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tobesolonely · 4 years

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kindergarten teachers

summary: teacher!harry and coworker y/n have a hard time coming to terms with their feelings for each other

a/n: ahhh she’s finally done! i’ve been working on this fic for sooo long and i hope u all like it! big thanks to @queencharry for helping me when i got stuck and beta reading, and @behindthatbabyface for beta reading as well and giving me feedback!! i appreciate u both <3 enjoy ~11.3k words of some mutual pining and teacher!h interacting with lil kindergarteners 🥺also i am sorry if theres any major grammar mistakes (as always) or crazy typos, i always miss some things when i go back and proofread that im sure i’ll catch later! thank u

warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol

talk to me about harry and y/n! let me know your thoughts!!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

From the time you were very young, you knew you wanted to be a teacher. One of your earliest childhood memories was going to school dressed up as one for career day. Your usually untamed hair was pulled back into a sleek bun (courtesy of your mother), and you donned a funky baby-pink sweater. For bottoms, you wore the closest thing to a pencil skirt you had in your five-year-old wardrobe. When you look back on the photographs your mother took of you that day, you did not resemble a teacher in any way. You were sure if you had not done your Career Day presentation in front of the whole class, no one would have even known who you were dressed up as.

Once you moved onto college and declared Education as a major, that was when people really started to let you hear their opinions on the career path you wanted to pursue. It seemed like whenever you went home for a holiday, relatives were always in your ear saying, “You know teachers don’t make a lot of money, right? Have you ever considered something in the sciences?”. You always responded, “I know, but what would the world do without teachers?”.

Eventually, you finished your undergraduate career, successfully completed student teaching with the highest praise from your superiors and colleagues, obtained your teaching credentials, and even went back to school to get your Master’s degree. So, it was much to everyone’s surprise when you settled on being a Kindergarten teacher. People assumed that because you completed so much schooling, you wanted to be a university professor. However, the thought never even crossed your mind. You always thought Kindergarten teachers were the most impressionable people out there and knew you wanted to be one.

To you, there was no greater responsibility than that of a Kindergarten teacher. It was your responsibility to teach your students reading, writing, art, and music at the most basic level. You showed them how to play with others, how to be kind, and give them the tools necessary to succeed once they leave your classroom. You were the first teacher your students ever had, so you needed to make them fall in love with school instead of hate it, considering they’d have to stick to it until they were at least eighteen.

You’ve been a credentialed Kindergarten teacher for the last three years, and you’ve loved every moment of it. You were one of the younger teachers at school, but you never felt left out. Your colleagues were amazing people who often shared tips and tricks they wish they knew when they first started teaching.

Now, you were groggily unlocking the door to your classroom, feeling those first-day-of-school jitters you always felt. You knew kindergarteners weren’t there to harshly critique you. Still, you wanted them to go home and tell their parents about how excited they were to have you as a teacher, not run home in tears. That never happened, of course, but you didn’t want to take any chances. You drop your keys and mutter a quiet, “Shit!” setting your travel mug filled with coffee on the ground and readjust the box of donuts you had for your kids on your hip. As you reach for your keys, you hear a deep voice ask if you need help. You quickly turn around, eyes wide from being startled.

“Oh! You scared me,” you place your free hand over your chest. “But yeah, actually, that’d be great. I’m struggling to get my door open.” The man nods, his own keys he wore around his neck jangling as he retrieves first your keys, then your coffee mug.

“I’m Harry– Mr. Styles, if you want,” he holds your keys out for you to take, your coffee mug still in his large hands. “Uh, I’m the new Kindergarten teacher.” You give him a confused look and trade the box of donuts in your arms for your keys, opening the door. “The last one, Mrs. Brown, I think it was, I guess she decided a few weeks back that she wanted to retire.” You get your door open and walk inside your classroom, turning on the lights. It was a little stuffy, considering you hadn’t been there to open any windows in about a month.

“Oh, that’s right! Welcome,” you give him a warm smile. “I’m Y/N– Miss Y/L/N if you want.” A slight blush appears on his cheeks. “We’re gonna be working together then, it seems. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Mrs. Brown, but it’ll be nice to collaborate with someone closer to my age, you know?” Harry nods, and you realize he still had your coffee mug and box of donuts in his hands. “You can just set that on my desk, thanks for helping out. Would you like a donut?”

“Um, I- it’s okay,” he stammers, setting the items down. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ll probably crash if I have a donut first thing in the mornin’.” You smile at him and move to open all your windows and the back door, wanting the stuffy classroom to air out a bit before the children got here.

“I totally get that,” you giggle, walking back over to your desk. “Are you excited about the first day? I always get a little nervous. I also talk a lot when I’m nervous, I’m sure you caught onto that.”

For the first time that morning, Harry laughs. “Yeah, I’m nervous, too. ’ve never taught in the States before, so this is a bit new to me.” He’s playing with the keys hanging from his lanyard.

“I noticed you had an accent, but I didn’t know if it was weird to ask about it. What brings you to California?” You open the box of donuts and take one out, wanting to eat it before it gets cold, and the glaze hardens.

“Uh, I went to University here, but when I graduated, I decided to go back home and teach for a couple of years. I really missed being here though and wanted to come back, so I got my credentials, and uh, here I am,” he tells you with a grin, and you notice he has deep dimples.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” you tell him earnestly. “The kids are just gonna love your accent, too!” you joke and Harry laughs for the second time that day.

“If all else fails, ’m hopin’ to charm everyone over with my accent,” he stares at you for a moment before speaking again. “Well, I better finish getting situated. It’s fifteen til, and I reckon the children will be arriving soon, yeah?” He asks. You nod.

“Best to be waiting at parent drop-off too, there are always a few parents that are just as nervous as their babies, if not more, and could use a quick pep talk.”

“Thanks for lettin’ me know. I was thinking about standing out there anyway, just to make a good first impression.” You take another bite of your donut, giving him a thumbs up.

“You’ve got this, Harry. I know you’re not completely clueless since you’ve taught before, but I know the first day can be a little intimidating. You know where I am if you need anything.” He gives you a grateful smile, quietly thanking you before turning to walk out the door. You’re left thinking about your new coworker, only being pulled from your thoughts of him when the first bell rings.

“Good morning everyone, my name is Miss Y/L/N. Are you all excited to get this school year started?” A chorus of high-pitched yeses fills the room, and you smile warmly at your class. “I’m so excited that you’re all here! I have a little surprise for each of you!” You grab the box of donuts and walk back to the rug in the center of the room that the children usually sat on for storytime. Little gasps fill your ears, and they all say, “Donuts!” and “Yummy!”. You smile at the kids again, already feeling overwhelmed with how adorable they were.

“We all get a donut?” one little girl asks, her eyes wide. You nod at her.

“Of course! Everyone will get a donut, sweetie.” You move to get the plastic food gloves you kept so you can safely hand out a donut to everyone. “Okay guys, I’m going to pass a stack of napkins around the room. Take one and pass the stack to the person sitting next to you. Does that make sense?” All the students nod their heads in confirmation, so you grab a stack and hand them to the child sitting closest to you. “Once the last person has their napkin, let me know, and then it’ll be donut time!” You say this over-enthusiastically, and the children squirm in their seats in excitement.

As you go around handing out donuts to each of your students, you learn their names and ask them to tell you one fun fact about them. Most children say things like, “I have a brother/sister!” or “I can run really fast!”, and you find it absolutely adorable. One thing you loved the most about teaching five-year-olds was their ability to think everything was cool. It was comforting to know that no matter what you did, they’d find you cool, and your first-day jitters quickly dissipated. As the children eat their donuts, you read them a story, putting on different voices for all the various characters. You show them how to raise their hand when they have something they’d like to share and remind them to use their “listening ears” when you or one of their classmates are speaking.

When it’s time for recess, you show them how to line up quietly at the door, and assign a line leader and a hall monitor. You remind the children that they will all get a turn at these tasks eventually because it’ll switch every week, and not to worry. As you’re walking down the hall backward (one of your teachers walks that you’d finally perfected), you hear Harry’s voice.

“Okay Room Ten, we’re gonna go out to the playground now, where you all will get to play every recess and lunch. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” He asks them, and you hear little voices chattering out to him in excitement. You can’t help but peek into his classroom as you walked by, as his door was open. He didn’t see you because he was busy organizing his class into a straight line, so you keep going. Your class, who, much to your surprise, was walking very quietly, got loud once they saw the Kindergarten play area had a slide and monkey bars.

“We get to play on this?” one of your students, Destiny, questions.

“Yup! This is a pretty cool play area, isn’t it?” They nod and stare at you, waiting for direction. “Oh, you can all go play and run around, get some of that energy out. When the bell rings, though, I want you to listen to the yard teachers because they’re gonna help get you all lined back up so we can go back inside. Deal?” The children give you nods and thumbs up, and you grin at them, telling them to have fun and be nice to one another. As you’re turning to go to the teacher’s lounge to refill your mug of coffee, you see Harry walking down the hallway with his class, and decide to wait for him. He gives his class the same spiel you gave yours and tells them to “Treat each other with kindness” before noticing you waiting for him.

“Hey,” he gives you a grin, looking far more relaxed than he did when you saw him earlier that morning. “How’s it going so far?”

“It’s great,” you reply, leading him in the direction of the teacher’s lounge. “They’re all adorable.”

“Yeah, don’t know what I was so nervous fo’. They’re great. Also, you’re right,” Harry has an amused look on his face. “The first thirty minutes of ’em bein’ there was just them askin’ me to say things because they think I sound funny.”

“I told you!” you exclaim, laughing at him. “A British accent is definitely not something we hear every day, not here at least.”

“I figured,” he replies, and silence falls between you. “Where are we going, by the way?”

You stop in front of a blue door and sift through the keys on your lanyard, finally finding the one you were looking for. “Teacher’s lounge. Have you had the chance to check it out yet?” He shakes his head, and you pull open the door after having unlocked it. “After you.” He shakes his head and steps back, signaling you go ahead of him. You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he gives you a defensive look.

“What? ‘M a gentleman. Ladies first,” he insists, holding the door open. You walk inside the room, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes. There aren’t many teachers in the lounge. You figure they all must be in their classrooms, trying to do some last-minute organization and lesson planning amidst the first day of school chaos. However, a few colleagues that you’re rather fond of are in the room, so you take it upon yourself to introduce them to Harry.

“Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a relaxing morning!” They chuckle lightly at your sarcasm. “I’d like you all to meet Mr. Harry Styles. He’s the new Kindergarten teacher that took Mrs. Brown’s place.” A look of realization washes over all three teachers’ faces, and they warmly greet him. Harry goes around, shaking each of their hands, voice dripping with charm.

“Lovely to meet you all. Looking forward to collaborating,” he tells them quietly. They begin engaging in polite conversation, so you leave Harry’s side, walking over to the coffee station to get what you came for before recess was over. He joins you shortly after, grabbing a disposable cup. “They were a nice bunch.” He mutters, pouring the steaming coffee into his cup. You hum in agreement.

“Everyone here is nice. The lounge is usually much more crowded than this. Everyone else must be in their rooms,” you flick your wrist up to check the time. “We got some time to sit down and breathe for a bit if you’d like? Unless you wanted to get back to your room.”

“‘M in no rush, trust me,” he tells you, flashing you a small smile. “Let’s take a seat.” Harry walks over to an unoccupied couch and sits down slowly, taking care not to spill his coffee.

“You didn’t want a lid?” you question when you see him struggling. He shrugs.

“Not necessary. Jus’ some extra plastic,” you hum and look down at your lap. You were quickly learning that Harry was not a big talker, and he liked to get his point across in as few words as possible. Him being a Kindergarten teacher contradicted heavily with his rather bashful demeanor, but that just made him all the more endearing to you.

“Do you live nearby, or is your commute long?” you ask him after a few moments of silence. As soon as you ask the question, you internally cringe, feeling like it was too invasive. If Harry thought the question was weird, he doesn’t show it.

“I live in town. I actually walked here today, believe it or not,” he tells you with a chuckle. “Was such a beautiful morning that I figured I should.” Every time you think Harry can’t possibly get any more captivating, he does, and you find yourself biting back a smile.

“How long is your walk?” You cross your legs and then uncross them, a nervous habit that you had. Harry takes a sip of coffee, mulling your question over.

“I’d say it took me about twenty minutes. I was walkin’ at a pretty leisurely pace, though,” Harry shrugs. “How about you? Do you live nearby?”

“I also live in town, but I’m way too lazy to walk, so props to you,” you smile. “The best thing about living around here is seeing your kids out in public. It’s the cutest thing.” Harry smiles, not saying anything else. A silence falls over the two of you again but instead of feeling the need to fill it, you just sit beside him, drinking your coffee. Your mind wanders off to what you were going to do for the rest of the school day, if you had enough groceries in your apartment for dinner or if you should go grocery shopping after work, and if you remembered to pay your bills on time. The bell rings to signify the end of recess, and you jump slightly.

“Ready to go back?” Harry asks, standing up and walking back over to the coffee station. “Think’m gonna get a bit more.” You go to stand by the door, waiting for him to pour another cup of coffee. He quickly rejoins you, and the coffee sloshes a bit, some getting on his hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Hope those lil’ buggers got some of their energy out.”

“Right! Mine was even more hyper than they probably would’ve been ’cause I gave them those donuts this morning,” you laugh. “So, for my sake, I hope so too.” When you and Harry arrive back at the Kindergarten play area, your classes are already lined up quietly awaiting instruction, thanks to the yard teachers. You and Harry both thank them and move to stand in front of your kids.

“Miss Y/L/N,” one of your children calls out from the back of the line. “Can we get more donuts when we go back inside?” You see Harry smile out of the corner of your eye as he’s giving instruction to his class.

“There are no more donuts, you guys ate them all! I have something even cooler than donuts planned for us, though, okay? Now, remember what I told you all about walking quietly, right? Mr. Line Leader, how does your line look? Do you think we’re all set to go back inside?” The child you appointed line leader turns around to look at everyone, occasionally shushing some people. After a few moments, he turns back to you, giving you a thumbs up.

Harry moves to stand beside you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Wanna eat lunch together and do some planning? I feel like it would be a good idea for us to be teachin’ the same things, more or less.” Your body feels warm all over, and you just look at him and nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Harry smiles and places a hand on your shoulder. At a normal volume, he says, “See you then, Miss Y/L/N.”

Upon entering Harry’s room, you’re immediately met with the scent of vanilla and the loud hum of the air conditioning. It was bright, adorably decorated, and surprisingly decluttered. It was the polar opposite of your room, and you found it very welcoming and comforting. “Nice set-up you’ve got going on in here,” you tell him. He jumps in his seat at his desk, not having heard you come in.

“Fucks sake,” he mumbles, face going red. “You scared me. Thanks, though. My sister helped me decorate, I don’t really have an eye for this type of stuff.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“Well, if you ever need any help decorating for back to school and your sister isn’t around, I’d be more than happy to help.” Harry smiles and suddenly gets up from his chair, offering it to you.

“Please, take my seat. I’ll just sit in one of the kids’ chairs,” he rolls it towards you, and you shake your head, about to object, but he interrupts you. “It’s okay, Y/N. Their chairs aren’t that bad.” You take the seat Harry was just in, mumbling a quiet thank you. He hums and pulls a tiny chair up beside you, legs scraping loudly across the floor. When he sits down in it, you can’t but burst out laughing.

“Harry, that chair is so tiny! Are you sure you don’t want me to sit there instead? You look so uncomfortable,” you tell him in between laughs. “This is your classroom, after all, I’m just a guest.” Harry shakes his head, cheeks flushed.

“It’s okay, Y/N, really. ‘M perfectly comfortable in this lil’ miniature chair,” he looks at the lunch bag you sat on his desk. “What’s for lunch?” You reach for your sack and unzip it, pulling out a pre-packaged salad from Trader Joe’s.

“I’m very lazy when it comes to packing my lunches,” you admit sheepishly, pulling out a fork. “How about you? Did you eat already?”

“Oh yeah, I had a green smoothie. Not a big lunch guy,” he replies calmly. “Wanna get started with planning? I think we only have about thirty minutes left.” He looks down at his watch to confirm the time. Harry opens his planner, and you see pages filled with his neat, blocky scrawl. He jumps right into talking about the ideas he had in mind, excitement filling his voice that you haven’t yet heard.

The passion and enthusiasm he has for teaching are evident through the way he tells you about the activities he has planned, new materials and teaching methods he wants to try implementing, and things he’s tried before that didn’t work out the way he wanted them to. He asks you for your advice and listens intently when you speak, jotting down notes.

You find yourself having to mentally remind yourself not to stare at him. He was a handsome man– there was no denying that. He had curly brown hair, soft and wild-looking, the most beautiful green eyes you’d ever seen, and arms covered in tattoos. You also noticed he had the tiniest cross on his left hand. You wanted to ask him about it, but you figured that was a conversation for another time.

“Y/N? Did you hear what I just said,” Harry asks, giving you a concerned look. “Are you alright? I think you just zoned out for a couple minutes or somethin’.” You nod quickly, feeling your palms growing sweaty.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about something I have to do later. What did you just say?” You play off how you were just wholly drooling over your new coworker, feeling scrutinized under his piercing gaze.

“Jus’ got an email from the principal. Said we have a faculty meetin’ after school at three. Wanna go together?” He asks. You know Harry’s asking you to accompany him primarily because you’re the only person he really knows so far. However, it still makes you feel warm and special. “He said we’re gonna go over some planning for the Fall Festival. What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just the back-to-school festival. It’s adorable,” you explain. “It’s like a mini carnival that we have right here on the playground. Every year they have teachers host booths. It’s a great way to get to meet your kids’ parents and bond with the other faculty.” Harry nods, standing up from the tiny chair right as the bell signifying the end of lunch rings.

“That sounds lovely,” he chirps, smiling down at you. “We’re gonna have the best booth out of everyone Y/N, trust me.” He jokes, the corner of his eyes crinkling. This was the most Harry had talked since you met him that morning and you were enjoying witnessing him open up to you more and more with each conversation shared.

“It is,” you stand up as well, gathering your trash and empty lunch pail. “Thanks for having me, Harry. Next time we can meet in my room. I wouldn’t mind making this a daily thing.” As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you physically wince, figuring Harry had to think you were obsessed with him at this point. He looks down, the corners of his mouth upturned when he makes eye contact with you again.

“I’d like that, Y/N. I’ll actually start bringin’ a proper lunch, so you’re not the only one eating,” you smile. “I’ll meet you in your room after school?” You nod in confirmation, walking out the door in front of him.

“See ya later.”

“Did everyone have a good day today?” You ask your class, walking backward to the dismissal gate. You’re met with a chorus of cheerful sounding ‘yeses,’ and you place your hand over your heart in a dramatic fashion. “That makes me so happy, everyone! You’re all incredible little people, and I think we’re gonna have a fantastic year. What do you guys think?” The children chatter excitedly, glad to have made it through their first day of school and see their parents on the other side of the gate eagerly awaiting them, cell phones snapping pictures.

Harry’s already at the gate, waiting for the bell to ring so he can dismiss his class. He’s walking down the line asking each of the children if they see who they’re supposed to go home with, crouching down to their height so they can point them out to him. Some children in his class look a little upset because they don’t see their parents yet. Harry quickly consoles them, telling them they can all play a fun game together while they wait for their ‘Mummies and Daddies.’

You do the same with your kids, and by the time the bell rings and you finish dismissing the ones who saw someone there to pick them up, there was one child from your class who was still waiting and two from Harry’s. He walks over to you, one of their tiny hands in each of his. The boy looks unbothered, but the girl was beginning to cry.

“Hey, Ava, should we ask Miss Y/L/N and her friend if they want to play iSpy with us? The more, the merrier, isn’t that right?” He looks down at her, and she nods, looking down. You figure she’s one of his more shy students he was telling you about earlier.

“Hi, sweetie! I’m Miss Y/L/N, are you waiting for your mom or dad?” She nods, biting her lip. You turn and gesture to your one student who was waiting as well. “Well, so is she! Don’t worry, they’ll be here.”

“I’m Matthew,” the little boy holding Harry’s other hand informs you, shifting from foot to foot. You give him a big smile.

“Hello, Matthew! I love your Spiderman shirt; he’s just the coolest. Jade, do you want to introduce yourself to Mr. Styles, Ava, and Matthew? Remember when we learned about introductions today in class? When you got to introduce yourself to all your classmates?”

Jade nods, a big, toothy grin on her face. “Hi! My name is Jade, and I am five-years-old but my birthday is September 19th, so I’m actually almost six-years-old,” she tells them matter-of-factly. “It’s very nice to meet you!” She adds, remembering the script you gave them earlier. Harry looks down at her, an impressed look on his face.

“Well, it is very lovely to meet you too, Jade! Do we all know how to play iSpy?” Jade and Matthew shout in excitement, but Ava just grips tighter onto Harry’s hand. He looks down at her again. “Do y’ want Miss Y/L/N and I to show you how to play, Ava?” His voice is very quiet, slow, and soothing. She nods, letting go of his hand.

“Well Ava,” you say, looking around for something to start the game out with. “I would say, “I spy with my little eye something green. Then you, Mr. Styles, Matthew, and Jade, would have to look around and name out everything that’s green. If you name something and it’s not it, then I will tell you nope, and you can try again, but if you figure it out, then you’re the winner! Does that make sense?”

She nods, and you see a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Can I go first?” She asks quietly. You tell her, yes, and she looks around quickly, trying to find something to say. “I spy with my little eye something blue!” She has a triumphant smile on her face, and even though you immediately know she’s talking about the sky and you’re sure Harry does too, you both decide to take a step back and let the children take the game into their own hands.

“Y’know, that lil’ introduction Jade gave was really somethin’. I didn’t even think about teachin’ my kids that. Think I’ll try that out tomorrow,” Harry whispers, craning his neck slightly to be at your ear. You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin.

“Yeah, I feel like that’s always a good first day of school activity for them to do. A lot of them have never really been exposed to people outside of their immediate family, so they’re not too sure how to talk to others.” Harry hums, standing back up straight.

“Mr. Styles,” Matthew calls, running over to Harry. “My mommy is here. Can I go now?” Harry nods, telling Matthew to wait for him so he can say hi to his mother. You watch as he walks away, overhearing as he tells the boy’s mother what a great job he did today and how he’s so excited to go through this school year with him in his class. Ten minutes later, Jade and Ava are gone as well, and Harry locks the dismissal gate.

“I forgot how exhausting the first day could be,” he tells you, letting out a quiet sigh. “Ready to go to that meeting, though? It’s just about three.” You check your watch and see the time read at 2:57 PM.

“Yeah, just let me grab my bag, and we can head over there. I’m really hoping this won’t take too long; I was planning on going grocery shopping after this,” you walk down the hall towards your classroom and feel Harry’s gaze on you.

“Where do you like to go grocery shopping?” he asks after a few moments of silence. “I need to pick up some groceries this week, too. ’ve been eatin’ takeout for the past week, and I’m starting to feel like shit.” You laugh, unlocking your door. Harry stands outside, holding it open while you grab your purse and lunch bag.

“Honestly, I don’t have a preference. I switch it up a lot,” you shrug, making sure all the windows are closed before walking out. “Was there something, in particular, you were looking for?”

“Uh,” Harry scratches the back of his head. “No? Maybe you could text me a list of all your favorite stores, though. Jus’ so I won’t forget.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, ignoring how fast your heart was beating. “Are you asking for my number, Mr. Styles?”

“I guess I am,” he replies nonchalantly. “We’re gonna be workin’ together a lot. Might as well have your number– if that’s okay, I mean.” He looks down at you.

“Yeah, remind me after the meeting,” you tell him, trying your hardest to play it cool. “Don’t let me forget.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“So Y/N and Harry, you two will be in charge of the pumpkin decorating booth? Is that right?” The principal looks down at his notes and then shifts his gaze between the both of you. You both nod.

“Yeah, I’m excited! I think it’ll be a lot of fun,” you reply excitedly. “We can go to the craft store and get a bunch of paints, but where do you think the best place to get the pumpkins would be?” You pull out your planner, ready to jot down any suggestions.

“You two could try going to a pumpkin patch? They’re starting to pop-up around town,” one teacher suggests. “I’m sure if you purchased a bunch and told them it was for a school event, we could get some kind of deal.” The rest of the faculty buzzes in agreement.

“Y/N and Harry, could you get to a pumpkin patch sometimes this week and see if they can give us an estimate of how much it would cost? Then I could let the PTA know.” You and Harry confirm that it will be possible to do sometime this week, and the meeting continues on.

By the time you’re finally free to leave the meeting, it’s already growing dark outside. Harry’s hands are shoved in his pockets, and he’s looking down at his feet. “So–”

“Do you want–”

You both stop, laughing awkwardly. “You go first.” you tighten the grip on your purse.

“Uh, I was jus’ gonna ask if I could get your number now. Yanno, so we can plan when we’re gonna go get all the stuff for our booth? And you still gotta tell me what your favorite grocery stores are,” he has a playful look in his eyes. For the thousandth time that day, your hands become clammy. There was just something about every interaction you had with him that made you so nervous.

“Oh yeah,” you answer coolly, digging in your purse for your phone. “Just text your number, so I have it.” You hand him his phone, and he stops dead in his tracks, a look of concentration on his face.

“I can’t walk and be on the phone at the same time,” he mutters when he looks back up and realizes you were watching him the whole time. “I don’t know how people do it.” He hands you back your phone. “What were y’ gonna ask me?”

“I was just um, I was gonna ask if you wanted me to give you a ride home? I mean, since you walked to work today and it’ll be dark soon,” talking to Harry made you feel like a nervous school girl interacting with her first crush, and you hated that feeling.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that–”

“It’s no bother, really,” you cut him off, and you realize you sound a little eager, but at that point, you didn’t even care. “I’m sure we don’t live too far from each other.” Harry looks slightly unsure but nods, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“If you’re sure, Y/N. I appreciate it, I owe you one,” he’s following behind you to the teacher parking lot. You silently pray your car isn’t messy inside like it usually is as you approach it. You decide to pick up your pace and walk ahead of him, telling yourself if the passenger side was messy, you’d just quickly throw everything in the back. “Heyyyy, why’re you walkin’ so fast? Are you sure you’ve got the time to take me home?” He takes a few big strides and quickly catches up with your hurried, tiny ones.

“Yeah, of course, I have time,” you respond, unlocking your car as you approach it. “If it’s messy, then just ignore it.” you preface, honestly not remembering the state in which you left your car this morning when you walked into work.

“Don’t worry about it. You should see mine,” Harry jokes, and it immediately puts you at ease. As you’re about to open your door, Harry quickly rushes to your side, opening it himself. “Let me.”

His hand rests over yours, and you quickly pull it away, your body heating up. “Harry, I’m already right here. I can open my own car door.”

“I know you can. But I’m a gentle—“

“You’re a gentleman, I know,” you playfully roll your eyes and take a step back, allowing Harry to open your car door all the way. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t flattered and honestly a little bit turned on. He flashes you a smile as you situate yourself behind the wheel of the car and makes sure you’re all the way in before slamming it shut. You see him lightly jog around to the passenger side, and soon enough, he’s beside you, your car immediately starting to smell like his cologne.

“What music do you like to listen to?” Harry asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“You ask me a lot of random questions, Harry,” you reply, looking behind you as you slowly back out.

“Is it a crime to wanna get to know my new coworker?” you can hear a smile in his voice. “C’mon. What’s your favorite music to listen to?”

You shrug, looking both ways before exiting the parking lot. “Where do you live?”

“I don’t know my address yet. Just take a left at this light coming up. Favorite music?” Out of the corner of his eye, you see him scrolling through his music library.

“You don’t know your address yet?”

“No. I’ll play something random,” he says, tapping his hand on his knee. “You can take a right at that stop sign up there.” You put on your blinker and glance over your shoulder before switching lanes. Harry quickly pairs his phone with your Bluetooth, and a song you’re unfamiliar with blares through your speakers. Neither one of you says anything else, only speaking to each other when he’s giving you directions to his house, and you’re confirming what he said.

After two more songs, Harry says, “S’right up here.” He’s led you to a beautiful apartment complex— one you were looking at when you were moving out of your parent’s home but just couldn’t afford as a new graduate. You expertly parallel park and then turn the car off, a silence falling between the two of you.

“This is a nice complex,” you tell him after a moment. “Really close to school. I see why you opted to walk to work today.”

“Mhm,” he hums. His seatbelt is still fastened. “I understand if you’re busy, but did you wanna come in?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he quickly backtracks. “I mean— it’s just— remember the activity you taught your kids today? About introductions? Jus’ wanted to know if you could walk me through it, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well yeah, I can hang out for a bit.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and reach in the backseat for your purse that you threw haphazardly over your shoulder earlier.

“Will your boyfriend be okay with you coming in, though?” He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“What makes you think I have a boyfriend?” You’re slightly taken aback and oddly flattered that he thought you were in a relationship.

“I dunno,” his face grows red. “You got all weird when I opened doors for ya. Figured you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t.”

“Cool.” More silence falls, this time an awkward one.

“Should we go inside now?” you unlock the doors, quickly getting out of the car. Harry follows behind you and waits for you to walk onto the sidewalk before going up the walkway.

“How close do you live to me?” Harry asks, punching in his gate code. He pulls the gate open and gestures for you to go ahead of him. You decide not to comment on it this time.

“A couple blocks away. I could probably walk over here if I was in the mood to,” Harry shuts the gate behind you and walks over to the first set of stairs, taking them two at a time. “I was interested in this complex when I was moving out of my parents’ but I settled on something else.” He hums, stopping in front of the first door at the top of the stairs. There’s a brown ‘Welcome!’ mat outside his door, along with a few potted plants.

“Here we are,” he looks over his shoulder as if he’s checking if you’re still there. “Excuse the boxes. ‘M not done unpacking yet.” He pushes open the door and steps in, quickly turning on the light. You’re met with the same sweet scent of vanilla that’s in his classroom. Considering he was in the process of unpacking, his apartment was reasonably tidy.

“It looks good in here,” your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. You were in your coworker’s house that you just met that day, and you could already feel yourself developing a crush on him. There was obviously no way you’d let this relationship progress past anything strictly professional, but that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to admire his beauty.

“Thanks,” he gives you a smile, relief washing over his face. “You can set your bag down if you want. Take a seat, make yourself at home.” He leaves the room, and you hear him rattling around in the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink? Wine? Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee sounds great,” you reply. You set your purse down on his coffee table and sit on the edge of his couch, inspecting his living room closer. There were two books on the table, both flipped upside down as a way to mark his page. There were a few more plants inside, similar to the ones in front of his door. There was a framed picture of him with two beautiful women you assumed to be his mother and sister. Harry comes back into the room a few minutes later, two steaming cups of black coffee in hand.

“Here you are, Miss Y/L/N,” he puts on an exaggerated posh accent, and you giggle.

“Why thank you, Mr. Styles,” you respond in the same voice. “Do you have cream and sugar?”

He wrinkles his nose. “I think I might have sugar. Is oat milk, okay? I don’t have cream.” He goes back to his kitchen to retrieve the items before you can tell him it’s okay, and you’ll just drink it black. You thank him, pouring the tiniest splash of oat milk into your coffee. You can feel his eyes on you as you add a bit of sugar, stir, taste, and then add some more.

“So,” you begin after your coffee is made to your liking. “What did you think about your first day? You can be honest since we’re not on campus anymore.” Harry laughs, looking down at his fingernails.

“Uh,” he starts. You notice he says, ‘uh’ a lot. “It was terrific. Not so sure I would’ve felt the same way if I didn’t have you to help me through it.”

“We’re partners in crime now, Harry. We’re the two Kindergarten teachers, and you’re the only other person there my age? We’ve definitely gotta stick together,” you give him a big smile. He doesn’t smile back but looks a bit troubled instead. You wait for him to speak, coming to accept that long pauses were just a thing when having a conversation with Harry.

“Y’know how I assumed you had a boyfriend earlier? I thought after I’d said that–– rather I hoped after I said that you’d be like,” he clears his throat. “‘Why, no! I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?’” He put on the worst American accent you’d ever heard to imitate your voice, causing you to laugh. “To which I would’ve replied with a simple ‘no.’”

Now it’s your turn to leave Harry wondering what you’re thinking for the first time all day. You can feel his eyes on you as you look at his couch cushions, noticing a bit of crumbs that you hadn’t seen before. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You don’t even know me. We just met today.”

“Does that mean I can’t think you’re beautiful?”

You bite your lip, feeling yourself starting to grow a bit turned on by his forwardness. There was a part of you that would risk it all for just one night in bed with Harry because you just found him that attractive. The rational, adult side of you was screaming, ‘Don’t mix business with pleasure!’. By now, you had both moved closer on the couch to one another, knees nearly touching. “I think you’re beautiful, too.” He grins, setting his coffee cup down. You do the same.

“Would it be crazy of me to tell you that I really wanna kiss you right now?” His face is mere inches from yours, so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath. You shake your head.

“No. I really wanna kiss you too.”

“C’ mere, then.”

Harry leans forward a bit more until his lips are ghosting over yours. You pull at the collar of his shirt, bringing his already close body even closer to yours. His lips are softer than they look, and he’s a better kisser than you thought he’d be, too. He brings his hands up to tangle them in your hair, and that’s when you abruptly pull away, not wanting things to go too far. “We shouldn’t…” He looks at you with sad eyes, but he nods, understanding what you mean.

“Probably not the best idea?” his response comes out as more of a question than a statement, but you nod in agreement anyway.

“Definitely not. I’m um–– I’m actually gonna go,” you stand up, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see––”

You’re out the door, rushing down the stairs before he can even finish his sentence.

The rest of the school week goes on without either one of you mentioning it. It’s a little awkward for a couple of days, but by the time Friday rolls around, both of you decide the best course of action to take regarding the kiss would be to act like it never happened.

You’re in your room at lunch hanging up your kids’ artwork they made during their ‘Free Time’ this morning, having declined Harry’s lunch invitation for the fourth time that week. You decided to pretend to be busy with work so you wouldn’t be too tempted to go into his room. To most people, you’re sure it looked like you were avoiding him–– and maybe you were. However, you were trying to get over this crush on him in the best way that you knew how.

“Need some help?”

You jump, nearly falling backward off the stepstool you were on. “Holy shit, Harry! You scared the hell out of me!” You feel your body getting warm, and you quickly look away, not wanting him to see how flustered you were.

“Sorry, you weren’t answering my texts, so I decided to come see what you were up to,” he walks over to where you were standing and hands you a piece of art, smiling at it before handing it to you. “You’ve got some artists in your class.”

“Mhm,” you hum, not looking him in the eyes. You hear him let out a quiet sigh.

“Still able to go see about getting those pumpkins ordered after work?”

You had completely forgotten that you and Harry decided today would be the day you’d go get the pumpkin situated figured out for your booth. For a second, you consider making an excuse to get out of it, but you decide against it. This was something that both of you were asked to do, not just him, and you didn’t want the fact that you let your attraction to him cloud your judgment getting in the way of your professional responsibilities.

“Yeah, that works.”

He doesn’t say anything, and even though you’re not looking at him, you can see the gears in his head turning. “Should we talk––”

You’re quite literally saved by the bell, the end of lunch interrupting where you knew he was about to lead the conversation. “I’ll see you after school? Did you walk here again? I can drive.” Harry nods slowly.

“Uh, yeah. he replies. “I walked. Uh, ’m gonna go get my kids. See you after school then?”

“Yup!” you respond, fake enthusiasm in your voice. Harry gives you one more look before walking out of your room. You wait until he’s all the way down the hall before following behind him to bring your class back inside. You knew you were the one making things awkward between you and Harry. However, the realistic part of you knew getting involved with your coworker was one of the worst ideas you’d ever had in your life. For now, you’d just tell yourself that you were probably more into Harry than he was into you and pray that would be enough to make you get over your crush.

“I haven’t been to a pumpkin patch since I was a kid.” Harry stuffs his hands farther into his pockets while yours are tightly hugging your chest. You hum, not saying anything. The car ride there was a little awkward, and you were glad it was so short. You could tell there was a lot Harry wanted to say, but you were glad he wasn’t saying it. You keep seeing him glance at you, but you pretend not to notice.

“What size pumpkins should we ask for? Small ones, huh?” Harry nods, looking around in childlike awe. There was a small petting zoo, booths selling warm drinks and kettle corn, and an obscene amount of children.

You walk around together for a moment before encountering a friendly-looking employee who looked like he could help you out. Harry takes over, explaining the situation, and why you need to order one hundred tiny pumpkins. While you’re waiting for the employee to ask the owner if that would even be possible, Harry turns to face you.

“Y/N? Can we talk about what happened on Monday?” you’re about to tell him that you’d rather not, but he continues. “I felt something during that kiss, Y/N. I’m not sure if you felt it too, but I don’t want things to be awkward between us. We have to get through an entire school year working side-by-side, and if you’re not interested, then I respect that one hundred percent, but I just want––”

“So the owner said that is possible!” The employee that was helping you out comes back with a form and clipboard in their hand. “Can you just fill out some information and let us know what time you need it tomorrow? The owner said he could get it delivered and give you guys a discount since you’re ordering so much.”

“That’s great!” you exclaim, taking the form from him. You were glad to have been saved from your conversation with Harry. You quickly go through and fill out everything you can, telling them they can bill your school’s PTA.

The walk back to your car is silent. You’re replaying what Harry was saying to you over in your head, thinking about what he was going to say before he was interrupted. He opens your car door like he’s been doing, but he doesn’t make eye contact with you or say a word as he slides into the passenger seat.

“Y’can just drop me off,” Harry says quietly. He leans your seat back and closes his eyes. You wait to see if he’ll connect his phone, but he doesn’t, so you turn on the radio at a volume so low it almost can’t be heard. It takes everything in you not to speed back to his place. You just wanted him out of your car. You had such strong feelings for him that it physically hurt, and restraining yourself from telling him how you really felt was growing harder and harder.

“We’re here.” your voice is a little hoarse from not saying anything. Harry slowly opens his eyes and unbuckles his seatbelt, opening the door.

“Right. Thanks for the ride. What time do we need to be at school to set up our booth by?”

“Four. I can pick you up if you want?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He closes the door and walks up to his gate without looking back at you once.

“Hi Miss Y/L/N! Hi Mr. Styles!”

Groups of your students had been coming up to you excitedly all evening. It made you happy to see that the Kindergarten classes were no longer divided. They were starting to hang out with one another. Their parents tell you how their children thought it was just the coolest thing to be on school grounds on a Saturday, and how even though it was only a week into the school year, they were having the best time. It was comments like this that made you fall in love with your job all over again.

Things between you and Harry were going well. It wasn’t awkward, but you think it was because you were both too busy helping children paint their pumpkins. You were glad that Harry didn’t take the bit of downtime the two of you had when no one was at your booth trying to talk about the kiss and instead talked about other random things instead. You find out he loves baking (specifically, bread), he has an obsession with old music, and has about fifty tattoos. He talks to his mom on the phone every day, and he is extremely close to his sister. You tell him about your parents’, your undergraduate experience, your hobbies, and you finally tell him what music you like to listen to.

The festival quickly comes to an end, and you find yourself sad once you and Harry are done cleaning up your booth, knowing that you were just going to drop him off at his apartment and go back to yours to spend another Saturday night alone. You get to his complex almost too quickly, and you almost want to keep going and pretend you accidentally missed it just to be with him a bit longer. Instead, you park.

“D’ya wanna come inside?” He blurts out. Even in the darkness of your car, you can tell his face is flushed. “I mean if you haven’t got plans. I know it’s a Saturday night, so I understand if––”

“Nope, I don’t have plans. I’d love to.” Your hands are shaky as you unbuckle your seatbelt. He quickly gets out of your car and runs around to your side, opening the door for you before you can do it yourself. You almost don’t even notice since it was becoming such a habit.

“I picked up this new bottle of wine a couple days ago that’ve been wanting to pop open. Think we deserve a glass or two after such a long week, hmm?” You wordlessly nod, wholly mesmerized with just how good Harry looked after such a long day of work. His curls fell perfectly across his forehead, his eyes were sparkling and full of excitement.

“A glass of wine sounds great,” you reply with a chuckle. “I’m ready to drink a whole bottle by the end of the week if I’m being honest.” Harry laughs, quickly punching in his gate code. You could see his hands shaking a little bit, but you decide not to comment on it. He takes the stairs up to his apartment two at a time like he did last time you were there, but this time there’s an urgency and clumsiness to his actions that you haven’t seen before. He jams the key in his lock, quickly shoving the door open.

His apartment is a little messier than it was when you were in it at the beginning of the week, but it’s nothing disgusting. He runs his fingers through his curls, moving aside papers that were scattered along the length of the couch. “Sorry, I was doin’ some planning. Make yourself comfortable.” He disappears to the kitchen, and moments later, you hear the pop of a wine cork and the smooth sound of him pouring the alcohol into glasses.

He emerges from his kitchen, handing you a generously poured glass of wine. “Thanks, Harry,” you tell him before taking a big sip. It was sweet, and while you usually preferred a more dry wine, it was still delicious.

“Cheers to the end of a successful first week,” he holds up his glass, and you smile, clinking yours with his. “Thanks for helpin’ me get through it, Y/N. Couldn’t have done it without you.” You give him a timid smile.

“Stop, Harry. You’re a great teacher. I can see your kids love you already,” you take another sip of wine. “I kinda do too. I mean–– that came out wrong. I don’t love you, but I do think I like you.” You didn’t know what came over you at that moment, but something told you now was the time to lay it all out on the table with Harry. He sets his glass of wine down, the biggest smile on his face.

“Really? I thought you weren’t interested. Was kinda startin’ to feel like you hate me,” he sounds a little sad. You shake your head.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I’m really into you,” you didn’t even realize how you’d inched your way towards Harry. “I’ve been trying not to think about how we kissed because we shouldn’t, you know? We’re coworkers. I’ve been trying not to think about it all week, though, and I just can’t get you out of my mind.” He stares intensely into your eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he usually does when he’s thinking.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” he finally asks. You’re in the same position as you were last time, being mere inches away from the other’s lips. Only this time, you smell the wine on his breath, not coffee. You nod quickly, and Harry cups your face in his hands, hungrily pressing his lips against yours.

“You can do more than kiss me, actually,” you tell him breathlessly. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, a shocked look on his face. “When you say anything…” he trails off.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” you tell him bluntly. “Please. Been wanting that all week.” He licks his lips, looking at you in a way he hasn’t yet before.

“I can definitely do that,” he replies, resting his hand on your thigh. His large hand is dangerously close to your pussy, and you can already feel yourself growing wet. “Let’s get all these clothes off you then, huh?”

You stand up and quickly start removing your clothes. First, your blouse comes off, and that’s quickly followed by your bra. Harry’s leaning back on the couch, arms resting behind his head. “Enjoying the show?” you ask, quickly pulling down your jeans and underwear. You’re completely naked in front of him in thirty seconds flat, and you reckon that’s the fastest you’ve ever undressed for anything.

“Very much so,” he mumbles, palming himself over his khakis. “C’ mere, Y/N.” he pats his lap, and you move to sit in it, now straddling him. He softly presses his lips against yours, the hunger that was there just a moment ago completely dissipated. This was a much more hesitant kiss, more gentle and tender. “You’re really beautiful, Y/N.”

You giggle. “I know. You’ve told me that before.”

“I want you to know how much I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

Harry nods. “Can I have a taste of ya now?” you notice that his accent sounds a bit thicker than usual, voice a tad gruffer. You nod, swallowing thickly. Climbing off Harry, you lay back on the couch, situating yourself, so it’s a little more comfortable. He looks into your eyes, placing his hands on your knees. “Is this okay, Y/N?” You nod again, and he removes his hands.

“What’s wrong?” your voice has a hint of desperation in it, but after a week of extreme sexual tension, you wanted nothing more than to cum by the hands of this man.

“Wanna hear you tell me it’s okay. I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want,” he’s looking down at his hands.

“Harry, I wouldn’t have given you a striptease and laid back on this couch for you if I didn’t want it. I wholeheartedly give you permission to do whatever you want with me––”

That’s enough for him. He roughly pries your legs open, immediately licking a long stripe up your heat. You cry out, not expecting him to get right into it. You look down at him and groan when you see he’s making eye contact with you, a smug look on his face. “How’s tha’, love?” You nod, tangling your hands in his curls.

“Yeah Harry, please,” you moan. Harry sucks harshly at your clit, pulling off loudly, the sound echoing throughout his minimally furnished apartment.

“Please what, pet?” He’s looking you dead in the eyes, a devilish grin on his face while his index finger rubs small circles on your clit. Your chest is heaving up and down quickly as you try to calm your breathing down.

“Please make me cum on your tongue, Harry,” you try pushing his head back down to your cunt, but he doesn’t budge.

“Think I rather like hearin’ you beg like this fo’ me. Enjoyin’ watching you squirm like tha’, love.” Just as your about to beg for him some more to feed his inflated ego, he attaches his lips to your clit once more, this time adding his ring finger into your tight pussy. “You’re tight. Sure you’ll be able to take my cock?” His voice is muffled, and you just barely make out what he says.

You clench around his finger, and he laughs, the vibrations sending a new sensation across your clit. “Y’like thinkin’ about my cock, hmm?”

“Yeah, want you in me,” you beg, lifting your hips up. He grips onto your hips tightly, keeping you in place.

“Can feel yeh gettin’ ready for me, darlin’. Think you can take another one?” You nod, and Harry gently places kitten licks on your swollen clit while he slowly pushes his middle finger into you. You feel full in a way you haven’t felt in such a long time, and he only had two fingers in you. Once he pumps his fingers in and out of you a few times, he goes back to harshly sucking on his clit, moaning every so often so you can feel the vibrations against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you’re moaning loudly, and you pray Harry’s neighbors don’t hear you, knowing how thin apartment walls were.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, doll,” he mutters, adding another finger inside you. The burn feels amazing, and you place your hand on his wrist, urging him to go faster. “Gonna cum in my mouth, hmm? Gonna let me feel ya around m’ fingers?”

“Yes, please, Harry,” you feel yourself nearly there, your orgasm threatening to overtake you at any moment.

“Give it to me then, Y/N. Cum for me,” he demands. As soon as he says those three words, you’re done for, your body going tense as waves of pleasure roll throughout your body. He doesn’t remove his digits from the your cunt until you’re coming down from your high, placing a kiss to your clit. He laughs as you shudder at the overstimulation. Harry places his three fingers that were just inside of you and his mouth and sucks on them, not once breaking eye contact with you.

“That was really good,” you tell him, crawling on your knees towards him to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw—Harry’s beaming, a triumphant look on his face.

“Not yet. Gotta make y’ cum one more time. I’m a gentleman, after all.” You know he’s messing with you but also serious, so you lean back on the couch, opening your legs once again.

“Are you gonna take off your clothes too? Why am I the only one that’s naked?” Harry laughs, and you hear the clanking of his belt as he undoes it.

“You’re impatient, aren’t ya?” you nod, and he pulls down his tenting khakis and tight boxers. His cock springs up, slightly touching his stomach, and he hisses at the feeling. “Hold on a sec.” He gets up quickly, and you hear him hurry to what you assume in the bathroom, rummaging around. He comes back a minute later with a box of condoms, making you laugh.

“Is that a new box of condoms? Have you been holding onto those all week, Mr. Styles?” Harry rolls his eyes and opens the box, ripping open a condom expertly with his teeth.

“Weren’t you just the one beggin’ for me, pet? I’d watch it if I were you,” he jokes, rolling the condom onto his hard length. He leans down to place wet, opened mouth kisses to your breasts. “So beautiful.”

“Are you gonna take off your shirt?” you ask quietly. “I kinda wanna see all your tattoos.” Harry raises an eyebrow at you but unbuttons his shirt nevertheless, throwing it into the mess of clothes scattered around the living room. You reach your hand up, shakily tracing the swallows on his chest, moving down to the butterfly across his stomach and finally to the ferns on his abdomen. Harry’s staring down at you, watching as you delicately touch his skin. “You have so many.” you finally say. He nods.

“Yeah. Some of them I just got for the hell of it. Felt like after I got that first tattoo, it was hard to stop.” He caresses the skin on your thighs, and you shudder again. “Gonna let me get inside that pretty lil’ cunt now?”

“Please.”

Harry aligns himself with your entrance and slowly pushes into you, sharply inhaling as you clench around his length. “Relax, Y/N.’ve got ya,” he tells you reassuringly. “Can’t get inside ya if you’re all tense like tha’.” You can tell Harry’s trying his hardest not to absolutely wreck you, the vein in his forehead very prominent from clenching his jaw so tightly. You grip tightly onto his bicep, biting your lip as you adjust to his size. You were so wet and indescribably turned on that you felt every vein his thick cock had to offer, and you knew you wouldn’t last long once he started moving. By the looks of it, Harry wouldn’t either.

“You can move,” you tell him, squeezing your eyes shut. Harry slowly pulls out of you and then ever so gently sinks back inside you, bottoming out. He lets out a breathy moan, moving one of his hands up to tweak your nipples. “Harder, Harry, fuck.”

He immediately pulls out of you and slams back inside, the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. You scream in pleasure, no longer caring if his neighbors hear what you two were doing.

“Like tha’?” He asks cheekily, working up a steady rhythm. You nod, gripping your boobs to keep them from bouncing. Harry shakes his head, forcefully removing your hands. “Nope, none of that. Wanna see ’em.” He takes both of your hands in one of his, pinning them up over your head. His other hand reaches in between your bodies to rub at your clit, and before you have time to warn him, you’re cumming again, squirting all over his cock.

Harry throws his head back in pleasure, his thrusts getting sloppy and frantic, and you know he’s seconds away from his own orgasm. You spur him on, telling him how badly you wanted him to come inside of you (even though he was wearing a condom). He stills moments later, shaking above you as he holds himself up with an arm, not wanting to collapse on top of you.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. Why did we wait a whole week to do this again?”

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #teacher!h

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yorumiraki · 3 years

Text

“that’s just how it is”

jjk teachers x retired! reader

prologue

warning: jujutsu kaisen manga spoilers

[editing]

13 years ago

‘god, and to think he couldn’t get anymore worse’

y/n l/n. 19 years old. employed as a starting teacher at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School, going on 2 years... and is currently watching one of her fellow students, gojo satoru, having... she doesn’t even know what to call it, an awakening? or maybe he’s just that much crazier after he was thought to be killed with a blow to the head. she was a bit surprised to see him standing behind her when she had went to confront toji fushiguro, his alleged killer, as well as the man who killed amanai, the star plasma vessel. he was clearly having what she could call one of his angsty episodes, spouting about how he’s the strongest and throwing in a little comment about how stupid it is protecting the weak here and there throughout his little rampage. gojo happily pranced around waving his arms around with a wide smile and wild look in his azure eyes“throughout the heavens and earth, i alone am the honored one.”

‘a-ah yes, there he goes again.... a bit of a god complex at the moment. i suppose i should stay out of the way. after all...

gojo continued to laugh and spout nonsense, drowning out her thoughts, making her frown in concern,

‘i would probably be the first to die here.’

she winced watching as blows were received and given from both him and the infamous sorcerer killer. in the midst of all this, she had somehow managed to doze off. ‘the star plasma vessel was killed... now what, wait another hundred or so years for another to be born? tengens spell will be even weaker then and-‘ she looked back up after another blast rang out and there was toji fushiguro standing in the smoke, a gaping hole on the side of his body. y/n watched the pain and regret flash through his eyes. he had clearly overestimated himself. him, against the six eyes? he had no chance.

she walked over slowly, her arms raised cautiously. only catching a quiet “...in 2 or 3 years my kid will get sold to the zenin clan. do whatever you want.” he craned his head towards her as he heard her footsteps, before his head slumped over. she put her arms down slowly as she moved closer, nodding over to gojo who stood there staring aimlessly at the man in front of him. his body was still standing. placing a finger on his neck, she felt no pulse. even in death, he didn’t wanna bow down to anyone.

her attention went from the cold feeling on tojis neck to the shuffling of gojo’s feet walking in the opposite direction. “wait, gojo-kun we need to....” he continued to walk away, and she sighed in defeat before making a phone call. ‘he never wants to listen to me anyway.... but what was that earlier?’ speaking to the caller on the other end, she orders for the confirmation of a clean up crew for damages and the body, hanging up after the request was approved. she looked at the body once more, before turning away to catch up with her student.

gojo rubbed his forehead after receiving a flick of your finger. you stood in front of your students, geto suguru, ieri shoko , and gojo satoru, nagging to gojo about not listening to you once more. it had been a year since the incident, and everything was continuing its slow pace back to normalcy.

“and that’s for walking away when i’m talking to you. i get that i’m not that much older than you kid, but at least learn to have some manners or at least like, i don’t know, some kind of restraint or respect when being talked to, especially by me. and no i don’t care that you are stronger than me because at the end of the day i’m your sensei, but please don’t-“

“yeah yeah don’t be like you we get it already, you lazy hag.”

“not WE. IM SPEAKING TO YOU GOJO... and just YOU.”

geto and shoko watched the reoccurring scene in front of them as they sat on cement stairs, stifling laughter from coming out as they watched y/n flick him again, an ‘ack’ slipping out of gojos mouth before he looked away with a pout.

“ now you three, get back to it... i’ll be laying over... i don’t know, i’ll be laying around somewhere but i’ll be watching you.” she said indecisively before glancing over to see shoko and suguru smile and nod, gojo still pouting before looking back towards you. his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, giving you a clear view of his eyes. you point to your own (e/c) eyes with your fingers, squinting before turning them and thrusting in the direction of a gojos, making it clear that you were watching them closely. in return, she earned an eye roll. the three blinked and once their eyes were open again, she was already gone.

y/n watched from the top of a tall building on the school grounds, her binoculars in her right hand as she laid her head in the palm of her left, laying flush against the roofing tiles. she had done as she said she would and laid, as she said before, “somewhere”, watching her students lazily through her binoculars. she smiled as she watched an eraser and pen being thrown at gojo, before freezing and being bounced away. ‘working on his technique i see, good.... soon he will be the strongest, no, he already is...’ she yawned before placing the binoculars down next to her. for a while now, more precisely a year, she has been watching gojo, her wariness and worry for him growing after the failed mission. amanai had clearly grown on the boys at the time, and it was a bit of a process to deal with them after she had gotten killed. she had remembered gojos words when they had returned, with amanai laying dead in his arms.

“should we kill these guys? if we do it.... i probably won’t feel a single-“

“stop gojo. there’s no meaning in doing that.”

“meaning... is that really necessary?”

y/n looked at him, not knowing what to say next before walking off in the direction they were going, suguru cutting in.

“it’s very important, especially for shamans...”

she noted that he had been very uneasy then and although he hasn’t fully recovered from it now, he was doing much better than before. but her new problem now, was geto suguru. he had been acting a bit strange as of lately, looking almost as if he was thinking over the same thing everyday in his head, being a little too absorbed in his thoughts. an attribute that was very unlike him. she sighed out loud before turning from her side and laying on her back and closing her eyes.

‘hope no one bothers-‘

“hime-sama.”

y/n opened her eyes, letting out a loud groan before snapping her head in front of her. there stood kana, her house attendant, staring down at her with dull eyes, hand over the other lightly in the front of her skirt.

“your family wishes to have you back now”

“....can’t you see i’m busy now. i’m working, now go...and stop calling me that already.”

“... i’m afraid i can’t don’t that hime-sama. well then, i will wait until the end of your shift, then i will bring you back-“

(y/n) stared at her blankly, not listening to anything she was saying before sitting up while shuffling away from her, bringing her binoculars up to her eyes to continue watching her students

‘....those two....goddamn hags.’

“....and what did we say about having sluggish posture (y/n). you’re not gonna be able to find a suitor if you’re gonna act... like some man or something, have some elegance for once. don’t think we are just gonna watch you do whatever you want while....”

(y/n) was currently sat down with her parents, them going on a rant again about her “unwomanly” way of doing things. anything.

she sighed in relief once her mother finished, her father giving her an unreadable look.

this is the (l/n) clan. full of hot headed men who only cared about themselves and power, while the women only cared about submitting to them and having children in order to keep the line going. stiff, strict and bland. that’s how it was. if you weren’t strong, you were useless. if you couldn’t bear children, you were disposed of. the second option being something she didn’t plan on doing in the future. she became a jujutsu sorcerer and a teacher soon after she graduated. she had expected her parents to be furious but surprisingly, they were quite satisfied,

“at least you’ll be useful to the clan.”

she clenched her teeth at the memory as she walked through the halls of the large manor, the moon shining down through the shoji windows. she had planned to go to sleep right after that nice little “meeting” with her parents. she couldn’t stand it, how goddamn stupid the clan was, thinking that they were advancing and getting better throughout time but in truth, they were holding themselves back, committing to the old ways, rules rules rules and more rules. the ground had rumbled quietly but (y/n) ignored it, brows furrowing in annoyance before turning the corner, approaching the door to her room. she notices kana standing beside her door, almost as if she was on guard. she scoffed before ignoring her and putting her hand on the door, beginning to slide it open when she suddenly heard strange noises echoing through the hallway. she stopped and listened, her eyes looking up to kana in question. she only blinked back with wide eyes, giving clear signs of bewilderment.

she grabbed kana’s wrist before making her way back towards her parents room where the sounds came from. they both moved together slowly as soon as they were outside of the door. (y/n)‘s eyes widened, hearing the distressed noises of her mother and naturally on instinct, opened the door immediately… only to be met with the sight of her mother’s shaking erratically on the bed, her father laying face down on the ground.

“(l/n) sama!”

kana had immediately sprinted towards your mother only to be stopped and smashed through the wall to the hallway by an invisible hand. (y/n) stood still, looking back at kana in shock before putting her hands at the ready as she looked around in the room, making her way around the bed before shaking her mother’s arm. no response, but she’s still shaking. “stay calm shit, what the fu-”

“there you are”

she turned around in surprise, only to be grabbed by the neck by a hand with long black nails, threatening to pierce into her neck.

“ahh it’s definitely you. you look JUST like them.”

she choked a grunt while staring at them, panic slowly taking over. it was a curse clearly, but it seemed to be intelligent, a mass of energy emitting from their cloak. ‘a special grade….’ they had a cape on, the sleeves long and loose, a hood covering their face. she couldn’t identify them. she grit her teeth at the hold on her throat. ‘s-strong’

“now as revenge to that pathetic old man on the ground there, you’re going —————. and i will ————, with nobody knowing hehehe. i ————- will be taking over now.”

(y/n) looks at the hooded figure with a confused look, unable to hear what they had been saying.“what- what did you say… get off me, who are you?!?! why are you here, let go!”

she breathed heavily as she wringles in his hold, punching and kicking at them, but they were quick to act, placing two fingers upon her forehead. her movement paused, and eyes widened as she felt energy surging through her, so much she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. she fought to resist the feeling of sleep, using her curse energy to attempt to overpower them but to no avail, as her captor pressed his fingers into her forehead even harder. unable to resist the strong feeling, her consciousness slowly slipped away and anything after that, a blank space.

“so you don’t remember anything…”

“...no.”

“nothing... nothing at all? come on.”

it had been like this for the last two weeks. staff of the school questioning her over and over again, only to get “no”s and “i don’t remember”s from her. she had been informed that the clan was dead. she really couldn’t remember anything. she could tell there was something different about her body, she just didn’t know what. and what happened before she was found passed out on the ground? was it actually her that did that? sure she hated her family and wanted to cut ties with them as soon as she could, but did she actually kill them? she hated this, not knowing things, especially about herself. is there something she doesn’t know? she shook her head, looking back up at the principal. kana was still alive, only managing to get away with a broken shoulder and was standing behind (y/n), a stoic look on her face.

“i already told you, i don’t remember anything…”

he looked at her before rubbing his head, contemplating what to do. kana had looked over at (y/n) to see her staring at her shaking hands. she reached over to tend to her before stopping herself and shook her head before straightening back up. ‘hime-sama...’

“(l/n), i need you to listen to me carefully. you have to....”

she looked up at him with her tired eyes, taking in everything he was saying. what had happened to her body. what was inside her. he was giving her a deal. with a certain condition. after listening to the suggestion in its entirety, her head slowly turned back up, a solemn look on her face. she reluctantly made a choice.

“...alright, fine then.”

prologue ... part i

i feel like this is bad i don’t know. a bit vague at the end i know, but i’m not gonna give everything away in the prologue hehe. i didn’t lie about the 2 chapters but i figured i should make a prologue so that’s what i did tonight. i also forgot to say i did end up changing some things.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk series #jjk imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader #utahime x reader #ieri shoko x reader #mei mei x reader #anime

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

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Hello Stranger

[14K Words/1Hr. Read - Teacher!Bang Chan x Admin!Female Reader - Fake Relationships, Guest Appearances, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, New Teachers, Vanilla, Office Sex, Allusions To Troubling Subjects]

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You should’ve expected a phone call when you read the email. At least then you would be somewhat prepared for the verbal lashing you were currently receiving from one of your greatest teachers.

“I’m sorry, but — wait, you know what? No I’m not, I’m not sorry — but I am not staying here with this dumpster fire waiting to happen! He’s wrecking the department — Johnny, let me talk — and I didn’t even want him here to begin with. Congratulations, ma’am, you torpedoed my program I worked so hard to build.”

Doyoung paused, waiting for you to call his bluff, to appeal to his good side as usual. He was right. He’d done so much for his school — for the district, really, and this was getting out of hand. Johnny could be heard behind him, the poor principal having apparently had his desk phone wrestled away from him to begin with.

“Mr. Kim,” you spoke into the phone, mustering all the confidence you had in you, “what do you want me to do? I mean it. Tell me what you want.”

“He goes or I go,” Doyoung dramatically laid out into your ear. Johnny could be heard trying to console the raving teacher before Doyoung apparently ducked him every few seconds. “I’m losing my mind. I have 150 students becoming fucking hypnotized and they’re influencing their peers like the plague.”

“Besides losing either of you,” you carefully negotiated, “what do you want me to do? I value your input; I always have. Dig into the meat with me here, please.”

“I will not teach beside some noble renegade who wears hoodies to class and asks his students to call him by his first name. I won’t teach in the same building, nor in the same school. This is dangerous, and you know it is. For all the money you’re throwing at PR this year you could be putting it in your students.”

You hated that Doyoung was right. This was not a great start to the year. A sigh escaped that you had not meant for, and Doyoung audibly steeled himself on the other end of the receiver. He was waiting now.

“I’m coming down there,” you announced. Apparently Johnny heard you, a god fucking dammit being heard behind Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, however, was sated.

“Fine,” he replied, but he didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was surprised he got anywhere. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”

And like that, Doyoung hung up. You slumped down in your chair, having been pacing your otherwise pristine office for the past 15 minutes which had felt more like 15 hours. You were fussily rearranging your desk, trying to calm yourself back down when your assistant finally felt it was safe enough to poke her head into your office.

“Ma’am—” Yeji greeted before you held up a hand to stop her. You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“How many more calls this week?”

“Only four,” she replied. A relieved sigh softened your tense shoulders as she set the personnel file you requested on your desk.

You felt so old now, run ragged by all the mayhem, but it wasn’t so long ago that you were young yourself. Even then, you still were according to most standards. You were the youngest assistant superintendent to ever serve the district, a set of magnet schools within the city comprised of one private Montessori primary school, one public STEM-focused junior high, and one private-public hybrid high school of the arts. You pined for the ultimate position, but that chair was long occupied by Mr. Simmons, a token favorite of the school board. He called you dear and was always acting like some big man pitying a little girl. However, this didn’t mean you hadn’t tried like hell to make an impression.

Your first three years had been a terrific uphill trajectory. In year one, you brought on Doyoung to replace the retiring choir teacher and head of the music department at the high school. To date, he’d brought in more accolades than his predecessor did in twice the time. For your second year, you collaborated with your junior high on an agricultural enrichment program that offset food costs district wide to the point you could improve offerings in all three cafeterias. This year, you re-established the district PTA. Doyoung’s rabid Booster Club and the parents of the junior high’s robotics team made up the first meeting, and more and more parents had joined since.

So it only seemed fair that this year was your first true hurdle. It had been such an innocent decision: you took a proposed program from the junior high and adapted it for your high school students. A music production and distribution program was a clean, sleek idea that was sure to impress the PTA and enrich the lives of your students in their already affluent music department and work as a dual credit with the business side of the class. What you hadn’t betted on, however, was what exactly a young teacher could get into in a high school setting.

Chris Bang wasn’t naive — you were sure of it, looking at his portfolio. He’d cut his teeth independently producing from a young age and gathering a loyal following online. This was a concept you understood well enough, but had a time and a half explaining to anyone older than you, it seemed. Anyone older than you, but also especially Doyoung, who was very fiercely proud of his hard work to get his double Masters in Choral Conducting and Music Theory at 21 and didn’t have the patience for homegrown prodigies. You couldn’t blame Doyoung, really, even with his dramatics. His competition choir was a force to be reckoned with — surprisingly disciplined, endlessly talented, and ravenously competitive — and now two of his students were wrapped up in all this, too, and that was just the extent you were aware of.

You tapped out an IM to Yeji from your desktop, asking her to come back into your office, and she dutifully popped in a few seconds later. She pulled up a chair in front of your desk as you rested your head in your hands for a moment. “Tell me, Yeji,” you sighed, “what’s your read on this?”

“Well, ma’am,” she mulled it over, “it’s not great. It’s awful, really. But it’s hard to tell by now what’s real, what’s a cry for attention, or what feels real but is actually just the zeitgeist. You know how this is, what it can turn into.”

You did. You’d remembered your own whirlwind feelings at a similar age, even just out of high school. Strangers and dissenters had a hard time believing it, but before you had assumed the role of meticulously poised and proper, you were frustratingly belligerent and stubborn like many of your peers when you were younger. It was easy to recall how real, how present every moment was at the time, but you didn’t even remember the whole story now. In fact, you hadn’t thought of that story in ages, but you were suddenly reminded of the smell of pine trees and sugar, the cool electricity of being out past midnight. It was quite possibly the most excited you’d ever felt, but now you couldn’t remember the fine details, the corners sanded down to curves over time. To your students, these letters were the most exciting and dramatic thing to ever happen to them, and if they would remember the details later on would depend on how you handled the situation.

The first letter surfaced just a week before, and online of all places. A full declaration of this girl’s undying love for Chris and all of the very, very, very inappropriate things she wanted to do with him, found in an envelope on the keyboard outside his office and posted online before he could ever see it. The next letter was eventually found two days later, apparently picked up from where it had missed the trash can: a 17 year old boy, feeling emboldened enough to finally profess who he was — gay, madly in love with Chris, and willing to risk it all. A third was stolen from a girl’s backpack from some bullies and she had been a wreck, so sure that Chris had picked one of the other two and she’d missed her chance. That girl hadn’t returned to school yet. Who knew what else was going on in the hallways, in the cafeteria and bathrooms, in the parking lot after school?

Four more parents contacted your office, according to Yeji. Four more letters. And now Doyoung was threatening to quit, for added reasons you hadn’t even been aware of. You flipped through Chris’ personnel file, hoping not to find any red flags, but hopefully find any reason this spiraled out of control, anything other than tumultuous teenage life wreaking havoc on your students.

Your sigh renewed in spades as you glanced at your assistant again. “Who do you remember most from high school?”

Yeji’s eyes were cast downward as she thought about it. “Other than my friends? Probably the student teacher in my auto class,” she blissfully reminisced. “The teacher would sleep half the time and the student teacher would just teach us whatever we wanted to know and what we needed to know for tests. I remember I had the biggest crush because of that.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Yeji gave an apologetic smile. “What about you?”

Her question knocked you off your feet for a moment. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting it, but you immediately had an answer. “Aside from friends? Weirdly enough,” you began, “someone I didn’t meet until graduation.”

As sickly sentimental as the thought of it was, it was true. You didn’t even remember that boy’s name anymore, but you’d met exactly three times before you left for college. He had been hanging out by the bonfire on the beach at a grad party no one had expected to get so crazy. You couldn’t remember your conversation, but you could remember his bleached hair tucked under a beanie catching your eye as he sat by himself, his friends apparently wreaking havoc on their own somewhere. His lip ring was crooked, and in a fit of beer-buzzed confidence you’d fixed it for him while you talked about the phony gravitas of graduation. You’d almost kissed him, too, connecting over things that seemed way more kismet than they probably were when your friends finally made you walk home with them.

You gathered up the rest of your patience and courage as you bid Yeji goodbye until your return and headed out to your car in the lot, making the tedious journey to the high school. The handsomely vintage architecture was charmingly modern inside the gates and within its walls, but not overly so. However, this also meant the school was a hike and a maze to navigate through to find the music department. You were distracted, though, missing a turn here or there and having to turn back a couple times now that you were suddenly remembering your clandestine romance from years ago. What was his name? It wasn’t even that long ago. Had so much really happened since then? You wracked your brain. He had a reasonably fresh and nice scratcher tattoo on his bicep, you remembered, but you couldn’t remember what it was for some reason, just like his name. He had to have said it in one of these memory bites.

The second time you’d met, he’d been handing out flyers on the boardwalk for his own show at a rave in a warehouse on the other side of town, out where the beach met the woods. He’d seen you before you’d seen him, and he had popped up with a greeting of Hello, stranger. He had made you promise to be there, which is where you met the third and final time later that night. He greeted you again the same way. Hello, stranger. You’d thought it was cute then, and still did, which must be why you still remembered that detail, at least. He liked your shoes, your worn work boots you’d picked up at a thrift store and refused to get rid of despite all the times your parents asked.

Those warehouse shows were always nuts, all sorts of vendors arriving who were willing to shack up with any event that passed through. He had bought you cotton candy from one of these vendors when you met him after his set and you chatted as you walked along the tree line, talking about his dreams of becoming rich and famous on his own terms. He kissed you, once, and you tasted his lip ring and spun sugar for weeks. You found yourself wondering now if he ever did become rich and famous.

Doyoung gave you a passing glance in the hall as you stalked towards Chris’s classroom: he looked impatient but thrilled and, sure enough, well dressed in his usual suit and tie. You wondered if this new staff member was exactly what Doyoung was fear mongering. Maybe it was simply a difference in values. This was Chris’ first year teaching professionally, you remembered, and now you felt miserably guilty. What a horrible way to start a career. You hadn’t even visited your new teacher since he began, but just the door outside his room was a mess. Doyoung’s fretting made more sense now. Even though you’d only gotten four phone calls, Chris’s classroom door was plastered in letters.

The door creaked and fluttered as you opened it and peeked your head inside. The room was devoid of any human presence. For a space that needed to serve multiple purposes, it was sparsely filled except for classroom materials and equipment. Regular desks and chairs filled the floor as opposed to risers or music stands like in the other department classrooms, but there was still a soundproof practice room in the back of the room, and only the recording equipment stored around the room gave any hint to the classroom’s purpose. To deal with the mess after the third letter, a sub was leading Chris’s classes in the library, but you at least expected to find him here himself, or at least some posters or framed photos. You peeked inside the small office at the head of the classroom, finding it just as empty as well, but with some more personality. A few extra milk crates of visibly nicer vinyl records for sampling and listening were stacked beside the desk along with a nicer record player than what was by his desk out in the classroom. Some books sat on a shelf with a modest cactus in the corner, and finally some photos: Chris shaking hands and smiling with tons of industry players and friends, and occasionally appearing in one of those hoodies Doyoung had been warning of. He did own suits, apparently. Multiple. And he looked good in them.

A polite cough surprised you at the door of the office.

You whirled around, the sun outside silhouetting Chris as he stared at you in his dimly lit office. “My office hours are cancelled this week. May I help you?”

It was your turn to cough, clearing your throat. He was certainly young. He was certainly handsome, his grimace pronouncing the charming dimples in his cheeks. He certainly didn’t dress like a teacher. Chris stood in the doorway of his own office, looking at you curiously in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He even had a backpack hung on his shoulder and a bag of greasy fast food in his hands. He suddenly looked down at it, embarrassed.

“I, er, wore out my welcome in the teacher’s lounge, it seems,” he sighed out a sullen laugh. “And I needed some fresh air.”

“Mr. Bang, I—“

“Call me Chris,” he insisted with a tired grin. Your heart shamefully thumped at how friendly and cute he was. It was easier to pretend you didn’t hear him. He stepped around you and dropped down into his desk chair. He silently gestured at his food, appearing to ask if you were alright if he ate while you talked. You nodded. He dug into the bag and cheekily offered you a fry. You coolly shook your head.

“I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but as assistant superintendent—“

Chris sputtered, standing up from his chair as he choked down the fry he’d just put in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he gasped finally, “I didn’t—“

“I know,” you nodded again. You waved up a hand in understanding. “Please, sit back down. I wanted to come by and see how you’re doing, considering the current state of affairs.”

Chris stayed standing, uneasy and fidgeting. “Alright, what do you want? Is this it? Please don’t suggest I need an attorney, I don’t think I can handle it.”

“What?” You asked, surprised.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Chris lamented, “but I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages through the school portal from parents and students asking me if I did anything, and it’s doing my head in.”

“They’re what?!” You hadn’t even considered anyone actually thought the teacher was guilty of anything. He nodded gravely.

“Read the letters outside!” His demand came out brokenly as he pointed behind you. “They’re begging me and taunting me to do all sorts of shit. Confess, quit, fuck them — all sorts of awful trash that I never even imagined. I just wanted to teach. I don’t know why the hell this is happening to me.”

You had no idea about any harassment. This looked bad. It looked bad to your students, their parents, the staff — everyone. You pulled out your phone from your purse and brought up the PR rep’s number, now on your speed dial. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Of course I didn’t—“ he sputtered before you cut him off.

“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Bang. You didn’t do anything and I believe you. A good superintendent would support good staff. Your first few months brought nothing but praise past my office.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris quietly said. He finally sat down as you dialed the rep. She would be by shortly. You found another chair hiding under a pile of books and cds and moved them so you could sit. Chris was looking at you oddly now as you hung up, sitting closer than you’d normally like in the small office. You shifted uncomfortably. Chris offered you a fry again before you stiffly refused once more. He shrugged and began inhaling his food in earnest.

“Hungry?” You asked sarcastically, instantly regretting it. There was no sense in kicking him while he was down.

“Emotional eater,” he clarified around a mouthful, equally sarcastic in your resumed awkward silence. You considered the young teacher in front of you. If you recalled the personnel file, he wasn’t just a brand new teacher, he was new to the area as well. A rumor apparently spread among the students and even some of your staff that he had been running away from something, but you never paid that any attention until you were actually in the same room with him. He caught you zoning out in his direction, an eyebrow raised as he paused on his mouthful of food, and you sheepishly pulled out your phone and checked your agenda until your rep finally found you hiding out together in the tiny office.

Ryujin had become your go-to girl since the school year started but even more so over the past week. Public relations for a school district should never have to become very high-maintenance work, but Ryujin was quickly proving herself over-qualified for the job. She stood in the doorway, tall and cool in her confidence despite her short stature as she looked over the situation.

“Stand up,” she simply directed Chris.

He gave you a quick glance, not moving until you nodded. Chris set his food down and stood, hands in his hoodie pockets as Ryujin circled him. He warily shied away from her prodding as she pinched and pulled at his clothes, looking at tags and labels. She fiddled with the cute studs in his ears, tugged on the strings of his hoodie to draw him more to her level, and ruffled his dark, fluffy hair to look for showing roots or product. Ryujin looked at you now. “This isn’t so bad,” she told you decidedly.

Chris was confused, left about ten miles behind the conversation. “Why—“

“What do we do?” You asked. Chris looked wildly between both of you as you decided his fate without him. “We’re dealing with harassment now.”

“Of course we are,” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, look at him.”

“Hey!” Chris rightfully looked offended, even as you held up a calming hand to settle him down. Ryujin impatiently waited for you to let her continue.

“He doesn’t look like a teacher, he doesn’t act like a teacher, he’s under 30, and— I’m sorry— he’s cute. He was bound to get eaten alive when his students are only a few years younger than him and he has no experience.”

“So,” you reiterated, “what do we do?”

“He can go back to teaching,” Ryujin ruled, “but he has to look and act the part. No more first-name basis, no more street clothes.”

“This is so ridiculous!” Chris laughed in disbelief.

Both you and Ryujin glared at him now before she continued. “He’ll have to make a statement first. I’ll write it, of course. He can speak at the next PTA meeting. But —“ she turned to face him for once, “you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have a spouse? A partner? Some boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Now you shared Chris’ confused look. “Why does that matter?”

Ryujin folded her arms. “I don’t mince words. Sympathy, mostly. For anyone worrying, he’ll clearly appear to have support. For anyone who is doubting him, he clearly appears to have a loyal and loving presence in his life that can attest to Mr. Bang never having any nefarious predilection for his students and never intending to inspire any regrettable actions. It’s ultimately a similar reason to why I suggested you should wear a wedding ring.”

Your face heated up once again at being outed in front of your staff member. Ryujin had suggested a fake wedding ring ages ago when you first hired her. The moment you were appointed, parents instantly began doubting you. Even Superintendent Simmons, a parent himself, questioned you at your third interview. How could you — a young woman with no spouse and no children of your own — ever deign to understand what it’s like to raise and nurture one? The sheer stubbornness that you felt in response to that sentiment made you refuse such a placating notion as a fake wedding ring. Chris seemed to notice your embarrassment before he piped up himself, almost seeming to want to change the subject back for your sake.

“No,” Chris said simply, “I’m single and fine with it.”

“Look,” Ryujin rolled her eyes, “that is fine. Find a fake, then. It just needs to look real. It’s not fair, but these parents will assume you’re a better person if you’re not single in this situation. They need to see that you’re a loving and committed professional who just wants to teach and nurture young minds. The next PTA meeting is this Thursday night. Today is Tuesday, so you have a little time, but not much. Consider it, and I’ll have an optional line in your statement for whatever you decide. Do you have a suit?”

“For funerals and weddings,” Chris grumbled.

“A sweater is fine then,” Ryujin shrugged. She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “This is going to be fine. Let me know if you need anything.”

“You’re leaving?” You realized with thorough embarrassment that you sounded distressed.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed, “the Superintendent wants a meeting about his son or something. You will be fine. Keep me updated.”

Ryujin ghosted out the door as fast as she’d come, and Chris reeled. “The nerve! I can’t believe her, can you?”

“Yes,” you nodded seriously, “I can. She’s right.”

“Oh, come on!” Chris blustered. You stood back up now, gathering your bag in the crook of your arm and straightening the carefully pressed collar of your suit jacket.

“I don’t want to see you have to end your career so soon, Mr. Bang,” you sympathized as you pulled out a business card from your purse and handed it to him. “Again, I’ve only heard good things about you until all this. Call me if you need anything. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Things settled for one day. And then Thursday morning happened. Yeji was pale as you entered the office in the morning.

“John called from his cell.”

You checked your watch. First period was just starting at the high school.

God dammit.

You jogged into your office, grabbed the phone, and dialed him back. Johnny was out of breath. “I have a situation,” he panted into the phone. You could hear shouting behind him. Specifically, you could hear Doyoung shouting behind him. God dammit.

The tires on your car screeched as you peeled out of the parking lot of the admin building, tearing across town and barely breathing until you passed through Johnny’s office on your way into the building. He was icing his cheek with a cold pack from the nurse, his tie loose and slack around his neck and his suit jacket haphazardly slung over the back of his chair. Before you could say anything, he just shook his head with a disappointed laugh before returning to work at his computer. You walked quickly through the hallway, students watching you from their first period classrooms until you reached the music department. Taeil, the band teacher, closed Doyoung’s door behind him as he saw you in the hall.

“Ma’am,” the teacher greeted, thoroughly exhausted, “I wouldn’t go in there. We already called a sub for the rest of the day and I took Doyoung’s kids to the library for independent study.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” you thanked him graciously, “do you have any idea what happened?” Taeil shrugged helplessly. His tie was crooked as well, his rolled sleeves uneven. You looked over at Chris’ room, open to the hall. Letters had shuffled off the door and onto the hallway floor. “Take care of Doyoung,” you instructed Taeil, “make sure he’s okay and that he gets home alright.”

Taeil nodded and let himself back into Doyoung’s classroom as you carefully approached Chris’. The room was dark, books and papers strewn across the floor. You cautiously switched on the light, only to find the teacher slumped in his chair at the head of the room, icing his own face with a metal water bottle. He silently glanced at you and sighed as you rushed over to check on him. You set your purse on his desk and gingerly pulled the water bottle away, sharing Chris’ sigh as you saw the bruise on his cheek. It felt a bit gross to still find him so frustratingly handsome in this moment.

“What happened?” You softly asked him. Chris sank into the chair and gave a dejected shrug, helpless to recollect. And he didn’t get much of a chance to even try, as a commotion erupted in the empty hallway. Doyoung stood fuming in the doorway with Taeil futilely attempting to pull him away.

“So you are here,” Doyoung grimaced at you before he shot a glare at Taeil, “why are you lying for her? Everyone is treating me like I’m insane and I’ve had it.” He stormed over, only stopped as you turned to press a confrontational hand to his chest. Doyoung had quite the busted lip.

“Mr. Kim, I know tensions are high—” you began staunchly before Doyoung steamrolled you.

“Do you?! Do you even know what happened?” He leaned to the side, staring daggers into Chris. “Tell her, you sorry excuse of a—“

“I’m telling you, Kim, just like I have been telling you,” Chris glowered, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about! You’re the one who came in here looking to start a fight.”

“You’re a goddamn liar!” Doyoung shouted. You put your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you.

“Tell me, then, Mr. Kim.”

Doyoung shiftily looked back and forth between the two of you. “Tell you what, ma’am?” he grumbled. “Tell you that I had the joy of overhearing one of my brightest students talking with her friends during zero period, bragging about fucking in his practice room? Tell you that she’s just a freshman? Tell you that I caught her and her friends giggling as she wrote her own fucking letter?”

Doyoung pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of his suit jacket and shoved it into your hands. You looked back at Chris, his shaking eyes horrified as he was apparently hearing this all for the first time.

“I admit, I took matters into my own hands. I flew off the handle. Why, though, would I come to you with all this first, ma’am?” Doyoung pleaded. You recognized the helpless heartache in his eyes, hating how much he was losing his students. “You wouldn’t come to me first if I asked for your help. You’d go straight to him.”

You glanced down at the notebook paper in your hands, catching glimpses of curly, naive confessions, and you looked back at Chris again. He didn’t look guilty. You didn’t want him to be. You wanted this all resolved, as cleanly as possible before you possibly wrecked the year before winter break. You thought fast.

“I did go to him first, Mr. Kim,” you conceded, quiet yet confident, “and I apologize if my actions come across as selfish, but this ordeal has caused quite the strain on mine and Chris’ relationship, even more so since it’s still fairly new.”

Doyoung backed up, aghast as his eyes flicked between the two of you again. His normally soft gaze was pure hellfire. “You’re kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. He had no interest in waiting for a confirmation before he turned to storm off, herding Taeil along with him.

Chris was staring at you when you turned back to face him, shocked as he was at your sudden plan. “Why the hell did you do that?”

You pulled out your phone to dial Ryujin, but before you actually sent the call through, you bored your eyes into Chris, who was still wincing past the bruise on his face. “You still didn’t do anything?”

“Never,” he adamantly shook his head.

“Good,” you nodded. “We will need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. My assistant will call you with details.” You plucked your purse up from his desk and shouldered it. Chris watched, still stunned as you made for the door. His continued stare made you pause, a hand on the door frame as you turned back to face him. “You’re innocent,” you explained, “but if you quit you’ll be proving everyone who’s doubting you right. It seems like no one is on your side except me, so if no one will do anything then I will. You’ll be fine, Mr. Bang.” With that, you regained your confidence once more to walk down the hall. You caught your breath before you tapped out a message for Ryujin on your phone. Somehow, you didn’t expect her to call you right away.

“I’m sorry, but you what?!” Ryujin exclaimed, stooping you in your tracks from wherever she was.

“You said he needs to find someone and make it look real!” You hissed, trying to keep your composure the best you could in the quiet hallway.

“I didn’t mean you!”

You grumbled out a curse under your breath. “Well, it’s a bit too late for that clarification,” you bit out, “so what do I do now?”

Ryujin could be heard tapping on her cell phone as she spoke to you. “I’m on it,” she assured you, “and I’m sure you already figured you need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. We need to make sure you’re on the same page. I’m forwarding you the statement I wrote. Hang tight, I’m going to meet you at your place.”

Chris frowned at the suit laid out on top of your couch after you’d extracted it from its garment bag. Ryujin had brought it, on loan from some unnamed resource, complete with notecards of her prepared statement in the breast pocket. “Why does this also feel like proving everyone right for some reason,” he said uncomfortably.

“What exactly is wrong?” You sighed. Chris fidgeted. He looked out of place in your apartment, his soft black hoodie and worn jeans contrasting starkly with your minimalist and meticulously organized sanctuary. His brows were furrowed with impending panic, but he looked determined.

“I’m nervous,” he bemoaned, “tell it to me again.”

“We met over the summer at a cafe downtown,” you explained impatiently.

“That’s so soon for someone like you to be backing up a pariah like me,” Chris laughed, almost on the verge of breakdown, apparently. He was choking down a milkshake. He’d brought you one too, of course, but when you politely refused he took it as a consolation prize. It was incredible to you that he seemed to be in such good shape for how much food he put down. Or, you realized, maybe a catastrophe of this caliber wasn’t very common for him.

“Put on the suit, Mr. Bang,” you urged, “please?”

“Oh my god, you need to stop calling me that if we’re dating!” Chan nervously laughed again.

“Look, I’ll be just fine, I’ll be able to fix it when we’re in front of people,” you insisted, “but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? I’m having an entire escape plan thrust upon me and I’m trying to adjust.”

“Well,” you huffed as you found yourself meeting his level, “maybe you wouldn’t need this escape plan if you didn’t take such a lax approach to teaching.”

“Excuse me?” Chris asked, blindsided by your outburst.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what people are saying!” You doubled down in defense, squaring up against him as you impatiently folded your arms.

“Why don’t you tell me, ma’am, what exactly people are saying about me?” Chris stood defiantly, toe to toe with you and daring you to follow through. You took the bait.

“You know exactly what people are saying,” you challenged him, “that you refuse to take the role seriously because it’s easier that way. You give these students too much freedom, and you’re encouraging them to act out. Who needs homework? Who needs textbooks? Who needs seating charts? They call you by your first name and think you’re their best friend, that you’re one of them, only older, just like they wish they were! They live and die by your approval because you seem so cool and you don’t seem like a teacher.”

“Oh, so I don’t seem like a teacher now?” Chris scoffed.

“They certainly don’t respect you like one,” you snapped. A deep pause coursed through you both like a cold breeze before he burst.

“Well you sure as hell don’t respect me like one, so why the hell are you helping me?!” Chris shouted.

“Well,” you mocked, quickly losing grip, “here I was thinking it was the right thing to do!” You heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands in the air and finally turning away as you couldn’t stand to look at him.

However, you may have glossed over the in-progress milkshake that had been in his hands, now currently all over his hoodie and on the spotless hardwood floor of your apartment.

“Oh, great!” Chris laughed incredulously. “I sure look like I could use the help now, Miss Assistant Superintendent. Guess I’ll put on the stupid suit so I don’t make a bigger fool out of myself at my public execution tonight.”

Your face regrettably heated up as Chris frustratedly tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt following right after as he fished the pressed white shirt out from within the suit jacket. He had an admittedly nice figure, his toned torso never being hinted at through his comfy wardrobe. A set of tattooed compass roses on his upper arm caught your attention, and you wished you didn’t find it attractively endearing. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he ranted, “no one would ever believe I’d date a stuck-up, uptight, tyrant like you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you fumed as you turned away, not wanting to get distracted, “except no one would believe I’d ever date an arrogant ingrate like you.”

Chris could be heard pacing behind you as he buttoned the shirt, apparently pausing at your mantle over the fireplace. “I bet you were a nightmare as a student, a real grade-grubber and brown-noser,” he grumbled, now seeming to have found your framed photos of you and your friends at graduation, first from high school and then from undergrad. “I’m going to hang myself with this godawful tie— is this you?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over and snatched his tie out of his fingers to do it yourself. He’d already deftly changed his pants while you weren’t watching. “Sure, that’s me,” you muttered, “and no, I wasn’t a nightmare, thank you very much.” You paused as you felt a shift in his silence and glanced up at him. For the first time you noticed a subtle cologne on him, a gentle musk that was miserably attractive on him and you just wanted to get this over with even faster. Chris was giving you that indecipherable look again as you fiddled with the stupid necktie. From this close, you could see a cute little dot just under his lip, a telltale spacer that more than likely usually held a lip ring and—

Oh.

Hello, stranger.

Chris was gravely silent as he parked in front of your apartment later that night. The PTA meeting had been a disaster, starting the moment you left to travel back to the high school, where the meetings were held in the main theater. A loaded silence had staked itself between you the whole drive, and neither of you had reviewed Ryujin’s statement whatsoever. Nonetheless, you sat and stood close enough to each other during the meeting to be clear but not obscene in what you both were implying with your proximity, and you were faithfully beside him as he approached the podium. It was difficult to ignore the hushed whispers resounding through the audience. Chris’ brazen confidence was all but gone by now, fully broken as multiple hands immediately shot up to get a word in. Chris had forged ahead, though, even as his hands tried not to tremble around his notes. Ryujin’s statement didn’t mince words, just like her. He read out how his inexperience wrongly led him to take a more casual approach to teaching, how he’d recklessly and misguidedly inspired his students to put too much trust in him. He read out what a struggle this presented for both of you, being faced with accusations of such severity, and wishing to regain the trust of the assembled teachers and parents. The hands stayed in the air, and Johnny moderated question after question and Chris adamantly confirmed again and again and again that he had done nothing except naively neglect to put a firmer stop to all this. He was the one, and not Ryujin, to say that he should have brought the letters to Johnny’s attention and not simply ignored them, hoping the situation would stop on its own. More hands kept raising. Seemingly every parent belonging to a letter on Chris’ door was here wanting personal reassurance and, subsequently, a reason from him that their children were acting out. It felt like a never ending ordeal, a constant string of hurt and confused parents needing comfort. Johnny had no words for Chris when he finally ended the meeting, putting him out of his misery. Nothing else got done on the agenda that night. He only clapped a sympathetic hand to his teacher’s shoulder.

You tapped out what happened in a text message to Ryujin. Her diagnosis was optimistic but tough, and in your continued silence in the car, you suddenly realized you were stopped in front of your apartment. Chris was quiet, zoning out at the wheel until you nudged him.

“Ryujin says we can still do this,” you encouraged him. “Enough of the parents should believe you. We just need to make sure the students and staff do, too…. as well as the board.”

Chris leaned forward, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. “I wish they didn’t have to believe me. They’re probably stressed as hell over this. This whole thing is such shit,” he muttered. “We don’t even like each other.”

“We don’t?”

“What?” Chris sullenly chuckled. “Just because we did ages ago?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I remembered that pretty fondly. I thought of that kiss all summer.”

“We kissed?”

Ouch.

You sighed. “Fine then. You’re right. We don’t like each other. You’re cocky and naive and I’m…”

“Uptight?” Chris smirked, but he shut his mouth when you clearly didn’t appreciate the jab. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you’re doing, you know. I just… I’m going through it.”

“I know,” you commiserated.

“What do we do now?”

“There’s a board meeting next Wednesday night,” you explained. “You can accompany me to that, and that’ll take care of them. Until then, we keep up appearances at school, now that we’re exposed.”

“How are we doing that?”

“I’ll figure something out,” you reassured him. “What’ll you do now?”

“Oh, you know,” Chris laughed tiredly, “probably go pick up a taco box and try not to ruin this suit.”

You nodded in understanding as you unbuckled your seatbelt and dug around in your bag for your keys. “No hoodies, okay?”

Chris nodded, watching as you stepped out of the car and fussily smoothed your skirt back down. “Do you need me to walk you up?”

“I can manage,” you grinned softly as you pulled something out of your bag. You handed him the offending note from that morning. “I didn’t do this just because I thought you didn’t do anything. This letter is addressed to a Chris but it appears to actually be a student named Christian S.”

“Oh,” Chris grimaced, “isn’t he Superintendent Simmons’ son? I have him in fourth period. He’s one of the first chairs in Taeil’s concert band. He’s sort of… gross, sometimes, about girls. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still disappointed.”

“You alright?”

“I should’ve done something,” he muttered as he sank back into his seat, still staring at the letter.

“Don’t start with that,” you lightly admonished, “it’s not always easy to know when to interfere.”

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly.

“Of course,” you said with a small smile. “Goodnight.”

Johnny and Doyoung did a double-take as you walked into the music department the following day at lunchtime. It only made sense to you that if Chris was trying to dress up more, you’d match him by dressing down more. Your requisite suit and heels were switched out for a simple blouse with some tailored jeans and flats. That alone was a huge step for you, considering you even refused to dress down for the annual Welcome Back picnic for the district staff every year. You felt uncomfortable despite still looking clean and poised, but leagues more approachable apparently, proven as students’ passing glances lingered on their way to the cafeteria. Johnny’s look was simply one of surprise, but Doyoung’s was nothing but bitterness. Even Chris, as he happened to prop open his classroom door when you walked down the hall, was curious to see you looking so casual and chipper as you strutted up to him with a bundle in your arms. He was surprisingly handsome, wearing a blazer over a simple t-shirt with some slim jeans and sneakers — better, but not quite there. He couldn’t help a small smile as you theatrically revealed what you had brought: his cleaned hoodie and shirt folded and draped over a bag of takeout to split.

“Hungry?” You asked sweetly, but hopefully not overdone. A couple of students walked past, their eyes boring into you. Chris looked unfazed, took the hoodie and shirt from your hands and, with a quick look down the hall at Doyoung and Johnny, beckoned you into the classroom with a nod.

“Starving,” he answered with a grin, and even gave Johnny a cheery wave as he promptly shut the door again behind you. “What are you doing here?” He quietly asked you, the dazzling facade of confidence instantly crumbling. His panicked surprise wasn’t lost on you.

“We need to keep up appearances like I said. It’s Friday, you’re going through a hard time, and you’re eating like you grew another stomach. I brought us something to eat,” you explained, pushing the bag into his hands.

“You—“ Chris looked dumbfounded, eyes darting between you and the food in his hands, “— brought me lunch?”

“Yes? What else was this supposed to be? I’m your girlfriend, for all intents and purposes.” You led Chris back into his own office and helped yourself to a seat. “We also need to brush up on our relationship in case anyone asks.”

“Fine,” Chris nodded as he dug into his food. “Let’s study, then. I’m guessing you went to college right after we met, and I’m sure you taught at least a little before this.”

“Grade schoolers,” you nodded, “it was good but not for me. I never asked about your accent.”

“You did, actually. That first time, so that’s probably why you don’t remember. I grew up in Sydney, moved here before junior year in high school. Do you live by yourself? I didn’t see a roommate or any cats.”

“I live by myself,” you confirmed, “I gave up on roommates around the time I took this job. No time for pets, either. I guess I’m too uptight.” Chris winced as you continued. “Yes, I’m aware of it; I guess I’m just sensitive. Did you find a good place in the area?”

“Yeah,” Chris said thoughtfully, “cute little house. You should probably see it sometime.”

“You bought a house?!”

Chris’ ears reddened. “Yes? Again, it’s little. A couple bedrooms, a couple bathrooms. Lots of work to be done on it, but it’s all mine. Here, look.” You watched, momentarily stunned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked it open. He pulled up a surprisingly adorable photo of Chris in front of a humble little house, holding what you could only assume was his dog you didn’t know he had. “Cute, right? Her name is Berry. You should meet her.”

“I’m so sorry,” you shook your head in advance, “but you could afford a house? What brought you to teaching anyway?”

“Producing was good, but not for me,” Chris meekly bit at his lip, “I always wanted to try teaching what I know, and thankfully your team brought me on while I’m still earning my degree.”

“So one day you just decided to be an educator?” You asked dubiously.

“Didn’t you?” Chris seemed more cagey now, more defensive.

“Sure, but maybe this explains your approach to teaching.”

Chris sighed hard and set his food down. “You know what? I knew you were bringing it back to that. Here I was thinking we were on a little better footing after last night. My approach to teaching came from thinking of what I wanted when I was these kids’ age. I wanted someone to treat me with respect and value my opinion and talk to me like an adult.”

“Right,” you nodded, “but that acceptance clearly looks like an invitation to some students.”

“An invitation to what? The other staff are always saying how closed off their students are, but they’re not like that with me. They’re proactive, they’re independent, they’re thoughtful, they’re excited to be here.”

“What about students who aren’t yours?” You challenged him with your stare. It would’ve looked better in a suit. “Your students are in love with you — some of them literally — and it makes them act out with their other teachers, even students who aren’t yours are citing you as their inspiration. Terrific and capable teachers are being defied simply because they’re not you. Admit this is easier for you than establishing and upholding boundaries.”

Chris listened, but he scoffed nonetheless. “Fine. It’s easier. I’m terrified of these kids but I want them to like me and trust me. But even if I assign them homework and treat them like they’re children, that still won’t solve how the teachers don’t trust me.”

“They will,” you impatiently assured him.

“Even Doyoung?”

“Why do you care?!” You gave a stunned chuckle.

“I mean he punched me in the fucking face yesterday,” Chris shrugged. “Is it true you two dated?”

You gaped at him, stunned. “Why do you care?” You repeated. Chris nonchalantly shrugged. “Are you jealous?” You were provoking him on purpose, but there was no use in pretending you weren’t disgusted with this line of questioning.

“No! We don’t even like each other.” Chris was floundering, now facing his desk more than you. “I’m a naive and arrogant asshole and you’re an uptight ballbuster who sold out, remember?”

“Sold out?” You guffawed, standing up now. “Who the hell do you think you are?! I grew up.”

“Right, well—“ Chris barked as he got up to square off against you. “Did you grow into a stuck-up busybody who is more worried about how she looks than how she’s doing?”

Chris’ ears were burning scarlet as you bristled at his words, but he still walked you to the door as you stormed away. “That was too much. I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly before he opened the classroom door into the hall.

“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Bang,” you quietly gritted out, despite your saccharine smile in case anyone was watching. “I’m helping you and then I’m never speaking to you again.”

You were right back in your suit jacket and skirt on Monday, having stewed all weekend over how much more you hated doing this with Chris now. Worse, you hated feeling like he was right. He was shamefully attractive and smart and funny and charming and as much as you hated it — he was right. Somewhere between getting your teaching degree and getting offered your job, you’d become incredibly jaded by the people around you, but not without reason. Even now, the only people who went out of their way to make sure you didn’t feel like you were some child were Ryujin and Yeji… and Chris. Doyoung had, too, which was why you had dated briefly, but now he had joined everyone else in babying you like you were bound to fail. That wasn’t even mentioning the board, made up of all men from old money who mostly seemed to hire you for humor and bragging rights. Even still, this wasn’t even mentioning Superintendent Simmons, who talked to you like he was a lion with a mouse in its paws.

So, sure, you had reasons to be aloof around the people surrounding you, but Chris’s nagging was starting to bother you. Yes, you were leagues more organized and fastidious than you had been growing up, and you even took some solace in sprucing up your space, but you also had to recognize you were quick to do that instead of facing problems at times. It was easy to organize the kitchen for the fourth time or clean out your closet, but it wasn’t always easy to deal with adult problems. You took great pride in your appearances, because looking capable helped you feel capable, but did that mean you were? It was difficult to say, almost as difficult as deciphering Yeji’s bemused look on your way into the office on Monday.

A gorgeous bouquet of flowers was sitting on your desk. You curiously walked over, plucking the small envelope from within the buds and gently prying it open.

Hello Stranger,

1. Are these still your favorite color? You mentioned it years ago so I could be wrong.

2. I’m sorry about Friday again. I know I’m a hot-head and what I did was terrible. You’re not stuck-up, and you’re not a tyrant. When I think back to that summer, I thought we were on the same page, and now you make it look so easy while I feel like I’m completely lost and failing the whole time. I appreciate you helping me. Thank you.

A stiff sigh fell from your lips as you looked at the note in your hands, with Chris’ dumb, nice handwriting giving you a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You quickly paged Ryujin and Yeji into your office. Once both girls were sat waiting for you, it was time for the dreaded question.

“What do people think of me?”

Both girls looked like they’d seen their lives flash before their eyes as you sat at your desk and did some quick typing. When you showed them your screen, they both gasped. There was you, all acne and unfortunate appearance choices at your high school graduation. “It’s not a loaded question,” you promised, “think of it more as a confirmation. I think I’m trying too hard to hide this person.” You gave the girl in the photo a sympathetic look. She was bright, funny, and brimming with potential — even you could see that.

Yeji surprisingly sighed out her answer first. “The other office staff were still whispering about you when you hired me. They said you just wanted to hire other young women to look progressive.”

All three of you rolled your eyes at the sentiment before Ryujin piped up. “The board does like you… because they think you’ll do their bidding. They think you’re ruthless. The teachers think you have an iron fist. The Superintendent? Well, you know how he feels.”

A sour grimace pulled at your lips. “Why don’t I like any of that?”

“Is it because it’s not what she would want?” Yeji thoughtfully asked you as she nodded in the direction of the photo on your computer screen. You thought back to what Chris had said, about wanting to be the person he wanted around at that age. It was such a trip, thinking of what that girl would do if she saw you now. She’d give you a belligerent sneer and close herself off from you because you were a cold witch and you knew it. The girls watched as your shoulders softened, sinking into your chair as you pulled out your phone and found Chris’ number that Yeji had fetched for you.

>>Thanks for the flowers. I’ll be by tomorrow so we can try this all again before the board meeting dinner on Wednesday.

There were decidedly less stares as you walked down the halls of the high school again the next day when the lunch period began. You saw Johnny try to catch your attention out of the corner of your eye, but you simply waved as you passed his office. You had a sneaking suspicion it was about your outfit. As opposed to Friday’s jeans, you felt much more comfortable being more comfortable as opposed to someone you thought you should be. The pencil skirt remained, only now in a cozier dark pallet and much comfier material. The biggest changes were pairing the skirt with a soft flannel shirt and a smart pair of suede oxfords. You felt exposed in how dressed down you were again, but Chris’ surprised smile as you stood in the doorway of his classroom reassured you. He looked good, his hair moderately styled back and wearing another smart blazer over another old band tee. You could see he was even wearing chinos today, still managing to coordinate them with some worn boots not unlike the pair you used to own all those years ago. It was a good look, one that made you a bit more bashful than you had been already.

“Hello, stranger,” you cheekily greeted from the doorway.

“Hey,” he smiled back, motioning for you to come in.

“Hungry?” You asked, fishing a bag out of your purse and placing it in his hands. He peered inside as you set your purse on his desk.

“Are these—?”

“I felt so awful this weekend,” you sighed as you leaned against his desk, still unable to keep from straightening stacks of his papers, “and especially after yesterday. I couldn’t think straight so I cleaned my apartment and made you some cookies.”

“You made me cookies?” He asked incredulously before taking a bite. You could’ve sworn his eyes actually sparkled for a moment. “Alright, these are so good there’s no way you still can’t think straight.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “Just like you were already right, about almost everything. But you left one detail out.”

“What’s that?” Chris grinned around a mouthful of cookie.

“You make it look pretty easy yourself,” you smiled softly. Chris raised an eyebrow.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I know you do,” you laughed, “but it’s true! You’ve already done just fine in an industry of your choosing and impulsively decided to become an educator? And you just happen to be financially smart enough to have a house already? It’s reckless but it’s admirable.”

Chris choked on the last of his cookie, his dark hair falling out of place as he composed himself. “I, er, should be up front about that.”

“About what?”

“About deciding to change directions,” Chris sighed. “I had a giant proposal on my hands. I could have had my own company and my own team, but it was a huge investment entirely depending on me and my success. I froze up. I had enough. It felt way too big. I got rid of my fancy apartment, I got rid of my suits and watches, and I just moved.” A sigh fell from Chris’ lips as he folded his arms. He couldn’t meet your imploring stare. “I wish I could do what you do,” he continued. “I want to march headfirst into every single thing no matter what people think of me.”

A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You covered your mouth as your face heated up. “I’m terrified,” you explained. “Just like you were scared to take that chance, just like you and most of us are reasonably scared of these kids — I’m terrified. I’ve worn suits to attend sports events and picnics with the staff from how terrified I am of them.”

“Well, you look really good today,” Chris beamed at you, but the distracted nuance of his gaze didn’t let it last long. You playfully sat back on his desk, trying to keep his mood up.

“I feel good today.”

“I lied, by the way,” Chris sheepishly blurted. “I know we kissed that night. I thought about it all the time. I didn’t go out with anyone for almost a whole year, I thought about it so much. If you knew I still remembered, I would be too tempted to get distracted. But I’m getting distracted anyway, so I thought you should know. You look really good today.”

A flattered smile pulled at your lips as you reached for Chris’ hand where it rested on the desk. His hand was warm and gentle in yours and he looked up at you, silently gauging your look to see if it was alright to lean up more into your space… when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Johnny.

>I was trying to get your attention when you came in. Simmons is here TOURING THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT. Get that time bomb out of there NOW.

But it was far too late. Superintendent Simmons could be heard talking to Doyoung in the hallway. Chris watched curiously as you whirled around just in time to catch them appearing in the open doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Kim, I’d love to hear your plans for the year but— ah, hello, dear!”

You winced at the use of the word “dear” but fought it back. “Superintendent,” you nodded cordially, “what’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to take a stroll through the department,” the older man coolly insisted, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I also thought I could finally meet young Christopher here since I wasn’t sure if he was accompanying you to the meeting tomorrow.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Your question was stated friendly enough, even as you subtly waved a calming hand back to Chris to keep him back.

The Superintendent shrugged. “You know how it is, dear. My son takes his class but I haven’t even met the man before. We’re certainly not exempt from being aware of current goings-on and I wanted to see who all the fuss was about.”

“Do I live up to your expectation?” Chris suddenly asked, unmistakably indignant as he came forward.

“Seeing as my expectations were of a naive, insubordinate, carpe-diem-prescribing kid,” Simmons smirked, “then yes.”

“Excuse me, Superintendent,” you huffed sharply, “but I do not appreciate you speaking to Mr. Bang that way, first as one of my staff members and second as my partner.”

“Oh-ho!” Mr. Simmons threw his head back with a laugh. “Your partner? How unbecoming of you, dear. Now, I would normally do the professional courtesy of discussing this in private, but as you always deem it appropriate to throw a fit, I’ll do it here— you know we need to terminate Mr. Bang. Too much liability.”

A wildfire ignited behind your eyes before you quickly jumped into action. If you had a moment to spare, you would’ve considered the possible consequences. “Mr. Simmons,” you spat, “you know for a fact there are liabilities just as big, if not bigger, right under your nose, just like I know for a fact Mr. Bang is in possession of a confiscated note containing quite the insinuation that your son Christian is having a very close and troubling relationship with one of Mr. Kim’s most promising freshmen.”

You hazarded a look behind you and Chris returned it, petrified. It was a low, risky blow, but an apparently fair one as Mr. Simmons’ eyes grew wide. He stubbornly shook his head. “Christian is a smart boy who is studying hard and has no time—“

“—Christian turned 18 over the summer and wants to have as much fun as he can in high school before he goes to college,” Chris finally spoke up. “He’s said as much in class, and if I recall correctly, that girl is 14. I can show you the letter. He met her at a party that she doesn’t remember but all she knows is she is woefully in love with him. As your son’s teacher I’m a mandated reporter if I think this is an unsafe situation for either of them.”

“You want to play executioner with a man you admitted you just met? Fine,” you warned. “But just like your gossip, you’re not exempt from this, either.”

At that moment, Doyoung sheepishly poked his head into the open doorway, politely coughing to get the attention of Mr. Simmons, who was now sputtering until his face had turned red. “Mr. Superintendent,” Doyoung timidly spoke up, “perhaps you would like to come discuss those plans—“

“Fine time for you to decide to act like a teacher,” Simmons growled towards Chris, before he thrust a fat finger into your chest. “This isn’t done, dear. He’s on thin ice, and now you are, too. Let’s see how long it can hold both of you.” Superintendent Simmons turned on his heel, marching out the door past Doyoung and towards his classroom. Doyoung leaned into the room, giving you both a look that remarkably appeared to be sympathetic support. “Are you alright?” He quietly asked.

You nodded shallowly, still a bit stunned. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kim.” Chris was seemingly dazed as you turned to face him. “Mr. Bang, can I see you in your office?”

Chris barely nodded himself, having gone pale during your confrontation, and Doyoung silently wished you well before closing the door behind him and trotting down the hall after the older man. You clutched onto Chris’ sleeve and pulled him into his office, guiding him in before you quietly closed the door.

You realized you were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling hard with adrenaline as you looked behind you to check on Chris. He was staring back at you, almost shocked, even as you gently took his hand again to make sure he was alright. His fingers had turned clammy where they squeezed yours, and you shared a brief silence, recovering and staring at each other until he finally spoke up.

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Yes, Mr. Bang,” you nodded, leaning back against the door and pulling him a little closer. You felt a bit lightheaded. “I wanted you to finish your thought from before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully, now cutting right to it as he followed your hand in his to press against you where you leaned against the door. His lips hesitated a mere breath away before he finally kissed you, deep and seemingly driven by every kiss he’d wanted to give you since that night years ago. You could’ve sworn you tasted cotton candy and his lip ring again, maybe even smell evergreen trees if you weren’t mistaken by his cologne. It was electric, re-energizing enough that Chris seemed to finally realize what just happened outside in his classroom.

“Holy shit,” Chris gasped like he just came up for air. “Did I just threaten the—“

Chris’ frantic recollection persisted even as you continued to kiss him. “Did you just warn the superintendent that he is better off tending to matters closer to home in more need of his attention? Yes.”

“Holy shit, I’m going to be fired,” Chris lamented, but even still he let his lips run over your jaw, falling into you and pressing you into the door.

“No, you’re not,” you shook your head as you cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you for a moment. “He would’ve said so. He knows this is bad and it’s going to be a pain to deal with.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to—“

“Report? You just said you should. Honestly, Mr. Kim probably would’ve already if he read the letter more closely in the first place.” You held his gaze as you led his hands around your waist and he quickly got the hint, wrapping around you and diving back into you. “Am I still a ballbuster?” You breathlessly chuckled.

He nodded heartily as he nibbled and kissed your neck. “I love it.” Chris hesitated as he pulled away from your throat, almost asking permission as he kissed you hard against the door, his tongue hot and needy against yours as he almost knocked the breath out of you.

“Mr. Bang—“ you gasped, and you felt him shiver in the cutest way. He seemed emboldened to let his hands get a little braver, following your hint when you led them to the waistband of your skirt, and he fumbled with your shirt as he untucked it and began unbuttoning it. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling so vulnerable to someone you hadn’t known long but had been thinking of for years, and maybe you weren’t the only one. Chris’ breath seemed to catch in his throat as he leaned back enough to see, his hungry eyes falling on you as he pulled open your shirt and became impatient for more. You gasped again as he pushed you back against the door, his strong hands now tenderly roaming down your chest and groping your breasts as he kissed you before he came back to the waist of your skirt again. His confidence seemed to be returning in full now as his hands firmly ran down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, his lips trailing down your chest and nuzzling your cleavage as he gingerly lifted it. Another gasp caught in your lungs as his fingertips wandered up your legs and paused, his trepidation even spreading to the extent that he seemed hesitant to kiss you again. You reached up to gently cup his face, his cheek warm against your palm as you tried to see what could possibly be wrong in this moment. Out there, sure, that was all understandable, but in this tiny office there was no reason for anything to be wrong.

“Mr.—“ you began softly, instantly cutting yourself off as you realized. Oh. “Chris,” you began, more confidently now, “are you alright?”

He sighed out a small laugh before he finally kissed you again. “I am. I just missed you, is all. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening, so Mr. Bang is going to be fine for my students but I’d much prefer it if you and I are more personal than that.”

“I can do that,” you grinned, that stunted gasp from earlier finally coming back and completing as Chris finally let himself caress you under your skirt, getting as personal as you both were yearning for. His fingertips were firm but slow, purposeful as they teased the hem of your panties but continued over them to feel you between your legs, making you so aware of your heat against his hand. He smirked as you shivered at his touch, and you felt your face heat up. “Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly, “it’s been a while.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Chris assured you, finally gasping himself as you regained your mental footing and let your hand drop, trailing down his chest to get an exploratory grip on his growing erection in his pants before you brought him back to kiss you again. His muffled sighs and moans grew feverish as you teased him through his clothes, up to the moment he pressed your hips back against the closed door. You watched curiously as Chris’ lips ghosted down your chest and stomach until he was on his knees for you, dangerously close to nuzzling your damp heat until you let yourself subtly roll your hips towards his mouth. He took the cue to instantly pull the thin fabric aside, just enough that he could dip his tongue into your folds.

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off you as he lapped you up, one hand holding your panties aside and the other clutching onto your bared thigh as you squirmed and mewled for him. Your fingers stroked back through his hair as he held you tight and hungrily licked until he just happened to hit the perfect spot. That, of course, was when he stopped, leaning away and his shiny lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. “I need you so bad,” he drawled, “I’m getting impatient.”

“You?” You giggled sarcastically. “Impatient? Impossible.”

Nevertheless, Chris rocked back onto his feet and pulled you over to his desk before he sat you on top of it, gently pulling your knees apart to step between them. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” you nodded. “Do it.”

Chris grinned shyly as he unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down enough to reveal his hard cock, groaning as you brazenly grabbed his length and pumped it a few times in your hand before guiding him into you. You both gasped in tandem now as you were stretched open, and your legs quickly found purchase around his hips as he kissed you again, the faintest taste and scent of your wetness still on his lips. He filled you out unexpectedly, prodding deep into you in this angle and his girth just wide enough at the base to make you whimper each time he bottomed out.

“God, this is so good,” Chris groaned against your lips, “you’re so good. I’ve thought of this so many times.” His groans and whispered curses were hot in your ear as he fucked you on the desk, and you were both lost in this endless moment while you both sounded like you were steadily climbing your respective peaks until you noticed his prolonged smirk.

“What’s so funny?” You jokingly accused.

“Nothing,” Chris shook his head with a breathless smile, “I’m just surprised. I honestly expected you to be a little more in charge.”

“Oh, am I not as dominant as you thought?” You pouted for effect, seeming to only convince him for a second before you kicked him back into his chair anyhow and willingly taking his bait. He watched, his hands clutching the armrests with intrepid excitement as you dropped onto his lap. “Is this more what you had in mind?”

“Actually, yeah,” Chris nodded hungrily as you raised your hips, just enough to pull your panties to the side and grind your soaked pussy against the head of his cock. You both sighed in pleasure at the sensation as you took your sweet time dipping his length into you just the slightest bit, your lips parted to barely kiss him the whole time you teased yourself against him. He actually waited patiently as you barely rolled your hips lower into him, even as he began to get impatient again. “Heh, hey,” Chris laughed under his breath, “aren’t you gonna—“

“Whatever happened to your lip ring?” You asked him, teasingly oblivious to his question.

“My wha— oh, that?” Chris was almost delirious trying to rock his hips up into you. “Don’t laugh, but I didn’t think it looked very professional when I first interviewed. I already wasn’t wearing it out to events and meetings, so not wearing it to school made sense.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” you smirked as you playfully pretended you were about to kiss him over and over, your lips ghosting over his own time and time again as his cock surreptitiously tried to work deeper into you, “but that’s ridiculously funny. You’re literally still wearing your earrings, and don’t try telling me that’s different. Weren’t you waiting for something, by the way?”

“Was I waiting—? Come on, aren’t you going to…?”

“Aren’t I going to what?” You asked innocently. Chris’ head lolled back against the head of his chair in exasperation.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” His question was quiet, almost as if he were shy to be saying it out loud, but he asked it nevertheless.

“Sure,” you shrugged casually, “are you going to wear that lip ring for me sometime? I want to see if it has the same effect.”

“Anything, if you’re that easy,” Chris quipped, even as he was unable to hide the excited tremble in his voice.

“I’m easy?” You asked, eyebrows raised as you finally sank deep onto Chris’ erection and kissed him again. His muffled groan was thick, laced with satisfaction as you began to ride him in earnest. The hot moans falling from his lips echoed your own impassioned whimpers, only growing more feverish as you angled your hips down, enabling yourself to grind your clit down against his lap. By now you were so lost in it that were thoroughly soaked through your panties you were still wearing.

“Are you sure you’re not easy?” Chris chuckled exhaustedly, even as he nuzzled against your heaving cleavage and gripped tight onto your hips. It was his turn to whimper as you desperately ran your fingers through his hair to clutch onto him as you felt your peak coming fast. Chris must’ve not been far behind, considering the way he sweetly groaned your name against your skin, as if to personally coax out your orgasm.

The air between you was hot, static, and the way Chris held you was surprisingly affectionate. Despite how much ire and sarcasm had been slung between you previously, now you were both rendered speechless, your staccato breaths falling heavy in the spaces between your sighs and moans. Giving in to Chris didn’t feel like giving up like you had been afraid of for some reason. Reality seemed to be that he may even be quite fond of you, maybe even more than you’d previously imagined, despite how much you did or didn’t change. He obviously wanted to do more than kiss you, and now it seemed he wanted to do more than just fuck you. Chris’ fingertips dug into your hips as he thrust up against you, and you suddenly caught yourself meeting his gaze. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the blown out arousal in his eyes probably echoing your own impending orgasm slowly rising up your spine and making your head spin. He seemed to catch this as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and pressing his lips to your throat as he pistoned his hard length deep inside you, the head dragging along your sensitive walls and daring you to cum.

So you finally did. It hit you hard, giving you barely a moment’s notice for you to grab onto Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck as your core shuddered, radiating out to your quaking thighs and trembling fingers as your heightened moans hit a fever pitch. This, of course, was the final straw for Chris, his orgasm not far behind yours as he tensed up, palms pushing flat against the small of your back as he rutted into you with a broken groan. He uttered a sharp curse under his breath, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his own climax spilling into you as you finished riding out your own on his lap.

It felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulders as you both fought for breath and you finally realized how cramped it was straddling Chris in his desk chair, the armrests uncomfortably digging into your legs. As if to mitigate this silent complaint you had, Chris gently began to ease you off of him as he simultaneously pulled you to him for a tiredly satisfied kiss. The bright lights in your eyes finally dulled and the imaginary cotton in your ears finally fell out, letting the sound return to normal. You could hear the low drone of the air conditioner, the muted hum of the hard drive in Chris’ laptop, the clatter of the classroom doorknob outside turning open—

Chris heard it, too, with how he bolted upright with you in his lap. You both stared at the door of his office in terror; this was no way for the assistant superintendent to be found, in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs wrapped around a teacher who was still in a heap of trouble, and you had no chance of escape. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Chris quickly pushed at your retreating knees, apparently on the same page as you when he helped you slide off his lap and under his desk. You scrambled forward to grab at his chair and wheel him close as he desperately stuffed himself back in his pants and tried to make himself presentable. A knock came at the door and Chris quickly wiped the accumulated perspiration off his brow.

“Come in—!“ he coughed, trying to sound chipper and casual, and as if he didn’t just orgasm with you barely two minutes prior. He gave you one crazed look to make sure you were alright shoved under the desk before the door to his office gingerly opened.

“Hey—“

Doyoung?

“Mr. Kim!” Chris sat up a little straighter, inadvertently kicking you in your shin in the process and nearly making you curse out loud. You reflexively punched him in the knee, making him jump as he tried to appear natural. “Is everything alright?”

“What, with me? I’m fine. It’s just...” Doyoung sighed, apparently not moving from where he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the tiny office. “Was it true, what you said about the superintendent’s son?”

“It was,” Chris said solemnly. “Would you like to see the letter again?” His question was genuine, any ill feelings towards the other teacher seeming to have dissipated by now. Your ears perked up as Chris leaned forward. You could hear papers shuffled overhead. He still had it? You could hear a piece of paper being handed to Doyoung, whose sigh only multiplied.

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, “that’s so…”

“I know,” Chris commiserated. “Will Samantha—“

“I’ll talk to Sam,” Doyoung resolved, “but first, about the other day, I’m sorry about—“

“Mr. Kim, you don’t have to apologize,” Chris insisted, “tensions were high, you were upset, and you were protecting your student. If you’d like to help me report this I’d appreciate that. You’re a good teacher.”

“So are you, Mr. Bang,” Doyoung conceded sheepishly. “Maybe you can join me in the teacher’s lounge for lunch tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

You could hear the smooth heel of Doyoung’s oxford turn to leave and Chris backed up from the desk. The sigh of relief you both let out revealed that you had apparently been holding your breath. He slumped back in the chair before leaning forward to offer you an assisting hand.

“Oh, one more thing—“

Chris snapped upright in his chair, accidentally kicking you again before his knees knocked into the top of his desk. He grinned through it as he attempted to look nonchalant again. “Yeah?”

“So,” Doyoung began stiffly, “you and her are, like… a thing?”

“Er,” Chris floundered for a second. “Yes. Why?”

“Why? Oh, I mean, it’s nothing,” Doyoung fumbled, “I meant, I guess, is it serious?”

Chris’ Adam’s apple could barely be seen bobbing with his sudden gulp from your vantage point, and you didn’t blame him. Serious? It wasn’t a stretch to imagine his ears turning beet red again. Your thighs were beginning to get sore where you were folded under the desk. “No! I mean, not yet,” Chris said, his stammer matching Doyoung’s now. “I want it to be, though. I really like her. Why?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You felt like such a sucker, but why did you also feel so smitten?

“No reason,” Doyoung laughed politely. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. She looks different with you, you know? You look good together. See you later.”

The door finally clicked closed and you both waited for the classroom door to do the same before it was Chris’ turn to let out the breath he’d been holding. He sighed heavily, melting into his chair before sliding back. His gentle hand reached down to help you out from under the desk. You held his hand, his fingers warm in yours as he met your gaze. “Hello, stranger,” he grinned, “did you have fun under the desk?” Chris fussed with your clothes, helping smooth your skirt back out and buttoning your blouse back up before he realized you were staring at him. He suddenly looked concerned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of your expression. “What? Is everything alright?”

“You want this to be serious?”

Chris almost flinched as he defensively tried to figure out your tone. He settled for getting back up from his chair and squaring up against you once again, arms folded matter-of-factly like he anticipated a confrontation. “You know what? I do.”

“This isn’t even real, Chris,” you smirked, flattered by his sincerity. “We don’t even like each other, remember?”

He let out an exasperated laugh. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Go ahead, then, tell me how we aren’t real.”

“Well,” you smiled, “you haven’t asked me out, for one thing.”

It seemed Chris finally caught up to your game. “Fine,” he sarcastically scoffed. “Would you like to go out with me some time?”

“Sure,” you playfully shrugged with a smile. “How about now? Are you hungry?”

Chris was amused as he pulled you close into his arms. “You know what? I’m actually not.”

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #kwritersworldnet #kprosenet #bang chan x reader #bang chan breakdown

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bangtanloverboys · 4 years

Text

i’d be home with you // knj

summary - death is inevitable, it’s something you cannot escape. it only hurts more when it you die too young.

pairing - ghost!namjoon x female! reader

genre - angst, hurt/comfort; ghost au

word count - 7.7k

warnings - peer pressure, drugs, alcohol consumption, anxiety attack, major character deaths (duh), police, accidental deaths, crying, vomiting, drinking as a coping mechanism, communicating with the dead, psychics, moving on, acceptance of death

author’s note - this is for the final tile in my bingo ‘ghost au’. this really hurt me writing it and im sad, but i hope you guys like it

Namjoon had a lot of regrets, despite living a fairly cautious lifestyle. But since he died all he had left was regretting stuff he didn’t get to do sooner. Dying at 23 via accidental overdose? Hell of a way to die when he was someone who struggled to even tell a waiter that they gave him the wrong order, but that’s how he met his end.

There were so many things he didn’t get to experience: getting his Masters, graduating college, finding the love of his life, having children with said love of his life, growing old, retiring, spending time with grandkids if he had any. But all of that was cut short by just one single party and one single decision.

His brother, Seokjin, dragged him along to one of his dumb frat parties. All Namjoon wanted to do that evening was just study for his anthropology final that was coming up the following weekend but in his brother’s terms he needed to quote-unquote “Take a chill pill”. He dragged him over to some random townhouse a couple miles away from the university, handed him a cup of alcohol and abandoned him.

Namjoon didn’t drink, just didn’t think it was all that appealing to him. He sat silently in the corner of the room, keeping himself flush to the wall. He pretended to sip the plastic cup that was in his hand, trying not to draw any attention to himself whatsoever. It wasn’t until he was approached by a young brown haired man that his fate was sealed.

“‘Sup man, you look like you need a bit of fun.” The man said, a small smirk on his lips as he raised a small baggie of white pills.

“I- uh, I’m good. Thanks.” Namjoon quickly panicked, turning him down and quickly started looking around for his brother. This wasn’t his scene. He just wanted to go home now.

“Nah, come on man! You look like you need a bit of destressing, just take a couple. On the house.” He watched in abject horror as the guy opened the maggie and poured some into his hand. He took Namjoon’s free hand and put the pills in his palm. “Go on! Feels great.” He winked at him as he leaned against a wall, waiting for him to take the drugs.

Despite only the stranger’s gaze on him, he felt like everyone at the party was staring at him. Waiting for him to take the pills. His heart was pounding, he should give them back and just walk home. With or without Seokjin. Instead he found himself slowly lifting the pills to his mouth, throwing them in and taking a swig of the cup in his hand to wash it down. The alcohol was bitter on his tongue and they clumped together as they went down his esophagus.

“Yeaah man!” With a heart shaped smile, the man slapped him on the shoulder, “Enjoy it man. See me if you need anymore later.” And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Namjoon just stood there, head pounding as the lights bleared his vision and he swear he could feel the floors vibrate beneath his feet with the base of the stereo. Despite him not even moving, he felt like he was spinning and hanging upside down. Was it getting hot in here? Why did his limbs feel cold? He pushed himself from the wall, pushing his way through the sea of people between him and the way out.

“Heyyy!! Joonie! Get over here!” The voice of his brother called out to him, he turned to see the man himself walk over to him and pull him out of the crowd. “I see you were gettin’ jiggy, eh? Finally letting loose?”

“Jin, I-I don’t feel so good. I need-”

“Oh quit it Namjoon!” Seokjin scoffed at him. “Just take another drink and chillax!” He took the cup in his hand and brought it to Namjoon’s lips, forcing him to gulp down more of the burning liquid.

With that, his brother walked away. He felt himself get sucked back into the crowd of dancers, pushing and pulling him in all directions. His heartbeat was in his head, the base of the music was in his stomach. His chest was tight and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. All he knew at this point was the people he was surrounded by. Dancing, screaming, singing. It was loud and hot and nauseating. Yet despite the heat of the bodies around him, he felt cold. All he knew was what was in that crowd of people: sweat, heat, and constant movement.

After that the world just seemed to turn black.

He woke up the next early morning to sirens; red and blue lights flashing outside the windows. That should’ve been his first clue. His second clue should’ve been the lack of a hangover he should be having. Namjoon walked down the hallway he was in and into the living room where a couple he didn’t know were talking to police, alongside a few other party goers were all sitting on the couch.

“H-hey what’s going on?” He asked as he approached them, but he was ignored. “Um, hello?” He waved his hand, trying to catch their attention. He felt his chest tighten, what was going on? Why were they ignoring him? When he heard an officer call out for a Mr. Kim, he almost cried from relief, “That’s me!”

But the officer walked right past him and out onto the porch, where a young man sat with a blanket laid over his shoulders. “Mr. Kim, I’m sorry to bug you at this time but we need a statement.” The man said to him. The young man nodded and stood up to face the officer. To Namjoon’s horror it was Seokjin, his eyes red and puffy. He’d never seen his brother look so distraught. “Are you alright for me to ask you a few questions?”

“Yeah,” his voice croaked out.

“Did Namjoon, or anyone else in your family, have a history of drug abuse?” The question threw him for a loop.

“No!” He yelled at the officer. “I have never-”

“No, he-” Jin cut him off with a sniffle. “He’s never used drugs before, I dragged him out to this party. And-and it’s my fault he’s dead.”

Namjoon’s entire world seemed to collapse in on itself. “What?! I’m not dead! I’m right here! Seokjin! Seokjin, look at me!” He cried out as he tried to push past the threshold of the door but some invisible force kept him in. “Seokjinnie, please! Hyung!” He screamed as he watched the officer place a hand on his shoulder as his older brother sobbed.

He looked ahead of them and saw a white van labeled ‘CORNOR’ just shut its doors, only giving him a split second to see the tell-tale black body bag inside before the other door shut.

At that moment, another officer walked out the front door. Walking right through him. He watched as the man visibly shuddered before talking to the officer about giving Seokjin more time before asking questions. The air left his lungs, not that he had any in there to begin with. He clutched his chest and ran. He ran through the walls of the town house towards the back door, only for the same thing to happen at the front door happen again. An invisible barrier holding him in.

He needed to be in an enclosed space. Glancing around, he saw an open closet tucked beneath the small staircase to the master bedroom. Namjoon burst into another run and slammed the door of the closet shut and let out an ungodly scream; crying out for his mother, brother, someone, anyone to hear him and tell him it was going to be okay. The only person came was an officer to investigate the slam but no one else came. No one saw him.

He died August 28th, 1994. He was 23 years old. Cause of death was drug induced heart attack. The pills the stranger gave him were part of a bad batch or laced with something else, at least that’s what the owner’s of the house mentioned when he listened in on their conversations. At first he felt bad about it, but he couldn’t leave the townhouse so what else could he do? Watch paint dry?

After a while the frat guys who lived in the house moved out, not feeling comfortable with knowing that a guy died in their hallway on their watch. Namjoon didn’t hold any ill will towards them. It wasn’t their fault. Hell, he was such a forgiving person, he wasn’t even that mad at the guy who gave him the drugs. So he didn’t know exactly why he was stuck here, in a small townhouse. But there he was. And he tried his best to deal with it.

While it certainly did suck the first few months of just trying to deal with people walking through him and not being able to be heard; being dead wasn’t so bad when Namjoon thought about it. It did get a bit lonely sometimes, not being able to talk to anyone outside of his own half conversations with the tenants that moved into the townhouse.

Sometimes the tenants of the house figured out that the place was haunted; sometimes they’d bring in psychics, who were definitely fake as no matter how much he tried to tell them he was a nice ghost they always spouted some bullshit of a vengeful spirit. Sometimes they’d bring in their own ghost equipment and start talking, but soon as he got a word out they freaked and left. The place was constantly on and off the market until you.

You were a plucky university student who finally found a place that had low enough rent and was close enough to your school that you didn’t need a roommate. Despite Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s begging, you wanted a place to yourself and finding a 2 bedroom townhouse with rent that cheap? It was a steal! With the help of your two friends plus your older brother Yoongi, you were able to get all your stuff moved in within the day!

You didn’t understand why the place never had steady tenants; sure there was a history of noises and cold spots, but it was an old house built in the 70s. Of course it’s gonna have some old stuff that needs fixing.

Namjoon watched in silence as the four of you went in and out of the house. A few times you did walk near him and visibly shiver, your friends even mentioned the cold spots to you, but you waved it off as if it was nothing. “Just the heater, I’ll talk to the landlord. See if he can do anything about it.” Now he wasn’t an engineer or anything, but he’s seen the heater and there’s nothing wrong with it, it was definitely him you were feeling. But he just had hopes that whoever the landlord hired would say the same to you.

He was quickly able to get a quick gage on your friends; the brown haired one being Jungkook, he could easily tell he was the youngest of the group by how the rest of you babied him. The blue haired one was Taehyung, but there was something about him that was familiar almost. He reminded him of his brother, how handsome he was. Lastly the dark haired man was Yoongi, at first he wasn’t sure about your relationship to him, seeing how he was the oldest out of all of you, but he quickly came to realize you were siblings by the way you teased each other. He found a lot of joy watching the four of you bicker and talk as you all set up certain aspects of your new place.

“Are you sure you don’t want a roommate?” Jungkook whined as he brought in the last of the boxes. “I swear, I’ll do all the laundry and chores just pleaaasee?”

“Sorry, Jungkookie.” You laughed at your friend. “But the lease is signed and I got everything I want planned out already. You can go room with Taehyung!”

“But he gets paint all over my shit though!” He groaned as he set the last box down on the counter.

“Hey, if she says she’s okay for her own place I believe her.” Yoongi said as he left your room. “Your bed is all set up by the way.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Thank you, Yoongle.” You smile at your older brother, happy he was able to get your bed together before it was too late in the day. “Now I just gotta find my sheets and I’ll be able to sleep in bed.” You chuckled.

“Which are right here,” You turn to see Taehyung holding a bag full of your blankets and pillows. “Want me to bring them over to your room?” He tossed his head in the direction of where you claimed your bedroom would be.

“Please and thank you!” You gave him a wide smile as he made his way down towards your room to drop them.

“You sure you don’t want me to spend the night tonight?” Yoongi asked, “First nights are scary, believe me.”

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry!”

And you were. You thought you’d have a bit of difficulty adjusting to being alone, but for some reason you didn’t really feel alone? If that made any sense. You’d think after living with your brother the past few years you’d instantly notice being alone. Physically you knew you were but at the same time, deep down you knew you weren’t. Whatever this feeling was, you didn’t mind it. Hell, the weird feeling comforted you. Helped you prove to your brother that you didn’t need any extra help.

Namjoon was kinda baffled at how willfully ignorant you were. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve moved in and he notices you do tend to lose stuff and don’t really question it when he suddenly places it where you can easily find it again. He likes watching you get ready and organizing your place. (Of course, when he sees that you’re getting dressed or getting ready for bed he’ll give you your privacy.) Sometimes he’ll kinda give some ghosty help and straighten up some of the crooked frames you hung up. Being the friendly ghost roommate he is.

You called the landlord not too long ago and he said that a lot of the past tenants had complained about it not working or it always being cold in the house so he told you he was just going to replace it. You were excited! Brand new heater! And with the nights starting to get colder, you’re really going to need it.

It was on a Tuesday when the landlord came to change the heater, which was strange. Namjoon watched as you let the landlord in to work as you left for your early morning class, now the few times he’s seen the landlord and stuff being fixed is few. Normally he’ll have a professional come over and work on it, that’s what happened a few years ago when he accidentally shoved a spoon down the kitchen drain and the tenant called his services.

He watched with curiosity as the landlord dragged in the brand new heater, box in all, as well as his tool box and got to work. Something in the back of Namjoon’s mind didn’t feel right, so he kept an eye on the man as he installed the heater himself. Again, he wasn’t an electrician and knew nothing of installing heaters, but he knew that he was doing it wrong. He was pushing and slamming against it, trying to get it to fit on the pipes. Namjoon anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, debating on trying to fuck with him and push the heater off. But before he could even do anything, you came home and the landlord dusted off his hands and closed the door to the heater.

You were so happy that it was finished, thanking the landlord profusely for getting you a new one and installing it. While it was gonna take a bit off of your deposit, and you were internally cringing at that, you knew it was a well needed thing to be done. Soon as he left, you turned on the heat, as it was a cool November day and your professor didn’t bother turning on the heat in her class at all. With the heat on, you grabbed some blankets and snuggled up to watch Netflix the rest of the day, not bothering to work on your essay that was due in a few days.

As the day slowly came to a close, you realized you were getting a small headache. You didn’t really think much of it, just popped an aleve and drank some water. Usual things that helped cure your headaches, but it didn’t seem to let up. You glanced at the time, it was about 7:30. “Might as well hit the hay early.” You yawned, stretching out and made your way to your room. You did stumble around a bit, damn did you not notice how tired you were? Not bothering to change out of your day clothes, you just crawled right into bed and fell asleep.

“Not good, this is very not good.” Namjoon was rightfully freaking out. The heater was not properly installed at all and as he couldn’t breathe, he knew that whatever was happening to you was not good. He scoured all over the house, looking for some sort of alarm he could set off, wake you up, get you out of the house. As it turns out, the fire alarm was busted. The landlord was too cheap to fix it and not bother telling you. He constantly went back and forth checking on your to make sure your chest was still rising and falling as he frantically tried to do anything to wake you up.

Nothing worked though. He hadn’t felt this frustrated since he first died and everyone was walking through him. He wanted to scream, but nothing worked. He couldn’t do much but watch you. Wait for you to wake up and realize something was wrong. Wait for you to die. Which ever happened first and he hoped it was the former. But no matter how much he hoped and prayed to whatever god there was out there, it was fruitless.

It was 1:36 am when you stopped breathing.

Namjoon lets out a choked out sob, he can’t believe it. He should’ve done something. He should’ve pushed the heater over while the landlord was still here. He should’ve done something to turn it off before you started suffering from the carbon monoxide that was pouring through your vents. He buried his head in his hands and he just cried. Cried for you, for your family. You had so much life ahead.

“Mmhmm, what’s going on?”

He stilled, he looked up and saw you on the floor, holding your head. He quickly glanced between you and your body and quickly jumped into action.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He got on his knees to help you to your feet, thankfully in your confusion you let him help you up and quickly escorted you away from your room. He wasn’t sure how you were going to react to the fact you had died, much less seeing your own dead body right in front of you. “Just follow me, you’re going to be okay.” He said as he brought you over to the couch and sat you down.

“Hmm, who are you? Where am I?” You were still very dazed, he wasn’t sure if that was just a side effect of the poisoning or just general confusion of death. Did different deaths affect ghosts differently? Or was it random to each person?

“My name is Namjoon, we’re in your house.” He answered as he knelt in front of you.

Your eyes slowly started focusing on him and when your vision cleared to see the stranger in your house, you rightfully screamed. “Who the fuck are you!? What are you doing in my house?!” You shouted scrambling to get away from him. “Get out before I call the police!!”

“Hey hey hey, wait!” He called out after you as you got to your feet and ran back to your room. “Don’t go in there! Wait! Y/N!”

Soon as you crossed the threshold of the room you screamed again. Because there you were, in bed. Not moving. Not breathing. You fell to your knees and screamed again; in horror, confusion, fear. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you just leaned into it, collapsing into the arms of a complete stranger.

Namjoon held you as you sobbed into him, fists tight around the shirt he died in. He tried his best to be a soothing presence for you, rubbing circles into your back and not letting you go until several hours had passed. A normal human being probably would’ve passed out from exhaustion by now, but you weren’t human anymore. You were a ghost.

By the time you had stopped crying the sun was starting to rise, you let Namjoon help you to your feet and back to the living room. You both sat down on the couch in silence, besides a couple of sniffles from you.

“Are. . are you the Grim Reaper?” You asked, your voice groggy from crying.

“Hm? Oh no, I uh, I’m a ghost. Like you actually.” He replied with a nervous chuckle. “I died here.”

“I figured,” you wiped your nose on the back of your hand. “Landlord said someone died back in ’94, I just thought it was some. . .some old guy. Old age. Didn’t think he’d be-you’d be close to my age.”

“How old are you?” He asked, trying to make light conversation and distract you.

“Uh, I turned 21 last month.” You gave him a tight smile. Then the two of you fell into silence.

“I’m 23, by the way.” God, it’s been so long since he’s had an actual conversation with someone that he completely forgot how to talk to people.

“But wouldn’t you be-”

“Nah I don’t really count the years afterward much. I don’t age and can’t leave the house, what’s the point in counting the years.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Can’t leave? What do you mean?” You looked at him, confused.

“Uh. . . you saw Beetlejuice right?” You nodded. “Kinda like that? Only instead of being teleported to some other sand dimension, you just get. . .blocked.”

“I guess there’s also no ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased’ either.” You let out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, that would’ve been very helpful.” He gave you a small, dimpled smile. Then the silence fell over you again, the only noise was the shudder of the heater as it shut off, then there was complete silence.

“How long?” You keep your gaze focused on your lap, pulling on your fingers.

“Hmm?”

“How long. . .are we going to be here?” Your body was still in the other room, how long until someone notices you were missing school? How long would it take your brother to know that you weren’t contacting him? You could go days without talking with him. . .

“Here? I don’t know. . . as for someone to notice. . .that all depends on the people around you. I died when there was just a frat party, so it was noticed immediately. . .”

You furrowed your brows at that, it sounded familiar. . .why did that sound familiar? You knew for a fact you didn’t research the one death in this house, but at the same time you feel like you’ve been told a story like that before. . .

It was Jungkook who found you a day and a half later.

“Y/N? Hello?” He was banging on the door, looking in between the windows. Namjoon held you close as you started to cry, you didn’t want Jungkook to see this. He shouldn’t have to see this. He must’ve found the hide-a-key because moments later he was in, you clung tighter onto Namjoon as your best friend of 10 years looked past you.

“Y/N?” He called out as he walked in, you turned your head into Namjoon’s chest as your friend made his way towards your room. You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard him talk. “Hey you okay? Haven’t seen you at school. . . Y/N? Y/N? Hey wake up-” He must’ve realized because next thing you know he’s running out of the house, right through you and Namjoon, he stumbles outside and onto the small patch of grass that is your lawn.

You pull yourself away from Namjoon’s grip, throwing yourself to the open door where you see Jungkook throwing up whatever's in his stomach and crying. You wanted to burst out of the house and just hold him, tell him you were okay, tell him you loved him one last time. But you couldn’t, all you could do was stand there and watch as he pulled out his phone and dialed the emergency number.

Soon enough there was a fire track, an ambulance, and several police cars lining the street. Namjoon tried to pull you away so you didn’t have to see what was going on, but you refused. You needed to see, you had to know what was going on. What was going to happen. BUt all those thoughts were thrown out the door when you saw your brother frantically pull up and run towards the house, pushing past officers trying to keep him away from the scene.

“Y/N?!” he screamed as the officers continued to hold him back. “Where’s my sister!? Is she okay?! Y/N!!”

“Yoongi! Yoongi I’m right here!” You screamed, banging against the force that confined you to the townhouse. Not caring if first responders walked right through you, you didn’t care. You just wanted your brother.

“Yoongi,” You saw Jungkook walk over to him, tears still falling from his face. You watched as the realization fell on his face. You were gone.

“No. No no no no no NO!” He clawed hysterically at the officers, begging and screaming at them to let him go. They only did as he fell to his knees, Jungkook right next to him and pulled him in close. Both of them crying their hearts out for you as people watched from beyond the police tape.

With the way your heater was improperly placed, it was an easy open and shut case. Carbon monoxide poisoning. Manslaughter. Your landlord was arrested and charged, plead guilty. He’ll get 3 years in prison. But that does little to resolve you or your family's grief.

It takes a while before your family has access to your house again, all the carbon monoxide cleared out from the space. The new landlady gives Yoongi a month to clear out your stuff. You watch there as your mom, dad, Yoongi, Jungkook, and Taehyung all stop by and help try and organize boxes. No tears are spared through the entire time, from them and your family.

Namjoon feels a bit awkward, staying off in the corner as you sit next to your mom as she folds all your clothes and puts them into boxes. He listens to your family as they tell stories about you, reminiscing on memories. He keeps a close eye on your though, despite him dying before, he never saw his family mourn. He’s unsure how you might deal with seeing them cry and divide up your stuff.

You only start to lose it when Yoongi finds the pink stuffed elephant he’d given you many years ago, hiding away amongst your pillows. When he pulls out the stuffed animal that was hidden away, you watched as he ran his thumb over the furry creature. He brought it close to his chest and let out a choked out sob. Unsure how much more you were able to take, you let out a scream.

Namjoon quickly ran over to the bedroom where you were on the floor, screaming and crying as Yoongi stood there crying, completely unaware of what was going on before him. “Hey hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He tried to calm you, but you weren’t having it.

“No! It’s not okay, Namjoon! I’m dead! Maybe you’d have time to accept things the way they were but I can’t!” You shouted, pushing him away from you. You let out another twisted scream that turned into a sob, shaking Namjoon to his very core. The amount of power and energy you put into that wail shook the bookcase behind you, a few of the books falling from their shelves. The man just sat there across from you as you curled into a ball and just cried, and cried, and cried. Not sure what else to say. What do you say to a girl who was wrongfully killed in her sleep? There’s nothing.

So caught up in your emotions and trying to keep you calm, neither of you see Yoongi notice stare at the bookcase and the fallen books.

The next few times your family and friends come to pack things up, Namjoon stays with you in the closet. Saying something about giving them space and you need space as well. At first you protest against it, not wanting to be confined to an even smaller space. But after watching your father tear up as he packed away your photos, you agreed. You couldn’t take much longer.

Several days had passed and all that was left in your townhouse was just the furniture. Your parents and brother arguing over who could keep what. There’s still a few boxes of your things scattered around the house, you wish you could steal a book or something to keep yourself occupied at least but you’d know they’d notice and find it right away.

Lightning cracks against the sky as rain pours down. To pass the time, Namjoon was telling you stories about the other tenants that had lived here; the frat boys, the families, the stoners, etc. You were in the middle of telling him a story about how you and Jungkook met Taehyung, how he at 17 years old stuck a bug up his nose on a dare when the front door slammed open. Lightning flashed behind the figure, giving you a quick outline of your brother with a bottle in his hand.

“Oh on, no no no.” You stood up to walk over to Yoongi but he just walked right through you. Soaked from the rain, he probably didn’t even feel the cold spot that was you.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Namjoon asked as your brother dropped his bag on the floor, taking another swig of the whiskey in his hand.

“Yoongi, he-he doesn’t like drinking. . .he only does when. . .” Your voice trailed off. Hurt is evident in your eyes as he places the alcohol on the ground and shuffles around in his backpack. Pulling out a black box and frantically tore it open, pulling out a small speaker and wires.

“Come on, turn on you. . stupid fuckin’ thing.” He slurred as he pushed several buttons on the speaker until it blarred to life, a loud buzzing noise filling the living room. “Y/N? Are you there?”

Your eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of your head. Never in your life did you think your brother would go to such lengths as to buy a spirit box?! You looked to Namjoon, unsure of what to do. He’s told you a couple times people figured out the place was haunted and they’d try to communicate with him, but this was different. He was looking for you. He only gestured for you to speak.

“Yoongi?” Soon as the words left your mouth, a robotic voice left the speakers and you swear he jumped ten feet in the air.

“Is-is it really you?” He clung to the speaker, bringing it closer to his face.

“It’s me,” you said. “I’m here.” The robotic voice followed after your’s. Yoongi let out a small cry, relieved you were here. You tried to say more but all that came out was garbled and mixed up. “Namjoon! What do I do?!”

“Calm down, small phrases.” Namjoon said, the spirit box picked up on his voice, repeating him as well.

“Y/N, are we alone?” Your brother stilled, looking around the room.

“No, someone else.” You said, sticking to the advice of small words and phrases.

“Who?”

“Namjoon, friend.” The man introduced himself. “Died here too.”

“This is. . .this is great? I think? Y/N, I- I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” His eyes welded up with tears as he spoke.

“It’s. . okay.” You slowly made your way over to your brother, you placed your hand right over his cheek. “I love you.”

You weren’t sure if he felt your presence or not but needless to say he shut off the machine and burst into tears, you cried as he cried. He sat down on the couch, taking a few more swigs of his bottle of whiskey. His cries eventually evolved into snores as he passed out. You could feel Namjoon’s eyes on you as you attempted to brush the hair from his eyes.

“I’m glad he didn’t do anything too stupid,” you sighed as you stood. “Or dangerous.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Y/N.” Namjoon said, as you made your way back over to him. Both of you just stand there, staring at your sleeping brother.

“Not your fault,” you responded. “Just, god, I hope someone takes care of him. . .”

“You have a very loving and caring family, Y/N. He’ll be okay,” he wrapped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into him. As time passed, you’ve gotten somewhat closer. You can’t help but be friendly with him as he’s the only other person you have, being stuck in a 2 bedroom, 1 and a half bath townhouse for the rest of eternity.

When Yoongi woke up the next morning he was grumpy, per usual of him drinking. He didn’t touch the spirit box though. Didn’t even look at it. He just shoved it in his backpack and left, leaving the whiskey behind. You’re glad he left it behind, but at the same time neither of you don’t know what to do with it.

Namjoon tried to teach you to harness some of your energy to move stuff, him having several years under his belt. He’s able to move things around with little to no struggle, seeing how he was able to move your stuff around before. You however, struggle to move it even a centimeter. But he tells you not to worry, saying it did take him several years to master.

About a week after your brother came by there’s a small crowd of people outside the door. Before you can even warn Namjoon, the door opens up and reveals him, Jungkook, Taehyung, a short blond man you don’t recognize, and-

“Seokin?!” Namjoon almost instantaneously recognized his brother, only he looked. . .older.

“You know him?” You almost had eyes as wide as he does, staring at him as he moves with the group of people into the kitchen.

“Yeah, he’s-he’s my brother.” He feels tears start to well up, stinging as he blinks them back.

“Your. . that would make you-”

“Taehyung, what am I doing here? You haven’t told me anything.” The eldest man complained as he settled into a chair.

“Dad, I told you just. . .just listen. Please.” Your blue haired friend sighed, giving his dad’s hand a quick squeeze.

You can only stare at Namjoon who in turn only stares at Taehyung and his father. That’s why his story sounded familiar. You vaguely remember hearing your friend’s dad say something about having a brother that died young. An accident. At a house. Your house.

The group of people settled around the table, only one left standing was the blond stranger who kept his eyes closed as he took a few deep breaths. His face was scrunched up every so slightly, like he was feeling for something.

“Oh no,” Namjoon groaned. “They brought a psychic.”

“I feel. . .” He started.

“Watch he’s going to say vengeful or something like that,” your ghostly friend crossed his arms with a huff.

“Oh I feel a lot of different things,” he giggled as he opened his eyes, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Mainly confusion but. . .there’s some relief and happiness mainly surrounding you sir.” The psychic pointed to Seokjin, who looked even more confused.

“Are they here?” Yoongi asked him as he settled down in his seat.

“Yes, your sister and your brother are in the room.” he said with a smile.

“I’m sorry, what?” Seokjin raised a brow in disbelief. “No, Taehyung. I’m not going to deal with some phony who is going to just make shit up about my brother” He started to get up from his seat.

“Dad, wait!” Taehyung called after him.

“Pink! He likes the color pink!”

“Does the color pink mean anything to you?” The psychic said, stilling Seokjin.

“Pink was his favorite color, but to anyone who asked him what his favorite color was it was orange.” Namjoon just spouted off the fact about his brother. The psychic didn’t repeat the statement verbatim, but got the point across nonetheless.

“Mr. Kim, please just listen to what Jimin has to say. True me.” Your brother pleaded with him. Seokjin walked back to the table and took his seat once again. You could see his eyes were watering, like his brother he was blinking back tears.

“Continue.” He gave a small nod to the blond man, now known as Jimin, who smiled back in return.

“Now, we’re here to talk to Y/N and Namjoon, correct. That’s their names.” The table all nodded in response. “Okay, they’re here. They’re a bit confused so I’ll repeat my briefing. Hello, my name is Park Jimin. I’m a psychic medium. I can’t exactly see or hear you, but I can feel your energy and emotions. So please be gentle.” He gave a small laugh as he settled himself in your kitchen chair and closed his eyes. “Your family has questions, I’m here to help translate your answers for you. Family, if you please.”

“If Y/N is really here. . . what’s something only she and I would know?” Jungkook said, you had a feeling he was suspicious of this as well, just more quiet about it, possibly not wanting to insult Yoongi or Jimin.

You felt your cheeks burn as a memory popped in your head, immediately knowing exactly what proof he needed. “He uh, stole my first kiss when I was 13 underneath the monkey bars.” You let out a small chuckle at the memory.

Almost instantaneously, Jimin burst out in a giggle. “Oh my gosh, I’m getting monkey bars?” He kept his eyes closed as he brought his hands to his cheeks. You were keeping your eyes focused on the psychic, but out of the corner of your eyes you saw Jungkook stiffen. “Oh my face is red. You stole her first kiss.” He opened his eyes, a huge smile on his face.

“I’m sorry what?” Yoongi immediately turned to the younger boy, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Shush, it’s her.” He dismissed your brother as he leaned forward on the table, soaking in every word that Jimin said.

“Dad, do you want to say something?” Taehyung looked to his father who kept his arms crossed and his face stern. Glancing between him and Namjoon as he stood right next to him, you finally were able to see somewhat of a resemblance between them. The same messy dark hair, same stern eyebrows, you could only imagine what Mr. Kim looked like when he was Namjoon’s age.

“. . . Who was it. . .” His voice cracked as he spoke.

Namjoon paused, he hadn’t thought of the stranger in many years. . .did they never find him? All he recalls of him was a heart shaped smile and brown hair. He can’t recall much else about him, looking very much normal. Like the rest of the party.

“Hmm,” He watched as Jimin’s face scrunched up a bit. “He doesn’t know, all he remembers is the smile and his hair color.” He brought his hand to his mouth, gesturing to it. “It was a very specific shape too, I see it in my mind perfectly. I wanna say. . . heart shaped?”

Soon as the words left his mouth, Seokjin broke out into a sob. Namjoon watched as his son, his nephew, rumbed comforting circles on his back.

“Hoseok, fucking Jung Hoseok.” He choked out, hiding his face from the rest of the table.

Namjoon reached out to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. Trying to let him know that it’s okay, he’s not mad. It’s okay.

“Seokjin,” Jimin started. “Your brother doesn’t harbor any ill will towards him. He forgave him a long time ago.” He finished with a smile.

“But it’s my fault he’s dead.” He managed to get out. “I brought him to the party, I gave him alcohol. I was the one complaining to Hoseok about him needing to chill out. I caused my brother’s death!”

Namjoon froze at this information. He looked to you, who seemed equally stunned. The whole table seemed to be stunned into silence.

“I thought it was him for a while, but no one saw him give Namjoon the drugs. I had no evidence. Hoseok’s dad was chief of police so even if I did it would’ve been swept under the rug.” Seokjin finished as he wiped his tears away. The entire table stayed quiet, waiting.

Namjoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, despite the action doing nothing, it calmed him down. “It’s alright, Jinnie. I forgive you.” He focused all his energy onto his hand that was placed on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You need to forgive yourself.” He must’ve felt it because he started staring at his shoulder.

“He forgives you, Mr. Kim.” Jimin repeated softly. “But he thinks you need to forgive yourself. You can’t change the past. He learned that a long time ago. It’s time to let go.”

Eyes not leaving his shoulder, he nodded. “Okay. Okay Joonie.” He let out in a soft voice.

Jimin conducts the meeting for a little while longer, your respective families letting you know that you are always in their thoughts and how much they love you. You and Namjoon stayed near each other the whole time, giving each other the support you needed as you all reminisced on memories.

As the meeting started to come to a close, the blond psychic said something. “Now, this is not usually conventional for me but I feel like it’s necessary.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, looking at the man with concern.

“Both Namjoon and Y/N need to move on. It’s clear to me they have no unfinished business, so the reason they’re still here isn’t that.” He explained. “Sometimes when people die young they just get stuck behind, it’s not common but it happens.”

“So this will be our last goodbye?” Jungkook’s big doe eyes started to well with tears again.

“Yes, it will be.” He nodded. “Please say your final words.”

“Y/N,” Yoongi started, you watched as your brother’s lip trembled, trying to find the right words to say to you. “There’s so much I want to say but I can’t get it out. . I-I love you. You’ll always be my baby sister.”

Next up was Jungkook, who was keeping his eyes squeezed shut. “I wish. . .I wish I could’ve done more for you. I miss you and- and I’ll never forget you.”

“Namjoonie. . .” Seokjin began. “It seems like I just got you back and now I’m losing you again.” He let out a weak laugh. “I love you. You’re always in my thoughts.”

Finally was Taehyung, who just sat there with his lips pursed in thought. “Uncle Namjoon. . . I’m glad I at least got to meet you. . .kinda.” He smiled lightly. “Thank you for being there for Y/N. Please watch over her, she’s kind of a mess sometimes.” He laughed, causing the table to erupt in chuckles.

“Hey, I’m not that much of a mess!” You countered.

“Yes, you are.” Namjoon asserted as Taehyung finished his thought.

“Y/N, I’m. . . I’m gonna miss you. I’ll always be your bug.” He concluded. The table turned their attention back towards Jimin, who was wiping away tears.

“They’re not saying anything but it’s clear that they love you,” he said with a smile as he dabbed his under eyes with a handkerchief. “Now, Namjoon and Y/N. Please stand behind me and put your hands on my shoulders.” You followed his instructions, placing your hands on his shoulders, causing him to shiver. “Ooh cold. Now, join hands everyone.” He held out his hands for Yoongi and Taehyung to take. They did and the rest followed suit.

They all sat there in silence, eyes closed. You and Namjoon looked to each other, neither of you knew what was going to happen next. He’s tried for years to move on physically saying he’s moving on or had no more unfinished business, meditating. Nothing worked. Maybe he was stuck and needed a real and proper psychic’s help?

Suddenly warmth covered you and Namjoon. It’s been years since he’d felt warmth like this. He let out a sigh as the feeling enveloped him. He looked over to you and you had a relaxed smile on your face, content with everything. The sadness he was so used to seeing on your face was now replaced with a look of peace. If he was to look in the mirror, he was sure he’d look the same.

There was no light that neither of you could recall going into. You both just watched your world melt away into the next.

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hangingfromchandeliers · 4 years

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Hi! I know this is random but I always see you talking about your masters and how excited you are and I’m guessing your doing it in English? I was just wondering what you wanted to do for a job (yuck) once you graduated? I want to do my masters in a similar subject but I’ve beed strongly discouraged bc of job outlook and it makes me so upset because it’s my passion :( I just wondered if you had any advice because you’re always so positive

hi angel! i have a bachelor in english and im gonna do my master on english literature specifically! i’m not discouraged at all at this point when it comes to career prospects. you have to keep in mind that having english degree doesn’t mean you’re well versed in shakespeare and virginia woolf. it means that you have learned to research, to write, to process and condense huge texts and articles, to speak and read an academic level of english, and that you have acquired an investigative and critical approach to problem solving. you don’t have to go into teaching with that if you don’t want to! i know fellow students who have graduated and who have gone into translation, accountancy, law, and tech branches with what they’ve learned from studying beowulf.

though right now i’m not too worried about any of that! yes, i’m currently shaping my future, but i’m also enjoying myself and making myself get out of bed because i’m determined and super passionate about what i study. i genuinely love studying! so while im still able to do this i really want to have fun with it. this sounds a bit corny but i am taking it day by day and living in the moment. my favourite courses i’ve taken have made me appreciate and love who i am as a person because they make me feel so capable and passionate! and especially when studying literature it makes me feel like i’m surrounded by empathy and love. 20 people in the same classroom reading texts written by others and finding themself in those texts and studying the accompanying timeframe and society to learn more about human nature... you get what i mean. i’m very sappy i know. but it makes me love life and love what i do.

also i wanna add that (and this is not a flex its just something i use to remind myself im never restricted in life) my dad has been to three universities and has multiple degrees in german literature, theology, and medicine, and he’s been a full time dj, a nurse, a high school teacher, a construction worker, and he’s now a mentor in a homeless shelter for people who live there and struggle with addiction. he doesn’t make much, but he does what makes him feel like he’s adding something good to the world. a degree of any kind will open doors for you, because it shows you’re capable of working hard and challenging yourself for years. even if you don’t choose to continue with english, know that it’s never too late to pick up a degree in life either. i took an evening course last semester and half the students were between 40-50 years of age. i even had a 68 year old man in one of my courses a few years back who wanted to spend his retirement years learning new things.

whatever you do anon i’m gonna be rooting for you!! if you have any more questions about this i’m always here

#i hope i dont sound too preachy or like you can only do this if you have money omg im paying everything out of my own pocket #which is stressful haha i havent taken a week off from work in years #but if it means i get to do what i love then its worth it #Anonymous

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petitepistol · 4 years

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headcanon;but it is very messy

oh god strap in because this is going to be 3k words worth of rambling under the cut which you don't actually have to read since i posted it at 5am so it probably does not make much sense!! also I have only just recently accepted that my elena does not follow compilation timeline to the letter because I fucking hate the fact that before crisis placed her age at being a high school student almost immediately preceding the start of the original game and I always saw elena as being at least aerith's age by the time she became a turk so please bear with me as my elena uses a floating timeline to prevent her from being...like a literal teenager for original game fuck that noise they had cissnei be the uwu fifteen-year-old turk and elena gets to be her own character when im writing her so compilation can fuck right off

so first off her dad is a military man, and that entire side of his family? kind of just defaulted into the military for generations. well before shinra at least, the old shit. I'm constantly flabbergasted by the idea that shinra is the dominant military force on the planet when as little as forty years before game them were a fledgling company, and I'm fascinated by what kind of insane shit must have gone down to facilitate shinra going from defense contractor/power company to defacto global superpower, and what they superseded when that happened. so yeah her dad is military, and even after he was put out to pasture he still wound up teaching at a prestigious shinra sponsored academy in junon and both of his daughters attended.

her mom was upper middle class and driven as hell, had a ballet career which got cut short due to injury in her late teens. then she wound up going into nursing by her early twenties and spent some time working in deepground when it was still a run of the mill army hospital where she met elena's father who was...voluntarily a candidate for some biotech stuff that shinra was doing back when shinra was still a defense contractor, go figure he was one of many early examples of mako conditioning. they didn't get along at first but did wind up marrying but never actually settling down because of the nature of his career. she retired from nursing but did medical coding part-time.

elena's sister was born in deepground (canonically from the 'midgar slums' but deepground is pretty fucking close and it makes sense to the era and background worldbuilding), and things went as smoothly as possible at this point in time. elena herself was born in icicle because lol military stationed there (elena being an icicle native was also a very popular piece of fanon in the pre-compilation era and I feel like it may have had some supporting evidence in something like kaitai shinsho but I never really managed to cross-reference that so probably not true and just a gut feeling), and by then things were getting...fishy. details being covered up about the full extent of the side-effects of mako conditioning and rumors that shinra had an egregious amount of influence over the military at large. these things all turned out to be true, but elena's father kept his head down and did his duty because he was a good soldier. he was also in wutai on and off during this, before the situation over there fully hit the fan, so he had more pressing matters to worry about.

anyway, elena was born in icicle but she and her mother and sister weren't there for more than a year or so before it was back at it again in midgar because dad was being put on some kind of assignment that had him closely working with shinra. the general implication of this is he was doing legwork for the implementation of SOLDIER in a few years, but what that means can vary by interaction from being paperwork to mk ultra style endurance testing to teaching an adolescent jenova project specimen how to integrate into military procedure before they drop him in wutai which is slated to become an all-out conflagration very shortly. it all depends but the point is it is sticky and worsened significantly when his wife is killed in a car accident. if this seems familiar it is because I firmly believe elena is the aya brea of ffvii and parasite eve featured similar background story. I'm borrowing deal with it.

by this point, elena is around eight and in school but elena is just barely four and in the vehicle when it happens. mom is killed instantly, elena survives but barely fares better. she's in intensive care for a while and there is a period where they don't even know if she is going to be brain dead or just have permanent brain damage in the first few days. her sister is basically staying at a school friend's house for like...way more than a fortnight while this got sorted out because their dad still actually has orders to carry out, even if he isn't on a battlefield. at one point on of his higher-ups implies that it could be arranged to transfer elena from the civilian hospital to the recently renovated deepground and he turns it down and feels like shit for it because yeah, deepground probably would mean a better chance at his youngest daughters survival because of that cutting edge shinra biotech, but at what cost? he knows well enough now something is wrong and justifies his willingness to let fate take its course with elena by focusing on the fact that her sister is still alive and well and he needs to keep his head down for his older daughter because she needed him too, even though they barely saw each other during the crux of this.

so lo and behold elena does recover and goes through the icky sticky of physical therapy and does just fine. great, right? well yes but the family dynamic is stupidly fucked up. dad has done either really good or really bad on his assignment, and gets put out to pasture in junon to teach at a military academy that is now nearly entirely funded by shinra (yeah so in before crisis it is all but implicit that academy is in midgar but fuck that junon is the seat of military power it would be near there if anything). this is great because it keeps him in work and both of his daughters will benefit. which they do. elena's sister is an ideal student, and the roughness of losing her mother happened at a sensitive period but a period where she was old enough to understand what was going on. she was capable of being a little trooper through all of it, but the cost of it was not being able to emotionally process the loss of her mother and the fact that her little sister was still alive when mom was not. the seeds of discord are sown there and that will be an ongoing thing throughout their childhood and into adulthood. they don't hate each other, but the relationship is fraught with tension and it is far from a healthy dynamic, especially since their father has pulled back almost entirely from fatherhood. he has no idea what he is doing without his late wife, and can't organically interact with his daughters so he defaults to being an instructor. both of them flourish despite this, but it is not a good family dynamic.

paint over this family drama with the fact that wutai is now well and truly happening. the military is effectively controlled by shinra and very very soon the propaganda blitz surrounding SOLDIER is going to push that over the edge and shinra will be accepted on a public and official level as being the army. the slogans are changing and going from an old fashioned sense of unity to focusing on becoming top class and singularly extraordinary. there is an emphasis on joining to be great rather than joining for the greater good. the recruitment plays into the deeply seated neurosis of adolescence for a reason because the younger some kid joins up the more malleable they are to both the shinra rhetoric and the by now very refined mako enhancement process that costs so much but nets such spectacular gains. in fact, it costs far too much to ever justify wasting that kind of money on doing it to women. so yeah it is blog canon that women in the shinra army is not a thing that is encouraged and like hell would they ever be in SOLDIER. the company culture is an old boys club steeped in misogyny and the only reason scarlet succeeded is because she took that and marinated in it and played the game very well. dirge era deepground operatives are little more than a consequence of years of unethical human experimentation left to rot in a basement. we don't really see women in actual military positions in the original game. sexism is alive and well and it serves my characterization of elena and her development.

so yeah it is a time of paradigms shifting and reforming very rapidly. elena's sister takes to this with aplomb, she is a perfect cadet and in elena's eyes a perfect daughter. someone easier to idolize than the SOLDIERs on the glossy recruitment posters and more available than their emotionally distant father. she is pristine and by extension beloved, things elena wants to be as well. elena is too young to realize her sister doesn't have any better of a relationship with their father than she does, but who knows if that would change anything. she emulates her ideal sister but remains a half step behind, which makes perfect sense because elena is four years younger. from a critical perspective that half step is a very close gap because even if elena doesn't realize it, she is just as prodigious as her sister is. the difference is while her sister can follow orders to the letter, elena has the makings of a maverick. not a positive thing in the strict environment of a military academy, no matter how high her scores are. idealization goes hand and hand with a quiet resentment, the latter of which her sister has also harbored towards her ever since their later mother died and elena did not.

that simmering toxicity stays at a low boil until her sister graduates. at the top of the class, even she could not become anything. or at least, to elena it looks that way, as she watches her sister back her things for midgar where she will start as a trainee for an administrative/auditing position for the shinra electric power company. elena does not know what a turk is at this point, even if her father does. he seems as impassive as ever, even if that is not the case and in actuality he is struggling to accept the reality that his oldest daughter is far too smart for his own good and is entering a profession no one would ever want for their child. despite his distance and his lack of connection and all of his failings as a father he does love his children and that will eat away at him until he dies no doubt. but all elena sees is her shining example of an older sister being doomed to desk work. when gun leaves (because she becomes gun the moment she is added to the payroll) the real constant of elena's childhood also leaves. and during adolescence, that is hard for anyone. more so when you realize no matter how sharp your skills are your future is off the chopping block and there is no path for you to take with them.

elena goes from being a prodigy prone to pesky critical thinking to a prodigy with a chip on her shoulder. her technical marks don't plummet, in fact, quite the opposite. she picks up a secondary battle specialty, close-quarters combat, which will set her apart from her sister. she flourishes with equal parts precision and aggression, despite her small size. the academic commendations feel entirely hollow to her though, and in the way teenagers tend to do she convinces herself she is not much more than nothing. the memory of her sister becomes tarnished with the bitterness of her negative self-image. her instructors must hate her for her failures, she tells herself with false objectivity. her instructors include her actual father, who is nearly clueless aside from a vague feeling in the pit of his stomach and he doesn't know if that is due to his oldest daughter going into wetworks or the fact his younger daughter is shattering academic record after record with the sheer force of what he assumes to be ennui driven spite.

at least he is clueless until in the spring just after she turns fifteen she files for early certification to leave academy, just like every other boy in her year as well as every other boy on the continent and beyond. they do it to catch the recruitment push and join the army soon enough to have a shot at making SOLDIER before they age out. but elena can't do that and he knows it and braces himself to have that conversation with her, calling her into his office where she keeps her stance formal until he tells her to be as ease and even in the chair across from his desk her posture is tense. spine straight, eyes ahead. he begins what he thinks is going to be the "you know you can't join SOLDIER" conversation but she cuts him off in what he thinks is a somewhat uncharacteristic display, but to her is just another example of how disgraceful her conduct is and how she needs to get out of academy before brings the value of the whole institution down. she tells him this, she tells him she is aware of her shortcomings and the fact she has no future in a military career and her intention is to go to midgar and learn how to be a civilian on her own terms. he signs off on it because none of her bullet points are actually wrong.

midgar is a city of industry and a city of vice and she hasn't been there since she was a child. it is good to her and it is bad to her, as she unlearns years of quasi-military discipline and figures out how to be her own person. she still sometimes wears the academy uniform because old habits die hard and it is a durable thing. she has a one-room apartment in the slums and a job tending bar in wall market. the hours are early evening to after the last train ends and her circadian rhythm adjusts from 4am wakeups and beds made with hospital corners to the distorted clock that comes from living under a plate with no natural sunlight. there are just as many fights and skirmishes to be had in midgar but none of them are like the training exercises at academy. each one is a beautiful short-lived shrine, sometimes they are fun and on her terms, and other times they are fraught and meant for survival. elena relishes them all as a skillset she once thought was a dead-end turns out to be valuable once more. the major negative point is her sister.

gun is in midgar and wears a sleek black suit along with many other people in sleek black suits. elena hears the term 'turk' for the first time. whether they are urban legends or hired killers or pencil pushers who do double duty waterboarding enemies of a power company turned judge and jury doesn't matter. what matters is the deadness she can see in gun's green eyes when she drops by the bar before closing, oftentimes with equally dead-eyed coworkers. those confrontations are never pleasant, they are a powderkeg. elena would like to reach out to her sister, chase away the exhausted look in her face the way she can with other patrons, but the sentiment gets stuck in her throat and they just snipe at each other. gun is a terrible adult and so are all of her colleagues and they are trying their best to neutralize a growing terrorist threat and they are failing. when they come around in the low light of the bar illuminates the stark futility of everything after midnight.

elena does not know exactly what is going on at the highest level of intrigue but she has a good guess. shinra is shitting the bed, and that includes the turks and SOLDIER, which seems to her to be in the middle of a massive coverup as their public-facing 1sts disappear one after another. she wants no part of it and her agenda switches from mastering the nuances of being a civilian to finding sustainability and meaning outside of shinra as the cracks in the facade split ever wider. when the sector six plate is effectively destroyed, it takes the bar she worked at with it and elena decides it is time to get the hell out of midgar.

her years in wall market set her up with some interesting connections and the owner of a small weapons shop (who she might have married for tax purposes but that isn't fleshed out) sets her up with a distinguished older gentleman who is a complete asshole and happens to run guns all across the continent. despite his immaculate coiffure he is not a people person and requires someone who is both qualified to demonstrate his product and more pleasant to deal with than him, because the market is hot right now. shinra has never had much interest in dealing with flyover country. sure they build reactors in some of the backwaters, but not all of them. and no reactor meant no need for shinra to spend the money on protecting hick villages from increased monster presence. the planet is dying and the monsters are restless in the same way wildlife gets in the real world. the people in those tiny towns do their best to defend their homes and livelihood and that means purchasing weaponry, mostly old stock from competitors that shinra has long since crushed or acquired. shinra lets this happen because it is not a threat to them.

so, for a few years, elena is a pretty face with a bang and it is almost scarlettian. she never comes close to the sex appeal of the actual weapons development director of shinra, but it is enough to help move merchandise. most of the buyers are just people trying to survive in the middle of nowhere, but not always. sometimes they are rougher than that, but the money is good enough that she doesn't care about that, or the fact the man who employed her hates her guts and doesn't care much whether she lives or dies. it is a thrilling rush and it is outside of shinra and more than ever does she want to put as much distance as possible between shinra and herself. because her sister is dead according to a notification that tseng of the turks had been cordial enough to send to her father, news that he passed on in a voicemail to elena with a hollow tone. maybe he was trying to reconnect with her because she was now all he had left in the way of family. maybe he just had the same sense of duty as always. she never calls back to ask.

midgar calls her back though. one day her employer informs her with a vindictive grin that he has sold the business part and parcel and that includes her as an employee. acquired by shinra. the reason, ironically, is scarlet, whom she has been doing a two-bit impersonation of. scarlet is a forward thinker but that doesn't mean she can't be swayed by a stockpile of vintage firearms, and with the viciousness required of her position she can throw weight around and get her hands on anything. the weapons are what she wanted and elena knows this and rejects the notion that she will become apart of the shinra payroll because of this little merger. this is proven wrong in short order as her assets are frozen systematically because the turks are hard up for people. they know her. they knew her sister and they know her, even if they haven't kept tabs on her. as soon as the papers cross his desk tseng seizes the opportunity.

the interview with hr to place elena is a mere formality. there is no other place for her there but in the turks. elena, for all her audacity, accepts this and plasters on a professional veneer. the game begins and the world ends.

#ooc #headcanon #somebody sent me a very broad development ask and i wrote several thousand words in the middle of the night #holy shit im sorry for the wall of text someday i will clean this up i swear #some of this has been touched on in existing headcanon posts but not as a whole #as a whole it is...a lot to take in and whoever reads this has my condolences

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knjoodles · 5 years

Text

suits and unintended consequences; taejin series | 01

pairing: businessman!seokjin x uberdriver!taehyung, student!taehyung

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 1.2K

a/n: inspired by a taxi ride in sf | next chapter is way longer

lowercase intended

01 | 02

seokjin was a busy man.

as coo of bighit entertainment, what did you expect?

his life consisted of two things, and two things only: his job and everything else. most of his time consisted of extensive hours at his desk, long after his colleagues had retired home. the rest of it was spent taking a break or caring for his pets.

he missed spending time with friends and family. work was life, work was papers, work was money.

work was everything.

bighit sent him to a lavish hotel for a conference. it was in daegu, which was quite the trip for him. though he'd traveled further, to america even, this was the first time he really felt away from home.

his conference was to take place in some office bighit was trying to make a deal with. seokjin couldn't have cared less.

as he thumbed the button for the ground floor, he began to wonder if he'd lost he love for his job he used to have. everything felt gray and uneventful. it grew tiring.

he found his thoughts a little ironic, considering he's going to a conference this second.

he shook his thoughts and stepped into the lobby to find an uber. gripping his leather computer bag, he pushed open the gold and glass doors that bade goodbye hotel guests and stood outside, waiting for his uber at their agreed meeting spot. growing bored because of the small wait, he decided to study the profile of his uber driver.

'kim taehyung. five stars.'

'"wonderful boy! great to talk to. he made my nephew laugh a lot." - park sooyoung'

'"chatty and fun! very smart as well." - yoo kihyun'

'"he's hot and he smells good" - park yaebin'

seokjin’s head shot up at the sound of a car pulling up in front of him. he shoved his phone into his coat pocket as taehyung rolled down his window and leaned over. "hello! are you kim seokjin?”

whoever park yaebin was, calling him attractive was an understatement.

"i am! nice to meet you." seokjin confirmed, leaning back to check the license plate before opening the door and sat in the front passenger seat.

"is it alright if i put my computer bag here?" he placed his bag underneath the dashboard where his feet were.

"of course! anything's fine." taehyung grinned and began to drive. a couple seconds of silence passed before taehyung eyed seokjin, asking, "a suit, huh? do you work for yeoksuk?"

"i actually have a conference with their financial sector for a partnership!" seokjin beamed, strapping himself and placing his hands on his lap. "i work for bighit."

"bighit? you mean the company behind txt?" taehyung gaped, smiling in wonder. "you work for the bighit? ah, you guys have done such a great job with txt. i love how they spread our culture to the west. aren’t they grammy nominated? wow! “ he gushed.

“they are!” seokjin chuckled at his driver’s sudden interest. "im bighit's coo, actually. i work more up top; i oversee all of the business bighit is has and needs to complete, so i don't see them that often. when i do, they're all very courteous and sweet. they're actually exactly how they act on camera, more or less."

"it must be hard. i wanted to be an idol, but i decided to major in economics with a minor in the arts."

“economics, huh? where do you want to work?"

taehyung grinned shyly. "i want to work for yeoksuk. that's why i sounded so excited when i asked you." seokjin swore he saw a light pink spread across taehyung's cheeks, but it may have just been the lighting.

"it's good that you're going into business. it's fun!" seokjin lied through his teeth. “do you know what you want to do?”

"consultant. similar to what you’re doing actually; i want to help the company’s prospects. i looked at yeoksuk’s job description, and since i have a minor in arts, i’ll be eligible for assisting groups themselves too!” taehyung’s cheerful tone and bouncy aura almost distract seokjin from the feeling of dread in the back of his mind due to his conference. he couldn’t help but smile at taehyung's enthusiasm. it was infectious, and his negative emotions melted away with the thin blanket of frost covering the edges of the car windows.

“where do you go to college?” seokjin questioned. seokjin was curious for the first time in eleven months.

“i go to yedae university. i'm a sophomore!” taehyung beamed with pride. it was as if taehyung’s confidence and self love was pouring itself into seokjin. the boy basically radiated happiness.

“yedae? i graduated from there five years ago!” seokjin exclaimed. “best of the best, huh? entertainment companies basically thirst for yedae alumni. you must be a smart and capable kid.”

“thank you, sir.” now seokjin was certain: taehyung’s cheeks were definitely pink. “but you’re only 27—the youngest coo bighit has hired to this day! that’s incredible!”

“that’s not important,” seokjin chuckled at taehyung’s innocent exclamation. “bighit chose me for my merit and hard work! and just judging from how courteous and social you are right now, i’d say that you’d get similar treatment.”

taehyung turned to him with his mouth hanging open and his eyes like saucers. "really? are you sure? that's so amazing to hear from someone like you, i can't believe it! you know, i..."

seokjin stopped listening and fixtated his gaze to the man siting next to him. his eyes were beautiful; they were his face’s defining factor. they were unique: one of his eyes has a double eyelid and the other a monolid with a mole in the inner corner. as seokjin studied the younger boy, he realized his eyes weren’t just brown— it was a spectrum of brown. a mixture of mocha, and umber, and walnut, and coffee and pecan. his skin looked like coffee and honey under the sun peeking in behind the buildings facing him. he knew he shouldn’t have, but seokjin could help but to flicker his eyes quickly to admire his lips. “… excuse me, sir?”

“i… im sorry? i didn’t get that,” seokjin’s eyes grew as he stuttered. he scolded himself for openly checking out someone right in front of him. was it obvious? he could’ve been staring for hours!

taehyung giggled. “we’re here!” taehyung flicked his finger so that seokjin could see that, to his dismay, they were there. “that’ll be 31,933 won. thank you for letting me drive you here! hopefully, next time, it’ll be me who’s making deals in there.” taehyung winked and laughed along with seokjin. trying to stall, seokjin slowly exited the car and managed to pretend to fumble with his wallet a couple times before paying him. “i hope i see you again while you’re here. im almost always in this general area anyway, request me if you find me!”

seokjin nodded with a smile of delight. “always.”

“i'm sorry?”

“always? i meant any time.” seokjin stammered. “thank you for your service!”

“and thank you for your time.” taehyung gave seokjin one last confident grin before waving his hand and driving away into traffic. seokjin kept an eye on his car until the mass of rush hour prevented him from seeing taehyung’s license plate.

he felt giddy for the first time in forever, and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

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goldmcdal · 5 years

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𝕀ℕ𝕋ℝ𝕆𝔻𝕌ℂ𝕀ℕ𝔾 ... 𝖗𝖔𝖝𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖐 !

°✧｡ { MELTED ICE CREAM , AN EVERLASTING SMELL OF CHLORINE , RAINY NIGHTS } i can’t believe i just saw roxanne patek name ! yeah, the twenty-three year old that’s representing team australia in swimming this year. this is their third time in the games. i wonder if they’re as querulous and captious as people say. but, i mean, they seem pretty jocular and dedicated, too. well, we’ll see how well they do. °✧｡ *

[chris d’elia vc] what’s up my babies, hi! im literally so exited to be here & roleplay with all of you. my names meg, living in the est and i go by she/her pronouns. i go back to school in like a week and wow ... i don’t wanna deal with all that right now , but that’s life amiright ? enough about the dred of college life, here’s my lil cinnamon bun roxi. if you’d like to plot just hit that heart button and i will come running to you ♥

here’s her career stats !

timeline

1996, roxanne zsófia-lynn patek was to born vivian and mikael patek in cairns, queensland, australia. their second child and last child. she has an older brother by three years named lucas.

her grandmother (paternal) would babysit roxi and her lucas during the days and even some nights when her dad had meetings. this was because her mom worked as a yacht stewardess so she was often away from the family and her father worked as a financier so he had a busy schedule, although he made a point to spend as much time as possible wiht the kids through activities like camping, surfing, bbq’s, and reef diving.

2002, her parents had roxi in gymnastics for a few years but she wasn’t really taken to it. she preferred to run off to the pool or talk her brother into bringing her to the beach down the road instead of stretching or practicing routines.

her father noticed how much she loved being in the water and how she’d set up races with her friends, more importantly he noticed how she always won, even against the boys. that’s when he decided to put her into competitive swimming at the local ymca. she took to it well and her coaches often raved about her abilities.

2008, she started secondary school. she joined the schools swim team, found herself a tight knit group of friends who she’s still friends with to this day.

within her first year on her schools team she’d broken most of the record set over the years as well as many records within the district. by her second year on the team she held every record but the ones in breaststroke.

2010, she made her world championship debut in dubai. she won her first international gold medal, two silver medals, and one bronze medal (the only bronze medal she’s every had on an international scale). she medaled in every race she did that year.

it was a stand out year for many reason for roxi, of course for the obvious being her first worlds but also because her family had come together for the first time for her meet. her dad, grandparents on both sides, mom, and brother were all there supporting her in the stands.

she’s had unwavered support from her family ever since. they make it to all of her meets and have had no questions of her abilities ever since.

2011, her first world aquatic championship where she won five gold medals and a silver and set her first world record, ever, in the 1500m freestyle just before she made her olympic debut in london. where she dominated, taking home a gold medal for each race she competed in. breaking two olympic records, two australian records, and a world record.

2012, she attended that years world championships in turkey coming off her first olympic year, she and ryan lochte were named the best female and male swimmers of the competition.

2014, she graduated from school and decided she wanted to study sports business but she wanted to explore her college years in a different country and so she applied to several schools around england and america. she inevitable decided to attend stanford university where she was offered a full ride on a athletic scholarship.

although every summer she came back home to australia for about a month.

2015, her second olympic appearance in brazil. where she won four gold medals and two silver medals. breaking two world records, one of them being her own.

this olympics was a different experience as she’d spent alot of time with american swimmers she felt it was alot easier to start building report around the olympic village between countries apposed to her first year were she stuck mostly to her fellow australians.

2017, the day after setting a world record at the world aquatics championships she was competing in the 200m butterfly when she banged her head against the wall during a turn. she finished the race in 2nd but was brought to the hospital due to her head bleeding and the championships were put on an hour hold to clean out the pool.

she had to announce she wouldn’t be competing in her last two races for the championships and took nearly a month off from swimming.

during that time she debated retiring in fear of the accident happening again but decided to get back to training later in the year.

2018, she graduated from stanford with a sports business degree and minor in international politics. she decided to move back home to australia were she lives just down the road from her parents in cairns.

2019, she’s just off one hell of a run at the 2019 world aquatics championships that was held in south korea. she has two new world records under her belt and four more gold medals. according to her coaches she is in the best shape of her life.

personality

so basically roxi is not like other girls *eye roll* or atleast she will claim so until her last breath.

she’s always been a total daddy’s girl and has been giving everything she’s every wanted in life, so she’s a tad bit spoiled y’all. she’s more of a whiny baby than a raging bitch though so that’s sort of a positive?!

she was never the best in academics, roxi was a solid b- student with a tutor, but what she lacked in academics she’s made up for ten-fold in her athletic ability.

she’s only had two serious relationships her whole life.

is pansexual although she’s only ever dated guys before.

she’s the friend you hit up when it’s curfew in the village but you wanna cause a little trouble maybe prank your neighboring roommates, or run through rome. she’s always up for a good time, so long as you’re not getting int he way of her training.

on the note of training, boy, no one trains more than this girl. she’s part fish basically and lives in the pool. she is the most decorated female swimmer she didn’t get there by being lazy that’s for sure lol.

she sucks at running so she kick-boxes for workouts when she’s not in the pool.

if she likes you you’ll know, if she doesn’t, you’ll know

I'll definitely add more to this as time goes on ~

#OLYMPIC.INTRO

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pedroanwildary68insurance-blog · 5 years

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How much more would i have to pay insurance for a cheve monte carlo?

Im 16 and i want to get a cheve monte carlo but my parents say that the insurance will be too much, but there are a lot of people my age with one and i am pretty sure we are more better off financial than they are

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare free quotes :insureoptionsreview.top

SOURCES:

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