#teacher!yn

[finelinefae]

the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]

synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.

word count: 8.5k

contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma

This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!

. . .

Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military.  People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission. 

“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft. 

He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug. 

“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own. 

Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close.  Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.

“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair. 

“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead 

“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother. 

Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips. 

Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.

“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.

“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.

George nodded, “Last time I heard.”

“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.

Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.

Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling. 

“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot. 

“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”

George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.” 

Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery. 

. . .

“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon. 

“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job.  She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.

“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”

Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet. 

“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?” 

Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply. 

Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up. 

As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.” 

Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. 

Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life. 

“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.” 

“M her brother,” He corrected. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention. 

“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding. 

“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”

“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?” 

“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.

“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.” 

Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.

“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained. 

“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?” 

“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,” 

“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.” 

Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.” 

Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?” 

She paused, “Any friends?” 

“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said. 

“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.” 

“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-” 

“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.” 

Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”

“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing. 

“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?” 

“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance. 

“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle. 

Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.

Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”

“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can believe that,” She yelled back.

“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.

Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.

Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.

On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base. 

The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red. 

Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.

“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”

“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette. 

“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified. 

“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked. 

Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?” 

“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.” 

“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly. 

“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.

“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen. 

Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”

“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly. 

“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”

“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.” 

“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”

Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added. 

“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.” 

Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her. 

“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”

“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.

“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished. 

Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”

“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night. 

Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.” 

Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.

"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.

Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."

Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."

With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.

Keep away from Harry Styles. 

. . .

The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers. 

This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages. 

Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit. 

Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms. 

Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new. 

Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes. 

Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light. 

Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet. 

He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in. 

The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.” 

“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky. 

“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled. 

“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms. 

George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?” 

Harry didn’t reply, instead asking,  “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?” 

George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You���re serious?” 

The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?” 

George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”

Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”

“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.

“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”

Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.” 

“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”

“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night. 

“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement. 

“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.

“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.

“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”

“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.”  Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.

. . .

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to. 

She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too. 

Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails. 

It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man. 

Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him. 

Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse. 

Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist. 

“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.

“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.

“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol. 

“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N. 

“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously. 

“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself. 

Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.

Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were. 

“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined. 

“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted. 

Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better. 

Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return. 

“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”

“A few?” Patsy giggled.

“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre. 

Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy. 

“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them. 

“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies. 

Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”

“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.

Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”

Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances. 

Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that. 

The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”

“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman. 

Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”

Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table. 

“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.

“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table. 

A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.  

Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through. 

He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.

“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke. 

“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile. 

A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted. 

“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist. 

“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be. 

“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen. 

“Hi,” Y/N blushed.

“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke. 

“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified. 

“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.”  Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”

“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name. 

“Harry, c’mere!” He called. 

Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to. 

“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”

“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.

“So you came?” He teased. 

“I did.” She laughed, lightly. 

“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk. 

“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.

“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?” 

"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer. 

Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked. 

“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.

He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?” 

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air. 

She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances. 

“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.

“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained. 

“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”

“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.

“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of. 

“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”

Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”

“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”

“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.

“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.

Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.” 

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people. 

The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely. 

Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.

"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin. 

As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.

"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.

"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background. 

"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.

"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.

"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.

"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.

"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.

"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.

"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.

"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.

Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.

“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. 

As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about. 

A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. 

"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.

Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.

"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."

Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.

"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.

Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.” 

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.

Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.” 

“I do want it,” Y/N nodded. 

“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper. 

“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous. 

Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible. 

In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss. 

They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss. 

“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.

“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper. 

“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned. 

“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.” 

Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate. 

“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress. 

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.” 

Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”

They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre. 

“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.

Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.” 

Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared. 

She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms.  As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.

Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.

A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.

I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! <;33

[ifancyharry]

Routine - Bad Habit (3)

in which YN spends the night - officially - for the first time, but Harry's daughter isn't really happy about that; fluff; angst; smut; dad!harry

wc: 5.9k

can be read as a stand alone, but if you want to understand more read Bad Habit (1) and (2)

“Hi.” Harry greets her as soon as he opens the door, smiling the same smile YN has been in love with since she was 20 years old. 

“Hi.” She repeats his word as a form of greeting, and despite the shortness of it, nothing needs to be added, because the excitement they both transpire can be felt in the air between them. 

This would be the first time YN officially spent the night. Of course, she’d stayed over many times in the two months they had been dating, but never officially. She’d always leave before Aidi could find her tangled in Harry’s sheets, and it had been fine at first. She hated waking up early, but she’d do whatever she could to reassure Aidi’s well being.

YN doesn’t know why all of a sudden Harry was eager to invite her over. He told her he felt ready, and she had felt excited despite feeling the fear of how his daughter would react. 

Harry told her that he wouldn’t tell her right away, YN would just stay over and they’d see from there how it went. Of course, his nonchalance hadn’t gone unnoticed by YN, that on the other hand felt nervous about it all and would’ve much rather he told Aidi she would at least spend the night. But, she figured, she wasn’t a parent, and she couldn’t possibly know what was best for Aidi, so she had agreed to follow his plan with enthusiasm. 

“Everything okay?” He asks when he sees she hasn’t moved from her spot.

“Just a little bit nervous” she shrugs, tightening the grip around the handle of her duffle bag.

“I see I still have tha’ effect on yah?” He chuckles, opening his lips in a teasing smirk.

“Shut up! ‘S not because of you” 

“I know” he says, and his eyes soften at the sight of the girl in front of him, all shy and anxious about something that he thinks is so natural. “‘M just teasing. Everything’s gonna be okay” 

She sighs at his words and takes a step closer to him, “ugh, I know… just want it to be perfect”

“‘S already perfect with you here” he smiles, grabbing her upper arm and tugging her closer to him. He circles her back with his arm and squeezes her against his chest, holding her tight in a soothing embrace.

“You’re perfect” she sighs once again, inhaling the pleasing scent of his fabric softener lingering on his hoodie. 

YN still can’t believe he is hers.

“C’mon let’s go inside, yeah?” 

“Mmhmm” she nods against the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Once Harry closes the front door behind him, he takes YN’s duffle bag from her hands and tells her to follow him upstairs. 

“Where’s Aidi?” She asks.

“In her room” 

“Is she… does she know I’m here?” 

She watches as he nods his head, and she wonders for a moment if there’s something wrong going on. Is Aidi upset? Is it too soon? 

“Harry…” she whispers once they enter his room, “maybe it’s too soon. We should have-“ 

“YN.” He interrupts her, a serious look adorning his gentle features, “I told you already everything is fine.”

“Okay” she nods doubtfully, not really convinced by his words.

He tosses her bag on his bed and after he turns around to face her. He takes her hand in his and squeezes it to reassure her. He knows how she is. How much she worries, but that’s the very same reason why he’s so sure about this. He knows she cares about Aidi very much, and he thinks she’ll be good for his daughter, even if it takes her some time getting used to having another person around more. 

YN follows Harry out of his room, and, once they reach Aidi’s door, she watches as he gently knocks on it. 

“Aidi?” He asks, opening the door and peeking his head inside. “Hi bug” he says softly, and YN feels herself melt at the interaction. He’s so gentle, so sweet. He makes her feel warm, like the first spring sun shining on her skin after a cold winter.

He opens the door wider and YN spots Aidi laying on her bed, her ballerina bunny squeezed under her chin. She lights up as soon as she sees her dad, and she nods timidly when Harry asks her if she was asleep.

“I was really tired, daddy” she mumbles, knuckling at her eyes sleepily. 

“Tha’s okay” he reassures. “‘S almost time to eat dinner” 

YN watches from the door jamb, unsure on what to do. She doesn’t want to interfere in their moment, still feeling a bit unease at the situation.

“Do you want to say hi to YN?” Harry asks when Aidi gets up from the bed. 

She shakes her head no. “I already said at school”.

YN bites hard on her bottom lip. She knew it would be hard. 

Harry furrows his brows and looks at his daughter, confused by her behavior. She loves YN. She always talks about how nice she is and how she’s so happy she’s his friend so he doesn’t really know where this is coming from. He figures she’s just grumpy from being woken up. 

YN, on the other hand, thinks this is going to be harder than they thought. 

…

It’s a little bit later in the evening, and despite the abrupt start, things seem calmer now. Aidi had played with her dolls while she watched cartoons on the tv, and YN had helped Harry with setting the table for dinner. 

She thinks it’s nice. Settling into a routine and sharing it with them. She’s always been kind of alone, and she’s always thought of herself as more of a loner, but maybe she’s been wrong all along and this is where she was actually destined to be. 

“Aidi?” Harry calls from inside the kitchen.

YN smiles fondly once she sees Aidi walking towards them with a pep in her step, she seems fine, until Harry asks her what she wants to eat, because nothing seems of her liking. 

“Noooo daddy I don’ like that!” she protests when Harry shows her the package of pasta he intended on cooking.

“But you’ve always liked it! You looove when granny makes it for yah!” 

“Yeah” she gives him a firm nod, “but yeh’re not granny” 

YN has to refrain herself from laughing at them. She wonders if she’s like this everyday or she’s putting on a show just because she’s there. 

“Uggh fine, then. How about…” he looks through the cupboard to see what other thing he could cook, he picks up another package of pasta, shaped like butterflies this time, and holds it in front of her, but Aidi shakes her head disgusted once again.

He moves toward the fridge then, taking out some chicken and showing it to her, but “noooo” she protests. 

“Wha’s gotten into yah!” He sighs discouraged.

“I’m sorry” he mouths to YN, to which she replies with a knowing smile.

Harry opens the door to the freezer and YN spots a package of chicken nuggets inside, and she points to them trying to hide her gesture from Aidi, not sure whether she could eat that kind of food.

“She usually doesn’t like them” he shrugs, but when he takes out the package to show it to her, Aidi starts jumping excitedly in her place, “yes! Yes! Daddy want them, pleaseee”.

“But-“ he’s about to protest, but he feels it’s actually pointless to argue with a child, so he sighs and: “fine!”

“Make them crispyyy please daddy” she says seriously, but when YN erupts in an uncontrolled laughter, Aidi starts giggling too. 

Harry joins in on their laughter, but his is more of a disbelieving one, amazed by his daughter’s behavior.

Once dinner is ready, Harry, YN and Aidi all sit at the small table in the living room.

Harry fills his and YN’s glasses with the most prestigious red wine he had, and he serves first Aidi (the chicken nuggets with looots of ketchup), then YN (the special pasta his mother taught him to make and that’s the only fancy thing he knows how to make — but, honestly, YN was fine with everything. Even if it meant eating dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets).

The air around them is quiet, there’s a comfortable silence between them, and YN feels happy. Like she belongs. She looks at Aidi tenderly when she hears the quiet humming of what she recognizes is a cartoon’s theme song, and she watches as the little girl dips her nugget in what seems to be way too much ketchup for only a small piece, and when YN raises her glance from Aidi’s plate, she realizes Harry is looking at her with one of the softest looks on his face she’s ever seen. He smiles sweetly at her, but, as opposed to how he used to always avert his gaze when they were still in college — embarrassed she’d catch on the crush he’d always had on her, he doesn’t look away. 

‘What?’ She mouths, worried she might have something on her face or that he wants to tell her something without his daughter hearing, but he just shakes his head.

‘Pretty’ he mouths back, and his eyes do that thing YN loves, they twinkle like the brightest of the lights, the warmest shade of green she’s ever seen, like the grass on a chilly spring day, the feeling of seeing a bit of color after months of whiteness. 

She bushes and looks down at her plate, still not used to his cheeky compliments. 

After dinner, Harry takes out of the fridge the ice cream YN had brought, and when he opens it, he smiles fondly when he realizes she picked Aidi’s favorite flavors: chocolate and strawberry. In the same bag, there’s another tub of ice cream, much smaller, and when he opens it, to his surprise, he sees his favorite flavor: mint chocolate chip. 

He knows now she remembers their ice cream runs after a long day of studying, but he’s genuinely surprised she would after so many years, and he thinks it feels nice. It’s nice having someone take care of you, even if it only means picking up your and your daughter’s favorite flavors of ice cream.

He comes back in the living room with the ice cream and three small bowls, and he places them on the table.

“Look what YN got you!” He smiles excitedly, hoping to spark some excitement in his daughter, since she’d been pretty quiet all throughout dinner. 

“Ice cream!” She lights up, but when Harry shows her the flavors, she makes a disgusted face and pushes the tub out of her face.

“I don’t like chocolate” 

YN, that had watched the encounter proudly, feels her face fall. She thoroughly remembers Aidi loves chocolate ice cream. She’d told her many times in class, and it was what she had asked that day Harry forgot to pick her up and YN had brought her to eat ice cream to distract her. Maybe she remembers wrong? She feels herself panic inside, because how could she have gotten it wrong! She’d been so careful while picking. 

“But ’s your favorite!” Harry stresses, his brows furrowing on his forehead. 

YN feels a little bit relieved at his words. At least she hadn’t gotten it wrong. 

“No, it’s not” she shakes her head, grimacing.

“I’m so sorry, YN. I don’t know wha’s gotten into her” he apologizes, sitting back down in his chair, his shoulder sagging, he feels undefeated. 

There’s no way Aidi doesn’t like chocolate ice cream, because he remembers she ate it two days before at his sister’s house, but he chooses not to tell YN that to not aggravate the situation more. He knows this is silly, because it’s just ice cream, but it’s then he realizes maybe everything isn’t okay and Aidi isn’t comfortable with having YN here.

He’s unsure on what to do, feeling conflicted about the situation. 

He knows he should put his daughter’s feelings before his, but he also cares about YN, and he doesn’t want to push her away. 

“Harry” he hears YN interrupt his train of thoughts, “maybe I remembered wrong. It’s no problem at all! Do you like mint chip?” She asks Aidi the last part, and her voice is soft.

Aidi nods, “’s daddy’s favorite” 

YN smiles at her and then throws a quick glance at Harry, “really? You both have great taste then! You share that with your daddy and I’ll eat the other one, okay?” 

“Okay” Aidi nods once again and leans forward on the table to pick up the tub of ice cream. She shows it to Harry to signal she wants it in the bowl, and he consents quietly. 

Harry — too — realizes this is going to be harder than he thought.

…

Harry feels bad. Tonight hasn’t been what he thought, at all. 

He had planned in his mind all the nice and fun things he wanted to do with both YN and Aidi, and maybe, he realizes just now, he had been wrong to assume Aidi wanted to do that. He understands it’s always been them. Since she was born, it’s always been the two of them, tucked away safely in the walls of their home, and Harry understands how she could feel now that YN is here as well.

He just feels bad, because he’d like to do some of those things with YN too. He’d like to eat breakfast with them, he’d like to watch a movie and cuddle them both under his arms, he’d like to kiss both of them goodnight, he’d like to snuggle with them in his bed until it’s inevitably time to get up. But how can he? Aidi is little, and she doesn’t understand what it means to share. 

“What are you thinkin’ about?” He hears YN gently ask, and he shifts his gaze from the tv to her.

Aidi wanted to watch the new Little Mermaid movie (her favorite of the week), and she had demanded her daddy watched too. YN hadn’t minded, and she sat contently next to them, but only half an hour into the movie, Aidi had fallen asleep against Harry’s chest, his shirt crumbled between her little fingers as she held onto him, almost scared he’d leave her to sleep alone. 

Harry leans his head on the backrest of the couch, he then turns it and looks at YN fondly. She’s so pretty now, her hair frame her face perfectly, and the glasses on her nose make her face look softer. 

He shakes his head, wary of what she could say if he voiced his thoughts aloud, and when he sees her brows close in a furrow, he averts his gaze, his face facing the ceiling as he closes his eyes.

“Hey” she whispers, careful not to wake Aidi sleeping in his lap. When she realizes he isn’t opening his eyes, she raises her arm and rests it next to his face on the back of the couch. With delicate fingers she caresses the tender skin of his neck, below his ear, where she hears his pulse quicken. 

“Harry, hey” she repeats, hoping to gain his attention, but she may have been a little too loud, because Aidi stirs in his lap and opens her eyes slowly. 

“Hi, bug” he smiles down at her, his expression changing as soon as she woke up. “Let’s get yah to bed, yeah?” 

He stands up from the couch and props Aidi on his hip, caressing her back gently to lull her back to sleep. 

She falls asleep on his shoulder almost immediately, and YN raises on her feet quickly, placing a gentle and quiet kiss on her hair. Harry smiles at her and informs her he’d be putting Aidi to bed in her room. 

YN turns off the tv and picks up the throw blanket to fold it, when she’s done she puts it on the couch and makes her way upstairs towards Harry’s room.

She sits on his bed and she waits for him, her heart beating fast against her ribcage. She wonders if she should leave. Is that what Harry is so scared to tell her? She’s sure he realized too that Aidi wasn’t comfortable with YN staying over.

She hears the door close quietly and she looks up immediately. She can feel her heart in her throat, convinced he wants to send her away. 

Maybe it’s too soon. 

Maybe he doesn’t want a relationship with someone his daughter doesn’t like. 

Whatever the reason will be, she’s sure this will be their final conversation. 

“Hi” he interrupts her train of thoughts.

“Hi”.

He walks towards her and stops in front of her, sitting between her open legs. 

“Harry -“ she starts saying, but he interrupts her quickly: “Baby, I’m so sorry”.

“What?” she asks confused, “why are you saying sorry?” 

“I thought… today was supposed to be different” he sighs. He raises both of his hands and cradles her face in his palms, caressing the skin of her cheeks with his thumbs. 

“I’m sorry” he repeats, “I wanted to make a nice dinner and maybe go for a walk, and… I don’t know, maybe watch a movie but…” 

“But we did!” YN chimes in, bringing her hands up to squeeze his wrists, “it was perfect”

“I know but… Aidi…” he says, shaking his head, panic lacing his voice.

“You don’t think she’s happy…”

“It’s not that… I’m just scared. I didn’t think it would be this difficult” he sighs. He feels guilty, and if there was any way he could have this conversation with her without hurting her, he would. But YN has also taught him to communicate his feelings, and he couldn’t just not tell her what was going on in his mind, how scared he is for his daughter and to cause her pain. 

“Oh Harry” she shakes her head against his hands, biting down on her bottom lip so hard she thinks she can taste the blood. “She’s just little, and not used to… all of this. I think you should talk to her.” 

“I don’t know how” he looks at her pleadingly. 

“Just say how you feel. Start from there. She’s the most wonderful kid I know, she will understand.” 

It’s when she says things like these that Harry remembers why he is so sure about YN. She loves him, and perhaps she loves his daughter more than she loves him. Her presence is crucial in both of their lives, and Aidi needs to know her. She needs to be around her, because Harry thinks there’s a part of how YN loves that only she could teach, and he wants Aidi to learn, he wants her to see her dad happy, and he wants her to understand that love is really all that matters.

He gives her a small smile, not big enough to show the dimples YN really loves, but enough for her heart to tighten in her chest.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” She whispers, before tilting her head upwards and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

He dips his head forward and deepens the kiss, sighing into her mouth. 

Despite the heavy weight on his chest, he’s really happy she’s here.

Her lips are soft against his, and he wants to drink her in, drown in her taste, like the sweetest summer fruit. 

Her hands make their way up his arms, her fingers dipping into the cotton of his shirt, and once she reaches his shoulders, she pushes him down against her. 

They both fall on the bed, and with the way she’s kissing him, YN hopes she can reassure him. She hopes he understands she’s here now, and he doesn’t have to do it alone. His tongue caresses hers, and his hands are everywhere on her body, holding onto her skin desperately. 

He settles between her legs, and pushes his hips forward when she bites his bottom lip, his erection pushing hard against her center where she needs him the most.

“Harry” she says as soon as he moves his head to kiss down her neck, “we shouldn’t. You’re upset” she breathes.

“Mmh” he whimpers against the skin of her neck, “please” he begs, “i need you. I need you so much.”

She tugs at his hear and he raises his head from her neck, the sight of him almost making YN cum on the spot.

As opposed to how he always is in bed, dark and dominant, he looks soft and pleading, his eyes big and veiled with lust, his lips wet with spit and a particular shade of red mixed with purple. 

“You’re the only one that can make me feel better” he whispers looking directly into her eyes.

“Okay” she nods, “okay”.

Harry buries his head back onto her neck and kisses the skin there gently. 

His hands travel down to her jeans and he quickly unbuttons them, tugging them down her legs and then throwing them on the floor.

His movements are frantic and eager, but everything about him is soft, from the way his hands caress the skin of her stomach to the way his fingers shift her panties to the side to expose her. He dips his thumb between her folds, rolling tight circles on her clit a couple times. She sighs heavily, and she has to refrain herself from moaning.

When he sees that she’s wet enough, he holds his weight with one arm and with the other he tugs his own jeans down, followed by his boxers right after. 

When his cock is finally freed from its restraint, he doesn’t waste a second before he slides it between her folds, coating it with her juices. She brings a hand to his cheek and tilts his head up so he can look into her eyes when he slips inside of her. 

“Oh” she whimpers, and he’s quick to swallow her sounds with his own mouth, sighing into her while his hips drill into her.

She feels warm against him, and he finally feels the comfort he’d been looking for. 

With gentle fingers he raises the fabric of her t-shirt and exposes more of her skin, his hand resting against her ribcage, under her side boob. With his thumb he pushes her bra up and finally frees her tits, his head dipping down to kiss all over the new exposed skin.

He takes her right nipple into his mouth and sucks on it lightly, soothing it right after with his tongue.

“Please” she moans quietly, arching her back and pushing her tits into is mouth. 

“Shh, baby” he giggles, leaving her boobs and going back to her mouth, “fuck” he whispers against her lips, “gonna make me cum already”

She clenches around him, flattered that she could make him reach his high so quickly.

“Baby I need you to cum” he says, and he brings a hand down between them, drawing tight circles on her clit. He knows she’s close by the way her walls clench around him, but he needs her to come before him, so he brings his mouth back on her nipple, the left one this time, and bites on it gently. 

With the stimulation on her clit and now on her nipple, YN knows it’s going to take her seconds to cum, and she brings a hand to clasp against her mouth when he gives a particularly harsh thrust that makes her come on the spot. She sees stars and all her body trembles as Harry keeps moving his hips with the pace that made her cum, never taking his hand off her clit. 

He parts from her nipple and when he sees her face beginning to contort in discomfort, he pulls his cock put of her and with a few tugs he comes against her stomach, his sticky liquid coming in spurts out of his slit.

“Fuck” he groans, giving another few thrusts against his hand.

When he’s done, he falls on the bed next to her, lifting his arm so she can squeezing in against his side. 

She rests her head on his chest, and she can hear his heart beating hard against his chest. She almost falls asleep right there, lulled by the sound of his heart beating loud for her, but: “thank you. I love you”, he whispers against her hair delivering a soft kiss against her hairline. 

She chuckles against the skin of his chest, placing a kiss there “i love you too”.

…

“I got more of that cream yeh like… the one made with wine” 

They’re both still in their towel, the bathroom foggy from the steam of the hot water. 

“Harry!!! Thank you!” She exclaims, “you didn’t have to” she beams at him, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as he shows the cream to her.

“I wanted to” he smiles, leaning down to kiss the side of her head.

This is what he has longed for all his life, always feeling like there was something missing from him. The comfortableness of sharing his routine with the person he loves the most.  

They stand side by side in front of the sink, their naked shoulders touching, and YN massages the cream onto her skin while Harry brushes his teeth.

When he’s done, YN hands him the cream and “want?” 

He nods, and, “you put it for me” he says, closing his eyes immediately and bringing his hand up to swat away a couple of curls from his forehead. 

YN grins widely and she sprinkles a little bit of cream on the palm of her fingers. She rubs them together to warm the cream, and then she raises on her tips to massage it onto Harry’s face.

She’s delicate in doing so, rubbing his cheeks gently and then under his eyes, his nose and all the way down to his chin. He looks serious but relaxed at the same time, and YN rubs at his temples a little to ease what could be left of the tension he felt before. 

He sighs dreamily and once she’s done, she rubs the remaining cream on his neck, and then she places a kiss on his lips, “all done”.

“Thank you baby” he smiles, leaning down to give her another kiss. And another. And another, until she’s giggling against his lips.

“Shh” he shushes her, placing another soft kiss against her lips.

“I’m so tired” YN says, knuckling at her eyes.

“Yeah… let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

Once they reach his room, they both slip into their pajamas and hurry to get to bed, the tiredness of the day catching up to the both of them. 

YN asks what side of the bed Harry sleeps on (the one near the door) and YN gets in beside him. She can smell the fabric softener of his cleaned sheets (that Harry had changed before they got in the shower), and she burrows herself more into the comforter, hiding her face under it.

“Where are yah!” He whispers, and when he hears her giggle, he raises the comforter over his head and joins her under the covers.

“Hi” he says once he’s face to face with her, the mint scent of his toothpaste tickling her nose. She looks extremely soft, her skin dewy from the cream and her eyes droopy with sleep. 

“Hi” she repeats, moving closer to him. She rests her head on the palm of her hand, and she looks up at him dreamily. Harry feels a little claustrophobic from the lack of oxygen and the heaviness of the comforter over their heads, but he has to admit it’s comforting, being with her like this. Close. 

“Thank you for giving me this” she whispers, shifting her gaze form one of his eyes to the other. 

She hopes he understands what she means, because YN doesn’t mean the cream, the dinner, or the sex. She means a family. A routine. Something to look forward to at the end of the day when she feels exhausted. She knows now as long as she has Harry and Aidi she will never feel alone, and she will never have to question herself, how she did all those years ago in college when she would wonder what was wrong with her that made her so unlovable. 

…

The next morning, Harry wakes up at around seven o’clock, too early for a Saturday morning, and he casts a glare towards YN that is sleeping soundly next to him.

When he realizes what time it is by looking at his phone, he understands something is missing. Aidi isn’t awake. 

She usually wakes him up at around half past six by jumping on his bed, and then falls asleep almost immediately on his chest, clutching her stuffed bunny protectively to her side. 

The possibility that she’s still asleep is very slim, and he decides to check on her, not without leaving a kiss on YN’s head before.

When he reaches Aidi’s room, he opens the door and frowns sadly at his daughter. She’s awake, lying on her bed still under the covers, talking quietly with her stuffed bunny.

“Hi bug” he whispers, “g’morning!” 

“Hi” she says in a small voice, but she doesn’t raise her gaze to look at him. He knows she’s still upset. 

“Why didn’t y’come wake me up?” 

When she shrugs, he walks towards her bed, and with his hand he gestures for her to scooch over a little so he can lay down next to her. 

He lays his head on her pillow and looks at her. She’s still sleepy, her eyes laced with sleep and her hair ruffled and curly. Her pajama top has shifted a little to expose the soft skin of her tummy, and Harry adjusts it to cover her. 

“Cinna” Harry addresses her stuffed bunny once he realizes Aidi doesn’t want to talk to him yet, “why’s Aidi sad?” 

Aidi pets the bunny’s ears and keeps her eyes forward, not looking at her dad. 

“Is it because YN is here?” He asks gently, whispering as if it was a secret between them.

Aidi wraps her small fingers around the bunny’s neck and makes it nod its head. Harry smiles sadly at her, his chest aching at the sight of his daughter hurting, and him being the cause of that pain.

His sudden reaction is to just reassure her and he wonders if YN would understand if he told her to wait a little before coming over again, but then he remembers what she told him: that Aidi is smart and she will understand if he talks about his feelings. He figures it’s worth a try.

So, “Come here, bug” he says, stretching out his arm so she can rest her head on his chest.

It takes a while to convince her but after a little bit she shifts and places her cheek on his chest, holding her bunny tight under her chin.

“My baby” he coos, petting the hair out of her face, “just because YN is here it doesn’t mean we can’t do what we always do!” 

He hears her sigh loudly through her nose and he understands she isn’t really convinced by his words.

“It doesn’t change the love I have for you” he says, but she’s little, and he tells her he loves her everyday, so it doesn’t do very much.

“YN is really nice” he tries, “and she’s my friend. She’s funny and she loves ice cream. And she gives great cuddles. Like… great. Way better than I do, because she’s warm and she smells nice, like candy”  

He hears her giggle at his words, so he keeps going, “and she makes me really happy” he coos.

“How much?” Aidi asks, her voice muffled from the cheek she has smushed against his shirt.

“Ooooh, like how much happy we are when granny comes over” 

Aidi hums and raises her head from his chest to look at her daddy. She looks a little less sad now, her lips open in a small smile.

“And she loooooves bunnies. She has like three stuffed bunnies,” he smiles, and Aidi looks down at the bunny clasped in her small hand.

“Really?” 

“Yeah… she actually asked me if you and Cinna’d like to meet ‘em?”

She nods her head eagerly, “maybe we could invite them over next time?” She asks doubtfully, almost shy, and Harry beams with pride upon seeing her reaction.

“‘f course bug!” He exclaims excitedly, circling her back with his arms and squeezing her against his chest. He tickles her back and she giggles uncontrollably, her laugh muffled from his shirt, “daddy stooop! Please daddy!” 

He joins in on her laugh and he stops tickling her, squeezing her hard against his chest one last time.

“Is miss YN still asleep?” Aidi asks.

“Dunno,” he says, “do yeh want t’check?” 

When she nods her head, he sits up on her bed and takes her in his arms, propping her on his hip and picking up her stuffed bunny.

They make their way towards Harry’s bedroom, and when they open the door, YN is still sound asleep under the duvet.

“She’s sleepin’” he whispers, and smiles when Aidi clasps her hand on his mouth, shushing him.

“Do yeh want t’sleep a little mo’?” 

“Like always?” She asks, looking at him with big eyes.

“Yeah” 

Aidi nods her head and points toward the bed with the hand that’s holding the bunny, “in here”.

“Okay” he nods amused.

He lays her down on the bed next to YN, tucking her under the covers, and then he scooches in next to them, shutting the small light on his bedside table.

“Harry?” He’s almost half asleep when he hears her small voice, and he opens his eyes tiredly to look at her.

“Everything’s okay?” YN asks, her voice laced with a bit of worry, that he’s quick to reassure. 

“Yes. She wanted to sleep a little bit more” 

“Okay.” She nods happily.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’. Everything’s perfect” he reassures, stretching a hand to caress her face.

He smiles fondly when she turns her head to kiss the skin of his wrist and then he lulls her back to sleep like he did with his daughter, petting her hair soothingly. 

YN falls asleep almost immediately, and Aidi, too, is sleeping peacefully between them.

Harry, despite the tiredness, stays awake a little longer to look at both of his girls trough the dark, sleeping next to him, his heart growing in his chest every second he spends looking at them, and he wonders what they’re dreaming about, these two girls that in different ways gave him a reason to love again. 

In the morning, he’ll be the last one to wake up, alone in his bed, and he’ll hear the laughter coming from the kitchen along with the sweet scent of pancakes and bacon. He will let Aidi tell him all about how YN really gives the best cuddles and smells of candy, and he will kiss YN tenderly on the head. Aidi will ask YN when she can meet her bunnies while she bites down on her Nutella pancake, and YN will say whenever her and Cinnabunny are ready. 

And Harry will finally feel at peace in his routine. No pieces missing.  

omg bad habit 3 is finally here 😭 i missed writing for them so much, they're all so cuteeeee ugh lmk if you liked it and if i should write more blurbs about them!!! love you all so much

[allthelovehes]

Field Day Reunion

Summary: Harry agrees to volunteer at his son's school and he is surprised to see the teacher is his long-lost high school girlfriend.

Pairing: Singledad!Harry x Teacher!Y/N

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

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A/N:  Just a fluffy little one shot about Harry reuniting with his high school lover. Let me know if you want a part two because I can totally see that happening!

As Charlie comes home from school with a piece of paper in hand, asking for volunteers to visit a local farm, Harry is eager to sign up. His 4-year-old is currently learning all about farm animals, so it seems like the perfect opportunity to see his enthusiasm first-hand.

Harry is a single parent to Charlie, and while parenthood is far from easy, he's found himself becoming an avid learner in the art of parenting as his son is growing up. The last year especially, since his girlfriend had left them both in the dust and moved away.

But while Harry's been focused on his son and their life at home, Charlie's growing up and becoming his own little person. He's also learning more about the world and how people fit into it, and Harry thinks that volunteering at his school is a perfect example of that.

And so, Harry fills out the permission slip and sends it back to Charlie's teacher.

Charlie is very excited when Harry tells him about the trip, and even though he's still very young, Harry can tell he's already forming his own ideas about the kind of person he wants to be. And that means the world to Harry. It's one thing for him to shape his son, but he's determined to give Charlie a voice, as well.

Later that week, Charlie is sent home from school with another letter. One that explains how the class will be visiting the farm, what the schedule will be like and what exactly they need help with from the volunteering parents. With this insight, Harry has a much better understanding of the day, and can teach Charlie about things he might see. Teaching him new words and showing him the pictures in the books that Harry has at home.

On the morning of the trip, Charlie is a bundle of excited nerves. He's practically vibrating as Harry helps him get dressed, and when Harry makes sure he's got his raincoat, he almost bursts.

“It's not going to rain, daddy.”

“Oh yeah? Then what's that.” Harry asks, pointing out the window where the clouds are hanging low and grey.

“It's not gonna rain” Charlie states again. “Promise” Harry huffs out a laugh because of course, the boy is going to be stubborn today

“Okay, little man. We'll see.” As they get ready to leave, Harry puts a light jacket on and grabs an umbrella. When Charlie notices, he pouts, making his father chuckle.

Harry is supposed to drive to school first so a few more kids can fit in the car, and then drive them all to the farm together. Charlie is excited to sit in the front, which gives him a perfect view of the sky and a chance to show Harry how wrong he is.

He's quiet for a while, just staring out the window, but Harry doesn't pay too much attention. He's too focused on the road and making sure the other kids are safe. But soon, the clouds part and the sun shines through.

“See? Told ya.” Charlie grins. Harry hums and nods.

“I suppose you did.”

Harry parks his car on the school grounds. They walk towards Charlie's classroom and when the door opens, Harry sees a young woman standing in the middle of the room, facing away from him. If he remembers correctly, his son's teacher used to be in her fifties, so who is this woman?

“Char? Did you get a new teacher” Harry asks his son as he puts his coat away, but Charlie shrugs.

“No. Miss Green is gone. This is Miss Y/L/N.” Charlie answers, pointing to the woman. At the sound of his son's voice, she turns around and Harry can finally see her face. She locks eyes with him and it feels like time stops.

“Y/N” Harry asks confused, his heart beating faster. She looks exactly the same as she did all those years ago, the only difference being the hair length and a few laugh lines on her face.

“Harry. Hi. Um... I wasn't expecting to see you here.” She says. Her voice sounds a little strained.

“Well, I wasn't expecting to see you either.” Harry chuckles. “How... are you? I didn't know you were a teacher.”

“Oh, I just started this year. And I'm doing great. How are you?” She smiles. It's a little awkward, but it's real.

“Good, good.” He smiles back, scratching the back of his neck. Y/N used to be his girlfriend in high school, until they broke up because of college. They've only seen each other a couple of times since then, mostly when their paths crossed in their hometown. He always knew he loved her, but as they grew older, the distance between them had grown too, and now they're basically strangers.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Charlie tugs on his jacket, looking up at him. Harry blinks and shakes his head a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm good, little man.” Harry says and runs a hand through his son's curls.

“Daddy?” Y/N asks, sounding amused. Harry can feel the blush spreading on his cheeks.

“Uh, yeah. Charlie is my son.” He tells her, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

“He's a lucky kid to have you, Harry.” Y/N smiles, and for a second, he's a teenage boy again, completely infatuated with her.

“Thank you.” Harry clears his throat.

“Are you ready to go to the farm, Charlie?” She asks, kneeling in front of the boy.

“Yep! Can we see the horses?” He asks excitedly, jumping a little. Y/N giggles.

“There aren't going to be any horses on the farm we're going to today, but I'm sure we can find a different animal. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry is a bit distracted for the rest of the day, and Y/N's eyes keep meeting his over the children's heads, making him blush and smile. He can't believe she's back in his life, and a teacher no less. He really hopes he'll see her more often, now that his boy is in her class.

“Okay kids, gather 'round!” Y/N calls as she stands in front of the pigpen. Charlie and his friends hurry over, giggling and talking excitedly. “Can you all say 'hello' to the pigs?” The children repeat her words, and she gives them all a warm smile. “Great job! Now, if you all take a step closer, you'll be able to pet the pigs. Remember to be gentle, okay?”

Harry can't believe his ears. Y/N was never a fan of animals, especially when they were close to her. Yet here she is, standing in the middle of the mud, smiling and laughing. It warms his heart to see her so fond of the kids.

As the kids pet the pigs, Harry steps next to Y/N, who smiles and waves.

“This is incredible, Y/N. I can't believe you're doing this.” Harry laughs.

“Yeah, it was a little weird at first, but the kids seem to love it. It's nice to see them all together and have fun.” She admits. “And it's also a great learning experience.”

“It really is. I don't think Charlie will be able to talk about anything else but pigs for the next few days.”

“It's great though, isn't it? Their little minds are constantly absorbing information and figuring out how the world works.”

“Yeah.” Harry smiles and nods, looking at his son, who's happily petting the pig with a huge smile on his face.

“Okay guys, I think it's time for lunch. Can we all thank the pigs?” She calls and the kids cheer.

“Thank you, pig.”

“Thank you, piggy!”

“Thanks, pig.”

They all wave at the pig and walk towards the picnic area, where a couple of parents are setting up the food. Y/N instructs the kids to wash their hands, and they all run to the bathrooms. Harry joins her, and they fall into a comfortable silence as they wait for the children.

“I'm really happy to see you again, Harry.” She admits, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“Me too, Y/N. It's been a long time.” He nods.

“Yeah.” She says, but doesn't elaborate. There's so much Harry wants to say to her, but the kids are coming back and he knows it's not the right time. He'll just have to find another opportunity.

Lunch is a fun affair, filled with laughter and the occasional mess. Afterwards, the kids play in the meadow for a while before heading back to the farm building.

“Okay, let's all sit down on the floor and I'll tell you a story about the farm.” Y/N instructs, and the kids all follow her. Harry sits with the parents, keeping an eye on his son and watching the woman he used to love.

Y/N talks to the kids about how the farm started, who built it, and what happened over the years. She has a way with words, and the children are hanging on to every word she says. After the story, they head over to the goat pen and watch as the baby goats jump around, chasing each other and bleating.

“Daddy, can we get a goat?” Charlie asks.

“Maybe, buddy. But I don't think we'd have a place to keep one.” Harry replies.

“Aww, but it's so cute.” Charlie whines, and Y/N can't help but chuckle as she picks up on their conversation.

“It is very cute. But maybe you can come here and see the goats, instead.” She suggests. Charlie nods and smiles, he walks back to the adorable creatures.

“Thanks, you just saved me there.” Harry laughs.

“Don't mention it. I'm glad I could help.”

“So, um... Charlie's mom. How's she doing?” Y/N asks, and he can see the hesitation on her face.

“Oh. She's fine, I think. We haven't seen each other since she left.” Harry answers.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious.” She says, wringing her hands together.

“No, no, it's okay. I just didn't expect it.”

“Oh. Well, that's good.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. They look at each other for a moment before someone calls for Y/N, and they're pulled out of the moment.

The rest of the day passes quickly. There are many games and activities for the kids to try out, and lots of running around and laughing. Charlie is completely worn out when it's time to go, and he falls asleep in the car.

When Harry pulls up to the school, he lets the other kids out of his car so they can go home but makes sure to let Charlie have his nap. 

“Thanks, Harry.” Y/N says as she walks up to him.

“For what?” He asks.

“For being such a great dad and helping me out. I had a lot of fun today.” She explains, smiling at him.

“Anytime, Y/N.” He replies, giving her a small smile back. They look at each other for a while, both hesitant.

“Well, I better get going. See you around!” She asks.

“Definitely. See you.”

With that, Y/N walks away and Harry gets into his car. As Harry watches her go, he can't help but wonder what the future will bring and he realises he's not wanting to wait for it all to happen. He quickly opens the door and calls her name, stopping her in her tracks.

“Yes?” She asks, confused.

“Can I please have your phone number? I'd love to catch up.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” She says, pulling her phone out and giving him the number.

“Great. Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Have a nice evening, Harry.”

“You too, Y/N.”

He watches as she walks away, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. It's like he's found something he didn't even know was missing, and he can't wait to explore the possibilities with her. ***

Ever since the field trip when Harry would drop Charlie off at school, he can't stop thinking about Y/N. She's always been on his mind, but this time, it's different. Now that they've reconnected, Harry can't help but notice everything about her. The way she smiles, the way she laughs, and the way her eyes sparkle.

He hasn't dated since Charlie's mother left. He was too busy raising his son and working, and it wasn't really a priority. But now, as he watches Y/N interact with his boy, he can't help but want more. He wants her, and he's not sure what to do about it.

One afternoon, as Harry is waiting in the parking lot after picking up Charlie, Y/N approaches his car. She gives him a small wave and a smile, and he quickly gets out of the car.

“Hi.” She greets him, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Hey. What's up?” He asks, leaning against the car.

“Um, I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me? You asked for my number but never called, so I thought I'd ask you in person.” She asks, her voice laced with nervousness.

“Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, I've been... I got kinda nervous.” He admits.

“Really?” She asks, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah.” He says. He doesn't explain himself further, and they just stand there, looking at each other for a minute. “Let's change the coffee for dinner and you've got yourself a deal.” He smirks, making her laugh.

“Deal.”

They agree on a time and place and then Y/N leaves, her smile growing wider with each step she takes. Harry watches her, his heart beating faster with every passing second. As he's driving home, Harry can't stop smiling. He's finally going on a date with the woman of his dreams.

He decides to make an effort and dresses up a little, putting on a nice pair of jeans and a shirt. It's not much, but it's more than he usually wears. He even brushes his hair. When he's done, he goes into the living room and finds Charlie sitting on the couch, watching TV.

“Hey, little man. Are you hungry?” Harry asks. Charlie shakes his head. “Are you sure? I'm going out for dinner and I can pick something up for you on the way home.”

“Can I come?” Charlie asks, looking up at his father with big, puppy eyes.

“Oh, um... Maybe next time, buddy. Grandma is coming over to watch you. This is kind of an adult thing.”

“What is it?”

“I'm having dinner with a friend.” Harry explains. Charlie frowns, and his brows furrows in concentration.

“Do I know her?” He asks, his voice curious.

“Yes, you do. But you can meet her another time, okay?”

“Okay.” Charlie says, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Daddy?”

“Yes, little man?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Harry almost chokes on the air, his eyes going wide.

“What?” He manages to squeak out.

“I heard the other kids talk about it at school. They said you're supposed to have dinner with your girlfriend.” Charlie explains.

“Oh. Well, no, buddy. I don't have a girlfriend.” Harry says. “Not yet.” He adds, thinking about Y/N.

“Oh. Okay.”

Charlie's questions stop and they sit in silence until his grandmother comes. Once Anne arrives, Harry leaves the house, and heads towards the restaurant. The place is busy, but not packed, and Harry manages to find a table easily. He orders a drink and sits down, his leg bouncing nervously. He's not sure why he's so anxious, it's just dinner with an old friend. He has no reason to be worried.

Y/N shows up a few minutes later, and when their eyes meet, she smiles. She looks beautiful, her hair loose and a soft dress hugging her curves. Harry feels his heart rate speed up.

“Hi.” She greets him as she approaches the table.

“Hey.” He smiles, getting up to hug her. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You look good too.” She blushes.

“Thank you.”

They order food and talk about anything and everything. They talk about the past and how they've changed over the years. They talk about the present and their jobs, their likes and dislikes. They also talk about the future and their hopes and dreams. It's a nice, easy conversation, and Harry is glad she had the guts to ask him on a date.

After they finish eating, they go for a walk, taking in the fresh air and talking about the most random things. Y/N talks about the kids and the crazy stories she's heard and Harry laughs at her tales, especially when she imitates their voices. He can't believe how easily they fall back into a rhythm, and he finds himself hoping this will continue.

After their walk, they go back to his car, and Harry drives her home as she took the bus on the way here. He parks outside her apartment building and they sit in the car, neither of them knowing what to say.

“Well, I had a really nice time tonight, Harry.” Y/N breaks the silence.

“Me too.” He says, a soft smile on his lips. “I'm glad you asked me out.”

“So am I.” She says.

They sit there for a few moments, just looking at each other before Harry finally pulls her cheek to the side so their eyes meet. They lean in slowly, their lips almost touching.

“Thank you again for a wonderful evening, Harry.” Y/N whispers.

“It was my pleasure.” He replies, his voice low and husky.

Their lips meet, and a fire ignites within him. They kiss deeply and passionately, his hands exploring her body. She moans into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair. Harry knows he shouldn't do this, not on the first date, but he can't help himself. He needs her. They kiss until their lungs scream for air, and they have to break apart. They stare at each other, both panting.

“Wow.” Y/N whispers, licking her lips.

“Yeah.” He replies, his heart racing. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-.“

“No, it's okay. I wanted this too.” She interrupts, a soft smile on her face. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you feel about dating with Charlie around? I can imagine it's not easy, especially since he's only four.”

“Well, I've never dated anyone, so I'm not sure.” Harry shrugs. “But I can't stop thinking about you.” He adds, looking into her eyes.

“Really?” She asks, surprised.

“Yes. I've been thinking about you ever since I saw you again.”

“Me too.”

They lean in again, their lips meeting once more. They kiss until their bodies ache and their lungs burn, and then they part. Harry can't believe he's doing this, but he knows it's right.

“Let's just take things slow.” He says, his voice husky.

“Okay.” Y/N smiles.

They kiss one last time before saying their goodbyes. As Harry watches her go, he can't help but smile. He's not sure where this will lead, but he can't wait to find out.

[lesservillain]

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: drinking, explicit fantasies

September 16th,1994 

The idea to you was asinine from the moment Principal Williams brought you into her office to explain the program details to you. How no one else thought that the idea of thirteen-year-olds becoming “pen pals” with prisoners wasn’t insane baffled you. It was dangerous at worst and inappropriate at best, but,  despite your best efforts to reason with her, your opinion as a “newer” teacher was dismissed. 

Now here you are listening to the speech of the prison rep, Mr. Bridges, as he explained the program to your 7th grade class. Not like you had a lesson planned for them today.

Mr. Bridges stands a whole 5 feet and 6 inches with a short stack military fade and the most unsettling sunny disposition. He reads as incredibly fake, like a snake oil salesman, and his shiny, white, slightly too big for his mouth veneers not doing him any favors. It doesn’t surprise you that your newly divorced principal was able to be persuaded by this guy's charms, but thankfully you’re used to his kind of tactics from your own previous relationship. 

Before leaving, Mr.Bridges approaches you at your desk. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he starts, leaning too far into your space. One of his thick fingers points at a paper he had given you before he started his speech, “but is a student absent today? We have an unassigned inmate—”

“We had a student move,” you say shortly, keeping your voice monotone and not bothering to glance at his paper, “so I’m short one student in this class.”

Bridges nodded, clearly deep in thought. His brows furrowed for a moment before perking up. 

“Maybe you’d like to take on a pen pal?’” He proposes, his chipper disposition coxing on the migraine that wants to break through behind your eye.

The look on your face must have said it all as he tried to convince you further. “The inmates that signed up are all trying to better themselves before being re-released into society, ya’know?” His eye’s shift, landing on the floor with a solemn look. “We thought talking to kids that grew up while they were incarcerated would help them get in touch with the times, be able to cope with time they’ve lost. Give them something to look forward to when they get out.” 

The pads of your fingers dig into your temples, eyes rolling to the back of your head before finally giving him the eye contact he so desperately craved from you. 

“Fine, I’ll take whoever you have left, I guess. What’s his name?”

“Perfect!” Bridges hands clap together next to your ear, “The leftover inmate wants to go by The Banished One and he—”

“Banished what?” You ask, confused.

“Oh, The Banished One! It’s his nickname for the project. We have all the inmates disguise their names just in case the kids may be related to one of them.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, resting your head in your hand, “Okay, fine, sure I guess that makes sense.” 

 Bridges continued to assure you that all the letters are anonymous and would be vetted both ways, adding that only ‘good behavior’ inmates were allowed to take part in the program as a last push for your participation, you reluctantly agreed. Mostly just to get him to leave your classroom before your head explodes, but not without the stipulation that if you thought it was too much for your kids that you would pull them out. That seemed to be enough to satisfy him.  

October 7th, 1994 

The first writing session took place on a Friday, the soft sound of music from your mixtape playing for the kids to help them relax. It had been a long week of testing and you felt like an easy day was in order for both you and the kids, most of your other classes would just be doing free work. 

You grabbed the stack of letters from your desk, Pictures of You by The Cure filling the air as you hand each student their respective letter. 

“Don’t forget to keep personal information like names and where you live out of your letters. Once you’re done, bring them to my desk.”  

Once the kids were settled, you returned to your desk and grabbed your own letter. The envelope before you had “Teach” written across the front, the pen name you chose to go by. The handwriting was like chicken scratch. Not much different from the 13 year old boys whose papers you grade, though, so you were confident in your ability to decipher the rest of the letter. But still had a roughness, an edge to it.  

As you opened your letter, unfolding the paper to it’s full state, the first thing to catch your attention was the graffiti like drawings along the margins of the paper. It reminded you of a flash sheet at the tattoo shop your friends took you to for your 21st birthday, a permanent reminder of that day on your inner ankle in the form of a small butterfly that was already starting to fade. There was nothing too offensive; a rose, a sailor ship, a dove with an olive branch, all impressively done for just being pen on paper. 

Once you got past the artwork, you began to take in the letter's contents. The single page was filled from front to back, barely any room for the signature at the bottom.

“Hey there, “Teach”... if that is your real name…” the letter starts. The lame opener makes you crack a small smile that you quickly cover with your hand. You read on, taking in each sentence, and you start to get the idea that your pen pal doesn’t take this pen pal assignment too seriously. 

The letter is casual, a few puns here and there, with some Tolkien references that would have been missed if one wasn’t familiar with his work. It’s clear that this person is young, or at least young at heart, which saddens you to think about, but you try not to dwell on it. 

Getting into the meat of the letter, your pal explains that went to prison in 1989 for drug related charges, but is set to get out in about a year if he keeps up his good behavior.

 “I’m ready to get out of this place and get back to my hometown in Hawkins.” 

A shiver goes down your spine for a moment when you read that he’s from Hawkins. Bridges assured you that the inmates wouldn’t know what school the kids would be from, but you weren’t expecting to be talking to someone from this small town. You wonder if Bridges knows more than he’s letting on with his comment about the kids being related to the inmates.

Once the creepy feeling dissipates you continue to read on. The details your pal gives about himself tell you that he’s very different from the people you usually hang out with. His favorite genre of music is metal and he used to play guitar and do vocals for a band every week before he started working as a mechanic full time. They’d have a crowd of 20 or so some nights, but it was usually just the regulars at the place they would play at. 

The final paragraph of the letter consists of a seemingly scripted warning about the dangers of drugs and that no one should make the same mistake he did. You wondered if this was obligatory for the project. At the bottom of the page your pal signs with his chosen moniker “The Banished One.” When thinking about it, you find that it’s very fitting for an inmate.  

After taking a moment to check in on your class, Morrissey’s somber voice serenading them as  “I Know It’s Over” plays from the small radio’s speakers, you pull out your own pen and paper to start your response.

 As you ponder on where to start, a thought that crosses your mind; does your pen pal even know they’re talking to an adult? The pen name you chose might be on the nose but you didn’t want to assume. Granted, your handwriting itself may be a dead giveaway if you were to compare it to a teens.  

It took you a couple of tries to start your letter. Instinctively, you wanted to be formal, but the longer you thought about it the more you didn’t want to come off as a boring writing companion. You tried and failed to come up with something witty to match the vibe of your pal, but comedy wasn’t your strong point, though you’d argue that it wasn’t his either. Instead, you approached it as if you were writing to a friend.  

“Hello! Nice to meet you “Banished One." Though, it sounds like you won't be banished much longer.” 

Erring on the side of caution you chose to only respond directly to things he wrote, slipping in that you also enjoyed the works of Tolkien with your own reference. You mention that you listen to metal from time to time, more into radio rock at the moment, but you’d really listen to anything.

 It took you a minute to calculate how to respond to the reveal of his dealings in drugs, ultimately deciding to lightly say that you hoped he learned his lesson unless he saw himself returning to prison in the future. You shared that you were familiar with Hawkins, noting that you loved the milkshakes from the old diner in town, but left it at that. As you closed the letter you complimented his artwork, informing him that the rose was your favorite and that you looked forward to seeing his artwork on future letters.

You’d manage to write enough to cover the majority of the back of your lined paper, signing your pen name a few lines away from the bottom. Going over your letter again, you can't help feeling like it’s a bit dull. Safe, but that’s what it's supposed to be.

October 24th,1994 

It only took two weeks for Mr. Bridges to return with new letters for your class. Truthfully, you had almost forgotten about the letters entirely while trying to keep your students on track as the holiday season approaches. The emotional whiplash of seeing your ex out with his new, younger girlfriend while you were out looking for Halloween decor for your apartment wasn't helping either. It felt like no matter what you did, how much your friends tried to help, you just couldn’t catch a break. At least the manager of the local liquor store was nice to you. 

When your students seemed too preoccupied with the stack of letters on your desk to pay attention to your lecture, you decided to call it a day and give all of you a break. You click on your small stereo and let the tune of Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah take over the room while you pass out letters. 

Once the letters were distributed, you settled at your desk where your eyes met with the same chicken scratch handwriting as before. It was tempting to reach for it… until you glanced at the pile of ungraded papers that sat next to it, taunting you. You desperately needed to go over them, the deadline to turn in grades fast approaching.

You deliberated on what to do. You had to admit you were curious about the letter. Part of you wondered if you’d even get one back. You didn’t want to give any personal information away, so you couldn’t blame the random man in prison for not responding if he thought he was talking to an old lady teacher. 

But the stack of papers is practically glaring at you.

A thought; you could always finish your papers later at home. But you did tell yourself you would be better at bringing so much work home with you this year…Your friends had an influence on that decision, making sure you took at least every other weekend to go out and do something — anything to keep you from shutting yourself in again. 

With a sigh, you tuck the letter into your work bag, grabbing your pen to start grading.

“Damn it, why can’t I find one stupid pen!” 

Slamming drawers and stomping around, the red liquid of your cup sloshing around in your glass as you grew more and more frustrated in your search for a pen to write out the checks for the coming month’s bills. 

After searching the kitchen, you make your way to the living room and spot your school bag on the coffee table. In your rage, you slam the glass on the table and begin haphazardly pulling the contents out of the bag, praying you still had a pen that hadn’t been “borrowed” to never be returned by one of your students. 

The feeling of plastic on the tips of your finger almost brought you to tears of joy. Pulling out a purple ink pen you decided that it would have to be good enough if your landlord wanted your rent on time. 

After finishing with the checks, you return to your bag to put the envelopes inside to drop off tomorrow at the post office. As you lift the bag, your eyes meet with chicken scratch again away. A burst of buzzed excitement runs through you at the sight, even if for just a moment before you shook it off. It was just an envelope from some random man sitting in a jail cell, why are you getting so excited? Is it because you’re at home and not feeling the pressure to be uptight and rigid? 

Or maybe it’s because you can’t remember the last time you received a letter that wasn’t a bill. It sort of gave you a feeling of nostalgia, taking you back to a time when you wrote letters to your mom when you were at camp, or when you would write to your grandparents around the holidays. It even reminded you a bit of writing in your diary, if your diary could write back that is. It’s not like he would have room to judge you from his jail cell, right?

You snatch the letter from the bag and walk back into the kitchen, grabbing the dark bottle of wine to refill your glass and plopping down at the table. Ripping open the envelope, you pull out the letter and immediately notice that it is covered in artwork just as the last one was.

This time you notice a 20-sided dice with a banner that read “critical hit”, a very detailed dragon head, and a stylized version of the skeleton guy that you’ve seen on the cover of Iron Maiden albums. The biggest piece was of another rose, but in the fully bloomed center was an eye. It was…interesting. Well done, but not what you were expecting. Not that you were expecting anything anyway.  

Getting the artwork out of the way, you take a large sip of your drink and begin reading.

“Hello again, Teach,” the letter starts, “I think we need to discuss the elephant in the room before I can write anything else.” Your brow quirks up, a slight nervousness begins to creep in your mind. 

“I was already suspicious when I was told the person I was writing to wanted to go by Teach. And no seventh grader I’ve ever known can write as nicely as you. Not that I know a lot of seventh graders...Anyway, can I ask how I ended up being pen pals with the class teacher? I know I could ask Bridges, but I think it would be more fun to hear it from you.” 

Your lips tug into a smile, but this time you don’t feel the need to cover it. Why did it feel like a game he won or a riddle he solved? It wasn’t exactly like you were hiding it. But something about him figuring out something about you was…exciting.

As you get into the meat of the letter itself he goes on to ask you what subject you teach and how long you have been teaching. He asks if you like working with kids and if they ever made you want to pull your hair out. The phrasing of his words make you giggle. 

“I was never good in school,” he states. “It took me three tries of my senior year to graduate. I used to blame my teachers saying that they didn’t like the way I dressed or my taste in music. I guess now I have to admit that it was probably because I didn’t bother to show up to class or do any of my homework…” 

A full laugh shook you in your chair. Was he actually funnier in this letter? And why did it come off feeling so personal? The air about it was different, like you were talking to a long-distance friend rather than a felon, your cheeks starting to ache from smiling as you continue read his sketchy handwriting.

He went on to ask more about you, like what your favorite band was since you “liked rock so much more than metal,” with a little frowny face to punctuate his disagreement. He says the prison lets them watch MTV sometimes, which has been his main exposure to new music. Sometimes he gets a hold of new music every once and a while, but usually just listens to his old cassettes on his Walkman that his uncle gave him when he first entered the system.

“Some people have tried to steal it from me, but they learned pretty quickly that I have my ways to get things back, and that I'm not one to be messed with.”

That left you curious. A small glimpse into the inner workings of prison. You never really thought about what a person in prison could or couldn’t have. It was nice that he could have at least a small luxury, an item of value if it was under constant threat of being taken. You also couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by not being messed with.

Before you know it you’ve hit the end of the letter. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It felt like there could have been so much more to say, but his pen name barely fit at the bottom of the paper as it is. You take a piece of paper out of your notebook, pulling the frayed pieces off the edge and replacing the one in front of you with it.  Hopefully your pal won't mind the purple pen or the probable lack of coherence compared to your first letter as you feel the wine really start to kick in.

Referring back to the paper like a student answering a question in class, you make sure to answer all of his questions to the best of your ability.  

“Hello again, Mr. Banished. I see you have uncovered my secret that I am, in fact, a grown woman and not a 13-year-old. I hope that doesn’t bother you. I have been teaching English since I graduated college, coincidentally in 1989. It's like we traded places; I got to leave the prison of being a student in college and you went to prison for whatever drug related charges you acquired.” You laughed at your own joke as you continued. 

“As for why you are stuck with writing a late 20’s school teacher rather than one of my students, that would be because of the aforementioned Mr.Bridges. We had a student move a few weeks into the school year and Bridges practically got on his knees and begged me to take on a pen pal.” You left out the detail of not being totally comfortable with the program. Not that you weren’t still hesitant, but the last thing you wanted to do was offend him by insinuating anything about the type of person he was for being in jail. The wine had rationalized with you that sometimes good people do bad things when they’re in dark places.

Continuing on, you wrote that he was probably right in both his opinions on why his teachers failed him. The older teachers at your school were stuck in their ways and judged students before really trying to help them. You did your best not to be the same way, hoping to be a teacher that your students could trust and come to if they needed help. It was a passion of yours since you were small, wanting to help people learn and grow, so what better way to do that than to teach?

“I am interested in what you wore that would call for such harsh judgment. I try to be as unbiased as I can with all my kids. If you asked them, they would say that I’m stuffy or rigid most of the time, but it’s mostly because I care about their education. And partly because being a new teacher is…really freaking tough if I’m being honest. These older teachers don’t take half of the things I say seriously because their own kids are older than me. It’s kind of bullshit, actually, but I just deal with it until I can get more experience under my belt.” 

A sigh slips through your lips, pen tapping against the kitchen table as you feel the frustration bubbling. It’s not fair to dump these feelings on him, but the anonymity made it so easy to just put everything out there. He doesn’t know anything about you, and if you were to weird him out by getting a little real, then he could just not write back, right? 

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you decided to just move on to a different topic. 

“Sorry, that was a lot of feelings on my part. Is it too personal to ask what you do in prison? You mentioned getting to listen to music, but what else do you do? I’ve seen in movies that inmates work out a lot and play basketball outside. Is that real or made up for the audience? If it is real, does that mean you are super buff from working out all the time? Do you beat people up if they try and take your Walkman, or do you stab them? I’ve seen people do that in movies, too. I hope you don’t stab them, that would be scary.” 

You can feel yourself getting a bit rambley in your tired state, so you decide it’s time to call it a night. You wrap up the letter by telling him that you’re going to go to sleep and that you were looking forward to his next letter. You sign your name and draw a small doodle of a flower next to it.

November 18th,1994

It was 3 am when you woke up the first time. A nightmare had you shooting up from your pillow, cold sweat drenched the collar of your sleep shirt, chest heaving as you caught your breath. 

He had been knocking at your door, your pen pal. You never saw his face, but heard the anger in his voice as he yelled for you to let him in. You remember sitting in front of the door begging for him to leave you alone, telling him it was too soon. That you weren’t ready.  

The nightmare became reoccurring, waking you at least 2 or 3 times a week. Sometimes it’s your ex, but most of the time it’s your pen pal. Even though you have no inkling of what he looks like, you just know it’s him on the other side.

The disturbance in your sleep was starting to affect your daily life, one of your coworkers asking if you were okay after over pouring a cup of coffee in the teacher’s lounge.

“Are you okay?” Mr.Clarke asks, helping you mop up the spilled coffee with some paper towels.

“Yes, I’m sorry, yeah,” you say, trying and failing to reassure him.

“Hey, I know that midterms can be rough with the holidays coming up. But, try not to stress out about it too much. I’ve heard good things about you from the kids in my classes that have you this year. You’re doing a good job, so don't kill yourself, okay?”

It was damn near impossible not to burst into tears at your coworkers words, but you held it together until you could hide in the faculty restroom.

The dreams didn’t stop though. Even Mr.Bridges felt the need to comment.

  “Holidays stressing you out?” he asked with an energy that seemed inhuman to you, his sunny disposition could make the snow outside melt.

“No.” You stated shortly as you looked through your lesson plan for the day.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he said with a nod, “This is the most wonderful time of the year after all. We try to stay busy at the prison, keep the morale high and what not.” 

He placed the stack of letters on your desk, along with a small box that read “Greeting Cards” with a wintery scene displayed on the front. 

“These are for the students to give to the inmates.” You look at him with “no shit” written on your face. He cleared his throat, “But, uh, I’m sure you could figure that out. I know this time of year can be hectic for everyone, but we all deserve some holiday cheer, right?” Your expression remains unchanged as he continues on.

“Right, well, I’ll be giving the inmates their own cards to send to the kids with their letters. It might be a bit difficult for me to come back before Christmas, family affairs to attend to and all that. So, I went ahead and wrote the address and stamped the envelopes for the cards. If I don’t come back by, oh, let's say the 15th? Just go ahead and stick those in the mail and I’ll make sure the inmates get them!” 

Before you could protest having to go out of your way to do his job, Mr.Bridges quickly made his exit as the warning bell rang, wishing you a happy holiday as he disappeared. 

With the lack of free class time as you all crammed for test week, you decided to let the kids take their letters and cards home for the weekend to work on. As you passed them out, keeping the addressed envelopes in the box, you told the kids to write something nice in their cards. 

“This may be the only card some of these men get, so think about that when you’re writing them this weekend.”

Getting to the last letter, you feel your stomach twist as you read your actual government first name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting instead of your pen name. You hadn’t even realized that you had stopped dead in your tracks until the sound of the bell brought you back to your body. 

“U-uh, ge--get your letters done by the end of class Tuesday!” You yell over your class as they begin migrating out of the room.

Quickly, you return to your desk and rip open the letter. Unsurprisingly, it’s once again covered in artwork. The pumpkins and bats and other Halloween inspired art felt out of place, putting in perspective how long it had been since your last letter. But before you could look much further into the writing your next class began to file in, forcing you to set the letter aside for later. 

You’d felt nauseous the rest of your morning classes, You wracked your brain about how the hell your pen pal could have figured out your actual name. You may have been...a little tipsy when you wrote that letter a month ago, but you’re sure you didn’t say anything personal enough that he would know who you were. Could he have asked someone on the outside to look into you? No, Mr.Bridges assured you that the inmates don’t know what school they are writing to. Maybe Bridges said your name to someone at the jail and the inmate overheard?  

As soon as the bell rang for your lunch period, you practically rushed your students out the door and closed it. Throwing yourself into your chair, you grab the letter and begin reading. 

“Well, well, I wasn’t expecting to be getting more lore in your newest letter! You have a very cute name by the way…Sorry I hope that wasn’t weird. Anyway! I guess I can tell you my name, too. Call me Eddie.”

  Eddie. 

So you had included your own name in your letter somewhere. You sigh with relief, though it still makes you a little uncomfortable that this stranger knows something personal about you. Sure he’s been nice, but he was still a felon. Though knowing his name made you feel a little better. Made him feel a tad more human to not use silly nicknames.

“Can I start by saying I loved reading your last letter?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise.“The purple pen was a nice touch. Something about a teacher complaining about other teachers is really funny to me, too. Nice to know the torment of some teachers isn’t just limited to students! And I doubt your kids think you’re stiff or whatever. You seem pretty cool to me. Even if I’ve only gotten to talk to you through a couple letters, you talk to me a lot nicer than I probably deserve.”

The smile that had made its home on your lips from his sentiments dropped into a frown. You felt yourself wanting to get defensive, wanting to tell him that he shouldn’t think that way about himself. That even if he was a felon, he still deserves respect.

“Being a younger teacher must be hard. You did all the college stuff to be a teacher so that should be enough to get their respect in my opinion. I don’t think I had a teacher who wasn’t at least in their 50s so they probably can’t see anyone under 30 as anything other than a kid I guess.”

“Hit the nail on the head,” you say to yourself with an airy chuckle. 

As you keep reading, he changes the subject to something you don’t remember asking in your previous letter.

“So you wanna know what I look like, huh? Well back before I was in here I would wear my band shirts, Metallica and Judas Priest and all the bands that make the old ladies cringe. My jeans had holes in them, too. And I have this battle vest that I’ve put together with some patches of my favorite bands on it. My uncle Wayne says he’s keeping it safe for me at home. It’s not much, but I learned how to stitch patches on by myself, so it means something to me. Gives me something to look forward to when I get out.” 

Your mind paints an image of a gangely teen trying to look cool to impress his friends or scare off the old ladies at the mall. Sounds like the kind of guy you had crushes on in high school. There may have been a picture or 2 of Kirk Hammit or Vince Neil or Eddie Van Halen tapped to the inside of your locker door in high school, but you’d never admit that now.

“I also had long hair when I was younger. Can’t call yourself a metal head without having long hair ya know. But I’ve had to cut it since I’ve been in here. I’ve got pretty curly hair and it was getting hard to keep up with it. It’s short enough to keep out of my face most of the time. I’m actually due for a haircut, so thanks for reminding me! Hair cuts are free in prison so I get it done way more than I ever did on the outside. You gotta tip your barber though or else they might “accidentally” shave all your hair off next time. Learned that one the hard way.”

He goes on to answer some of your questions about the inner workings of the jail. They do get to work out a lot, but says he’s not a “big meat head” like some of the other inmates. He doesn’t like basketball for “personal reasons” so he prefers to run laps. “When you’re trying to get out of a big fight it’s better to be faster than stronger.”

“I am also proud to admit that I have never stabbed someone. Almost been stabbed myself, but I used to get my shit rocked in high school so I’ve learned to dodge over the years.” Your hand comes to your face, almost forgetting that you asked such a stupid question. Of course he hasn’t stabbed anyone. You could excuse it if it was out of self defense maybe. But then you recall him saying before that he doesn’t get “messed with”, so what is he doing that people aren’t bothering him if not stabbing them? Your head spins with possibilities as you think about it more.

As you are about to read on, you are interrupted by a knock on your door, the sound causing you to jump in your seat. Quickly closing the letter and shoving it into your bag, you rush to the door to find a student from your 3rd period class, a shy one at that, needing clarification on the newest assignment. You let her in, forgetting the letter for the rest of the period. 

The rest of the period then turns into the rest of the day. It goes by like a blur as everyone seems to be getting last minute things turned in for the week. Grades for the upcoming report cards would be due by the end of next Tuesday, so you told your classes to get any missing work in by today and you would give them partial credit. It was setting yourself up for a busy weekend, but anything to keep your mind off the upcoming holiday was welcomed. 

It would be your first Thanksgiving single in almost 10 years, and your 4th since your mom passed. Your soon to be ex-husband, Henry, had convinced you to move to his hometown of Hawkins after your mother died to be closer to his family and to help his dad’s business as his accountant. It wasn’t your first choice of places to live, and after looking back on the situation, you realized that he had used your vulnerability to get a lot of what he wanted. 

Things seemed fine at first. His parents bought your house and he had a good paying job. All you had to do was cling to his arm and keep quiet. You were kept well manicured, your appearance catered to his liking as he paraded you around at office parties.

The not so hushed whispers from the women in his office always talking about how lucky you were to bag an older man reached your ears. But you kept your tongue against your cheek. They could be jealous all they want, because if they knew what happened behind closed doors they wouldn’t be singing the same tune. 

Waking up early in the morning, way before he ever did, just to put on your face. God forbid you weren’t presentable to him always. Afterwards you’d iron his white button ups and khaki slacks, make him a huge breakfast, present his clothes to him, and be waiting by the door on your knees for him to use your mouth before he walked out the door. 

At the time, you felt like you had a purpose. That being a housewife was what you were meant to be. But the degree you had worked so hard on stared at you as you cleaned the house everyday. Your passion was just in reach, boring you every day.

That is, until fate, and the well timed retirement of your predecessor, gave you the opportunity to start teaching that year. When you got the call, you were over the moon. Henry even said he was proud of you. 

Until you forgot to iron his clothes. It was just a stern talking to the first time, an anger in his eyes like you’d never seen before had you on edge the entire first day of class. You made it up to him by waking up extra early, using your mouth to start his day since you couldn’t be at the door for him anymore.

But, then you started falling behind on chores during the week as grading papers took up most of your free time when you weren’t tending to his needs. It’s not that you didn’t clean, it just wasn't the only thing you had to do every day anymore. Passive comments about becoming lazy were brushed to the side until they collectively spilled over into your first big argument. You told him he could help, too. He smacked you across the face. 

Too busy juggling work and cleaning the house full time caused you to miss the signs that things were declining. It started when Henry had to start staying late for work, claiming that they had a “big project” that was going to require him to stay over longer. He made it seem like a temporary arrangement that ended up becoming a pattern for months. But, he assured you that a raise could come from his hard work. So you continued to sit at home, a cold, untouched plate sitting across from you as you finished another bottle of wine. At least he wasn’t there to put his hands on you.

Then it was the pair of panties that you didn’t recognize when you did his laundry. When you confronted him, he told you that it must be a pair you owned back in high school that was mixed in with his clothes somehow when you moved. When you pressed on, he gave you a black eye. 

Then it was the perfume you didn’t recognize on your pillow case when you came home from a weekend trip to see your new nephew. He told you it smelled like your perfume, you just hadn’t been home all weekend to smell it. You didn’t argue this time.

Then it was his father’s secretary, Missy, calling your home and telling you that she was sleeping with your husband. She had been nice at last year's Christmas party when you first met her. Nineteen, dumb as a box of rocks.

“Are you and Henry still married?” she had asked with her valley girl accent, “Because when I stayed over I saw that he still had pictures of you two at his house.”

Now you’re stuck in this tiny town, your closest relative being your brother who has his own family out in Chicago. Thankfully, you had made friends with the ever charming Steve Harrington, who’s father also worked with Henry. He came as a package deal with his roommate Robin Buckley, and the two of them quickly became your best friends. They were as blindsided as you about Henry’s affair and helped you move into your new apartment. Steve offered to let you live with him and Robin, but you didn’t want to live in the same house as your ex’s coworker, even if he was never there.

“We should make a grocery list for next week.” Robin called from the kitchen to where you and Steve were sat in the living room. “Do we want to bother making a turkey or should we do something easier?”

“Do you know how to make a turkey?” you asked looking over the top of your wine glass as she taps a pen to paper scowling.

“She can barely make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, d’ya really think she can make a turkey?” You watch as a roll of paper towels is launched from the kitchen into the side of Steve’s head and your laugh erupts.

“Well, then were fucked,” you say between giggles, “because I can’t make a turkey, and I know Steve “grabs a pan without a mitt” Harrington also can’t cook one.”

“Oh, that was ONE TIME!” 

Steve goes to throw the paper towel roll at you, but you dodge, “One time is enough to never let you live it down, Steven. Maybe we should get some chicken instead.”

“Oh, I can make us some potato salad!”

After some back and forth about what to make for your “Friendsgiving” as Robin had been calling it, claiming inspiration from a new episode of Friends, Steve was begging to talk about anything else. 

“School seems to be better this year,” he looks at you carefully, “You haven’t been talking about it as much lately. Not negatively at least.”

“Yeah the only thing you’ve complained about is that prison thing your class was supposed to be doing.” She looked at you with a look of curiosity, “How’s that going?”

You blink and suddenly remember the letter that you had gotten earlier. It was sitting in your bag back home where you had left it on your coffee table again. You were so busy getting ready to go to Steve’s that you had forgotten to finish it.

“It’s going okay. Hey, did you guys go to high school here?”

They both look at each other, then back to you. “Yep, graduated a year after dingus, though. Class of ‘86.”

Steve gave Robin an annoyed look at the nickname before returning his attention to you, “Why do you ask?”

You pondered for a moment if it would be okay to tell them about Eddie. The program was supposed to be anonymous, but that was just to protect the kids. If he wasn’t allowed to give you his name they would have confiscated the letter, right? Bridges said the letters were vetted both ways, so if it was a problem he would have told you. But this seemed like a breach of privacy. You only had a first name to go off of and a vague description. He never said his age, so could be older than even you, or younger than Robin. 

“Um, do you guys know anyone that goes by Eddie?” 

They both perked up at the name, giving each other a look that you couldn’t read. You swore they could communicate telepathically.

Steve was the first to speak after a moment of silence. “Yeah, we know an Eddie. Why?” His tone was curious as he side eyed you.

“Oh, well my pen pal from the, uh, the prison thing. See his name is Eddie, and he told me that he’s from Hawkins. I don’t know much about him, but I think he may be close to my age and maybe he was in school with you guys-”

Robins laugh caught you off guard. “If it’s the same Eddie we know, then yes he was in school with us. Way longer than he was supposed to be, and we didn’t really get close until the end of my senior year.”

The look on your face prompted Steve to elaborate, “Eddie was -- is, a friend of ours that we got to know better through a mutual friend. He did go to prison a few years ago, but it was because he was scapegoated by a guy he bought weed from. We thought he was gonna go to jail for, like, the rest of his life or something. I had to convince my dad to get our lawyer that he keeps on retainer to represent him in court. The guy owed my dad a favor and he did it, Eddie only got five years.”

“There’s no way,” you said incredulously. Your jaw had to be on the floor. You knew this town was small, but was it really this small? Robin and Steve would be the type to forget to mention they had a friend in prison, too. 

“What’s his last name?”

“Munson. Eddie Munson. We still talk to him on the phone every once in a while. Usually his uncle gets a hold of us, tells us that he’s going to call at a certain time so we can stay by the phone. Oh!” Steve stands up from his spot on the couch, clapping his hands, “I have my senior year book up stairs. He should be in it as long as he showed up to picture day.” 

As Steve walks away, you turn to Robin, who has an amused look on her face.

“What?” You laugh, still in disbelief at the information that has been given to you. She shrugs, lips turned in a downward smile, “Nothing. So what do you and Eddie talk about?”

“What do we talk about? Not much really. We’ve only sent maybe two letters to each other. He always covers the letters in artwork though. They look like little tattoos.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely our Eddie,” She shakes her head, “His notebooks that he would carry around with him are covered in art. He told us he’s given himself some tattoos while he’s been there. We keep telling him he’s going to look like a felon when he comes out.”

“Isn’t he a felon, though?” 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to look like it!”

“Found it!” Steve yells as he comes back into the living room, blowing the dust off the book. He plops down on the couch between you and Robin and starts to look through the pages. “See, the funny thing about Eddie, he was supposed to graduate in ‘84, but he kept fucking around and ended up repeating his senior year -- three times.” 

“Holy shit,” you were in absolute disbelief, “he told me that in one of his letters. He said he was because the teachers didn’t like him, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something he would say,” Robin chuckles. 

“Ah-ha, He did show up! Here he is right here!”

Your eyes snapped to where Steve’s fingers pointed to the tiny black and white square. Eddie wasn’t kidding when he said his hair was super curly. The close up of his face makes his hair almost completely take the background out of the picture. You can barely see it but it looks like he’s wearing a Judas Priest shirt under a leather jacket and what you suspect to be the leather jacket he seems to treasure so much. When you finally let yourself focus on his face you’re met with a bright smile and dimples on either side. Dark eyes scrunched up from how high his cheeks were. You definitely would have had a crush on him if you had gone to the same school. 

“Soooo…what do you think?” Robin sing-songs with an expectant look on her face. 

You can feel yourself smiling and try to reign it in, “Well, he’s not a 40 year old biker looking guy with a beard so that makes me feel better. He looks nice, actually.” 

“He’s a good guy,” Steve starts flipping through the pages of the book, “but everyone gave him shit because…of…this.” Stopping on another page in the book, you see a picture of a group of students leaning up against a wall, all of them wearing matching shirts. 

“Hellfire Club?” You look between Steve and Robin. 

“He hasn’t mentioned Hellfire Club?” Robin was baffled. “That’s like, his whole thing!”

You shake your head, brows furrowed,“What is it?” 

“His D&D club? He’s seriously never brought it up?”

“No, not yet at least.” Taking the book from Steve, you get a better look at the picture. “Like I said, we've only sent a few letters back and forth. I wouldn’t say we’ve exhausted all of our topics for discussion yet.”

“You’ll never run out of things to talk about with Eddie,” Steve states sarcastically, “You’d think prison would have had an effect on his social skills, but that guy could talk for an hour about a crack he saw in the sidewalk.”

Hearing that made you wonder if he ever held back when writing to you. His letters were usually front and back all the way to the bottom of the pages. You wonder if they only allow him one page or if has to pay for the paper. Hopefully he wasn’t wasting his money to talk to you. 

“When was the last time you guys talked to him?” 

“Uh-“ Robin starts.

“It was still hot outside I think,” Steve interjects, “Like early September?”

“Yeah,” Robin nods, eyes wide, “September sounds about right.”

“Hmm, that’s around when we started writing to each other. I guess he wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t know about me yet.” 

“If it’s been that long we’re definitely due for a call from him.” Robin looks to Steve, you miss the mischief in her eyes, nor do you see the look he gives her back. “Maybe you could talk to him next time he calls us?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide meeting Robin’s gaze. You saw the look now and immediately started shaking your head in protest. 

“No, no, Robin I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You stand up from your spot on the couch, handing the yearbook back to Steve. Taking a few steps back to look at them, you bite one of your nails, thinking about the situation you’ve gotten yourself into. “Actually, if he does call, I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t tell him you knew me either. I’m sure he’s a nice guy but…”

“Hey,” Steve stood up and placed a hand on your arm, “It’s cool. You didn’t know Eddie before, and you barely know him now. I think Robin just meant that you could get to know him more since he is our friend. He’s gonna get out of prison eventually and we promised him that we’d just continue on like how things were before.”

“But,” you look at Steve with worry in your expression, “being in prison that long can change a person.”

“Eddie is too stubborn to let anything break him of being himself. He didn’t repeat his senior year twice because he’s dumb. He did it because he was too busy with what he wanted to do to bother with his schoolwork.”

“Actually,” Robin says, “he said prison is easier because he gets three meals a day and doesn’t have to do math, so…”

“But,” Steve gets your attention again, “My point is that you don’t have to go out of your comfort zone to be his friend for our sake if you don’t want to. Just keep talking to him on your own and see how you feel.”

You swear these two really were the only good people in Hawkins. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded,” I’ll keep writing him, but I won’t mention that I know you two. Not yet at least.”

November 27th, 1994

Ever since your talk with Robin and Steve, your nightmares have changed. Now that you have a face to the name they’re not really nightmares anymore. Instead of a nameless, faceless voice at your door, you can see him through the peephole. He’s not knocking on your door with rage, but out of desperation. Still begging to be let in, but the lock is on his side. You hold the key in your hand, you just have to slide it under the door…

A sharp, grating ring wakes you from your sleep, eyes shooting open and taking in the room around you. The sun peaks from behind your bedroom curtains, the light just bright enough to pester the hangover migraine that’s already in full effect. You have to strain to get your eyes to focus on the numbers on your alarm clock that read just past noon. 

The continuous ringing of the phone finally throttles you out of bed and into your kitchen. When you pick up the phone you hear Steve on the other end. 

“Oh, good, you lived,” he exclaims, “Robin, she’s still alive!”

A muffled, “oh thank god” comes from the background in the receiver. You hadn’t anticipated being so emotional the night before, thinking you were past feeling sorry for yourself that you were alone on a holiday while your bastard ex had someone keeping your side of the bed warm every night.

All the emotions came up at Steve’s during dinner. It was just the three of you there, all with broken families. They had other friends who were home for the holidays, but they were doing their own thing this weekend. Robin and Steve insisted that you join in on the festivities but you declined, using not knowing them as an excuse.

Really you just wanted some alone time. Time to yourself, to let yourself feel whatever you need to feel without having to mask in front of strangers, brush off any awkwardness if the topic of your failed marriage were to arise. 

You think Robin and Steve could tell that you were in your own head. They suggested taking you out to the only dive bar in town still open on the holiday, and assuming the place would be pretty dead, you said fuck it and all piled into Steve’s car. Sharing drinks and playing pool while metal music that made you think of your pen pal. You wondered what he was doing as you stepped outside to smoke a cigarette you bummed off an older, balding guy sitting at the bar. 

After drinking so much that Robin had to drive your car home for you, their phone call really didn’t come as a surprise to you. 

“Yes, god, I’m alive. Don’t yell into the phone, please.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to try and relieve some of the tension. The phone call is brief, Steve just wanting to check in on you and confirm that you didn’t want to participate in their outing. 

“We’re going ice skating! And if you can’t skate, our friend Max would enjoy having someone sit on the sidelines with her.”

“Sorry, Steve,” you press your forehead against the cool wood of the door frame, “I’m sure everyone is very nice, but I’m just not feeling up to it.”

After a few cups of coffee and a long shower, you settle on your couch, flipping through the channels on the tv for something to watch and settling on a Beverly Hills: 90210 rerun marathon. It didn’t take you long to lose interest and you began fidgeting for something else to keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see your work bag on the floor at the end of your couch. The memory of tripping and knocking the bag over last night comes back to you, making you internally cringe at yourself. You grab the bag and see that the contents were an unorganized mess compared to how you normally keep it. The longer you looked the crazier it made you feel, so you carefully took the papers and folders out, laying them in front of you. 

When you picked up your first period folder, the familiar envelope that you had forgotten a week ago fell out, landing in your lap. You quickly pick it up and open it, remembering that you hadn't even had the chance to properly finish reading it. 

Something about seeing the letter again made you feel good. As you look at the artwork, you see the picture of the shirts his club members wore and smile as you realize he made the shirts himself. 

You reread the description of himself and can laugh because he must have worn the same thing every day, recalling the holes in his jeans and his battle vest from his pictures. It was hard to imagine the wild mane of hair he had being cut short. Do they get conditioner in prison? Because his hair must be a mess without it. 

Finally, you get to the part of the letter you hadn’t read. You felt your heart beating in your chest, an anxiousness building that you couldn’t explain. 

“I’m running low on space to write and I don’t know when I’ll hear from you again, but I just wanted to ask-“

You’re thrown off when you see two lines of the letter have been blacked out with a black marker or sharpie. There’s no way to make out what was written, and the last line is just him wishing you a “happy whatever holiday you celebrate,” his real signature greeting you at the very bottom of the page. “What the hell?” You asked the empty apartment. The first assumption that comes to mind is that Eddie must have messed up what he was going to write and decided to black it out since he wrote in pen. Or maybe he wanted to write more, but realized he was running out of space? That would go with your theory that they are limited in the paper they can get. 

There’s also the possibility he said something inappropriate and whoever checks the letters made him redact it. That was probably the least likely, but it makes you laugh to think about. Robin and Steve brought him up a few times while you were drinking and gave him the highest praises. But, you never know what someone would be willing to say or do when they’ve been touch starved for almost 5 years.

Butterflies invade your stomach when you think about it more. He’s probably had to take care of himself quite a bit while he’s been locked up. Where does one even do that in prison without prying eyes?

Your thighs clench together at the image you’ve conjured in your head. Steve had shown you some pictures of Eddie that he found from not too long before he went to prison. Sure, he resembled his yearbook picture, thin and lanky he once was. But the picture of him and Steve at a lake, both of them shirtless and clearly soaking wet, displayed muscles that he had likely gained from the mechanic job Robin mentioned he had. The tattoos that he had on his body were taking over, almost covering one of his arms completely. 

The image of soaked curly hairs clinging to his face as he’s leaning into a shower wall comes to the forefront of your mind. Toned arms flexing as he holds himself against the wall with one hand, stroking himself with the other. You imagined his hands were rough and calloused from playing guitar and working on cars. He was long and hard as he pumped himself, water dripping off the tip with each down stroke. God, you can only imagine his face as he cums, a loud groan falling from his lips as he spills onto the shower floor, calling your name…

You throw yourself into the couch cushion next to you and physically cringe. Where the hell did that come from? Was this the result of your dry spell since you left Henry? A guy that you’ve never even met before gives you a little attention and your brain automatically goes into the gutter. Sitting up, you rub your face in your hands in an attempt to keep the scenario from replaying in your mind. At least you had successfully distracted yourself from the self pity you were wallowing in. 

You roll onto your back, holding up the letter in your hand. You admire the artwork, the sloppy handwriting. A person wrote this letter. Someone who did something illegal and paid the price for it. Someone who is very loved and has an uncle waiting for him somewhere in this town, and friends who would do anything for him. And now, he’s writing you letters, and you wonder if he is feeling the same way that you are starting to feel…what are you feeling, exactly?

Sitting up from the couch, you grab a pen and paper from your bag.

“Hello Eddie” no.

“Hey, stranger” no.

“What’s up!” definitely not.

Another balled up paper tossed to the ground. 

“Dear Eddie,” sure why not, “I hope you are having a wonderful holiday season yourself. Hopefully your uncle can come and see you for whatever you celebrate. If not, at least a phone call would be nice. Does the prison give you anything special for the holidays? Like a turkey for Thanksgiving, ham for Christmas, the traditional stuff. I spent the holiday with-”

Steve and Robin. You know them! I know who you are, too. Totally not weird, right?

“-my friends. They called it “Friendsgiving,” I think it had something to do with a TV show. None of us like to cook, so we ended up just picking up stuff at the store and then going out to a local bar. I’m writing this letter the next day, a little hungover I have to admit. But, writing this letter has helped distract me from the migraine I’m trying to stave off. It’s been very busy at school lately with projects, exams, a choir…thing? All that means for me is that I have mountains of paperwork to grade, and I spent the last month trying to get kids to turn in anything missing. It’s like trying to get squirrels to stay in a basket.

Winter break is just around the corner, though. Which means two weeks of getting to sleep in late, watching terrible TV reruns, and using the cold weather as an excuse to stay inside. Although, I think my friends will manage to get me out of my apartment one way or another. I feel like a cat who was adopted by two dogs who share the same brain cell. But, they have helped me a lot over the last couple of months so I owe it to them to be their voice of reason sometimes.”

You pause and have a laugh to yourself. You think about all the ridiculous adventures the two of them have taken you on in the last few months, doing things that you would never have done before Henry. They’ve taken the hard metal bones out of your binding and started loosening the strings. You wonder if you would have even said yes to doing this letter thing if you hadn’t already had your boundaries pushed a little.

“I hope this isn’t too much to ask, but do you have any big plans for when you get out? Places you want to go? Food you want to try? People you want to see?”

You smile when you dot the last question mark. It feels sneaky to ask when you know that your meeting is inevitable, and there is a small voice in your ear telling you that he wouldn’t want to meet you. You’re boring. Simple. Dull. Only shades of grey fill your wardrobe, your heart, where there was once colour. Broken.

The new bottle of wine you got at the gas station stares at you from the kitchen.

Anyway.

“Hopefully you’re able to get out in time for the summer. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk outside as a free man and get to feel the sun on your skin? I think Hawkins is having a Rose festival again next year. There could be some inspiration there for you for your art, and if not, the funnel cakes are worth the admission price. Everything else is overpriced, but what isn’t nowadays?”

Filling the last bit of the back of the page, you felt it only fair to give a few details about yourself. Just a general description, nothing too revealing. Not that there was much to give away since becoming a professional educator has taken any creative freedom from your sense of style. You did tell him that on the weekends you treated yourself by wearing comfy clothes all day. You didn’t tell him that you only felt okay to do that recently, since your ex husband always expected you to look your best.

As you reached the bottom, you remembered the redacted section of his last letter. Do should you ask about it? Would he even be able to tell you? You went ahead and brought it up.

“Before I close this letter, I am curious to know why the last bit of your letter had been marked out. I can only imagine what you could have asked that it had to be taken out. I hope it wasn’t inappropriate, Mr.Banished.” You added a little “ha ha” in parentheses so he knew you were just joking, careful once again not to offend.

“Looking forward to your next letter,”

You signed your name, fighting the urge to draw a heart next to it like the girls in your class writing notes to their crush. There was no way that feeling like this for someone that you’ve only had correspondence through letters and the bit of hype from your mutual friends can be healthy. Grabbing the box of greeting cards that you had sat on the coffee table, you wrote some well wishes and folded your letter to fit within the confines of the red envelope. You took a look at it for the first time since Bridges had handed them over and your heart dropped. 

In one of the ethics classes you took in college a classmate did a presentation on Pendleton Prison. It had just come out the year before that there had been an abuse of power and prisoners were basically being tortured. It was hard to observe but informative. You couldn’t even imagine something like that happening to Eddie. You wondered if the reason they were participating in this program to begin with was to help with their reputation. We’ll let them talk to some kids and it will seem like we’re not abusing our inmates.

You look at the wine bottle again.

It’s fine. If Eddie was going through something like that, surely he would have told Steve and Robin, his uncle. But you wanted to be sure. You walk into your kitchen.

December 25th, 1994

“…You can say hello when you see me. You don't have to be afraid. There's a lot of things going around about me, but none of it's true. Okay?”

Your eyes flutter open, and you quickly close them when the harsh light of your tv playing Home Alone was too bright. Another dream about Eddie had taken over your mind in your sleep. You sit back to the door, the key in your hand. He doesn’t push you anymore, says to only give the key if you want to. That he enjoys your company no matter what. 

Sigh.

As you sit up from the couch where you had dozed off the night before, you decide to make a cup of coffee and ring your brother. 

“I could have come to get you. And brought you back. You know I don’t mind-“

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You have your own family now, I don’t want to dampen the mood,” you say as if you mean it. Coffee swishes around in your mug as you talk. It was true that your brother had a family of his own and was living the American dream. You liked that he invited you to be part of that, but you just couldn’t get past the notion that everyone would just look at you with pity. You’d rather be alone

Steve and Robin also invited you to Colorado with them. Steve’s parents had a house in Aspen where they were hosting Christmas this year. Steve insisted his parents wouldn’t care if you tagged along since they started to become fond of Robin. As much as seeing the beautiful snow covered mountains of Colorado sounds like a great reprieve for your mind, you still lied and told them you were going to your brothers. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. 

The sound of Kevin McCallister’s hijinks in New York got your attention. The movie distracted you for a while, until it didn’t. You watched the tv -- well, rather you looked at it for until you stood up, deciding to get out of the house, even if just to drive around.

The movie-esque scenery of small town Hawkins covered in snow was quiet and still, say for the few cars that you passed likely on the way to see family, traveling between houses. Something you and Henry did to make things fair for both of you. Your mom’s house first, then his parents.

Cars sat outside the Hideout, piquing your interest as you watched a man get out of a pick up truck and walk inside. It was close enough to five o'clock that you decided to pull into the lot, pulling into a spot by the door. Inside you were surprised to see it fairly occupied, mostly by men who looked like they worked at the factory in town or drove the big rig that was parked on the side of the building. The patrons seemed to talk amongst themselves, some semblance of holiday cheer keeping their spirits alive as their glasses clanked and boisterous laughs filled the air.

Sliding into an empty bar stool, you grabbed your purse to get your ID and some cash. 

“Ain’t ya little young to be sittin’ alone at a bar on Christmas?”

You looked up from your purse at the man sitting next to you at the bar. He sipped from his glass, cigarette smoke seeping from his lips, attention set on nothing in particular. He was an older man, bald on top and plenty of aging on his face, but you had the feeling he was younger than he looked. Some of his features felt familiar to you but you weren’t sure why.

“Um, well, I guess so,” you stutter as you set your purse down between your feet. “But, uh, I really didn’t want to spend Christmas alone.”

A hum and a nod, “I guess loneliness knows no age.” He huffed a laugh before getting the bartender's attention. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh, no, please, you don’t-” you begin to protest, but he puts his hand up and waves you off.

“Trust me,” he takes a long drag from his cigarette, “I would be buying it for someone else if they could be here.”

Ah. You tell the bartender your order and the man tells him to put it on his tab. 

“Thank you,” you give him a genuine smile, turning towards him to speak as the bar patrons become louder. You paused for a beat before speaking again, “I’m sorry you’re alone today.”

“Makes no difference to me really, just another day to me,” he takes a sip of his beer. You almost miss it, but you see the flash of a smile on his face. 

“Just another day, huh,” you say smugly, dipping your head into his line of vision. He must have realized he was smiling because he covered his hand with his mouth shyly, the motion a contradiction to his hard exterior. Clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat, opening from his hunched position to talk with you properly.

“It’s just another day, always been to me, but,” He looks at you for a moment, then back down into his beer, “I used to celebrate, for my boy. Haven’t gotten to do that properly in a while. I’m hopin’ this year will be the last, that next year will be different.”

His endearment made your eyes misty. “That’s so sweet,” you coo, putting a hand on coat covered arm, “I’m sure things will work out.” You pull back when your drink is dropped off, quickly taking a few sips. 

The man watches you, his head shaking in your peripherals. “So, what’s really got ya out here celebrating with Hawkins finest? Besides the, uh,” he gestures vaguely, “cheerful atmosphere.”

You stay quiet for a moment, eyes focused on the straw floating in your drink. Deep breath in, and out. “Do you want the half truth or the full truth?”

His body bounces from a chuckle, “I got a little time.”

Pouring your heart out to a stranger over drinks felt therapeutic, and not in the same way as talking to Robin and Steve. He just listened, nodded his head, grunted in what you assume to be agreement. This man, who looks like he hasn’t taken a day off in his life, made you feel more valid with no words at all than anyone else has in your entire life besides your own mother.

“And now I’m, like, kinda into this guy, but he doesn’t know I exist,” your words are a little slurred as you take down another drink. “Sorry, no, he knows I exist, but he knows nothing about me. Like, he knows some things, but he doesn’t really know me, ya know?”

His head bobs up and down, takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I feel weird feeling this way, because I would never have even considered a guy like him before. Henry, I told you about Henry, he was super uppity, snotty. A real tight ass. But, this guy is funny. Genuine, and his friends talk him up. Who wouldn’t fall for a guy like that? Even if he is rough around the edges.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out with you and this guy, I outta introduce you to my nephew. He was always picked on in school for being different, but he’s a good kid. Just got into the wrong stuff,” the mans face sunk a bit, “My fault really.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “How so?”

“Heart attack. Had one while at work. Stayed in the hospital for a few, got the bill and almost had another one,” he chuckles at that. “I wasn’t even gonna tell ‘em, but he came over to visit and I forgot about it. Saw it sittin’ on the counter. Next thing I know he’s callin’ me sayin’ he’s booked on ‘possession with intent to distribute’. Buncha bull for some grass.” He put his cigarette out with a harsh stab. “But, he’ll be good soon. My deadbeat brother’s been keepin’ an eye on him in there and he’s been keeping his good behavior streak.”

“He sounds like a good kid,” you rest your cheek against the cool counter as you smile up at him.

“Yeah, he is.” His smile reaches his eyes, and so does yours.

“Well, gotta go, darlin’,” he slaps a couple bills on the counter and nods to the bartender, “Excpectin’ a call here soon. Get you some pretzels or somethin’ before ya take off.”

“Thank you,” your brows come together, “sorry, I don’t think I ever caught your name?”

“Names Wayne.”

“Nice to meet you, Wayne.”

thanks for reading.

[emolastim]

🎀Hi there. I wanted to write something like teachers pet. I hope there will be no problem in applying "I" as the subject again. I did not specify age. I left it entirely to the reader's imagination. So please don't be offended. I may make mistakes, I apologize for that. enjoy reading🎀

Prof. Alhaitham x yn. smut // 3.2k words

This time I really messed up. Falling asleep during the exam, my low grades, and my disgrace in the oral exam were all separate problems for me. My grades last semester weren't very good. I started this period hoping that I would make up for it all. Of course, nothing went as I expected. I am someone who curses my luck every day. I say I'm used to it now, but getting used to it doesn't work, the only solution is to fix it. If only I could fix it...

While I was lost in dark thoughts about my grades, the break bell rang for lunch. I was so overwhelmed with classes that I wanted to throw myself out into the garden as soon as possible. Of course, it seemed like this request of mine would have to wait a while. Just as I was about to leave the classroom, Professor Alhaitham, our mathematics teacher, called me to his office. It's not hard to understand why, I think he was going to call my parents to tell them about my grades or scold me for my disgraceful performance in the oral exam.

When Professor Alhaitham left the classroom, I followed him. Instead of running away, I decided to face my fate. I had nowhere to escape anyway. I had to serve my punishment.

We were in front of the professor's room. He opened the door and entered. I followed him in and he locked the door behind him. I think he locked it to avoid being disturbed.

I was trying to look brave, but I was scared to death. Professor Alhaitham sat down in his own swivel chair. He arranged the documents on the table. It looked like he was taking care of business. I was still thinking about those who would be standing tall in front of the door.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I was startled by Professor Alhaitham's voice. He told me to sit down. So I sat on the seat I found empty. My legs were shaking. I hated being scolded. This might be the only thing I can never get used to, even though I experience it very often.

Thinking that I would go crazy if I thought about it any longer, I threw my thoughts aside and decided to look around. Professor Alhaitham's room was filled with books, just like a library. I would have loved to hold the books in my hand and examine them instead of looking at them from a distance, but I felt like if I did anything other than what I was told, what would happen would not be very pleasant. That's why I continued to look around from where I sat.

Books, books, more books... The professor must really love reading. There were times when he read books even during classes. Frankly, even when he spoke, it was immediately obvious from the way he spoke that he was someone who read a lot of books.

I stopped looking at the books and with a sudden courage began to look at Professor Alhaitham. He seemed too focused on his job. Even though his hair was slightly messy, he looked tidy. The top buttons of his shirt were open, so even if they were closed, his big breasts were visible when he was dressed. If I had stayed under the professor's huge body, I would have been guaranteed to suffocate to death between his big breasts. Ups, I polluted my mind while trying to distract myself from stress. Luckily no one can read minds here so I'll keep my peace of mind.

While I was thinking like this, our eyes suddenly met with the professor. He caught me looking at him. I involuntarily stopped breathing and stared at him, frozen. With a dirty mind, I will always be a source of shame. Nobody hears, nobody knows. I'm the only one who knows the truth in this dirty mind. But the real problem is that I know. I am not someone who can suddenly act normal when I know, am aware and do it. Either pretend you didn't do it or don't do it at all. It shouldn't be this hard. But still... Why doesn't the professor say a word?

I think he opened his lips to speak. Don't tell me about your mind reading power. Say anything, even scold me, but don't read my mind. I am a stupid, useless being. Insult me, hate me, but please don't read my mind. All my thoughts stopped when Professor Alhaitham called out to me.

"Your grades are terrible, not to mention your performance in the oral exam. You're not much different from last year. In that case, I'll have to call your parents, but I'll try another method."

My thoughts returned. What kind of method did you have in mind? Should I have been more afraid? I was relieved that he wouldn't call my family, but I still couldn't help but be afraid.

"I'm thinking of giving you private lessons."

Was he seriously talking about giving private lessons? Why would he do me such a favor? Oh my god, did you take pity on me? Thanks thanks!

"I must also get your approval first. Do you want me to give you private lessons?"

"Yes, I would love to."

I answered without thinking. No need to think, I was quite determined this time. I will improve my grades by taking private lessons from Professor Alhaitham. Thank you God, thank you Professor Alhaitham.

"Okay, then I'll give you private lessons. Come here."

As soon as he called me, I stood up with excitement and quickly went to the professor. While he was sitting in his chair, he turned towards me and showed me the paper on his desk.

"See this? You'll figure these out, and if you don't, I'll punish you."

"Punishment?"

"Yes, punishment."

"So what kind of punishment?"

He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. He whispered into my ear with his hot breath.

"This is the kind of punishment you deserve."

I didn't fully understand. While I was looking at the professor with blank eyes, he must have understood that I could not understand and felt the need to explain to me.

"A punishment for every question you fail to solve. The type of punishment is a bit perverse. I don't know if you want to know, but all you have to do is make a mistake to see."

I looked at the paper full of questions in front of me. I was determined to take private lessons. As for the idea of punishment, I can say I liked it. If I had been punished for every mistake I've ever made, I wouldn't be in this situation right now. That's why I would endure the punishment no matter what.

"Can you give me a pen?"

"So you're starting right away, good."

He gave me the pen lying nearby. He was just looking at me. I took my eyes off the professor and turned to the first question on the paper. It was a logical question, but it was hard to focus because Professor Alhaitham's eyes were on me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't manage to solve the question.

"I couldn't do it"

Professor Alhaitham, looking at me with his eyes, extended his hand towards me and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt in one go.

"Move on to the next question."

The professor's fingers were wandering around my opened button, occasionally going up to my neck and sliding back down to the same place. I moved on to the next question and I had a hard time with it because I didn't know the formula of the question. Of course, I couldn't answer this question either.

"I couldn't do that either."

Professor Alhaitham's fingers undid the bottom two buttons. While I was looking at the other question, he was touching my breast, which was visible through the open part of my shirt. I didn't hold back from asking for more and said I couldn't do it without even looking at the other question.

Professor Alhaitham unbuttoned the remaining buttons and moved his hand towards my neck. Then he pushed the shirt off my shoulder and made it fall to the floor. All I had left was my bra on top.

Professor Alhaitham's hands reached behind me. While I was looking at the other question, he unclasped my bra, dropped it to the floor with one move, and released my breasts.

"That's too difficult a question for you to do. Move on to the next one."

The professor's hands were slowly moving down, touching every part of my upper body, from my shoulder to my neck, from my neck to my breast.

I moved on to the next question, but I was having a really hard time focusing in this situation. Before I even said anything, the professor must have realized that I couldn't answer this question either, because he moved his hand down and caressed my hip.

"Try some more, we have plenty of time."

The questions seemed harder than ever. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it. I was just starting to focus when my skirt fell to the floor and my attention was again directed to the professor's hand.

He continued to caress my hips, his fingers occasionally moving in and out of the edge of my panties. The professor's long fingers... I was filled with the desire to take them inside me. I wanted him to touch every part of me, I wanted there to be no part of me that he didn't touch.

While I was lost in dirty thoughts, the professor's fingers were directed towards my lower part. I moaned slightly as he started to caress me through my panties.

"The math questions I prepared couldn't have made you this wet."

"It's not because of the problem anyway..."

"So you're thinking about other things when you should be thinking about questions. I need to punish you."

Nothing came out of my mouth other than light moans. While he continued to caress me, he occasionally put his fingers through my panties and either caressed my clitoris or made fun of me by touching my hole.

"Move on to the next question."

I was so distracted that I even forgot what I was here for. I no longer cared about the questions, my grades, or the private lesson. My only wish right now was to rub myself somewhere, against something, and satisfy myself. Even rubbing wouldn't be enough, but at least I could handle my current situation or want more.

When Professor Alhaitham saw that I could not answer this question, he pulled my panties from the edge and let them fall to the floor. I was completely naked. The professor continued to make fun of my hole. The only difference from before was that his skin was touching mine.

The professor motioned for me to move on to the next question. I was looking at the question with blank eyes while biting my lower lip and moaning. The professor did stay in his swivel chair and approached me and was now standing behind me. My back was turned to him, so he couldn't see the aroused expression on my face, and even if he didn't, he was aware that I was in such a state from the moaning sounds I made. I was soaked, how could he not have noticed?

He pulled me towards him and made me sit on his lap. He put his fingers inside me and started playing with me. I was quite wet, so even though his fingers were long and thick, he had no difficulty inserting them. The pleasure of her fingers made me want more. He reached towards my breast from behind with his free hand and squeezed it hard and started playing with the tip.

Every time he inserted his fingers I wanted more. I crumpled up the paper in front of me and threw it aside. Unable to hold it back any longer, I started moaning the professor's name, wanting his dick.

As Professor Alhaitham pressed me against himself while fucking me with his fingers, I suddenly felt the hardness behind me. I couldn't stop myself from wanting him inside me and I would do anything for that.

I moaned as I felt my future and ejaculated on the professor's fingers. The moment he took them out of me, I took advantage of the opportunity and turned towards the professor and captured his lips. Since his fingers were covered with my juices, he could touch me with one hand while I touched him as I wanted.

While I was kissing him, I was moving my hands around his neck. I fumbled with his tie and untied it, throwing it aside without even looking. We took a break from our deep and passionate kiss and I started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Look at this. A naughty girl got my hands dirty so I don't know if I can continue."

I ignored Professor Alhaitham's sarcastic attitude and opened all the buttons until the end. I was looking at him naked with his big breasts and on top of that I couldn't take my eyes off his abdominal muscles. This man's body was dazzling and mouth-wateringly attractive.

Somehow I managed to take my eyes off his body. I held his hand, which he had soiled with me, and started to lick his fingers clean. While I was licking his fingers one by one, I was looking at him and I thought that the fact that I was licking him affected him enough to make his grin.

I cleaned it completely and separated my lips from his fingers and moved towards his body again.

"Well done, good girl. Maybe I should reward you later."

Somehow I took off his shirt and I couldn't take my lustful eyes off him while his upper body was completely naked. My hands automatically directed to the lower part. I felt very hungry for him. The professor must have noticed my gaze because he did not hold back and continued to pay attention to me. While I was unbuckling his belt, he was caressing my breasts, squeezing and pulling the tips.

I unbuckled his belt and left it on the table so that it would be handy in case I needed it later. When I turned towards the same direction again, I couldn't help but grin as his erection was visible under his trousers, and I got more impatient and headed towards his zipper. I was just opening it when the professor spoke and I had to stop.

"Look at her, you ruined my pants, what a dirty girl."

When I looked down, I saw that my wetness was smeared on Professor Alhaitham's trousers. I didn't notice until the professor mentioned it, but I didn't mind anyway. I pressed myself against the professor's leg and started rubbing.

"I will make it up to you, sir."

He was already making fun of me so there was no problem. He started to caress my hair and I started to continue my work from where I left off. As soon as I opened the zipper, the professor suddenly took me in his arms and stood up. He laid me down on the table and quickly got rid of his clothes. While he was undressing, I was trying to understand what was happening, when a second shock surprised me. His big and erect cock was standing right in front of me. No wonder it was so big when it was visible even under his pants, but I was still speechless at its size.

As he got closer to me, I thought that I would soon experience the greatest pleasure I could ever experience in my life. While he was rubbing his big tool against my pussy, he was spanking my breasts and sucking them at the same time. He bit me occasionally while sucking, which made me moan louder.

He stopped playing with my breasts and focused his attention entirely on my lower half. I could feel him at my entrance. He was slowly entering my hole, making me beg for him to fill me with it.

No matter how wet I was, it hurt as he entered me. I think he understood from my voice that it hurt so he stopped, or so I really thought. He put his hands on my waist and pulled me towards him, and without waiting, he quickly entered me and managed to put it all inside me. The pain was great, but when he started moving, the pain turned into pleasure.

When I took it all in, it was moving slowly, but suddenly it accelerated again. This man always does unexpected things suddenly. He was so fast I thought he was going to tear me apart.

As we moved, the things on the table fell to the floor, and as Professor Alhaitham accelerated, the whole room was filled with my moaning sounds. While his big dick was filling me, the professor was enjoying fucking my hot and tight pussy.

He leaned over me and I was literally about to choke to death under his big breasts. In one way or another. I couldn't stop thinking that I would die by being strangled or fucked by this man. Still, this was pleasant for me.

I started to enjoy being crushed under him and tried to hold on by hugging him and digging my nails into his back. Even though it was hard and painful, it all turned into pleasure.

He buried his face in my neck and sucked there, leaving a mark. Then he came closer to my ear and breathed through his lips, moaning my name. When he was close to cumming, he went faster and he started moaning loudly too. The professor's moaning caused me to rise even more and we reached the end and ejaculated together.

Even after Professor Alhaitham ejaculated, he did not take his cock out of me. We were both out of breath. First our hot breaths then our lips met and we kissed passionately. Every time his tongue hit mine, my heart's rhythm was disrupted, and even though we had reached the end, he could still excite me.

We separated from each other and the professor put his hand on my head and started caressing my hair. While we were looking at each other without saying anything, I came to my senses when I heard the ringing of the bell. Lunch break was over and I couldn't solve a single question during the private lesson. I looked around and took the professor's belt from the table.

"It makes me sad that we don't have time to use it."

The professor laughed at what I said and looked at me with a grin without saying anything. Even though I didn't understand what he was thinking, I didn't say anything. Since I had to go to class, I decided to get up and get dressed, but I felt too tired to get up. Fortunately, Professor Alhaitham is an understanding person, so I guess I should be thankful.

"You can stay here. Don't worry, you won't be marked absent during attendance."

I had no choice but to trust the professor, so I decided to stay here, believing his word.

"Of course, you have to deserve it first."

I didn't understand anything he said. He grabbed my hand, which was holding the belt, and held my chin with his free hand, making me look at him.

"We have time to use it now. You must reciprocate."

[badasgirlfriend]

Step By Step | Bada Lee

pairings: bada lee x fem!oc

genre: friends to lovers, student x teacher

a/n: idk i just had an idea

parts: 1, 2 , 3.....

"Sorry." The short-haired girl bowed as she bumped into a man. He turned, his face twisted with anger, and he uttered a curse at her.

The girl winced at his harsh words, but she can't blame him, it was her fault after all. She's the one running around like a headless chicken

With a sigh of frustration, she began running once more. She didn't plan on being late, but her teacher had insisted that she remain after class for discussion of some things. To her, they were utterly stupid matters, but she had no choice but to comply. She was quite certain that the teacher was merely looking to curry favor with her, just because her mom is a famous ballerina.

"Sorry maam." Nari said to the older woman, " Do you happen to know where the-" she paused looking at her phone "Jam Republic agency is located?"

The older woman scoffed "Are you blind"

Nari was astonished by her bluntness, she didn't expect that

"It's right behind you. Even at my age, I can see better than you, it would seem."

"Well, you're not wrong about that." she replied, murmuring the statement to herself, and quickly added, "Thank you. Have a nice day"

Turning away, she saw that the old lady had been correct all along. With an exasperated sigh, she pushed through the door leading into the building,

As her eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, she soon spotted the reception's desk. However, to her dismay, no one seemed to be stationed there. Walking a bit closer, she placed her bag on the ground and sat in one of thr chairs.

After waiting a few minutes, and not hearing or seeing anybody else, Nari finally decided to proceed with her outfit change. She had no desire to keep waiting around, and risk anyone seeing her in her tight pastel pink skirt and green top. Her mothers choices

Just as Nari began to stand, she spotted a tall girl exit through a doorway nearby. She was wearing a white shirt, grey sweatpants, and a grey zip-up hoodie. The girl had a white hat on concealing most of her features, making it quite difficult for Nari to take a good look at her face at all.

Not to mention, the girl was looking straight down at the ground, making it even more difficult for Nari to see her expression.

With a quick motion, she locked the bathroom door and took out her clothes from her bag. First, she slipped on the black sweatpants, followed by the grey sports bra. Then, she wore the baggy t-shirt, but didn't like the way it looked, so she instead placed it behind her neck only covering her shoulders. After a few adjustments, she stood before the mirror looking at herself

Having had enough of the ugly pink bow that was on her hair, she tossed it into the trash can. Then, she gathered her hair up into a rather messy, yet loose, ponytail, securing it with an elastic band. She looked in the mirror now happy with her appearance. She felt like herself, not like the girl her mother wants her to be

She unlocked the door and went outside, entering the now familiar hallway she saw the same tall girl from earlier, sitting in one of the chairs

Embarrassing, she witnessed her outfit change

Quietly, she returned to the chair, and took her seat once more. She waited patiently for anyone to arrive, casting a glance in the direction of the tall girl, who appeared to be preoccupied with her phone, as her eyes remained firmly fixed to the screen.

"Excuse me," Nari blurted out before she could stop herself. She immediately fell silent, feeling a sudden wave of tension wash over her. The girl turned her head toward her in curiosity, and Nari became utterly speechless, as she was not expecting her to be this beautiful. Nari found herself completely unable to move, as she was simply lost for words, and utterly mesmerized by the sight of the other girl's striking looks.

"Yes?"

Fuck, not only was she attractive and beautiful, but even her voice was incredibly alluring.

In an effort to regain some level of composure, she cleared her throat, and hoped that her voice would not crack. "Uhm, do you know if Bada Lee is here?"

"I'm Bada," the girl stated, leaving Nari utterly confused

"What"

"What...?"

However, Nari's confusion only deepened, as she was under the impression that her teacher was a man, based on the information that her friend told her before.

"You're not Bada" the younger girl blurted out, shaking her head in disagreement.

Now it was Bada's turn to be confused "Im pretty sure I am" was this girl on drugs

"My friend told me that you were a man," she said

"Well, your friend is mistaken" Bada replied with a slight chuckle. "And, my name is definitely not a masculine one," she added

"Im so sorry" Unable to hold back her rage, Nari found herself itching to find her friend, Chaeyoung. With the next class being only a few short hours away, the anticipation of making Chaeyoung face her consequences was nearly unbearable.

She was in deep shit

"You're Shin Nari right." Bada asked, and Nari confirmed with a quick nod of her head.

"Well, I wasn't expecting you to be this young," Bada stated, looking at Nari with a confused expression. "Here it says that you're in your thirties, so this is a surprise."

Nari felt a rush of embarrassment wash over her, and she wanted to bury herself and die "Sorry I have a habit of picking random birth years everytime I apply for something"

If Bada said no to teaching her she wouldn't be surprised

"Alright, let's not waste any time and begin," Bada stated with a nod as she and Nari both stood up "Are you familiar with dance, were you a dancer before?"

"Yes Im a ballerina" Nari nodded

Bada's eyebrow raised in surprise, yet again, and she couldn't help herself from inquiring further. "Oh, really? So, what brought about the shift from ballet to hip hop?"

"Oh, but I'm not quitting ballet completely," Nari clarified with a quick glance toward Bada. "I actually love both ballet and hip hop," she added. "So what you have here is a two-for-one dancer," Nari joked, smiling at her own words.

Bada chuckled at Nari's joke, Nari was truly a sight to behold, she couldn't deny her beauty. Ever since she had first seen her, Bada was left in a state of awe at her natural beauty, and it was something that she hadn't expected at all.

However, what she hadn't anticipated either, was the fact that Nari would turn out to be her student.

"Alright, then, we will first begin with some exercises meant to loosen up your stiffness, considering your ballet background," Bada stated, clarifying their focus "This is the main priority at the moment," she added.

Nari nodded in agreement, she couldn't wait

[thatwasntverycashmoneyofme]

Deku who likes to use your slang but uses it completely wrong yk like yt ppl he’ll say something like “Babe im raw dogging this food that you made.” You side eye him before you even open your mouth. “Ku that don’t mean what you think it means.” He looks at you with the biggest puppy eyes ever, tilting his head. “Wdym I thought that was good. I heard you and Mina say that the other day on the phone?” You wanna face palm so bad. “No baby.” You look off to the side trying to hold in your explicitly hard eye roll. “That was bout something else Zu. Do you be listening in on all my calls?” He blushes. “Only when I hear funny words because I like how you say them…your accent is cute.” You look at him. ‘Not a thought behind those eyes. I’m gonna ruin this mans whole career.’ You walk over to him placing a hand on his shoulder gently rubbing it. “Wanna know what rawdogging means tho Ku?” You bend over slightly and whispered in his ear watching his face turn a crimson red as he almost falls off the chair. “O-oh t-that’s not w-what I meant!” You laugh patting his shoulder playfully. “That’s what you get. Stay outta black folks business.” You wait for him to calm down until you thought to tease him again. “Hey Izu~ you can raw dog me.” It’s was like you can see his face visibly explode. “Y-y/n!!” You laugh at his reaction he whines at your mockery. “Just kidding… maybe~”

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

[sunnylands-world]

Porn for Mr. styles

Pairing: Harry styles x Fem reader

Summary: your teacher finds out there's more to your good girl act…

Word count: 1'185

Warning: mentions of porn video, daddy kink, older man but the reader is in college, p in v in classroom, I think that's it

Universe: teacher x student

A/n: are you guys tired of Harry or want more 😏

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Harry was in his class teaching the lesson when a boy in the far off corner interrupted.

"A yo look at this shit. she's so hot what I'd give to fuck that pussy."

Mr. Styles' head whipped around fast enough to give someone whiplash. I don't get paid enough for this, he thought to himself.

"Mr. Fern, care to share with me why you just interrupted my class?" the boy stood to his feet, hands in the air.

"Hey man, she's for everyone." the boy said, finally meeting the last step and turned his screen to Harry who's eyes widened in shock. his thoughts ran mad. not you anyone but you. His A+ student, who hugged him, smiled and was well behaved. Why, he wondered. Your voice booming through the screen as you whimpered and moaned. He pushed the screen away, disappointed by what he saw. Class ended and he sat in his chair confused.

Why?

You were so smart and very attractive, if Harry could have looked at you that way he would have. You were kind, beautiful, and well mannered. Now Harry thought about it, he didn't ask about student and teacher relationships here at the college. He tried to push away the thoughts that crossed his mind. how you looked so good whimpering and whining and what you would look like screaming his name.

He let his mind tell him It was fine to look at you on the site. he typed it in. he looked and looked till he found your video clicking on it and in a heartbeat you were on top of a pink toy moving on it like your life depends on it and in a missed of the moment you said something that shocked the skin off his body.

"Harry, harder" you cried and your eyes shot open and you got up with fear on your face and cut the video. Now Harry knew there were other people with his name but what were the odds that you knew someone else named Harry? And if he was right that would mean…you were fantasizing about fucking him and he was doing the same.

So now he knew how you sounded saying his name and he found that night to be a restless one. He eventually shut his eyes deciding he'd discuss this with you at school the next day. He wondered if you'd even show or if you thought that he saw the video.

Was that the point all along?

He got up and dressed quickly heading to his class. He wanted to blame the pace he was moving at to get to the school on his morning coffee but he knew it was because of you…

As soon as he arrived at class he hesitated, not sure how to approach this so he just called you in.

you entered doing your usual hug and smile only this time Harry didn't do it back. you looked confused, pouting like you didn't know what you had done and Harry had to admit he admired your ability to hide what you had done for however long you had.

"Have I done something wrong Mr styles" you asked. He could think of a million things you did but he lightly smiled and decided to rip it off like a band aid. "

"ms.[Last name] I found you on a porn website."

You felt tears come to your eyes and were about to speak, afraid you'd lose everything you worked hard for but he cut you off.

"why?" he asked, his voice raised a bit and knowing you were probably leaving school you let out everything.

"I'm sorry, I just got a slight crush on you. you're so attractive Mr. styles! Your eyes, your hair, your voice-" you breathed.

"I did it because I wanted you to see me in the beginning and try to seduce you but after a while you hadn't and I just kept doing it hoping you would" your head fell in shame with tears on your face.

"I understand if you have me removed for this" you said in a low voice. He leaned across the desk

"no" he said, your headshot up surprised. He pulled you to his mouth and you moaned into his lips. your fingers begin to tug at his hair.

"Harry," you said breathlessly and he pulled back.

"yeah" he said

"fuck me" you said looking into his green eyes.

He stood from the chair, grabbing his belt and unbuckling it. He swiftly pulled his pants down, freeing his hard cock from his boxers.

"Come here princess, let daddy fuck you" he said, and like you were under a spell you pulled your clothes away and came to him. You kissed him roughly, his tip brushing your entrance and his head fell back.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna loss my job but I need to know what if feels like to be inside you" he said reaching between the two of you and stroking himself. You watch desperately and when his now dark green eyes meet yours he pulls you closer picking you up.

"Put your legs around my waist baby" he ordered slapping your thigh and you do as told letting out a gasp as he enters you making a snuggle for his cock. he grabbed your hips pulling you up and down his head falling back as yours comes forward into his neck to quiet your moaning and gasping as he pounds into your g-spot like he doesn't care if it makes you scream.

And although you want to be quiet for his sake and yours you can't seem to stop the loud noises coming from you and right into his ear.

"dear god [name], I'm gonna fall" he moans, pushing you up against the white board and thrusting into you again. you can't deny how hot and wet this makes you and you know you won't forget every time you see this board.

"Mr.styles'' you moaned out "yes princess," he answered, still rearranging your walls with each slam into your g-spot "it feels so good" you babble somehow fucked dumb already and Harry chuckles.

"I know, daddy's girl is taking his cock so well" he groans, kissing your neck with his teeth grazing it.

you nodded, feeding the older man's ego. He holds you tighter, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you steady and each thrust fills the class with a soft clap and ripple to your ass.

"you're so tight for daddy, squeezing his cock. Keeping him nice and warm, yeah?" he announced. you shiver, moaning and whimpering.

"daddy" you mutter against him.

"yes princess?" he groaned, gripping a handful of your ass.

"I'm gonna- I wanna" you stutter, your head falling back and he gently slaps your ass in warning for loud moans but he looks at you smugly. "cum for daddy" he whispered in your ear, tongue grazing the sensitive area. you let go, eyes rolling into the clouds and his name leaves your lips in a scream.

Hopefully Harry has a job Tomorrow…

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[purplekiwis]

You've got a new professor, and an obsession with his hands...

Genre: Sculptor!Harry | Professor!Harry x Student!Y/N

Warnings: +18 (smut... but not yet)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: i'm not the best at photomontages so please don't roast me, I tried 😅

THIS IS A MULTI-PART SERIES. YOU CAN CHECK THE SERIES MASTERPOST : HERE AND PART 2 HERE

•·················•·················•

Hands.

His were artful,

Perhaps even an art form in and of themselves: smooth, veiny, with steady joints and capable and patient fingertips.

The hands of a craftsman - suitable for creating planets, galaxies, and even entire universes if they so desired. Both harsh and gentle, they tore, kneaded, and poked… only to stroke softly in the end.

The hands of a lover,

Those were my ceramics professor’s hands.

I bit the hidden part of my lip as I watched them move with conviction. Across the slickness, bare and sticky as they pried deeper and deeper, widening as they went and doing as they pleased.

I felt the urge to push my thighs together as I seemingly always did whenever my professor came closer, but I couldn’t because of the potter's wheel blocking my way - the one where he was fixing the crooked clay pot I had tried to make. “Next time, try using a little less water, okay? Your clay has gotten too soft… that’s why you're having trouble getting it even.”

“So less water than this time, but more than last time?” My struggle to get it right made me feel a little embarrassed, but I wanted him to know that I was listening and trying my best. He nodded in response to my question. “Okay, um- I'll try to do it correctly next time. Thanks for resurrecting my project and making it right again.”

My professor smiled warmly at me, noticing I was becoming discouraged by making so many mistakes. “No worries, I’m happy to help.” I watched him as he stood up, washed his hands in my water bowl and dried them on the rag he kept in his pottery apron. “Don't be afraid to muck around with what I've made. You're supposed to take it apart and rebuild it.”

“If I touch it, I'll ruin it and you'll need to come back for assistance again.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. “I don't want you worrying about that. That’s why I’m here, to fix up your messes.” He sat on the stool next to me again for a moment, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low. “I want you to take it less seriously. Have fun with it — work it ‘til your wreck it. Don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s common blunder for someone who’s starting. We’ve all been there.”

“Thanks,” I smiled a little more assuredly. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

He smiled back as he stood up from the stool. “No problem, just ask if you need anything.”

While I wasn’t sure how I got into the habit of fantasizing about my professor's hands, I did know how I ended up in his class.

I was a Product Design student.

Frankly, only because I didn’t have the grades to enroll in Interior Design like I’d always aspired to. Product Design was the second-best option that would still give me a chance of breaking into the field if I chose my classes wisely.

In order to achieve that goal, I had been planning to take a class on inclusive design this year. However, as I was about to submit my application, my computer crashed, forcing me to reenter all of my information again. Because of this, by the time I made it back to the page, most of the students had already chosen, leaving only statistical literacy and ceramics as open options.

None of those options had even the slightest appeal to me, which naturally made me incredibly frustrated at the time but, at least the choice was clear between them. Anything with the word statistics in it sounded absolutely dreadful and combining it with the word literacy somehow made it sound even worse… so I chose ceramics, despite the fact that I had never tried my hand at it.

That was why I was now behind all of my classmates, which didn't make me feel great, even though no one had made me feel inferior about my lack of skill yet… not even our professor. He was very sweet and attentive, without always being on top of me, which I appreciated. He gave me the freedom to try things on my own, but as soon as he noticed my eyes searching for him, he'd come over to check things out and lend a helping hand.

This wasn't always a positive thing because sometimes the only reason I was looking was because I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn't just his hands that I kept staring at; I found him captivating in all aspects.

His hair was cool. I liked how he kept it in a messy bun and tucked flyaways behind his ears when they landed on his face. He dressed really cute too, I thought — creative yet casual, and the stubble he occasionally sported when he neglected to shave was sexy as hell.

I wasn’t fully aware of his age, but he couldn't have been much older than me when he had finished his Ph.D. in Fine Arts the previous year. In the rumor mill, he had been invited to teach shortly after earning his degree due to his extraordinary talent for clay sculpting, that had made him stand out at our university ever since he started studying there.

He hadn't shown much of his personal work outside of what he did during his school years, but I had heard through the grapevine that erotic themes were his specialty. Another thing I had heard was that because he made art under a pseudonym that he kept as a secret from most people, his work was very difficult to find online.

That bothered me a little because I was interested and wanted to see it, especially after learning that pleasure was the subject he enjoyed exploring the most. Among my classmates, I knew some made jokes about him being a pervert who had only wanted to come teach to score with the female students. My gut told me that wasn't the case, and I was miffed by those people who couldn’t comprehend that someone could find sex fascinating enough to want to depict it in most of their art without being sleazy. Fortunately, I wasn't one of them. I found sex to be an intriguing topic as well… I enjoyed having it, looking at it, and having thoughtful conversations about it.

“Professor,” I called as we finished class. I was still sat by my wheel, while everyone was cleaning and washing up. Being completely honest, I wanted to leave as well… but I made myself stay so I could make my pot look more presentable. “If you're leaving, could you please leave the room key with me? I was planning to stay a little longer.”

He seemed surprised that I wanted to stay.

I noticed his gaze fall on the collapsing walls of my pot as he handed me the key, but he was merciful enough not to comment. “Feel free to stay as long as you like. I'm taking a coffee break, but I'll be back as well.”

Finding that my professor was coming back made the prospect of staying more enticing. I wasn't expecting a lot of interaction with him, though… I didn't want to be a bother, so I would avoid requesting his assistance. It was already embarrassing enough to ask for it in class, even if he kept assuring me it was perfectly okay to do so…

Professor Harry returned to the classroom after about 10 minutes, seeming happy to find me still there. As he walked inside, he cracked a lighthearted joke about how surprised he was that I hadn't destroyed anything yet. I snorted a laugh and said that I was surprised too.

I observed him carefully as he re-tied his apron around his waist. It seemed like everything the man did attracted me. The way his triceps flexed with movement, the contours of his back, the ease with which his fingers tied the knot. None of these things escaped my attention.

“Would it be okay if I turned on some music?” Due to my dry mouth, it took me longer than it should have to answer his question. “I'm not a big fan of working in silence, but it’s okay if you are…”

“Oh, please, go ahead.” I was finally able to react, but my voice came out weird. “I don't particularly enjoy working in silence either...”

My professor smiled, then walked over to his desk and sat down at his laptop. “Have you got any special requests?”

I pretended to contemplate for a moment, but I didn't want to be the one picking the music. I wanted him to choose because I was nervous about accidentally having him listen to something he didn't like… and I was also curious about his musical tastes. “Not really, no. I'm not picky. I like most music.” That part was true, but he seemed skeptical. “Just pretend I'm not here and play whatever music you normally listen to.”

The look on his face was still skeptical, but he agreed. “Okay, I will. Just let me know if you don't like it so I can switch to something you like best.”

He put on Woodkid's Warm Core album and looked at me to see if I was keen on the choice. “This is cool. I like it.” It was the kind of alternative music I anticipated he would listen to, being an artist and all, and it made me happy because I also liked it.

“Alright, good. If at any point you decide that you no longer like it, feel free to request a change.” I was getting a little hot over how much he was focusing on making sure I liked his music. I’d always had this conviction that one of the ways to tell if a guy is good in bed is to look for signs that he is considerate and eager to please – and already, my professor was scoring points in that department. I glanced at him, and I believe he noticed because he asked, “Is there anything you need help with, or should I just let you do your thing and keep to myself?”

“Um…” I stammered, returning my attention to the horrible looking pot I was working on. I had been right the first time. I shouldn't have touched it after he fixed it for me. “I'm holding up for now. Thanks, professor.”

He smiled at me. “You can leave out the “professor” when we're outside of class. That term is still settling in for me… it's a bit off-putting to be addressed that way when I was also a student here just a year ago - especially when I can't be that much older than you, right?”

I joined him in his smile. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I suppose it's not weird for me because I don't remember seeing you at school last year. How old are you, though, just out of curiosity?”

“I’m 27, you?”

“Wow, you’re really old...” He wasn’t, really… especially since I had assumed he would be in his thirties, given that he was a professor and all. I snorted when he side-eyed me from across the room, where he’d been tidying up and organizing the equipment the students had left behind. “I was just kidding. I'm 22, so...”

His brows furrowed slightly in response to my reveal. “So you're a little older than the rest of the class. Makes sense, you seem a bit more grown-up in comparison to them.” I took that as a compliment because, while my classmates weren't much younger than me – they had to be around 19 – some still acted like teenagers in many ways. “Also, since you mentioned not seeing me at school last year… that’s because I went abroad for a few months to study, and then I had to wrap up my thesis, so I didn't come very often.”

“Oh, that's cool. Where did you go?”

“Norway, to Oslo more specifically. It's a city I think everyone should visit if they ever get the chance to. I had a wonderful time there.” He turned his head away from what he was doing to look at me. “Have you ever thought about going abroad for school?”

“I've thought about it, but I don’t know. It doesn't really call to me right now, to be honest... maybe next year.” I was really interested in hearing more about Harry's experience in Norway, so I shifted the focus of the conversation back to that. “What was the best part of it for you?”

I could tell he was excited to talk about it, as evidenced by the sparkle in his eye. “A difficult question, that. I loved the landscapes and food there, as well as the people. Oslo’s a beautiful city, and it has an amazing art scene that's definitely worth exploring.” He paused for a moment, laughed, and then spoke again, “But I guess I should say that meeting Astrid, my girlfriend, was probably the best part.”

“Wow, that's... something.” Something I'd rather he didn't have, I thought to myself despite my amenable expression. “Has she traveled all the way here with you?”

“Oh no, she stayed in Oslo. We've been doing long-distance and stuff… it isn't always easy, but we make it work.” I could tell by the look on his face that he had somewhat regretted sharing that with me. “Anyway, you should give the studying abroad thing some more thought... you seem like someone who would enjoy that kind of thing. You give off a good vibe.”

“Ha, thanks... so do you. I really like your style.”            

I saw his cheeks flush at my compliment. “I don’t put a lot of thought into my clothes, to be honest. Most of the time, I just throw on whatever.”

“Well, it works, so...” Seeing me shrug, he smiled, but said nothing further. I figured the conversation was over and got back to my work. Harry did the same thing; except he was no longer cleaning up and was instead using his laptop.  Even though I stayed another hour, he didn't leave until I did, which made me feel bad because it made me wonder if he had stayed on purpose to be there in case I needed anything. “Do you usually stay here until this late?” I inquired as he closed the classroom door.

“Um… it depends, sometimes I do, but if you weren't here I would’ve probably left earlier.”

His confession caused a small contraction in my heart. I now regretted staying for so long, especially since I had spent some of that time merely acting as though I was working. “Oh, I'm so sorry. You didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine by myself. I just wanted to practice.”

“Oh no, don't get me wrong. I stayed longer because I wanted to. I live alone, so… I am by myself a lot. It was nice to have company for a change.”

“Ah, I see...” That was something I hadn’t considered before, but it made sense. Most of Harry’s university friends were probably no longer around, or if they were, perhaps he'd lost touch with them after going away for so many months. That had happened to me with my high school friends, so I knew how it felt. “I was actually planning on doing this more frequently to see if I could improve my pottery skills, so… you're welcome to keep me company if that's something you'd like to do.”

He acknowledged my invitation with a courteous smile. “Ah, thanks. I appreciate that.” When he didn't respond right away, I assumed he wasn't interested, which made me feel stupid for having suggested it. Why would he want to spend time with a student five years his junior? He was probably cringing at the thought. That was what I was assuming, until he started speaking again after a pause. “I reckon as long as you really don't mind me being around, that could be something that works for me.”

•·················•·················•

Over the course of a couple of weeks, it became a habit for me and Harry to spend time together after class. Most times, more than once a week. The days when I didn’t have class until late, I would wander to the atelier after his class and spend the next few hours there. It was really easy to get along despite our slight age difference.

I didn't know Harry well enough to say that we had a lot in common, but we just clicked really well. Having a conversation with him was easy, and his presence was warm and reassuring.

We would sometimes work separately, but Harry had taken it upon himself to teach me the things I had been falling behind on. He taught me how to use a kiln to fire and glaze pottery, as well as a bunch of different building and decorating techniques. I liked the last one most because he got to sit next to me and help me paint and texturize. I was really proud of a mug we had made together. Harry had commented that the wavy handle I had made for it looked like the tail of a fish when we put it in, so we went on to decorate the rest of the mug to fit that concept.

“You’re a good painter…” He complimented me as I painted the fish’s fins. I wrinkled my nose at him. Painting had always been a fun activity for me, but I had never considered myself good at it. Harry, on the other hand, was a true artist, thanks to his Fine Arts training and skillful hands…

I looked at the fin I'd drawn and noticed that it was unmistakably more unsightly than the one on the picture I was taking inspiration from. Harry couldn't possibly believe I was talented as a painter. He was just trying to say something nice.

“What? I'm serious…” He assured me, appearing a little surprised by my doubtful demeanor. “And you have a great eye for color too.”

“Hmm, I find that last one is a little more believable; I'll take it.” I said before returning to straightening out my wonkiest brush strokes. I'd spent enough time designing pretty rooms in Intericad Lite to feel reasonably confident on my ability to mix and match colors so, accepting that compliment wasn't too difficult. Besides that isn’t really a talent, is it? It's something a lot of people have.                                         

“Hey,” Harry’s voice drew my attention back to him. “I meant both of the things I said. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t.”

The seriousness I was met with when I looked into Harry's eyes made me feel emotional and flustered at the same time. “Thanks,” I smiled a little before looking down at my mug. “I think I haven't gotten a compliment on my painting skills since I was a little kid…”

“You used to get compliments on it when you were little?”

“Sometimes, yeah… mainly from teachers because I always colored inside the lines.”

“I think it's really unfortunate that we stop getting compliments as we get older… I can't really complain because I've been lucky to grow up in a supportive environment, but I know that after a certain point in most people’s lives criticism becomes the norm, while praise for rightdoing is never given.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I grabbed another brush and continued to color my mug because the topic we were discussing was now making me feel like I might actually start crying if I didn't keep my emotions under control, and I didn’t want Harry to see that. “My parents were never particularly supportive of me or my interests, so I haven’t felt much of a difference as I grew older… I think that’s why I find it a bit difficult to accept people’s compliments nowadays, though. I tend to doubt myself and others a lot.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I had a hunch that was the case with you.” Harry’s statement surprised me a bit. I knew professors could usually read their students well, but I wasn't aware of how see-through I was. “When we first started class, I was a little nervous because I could tell that you were lost at times and could use some help, but I wasn't sure of how to approach you. I was afraid that if I made it known that I could tell you were struggling, you would withdraw even further. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to feel comfortable and know that I wouldn't judge you.”

“You never made me feel uncomfortable… I just felt embarrassed to ask for help because everyone in your class comes from an arts background and knows more than me. I didn't want you to think I was dumb or that I was wasting your time with questions that I should have known the answers to.”

“You could never waste my time. I like teaching you a lot… you always listen and all the questions you ask are perfectly normal.” He gave me a reassuring smile and I felt my insecurities melt away with the rest of my body. “And on top of that, it's easier for me to teach you since you are a blank slate, as opposed to some of the art students who come with stubborn vices they won't get rid of. Experience isn’t always an advantage.”

“You're a really good professor, Harry.” I said truthfully. “I'm really glad I ended up in your class, even if it wasn’t my first choice.”

“It wasn't your first choice?” His face pretended to be shocked, but I knew he wasn't. Given that I had told him about my goal to pursue a career in Interior Design, I knew he had to have known by that point that there was no reason for me to be in his class other than by chance. “Okay, now I'm offended, and no amount of ego-puffing will help you remedy that…”

I shook my head and smiled at his antics as I dipped my brush back into the paint palette. “Not even if I admit you're really cool to talk to and have great musical taste?”

Following my brush dip, Harry dipped his as well. “Give me a little more detail on that and I might re-consider.”

•·················•·················•

I hope you guys liked this first part 💜

PART 2

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Oh god 😭 I created 'My Way Back Home' Harry!

[gumballavocadoharry]

Over the weekend:

The morning bell had just rung, leaving yn to rush inside; barely parking her car properly and skipping down the hall in her black heels and swaying black and white striped skirt that seemed to fan a cool breeze through the back of her legs the faster she ran to her class.

Papers and folders were strapped tightly in her arms as yn practically bumped her shoulder against the door frame trying to open the lock. "Someone's in a hurry," a female voice chuckled. Yn recognized this sweet friendly voice as Ms. Monroe, her neighboring classroom that stood across from hers. Yn chuckled, "I barely made it, the bell rang and it was time for the students to come in." Although, no one seemed to have arrived. Ms. Monroe shook her head playfully, "They're just testing the bell, but class doesn't start till 8." 

A rose tinted flush drew over the young woman's face. It wasn't until she realized Harry's classroom along with the others on the floor were empty and dark. Even Ms. Grigg was absent. Yn gave way to a chuckle and decided to set the files down on her desk before heading back out for a quick Burger King breakfast and coming back to the school. The solitude of quietness mocked the entire classroom as yn sat and ate her croissant sandwiches, tater tots and iced coffee while scanning over the due assignments from last Friday.

Hearing some chatter that yn had recognized as child banter, she realized Ms. Monroe's kids were already going inside. During which, Mr. Styles, was opening up his classroom for his class which then a few of them scattered inside. Yn could hear him turn on the TV for them; Daniel tiger playing soothingly in the background as the shuffle steps of Harry's loafers treading out the door. The smell of breakfast lingered into the hallways as Yn's door was only cracked enough to reveal only a speculating glimmer into her classroom. A small knock almost choked Yn; swallowing down the last chew of her croissant, she spoke light yet audible. "Seems like the breakfast rush is ringing in this morning!" Harry cheered. His voice; full of irrepressible ebullient- filling up the room with every step he took closer and closer to Yn, making her cheeks bubble with this haze of endorsement that painted a blush to her cheeks.

Harry stepped closer, eyebrows furrowing a little, "Where you here early?" Yn raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry?" He giggled, "Like, did you come to your class earlier than everyone," 

"Oh yeah," Yn chuckled, "I came so early that I went out and brought back breakfast for myself." Harry laughed, "Burger King..... good choice- I heard their sandwiches are the best!" Yn held up what was left of her breakfast sandwich, "Very delicious." She said, before taking in the last bite. The bell rang, pinging loud through the halls, "Well, I guess that's my cue to get back to class- but it was nice talking to you,"

"Sure, see you at lunch!" Yn bit her tongue the minute those words left it. She didn't know why she regretted them so much, but instead watched the last glimpses of Harry striding back into his classroom. By then, her kids started piling in. "Who's ready for story?!" Mr. Styles class cheered upon his announcement. It sent these hazy shivers through Yn's body. Her smile puckered into her cheeks, listening to Harry's gentle voice read along to what seemed to be a Clifford book; one of the class's favorite series to read along to, something Yn realized when she noticed Mr. Styles bookshelf's first row was dedicated to the entire series. 

A small tap snapped her from her deep in thought observation. "Are we going to have cookies again?" Her student, Chris, asked. Yn bent down with a perky smile to her face, "Well... I think we may be able to squeeze in some cookies during storytime." It sent joy to see a big grin spread across Chris's face. He ran back to tell his friend, Mac, who became overjoyed himself. Yn puffed out her long skirt before taking her seat at her desk and started going over the morning announcements. Only a few minutes in, a scamper of shoes raced down the hall and into Harry's classroom. Yn continued the pledge of allegiance assuming it to be a tardy student. But sounds of whimpers paralleled through the hall. Yn and her students soon became curious to what was happening. She took a look into the hall, where Harry was comforting the young boy whom Yn recognized to be one of Ms. Grigg's students.

"S-S-She asked me t-t-to gi-give y-y-you th-t-t-this," His little frail voice quivering while tears pocked onto his shirt while he held out a yellow slip. It was a special slip that teacher's give whenever they're missing something from their classroom or they lent it to another teacher. Harry's eyebrows were furrowed with conceren- enough to pull in little Paulie for a hug. "It's okay- want me to go down to Ms. Grigg's class with you?" He asked, sympathetically. Paulie nodded, moving Harry to grab his hand and walk him back to his origin classroom. Harry's eyes spotted Yn skirting from her classroom door. He gave a small smile before stopping, "I put Lila in charge until I get back.... but can you-"

"Of course." Yn smiled back before pulling herself back into her class. She never truly knew what went down in Ms. Grigg's classroom until lunch. As Yn hustled her children out the door for their lunch and recess period, Harry stopped by into her classroom once the hall of the entire kindergarten was empty. "Hey," his voice chimed through the doorway. Yn turned around, lunch sack in her grip, "Hello." Harry cleared his throat, "The boy in Ms. Grigg's class...."

"Yeah- I was worried about him- I didn't know why he was crying.... well obviously because of her..." Harry sniff laughed, "Well, I took him to Ms. Grigg and I found out that she had sent him to my class with a yellow slip- it's a universal teacher thing that means either you let one of the other teachers borrow something and you need it back, or it means that something of yours was stolen-..... you can guess which intent she had with me," Yn shook her head. "Anyway, I went there and she basically had fussed the boy out before she sent him down here and I guess he was still shaken up from it. I explained to Ms. Grigg that I didn't have her book and that maybe it was a misunderstanding." Harry shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows, "That woman...." He sighed.

Yn bit her lip, her gut spewing chafe like a bleeding wound. She scanned Harry's face; hurt and frustrated, but he'd never allow it to show for her. But he didn't have to. This was the first time Yn had seen the bright blase' teacher became sloshed. It made Yn unsettled- lost in a dizzy exasperation because someone was hurting..... someone she cared about... even if they only knew each other for a short period of time. "Hey," her voice, gentle and inviting, "You don't have to go down to the teacher's lounge.... if you would like, you could eat lunch with me?" Yn's face flustered; Harry's turning rouge himself. "Oh, that's so sweet, but I have to some papers to grade, so I was going to use most of my lunch break for that- but I appreciate the offer." His smile, so big and cherry, it pecked Yn with this blemish of awareness. Was that too much to offer? Did I make him uncomfortable? She thought.

Harry said it suave-like- not one missed beat of heated boorishness from him. "I'm glad I was able to catch you though- I now you saw what happened and so it was just reasonable that you knew the whole story." He smiled, "Thank you, Harry." Harry gave one last smile before leaving. "See ya." And just like that he disappeared into behind his classroom door.

The sound of Yn's riveting heart was what bounced from the empty classroom walls.

*Sorry if this kinda sucks... I was struggling with a good plot for this one.*

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Helping hand

Request: hii, I’ve been obsessed with like teacher Harry but also gym Harry so could you combine the two? Teacher Harry who teaches P.E or is like the schools coach? And he coaches y/n? And he helps her without judging her and other stuff happens maybe?? Thank you!!

A/N: thank you for the request lovely!! Although some of these teacher x student stories are sexual this one is not. This one is just sweet and cute and is pretty random? But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

“Y/l/n you’re late!”

Coach styles’ voice rang around the gym, students jogging around the sides of the large building “sorry coach!” You called dressed in shorts and a random T-shirt as you began jogging beside your friend “well guess I’ve pissed him off already huh” you murmured to her as she glanced at you smiling “he’s just in a mood… it’s alright” she assured with a soft laugh and you sighed nodding just hoping she was right. “Keep it up! Good job.” Coaches voice rang around again as a few students finished their fifth lap round the room. You watched multiple students soon come to stand in front of coach styles, including your friend, and you too walked over to coach who’s green eyes immediately looked at you “miss y/l/n why are you not continuing your laps?” For gods sake he was giving you a hard time “what?” You spoke confused “six laps around the room, y/n. You’re on your third. Three more to go.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes a silent groan bubbling up in your mouth before you took of running again, attempting to cut the corners off so you didn’t make a fool out of yourself “all the way round y/l/n!” You groaned ignoring him but nonetheless began jogging round the whole room— completing the corners too. You were certain your legs were about to fall off as finally you completed your sixth lap… you swore coach styles had eyes everywhere but you knew he was just passionate about teaching you the correct way to do things. “Good job y/n. Now we’re going to stretch ourselves then play a game of dodgeball.” Dodgeball? For fucks sake. He couldn’t be serious. “Coach we do dodgeball all the time can we not do something else?” You question getting a few looks of agreement and annoyance. Coach styles looked at you and raised his brows “well I was thinking about football but last time I checked you girls cannot kick a ball without tripping up and doing yourself damage.” He was not wrong. Not wrong whatsoever. Actually he was incredibly right— only last week had ten of the 18 students in the class he teaches were bed-bound due to a twisted swollen ankle. “Well some of us have coordination issues.” You stuck up for you and your friends, coach styles looking you in the eye “clearly.”

-

God was coach styles getting on your fucking nerves. He was so frustrating. You watched him as he bowed his head running his fingers through his hair which was slightly damp with sweat from how much running about he had been doing to help you all. “Y/l/n this is all on you!” He called the other side of girls having eight remaining and only you remained on your side “coach I cannot do this by myself!!” You yelled out to him. “Yes you can.” Was all he said as a flurry of balls was suddenly chucked at you, you dodging them all miraculously and catching the last one— knocking them out instantly your team cheering coach styles smiling slightly from the side lines. “Good job! Keep it up!” He spoke to both you and the other team who were getting more and more aggressive due to you knocking several players out of the game until you were left with three players to knock out… great.

A shaky breath left your lips as you suddenly chucked a ball at one of the players the player dodging it perfectly. “Y/l/n hold the ball like this!” He showed you a technique and you did as he showed you, before tossing it at the player again getting closer to hitting them “yes! Just like that good job!” He eyed the other girls giving them advice here and there about to say something to you again, distracting you as suddenly and very abruptly a ball slammed straight into your face with such a force it knocked you down, a groan leaving your lips as you gripped your nose which was suddenly gushing with blood. A couple of gasps ran around— the girl who had hit you running to you “shit y/n I’m so sorry!” You only shook your head trying to cover how bad the bleed was “it’s okay..”

The blood was dripping down your lips and chin and onto your T-shirt coach styles quickly dismissing the other girls for next class before he hurried up to you with what looked like a towel scrunched up “here apply pressure.” He spoke crouching down beside you, you quickly using it against your nose which was already bruising “do you think it’s broken?” You asked him nervously removing the towel to show him, expecting him to grimace yet he kept a perfect poker face “it’s not that bad.” He comforted hand resting upon your shoulder “an ice pack and some medicine should hopefully keep it at bay.” He spoke reassuringly to you and you nodded accepting his help as he helped you stand up, hand grasping onto your elbow and hand to keep you steady as he stared at you “you good y/l/n?” He questioned, and you nodded not realising how much blood had escaped your nose but when you pulled the towel back and saw the amount of blood your stomach churned… oh you couldn’t stomach blood. Your breath hitched “y/l/n?” He voice went slightly fuzzy and you glanced at him seeing three of him, your brows furrowing in confusion as he soon asked you a question one you couldn’t hear— the towel dropping from your palm as your knees buckled beneath you as you fell face first into his chest… embarrassing, right?

“Woah? Hey… y/l/n? Jesus Christ…” he secured his grip on you staring down at your head as he tried to figure out what to do, until he heard footsteps seeing one of the girls from the team “hey Martha!” He yelled in the ginger girls direction watching her pick up her P.E kit “yes si- woah what happened to her?” “She fainted. Can you get the nurse for me? Now.” He watched the red head girl scurry off and he sighed peering down at you before he shook his head “you’ve really knocked yourself for six y/n… wouldn’t be surprised if next week you break your arm” he muttered playfully mainly, as if hoping you would crack a smile or roll your eyes— but you were fully unconscious.

The nurse checked you over and had eventually given Harry an ice pack to hold to your nose which was bruised but she said it wouldn’t swell hopefully… but she advised him to keep you off of the dodgeball and any other activity for a while which he agreed to knowing it was probably what was best for you.

-

A while passed a few hours at most— Harry had given you some lunch and made you drink orange juice to get sugar into your system until eventually P.E was the next lesson again. Crazy right? But it was P.E first thing in the morning and P.E last lesson of the day… the college was weird to say the least. “Coach styles?” You knocked lightly on his office door, not dressed in your P.E clothes due to the fact your top was covered in blood “y/n.” He greeted with a smile “how are you feeling?” “Fine. Thank you. Uh do you think I could borrow a T-shirt? From lost property?” You questioned nervously watching coach styles nod as he stood up, “sure. Not that you’re going to use it… but-“ “why not?” You asked softly “I’ve been advised to keep you off dodgeball and any kind of sports and training until you’re feeling better.” He spoke calmly “but coach I’m” he only shook his head silencing you as you sighed softly watching him grab a T-shirt from somewhere before he gave it to you. You thanked him and quickly exited the room.

You got changed before headed to gym class where you sat down on the benches and just watched your friends play dodgeball. The T-shirt smelt of strong cologne— nice cologne… good cologne often made your stomach flutter with butterflies and you were certain it was just because you were a female… who knows? Certain colognes just knew how to drive people crazy. Coach styles made you keep an eye out for any foul play to keep you also in the game in some way or another before eventually the day was over but to your surprise coach styles stopped you “can I talk to you?”

You nodded and walked back with him into the gym area “I saw the way you position your body and it’s a reason why you can’t throw the ball far enough… here let me help you.” His hands rested upon your shoulders as he positioned you in a certain way, his head close to your shoulder so he was eye level with what you were looking at “then do whatever you’re more comfortable with— overarm or underarm and throw it.” You nodded preparing yourself to throw it but that’s when your stomach fluttered, the closeness making your senses tingle… that smell… the cologne… that was coach styles’ cologne… you were wearing coach styles’ T-shirt…— well. You blinked quickly shaking it off before throwing the ball “nearly- nearly. Try again.” He gave you another ball making you try over and over again until eventually you had been successful and he looked at you smiling “good job, y/n. That’s what I want to see when you play alright? When you’re feeling better of course.” You let out a small laugh and nodded “thank you coach” you murmured softly “Harry.” He said and you stared at him confused “what?” “When I’m not teaching call me Harry.” Your cheeks flushed red and you smiled glancing down “okay… thank you, Harry…. I’ll see you around..” you spoke smiling gently waving goodbye to him before you exited the gym feeling your cheeks heat up further a small smile remaining on your lips. Coach really was something else.

[allthelovehes]

Field Day Reunion* | Part 2

Summary: Harry finally takes Y/N home when Charlie is with his grandmother for the night.

Pairing: Singledad!Harry x Teacher!Y/N

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Lovemaking, oral f receiving, eager babies, exes to lovers?

A/N: I imagine Harry and Y/N to be British in this universe, so they went to highschool from age 11 - 16(ish) and college from 16 - 20(ish). Idk why but I felt the need to specify haha ENJOY LOVES

Harry and Y/N agreed to take things slow for the sake of Charlie. This means that they have been going on dates every now and then, but not every weekend because Harry doesn't want to just drop off his kid at Anne's, so he can go out with this woman. That doesn't mean however that they don't see each other.

Y/N started teaching Charlie's class a couple of weeks ago. Ever since then, Harry sees her every day because he is the one who drops Charlie off at school and picks him up later in the day. Those little moments are filled with loving glances and private jokes but also Harry teasingly flirting with the love of his life.

Yes, Harry is absolutely smitten by this woman. Given their history, he now believes that he shouldn't have let her go back then. Yes, being high school sweethearts who are going to different colleges isn't the perfect scenario for two love birds. They didn't want to do the long-distance thing when they were only 17, but Harry now knows it would've all been worth it.

He doesn't regret their decisions though. If the two of them never broke up, Harry would've never become a dad to Charlie and he wouldn't want to miss him for the world. The kid is his life, he'd literally give everything to see that little cheeky smile on the four-year-old's face.

Anne was a big fan of Y/N when they were teenagers, she was the sweetest girl so of course she approved of Harry dating her. So when Harry told his mom how Y/N is now Charlie's new teacher she was excited, to say the least. But when he told his mother that they had been on a date, her heart was filled with love. She was rooting for his son, finally meeting that happiness he was so dearly craving.

So, from the moment Harry announces to his mom about him and Y/N taking it slow, Anne has done anything in her power to help Harry out. Taking over babysitting duty whenever she can and just keeping the little boy out of her son's way. Hinting at her son how she's free next Saturday, in case Charlie wants to come play at grandma's house. Just, everything.

And that's exactly why, this afternoon, he decides to take his mom up on that offer. Harry and Y/N have been on four official dates so far and not once has he taken her home. It felt a bit too forward, too soon. But today was different, Harry invited her over to his house, show her around and make his intentions very clear, she's a keeper.

“Char, come on. Put your shoes on, grandma is waiting for you.” Harry tells his son, picking up the overnight bag he packed for his son.

“Where are you going, daddy? I wanna go too!” The little boy cries, pouting at his dad with such innocence.

“I'm sorry, buddy. But you are staying with grandma.” Harry explains to his son, feeling a bit guilty. But he also didn't want to specify anything about his plans for today. See, Charlie is the biggest fan of Y/N at school and it warms Harry's heart to see him so fond of her. But that only gives him more reasons to keep his love life in the shadows for his son.

“But why?” Charlie whines, but knowing it's already a lost battle, he slips on his shoes in silence. Harry shakes his head, suppressing a giggle. Once a kid starts asking why, you know there is no ending to the discussion.

“Let's go, Char.” Harry states instead, dragging his boy out of their house and into the car.

After he drops Charlie off and Anne's, he drives straight back home. His heart pounding with nerves. He'd be lying if he said that he isn't a little bit anxious right now. He hasn't had a girl over for years on end, not in this context. And he's really hoping she's going to want to stay over. He told her to bring an overnight bag, just in case she wanted to stay. He also mentioned how Charlie is sleeping at his mother's place, hoping it would send the right message, but he wasn't quite sure.

When he arrives home, he finds Y/N just parking her car a little further down the street. She's on time, more like half an hour early. Harry lets out a nervous giggle and he hopes that it isn't too obvious that he's anxious right now.

“Eager much?” He jokes as soon as she reaches his front yard. She giggles slightly embarrassed and Harry simply wants to kiss that cute blush off her face.

“I didn't want to run late. Traffic, you know.” She explains, a small smile gracing her face.

“Relax, babe. I'm glad you are early, actually.” Harry smiles sweetly, pulling her in for a quick hug and placing a quick kiss on her lips. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Y/N lets out a flirtatious giggle, getting on her toes to press her lips on his. Harry instantly melts into the kiss, holding her tightly against his chest.

“C'mon, let's go inside.” Harry whispers, pulling away a bit hesitantly. Y/N softly nods in agreement and Harry loosens his grip on her, only to grab her hand and guide her inside. “Welcome to our home.”

“It looks lovely.” Y/N compliments, letting her eyes roam around the living room. You can tell by the way his space is organised that Harry is a neat person, the room is filled with all things the father and son love dearly. A nice TV hangs against the wall, some family pictures are scattered around the wall above the couch and the wall across the room holds shelves filled with movies, video games and records. It's all Harry and it takes the man's breath away knowing that she likes his place.

“Thank you.”

“Let me give you a tour.” Harry says, tugging on her arm and guiding her through his entire house. She had already seen the small hallway when she first entered the house, and a glimpse of the living room, but there is more. There is an open kitchen concept which leads out into the backyard with big sliding doors. It's really neat and pretty, every one of the rooms in the house has little Harry vibes. The house screams family home, it suits Harry really well.

When they finish the tour downstairs, Harry hesitates to show her his upstairs living space. He feels like taking her upstairs is something very intimate, maybe even too forward, yet he would love to show her around. With an unsure glance at her, Harry points his finger to the stairs, silently asking if she wants to continue the tour.

Y/N nods softly and gives him a sweet, yet excited smile. “Let's go, I'm very curious.” She says causing Harry to chuckle and they continue their walk through his house.

“Okay, so this is Charlie's room and his bathroom.” Harry explains. Y/N takes it all in as if he's giving her the time of her life. Harry is beyond grateful because he really does love her and he hopes that she is going to melt into their lives and live here one day.

They move over to the other side of the hallway, Harry gestures at the next room, rubbing the back of his neck a bit nervously. Y/N opens the door carefully when Harry speaks up. “This is uh- my room.” She pushes the door open further and carefully walks inside.

“This is very you.” She giggles when he walks in after her. Harry doesn't know why, but a blush creeps up his cheeks. Y/N isn't mocking him or making fun of him, her giggle sounds very fond, maybe she is just as nervous as he is.

The bedroom is decorated with warm colours and it features a king-sized bed that looks comfy and cosy. Y/N's gaze is glued to the bed, no doubt in her mind that she'd like to sleep in a bed like that. Especially if that means Harry would be right next to her.

She doesn't ponder her thoughts for too long because she knows that it will end with an almost unbearable aching between her legs.

When they dated in high school, they were only 15 years old. So sleeping with one another was out of the question. They kept dating until they were 16 and 17, but it still didn't feel right for them at that moment to take that step. Now that they are both adults and they want to take things a bit more seriously, Harry would like to finally take the next step in their relationship. Maybe tonight.

“Uhm- so behind you is my ensuite.” He points to the door behind her, gesturing at it with a little nod.

“Oh my.” Y/N's attention is immediately turned to the door when Harry mentions it. She slowly opens the door, stepping into the big room. It's modern and clean, and oh so spacious. There's a walk-in shower and a big tub next to it.

Harry just watches her in awe as she explores the bathroom. She almost seems mesmerised by his place and that makes his heart flutter. It's like she belongs in here and it is her house.

Y/N makes her way back to Harry with a dreamy look in her eyes. She wraps her arms around Harry's neck and pulls him close. She sighs. “Your home looks very lovely, Harry.”

“Not as lovely as you.” He blurts out in a weak attempt at flirting, but it comes off a bit nervous so he might have failed miserably.

“You're cheesy.” Y/N giggles. Harry tightens his grip on her waist and pulls her impossibly closer, flashing her a dimpled smile. Y/N leans in and lets her lips softly brush his in a very gentle kiss. Harry immediately melts into the kiss, tilting his head down to kiss her deeper, but she abruptly pulls away after only a second.

“I- uh- I'll go put my bag in this room, if that's okay?” She asks and Harry crooks his head to the side.

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Depends on what you're thinking.” She winks and pulls away from Harry.

“That you are going to stay over.” Harry flashes her a flirtatious smile.

“Exactly.” Y/N nods in agreement, a smug smile on her face and a glimpse of hope flashing in her eyes. “If that's still alright with you?”

“Of course, you don't have to ask.” Harry reassures, making her grin widely. He squeezes her hand for a second and then releases her hand, letting her step away and put her bag in the room.

Harry is beyond excited now, hoping for them to take their relationship to the next level. If they hadn't broken up back in high school, Harry might've even proposed by now. Yeah, he'd love to be married to her one day. But maybe it's too soon to be thinking about marriage, he remembers how it felt to be with her, back when they were only kids, hopelessly in love. He wants that back, now more than ever. ***

Y/N comes back downstairs to see that Harry is already making dinner. He greets her with a wide smile and places a soft peck on her lips.

“Mmh, what's that smell?” She asks curiously, leaning on the counter in the kitchen and watching Harry move around confidently.

“You, I reckon.” He smirks. Y/N lightly shakes her head, failing to hide her smile. “I'm making you pasta, love.”

“Mmmh, my favourite.”

“I know.” Harry smiles proudly.

Harry lets her know how she can pick a wine if she wants, and where she can find some glasses. She of course doesn't miss the obvious fact that Harry has planned everything ahead. That certainly turns her on.

They eat in a comfortable silence, their ankles playfully tangling with one another. Harry does the dishes while Y/N takes a second in the living room to scroll through her phone. As soon as the kitchen is clean, Harry joins her on the couch. He lifts her legs, placing them on his lap and letting her lean into his side.

“Charlie was a little upset to leave.” Harry says all of a sudden. Y/N chuckles, knowing just how clingy that four-year-old is to his dad. She finds that unbelievably adorable.

“Is he going to be mad at us?” She asks, not knowing how to proceed. She doesn't want the cute and innocent little boy to dislike her in any way.

“Us? No. Me? Maybe. I haven't told him about us yet, don't want him to tell the whole class and make it awkward for you at work.” Harry explains causing Y/N to smirk and nod, loving that he cares that much.

“So what does he think we are?” Y/N pries.

“I've told him you are my friend and that I like you a whole lot.” Harry tells her, making her smile.

“A whole lot, huh?” Y/N giggles and wiggles her eyebrows. Harry flashes her a cheeky smile and runs his fingers through her hair. “Sounds like you have a little crush.” She teases.

“Hmm, kinda do. Can't help it though.” Harry admits and leans into her, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. Y/N squirms under his touch, silently letting him know that this is okay. Then, she dips her head slightly and closes her lips on his.

The kiss instantly deepens and Y/N quickly crawls into Harry's lap, getting a better angle to kiss him passionately. His hands rest on her hips and hold her in place as he slowly kisses his way down her neck. Y/N closes her eyes, taking in the touch and taste of Harry. God, he really does turn her on.

So far they hadn't had the opportunity to make out like this. It's all been dates outside of either of their homes and kisses over the console of his car or at her front door. Feeling her thighs on each side of him and her lips working his like it's her favourite pastime makes Harry understand how badly he wants this to work out.

She lets her arms drape around his neck as her mouth finds his again, this time kissing him hungrily. Her lips sloppily brush against his, her teeth leaving grazes against his already tender bottom lip. He's just as eager to make out with her as she is.

She eventually breaks away, though, just to reconnect with those green gems Harry calls his eyes. He gives her a warm smile and his thumbs run under her shirt.

“You are so beautiful, love. Always been.” Harry murmurs against her lips before going in for another kiss. The gesture takes her back to high school, them sharing kisses on her porch after he walked her home from school. Always ending with a tight hug and whispers that went something like this.

But she's not in high school anymore, and so are her urges. Now, she simply can't get enough of Harry, and by the feeling of a firm swelling in his pants, she knows he is affected as much as she. It's quite the ego boost.

Harry had spent many nights, imagining how his first time making love to her would go. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heat deliciously dripping, his name leaving her lips in a quivering cry when they both reach the peak of their pleasure. But he always kept the fantasy bundled up in his mind, he knew that it was too soon for that. Not anymore, though, because Y/N makes it very clear to him that she wants him.

“Harry.” She whimpers and rolls her hips into his. Her core grinds against his crotch and she swears she could make herself come from this. Just humping his bulge will be enough to have her reeling.

“I'm taking that as your consent, love.” Harry murmurs, pecking her lips. But she doesn't reply, she just hums in agreement. Enough for Harry to lift the two of them up, causing her to squeal slightly. He carries her upstairs and drops her on the bed.

It's happening.

Harry climbs on top of her, pressing her down with his weight. His lips crash back on hers and she accepts his passionate kisses with just the same amount of passion. She tumbles her hands around his neck, making sure he stays exactly where he is right now.

After a few minutes of more intense making out, Harry needs to come up for air. His chest is rising and falling and his hair is a hot mess, Y/N giggles teasingly, running her fingers through it to arrange it neatly.

“You're gorgeous.” Harry utters and places a delicate kiss on her jaw, Y/N lets out a shaky breath. Her heart soars when Harry compliments her. Her chin tilts towards him, their mouths closing in for more sucking and licking and biting and tugging. “But I'm dying to know how gorgeous you are underneath all this.”

She can't help the blood that rushes to her cheeks, and she can hardly breathe. Harry reaches down, lifting her shirt over her head. He wastes no time as soon as the fabric passes over her body. He's sucking the skin at her shoulder with eagerness.

“Fuck.” She curses as his teeth nip into her, his lips brushing it so faintly as soon as there's the red and purplish proof he's marked her. For a moment he feels guilty, thinking it's inappropriate, but he can't help but want this. He wants to become one with her and claim her as his own.

Harry gently kneads her breast with his hands, eliciting an erotic moan from her. Y/N isn't shy about her body. Her hand reaches to her back and she unclasps her bra, pulling it off and letting her boobs bounce freely. Harry gulps at the sight, they are just as magnificent as he had imagined them a few years back.

Harry kisses his way down her upper body and without a second thought, takes a nipple into his mouth. The man toys with it with his tongue, making Y/N's centre burn with desire. She hisses at the warmth of his mouth sucking and licking and nibbling. He then moves over to the other nipple, giving it equal attention before Y/N groans and speaks up.

“Fuck, I- I can't take it any longer, Harry.” Y/N whimpers, feeling her core starting to pulsate. She needs him there and she needs it now.

“Tell me what you want then, love.” Harry husks, his cock painfully straining in his trousers.

“Touch me. Eat me out, lick me clean. I don't care, but for fuck's sake-“ She heaves, her hands roaming down to the lining of Harry's trousers.

He doesn't need to be told twice, within a few seconds he is standing next to the bed, tugging off her trousers with her panties. Before quickly stripping down, he catches her eye looking longingly at the obvious erection in his boxers. She has been waiting for this to happen.

Y/N smiles as she observes him, he is so beautiful to her. His every flaw is precious. Y/N sees how his veins are straining underneath the thin layer of his skin as his fists clench around his bed sheets. How those plump pink lips are slightly parted, allowing his rapid, ragged breathing to escape.

Harry palms himself through his briefs, stroking his erection while keeping his eyes focused on the woman beneath him. With her lying on his bed in all her beauty, legs spread, his name on her parted lips. She is truly the epitome of sheer loveliness.

Harry kneels down at the side of the bed before he wraps his arms around her thighs to pull her closer to the edge. “You sure, baby?” He asks once more, although Y/N has been very clear with what she wants.

“Positive.” She mutters and in less than a second, Harry gently presses his lips against her folds. Kissing all around her pussy but never quite touching the most intimate parts. This drives her insane and her hands reach out to tangle in his curls, pulling him closer to her center. “Please.” She whimpers needily.

Harry doesn't make her wait, instead, he runs one finger through her folds before spreading them apart as his tongue prods over the heated skin. A loud grunt escapes his lips when he realises how sweet she tastes. It's everything he could've imagined and more. He then gets to work, flicking his tongue over her clit expertly, making Y/N buck her hips in appreciation. She pants, trying not to explode from pleasure at the feeling.

His free hand slides up to her lower stomach to hold her down and withhold her from squirming too much. Her juices are escaping from inside her, soiling his lips and chin and the duvet. Harry just can't get enough. His thumb scratches at her pelvis and as Y/N looks down, she sees him bobbing up and down eagerly, his eyes closed shut as he devours her. She hisses at the obscene sight.

“Ah- f-fuck!” Y/N stutters out, Harry now digging his fingers into her and slightly curling them inside her, hitting her g-spot and bringing her closer to her orgasm. “Harry!” She warns, her eyes practically rolling back at how he licks her, but that doesn't make him stop, no, he speeds up even.

His lips are locked on her clit, sucking as his fingertips massage her inner walls and let her slick seep out. She can't keep her legs still if she tries, her toes are curling and her thighs are shaking.

“Mmmh.” Harry moans lowly, tasting her juices as they keep flowing, signalling she won't last a second longer. “Come for me, darling.” He releases for a split second only to murmur those words, causing her body to respond with a shattering climax.

“Oh-ffu-Harry!” Y/N cries out as the burning knot inside her undoes and explodes. It's nothing like she's ever felt before, men never really seemed to know how to satisfy her, but Harry is all it takes for her to let go and forget about all the bad sex she ever had. She gasps loudly, riding out her orgasm as he keeps working her gently with his fingers and mouth. “Jesus fuck.”

Her legs fall to her sides. Harry comes up and wipes his mouth clean, chuckling at how Y/N is gasping for air. Her chest heaving as she does her best to try and breathe. “Good?” He hums and kisses her collarbone as he awaits a response.

“Too good.” She chokes out a laugh as soon as she can catch her breath again. She reaches down to caress his cheek, causing him to glance up. “Need a taste.” She huffs, as her hand goes down to his cock. Harry smirks and stops her. Gaining her attention with a quirked brow, indicating she doesn't understand.

“I desperately want to be inside of you, and I won't be able to last as long as I plan to if your puffy lips would work their magic on my cock right now.” He tells her bluntly, keeping his lust-filled gaze on her. And honestly, that might've just been the sexiest thing anyone has ever told her. She gives him a coy nod before he props himself up. He pushes his boxers down his legs and hovers over her.

Harry reaches for his nightstand to grab a condom while Y/N finally has her tiny fingers wrapped around Harry's erect and dripping cock. It's long and hard, the tip glistening and soft. Her hand runs down his shaft, paying close attention to the pattern of those prominent veins. His big hand reaches for her wrist.

“Hate to stop you, love, but you'll be the death of me.” Harry breathes as he slowly rolls the condom down his shaft. Y/N smiles adoringly, holding back laughter. Harry shakes his head amused, glad he brings that same childlike chuckle to Y/N's face that he used to adore when they were younger.

Then Y/N's face changes to surprise as Harry wraps his arms around her upper body to place her further on the bed, her head now resting on his soft pillows. Harry takes his position above her and cups her chin as he gently kisses her.

“Are you ready for me?” He asks. His cock now directly at her entrance, he holds it with his hand, teasing her.

“Yes, H. Please, yes.” She eagerly replies. So Harry presses a firm kiss on her mouth as he carefully pushes himself in. Just the tip before he pulls back again, teasing her incredibly slowly. Y/N groans in annoyance but lets him. Instead, she circles her arms around his neck and lets her fingertips draw nonsensical doodles on his scalp.

Her eyes shut when he finally thrusts himself forward, inserting his cock fully and feeling her pussy clenching around him. At first, he moves slowly, deliberately waiting for the satisfying burn to fade. His palms are pressed flat next to her shoulders as he secures his balance above her. She just can't keep her moans inside, not when he fucks her with all the love in the world.

“Fuck.” Harry grits, noticing how tight she is. Y/N keeps her eyes closed and lets him take control, simply doing what she feels is right, and that is responding to Harry's pace and needs. She finds solace in his sweet scent and she's sure she's addicted to it from now on.

As his hips rock, he slips his tongue into her mouth. Y/N's walls clench around him as his pace picks up. Her slick dripping out of her, coating their inner thighs as he slowly dips in and out.

“Give me your leg.” He says as he taps his fingers on her right thigh. Y/N obediently pulls her leg up and Harry positions himself a bit differently, the tip of his cock hammering against her cervix, reaching spots she didn't know could feel so good.

He places her leg on his shoulder and holds it in place with his arm wrapped around her knee. The newfound angle allows him to fuck her deeper and Harry can't hold himself back anymore. He slams into her, she moans in pleasure when he picks up the pace, making their sweaty bodies become one.

“G-goddamn, love.” He grunts, loving how they move as one. The muscles of his abdomen tense up under his skin with every hard thrust he delivers, he simply can't bear to slow down his movement. Harry continues to rut in and out, bringing both of them higher.

His left-hand reaches down, pressing down on her pubic bone for extra stimulation as his thumb finds her clit. Harry then knows he won't last long. Feeling her pussy already milking his cock, he knows she is close too.

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, feeling the butterflies in her stomach building up again as Harry hits her G-spot every time he slams back into her.

“H-Harry- shit.” Y/N pants rapidly. She can feel how her juices are dripping from her and covering Harry's dick, definitely creating a wet spot underneath her bum on the duvet. She rolls her eyes back. She can't hold out for much longer.

“Nghh, yeah? Come for me, again, baby.” Harry groans as his pace starts to get sloppy. Y/N loves how his brows furrow and his jaw tightens up every time he pushes in.

“Aah- I'm-“ She starts and her walls clench around him, squeezing his hard cock inside her as she comes. The sensation is too much for Harry to bear. His hot liquid explodes into the rubber as her warm pussy milks him.

“Mmph.” Harry moans and with the last bit of power in his limp body, he slowly rocks back and forth to ride out their orgasms until they both collapse, tired and sweating messes.

“God, I can't believe that just happened.” Y/N puffs as they lie next to each other for a few moments. Harry hums, rolling to her side and pulling out of her in the process. Y/N catches his glance, seeing how his green eyes look like they shine even in the dark, love and affection radiating from them.

“I finally had sex with the girl of my dreams.” He murmurs, scooting a bit closer as Y/N feels him reach to her hand to twine their fingers together. She giggles at his sweetness before opening her mouth to speak.

“I now understand why you didn't want Charlie here today.” She remarks, earning a playful look from Harry. She brings her fingers up to brush the hair off his forehead. “I love you.” Y/N suddenly utters, surprising herself. “I mean it.”

“I love you too.” Harry says without a second thought before placing his wet lips on hers. It's not like they hadn't said I love you to each other when they were younger, but adult I love you's are different, stronger, more meaningful. Y/N grins, nudging her nose against his cheek and pecking his lips.

“We should do something about the stickiness, shouldn't we?” Harry says running his finger on the inside of her thigh. Y/N chuckles as she nods her head in agreement, slightly ashamed but just couldn't care less right now. She's happy, Harry's happy and that's all that matters.

Harry picks her up from the bed again, gaining another squeal as he carries her to the bathroom. They hop in the shower and their touches remain gentle. Just soft kisses and long glances. Once they're all washed up, they slide back between the sheets in an after-sex, shower-fresh bliss.

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[resenei-offline]

See you Once Again before I Leave

Imagine that Gojo was your childhood friend. You both used to play in the fields. You used to spend alot of time. You both even went to the same school, high school etc. Then you decided to become a teacher of Jujutsu Tech and so did Gojo.

You were always with him even in the most difficult times. He was so understanding to you and very loyal too. You remember crying in his arms when he almost got killed by Toji. “Haha! You really thought the strongest sorcerer would get killed?” He said as he hugged you. “.... Yes, I did!” You replied in irritation and in between sobs to which he just chuckles. Gojo had already lost Geto back then he did not want to loose you too like he lost his best friend.

This time time though... It's different. You have lost your childhood and best friend, Gojo. Oh you should have confessed your love for him and maybe if he felt the same he would atleast take the battle between him and Sukuna a bit seriously and win... But it's too late now. The strongest is defeated only because he thought he could win without being even a little serious? Because he wanted peace for himself?... You didn't cry you were too fed up. His death brought you.. Pain, sorrow, anger was all hidden behind a clam and dead face.

“[Y/n] sensei are you okay?” Maki asked.

*Sighs* “I'm fine Maki” *Smiles*

“.....” The rest stayed silent.. They knew you weren't fine but they wouldn't ask questions after all getting on your nerves is a death wish. _____________________________________________

You sat on a rock far away from the disasters taking place..

*Sigh* “G-Gojo..” You voice cracked.

You looked at the once beautiful pond that is now dried and tears filled your eyes. You lowered your head and started replaying the moment when Gojo was cut half in your head. You were happy to see Gojo's body moving around but it was Yuta using his body. It wasn't actually Gojo...

*Chuckles* “Your really crying, [Y/n]?” You looked up recognizing the voice. You thought is was Yuta so you were going to correct him. Yuta always call you Sensei and so did everyone since your the most respected teacher.

“Y-Yuta?” You said looking up at... What you thought was Yuta but in Gojo's body wearing a blue dress.

“Hm? It's not Yuta, silly” *Smirks* “I bet you missed me.”

“...Yuta... Stop...”

*Rolls eyes* “It's not Yutaaa! It's Satoru!”

“W-what?”

*Sighs* “[Y/n]...It's really me.. Not Yuta in my body.. This is my soul not my lifeless body who is being controlled by Yuta.” He said frowning slightly.

Tears streamed down your face more.. How could this happen? You knew it was possible but why would he come here? To you?

“Hey.. Don't cry. I know your not weak!” He said as he wiped your tears of gently with a cheeky smile.

“I-idiot!.. People who cry alot are strong..”

“Oh! So, you cried alot after I died like when were younger? You used to cry alot. I still remember everything.” He said smirking. He's always been a tease and you like that about him... And forever will.

_____________________________________________

★✿★A/N: Needed to make this!!!! Main acc @call-me-resenei . Thank you for reading this and sorry for any mistakes 🤍.

[lesbesapphic]

A little blurb of mean! Wanda teaching Reader

Back story - Reader's family is gone. Wanda's mother decided to keep her in her home. Her daughter Wanda hates reader's guts. Maybe because she has to share her room. Her personal space with the reader. Or simply because she hates everyone. It is much later into this universe.

Hello everyone!

Hope you all enjoy it. Tomorrow I will be posting Gold Rush AU. Please see the notes in the end.

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If you wish to help me. I would really appreciate it. You can see this post to know why. Also please reblog this post. I really need it. Thank you.

----

You groaned and pushed all the books away before hiding your face into your knees, you were so gone for the test tomorrow. You really couldn't afford failing but you were really busy all week with your new job.

"Wanda." You called and chewed on your bottom lip while waiting for her to insult you for using her name. She was sitting on the bed with her laptop on her lap as she typed into it. She didn't acknowledge your presence all day. Despite being in the same room all day. Maybe it was because your position on the mattress on the floor, you weren't allowed on the bed. You mentally scoffed at yourself for the lame ass excuse you made for it. And her.

"Hmm?" She responded and youguessed she was doing something important because she didn't bother using her petty remarks with you which she usually does.

"Did you prepare everything for the test?" You sked while chewing on the inside of your cheek.

"It's easy, I don't think I need do." She replied still focused on her screen, you suppose she was right, you wonder how she was able to do it, keeping her grades high when you hardly see her studying, maybe she studies at her friends'. You shook that thought away while wondering how to ask for help, most importantly would she even help you?

"Wanda." You called her name again after few minutes of contemplating your choices and building some courage, she responded with a groan before turning to face you, "What now?" She asked and you shook your head instantly, she narrowed her eyes at you, "Just get on with it, Y/L/N"

"Couldyoupleasehelpmeinstudy?" You rushed out and she rolled her eyes at you, usually Wanda enjoyed watching you jump around her, afraid to even breathe the wrong way. It was the only fun thing in this boring household. "Slower, please."

"Could you please help me prepare for the test tomorrow?" You asked slowly momentarily closing your eyes to not see her reaction.

"I would babysit Hope for you." You added when she didn't reply instantly. Your heartbeat raced, you couldn't afford to fail.

"That you already do." Wanda replied in musement.

"I will cover up for you when you leave this weekend?" You tried your luck again and she let out a humorless chuckle.

"What made you think I would need your help for that?" She asked while closing her laptop and turning slightly to look down at you on floor where you were sitting. Now having her full attention was more scarier. Especially the way her eyebrow raised when you bit your bottom lip, instantly letting go with an apologetic face knowing how she had told you to not do that before.

"Please?" You pushed a little. "I will owe you one." That seemed to get her attention and she let out a dramatic sigh before getting off the bed. "Fine but you better not back out on this."

"I promise!" You held up a pinky finger,  so used to doing it with Hope that you didn't realise the older sibling just might break it instead. She swatted your hand away before sitting down next to you on the floor. You winced and rolled your eyes at her. Sometimes you think she just needed an excuse to smack you around.

"How dumb are you?" She asked while flipping through your notebook, you glared at her and she looked up before raising an eyebrow like she genuinely expected you to answer such questions.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing." She shook her exasperatedly before picking up a pen and starting to explain you the concept  of IUPAC of organic chemistry. You had to admit she was a pretty good teacher and you tried your best to not focus on the way her lips were moving or how she was using that pen to direct you here and there. It was frustratingly hot, why did you even ask her? You really needed to figure out why you were feeling this way.

"You are again not counting from where the halogen is attached!"

Before you could correct yourself you felt the plastic ruler connecting with your hand, "Ouch!" You rubbed the spot to soothe the sting while shooting daggers at raven beauty in front of you. It didn't hurt much but you were still surprised.

Wanda rolled her eyes at you, "It doesn't even hurt." She pointed out before taking the notebook from you and scribbling down something on it. "I am going to put all the rules here for you to understand it better."

She flipped her hair to the side and you subtly inhaled the smell of her lavender hairwash, it was really nice, you thought to yourself you should get one as well. You watched her as she continued to write, the way her face was so serene, from this close you could even see the light freckles on her skin, it was really attractive, it suited her.

"If you are done staring, you could at least try finish those easier questions." She said without even looking up and you instantly picked up the other notebook feeling blush creeping up to your face and it getting hot. "I was thinking.." you muttered a fake excuse.

"oh really?" She asked and threw a eraser at your head, "Ouch, what was this for?" You asked grabbing the erased and putting it back, she was definitely enjoying this as much as you was.

Wait you are not enjoying this torture, you told yourself. You just really needed some sleep. You told yourself that

"For zoning out with your 'thinking'." She air-quoted and your rolled my eyes and decided to not reply to her before focusing on the questions at hand. Why do we have to name these chains? Why do carbon even have to form so many bonds? Carbon, a hoe.

"Done." You pushed the notebook toward her and she picked up the scale first making you push yourself away from her scared for your safety, only to be stopped by her grabbing your collar and pulling you closer, your breath hitched in your throat, why is she always manhandling you like this? You asked yourself. More importantly why do you always let her do it.

"Ow..would you stop?" You asked as she hit you with the scale on your head lightly, she rolled her eyes, "These are all correct, stop being dramatic." She added the next line when she saw you rubbing your head.

"Then why did you hit me?" You asked and she smirked at you before letting go off the collar and you instantly missed being close to her. "Because I can." She answered smugly and you opened your mouth, ready to give her an earful but was stopping by her putting a finger on your lips while using her other hand to write something quickly on the notebook.

"You better not argue with me right now, Y/L/N." She warned, waving the scale in front of you and you shut up. Knowing how you needed her help and it was better to shut up and get back to her later for all this. You already started thinking of ways you could do that, hopefully she won't kill you for it.

----

Hope you all enjoyed this. 💖

[ihatealimore]

Moonlight Sonata

(A music teacher AU) (word count: 1,368)

First Quarter

Dim sunlight floods into the room from the cracks of the curtains, gently illuminating the classic black piano sitting in the corner of the studio. Kurapika sits at the piano, his fingers hovering just above the keys as his eyes scan the sheet music in front of him. His sleeves are neatly rolled up, exposing his forearms, his hair tucked nicely behind his ears. He lets out a deep breath before closing his eyes and allowing his fingertips to fall onto the ivories. He plays a few notes before a knock sounds at his door, earning an annoyed huff from the blonde-haired man.

"Who could possibly be here at this time...?" He asks himself in a quiet voice as he stands up from the seat, walking towards the door with a furrowed brow.

He opens the door slightly to peek outside, finding a strange woman he's never seen before standing at his front door with several music books clutched tightly against her chest, "Can I help you, miss?"

In the presence of this good-looking man, you can't help but feel a little intimidated. His posture and tone of voice themselves already tell you that he's a very collected person. You avert your eyes from him, suddenly feeling bashful, "Y-yes. I was told that you were giving out music lessons. Is it possible for me to sign up?"

"Are you interested in playing the piano?" He questions you after studying the books in your hands.

You nod as confirmation to this, surprised by his keen eye, "Yes. I know how to play a little bit but I'm not very good," You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly, "Oh! And I know how to read sheet music!"

"That is a good start, however, I'm unfortunately no longer offering music lessons," He says to you with a face devoid of emotions, "You will have to go elsewhere," He moves to close the door on you, only to be stopped by you placing your foot in the doorway.

"Wait-!" You call out to him in hopes that he'll open his door again. Despite your cries, the blonde-haired man refuses to open the door any further than it already is, "A friend of mine told me to come here! He said that he and you are good friends."

"Is that so?" The man seems unamused by this, "What is your friend's name?"

"His name is Leorio. Leorio Paladiknight. I go to college with him," You explain to him, desperate for him to hear you out, "He told me you would make an exception for me."

An annoyed huff can be heard, the door still being held open the slightest bit by your foot, "He lied to you. I have no intentions of teaching anyone anymore. Please see yourself out."

"But-"

"I have nothing more to say to you," Comes the blonde-haired man's blunt response.

You let out a long sigh, hanging your head defeatedly, "Alright, I understand. I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Leorio is to blame, not you. This is very typical of him," The man says, earning a quiet chuckle from you.

"Yes, I'd have to agree. Thank you for your time, sir,"  You're about to remove your foot from the door when a realization stops you, "Actually, I just realized I don't even know your name. Can I know your name at least?"

A sigh can be heard before the door opens fully again, revealing the blonde-haired man to you once more. He extends his hand out for you to shake, "My name is Kurapika. It's nice to meet you. I apologize for my rude behavior when Leorio was truly the one at fault."

You give him a quick handshake, offering the man a small smile as you introduce yourself to him, "I'm (Y/N). Thank you for introducing yourself to me."

"There is no need to thank me. It was merely the polite thing to do," He feels a pang of guilt for his earlier brash behavior, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I don't want to impose. I'm sure you're very busy-"

"You would not be imposing in the slightest," He reassures you with a ghost of a smile on his face, "Consider it an apology."

You find your smile growing at his sincere behavior, "Then I would very much like that. Thank you, Kurapika."

He gestures to a small couch placed in the middle of the studio with a small glass coffee table sitting in front of it, "Please make yourself comfortable. I'll be back with your tea in a moment."

You thank him again as you sit down, setting your books down on the table in front of you. While he's busy preparing the tea, your eyes observe every inch of the studio very closely. You can tell that this man cares about music deeply from glancing around. Several bookshelves are lined with various music books and folders filled with sheet music. The piano itself looks like it's played by him several times a day.

You're only drawn out of your thoughts when Kurapika sets down a teacup in front of you, sitting down beside you with his own cup in his hands, "I apologize for keeping you waiting, (Y/N). I hope you enjoy the tea."

You take a sip of the warm liquid, allowing yourself a smile after you taste it, "It's really good. Better than what I can make."

"I'm happy to hear that," His gaze falls on the music books sitting on the coffee table, "If you don't mind my asking, why are you interested in playing the piano?"

You avert your gaze from him, your eyes falling on the books instead, "I want to be able to play for a friend of mine."

He perks up an eyebrow at this, "A friend?"

"Yes. She recently lost her vision so I want to play pretty songs for her," You explain to him, still avoiding his gaze, "She used to play the piano but she's having a hard time adjusting to not having her eyesight," You frown as you continue speaking,  "Lately, all she does is lie in bed and cry. I thought if I learned how to play for her, it might cheer her up."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, (Y/N)," Kurapika starts, his tone of voice unreadable as he watches you with a distant look in his eyes, "Your cause for learning is very noble. I am certain she would be happy to hear that you're willing to learn how to play for her in the first place."

You close your eyes, the corners of your lips quirking upwards a tiny bit, "I think you'd be right about that but I'm still determined to learn how to play for her."

"Your resolution to learn how to play for her will be what helps you the most," Kurapika points out to you with a small smile playing on his lips, "I do not think you will have any problem learning how to play."

"I wish I could agree with you," You respond with a sheepish grin present on your face.

Kurapika lets out a long breath, glancing at his piano before glancing back at you, "With a teacher like me, I think you will do just fine."

Your eyes widen in surprise as you stare at him, "Does that mean-?"

"It would be my honor to teach you how to play the piano, (Y/N)," He bows his head to you slightly as he says this, "As long as you will allow me to."

"Of course, I will! Thank you so much, Kurapika!" You exclaim with a genuine smile etched onto your face as you pull him into a short hug, "This means a lot to me."

The Kurta finds himself smiling, placing a hand on the small of your back as he reciprocates your hug, "There is no need to thank me," You pull away from the hug with a beaming smile on your face, leaving Kurapika to watch you with a look of awe before he shakes his head, "It is the right thing to do."

"You're a good person, Kurapika."

"I wish there was some truth to that," The blonde-haired man says with a hint of sadness in his eyes. When he looks up at you again, the sadness has disappeared from his eyes, instead, a small smile graces his lips, "Would you be willing to start your lessons tomorrow?"