summary: He should have never let Erwin convince him that he'd be a great teacher. Teacher!levi/student!eren AU
a/n: ... I'm sorry. Can one disown writing?
Just in case you dont know, if your teacher is sleeping with you and you are in highschool and they are older than 30... that, that is not correct. Just in case you didn't know. I like to think heichou is 26 in this story. Ok. And no smut because im crap at smut. SHUT UP 8 YEARS ISN'T VERY MUCH, OKAY? ;_; (I'm pretty sure this story slowly morphs into crack)
& Yes. This is a one-shot.
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; Walk Right In
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It isn't that he ever considered himself a good teacher that actually understands his students and actually tries to care, because he doesn't. He isn't interested in a sixteen-year-old's sob story and how much they hate their parents, or how the good-looking neighbour that the blondie—who's grades are more atrocious than that weed-smoker—has only been using her for her body. He hears about these things as rumours, anyway.
Truthfully he just wishes they'd all pass so he could get a raise, or something.
But that's the problem, even if he manages to get every student to pass and like school and not commit suicide during the year he's teaching them; he won't get a damn raise. Something he could really use right now, considering he's just bought a brand new car and the monthly rent for his apartment is coming creeping around the corner. Money would be nice, yes, definitely nice.
Then there's the problem that if not enough stupid brats get into the 'normal zone' for grades, like 70's—he'll be the one in deep shit. Not the stupid little shits that decided they could fail another year yet again and just work at McDonald's the rest of their life.
He takes a long deep breath, sitting behind his glistening hard-wood desk that's a nice smoky black colour with a matching office chair that is high and can turn quickly and efficiently so he can pull moves like those evil-doers in the movies. Another year full of crappy pimple-faced brats that'll he'll have to get to know by at least January so they won't suspect that he just doesn't give a flying fuck, because certainly he'd only be aiding them in deteriorating their grades.
A quick glance around the room and he's capable of pin-pointing who'll be causing him trouble this year. Teenagers always have the 'smug' look on their faces whenever they meet someone new, as if not to let their defences drop to the ground and be shattered. Then there's the kids that sit up close, smiling and chit-chatting kindly with their friends beside them—the well rounded kids that everyone likes—then there's the normal kids that try hard enough to pass but don't try to get to know their teacher—the type of students Rivaille likes the most—and then there's the class clowns; the one that has to have an opinion on everything and are ten times louder than the average class volume.
"I'm your teacher," Rivaille says slowly with a long bored tone, interested in how it takes the front-seat students a moment before they stop talking, usually those types of students are quick within the first moment, no other student choruses an extravagant 'hello!' back. Just their eyes paying close attention, lips sealed tight as they either smile or look as bored as Rivaille. "Call me Captain."
Usually that riles the shits up, someone usually will ask 'Captain? Are you kidding me?' Except, the kids staring at him look mildly confused—but don't comment on it—nor does he really feel like explaining why he decides to make the shit-faces call him such.
"If you're looking for my box in the office it is labelled Corporal as well, so you shits—I mean kids—have no need to know my name." Remember that law suit about calling that girl a dick-sucking bitch? He mentally scolds himself, trying to keep the swear-words to a minimal considering his previous not so happy encounters. In his defense though, she was always boosting about how many dicks she sucked every week all the while trying to seduce her teacher—him, if you didn't catch on—so she could get higher grades.
Rivaille was not impressed.
"Are you one of those teachers that try to act scary?" One kid pipes up after a moment of awkward silence because Rivaille had chosen to silently scolding himself in his thoughts.
He pauses for a moment considering the words, does he only act scary? Last time he checked, he is scary.
"I mean, you look pretty cute to me. All short and angry looking, like a cat that just got a bath." The same kid says with a shit-eating grin and glistening eyes that scream: I'm going to ruin your year!
"Oh great." Rivaille says with a long sigh, "Another brat that acts all high and mighty but fails on all his tests."
That certainly silences the kid up with an unimpressed frown, probably thinking how he's going to go tell his parents and get Rivaille punished or deduced pay—which neither will happen—because he's done nothing and he may or may not have gotten this job from a personal reference from his boyfriend, and principal.
"Okay if we're done with my pointless introduction, introduce yourselves to the class or whatever brats do when meeting new classmates, let's start from big-mouth up here," he drones monotonously, waggling his hand in the brunets direction.
Said brunet blinks at him for a long moment, scowling, before doing as told. "I'm Eren Yeager."
"And?"
Eren huffs, "I like beating Jean up?"
The guy he presumes to be Jean just groans and shakes his head behind Eren.
"How are your own interests a question? Are you stupid?"
"Excuse me, Cor...Corporal." The black-haired Asian girl sitting beside Eren says with a groused tone, obviously displeased with Rivaille's insistent picking on her dear friend. Probably a girlfriend, Rivaille thinks, mentally reminding himself to separate them—he does not do well with couples giggling like love sick fools only to be not-so-surprised when they're on opposite sides of the room the next week because they had a fight, and thus forth finding it okay to piss off everyone else in the vicinity.
"What? You want to go? Go then." He grunts gruffly, pulling up his check board and checking off Eren Yeager's name as here.
She narrows her eyes, but in a more polite tone does as she's told, "I am Mikasa Ackerman."
A half-breed.
"Blondie next to her."
"A—Armin, Sir!"
Rivaille smirks.
"I hope for a good year, kids."
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"So how is this years classes?" Hanji Zoe, one of the Biology teachers in the school asks, arms crossed over her chest as she leans onto the table, eyes sparkling with knowing.
Rivaille shifts uncomfortably, looking down at the list of names from his 3 classes he teaches this semester—just his luck he ended up with Eren in all three of his classes. He snorts, feeling pity for the brat. "I have the same brat in all 3 of my classes." Math, English and Ancient Literature AP; maybe he thought wrong, the kid doesn't seem like a moron. Well... at least, not yet.
"Oh?"
"Yes, Eren Yeager and his bitchy followers, Armin Arlet and Mikasa Ackerman." Rivaille rehearses, the names ringing like bells in his mind roughly—maybe he's just associating them with Eren because those emerald eyes are hard to forget?—regardless, Rivaille isn't sure how to pin down the Asian girl around Eren, considering her over-protective bossy nature that Rivaille hadn't failed to realize when he asked the brats to socialize. She didn't let anyone except their group of "friends" socialize with Eren.
It had been odd, he had never seen something like that before. A girl possessing a guy, pulling him close and shielding him from the world; it seems. He can easily change that, he can just pair Eren up with Annie, Reiner or Bertholdt that are their own little tight-nit group in the back of the classroom. He has that power, to make children uncomfortable.
"Oh, you actually remembered some of their names on the first day?" Rivaille narrows his eyes at Zoe's comment, he always remembers names—he just prefers not to point out what a better teacher he is than Zoe. "That class must have left an impression."
An impression they did. He can still remember Annie's blank expression as she leaned on top of her desk and slept away, Reiner and Bertoldt huddled close together as they looked like they're flirting with each other—Sasha's constant jokes and pulling out large quantities of food and eating it in a second, only to be scolded by Jean or Mikasa. Jean and Eren's constant bickering, only to be solved by Armin. Then there was that group of nobodies, like Thomas or Gunter, then there was those like Christa and Ymir—who stood out, obviously, but they chose to ignore everyone else.
"Maybe." Rivaille says simply, snatching up his coffee and blowing off the steam.
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The next day at school Eren is staring at Rivaille intensely, eyes almost blazing with readiness.
Rivaille tries—the key word is try—to refrain from caring. But how can he? He feels like he has swords being stabbed into him, and he still has one more class with the bat-shit for brains at the last (and sadly, longest) class. Tapping the board once with his marker, he drawls a quick 'Do the questions 1 - 150 in the textbook. Suckers.' Before calling Eren outside of the class with him.
Eren, in a whole summary, is not impressed.
"What?" The kid snaps, and Rivaille distastefully looks down at how Eren's fingers look like they're readily willing to wrap around his throat and strangle him.
"Why are you glaring daggers into my back, you brat. We still have long block and you are making this harder than it needs to be." Usually, Rivaille would just ignore someone like Eren completely. Because, what is the point of getting worked up about something a teenager is doing? Teenagers are always moody. Always doing weird shitty things to piss off adults.
Exactly why he's bidding his time giving the shit-face excuses to staring at him venomously. Rivaille should just hate him and be annoyed and wait until this semester ends.
"Nothing." Eren says, lower lip sticking out as he pouts.
"Well stop staring at me so intensely." Rivaille grits out.
"Do you... Live near the park?" Eren asks hesitantly when Rivaille is about to head back into the class.
He frowns at the teenager for a moment, before biting out, "None of your business."
Opening the classroom door and waiting for Eren to come in, which the brat does—glaring at Rivaille as he does so—and then Eren is back in his safe haven, Mikasa questioning him about why 'the shorty called him out'—Rivaille makes a mental note to deduct one mark from Mikasa's upcoming test (he isn't short, just smaller)—and Armin is trying to tell Mikasa to be quiet.
"Never mind on the questions," he says with a long annoyed sigh, "I'm going to make teams." Because you brats need to make different friends.
"Armin, Christa and Reiner." He starts, pulling up a list of names even though he already knows mostly everyone's names, "Sasha, Ymir, Eren," he hums, "Bertoldt, Thomas, Mikasa, then the rest of you can make your own little teams. Get moving and get working on those questions."
Mikasa glares at him, and he smiles cockily.
Take that.
(He ignores how childish it is to be fighting over Eren with a student, but still, it is entertaining.)
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The weekend comes and Rivaille's favourite past-time comes around, too.
Rivaille may or may not be sleeping with his employer that may or may not be married to one of Rivaille's close friends.
Maybe 'may or may not be' is a bit vague—so, to repharse, Rivaille is kind of sleeping with the principal of the school pretty much every second night. He may or may not have gotten his employment because of this fact, not that he really cares, because a job is a job, and as long as he isn't drowning in debt, his life is good enough.
Kind of.
"Why..." There could be a lot of reasons why Eren Jeager, the brat from all three of the classes he teaches is standing at his door with a determined scowl as Erwin is setting up the DVD player for them to watch a movie—and kind of forget about it half way when they start fucking like bunnies—which won't be happening with a brat standing at his door. "Eren," he starts off slowly, "Why are you at my house?" The better question, really, is how Eren even knows that he lives here.
Yes, answers, answers will come with due time.
"Can I come in?" Eren asks, cheeks puffed out with air as he towers over Rivaille's tiny frame.
"Let me think about that," Rivaille pauses for a brief moment before readying to swing the door shut, "How about... No."
This situation could turn out real messy, Rivaille realizes, because Eren could question why him and the principal are watching 'Date Night' and why there's condoms and lube everywhere, and really, the whole situation could blow up and Rivaille could be back to jobless.
Which isn't going to happen.
"Brat, go home, I'll help you with your homework in class, even better, you get a pass! Now, go away."
Eren narrows his eyes suspiciously, "I saw the principal come with you, where is he?"
Ah, fuck.
"What the—" Rivaille tries really hard not to swing his fist into the kid's face so he can just lock his door and have this done with, "—are you fucking stalking me? That's creepy brat."
Eren's face flushes, eyes going wide as he throws his arms everywhere as if thinking that'll explain his creepiness, before, "N—No I live next door so... I uh..."
"Next door." He repeats for the fuck of it, because he can already see the fuck-less night beaming around the horrizon, "You live next door."
"Yeah," Eren says awkwardly, pointing to the door literally one step away from Rivaille's, "Next door."
He should've known luck would shine on his ass like this, maybe karma for sleeping with Erwin when he's married or maybe it's karma for telling that suicidal kid to just 'Go drown themselves (thankfully he got the kid to a counsellor before anything did happen) or maybe this is just life fucking with him.
Definitely fucking with him.
"So, you can pretty much hear through my walls," Rivaille says more slowly, trying to think about how a few days ago Erwin and him were at it pretty roughly on the coffee table, and dinner table, oh—and a bit of against the fridge.
"Ummm... Yeah." Eren's blushing again, and Rivaille really feels like he should just kill himself right now.
"So a few days ago..."
"Yeah..." Eren says just as slowly.
"Well if you already know, then I'll just get back to what I was doing." Rivaille dedpans, not really sure if he cares at this rate if he'll be fired or not, there's always that guy in the poice department that's seemed interested in his ass for awhile now.
"Wait! No, please!" Eren cries out, grabbing the door just in time and prying it open slowly, trying not to cower underneath the dealy glare being directed his way, "I—It's awkward... Hearing my teacher have s—sex... So, uh, can't you go to his house?"
Rivaille manages to blink, "He's married. Of course not."
"W—What!" Eren screeches incredulously, his grip on the door flattering before he's pulling the entire thing open, much to Rivaille's amazement, "Captain you can't just, wait—why, no wait..."
"Rivaille what's going on?" Erwin calls the the living room, making both brunet's standing at the entrance twirl around in disbelief as Erwin waltzes up, looking absolutely horrified when he see's Eren standing at the door.
"Uh... Principal." Eren starts off awkwardly.
"Eren Jeager," he says gravely.
"Erwin, great, this is my brat neighbour, Eren Jeager."
"Does he..."
"Uhhhhhh" Eren drawls awkwardly, before backing up slowly, "I think I'll just complain about the noise later, so, uh, have fun!"
The door closes loudly and as expected, Rivaille doesn't get to have sex with Erwin.
(Ever again.)
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Monday is the most awkward day of his life to date.
Aside from Eren knowing his real name (something that's never, ever, happened before) and Eren knowing that he's gay and possibly (not really anymore) sleeping with the principal, things couldn't get worse.
Eren could do three things, 1) tell his friends, 2) tell the school board and get him fired or 3) (the best option) not tell anybody and confide in Rivaille himself about his thoughts on the situation.
Rivaille manages not to snort out loudly, eyes narrowed on the brunet green-eyed brat as he dutifully writes his essay like all the other kids. The brat had done well so far, not blushing or stuttering whenever Rivaille called on him or when Eren asked him a question, if anything, it seems as if he had completely forgot.
"Corporal," Eren squeaks, tapping his pen against his paper nervously as he meekly looks up to meet Rivaille's eyes, and he inwardly curses because no, of course the stupid brat couldn't do something helpful like forget. "Can I talk to you?"
Everyone in the class kind of turns around and stares at them with hawk-interest eyes.
So feigning boredom and nonchalance, he answers, "Later." In meaning later when they both get home.
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"This is so weird." Eren says with a tone of awe as he sits down timidly onto Rivaille's couch, eyes wide as he looks around with perfect curiosity.
"Alright, out with it, how much do you want in compensation for not telling anybody?" Rivaille snaps, throwing himself onto the chair across Eren and crossing his legs and leaning his head back, almost tempted to try crying to see if that'd guilt trip the kid enough into not telling anybody.
Eren literally squawks out in fear, sinking backwards, "Uh, nothing. Nope nothing. I'm good, C-Corporal."
"Really, one thing, anything—except sleeping with you cause I'll get sued for that." Well, maybe.
Eren blushes at that, looking everywhere in fear as he mutters, "C...Can I call you your name?"
Don't kill him, Rivaille thinks, face masking indifference as he tries to restrain himself from jumping up and literally tearing the kid into pieces. Brats can't call him his name, he won't allow it, stupid cocky brats just can't do that.
(You owe him, his conciousness yells back at him, this way he won't tell anybody and you can continue working without fear.)
Rivaille sighs, "Fine. When it's only the two of us though, I don't want the other brats knowing my name."
"Okay!" Eren beams, eyes lighting up as he stands to his feet and helps himself to Rivaille's kitchen, the older male watching in dismay as the kid pours himself some water before beaming at his teacher, "I thought for your you'd kill me for asking that."
"Yeah." Rivaille drawls, unsure whether or not a clean break to the neck or strangling Eren would be better, honestly, choices.
"This is great though, it's like having a personal tutor 24/7," Eren continues, voice still a bit high pitched as he chatters on and on.
"Yeah."
"I'm going to go do my homework now, see you later," he pauses, cheeks turning a bright red from the bottom of his neck to the tip of his ears as he ducks his head down, stumbling backwards towards the door, "Rivaille."
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For some god forsaken reason, Eren has a key to his apartment (even though they live next door to each other) and for another mind-blowing and (why the fuck is this even happening to him?) reason, Eren invites himself over to his lovely abode every night.
He's starting to think the kid doesn't have a social life, kind of like Rivaille, who doesn't have a social life.
"Eren, why are you waiting in my house?" Why, indeed.
"We live nextdoor, so it doesn't matter if I wait here or there," Eren says calmly, flipping through the channels with comfortable ease, something considerably disturbing considering Rivaille is his teacher and not his babysitter. Eren shouldn't be so comfortable around him.
"Doesn't your parents ever wonder why you're always in your teacher's apartment?"
"They're dead. They don't know or care." Eren says flatly, settling on tree house and Rivaille almost accidentally slips and throws his cup at the TV at the infernal sound of children laughing.
"At this rate you're going to move in with me," the thought isn't something he's ever considered, nope, never really ever considered because that'd be wrong on so many levels and—
"That's a good idea!" Eren beams, jumping to his feet and getting ready to sprint towards the door, "I'll go tell the landlady and I'll start moving my stuff in this weekend!"
Rivaille watches slowly as the kid wooshes past him, body going rigid as he replays the entire scene over and over in his head.
Completely his fault. He should've seen that one coming. Definitely his fault.
(He can already imagine the law suits piling up at his doorstep.
No, he can imagine the cell.)
There's a fine line between teacher and student and Eren just successfully cut the string with a pair of gleaming pink scissors as he sang something creepy and kind.
To summarize the events that have happened so far—
Eren's completely taken over his life.
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He's developing paranoia.
Probably due to the fact he sleeps with one of his students every night (and no, not in the nasty way, perverts), or the fact him and Eren wake up at the same time and brush each other's teeth (Eren's idea, not his), and in a total summary whenever he's pretty much anywhere he's expecting a cop to pop up and arrest him for being criminally insane and harming/corrupting a minor.
In his defence, it's more of Eren just welcoming himself in his house without a care in the world, not Rivaille manipulating the teen into staying with him. If anything, Rivaille has shown nothing but hostility.
His life is spiralling downwards, and it get's worse on a Wednesday.
Because, Eren kisses him.
(And he may or may not have kissed back).
He's fucked. Definitely fucked.
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"I'm going to go to jail because of you," Rivaille manages to groan out, trying to keep Eren pinned against the doorframe as he kisses down the minors (don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkabout it) neck.
Eren crinkles his face at that, eyes laughing at Rivaille in their own way, "But I'm 18, Rivaille. It's legal."
"Oh."
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The End.
A/N: I think I just was like 'FUCK THIS STORY AND LIFE' towards the end. Definitely, yup, definitely. HAHAHAHahahAHahhahahhahahahhHAHAHAHA Okay, so yeah. Leave a comment and blah blah, because you lurb me peeps.