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rip-quizilla · 7 months

Text

Meet the Teacher

Pairing: Modern!Older!Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Summary: Eddie meets his daughter's new kindergarten teacher and he's pretty sure you're his wet dream come to life. AKA: single dad!Eddie fantasizes about you while he jerks off.

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, masturbation, implied road head, pervert!Eddie, switch!Eddie (sort of)

A/N: She's a short queen, standing just over 2k words tall- barely more than a blurb. Quick 'lil read, but I hope y'all enjoy her ❤️

🍎🍎🍎

Eddie needed to calm down.

This wasn’t the time for him to be straining against his jeans, getting hot and bothered at seven o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Wasn’t the place. Hell, given his history with school in general, he should feel uncomfortable as fuck in all sorts of other ways, sitting in a classroom for the first time in over a decade. The last time Eddie remembered being happy to be in a classroom was Miss Adami’s fifth grade class. She had always been nice to him.

Eddie wouldn’t mind if this teacher were nice to him…

Fucking. Stop. You horny bastard. Eddie chided himself mentally, Get it together, Munson.

He crossed his leg over the opposite knee, willing his half-mast dick to soften the fuck down, and fast. Eddie did his best not to draw attention to himself as he readjusted his position in the too-small plastic chair, scooted about a foot away from the hilariously low table he was currently sitting by.

He focused his gaze on Raven, his daughter, who sat criss-cross-applesauce on the rainbow-colored rug at the front of the classroom. Her big brown eyes were wide, rapt as she watched her new teacher leading her and all the other five-year-olds in a song that required various hand motions and claps and whatnot. Eddie couldn’t help but grin fondly at the little tyke as she listened intently to every direction, determined to do every little thing her teacher asked of her without a single flaw.

The only problem was that no matter how cute his daughter was, no matter how much Eddie tried desperately to control himself, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you.

He knew schools were loosening up on rules and regulations and all that- more and more school districts now allowed teachers to dye their hair unconventional colors, show tattoos, have more than just their earlobes pierced, blah blah blah…

But he hadn’t expected his daughter’s kindergarten teacher to look this fucking hot.

You were something straight out of his fantasies. Like some hybrid rockabilly/alt girl/teacher hybrid, with hair that shone such a vibrant red that he knew there was no way it was natural. Fine by him. Tattooed sleeves of black-inked flowers crawled up your arms, showcasing some of the most beautiful linework and shading that Eddie had ever seen. His eyes followed the vines without his permission, taking account of the foxglove at your right forearm, the hyacinth on your left elbow, the cluster of lilacs that peeked out of the capsleeve on your shoulder.

And oh, god, he couldn’t look at the snake that coiled around your knee. He hadn’t seen it at first, but when you’d sat down in your chair at the front of the classroom, your dress had crept up your lower thigh, allowing the snake to slither into view, and fuck, Eddie wasn’t sure he’d be able to pay much attention to whatever information you’d be delivering that he probably needed to know. All he could hope was that you’d been considerate enough to print out any necessary information so he could read it later.

Tearing his eyes from his daughter’s teacher (christ, Eddie really was a horny bastard, this was in no way okay), he pulled his phone from his pocket in an effort to provide himself a distraction.

��Ahem.”

Eddie’s gaze shot up from his phone screen, realizing shamefully that your eyes were trained on him, catching him red-handed in the middle of using his phone in class (which was funny, since he technically wasn’t ‘in class’, just in a classroom). Still, that didn’t seem to make a difference to you as you raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to do anything other than slip that phone back into his pocket. Trapped under your authoritative glare, Eddie gulped, cock twitching slightly as he slid the phone back into the pocket of his charcoal jeans.

The moment your eyes left him, you were back to wide smiles that crinkled around your lashes, clapping along with the kids who already adored you, even though you technically wouldn’t be their teacher until next week. It didn’t matter- they were infatuated with you, a sentiment that Eddie could understand completely.

When Eddie stepped up to shake your hand on the way out of your classroom that evening, his heart had leapt at the look that you gave him- one eyebrow raised, the corner of your lipsticked mouth clipping up in a wry, knowing smile.

Just like you’d done for every child before they left your classroom that day, you first crouched down until your eyes were level with Raven’s and asked if she would prefer a hug or a high five. Unsurprisingly, the little firecracker had responded by simply throwing her arms around your neck, clinging to you with the reckless abandon and generous trust that only a five-year-old could give so freely. When you stood to shake Eddie’s hand, he had to bite back a what, I don’t get to pick a hug or high five?

“Raven,” you said, voice still lifted with excitable inflection that would make any little ankle biter’s ears perk up like a doberman’s. “I can already tell you’re an excellent student. Do you think you can help your daddy remember all of the things we talked about today?”

Raven’s eyes lit up, and her wispy curls shook as she nodded her head in agreement. “Uh-huh!”

Eddie gave his daughter’s hand a squeeze and nudged her lightly with his knee. “Yes ma’am.” he prompted, and it was echoed in her tiny, polite voice upon hearing his reminder.

Your eyes flicked up to his, approval in your gaze dancing with the teasing sarcasm in your smile. “Excellent manners.” you praised, and Eddie wasn’t sure if you were talking to him or to his daughter. Either was fine with him.

You took his hand in yours, shook it all-businesslike with a polite “Nice to meet you, Mr. Munson.” and before Eddie knew it, he was out the door. However, his mind was still on the cherry-red shine of your hair. The crimson varnish on your nails. The sweetheart neckline of your fifties-style dress, and how when you crouched down and he stayed standing he could see the top of a black lace bra underneath.

Good god, he was a pervert.

It was all he could think about on the way home, all he could think about while Raven watched one of those Minions movies for the twentieth time before bed. All he could think about after he’d tucked her in, kissed her goodnight, and retreated to his own bedroom to think about you while he touched himself.

Eddie was old-fashioned- he didn’t need porn. His imagination was a talented machine, fine-tuned after decades of dreaming up campaigns and writing songs. When he laid down on his mattress, it didn’t take long for him to conjure up the image of you there with him, climbing onto his lap, hiking up that black and white polka dotted dress until he could see the tattoos that he imagined must decorate your thighs.

He spat into his hand, sighing as he felt the slick coat his cock with each pass of his hand. He applied the most pressure with his thumb, flicking it over that ridge beneath the head that felt fucking phenomenal when touched the way he liked. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine your red-painted nails slipping over the head of his cock, tongue poking out to kitten-lick the very tip while you looked at him with big, bright, forbidden eyes.

Your crimson-stained lips, shiny with spit, would envelop him warmly, causing him to groan ecstatically as his hips bucked into your mouth. His cock, fully hard and throbbing, would slide down your throat as you shoved your lips- no, as Eddie shoved your lips further and further down his shaft until your nose smushed against the hair at his groin. His hand would span across the back of your head, pushing you down and holding you there until you gagged around him, and God, that would feel so good, your desperate swallowing around his throbbing dick and the noises you would make- what noises would you make?

He imagined your voice as he fisted his cock, wove melodies of moans in his head that he could pull from your mouth. Would they be deep? Guttural? Or would you be the kind of moaner that whimpered at the highest register you had? Would you be loud, so loud that the neighbors would hear- either that, or he would just have to gag you. Slap his hand over your mouth. Stuff your panties between your lips (which he was sure were black lace to match your bra). Or would you be more assertive, quick to put Eddie in his place like you did today when he’d taken out his phone?

Which did he want to call you: baby? Or ma’am? He imagined trying both out on you while he was balls-deep in your wet little pussy, and thought about which word would make you squeeze him tighter.

God, Eddie was so fucking horny. It had been so long since he’d cum inside anything that wasn’t his own hand. He thought about whether or not it would be inappropriate to text the cell phone number you’d provided in the email you’d sent out to the parents/guardians of your class. What would he even say?

Evening, miss. Was nice to meet you tonight. Feel like grabbing a drink?

Could he? Would that be appropriate?

He got harder just thinking about it. It definitely would not be appropriate… but what if you said yes anyway? What if you actually agreed to see him? What if you both hit it off? What if you actually did come back to his place with him, let him slide his hand around your waist, hold you close enough to smell the perfume on your neck? Let him see that lacy bra in all its glory?

The fantasy of an evening played out in his mind’s eye: Eddie would pick you up at your house, and you would answer the door wearing a cherry-colored dress that hugged your curves, painting you red to match your hair, your nails, and the angry shade of his cock. In the car, his fingers would brush the skin of your thigh, tracing the inked designs that lived there as you answered his questions about what you liked, what you didn’t, what you wanted or hated. Your hand would snake over to his thigh in turn, trace the seam of his black jeans- the ones that hugged his legs in all the right places- and the sensation would get him hard on the spot, right there in his car.

Would you be scared away by that? By how quickly you turned him on, drove him nuts. Or would it turn you on too, making you sigh, a rumble through your chest as he felt your delicate, red-tipped fingers brush his hardening cock through the tightening fabric. Would you unbuckle his belt? Unbutton his pants? Unzip his fly and free his throbbing dick into the cool night air, only to shock him with the warm, wet feel of your mouth while he continued to cruise down a Hawkins country road?

Eddie groaned, feeling his release creep up on him. Closer and closer he drew, and with every stroke of his cock he succumbed further into his hazy vision of you. Now you were back in bed with him, naked and bouncing on his cock. You were rubbing your clit as you moved your hot, wet pussy up and down his shaft, leaving milky white wet in your wake. In his fantasy, you were arching your back, moaning as he thrust himself into you at a pace that hit places within you that made you cry out his name.

His movements were getting faster, his grip growing tighter as it slipped over his cock at a speed that he knew would result in a sore arm tomorrow but he didn’t care- his release would be worth it. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, imagining your knees quivering as you made yourself cum on his cock. Imagining your body convulsing under waves of pleasure, your thighs threatening to close against his strong hands holding them open. You would moan and mewl and chant his name, and conjuring up the sound of his name as it left your lips was what did it for Eddie.

Heavy, white ropes of cum dripped over his knuckles, painting his stomach and sliding over the shining crevices of his rings. He stroked himself slower, coming down from his release with a shuddering sigh.

It only took a few moments for the fact that he just jacked off to the thought of his daughter’s kindergarten teacher to sink in.

Eddie didn’t feel… creepy… but he could tell there was a definite line he’d crossed somewhere. However, he was tired, and decided that he would deal with the moral implications tomorrow.

***

The next time Eddie saw you, you were working the car line after school. He’d taken note of the Metallica shirt you were wearing, and rolled down his window, turning up the volume on his stereo. He watched as your smile broadened when you recognized For Whom the Bell Tolls.

“Here for Raven?” You’d asked with a lopsided grin. Your voice was just as sweet as he remembered.

“Yep,” he’d replied, nodding to your t-shirt, “but if you want to keep her for a few more hours, I think I just decided I trust you with my kid even more than I did before.”

You grinned, showing all of your teeth this time. “She’s a cool kid.” you paused, as if debating whether to finish your sentence. “...I can see where she gets it.”

Eddie beamed, his smirk reaching up to the crow’s feet at his eyes. “You think I’m cool?”

You matched him, smirk for smirk, going as far as to lean your forearms onto the passenger side window sill. “You carry yourself like someone who knows they’re cool.”

Eddie stared at you for a moment, debating for an entirely too-short length of time whether or not he should shoot his shot.

Fuck it.

“Cool enough to buy you a drink sometime?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fic #older!eddie munson #single dad!eddie munson #teacher!reader #dad!eddie munson #rip-quizilla

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 7 months

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Dick standing up for teacher reader? Pleas?

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dick asked, bursting through the doors of the wedding boutique.

"Dick-"

"Baby I love you. You're beautiful and you can buy whatever dress you want. Or a tux. Or a fucking mini skirt. I don't care-" he broke off his tirade and kissed you, not as gently as he meant to. Leaving one of the shop clerks to steady you on your feet as he turned to round on your mother and step mother who had invited themselves along.

Steph had texted him about the time your mother said you 'looked like a pig' in a specific dress. One that you'd been happy about.

"And you two," Dick said rounding on your mother and step sister with a growl, "Out. Right now."

"You can't make us leave," Your mother huffed, "She's my daughter-"

"Babe?" Dick said over his shoulder, "Do you want them to go?"

"Please."

Your voice is very small. And very timid. And it does nothing to quell the fury. You'd been excited. You wanted to try on dresses and have some fun. Steph and Cass were going. Barbara was going to hook up a video call so your Grandma could be there. It was fine. Your friends were planning pedicures and lunch- It was for you. Just for you. And now you don't even want to do it. All because your mother couldn't just be happy for you.

"You heard," Dick said crossing his arms, "Leave or I call the police."

It took some squawking and some shooing but when they were unceremoniously ushered out by Steph and Cass who were all too happy to do it, Dick turned back to you and held out his hand to help you down. "Is there somewhere we can talk for a minute?" Dick asked the shop owner.

"There's fitting rooms," she said nodding, happy to help now that the disturbance was over.

"Perfect." Dick lead you the direction she indicated quickly and shut the door to a fitting room. It wasn't as private as he wanted but it was something.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Hey," he murmured, "Shhh. No. You're okay. Baby please don't cry." When the Dam breaks all he can do is scoop you up. Wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest. "You look so beautiful."

"I just wanted to have a good day."

"You still can, sweetie. You don't look like a pig. Or a slut- whatever those things look like. You look beautiful, okay?" He tilted your chin up and wiped tears off your cheeks with his thumbs. "I have one request for your dress though," he teased. Eyes crinkling at the corners.

"What?"

"Mostly that it either be easy to get out of the way or easy to get you in and out of. I don't think I'm gonna be able to keep my hands to myself."

And when you giggle and thud your forehead against his chest he chuckled, rocking you for a second. "You're gonna be breathtaking," Dick said, "No matter what you pick."

"Okay but. If you don't cry when I come down the aisle I'm gonna go back and we're gonna do it again."

"Duly noted," he said grinning and he bent to kiss your head.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #teacher!reader

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moonstruckme · 6 months

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Hello my fave lovely! Could I request a small something about teacher reader and Stevie coming to visit her classroom(maybe he’s a teacher too and they teach upper elementary school 9-10 year olds?)

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting! I decided to make Steve a PE coach instead of a teacher, hope that's alright :)

(slightly terrified some big mouth fandom I don't know about is gonna find this because "Coach Steve," but I'm taking that risk)

coach!Steve x teacher!reader ♡ 573 words

The projector always puts the kids to sleep, but you’re trying to keep them alert enough to retain what an object noun is when there’s a knock at your door. It opens, and Steve’s head pokes through.

Immediately, your kids are wide awake.

“Coach H! Coach H!” Their voices are bulldozing over each other, competing for Steve’s attention. “Hi Coach H!”

“Hey guys.” Steve grins at them, unphased by the effects of his celebrity. “Can I borrow Miss Y/N for a sec?”

The kids know well enough that it’s not a question for them, and they look to you as you put down your dry marker, giving them all a stern look. “I’ll be right outside this door,” you warn them. “If I hear any chatter, it better be about grammar.”

Of course, no sooner do you close the door behind you than a buzz of unapproved chatter starts up in the classroom. You ignore it. Steve’s hands find your shoulders, steering you away from the classroom window and then pressing you against the wall with the force of his kiss.

“Stevie!” you chide, breaking away and looking around you in alarm. Thankfully, the hallway seems empty.

“I’ll be right outside this door,” he croons in a girlish imitation of your voice. “You’re so tough with them, babe.”

“I have to be,” you reply. “They’d walk all over me otherwise.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Otherwise, huh? So that wasn’t you I saw trading lunches with Maggie the other day because she didn’t want her peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

You flush. “I like peanut butter and jelly.”

Steve grins, kissing your warm cheek. “My sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at him as if he’s more annoying than endearing (you both know better, but the fun’s in the act). “What’re you doing here?” you ask him, crossing your arms. “You know how you rile them up when you come by. It’s gonna take me forever to get them back on task.”

“Well first of all, I wanted to see you, didn’t realize that was a crime,” Steve says, grinning when you roll your eyes again, with even less feeling this time. He’s rubbing his hands up and down your arms, and soon he’s worked your hands free and is holding one in each of his. “And also, the second graders are testing today, so they’re not coming to PE. I’ll be free during your lunch.”

You blink. “They’re having the second graders skip PE for testing? They’re going to be bouncing off the walls.”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe they’re giving them extra recess after or something. I dunno, they didn’t ask me about it.” He squeezes your hands. “So, lunch.” A suave smile spreads across his face, and you know it’s meant as a joke but your knees go a bit wobbly anyway. “Wanna sit together?”

You bite your lip, but it’s useless; your smile can’t be contained. “Sounds good, handsome. My classroom? Eleven thirty?”

“It’s a date.” Steve leans forward again, and this time you oblige him, the kiss short but sweet enough to rot your teeth. “Okay, I’ve got fifth grade in five,” he says, letting go of your hands and walking backwards down the hallway. “Tell your kids I said to chill out.”

“That’ll only make it worse,” you reply, laughing. “See you at lunch, Stevie.”

He grins as he pushes the door open with his back, sunlight flooding the hallway.

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eightantseatingapples · 3 months

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Aizawa X TeachingAssistant!Reader

Summary: Aizawa helps you feel less insecure about your role in protecting 1-A

Content: hurt/comfort, fluff, him being the best boyfriend

AN: this was actually supposed to be smut but I got carried away and it turned into this lol

Stacks of mismatched papers fell slowly from your desk as you desperately searched for the one paper you needed, Kaminari had finally submitted the ethics essay you assigned and you had lost it. After weeks of telling him how important it was, how you needed it otherwise it would be a fail, he finally and sheepishly handed it to you just before the day's end. You put it somewhere on the desk, you’re sure about that.

In the vague panic of trying to find the damn essay, you didn’t hear the door to your classroom open, and you certainly didn’t notice the silent figure making its way towards you.

A paper appeared in front of your face, being held by familiar, calloused hands. Moving your eyes upwards, you noticed who the hand was attached to — raven hair and scarred skin, soothing grey eyes with heavy bags, Shouta. His brows were furrowed ever so slightly and there was a tenseness in his jawline, but he wasn’t angry.

You took the paper with trembling hands and read the words, the handwritten letters with smudged ink — Denki Kaminari. With a disbelieving huff of air, you looked back up to Shouta and smiled.

“Thank you, I’ve been looking for that.” You mumbled, not bothering to seem put together in front of him, he’s seen you at your worst, this doesn’t even come close to that.

“You need to start putting things in their proper places.” Shouta’s low voice grumbled, tilting his head in the direction of the basket of essays on your desk — something he had added to avoid this specific situation. He wasn’t being rude, it had taken a long time to figure that one out, he was simply trying to help you. He just struggled to verbalise things in a kinder way. Your mouth opened to defend yourself before you just sighed and shook your head.

The hero let out a small huff of air through his nose before he crouched down and started to pick up all of the discarded papers and trinkets that had managed to end up on the floor.

“It’s, it won’t happen again, promise.” You swore, both of you knowing just how forgetful you were and that this would happen again within the next few days. It wasn’t your fault, everything was just so much, you were the only staff member who wasn’t a hero, and you were barely a teacher. Shouta recommended you to Nedzu to be a teaching assistant for the hero course given your natural charm and qualifications. Unfortunately, that came with the side effect that you just didn't have experience dealing with stressful situations, your biggest issue for years had simply been not making enough money. Now you had a class of mismatched children, all traumatised and aged well beyond their years, all training to fight and lay their lives on the line. Their biggest fear was death, yours was not marking the papers correctly.

It rubbed you the wrong way, the way these children — your children — could defend you better than you could defend them. Sure, with legal issues and the press, you were like a fish in water. But actually defending them? Fighting for their safety and security? Making sure they didn't die? You couldn't do that.

“I can hear you thinking, love, talk to me.” Shouta whispered, looking up at you from his crouched position on the floor, a stupid little octopus trinket in his hand, engulfing it. Midoriya had gifted you that one, after noticing your love for silly little decorations like that, he was a sweet boy. Too much on his plate. Your eyes didn't leave the small, green octopus as you spoke up in a shaky voice.

“It's… It's really stupid — nothing. It's nothing. I'm fine.” Your voice was shakier than intended, and the burning in your throat from unshed tears was annoying you. Shouta glanced down at the octopus, before handing it to you and raising a brow. He still hadn't gotten up from his crouch, sometimes he really reminded you of an overgrown cat. Inhaling a calming breath, you continued. “These kids, Sho, they don't… I dunno. It's too much for them, every moment they’re alive and breathing fighting for their lives, and I'm here demanding essays from them! I'm writing words on some paper, correcting mistakes and watching as they stare down at their papers with that look. Like they know that they've done shit even though they haven’t. They're doing so well.”

A pregnant pause.

“It's so unfair,” your fingers traced the seam lines of the octopus as you continued, “I just… I feel like I should be doing more, you know? I can't throw a punch, or use a flashy quirk to protect them. All I do is grade papers and—”

“They love you.” Shouta cut in with a soft voice, placing a hand on your bouncing leg. He glanced to the side, eyeing your desk and the various trinkets and silly photos. After a silent moment, he locked eyes with you, an unspoken command to listen. His free hand waved in the direction of your messy desk. “And you love them. I've just seen you panic for 5 minutes because you couldn't find an essay that Kaminari did. Any other teacher would just demand he rewrite it, but you know better. You know how much he struggles, so you extend his deadlines, don't give me that look, it's very obvious. And you know what? This class is the only one where he submits good essays, or any at all. Todoroki likes to nap in your class, he doesn't do that in any others because only this one feels safe. Midoriya never hesitates to ask questions like he does in most other classes. Hagakure always mentions how you ask her opinion every lesson, she likes feeling seen and you know that.”

Shouta let out a small laugh, seeing your bewildered expression.

“You may not be able to punch bad guys, or save them from burning buildings, but you are their safe space. You can grade their essays and leave little doodles with reassuring messages, you can give them gold stars when they exceed your expectations, and you can hug them and tell them that everything will be okay. They feel safe with you.”

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks as he spoke, his voice was so sincere and genuine that you couldn't even question it. Standing up, he shuffled your papers to be neater, grabbed the octopus, placed it down, and turned off your laptop. Wordlessly, he pulled you up from your seat and wrapped his arms around you, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. Your hands wrapped around him, grasping his shirt desperately as your face scrunched up.

It was hard not to compare yourself to those around you, considering the school was filled with people who had years of experience and knowledge about what was going on. Your kids even had more experience than you put in the field, and on multiple occasions, you had to ask them to explain certain things to you as they rambled on about their day. It got worse when the dorms were introduced, hearing them scream or whimper in their sleep, watching as they refused to stay alone for too long and would opt to do a sleepover in the common room (something that you would always pretend to not notice), or even just seeing the scars that were produced because of you. Because you couldn’t protect them.

“The kids, they don’t really talk to me,” Shouta murmured into your hair, kissing the top of your head before continuing, “it hurts a bit. I don’t mean to be so… me, I’m always worried they’ll keep it bottled up and explode one day. But you know what I heard Iida telling everyone the other night?” Shouta asked, specifically waiting for your response. You furrowed your brows and hummed, prompting him to continue. The raven-haired man rubbed his thumb against the small of your back.

“He said that if anyone was struggling, that you would listen and help. We have a literal guidance counsellor, and Iida, who is a stickler for rules and procedures, didn’t mention Hound Dog. His first thought was you. In times of crisis, his first instinct was to go to you for help. That’s important. It’s no use being able to take down bad guys if the students don’t trust you.

“The kids like your inexperience, they like that they can feel smart and brag about silly things while you spur them on and get them to explain. They like that you are there and that you will always be there.”

You choked on a sob, and Shouta shushed you with a small smile.

“Your kids love you, baby.” He whispered, and just like that, the dam broke. Your breath hitched and your whole body shuddered as you sobbed into his shoulder. Your mind was a giant concoction of shame and despair and pride, that the kids loved you. Because that’s all you could really ask for.

None of the kids commented on how doting you were the next day, they just smiled and preened under the endless compliments. Kaminari got his essay back, with a personal note so long it belonged on a separate sheet of paper. Iida was given your personal phone number for ‘emergencies’, saying the rest of the class would need it. Todoroki was given a small pillow to rest on in class.

And you? You were given an A3 card filled with kind messages and personal anecdotes about how you helped 1-A.

Shouta watched from his sleeping bag, a small smile on his face. He definitely didn’t tell the kids you were feeling sad, definitely not. He was confident everyone would be okay as long as you and he continued working as a team, protecting your children in all the ways they needed.

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 5 months

Text

My Papa Thinks You’re Pretty » Jefferson

Pairings: Jefferson x Teacher!Reader with Grace

Summary: Graces gets her dad (Jefferson) a date with her teacher (the reader).

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩

“Have a great weekend, everyone!” You say to the class.

Everyone shuffled out of the classroom as you packed up.

“Papa!” Grace says, running up to Jefferson.

“Hey sweetheart! How was school?” Jefferson asks, hugging her.

“Great! You have to say hi to Miss. Y/L/N!” She says excitedly.

“Grace, I don’t think—” He was interrupted by Grace.

“There she is!” She pointed at you. “Miss. Y/L/N!” Grace shouts.

You looked at her and smiled, walking towards her and Jefferson.

“Do you need something, Grace?” You asked, looking down at her.

“No. My papa wanted to say hi!” She smiles.

Jefferson smiles and started blushing uncontrollably.

“Hi, Mr. Hatter.” You say with a smile, holding your hand out for him to shake.

“Call me Jefferson.” He shakes your hand. “How’s Grace doing in your class?” He asks.

“Amazing. She one of my star students and my favorite.” You say, smiling down at Grace.

“That’s great.” He smiles.

You three stood in silence for a moment until Grace broke the silence.

“My papa thinks you’re pretty.” Grace says.

Jefferson’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned red in embarrassment. You smiled and blushed.

“Your papa is handsome.” You tell her.

“You two should go on a date sometime.” She suggests.

“Grace, she’s probably busy.” Jefferson says.

“I’m free tomorrow night.” You smiled. “Pick me up at 7pm.” You say.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll see you then.” He smiles.

“It was wonderful talking to you guys, but I have to go home and grade papers. I’ll see you Monday, Grace and I’ll see you tomorrow night, Jefferson.” You say with a smile.

Jefferson smiles and nods as you walked away.

“Remind me to thank you tomorrow.” Jefferson says to Grace.

🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩

-Bucky’s Doll

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elliesmainhoe · 1 year

Text

RECKLESS

Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Summary: While working, Joel comes in and tells you that your girlfriend, Ellie, was injured on patrol.

Contents: Slight misogyny, injury, swearing, angst, fluff, unconsciousness, playful banter.

Everyone in Jackson had a role, a purpose. Naturally Ellie was assigned to patrol and scavenge. Ellies strength was admirable, she was smart in combat, strong and immune, it was obvious why Maria put her on patrol. But you hated it.

You were never a natural fighter, more soft in nature. You were assigned as a glorified babysitter, taking care of toddlers during the day while their parents went off on errands and jobs. So you knew very little on combat.

Ellie loved that about you, your kind sweet and carefree nature, you seemed so fragile she had this urge to protect you ever since she first saw you chasing down a run away five year old, smiling and laughing as mud and snow splattered on your clothes.

You loved the kids, they loved you back. The small day care building always filled with childish babbles and bubbly giggles. You loved your job but you hated Ellie's. The idea of your girlfriend running from clickers. Shooting and climbing in abandoned building, death lurking round every corner.

You knew she was immune, her immunity calmed your nerves a ton. But immunity didn't protect her from people. Due to your kind demeanor people often assumed you were gullible and timid so they tried to take advantage of that. You couldn't count the amount of times you'd clutched your hidden pocket knife when someone approached you.

People in fucked up situations become morally grey and inhumane. Willing to do anything to achieve they're end goal. And it was horrifying, you trusted Ellie with your life, but you didn't trust others.

"Miss Y/NNN" a small squeaky voice pulled you from your chance. A small brunette girl looked up at you, doe eyes filled with tears, puffy cheeks and a snotty nose.

"Oh, What's wrong Nora? Why you crying huh?" You say bending your knees and crouching to her eye level.

"Miles won't share his toys cars with me-me. He says- He says I'm a girl so I can't play with cars" her words were rushed, small sobs and sharp intakes of breath between words. "Oh I'm sorry sweet pea, I'll go talk to him, why don't you go colour for a minute and I'll get you a car, yeah?" She sniffed, wiping her snotty nose with the sleeve of her cardigan and waddling towards the colouring table. Sighing softly you turn towards the group of boys pushing small cars on wooden tracks around on the floor.

"Hey guys, you've made Nora quite upset, can you tell me why you did that" you spoke softly, sitting down next to the group of 4 year old boys.

"because she's a girl. And these are our toys..." He mutters moving the toy car and bashing it into his friends.

Thinking on how to approach this you start talking. "In Jackson, everyone shares, the other day I was food shopping and your mother shared some of her vegetables with me. You see if you want to be a big boy you have to learn to share sweetheart. Nora might be a girl but she can still like cars."

He looks at you "So if I go give Nora a car, I'm a big boy?" He questioned, looking comically puzzled. "Yeah that would be really nice of you honey." You say an encouraging smile painting your face as he begins to wonder towards the brunette girl, two toy cars in his hands.

"Y/N." A deep voice sounded from behind you. Quickly getting up and turn around "Joel." You said to the man whose frame took up the majority of the doorway. "What's up?, usually you don't come visit me during work." You added, a smile graced your face at the welcome visit from the man.

"Uh, Ellie came back from patrol and she's not looking too good. She was shot with an arrow in her shoulder, it wasn't bad by itself but it sent her falling forwards and she hit her head, she's out cold." He explained to you, the worry written on his features soon matching yours. You felt your heart drop, a sense of dread overcame you.

"Oh shi-" you cut yourself off looking at the distracted 2-6 year olds, "shoot." You finish "where is she?" "She's in my spare room, I patched her up she'll have a headache when she wakes up and have to rehabilitate her shoulder for a few weeks, thankfully." He answered.

" my shift ends in five, Gia should be here for her shift soon, you mind staying here till she shows up?" He sends a nod your way and you immediately grab your jacket and bag leaving the middle aged man with the group of fifteen toddlers. If you weren't so worried about your girlfriend, you would've laughed at the situation. Joel miller with a crowd of children, completely hopeless. Poor man.

Your feet hurried as the sight of Joel's house came into view. Hurrying up the porch steps, swinging the door open, quickly throwing your shoes off, dumping your backpack on the ground and rushing upstairs.

Opening the spare rooms door, your breath caught in your throat as the sight of your unconscious girlfriend laying on the double bed, bandages rapped around her shoulder, a patch on her head, covering what you can imagine Is a large bruise. You moved forwards, perching on the mattress looking down at Ellie.

Her face looked calm and serene, her beautiful brown hair falling Infront of her face, her soft lips had a small split in it. You kissed her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ears. You looked around the room, your eyes focusing on the rocking chair pushed into the bay window. Getting up and pushing the chair closer to her sleeping form.

You say on the chairs floral cushion, reaching forward and grabbing her hands. Absentmindedly your fingers began to trace the veins and scars on her hands.

"hey.. HEY." Your body jolted up abruptly, being startled awake by a husky voice. "Ellie..." Tears welled in your eyes as you stood up and cradles Ellie's face.

"you are such an idiot, so so reckless and stupid..." You mutter gazing into her eyes, you saw her lips quirk up in amusement. "Don't smile, you're in a huge amount of trouble, missy" you say sternly, raising an eyebrow at her when she rolls her eyes playfully in retaliation.

"sorry, miss Y/n" she mumbled pouting out her bottom lip, mimicking the kids you work with.

"Oh shut up" you reply, you lean down, gently pulling yourself closer, and tenderly push your lips against hers. A sigh leaves both of your mouths, relief evident in both the softness of the kiss and in the happiness of Ellie being okay.

She's okay, she's alive. Of course she's alive, your girl is so strong, she'd never leave you.

Ellie breaks the kiss murmuring a soft "c'mere" and patting the empty spot next to her on the bed. You scooch yourself over to her, resting your head on her uninjured shoulder and nuzzling into the crook of her neck. Her hand reaches out and cradles the back of your head, dragging her hands through it, softly combing and detangling.

"I'm alright beautiful, I'm all okay. I've been through too much shit to let an arrow fuck me over. And I could never leave my pretty girl alone, you're stuck with me sweetheart, you're never getting rid of me, for as long as I can help it.

----------

I like this one more than my last one. I hope you enjoyed this mini-fic. If all goes to plan then I should be uploading some head canons later too.

NOT PROOFREAD

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams x female reader #tlou hbo #ellie headcanons #lesbian fic #lesbian #ellie x reader #teacher!reader #elliesmainhoe

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allthelovehes · 14 days

Text

Field Day Reunion

Summary: Harry agrees to volunteer at his son's school and he is surprised to see the teacher is his long-lost high school girlfriend.

Pairing: Singledad!Harry x Teacher!Y/N

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

Support my work by joining my Patreon!

A/N: Just a fluffy little one shot about Harry reuniting with his high school lover. Let me know if you want a part two because I can totally see that happening!

As Charlie comes home from school with a piece of paper in hand, asking for volunteers to visit a local farm, Harry is eager to sign up. His 4-year-old is currently learning all about farm animals, so it seems like the perfect opportunity to see his enthusiasm first-hand.

Harry is a single parent to Charlie, and while parenthood is far from easy, he's found himself becoming an avid learner in the art of parenting as his son is growing up. The last year especially, since his girlfriend had left them both in the dust and moved away.

But while Harry's been focused on his son and their life at home, Charlie's growing up and becoming his own little person. He's also learning more about the world and how people fit into it, and Harry thinks that volunteering at his school is a perfect example of that.

And so, Harry fills out the permission slip and sends it back to Charlie's teacher.

Charlie is very excited when Harry tells him about the trip, and even though he's still very young, Harry can tell he's already forming his own ideas about the kind of person he wants to be. And that means the world to Harry. It's one thing for him to shape his son, but he's determined to give Charlie a voice, as well.

Later that week, Charlie is sent home from school with another letter. One that explains how the class will be visiting the farm, what the schedule will be like and what exactly they need help with from the volunteering parents. With this insight, Harry has a much better understanding of the day, and can teach Charlie about things he might see. Teaching him new words and showing him the pictures in the books that Harry has at home.

On the morning of the trip, Charlie is a bundle of excited nerves. He's practically vibrating as Harry helps him get dressed, and when Harry makes sure he's got his raincoat, he almost bursts.

“It's not going to rain, daddy.”

“Oh yeah? Then what's that.” Harry asks, pointing out the window where the clouds are hanging low and grey.

“It's not gonna rain” Charlie states again. “Promise” Harry huffs out a laugh because of course, the boy is going to be stubborn today

“Okay, little man. We'll see.” As they get ready to leave, Harry puts a light jacket on and grabs an umbrella. When Charlie notices, he pouts, making his father chuckle.

Harry is supposed to drive to school first so a few more kids can fit in the car, and then drive them all to the farm together. Charlie is excited to sit in the front, which gives him a perfect view of the sky and a chance to show Harry how wrong he is.

He's quiet for a while, just staring out the window, but Harry doesn't pay too much attention. He's too focused on the road and making sure the other kids are safe. But soon, the clouds part and the sun shines through.

“See? Told ya.” Charlie grins. Harry hums and nods.

“I suppose you did.”

Harry parks his car on the school grounds. They walk towards Charlie's classroom and when the door opens, Harry sees a young woman standing in the middle of the room, facing away from him. If he remembers correctly, his son's teacher used to be in her fifties, so who is this woman?

“Char? Did you get a new teacher” Harry asks his son as he puts his coat away, but Charlie shrugs.

“No. Miss Green is gone. This is Miss Y/L/N.” Charlie answers, pointing to the woman. At the sound of his son's voice, she turns around and Harry can finally see her face. She locks eyes with him and it feels like time stops.

“Y/N” Harry asks confused, his heart beating faster. She looks exactly the same as she did all those years ago, the only difference being the hair length and a few laugh lines on her face.

“Harry. Hi. Um... I wasn't expecting to see you here.” She says. Her voice sounds a little strained.

“Well, I wasn't expecting to see you either.” Harry chuckles. “How... are you? I didn't know you were a teacher.”

“Oh, I just started this year. And I'm doing great. How are you?” She smiles. It's a little awkward, but it's real.

“Good, good.” He smiles back, scratching the back of his neck. Y/N used to be his girlfriend in high school, until they broke up because of college. They've only seen each other a couple of times since then, mostly when their paths crossed in their hometown. He always knew he loved her, but as they grew older, the distance between them had grown too, and now they're basically strangers.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Charlie tugs on his jacket, looking up at him. Harry blinks and shakes his head a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm good, little man.” Harry says and runs a hand through his son's curls.

“Daddy?” Y/N asks, sounding amused. Harry can feel the blush spreading on his cheeks.

“Uh, yeah. Charlie is my son.” He tells her, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

“He's a lucky kid to have you, Harry.” Y/N smiles, and for a second, he's a teenage boy again, completely infatuated with her.

“Thank you.” Harry clears his throat.

“Are you ready to go to the farm, Charlie?” She asks, kneeling in front of the boy.

“Yep! Can we see the horses?” He asks excitedly, jumping a little. Y/N giggles.

“There aren't going to be any horses on the farm we're going to today, but I'm sure we can find a different animal. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry is a bit distracted for the rest of the day, and Y/N's eyes keep meeting his over the children's heads, making him blush and smile. He can't believe she's back in his life, and a teacher no less. He really hopes he'll see her more often, now that his boy is in her class.

“Okay kids, gather 'round!” Y/N calls as she stands in front of the pigpen. Charlie and his friends hurry over, giggling and talking excitedly. “Can you all say 'hello' to the pigs?” The children repeat her words, and she gives them all a warm smile. “Great job! Now, if you all take a step closer, you'll be able to pet the pigs. Remember to be gentle, okay?”

Harry can't believe his ears. Y/N was never a fan of animals, especially when they were close to her. Yet here she is, standing in the middle of the mud, smiling and laughing. It warms his heart to see her so fond of the kids.

As the kids pet the pigs, Harry steps next to Y/N, who smiles and waves.

“This is incredible, Y/N. I can't believe you're doing this.” Harry laughs.

“Yeah, it was a little weird at first, but the kids seem to love it. It's nice to see them all together and have fun.” She admits. “And it's also a great learning experience.”

“It really is. I don't think Charlie will be able to talk about anything else but pigs for the next few days.”

“It's great though, isn't it? Their little minds are constantly absorbing information and figuring out how the world works.”

“Yeah.” Harry smiles and nods, looking at his son, who's happily petting the pig with a huge smile on his face.

“Okay guys, I think it's time for lunch. Can we all thank the pigs?” She calls and the kids cheer.

“Thank you, pig.”

“Thank you, piggy!”

“Thanks, pig.”

They all wave at the pig and walk towards the picnic area, where a couple of parents are setting up the food. Y/N instructs the kids to wash their hands, and they all run to the bathrooms. Harry joins her, and they fall into a comfortable silence as they wait for the children.

“I'm really happy to see you again, Harry.” She admits, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“Me too, Y/N. It's been a long time.” He nods.

“Yeah.” She says, but doesn't elaborate. There's so much Harry wants to say to her, but the kids are coming back and he knows it's not the right time. He'll just have to find another opportunity.

Lunch is a fun affair, filled with laughter and the occasional mess. Afterwards, the kids play in the meadow for a while before heading back to the farm building.

“Okay, let's all sit down on the floor and I'll tell you a story about the farm.” Y/N instructs, and the kids all follow her. Harry sits with the parents, keeping an eye on his son and watching the woman he used to love.

Y/N talks to the kids about how the farm started, who built it, and what happened over the years. She has a way with words, and the children are hanging on to every word she says. After the story, they head over to the goat pen and watch as the baby goats jump around, chasing each other and bleating.

“Daddy, can we get a goat?” Charlie asks.

“Maybe, buddy. But I don't think we'd have a place to keep one.” Harry replies.

“Aww, but it's so cute.” Charlie whines, and Y/N can't help but chuckle as she picks up on their conversation.

“It is very cute. But maybe you can come here and see the goats, instead.” She suggests. Charlie nods and smiles, he walks back to the adorable creatures.

“Thanks, you just saved me there.” Harry laughs.

“Don't mention it. I'm glad I could help.”

“So, um... Charlie's mom. How's she doing?” Y/N asks, and he can see the hesitation on her face.

“Oh. She's fine, I think. We haven't seen each other since she left.” Harry answers.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious.” She says, wringing her hands together.

“No, no, it's okay. I just didn't expect it.”

“Oh. Well, that's good.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. They look at each other for a moment before someone calls for Y/N, and they're pulled out of the moment.

The rest of the day passes quickly. There are many games and activities for the kids to try out, and lots of running around and laughing. Charlie is completely worn out when it's time to go, and he falls asleep in the car.

When Harry pulls up to the school, he lets the other kids out of his car so they can go home but makes sure to let Charlie have his nap.

“Thanks, Harry.” Y/N says as she walks up to him.

“For what?” He asks.

“For being such a great dad and helping me out. I had a lot of fun today.” She explains, smiling at him.

“Anytime, Y/N.” He replies, giving her a small smile back. They look at each other for a while, both hesitant.

“Well, I better get going. See you around!” She asks.

“Definitely. See you.”

With that, Y/N walks away and Harry gets into his car. As Harry watches her go, he can't help but wonder what the future will bring and he realises he's not wanting to wait for it all to happen. He quickly opens the door and calls her name, stopping her in her tracks.

“Yes?” She asks, confused.

“Can I please have your phone number? I'd love to catch up.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” She says, pulling her phone out and giving him the number.

“Great. Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Have a nice evening, Harry.”

“You too, Y/N.”

He watches as she walks away, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. It's like he's found something he didn't even know was missing, and he can't wait to explore the possibilities with her. ***

Ever since the field trip when Harry would drop Charlie off at school, he can't stop thinking about Y/N. She's always been on his mind, but this time, it's different. Now that they've reconnected, Harry can't help but notice everything about her. The way she smiles, the way she laughs, and the way her eyes sparkle.

He hasn't dated since Charlie's mother left. He was too busy raising his son and working, and it wasn't really a priority. But now, as he watches Y/N interact with his boy, he can't help but want more. He wants her, and he's not sure what to do about it.

One afternoon, as Harry is waiting in the parking lot after picking up Charlie, Y/N approaches his car. She gives him a small wave and a smile, and he quickly gets out of the car.

“Hi.” She greets him, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Hey. What's up?” He asks, leaning against the car.

“Um, I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me? You asked for my number but never called, so I thought I'd ask you in person.” She asks, her voice laced with nervousness.

“Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, I've been... I got kinda nervous.” He admits.

“Really?” She asks, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah.” He says. He doesn't explain himself further, and they just stand there, looking at each other for a minute. “Let's change the coffee for dinner and you've got yourself a deal.” He smirks, making her laugh.

“Deal.”

They agree on a time and place and then Y/N leaves, her smile growing wider with each step she takes. Harry watches her, his heart beating faster with every passing second. As he's driving home, Harry can't stop smiling. He's finally going on a date with the woman of his dreams.

He decides to make an effort and dresses up a little, putting on a nice pair of jeans and a shirt. It's not much, but it's more than he usually wears. He even brushes his hair. When he's done, he goes into the living room and finds Charlie sitting on the couch, watching TV.

“Hey, little man. Are you hungry?” Harry asks. Charlie shakes his head. “Are you sure? I'm going out for dinner and I can pick something up for you on the way home.”

“Can I come?” Charlie asks, looking up at his father with big, puppy eyes.

“Oh, um... Maybe next time, buddy. Grandma is coming over to watch you. This is kind of an adult thing.”

“What is it?”

“I'm having dinner with a friend.” Harry explains. Charlie frowns, and his brows furrows in concentration.

“Do I know her?” He asks, his voice curious.

“Yes, you do. But you can meet her another time, okay?”

“Okay.” Charlie says, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Daddy?”

“Yes, little man?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Harry almost chokes on the air, his eyes going wide.

“What?” He manages to squeak out.

“I heard the other kids talk about it at school. They said you're supposed to have dinner with your girlfriend.” Charlie explains.

“Oh. Well, no, buddy. I don't have a girlfriend.” Harry says. “Not yet.” He adds, thinking about Y/N.

“Oh. Okay.”

Charlie's questions stop and they sit in silence until his grandmother comes. Once Anne arrives, Harry leaves the house, and heads towards the restaurant. The place is busy, but not packed, and Harry manages to find a table easily. He orders a drink and sits down, his leg bouncing nervously. He's not sure why he's so anxious, it's just dinner with an old friend. He has no reason to be worried.

Y/N shows up a few minutes later, and when their eyes meet, she smiles. She looks beautiful, her hair loose and a soft dress hugging her curves. Harry feels his heart rate speed up.

“Hi.” She greets him as she approaches the table.

“Hey.” He smiles, getting up to hug her. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You look good too.” She blushes.

“Thank you.”

They order food and talk about anything and everything. They talk about the past and how they've changed over the years. They talk about the present and their jobs, their likes and dislikes. They also talk about the future and their hopes and dreams. It's a nice, easy conversation, and Harry is glad she had the guts to ask him on a date.

After they finish eating, they go for a walk, taking in the fresh air and talking about the most random things. Y/N talks about the kids and the crazy stories she's heard and Harry laughs at her tales, especially when she imitates their voices. He can't believe how easily they fall back into a rhythm, and he finds himself hoping this will continue.

After their walk, they go back to his car, and Harry drives her home as she took the bus on the way here. He parks outside her apartment building and they sit in the car, neither of them knowing what to say.

“Well, I had a really nice time tonight, Harry.” Y/N breaks the silence.

“Me too.” He says, a soft smile on his lips. “I'm glad you asked me out.”

“So am I.” She says.

They sit there for a few moments, just looking at each other before Harry finally pulls her cheek to the side so their eyes meet. They lean in slowly, their lips almost touching.

“Thank you again for a wonderful evening, Harry.” Y/N whispers.

“It was my pleasure.” He replies, his voice low and husky.

Their lips meet, and a fire ignites within him. They kiss deeply and passionately, his hands exploring her body. She moans into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair. Harry knows he shouldn't do this, not on the first date, but he can't help himself. He needs her. They kiss until their lungs scream for air, and they have to break apart. They stare at each other, both panting.

“Wow.” Y/N whispers, licking her lips.

“Yeah.” He replies, his heart racing. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-.“

“No, it's okay. I wanted this too.” She interrupts, a soft smile on her face. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you feel about dating with Charlie around? I can imagine it's not easy, especially since he's only four.”

“Well, I've never dated anyone, so I'm not sure.” Harry shrugs. “But I can't stop thinking about you.” He adds, looking into her eyes.

“Really?” She asks, surprised.

“Yes. I've been thinking about you ever since I saw you again.”

“Me too.”

They lean in again, their lips meeting once more. They kiss until their bodies ache and their lungs burn, and then they part. Harry can't believe he's doing this, but he knows it's right.

“Let's just take things slow.” He says, his voice husky.

“Okay.” Y/N smiles.

They kiss one last time before saying their goodbyes. As Harry watches her go, he can't help but smile. He's not sure where this will lead, but he can't wait to find out.

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lazybutsmexy · 7 months

Text

To good use

John "Soap" Mactavish x teacher!Reader

Johnny's mind works at breakneck speed, and you know how to slow him down.

Warnings: none! pure fluff, Johnny has ADHD. GN!Reader.

Words: 700~

A/N: Just a thing I came up with while preparing my lesson plans.

He stands up from the couch, completely disregarding the current football match. His team wasn’t doing well and he grew restless. His bare feet thudded on the wooden floor and took him to the kitchen, from where moments later the scent of freshly made coffee waltzed to you.

You simply let out a soft puff of air, too focused on your task at hand - making sure your scissors didn’t stray a millimeter from the lines you had carefully designed on the brightly coloured craft paper.

A soft ‘thunk’ signaled the presence of a steaming, fresh cup of coffee in front of you. “Thank you, Johnny,” you smiled up at him as he leaned down to peck your cheek. Immediately after, he shuffled over to the large window overseeing the front yard.

The rain smacked heavily into the glass, as if attempting to break in. It wouldn’t - Johnny had made sure that the flimsy single-glass panels were replaced by bulletproof glass the moment you had agreed to date him all those years ago. He loved you and cherished you that much.

You peered at him out of the corner of your eye. The sports commentator shouted another goal for the rival team, but you had a sneaking suspicion he didn’t hear it.

His fingers twitched, and he clenched his hands a few times to relieve the tension. Soon, his fingers found themselves combing through his mohawk. The hair was soft, freshly conditioned after weeks.

You could see the signals. He was itching for something to do. He couldn’t go on a run to wear himself down, nor even to smoke a cigarette in his storm.

It was the part of his character that made you fall in love with him. His romantic spontaneity was born from his ever-working mind, and all the ways his thoughts zeroed in you. It was also his greatest flaw - if you could even call it that. When he lived with a mind that was always speeding at breakneck speed, left unchecked would give him - and you - whiplash.

You snipped the last bit of paper in your hand and glanced at the rest of the materials on your workspace with an idea simmering in between your eyebrows.

Forcing out a yawn and a stretch worked like a charm to bring his attention back to you.

“Tired, bonnie?” he smiled, and by God, you could watch him smile for the rest of your days and be happy. He glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned slightly. “‘s pretty late, you almost done?”

“No,” you moaned pitifully, and drove the point home with a pout and batting eyelashes, “I need help with this if I want to go to sleep before midnight.”

Immediately Johnny was dragging a chair and sitting down in front of you. “Tell me what to do, I’ll help.” Even though he tried to show a finality in his decision to help, you caught the hidden eagerness in his voice.

Your beaming smile seemed to punch all thoughts away from his head as you handed him a stack of colourful paper strips. “Use that glue to stick the tips together to make rings, please,” you instructed him, and he immediately took the tiny tub of glue, “I need them arranged into a chain, the colour order isn’t important.”

Johnny nodded once and muttered a soft “copy” before carefully getting to work. The way he delicately handled the strips showed you that your little plan had worked wonders. You turned your attention to the ornaments you had been working on - only half-made, so the kids would finish the work and get the credit, of course.

“Thank you, Johnny,” he barely glanced up at your voice, obviously fully focused on his new super important task, “you’re a life-saver.”

His little chuckle and the bump of his ankle against yours under the table filled you with warmth, “‘course, can’t leave my bonnie struggling.”

You somehow held back an eyeroll and swallowed the ‘likewise’ that almost escaped your lips. You’d let him take the credit too.

Taglist: @warenai @embers-of-alluring @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts

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tanith-rhea · 1 year

Note

hii, I love your writing! I was wondering if you could do some fake dating for either Larissa, Miranda or Lucifer and female reader? :D You know the one where for some reason they decide it's good to pretend they're dating, but oh nooo they accidentally fall in love for real? 😱😏

Only Pretending

Hey, anon! Thank you so much for the request! I'm afraid it turned out bigger than I expected, I don't know what you envisioned but this will definitely be a multiple chapter one... Sorry!!!

Word count: 3k

"That's all for today, guys. I won't give you homework, so enjoy the break and prepare for the quiz when we get back. Remember, the winning team gets a homework-free week!" you waved the excited teenagers out of class. It was the last period of the day and autumn break was officially started. Many wished you good rest and some a fun Halloween, but there were always the ones who bolted right after you said they could.

However, some stayed behind, too entertained gossiping to pay attention at the hour or — which was the apparent case — complaining about their mother coming to get them for "Family Halloween Traditions". Wednesday and Enid were still sitting at their shared desk, Enid trying to convince her roommate that "it" could be fun if she let herself enjoy the festive spirit and Wednesday complaining she would only have fun when Enid arrived.

You thought they were the cutest pair. So different and at the same time sparking out the most unexpectedly similar sides of each other; Wednesday encouraged Enid's feistier side through bickering and teasing and Enid made Wednesday smile begrudgingly with her cuteness.

"I think it'll be less horrendous than it's been before at least," Wednesday conceded, "Some different faces of people I actually don't loathe being around."

"Exactly, honey bun!" Enid chirped, getting up from their class and offering her arm for Wednesday to take, "I'll arrive early to rescue you from your mom and I'm sure Principal Weems will bicker with her enough to make you smile."

Wait, Larissa would visit the Addams? For Halloween? You could swear she barely tolerated Wednesday's mother from what you've heard of their history at Nevermore. Morticia seemed all right to you and according to other teachers and old acquaintances, quite fun to be around, but the poorly concealed disdain that overtook your boss' face every time the woman was mentioned fostered a small uneasiness and dislike to grow on you towards Wednesday's (un)beloved mother.

"Hello, girls!" you approached the pair with the pile of essays you had to grade and everything you needed to not return to class for the entire week in your hands, "Everything all right? Do you have any questions?"

"No, Professor! No worries," Enid hushes to say, and Wednesday got up as well, linking her arm to Enid's, "We were just about to go. Happy Halloween!"

You were about to wish them happy Halloween as well when Wednesday cut in, "Do you have plans for Halloween, professor?"

Curious of her to ask. You liked to think you had a good teacher-student relationship, but the girl rarely seemed to care for pleasantries or chit-chat for that matter.

"Actually, I'll just stay at the academy and rest a bit. I love teaching you guys but if dealing with ordinary teenagers is already taxing, teaching extraordinary ones is a whole other level." It was true, the amount of trouble your last students could get into was only exponentiated when added to the supernatural abilities students at Nevermore possessed. It was also much more entertaining. Yes, you had to keep them safe and punish troublemakers accordingly, but you loved the thrill to discover just what mischief they had got up to again. The best one so far was when a vampire kid turned into a mist to sneak out at night and changed into their solid state while floating atop the lake.

“Mother is hosting a Halloween party. I believe she’ll only pester Principal Weems to go but you are invited,” she said in her trademark monotone. Why you didn’t entirely know.

“I think that would be a matter for your mother to decide, dear. Although I am honoured you’d like my presence, I don’t think I can simply show unexpectedly.”

“The more sane, competent women there the direr it will be for mother, I only figured you could help me avenge the inconvenience of her smothering motherly love.”

Wednesday was quite the interesting girl. You thought it did make sense she’d want some friends around to endure the celebration, and while you understood and quite shared her respect and admiration for the principal, you were touched to find she regarded you similarly.

“If I cross paths with your mother, I’ll be sure to ask her, can we leave it at that?” at the youngling’s curt nod, you saw the pair leave the room and followed behind, closing the door when you left.

You took three or four steps before listening to the click of very well-known heels. Your shoulders sank and you quickly prayed to any god that might be listening for patience.

“Hello, there, beautiful lady!” Razvan, the vampire transformation teacher stalked at you to accompany your steps.

“Good evening, teacher,” your voice was calculatedly calm. You learned your lesson on being nice to overly adorable and excitable kittens as well as their human-like form.

“I was hoping to catch you alone to ask about that coffee date I suggested last week,” he was smiling like a child on Christmas morning, waiting to open their presents, “You said you were too busy planning the homework you’d give the students for the break but now we’re all free.”

It was cute how he seemed to like you, but he just wasn’t your type. When you saw the tiny black cat at the quad a few months back you thought it was only that, a cat, which you petted and played with and fed because its appreciative meows were cute. When it turned out to be the very not-cat, very impressionable vampire transformation teacher, you wanted to smash your head into the nearest flat surface, so what if it was a stone wall?

“You see… I haven’t got around to grading their essays yet, so I’ll be busy these first few days. Maybe later this week? I’ll see if I can make time and get back to you, ok?” it was really difficult to just say no. You weren’t the most proficient at negating people even in normal circumstances; the fact that he was so clearly infatuated with you made saying no seem like kicking a puppy.

“Oh… that’s fine… I guess. What about tomorrow? Right after lunch? You can check your agenda tonight and I’ll look for you for the verdict!” with that he puffed into a bat and flew down the corridor like a drunk butterfly. Was he making little loops? You had to end this and soon, it was too cruel to keep it up and even if it’d hurt him, it was best than leading him on.

Later that day, you and Vlad sat together eating dinner. He was telling you about an interesting countermove a second year made to get a point on their opponent and you were only half-listening and humming when you thought it appropriate.

Larissa was at the other end of the table, rather uncharacteristically talking to no one and wearing a tight face as if her food tasted like lemons and green limes squished together.

“Something on your mind?” Vlad inquired, following your gaze to the headmistress, “Oh, wow, someone’s not looking forward to rest and relaxation.”

“Hm?” you looked at him and noticed he was also studying Larissa’s sour complexion “Ah, yes. She does seems really angry, doesn’t she? If I hadn’t seen it before I would almost say she’s pissed.”

“That is because she is.” He explained, taking a sip of blood before continuing, “Morticia Addams visited earlier, and by what I hear she quite smugly questioned if Larissa would ‘finally’ bring a plus one to the Halloween Ball they host every year.”

Oh, so that was it. You’d seen Morticia’s verbal sparring with the principal before; you attributed it to their past roommate status and the complications that may arise with sharing a bedroom for three years. You had also seen the bickering and teasing on parents’ weekend, the elongated looks in yearly student reviews and all the times Wednesday’s parents had to be called in because their daughter got herself into trouble.

You knew the story of Larissa’s fancy for Gomez when they were young, but you didn’t think Morticia would still be gloating twenty years later that she got the cake.

“And is she?” you asked, looking back at her, something in your chest making you feel cold all of a sudden.

“What?”

“Is she bringing a plus one to the ball?”

Vlad examined you with those piercing dead eyes of his, knowing all too well why you asked, but respecting your wishes not to mention it.

“I don’t know. Haven’t heard anything yet. The closest person she had recently turned out to be a fanatic serial killer who tried to murder her.”

“Laurel, right? The one before me?” you were the second attempt at a normie teacher in Nevermore. You liked to think you were doing well, but few things could be worse than trying to destroy the school and everyone in it, so you couldn’t be always sure.

Vlad only nodded and went back to his drink while you lingered on Larissa’s face, then her hands, barely moving to pick at something on her plate.

The first day of break came as a welcomed cup of hot chocolate on a winter morning. It was chilly outside; some yellowed and orange leaves were stuck on your window with the early humidity. The corridor outside was so silent it felt almost eerie and gut-clenching. But you knew it could only mean one thing: freedom. Freedom from classes and teenager angst, freedom from having to get up and face the world. You could just get back to sleep if you so wished and boy that was quite something.

But you didn’t. In truth, the fact you knew most teachers would do exactly that, spurt you on to get out of bed and enjoy the entire campus at your disposal.

The kitchen was first. You made coffee with just this side of too much cream and stole waffles someone had made and left at the table. Then you went to the library and spent some hours in the lounge, readying cheesy romance and enjoying the sunlight coming through the big arched windows.

It was bliss, although short-lived. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small black cat silently but confidently making its way to you. The man shifted with a practised puff, almost like a magician popping into the stage from a cloud of smoke.

“Good morning, professor. I see you decided to venture around the school instead of having extra hours of beauty sleep. Not that you would need, of course,” he shifted excitedly beside you. You couldn’t mask the regretfulness on your face upon looking at him, and he realized it, mistaking your meaning and quickly adding, “Don’t worry! I’m not here to talk about our date. I said after lunch, and I’ll stand by my word. I just wanted to pop in and say good morning.”

“Oh... No problem Razvan, I’ll have my response by then, and good morning to you too. Have you been enjoying the time off so far?”

He seemed to brighten at your question, and although you were happy you could converse on something else than the blessed date, you were also fretful he would think too much of it.

In the end, he had something to do in Jericho and had to leave just a few minutes later, which you were grateful for. He was perfectly pleasant and even fun to be around but his lovesick eyes made your head pound in second-hand embarrassment.

At lunch, you and Vlad got together again at the gazebo in the woods. He slept through the morning, enjoying having the excuse to shift back onto his nightly routines, but not willing to fully shift or else he’d suffer to go back when classes started again.

“You will not believe what I’ve agreed to yesterday,” he told you in a voice that very much spelt migraine alert.

“Oh, Vladdy, break just started and you’ve already got yourself in trouble?” you teased, biting on your sandwich.

“I’ve got myself in trouble?” he asked, in an undignified tone “I’ll have you know that the person that got me ‘into trouble’ is your beloved Larissa Weems!” he pointed at your chest with an arched brow.

You looked around for anyone that might have heard him, no one was there.

“Hey, Vlad you know you can’t say that! What if someone tells her? I’d be out the door in no time, you know she’s especially strict with me!”

He just tsked and shook his head, “You are such an oblivious young girl, she couldn’t care less about you breaking rules. Besides, fancying your boss is not against any and Larissa’s just looking out for you because the parents pressure her into being careful after what happened.”

You knew Vlad had good intentions telling you this, but he wasn’t called every week, sometimes two times per week, to justify a comment or action some student or staff thought deserved attention.

Of course, she was always patient and never inquired too deeply into every situation but her cold demeanour told you everything you needed to know: she didn’t like you either, she just needed someone to show off when outreach between normies and outcasts was mentioned and you happened to be an overqualified and very capable chemist.

“But anyway, this is about me,” he continued, “and what I’ve agreed to is to pretend to be Larissa’s boyfriend at the Addams' Halloween Party.”

You were sure your jaw was on the floor. How had that happened? You knew Vlad and Larissa were friends for quite some time and very close for that matter, but pretending to date was just... another thing entirely.

“How are you going to do that?” you packed the rest of your sandwich, suddenly not hungry anymore, “Won’t they know you aren’t an item? I mean you know Morticia, and she knows you’re very good friends... To just start dating out of nowhere isn’t a bit suspicious?”

“She just really needs to give it to Morticia,” Vlad shrugs, a sorry half-smile in his mouth, “She asked me to her office yesterday night to drink. She was very upset by Morticia’s appearance and mean suggestion that Riss didn’t have a partner-“

“Of course she wouldn’t,” you interrupted, “She’s too busy being a badass successful woman at the head of a god-blessed academy!”

“Yes, yes, keep it in your pants,” he rolled his eyes fondly at you, “But she was breaking my dead heart and I suggested accompanying her. And first, she said it wouldn’t be the same, because we would go as friends and only confirm it to Morticia that Larissa was still alone. So I proposed we pretend to be a pair,” he seemed equal parts rather proud of himself and loathing his genius idea.

“I think it’s sweet of you. But I don’t think it’s going to work,” you said, not wanting to make him feel even worse, but enable to shake the feeling this was doomed to fail.

“Yes, I think you’re-“

“Professor!” a voice interrupted your friend’s comment and Razvan ran towards you, “I finally found you! I was looking for you to ask when we’re getting that coffee. I trust now you have my answer, correct?”

You were so full of this situation. Full of uncomfortable awkwardness, guilt and shame for playing with your colleague’s feelings, even if your intentions were benign. You had to tell him no, to say you didn’t like him that way. That he was too adorable and nice and you could never see him in that light.

“Oh, yes... about that, Raz...” you started, no idea of what you’d say next, “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression we could be more than colleagues and friends... but I’m-“

“In a relationship,” Vlad supplied.

“What?!” you and Razvan yelled in unison.

“C’mon, darling, it was bound to get out one time or another,” he kept going, the madman, “I know you’re worried about what people may think of her for it, but I swear Larissa is dying to go public.”

His maniac grin at your shell-shocked expression made you want to squeeze his neck until you heard it pop. It wouldn’t do much for him, but it would certainly be satisfying to you.

“Y-you and Principal Weems are together?!” the teacher was turning beet read and you had to give it to Vlad that it was a funny situation at least, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know! And of course, I understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me you were taken, that’s completely not my business... Oh my, I’m so sorry!” and with that he rapidly walked away, just shy of outright running.

“You little shit!” you exclaimed as soon as the other vampire was out of earshot, “What in the absolute heavens were you thinking?”

He was shaking with laughter while you punched his shoulder, which only made him go on a bit more before finally calming enough to talk, “You’re right,” he said, as if it explained everything, “I and Larissa aren’t a believable couple. But you and she are a pair one could easily sell.”

“What are you talking about?” you ran your hand through your face in exasperation. He was out of his mind, and now you were screwed if Razvan said anything to anyone.

“You’re here only a year. Morticia doesn’t know you and Larissa is comfortable enough around you to pretend to be with you. It might be even easier than with me because kissing someone after twenty years of friendship is admittedly awkward,” he reasons.

“Kissing some-? What are you even on about? I can’t pretend to be in love with her, you know I can’t! I’ll just make a fool of myself and let something slip.”

“Nonsense, girl. Let’s go, we need to tell Larissa about the change of plans,” he got up and held out his hand to you “And if she says no, we already told someone, so she’ll have to go with it.”

Chapter Two

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems #female reader #normie!reader #teacher!reader #morticia addams #gomez and morticia #fluff #angst #fake/pretend relationship #idiots to lovers #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #vladdy daddy the cupid

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 10 months

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Omg thank you so much for ~What the Body Wants~ it was so good!! No! Sorry, that's not it. It was hot, like, so hot!! I loved reading it! Somehow i found it a bit funny too and that always a win😁 there's something about that sex pollen that i find so intertaining, i don't no why. Maybe because they're just so out of control and they act on pure lost, i don't know. Oh.....and the little masturbation session.... i didn't see it coming at all and i thought it was a really good idea!! And Larissa saying "i like you bra" come on Larissa, can you be more obvious?😅❤

Thank you again, i'm so glad you wrote it😊❤

Thank you so so so much!! 🥹 Ready for the part 2… 😏 Thank you all for your patience 💞 I got some inspiration from @syrupy-sweet-honey & @shiftingplates for this one. Hope you Enjoy 😘

What the Body Wants Pt. 2 ~Larissa Weems xFem Teacher!Reader

Link to Part 1

Mommy… Master List

Requests Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, past smut, implied drugging/ambrosiac, implied future smut, shapeshifted d!ck, g!p fucking, d!ck riding, overstimulation, pain kink, praise kink, more implied smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

The second you walked into Larissa’s office, she had you pinned against the door.

“Fuck it…” she growled.

Her lips smashed onto yours. You moaned eagerly into the kiss.

“Please ‘Rissa need more…!” You mewled in desperation.

“Oh Darling, I could go all night…” Larissa breathily moaned.

“I’m gonna hold you to that…” you groaned, wiggling your eyes suggestively at her.

Larissa then grabbed your hand and placed it over her now apparent bulge.

She’s a shapeshifter… Fuck, that’s right…

Your breath hitched and your eyes fluttered from her bulge back up to blonde’s eyes.

“Please…” you breathlessly pleaded.

Larissa then picked you up with ease and carried you into her private quarters. She slammed and locked the door was ease, as you stripped down to nothing with ease, still scolding yourself internally for having lost your knickers. You later yourself out on her bed, propping yourself up with your elbows, as Larissa tantalizingly removed her dress and the rest of her garments, until she was just as nude as you. You gulped.

Fuck was she big…

The blonde then crawled on top of you, spreading your legs with ease. Her eyes were just as desperate as yours. They had a glossy coating of lust, so thick it was now extremely apparent how much the aphrodisiac was affecting the woman. The blonde then slid her hand up to your neck, as she lined up her member with your aching cunt. You gasped and breathily moaned out at her contact with your bare skin. Larissa’s eyes widened and she tightened her grip on your neck, and you only mewled more. And then she sunk into you.

The only thoughts in your mind in that moment were Oh how I’ve needed a pretty girl like this for so long… and—

“OhHhhHHh Fuck…!!” You breathily moaned out, your eyes screwed shit and your hands grasping up at her marvelous form for some sort of grounding.

Your heart raced tripled as the blonde bottomed you out, your eyes rolling back in pleasure and your nails already scratching up Larissa’s back.

“Doing such a good job taking me, Darling…” Larissa groaned, while tightening her hold around your throat.

You only keeled over in pleasure even more at her words and actions, and your walls clenched around the blondes dick deliciously. Pretty soon, Larissa got a good pace of pounding into you.

And yes, she was pounding…

Her breathing was just as labored and ragged as yours, one hand on your throat and the other stabilizing her body and yours on the bed.

“Yes yes yes…!!” You mindlessly chanted, engulfed in the overwhelming pleasure and chasing your near impossible high.

At one point the blonde, hooked your right leg over her shoulder, giving her a new angle to hit, and you damn near saw stars. She was hitting that spongey spot deep inside of you every damn time… and her hold around your throat only tightened.

“Fuck fuck ‘Rissa I—” you mindlessly blabbered.

“I know, I know… me too…!” She groaned.

Your high came first and it hit your like a ducking tidal wave. Larissa was quickly behind you, squirting her thick, hot cum deep inside you. You both went limp from pleasure, engulfed in silence, until Larissa finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked if you wanted me too… cum inside you…” she panted, her cheeks flushing lightly with embarrassment.

“Don’t be. It was… so hot…” you breathleslly admitted.

The blonde then collapsed next to you. You winced as the overwhelming heat hit you once more.

“I need more…” you whimpered lightly.

The blonde chuckled at your words.

“All night, right?” She teased.

Your eyes widened and you sat up, only to find that Larissa had moved to position herself propped up against the headboard with her legs splayed open.

“Would you really?” You breathlessly asked.

At this, Larissa patted her thighs, indicating for you to come over. She tilted her head slightly, nodding seductively in response.

“Come sit on my lap, Darling…” the blonde lustfully groaned, “So that you can bounce up and down on my cock while I pull your hair and tell you how good your cunt feels…”

Your walls fluttered in anticipation and your throat went dry at her statement. You nodded breathlessly. You scurried into the blondes lap and straddled her form. Larissa’s hands found home on your hips as they lined your dripping hole up with her dick once more. This would be the time where Larissa would have made a seductive quip or made you beg, but not now. No, you were both too desperate, now.

You sank down on the blondes dick, releasing a strangled moan from your throat. This was paired with a guttural groan from the blonde. Larissa’s head fell back, hitting the headboard with a bam!.

“Ughhhhhhh, that’s it, Darling…” the blonde groaned, as you began to squirm and ride her member.

Larissas hands were eager to help you find a rhythm. And pretty soon, you were bouncing up and down on the tall woman’s dick, spewing incoherent moans and cries. While keeping one hand on your hip, Larissa moved her other hand to interweave in your hair. She tugged tightly, causing you to breathily yelp out in pleasurable pain.

“Again again…” you mewled.

And Larissa happily obliged, tugging on your hair even more. And then her pace of fucking up into you sped up. And her lips found your neck, where the blonde left many a marks. They stopped at the shell of your ear.

“God, my love…” she lustfully groaned, “I can feel your pretty, tight walls fluttering around my cock…”

“Oh God ‘Rissa—!!” You cried out, your eyes fluttering shut in overwhelming pleasure.

“No no no, eyes open, Darling… look at me…” she breathlessly groaned.

You did as you were told, your hodded eyes desperately trying to stay trained on that beautiful face.

“Feels… so…so good…!!!” You cried out with a stutter.

“Fuck… that’s it—!!” The blonde cried out.

“M’mmm gonna cum again…!!” You cried out, tightly grasping at the blondes shoulders.

“Me too, me too Darling…” Larissa groaned.

You both came with leud moans and cries.

Safe to say, neither of you were stopping for the night…

~~~

Part 3 of the morning after…? 😏

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Tag list: @la-muertas-lover @mrslovettn @s-c-rambledegggs @eveymay @justcallmelittleone @larissaoftarthweems @killer-quill @enchantressb @principal-weems09 @scream-queenlover @littlemaggot13 @cute-catx @larissa-weems-chokehold @bxtrflyr @danisogay @philip-15 @ellythefoodielover @yanehv @crunchthatsoup @mommysimpx @wandanatslittlewhore @alder-saan @villanevexo @sunnyanon @levexer @wifeymaterialsstuff @teenybean @shyladyfan @dvrkhcld @lex13cm @thesamesweetie @milfomaniac @darla99 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rainbow-hedgehog @ofherdowlingohara @kimiinou @ghostedpast

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as-is-above-so-below · 9 months

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Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 1: It Starts In A Bar

summary: your friends take you out to a local pub when you would much rather be grading assignments. a/n: hello! big surprise, me writing for john price! I don't know how long this will be, but I definitely have a general idea of where I want this to go. I hope y'all like it!

thank you @lethalchiralium for dragging me into the clubhouse kicking and screaming LMAO << Previous | Next >>

Why did they pick this place again?

Ah, right. “It’s a hometown pub, a staple to the community,” they said. That was clear from the couple dozen men and women, ranging from middle-aged to elderly, scattered about, and a few younger folks peppered into the crowd. It wasn’t run down by any means, just…a dive. You mindlessly picked at the peanuts and pretzels in little bowls, elbows perched on the edge of the sticky table, for hours. You chatted and occasionally laughed at the stories they shared about their homeroom students and the shenanigans the other grades got up to. You’d been teaching year thirteen for a while, students taking their A-levels in history.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, spent with a stack of papers to grade, surrounded by glowing candles scattered around your apartment accompanied by soft white string lights stretched across the ceiling. Instead, your friends somehow managed to drag you out of your cozy home to a dark dive in town. You loved them dearly (really, you did), but you had a routine. Your ideal Friday night wasn’t in a damp bar.

Your kids could be challenging at times in their late teens. They occasionally cause trouble, known for getting into fights, interrupting class, or bringing drama into the classroom. Nevertheless, you’d never had a set of students that was more than you could handle. They turned their work in on time and were always nosy about your personal life, which – much to their chagrin – was uneventful. Your love life was stale, to put it nicely. And your friends tried everything in their power to set you up on dates, every single one striking out miserably. It didn’t feel natural to meet some guy at a restaurant for a blind date.

One of them talked about themselves the entire time, barely letting you get a word in. The next ordered about three more drinks than you and a meal that cost twice as much as yours but demanded you split the cost of the date. You were all for splitting the bill but on the first date? Not a good impression.

The rest were uninteresting and immemorable.

“Seriously? You haven’t been on a date since – Oh, what was his name again?”

“Zachary,” you pointed out, taking a long sip of your drink. “You should know; you set up the date.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t realize he was such a bore one-on-one.”

“Thanks for that, by the way. Loved talking to myself for two hours.”

You all laughed at the memory, starting to finish drinks and gather belongings. “Let’s get to the next spot to find you a man!”

Bar hopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you knew better than to resist. It would all be over much faster if you just went along. Your companions were much quicker on their exit, considering the nearly-full drink that you felt like you just bought, and they were already moving on to the next dig. You threw the rest of your drink back, flinching as the big gulp of alcohol burned down your throat, and hurried to catch up with them. You took one of their outstretched hands, giggling as they just about pulled you into the circle exiting the pub–

“Excuse me, miss!” a deep voice called out. You’re not sure why, but you turned, feeling like the man was calling out to you. Your assumption turned out to be correct, and a tall, dark-haired man with a beard and a soft smile approached you. “Sorry, you left this.”

He held your cardigan to you. You must have abandoned it in your haste.

“Oh! Thank you so much. That’s kind of you,” you said, taking the garment back and draping it over your forearm. “I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached,” you added, tapping your temple with a soft chuckle.

“Quite alright.” Behind you, an elbow nudged your spine; you barely caught yourself from making a face and snapping at whichever acquaintance decided to egg you on. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it seems you’re heading out.”

He certainly was handsome. His beard was well-groomed, just like his hair. It looked like he went to a barber fairly recently. He even dressed well, in a cream, ribbed polo tucked loosely into his jeans. Dark chest hair peeked out where the top two buttons were undone. It was an enticing offer…

“Um, yeah, but….” You looked over your shoulder and met expectant glances. Some looked like they were about to bust apart at the seams with glee, which made you roll your eyes. Clearly, you wouldn’t be missed. “I could hang for a little while longer.”

The man's smile grew, and his stance shifted to open a path toward the bar. “Are you sure? Y’don’t have to,” he amended, his hands in his pockets. His energy was warm and soft but still masculine. He held a confidence that not many people carried, at least not the men you’d been on dates with recently. And the Liverpool accent? Maybe things were starting to look up.

“No, no, I honestly need another drink.” You flashed your teeth back to him, folding your arms over your chest with your sweater in hand.

“In that case, after you.”

Before taking his arm, you realized you’d yet to even ask for his name. “Thank you…?”

“John.” John’s right hand hovered before you and he flashed his bright teeth. His hands were clean, nails neatly trimmed. Although, one nail bed was bruised.

Man, he’s pretty for a grown man.

“Y/N,” you replied with an easy grin. He kept a steady hold on your gaze, carefully examining the bright twinkle they held. You didn’t know it, but John had just returned from a long mission. One that had left him yearning for a shower, a haircut, and somebody to come home to. He’d never had anything to look forward to and stay alive for; no affection or comfort after a rough assignment, no one to care for and spoil.

And he wanted that.

“A surname to that, John?” you asked, sliding your hand through the loop he created with his elbow. Holy shit, he was strong. Your hand rested on the soft but well-built muscle of his bicep. You figured he must have a labor-intensive job, or he goes to the gym frequently. John didn’t seem like the type to spend hours at the gym in his spare time, so you went with the first option. You’d keep that in mind when making small talk later.

“John Price.”

“Very regal name.”

John scoffed but laughed nonetheless. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

John couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were unbelievably bubbly, especially for interacting with a stranger who only gave back your forgotten cardigan. He’d been watching you from his spot at the bar, laughing with your friends but zoning out every once in a while. He was no stranger to giving himself a mental break, particularly in a hectic environment like a packed bar on a cool, Friday evening.

“I’ll call you when I need a ride!”

You and John watched the giggly group exit the pub, happily waving as they piled into a cab. You waved back with your free hand, your other palm still pressed against his warm skin. They didn’t embarrass you too badly, thank god. You met John’s eyes, a dark color twinkling with mischief.

“Your friends seem chipper.”

“I’m so sorry. They’re just happy to see me talking to a man.”

“Oh? Is that right?” he chuckled, nodding to your previously held table. John broke away briefly to retrieve his unfinished drink and denim jacket from the bar.

You followed his lead back to the booth, attempting to keep control of the flush you felt beginning to heat your cheeks. “They’ve set me up on many an unfortunate date. Not saying I don’t get along fine on my own, but–”

“It’s rough out there?” he finished, sliding into the cushioned seat across from you. When you nodded in return, John smirked. “Believe me. I get it. My career makes it difficult to find time for much of anything.”

“Yeah, well, I have sixteen kids.”

The man sputtered, choking on what looked to be an old-fashioned. Possibly a bad joke, but it was such a great opportunity; you were feeling frisky, and you couldn’t help the giggles that erupted following his reaction. “I teach history for year thirteen.”

“Oh, thank Christ.” John wiped the cocktail off his lip with the back of his hand, shaking his head at your laughter. “You had me going there. Five minutes into our date, and I’ve made a mess of myself.”

You quirked a brow. “So this is a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, I would consider it light conversation. Getting to know each other.”

“That’s a date.”

“Mmm, I’d say it’s more casual than that.”

“I’m not looking for casual, love.”

You paused, examining his calm demeanor. He didn’t seem cocky, but honest, a welcome change to the pattern you’d observed over the last few months. None of your dates had been so bold as to know what they want and make their intentions clear. Especially not so quickly. It was refreshing.

“Me neither.”

“Good.”

You both sat in peace, pausing your conversation for the waitress. You ordered another drink, as promised, and folded your hands on the tabletop, fingers laced. “So, what do you do, John?” you asked, tapping your thumbs together.

“I’m in the military.”

You paused, expectantly waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence.

“Care to elaborate?”

He tutted once with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “I would love to, but I can’t.”

Interesting. Normally, resistance like that would be a red flag. On the other hand, his job could be “classified” or whatever is said in the movies. No alarms went off in your mind; your intuition told you that John was trustworthy, so you let it go. The pretty brunette dropped your new drink off and another for John.

“I can tell you that I’m a Captain.”

“So you have pretend kids too?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he hummed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. A slight tinge of the citrus notes from the expressed orange peel wafted across the table. John’s laugh was distinctive, chesty and rumbly, inviting. “Of course. Mine are bigger, though, I’m sure.”

“Oh? They’re not scrawny little soldiers?”

“No. One’s almost two meters tall.”

“Jesus. How many?”

“Five. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alex, and Farah.”

“Well, I for one can’t wait to meet them.”

“Likewise.”

You fussed with your hair for about the thousandth time in your bathroom mirror and huffed when it wouldn’t settle right. John was to meet you in about fifteen minutes. Knowing him, that meant he would be buzzing up to your apartment any second. You’d been on a few dates and knew his date habits pretty well. If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late. You had been out to dinner, grabbed coffee once or twice; you even grabbed an ice cream. So, it was a surprise when John suggested a trip to the museum. It didn’t seem like his thing, but you weren’t about to turn down a trip to the history exhibit.

As you expected, a familiar BZZT BZZT reverberated through your flat, signaling his arrival. The first time he picked you up, you let him into the building without using the intercom. You tried explaining that the speaker broke and your landlord had yet to fix it (shocker), but John wouldn’t hear it. You could have been letting in a random creep pressing buttons until some tenant unlocked the door. He insisted on creating a little system, so you would know it was him downstairs and not a kidnapper. From then on, he always rang the bell twice.

You gave up on your hair, switched the light off, and paged him in. Your unit was on the first floor (which wasn’t ideal), so it only took John a few seconds to reach your door. When you heard a knock at your door, you peered through the peephole (as promised) before unlocking the deadbolt, revealing a very well-dressed captain. John’s hair was a bit shaggy, but it suited him well. Your heart fluttered helplessly at the bright smile that appeared when he laid eyes on you, his gaze obviously taking in the sight before him.

It was a weeknight, and you didn’t have time to change between school and your usual errands. You threw a plaid skirt, thigh-high socks, and loose sweater together; just a sliver of skin showed between the top of your socks and hem of your skirt. You felt underdressed compared to John, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

“Hi,” he said, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You look lovely.”

“Same to you. You always clean up well.”

“If you saw the state I’m usually in at work – you’d understand why.”

John kept a watchful eye to make sure you turned both locks for your door before guiding you outside to a waiting taxi with a hand on the small of your back. He held the door to your building and the car open for you. The drive was short, but the weather was starting to catch a bit of a chill, and you didn’t want to walk too far.

Ever the gentleman, the captain followed closely behind you up the steps to the gallery. Even if he weren’t perceptive, with years of experience reading people, he could tell you were excited to be there; however, he wasn’t so experienced in the ‘romance’ department. John honestly couldn’t even remember the last time he visited any museum, let alone a dedicated history exhibition. But when he suggested it and assured you that he would have a good time, he was only being partially truthful. Secretly, the man just wanted an excuse to listen to you talk. What better place to bring you than an exhibit where he knew you would talk his ear off for hours?

You slowly worked your way through each exhibit, explaining some pieces you recognized and their significance to the period; at displays you weren’t familiar with, you both quietly hovered closer to the title cards, reading through the description. While that kind of date wasn’t John’s usual cup of tea, he was glad he planned it; it helped him figure out how to slow the fuck down and try to be normal outside of a military setting or a pub.

His breath nearly stuttered every time you laid a gentle hand on his arm and drew his attention to the next section, beaming as you animately but quietly pointed out the tiny details in a Renaissance painting hung on the wall. The man couldn’t help but stare at how your lips curved at every syllable, wide eyes glued on the intricate scene portrayed. John hadn’t spoken much so far aside from the occasional affirmation that he was listening; he was very much in his head, unsure if you were excited to be there with him or just excited to be there. But, standing in front of the big painting, you went quiet. You met his gaze, and his lips pulled into a lopsided grin, which you returned before you both shifted back to the artwork. It was peaceful, absorbing the atmosphere and just existing together. Suddenly, John was jolted out of his reverie by the feeling of something brushing the side of his palm.

You were itching to hold his hand all night but were too nervous to take that leap. What if he rejected you? That wasn’t likely after so many dates, but still. Your nerves got the better of you for the better half of the self-guided tour. Regardless, you had managed to work up the courage, cautiously grazing your pinky against his wrist and hand before wrapping it around his. You didn’t look away from the illustration, but he did, moving to you, then down to your hands.

He simply stared for a moment, surprised but positively giddy at the same time. Surely enough, John took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and leaning just a bit closer to you. He could stand there forever, basking in your warmth and energy, the sound of your voice sinking into his every thought–

“Oh no,” you said, breaking the silence. You looked up at him worried, wrinkles forming between your brows. “I-I’m sorry. I was teaching again.”

He immediately gave you a reassuring squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Don’t be. I like hearing you talk.” Jesus, did he have a way with words. He liked hearing you talk? With that accent, he could spew nonsense, and it would still draw you in. But hearing John Price give you compliments and praise? Flattery? You were a goner. “Tell me more about the next one?”

As if he could get any more fucking perfect.

“Okay.”

#captain john price x f!reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #john price x teacher!reader #call of duty #captain john price #cardigan as is above so below #as is above so below #cod mw #mw fics #call of duty fanfic #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #teacher!reader #john price x afab!reader

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comfort-writing · 1 year

Text

Crayons & Cassettes

Chapter 1: The First Day of Kindergarten

You are a kindergarten teacher. Eddie’s daughter, Sage, is in your class. She bonds with you instantly, and Eddie is trying not to do the same.

warnings: this fic will be 18+ in later chapters, so minors DNI! In this chapter, it is mentioned that rumors about Eddie that still linger. no use of y/n. nothing else I can think of for this chapter because it’s really just an introductory one, but please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: let me know in the comments or my asks if you want to be added to the tag list! requests are open!

word count: 3k

Chapter 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 (coming soon!)

Trying to shove tiny feet into tiny shoes at 6:30 in the morning was no easy task, especially when the owner of said tiny feet was fighting with all the strength in her five-year-old body to keep said feet out of said shoes.

“Please, Sage. I’ll do anything you want, just please let me put your shoes on.” pleaded an exhausted Eddie. They were already running late, which meant that he would get dirty looks from the other parents, well, dirtier than what he was already expecting. It was Sage’s first day of kindergarten, which he felt bittersweet about. She’d been attending preschool in previous years, so the transition wouldn’t be as difficult for her as it may be for other children, but she didn’t always do well around new people. She was like her dad in that way- she could be shy at first (which deviated from his own standoffishness), but once she warmed up, she was a sweet and bubbly kid.

Sage put her resistance on hold, “Anything?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Eddie knew that look: mischievous and calculating. It scared him a little to see that she was so much like himself, but it also made him a little proud. “Yes, baby. Just put your shoes on and we’ll do anything you want after school.” Sage thought for a moment, then made intense eye contact with Eddie, “Ice cream. And breakfast for dinner.” She bargained. Eddie chuckled and nodded, “Sounds good to me. We got a deal?” He asked, dropping the small shoe he was holding and sticking out his hand. She nodded and shook it, then stuck her foot out for him, beaming at the fact that she would get her two favorite things later that day. Little did she know that he had already planned on those things happening.

He sighed and thanked her, slipping on her glittery pink sneakers and tying them before picking her up off of the couch and setting her on his hip as he grabbed what they’d need for the day. Sage’s brand new Care Bears backpack- check. Keys- check. Wallet- check. Care Bears lunch box- check.

“Alright, ready to go?” He asked her. Sage nodded warily and Eddie walked out the door, kicking it closed behind them before walking to his beat up van, sliding open the back passenger door and setting Sage in her booster seat. He placed her bags on the floor by her feet and helped her buckle her seat belt. She looked up at him, “Dad?” She asked in a whisper “Yes, baby?” He responded absentmindedly. “Do you think my teacher will like me?” She asked anxiously. That made Eddie pause. He looked at her very seriously, grabbing her tiny hands in his own, “She is going to love you, kiddo. You’re freakin’ metal.” He said, leaning down and kissing her forehead. She nodded, “Metal.”

Your classroom was perfect. You’d decided on a rainbow theme for the year, wanting the classroom environment to be welcoming, colorful, and engaging to the 26 five-year-olds that would arrive within the next hour. Your lesson plans were perfect too. You were quite proud of yourself. Moving to a completely new state after teaching in another for a few years made for somewhat of a culture shock. Learning all of the new standards and adapting your previous lesson plans to fit them, along with having to write completely new lessons that fit your school’s specific curriculum was difficult, but not impossible. It was done. Everything was perfect. You were ready.

You’d moved to Hawkins, Indiana at the very end of the summer. You grew up in another small, southern town, so the small town environment wasn’t exactly new to you. It just meant you had to find your footing here. Declare yourself as a character amongst the established ones. You had been able to meet a few of the other teachers, and they all seemed nice enough, but they were all much older than you were. You graduated college only three years prior, and it seemed like half of your coworkers were on the brink of forgetting what college they went to. You needed to find friends your own age, and quick, because being a teacher can be stressful. Having friends around who you can vent to is key to keeping yourself sane.

You looked in the mirror on the inside of your classroom closet door, adjusting your hair for a moment. It was tied up with a clip, messily, but purposefully and cutely so. You pushed a strand behind your ear and made sure you didn’t have lipstick on your teeth. You decided to wear a light green dress and white sneakers- cute, stylish, and comfortable enough to chase around several very energetic children. You knew that the first day of kindergarten was always one in which you met the parents, and while they’d mainly be focused on their children, you knew there was a large possibility of photos being taken. You wanted to make a great first impression, and if your were immortalized in a Polaroid or two, you’d like to look nice. Above you, the school bell rang, signaling to the children that they could start making their way to class. You smiled and walked over to the door of your class, opening it up for the parents to bring their kids in.

Parents and students began trickling into the classroom. You shook their hands and introduced yourself to each one, smiling genuinely and directing the parents to where their child’s desk and cubby were located. On the first day, you always let parents stay for a while, and even held a carpet story time/coloring session in order to make the transition easier for both parties. You noted that a few kids were crying, which gave you a good indication of what kids would continue to be criers throughout the year. You didn’t judge, you just liked to know what was up.

You were crouching down to take a picture with one of your new students when a man who looked very out of place in your rainbow classroom walked in, a small girl hiding behind his pant leg. You smiled up at him, holding up one finger apologetically, signaling that you’d be with him in a moment. You looked up at the mom who’d just taken your picture, “Would you like me to take a picture of the two of you?” You asked. The woman nodded, so you stood and swapped positions with her. You wound the film on her disposable camera, “Say cheese!” You encouraged, which drew a confused face from the small boy, as he’d somehow never heard the phrase before. You snapped the picture without realizing the face he’d made and smiled, handing the camera back to the also oblivious mother and she walked her son to his desk.

You then turned your attention to the man standing in the doorway. You smiled and stuck out your hand, introducing yourself. “Eddie Munson.” He said softly. His hands were warm, but you noted the rings he wore made them feel colder. Eddie was an attractive guy, you wouldn’t lie to yourself about it. His hair was long, dark, and curly. He wore a leather jacket and a denim vest on top of it. He definitely had the whole rockstar look down, which looked a bit funny when surrounded by rainbows. There was also his daughter, who looked like a pink glitter bomb had exploded over her, as was typical for girls her age. You didn’t linger on his touch like you may have liked to, as you had to introduce yourself to someone more important. You bent and stood on your knees, peeking around Mr. Munson’s knees, “And who is this pretty princess?” You asked, hoping that calling her a princess would help her warm up to you.

You were right. The small girl poked her head out from behind the man’s knees. You saw that she got her looks from her dad; she had brown, curly hair that was currently tied back in a high ponytail, coupled with bright brown eyes and a small smattering of the lightest freckles across her nose. She spoke, barely above a whisper, “I’m Sage.” You smiled encouragingly, “That’s such a pretty name. Did you know Sage is a type of plant? And a color?” You gasped, piquing her interest, “Oh my goodness! It’s the color of my dress!” You said, feigning surprise, as if you were just discovering that fact for the first time. “And guess what?” You whispered. Sage was entranced, gaining the courage to move out from behind her dad and listen to the ‘secret’ you were entrusting her with. “It’s my favorite color.” You smiled softly, making eye contact with the small girl. It made her feel special. She smiled up at her dad, who was watching the interaction intently. “You want to find your desk and set your stuff down, Sage?” You asked her. She nodded fervently, excited to get the day started.

You stood back up to your fill height and led the two to Sage’s desk. “So, Mr. Munson, you are welcome to through story time and coloring. I try to allow time for the parents to stay for a while to help their kids adjust to the new environment.” You told him as Sage was putting her lunch box into her desk. The man seemed to shift uncomfortably, “Ah- I don’t know. Are you sure?” He asked you. You nodded, “Yeah, of course. Every parent is welcome to stay through that time. If Sage doesn’t do well around new people or in a new place, it can help her out a lot.” You assured him. He seemed to think for a moment before nodding, making his decision.

Little did you know, the reason so many people were watching the interaction carefully was because, despite being a good dad who provided for his daughter, the rumor mill still swirled around the Munson family. He didn’t want his daughter to have to deal with the same problems he did, so he was apprehensive about staying, but you seemed to believe it would benefit her if he was there, so he would stay.

Another parent walked through the door, so you excused yourself to go greet them the same way. After your kindergarteners we’re all there, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of class. You smiled wide, walking to the front of the classroom. “Good morning, everyone! I hope we’re all excited to get started with our day! Today, we are going to…”

After successfully driving Sage to school, and luckily arriving around the time he’d originally intended to somehow, he guided his small daughter through the halls of the school. At the end of the kindergarten hall was Sage’s classroom for the year. He bent down to her level, “You ready? Or do you want to take a minute?” He asked her. He knew that sometimes she had to prepare herself to go into a new situation. He was the same way; needing to take a few breaths or psych himself up for whatever he would encounter. Sage thought for a moment, “I’m ready.” She said, looking determined. He nodded, holding her hand and guiding her to the classroom.

That’s when he spotted you. You had the biggest and most genuine smile on your face as you took a photo with another student. He saw the way you acknowledged him right when he walked into the door, making him feel seen, but still kept your focus on the people you were with, most likely doing the same for them. It was a small gesture, sure, and it may have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but he really didn’t know what to think about all of this. He didn’t recognize you, even though you seemed to be around the same age, so that meant you likely hadn’t heard the nasty rumors that still lingered around him like a rain cloud, even into adulthood. He was drinking in the small kindnesses you showed him in the following interactions.

You reached out and shook his hand, introducing yourself to him. He didn’t know why, but it surprised him that you introduced yourself with your first and last name to him. It made you seem more approachable. He spoke his own name as calmly as he could, internally struggling not to stumble over it. When you bent down to introduce yourself to his daughter, he watched as you related to her immediately, over something as silly as a color. But she opened up quickly to you, which was so incredibly rare for her. He truly couldn’t grasp what it was about you, but he basked in your presence and he didn’t want to leave. Not for Sage’s sake, but for his own. It was no secret to himself that he found you attractive- you were pretty, new to their small town, and he didn’t see a ring- but there was something else he couldn’t place. He obviously couldn’t do anything about it in the moment, so he shifted his attention back to his daughter, helping her prep for her first day.

Once you wrapped the story up, you had the students start on a coloring page that correlated with the story. This was the time for parents to start trickling out. Eddie watched as other parents left. He looked to Sage, “Listen kiddo, I’ve got to go to work, but I’ll pick you up later, okay?” He told her. During pre-k, they’d gotten pretty good at the whole ‘dad’s going to be gone for a few hours but you will be ok’ exchange. Sage nodded, “Okay. Don’t forget about the ice cream and breakfast.” She said, scribbling with a red crayon and not paying him much attention. He ruffled her hair and kissed the top of her head before standing up and heading towards the door.

Before he could leave, you grabbed a piece of paper off of the desk, “Oh, Mr. Munson-“ you whispered, as the students were quietly working as the parents slowly left, “Here is my newsletter for the month. It basically covers everything we’ll be doing in class, and what you can be doing to help supplement Sage’s learning at home. I usually mail these out to the parents, but the front office said your address changed recently?” Eddie took the newsletter and nodded, “Ah- thank you. Yeah, we moved into a new house last week. It was after I registered her, so I’ll have to get that changed. Do you need me to write my address down before I leave?” He asked. “Well, if you would, that would be very helpful, but if Sage will get upset if you’re here longer, I can just wait until you update your information with the office.” You told him quietly. Eddie shook his head, “Nah, Sage is a trooper. She knows the drill.” He said, proud of his daughter.

You smiled softly, a smile that made his knees feel a little weak, and grabbed a pen and a notepad off of your desk, handing it to him. “If you could write down your new address, as well as your phone number, that would be great.” You told him. He had to fight the urge to make a joke about hitting on him in front of the kids. Years ago, that would have been the first thing he said to you, and he wouldn’t have thought twice. But now, his number one concern was his daughter, and doing anything that may end up being detrimental to her, like flirting with her teacher, was off his radar. He scribbled out the information before handing the paper back to you, “Thank you. Just make sure you update this with the office as soon as possible. Hopefully you’ll only hear from me about once or twice a month, as I do the newsletter and a call home for an update. But keep an eye on the events section of the newsletter-“ you said, pointing it out, “-it will have important dates like any parent/teacher conferences and the kid’s Christmas recital on there. And please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever have any questions or concerns. My information is down at the bottom. I’ve got an answering machine, so leave a voicemail if I don’t pick up; I should give you a call back within 24 hours.” You informed him quietly, finishing up with a soft smile.

Eddie nodded, taking in all the information you were giving him. It felt like a lot, but he knew that most of the important stuff would be in the paper you gave him. “Thank you. I’ve still got a little more time before work so I think I’ll go to the office now.. where is it again?” He asked, feeling more lost than he should. This is where he went to elementary school, but it had been so long since he’d been in the building it felt a little foreign to him. You smiled and opened the door, pointing him in the right direction through the halls. He thanked you once more, then started off thought the school as you shut the door.

You and Eddie were both left the same thought:

This isn’t good.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #dad!eddie munson #singledad!eddie Munson #dad!eddie Munson x reader #teacher!reader #singledad!eddie Munson x reader #stranger things #fanfic #I kinda ignore canon events sorry #I just want Eddie to be happy is that so wrong

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 9 months

Note

can we get some more dick x reader comfort?

"Grayson," Damian said letting himself into the apartment, " I'd like to remind you that your anniversary is coming up-"

"I know Damian," Dick said shifting the ice pack on his shoulder with a groan. How he hadn't broken it slamming it against the window sill he'd never know but. Ugh.

"It would be irresponsible to not take her out to-"

"Dami," Dick said, "We already talked about it. We're going to have a quiet night in and-"

Damian snorted in derision and shook his head, "That's not-"

"Dami."

"What?"

"We talked about it. We're going to have a quiet night in for now and then we're going to take a nice trip later."

"Trip where?" he demanded.

"Wherever she wants to go," Dick said simply. "I told her to think about it and let me know."

"Acceptable," Damian sighed.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #teacher!reader

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eddies-house · 11 months

Text

Cheese Dust

Bus Driver!Eddie x Teacher!Reader

8.2K Words

A/N - I saw this post and had to do something with it so here it is 🥴 also, somewhat proofread but not fully, lmk what y'all think

Masterlist

High pitched childish screams and laughter filled the hallways decorated in various school projects, some with copious amounts of glitter and others with feathers hanging on by a thread of dried hot glue. The beginning of the school year was always tiresome yet exciting, new groups of personalities filled your classroom abundantly. In the past few weeks you’d identified the students who would give you a difficult time, those who would participate willingly, and those who were shy and would take a minute to come out of their shell. Each one was welcome with open arms in your book, teaching was something you’d wanted to do for the sake of kids who didn’t have such great school experiences. Your mission was to turn that around and make school a place where your students would look forward to coming every day, a safe space where they would never have to fear being judged for not knowing as much as some of their peers. Not having the best luck with teachers and your academic life yourself, it was your priority to at least be the voice of the slightest bit of change. Even if you were the only one trying and every other teacher in the school saw you as weird.

Summer was ending and Fall was on the cusp of taking over, a slight breeze blew in through the metal doors into the building as students rushed out, hurrying home. Your dress would’ve gone up with the breeze had it not been for your hands tugging at the bottom in a quick move to save your dignity. Being known as the teacher that’s flashed everyone would be your nightmare especially since your coworkers already had some kind of disdain for you. Maybe it was because you were younger? All of them were over forty, the majority being older than fifty. Being in your twenties may leave them with a sour taste in their mouth, a side effect of being old and bitter towards the youth of America. The exact problem you were trying to combat as a teacher yourself since all you had experienced throughout school were old as hell teachers who had no patience for children or teens. Why they chose a profession working with them, you’ll never understand.

Keys clutched in between your fingers, you exited through the heavy door, the sudden wind taking your breath away momentarily before you basked in the lovely afternoon sun you had yet to become acquainted with all day, being lodged in your classroom for eight hours save for the fifteen minutes of recess. But even then you were condemned to the shade at the picnic tables near the building to finish grading a few assignments, not being able to enjoy the warmth of the sun against your skin. Eyes squinting at the brightness, you held a hand above your eyebrows to provide your retinas with some relief although your body thanked you for the vitamin D.

It was your first day of bus duty, the rotation was still being figured out the past few weeks but they seemed to have sorted it out which meant it was your turn. Strolling over to the bus loop, giant yellow school buses lined up around it, you stationed yourself toward the very end where no other teachers seemed to be. Three of them were chatting in the middle of the sidewalk, paying no mind to the students sprinting around them to get to their designated bus. Catching a glimpse of you at the end of the loop, they sneered, one of them, an older gentleman with a greasy brown combover peppered with gray, a mustache, and very beady blue eyes obviously gesturing toward you, not ashamed to let you see. Your gaze shifted toward a crack in the pavement, humiliation flushing through your body. You shouldn’t give him the satisfaction, you know, but there’s something so sinister about singling someone out and finding joy in making them feel so small.

Letting a puff of air out of your cheeks, you fumble with your keys in between your fingers, twirling them around while you shuffle your feet back and forth, avoiding the stares of your colleagues. “What the fuck is their problem?” a voice, smooth with a tinge of rasp, speaks. Tilting your head up ever so slightly toward the bus in which the voice originated from, a man with brunette curls, wild and a bit frizzy lazily walks down the bus steps and places himself next to you, eyeing the individuals in which he was referring to. His torso is adorned in some kind of a band shirt underneath a denim vest littered with patches and pins, the back displaying ‘DIO’ from what you can see as he stands beside you. He wears some ripped up black jeans with a chain dangling at his side, finished off with a handcuff belt buckle. In one of his back pockets is a bandana and in the other is what you can assume to be his neon vest that all bus drivers were supposed to be wearing. At his words you only shake your head, staring back at the ground. The mysterious guy points his finger, his hand showing off three chunky rings, pointing at your coworker who had humiliated you seconds ago. “He looks like a perv. He even allowed this close to the school?” The older teacher catches the guy pointing at him, snarling his way, his fellow bullies, two other middle aged women sporting the same disgust. At this you can’t suppress your laugh, your hand coming to cover your mouth to hide your joy.

Kids ignore every adult’s presence as they hurry onto the buses, some running past you at lightning speed, no doubt hoping to score the very back seat that everyone fights over. The man next to you has no shame in calling out the foul behavior of your coworkers. “What’re you lookin’ at porn stache?” he shouts through cupped hands. A playful shove is given by you and you catch a sparkle in his huge brown eyes, forcing you to linger your gaze on them a little longer as the molten chocolate buttons encompass you. You don’t even notice the way ‘porn stache’ clutches his chest in astonishment. “Stop!” you whisper, embarrassed but satisfied. A gentle smirk rests on his pink lips as he turns his attention to you. “What? I call it like I see it.” he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the bus and crossing his ankles. A student approaches the bus, her dress is blue and she sports a high ponytail in her dark hair, scrunchy matching, bangs ruffled from the school day. She looks too old to be in elementary school so you conclude that she must be a middle schooler as Hawkins Middle shared the bus loop with Hawkins Elementary. “Sinclair.” The bus driver’s dimples are on full display as he greets her. Her eyes roll while she begins stepping onto the bus. “I don’t know you at school, remember?” She scolds him. “Yes ma'am.” He puts on a southern drawl, snapping his fingers before pointing at her as she makes her way onto the bus.

You’re in awe of him, he’s so care free and different from everyone else. So effortlessly himself and you don’t even know him. “Listen, if that guy ever gives you a hard time, say the word and I’ll give him something to be embarrassed about.” His chin tilts toward the still chattering teachers. “Them too.” He points out the other two women. You’d never learned their names come to think of it, you were on your own island within the school. “Oh, that’s not necessary.” Waving him off, your fingers toy with a loose thread at the end of your dress. “I’m used to it.” You tell him truthfully. A nod is offered as he contemplates his next words, biting into his lip thoughtfully. “Shouldn’t have to be.” The words are simple yet reasonable. You dodge them anyway. “Sorry, what was your name?” Attempting to change the subject, you remember to pay attention to your surroundings as your sole job was bus duty which entailed making sure students got on the buses safely and no one was left behind. “Eddie” He answers as he checks his watch, the last thing he wanted was to be late. A single pissed off parent and he’d be written up. One write up for him actually meant getting fired due to his reputation.

Your posture straightens, a way to appear more professional and authoritative not just among the students but mainly the other teachers that thought less of you. A girl could try but ultimately your aura was more welcoming than intimidating which only gave them more ammo more often than not. “Are you not going to give me yours?” Eddie asks with a raised brow. Now you were distracted between talking to this random bus driver and trying to prove that your colleagues didn’t get to you. Glancing across the bus loop at them, you give him your name although you’re only halfway involved in the conversation now. “Why do you give them the time of day?” His sudden inquiry catches you off guard, your focus darting to the metal head leaning his weight against the bus, eyes squinting in the sun. Who was this guy? You weren’t sure how to process him, his edgy looks and his attitude were something you’d never been faced with before, coming from another small town yourself.

Hawkins became your new home when the district transferred you a year ago for a higher salary to replace one of their teachers who had retired. You couldn’t refuse since you were basically being paid crumbs at that point. In the past year, you’d never come across him despite the population being so small, it only made you more curious. “Excuse me?” You answer, a hint of offense laced in your tone. This so-called Eddie guy pushes his weight off of the bus and straightens out, lengthy legs stepping closer to you. “I’m just saying, if you stop caring what they think you’ll be untouchable. It’s kinda my thing.” His hand motions in front of him as if presenting himself to you. Opting to ignore his advice, you continue involuntarily keeping your peripherals on the snobby teachers. “Not really an option.” You mumble, pulling at a hangnail anxiously. A scoff escapes Eddie, his tattooed arms coming to cross over his chest again as he stands in your view of the other teachers, forcing you to look into his large coffee colored eyes. “It’s the only option. Otherwise you’ll go insane. Trust me, I would know.” There’s a detection of sympathy within his features, eyebrows slightly knitting together and a barely there frown.

The hint of confusion on your face indicates to him that you have no idea who he is or what his status among the Hawkins social ladder is. And he doesn’t have the faintest concept of yours either though if he were to gauge it off of your physical appearance he would conclude that you had a doting husband at home, were more than likely settled in Loch Nora with a nice two story home and a pristine lawn, belonged to the local country club, and all in all, were too good to even be talking to him. In fact, he couldn’t comprehend why you hadn’t told him off yet until your features communicated to him that you were oblivious to the hierarchy that plagued Hawkins. Before you can provide a response he’s piping up again. “How long have you been in Hawkins? If you don’t mind me asking.” He asks the question as if he’s trying to put a puzzle together. Looking him up and down, you decide that you don’t want to give up the information seeing as you’d just met the guy and there was no way to know of his intentions. “I’m sorry, why is that any of your business?” Your tone is standoffish. Buses began to let off that puff of air you hear when you know they’re about to leave, Eddie glancing around as he steps closer to his bus. Shaking his head, curls dancing along with the motion, he apologizes. “No-I-I didn’t. I’m sorry, it's just—I’ve never seen you before and you don’t seem to know–who I am?” He ends his sentence with a sigh, eyes closing in defeat. Now he just sounds like an asshole, berating you because you don’t know him but the truth behind it is the exact opposite of what it looks like and what you think. Eyes widening at him as if to say how dare you?, you begin taking a few steps back. “Oh, did I miss the memo or something? I’m sorry, I must have skipped over you on the brochure.” You sarcastically chide. He’s frantically waving his hands in front of him, face burning bright red as he tries to undo the interaction. “No, no, no. That’s not what I mean!” Eyes bulging out of his skull, he glances behind him into the bus then to his watch. “Fuck!” He whispers under his breath. “Okay–I really need to get these kids home but–” Looking less than impressed, you cut him off mid sentence. “Uh huh. You don’t need to make an excuse, just go.” You offer through clenched teeth. With one last groan, he rushes up the bus steps, boots stomping behind him as he quickly shuts the door. Through the open bus windows you hear him shout “Alright, sit the hell down or you might end up in the windshield!” If you had any friends, there was no way to rationally explain what just occurred to them.

–

Your work life and home life remained the same, bland. It was hard to make friends in your twenties as a teacher in a town that was densely populated with older folks. When you did attempt to go out and meet people your age, they really paid you no mind, already set in their ways with no incentive for a change. Lonely was the best way to describe how you felt. Neglected by those around you who you’d attempted to at least mingle with but no one would bite. It was a tedious game of trying to appear more confident than you were at work and appearing nonchalant outside of work in hopes to attract some friends. A hopeless back and forth that left you starving for attention, the kind of attention that was gratifying and that went both ways.

Your students were of course the light of your life and each one of them brought an undeniable warmth into the shadows of your existence. There was only so much that could provide to you though, they were all eleven and it probably wasn’t healthy to have the only positive attention in your life come from kids. Kids that weren’t even yours nonetheless. They loved you, absolutely loved you. Each morning a majority of them would squeeze you in a hug or at least ask for a high five. It was fulfilling to know that at least your mission in making the school system the tiniest bit better was playing out. The class was always excited to come in and learn, something that should automatically just be a given but unfortunately wasn’t in the grand scheme of things since the entire system was broken. At least you could sleep peacefully with the knowledge that your students appreciated you the same way you appreciate them.

As the next week came to an end, you were elected for bus duty again, clutching your keys in your palm as always and leisurely making your way out to the front of the school. The kids were extra excited since you’d begun a unit on plants and organisms. They each got to take home a clay pot with a seed they planted and watered in class. Over the weekend they were instructed to leave it in sunlight and talk to it about anything under the sun so that it would have encouragement to grow. You’d let them know that plants that had a friend to talk to were more likely to grow bigger and stronger than plants that had no one at all. When little Samantha asked if she could decorate her pot, you were elated and urged the rest of your class to also do something creative and told them that you would all do a little showcase on Monday. Now each of your students were quickly but carefully making their way out of the front of the school while carrying their soon to be plants, huge grins plastered on their faces.

Heading toward your selected spot for bus duty, away from the rest of the grumpy teachers, you stood alone and took in each child that passed. Each had an insane amount of energy, a buzz from the idea of the weekend just starting. You’d come to learn that the older teacher just across the way from you, ‘porn stache’ was actually named Mr. Wilson at a recent staff meeting. His reputation among students was less than satisfactory, they even go as far as saying he’s the worst teacher in the entire school. The other two women you were still unsure of but you figured you’d get an impression sooner than later. You would think that since you’ve worked at the school since last year, you would have been enlightened, however you remember how hostile the environment is and it makes sense.

Bus number eighty six pulls up in front of you, the exhaust letting out air as it breaks. A couple of students waiting nearby eagerly now stand in front of the bus door before it opens. Once it does, they’re racing to the back of the bus, screeching at each other and shoving one another playfully. Down the steps, clunky black combat boots step one at a time before big doe eyes meet your gaze. You’d forgotten that his bus would probably occupy the same parking space next to the curb so really it was your fault that you were met with him again. As his eyes land on you, he’s retreating back into the bus and slumping into his driver seat once again. Avoidance. Who were you to care though? The guy had some kind of an ego, saying you didn’t know who he was. Who did he even think he was? Some kind of king of Hawkins? You’d never even heard of him a day in your life and he was a bus driver for crying out loud. Not that there was anything wrong with the job but there was no need for him to be on his high horse.

The sudden chirp of one of your students, Jill, caught your attention as she ran up to you with a few of her friends, one being from your class, a boy named Harry and the other kids you didn’t recognize which meant they were from another class. She explained to you how excited she was for the new unit on plants, her own pot held in between her small hands. Jill goes on and on telling you about how no other teacher has ever done something like this, at least in all the years leading up to fifth grade. Harry chimes in to say that he can’t wait to come into class on Monday to see how everyone decorates their own pots. Your heart feels gooey, the fact that your students are comfortable with telling you that they’re actually looking forward to coming back to school is the biggest reward in your eyes. The way they banter and joke with you has the other teachers scowling your way, Mr. Wilson included. Instead of paying any mind to them, you continue to focus all of your energy on your students as they so deserve. You learn about Jill’s new puppy her dad surprised her with and you request that she brings in a picture as soon as she’s able to, enthusiasm dripping from your voice. Another student that isn’t in your class speaks up saying “I wish you were my teacher!” with a whine. At this you offer a small smile. “Well, I’m sure your teacher is just amazing!” You respond graciously. They all grumble in disagreement.

From his driver’s seat, taking in the scene of you on the sidewalk with your students, Eddie can’t fight the slightest upturn of his lips while you interact with them so sweetly. At the moment he only wishes he had someone like you when he was that age. Instead he was always met with harsh threats of being kicked out and sent to juvie for things that weren’t even worth that kind of punishment. His teachers couldn’t give less of a shit about him, he even believed they would hold him back just to cause him embarrassment and not cause he failed his classes. If that were the case, summer school should’ve been offered to him to up his grades but it never was. When his Uncle asked about summer school being an option for him back in middle school, the school administration simply told him they were full.

Eddie hated teachers with every fiber of his being and he had reason to, each one he ever had was always ready to set him up for failure and kick him to the curb. He was only a kid and the adults who were in charge of teaching him and helping him only caused more mental abuse in addition to the physical and emotional abuse he experienced at home before moving in with his Uncle. But he got over it and it made him hopeful that you seemed to treat the kids well and indulge in their child-like behaviors rather than disciplining them every time they raised their voice a bit higher than necessary. You seemed genuine in your facial expressions and the way you would make sure each child received equal attention from you as they put their two cents into the conversation.

Your smile faded as a fed up Mr. Wilson approached you and the students, his face feigning irritability as he cleared his throat, breaking up the fun you were having. The way you shrunk down on yourself had Eddie leaning forward in his seat to catch every detail of the dispute he knew was about to happen. Mr. Wilson addressed you by your name sternly before completing his thought. “You must know that our students need to get home in a timely manner, we can’t have you holding them up with all the chit chat.” The condescending voice of an older out of touch man has you internally cringing. He talked to you as if you were stupid, as if you were some little girl he didn’t deem worthy of his time and that he could simply get rid of with a snap of his fingers. Your students scurry off, frightened and you scold yourself for stuttering in your response. “M-Mr. Wilson we have plenty of time still. Bus duty doesn’t end until everyone is on the buses and as you can see, we still have a lot of kids left.” You point out the groups of students still littering the front of the school. “And it’s Friday. They’re just excited and I think it’s my job as their teacher to let them express that!” You defend yourself, voice still somewhat shaky which you could just kick yourself for but nonetheless you are standing your ground. A scoff is earned from the old man before he begins reprimanding you again. “I think it’d be wise for you to listen to those with more experience than you. As a man, I think it's my job to keep our ladies in line.” He spits, the words hitting you in the face. Eddie, still watching from his spot, determines whether he should step in or not. On one hand he could tell the guy off however he feels that would go against the whole point since he would also be a man stepping in. On another hand, gender doesn’t even matter, he’s always had it out for that motherfucker from the day he confronted him about not wearing his neon vest and expressed his distaste for his tattoos while also bringing up that he was living up to that Munson name. He should’ve punched him right there but thought better of it seeing as it would only add to the things people could say about him.

Formulating a reply in your mind, you attempt to physically appear unbothered even though emotionally you could never understand the thought process of a man under the influence of a power trip. “I think it's none of your business what I do, personally, Mr. Wilson. Have a great weekend.” You dismiss him as he would you, turning to face the buses in front of you and pretending he no longer existed. An attempt is made by him to pursue the argument however you ignore him and start slowly pacing around as if on patrol while waving to a few students. He gives up, staring at you like you had just murdered his family and then eventually making his way back to his clique of older teachers.

For a brief second you glance over to ensure he’s gone when a smirk appears on your face at your small victory. That’s when a familiar voice graces your ears. “That was metal as fuck.” Eddie. He’s no longer afraid to step out of his bus, maneuvering around a student he nearly ran over accidentally before moving aside and bowing as he gestures to the door dramatically for them to enter. Standing in front of you, he has a grin on his face. You shrug at his praise, offering no words. “No, seriously. Next time you shouldn’t hold back, just fully let ‘em have it.” A slight joke to lighten the mood as he punches the air with his fist but he means it. You breathe out a laugh as you stare at the weeds growing in the cracks of the sidewalk. “If I don’t hold back he could probably get me fired. I bet he’s even trying to find a way to have me fired for what I just said to him but it won’t really hold up since I was nice.” A frown makes its way across his soft features, his boot crunching a pebble beneath it as he thinks. “Welp. I’m in your corner. Don’t know how much good that’ll do you but I’ve hated that motherfucker since the day I met him.” He flashes you a smile while blinking his dark lashes at you. You hum in appreciation. “Even though I don’t know who you are?” You mock his words from last week, trying to hide the smile that's tugging at your lips. A look of sadness emerges on his face before being buried again by his charisma. “Sweetheart…” The word rolls off his tongue so effortlessly and before you can even protest the nickname he’s further explaining his stance. “I didn’t ask if you knew who I was because I’m some cocky asshole with a god complex. It’s quite the opposite actually.” He lets the anticipation build while you raise a brow for him to continue, him pacing around the sidewalk in a joking manner, almost like he had to go to the bathroom. “I’m the town satanist, didn’t you hear?” Now flashing jazz hands at you, his composure somewhat gives away a weakness. Amusement paints your expression and a laugh escapes your lungs, he couldn’t be serious. And he wasn’t as he began to go into a few details to aid in your confusion. “At least, that’s what they’re all so sure of.” His bitter tone gives you some insight on the situation as he shrugs. “I’m not. But because I look like me, talk like me, y’know…they just assume shit. Cause I play DND, they think I’m a cult leader.” Eddie fidgets with his rings but keeps his tone lighter as if this didn’t bother him. Shock takes over as you listen to him, your jaw drops. “And I probably just scared you, so I’ll just be on my bus.” He uses his thumb to point behind him while sticking his other hand in his back pocket that was stuffed with his neon vest. “No!” You’re surprised at your involuntary reaction but he stops short of the bus door and waits, arm braced on the frame. “I-I’m not scared. I just…wow. Those are the stupidest reasons to start a rumor like that.” You offer a sympathetic smile and he gladly takes it. “Honestly, I just use it to my advantage. People don’t mess with you if they’re scared of you. Has its perks.” An optimistic viewpoint on such a fucked up situation but it only draws you to him more. The last students saunter up to the bus and Eddie checks the time as he backs up onto the first step. “I gotta go.” Voice now soft, maybe even timid? His face reflects a tenderness and his irises hold some kind of promise in them. Nodding, you wave gently and with that he’s off with a final wave and a genuine smile that you hadn’t seen on him yet. It was enchanting.

–

Eddie the bus driver tampered with your mind all weekend and suddenly you were more than happy to take over bus duty if any of the other teachers requested. His gentle nature packaged in a rugged demeanor lured you in, the thoughts about him just kept manifesting in your mind–his deep dimpled grin, crazy curls, tattoos that now that you think about it made him that much more attractive, and of course those eyes–ugh those eyes would be the death of you if you ever had to look into them again. Which you were planning to do of course which meant you were plotting your own demise. Deep molasses pools that warmed you from the inside out, they were as addicting as the soda fountain at the gas station down the street from your house that you stopped at every day after work. They even replicated the syrupy cola color and you felt as though you could become hooked if you weren’t careful. So chocolatey almost like brownie batter that you couldn’t resist dipping your finger into, so sweet and so fulfilling. Even in the sun they were this deep, rich, cocoa brown that you’d never had the pleasure of seeing before you met him.

The scraping of a metal chair against the tiled floor of the teacher’s lounge snapped you out of your visions. Suddenly you were faced with the reality of your now cold leftover pasta staining your tupperware container as it sat atop the wooden table, a few teachers chattering while some headed off to catch up on some grading. What you would give to just continue drowning in those eyes rather than sitting in a room with a bunch of older adults.

Around two weeks later you still hadn’t ended up with bus duty, much to your disappointment. You were growing impatient, the only thing you were looking forward to was those big brown eyes and the charming man who possessed them. On the bright side, your students’ plants had just begun to sprout which left them overjoyed. Each individualized pot held in it a tiny sprout, a new little life that they were responsible for. It only pushed them to want to learn more and the way you taught it definitely helped ease a lot of the more boring aspects of the lesson.

A week later, you were finally approached with taking over bus duty for one of the other teachers who needed to take off early to pick up their own child who had gotten sick. Although you wouldn’t wish sickness upon anyone, you were ecstatic to hear that you’d been assigned to take over, trying to hide the upturn of your lips.

Once 3:15PM rolled around and the bell rang, your students threw their backpacks over their shoulders and bolted out the door, shouting a goodbye to you as you yelled back at them to walk while laughing at their antics. Giddiness fills your bloodstream on the way to the bus loop and your hands get shaky with anticipation. He shouldn’t have this much power over you however you feel that he’s probably the only guy in Hawkins you’d met that you would allow that power to. Something about your previous interaction with him had you yearning.

Reaching your selected spot, you wait patiently for bus eighty six to pull up. And when it does, the muffled riff of some metal song is blasting, growing even louder once the door opens. The music stills as he saunters off the bus in his typical uniform of a band shirt, denim vest, and ripped up black jeans. As his eyes meet yours while he steps onto the sidewalk, a little grin adorns his face, dimples on full display for you. “Hey, you haven’t been around for a while.” he mentions, fighting to get the door all the way open as it was beginning to close on its own halfway, slamming his bodyweight into it which seems to do the trick. “I’ve got my own things to do.” You banter with him, a hand on your hip. He fakes offense as he brings a hand up to his chest with a gasp. “Things other than babysitting the bus drivers?” His eyes crinkle at the corner in the cutest way. “I’m shocked.” He says in monotone before you both erupt in a fit of giggles. “I see you got the radio on full volume today.” You tease, referring to the booming music from earlier. “Oh yeah, I had to tinker with it but I finally figured it out. Really sick setup, it’s a pair of pliers holding the wires together.” He shoves both hands in his back pockets, something you’re starting to pick up on as a nervous habit. “Don’t tell anyone.” He whispers playfully with a hand covering one side of his mouth to shield from the other teachers. You laugh while staring at him in wonder. Stepping closer to you, just inches away, he raises his eyebrows while lowering his voice. “No seriously, I could probably get into a lot of trouble if you rat me out. They’ll be too stupid to figure out exactly what I did but y’know as a satanist and all…they’ll pin somethin’ on me.” You can’t help the cackle that escapes you, the ugliest sound you could’ve let out. It only makes him put on bigger dimples for you. “I’m sorry, I know you’re serious. It’s just so ridiculous.” You tell him through breathy laughs. He nods his head in agreement and chuckles along. This is the closest he’s ever stood to you and you’re now noticing the spice of his cologne and the scent of tobacco which strangely comforts you. “I am serious, but it is funny. I’ll know if you rat me out though.” He warns, his face adorably stern. “What? The teacher that no one talks to is gonna rat out the only person that actually will?” You give him a blank stare as he clicks his tongue. “Okay, that’s fair.” He decides. The two of you are still going back and forth, deep smiles embedded into your features as if no one else existed when the party comes to an end.

Mr. Wilson abruptly ends the conversation you and Eddie had been engaged in by clearing his throat in that annoying way he does. “Munson, I see you’re not wearing your vest again.” He talks down to him. Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, not at all hiding it from the man. “I can assure you, it’s right here.” He slightly turns and points to his back pocket where the bright vest is hanging. “Well I would think you’d be wearing it where everyone could see that you’re in fact a bus driver and definitely not some predator.” Mr. Wilson’s words are laced with venom, you can pick up on the vendetta he has against Eddie–he certainly doesn’t care about the vest, he’s just using it to pick a fight. “Listen, man–” Before Eddie can continue, you step in. “--Mr. Wilson I don’t know if I would be talking when you’re the one dress coding all these girls every single day. Are you purposely looking?” Eddie is taken back by your forwardness but also he can’t help the smirk as he takes in Mr. Wilson’s reaction. His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, stunned. You await an answer patiently but nothing comes as Mr. Wilson scurries away like a frightened cat. It seemed he wasn’t able to handle when others would throw his own flaws back in his face. “Well, fuck.” Eddie sounds impressed, watching the man hurry into the building.

–

Over the course of a month you and Eddie continued to have harmless conversations that would sometimes leave you flustered, he was just so handsome and he was by far the funniest guy you’d met. You clicked with him, something you’d never experienced before, there was an undeniable chemistry. Even some of your students would make kissy faces behind Eddie as you talked with him, causing a rush of blood to heat your face.

On a Tuesday in late October, you had been filling in your grade book after school, working at your desk in the front corner of the classroom with most of the lights off to ease your eyes. The room was starting to fill out nicely with many projects you and your students had done throughout the last few months. Their plants had grown significantly and sprouted some leaves. Each one made its home on the shelf toward the back window of the room and every weekend students were free to take theirs home. They even had names, a piece of masking tape stuck to the front of every pot with them written in everyone’s handwriting.

Your train of thought was interrupted while you jotted down some notes to assist a student with a subject they were struggling in. A figure at the door had you glancing up only to be met with disappointment as you realized it was one of the teachers that would always gossip about you. You’d never heard what they said but you were smart enough to understand that looking in your direction and pointing every so often definitely meant you were the main subject. Her blonde hair was cut in a bob and she wore red rimmed glasses, perched at the edge of her nose. The dress she wore was covered in these ugly flowers that looked like puke. She had to be around sixty. You didn’t even know her name but you had the slightest inclination that she was going to tell you. Sure enough as she greeted you, she introduced herself as Mrs. Perry, another standard name. Making the air uncomfortable, she sat herself on top of the corner of your desk like she owned it. “I wanted to talk to you about something that myself and the other teachers have noticed.” She announces. All you wanted to do was roll your eyes but you refrained. This was about to turn into some kind of lecture about how you did your job wrong in their eyes. This conversation had happened before only with another teacher named Mrs. Dennis, who seemed fairly friendly at first but really just proved that she was like everyone else by letting you know that your ways of teaching were too progressive for their school.

You acknowledged Mrs. Perry with a hum for her to continue, signaling that you were listening to whatever nonsense she was about to bless you with. Her lipstick was way too bright for her complexion, that you could see even in the dim lighting of the room. “We were all worried…” she trails off vaguely. “Worried about what?” You ask, now a smidge curious. They were never worried, they were always at most concerned. Usually with your teaching techniques. “Well you see, we’ve noticed that Munson boy has been bothering you at bus duty. Now I know you probably were too afraid to say anything but—"”—Excuse me?” You cut in, a tone containing bitterness. “Dear, we all know who he is, what he’s done. You know he’s a cult leader, don’t you?” She looks at you with sympathy, as if to tell you that’s okay, little girl, you didn’t know any better. It made you want to absolutely vomit. You’re unable to grasp onto any words, a heavy and shaky sigh leaving you. “He listens to all that satanic music too, god what awful noise. It must’ve been terrifying having to face him all this time, you need to be careful. He might try to exploit you, if you understand what I’m trying to say…” “Okay, enough! You know what I don’t understand? I don’t understand how you people get to go off and judge anyone who is even the slightest bit different than you! You do it to him and you do it to me! And you wanna know something? Eddie is a hundred times the man than all the lowlife ones that work in this very school! Do you know that every one of them cheats on their wife or has some kind of a creepy problem with staring?” Your rant temporarily ends and she begins chiming in again. “I’m assuming you don’t know about his criminal background. How he’s an accomplice to his dad’s life of crime? He’s just like him and you’re going to end up like his mother if you don’t get out now.” Her voice is full of malice, trying to shred any sliver of purity you saw in Eddie.

You have no knowledge of Eddie’s past but based on your experience with the people of Hawkins, you had no intention of listening to any of the things they said about him. “I’m sorry, I can’t listen to any more of this. You people really don’t know how to mind your own business. Have you personally ever talked with Eddie?” You ask with a fire in your eyes. The woman is rendered speechless for a moment and then speaks back up. “No, but—“ “—No, nothing.” You finish, slamming your grade book shut and shoving it into your bag, heading for the door and gesturing for Mrs. Perry to exit your classroom so you can lock up. She attempts to reason with you some more but you won’t have it, holding a hand up in front of you to stop her as you storm down the hallway. Eddie Munson was the sweetest man you’d ever come across and you’d be damned if you were going to let everyone talk so lowly of him solely because of rumors and a bunch of hearsay.

—

The next time you have bus duty it comes up in conversation that Mrs. Perry tried to sway you away from him and advised that you get out while you can. “No fucking way.” Eddie has an amused smile plastered on his face as he munches on a bag of chips you’d grabbed from the vending machine. Nacho Cheese Doritos, his favorite. “Yeah, she just kept saying things. Was calling you a criminal, and even if it’s true it’s none of her business!” He can’t help but feel his heart swell three times the size his chest is capable of holding. Even if he were a criminal, you would still talk to him. That’s what he heard. While the rest of the population avoided him like the plague, you flocked to him willingly even if you weren’t sure whether it was true or not. You were giving him a fighting chance and that’s all he could ever ask of anyone ever, a luxury he never really was granted. “And then she said I’m gonna end up like your mom and that your dad—“ Immediately you stop talking as his breath hitches, his Doritos falling to the ground and his eyes void of emotion while he seems to be in another realm.

You're left without a clue as to what to do as he completely checks out of reality. “Eddie?” You softly whisper. “Eddie? Did I—I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have, I was just going on and on and—“ “Don’t be.” Suddenly he’s back with you, grabbing his chips from the ground and crumpling the remaining snack in his hands, the foil bag crinkling loudly. “People uh, people like to—bring up my mom. My dad. They like to compare me to him.” His composure wavers for a second as he squeezes the noisy bag in his fist. He regains it and straightens himself out, looking directly into your eyes intently. “I don’t wanna get into it but, I’m not like him. Never will be. If you wanna stop talking I get it.” Your heart shatters as he lets a slice of vulnerability shine through. How could he think that because of one thing a woman said to you that she didn’t even have the slightest idea about, that it would send you running? Maybe other people had done so before you? If that was the case you wanted to personally ruin their lives and avenge whatever broken parts of Eddie’s soul they left behind in pieces. “Eddie, why would I want that?” You question sincerely.

You catch a panicked shift in his eyes as they move from left to right, he’s unsure of where to go from here. “If I like you I’m not going to stop talking to you because these people can’t handle anything other than their set in stone suburban lifestyle.” Your voice is gentle and you even venture to step closer to him, just barely grazing your fingertips against his only to realize his fingers were still dusted with nacho cheese. “Your fingers are still dusty.” You joke in a voice quiet enough only the two of you can hear. At this he cracks a smile, pulling one of his curls over his face in a bashful manner. “You like me?” He asks with rosy cheeks however his tone is teasing. “Mhm.” You hum back with a bite to your lip and a nod. “How much are we talkin’? Cause if I ask you out right now and make a complete dick of myself I’ll never recover.” He’s still twisting one of his curls around his finger, his opposite arm tucked under his bicep in a shy stance. A step closer to him and you’re breathing in each other's air. The kids around the bus loop are all too occupied in getting home to notice the flirtation happening among them which you were thankful for. “If you don’t ask me out, I may never recover either.” You eye his entire face, taking in the way his lashes dust over his cheeks while he gazes down at you, the hint of stubble threatening to break through his skin, and his pillowy pink lips that you’d hope to taste one day soon. “Are you busy Friday night?” He asks, bringing the hand that wasn’t layered in cheese dust to brush against your knuckles. Or so he thought. “Eddie!” You scoff, cringing at the gritty texture against your skin. “Sorry, sorry. Let me try again.” He holds his contaminated hand behind his back while allowing his other to brush his thumb over yours. “Will you go out with me Friday night? No Doritos, I promise.” He crosses his fingers in front of his face with a boyish smile. “Although you’re the one who gave them to me—“ “Eddie!” “Sorry, moment ruined again. Let’s go from the top.” He takes a deep breath but before he knows it, you press a kiss to his heated cheek, smiling up at him with a shy grin and your hands clasped in front of you, swaying from side to side as if this were a movie. He was really starting to think he was, there’s no way you were real. “Pick me up at seven?” You bat your lashes at him and he swears he could die happy then and there. “Yeah.” He whispers like it’s a secret among the two of you. “Wanna kiss you so bad right now.” He says hushed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I think they’d tack on a sex offender charge though if I tried since we're in front of a school so you’ll have to wait.” He smirks jokingly, you laughing with him. A series of woops and yells are heard from Eddie’s bus, a few of your students and some others not in your class cheering you both on, leaving you a flustered mess as Eddie just waves at them, nacho dust still coating his fingertips.

Quickly before he has to leave, you pull out a pen from your pocket where you’d always kept one just in case during school hours, jotting your number on his inner arm. “Call me.” You tell him with a close mouthed smile, attempting to contain all of your happiness. “You know I will, sweetness.” He purrs, offering you a scrunched up nose with a grin.

~end~

Masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #bus driver!eddie #teacher!reader

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