the dishes yesterday and put in too much of a spice that is dangerous to most species. So to not waste the food and keep the others safe we only allowed the human children to eat it.

This was a simple mistake and Kim has talked to the kitchen already and made arrangements to make the dish again on Friday."

"Really? 'Too much spice' is what stopped my child from eating? Unbelievable."

"...listen-"

"Sir, this type of spice is one that can be rather harmful to younglings, even adults, and since we couldn't quite call everyone's parents asking for permission we decided to play it safe." the human placed a hand on her co-workers back. Trying her best to calm her friend. Even though she too wanted to rip Aurum a new one.

"I'll be the judge of that. Tell me, what's the name of the dish and how exactly the kitchen made it."

"Mr. Aurum I don't think-"

"Goat curry and it has many different variations but this recipe had 1 seeded scotch bonnet pepper."

And with that the Ewelsjay left with his son.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"No but I don't care. Besides as much as an a-hole he is there's no way he'll let Maverick eat it before he tries it first."

"Ooo the perfect crime."

*the next day*

"Teachers teachers teachers!"

"Yes Maverick?"

"My Dad tried the goat carry and his face turned bright orange! He took one bite and then screamed for water but it didn't help."

"Yeah water doesn't do much. Rookie mistake."

"Yeah but then I remembered what teacher Kim said about milk and gave him that and it helped!"

"So how's your Dad now?"

"He's stuck in the bathroom still drinking milk." he said so matter of factly making the humans snort.

"A-and now do you see why we didn't want you eating it?" asked Max trying his best not to laugh.

"Yeah...I guess I should be listening to you two. You are my teachers."

"Glad to hear that. Now go to put your stuff away and play."

"Okay!" once he was out of earshot the two finally allowed themselves to laugh till they cried.

Maverick was a handful most times but moments like these reminded the two that he was a kid. And kids learn from those around them. Hopeful Mr. Aurum would learn what his son did today, listen to the teachers.

[farfromstrange]

Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom. 

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him. 

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen. 

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin. 

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?” 

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?” 

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!” 

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before. 

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do? 

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him. 

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows. 

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp. 

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager. 

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say. 

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him. 

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly. 

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word. 

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive. 

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say. 

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself. 

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him. 

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 2 224

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: First meeting and training discussions Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

Duke was running out of fumes to run on. Last few days would be exhausting if it was just vigilante or just civilian stuff but no, he had to have it both. Because of Arkham break out he had been called in three nights in a row, not for a whole patrol but he couldn't exactly sleep it of during the day like others did, especially not in a week when every teacher decided they need to have test or quiz or what not. Naps meant he wasn't as sleep deprived as he could be but he needed far more. But he couldn't because crime in Gotham never sleeps so he had normal patrol to finish and there were about two ours left.

Would something bad happen if he just stopped for a moment and laid on a roof? Ten up to fifteen minutes. It was a slow day too...

Yeah, no, he deserved a moment to rest and if something disastrous was to happen in the meantime he would shame other Bats for not giving him enough time to sleep.

It certainly said something that he found gravel covering this roof to be quite comfortable. He set a timer for ten minutes and let himself close his eyes.

When loud screech of timer jolted him awake, he was suddenly fully aware that he wasn't alone anymore. He sat up a little too quickly.

"Oh, you're awake," white haired girl around Damian's age chimed, sitting cross legged just few feets away from him. She wore something that could only be described as an unholy mix of lab safety hazmat and skintight workout jumpsuit, white and black. When had Gotham gotten a new vigilante? "Good, I just returned from snack hunt," she added, gesturing at a big textile bag lying next to her. Duke didn't have enough brainpower to do anything more than ask.

"What?"

Girl shrugged, take out from BatBurger in her hand.

"You look like you have a bad day if not few days, so I've got you my cousin's bad day combo or at least closest thing I could. BatBurger burger isn't as good as NastyBurger but you certainly have better fries," as she spoke, second take out bag, 1 quart bottle of energy drink, juice bottle of same size and pack of convenience store brownies joined greasy paper bag sealed with a sticker.

"Is your cousin a speedster?" Excuse Duke, it was a totally valid question, he saw with his bare eyes both Wally West and Bart Allen when they visited Manor. Noone else would be able to stomach the amount of food they inhaled during their stays.

"Nah, we're not that fast or that hungry. Though I think I may get closer to speed of sound," So, clearly a meta if white hair and weir aura that let his eyes rest weren't enough indication "My cousin when he has bad few days he often forgets to eat so this combo has to help with there too. But I'll steal your fries of course."

Duke was not going to look gift horse in teeth, so he grabbed one bag and tore it open. There was classic combo with bigger fries and NightWings inside.

"Thank you..." he trailed off, hoping that girl would take a clue and introduce herself but she didn't. She just drowned her fries in ketchup and started munching. She had her own juice.

"My cousin always said that each part of this combo has different purpose," she explained instead, slightly muffled because of fries in her mouth, "This" she gestured towards fast food meal "is to sooth your stomach. This "she tapped energy drink "is to sooth your brain and kick it back online. This "she raised bottle of juice, "is to sooth your taste buds because energy drinks are war crime against them and this "she nudged brownies "is to sooth your heart because Ancients damn it, this day is awful and you deserve it. At least that's what he told me when I had day bad enough to deserve that," she shrugged, licking ketchup of her finger. Suddenly she froze "You aren't allergic, are you?

"No, I'm not," he confessed bewildered.

"Good"

For a long moment they sat in silence, devouring food the little girl brought. Duke distantly wondered if this was how night shift spent their snack breaks. It felt nice.

He was finishing his part of brownies when girl spoke up again.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah" he was a little surprised to realize that it was true. He'll have to note down what she put in this 'bad day combo'. "Thank you"

"Don't mention it," she shrugged with general gesture of dismissal, "You're one of my cousin's favorite heroes because you're vaguely his age and handle Gotham alone during the day and I quote, "she did honest to God air quotes at that" 'As only hero in Amity-' which is a lie by the way, Val is doing great and even if he suddenly got problem with how she feels about his alter ego, he still has Sam and Tuck even if they're usually more of moral support. And I helped when I visited, so no, he isn't only one. Anyway as he said 'As only hero in Amity, my heart goes out for anyone who deals with this type of bullshit so Dani if you absolutely have to prank heroes, leave them out of it, especially Signal, he can't be older than Jazz, he doesn't need any more mess to handle.' All aliens and lanterns are also off limits because he is a space nerd. But you aren't space related so I'm like 80% percent sure he has celebrity crush on you," she slurped more juice, unbothered.

Duke was thankful he wasn't swallowing anything because for sure she would choke. He took split second to consider addressing... this whole situation and choose not to. He was not ready to be anyone's celebrity crush.

"Your name is Danny?" he asked instead.

"Dani" she corrected" with an I"

"Ok. It's nice to meet you Dani-with-an-I," She giggled, nodding her head slightly.

"It's nice to meet you too Signal"

Duke stood up, stretching a little. Dani joined him after hastily putting all the trash in her bag. She was a little higher than expected.

"I have to get back to my patrol"

"Cool," she drifted back a bit, making him realize that she was floating a few inches above the ground. She fixed her bag on her arm.

"Hey, can I hang out a little bit more? My cousin will go green out of jealousy when I tell him," she added with a mischievous smirk but Duke could tell there was more to it. He took a moment to consider it, which apparently made girl nervous "I can be invisible the whole time, like before," she offered, disappearing in the meantime. He could still tell where she was, because of her heat signature and other waves she excluded but for regular people she would be no different than surrounding air.

"Yeah, you can hang around and you don't have to be invisible. Just don't get in my way when I have to actually do some fighting."

She popped back to visible spectrum and pouted like Damian whenever he got benched.

"I can fight, y'know? I stopped mugging on a snack run."

It was ten god damn minutes, how could she get so much food and stop mugging in such a short time?!

Oh, right, superspeed. Still, impressive.

"I haven't seen it-" he started, channeling all Dick-trying-to-wrangle-Damian-into-socially-acceptable-activity energy he could muster "-so I don't know how you fight or even what powers do you have. If we tried to fight together we would trip over each other" It was a bare faced lie, Bat training made sure of that but he knew for fact that if he said anything else, the girl would be mad and probably did her own thing.

Was that what Bruce thought about all of them?

Oh no.

Dani still looked displeased but after a moment of consideration she nodded with a defeated sigh.

Suddenly she straightened like she got struck by lightning and whipped around.

"Wha-"

She just shushed, raising finger to her mouth. Duke did indeed quietened.

"I have enhanced hearing," she whispered "There is a mugging somewhere this way."

"Let's go then," he shot his grapple, waving his other hand at Dani to come with him before he jumped off the roof. He heard the girl giggle as she flew right after him.

"After this you'll show me the coolest gargoyles, okay? Sam asked for photos"

"Okay"

It seemed that the end of this patrol wouldn't be as bad as the start was. Hopefully.

And afterwards he was going to lock himself in his room until sky falls down or he was well rested.

Yeah, that was a good plan.

********

"Hey kid," Signal started, dropping from fire escape to cuff weirdo in clown mask who Dani just fought. He did it deliberately slowly to show her how to do it like he always did. She choose to not be to annoyed at being called kid again and noted to herself to come up with good codename later. All her previous ideas apparently weren't cutting it and she couldn't keep going by Dani because reasons.

"Yes?"

"Who gave you a combat training?" he asked getting up from a crouch and gesturing towards roof. So it's going to be longer talk, okay.

"My cousin," well, Flashes in Central taught her some stuff but it was more rescue and reassure type of deal not punch and kick, Sam tried to get her through basics of psychological warfare in activism, Tucker sweared he would teach her some programming and hacking but never got around to it, Jazz did some emotional training and Val offered to teach her Red Huntress skills when she got back, but yeah, all in all, Danny was the one to show her how to punch people. Even though it was more of 'shit we have to fight, observe maybe, idk' most of the time. She picked some tricks from Vlad too now that she thought about it, not that she planned to give him any credit for it, like, ever. "Why?"

"I have a bone to pick with him," vigilante announced, melting with the shadows. Dani sped as much as she could to beat him to the roof. She was competitive spirit like that.

Unfortunately he was first. She made another note to herself (she was so going to forget them in next five to ten minutes) to train her speed a bit more. She got tips from the guy with the title of The Fastest Man Alive for crying out loud, she shouldn't loose with the person who technically doesn't even have superspeed!

Signal sat cross legged on the gravel and tossed her a healthy granola bar. He kept doing it for some reason.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but almost everything in your fighting technique is horrible. Your cousin did shitty job as a teacher" he started in warm slightly teasing tone. Dani felt attacked anyway.

"It's not like he has any sort of training either," she started, trying to sound nonchalant, rolling her eyes. "Cut him some slack," She bit a snack in attempt to cover her furry. It had chocolate and raspberries, was quite tasty and she was kinda hungry anyway. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how Signal knew it though "Everything he learned is from the trial and error by crashing through a few walls. Quite hard to care about 'technique'. I at least got his mistakes to learn from so don't you dare to speak about him like that!" alright, she lost it, she can admit it. But, Signal might be cool and Danny may or may not like him (she hoped he didn't, Val was much better option) but Gotham's hero had no right to say anything bad about her template. He didn't know anything. He didn't understand.

Signal looked like he was going to say something so she put her ghostly vocal cords to use and growled.

Don't-harm-family/will-fight/ protect-mine/don't-you-dare

She didn't stop to consider how unlikely it was for him to understand her. She crossed her hands on her chest, glaring.

Turned out, growl was enough of the warning. He carefully picked his next words.

"Sorry, it's not the way I should've phrase it," he started, his mouth doing the thing it did when people were embarrassed with themselves but in an uncomfortable, a bit angry way. He understood his mistake, good. She calmed her glare a bit. "I wasn't aware of you circumstances. If you want, I can show you some tricks, Batman is very throughout with his training"

"No, thank you, I'm good" she was still mad. So mad. And she was not pouting.

"Of course you're good but you can be better, more efficient."

"No." Whatever Signal would propose to her, she wouldn't agree. He said mean things about Danny not even a minute before. She couldn't let him have it on a principle!

"I'll give you a cookie after every training," he pleaded "The homemade, tasty one"

Well, that changed things. A lot of things.

"Yes please!"

He apologized anyway.

********************

Second part

I know democratic winner in poll for now is "publish all at once" and believe me, I respect democracy, especially now that I finally have rights to do things, but Tumblr wouldn't let me. Too long or something. So, it'll be in parts, sorry guys. I'll try to post all of the parts this weekend though (or one each day, I'll see).

Yes, I didn't have a name for this fic until five minutes ago, how did you know? It's quite alright though, I think. If you have better idea I may reconsider

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link

@babydollbaron I need you to know your tags basically changed the trajectory of this fic

In the mornings, Steve dropped Shawn off at the before care offered by the school and then went to work. Afterwards, Shawn took the school bus home and went over to a neighbor's house, Miss Robin, until his dad got home from work.

Because of this, Steve knew he would hardly have a reason to see Eddie outside school functions and conferences. Which was fine. It was totally fine. He absolutely was not spending nights thinking about those curls under his fingers. Whenever Shawn had a story from school to tell, he hung on every word. And it was only because these were the formative years of Shawn's life.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Munson asked about our practice and I got to tell him all about it", Shawn said.

Steve paused in his current task, which was the dishes while Shawn did his homework at the kitchen table. He knew exactly what his son was talking about.

"Oh? How'd that come up?"

"I told him about it before but I didn't get to tell him about it before Yasmin started crying. He asked me and I told him."

Steve currently taught middle school, but he'd had a little experience with the younger ones. When it got close to Shawn starting school, he did his best to make sure he was prepared. And to make things a little easier on whoever was teaching him. Steve tried to be subtle with his next words.

"Tell me more about Mr. Munson."

And then the floodgates opened. Mostly because it seemed Mr. Munson was very open about his personal life. Apparently, anytime the students had a question, he answered it. Just in this five minutes between drying the dishes and plating up dinner, Steve learned that Mr. Munson played guitar, loved the color red, played a game about dragons, and was single.

"Wait, how do you know he's not married?", Steve asked.

"Because Briana asked him and he said he's not married", Shawn answered easily.

---------------------

Steve tried not to think too hard about it. Mr. Munson being single didn't change anything. Not a single thing. But a really hot alpha who was unattached and also happened to be really good with kids who his kid loved was kind of the ultimate wet dream.

For Halloween, the students were allowed to come in costume and before the day was over, Steve's email was blessed with a collection of pictures of the class, including one where several superheroes, princesses, and even a kid dressed as Chucky defeated the mighty Munson dragon.

It was so cute that Steve had half a mind to send a reply that said so but second guessed it. He didn't need to tell Shawn's teacher it was a cute picture that was the whole reason he sent it. He had to keep all correspondence professional. But it was a picture of Shawn so he was well within his rights to save all of them to his phone.

"You ha~ve a cru~ush~", Robin sang on the phone. She was pulling some dino nuggets from the oven in preparation for Shawn coming over.

"Shut up, I don't!", Steve hissed on the other end. School had just ended but there would be a staff meeting in about five minutes. "I didn't tell you so you could make fun of me-"

"Come on, you knew it was coming-"

"I told you because I just had to tell someone." Steve sighed and took of his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It's not creepy if he's Shawn's former teacher, right?"

"Steve, I'm gonna be honest, I don't think it's creepy now." Robin picked up one of the nuggets and chomped on it. "It's kind of crazy how we have dino nuggets and animal crackers but not the other way around."

"Please save that for Shawn when he gets there. What do you mean? Wouldn't it be weird?"

"You're both two grown adults. I don't see the harm in asking him out", Robin said.

Steve slouched in his chair behind his desk. "That's not the only fact here. There's the fact that he's teaching my son. If any of the other parents find out, they'll think I'm sleeping my son's way to the top."

"....In first grade? That would be pathetic."

"Most suburban gossip is, but you already know this. It's not me I'm worried about really, it's Shawn. Kids talk too and what if they make fun of him?"

"Oh no! My awesome dad is dating my awesome teacher! Whatever will I do?!", Robin wailed.

"He thinks we're awesome separately. There's no telling what he'll think of us together. And I...I don't want to give him false hope."

"Steve...when was the last time you went on a date?"

Steve let out a puff of air. "Does that one guy who ogled me a few years ago count?"

"Gross! Steve! No! Do you mean the guy who was just staring at you breast feeding?"

"Serves me right for doing it in public. And in shorts."

"Hey, no, there will be no slut-shaming in this household." Robin paused when she heard the door open and the bounding of feet. "Your gremlin is here."

"I think you mean my precious miracle from above. And you will treat him as such. My only gremlins are my sixth graders."

"Whatever. Just get your shipwreck together and decide what you want to do."

Turns out, Steve didn't have to wait long for an opportunity. Shawn had come home that day with a flyer for a Thanksgiving performance and was asking for parent volunteers.

---------------------

Eddie wasn't like, actively hoping that he would see Shawn's dad again. But when the fliers went home asking for volunteers, as well as an email, there was something going up. But it wasn't hope. It definitely wasn't hope. It couldn't possibly be hope. That way nothing could be dashed when nothing came of it.

So when he came into the auditorium after school, he was simply pleasantly surprised to see Mr. Harrington there. Not elated. Not ecstatic. Just appropriately pleased.

He greeted all the parents of his students, of which he only saw two others before coming to Mr. Harrington.

"Nice to see you again", he said with a handshake.

"And you as well", Mr. Harrington replied.

Eddie was sure he was imagining the electricity passing through their touch.

"Well, welcome to elementary theatre. Where we're gonna nurture any and all blossoming passions in the arts."

"Can't wait to see it. Um, so what exactly will they be doing?", Steve asked.

"The first grade class as the honor of doing a little song on what they're thankful for. Mrs. Clifford usually accompanies them by piano, but this year I'm hoping to get some more instrumentation for it."

"Oh, Shawn told me you play guitar."

Eddie's first instinct was to twirl his hair to hide his smile but it was still up in a bun, so he tried to fix his face to not be too obvious but he was sure it came out as a weird grimace.

"Yeah, yeah I do. Been playing for years. What about you, any instrumental skills?"

"None", Mr. Harrington shook his head. "My parents tried piano lessons, but I never took them for long. Just long enough to learn 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'."

"Everybody's got their talents. And no better place to showcase them", Eddie thrust his arms out around them.

"Well for now, I'm volunteering my time being a watchful eye and working on backgrounds and costumes. Plus snacks."

"Wait, did you bring the chips and sliders?", Eddie jutted a thumb toward the table near the stage.

Mr. Harrington shrugged. "It's just turkey and ham. And I know how ravenous kids can get."

"Are you guys talking about me?", Shawn asked, coming up to them.

Eddie watched the odd look on Mr. Harrington's face and was sure his must've looked similar. This was probably the longest he'd been talking to a parent without talking about their kid.

"I was just about to bow to your dad's culinary prowess", Eddie said. "Apparently, he made the snacks for this evening."

"I asked him to make his stuffing because, you know, Thanksgiving, but he said it was too early", Shawn said.

"I'm sure his stuffing is delicious", Eddie smiled down at him.

"You should come to our house and try it", Shawn beamed, leaning his head against his dad's hip.

Eddie looked back up at Mr. Harrington. "I'd love it if I could do that."

----------------------------

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Steve was thankfully saved from replying to that by rehearsal starting and so Mr. Munson's attention was drawn away but seriously. What the fuck was that? Was that man inviting himself over to his house? Was it simple small talk? What was it all supposed to mean?

He was put on costume duty while the children practiced which kept his hands busy but not his brain, so he spent the next hour over thinking about that one line, which led to him overanalyzing the entire conversation. When practice ended, the teachers stood by the front entrance to wait for any parents that weren't already there or hadn't shown up toward the end to get their kids.

Mr. Munson waved off the last of his students just as Shawn finished in the bathroom and Steve helped him get his coat on. He looked hesitant before speaking up.

"Looks like you're my last one. I can walk you to your car if you want. It's pretty dark out."

Pretty dark was an understatement. It was near pitch black and the parking lot had bare minimum lighting. Steve definitely would've felt better about it if he had someone on the other side of Shawn.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

And without being told so, Mr. Munson put Shawn between them as they left the school and walked out into the parking lot. He gave a whistle once they got to Steve's BMW.

"Nice car."

"Thanks. She's been pretty faithful to me all these years." Steve unlocked the car and let Shawn into the backseat first. When he closed the door, he smiled at the alpha before him. "Thanks for walking us out.

"Consider it a routine then. At least until this place can afford to fully light up the lot."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." There must have been the tiniest bit of a lull in the conversation because suddenly Shawn piped up from inside the car.

"Dad, can we get tacos for dinner?"

Steve snapped out of whatever staring contest he was having with Mr. Munson and looked down affectionately at his son. "What? My casserole not good enough all of a sudden?" He opened the driver side door and got in, turning the ignition on.

With them safely in the car, Eddie went over to his van and got in, waiting until he saw Mr. Harrington pull out before going his own way.

Later that night, after putting Shawn to bed, Steve was left alone with his thoughts again as he graded papers using an answer key at the kitchen table. It was easy to let his mind drift into just how...how wonderful Mr. Munson seemed.

He bit his lip and squeezed his legs together. Mr. Munson was handsome, and charismatic, and so safe, so much the perfect alpha that he'd been led to believe didn't exist. He could protect him and his pup... and Steve could give him more pups...

Steve's hand drifted down between his legs and he let it stroke a few times before freezing and closing his grade book. Time for something more mentally stimulating.

"Guess I'm lesson planning tonight."

Part 3

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420

[adoresmiles]

His Concealed Obsession

Chapter one.

"I just don't get how you two still have a job when you're both always at my place."

"We just came by to check in on you since the news about your neighbor broke out in the news this morning."

"Oh yeah , I saw it on the news. I feel so bad for her kids. She was always spoke to me whenever we come would come across each other . Invited me over to dinner , go out for lunch and hell she even invited me to spa dates with her and her daughter."

"You talking about Nicole?"

"Yea Jax , the same Nicole you slept with before you married your wife."

"Jaxon Tyree!"

"It was an accident Nani and I don't even know why KP brought it up."

"I hope and pray that my nephew doesn't turn out like you as he gets older."

"With all the amazing women in his life , he's going to come out a thousand times better than me."

"Anyways you need to be careful Kanani, your neighbor who was a well known attorney was murder inside of her."

"Maybe you should come and stay with one of until KP and them get everything done. Cause I be damn if my baby sister gets murdered next."

"I understand you are worried about my safety but if mom and dad haven't said anything about it yet to me then you guys shouldn't either. I'm safe here and I have an alarm system and cameras inside of my apartment."

"Now you know damn well them cameras and alarm systems ain't going to save your short ass."

"You need a guard dog and damn gun. I keep telling you to go ahead and get a gun and take classes on how to use it properly."

"Nope , I refuse to get a gun. You know how I feel about them ever since that damn party."

"Kanani you're killing us right now right now."

"I know and I'm sorry. Look how many who have guns out here and they don't even use it properly?! You have kids going to school shooting their teachers , grown ass adults who went to school coming back for revenge, young black men taking each other out."

"Hate to say this, but it's this shit happens everyday and everywhere Nani."

"Yes but also if we stop giving the wrong people guns and do a fucking throughly background check then it wouldn't be problem. Lock your guns away from your children. It's more  gun violence out there than love and I just refuse to be apart of it."

Kanani stated to her two older brothers as she walked around her kitchen counter to get herself a glass of juice.

"Think about it from our perspective. What if you were in that situation? Would you have fought back ? Call the police ?"

"Calling the police and locking them inside the closet. The closet doors lock from the outside and plus in order to even get inside you need my finger print and the code to get inside the door."

"Not saying I'm on her side here but trying to break down these doors are heavy as hell."

"It sounds like to me you're on little KP side right now. I don't suppose to say this but this per- hold on ... hello? Wassup uncle Mike?"

"While detective KP over there chatting away. Let's talk about where you are going to be staying."

"I'm not leaving my house because of some killer is on the loose. If I feel like I am in great danger then I'll show up on either yours or KP door step."

"You're going to give me gray hairs before Jordan even turns eighteen."

"That sounds like a personal problem Jaxon. Why are you trying to control something that you're not able to control yourself?"

"Because you're my baby sister Nani. If anything were to hap- if someone were to hurt you , I'll gladly sit behind bars for killing them. That goes for KP too! I'm yall older brother and it's my job to make sure that you both are good at all times. Yeah KP a detective and all but that don't matter to me."

"Jaxon I appreciate you and I know you're concerned about my safety but you have to trust me. If I feel as if my life is in jeopardy then you'll be the first one to know. Plea-"

"Aye Jax we got to go , uncle Mike and uncle Marcus need some help with this case. I can drop you off back the fire station or you good?"

"I'm good , Nani can drop me off back at the station."

"Nope , sorry can't do it. I have to go get ready before my friend comes over for our lunch date."

"Damn it's like that?"

"Sure is , now can you guys go so I can go get ready? I need at least two hours to mentally prepare myself."

"We didn't even finish our conversation."

"I'm staying home and that's final. Please don't forget that one of you has to pick up mom and dad from the airport tomorrow afternoon."

"Well I can't do it since this is my weekend it work."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I'm the one who dropped them off and plus I have back to back meetings for my store grand opening."

"Oh yeah I forgot , yeah I'll pick them up tomorrow then. I'll have Jordan tag along with me to keep me entertained on the way there."

"Aight now, we out! Be safe and don't be out here grown. We locking the door behind us since yo ass wants to walk away without giving hugs and shit."

"And share your location too, love you big head!"

"Love you too, now bye!"

Kanani expressed to them both as she walked down her hallway that lead into her bedroom. She loved her brother's but after dealing with them for long , she needed a mental reset. Their conversation regarding the circumstances of her neighbor was not necessarily needed. Yes , the situation is sad but it doesn't involve her. She could see if she was there and witnessed it but she wasn't.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock on her door. A look of confusion displayed on her face as she looked down the hallway of her home. Kanani wasn't expecting anyone until the next couple of hours. So she was confused on who or what could it possibly be . Dropping her unfolded blanket onto the ground , she decided to go and see who it could be.

"This better not be one of these neighbors kids knocking on my dam- oh hey David, what brings you by?

"These are for you señorita Kanani."

"My favorite flowers, they're so beautiful. Do you know who sent them in?"

"Frangipani plumeria. I unfortunately don't but they did leave a note for you. I have to get going , the other set of flowers are placed on your table."

"Thank you David!"

"Anything for you señorita Kanani. It seems like you have a keeper in your hands."

"That it does , hopefully this note tells me who it is."

"Have a good day."

"....hmmm who the hell sent me two sets of frangipani flowers. Dile si al cielo dime si a mi. Well that is cute of them to put my favorite song on there. Seems like this person really paid attention to me."

Kanani smiled once again as she smelled the freshly picked flowers. Frangipani flowers were simply her favorite since they reminded her of Hawai'i , where she was originally born. Now cheesing ear to ear Kanani quickly arranged the flowers to her liking before rushing off to prepare for her day.

"Today is going to be a really good ass day for me."

Translation

"dile si al cielo dime si a mi" : say yes to heaven say yes to me

[jasontoddsmommyissues]

Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Talk About

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Femme!Henderson!Reader

Summary: Y/N Henderson’s relationship with Eddie puts her at odds with Jason Carver and co.

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, bullying/harassment, slut shaming, allusions to sexual content (nothing sexual actually happens), Jason being a prick, swearing, Reader is Dustin’s sister but no physical descriptions are used and you can read it as an adopted sibling if you want, I think that’s it but let me know if I missed something

A/N: Alright, this is the first Fic I’ve ever posted on here. I’m honestly a little nervous, but hopefully you enjoy. I’ll probably end up posting this on my Ao3 too so I’ll link that at some point.

My Master List | Ao3

—

“I’m gonna miss you”, Eddie whines as he leans against the locker next to yours.

“It’s one class”, you reply as you swap out your English textbook for history, “that’s, what, an hour?”

“Actually I have Davis’s class next so it feels more like three hours”, Eddie says.

You snort. Mr. Davis has probably been around since the dinosaur era, and if there were to be a competition for most boring teacher at Hawkins High, he would win it hands down.

“It’s not funny”, Eddie teasingly pouts, “I might actually die of boredom.”

“As much as I would hate for that to happen, I’ve got my own class to get to, so unfortunately you’re on your own for now,” you reply.

“Alright well, please tell the rest of Hellfire I’m going to miss them”, he tells you, “and feel free to wear that black skirt of yours to the funeral. The tight one. It’s what I would’ve wanted.”

You roll your eyes affectionately before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re so dramatic”, you say, “I’ll see you later.”

“If I survive that long”, he calls. You shake your head before turning the corner and heading into your history classroom.

“Okay, class”, your teacher, Mr. Price announces once the bell rings, “I’ve written some questions on the board. You’ll find the answers in Chapter 5 of your textbook. Write them down and turn them in by the end of class. You may work with a partner if you’d like.”

You pull your textbook out of your bag and flip to a clean sheet in your notebook. You don’t have any friends in this class, so you figure you may as well just do it yourself and get it over with. That is, until a voice startles you as you’re about to start reading the first page of the chapter.

“Hey, Y/N. Do you wanna work together?”

You blink up at the source of the voice and are pretty sure you must be hallucinating. That’s the only explanation you can think of as to why Jason Carver would be asking you to be his partner.

The two of you have been in the same grade since Kindergarten and you can't think of a single time in all those years that he’s directly acknowledged your existence. The closest thing you have to a connection with him is that your little brother is friends with one of his new Basketball recruits, but you kind of doubt he even knows or cares about that. There’s a few members of his little posse he could be asking to work with him, so you have no clue why he’d be asking you of all people. But, you don’t have anyone else, so you shrug.

“Sure, I guess”, you say.

“Great”, he smiles, moving to sit down next to you.

“I’ll get started on number 1”, you suggest, “maybe you can do number 2 and we’ll compare?”

“Sure”, he says sweetly. You’re honestly getting a little freaked out by how friendly he’s being.

You both do your agreed upon work, and then switch off to show each other your answers.

“So?” you ask when he’s finished reading yours, “does that seem right?”

“Yeah”, he replies, “you’re good at this. You ever thought about being a tutor?”

“Oh, no, not really”, you say.

“See, I just ask because our youth group has this program where some of us older members help the younger kids out after school and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s cool”, you tell him, not really engaged the conversation. It all sounds well and good, but you really aren’t interested in being a tutor at the moment.

“You know, the church has a lot of great programs”, Jason continues, and you’re not sure what any of this has to do with the Byzantine empire, which is what you’re supposed to be discussing.

“Okay”, you say.

“They do a lot of outreach, a lot of stuff to help people who have lost their way.”

“Lost their way?” you inquire, a small part of you beginning to understand what’s actually going on.

“Yeah. You know. Made bad choices, got mixed up with the wrong people.”

“Um, I think we should just get back to the assignment”, you suggest, uncomfortable with the discussion and not wanting it to go any further.

“Look”, Jason sighs, “what I’m trying to say is, I don’t know you very well, but you seem like a nice girl. I’d hate to see you go down a bad path.”

Okay. You get it now, and it’s starting to piss you off.

“Thank you, but I’m doing just fine”, you insist.

“You’ve been hanging around with Eddie Munson”, Jason says, as if it’s some scandalous secret and not just you spending time with your boyfriend, “you really shouldn’t do that, you know…”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded he would just up and say such a thing to you.

“You can’t be serious…”, you say.

Jason leans in to you, a deadly serious expression on his face.

“I’ve heard about guys like him before”, he tells you, “I know the stuff they’re into.”

Yeah, so do you. It’s tabletop role playing games, which is about the least nefarious activity you could possibly think of. Jason clearly doesn’t see it that way, though, because he’s still going on.

“And I know they like to lure innocent people like you into their little organizations. I’m telling you, Munson is bad news. You should stay away before you get hurt.”

You seriously have to hold yourself back from laughing right in Jason’s face. You’re not sure what reality he’s living in, but it clearly isn’t the same one you are. Last weekend, you and Eddie had watched Terms of Endearment and he’d started to cry (well started tearing up at least, even sniffled a little, though he vehemently denied it). There’s not a single situation in which you can ever imagine him causing you intentional harm.

“Okay, you know what”, you say, “I think I’m gonna finish the rest of the assignment alone, thanks.”

Jason grabs your arm gently but firmly. “I’m serious, Y/N. He’s dangerous. Stay away from him before you end up hurt or killed.”

You’re really not sure what the most offensive part of all this is. It’s either that Jason thinks that somehow Eddie Munson, your lovable dork of a boyfriend,is secretly an evil Satanist cult leader, or that you’re apparently too stupid or naive to make that kind of judgment for yourself. Maybe it’s that he volunteered to work with you on an assignment and acted all friendly with you just so he could get this opportunity to preach to you about your supposedly “dangerous” lifestyle. He’s never given you the time of day before, after all.

“I don’t know what it is you think you see in him, but I promise you it’s not going to end well.”

You snort. Is he, what, jealous or something? He’s got a girlfriend, after all, and plenty of other girls who’d be willing to take her place if she were to leave him. It’s kind of sad that he’s apparently so insecure that the mere thought of Eddie Munson getting female attention is enough to have him losing his shit like this.

“Whatever”, you spit, “just leave me alone.”

He glares at you, but ultimately turns his attention to his textbook and doesn’t speak to you for the rest of the class.

-

You happily shove the encounter out of your mind once the bell rings. You’re perfectly content with the social circle you keep, and you’re not going to let some jock with an inflated sense of self importance change that.

Jason apparently doesn’t do the same because he spends lunch glaring at you from his table. Granted, him shooting disgusted looks in the general direction of the Hellfire Club is a regular occurance, but today he’s making it obvious his ire is directed specifically at you.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Eddie asks.

“I dunno”, you shrug, “he’s just an asshole.”

Eddie peers at him for a moment and you can see a familiar glint of mischief twinkle in his eye. Before you can comment, he’s dramatically pushing himself to his feet and sauntering over to Jason and company.

“What do you want?” Jason demands.

“Couldn’t help but notice you staring”, Eddie says, “just wanted to let you know that I’m flattered, but unfortunately you aren’t really my type. Sorry.”

“Fuck off”, Jason barks, “disgusting freak.”

“Don’t take it too hard”, Eddie says, giving him a joking pat on the shoulder before making his way back over to you. You stifle a laugh at the indignant look plastered on Jason’s face. Eddie shoots you a proud grin and you shake your head affectionately. Jason clearly doesn’t know shit about “guys like Eddie.”

-

The next few days pass by uneventfully. Jason doesn’t try talking to you again, which you’re thankful for. Wednesday starts out normally, you go to history, and Jason roundly ignores your presence. Then you have to go to your next class, which is gym.

Definitely not a favorite of yours, and you don’t even have Eddie in your class to ease the pain. You make it through your warm ups, and then the coach has you split up to practice your volleyball serves. Everything’s going well until Andy, one of Jason’s buddies, approaches you out of nowhere.

“Hey, Henderson”, he says, a smirk on his face, “you think you could score me some weed?”

You look at him, confused. You don’t get involved in Eddie’s side hustle, so you’re not sure why he’d ask you.

“What?”

“Oh, I just figured you probably get a good discount”, he goes on, “I mean, that’s why you let Munson fuck you, right?”

You freeze in shock, your cheeks starting to grow hot. You can’t say you’re used to people making comments about your sex life, especially not to your face.

“I mean, I gotta say”, Andy continues, a cruel glint in his eye, “I didn’t take you for a slut. But come on. Spreading your legs for that freak? Jesus, that’s sad. You know, I’d be happy to show you a good time, since you’re so desperate for it.”

You can only stand there, mouth agape. Sure, you’ve gotten a gross comment or two from a male classmate before, but nothing like this. You certainly have never been called a slut before. You try to formulate a response, but you can’t come up with one. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the coach’s whistle rings out, signaling for you all to hit the changing rooms. You dash out of the gym, more than pleased to be away from Andy.

You hop in the shower in the locker room, take a few moments to shake off the discomfort of the interaction. You’re not entirely successful in that endeavor, because it keeps playing in your mind even after you’re dressed and making your way back into the hallways.

You have no idea where the hell Andy came up with all of that. At this point, it’s common knowledge that you and Eddie are dating, but you don’t know where this idea that you’re sleeping with him for drugs came from. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Hey, Beautiful”, you’re distracted from your thoughts by Eddie, who comes happily bounding over to you. His face falls when he sees the look on your face though.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine”, you say. Something about the idea of telling Eddie about what happened leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s embarrassing, and you definitely don’t want him to feel like it’s somehow his fault that Jason and Andy are giving you a hard time.

Besides, it doesn’t matter. Once again, nothing they say about you or Eddie is true. You can’t let some stupid jocks get to you.

-

Honestly, you probably could’ve been okay, if that was the end of it. Unfortunately, things only get worse the next day.

As you make your way to your seat in history, you catch sight of Amber and Samantha, two cheerleaders who like to hang around Jason and the others, whispering as you walk by.

You ignore them, figuring you’re being paranoid and they probably aren’t even talking about you, but when you sit down, Amber turns and looks you right in the eye.

She raises her voice then, clearly intending for you to hear what she’s saying.

“I hope she’s gotten tested”, she tells Samantha, “I can’t imagine what nasty shit the Freak is passing on to her.”

You take a deep breath, turning away from her.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, it’s not true.

“I hope the drugs are worth it,” Samantha says.

You clench your jaw as you slip into your seat. It shouldn’t bother you so much. It's not true, and even if it were, who cares what Amber and Samantha have to say about it?

You’re dating Eddie because you like him. You like the way he’s always joking around and making you laugh, you like that he makes a point of looking out for Dustin and his friends, you like the way he looks at you with those big puppy dog eyes and flashes that mischievous grin. Cheap access to his drugs has never even crossed your mind.

You shouldn’t concern yourself with what they say, you know that, but hearing your name in connection with “slut” grinds at you.

-

During gym class, you do your best to avoid Andy, because everytime he notices you looking at him, he’s making some suggestive gesture at you. You don’t bother telling anyone about it, since Andy’s on the basketball team and the coach would probably take his side.

In the hallway, you accidentally bump into Patrick from the basketball team. You mutter an apology, which he accepts, but his girlfriend gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t talk to her”, you hear her tell him as you walk away, “she’s a slut.”

-

All of the gossip has put you in a foul mood by the time you get to your second to last period of the day, which happens to be study hall.

Like always, it’s in the cafeteria, with you and a bunch of other students of varying grade levels all sitting around doing your homework. Technically, you’re not supposed to talk, but the teacher in charge is way too underpaid to worry about enforcing that, so you can usually get away with conversation as long as things don’t get too rowdy.

You’re not taking advantage of that today, rather trying your best to distract yourself by actually doing your homework. You’re halfway through summarizing Act 3 of Hamlet when you hear someone say your name.

“Hey, Y/N…”

You’re confused when you look up to find Lucas standing there. Technically, you’ve known him for years, but it’s not like you’ve ever associated with him outside the time he spends with Dustin.

“What?” you ask, a little meaner than you mean to.

“I just thought you should know that…well, I think Jason has been going around saying things about you.”

Of course. You should’ve known Jason was behind this. Jason fucking Carver. Captain of the Basketball Team. Active member of the local church. Son of one of the most respected families in Hawkins. He’s clearly used to people listening to whatever he has to say. Apparently, his ego couldn’t handle you dismissing his comments about your relationship with Eddie.

Jesus, you’d always known he was a bit of an asshole, but this is a level of pettiness you’d never expected, even from him.

“Don’t tell him I told you”, Lucas adds, “but I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you”, you say. You’re definitely glad to have that piece of information.

-

The next day, you storm into Mr. Price’s classroom with righteous fury coursing through your veins. You bypass your desk and instead march straight up to Jason.

He pauses his conversation with Andy and Samantha when he sees you approach.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You demand.

“Excuse me?” Jason asks.

“I know you’ve been starting rumors about me”, you tell him, “what exactly is your problem, Jason?”

“Me? I don’t have a problem”, Jason insists, “I just think it’s fair the men of Hawkins High get a warning about your ‘extracurricular’ activities.”

You can feel heat flood your cheeks.

“You’re a dick, Jason!” you hiss.

“You know, Y/N”, Jason retorts, “I actually feel bad for you. I mean, no decent man is ever going to want you when they find out you’ve been giving it up to some trailer trash freak.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, you snap.

“Believe me, I know exactly what happens to girls who hang around with filthy, Satan-worshiping scumbags”, he says, “and you know what? I’m not going to feel sorry for you when they’re finding your body dumped in the woods.”

“Get over yourself!”

“Whatever”, Jason shakes his head, “I’m not gonna take the attitude from some little slut.”

You’re not fully in control of yourself during what happens next. One second you’re standing there listening to Jason degrade you, the next your fist is connecting with his face.

He stands there, stunned for a moment, before opening his mouth to say something. He doesn’t get the chance though, because Mr. Price gets to it first.

“Ms. Henderson”, he gasps, “Mr. Carver, what on earth is going on here?”

“She punched me in the face”, Jason spits accusingly.

“I-I…I’m sorry I…”

“Enough”, Mr. Price sighs, “I want both of you going to the principal’s office right now!”

-

You’re in deep shit. That much is immediately clear. You punched Jason Carver in the face. It’s not like you even claim it was self defense, since he didn’t do anything physical to you.

“So”, Principal Higgins sighs, “tell me what happened again?”

“She punched me in the face”, Jason hisses.

“Is that true?”

“Yes”, you sigh, “but he called me a slut.”

Principal Higgins rubs his temple, processing the information. Meanwhile, Jason’s gaze is fixed firmly on you, his eyes full of hatred.

“Mr. Carver”, Higgins says finally, “that is not appropriate language to use in regards to another student. You may go back to class, but I better not hear about something like this again.”

Jason stands and marches out of the office, as if he has a right to be pissed about Higgins’ scolding. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he gets a slap on the wrist. Nobody wants to punish the star basketball player. You’re certain that if it were anyone else, Eddie or Dustin or one of the other Hellfire Club members, they definitely wouldn’t be getting off so easily.

“Now, as for you Ms. Henderson”, Higgins says, “we do not allow for any sort of violence in this school. However, in all your years at this school, you have never had to receive any form of discipline. So I’m willing to be flexible here. Normally, something like this could be grounds for suspension, but since this is your first time, I say it’s two weeks detention after school starting next Monday. Does that sound fair to you?”

Not really, no, but you can’t say that.

“Yes”, you reply instead.

“Alright. Good. Now go back to class. And Ms. Henderson, I sincerely hope I won’t have to see you in my office again.”

-

You’re in a bad mood when Mr. Price’s class finally ends. You’ve gone your entire high school career without getting a detention and now you’ve ruined that over some pompous dick bag. Speaking of, Jason has been staring daggers at you since you returned to class, and is continuing to do so even now as you’re leaving.

There’s a tense, awkward moment where you both stand there in the hallway, glaring at each other, but it’s broken when the force of a body colliding with your back almost takes you off your feet. Jason is forgotten when a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Eddie”, you huff playfully.

“How’d you know it was me?” he asks as you turn around to face him.

“Cause you can’t keep your hands to yourself, Munson”, you reply.

“Don’t blame me”, he replies, “you know I’m powerless to resist your charms.”

Before you can reply he’s pulling you close and beginning to press kisses to your cheek. You know the two of you are making a scene, and on any other day you might be a little self conscious about it, but today you’re just glad to have him around.

His kisses stop suddenly and you realize he’s stopped because he’s finally noticed Jason’s hateful glaring. Unfazed as always, he just flashes a cocky smile and gives Jason a mocking impression of a friendly wave. Jason makes a face like he’s wishing for both you and Eddie’s violent deaths.

“Geez”, Eddie comments, “he looks pissed.”

“Um, yeah, probably because I punched him in the face”, you mutter.

Eddie’s eyes widen in obvious surprise.

“He had it coming”, you add, “he was being a Dick.”

You know you don’t have to defend yourself to Eddie. He knows better than anyone how nasty Jason can be.

“My, my, Fair Lady Henderson”, he smiles, “I dare say that was very Metal of you.”

“Yeah, well, Higgins didn’t think so”, you reply, “I got two weeks detention for it.”

“Ol’ Higgins never did have a sense of humor”, Eddie says, “but from where I’m standing, you’re basically a hero.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah”, Eddie tells you, “Jason and his goons have been making our lives miserable for years.”

You can’t help but smile at that. You’re definitely not happy with the day’s events, but knowing Eddie’s on your side makes it a little more bearable.

-

On Monday you begrudgingly make your way to Mrs. Cline’s room for your first day of detention.

“Ms. Henderson?” she asks when you walk in.

“Yeah”, you say, a little embarrassed.

“Wonderful”, she says, checking your name off of a list in front of her, “please take a seat.”

There’s only two other people in there with you, so you just pick a seat as far from them as possible and sit down.

“Alright”, Mrs. Cline says, “looks like everyone’s here except…”

“I’m here.”

You look up in surprise to see Eddie come walking into the room.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Munson”, Mrs. Cline says dryly, “what a surprise. Please take a seat.”

You know that Eddie isn’t a stranger to detention, but it’s weird that he didn’t mention anything to you when you’d told him about it. He walks over to the desk next to yours, looking way too pleased for someone who’s about to serve a stint in detention.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Oh, you know, got caught vandalizing the boy’s locker room during free period”, he tells you.

“What? When?”

“Friday”, he says with a satisfied smirk.

You frown. This must’ve happened after the whole Jason thing on Friday which means…

Which means Eddie did it knowing that you were also going to be in detention.

“Eddie”, you say, “did you get detention just because I did?”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?” he grins.

You can’t help but smile along with him.

“Mr. Munson, Ms. Henderson”, Mrs. Cline calls from her desk, “no talking during detention.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips and waits until Mrs. Cline looks away before giving you a playful wink. You stifle a giggle.

You don’t know Jason all that well, but you’re pretty sure he would never dream of landing himself in detention just to keep his girlfriend company. You’ve never seen him make a scene in the middle of the hallways to get her to smile. That’s the thing about this that really gets under your skin. Jason and the others don’t know shit. They think that just because Eddie doesn’t fall into their narrow definition of “acceptable”, he must be scary and dangerous. They think that just because you’re not afraid of him, you must be dirty and corrupted. They’re too close-minded to look closer and see that Eddie is the sweetest boyfriend you could ever imagine, that you spend time with him because he makes you happy. They’d rather write him off as a freak and you off as a slut than accept that maybe their perception is wrong.

You’re far from being a violent person, but you can’t say you regret what you did. Jason deserved to be put in his place, and it’s not like you did any serious damage to him anyway. You’re glad you stood up for yourself, for Eddie. You’ve probably tacked “psycho bitch” onto your already unflattering “whore” reputation, but at this point, you’re not sure you care. If being a freak means you get to spend your days with the love of your life, you will gladly accept that label.

-

After the designated two hours are up, Mrs. Cline dismisses you all.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad”, you say as you and Eddie start making your way through the hall.

“Nah”, he replies, “I mean it’s boring but it’s not bad.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not planning on having to do this again”, you continue, “but it’s bearable.”

Eddie nods.

“I’m sorry, by the way”, he adds.

“For what?”

“Jason and the others. They’ve been giving you a hard time, right?”

“Yeah”, you shrug, “it is what it is. Not your fault.”

“I mean it kind of is”, Eddie replies, “they’re only doing it because you’re dating me.”

“Eddie”, you say, “Jason’s an asshole, okay? That’s not on you. If he can’t handle our relationship, then fuck him.”

That gets a grin out of Eddie.

“You know, you’re getting to be quite a rabble rouser, Henderson”, he jokes.

“I’m learning from the best”, you tease back.

Eddie’s smile widens. He follows you out to your car and then presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“See you tomorrow, Sweetheart”, he says and then heads off to his van. You watch him go, butterflies still lingering in your tummy from the contact.

If you’d actually had any doubts about Eddie, they would’ve disappeared in that moment. That feeling, it’s a one of a kind thing. No one’s ever managed to give it to you before, and you’re not sure anyone else ever will. You love Eddie. He loves you. He’s sweet, and silly and he treats you right. If your peers want to believe a bunch of bullshit about you two, then let them. You know what you have, and you’re not going to let them ruin it for you.

Grinning to yourself, you hop in your car, put the Black Sabbath tape you borrowed from Eddie into the player and head home.