Extra Credit
Damien Haas x GN! Reader
Summary: When a botched jump during the Smosh Summer Games leads to a massive on-camera joke that you, a student, is sleeping with Superintendent Damien Haas, the fun begins. What starts as a chaotic improv bit—full of blushing, stuttering, and hilarious public flirting—soon escalates into real tension. By the time the cameras turn off, Damien drops his stern persona to ask you out for a real date.
Word Count: 5,000 ish
Warnings: Some fluff and suggestive jokes as you can tell by the summary—
Author Note: Req by Anon! You wouldn’t believe how many times I watched the ‘Get 7th IRL’ SSG video just to write this… Also, finally I can mention Alex Tran a bit in my fics, he left Smosh with such a great legacy! 😔 The IG post below is edited as an AO3 work skin so it’ll also be in the AO3 version!
Happy reading!
******
The heat of the outdoor field was oppressive, but the chaos of Smosh Summer Games: Class of 2005 was even thicker, manufactured by the sheer absurdity of grown adults reliving their high school nightmares. You proudly stood alongside your team, the Hollywood Hotdogs—consisting of Noah, Trevor, Shayne, Angela, and Arasha—wearing a slightly ill-fitting muted blue T-shirt that screamed your team name. Across the dusty, sun-baked field stood your rivals, the smug-looking Downtown Dairy Cows: Tommy, Ian, Spencer, Olivia, Courtney, and Chanse.
Presiding over the whole ridiculous spectacle was the self-proclaimed Superintendent, Damien Haas. He stood at the center of the field between both teams, wearing a colorful knitted vest over of a white button-up shirt that defied the heat and a pair of reflective aviator sunglasses that made him look simultaneously serious and secretly amused.
“Good morning, students!” Damien announced, his voice booming with the authoritative, yet fundamentally ridiculous, gravitas of a high school principal who had too much free time. “Welcome to physical education class and the first competition of the Smosh Summer Games!”
The students shouted and cheered with excitement as Damien explained the competition.
“Being the best at the three competitions is the normal goal, but we’re the opposite of normal here at Smosh so additionally to win, you either try your best or strategize to Get 7th!”
A scattered gasp went up, Angela started to taunt the other team, which ignited a back-and-forth ruthless banter between the two teams but mostly from Angela and Chanse. You just relaxed, enjoying the absurdity of the premise. You had a feeling your team is going to win today.
******
The first challenge was brutal: the Fastest 50-foot Dash. Arasha and Olivia were chosen by each team as the representative for Rock-Paper-Scissors, to determine which team will be going first. As expected, Olivia won, defeating Arasha’s scissor fingers by throwing a paper palm. The Downtown Dairy Cows goes first with Ian starting the first run.
As Ian positioned himself at the starting line and putting on his shades, Damien briefly asked him, “So Ian, Star Track Athlete of your day, which position are you aiming for?”
“I’m feeling like we’ll get first place, the Cows will surely headbutt the red floppy Wieners into oblivion, because what's a male cow?” Ian glanced at your team.
“A bull, and guess what? Your bull is full of shit!” Your reply earned a chorus of ‘nice’ and cheers from your teammates and further taunts from the rival team. Damien tightened his lips into a straight line to keep himself from laughing, he as the Superintendent needed to be impartial to both teams.
“Alright, settle down. Let’s start the game!”
The video was cut into an indoor solo interview of Ian sitting, with the producers asking him what he thought of your words.
“You see, this is their first time participating in Smosh Summer Games so I get the enthusiasm…” He shifted in his seat, “but I feel like they’re forgetting that I’m the one helping them pay their bills? I was about to joke about getting a bullseye but their joke is better so I guess I’m okay with it.”
You didn’t know that you narrowly escaped getting your pay cut, but back to the game. After Ian’s turn, you volunteered to be the next runner.
“Hotdogs, you’ve got a lot to live up to after that. Who in your team is going first?” Superintendent Haas surveyed your team.
“I can beat that old man’s time, no biggie!” Walking to Damien’s side at the starting line, you flexed your arms at Ian and his team.
“Let’s go! You got this, Hotdog!” Angela screamed, “Tear those cows into beef shreds!”
You got into position as Damien counted down, your feet took the first step and it’s already a mistake. Tripping on the heel of your shoes hitting the grass, you started to stumble head-first down to the ground. With agile movements, Damien’s left hand took a hold of your right arm and pulled, sending you straight to his chest with a thud.
It felt as though time stopped as you looked up at him, pink hues starting to show on your cheeks. His hazel eyes locked in eye contact with you and his brows slightly scrunched in worry of your well-being. “Are you okay?”
You sputtered out that you’re fine, getting out of his embrace in embarrassment as both the Hotdogs and the Cows roared in laughter. “You guys, that was a warm-up! I meant to do all that!”
You sprinted your turn, successfully this time, which seemed to be faster than Ian’s. Damien nodded, “Great effort, student! Although there was a slight stumble before, that didn’t stop you from getting a great score this time. I expect to see you improve more throughout the rest of your school days.”
“Thanks, Superintendent Haas,” you gasped, leaning on your knees. You paused, catching your breath, then glanced at him with a mischievous smirk spreading across your sweaty face. “I’m feeling so motivated, are there any… extra credit available to take? I hear your office has excellent air conditioning.”
Your team wolf-whistled while the Cows gave a chorus of “oooh”s. Damien’s usually smooth reply faltered. He straightened his sunglasses nervously. “A… air conditioning is strictly reserved for faculty and administrative use. And extra credit is earned through merit, not… uh… other methods.” He cleared his throat quickly and turned his attention back to the Cows. “Next student!”
The video transitioned into the solo interview shoot resembling reality TV again. The camera is tight on your face. You're trying to fan yourself with your hands, looking exhausted but exhilarated.
“Look, I didn’t know that my feet were going to betray me right after I mocked Ian,” you confessed, smiling wryly. “My strategy was simple: don’t be last. But honestly, the real win here is seeing how easily the Superintendent gets flustered. He’s all ‘Superintendent Haas’ in his aviators, but you hit him with one slightly suggestive comment about extra credit, and suddenly he’s red as a hotdog.”
You lean closer to the lens, lowering your voice conspiratorially.
“I’m thinking that we weiners can win by getting closer to him, you know, since he’s the one deciding which school gets the funding. My team is relying on me to get those extra credits. For the win. For the team. For the sheer fun of it.”
******
The tension mounted for the second event: the Highest Vertical Leap. A tall, aluminum Vectec jump measuring device stood in the middle of the field, its colorful plastic vanes ready to mark each player’s leaping height. This was any team’s game as the score will be announced at the end of today’s competition.
One by one, the students jumped. It was The Dairy Cow’s turn and Spencer jumped, imitating Mario the plumber, yelling “WAHOO!” as he landed.
Then, it was your turn.
You approached the device, your heart pounding with nervous energy. You tried to remember the technique your high school coach had taught you, visualizing the explosive power needed. After hitting the vanes on your standing height, it was time to jump.
“Alright, student,” Damien announced, standing within appropriate safe distance on the left of the Vectec with Alex, the behind-the-scenes judge, poised nearby. “Give it your maximum effort, maybe like Spencer, channel your inner Mario!”
You took a deep breath, crouched low, and exploded upward. It was a good jump—you felt the lift, the power in your legs—but in your rush, you mistimed your touch. Your fingers passed just behind the vanes, not hitting a single one.
You landed with a frustrated sigh. “Oh, damn it! I missed them.”
Damien stepped forward, squinting. “Wait. You didn’t… you didn’t register a height. You jumped high, but failed to make any contact.” He looked at Alex. “Alex, what’s the official ruling?”
Alex shrugged. “No measurement, no score. That’s the rule.”
A loud, triumphant shout came from the Dairy Cows’ side. Chanse was practically vibrating with excitement. “Sucks to suck, Hotdog! Zero points!”
Damien frowned, his Superintendent character fighting a genuine feeling of fairness. “Now, hold on. While the rules are the rules, the intent of the competition is to measure the height achieved. This student clearly jumped but their standing distance was too far back to hit any vanes.” He paused, looking directly at you. “As Superintendent, I believe high school is all about second chances. Student, you may take one more attempt.”
The Dairy Cows immediately erupted in protests. Chanse, however, took it to a whole new level. He cupped his hands around his mouth, his face painted with faux outrage, and screamed across the field:
“IT’S NOT FAIR! THEY’RE SLEEPING WITH THE SUPERINTENDENT! THAT’S WHY THEY GET A REDO!”
The entire field went silent.
Damien froze, a deep crimson began to creep up his neck, swallowing the clean white of his shirt collar.
Before you could even process the shock, Angela, your teammate, immediately yelled back at Chanse in full, unapologetic support.
“AND WHAT IF THEY ARE?! WE NEED THOSE POINTS! GET THAT EXTRA CREDIT FOR US, YOU CAN DO IT!”
You stood there, heart still racing from the jump, but now your mind was alight with possibility. This was the moment. This is your opportunity to commit to your bit, your high school persona.
You turned your head slowly, fixing Damien with a slow, playful gaze. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his mouth slightly open, a strangled sound caught in his throat.
“Superintendent,” you purred, stepping slightly closer. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t know that my… extra-curricular activities were so well-known among the student body. I’ve tried to be as discreet as possible, I promise.”
Damien stammered, his eyes darting between you and the rival team. “I… I condone… I mean, I do not condone… this is a formal school function! This is entirely about competitive fairness!”
You winked. “Of course, sir. And since we all need to strive to be fair, I promise I’ll hit those vanes this time. For the school. And for our little secret.” You blow him a not-so-subtle kiss.
The Hollywood Hotdogs cheered you on with deafening screams and whistles as the Cows kept grumbling about unfairness.
The reality TV interview came back on again, where Damien is sitting alone on a chair. He is vigorously wiping his aviators with his knitted vest, which is a poor substitute for a handkerchief. His face is still faintly red.
“I-I.. I don’t know what they’re talking about,” Damien insisted, adjusting his collar. “They’re one of the promising students of my school, yes, but any insinuation of… inappropriate relationship is completely false. The redo was granted purely on the grounds of fairness! They did the vertical jump, but failed to hit any of the vanes! It’s just a technicality!”
He clears his throat loudly.
“Furthermore, the comments made by Student Chanse and Student Angela will result in immediate detention. I will be speaking with the producers—I mean, their parents—about their conduct. I am merely upholding the integrity of the Summer Games, which is, uh, my duty as the, uh, Superintendent.”
He puts the glasses back on, trying to regain his composure, but his voice is still slightly shaky.
“And for the record, my office has very poor air conditioning. It needs an upgrade. A massive upgrade. I couldn’t stay a long time there so there definitely wouldn’t be anyone else besides me there, at any time.”
******
The competition had fundamentally changed. The scores still mattered, but now, every interaction between you and Damien was steeped in the ridiculous, beautiful rumour of a forbidden high school relationship.
You did okay on your second vertical jump attempt, securing mediocre points for the Hollywood Hotdogs. It felt, to you, like a solid seventh position. Now, it was time for the final challenge: the Farthest Football Throw.
The teams gathered as the field was changed, with footballs and cones in your respective team colours on the ground. Damien stood just a few feet behind the starting yellow line, “It is time for our third competition. For the football throw, you’ll be standing on this yellow line.”
After he explained the rules and premise of the game, your team went first with Noah as the representative. “Alright, let’s go! Come on!” He skipped to the starting line, grabbing a blue Nerf Vortex football, tinkering it with his hands for a bit before throwing it.
“Noah, you can do it! Watch out not to hit Superintendent Damien though!” You cheered, waving around blue pom-poms you found earlier at lunch break. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Damien shaking his head playfully.
“Just throw it as far as you can, Student Noah.” Damien instructed.
Noah shoots his football at a staggering rate and distance that the camera almost didn’t catch, it landed at the far side of the field.
“HOLY SHIT! YEAH!”
Cheers erupted from your team as Noah grabbed his cone and jogged to his ball, you and Angela jogging to his side and high-fived him. “Let’s go claim your territory!”
As Noah’s turn ended, Spencer was next. Damien announced, “Spencer, you volunteered to go for the Dairy Cows.”
“You guys, don’t have high hopes for me. I’m probably not gonna go as far.” Spencer walked to the yellow line, grabbing the red football.
“No, man, you got that Gorilla Grip! Use that!”
“Our resident gamer that holds controllers most of the day? You’re gonna crush this, Spencer!”
The Dairy Cows were hyping Spencer up. Meanwhile, you were talking with Angela.
“What are they talking about, Ange? Even if Spencer does have a Donkey Kong Grip, what’s that got to do with throwing?”
The camera shoots back to the indoor interview room with lights blinding your eyes. The producer asked if you’re a gamer and your opinions on Spencer’s Gorilla Grip.
“Well, I’m often on Smosh Games videos and won a lot of them, so I think I’m qualified to say that I’m a gamer. You see, Tommy said that Spencer’s little paws can clench a controller all day or something like that. But I don’t agree! If you have that kind of grip, your hands will stick to the football and that’s not what you want if you’re gonna throw it far.”
You brought out a Wii remote, “I think, having a lot of experience on Wii Sports is better! I practiced a lot with throwing baseballs, bowling balls, like, I’m totally a pro at this already. I got first place in the bag!”
Demonstrating with the remote in your hand, you forgot to connect the safety wrist strap, the remote went flying across the room off-camera and hitting a locker with a loud clang. “OH SHOOT! Well, what did I say? It did go far!”
Back to the game, Spencer was talking to the camera about how he googled how to throw a football, with unhelpful results. Angela stepped forward and pointed to the end of the field, “Go on, Spencer. The cast of Kingdom Hearts is over there.”
You had to stifle a laugh as you stopped her hands, Damien quipped, “Yeah, Angela? That one’s kind of my niche.”
“That’s a Damien thing.” You whispered to Angela, which she responded by facepalming herself, muttering about how she still wouldn’t know the difference.
Spencer’s turn ended with a surprisingly good throw, it looked like a good contender for seventh place. Now, you feel like it’s your time to shine. You walked to the yellow line as Shayne asked who’s going next.
“I’ll handle this, the Cows won’t even get first or seventh on my watch!” You grabbed a blue football, feeling it in your hands and calculating your throw.
“Yeah, throw that hotdog!”
“I hope you choke on a hotdog!” Olivia taunted.
You glanced at her then at Damien’s face, a few feet beside you, “I’ll gladly choke on the Superintendent's hotdog.” Running a hand through your hair, your fingers made shooting gestures at him.
Your team supported you by cheering, “YOU KNOW WHAT? Yeah, get it! Secure our funding, we support you all the way!”
Damien on the other hand, was visibly tense as he averted his eyes, his ears tinted pink. His eyes trailed everywhere but to you, “Alright, Student,” he stared at the football in your hands. “Remember the fundamentals: grip, wind-up, follow-through. You need a strong distance to secure the overall lead.”
You turned to him and patted your hand on his chest, right on his navy mathematical equations tie. You felt his chest hitch under your touch.
“Don’t worry, ‘Super D’,” you whispered, just loud enough for a few teammates to hear and stifle their laughter. “I learned from the best. Remember those late-night private lessons in the gym? You taught me how to put some heat on it.”
Damien’s pink ears turned red at your words. He jumped backwards like he’d been burned by your touch. “I.. I don’t know what you’re talking about! No more of this nonsense or it’s detention for you! Now, get out there and throw!”
You giggled, spun around, and ran back to the yellow line.
Tommy from the Dairy Cows, yelled to Damien. “Superintendent, I might also need a redo. My arm cramped up. Maybe if I get some of that private tutoring, I’ll get a second chance?”
Damien glared at him. “Not a chance, Student Thomas! Now stand back! This is unacceptable behavior!”
You focused. You threw. The ball spiraled high and far, landing deep in the grass. It wasn’t the farthest throw of the day, but it was excellent—a strong contributor.
As you walked to your football, Damien was handing you your cone that you forgot, “Remarkable throw. Don’t forget to mark your distance. That will be an excellent score for the Hotdogs,” he said, trying to be professional.
“I just remembered who taught me,” you said softly as you passed him, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze. You saw him rubbing a hand on the shoulder that you touched, a whole blush on his face.
Another cut on the video as Angela is leaning back on the chair, laughing hysterically, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Look, I don’t know if they’re actually sleeping with the Superintendent,” Angela stated, calming down slightly. “But the fact that they’re such a natural at it, and the fact that Damien is melting down trying to stay in character? It’s cinema. It’s peak Smosh Summer Games. And honestly? They’d be a cute couple. Yes, I’ll watch this rom-com any day! Make it a musical, too! It’s gonna win a Tony!”
******
The heat of the sun was dying down, it felt like hours until all the participants got their turn. All the scores had been tallied. Damien, looking completely exhausted but still retaining his posture, stood in the center of the field one last time.
“We now have the results of Physical Fitness Day!” he announced, holding up the final scorecard. “The competition was fierce. We saw incredible displays of verticality, velocity, and sheer, raw determination. The team that won overall was… The Hollywood Hotdogs!”
The Hotdogs erupted in a joyous, sweaty group hug, chanting ‘Wieners’ repeatedly while jumping.
“Dairy Cows, I’m proud of you, you tried your best.” Damien shoots a thumbs up at the Cows, turning back to the camera. “And this is only the first competition of Smosh Summer Games. See you next time, where the competition will be even more fierce.” He threw the scorecards up into the air as he ended the video, the casts all cheering.
You walked casually over, looked up at him, who was looking relieved that the entire ordeal was finally over.
“Before you dismiss school, Superintendent,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for always believing in me. And for making sure I got that crucial redo. I knew that one little ‘A+’ was important for our future.”
You reached up and gently flicked the corner of his knitted vest, right where a stray thread is sticking out, “It really pays to be your favorite student, doesn't it?”
You waited for the stutter, the frantic clearing of the throat, the quick denial. But it didn't come.
Instead, Damien sighed with his eyes closed, then he opened them and glanced at you, finally meeting yours without the usual panic. He smiled—a genuine, warm, and very confident smile that was purely Damien, not Superintendent Haas.
He didn't stutter. He didn't blush. He didn't even flinch.
He leaned to you, his voice dropping from the Superintendent's booming tone to his own low, slightly husky voice.
He met your gaze, and a sudden, sharp, utterly confident smirk crossed his face—a look you had never seen directed at you before.
“Actually,” he murmured, his gaze holding yours. “I was going to say that for all the trouble you caused, I should personally observe and punish you all day in detention.”
Your mouth opened, but no sound came out.
He actually teased me back.
Your improv brain, which had been operating at peak performance all day, sputtered and died. The person you’d been teasing was gone, replaced by a smooth, confident man who had just used your own suggestive joke against you and left you completely speechless.
He chuckled softly at your stunned expression. The Superintendent persona had fully evaporated.
He stepped away from you, approaching Alex with the crew, needing to talk about the next video and his schedule.
You looked around you, people started high-fiving, Trevor was bragging to Noah about his throw, crew members were swarming the set to dismantle the props and lighting, and Angela approached, congratulating you with a huge, dramatic hug.
“You are an absolute icon, you killed it today!” Angela cheered, letting go. “The way you sold that bit? Chanse was dying! And Damien was as red as my nonna’s pasta sauce!”
You were still recovering from Damien’s final line. “He… he got me back, though,” you admitted, shaking your head. “Punish me in detention? Where did that even come from?”
You looked across the quickly emptying field and saw Damien, now pulling off his colourful knitted vest. He was wiping off the sweat on his forehead that accumulated during the competition. He looked much more like the regular, handsome Damien Haas without the vest, though the tie still looked a little suffocating. Angela went away with Chanse out of the field as Damien was walking toward you, a nervous but focused expression on his face.
“Hey,” he said, his voice back to its normal pitch—kind, warm, and no longer booming through a mic.
“Hey, Superintendent,” you replied, grinning. “Wow, you really brought the heat with that final line. Total shocker. I was fully prepared for another stammer.”
He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, running a hand through his somewhat damp brown hair. “Yeah, well, I figured I couldn’t let the bit go unpunished. You were relentless, seriously. I think I aged ten years in the last hour from embarrassment.”
“It’s called committing to the bit, my dear Superintendent,” you teased softly. “You gotta follow the fun. But we had a good time, though, right? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, I hope.”
“No, no, no. It’s okay. I… I had a great time,” he said, but his eyes were serious now. He shifted his weight, glancing quickly around the thinning crowd of crew and cast. Shayne and Courtney were talking about getting food, and the rest of the Dairy Cows were already nowhere to be seen.
He took a deep breath, his professional demeanor entirely gone, replaced by a simple, slightly awkward earnestness.
“Look, I know this is super weird, especially after the whole bit about… well, you know. Chanse and Angela really committed to that, and you, obviously, drove it home.”
“It was good improv,” you insisted, trying to keep the mood light, but feeling your own heart speed up.
“It was excellent improv,” he agreed. “But I have to be completely clear here. As Superintendent Haas, I need to say that I absolutely cannot and will not condone any of the secret relationship accusations made today. It's unethical, highly inappropriate, and likely grounds for termination.”
He paused, a genuine smile playing on his lips, and stepped a fraction closer.
“But,” he continued, his voice softer, “now that the cameras are off, and the Superintendent has clocked out, and I am just… Damien Haas, your friend and coworker, the guy who just spent a whole day watching you be the funniest, most quick-witted person on that field, and who genuinely liked seeing you laugh every time you teased me…I need to ask you something.”
He nervously chewed the inside of his cheek, but his gaze was steady, the warmth in those hazel eyes settling the chaotic excitement in your chest into a nervous flutter.
“The bit was fun. It was funny. It made me laugh, and it made me genuinely flustered, which is hard to do on camera. But I also felt like… maybe there was a tiny, microscopic kernel of something real underneath all the jokes.”
He held up his hands quickly. “Or maybe there wasn’t! Maybe I’m just projecting because you’re incredibly charming and funny and I look forward to working with you every time. But I have to ask.”
He lowered his hands, and you could feel the weight of his genuine interest.
“I know the jokes were about sleeping with the superintendent for extra credit. But what if we slow it down a bit and start first with dinner together? No Superintendent, no students, just food and a good conversation. Would you… would you let me take you out?”
You stared at him, completely unprepared for the sincerity and directness of the question. You, the quick brain with the comebacks, the one who never missed a beat, were finally and truly speechless.
He actually waited. He didn't interrupt, he didn't fill the silence. He just watched you, a hopeful, nervous smile frozen on his face.
You finally found your voice, and it was a little wobbly. You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine—a final tease to end the most chaotic 'date request' scenario ever.
“Hmm,” you said, pretending to consider it deeply, tapping a finger on your chin. “A real date, huh? Without the benefit of a clean A on my final exam?”
He laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. “I promise no grading will be involved. Just good company. And maybe an hour lesson about ornitology—sorry, the study of birds—and the specific characteristics of each avian species.”
You smiled, the thrill of the chase settling into a warm feeling of anticipation.
“That sounds great, Damien,” you said, stepping forward and reaching out to playfully straighten his tie. “But just so we’re clear—you’re buying. I’m out of extra credit points.”
He beamed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anything for my top student.”
******
That weekend, you were sitting in a quaint hole-in-the-wall wing spot, watching Damien enthusiastically explain the complex survival method of vultures while ironically munching on what was also previously a bird, now turned into a saucy chicken wing.
“Their stomach acid is ten to a hundred times stronger than ours to digest bones,” he explained, holding up the bones of his chicken wing in front of you, “It’s like the acid in Hollow Knight if you didn’t have the Isma’s Tear, you’ll absolutely dissolve into nothing.”
“Fascinating,” you said, wiping a corner of his lips that had some sauce with a finger. “You know, Damien, for someone who insists he knows nothing about secret study sessions, you’re very good at giving detailed lectures.”
You licked the sauce on your finger as Damien nearly choked on his wing. He quickly gulped down a few sips of his water, a familiar, faint flush creeping onto his cheeks.
“I am not the Superintendent right now,” he insisted, but he was smiling broadly. “I’m just Damien. And I’m trying to impress you with my vast knowledge about birds and games.”
“Well, ‘Just Damien,’ you’re doing a great job,” you admitted, reaching across the table to cover his hand with yours. “It’s sweet. And honestly, it’s a relief to see you actually relax for once.”
He squeezed your hand back, his smile softening. “It was… difficult to keep a straight face that whole day. You made it impossible.”
“That was the goal,” you laughed.
“I know,” he said, looking sincere. “And I loved it. I really did. You were great. I’ve always admired how quickly you jump into a bit.”
“A lifetime of preparation for the most important competition of all: getting a date with the Superintendent.”
He laughed again, shaking his head. “I’d say you earned that ‘A’ a long time ago. Now, as a student of the Hollywood Hotdogs, what do you think about the next Smosh Summer Games video? I’ll be Superintendent Haas again, and I’m scared you’ll make me have a nosebleed like a shounen anime main character this time.”
You made a face. “That sounds dramatic, I wouldn’t go that far. It’s a Superlatives game, right? Maybe there’ll be a ‘Who’s most likely to sleep with the teacher to get a passing grade?’ question for my team and we’ll instantly put my name for it. The Downtown Dairy Cows wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“…yeah, I should ask Alex to not put anything relating to that.” He laughed as you hit his shoulder.
“Hey, no fair! You said you’re all about competitive fairness, Superintendent Haas!”
He squeezed your hand, his laughter bubbling up. “You’ll do just great, you and Shayne where Smosh literally has a series dedicated to him guessing everything about the casts and crew? I believe you got this in the bag.”
“Naturally. I feel like our team is full of big personalities and I can name anyone for one specific thing,” you squeezed his hand back. “Are you going to keep giving me spoilers about the next competition or are we going to discuss what you’re planning for our second date?”
Damien’s eyes sparkled. “We’re definitely discussing the second date. But I might also throw in some facts about the history of the date’s location. I can’t promise I won’t.”
“That’s perfect,” you said, resting your chin on your free hand. “Because I expect nothing less from my new favorite teacher.”
And for the first time all night, Damien didn't blush. He just winked.
“Duly noted, my favorite student. Duly noted.” The smile in his eyes promised much more than just a second date.
******
Author Note: OMG I CAN’T, this is the most borderline suggestive fic I’ve ever written. I’ll comically combust like a cartoon coyote before I ever write a smut in my life so this is my limit! 😭🙏🏻
Anyway, my WIPs is now Duke Damien’s Bonus chappie and another Damien req that just came in! Yay!
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