PEteacher!abby and Englishteacher!reader.
Summary: you're the new English teacher at Washington Liberty High School. Abby Anderson coaches the Wolves. Not even your previous years of experience saves you from hormonal teenagers.
WC: 1.1k words.
Warnings: Probably innacurate school information? I'm a teacher in Brasil and not in the U.S., sorry! Rude and sexist comments from the other teachers towards Abby — not to her face, though. Reader is described as being smaller than Abby. Abby is a little bit of a dom in a non-sexual way, and lowkey such a flirt. Besides that, just fluff.
You definitely underestimated — and forgotten — just how much teenagers can drain you of all of your enegy in just a matter of days.
Is the second week of classes since back to school day, and you're already hoping for Thanksgiving break. You're currently sitting on your chair, looking over your classroom. Your head lightly rests on the palm of your hand.
The tables and chairs are scattered about, a clear sign that they didn't hear you asking them to arrange them. You're not exactly sure if you're glad they're gone for the day, or frustrated because they ignored you once again. You decide to count your losses for the day, and just take a minute to enjoy the peace and quiet of the classroom before you have to put things back in their place.
Said peace and quiet is disturbed when you hear someone walking down the school hallway, the loud bang of a basketball repeatedly kicking on the floor echoes and travels through the empty spaces of the school.
You don't have to look at the door to know Abby Anderson is about to pass by.
When you first arrived, you had heard about her even before you had actually met her.
You were subtly eavesdropping on the older teacher's conversation, when you caught the topic of "can't believe she's back for another school year. It's not a good look having a female coach to begin with, let alone someone who looks so unladylike".
You frowned at their judgment. Personally, you thought it was pretty badass for a high school to have a female coach. Besides, you're not in the 50's anymore if they couldn't tell. Even if their hair styles definitely stayed in that era.
At least, now you know not to mingle with that group. At all. You're always happy when people don't take too long to show their true colors. Saves you time trying to figure out what their deal is.
"Hey, there", you were taken out of your daydreams by Abby's voice. She was leaning against the doorframe, and you had half a mind not to ogle how big her arms looked when she crossed them over her chest.
"Hi", you greeted back, straightening your back on the chair, trying not to look as defeated as you felt.
It was not uncommon for you and Abby to have these random conversations. Sometimes, you liked to watch your students training during her classes, and she took advantage of the company to chat with you while they were running drills.
The thing that most amazed you, though, is how disciplined these little shits were during her classes. You first started coming by the gym just so you could see what kind of magic she worked on the students, and when you found out she didn't even have to whistle most of the time to catch their attention, you gave up all together and stayed for the company, instead — and the view, and her smooth voice, and the beautiful braid running down her back.
Overtime, you noticed that the fact that she was extremely tall and had bulging muscles helped her case. Massively. And the fact that students generally liked P.E. classes also helped.
Your much, much smaller figure could never compare, or even impose as much respect.
"The little kids giving you trouble?", she asked, not needing to take a second look at you to know that you were over this week already.
You sigh as she makes her way in, grabbing one of the chairs. She sits the wrong way around, stradding the seat and resting both of her arms on the backrest.
"I love them. I really do", you start putting both hands over your heart, and she nods in agreement. You might not know, but Abby notices how much effort you put into your classes. You took the time — and the money — to buy string lights, so they could have a more relaxed environment. She even saw the little reading corner you arranged in the back of the classroom, with a rug and cushions. "But it's the second week, and I have already run out of classroom management ideas".
"Ugh. I hate classroom management", she scoffs at the idea. "They are young adults, they should be able to sit through a lecture with the minimal amount of respect without having to earn a little star for their good behavior".
"That's not exactly how it works for high schoolers, Abby", you shrugged your shoulders, accepting your fate for the school year.
"Tell you what", she stands up and paces twice in front of you before continuing. "Next class, I'll tell them that the next time I hear they're being little bitches to the new English teacher, they'll all have to do Oklahoma drills for the whole week".
"Hm, I don't know what those are and they don't sound very pleasant to go through, but you really don't have to threaten your students because of me. I'll figure it out", you said, honestly. "Also, please don't use the term little bitches?", Abby decides to wave off this comment before acknowledging your previous statement.
"That's the thing, you shouldn't need to figure it out. They're going to be citizens of this world, and the least they need to do is straighten their desks before leaving, and respect their teacher", Abby says, matter-of-factly. "And it's not threatening, it's an incentive", she adds as a second thought, and you have to roll your eyes, because it's definitely threatening.
You don't really know what to say to all of,that. You've always been a "earn their respect without being harsh" kind of teacher, but you have to admit that they're currently walking all over you.
It wouldn't hurt to test Abby's more direct teaching style. If you could call it that.
"Well, thank you for offering help. You didn't need to do that for me and I really appreciate it. It feels nice knowing someone has your back".
"It's no problem", she says, putting the chair back into place and starting to organize the desks. You get up yourself to help her, but she stops you in your tracks with one hand raised. "Go back to your chair and sit down, please. Let me do this".
Your mouth open and closes before you can come up with an answer.
"I'm already halfway done, so", she says as she tidies the last of the tables. "I know you won't ever ask me, but it's no trouble doing something nice for someone when they need it".
"Abby, you've offered help already, you don't need to organize my students' mess as well", you argue, watching her drag furniture to their rightful place.
"I'll bring chocolate as a thank you. It's the least I could do", you offer, but she frowns like you've just offered to kick her dog or something.
"I don't eat sugar", she says as if it's the most normal thing in the world. She really is one of a kind.
"Are you fucking kidding me?", you ask, supressing a laugh, but once she cracks a smile of her own, you can't hold it back any longer. "I guess it makes sense, but what the fuck?".
"Discipline is key", she points like she's just figured out a big philosophical discovery.
"Well, then, what can I do in return?", you ask, genuinely wanting to return the favor — or favors.
"Just, keep the frown off your face, alright? Too pretty to be having wrinkles, yeah?", she turns around and leaves the classroom, as if she didn't just nestle herself so deeply inside your mind.
