#there's a letter in there from the school admin telling my parents

[alphacrone]

helping my parents clean out boxes of old papers and shit from when i was in elementary school (2nd grade stuff mostly) and finding parent letters and report cards made me realize JUST how early my school/grade anxiety started

[agoodflyting]

i’m a new teacher so i wanna know: how did that coraline parent horror story go? did admin support you? did they tell you to do anything different?

Well... kinda. I was strongly encouraged to 'apologize' to the parent for the sake of diplomacy, but admin also told the parent that I was one of their best teachers (I'm really not but I appreciated the vote of confidence lol) and had not violated any school policies by showing the movie.

I wasn't super happy about it because I believe that people like that should be ignored, and that by trying to tread a middle ground they were empowering that person to do this kind of thing again. But they were quick to back me up and support me, so... eh.

It was a frustrating kind of non-solution. I gave a token 'I'm sorry this happened' and the parent huffed and let the matter drop.

It was one of those moments where my professionalism was really at war with my personal integrity. I generally have no problem with listening to parent concerns and trying to work towards a solution, even with parents that other teachers find difficult. But in this case, I was loathe to give their views any sort of credence because... well just look at all the comments in my original post from people who grew up that way. I wanted to tell them point-blank that they were full of shit and their views were archaic and damaging to their children.

But. Professionalism. Can't do that. I had to say 'I'm sorry you feel that way, thank you for letting me know' and then move on.

Hope this helps! Unfortunately, parents like this are just a fact of life if you teach in certain areas. We have issues like this at least once or twice a year, where a parent complains that some kind of content is evil or unholy or what-have-you. The joys of living in an area chock-full of evangelical conservatives.

My life pro tip is to follow the letter of the school rules (hah) religiously because then even if the parent gets mad you technically haven't done anything wrong.

[subliminalbo]

Hypnovember Day 3: A Legacy of Slaves

It was rare that Mina Carpenter got involved in matters of school admissions, but even immortals had to stop feasting to salvage an important business relationship from time to time.

The relationship in question was with the Hewitts, a family name so established in Romero that it was almost as old and recognizable as the Carpenters themselves. Hewitt Supercenters (formerly Hewitt Grocery, and even before that Hewitt Five and Dime) were Carpenter State's largest private donor, even owning twenty percent of the land that the school sat on. It was a fruitful partnership that Mina had brokered long before R.J. Hewitt, the current nepo-CEO of the family business, was part of the picture. Now he threatened to fuck the whole thing up.

The news came up from Dean Pierce: Callie Hewitt had accepted a scholarship from Oregon. Fucking Oregon?

Three generations of Hewitts had gotten their undergraduates from Carpenter State University. Their continued attendance was essential in the Carpenter-Hewitt family union that had formed the bedrock of modern Carpenter State. R.J. was making some kind of statement by sending her somewhere else. It was clear Mina would have to take matters into her own hands.

For what it was worth, it was Carmilla Hewitt, R.J.'s wife, who pushed for Oregon. Callie's boyfriend had already signed a letter of intent to play collegiate football there, and Carmilla saw it as a great opportunity to begin cutting ties from "that creepy Carpenter family."

She was silent for most of the ride to campus, only speaking up to voice her displeasure about the visit. "She's already made up her mind, and I think they should respect that."

"I know, hon," R.J. said. "But it's just a courtesy. They'll roll out the red carpet for Cal, throw in the kitchen sink, and we'll listen to Mina's final pitch. But I'll tell her how it is and she'll have to understand. I'm not budging on this."

Carmilla rolled her eyes. R.J. was always his weakest when trying to act strong.

"But why are we even going?" Carmilla asked. "You're giving her an opening. We've already made it clear what Callie wants to do."

"The Carpenters have been good to my family, Carm. We at least owe this to them."

"Don't worry, mom," Callie spoke up from the back seat. "It's my choice and I'm not changing it."

R.J. was right about the kitchen sink. When they arrived to campus they were greeted by a large party of VIP admin, including Dean Pierce. He introduced himself to Callie, apologizing for missing her on her first visit, then shared some friendly words with R.J. Though Carmilla stayed by R.J.'s side for the greeting party, she kept her arms crossed in defiance, offering only a sneer in return to Pierce.

When all the pleasantries were out of the way, Dean Pierce introduced Callie to Mina's assistant, Teresa. She said that she would be showing Callie around campus while her parents met with Mina, and the two groups split off from there.

Carmilla carried her attitude to the Carpenter estate. The large stone mansion stood at the heart of campus and was the oldest building in Romero. The large property was surrounded by a massive steal gate that made it look like a location ripped from gothic horror. Carmilla rolled her eyes at R.J.'s admission that the estate was indeed as impressive as his father always said it was.

"That's the point," Carmilla said. "You're supposed to be impressed."

Carmilla was surprised to find no help inside the large mansion. They were greeted in the foyer by Mina herself in a sharp suit. She was tall, with piercing brown eyes. She stood nearly a foot above Carmilla.

"Come on in," Mina smiled.

The Hewitts followed Mina into the mansion and she began a brief tour of the house, taking them through the long history of the Carpenter family in Romero. After a look at the foyer and the dining rooms, Carmilla finally interrupted.

"With all due respect, Ms. Carpenter, we didn't drive from Stoker for a history lesson."

R.J. laughed, putting his hands on his wife's shoulders as he said, "Of course we're grateful for your time."

Mina's smirk reminded him of Carmilla's.

The tour continued through the kitchen and into the study, Carmilla and Mina trading jabs back in forth as R.J. tried desperately to keep the peace with friendly little chuckles. When they entered a section of the study Mina called the "history room," she pulled R.J. aside to show off his father's lacrosse trophy, leaving Carmilla behind to admire the old artifacts of Carpenter State past: a copy of the university's charter, robes worn at the school's first graduation, a pennant commemorating CSU football's 1952 divisional championship. But one thing in particular stood out to her: a framed newspaper from 1912. The headline read: CARPENTER FAMILY BREAKS GROUND ON ROMERO UNIVERSITY.

Pictured in the photo was a young Alabaster Carpenter, founder of the university, driving a shovel into the dirt. Next to him was a young woman standing respectfully prim, hands crossed low over her stomach. She was dressed in a conservative sort of gown with that stern expression you see in old photographs, but the face was unmistakable.

"Mina?" Carmilla whispered.

"Yes?"

Carmilla spun around to find Mina creeping up behind her. She hated herself for yelping.

"Your husband's waiting for you in the drawing room," Mina said. "There's wine and cheese."

"Okay," Carmilla said, recovering her proud demeanor. "You lead the way."

But Mina didn't move. Instead, she blocked Carmilla's path, tilting her head to the side as if to study the smaller woman.

Finally Mina said, "You're the brains of the family, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" Carmilla replied.

Mina's hand shot up, her grip tight around Carmilla's throat. She pushed Carmilla back into the wall, the picture frame cracking behind Carmilla's head. Carmilla brought her hands up to Mina's wrists, but she couldn't wrestle her way out of the woman's grip.

"Look at me," Mina commanded. And through the tears, Carmilla saw two glowing eyes staring back at her. Searing, orange eyes that bathed her in a warmth that washed away every doubt, every fear. This wasn't an assault. It was a baptism.

Mina's hands loosened around Carmilla's neck, but the Carmilla didn't fight back. Her hands fell to her sides. Mina took the chance to admire her: uncommonly youthful for a mortal's age, an absolutely stunning body that defied time. Mina wanted her, Mina needed her.

She leaned in, their lips inches apart, and she whispered, "One last thing to make you mine."

When their lips touched, it felt to Carmilla as if those eyes were burning their way into her soul.

R.J. was texting his wife when she entered the drawing room with Mina. He smiled but she offered no response back, just shuffling her way into the room and plopping down onto the sofa next to him.

"Looks like she was more interested in history than she thought," Mina laughed. "Now what were we talking about, Mr. Hewitt?"

"I was saying," R.J. started, stammering for a moment as he glanced at his wife, who had begun panting heavily. "I was saying...we agree that it's Callie's decision where she goes to college and that's just..."

When R.J. turned back to Mina he found her stripping out of her suit, her angelic skin covered only by a pair of lingerie.

"Good lord,," R.J. breathed. "What are you...?"

A loud moan cut through the room.

Next to R.J., Carmilla was sinking low into the chair, eyes rolling back. She'd pulled her large breasts free from her tight dress and massaged them. She moaned long, heavy moans that R.J. had never heard before.

"Relax, R.J.," Mina whispered softly, taking a seat on the arm of the couch and reaching down to undo the buckle on R.J.'s belt. He was already hard when his cock came free. She took it into her hand and began to pump. "This is how I do business."

"I don't...I don't understand..." R.J. moaned.

"You don't have to," Mina said. "I know Carmilla's the brains of the family, and look at her now. She's just a bitch in heat."

Carmilla released a sharp gasp. "Yes!" she cried. "I'm just...I'm just a dumb bitch in heat, Mistress!"

"Don't you just want to fuck her, R.J.?"

R.J. nodded hungrily.

"You have to ask permission first," Mina commanded.

"May...may I fuck my wife, Mistress?"

"Hmm... I think I'll fuck her for you. I'll be nice and let you watch. Just like your dad watched when I would take your mom. But your grandmother was my favorite. She was the very first soul I ever claimed. See, R.J., I have this way with people. Once I'm inside of them, I never leave. Carmilla is mine now forever, and if she couldn't resist me, how could you?"

"It's true..." Carmilla panted, turning to her husband to reveal empty, white eyes. "I've given my soul to my Mistress to serve as her thrall in this life and every life after...it's your legacy, R.J. Submit with me, darling."

Mina's orange eyes glowed brighter as R.J. came, long ropes spilling out onto the couch. She was annoyed by the mess, but it felt so fucking good to feed. R.J. slumped backward onto the couch, his white eyes signifying his total surrender to her.

She left him there to move over to the real prize, Carmilla. It had been over a hundred years since Mina had any interest in a man, but powerful women? That was her kink.

Standing before Carmilla, Mina slid her panties down her legs. Carmilla licked her lips at the sight of her Mistress' pussy, but Mina held her finger up to stop her.

"Business first," Mina said. "Callie goes to Carpenter State.."

Callie's education was so far from Carmilla's mind now. She blinked, her eyes shining as white as her husband's, and she nodded hungrily, "Anything for my Mistress."

"Perfect," Mina said. Then she took Carmilla by the back of the head and buried her face into her pussy.

[brightlybound]

My rant: I have to share a dorm with the same girl as last year who fucks her boyfriend every night while 10 feet away from me. If I leave while these two are doing the deed, these two will fuck each other on my bed or desk. I asked the admin office to switch dorms and they keep giving me excuses or tell me to find external housing (which I can’t afford). I tried to submit a complain everywhere I can, but she has friends everywhere so nothing gets done. I barely sleep as it is with working two jobs, and go to school full time. I’ve tried talking to her and she’s just a mean bitchy girl who thinks I’m jealous of her, and last time she got mad at her boyfriend for staring at me while I was trying to sleep. I’m creeped out af and I’m scared. I’m literally having a panic attack thinking about it. My only option is to pay an extra $500 month for another place and I can’t afford that with tuition. Any suggestions? 😢

Omg, I would basically harass the admin office with emails and phone calls and letters. Just be an utter nuisance. They'll want you out of their hair. And if that doesn't work, I would take it up as high as I could. Bypass the admin, go straight to the dean (a little bird told me shit gets done when you bother upper management; like honestly, there is no rule against emailing the head of the school, is there?), get your parents involved, threaten legal action and/or get the police involved because you feel unsafe.

(Just a brief aside, I went to community college and lived at home during. I know nothing of dorm life, but this sounds like utter shit. Good luck, babe.)

[lostonehero]

This is an exert of a thing I probably won't finish but there's a lot of context needed but Ari is confronting Mewtwo after going on break (because the entire winter is paid vacation for all of them) from rejoining the circus with the rest of team rocket admins Giovanni and her twin Maxie

(Will I give context dunno If anyone wants)

"Listen here you fucking coward and disgrace of a legend." Ariana spits at Mewtwo who is blocking her from her son.

"You fucking took my son from us, you poisoned his mind, and yeah I know we are bad people, I know we are criminals but we are not bad parents." She can feel the black oilly tears drip down her cheeks. "Do you have any idea how much we did for Silver that we can no longer do because he hates us because if you."

She balls her fists as her shadow shrinks. "How fucking dare you because of you we never git to help him with his first day of high-school, we never got to let him meet his uncle, we never showed him old family photos and the letter that Giovanni's parents gave before he was left at an orphanage, we never helped him for his first relationship, prom, or help him with his first job." She hisses

"We didn't fucking deserve to have our baby boy ripped from us and turned into monsters in his eyes. You pathetic creature if you fucking hate your life so much fucking kill yourself or just kill us already. You've been bitching and moaning since we gave you free will so fucking do something about it." She can feel the black streaks reform on her face she spent hours scrubbing them off

Mewtwo backs up slightly.

"I sold my humanity when I was 12 to have the chance to escape the prison that was our family we all ended up at the same circus and we gave five years to that place to be free then we made Rocket to help the people of Kanto and Jotho you piece of shit. You don't have the right to tell me that your existence is a curse I still have the fucking scars and deformations on my body from my fucking parents so fucking leave and accept your victory in ruining a family our lives and our happiness."

[auideas]

Hi! Can y’all please give me some ideas for a daycare AU? I’ve wanted to try my hand at it but I don’t know where to begin :(

Please help!😭

You don’t know how much time we spent brainstorming this one, oh my god. We think we’ve come up with a great set of prompts for you, though!~

Admin M:

Daycare itself is too expensive, so parent Character A decides that maybe there would be another way to get their kid in the door. Another exchange of...goods. NOT THAT. More like, doing odd jobs, etc. Character B (the owner of the daycare) agrees to the strange arrangement, and Character A does their taxes, washes their car, repairs the roof, etc. Slowly but surely, the two grow closer and the tasks move further and further away from the daycare building and a bit closer to home.

Kids really shouldn't be underestimated, and nowhere is that more true than the kids left at a daycare. On that fateful October day, the police get a call that there is a hostage situation being held at a local daycare. They rush to the scene, but find that something is a bit off. The FBI agents were more than confused when the voice that responds to their trained negotiator clearly belonged not to a deranged man, but a particularly intelligent and peeved 7 year old.

“Myself and other kids in the family (yes, family in big letters) all go to a specific safehouse after school until our parents get home. Think of it like the Mafia daycare, but without the supervision or legal precedents. We never really minded it, but today, the doors locked and the windows clamped shut with steel sheets. Things got weird pretty fast -- I mean, how the hell are we supposed to survive without a switchblade or two, or even a box of frosted animal crackers?” AU

Working with kids was Character A’s passion; they’d been doing it for their entire life, so opening the daycare was an absolute no-brainer. They never thought that working with kids could feel unnatural for anyone...well, that is, until they met Character B who applies for a position as a daycare assistant to get “better with kids” in preparation for their sibling’s new kid that was just born.

Character A feels absolutely heartbroken when they find themselves being forced to send their kids to daycare even though they work from home. It wouldn’t be for long, but their project at work is very important, and there was no way they could focus on Zoom meetings about contract law when CocoMelon blasted in the next room on a loop. But, being the concerned parent they are, they decide to take a week off work before the project begins and kind of stake out the daycare. This included logging the schedules, calling previous health inspectors, and yes, calling in a few favors with the IRS to run tax audits. Character A didn’t expect their child safety officer get up to work as well as it has so far, but Character B (the owner) doesn’t seem to suspect a thing...hopefully. Was the mustache too much, or was it the thick North Atlantic accent?

When all the children at Bumblebee Daycare start manifesting random powers, Characters A and B are completely dumbfounded. It couldn’t have anything to do with the circle of rocks the kids put in the playground, right?

“My parent didn’t want to send me to daycare at first, but I told them that it was so I could make some new friends (that’s a lie though -- don’t tell them). Actually, I just want to find another kid that’s like me. If they’re like me, then their parent must be like mine, so they may get along and I can have two parents again. I just want my Baba to be happy.” AU

A. Admin Kasi:

Character A is a particularly grumpy single parent dropping off their child at daycare, so you can imagine their inherent excitement to finally be rid of their little ray of sunshine, even if it’s just for 8 hours. The problem is, Character B (the owner of the daycare) seems to have just as many rainbows spewing from their mouth -- their sheer brightness and love is almost painful. Character A is dumbstruck, wondering how a person could have gotten to this state. Solving this mystery becomes a bit of a hobby for Character A, and these two opposites slowly attract.

Character A (the parent) is always late. Always. Without fail. So, Character B (the teacher) is forced to stay late with their poor child every single time. Due to the sheer amount of time they were spending with Chracter A’s kid, Character B starts to feel almost like a surrogate parent. Sure, Character A is a surgeon, and sure they’re saving lives, and sure they’re super attractive, and sure their eyes are dreamy-- ahem. Character B writes off their involvement as simply a favor. This would definitely be the last time. It’s time for a small much-needed confrontation, because this simply couldn’t go on. When Character A finally comes in to pick up their kid, Character B tells them sternly that they couldn’t do that any longer and… why’s Character A suddenly asking them out for dinner?!?!

Parent teach conferences aren’t common with daycares, but Character B has vowed to give the best care possible, and this was one of their many methods of ensuring the best possible situation for the children in their care. The only thing is this parent teacher conference seems to have summoned a goddamn hurricane, because Character B and Character A (one of the parents) are now locked in the building until it’s safe to leave. What happens between them? Tension? Spice? Fluff? Deep hidden feelings and surprising things always come up when two people are locked together overnight!!

Character A’s kid is a creepy one. There’s no way around that fact -- they can do some strange things, like see ghosts, look into the future, etc. Unfortunately for the daycare teacher (Character B), the kid foresees that the teacher will die in a few days. Oops. Both Character A and their kid get to work in trying to prevent Character B’s death from happening -- do you know how hard it was to find a place that would deal with talking to ghosts?! Of course, the feelings that come with the potential end of someone’s existence can be more dangerous than the event itself, and maybe Characters A and B get a bit closer than they intended.

[welcome-to-ikea]

My personal take on Spy & Scout’s Ma’s relationship- how they met, how it went with Spy being a merc, and eventual reuniting

Spy grew up in France obv, in a pretty good family (money-wise anyway. His parents were shitheads) and not in Paris but in some other pretty large city. He met Scout’s Ma when she came over to France as part of a learn-abroad experience her school was doing. At first he didn’t really like her, hoity-toity French n all, but fairly quickly warmed up to her. He found it endearing the way she stumbled through her French, tried so hard to be polite to everyone, but at the same time wouldn’t hesitate to slap a bitch if they were actively rude. They became friends, and gradually it evolved into dating (much to Spy’s parent’s disapproval). Spy took everything that was legally his and moved to America with Ma.

His absolute first priority was getting a job- while he had already been working on spy skills and was considering being a mercenary or smthn similar, he went for a more. Legal job, but still practiced merc stuff on his own. He got a *good* job, hella good pay, and bought Ma’s dream house. They got married, had seven kids (some of them weren’t from Spy BUT Ma & Spy talked beforehand and both were fine with it. They trust each other, besides we all know Ma’s getting men left&right), were still doing great- and then when Ma was pregnant with Jeremy, Spy got fired.

At this point they’ve been together a long time, obv, and Ma is perfectly aware of Spy’s hobbies. Her own dad was a mercenary, so she’s not objected to it at all- she’s just worried abt the safety of the family and potentially not seeing Spy again if he takes it up. But they ultimately decide it’s the best and fastest option. So despite how much it hurts Spy and Ma and their sons, he leaves. He tells Ma to tell Jeremy only a little about him, although his name is allowed since he’s going to legally change it once he goes to the country his first job is in. Spy continues to get paid well through his job as a merc, more than his old job, and routinely sends as much money as is safe to. Sending the money is a whole PROCESS to avoid traceability, but he does it anyway

And then after many many years, after even young little Jeremy is grown up and just left for his first job (RED merc) a few weeks ago, Ma gets a letter. She’d gotten letters before, she always burned them. She knew they weren’t from Spy; they always had some meaningful little word or doodle that was shared between him and her. Because they both knew it, that meant it was discoverable by someone else, and not reliable as a way to say “it’s really me”, so if it were on there it meant the letter wasn’t his. She’d even gotten letters with nothing special on them- whoever was forging them saw how she threw them away, figured out why, and stopped doing it.

But THIS letter. It had a meaningless ink drip. A small little blotch over one of the words. Something Spy would never let be seen on something he wrote. Unless it was intentional.

It was a real letter from him, and it said he had a persistent job that was also secure. He apologized profusely for not talking for so long, and told her he hoped with all his being she still knew he has always and still does love her. And she writes back. She never stopped loving him, either. Sure, it was difficult, and sometimes she cursed him for being so uber-careful, but she still *loved* him. They start writing back and forth to each other (scout writes to Ma too ofc), they write so often that Admin had to yell at Spy for using up all the postage.

Somewhere like a year and a half in, she gets a letter from Spy essentially saying “scout found out 💀” and a letter from Scout essentially saying “THIS is my dad?? This French fuck who’s a routine asshole?” (Over time scout calms down and accepts it- he still isn’t very close with spy, and still views him more as a coworker than a dad, but he doesn’t not care about him either)

And then one more year later Ma gets an excited letter from Scout saying she’s allowed to come to the base for Christmas. Shortly after she gets a letter from Spy saying “I assume Jeremy’s already told you all about it. It would be more wonderful than words can describe to see you again.” He jokes about how it wasn’t cheap to “convince” admin to let Ma come, but mostly he just misses her like all hell. She comes over, meets the whole team, but most importantly she and Spy fully reunite again and love wins <33

[pink-chevalier]

Blossom, Oakley, and Kingsley enter the cafeteria with an absurd amount of food. The middle school is testing something new; the admins want to give their students more freedom and decide to let them go outside for lunch. The school sent out a letter of notice to the parents a week ago, in which some parents agreed with the idea, and some didn't. Luckily for the three girls, their parents like the idea, and the trio are allowed to get food from nearby stores or restaurants. The three girls sit down and spread all of the food on the table, with Oakley laughing because they really went overboard. Kingsley says it's alright because they are celebrating their newfound freedom, and Wesley finished redecorating the family living room. Oakley's forever grateful for Kingsley's parents hiring Wesley to remodel their living room. When Wesley got her first job, the woman was over the moon and was surprised that the family didn't have a limit or a plan. Kingsley's mom said to do whatever, and Wesley took that as a personal challenge. 

Oakley: *smiles* Thanks again, Kingsley.

Kingsley: *playfully annoyed* OMG! Can you shut up already?! You're totally getting on my last nerves.

Oakley: *laughs* Fine! You don't have to be such an ass about it.

Blossom: *giggles* You two done flirting? Cause I wanna start talking about the sleepover.

Kingsley: *smiles* We already talked about this like eighty times, Blossom. What more do we need to talk about?

Blossom: First starters, I want to know if you're going to tell us your skincare routine.

Kingsley: *amused* What?

Oakley: Kingsley, you got like the best skin out of everyone here, and if you haven't noticed, Blossom and I are suffering!

Kingsley: *laughs* You two too dramatic!

<<<     >>>

[a-froger-epic]

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

J

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

J

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ��73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

[kisskissbanggang]

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]

Masterlist | Feedback

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.”

[oceanselevenism]

I've seen that most of the stories on ao3 about them are mostly canon-compliant (and I don't have anything against that tbh) but I was wondering if you have any aus that you think could fit them or that you'd like to see?

omg i have SO MANY aus!! (it got Very Long so its under a cut)

- college au! danny gets kicked out (hes on full scholarship and does Thiefly Things to cover his expenses so hes not endangered just fairly fucked up abt it) (does it count as kicked out if u only live w ur dad three months a year) in freshman year, he befriends rusty (1 year below him) in sophomore year, debbie also befriends rusty (she and danny dont talk much but shes 2 yrs below him at the same college), and when reuben comes calling for a job he thinks debbie has a boyfriend (thanks to debbie telling her dad that she does) so she fake dates rusty. who ends up joining the job. and danny is Very Jealous

- snl ripoff au! danny and rusty are the weekend-update-adjacent anchors and they get gay. i Would have this take place in la (reuben is taking A Risk producing a late night sketch comedy show on the west coast but the 11/12/however fuckin many are fantastic cast members so even though they lose revenue from the other timezones not watching as much as they watch snl or whatever, they still make BANK... but danny and rusty getting gay throws the equilibrium out of whack) BUT la sucks DICK so its happening in new york. also this way u get Ocean Sibling Banter (debbie and lou are the anchors for The Actual Weekend Update and when debbie/lou get together and also when danny/rusty get together there are so many ‘just switch out the blondes/brunettes nobody will be able to tell and we won’t have hr down our necks’ jokes)

- au where the caldwells, abt to go deep undercover on a Huge Fucking Case, have to give up custody of 6 year old linus to tess and danny. the case stretches on for twelve years and linus grows up w tess and danny (who get divorced like right after they adopt him bc tess finds out abt dannys Thiefly Activities-- he confesses to her bc he doesnt rly want to predispose the kid to said thiefly activities) and also isabel (she and rusty break up like Right Before tess and dannys wedding and its very funny; she then goes on to marry tess) parenting him (rusty isnt as much in the picture bc he doesnt feel bad at all abt stealing and tess doesnt want linus to pick up that mentality also rusty Feels Things abt danny)! then when linus is like 18 or 19 danny disappears (tess and isabel think its Thiefly Activities again and arent concerned, just disappointed, but linus is very concerned for his dad-slash-stepdad-slash-sort-of-uncle) and he tracks down rusty so they can find danny. they roadtrip across america and eventually catch up to danny, who is helping the caldwells, and the five of them take down whatever gang the caldwells were chasing. linus now has 6 parents

- au based on this post where some archaeologist finds a bunch of dannys [french person voice] Love Lettairs 2 rusty and so obviously the logical course of action is to rob the museum (which happens to be the museum that tess is curating. funny how things work out) without telling his team What Theyre Stealing. they successfully pull off the heist but turns out the letters were not among the items they stole!! danny is getting desperate. as a last-ditch attempt he calls tess and asks her to let them rob the museum. shes like Why The Fuck Would I Do That. he explains and she begrudgingly agrees. danny and livingston go break into the museum Again but rusty tails them bc dannys been acting Weird and he finds out abt the letters bc livingston sweats more whenever he tells a lie. they live happily ever after (literally, theyre immortal) the end. also even though dannys a werewolf the 11 all call him the new jersey devil (its not his fault that legend came to be ok!! he was very drunk!!)

- childhood friends au!! danny and rusty were best buds as very young kids and then the oceans had to move. flash forward 2 present day where danny and debbie r robbing a museum (theyre building a flower shop over the vault and tunneling in, the dudes in brazil who came up w it are very very clever) and guess which two people are the assistant curators (is that even a title?). guess. ill tell u its tess and rusty! danny recognizes rusty, rusty ‘does not recognize’ danny (which is valid. look at photos of child george clooney and tell me you would recognize him). the 11 demand that they use this to their advantage and so danny and rusty Sort Of Date while the rest set up for the robbery, and danny feels really bad abt it so on the day of (after everyone has gotten away, ofc, he might be a lovesick bitch but hes not a snitch) he confesses and rustys like lmao i was onto u from the start. what kind of a name is [insert alias here] anyway. then they go live a life of crime and its great

- @sanduschism came up w a fantastic au where danny pickpockets rusty and feels bad so he sends the wallet back and they strike up a Correspondence

- HOSPITAL AU!!! danny and rusty r er techs while theyre doing med school and nobody knows how they juggle their shifts w school but also rusty can do a tracheotomy in like 5 seconds and danny can tell when a person needs an mri before they even list their symptoms so nobody questions it and nobody splits them up Ever. when they eventually become surgeons, danny does cardio and rusty does neuro, and whenever they have to work together not only do they never have to say what theyre doing, they don't even have What Do U Want To Cook For Dinner convos fully out loud. tess is head nurse... she makes so many excel spreadsheets... they are ALL color coded. isabel is head er doc and nobody dares to halfass things on her watch. reuben is head hospital admin, saul is chief surgeon, basher is head of the burn unit, the malloys r the HUNKIEST nurses in town, frank does plastic surgery/ent (every patient loves him bc he is just So Calm), livingston is The IT Guy, yen does like orthopedics or physical therapy, and linus is their fav resident who they all lovingly tease 24/7. the ocean sibs r both Cardio Gods and each dominate their respective coasts. debbie is an nyc doctor and if she sees a mass gen doctor its on SIGHT. the few surgeries that she and danny collab on go so fast that the med students in the gallery Cannot tell whats happening. lou is also a plastic surgeon and she and frank r best buds. linus requests time off like 6 months in advance Every Time and everyone hates it bc then They have to be on call but he doesnt realize his Extreme Overachieverness is causing so much strife. whenever tess and danny get in an argument she colorcodes his rounds spreadsheet to be the most neon shit youve ever seen. can you tell i never fully progressed past my greys anatomy phase this one is like 93489302 lines long

- superpower au where rusty has midas touch and danny has corrosive touch and when theyre too young to have control over their powers (abilities develop throughout adolescence and the user gains control at the end of adolescence) they accidentally brush hands and are terrified they just killed each other but turns out their powers like. cancel out. so until they reach like 21 or 22 and can touch things without fucking them UP they just. hold hands all the time. bc otherwise they have to wear gloves to prevent Accidents and both of them “hate gloves” (and also love holding hands. gayasses)

- uhhh hallmark au where danny is a crime fiction writer out on some beach north of ocean city nj and rusty is his fancy nyc editor. everyone else is a thief including debbie who is just Very weirded out that her brother, who robbed boston’s institute of contemporary art at age 22 and got away with it, has decided to spend the rest of his life churning out books. he is very critically acclaimed and about half of the 11 are buds with him and use his published books as heist inspo. the other ~half of the 11 are buds with rusty, and they tell him if danny’s heists are feasible or not (they always are. scarily so.) anyway rusty and isabel break up 12 days before xmas and danny and tess break up 8 days before hanukkah so dannys heading to debbie’s place in upstate new york to mope for the holidays when A BLIZZARD HITS and he gets stranded in midtown. and he and rusty are buds but like. Email Buds. they dont hang out irl and therefore they dont let their Totally Bud-Like Feelings mess up their professional relationship. but danny is stranded and its hanukkah and he ends up crashing at rustys place for the duration of the blizzard. and then rusty ends up coming to debbies place for the rest of the holidays. and then they kiss on new years eve and debbie kicks them out bc theyre being gross

- And More! thanks for the ask, anon! sorry it got so long lol i just have Many Thoughts

[atlafan]

sorry if it’s too much but can you give advice for someone that’s graduating college soon? how do we prepare for what’s too cold? like in terms of credit, jobs, resumes, apt lookinh? entering the real adult world? how was your experience? pls and thank you!!!!

First things first, start making small monthly payments to your student loans. Even if it’s just $20 a month, start getting used to that monthly bill, especially before your interest kicks in.

Find your schools career development office, or go to your schools alumni office, talk to your faculty advisor. Tell them what you want to do. All of them should have contacts/connections. What’s your major? Where are you from? I could help further if I know more.

I was really lucky. I had been working in my schools marketing and creative services department for a year doing social media/video work. They offered me a full time admin position. I also had been with my bf for five months, and before I graduated and knew I would be working in the area, he asked me to move in the with him. My advice while you’re job hunting though is get the job first, and then ask about hosing in the area. The company might leads. You could always stay at hote before finding a permanent residence.

Now, when you’re applying for jobs, apply for anything you want to do. Dont worry too much about the qualifications. Make sure your resume and cover letter are specifically crusted towards the job you’re applying for. Use language from the job description in both. Also, on your resume, only put relevant work experience. I was a waitress for 8 years, and I’ve never put that on a professional resume. Wait to mention something like that in an interview.

Before going for an interview, make sure you do your research on the company. What does their site look like? Who works there? Stuff like that. The interview is a two way street. Bring a list of questions. How’s employee satisfaction? Why did the position become open? Why did the previous person leave? What are the benefits like? How’s the work-life balance? Also know that you don’t have to disclose any personal medical information. You can save that for HR after you get hired.

For credit, you can build good credit by paying your student loans monthly. Build credit by paying your credit card off. I had really great credit after I graduated because I always paid my credit card bill, even if it was just the minimum amount. Basically paying all your bills on time helps with credit.

I’m really glad I work at the university I do. Even though I was entering this new world, I had a comfortable familiarity. I got lucky, a month into my admin position I got offered the job of assistant director for annual giving. I did that for over a year. I hated it. Not at first, but there was a supervisor change and I became miserable. Money doesn’t buy happiness if you hate what you do every day. I’ve been an academic advisor for two years and I absolutely love it. I love working with people and helping them. I also love teaching.

Ask about benefits. If you can stay on your parents health insurance, do that. I’m still on my dads, and I’m riding that wave. See if they have tuition benefits, I was able to get my masters for less than $5000. See if they have gym benefits, vision, dental. When you get hired, ask yourself colleagues about their insurance plans. As about PTO, and ask how that works if you’re salaried or hourly.

Make time for yourself, and go easy on yourself. You had the same routine your entire life and all of a sudden it changes. All of a sudden you can’t go to the beach on a Wednesday during the summer because you’re working. All of a sudden your understand why your dad would come home enraged and yell about dishes in the sink. It’s a time for growth. Make sure to treat yourself. Go out and have fun. Be with friends.

That’s all I can think of for now, I hope this helped!

[prorevenge]

Blame me for your mistake, lose your job.

This story was relayed to me from the teachers at my old high school and is about the school's administration. This all happened last school year. TL;DR at the end.

First, some background.

The principal of my school (we'll call him Matt) had been with the school since it started up in the early 2000s. He worked his way up from a regular teacher to the principal, and then assistant superintendent, although he spent most of his time at the high school. His immediate superior, who we'll call Katie, was pretty much a figurehead while he did all the administrative stuff for not just the high school but the rest of the district.

The thing was that Matt was a narcissist. He constantly belittled and berated students. He once publicly told an entire graduating class that he would make sure that none of them graduated and they were all the worst the school had ever had. There were also numerous other instances of him doing this stuff to students in private, especially with the kids who did the school announcements which he also ran. I two friends on there. One was dismissed (student volunteer) out of nowhere for literally no reason. The other was fired (she chose to work for the school after graduating) after calling him out for saying she was worthless.

Despite this, all of our teachers assured us that Matt wasn't as bad as we thought he was. We never believed them because we thought they were just covering for him. After we graduated, we discovered that he was indeed not as bad as we thought.

He was worse.

Matt frequently told the teachers that they were worthless, dumb, that he could fire them, and that anyone could do their jobs. From what we saw over the years, it didn't take a lot for him to fire anyone.

Now, at this point, you may wonder why Katie didn't step in and at least try and tell him to knock his shit off. Well, again, he did all the admin stuff. They also were friends from back in the day. So while she heard numerous complaints about him, she never acted on them.

Now onto the revenge:

Like everywhere else, the state mandates that we take their standardized test. The state was always VERY clear about when the deadlines for the tests were, what portions were to be taken by each grade, and what the penalties were for not making the deadlines.

A few weeks prior to the deadline, the school gets issued all parts of the test except for the science portion. Matt says he'll talk to the Department of Education and get it squared away. After a couple weeks, they still don't have the portion they need, and Katie asks where it is. Matt informs everyone that the State said they didn't have to take it. Some of you might be wondering why the State would say they didn't need to take it after making a big deal about it. The answer is simple: they didn't.

Matt, in his infinite narcissistic wisdom, decided not to get them. Because of this, the State opened an investigation and held meetings about revoking the charter for the entire district, essentially shutting them down. But Matt didn't get in trouble. Since Katie was superintendent, it was her job to make sure those tests were ordered. The story ended up going public and Katie took full responsibility for the screw up. Matt also berated her in private like he did with everyone else. She later steps down from her position as superintendent, but maintained her positions on the school board and the corporate board (remember this for later). Matt takes over as superintendent of the entire district.

Matt could have stopped there, but, being a narcissist and a dictator, he doesn't. He publishes a scathing open letter on the school's website blaming her for the whole ordeal and the fallout. He then has the principals of the other schools do the same. As far as the media, the public, and the Department of Education are concerned, the whole affair was due entirely to Katie's utter incompetence. Matt also continues berating her in private.

After two months, the State decides that they aren't going to shut down the district, much to everyone's relief. Some months later, they go back to not giving two shits what a small charter district does. Now that there are no eyes on them, Katie starts making moves. She wanted to get control of the district back from Matt now that she knew that all the claims that students, parents, and employees made over the years were true. As I mentioned earlier, she did maintain her position on the school board and they could theoretically remove him. The problem was that the other two people on there were put on there by Matt, so she'd always be on the minority on any vote. But also as I mentioned earlier, she had a position on the corporate board; a body whose decisions and authority superseded that of the school board.

She goes about gradually restaffing the corporate board. When Matt asks her why, she says it's to make sure that a similar mistake would never occur again. Matt believes her and thinks nothing of it. After a about a month, she added seven people, including her husband, onto the corporate board. They hold their first meeting and then call in Matt to inform him of their first order of business:

He was being given the option to resign. And if he didn't resign, he'd be fired.

Matt, not really having a choice, resigns. The next day, the high school's principal, a friend of his, also resigned. The day after that, the athletics director for the high school, Matt's son, followed suit. Katie then takes over in the interim and begins looking around for people to fill all the positions that Matt had consolidated (I think that there were seven or eight total).

The teachers and faculty all breathed a sigh of relief knowing that they didn't need to be afraid of being fired at the drop of hat anymore. As for the students, they hardly noticed. My old English teacher put it as "not even a ripple". Outside of those differences, the only thing anyone noticed after Matt and his cronies left was that a lot of really nice furniture went missing.

TL;DR Narcissist burns the person who lets him do whatever the fuck he wants and gets fired.

(source) story by (/u/poizunman206)

[bangbangchanie]

12 Days of Christmas

Day 2: Dear Santa (Choi Jongho)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning: cheesy fluff

A/N: This is cheesy and gross but the idea is cute, so I'm torn between loving and hating it 😂 Also, it's kind of like my comeback post! Sorry I've been gone so long...college kept me busy :( Please enjoy this and look forward to the rest of this Christmas series 💕 - Admin Peachy🍑

♡♡♡♡

You frowned as you lay down next to Jongho in the dark closet. It was fairly warm in there, but you still were snuggled up with your blanket.

"How is it that we're adults but we're still forced to sleep in the closet while our parents throw a party?" you asked him.

He grinned softly and shrugged. "I think our moms still see us as children. Besides, we can't exactly stay in your room since all the Christmas gifts are in there for the night locked up," he pointed out. Right, you had forgotten about that. "It's not so bad, either. It's like we're little kids again...kind of nostalgic."

Yeah, that was true. You'd much rather be sleeping in your parent's closet with Jongho than be out with both of your parents and their friends. It would no doubt be an endless conversation of "Y/N, do you have a boyfriend? No? Why not? You're so pretty!" or "Wow, remember that time you did that one really embarrassing thing as a kid? No? Don't worry, I have a video!". It was an endless cycle, truly, but it was like you were all one giant family, so they loved teasing you as if you were their own child.

"Are you guys coming over to open Christmas presents with us tomorrow?" you asked him after a short period of silence.

He nodded before remembering it was too dark for you to see. "Yeah, we are. I think my mom misses you coming around all the time. I know that they were talking about how they miss seeing us together."

The two of you were always attached at the hip when you were younger and then up until your high school graduation. College hadn't changed that much, but you both were too busy to see each other everyday like you were used to.

"That'll be fun. All of us together again just like old times."

Suddenly, the closet door flew open and your somewhat drunk mothers came stumbling in. "Kids, come on," Mrs. Choi said, blindly reaching to help you up. "Come hang out with us."

Honestly, you didn't like the sound of that. It seemed like you and Jongho were in for some torture and embarrassment.

"There you are, Y/N!" one of your aunties, not by blood of course, exclaimed. "How have you only gotten prettier since we last saw you? Do you have a boyfriend yet?"

You forced a smile on your face and shook your head. "No, Auntie, I don't," you responded, not sure if you were laughing or crying.

The two of you were sat on the couch as the grown-ups surrounded you, reminiscing on the past and seeing how life was treating you.

"What about you, Jongho? You're so handsome that you must have a girlfriend!" one of the uncles claimed.

Jongho smiled bashfully and shook his head. "I'm not really interested in dating right now," he confessed before the two of you shared an exasperated look. The closet certainly was much better.

"Please! That's a lie if I've ever heard one!" an auntie exclaimed. "Maybe you don't have a girlfriend, but you surely must be dating. Boys your age only have one thing on their mind."

Your eyes widened at how blunt she was about it whilst Jongho's cheeks tinged pink. "My son isn't like that! He's saving himself for the girl he loves," Mrs. Choi said proudly, lightly ruffling his hair. You snickered slightly, careful to not draw too much attention towards yourself.

"And that someone is my precious daughter," your mother said, gently pinching your cheek, earning a small whine of protest from you.

You wished your fathers would save you two, but you knew them staying quiet in the corner was for their own protection from embarrassment by your mothers. You envied their survival skills.

"Please, Jongho is going to marry my niece, right sweetie?" an auntie questioned.

That made your mother laugh. "He's my son-in-law already! It's just a matter of time. He even wished to marry Y/N one Christmas!"

He did? That surprised you a lot. You whipped your head to the side to look at him, but he was refusing to look at you and his face was a deeper red than you had ever seen. It must have been true, then.

Your mother was quick to rush off before returning with a small piece of paper. "See! This is the letter he wrote to Santa," she told everyone.

Jongho quickly stood up, almost causing his mother to fall off the couch. Despite everyone's protests, he made his way to the door.

"Mom! You can't read that aloud!" you exclaimed, snatching it from her hands as Jongho opened the door and stepped outside. You hadn't even realized it was snowing. "It's personal...even if he did write it as a kid."

She frowned, feeling a bit guilty but also happy to see you still protective over Jongho. You refolded the letter and then went back to the closet, grabbing your blanket. Your parents and their friends had already forgotten what had happened and were happily chatting about something else.

"Hey," you greeted Jongho softly, finding him sitting on your porch and watching the snow. It was freezing. You sat down next to him before wrapping the blanket around the two of you. You rested your head on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He sighed softly and nodded. "I'm fine, just embarrassed," he confessed, amazed that you weren't uncomfortable around him.

You reached into your pajama pants pocket and handed him the note. "Here, I didn't let my mom read it aloud and I didn't read it, either."

"No, I...I want you to read it."

Why? "Right now?" you questioned and he nodded. "O-okay."

Unfolding the piece of paper, you began to read his letter to Santa which went as follows:

Dear Santa,

Hi, my name is Choi Jongho and I am from Seoul, South Korea. I am 8 years old. Every year, I have a hard time trying to think of what I want for Christmas. Usually some toy or game, but this year I want something different. I wish to understand love. You see, I think I am in love, but I can't tell since I'm not sure what it is.

My best friend is named Y/N. She is the best person in the whole world and I hope she'll be by my side forever. She's very funny, kind, friendly, smart, and very pretty. I love her so much and hope she feels the same about me. 

So, my wish from you, Santa, is to learn what love is but to also marry Y/N. Not now, of course, but when I'm older. If you can do that, I won't need any other gift for the rest of my life.

Love, 

      Jongho

"Wait, are you crying?" Jongho asked after finally gaining the courage to look at you. 

You sniffled and nodded, folding the letter back up. "This is just so cute and sweet, Jongho," you confessed. The part where he said he didn't need any gift if he had you particularly tugged at your heartstrings. "But, I don't know why you're so embarrassed. You wrote this when you were eight, so things have changed."

He shook his head. "They haven't. I never wrote another letter to Santa because I meant what I said and was sticking by it. I don't want things to be weird between us, though, so it's okay if we pretend you never read this."

The expression on his face made you sad. "Jongho…" you trailed off. He turned to look at you, not expecting you to kiss him at all. 

His eyes widened with shock for a moment before they fluttered shut and he lost himself in the kiss. "Woah," he breathed out when you separated. "I--woah."

That made you giggle and also feel sort of proud. "I like you too, silly. That's one of the biggest reasons I haven't dated. I mean, guys aren't lining up to date me, but a few asked me out. They didn't compare to you, so it never worked out."

Jongho couldn't believe it. After years, his Christmas wish was finally beginning to come true. "Then, Y/N, will you be my girlfriend? I know it's sudden, but we've known each other for so long that it seems like it's the only way to take the next step."

You grinned and nodded your head, making him smile happily. Leaning in again, your lips connected once more. You smiled into the kiss and Jongho decided it was one of the best feelings ever.

What you both hadn't noticed, however, was that the front door had opened. It was late and the party was over. 

"Oh my god," your mother gasped, causing you and Jongho to jump and separate. "It's happening!"

She grabbed Mrs. Choi and the two of them began jumping around happily. You couldn't help but laugh and soon everyone else was joining in.

You glanced at Jongho and the two of you shared a smile as he intertwined his hand with yours. It certainly was a Christmas miracle.

[acioo]

( PART TWO HERE ) & ( PART THREE HERE ) here are NINE CHARACTER BASES ( label & background & personality ), all of whom i have played out in the past. they expand beyond ‘ the bad girl ‘ and ‘ the prince ‘ because i think as a community we’re all tired of the cliche bull, so have some of my most fun & most subversive times. these are for inspiration purposes as well as admin purposes. if you are going to use these in an rph setting, i request credit, but otherwise, it’s not necessary. ( all details viable to change ; pinterest board links available for all of them - if you are interested in my characters, see my muse page )  TW : death, alcohol, drugs, foster care, gun, blood, abuse, ( parental ) emotional neglect

001.    THE SUFFERING PSYCHIC — your father’s a shadow of a man you see in your dreams and your mother never stopped running. leaving you with relatives is the right thing to do, she thinks. they are the people she was running from, she forgets. you’re just like your mother, but you’re asthmatic and afraid and you won’t get as far as she did ( how many countries ? your cousins count with careless whispers when they think you’re asleep, but you can’t bear to ). you’re just helpless. they can’t see you in the way they see your best friend or older sister, and when they do, they try to ignore the way your eyes pick up the minor details and the power that’s an angry, divine throb in your veins.

002.   THE GHOST — you are the royal child who flourishes in the light. you look just like your mother, a golden beauty, but you speak and all they hear is your crisscrossed father. morally questionable at best, but no one can notice. have they seen the way you glitter in the light ? the sparkle in your smile ? they heard from a friend who heard from a friend that your magic is a beautiful white. all you were was good, but now everyone speaks of you as the ghost in the room. at least you died doing what you loved, which no one will talk about because it’s not something that a royal does. now that you’re back it’s hard to see anything but the haunted look in your eyes. you still love to smile. you just won’t smile for them.

003.   THE PRINCE OF HIS OWN MAKING — you’re the richest kid in town and you act like it. your father built the house you and your dozens of friends party at on the weekends and your mother’s shady mafia ties are something you and your first ( and only ) girlfriend ( now best friend ) are the only ones that know about. you’ve hooked up with half your small town and your fists have callouses from long nights outback the local convenience store because you never learned to think before you speak. no one cares that you speak four languages or that your stanford acceptance letter is on the fridge because they just want to know about where you got those pretty green eyes from and how you learned to look so good in dark clothes. and you’re fine with that. aren’t you ?

004.   THE UNWILLING VICTOR — you live in the shadow of your older sister, but you’ve never minded. the light blinds your eyes and you crack, finely and an ugly shade, when people look too closely. you’re barefeet on grass and bubblegum chapstick. and maybe you don’t know what’s under the cracks, either. but even though people would love you peel you apart like the wrapper on a piece of candy, you’re used to avoiding the spotlight and you’ve never liked surprises. because outside the peach sweet softness and perfectly white smile, the truth is that you’re not so pretty underneath it all. your fingers know how to load and unload a gun from muscle memory and the things you say have a sad song playing under them. maybe that look your older sister gives you isn’t pity. maybe it’s something else, something scary that you can’t look in the eyes.

005.  THE PUNK — you’re born with fire in your blood. you’re not the first in your family to be great, but rather one of the many, and isn’t that worse, somehow ? knowing that you never really had a choice in this life ? knowing that your story was already written and played and annotated ? they speculate that maybe you’re like this because of it all. the pressure made you a diamond and you hate that. you drink like you’re dehydrated and vodka’s pedialyte but you’re always awake for six am ballet and ready for 12 pm ice skating. and, hey, you might scare off the press with your loud mouth and your angry curses but they’re still going to follow you from apartment to liquor store to your fwb’s house because you’re the prettiest face they’ve seen in a while and you’re lightning on your feet. all you want is for it to stop but your family raised you to skate, not to live.

006.   THE CASSANDRA — you’re an accident. the sixteen-year-old heiress can’t be having a child. especially not with all the nights she spends out with her friends drinking like her life depends on it. you’re raised by your grandparents and all you know is their strict, unloving voice. you learn what it’s like to be a pawn. you can’t make them happy but you will try with all your might. from the ballet lessons to the ballet recitals to the ballet rehearsals, you’ll crack the code to their affection somehow. when you start having the visions, you don’t tell them the truth. they blame it on that time of year where all the recitals line up, leaving you an irritable, sleep-deprived mess. when you breathlessly pant about death and blood with words that aren’t yours, they turn elsewhere. but when your mother who was not your mother dies they look right at you. the foster system is a dark place until you walk with a compass based on that thing inside you into your new parent's upper east apartment. you grow up there. learn to laugh again, learn soft hands and a gentle heart, but the rooster of lovers and paint stains can’t hide the fact that you don’t know what to do with all this power that’s thrust itself onto you. you know the truth. this power is going to swallow you whole.

007.  THE ACCIDENTAL PROTAGONIST — you’re the baby of the family and by the time you’re born, your parents are out of love to give. your older siblings try their hand at raising you but the truth is they’re babies too, and they don’t know how to handle you. you with the different eyes and the different, quiet temperament and all the different problems. you don’t talk a lot but your eyes are big and wide and they see too much. you spend your days going from your fancy school to your fancy penthouse to your fancy therapist until your fancy parents uproot you to a new town. you don’t do feelings and you don’t do bonding, but when people look past everything that other people made you into, you feel like you’re finally starting to be someone and it’s freeing in the best way. you have something underneath all that. you like to yell sometimes. and you can snap. and that’s okay too.

008.   THE JERSEY DEVIL — you’re the cool kid. your cool house. your cool name. your cool parents. but it wasn’t always like that. your biological parents can’t handle one child, let alone the baseball team they have. your twin sister who you never know has your same warm brown eyes, but you find that out later, older, a pack of files in hand. and you think that’s when you first learn heartbreak. when it settles into you a cold, unruly presence. you don’t know how to get it out so you learn to adapt to it. your adoptive parents like to gloss over all the things you picked up over the years. your diagnoses, your bloody fists, your knack for troublemaking. besides, when you get arrested it’s forgotten about a news cycle later. the rumors still stay there though. about all your conquests and about all your foster homes and how your friends all have that same dirty designer look to them. you’re happy the way you are even if your pr team isn’t.

009.   THE MIDDLE CHILD — you’re the poster child for middle child syndrome, even if it’s only by eleven seconds. you aren’t like your siblings, princess and basket case. you’re angry in a way they can’t be. you like classical music at prolific volumes and you like driving your car too fast and you like making people regret believing in you. your mother scoffs. says you’re just like your grandmother who she moved countries to get away from, who drank vodka like orange juice, who never could stand the way her daughter liked to lie to herself. your father glances away. asks you to please turn that down, or please show your ‘ friend ‘ out, or to please stop ruining dinner. when you’re home alone again at age fifteen you make them regret treating you like this. and when you’re seventeen when they leave the keys to the porsche in your eyesight. and when you’re eighteen and you and your siblings can’t even make it up the steps in the penthouse because you’re so wasted new years eve. you’re angry and vicious and that makes you really fucking happy in a way that nothing else does.

[girls-scenarios]

Hello~ List 1 prompt 7 with Dreamcatcher's Jiu. Thank you so much and have a great holiday season

Dreamcatcher’s JiU / Holiday Prompts

7. Persons A and B must convince their child that yes, Santa is real.

Admin Kiwi

A/N: I randomly decided to make the child… Ryujin. I don’t know, Jiu just acts like Ryujin’s mom and it’s cute. I hope you enjoy!

“My friend Jessi told me that Santa isn’t real!” Those were the first words out of your daughter Ryujin’s mouth as she climbed into the car after school, throwing her backpack into the backseat. In the front seat, you froze, then slowly turned to look at your wife Jiu. She shared the same shocked face as you as Ryujin, apparently unaware of the stress she’d just put on her parents, hummed to herself in the backseat.

“H-huh,” Jiu finally said, turning around to look at the little girl. “Well, that’s certainly something.”

“Hey, what’s for dinner? I’m hungry!” Thank goodness for children’s short attention spans. You let out a sigh of relief as you turned to focus on driving home.

“What do you think? You have to guess!”

Ryujin began to rattle off her favorite foods, and you shared a secret glance with Jiu, biting your lip. This definitely called for a late-night meeting.

-

Later, after Ryujin had gone to sleep, Jiu waved you into the kitchen and leaned against the counter top, shaking her head.

“Who is allowing their kid to go around telling kids that Santa isn’t real? They’re only five, that’s way too early to stop believing in Santa!”

“No kidding,” you said, leaning against the opposite counter and crossing your arms. “I don’t think she’s dwelling on it too much right now, but I’m still worried. I want to keep the magic alive for at least a little bit longer.”

“What should we do?”

Biting your lip, you thought for a moment. What would convince a five-year-old that Santa was real? “Well, first I think we should get her to write a letter to Santa. We still need that to buy her gifts.”

“Right.”

“Maybe we could go see Santa at the mall?”

“If she’s already questioning his existence, it might be a little confusing for him to show up at a mall instead of the North Pole.”

“You’re so right!” Groaning, you rubbed your hands over your face. “This whole Santa thing is so hard.” The two of you were silent for a moment, both deep in thought. Then, Jiu snapped her fingers.

“Maybe we could have her write letters back and forth to Santa.”

“That’s.... I think that could work! We could put them in the mailbox and have her pick up the letters after school.”

“Wait. What if she tells the other kids and they ruin the fun?”

“Hmm. Well, Santa could tell her to keep it a secret. Or he could say that he saw her friend say he didn’t exist and wanted to let her know that he does.”

“I think that last one would work the best.” Grinning, Jiu stood up. “We can totally do this.”

“All we have to do now,” you said, “is get her to write a letter to Santa.” You held up your hand and Jiu laughed as she gave you a high-five, then a kiss on the cheek.

“This is going to be so much fun!”

-

Getting Ryujin to write a letter to Santa was pretty easy: she was more than happy to talk about the toys she wanted for Christmas. Soon enough, the two of you had your list, and Jiu quickly snapped a photo of it before you placed it back into the envelope Ryujin had decorated.

“What will we do with the extra letters?” Your wife asked as she put away her phone, raising her eyebrows. “She’s getting older, so she might be able to find them if we try and stash them somewhere.”

“There’s space in the cabinets above the fridge. I know good and well she can’t get up there yet.”

“Good point!” Jiu stood up, then laughed. “But I can’t really reach that space either.”

“Oh, right. I guess that means it’s the perfect hiding spot after all?”

-

Writing Santa’s letters to Ryujin was the hard part. You’d looked up a couple of examples online of letters by “Santa” but there were a lot of options to choose from, and you needed to make sure he was addressing Ryujin directly. He needed to know some things her friends wouldn’t know, so that she’d believe that “he sees you” part of the song and be good. It ended up taking the two of you a lot longer than you wanted to admit to write the letter, but eventually, it ended up in the mailbox.

When you brought Ryujin home, you went straight for the mailbox, pretending to shift through the mail before letting out a gasp. Your acting wasn’t the best, but Ryujin was five: she couldn’t tell the difference.

“Wow, Ryujin, there’s a letter in here to you from Santa!”

The little girl stopped mid-turn, freezing in her steps before turning her head over her shoulder to look at you. Then she came running and tumbling over, crashing into your legs and looking up at you with wide eyes. “Santa? Really?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that so cool?”

“Yes, so cool!” She squealed and took the letter from your hand, bouncing up and down.

“Well then, let’s go inside and read it, okay?”

Although she was learning to read, Ryujin couldn’t quite read a whole letter yet. So she handed the letter to Jiu as the three of you settled down on the couch, bouncing up and down and tugging on her arm. “Read it, read it!”

“Let’s see what we have here.” Jiu’s voice was soft as she opened the letter and sent you a smile. “Dear Ryujin. This is Santa, writing to tell you that I’ve gotten your letter all the way up here at the North Pole! I’m impressed by how good your writing has gotten since last year! But I’m really sending you this letter because I heard something that made me sad the other day. A little five-year-old girl named Jessi told you that I’m not real. When I heard you tell your parents about that, I knew I had to write to let you know that I am real! We’re busy getting ready for Christmas up here, but I’ve been watching and I know what a good girl you’ve been. I saw that you helped Mommy set the table the other day, and that you always clean your room when your parents ask you to. I saw that your polite and always say please and thank you, even to other kids on the playground. Since you’ve been so good, I’m making the toys you asked for right now! I hope now you know that I’m real and that I care about each and every one of you kids! Merry Christmas, Santa.”

“Whoa....” Ryujin’s mouth was open and she was staring at the letter with big eyes, her hands clutching Jiu’s shirt. “It was Santa?”

“It was Santa! Isn’t that awesome, Ryujin? You got a letter from Santa!”

“Awesome! I knew Jessi was wrong!” The little girl jumped to her feet and bounced around the room. “Santa wrote me a letter, Santa wrote me a letter!”

With a little laugh, you bumped your fist against Jiu’s. Your plan was working. “Are you going to write him back to let him know you got his letter?” You asked, and she paused, then nodded her head with a big grin.

“Yeah! I want to do that!”

“Then let’s get to it!”

-

You were woken up on Christmas morning by Ryujin’s loud, excited yell, loud footsteps in the hall, and the loud slam of your door against the wall as she barreled into your room, her hair standing straight up from her head and her face flushed with excitement.

“Santa came! He came, he came! There’s presents under the tree!” She jumped onto the bed, making both of you groan and open your eyes. The two of you had been up until around three in the morning trying to make sure everything was perfect, so you’d hardly gotten any sleep. Still, seeing Ryujin’s excited face made you smile fondly and sit up in bed, patting down her bedhead.

“Are you excited to see what he brought you?”

“Yeah! I hope he brought me a pony!”

Jiu laughed as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What is a five year old little girl like you going to do with a pony?”

“Ride him and pet him, obviously!”

“We don’t have the room for a pony.”

“Awe.” She pouted a bit, and you exchanged a glance with your wife before patting your daughter’s shoulder.

“Now Ryujin, do you think Santa would want us to keep a pony cramped up inside the house? The pony wouldn’t be happy like that.”

She let out a sigh, then shook her head. “No... But if we get a big backyard, will he give it to me then?”

“Maybe!” The answer was no, but you weren’t going to tell her that. “Now, go brush your teeth and wash your face, and we’ll go downstairs and open presents.”

“Okay!” At the mention of presents, Ryujin was all smiles again, jumping off the bed and running out of the room. Laughing, Jiu leaned her head against your shoulder.

“You handled that well.”

“She asked for a pony in her letter, so I was pretty sure the conversation would come up eventually.” For a moment, the two of you enjoyed the quiet Christmas morning, cuddling in close to each other. Then, there was a loud crash that sounded like Ryujin’s hair supplies tumbling from the counter, and the two of you burst into laughter.

“That’s our cue,” Jiu said playfully, throwing her feet over the edge of the bed. “There’s no time for peace and quiet with a five year old.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, remembering her excited smile. Being a parent could be stressful at times, but it was all worth it to see her smile. “But Christmas wouldn’t be the same without her. I kind of like being Santa.”

“Me too,” Jiu said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas.”