#yes I know i mispelled Rosy

[tekatonic]

Opening up with the early early things back when i didn't really know what i wanted to do with this.

We're going chronologically, so this is all from february/march 2022 !

[fullofgutsndopamine]

everything you do (makes it easy to fall in love with you)

tw: cliches, over usage of pet names, insta-love, cursing

they/them for reader but one instance of “Misses” i couldn’t find a way around it

more here

the giggling should’ve given it away at first.

kids giggling and pulling at the each others sleeve is never a good sign, and even as a second year teacher-you know better.

a smile finds its way onto your face regardless, “what’s so funny?” you ask, “hm?”

half the class giggles into their hands, squirms in their seats and doesn’t answer until a student in the front spoke.

listen, you don’t have favorites-they’re all your kids. but if you had to choose, Rosie, the quiet kid that sits in front for all your lessons, speaks quietly and carefully, her glasses falling down her nose as she speaks-would be one of the first

“miss,” rosie giggles, “someone left a present for you.”

you act surprised.

Kids bringing small presents is nothing new; there's James, who brought you a bruised apple in the first month you started teaching. Annie, who comes in from recess with rocks shoved deep in her pockets for you; Sam who never comes inside when the bell rings without a weed in their pocket, a dandelion half squished for you-

when you make your way to your desk, make a show of opening the small shoebox turned Valentine's Day box you made in class, now with little cats on the sides, whiskers on the front; you're expecting half ripped pieces of lined paper in there, little mispelled love notes from your students-

making a show of opening it, you don't have to act surprised when you see it's absouletly filled to the brim with notes-and you were half right, written on ripped lined paper, scribbled between class periods, mispelled everything-

"Miss-"

one of the students calls you back to it as you take a handful out, a mess of: u lok nice 2day and i lik ur dres or i lov u

"Do you want us to tell you who they're from?"

They're giggling behind their hands, like it's an inside joke you somehow missed out on, didn't get the memo on

"Hm," The smirk plays on your face as you grab another one, "I haven't the faintest idea-"

"It was Mister Charlie!" Annie all but squeals, the class erupting into giggles

"Mr.Charlie," Your eyebrows form into one, "Like, the science teacher across the hall, Mr.Charlie? The one with the glasses?”

It's obvious from the notes that it isn't from him even if you've seen him in passing; walking to your classroom in the morning before the students are there, your hands full of bags for the classroom, him insisting on helping you only for you to race him to see who can get to their classrooms first-walking into his room when you know it's his planning period, his hair dishelved, glasses shoved ontop of his head as he's massaging the sides of his forehead only for you to ask, "Does this sound dumb?" when you're trying to draft an email

you know of Charlie

it's hard not to know about charlie. it's only your second year teaching, your first in this school district, and while everyone here is nice, he's the only one who's seemed to go out of his way to make sure you're comfortable. Dropping by on his lunch, his wrinkled paper bag in hand "I packed too much for lunch." only to pass you an orange, or an apple-when you get a note from one of his students and open it only for it to read: Sorry. They needed a second outside of the classroom. Please send something back for them. -C

"Yeah," They pull you back to present time, "He has a crush on you. He loves you."

they're giggling into their palms, oohing and awing as you do when you're young and love is something that makes their face bright red and squirm in their seats-

"Alright," You shake your head, shove the notes back in, hoping they don't see your face bright red, "We have to finish this lesson. C'mon, let's see where were we. Ah, yes. June, can you-"

You wait until it dies down, when you hope these notes are at least a semi forgotten thing, right before you're about to send them to recess, to send the note across the hall. You make sure to staple it down, don't trust the kids to not peak, and send it across the hall

Across the hall, Charlie is pacing.

"No because like," He shakes his head, runs his hand through his hair, "I can't tell them I like them-"

His best friend, the janitor, John, sits backwards in his chair, eating a banana.

He rolls his eyes as he peels the outside carefully, "Right, because that would be embarrassing-"

"No because exactly!" He shakes his head, slams his fist against his other hand, "I have to-"

A tiny knock on the door and charlie whips around.

All his students are gone, in art for the next 45 minutes-don't them to see him like this, stressed about a crush he'd rather die, thanks.

"Hey. Where-."

He immediately drops the rant, drops his voice as he kneels on the floor, very aware of how intimidating he could be to children, and how he towers over the students, tries to make himself smaller around them always

She drags her feet to Charlie, hands him the piece of red construction paper, stapled down, face bright red: "This is from misses, across the hall."

She speaks so quietly charlie has to strain to hear her, would have missed it if he didn't see your writing across the top of it.

His eyes go wide to John, "It's from them."

John cackles, "Is this a code red? Or-"

"Not now, John." charlie hisses, turns to the kid, "Thank you.”

And she nods once, drags her feet out the door and all but runs to the classroom.

"Open it, you idiot." John huffs, throws the banana peel into the wastebasket by the door, misses.

charlie turns it around in his hands, takes a deep breath, and opens it.

Across the hall, you worry you did the wrong thing.

It borders on flirting, the note you sent. Wrote it on a whim, can definitely see the words you scribbled out, wrote over, tried to make it so he doesn't see the first draft

Heard you have a crush on me you wrote, my kids filled my box with notes from "you". I would expect a science teacher to know how to spell 'hydrogen' when you're professing your love to me, but it's sweet, all the same. If you're kids say anything to you, just wanted to fill you in. Sorry, this is dumb.

You're contemplating faking your death, making a new identity, running away-investing in fake mustaches anything then to live in shame of flirting-with another teacher?! A science teacher of all things?! Please.

The note is shoved under your door, and you can hear footsteps all but run away and a door close in the time it takes you to get it.

It's your planning period now, and you turned the lights off and shut the door in hopes of some quiet to get rid of the pounding headache behind your eyes, your glasses shoved over your face

You get it slowly, carefully, walk to the door where there's a thick piece of computer paper, also stapled close, halfway across the room from being shoved with such passion under the door-

your name is scribbled in front, loopy and carefully and you open the note slowly, expecting a restraining order

sunshine,

can't believe my cover was blown away by students, of all things. I heard them whispering in my classroom about this, but didn't think they'd be brave enough to do anything about it.

I'm sorry about my kids. I think when adults look at each other, kids think they're in love. I hope they didn't bother you too much.

-charlie in 303 (The science teacher)

P.S. You look pretty today

Your fingers run over the note, the place where he obviously pressed down too hard with his pencil and left marks in the note, the scratching out he did. The way he added his classroom in, as if you weren't sure who he was, as if he isn't the only one who's showed you kindness, who stayed with you when you locked yourself out of your classroom your second day until John came to unlock the door. Or the snacks he brought you, the cupcake he had a student bring you when he was celebrating his birthday-the kind little gestures he did in the few months you'd known him

You sit on the note for the day.

Not on purpose; your class came back and there was a small fight amongst students, homework to do-the note felt heavy in your pocket, forgotten until you got home and undressed for the day.

"No but like," charlie sighs to John the next day, early before school is suppose to start. John is leaning back in his seat, eating a granola bar and missing his mouth, most of it ending up on the floor, "Valentine's day is in two days and all I did was send a note all but professing my love to another teacher."

"I know," John snorts, "How embarrassing. That has to be like, an HR red flag, right?"

"Not helping, John." charlie groans as he slams his head against his desk. "Maybe this is a sign I should quit. Move across the sea, make a new identity-"

"On a teachers budget?" John snorts, "charlie be serious, you can't even afford to look at those ticket prices-"

"Not helping, you-"

"Besides," John rolls his eyes, throws the wrapper in the trash, "It's just a crush, charlie. Jesus Christ, you act like you've never had one before. They aren't going to write you up for thinking the teacher across the room from you is hot."

charlie groans, digs the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees stars.

"And besides," John adds, "It's cute. I haven't seen you this excited since college. The flowers are cute, I promise."

charlie doesn't answer, picks up the mini water bottle he ripped the label off of it and picked some of the wild flowers that grow on his walk into school. He can't afford the grocery store bouquets, not on his teaching budget.

"Come on," John groans as he stands, jingles the keys in his hands, "I'll unlock their door before they come. They'll be here in ten minutes."

charlie sighs but obeys, bites back comments on how he worries this is weird, replaces it with: "it's weird you know their schedule."

John huffs, digs into his pocket as he makes a show of using the wrong keys so charlie groans, cranes his neck to check the hallway for any signs of you-

Finally, three wrong keys later, John pushes the door open and gently shoves charlie in, and he stumbles inside, places the water bottle on your desk, and digs around in his pocket for the note he wrote last night when he couldn't sleep, and shoves it deep into your valentines mailbox before he can regret it-and all but runs out.

Your turning the construction paper make-shift valentine you made over in your hand, contemplating what to say, when to confess this crush officially, when your eyes hit the small water bottle again.

the note never said it's from him, but it's all but implied, the same flowers you see in the schoolyard day in and day out, and you drag the small bottle to you, shove your nose deep into the small bouqet.

Your eye catches the note in the box. You almost missed it, halfway through the day already, when you can see the very tip of it, and you carefully have to dig it out, carefully unwrinkled it and put it on your lap

one day left.

according to my kids, we're married. sorry you have to find out this way that you're taken. sorry the last name is kind of shit.

Have a good day, darling. Keep the tiny humans alive until 3:05.

-C (303, Science teacher)

PS You look beautiful today

A smile creeps onto your face, and a plan forms in your head.

Being friends with the janitor comes with many perks. You didn't originally become friends just for those perks, believe you should treat everyone kindly, but when charlie is in one of his kid's specials (It's Thursday, so you know it's music class and you also know, from walking past the room, that charlie takes the class very seriously, and likes to join in when he can) and you're able to find John, hiding in his room (More of a make shift closet) and ask him to unlock charlie’s door.

"I worry this goes against a school rule," You whisper, bouncing on your heels, "Like, an unspoken rule."

John smells heavy of nicotine and grease (somehow) but he's humming as he unlocks the door, "Nah," He shakes his head, "Just mention me in y'all's speech when y'all are married. Or, name a kid after me."

You gasp, gently hit his arm, "John we are not getting married. Or having kids. I don't even know him. We're just two co-workers who are being nice."

John physically bites his tongue to hold back any comments on first love, or how many text charlie’s sent about you instead nods: "Mhm." as the door opens.

The room is darker without charlie. You know in your head it's due to the lights being out, and not actually because of his lack of presence, but he definitely brings something to the stone walls that's missing without him.

"Quick, quick quick," John teases as he leans against the doorframe, jingles his keys, that smirk on his face he always seems to wear, "Let's go."

You squeal, all but run to his desk, the small bouquet of construction paper flowers on green pipe cleaners you folded on lunch in a small paper milk carton, a piece of paper under it: One more day to go. Sorry these aren't real. From your wife

And you all but run out as John laughs at you.

Valentine's Day comes, and it feels like it's hangng over your shoulders, some big d-day you've been dreading and waiting for.

charlie is too chicken shit to ask you out to your face. He knows this, hell-you probably know that too, but he still comes in, a small cup he usually reserves for his kid's birthdays, plastic with your name down the side, filled with your favorite candy (gotten the answer from grilling your kids at lunch and lowkey bribing them) a note taped to the outside in a bright pink envelope he folded up.

He makes his way to your room, sets it in the middle, hesitates, contemplates if he should, and leaves before he can second guess it.

You're happy you saw the cup before your students, or you would've never heard the end of it.

Your hands all but shake as you take the paper out, his handwriting slanted and scribbled like he wrote it in a hurry:

It's so fucked that I couldn't say this straight to your face.

Will you go out with me? Tonight, 8pm. Tammy's Diner in town.

Let me know.

-c

The absence of his room number, his title, makes you smile, blushing as you re-read the note, him finally asking you out. You contemplated asking him out since you started here, debating with it every ride home in complete silence, beating yourself up for not doing it.

You open your desk up, grab a piece of paper, and get to work.

charlie is googling teaching jobs in the city when one of your students walks in, wide eyed, a note in their small hands. He all but runs to them, gives them a hand full of candy as they leave happily, and he takes a deep breathe, opens the note

Can't wait

I've been waiting for you to ask me out.

Our class party is at noon. Bring your class and we can have a little combined party, it'll be fun.

Wear your green tie, it's my favorite.

-Your excited wife

"And that class, is when you carry the one. Now-"

The yell rips through the air, all but quiet, and the class whips around, wide eyed, wondering what the yelling is about, the loud Woo that rips through the air.

A smile forms on the edge of your lips, "C'mon guys, we're almost done. When this is over, we have a party with Mr.Charlie’s class. C'mon. Now, if the one is carried-"

[funkymbtifiction]

hi Charity,

my name is Rosi and i am 24 years old girl, i hope you don’t mind me asking your help in finding my mbti and enneagram...

i digged for awhile in the "realm of typology" and i believe it's safe to assume i use Ni-Se because that's simply the way i take decisions, i know what i want to accomplish and i wait until the right time comes up while working "underground" around it, every decision i take must align to a sort of *aesthetic vision* i had since i was a child and act on it when the time comes. when i take a decision i can't help but feel torn between the need to include other people in every step and the fact i don’t want this decision to be contaminated by their ideas, especially if i already though about it... i can seem almost indecisive but i always know what i want. i have been described as sensitive, gentle and a bit of a crybaby, but hard to relate to because i can be assertive and stubborn! i developed an ED as a teen and centered my mind around getting the ideal body but i don’t want to talk about this, because i wasn't there anymore. i feel a strong need to help people but i still don’t know how to do so, i don’t have a long term plan about *my future*, i know what is the best for others, but, oh gosh, doing so on myself it's hard, i am currently jobless and have no clue kn how to do help, but still grateful every time i can help someone in need :)

i suppose all of this says little to nothing about mbti and fuctions... but i think i am a 2w1 sp/so maybe? what do you think? thank you for your help and sorry for any mispelling, english isn't my first language <3

So much emphasis on other people and their journeys (plus being sensitive, emotional, and people-driven) suggests Fe rather than Te, so I would say NFJ. I can't tell from this whether you are ENFJ or INFJ, however. If you are more people-focused, outgoing, and orient yourself strongly around relationships/your loved ones, ENFJ. If you are more of a loner, get lost in your head a lot, and are slow to take action on things, INFJ. And yes, 2w1 sounds correct. :)