#managing a classroom of thirty or so kids

[not-those-kids]

some of yall never taught kids or interacted with them for longer than ten seconds and especially in very large groups

[bunnyhugs77]

Daddy Daycare

Pairing: Technician! Jungkook x Teacher's Assistant! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Part: 1, 2, 3

Series Content: daycare au, suggestive themes, love at first sight? dilf jk, mentions of antidepressants, mint jk and blonde jk, jk cant sleep, sexual themes, he's so whipped, toxic ex, minor baby mama drama, gold diggers, mentions of death, complicated family history, cute kid cameos, reader can't drive, jk is good with his hands, mentions of abusive relationships, so much fluff.

Other Series Content: soft dom! jk, muscle kink, pussy puts his ass to sleep, unprotected sex (just don't), oral sex (f! and m! receiving), brief choking, minor breeding kink, hickeys, brief dom! reader, reader makes him wait, intimate cuddling, praise.

"Ready for a new year, Y/n?"

Your nose was filled with the smell of fresh paint and scotch tape as you and your co-worker Vanessa who goes by Ms. Powell when the class is swarming with bright and bustling four-year-old's.

The loud sound of ripping tape rang through your ears as you pasted the pieces onto the back of the welcome sign. The sun was hardly out as the two of you arranged to arrive at your new classroom bright and early at 5 am to finish off the decorations for the classroom.

"I can't believe the summer is finished already." You say with a rejuvenated smile. "I can only imagine how fast the time flies when you're travelling Europe." She reminds you of your two-week-long travels across the south of Europe.

Standing to your feet for what feels like the first time ever after hours of crouching and kneeling to finish up the decorations. "I think that's the last of it," with a puff of air and a pair of hands on your hips you smile to yourself, satisfied with the lively environment the two of you managed to create.

"I think we're ready," Vanessa says, cracking open a fresh whiteboard marker to sign your names on the board in a warm welcome.

With a quick glance down to your watch. "-and just in time too,".

The sun had peaked over the horizon no more than thirty minutes ago which means that theatrical parents would be rolling in any minute now to send off their kids to what could possibly be their first day away from them.

You both took the last few minutes to run down the hall and get changed, making sure you both looked ready to take on 22 pre-schoolers. Although you weren't the head teacher, you still had just as much of a responsibility as Vanessa did and it wasn't always easy.

The scar on your upper arm which was victim to the shark-like teeth of an ambitious little boy last year can attest to that.

You smiled warmly to some parents who passed by you in the halls on your way back to the classroom. Some familiar faces, some new, although based on the direction they were walking, they weren't any kids in your class.

By the time you returned to yours, there were already two parents bidding their farewells with their energetic offspring who were already reaching for the crayons you'd left on each table.

You slowly made your way to the front with Vanessa as the two of you prepared to introduce yourselves to the large crowd of parents and students that situated themselves around the room.

The energy was high, you could practically feel some of the anxiety and excitement from the crowd.

"Hello everyone!" Vanessa starts, clasping her hands together, "On behalf of Sunshine Circles Daycare, we want to give you all a warm welcome to our class."

Vanessa introduces herself professionally before briefly gesturing to you, cueing your smile, "And this is Ms. Hill, she will be assisting both me and the students around the classroom. I wouldn't be able to do this without her." You nod along, preparing yourself to speak.

"Yes, so if ever Ms. Powell is unavailable, don't be afraid to share any questions or concerns with me that you have about the class or your child." Out of sight, somewhere in the crowd a pair shuffled through the large group of bodies and made their way to the front.

"We're looking forward to-" You paused, your eyes meeting the eyes of the man who just emerged from the crowd while holding the small hand of who you presumed was his son, he looked a little younger than the rest of the parents, and significantly buffer if you must add.

You could see peaks of his soft blue hair sticking out from underneath his black beanie that matched his black wife beater. He flashes you a coy smile, so innocent and handsome to the point he'd made you forget your train of thought and completely forget what you were in the middle of saying.

"I think what Ms. Hill was about to say was that we're looking forward to having a wonderful year full of learning and fun." Vanessa fills in your blanks and all you could utter was a small 'mhm!'.

With that said, the parents that'd been here since the very beginning had naturally begun to take their leave, not without a tight hug and reassuring kiss to their child's forehead of course.

"Sorry we're late," You turn around, and it's as if the air was sucked out of your lungs. The man was even more stunning up close, but that was something you vowed you would never acknowledge again. He's the guardian of one of your students, it would be unprofessional.

"That's no problem at all, life happens," you chirp, almost too happily. "Isn't that the truth, Ryan here couldn't seem to find his favourite shoes and refused to wear anything but." The man smiles, and wow, even his smile was attractive.

If you thought his smile was contagious you just couldn't stop yourself from beaming when you finally looked down to meet Ryan's big grin. "Look! It's lightning McQueen!" He shouts, stomping his feet at one hundred miles a minute, the base of his sneakers flashing red and white as he does so.

"Your shoes are awesome! I wish mine could do that." You return his big energy with a bit of a softer tone, oblivious to the way the man is watching you intently. All of a sudden Ryan was hopping up and down, tugging on his dad's arm, "Can I colour?!" He points to the table full of markers and blank papers.

"Well, you're going to have to ask Ms. Hill first, okay buddy?" The man looks at you with a damn near glow in his gaze, "Of course it's okay. Use as many colours as you'd like." Before you could even finish your sentence, Ryan was long gone, only the flashes of his sneakers were proof that he hadn't teleported.

"Have you been teaching here long?" He asks, prompting you to shake your head. "This is actually only my second year teaching here," subconsciously his plump bottom lip found itself victim between his teeth. "Ah," he sighs.

There was a brief pause in your conversation. As if it were planned, both of your gazes dropped down to analyze the other's left hand, looking for any signs of that metallic band wrapped around the ring finger.

Seems like you were both in the clear, for now.

Your conversation resumed as if the ring inspection never even happened and soon the both of you were finally making introductions. "The kids call me Ms. Hill, but you're more than welcome to call me Y/n." That lip ring was taunting you as it sat so comfortably in his plush pink lips that stretched into a soft smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Y/n, I'm Jungkook."

~~

"Goddamn it." You mutter. Giving the projector another hard hit in the back as it flickered and failed to turn on. It had been giving you a hard time all week.

You're at least grateful it let you have a successful first week of the year but now it was acting up more than ever. Kids would be coming any minute and Vanessa was stuck in traffic, so you would somehow need to find a way to fix this and supervise all before--

"Good morning Ms. Hill," Never mind you think, giving the projector one last frustrated tap. Disregarding it as if it never happened and focusing on Jungkook and Ryan who just walked in.

Ryan shouts a cheery good morning of his own before getting his hands on the toy car he's grown fond of over the last week. Unspokenly declaring it as his own.

"I couldn't help but notice.. and hear your frustrations with the projector from down the hall. Something wrong?" He takes two confident strides towards the equipment with you trailing along.

"Yeah, it's been breaking down all week. I was hoping to show the kids a video today, but it seems I may have to improvise." He didn't respond with anything more than his warm smile as he laid his hand down on the top of the projector giving it a once over.

His brows furrow ever so slightly before he lets out a little laugh.

"What's so funny?" your arms cross instinctively, eyes never leaving his lean frame as he practically struts over to the outlet and properly plugs in the cord, the graphics now displaying perfectly on the screen.

"In all of my years working in tech, that may have been one of the hardest cases to solve." He teases and you subconsciously let your tongue poke the inside of your cheek, failing to hide an embarrassed smile.

You waved to the parents who were dropping off more students, "If you ever have any more technical issues, I'd be happy to help." He reaches into his back pocket and places one of his business cards in your hand. "I will, thank you."

You shook off whatever the hell it was that was bubbling in your stomach, and reminded yourself things were strictly professional and he was only offering to be nice, nothing more.

-

The weeks were flying by without you realizing it until Thanksgiving was mere weeks around the corner. Which meant today was show and tell. Vanessa instructed everyone to sit on the carpet in a big circle.

Yesterday you reminded parents to help their child to find something they loved at home so they could bring it to show and tell.

"Thanksgiving is a special day of the year where we-" Vanessa was in the middle of explaining from where she sat crisscrossed on the carpet in the circle while you picked up the abandoned crayons and papers on the desk.

"Eat lots of food," cute giggles filled the room from Carly's outburst. "Yes, that's right. We eat lots of food on Thanksgiving and it's a day to be grateful for everything you have. Can anyone tell me what it means to be grateful for something?"

The class had never been so quiet, full of scrunched brows and blank stares. "It means to be happy with what you have. How many of you have toys at home?" Almost all hands shot up at once, you were afraid someone would lose an eye.

"Do you like your toys,? The room filled with lots of loud and affirmative responses, "To be grateful for something like your toys means showing them extra love and saying thank you to your parents who bought them."

By the time you'd finished cleaning up and joined the circle, they were about halfway through the circle for show and tell, everyone getting a chance to say what they brought and why they loved it along with passing it around the circle.

"Thank you for sharing Ms. Cuddlepuff with us Riley."

"Ryan, what did you bring?" He practically lights up when his turn finally comes around. He introduced his favourite blue race car, and described it as fast and shiny, even holding it while he spun the wheels for us.

"What an amazing car! Do you want to pass it around?" He shakes his head. You tried to be gentle understanding why he wouldn't want to share, "Don't you want your friends to be able to see your amazing car too?" He shakes his head, hugging his toy close to his chest and scooting further back, removing himself from the circle.

"Ryan-" Vanessa tries to reason but he starts to yell, "I don't want to share! It's mine!" He stomps his feet, the lights on his shoes flashing red, a similar shade to his furious expression.

You looked over to Vanessa, the both of you deciding you weren't going to fight him on it.

"Okay Jamie, what did you bring today?" He shakes his head as if he is mimicking Ryan's behaviour. "I don't want to share either."

Oh boy.

Finding a way to get the rest of the class to share their objects had taken all of your willpower and the rest of the day, right until parents were walking in, ready for pick up.

"Hey," You smile as you watched Jungkook walk in wearing his typical white collared shirt with the top button open giving you only the slightest peak of the silver chain beneath that sat atop his honey-kissed skin--

"Daddy!" Ryan squeaked, running off to grab his coat and shoes.

"How was he today?" You tried to hide your regret but he noticed it, no matter how fast it flashed across your features. "What is it?" His voice was soft, welcoming any feedback.

"He had a bit of a hard time sharing during the show and tell. He didn't want his classmates to touch his car, which I understand but we try to encourage the students to be kind and share." Your heart was pounding, you always hated these kinds of talks.

You felt that it was just criticism, but in reality, it was just one rainy in comparison to one hundred sunny ones. Jungkook exhaled heavily. "I don't know what is with him and this car, he won't even let me hold it."

As if on cue, Ryan comes running back to his father with his jacket on and car in hand. His dad ruffles his hair playfully while the boy wraps his arms around his father's legs.

"I'm sorry about what happened. We're working on it, I promise." Nothing but sincerity rolled off his tongue as he looked down at the child who clung to his jeans.

"Come on buddy, let's go. Say bye to Ms. Hill."

"Bye, Ms. Hill!" He waves back to you before walking out the door.

As the clock rolled closer the 4:30, all the kids had gone home and it was just you and Vanessa going through the schedules for tomorrow.

"So how long are you gonna keep flirting with Ryan's dad." maybe you'd put on too much lotion earlier, it was pure coincidence that your pencil had immediately fallen from your hand.

She laughs as if something were hilarious. "I am so not flirting with him." She rolls her eyes, "Oh please, I have never seen you spend nearly half as much time talking to the other parents as much as you talk to him. Not to mention the hearts in your eyes."

You let your head fall into your hands out of sheer embarrassment, "I don't know what to do!" You almost shriek into your sweaty palms.

"A word of advice, save yourself the trouble and don't get involved. I don't believe that he's married but that doesn't mean there are no strings attached either. Believe me, I've been there, things can get messy and it's just not something you want."

Vanessa was bout seven years older than you, somewhere around 32 so you always took her advice to heart. "But didn't you end up marrying them, and then have two children?" She goes silent. "Yeah, well life is unpredictable."

You groan, letting your body fall back onto the carpet.

-

"Attention passengers, This is your driver speaking. I regret to inform you that we are currently experiencing a mechanical issue, and the bus has broken down. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause."

Your head rolled back and hit the wall behind you. This is fantastic. It was supposed to be a great day today. It's Friday today. Specifically the last day before your three-day long weekend before the long weekend with Thanksgiving falling on the Monday.

You checked the time, 7:45. You should be there in 10 minutes, and honestly, you considered getting off the bus and walking but there were about 4 inches of freshly fallen snow from last night covering the city and it was far too cold to embark on such a journey at this time of day.

You wouldn't be there until 9 at the earliest.

Meanwhile,

"Have a great day Ryno. Daddy loves you." Jungkook places a quick peck on Ryan's forehead watching him join his friends. He couldn't help himself from scanning the class for you, wondering where you were.

In the meantime he approached Vanessa, handing her a small gift box. "I know Ryan has such a big personality, so here's a little something to help you get through the day." He smiles, "Happy Thanksgiving."

She was shocked to be receiving a gift for Thanksgiving, she usually only expected them around the holidays. It was a $50 gift card to her favourite coffee shop, she has their signature cup of coffee on her desk every morning. "Thank you, Mr. Jeon, this is incredibly thoughtful, and Ryan is such a delight to teach."

"I also have something for Ms. Hill, but I haven't seen her. Is she away today?" Vanessa's brows scrunched, realizing that you would usually be there by now. Her phone begins to ring, "Oh- This is her calling now." Jungkook didn't know whether to stay and listen but he couldn't bring himself to walk away.

"Your bus broke down? Where?"

"East of Park Avenue? That's 30 minutes away." Jungkook's brain was doing summersaults around a mental map he was programming in his head trying to locate where you were based on the information he was hearing.

The conversation continued for a minute more until it ended with Vanessa reminding you to 'stay warm'. "God, that's terrible. It's freezing outside." Jungkook frets and Vanessa manages to contain her thoughts from expressing themselves on her face, suppressing the smirk and opting for a head nod instead.

No less than 5 minutes had passed when Jungkook found himself behind the wheel driving towards your location. The minutes passed like seconds when he spotted the bus sitting on the side of the road.

Parking right behind it, he stepped out of the car and walked along the sides of it trying to spot you, but you saw him first. At first, you couldn't believe it but once you saw that ring tucked into his bottom lip, all doubts were gone.

You grabbed your bag and stepped off the bus, meeting him there at the steps. Looking down at him as the snow gently fell on his beanie, neither of you spoke. Your eyes seemed to be doing all the talking.

"Er-hem." Someone cleared their throat behind you, letting you know that they also wanted to get off and you were blocking the way. Apologizing you stepped off and to the side.

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard about what had happened and I couldn't stand there and do nothing. It's freezing out here." You could hardly look at him, he was just too cute, his nose and cheeks were beginning to turn a little rosy from the cold breeze that swept the snow across the sky.

"You came all this way just to give me a ride?" There were puffs of condensation with every breath and he nodded slowly, a little afraid he was coming off as a creep. "Y-yeah, I hope that's alright with you."

"That's perfectly fine with me, let's go before I lose feeling in my fingers for good." he snickers as you practically run towards the car that he'd unlocked.

You were so relieved to be sitting in a warm car with heated seats.

It was no time before Jungkook pulled out and began the careful drive back to the daycare.

The silence was comfortable and it gave you time to focus on regaining feelings in your limbs.

"I never knew that you took the bus," Jungkook starts, turning your face away from the flurries that fall outside the window and landing on the side of his face as he feigns concentration on the road.

"It's my only option since I don't drive," Jungkook's jaw fell open. He tried to catch it in time but it was too late, "Yeah yeah I know. I'm 25 and I don't drive." He takes advantage of the red light to face you, "There's no shame in that. I didn't mean to come off as judgy I was just surprised."

"No, I know. I'm not mad, I'm actually used to it. " The silence resumes, "Is there a reason why you don't drive?" He immediately regretted asking, he felt like he was prying and didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You were already in his car for god's sake.

"You don't have to-"

"I was 19." 

Never mind, he thinks. You seemed more than ready to share.

"I was coming home from school, I had just finished my first exam of many, the roads were dark and I was tired. I thought I saw something run across the street but I told myself I was seeing things. Suddenly there was a thud. My car rocked over and over again, so finally, I stopped. I got out and I was terrified to see the trail of blood that ran behind my wheel. There was a black cat that got caught on my tires and kept getting dragged and rolled around for 20 yards."

Jungkook's hand had somehow found its way cupped over his mouth throughout your story, nothing could have prepared him for a story like that.

"I'm a monster. I know. I've never driven since that day. It's best for the world If I simply don't drive." Now resuming his driving, he took one hand off the wheel to place on your shoulder. "Don't talk like that. You're not a monster. It's not your fault. It's not like you did it on purpose. I'm sure the cat forgives you."

You shake your head, "It doesn't change what I did."

Somehow the conversation had taken a brighter turn to the long weekend. "What are your plans for the weekend?" You ask him as he turns into the parking lot of the daycare.

"Same as always, Ryan and I will probably watch movies, cook and do some crafts." Your heart warmed at the engaged weekend he had ahead of him. "That sounds so sweet. I'm sure you guys have loads of fun." He nods, "How about you?"

You laugh sadly, "My parents decided to ditch the cold weather this year and headed to Florida a few weeks ago, so I'll be thankful for wool socks and gossip girl." he laughs.

"You know, It'd be a shame to spend the holidays on your own. You're more than welcome to join our festivities." you looked out the window, not in disinterest but so that he couldn't see the way your cheeks tinted pink.

He parks, "No I wouldn't want to impose on-"

"I insist. You wouldn't be doing anything of the sort. it would be nice to have you." You smile. "Okay, I'll be there,"

The hours flew by faster than you could even realize. Practically startled to see a parent walking into the classroom ready to pick up their child, and just like that, the day was over.

There were no more than a handful of kids left, but no more than the usual 5 or 6 whose parents had signed them up for aftercare due to their schedules, including Ryan who you just watched offer his crayons to his classmate Lia.

Vanessa was quick to acknowledge his kindness and gave him a sticker, you would have loved to have been part of the moment but unfortunately, you were just pulled into the hall by another teacher being asked to supervise another class while she used the bathroom.

By the time you returned, you saw Jungkook and Ryan packing up the last of their things getting ready to go, but he seemed almost relieved to see you.

"I never got the chance to give this to you earlier this morning," He hands you a small bag. You were stunned at what was inside. "In the spirit of thanksgiving, I wanted to show you my gratitude." He smiles.

You pry the bag open delicately moving over the tissue paper to see a hardcover novel. You knew the cover anywhere. "I've been trying to get my hands on this book for months! It's been sold out everywhere how did you get it?"

A sly grin slowly works its way across his features but he doesn't say. "How did you even know I wanted this?" You were trying your best to resist the urge to hug him. "I'd only seen you with the previous book laying on your desk wide open a dozen times, and all the sticky notes you'd have sticking out. It was a lucky guess that you were a fan of the series."

Stunned to silence, you let your smile speak for itself. "I love it. Thank you so much." His hand raises to his chest as a sign of relief but it is actually him trying to calm his racing heart. He was afraid you wouldn't like it; but what was there not to like?

How couldn't you like it?

-

Why couldn't you find anything you liked? Nearly half your closet was on your bed, quickly falling to the floor over time as you searched high and low for something to wear. This would be the first time Jungkook would see you outside of your workloads so you wanted to look good, but not too good of course.

You didn't want to seem like you were trying too hard. Being effortlessly flawless was the look you were trying to go for but you fear you've passed that point as you started to break a sweat a few minutes ago.

Unsure of how much time has passed, feeling stuck in the endless fashion time warp continuum. The pit in your stomach suddenly grew three times larger once you'd realized you had no more than 30 minutes to get ready if you wanted to catch your bus.

Begrudgingly, you finally picked something to wear. A minimalistic brown crew neck with your black Lulu leggings and beige wool socks that would match perfectly with your Uggs. You wanted to look cute but still put together, so you decided to slick your hair up into a neat bun.

Scrambling to grab your bag and your house keys before you paced your way down the street to the bus stop.

Watching the apartment buildings slowly become more narrow and shorter as you saw more and more modern condos. Only 20 minutes had passed on your commute until it was time to begin your 7-minute walk to your destination.

With one last sneak peek into your bag to make sure the desserts you'd brought were still in order and weren't dishevelled at some point during your journey.

Looking back up to the door, ringing the bell and waiting no more than 10 seconds before an over-eager Ryan swung the door open, out of sight but not out of earshot, you could still hear Jungkook's sweet voice scolding his son.

"Ryan, what did I tell you about opening the door?" Finally, he comes into sight from around a bend inside revealing an entirely new Jungkook.

He looked, good. Better than good. He looked hot.

Wearing an army green Essentials hoodie paired with beige cargos and a silver chain that hung around his neck.

Oh, and his hair was blonde.

Surprised that your eyes hadn't fallen out of their sockets at the sight of his freshly bleached locks with his naturally dark roots. God, he was so fine.

"Hey! Come in, come in. " He steps to the side and Ryan is gently nudged over by his dad's leg to make room for you and your things as you step inside.

Your senses are immediately welcomed by the scent of mahogany, carefully chosen as it mingles with the comforting aromas of a Thanksgiving feast in the making.

"Hi, Ms. Hill!" Ryan shouts, loud enough for you to hear from 50 feet away. He was just the cutest, "Hi, Ryan!"

Jungkook smiled, "I'm glad you could make it," instinctively reaching out to take the bag from your hands so you could focus on taking off your shoes and jacket. "I brought this for you guys." You say, prompting Jungkook to peek into the bad, grinning at the sight of the mini chocolate cupcakes.

"I can't guarantee these will make it to tomorrow."

Once your boots were off and sat neatly near the door, Jungkook offered to take your jacket from you, entrusting Ryan with the duty of holding the bag with the desserts and sending him off to place them somewhere in the kitchen.

"Your hair." You finally say, giving your neck a minor strain as you look up to the man as he leads you further into the house. Everything was styled so neatly.

The colour palette consists of soft whites and beige with a splash of greens and turquoise. The fireplace was lit, emanating a gentle warmth throughout the open concept. It gave the living room a cozy feel along with the brown fleece throw blanket that was placed carefully over his sectional couch.

"Yeah, I got pretty sick of the blue, I thought it was time for a change." With a mind of their own, his hands run through his hair before he gives it a shake. "Do you like it?" He knew the answer, you're sure he did.

It's like a demi-god asking if they were attractive, the answer was obvious. "It would be a lie if I said I didn't." You leaned onto the kitchen island, your line of sight landing on the four-year-old who busied himself with the pile of crayons and paper on the carpet.

You hated how easily the two of you fell into natural conversation almost forgetting that it was Thanksgiving if it weren't for the sudden waft of a delicious meal in the making hitting your nose. "Something smells delicious." Your nose twitched cutely as you sniffed; your curious brown eyes watching Jungkook as he rounded the island closer to you to check on the food in the oven.

"Hmmm... It'll be about another hour or so, I hope that's alright?" You'd decided to finally plant yourself down somewhere, inwardly unable to decide where since there were so many options, the big comfy couch, the table or the barstool chair that you finally decided to go with.

"In the meantime, do you want anything to drink? I have water, champagne, white wine, red wine, apple cider, coffee, milk- oh! and Apple juice." you can't help but giggle into your hand as he lists off what seems to be a never-ending list of beverages.

"Apple juice is fine, thanks." Or at least you thought it was the safe choice until you heard a loud objection bubble out of Ryan's throat. His voice was absolutely enraged. "No! That's mine!" His little steps quicken over to your feet, reaching for the juice box from your hand.

"Ryan. What did I tell you about sharing?" He doesn't listen, his face becoming more and more frustrated the longer he goes without your (his) juice box in his hands. His small hands reach out for you.

One could blame it on your background of teaching when you had an idea. Reaching for the child-sized cup on the counter as you popped open the juice box.

"Is it okay if we share it? You can have some and I can have some." He still didn't seem entirely convinced but he calmed down a little watching you squeeze half of the box into his cup before handing it down to him.

Holding the cup securely with his two hands he looks down into the cup with an inquisitive look, as if questioning your motives behind your generosity. "What do you say to Ms. Hill for being so nice and sharing?" He looks up at you, with no emotion on his face for an uncomforting amount of time, scanning you.

"Thank you, Ms. Hill!" He beams with a big smile and scuttles back to his drawing station, but Jungkook can't risk the little adventurer ruining his carpet and orders him to drink it in the kitchen. At least that way any spills can be wiped away from the tile.

Jungkook couldn't get over how patient you were, but he supposed it to be expected. You worked with dozens of kids every day for a living. You must be a saint. He's sure he would've lost it.

Jungkook groans, letting his head fall onto his arms as he leans onto the counter with a long sigh, one that lifts a bit of exhaustion from within him. "Everything alright?"

He nods, "'Jus' never thought being a single father would be this difficult. Every day it's eat sleep work repeat, on top of being a dad to a child who just can't seem to share with others, and it makes me wonder if it's my fault."

Maybe it was the hazy scented candles getting to your brain, the toasty fireplace nearby giving you warm fuzzies or maybe the apple juice had a little kick to it but you took a leap of boldness to place your hand on his shoulder.

Watching his eyes trail from your short manicured nails to your big brown eyes that looked at him with the utmost sincerity. Like a pool chocolate kindness. "He's a great kid, Jungkook. Every child goes through a rebellious stage at some point, it's practically inevitable. I've seen this over a thousand times, it doesn't take away from how special he is, just look at him."

The two of you observe the preschooler as he hums the tune to an incomprehensible song with his tongue slightly poking out as he coloured his papers passionately. "Thank you, Y/n." Your head whips around at the warm contact of his hand on yours, it didn't feel alarming at all, it was nice if anything.

-

"Wow. I don't think I could eat another bite, that may just be the best meal I've ever had." You groan, a limp hand on your stomach as you lean back in your chair, sitting across from Ryan whose placemat was covered in various foods and sauces that he was told to stop playing with half through dinner.

Jungkook grins from ear to ear, "Thanks, it's nice to hear." You sigh, "No seriously, where did you learn to cook like that? And more importantly, when can you teach me?" His head falls back as he laughs right from his chest. You couldn't help but think how much you were enjoying yourself.

"Funny you should say that," Jungkook picks up the empty plates from the table, putting them in the sink before walking out of view briefly leaving you with Ryan who stared at you with a grin.

"Where did your dad go?" His smile grew even wider if possible before bringing his gravy-covered index finger to his lips making a 'shush' noise. No more than 5 seconds passed before Jungkook returned with a pumpkin about the size of your head.

"Who wants to make pumpkin pie?" You laugh, unable to take him seriously.

-

"No I can't Jungkook- NO!" You shout, afraid you'd collapse from the lack of oxygen that was reaching your lungs from so much laughter as Jungkook was currently holding your hand trying to get you to scoop out some of the pumpkin seeds.

"You can do it, Ms. Hill!" Ryan cheers you on as your fingers make contact with the guts against your will. They were slimy, and soft, and triggered your sensory issues in every way imaginable. You gagged while Ryan laughed until his face was red.

Scooping out the last of them and placing them into the bag that Jungkook would dump into the compost later.

The three of you popped the pumpkin pie into the oven together and transitioned into your next set of activities. Soon the three of you made your own custom turkeys out of construction paper and googly eyes.

Which led you to now. The three of you snuggled up under the big brown blanket that was once just decoration but now provided warmth along with the crackling fireplace.

Now halfway into the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving movie, you looked into your side where Ryan had nestled himself comfortably, soft snores leaving his mouth with each breath.

"He's just the cutest." You say, moving one of his hairs out of his face, watching him while Jungkook watched you. Nothing is more appealing to him than watching you care for Ryan. "When did you know you wanted to start working with kids?" Jungkook asks, prompting you to think endlessly but you couldn't come to a conclusion.

"I don't know honestly. Maybe it's because I grew up in a pretty big family. Even though my immediate family is just me and my parents I was always the unspoken babysitter at family events, watching over all my younger cousins all the time."

"Well if no one has told you, let me be the first to say you're amazing." You turn to him, it was long past sunset, leaving the living room with a darker ambiance than when you'd first arrived but the warm glow of the flames on the side of Jungkook's face paired with that look in his eyes tempting you.

He leaned in ever so slightly but you looked towards the boy that was stirring uncomfortably in his sleep as if you were bothering him. With his still closed he flipped around to lay his head on the couch cushions instead.

It was impossible to contain your soft giggles at his sass even when he was sleeping. "You want something to drink?" Jungkook offers, "Please." you chuckle, unravelling yourself from the tangle of blankets and following him to the kitchen.

He poured you both a glass of wine, resuming your previous conversation from where you stood in the corner of the kitchen against the counter near the oven that radiated a glorious smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon.

The tension could be cut with a knife. The way the two of you were looking at each other, practically stripping the other down with your eyes. Before you knew it, Jungkook was leaning into you and this time you definitely could blame it on the wine.

Placing your glass down on the counter behind you without thought and pulling his face to yours before finally pressing your lips against his own. Putting your heart into it before he pulled away, looking minorly dishevelled and flustered, "I-I was just reaching for my phone," He points weakly, his joints feeling as though they could fail him any second.

Your head rotates in horror to see his phone was in fact behind you and buzzing-- "Oh my god--" You held your red face in utter embarrassment, turning to walk away from him in shame but Jungkook would never allow that. Instantly grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back into him.

Your hips pressed flush against each other as he initiated a deep kiss, the kind you see at the end of a romance movie, nothing but passion and pent-up feelings. Feelings that he's held for you since the day he saw you.

He backed you up into the counter, your hands scrambling to brace yourself on his firm chest and he groaned softly into your mouth causing your knees to go weak. The kiss lasted longer than you thought you could hold your breath for, never wanting it to end.

"Wow-" you puff out a breath of air after the best kiss of your life. "A great cook and an even better kisser-- What can't you do?" For the first time, Jungkook's cheeks tint a rosy shade of pink but there's no time to respond as he hears Ryan complain.

"Daddy, I'm tired." You see his little head pop up from behind the couch with a bedhead of hair as he rubs his eye. "Yeah? You wanna get ready for bed little man? Come on let's go." Jungkook urges, turning to you with apologetic eyes, "I'll be right back, keep an eye on the pie for me?" You smile and nod.

Watching him disappear down the hall almost in a trace. A trance that was interrupted by the ceaseless buzzing of his phone. Buzz after Buzz after Buzz.

You shouldn't.

But the buzzing wouldn't stop.

What if it was an emergency?

You peeked at the screen.

Hana

-Where are you?

-I can't stop thinking about our night together.

-Pick up, I want to talk to you.

-When will I see you again? :(

Your stomach twisted, and you were certain it wasn't because of the wine. The oven timer goes off. How comedic. You shake it off, using the oven mitts to place the pie on the stove but ultimately deciding you wouldn't be able to stay any longer.

You didn't want to be the other woman, or the 'main' woman for that matter. You wanted nothing to do with someone who was possibly seeing two people at once.

Quietly you grabbed your things and made your way towards the door. Slipping into your Uggs and slinging your side bag over your shoulder when Jungkook sees you about to leave.

"Wait, Y/n. Where are you going? What's wrong?" Nothing but concern and confusion was written all over his face.

"I had a really great time tonight, Jungkook, Thank you. But I should really get going." Already twisting the door open and stepping through it, letting the frosty air nip at your cheeks and sweep by Jungkook's feet.

"it's dark and it's freezing outside, let me give you a ride." You object, "It's fine, it's only a 15-minute bus. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Like a whirlwind, you spun his world around and by the time he blinked you were gone.

Thanks for Reading!!

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist <3

[realcube]

dilf december

day sixteen ⭑ koshi sugawara ⭑ teacher x teaching assistant ! reader

tw : suggestive! flirting, age gap and slight objectification.

it's true what they say about working with children: they keep you young.

over a decade of elementary school teaching had flown by, and sugawara was still working hard at the same school he started out in, meaning he was now considered a senior member of faculty.

not due to his age — after all, he was only thirty-seven — but because he had been employed by the school for a long period of time, not to mention the time and dedication he has put into his role as a teacher, and the countless other duties he had undertaken: school-trip chaperone, choir director, private tutor — just to name a few.

so now that he was regarded as a beloved and respected member of staff, the school board and principle teachers would afford him certain privileges that the younger staff had yet to earn. such as a nice, big parking spot closest to the school; an endless supply of dry-erase markers; extra pto and most importantly, a teaching assistant for his classroom.

although, he wasn't involved in the hiring process, he was told that the school board would do that on his behalf, which annoyed him as he worried that he'd be stuck with some recent graduate who is absolutely clueless while simultaneously desperate to please everyone at all costs.

and you were exactly that. but at least you were pretty.

despite your inexperience, it was still helpful to have an extra pair of hands around the classroom. and it didn't take you long to find the ropes, so around a month after joining, sugawara was able to leave you to lead a whole lesson while he worked on the student's tracking reports.

the children had tided up and were sat at there desks, talking amongst themselves while you kept a close eye on the time. soon enough, the bell rang and you dismissed the class, waving them all goodbye and reminding them about their homework before they all loudly scampered to the exit.

once they all left, you heave a deep sigh into the uneasy silence of the room, slowly beginning to recover from how overwhelming that lesson was. you had been doing festive fingerpaiting art today, and of course they were all extremely excited about it.

you managed to get them to wash all the palletes, brushes and paint cups they used, but the mess they left of the tables was in need of cleaning. you collect a blue roll and spray from the counter, then start to wiping down all the tables. thankfully the paints came off quite easily, so it didn't require any rigorous scrubbing — unlike the play-doh incident.

the tables were designed for elementary school students, meaning they were quite small, hence you had to bend over to properly rub the entire surface. meanwhile, sugawara feigned focus on his reports, while secretly admiring the view of you in that cute skirt. it wasn't short or anything, but it did hug you in all the right places, and your curves were only accentuated when you were bent over like that.

"how did i do, mr sugawara?" you ask, sweetly, still carrying the spray and roll from table to table.

"hm?" he perks up, pretending as though his attention was suddenly redirected from his work, "oh, your lesson? i think you did an amazing job; the kids really seem to like you."

you spin around on your heels to look at him with starry eyes, "really?"

"yeah. you're so kind and patient with them. you also explain the tasks very clearly." he chuckles, standing up from his chair while stretching his arm over his chest, "you're the perfect teacher for them. really putting me to shame here."

he chuckles at his final playful comment, while your eyes are verging on tears from the endless praise from your mentor and work crush. "thank you so much, but i'm only good at my job because you've helped me improve so much. i'm super grateful for this position as your teaching assistant." you speak, the volume of your voice quickly fluctuating with each sentence.

sugawara just finds you so adorable: how you fidget with your hands when you're nervous, your cute nose scrunch, and how it seems as though you can never hold eye-contact with him for more than three seconds. "i think you're giving me a bit too much credit." sugawara laughs awkwardly, picking up his work satchel and slinging it over his shoulder, then slowly sauntering towards you.

your voice shook with each step he took closer, your heart rate elevating in parallel, "i just wanted to let you know how much this job means to me, mr sugawara. it's such an honour to work with you." admittedly, perhaps you were being a bit dramatic for a teaching assistant gig — it's not like he was your karate sensei — but the words flooded out of your mouth before you had the opperunity to think.

he walked until he was stood directly in front of you, painfully close. his face was mere inches away from yours, and all you could do was stare aghast into his honey brown eyes, half-covered by his hooded lids, "huh, aren't you just the sweetest angel?" he says, sugar-glazed voice ringing through your ears like a chorus of bells. his hand reaches up to your face, his thumb lightly grazes your cheek then wanders down to ghost over your lips — and his eyes follow.

then, his fingers dips under your hair and push the strands behind your ear, flashing you a charming smile, "and you don't have to call me mr sugawara; kōshi is fine."

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

@twilighttowayvision wanted a possessive and protective Vess, so here we are ladies and gentlemen. My offering.

Snogging inner demons

Vess is a quiet kind of possessive. He doesn’t use nor need to use his voice to get the point around. Even if he’s just like the rest of the boys and prefers to keep the circle of people aware of his personal life to the minimum, he has ways of making sure that everyone is more than aware that you are off the market.

His protectiveness stems from the shared fact that now that he had let you in. Let you see the darkest, loneliest, still aching parts of him. Now that you have chosen to love him with all of the broken parts, he doesn’t want you to go. Can’t imagine a world where you aren’t the one he gets to wake up to or one he gets to turn to when his head gets so loud it’s driving him mad.

So Vess doesn’t feel a pang of jealousy when his eyes fall on you. A backstage pass around your neck as you beam at everyone with the same enthusiasm as you always do. Even if sharing your light with others makes him feel a tad annoyed at times. Vess would never forget how you two had dragged yourselves out of your apartment close to 9 pm to go to the store for snacks and well… protection. Cause wrap it before you tap it, kids. And he stood there, condoms behind his back while you nodded at the story the elderly lady, who had just scanned your porches, talked about her grandson’s birthday party that was coming up. Your full attention on her as she ran through the list of possible gifts and how she didn’t understand kids these days.

So Vess takes his time, finishing the conversation he was having with the band’s manager before he walks right up to you. He doesn’t say anything as he stands behind you. One of his hands slithering up your hip as he pulls you back into him. The story one of the guys was telling dies down and from the way all of them are looking up, you know that Vess, even with his mask on, can send a pretty clear message. And no one even has a second thought about it. They wrap it up almost immediately, as you manage to spear them one more smile before they hurry away.

“You give me Dracula vibes at times”, you snicker, turning to face your lover, “Or even better, you remember the way Professor Snape flows into the classroom?”, another giggle slips past your lips and you can see the corner of Vessel’s lips curving upwards. “But did you see any windows closing? Or candles that stopped burning?”, he tilts his head to the side. “We don’t have these here so not a fair comparison”, you let your hands fall to his bare chest, carefully of the pain that’s still drying there.

“Sometimes I want to lock you up so you would only shine on me”, Vess carefully brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Bad idea, III might just cry for the rest of his life”, you shake your head and this is enough to make Vess let out a low chuckle. “True, the boys love you”, he looks over your shoulder for a moment, before lacing his fingers through yours, “Come”, he mutters before pulling you towards a more secluded corner.

“You have a show in thirty minutes, Vess”, you warn him, not sure where his mind is going. “Plenty of time for what I want”, he mutters, pushing you in front of him, your body fully hidden by his frame. His lean fingers caress the side of your face before he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. The light and gentle pecks make you almost frown because this was not what you were thinking he had dragged you away for. But then his hand is on your neck as he turns your face to the side, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down to your shoulder. “Vess”, you hiss, yet your hands still pull him in by his hips. Soft touches turn into more intentional nibbling and soon you are more than aware as to what he’s doing. As he bites and bruises your neck. “Not a possessive boyfriend my ass”, you huff and it’s enough to make him halt, pulling a laugh that you can feel against your skin. He raises back up, fixing his mask, “Felt like marking the territory tonight”, he says so casually that you can’t help but hit his chest playfully. “Was this necessary? Here, with all the people?”, you point to your neck, which you sure is nice and purple now. Vess brushing his finger over your lips, “You got black paint on your face”, he smirks, “Everyone can already tell that you’ve been misbehaving”. You roll your eyes, “You are in trouble”, pointing a finger you, put the front camera on, whipping your face. Vess scowls, pushing your hand away, “Don’t wipe away my kisses”, you crock your head to the side, “Well, don’t kiss me like a manic then. It looks like I snogged my inner demon”, “Well, maybe you did”, he leans in pressing his lips to yours one more, this time in a way gentler way, “Here, no evidence”, smirking to himself he reaches for your hand once more, stepping back into the hustle of the pre-show.

[upsylvtummy]

Allergy discovery...? - Lucien #1

Hey! So, this is my first fic on here, introducing some of my OCs, especially Lucien, Nico and Courtney! I was trying to semi-make sense of who they were for you guys while still keeping the sick, tummy ache plot, so I hope I managed to balance it out! Right, and I hope it's not too confusing to get who I'm shipping with Lucien 😭

Lucien had second-guessed plenty of his decisions in life—mostly before actually making them. Right now, staring blankly at the paper in front of him while patting around for a pen he swore he’d left nearby, was one of the rare moments he sincerely wished time travel existed. Architecture might have sounded glamorous in the media, but in college? The only impressive thing about it was how many freshmen kept willingly signing up for the torture. What kind of masochist did that to themselves? Personally, Lucien was just waiting for time travel to be invented so he could go back and run over his younger self before he declared his major. Kidding…kind of. Actually, not really. Anyway, this chapter wasn't supposed to be about regrets.

“Skipping practice again?” Lucien raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “No.” His reply was curt, eyes still fixed on the smudged mess on his page—only God knew what it was supposed to be, and that was being optimistic. Somehow, his eyebrow attitude trickled into his tongue. “Don’t take it so personally,” the voice continued, “you show up so rarely, I doubt Coach even remembers your name. What’s changed?” Lucien sighed and finally looked up, rolling his eyes and tilting his head. “Nothing changed, Sam. I’m sticking to my 80/20 attendance rate.” He fought back another eye roll, straightening his neck instead. “I told Court I’d show up today. New season’s about to start.” His gaze flicked to the clock, and—thank god, finally —the bell rang. The classroom turned into a clean-up speedrun. Lucien swept up his pencils, rulers, and whatever else was thrown across the desk, stuffing them all into his one-pocket pencil case.

“I’m guessing you’re not rushing to eat lunch with me, huh?” Sam joked. He was used to Lucien being difficult to make plans with, it had always been that way. “Consider yourself lucky I tolerate your presence,” Lucien deadpanned, though the tiniest edge of humor lingered. “I am very grateful” Sam chuckled, but Lucien caught the subtle eye roll. “Oh yeah? Maybe if you keep being that grateful, Karma will reward you.” Lucien didn’t actually believe in karma. Though, considering what was about to happen, maybe he should’ve reconsidered.

After class, Lucien grabbed takeout before heading home. He usually cooked, but this week, between deadlines and forgetting groceries, he opted for something quick. He ordered spicy fried noodles with tofu and vegetables from a Chinese place—not something he’d tried before. But this definitely would be the last time.

Once home, he tossed his bag aside, freshened up, and flopped onto the couch with his meal and the TV. The food was alright. The tofu wasn’t great unless it was drenched in sauce, but it filled him up. Every now and then, he checked the clock, making sure he wouldn’t be late for practice. After about thirty minutes, he stood to wash his dishes. But then he froze. A strange heaviness had settled in his stomach.

Lucien groaned softly, hand instinctively pressing over his belly. Maybe he was just full? That’s what he thought at first. But when the discomfort didn’t ease, doubt crept in. He leaned against the kitchen counter, now pressing into his stomach more firmly, trying to find some relief. His fingers dug in beneath his shirt, and a weak burp escaped, unsatisfying and sour. Lucien rarely got stomach issues, and when he did, they were manageable: some pain, maybe throw up, and done by the next day. But this… this felt different.

A quiet moan slipped out as he hugged himself tighter, leaning over the counter. His stomach felt bloated and tight. He wanted nothing more than to lie down. But just as he turned to head for his room, his phone buzzed. Courtney. Perfect timing.

Lucien rolled his eyes and picked up the call, putting it on speaker so he could keep one hand over his stomach. “Hello…?” he answered, trying not to sound weak. “You’re still coming, right?” Courtney’s voice came through. She was his childhood friend—and the captain of their team. Lucien sighed and rubbed his belly more gently now. “You know what…” He paused, suppressing a burp. “I think I lost my train ticket.” Courtney wasn’t buying it. “Stop bullshitting me,” she snapped. “Fine. I’ll just have Nico come pick you up. He’s such a sweetheart.” Her sarcasm dripped through the phone. “No…!” Lucien yelped—too desperate, shit. But a strong cramp hit him just then, making him lean back against the counter, hands pressing firmly into his aching stomach. A loud burp escaped, and he cupped his mouth quickly. “You okay?” Courtney asked, hesitantly now. She knew Lucien well enough to recognize when he was deflecting. “I’m here! God, can’t you wait like one second?” he snapped, his sass back in full force. Lying to get out of practice seemed better than admitting stomach trouble. “Oh look, found it. I’ll be there.” His voice cracked under the strain, but he didn’t care. “Great. And if you’re not, we’ve got a problem.” She hung up.

Lucien groaned again, hunched over. His belly felt tight and swollen. “Ow…” he muttered, trying to breathe through the pain. He really didn’t want to cry over an upset stomach. No way.

But once he made it to the court, he regretted everything. He had conveniently forgotten his racket, praying they wouldn’t have a spare. The train ride had been awful—holding in gas made him nauseous, and by the time he changed in the locker room, luckily alone, he was trying not to show his bloated stomach. Taking off his shirt, he gently rubbed his belly, convincing himself the pain wasn’t that bad. He was just overthinking it.

Putting on his usual serious face, he stepped out onto the court.

“Oh my god, Lucy, I can’t believe it,” Nico called. “Didn’t think I’d see you after last time.” Lucien winced at the nickname and forced himself to stand straighter despite the ache. “I wish I didn’t have to see you. You’re lucky my shoulder wasn’t broken—I’d be seeing you in court.” He wasn’t serious, obviously. Nico studied law. The brunette only chuckled, giving Lucien a hard slap on the back. Lucien swallowed a burp. “Don’t touch me,” he groaned, trying to sound threatening, but it came out weak. Another cramp hit as he stared at the floor, fighting back a burp that escaped as a low groan. “Lucien LaVeau,” Nico gasped dramatically, “that’s disgusting. Where are your manners?” Lucien didn’t even react, nausea was taking over. His stomach pressed uncomfortably against his pants, and his face contorted from the effort of holding it in. Nico looked at him, his teasing fading briefly into concern.

“Lucien!” Courtney’s voice cut in. “Not only were you making excuses earlier, now you’re late?” Lucien immediately straightened up, forcing his face into something neutral—almost. His furrowed eyebrows betrayed him. “You sure you’re okay?” Courtney asked, squinting. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. Admitting the truth sounded nice… but way too humiliating. “Oh wow, thanks for the warm wel-,” he started, but a wet burp interrupted him. Vomit hit his throat and he swallowed it down with a grimace. Both Nico and Courtney stared at him. His face flushed pink. “…Rest assured, I’m fine.” “Right. You’re not gonna puke on my court, are you?” Courtney asked, stepping away just in case. Lucien looked away. “Obviously not.” But another cramp tore through him. He doubled over, hand gripping his stomach.

Nico placed a hand behind his upper arm, ready to steady him. Courtney took another step back. “Okay, Lucien. Spill it. What’s going on?” Lucien let out another burp, holding his abdomen tighter. His vision swam. He staggered, Nico grabbing his shoulder to keep him up.

Lucien groaned. He wanted to bark at Nico to back off, but he couldn’t even form words. Courtney gently wrapped an arm around his waist, rubbing comfortingly. Lucien hated being touched. But in that moment, he just felt hot and gross and overwhelmed. “You know,” Nico said, “it’d be really helpful if you stopped being all mysterious and maybe, I don’t know, communicated?” Lucien’s fist clenched. He wanted to respond—but if he opened his mouth, he knew what would happen. And then, it did anyway.

A loud burp escaped. He gagged and slapped a hand over his mouth. “Bathroom, now,” Courtney muttered, her voice awkward but serious. Lucien let out a pitiful sound, dropping to his knees, hugging his belly. Nico knelt beside him while Courtney looked around the court. Lucien sat back on his heels, one hand rubbing his stomach while the other braced behind him.

Nico gently lowered the waistband of Lucien’s pants. Lucien flinched but didn’t stop kneading his aching belly. Then, the worst happened. A wet fart escaped. Then another. And another.

Lucien shook from the shame. Nico didn’t even joke this time. “Feeling a little better at least?” he asked softly. “Maybe you should head to the bathroom…”

Lucien curled forward, burying his face in his knees. Courtney ran a hand through his hair. “Allergy? Food poisoning?” she guessed. Lucien shook his head, another fart escaped. His eyes widened. Oh fuck.

He shot to his feet, a belch escaping. “Can you not freak out for a second?” Nico asked, grabbing his wrist. “Let go…!” Lucien cried, yanking free and bolting. God, this was so humiliating…. He felt so out of character. “Yeah, no,” Courtney said, raising her hands. “I’m not chasing after Lucien if he’s gonna puke. Or worse.” Nico sighed and followed.

Lucien stumbled into a stall and sat down, just in time. His stomach erupted, liquid diarrhea flowing into the toilet. He barely had time to process before Nico burst in behind him. Lucien couldn’t even look up. “Lucien—oh my god,” Nico gagged slightly. “Okay, listen. Can you lean forward? It might help your stomach muscles.” Lucien, desperate, did as told—only for pressure to shoot up his chest. He gagged, then vomited on his lap and the floor. It was chunky, almost like the tofu hadn't digested at all. “Oh shit,” Nico muttered, turning away.

Lucien tried to apologize—another wave came up. He puked mid-sentence. “Fuck,” Nico backed into the wall.

Eventually, it was over. Lucien felt empty… and humiliated. He didn't want to admit how much better he felt after that, he didn't want to talk at all. Or to live, honestly. That experience should've killed him instead of leaving him with life-long shame. He took a quick shower, trashed his training clothes, and changed into his arrival outfit. This time, leaving his pants unbuttoned and his boxers low. The pain had dulled, but wasn’t gone.

When he stepped outside, Courtney rushed up. “You’re going home. Right now. Got it?” Lucien stared down at the grass, cheeks flushed, tears threatening to spill. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m just… so embarrassed.”

Courtney glanced over at him, her expression unreadable at first. Eventually, her brows pulled together in a soft frown. “Don’t be,” she said gently. “I mean, yeah… I guess it’s not exactly common, but it’s not like you could help it. Something clearly just didn’t sit right with you.” She let out a quiet sigh. “It’s not a big deal. Try not to overthink it.”

Lucien gave a quiet nod. Of course he was going to overthink it. How could he not?

“Nico can drive you home, yeah?” Courtney added. Her voice took on a firmer tone, just a little scolding. “I know you two don’t exactly get along, but I’m not letting you take the train like this.”

Lucien hummed in acknowledgment. He hated the idea, so much, but arguing felt like more trouble than it was worth.

Courtney walked with him to the parking lot, stopping beside Nico’s car. She gave his back a light pat. “Go rest. Seriously.”

Lucien got in without a word. Nico started the car, and silence settled between them—uncomfortable, normally they'd just bicker again. Even Nico seemed to understand now wasn’t the time to push buttons.

That silence, though, gave Lucien space to think. And that was the problem. With nothing to distract him, the memories of everything that happened came rushing back, things he’d been trying so hard to ignore. Shame tightened in his chest, and his eyes filled with tears all over again.

He rubbed at his stomach with one hand, the other covering his face as he leaned back in the seat. Slowly, quietly, sniffles filled the space between them.

Nico glanced over, sighing. “Can you try to calm down a little?” His voice was soft, unusually so. “I know it's hard and all, but there's no need to keep crying over and over again. We can't turn back time."

He hesitated, then kept going. “I promise you’ll feel better soon—physically and mentally. I know your stomach’s a mess, and your pride probably feels worse…”

Lucien winced at the way he said it.

“But seriously,” Nico continued, “no one’s mad at you. No one thinks less of you. Just rest. Take your time, Lucy. You’re going to be okay.”

Lucien didn’t respond. He stared out the window, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“…Be quiet,” he mumbled.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 14: Lovely

Ao3 | 2.9k Words | Lovely's POV

Lovely chaperones a field trip. Caelum runs out of line. Sam is tense. Vincent is attention starved. Asher entertains 30-something kids. Freelancer is trying not to indulge. Caelum has an imaginary friend.

TW: Seperation anxiety, mentions of over-medication, child with trauma, discussion of fire safety procedures.

In your three years of teaching kindergarten, you’d never had a single field trip run completely smoothly from start to finish. It was a hazard of wrangling thirty-odd kids with one other adult in a new environment that you could only prepare them so much for. They were often fun, often educational, but always chaotic.

You were very grateful that Vincent had volunteered his firehouse as your class’s location for your fire safety field trip. He couldn’t necessarily help you with the kids, but just having him close by was a comfort. You knew that, come whatever chaos or tears you encountered, you could meet Vincent’s eye and know he had witnessed it all too. 

Firehouse trips were always a good time, but they were high energy and the kids certainly showed it. You were certain that you’d have a bus full of snoring kids on the way back to school in a few hours. As you gave your final directions, kids bounced up from their seats and met you, in a shoving and pushing line, at the front of the bus. You took a deep breath. 

You loved your kids. That was what you kept repeating to yourself over and over again as you raised your voice over squeals and blurted out questions to give them directions as the bus came to a halt outside of the 10-19. You had a pretty peaceful classroom. You’d made sure of it after your particularly tortuous first year. You had heard that being a first year teacher was chaotic, but you never would have guessed just how much stress it would cause. The first thing you did your second year was drill those kindergarteners like they were in the Navy. Classroom management was still a work in progress for you, but your kids knew how to walk in a line, how to work quietly at their tables, how to ask for pencils and turn in their work all on their own. 

Well, most of them did. 

Caelum was a special case. You loved that kid, but he had had a tumultuous year with you last year. He struggled with impulse control, with sitting still, with following base directions without multiple reminders. He was a problem child, and when there was a ruckus in your classroom, it was almost always related to Caelum. 

But he was smart. He was smart and his grown ups  were doing everything they could for him. Caelum came into your classroom in January of last year and was clearly on much too high a dose of whatever ADHD medication his previous doctor had prescribed him. It made your stomach turn to think about his blank stare, his mumbled, confused sentences, the exhaustion that spread across his little features after recess. You would take this, this boisterous, loud, opinionated kid over the zombie you first met any day. 

Even when he bolted out of your perfectly formed line the second he saw the ambulance, his little legs carrying him faster than you could ever hope to. You tossed a look over your shoulder to the other teacher accompanying your class on the trip before chasing after him. 

They just couldn’t make shoes comfortable enough for a kindergarten teacher. You had very nice sneakers thanks to Vincent’s Daddy’s money (although he hated when you called it that), but when you took off after a sprinting child, you still felt pain spring up your calves and into your hips. All of the crouching and standing and walking and running after runaway children did your joints in. You were young, but you certainly didn’t feel it. 

It wasn’t you in the end that caught Caelum. He ran straight up to the two paramedics that were gathered at the back doors of the large ambulance. You’d been inside of an ambulance before, and even still it surprised you how big they seemed on the outside. On the inside, it was almost oppressively small, the metal walls and machines and paramedics pressing in on all sides.

Caelum bounded up to the paramedics before throwing himself around one of their legs, squealing out; “Buddy!” 

When they turned, face slackened with shock, you recognized them. One of Caelum’s grown ups. They had accompanied Gavin and Caelum to open house this year and to one of the two parent-teacher conferences your school had hosted so far this year. You recalled, from casual conversation, that they were a medical student. You had no idea that they were a paramedic as well, and on Vincent’s crew no less. 

You spotted Sam as he balked, reaching as though to extract the bouncing kid from around his paramedic, but they laughed and scooped him up, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Caelum,” they chided, smile clear on their features, “you told me you wouldn’t run around on your own this time.” You remembered the last field trip you’d supervised with Caelum, to the Natural History Museum. It had taken two hours to find him, wandering alone in the paleolithic exhibit. The only time you’d ever managed to get him to sit still in class was when you were talking about dinosaurs. You were terrified that his grown ups would be upset with you, but when you’d called Gavin that afternoon, he had profusely apologized. It turned out that Caelum was pretty used to being independent, and he struggled when he wasn’t allowed to move as a free agent. Walking in line had been a multi-year battle that you were still losing. 

“Hey,” Sam gave you a weary smile, bent to press a kiss to your cheek like he always did when greeting you. “Didn’t realize you taught my Probie’s kid.” You patted his shoulder, noted the tension that had eeked into his muscles. You’d have to mention it to Vincent. Maybe he could convince Sam to go to that massage place he dragged you to every month or so. 

“Neither did I!” You smiled amicably as they set Caelum back down and turned him towards you. 

“You’ve gotta stay with your class, okay Buddy?” They ruffled his blonde curls as he craned his neck to look up at them. “Your poor teacher is running around after you when you should be learning about firefighters.” 

“It’s alright,” you smiled gently, offering your hand to Caelum, which he took. He looked up at his Buddy, eyes wide, “it’s really no trouble. We have fun, don’t we Caelum?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, looking back over his shoulder to his Buddy, “don’t leave, okay?” He called. Their face slackened, eyes slipping to Sam before falling back to Caelum. 

“Yeah,” they said, “okay, Buddy. Go, you’ll miss your fieldtrip!” 

Caelum toddled along with you, glancing over his shoulder nervously every few paces as if to make sure his Buddy hadn’t suddenly evaporated while he had turned away. 

Abandonment issues. It was a terribly common ailment for kids who had spent any time in foster care. You’d only had one other student who had spent time in the system, and she had been shuffled back into it and away from your school a month into her stay with her foster parents. You’d seen the look on his bus driver’s face when Caelum got on in the afternoon, twisted into indifference when she met every other child with a wide smile. He probably gave her lots of trouble when separating from his grown ups. 

He was fine by the time you led him back to the group who were gathered, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on the floor around a tall, lanky firefighter. He was in the middle of explaining all of the parts of the firetruck when his eyes met yours and you recognized him from the handful of barbecues and parties you’d managed to drag yourself to. Asher waved softly as he continued his explanation. 

It was a glorious display, so much so that it entertained even you. Asher somehow made the idea of Stop, Drop and Roll a fun game, made calling 911 in case of an emergency a secret mission, made evacuating a burning building a fun romp down the stairs. 

When he got to that part, Analisa, the only student you’d ever had who used a wheelchair, had raised her hand, her face pinched in concern. 

“I can’t walk down the stairs.” She said. Asher knelt in front of her, his face never falling from its cheery smile. 

“Well, remember how I just told everybody you shouldn’t use the elevator in a fire?” She nodded. “You get to break that rule.” He gave her a conspiratory grin. “Make sure Mom or Dad is with you, and make sure they check to see that the elevator is safe first, then ride it on down!” 

“What if it’s not safe?” She pressed, anxiety raising her shoulders to press to her ears. Asher caught her eye again, still calm and steady. 

“Then you go to the stairs with everybody else.” He said. “Remember how we talked about calling 911? Once you’re in the stairwell, you call them and tell them right where you are. Then, when I or the other firefighters get there, we’ll come straight to you!” 

“That could take forever!” She squealed, fidgeting with her skirt. 

“Nope!” Asher laughed. “Actually, most fire trucks get to fires in five minutes. That’s no time at all.” 

“And they’ll come get me? They won’t forget about me?” 

“Of course not.” Asher smiled. “It’s our job! We always take care of people before we take care of houses.”

Asher took the kids on a tour of the firehouse, down to the fancy kitchen where snacks had been set out for them. The kids calmored into seats at the large table as you helped pass them out. Chatter and laughs filled the large space. You leaned against the far wall, apple juice box in one hand, and observed as the kids talked and ate. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” Vincent’s smooth, sultry voice caught you off guard. You turned, pulling your attention away from the kids for just long enough to confirm that it was him there before turning your attention back to the kids. 

“Same thing as you, gorgeous,” You stopped to put on your teacher voice, “Jamie, do not pull Harley’s hair. Apologize. Thank you.” You turned back to Vincent. “Working.” 

“Hard, I can see.” He smiled as he leaned against the wall next to you, a respectful distance. “Any trouble?” 

“One run away kid.” You said. “Hey, you never told me you worked with one of my kid’s grown ups.” He knew what you meant by that term. Vincent was very familiar with your insistence on never calling a kid’s guardian their ‘parent,’ or worse, ‘Mom and dad.’ You didn’t want to risk even one of your kids feeling excluded for a moment in your classroom. He blinked at you for a second before realization spread across his face. 

“I never put that together.” He said. “I even- you’re gonna think this is funny, I even mentioned to them that you work with kids his age.” 

“My little airhead.” You smiled. “Hey, is Sam okay? He looks stressed.” You shot a sharp look to one of your troublemakers until he got the point and stopped trying to crawl onto the table. 

“I… don’t know.” He sighed. “After New Years, he’s been a little… lighter? I guess?” 

“Yeah, a make out sesh with a certified hottie would do that.” You laughed. Asher had started gathering the kid’s abandoned paper plates and juice boxes as they finished. 

“Okay little dudes,” Asher raised his voice, effortlessly overtaking the kid’s noise. “Let’s go sit in the firetruck!” 

The kids cheered and followed after him as he led the way. You took up the rear of the group, trailing behind them as Vincent’s arms fell to his sides and twitched. You knew that he was itching to wrap his arm around your waist, to slide his hand into yours, to pull you into his chest as you walked. You both knew that it was appropriate in front of your kids, so he contained himself. Just barely, if his sideways glances were any indication. You’d have to give him plenty of your undivided attention when you both got home.

After getting to honk the fire truck horn and trying on parts of the firefighter’s heavy gear, you watched as exhaustion crept over the kid’s features. It had been a long day, and Asher’s endless energy had bled them dry. Having missed naptime, you were sure to have a near silent ride back to school. Thank God. 

Caelum’s Buddy met you at the bus doors, hands in the pockets of their uniform pants. Caelum bolted out of line again, ran straight into their arms as they swung him up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before setting him back on the ground. The rest of the kids filed onto the bus as they talked quietly. You watched as Caelum’s little face grew red, his brow pinching, and listened as his voice grew whiney and high. Uh oh. Tantrum incoming. 

“I’ve still gotta work, Buddy,” they said softly, smoothing their hand over his curls, “and Gav will be waiting at school to pick you up.” 

“But-” Caelum sniffled, the sound of tears tearing through his voice, “but-but… I don’t- can I stay with you?” 

“No, Buddy.” They shook their head gently. “You’ve gotta go back to school. But Gav will pick you up and I’m sure he’ll take you for ice cream if you ask real sweet.” 

Caelum began to cry, but not the loud, screeching cries of a little kid tantrum. His tears were quiet, sniffling, contained in his little chest as though he was afraid to make a single noise. You watched as their face crumbled, as they leaned down to wipe his cheeks and pulled him close to their chest. 

“Listen to me, Buddy,” they said softly, “you’re gonna get on the bus and wave at me through the window. Gav’s gonna pick you up at school and you’re gonna have so much fun with him this afternoon. I get done with work at six, that’s only four hours away! I’ll be home right after. And we can see if Damien and Huxley and Lasko will come over for movies!” 

Caelum looked up at them, tears dotting his long lashes, before he nodded once and started to march up the stairs of the bus. He stopped stiffly at the top before running back down, wrapping his arms tight around their legs, and then climbing back up and plopping into a seat at the front of the bus. 

“That was pretty good.” You nodded. You watched as they tried to sneakily wipe their eyes, but caught sight of the wetness on their fingers. 

“His therapist is trying to get us to stop indulging him.” They smiled, eyes weary. “We used to- the second he started crying, just give him what he wanted. But he has to go to school. He has to get on buses. He has to be able to walk away from us eventually.” 

“It’s super common.” You said, looking up at the bus window as Caelum stared out at the two of you. “Separation anxiety. For the record, you guys are doing great. And he’s a great kid.” 

“He’s the best.” They nodded. 

You loaded back on the bus. You did a headcount. All present and accounted for, you made your way to the seat next to Caelum. He waved to his Buddy as the bus pulled away and settled back down on to the bench seat. 

“Did you have fun today, Caelum?” You asked softly. You already heard snores from behind you, and the soft chatter that had filled the bus as you boarded was dying out by the minute. Caelum sighed heavily as he looked up at you, as though he was contemplating something very serious. 

“Yeah.” He said eventually. “I liked when we pretended we were on fire.” 

That made you laugh. 

“Well, good. I’m sure the firefighters are glad you could come and visit.”

“My friend knows a firefighter.” Caelum announced. 

“Yeah, your Buddy works with them.” You nodded. 

“No,” Caelum shook his head, his face overtaken with the severity of a kid correcting an adult in one of the few instances they could. “My friend. He comes and talks to me at night time when I can’t sleep. He knows a firefighter.” He looked down at his sparkly pink sneakers and smiled as they twinkled in the scant sunlight streaming in from the bus window. 

It wasn’t uncommon for kids to develop imaginary friends. Most kids had more creative ones, but kids with lots of trauma or super, scary smart kids sometimes just had… people. Sometimes other kids with rich, complex social lives. Imaginary moms and dads, brothers and sisters. Sometimes adults who filled out roles they were missing in their lives. 

“You’re friends with a firefighter now too.” You bumped your shoulder with his. Caelum blinked up at you as he rested his head against the bus window. 

“He just knows them.” Caelum mumbled, his eyes slipping closed. His cheeks were still ruddy from his tears. “They’re not friends.” 

He drifted off, head lolling with the motions of the bus. You watched out the window as the city rolled by. You spotted a fancy, silver car parked a few blocks from the firehouse. You’d have to mention it to Vincent. He’d know what sort of pretentious make and model it was. Hell, he’d probably know the asking price off the top of his head.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

HIHIHI this isn't an idea for the "Daughter" fic but I'd figured to just throw it out here lol! OKAY OKAY so like... hear me out. Music teacher/band instructor Josh and Theatre teacher teacher... I JUST THINK IT WOULD BE SO CUTE. the students would be shipping them fr fr! okay im done with my yappings... ALSO MAY I HAVE 🎻ANON?

The Bleachers - Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: None really hehe - super fluffy

Word count: about 1285

A/N: Absolutely loved this request 🎻! It was super cute and fun to write so thank you!!

“Sorry, Mr Dun, do you know what time the pep rally is supposed to be on Friday?” I asked, catching our music teacher in the hallway between bells. Kids were rushing past each other, running to their classes as the five minute countdown till the next bell ticked away in everyone’s heads. 

“It’s at seven, I tried to change it to seven thirty because of the band’s practice time but Principal Higgins said it was already booked and parents were already set on coming at seven,” he shrugged. Mr Dun was one of the younger teachers at our school. Our old music teacher was an older man who only ever taught the students classical music and when he retired suddenly we were forced to find someone at the last minute. Which meant any local musician regardless of whether they had their teaching degree yet. Que Josh Dun, a drummer who had reached out to the school after seeing their ad online and had managed to land the job as soon as he started talking about music concepts our principal didn’t know about, making him the smartest person in the room. Both of us being the two youngest teachers at the school had made it easy for us to become friends, especially when it came to gossiping about our favorite students (which we most certainly did NOT have). 

“Thanks Mr Dun! Hey, I’ll see you at lunch right?” I asked, looking at him as I stopped outside my classroom door. 

“Of course,” he smiled, his expression relaxed as I admired him quietly. “But only if you stop calling me ‘Mr Dun’, Y/N. It’s Josh!” I nodded, trying to suppress a laugh as the final bell rang. “I should get going, I’ve got a freshman class waiting for me,” he explained, giving a cute wave before disappearing down the hall. 

Josh, I mused, trying it out in my head. It felt strange, personal. But I liked it. As the last few kids poured into the auditorium I made my way to the stage–most of the kids were already sitting in a circle ready for the lesson. I loved my theater kids, each of them were their own person, unique in the best way possible and unafraid to sing and act their hearts out.  

I glanced up and recognized Amanda, a junior with a flair for the dramatic—both onstage and off.

“Miss Y/L/N?” she asked, tilting her head with a knowing smile. “Can I ask you something?”

I chuckled. “Wouldn’t that already be asking me a question?” The class laughed at that. “Go ahead.”

“It’s just…” Amanda paused, glancing around before lowering her voice. “Why don’t you just ask Mr. Dun out already?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Amanda! What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on!” she whispered, practically giddy. “Everyone’s seen the way you guys talk to each other. And he definitely likes you—I mean, the way he looks at you? Please, Miss Y/L/N. You’d be so cute together!”

I felt heat creep up my cheeks as I waved her off, trying to sound as teacher-like as possible. “I’m pretty sure your English teacher wouldn’t be thrilled to know you’re spending your passing periods coming up with romantic conspiracies about your other teachers, especially given that I know juniors have a large project going on at the moment.”

But she just grinned wider. “I’m telling you, you’d be adorable. Just think about it!” 

By the time lunch rolled around, I was still thinking over Amanda’s comments as I made my way to the teachers’ lounge. Sure enough, Josh was already there, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, chatting with Mr. Larkins from the math department. He looked up as I walked in, giving me a grin.

“There you are,” he said, gesturing for me to join him. “I was starting to think I’d be eating lunch alone today.”

“Oh, as if you wouldn’t survive without me,” I joked, pulling out a chair across from him. I unwrapped my sandwich, catching the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eye as he stirred his coffee.

“So, what’s on your agenda for the pep rally?” he asked, casually shifting the conversation back to our usual teacher-to-teacher banter.

I shrugged, trying to keep things casual. “Oh, just wrangling the theater kids and making sure they don’t spill paint on any of the props they’re hauling out. You know how they are.”

He laughed. “They’ve got spirit. I respect that.”

Our conversation flowed easily, as it always did, moving from school plans to weekend plans, with just a hint of that unspoken familiarity between us. It was one of my favorite parts of the day, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same.

Finally, Friday night rolled around, and the energy in the gym was buzzing with excitement. The bleachers were packed with students and parents, everyone cheering as the pep rally began. I caught a glimpse of Josh on the far side, directing his band students with his usual cool ease. He gave me a thumbs-up when our eyes met across the gym, and I couldn’t help but feel a little jolt in my chest.

The rally itself was a success—the theater kids managed to keep all the decorations intact, the cheerleaders nailed their routine, and the band had the whole gym swaying and clapping along. It was a perfect moment of school spirit, the kind that made even the most stressed-out teachers feel a little extra pride.

Once everything wrapped up, I helped usher the students back to their designated spots and started packing up the leftover decorations. That’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Turning, I saw Josh standing there, grinning down at me. “Nice work keeping your kids in line,” he said, hands shoved into his pockets. “Some impressive crowd control skills you’ve got.”

“Same to you,” I replied, matching his smile. “The band sounded amazing tonight.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice softening a bit. “Want to… take a break from cleaning and get some fresh air? Just for a minute?”

I hesitated, then nodded, heart beating faster as we slipped out one of the side doors and made our way under the bleachers. The night air was cool, crisp with a hint of autumn, and the muffled cheers of students could still be heard behind us. Standing there under the stars, I felt the entire week’s stress melt away.

“Can I admit something?” he said, his voice almost a whisper. I nodded, feeling the tension growing between us. “I look forward to those lunches with you more than I probably should.”

I felt my cheeks warm again, like Amanda’s words were echoing back to me. “You know what? Same here.”

Josh took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush my shoulder, and for a second, I forgot about everything else—the pep rally, the students, the school itself. It was just him, looking at me with those soft, inviting eyes.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he leaned down, and his lips met mine. The kiss was warm and sweet, filled with the unspoken words we’d both been holding back.

When he pulled away, he gave me that same gentle smile I’d come to know so well. “So, for our next date… what would you say to coming to one of my shows?”

I laughed, nodding without hesitation. “I’d say it sounds perfect.”

And as we stood there, grinning like kids under the bleachers, I realized that we weren’t so different from our students. We were reliving our high school years together under the bleachers. 

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[hamstersnamedmarinette]

Number 24 please!

24. What's one thing you're proud of yourself for?

This is lowkey the question I reblogged that ask game for LOL. So right now I work as a para/assistant in a kindergarten classroom. My class has had two teachers this year, neither of which were/are great at managing the class. I've learned a whole lot this year about classroom management, but I've mainly learned from "what NOT to do" examples from the two of them. I've been taking vigorous notes and doing some serious problem solving trying to figure out all the best ways to get and maintain control over the class and how to make everything more efficient. I identified a whole host of things that lead to common behavioral problems, and I've been thinking about all the ways to prevent those behavioral problems before they even start.

Earlier this week, the class's teacher was out for the first half of the day, so I took over and had the opportunity to put all my notes into practice. And guys. It went PERFECTLY. Like unbelievably smoothly. I had zero issues at all. And I didn't find it terribly stressful, I found it a lot of fun.

I know it was just half a day, but let me reiterate that this was after five months of watching TWO teachers, day after day, try and fail to lead this classroom and declare it impossible, saying that it's just the kids who are misbehaved. Like bestie it's not them, it's you. You're neglecting the most basic principles of planning and organization and not realizing that that's leading the kids to act out. Meanwhile I came in, put about thirty minutes of thought behind everything I did, and WOW IT'S MAGIC the class is behaving and having fun doing it?!?!?

You can tell I'm bitter lmao but yeah, this experience has boosted my confidence in my career path by 200%. So far in my professional life, I've just been taking L after L after L after L, so it feels great to have a real win for once and to know that I can actually be good at a job I do.

Thank you for asking!!

[sourlemonsz]

Holiday Brance? (Should I make this a fic?)

The bell had rung about thirty minutes ago, and Vance was itching to leave detention as per usual. He managed to bitch at the teacher that was watching over kids enough that he let him go early–not wanting to deal with Vance’s bullshit at the very end of the day. 

He was on his way out, when he smelt something heavenly drifting through the hallway. It was so distracting that his feet had brought him to the home EC class just down the hall, he peeked inside the classroom to find no one there. No one but the oven and that amazing smell. 

He waited outside the door for a while, waiting for literally anybody to come by, but no one did. He wondered if a teacher forgot that the oven was on, and maybe that teacher left behind some cookies, brownies or something like that. One thing about Vance was that he had a major sweet tooth–much to his mom’s chagrin. 

So he slipped inside the classroom, to look around for any stray sweets, no one would know, he thought. 

There was one counter that was in use, everything weirdly organized, then he saw a walkman on the counter. And he couldn’t help himself, he snatched the walkman and put the headphones on, clicking the cassette which didn’t give him anything. 

He rewound the tape back a minute, and Jim Morrison's voice rang through, Vance scrunched his nose. The Doors? Really? He thought, now he was absolutely sure that a teacher was working late here, it had to be. 

Vance kept the headphones on while inspecting the oven, his mouth starting to water. 

“Hey! What are you doing–” 

Vance whirls around to find–Bruce fucking Yamada in a ridiculous apron. They both gape at each other in horror. 

[defenseonly]

info dump for daniel's hunger games verse, key players include @offenseonly, @spinsforward ( haymitch + julie ), and @auteurish. open with plotting. warnings for discussion of death, murder, major injuries, and sex trafficking ( all in line with hunger games canon ).

daniel is the victor of the 58th hunger games, the only tribute haymitch manages to get out of the arena between his own win and katniss and peeta's joint victory. he's seventeen during his games, thirty - three during the 74th games and following victory tour, thirty - four during the 75th games, and turns thirty - five during the december that follows the end of the second rebellion.

he's part of a large family that occupies a small cluster of houses in the seam. when daniel is eight, his dad dies after spending just over two years battling an illness. later that year, he strikes up a friendship with a old man named mr. miyagi, who becomes a lifeline for the young boy. after daniel turns twelve, mr. miyagi starts teaching daniel how to fight, like his father taught him. this includes daniel learning a technique that allows him to disable his opponent's limbs using pressure points before delivering a killing strike, though mr. miyagi tells him it should only ever be used as a last resort.

during the 57th games, daniel becomes enamored with district 2 tribute and eventual victor johnny lawrence. it's the first time he's ever felt truly invested in the games. he follows the victory tour a few months later closely too. but he's careful not to talk too much about johnny, even when other kids at school bring him up. peacekeepers aren't kind to those who love differently and daniel can't trust that classroom talk won't get back to them.

daniel's district partner and ally during his games is julie pierce, a thirteen year old town girl that he's come to view as a sister after she started to train with him and mr. miyagi the previous year. even with a year of fight training under her belt, julie is still an underdog due to her age and size, and daniel vows to protect her for as long as he can.

daniel and julie meet the propos director assigned to cover district 12 on the train platform. his name is aaron kinsey. they do their best to ignore him over the next few days, even when he tries to engage them in conversation.

during the week leading up to the games, daniel proves himself to be a little bit of a problem child : he punches haymitch on their train ride into the capitol, snaps at his stylist following the opening ceremonies, and throws himself between district 2 tribute mike barnes and both district 7 tributes during an incident on the second day of training. though none of these things have been enough to catch the attention of anyone higher up, especially since daniel refused to fight barnes, haymitch reminds him that there are only so many stupid things daniel can get away with doing before haymitch is unable to help him.

in daniel's private session, he's finally able to show off the skill haymitch told him to conceal during training : hand - to - hand combat. although the trainer he fights is several inches taller and at least fifty pounds heavier, daniel's speed and unexpected style of fighting give him the upper hand. when his ten minutes are up, most of the gamemakers are paying attention to him. he gets a training score of nine, the highest score any of them can remember a tribute from district 12 getting. but there's one problem ... it's higher than mike barnes, who only received an eight.

when haymitch asks why he refused to fight barnes, daniel’s answer is simple : knowing how to fight doesn’t mean i want to fight. and so they decide to play him as the pacifist during his interview with caesar. the hope is that that, plus his high training score, will create enough intrigue around daniel for haymitch to get him sponsors.

daniel and julie avoid the bloodbath, grabbing a backpack and weapon each before running away and into the surrounding forest. it’s a fairly unassuming arena, one that might make the audience accuse the gamemakers of being uncreative … until they realize there are gorges scattered throughout the woods, some hidden by the foliage while others are in plain sight. a tribute could run straight into one without even realizing.

for the first several days, daniel and julie avoid other tributes by staying on the move as much as possible, only stopping when they’re forced to by a need to refuel or sleep. but then the inevitable happens : the career pack track them down, along with the tributes from district 5 that have been allowed to shack up with the careers for the time being. barnes is determined to have the fight daniel denied him during training.

it’s an ambush, catching daniel and julie by complete surprise in the middle of the day. barnes and the other two male careers attack daniel 3 on 1, while the female careers and district 5 engage julie in a fight. though initially overwhelmed, daniel manages to hold his own. julie does the same. district 5, realizing they’re ill equipped to handle district 12, run away to save their own skins. at this point, daniel is able to gain the upper hand. he takes down both district 1 and district 4’s male tributes, leaving only him and barnes. barnes, enraged, tackles him to the ground and daniel’s leg slams into a large rock. this causes his initial leg injury, but he keeps fighting barnes through the pain. their fight is ended abruptly by a tragedy. julie falls into one of the gorges, taking the district 1 and 4 girls down with her. three cannons go off in quick succession as they hit the bottom. barnes, his district partner, and the boys from district 1 and 4 leave to lick their wounds, though barnes promises he’ll track daniel down again sooner or later.

it takes daniel a full day to recover from the career pack’s ambush, getting as far from where it occurred as possible on his injured leg before setting up shelter. he’s without an ally for the remainder of the games, but that doesn’t mean he’s left to fend for himself. that night, he receives his first sponsor gift : pain medication. daniel’s showing against the careers allowed haymitch to seal the deal with a man named terry silver, one of the capitol’s wealthiest. silver usually only sponsors tributes from district 2, particularly those mentored by kreese johnson, the two having had a close “friendship” since kreese’s own games twenty or so years prior. but daniel’s caught silver’s attention and so he breaks from his own traditions to throw everything behind daniel. it’s the lucky break district 12 needed after losing julie.

a few days later, they’re down to the final eight : daniel, the remainder of the career pack, the girls from district 3 and 7, and the boy from district 10. the tributes from district 5 were killed the day after the careers ambushed 12, presumably due to their desertion of the pack. since the remaining tributes are incredibly scattered across the arena by now and there’s been a while without anything truly “exciting” happening, the gamemakers announce a feast for the next day.

daniel decides to take the risk and attend. on his way back towards the cornucopia, he encounters the boy from district 10. he decides to attack daniel. in the resulting scuffle, daniel is forced to pull the dagger he grabbed on day one and stab him. this is daniel’s first kill, having thus far managed to avoid using his weapon for more than fishing.

once the feast begins, a second bloodbath is quick to start. the girl from district 3 is taken out by barnes’s district partner, the boy from district 4 and girl from district 7 kill each other fighting over the same dish, and barnes decides to eliminate his district partner. daniel is made to fight the boy from district 1, who had agreed to “warm him up” for barnes, and daniel kills him, leaving his dagger behind, before running from the cornucopia as fast as he can. barnes is quick to follow.

now down to him and barnes, daniel knows he can only avoid this particular fight for so long. so he decides to make the first move this time, surprising barnes with a sucker punch to the gut once he catches up to daniel. the following confrontation is long, brutal, bloody. the exact kind of spectacle capitol audiences have come to love. barnes decides to target daniel’s already injured leg and stomps on his knee after kicking him to the ground. for a moment, it looks like barnes may win after all. but daniel, fueled by adrenaline, gets back up. they fight for a few minutes more. and something odd happens : daniel strikes barnes in the elbow, then armpit, and suddenly barnes is unable to lift his arm. daniel does the same to his other arm. it’s the pressure points technique mr. miyagi taught daniel, though no one knows that except the two of them. barnes is now completely at daniel’s mercy. and daniel isn’t feeling very merciful. he kicks barnes into a gorge they’ve found themselves near, only managing to stay standing long enough to watch barnes hit the bottom. the final cannon sounds. daniel larusso has won.

the next few days pass in a blur. the capitol’s surgeons operate on his leg twice, though they aren’t able to repair all of the damage done to it. he’ll walk with a limp for the rest of his life and deal with chronic pain that, at times, leaves him bedridden. he refuses the ornate cane offered to him. he doesn’t need, or want, the capitol’s gifts. when snow crowns him following the recap, he doesn’t make eye contact with the president.

at the victory banquet, haymitch introduces daniel to silver. he’s tall, dark hair pulled into a slicked back ponytail, and gives daniel a wide grin as he shakes his hand. silver is likable enough. daniel might even go as far to call the older man charming. but something about the way he continually forces himself into daniel’s space, finding excuses to touch him, during their conversation makes daniel feel sick to his stomach. he pushes the discomfort away. after all, this man was his sponsor. and he’s grateful for the gifts he sent during that final, excruciating week : the pain medication, the matches, the rice, the blanket. so he’d better act like it.

when they return to district 12, he and ma move into their new home in the victors’ village. they choose the house a few doors down from haymitch’s. although the rest of their family isn’t allowed to join them, they are frequent visitors. haymitch is too, though he’ll tell you he only comes for the wine served at family dinners.

during the victory tour, daniel is prone to finding a corner to hide in, desperate for a moment of peace. they’re near - impossible to get, even on the train between stops, when effie and haymitch spend so much time preparing him for the speeches and parties or aaron attempts to shove a camera into his face. he sneaks away entirely at the president’s mansion, stealing an hour for himself in one of its many sitting rooms. when he finally ventures back out, haymitch appears to pull him aside and deliver news that makes daniel’s stomach drop. silver has paid president snow for the pleasure of daniel’s company, so rather than return to the train and immediately start home for district 12 at the party’s conclusion, he’ll be going home with silver for the rest of the night. the terrible truth has finally revealed itself to both of them. silver sponsoring daniel was no lucky break, not when the man has now become obsessed with him.

daniel goes on to spend countless nights and days with silver over the next sixteen years. the man spends exorbitant amounts of money to make sure only he gets to buy daniel, something president snow is all too happy to accept. while his fellow victors, especially haymitch, and effie are all too aware of the truth, most in the capitol believe daniel to have consented to this. back home in 12, rumors about daniel and who in the capitol sends for him throughout the year follow him everywhere, though no one guesses daniel is being forced to go. this leads to some growing to resent daniel, believing him to have become more capitol than district.

daniel’s first year as a mentor, the year following his win, is particularly rough for him. the girl tribute for 12 that year is judy, one of the few people daniel calls a friend. she’s 18 on reaping day, but by the time the games start, her 19th birthday has already come and gone. in a just world, she wouldn’t be going into the arena at all. but that’s not one they live in. the only small mercy is that she dies quickly, though this does little to alleviate daniel’s guilt. she shouldn’t have been in there.

but the 59th games are when daniel finds himself entangled with something very important, too. or rather someone. he finally meets johnny lawrence properly, after daniel sneaks off for some air following the opening ceremonies and johnny finds the alleyway he’s hidden himself in. they get to talking and johnny shares his own post - games issues with daniel ( the TBI he experienced during the 57th games have left him with memory issues that make mentoring much more difficult, especially when dealing with sponsors ) and daniel finds himself compelled to tell johnny about silver. johnny is horrified at first, then says just about the last thing daniel expected to hear : could kill him. it’s the first time daniel’s heard someone outright express a desire to get rid of someone in the capitol. it reminds him of why he became so intensely infatuated with johnny during the 57th games. he’s honest, unafraid, protective … and so much more, he’s quick to find out. the crush he’s been nursing comes back tenfold and johnny surprises daniel again by returning his feelings.

from then on, daniel and johnny are in a relationship with one another. they’re careful to keep it a secret, especially from silver and snow, but haymitch and effie find out soon enough. ( other victors probably sus them out over time, though none of them are told outright. ) johnny is the one truly good thing in daniel’s life, the person who gets him through every terrible year. ma and the rest of the larussos come to realize that daniel has a special someone he sees every year during the games, different from the person who sends for him between them, though he only confides in one person outside of haymitch and effie about johnny : mr. miyagi. the old man is glad daniel’s found his happiness, in spite of all the factors keeping them apart for so much of the year.

daniel and johnny decide, several years in, that they want to get married. it’s not a legal ceremony, only symbolic, but effie is all too happy to procure a pair of gold wedding bands. it’s done in district 12’s penthouse at the training center, the only attendants besides the couple themselves being haymitch and effie. they wear their rings around their necks on chains in an effort to arouse less suspicion both in the capitol and back home in their districts. during the long months they’re separated, daniel allows the ring to serve as a reminder of who’s waiting for him every year. this helps to keep him from falling into the same sort of despair that haymitch falls victim to.

like haymitch, daniel becomes friends with a number of other victors over the years. he’s particularly fond of those from district 4.

when the 74th games roll around, daniel is quick to realize katniss and peeta are the first tributes district 12 has had in a long time that might be able to win. along with haymitch and effie, he coaches the two of them during the week leading up to the games. however, his other engagements ( silver, who’s taken to parading daniel around during the day, and johnny, who spends more nights in daniel’s bedroom on 12’s floor than he does in his own on 2’s ) leave haymitch to do the bulk of negotiating with sponsors on his own after the games begin.

when the quarter quell is announced, daniel tells katniss he won’t be going back into the arena. no ifs, ands, or buts. he has a reason to stay out, though katniss and peeta aren’t let on as to why until after they start watching the games of living victors. when they get to the 57th games, daniel can’t even manage to sit through johnny’s pre - games interview with caesar before he ups and leaves. watching it in real time was bad enough, before he even knew johnny. it would be agonizing to sit through now. and haymitch is quick to drop the bombshell on peeta and katniss when they ask what daniel’s issue is : that’s his husband.

at the remake center, as the other victors mingle with one another, daniel and johnny have a very public reunion. there’s no point in keeping their relationship a secret anymore. especially when daniel had demanded johnny was let in on plutarch’s plan to break katniss out of the arena. from that point on, the two of them are inseparable. because while johnny may be from district 2, he isn’t one of them. he hasn’t been in years. not when his love, his life, is district 12.

daniel loses most of his family when district 12 is bombed by the capitol. the only surviving larussos besides himself, by virtue of being part of plutarch’s plan, are ma and his cousins louie and nessa. ( mr. miyagi passed a few years prior, old age catching up to him. ) when they’re reunited in district 13, daniel is quick to introduce them to johnny. the special someone they’ve spent so long wondering about. johnny’s accepted as one of their own immediately.

aaron kinsey ends up in district 13 as well, having long since aligned himself with plutarch’s undercover group in the capitol. daniel still doesn’t particularly like him, but over the years they’ve settled into a shaky acquaintanceship, and the familiar face becomes a comfort to daniel as he adjusts to this new environment and accepts the loss of district 12 as he’s known it.

daniel and johnny become part of coin’s war council in district 13, daniel due to his ties to katniss and peeta and johnny because of the district he originates from. the latter allows johnny to make a deal with coin : he’ll tell her everything he knows about district 2 and their operations if he and daniel can get legally married. she’s quick to oblige. haymitch and effie attend this wedding as well, acting as their witnesses, but daniel’s family does too. it’s a small, private affair. unlike finnick and annie’s after she’s rescued from the capitol. but it’s more than enough for daniel and johnny, who wear gleaming silver bands on their hands now.

daniel is denied the opportunity to train as a soldier before the battle of the capitol, told he is strictly a non - combatant who will stay in district 13 until the capitol is secured due to his knee. johnny, however, is allowed to train and eventually cleared for combat. this leads to one of the few real fights daniel and johnny ever have, as daniel doesn’t want to let johnny go. what if something happens to him? johnny manages to convince daniel it’ll be fine, promising to live for him. they have too many years ahead of them to look forward to.

after the rebellion ends and panem has began to rebuild under its new leadership, daniel and johnny don’t return to either of their home districts. instead they settle in district 4, daniel having fallen in love with its beaches on first sight on his victory tour so long ago. they adopt two orphaned children shortly following the war’s end : a boy from district 2 named atticus, the biological son of johnny’s friend dutch, and a baby girl from the capitol named lexy, the daughter of an ambitious politician and her trophy husband. they have another son, antonio, and daughter, lauren, a few years later. the former is johnny’s biologically, while the latter is daniel’s. and while daniel and johnny are forever changed by their experiences as tributes and victors, they’re able to heal.

[queen-esther]

Hi i’m sorry if this is weird but can you talk more about what’s making you leave teaching? I’m in the process of getting my masters rn and i’ve really loved my placement so far but admittedly i’m a little bit uh. scared. lol.

Oh, so many reasons!

Student behaviors are out of control with increasingly less support from parents, administration, and society in general. There’s always some little excuse for why the kid decided to threaten to throw a desk at multiple classmates or wrote “FUCK ME UP THE ASS” on classroom furniture, whether it’s magically the abusive commie teacher’s fault, the poor wittle bwaby uwu is just going through a hard time and needs a bag of Takis, another kid made them upset, etc. Gentle parenting and the over-reliance on giving kids the benefit of the doubt for genuinely atrocious behavior is going to result in a very fucked up generation of adults in the next ten or so years, so be ready for that.

There’s also too much extra paperwork that doesn’t contribute to effectively getting the job done in the classroom in any way. There’s always some stupid PD to go to, some random document that needs to be filled out and uploaded, some email or phone call that just HAS to be responded to by 12:30 PM no matter how much it interrupts actually, you know, teaching your class.

I’m also very pissed off about how my maternity leave was handled, among other things. I understood my leave would be unpaid, which sucks and is honestly unacceptable, but we managed with short term disability giving me 65% of my normal paycheck while I was out. While I was on leave, I also had to deliver checks to the office to pay for my insurance premiums at the threat of having those benefits taken away. What they DIDN’T make clear to me, however, was the fact that my pay rate would be “adjusted” when I came back, so I was also getting hundreds of dollars slashed from each paycheck even when I got back to work, up until the end of this past August. In short, the school district found some legal way to double dip on withholding pay from me for having the audacity to have a baby. It’s 2024, and yet we still have a female-dominated field where this sort of thing is considered expected and okay.

There are also just little things that take away passion from teaching and add up over time. I hate having literally everything I teach revolve around making the kids pass a stupid standardized test at the end of the year. I hate having admin come in and, instead of finding ways to help me and my coworkers grow, picking out “gotchas” to make us feel like we suck at our jobs. I can’t stand being limited by following to the letter exactly the lesson plans the district hands out to us. It’s impossible to handle 16 different IEP’s for individual students. There’s an unspoken expectation that we devote hours of our personal time outside of work to focusing on work-related things.

I haven’t had a huge outbreak in trichotillomania since high school, but my traditional bald patch has started to come back in the last couple of years, I suspect from all the stress and anxiety. When I look at what I want for myself in the next ten, twenty, thirty years, this job ain’t it, especially since I would need to take out another student loan to get a master’s degree if I want to advance anywhere outside of the classroom. I’m not willing to put myself through that anymore. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[uncensored-aj]

Actual legit Gardener, non-child-murdering Human!Freddy X Preschool teacher!reader HC’s:

———

• Watching him in the garden at recess when all of the other teachers are busy watching the kids

• Staying at the school late because you got him chatting about his pants and the man is kind of obsessed with them

• All of your coworkers know you like him and tease you relentlessly about it

• “If you end up missing because of that weirdo don’t blame us!”

“HE IS NOT A WEIRDO!”

*Freddy snaps his head up from the flowers he was planting and just… STARES*

*All of your friends are laughing btw <3 They love you though!*

• After that he takes any and EVERY opportunity to fuck with you as relentlessly as possible :) You can prove NOTHING-

• (He breaks into your house regularly to watch you sleep…)

• You wake up one night and he’s just… in your bed. (The man’s a fucking freak and I can NOT take that away from him)

• HUGE fan of Somnophelia. :)

• He’s really REALLY sweet, don’t mistake that. Brings you flowers he grew HIMSELF on the REG, and actually is really doting and basically thinks you’re the most precious thing to walk the earth

HOWEVER

He likes to play a little rough.

(His new favorite game is cornering you at work when no one is around… there may or may not be a little bit of choking involved…… and he always manages to disappear into thin air at the exact right moments to make you flounder through awkward coworker interactions when you’re close to getting caught.)

TO BE FAIR, you instigate it most of the time.

• “You are so fucking pretty on your knees in the dirt…”

“I’m trying to work don’t distract me.” (He definitely wants you to distract him.)

“Meet me in my classroom at Four Thirty and maybe we can discuss it.”

• This man is SCARILY good at saying the most INSANE SHIT in the most Bright and Smiley voice you’ve EVER heard.

• Just generally a sweetie in the streets and a FREAK in the sheets :)

[catrasredemption]

Man this one hit hard.

My mom raised me pretty much by herself - she had her family helping, and technically I have a stepfather, but he was useless and the rest of her family had their own damn lives.

When I was in third grade, we learned about the American Revolution, and we did a little classroom play based on it about if the war was a baseball game (idk man, the 90s were weird). All the big people in the war were baseball players - Washington, Hamilton, etc. for the Americans, King George et. all for the British - and I forget who I was, but I was the person who hit the winning home run that gave Americans the game (I think I might have been Lafayette?).

Parents are invited to see the one-day play, which is in the middle of the day during school time. I get it, it's hard to get out of work. My grandparents were sick so they couldn't come. But my mother promised up and down, over and over, left and right, that she would absolutely be there. It was a really big deal to me, I'd never been in a play or had an event that needed to be attended. I was excited. I wanted my mom to see me get the winning home run.

She showed up five minutes after the play ended. I was absolutely devastated. She apologized, she said she hadn't been able to get out of work. I cried.

And that pretty much set the tone for the rest of my life.

She managed to make it to my fourth and fifth grade chorus concerts, which was great because I had leads in all of them, but she never enjoyed it much and made it pretty obvious. She was the same way about my high school band concerts - worse, honestly, because I think she stopped caring about hurting my feelings.

When I turned twelve, my grandfather said he wanted to have a birthday party for me at his house (it was kind of a big deal because I always had my birthdays at that house, except for the year before because my grandmother died and we just didn't want to celebrate there). My mother said she'd get the day off work. She got the day off work. We're all gathered at my grandfather's house eating cake while I unwrap my presents, aaaaaaaand her phone rings. It's work. They need her to come in. She can't say no. It was the last birthday I had at my grandparents' house, and we ended up cutting it short because she never learned how to say no.

Fast forward to age twenty-six, when I'm getting married. My mother makes a big fuss about it because the wedding is in Texas, and she lives in Massachusetts. She is, by the way, the only blood relative I have in attendance at the wedding (my aunt and her husband were going to come, but there was a medical emergency with my sixteen-year-old cousin and they didn't want to leave him. Totally understandable). My mom shows up at 10pm the night before the wedding, makes it obvious she's miserable the entire ceremony and reception, then leaves at 5am the next morning because, you guessed it, she couldn't miss too much work.

I'm 33 now. My mother has never visited me - we always have to go to her. She will absolutely never take the time off to get on a plane and come see the life I made for myself. I know this, it sucks, but I'm used to it by now. That's just how she is.

I don't have a kid yet, but I am going to make damn well sure that in thirty-some odd years, my own child isn't on the next version of Tumblr rewriting this story with their own experiences.

my parents never came to anything I did.

I have so many memories about this, but one in particular: when I was away at camp with 89 other teenagers, and at the one-month mark the post was collected distributed to all the dorms. 89 other children tore open their boxes and, shovelling handfuls of sweets their parents had sent them into their mouths, read pages-long letters and handed around photos of their brothers and sisters.

I didn't. I didn't get anything, I sat on my empty bed watching them. The teachers had to call my parents and ask if perhaps the post had gone missing...? but my parents were surprised they were required to interact with me while I was away.

Well, today, my 3-year-old daughter had a fun-run. The childcare centre invited parents to come but stressed that if we weren't able to, it was alright. There was no fucking way I wasn't going. My daughter wasn't going to be the only child there without a parent watching.

I got time off work and stood there in the beating sun and plastered in greasy sunscreen waiting to see my little girl emerge from inside the centre and stand on the track.

When she did, her little eyes searched through the crowd person-by-person for me, and absolutely lit up like the sun when she spotted me.

Mine filled with tears as I waved at her and cheered.

I'm breaking the cycle.

[wendel-luxor]

Croissants n' Arms

On the 18th of May in 2018, Margaret Flowers had just turned 73. She decided to make pastries for her grandchildren—a couple of them students at Santa Fe High School—as she knew, they would be coming over later that evening.

She was beyond excited to give them these snacks, as evident from the large smile she had on her face waking up.

She woke up early at around 6 am, went to her little cottage kitchen, where she made her cottage food she sold at markets! She egan to pull and gather various ingredients—off shelves and out of cabinets.

At around this same time, seventeen year old Dimitrios Pagourtzis was finally commencing his plans. He was barely halfway to eighteen. No one would ever expect this… he was on the football team and he joked around with some friends the day before…

He knew the laws well, he was honor roll. It’s… uncertain why he began to pack his bags with the 12-gauge Remington and the .38-cal Rossi he ordered from the internet.

I mean—FedEx even delivered without an adults signature, months back. Just coz, he managed to order from some store and click, ‘no adult signature needed!’

And, now it’s 7 am…

Mrs. Flowers had spent a while meticulously meting out each ingredient.

Separating them into small bowls, she took her time to slowly add each part, croissants take time.

She stored the ingredients in the refrigerator and, around 7:30, she was ready to start the process of yeast activation.

She knew her grandson was getting ready to go to art class, and she was beyond excited to prepare the croissants that he called his faves.

Warm water, Fleischmann’s, and sugar… where was the sugar?

She dug all through her cabinets, and in the first few minutes, came up flat.

Where was it? She asked herself.

At 7:32 am—Dimitrios had begun singing “Another One Bites The Dust”, spraying scatter shot all around the door of an art classroom.

He broke the window with a shot… then opened the barricaded door.

Inside, and mostly unknown to him, were several young men and women— alongside two teachers.

Well… mostly unknown… because the first person he happened to encounter in the art classroom… was a student he did know—and to which he said, “surprise”, firing the 21-gauge in their chest.

He ran into a few cops before heading into the ceramics room hallway. They shot at each other, the cops being injured and the kid getting to the hallway.

In the ceramics room, he encountered another cop and they were able to injure Dimitrios.

The cops having managed to injure Dimitrios’ pride—got him to surrender.

Still sadly—ten died and fourteen were injured.

After about thirty minutes of looking, Mrs. Flowers did finally find that sugar she so desperately needed.

She thanked God for that!

Little note:

If you have read this story, we hope the message is clear. While we aren’t condemning the rightful ownership of weapons, we are condemning the attitude that our democracy has facilitated in regards to justice versus rights.

Everyday in our country we fight for our rights, and everyday in our country someone could be fighting for their life. This is why we should all try better to understand the delicate topic of lethal force and better understand these warnings.

Regardless of warnings the future is scary… and just like always before, there is still the human factor.

As much as we fight for our own equal rights, for the most part, we are all at mercy to the whims of someone else.

This is why, we must all be careful when it comes to our lives and definitely to these weapons.

We can try tp control our own lives.

Other people have control over theirs—who is to say, they might not try to interrupt or manipulate yours?

[187days]

Day Thirty-Two

This morning during PLC time we all met with the other teachers whose advisory students are in the same grade as ours- so I met with all the other ninth grade advisors- and started to plan some activities/projects based around the class theme we established last month. The ninth grade theme is service to the school, so we developed some simple service projects to do second semester, and then planned out what we'd need to do between now and then to actually make them happen. So it was a positive and productive meeting for us, but I'm hearing through the grapevine that it wasn't so much for other groups.

Not sure what to do about that, but it's also not up to me, so... we'll see what happens.

I spent the first half hour of Block 1 observing Mr. V's American Studies class, which was really enjoyable. He's got a great rapport with his students, and he's an excellent lecturer. I left him many positive comments, a few questions, and one or two suggestions. Then I went to grade all the Culture Projects that were turned in late (amazing what putting a zero in the electronic grade book does) and get ready to teach Global Studies.

It's a pretty simple lesson today. I'd made copies of students' projects, taken the names off them, and uploaded them to Classroom; today everyone had to pick two projects to read and review, and then they could spend any remaining time preparing for tomorrow's content quiz (the unit's essential questions transformed into an open notes- but not open technology- quiz). It's the kind of lesson that has to be customized a bit; I gave all the instructions up front in my first two sections, and let them figure out how to manage the time to get both tasks done; I went over quiz preparation first in my third section; and in my fourth I gave a very specific time frame for doing the project review, then spent the remainder of class on quiz preparation. It's just about knowing what's going to work for each group of students.

Mr. C came up and observed during my third section, so he saw me doing the quiz prep stuff, but he left once kids started on the project reviews. He's probably going to come back next week to watch me teach a more, well, teacher-centric lesson. It's good to see lots of different things, though, especially as a new teacher.

What else?

In APGOV we started a new unit. but first we had to evacuate the building because the fire alarm went off. It wasn't a planned drill; the fire chief just decided we needed to have one, so we had one, no advance warning. And, whatever, it was fine, albeit annoying. After it was over, THEN we got into the new unit (interactions between branches of government). I find it's easier to teach about Congress if I teach about how people become representatives first, so I did a quick lecture on congressional campaigns. Then I got into reapportionment, redistricting, and gerrymandering. I let students play highly addictive and also vaguely disturbing (when you think about the implications for democratic elections) Gerrymandering Game for a bit, and then had them read summaries of Baker v. Carr and Shaw v. Reno.

I think it all went pretty smoothly even with the disruption, so yay for that!

[teacherintransition]

Bob Dylan and The Teacher in Transition

All I needed to know about life adjustments came from THE songwriter of our age …

From just one lyric, if’n you want to know.

Like a lot of teachers, I often posted valuable pearls of wisdom on my classroom walls with the intent of inspiring the young minds of my students. Some were very clearly stated with the message apparent for a quick dose of pep, motivation and dedication. Other quotes were strategically planned to illicit a, “huh?” The best one; that created the most confusion; that made not knowing the meaning of yon quote completely unbearable was a lyric from the classic song “Its Alright Ma,”* by the master songwriter of the twentieth century: Bob Dylan.

The thought provoking, challenging, intrinsic introspective line from the song was as follows; “he not busy being born is dying.” Deer in the headlight eyes often turned to me upon reading this lyrical magic with the plea, “Mr. Rich, what-does-that-even-mean …it’s making my head hurt.” I paraphrase, but I got the sentiment spot on that much I’m certain. I, being a master of the Socratic method, would draw the knowledge out by asking strategic questions designed to enlighten and to drive them crazy. “What do you think it means, what does it mean to you, is Dylan being literal, what do the words symbolize or represent, what is Dylan trying to say;” were just some of the questions I would ask. Eventually, they would determine the meaning or I would just give up in exasperation and just tell them. Before I move forward, you get the meaning don’t you dear reader? You know the deep significance of the lyrics …right? Right? …(sigh)

I digress. To not put too fine a point on it, I think and thought, that Dylan was telling us that life is constant change and the person busy being born adapts to the ever changing and challenging rocky road of life and perseveres in the face of it. It was my classroom so my opinion was non negotiable. That dude busy dying …well, he has more than likely rolled up into the fetal position and like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, murmur to themselves, “there’s no place like home,”** (i.e. I can’t handle change). A revolting position to adopt, but hey, what cha gonna do? One can’t deny that this lyrical line of logic is pretty damn universal in any of the life obstacles we face during our sojourn on the earth.

It’s been my discovery that major life changes, let’s say a teacher retiring after thirty years, has got to be willing to reinvent themselves or allow themselves to be reinvented …or you’ll end up doing the fetal position, murmuring thing. Preparing for a life change like retirement will reveal that almost every aspect of daily life changes and you my friend are in charge of managing these alterations …uh, daily. Be willing to break the mold, change directions, alter your mindset …and any other overused cliché to keep your life exhilarating and lively and free from the busy dying thing. (subtle reference to the Dylan lyrics) Be willing to break routine and not be intimidated by the prospect of creating your new reality based a non conformed day to day existence. Let everything be new; you can do it! Just think of how you adapted to huge life changes in the past: getting married, buying a home and having kids. Those monumental changes were often by choice and some not; but they all came with high stakes for all involved. It’s for you now, be busy being born!

*Dylan, Bob; “It’s Alright Ma;”Bringing It All Back Home; Columbia Records; March, 1965

**Baum, Frank L.; The Wonderful Wizard of Oz; George M. Hill Company; May, 1900