matched w this guy for my bday last year in march 2025, nothing happened as we never got to meet up. i match again w the same guy, december 2025 in TOKYO. like what are the odds, esp w him only there for a long layover. we did plan to meet but i was too tired. we both realize that we're only a 2ish hour drive away with me in seattle and him in vancouver. now we're planning on him driving down to see me 🤭 ik it's giving red string theory but why does it have to be a white man
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
By the way one direction inspired an entire generation of young teens to become artists, readers, writers, musicians, animators. 14 year olds were hacking into security cameras. Do you genuinely understand how hard that is? I literally have a tech degree and i still view hacking as too complicated. 14 year olds were in literal stem to watch one direction buy a bottle of shampoo. They have genuinely altered the courses of so many people's lives in terms of careers and long term hobbies. It was never just the music. I literally started reading by reading fanfiction. I am now a very active reader of many genres. I got a fucking tech degree because i wanted to see how it was done. Like its so unbelievably crazy. And they were massively bullied by the media and the rest of the world. They were ridiculed by the music industry. They were the biggest boyband on the planet and the only one that went as global as they did and they had them parody their own song 3 seperate times. They were never nominated for grammys as a group. They were genuinely never taken seriously and they changed the courses of young womens lives.
WARNINGS: breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), plus-size reader, dirty talk, cursing, flirty Harry. I think that's it. Please do not read if you are under 18
wc: 4.095
You kissed a sleeping Harry on his forehead. He stirred and opened up one of his eyes.
“Happy birthday, sleepy head,” you smiled.
“Mmm,” he hummed, smiling. He pulled you close to him. “If I go back to sleep, will I be 29 again?”
“I’m sorry, no. You just have to face the fact that you’re old now,” you bit the side of your lip, trying not to laugh.
“Heyyyy.”
You giggled and gave him a kiss on the lips. “You need to get up. I’m making you breakfast.”
“Can’t I just have breakfast in bed?” He groaned.
“Yeah. I can bring it to bed for you, birthday boy,” you said.
“Alright then,” he pointed to his chest. “Hop up.”
You understood what he meant now and you slapped him on the chest.
“Wha-?” He smirked.
“Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean I can’t slap you for being crude.”
“I wish you would,” he said, pulling you closer and squeezing your thigh.
“Do you want an actual breakfast or not?” You asked, ignoring his comment.
“Yes, but then I want you after.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?” You asked.
“Yes.”
“Har, pick one,” you stood up with your hands on your hips.
“You.”
You rolled your eyes again. “I’m making pancakes whether you like it or not.”
You headed to the kitchen and got all of the supplies ready. Harry followed quickly behind you and wrapped you in a hug. “Can you put chocolate chips in them?”
“You are a pain in my ass, Harry Styles. Did you know what?”
“I love your bum,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “If it’s got a pain, I can rub it.”
You had to hide the smile. He was so annoying. “So, pancakes then?”
“Yes, please ma’am.”
You chuckled. “Ma’am?”
“You kind of scared me there. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he pouted.
You turned around and put your arms around his neck. “You didn’t upset me. You are just so annoying,” you joked.
He pecked your lips. “Mmm. I don’t try to be.”
“No. You’re just good at it.”
He smiled and gave you a light spank on your butt. “Hurry up, so I can get my early present.”
“See what I mean?”
You turned back around and made pancakes, bacon, and breakfast potatoes. Throughout the process, Harry was behind you, holding onto your hips or kissing your shoulder.
When you plated his food, and handed him the syrup, he looked like a kid, beaming with happiness. Harry tended to eat healthy, but you would spoil him sometimes and make him good food like this. He dug right in and moaned a bit at how good it was.
His plate was clean before you were even halfway done. He made sure to wipe his mouth up with the sticky residue and make sure it was clean.
After he put his plate in the sink, he came over to you, scooped you up from your chair, and brought you over to the couch.
“I wasn’t done,” you pouted. Harry went to go get your plate of food and hurried back quickly. You finished eating your food as Harry quickly discarded your pajama bottoms.
“Slow down there, tiger,” you joked, putting your last piece of pancake into your mouth.
But, he didn’t listen. Harry opened your legs and ran a finger through your slick core. He had his second breakfast right there on the couch and brought you to the first orgasm of the day.
~~
Harry was insatiable all day. You were trying to get him out of the house for his surprise party, but he wanted to stay in.
“Please. Can we just stay in? I’ll even let you be on top.”
You chuckled. “Bubs, we can’t. We have a reservation.”
“Cancel it,” he said, kissing your neck. “I’ll eat grilled cheese.”
You had to chuckle at that. He wouldn’t stop, so you had to kind of ruin the surprise. “We’re not gonna be the only people there.”
You looked up at him.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Shit. Well, what about a quickie?” He begged, squeezing your hips. He loved your hips.
“Harry.”
He pouted.
You tapped his face. “We can have sex afterwards, ok?”
“What am I supposed to do about my stiffy now?”
You chuckled. “I don’t know, babes, but you need to get changed.”
He groaned.
As he went to the bedroom, you got a text from his mom, Anne, to say that they needed a bit more time to set up and have everyone arrive. Perfect.
You got dressed and had your hair and make-up done and walked out to find Harry on the bed. “Now that’s… not fair.”
“What?”
“You looking that good and me not being able to have you,” he pouted.
“Luckily, for you, they need a bit more time, so…,” you got down on your knees and undid his belt.
“Oh, shit.”
You had his pants down and his cock in your hand quicker than a flash of lightning.
Harry sat back on the bed, his mouth hung open as you jerked him off. “Baby.”
“That’s what you needed, hmm?” You asked, kissing up his cock.
“Shit,” he said, grabbing your done up hair.
You licked at his tip and he jerked back. “Fuck. Fuck, my love. I need you.”
“I know. After. Let me just take care of you before we go, ok?”
He nodded and when you put his cock in your mouth, Harry thought he might pass out. He guided your head down on him and his eyes rolled back when you choked on his cock. He let out a moan and judging by the way he was shaking, you could tell he was close.
“Cum for me, Harry,” you said, as you licked up his cock.
You gagged one more time and Harry’s hips rose, his breath heavy. “Fuck, babe. Fuck.”
You pinched his thigh, encouraging him, and he came down your throat. You swallowed as much as you could. He seemed to never stop. When he finally did, he collapsed back onto the bed.
You wiped your mouth up and then threw Harry a towel to clean himself up. He was still catching his breath when you grabbed your purse.
“Come on, big boy.”
“Can’t you tell them I’m sick?”
“No. Now put your cock away and let’s go,” you said.
“That’s not something I thought I’d hear you ever say,” Harry said, standing up and fixing his pants.
Harry was very grabby and touchy with you and was begging to stay home as you grabbed your coat and keys. “No. And if you keep asking, you won’t get anything when we get home.”
You headed out the door and into the car. You drove because Harry was too wound up. He had his hand on your thigh the whole time, rubbing it and squeezing it.
You looked over at him and shook your head at the first red light. He was trying not to say anything, but you could see he wanted to.
“Babes, what’s on your mind?”
“What do I get if I stop talking about it?” He wondered, his leg bouncing.
You chuckled. “If you’re good, really good, and you can wait until we get home…”
“Mmhmm?”
“Maybe I’ll let you get me pregnant.” You left that hang in the air as the light turned green and you drove.
You two had been talking about starting a family, but Harry didn’t think you were serious. “Fuck.”
You smirked and stared straight ahead.
“Fuck. How am I supposed to concentrate on anything else now?” he bounced his leg.
“Remember, you have to be good for that to happen.”
Harry nodded, looking out the window because if he looked at you, he definitely wouldn’t be good.
When you got to the restaurant, Harry held onto your waist the entire time. “Now, you have to act surprised, ok?”
“You got it, babes.”
When you stepped into the big dining area, Harry gasped as he saw his family and friends gathered around. “Surprise!” They shouted.
Everyone came up to greet him and wish him a Happy Birthday. You stepped to the side and let him talk to everyone. You made sure the cake and everything was set up, and then headed over to the bar for a drink.
Once you picked up your drink, you felt a hand on your back. “I don’t think those ovaries will work if there’s alcohol in your system.”
“It’s a Shirley Temple,” you said, sipping the drink. “And I said if you were good.”
“I am being good.”
“Stop touching my butt then.”
“Heyy, that wasn’t in the rules,” he said.
You giggled and winked as you walked away.
Harry opted for a water and an iced tea as well and mingled before everyone sat down to eat.
He sat at the end of the table, and you sat next to him on the left. His mom and sister were on the other side with more family and friends spread throughout.
Harry’s hand immediately went to your thigh as the servers put down champagne for everyone. “One glass won’t hurt,” you told Harry when he raised an eyebrow at you.
The waiters took orders off of a preselected menu and everyone chatted as your food cooked.
He looked at you and smiled, which made your face get hot. “What?” You wiped at your mouth. “Do I have something?”
“No. You’re just pretty and I like looking at you.”
You rolled your eyes but there was a smile to it. “Trying to butter me up?”
“Nope. Just looking at my present.”
“Well, it has to stay wrapped for a bit longer,” you told him. The waiters brought out the first course- soups and salads, and the chatter went down.
When the main course came out, everyone raved about the food and seemed to be having a good time. After dinner settled in everyone’s stomachs, the dancing began.
You danced with Gemma and some of your friends and Harry stayed seated for a while, talking to his uncle.
After a while of dancing, you were parched so you got a glass of water and chugged it. Harry grabbed your hand and you faced him. “Hey, birthday boy. Are you having fun?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Come dance with me,” you pouted.
“That won’t end well,” he shook his head.
“How so?” You asked, putting your arms around his neck.
“Cause you’re wearing that tight dress and I might do something that I shouldn't do in public.”
“Down horsey,” you joked.
“Please,” you pouted. “Just for a little.”
“Fine,” he said. “But only cause you’re so cute.”
“Yay,” you got up off his lap and led him to the tiny dance floor.
It was a slow dance at first, which he could handle. In fact, it was “your song” that you first kissed to when you first started dating.
A few more slow songs played and then a request from someone played and it was the “Cha-cha Slide.” This got so many people up dancing.
Harry and you were exhausted by the end and had to grab more water. “Getting harder to do in my old age,” Harry said, which made you giggle.
After you took some time to rest and get your breath back, Harry shocked you by saying, “So if we have a girl, I’ve always liked the name Lily.” You nearly choked on your water.
“Don’t get your hopes up, mister.”
“We’ll see,” he said, grabbing your hips. “We will see.”
After dancing, the cake was brought out and the guests sang “Happy Birthday” to Harry. The cake was cut and handed out. And when everyone was done, Harry opened presents. Most of them were cash or gift cards or books, but he loved them all.
The gifts were done, and people were making toasts to Harry left and right. When everyone who wanted to speak went, they encouraged Harry to make a speech.
“Well, I’m not prepared for this,” he chuckled. “I thought it was just going to be me and (Y/N).”
“Uh,” he reached his hand into his pocket. “There was really only one speech I was planning on making tonight, and uh, I guess everyone’s going to hear it.”
Harry shifted and before you knew it, he was on the ground next to you. On one knee. “Harry…”
“(Y/N),” he blew out a breath. “All my life, I’ve dreamed of having someone love me the way you have. And I think it’s about time we made this official.”
You smiled, wiping away a tear and nodded.
“You’d give me the greatest birthday gift ever if you would marry me.”
You nodded. “Yes, Harry. Oh my God!”
“Really?” He laughed through his tears.
“Yes, you idiot. Are you kidding?” You kissed him passionately.
When you pulled away, you were both crying. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mrs. Styles.”
“Not yet,” you said. “Give me the ring first.”
“Oh right!” He took the huge diamond out of the box and slipped it on your finger. It fit perfectly.
You kissed again and everyone cheered. You couldn’t have been happier in that moment and Harry felt the same way.
He sat back down next to you and kissed you. His hand rested on your thigh as his guests all mingled and congratulated you.
Once the party was over, you started to clean up and said goodbye to the guests as they left.
When only his mom and sister were left, who were helping to clean up, Harry came up to you, and put a hand across your waist. “Hey there, fiance.”
“Hi,” you blushed, giving him a kiss. “Did you do this just so you could get me pregnant?”
“No,” he chuckled. “I’ve had this planned.”
“Even when you thought it was just going to be just us?”
“I planned on it being just us,” he said, squeezing your hip.
You turned to face him and put your arms around his neck. “Sorry. It got ruined.”
“It didn’t get ruined. My girl agreed to marry me. Best birthday gift ever,” he said.
You smiled. “Yeah. About that…”
“Don’t. You. Dare,” he warned.
You giggled. “I’m kidding. I mean look at this rock.”
You took your hand away and looked at the massive diamond ring on your finger and smiled.
“So, you’re marrying me cause I can buy you expensive jewelry?” he smirked.
“That’s one of the perks,” you nodded.
Harry smirked. “Yeah. What are the others?”
“Oh, well. There just wouldn’t be enough time in the world now to name them all. Would there?”
He smirked again. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Impossible,” he kissed you.
“Mmm.”
When he pulled away, he licked his lips. “Now, let’s get these people out of here, so I can put a baby in you.”
“Har,” you smacked his chest. “Not here.”
“Why not?”
“Cause the employees will walk in and see.”
“So, let them see,” he kissed your neck. “Your curves should be worshipped.”
“Baby.”
“Mmm?” he asked, kissing your neck harder.
“Just wait like one hour until we get home, ok?”
He pouted. “Fine.”
You finally finished cleaning up and put the leftover cake and presents in the car before you said goodbye to Gemma and Anne. They got in their cars and drove away. Harry took your hand and led you to the car door. He decided to drive home this time, which was fine by you.
Harry, once again, held onto your thigh, and hummed “Happy Birthday” to himself.
You just stared at your ring the whole time, smiling.
When you got into your driveway, Harry shut off the car, and quickly hopped out. He ran to your door and opened it for you. “M’lady.”
“Why thank you, sir,” you giggled, stepping out of the car.
He hummed a response and took you up to the bedroom. You kicked off your heels and went to the bathroom as Harry laid back on the bed. When you walked out of the bathroom, Harry had a shit-eating grin on his face.
“What?” you asked, taking off your jewelry.
“Got m’self a fiance and baby in one night,” he smirked.
“Well, technically, you won’t have a baby until about 9 or 10 months from now and that’s if you can get me pregnant,” you teased.
“If?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’m Harry Styles. I get the job done.”
You shook your head and turned towards him after all of your jewelry was off. “Well, prove it then.”
He got up off the bed and walked towards you. He took you by the hips and threw you up against the door. “I’ll prove it alright. I was good all night. But, frankly I feel like you’ve been a brat.”
“Me?” your voice raised. “I’m just a baby, your honor.”
Harry laughed a breathy laugh. “You’re my baby alright.” You sighed and kissed him on the cheek. “As much as I love this fucking dress on you, it needs to come off now.”
“Are we going to do it right here or are you going to take me to bed?”
Harry lifted you up. His strength never failed to amaze you, especially since you were heavy. He plopped you on the bed. “Take it off.”
You didn’t say a word and slipped off the dress. It didn’t have a zipper, your favorite kind, so you slipped it right off.
Harry licked his lips as he undid his belt and pants. “You’ve made me wait too long, darling.”
You laid back on the bed and giggled. “But, isn’t that the fun of it?”
“No,” he said, once he was fully undressed. He gestured for you to take your bra and panties off and you did as you were told.
You were nude and Harry pulled you close. He gave three spanks to your pussy. “I don’t like to be kept waiting. Not when my fiance looks like this.”
You bit your lip and whimpered. “I’m sorry.”
“S’ ok, baby. I’ve got ya now.”
He opened up your legs and moaned when he looked at your pussy. “Looks like you were kept waiting too long too.” When he said that, a bit of your wetness dripped onto the bed. “Fuck.”
Before you could process what was happening, Harry moved down the bed and stuck his face in your pussy, licking, sucking, and making you go insane. You pulled on his hair and moaned as he drove you to the first orgasm of the night, second of the day.
As you calmed down, Harry laid down on the bed beside you. You rolled onto him, putting your hands on his chest. “Tired already? I guess age will do that to you.” You smirked.
Harry pinched your hip and you yelped. “No. I was lying down because I want you to sit on my face.”
You bit your lip. When you first got together, you were terrified to sit on Harry’s face. Like terrified. You cried about it and everything. But, with enough reassurance and pleading from Harry, you finally gave into it. And you wound up loving it.
You straddled his face and he pushed you onto his lips quickly. He loved this way because his tongue could get deeper than the other way and he could spank you and even play with your hole a bit all at the same time.
Plus, Harry was so sloppy this way. You had already cum, so the noises that were happening were lewd. When you became sensitive and tried to pull away, Harry would pull you right back down and give you a small spank.
You couldn’t exactly see what he was doing down there, but you could feel it tremendously. And it made you shiver.
After a few more spanks and Harry literally sicking your soul out through your pussy, you felt your orgasm building up. Your legs began to shake and you could feel the pressure in your lower belly.
You didn’t even have to say anything. Harry knew half the time before you did. He took his mouth off you for a second, spanked you, and said, “Give it to me, love. Wanna drown in it.”
You whimpered and with a few more licks, you were cumming on Harry’s face. You collapsed into the headboard. Harry picked you up, gave you a few more kisses to your pussy, and then let you lay back on the bed. “Shit.”
Harry was licking his lips as he rolled on top of you. “Wanna spend all day and night between those thighs.”
“So, why don’t you?” You ran a hand through his hair, challenging him.
“Let’s see. You’re on your second orgasm and you look like you’re going to pass out sooo…”
“I could last.”
“Mmm,” he smirked.
“So, are you going to put a baby in me or not?” You changed the subject.
“You bet your sexy ass I am.”
You giggled.
Harry adjusted himself so that you were flush up against him and your legs were on his shoulders. You had only done it raw a few times and each time you did, Harry loved it. But, now that he knew you were going to let him cum in you, he suddenly got dizzy.
He slowly put his cock in you and both of your mouths dropped open. “Jesus fucking Christ, babes. You feel so good.”
“You’re so big, Harry,” you moaned, throwing your head back. “God.”
“Yeah? Feels good, hmm?” He said as he started with slow strokes.
All you could do was moan and nod.
Once you got used to his size, Harry’s thrusts became rougher. And the harder his thrusts got, the more your tits bounced. Harry growled and grabbed one of his tits in his massive hand. “These tits are gonna be so filled with milk for our baby,” he said through gritted teeth. “Fuck. And they’re gonna get so much bigger.”
You didn’t know what to do with your hands so one of them grabbed your other tit and the other held onto Harry’s bicep.
Harry took your legs off his shoulder and folded you in half as he relentlessly pounded into you. “You’re gonna look so fucking sexy carrying my baby.”
You whimpered and Harry punctuated his thrusts with each word he said to you. You were both breathing heavily. You had cum twice, so you weren’t quite there yet. Harry, however, felt like he was going to explode.
He was shaking, sweating, and licking his lips, which were impossibly dry. “Baby,” he panted.
“Do it, Harry. Put a baby in me.”
He shook his head. “Need you to- need you to cum first.”
“Baby, I’ve cum twice already. I just want you to get me pregnant. Please.”
“Fuuuuuck,” he shook, his cock twitching inside of you.
“Put a baby in me, Harry. I want to be pregnant with your seed.”
Harry’s mouth dropped open. He was shaking above you, so much so, that he let go of your legs. They fell to either side. He grunted and thrusted his cock in and out of you so hard, you couldn’t remember your name at one point.
“I’m gonna get you good and pregnant,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Fuck.”
“Please, Harry,” you whined. “Cum in me. Please.”
His curly hair fell on his forehead and the sweat behind it made it wet. His face was red and his body hot. “Jesus, (Y/N). Fuck I love you so damn much.”
As you said your “I love you’s” back to him, he came inside of you. He might not have heard it over his grunts and moans, but you know he knows.
“Fuck,” he panted, thrusting one last time to get all of his cum inside of you. “Keep me in there, baby.”
You nodded, clenching around him.
As he pulled out, Harry whispered, “You’re gonna be the death of me, darling.”
You giggled, pulling him close to you. “Do you think it worked?” You ran your hand through his hair.
“I don’t know,” he kissed your lips. “But, if not, we try again.”
You smiled. “I love you, in case you didn’t hear before.”
“I heard and I know. I love you too.”
“My handsome fiancee,” you hummed.
“Mmm. I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.” He kissed you again.
“I think my 30s, might be the best decade after all.”
“I think so too,” you smiled. “Happy birthday, baby.”
Summary: Y/N works at Columbia Records for one of the top executives. The one and only Harry Styles makes a "surprise" drop-by visit to their office. After making an awful joke in the elevator with him, she finds out she's about to accompany her boss in the meeting he's there for.
WC: 4.7k
CW: mentions of blushing, silly goofy
A/N: um... hi. this is my first post ever. possibly my only. please be nice, i'm a nervous nellie 🥺 special shoutout to @cherryjuiceblues for being my editor and my biggest supporter by reading all my silly goofy writings, listening to my non-sensical and perpetual worrying, helping to build my confidence, and finally, encouraging me to post.
Working for the music industry has been a whirlwind to put it mildly. But working directly for Jenifer at Columbia Records was totally unexpected. And even though she’s just working as her assistant, watching someone as powerful as Jenifer maintain a high level executive position—whilst managing the distribution of new music from some of the greatest musicians of their time—has been life changing for Y/N.
Most days start the same. She picks up Jenifer’s favorite coffee on her way into the office—a building purposefully kept off the grid so large talents could visit and nobody would suspect the business going on inside. It helped keep new releases a surprise. A two floor, sandstone-colored building that even looked a little run down from the outside. Inside, however, it’s remodeled and decorated to the nines. Koi ponds, a skylight, a barista joint (enter: Jenifer’s favorite coffee), plush couches and expensive art. The works.
While standing in line for her daily coffee pickup, she notices a bit of commotion from the corner of her eye, causing her to look up at the flurry of people walking through the main lobby. In the middle of this tiny crowd of people, she spots a man. He’s dressed in joggers that are tucked into his socks, a pair of trainers, and a hoodie on top. Peeking out through the hoodie, milk chocolate curly hair was tufted into a little claw clip. Even with sunglasses on his face, it was hard to miss who it was.
But no one had told Y/N that Harry Styles was visiting that day. Normally everyone is in a tizzy the day, or sometimes even for the whole week, before someone high profile is expected to swing by the office, so this had to have been a surprise, drop-by kind of visit, right?
Y/N quickly tips the barista and hurries into the elevator with a coffee in hand for her boss, just knowing Jenifer was likely already pulling her hair out if she’d only gotten word this morning that Harry Styles was in the building—or worse, still didn’t know. She jabs the button to the second floor and just as the doors are closing, the man himself slides through and joins her in the tiny traveling metal box.
An intense wave of nerves washes over her in his presence. It feels like every hair on her body is standing up in his presence. Just the air he carried with him was intimidating, but not in an inherently bad way. The scent of his cologne and fresh laundry fill the elevator. His sunglasses are now pushed up into his hair, resting in front of the endearing claw clip he’d chosen to tame his handsomely tousled curls. She wants to spend more time looking at him—she wants to see the minute details of his face, but she knows it’s rude to stare. She’s trying to keep calm, trying to avoid indicating she knew who he was, but her body language is subconscious of course. She stiffens, holding her breath.
But it’s a different kind of nervousness than what she normally experiences with a VIP client visit. That kind of nervousness usually comes with thoughts of wanting to make sure they’re pleased, making sure everything is ready and prepared for them, making sure they have the client’s favorite brand of water in stock and refrigerated, making sure she doesn’t spill something on them, or step on their feet, or accidentally steal their pen. Normal nerves. Wanting to make sure the client is happy.
None of the clients she’d met before had ever made her feel like there was electricity floating through the air. Like she needed to squeeze her thighs and arms tightly against her body, turning herself into the shape of an uncooked spaghetti noodle, being careful not to brush against him in what seems like a much smaller space than it did yesterday—for fear of a chemical reaction; like if they touched it would be the equivalent of striking a match. The back of her knees and her hands are already clammy, trembling in a feeling of self-consciousness—of her movements, of what she’s wearing, of what he thinks of her (which is nothing at this point, she obviously knows this, but still).
She knew he was attractive but fuck, this is something else entirely. These are not normal nerves. These nerves are the kind she gets on a first date, not riding on an elevator with a client.
And true to character, Y/N usually says stupid shit when she’s overly nervous. In this instance, she pawns out a terrible joke.
“What floor?” She gestures to the panel, hoping her trembling hand goes unnoticed.
There’s only two floors. They are both on the first, and she’s already pushed the button to the second floor. There’s literally no other option.
So… Yeah. It was a terrible joke! But Y/N had always thought it’d be funny to do that to someone. Confuse them for a minute. Her dumbass just happened to choose Harry Styles to try it out on.
The man beside her opens his mouth as if to speak, then cocks his head in momentary confusion, then promptly closes his mouth, his lips twitching in amusement as he realized she was fucking with him.
With a soft jilt, the elevator starts to move upwards. Y/N’s gaze falls to the floor but she can still feel his eyes linger on her profile for a few more seconds. She rolls her lips into her mouth in a pitiful attempt to curb her smile, her face burning from the flush in her cheeks at her own ridiculousness.
Fortunately—and she guesses, unfortunately as well—there’s only two floors, as previously discussed, and therefore it’s only seconds later when the elevator bings as the doors slide open to reveal the second floor. In her peripheral vision, she sees the man’s arm lift upwards, gesturing towards her in a “ladies first” sort of motion.
Considering her first fumble, she figures she might as well lean into it.
“This is my floor,” she peeks up at the man through her lashes to briefly meet the man’s gaze, jutting a thumb out towards the opening of the elevator doors. The man has a small smirk on his face already, but at her words, the corner of his mouth buckles, a dimple beginning to dip into his left cheek.
Again, she knew it was dumb, but something about this man seemed to make her do stupid things already. She waves a small goodbye and scurries out, as if the man in the elevator wouldn’t be exiting off onto the same floor right after her. As if the man could somehow possibly be going to a floor higher up.
She scampers down the hallway towards Jenifer’s office, not looking back to see if Harry had gone in the same direction as her, knocking twice quietly, and then enters.
She closes the door behind her with a gust, pressing her back up against it, squeezing her eyes shut and letting a large sigh exhale from her body. The electric charge in the air she’d felt had finally ceased now that she was out of his presence.
“Y/N?” Jenifer asks, startling Y/N in her spot. Her eyes fly open to find Jenifer staring at her assistant warily. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she chirps out nervously, the tone of her voice very much indicative of the anxiety she feels. “Did, um, did anyone tell you about who’s here today?”
She winces as she asks the question, keeping one eye open to watch her boss’s facial expression. She really hopes she isn’t going to be the one delivering the news to her.
“Yes…”
“So, you know that Harry Styles is here then, yes?”
Y/N holds her breath while she waits for an answer.
“Yes…” Her boss echoes in the same apprehensive tone, continuing to stare at Y/N, perplexed at her assistant’s flustered state.
“Wait, then why didn’t anyone tell me?” Y/N asks, eyebrows furrowing accompanied by a miniscule shake of her head, suddenly feeling annoyed nobody had given her a heads up.
“Only executives were told. Information spreads fast and with someone who has that high of a publicity profile, it was very hush hush even on an executive level. There’s a few people who we really have to protect their privacy if fans and paparazzi follow their every move, anywhere they go. He’s one of them.”
Y/N grumbles. She guesses that makes sense, but still, a little warning would’ve been nice? Maybe a text? An email? A raven? An owl? Literally anything? Attire is always business professional but she would’ve done… something—she’s not sure what—to at least make herself look slightly more… dressed up. She smoothes down her shirt.
“Y/N, why do you look so flustered? Did something happen?”
Y/N’s eyes squeeze shut again, a tiny groan escaping her mouth, then she opens her eyes once more, mustering everything she has to present a calm, cool, and collected facade.
“No. Everything’s fine. I was just a little… surprised, I guess.” A half-truth.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything you need to tell me? We’re meeting with him in 10 minutes so spit it out quickly if so.”
We?
Y/N nearly chokes on her spit—the irony of her boss’s words spit it out entirely lost on her—but tries to cover it up by clearing her throat. She knows Jenifer isn’t buying it. “S-sorry, sorry—did you say ‘w-we’?”
“Yes, I need you taking notes during the meeting as I want to give Mr. Styles my full attention. He called for this meeting but wouldn’t say what it was about, so we have to assume it’s important,” Jenifer says calmly as she walks over to take her coffee from Y/N’s hands, who’s still pressed against the door of her office. “So, are you sure there isn’t anything you need to tell me before we go in there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She considered it. She really did consider just telling her boss up front about her terrible joke and the awkward encounter. But instead all she says is—
“Nope. All good. I’ll be ready in 9 minutes. West conference room?”
“Yes, thank you, Y/N,” Jenifer responds, eyeing her assistant warily once more with one eyebrow raised, wondering what could possibly have her assistant in such a tizzy.
Harry and his team are already seated in the conference room when Jenifer and Y/N enter through the doors. Y/N tip-toes behind Jenifer, knowing it’s inevitable that he’ll recognize her, but maybe Jenifer wouldn’t introduce her and they’ll all pretend like she wasn’t even in there!
It was fun to wish, anyway.
“Mr. Styles, we’re so happy to have you here. I trust your trip here was pleasant?” Jenifer kicks everything off with, extending a hand to shake. Harry stands up to return her handshake, and his team follows his lead.
“It was, thank you. And thank you f’seein’ me last minute,'' he responds. His voice is so deep—it makes Y/N shiver. She hadn’t expected it to be that deep.
She watches him from behind Jenifer’s shoulder, that is, until Jenifer steps to the side and reveals Y/N’s frame, much to her dismay. “It’s no problem at all. That’s what we’re here for after all. This is my assistant, Y/N Y/L/N. She’ll be taking notes during the meeting. Are you comfortable discussing business with her in the room? She’s signed an NDA so I can assure you that anything shared in this room will not be shared.”
Harry’s eyes lock with Y/N’s. She hadn’t looked directly into them in the elevator and she thinks she should’ve, so she could’ve better prepared herself. The color is that of a glowing mossy green pond, and the intensity of his gaze forces her to take in a sharp breath and hold it. His lips are curled into a knowing smile, and there’s a playful sparkling glint in his eyes. She can feel the heat rising in her neck.
“Sure,” he responds, his tone dripping with humor. He definitely recognizes her. He definitely remembers. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he follows with, keeping up with formal etiquette, but his tone indicates there’s some kind of inside joke. Y/N nods her head in acknowledgement as he puts his hands back in the front pocket of his hoodie.
“Likewise,” she murmurs quietly, much more shyly than she would’ve liked to. She can feel Jenifer’s gaze on her before her boss lets out an uncomfortable, nervous sounding chuckle. The tension could be cut with a knife.
As they all sit back down, Y/N’s gaze never leaves his, and vice versa. But right before they break eye contact, he shoots her a wink and he watches as Y/N’s cheeks flush a dark, flustered pink.
Harry maintains an air of professionalism and focus throughout the meeting. Y/N is able to spend the majority of the meeting with her eyes on paper as she scribbles notes, for both Jenifer and Harry’s team. But there’s a few moments that Harry does manage to catch the eyes of Y/N, when she’s admiring him, thinking he’s too preoccupied with the current conversation, but his eyes flick to hers the moment she is, as if he could’ve felt her eyes on him even if he had been faced the other way. He gives her a look of You’re not slick. I. See. You.
It’s a game of tag and the conference room is their playground. First, he’ll catch her eyes on him. Then, she’ll catch his on her. Though, she thinks she mostly catches him not because she felt his eyes on her, but because she was trying to catch a glimpse of him and his eyes had already been on her. Each time their gazes lock, Y/N’s hand stutters on her page. It’s hard to focus.
Even though he’d been professional and focused, clearly driven and knowing of what he wants, his vision for his next record, he’d also been profoundly easygoing—so mellow and relaxed—and there was something comforting, soothing even, about being in his presence despite how intimidated she felt around him. He was also funny, and cheeky, and multiple times found playful ways to tease his entire team resulting in everyone letting out a few chuckles. There was an obvious fondness, a protectiveness, for the people he worked with. They weren’t just people who worked for him; they were friends—maybe even family to him.
So, the rumors were true. People gravitated towards him, physically and emotionally, when he spoke. His slow, deep British drawl was enough to soothe and entrance anyone who let their guard down for a moment's notice. He was charming. Charming is an understatement. He was enigmatic. Beguiling.
At the meeting’s end, everyone stands up and Jenifer reaches out to shake Harry’s hand once more.
Y/N can’t deny that she’s a little disappointed when Harry finally departs the conference room, leaving her and Jenifer standing on one side of the table. Jenifer’s face has a picture perfect smile pasted on it until the second the door closes behind them, to which Jenifer whips her head to face Y/N with an accusing glare.
“Please tell me you’ve not hooked up with him,” she deadpans.
“What?!” Y/N’s voice reaches a new octave in response. She tries not to shriek, but Jenifer’s assumption is just so ludicrous. “What are you talking about?”
“You heard me. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s clear you two know each other. And there’s a strict no fraternizing with clients clause in your contract. I don’t care how cute or good in bed he is,” she says, giving Y/N another pointed stare.
“Jenifer, I can assure you. I just met him today. I’d never spoken to him before in my life before today."
“Promise me. Swear on your life. Because if it’s a lie, I will find out. I love having you as my assistant, but you know I wouldn’t be able to keep you. But if you tell me now, there's still hope yet—because if it’s something that happened before you started working here then we can disclose it to HR and get it all squared away,” Jenifer says, her features finally relaxing. Y/N’s not sure she’s ever seen that side of Jenifer before. It was actually kind of scary, to be quite honest.
“I promise. Swear on my life.”
“Then what was that all about then?” Jenifer asks, seeming to relax back into her normal demeanor, a hint of amusement tinting her expression now. Actually, it’s even friendlier than usual. Y/N thinks she’d have normally dropped the topic after that.
Y/N’s face flushes at the memory of—
“There! That’s what I am talking about,” Jenifer exclaims with a snap of her fingers and a point of her finger at Y/N, and Y/N’s eyes widen, startled and confused. “You’ve been a nearly tickled-pink color the entire time. Are you just attracted to him or a big fan or what?”
“Jenifer, that’s a little personal…” Y/N responds, trying to sound chiding and shocked at her boss’s forwardness, but it only comes out sounding shy and pouty. “But um, no, none of those things—I mean, wait—okay, I can’t say—I guess I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little attracted… I mean, you saw him, right? But that—that’s beside the point. That’s not what I… What I… Shit. Um, what was the question?” Y/N asks, blinking rapidly in succession, dizzied by her own words.
But Jenifer only giggles in response. Giggles. Y/N’s not sure she’s ever heard her boss giggle. Much less at her.
“What in god’s name has you so flustered, Y/N? Did he… Hit on you… Maybe?” Jenifer asks, treading lightly with the question and peering at her with curiosity.
“Hit on me? Oh, god, no—no. Me? Ha! That’s, um… that’s funny. No, uh, I… He just makes me nervous, I guess, and um, so,” she sighs before continuing, finally caving to her boss’s curiosity. “We rode on the elevator together this morning, and I made a really, dumb embarrassing joke,” Y/N finally admits with a sheepish look on her face, recalling the incident internally. “And then I… Well, I made another bad joke. Just to… Just to really solidify that hole I’d dug myself into, you know?” Y/N’s tone drips in a defeated-sounding satire before she continues.
“Gotta… Gotta make a good impression! Well, maybe not—maybe not good impression… But not bad either! If It was bad I would’ve told you beforehand, of course. Just… indifferent. More just, um, embarrassing, a little. But it was only in front of him! Not his team or anything... Not that that makes it any better, necessarily, since he’s the client… It’s just…” Y/N sighs again, seemingly swept away in a cyclone of erratic thoughts. Jenifer watches in stunned amusement. “Anyway, it wasn't inappropriate by any means though—the jokes. I just—I, well—it was just like, a dumb joke. You know? Like a bad joke. So he was probably just—maybe feeling bad for me, or maybe he was amused at the attempt. Anyway. Um. I’ll get these notes typed up for you and send them over,” Y/N finally finishes her clusterfuck ramble of an explanation, making way to exit the conference room.
“I’ve never seen you so tongue-tied, Y/N,” Jenifer responds following behind, soft amusement lacing the tone of her words. Y/N opens the door and continues to talk as she walks.
“Yeah, well, nervous, like I said—oh!” Y/N startles, cutoff mid-sentence after nearly slamming into a body.
The body of the person they were talking about.
“Mr. Styles! I didn’t know you were still here. Did you forget something?” Jenifer asks, switching back into her professional demeanor automatically.
Y/N can feel the burn intensify on her face, her frame frozen just inches in front of Harry with Jenifer right behind her, sandwiched between the both of them. It’s a little close for comfort on either end.
“Oh, I was actually hopin’ t’speak with Y/N about somethin’ in the notes from the meeting,” Harry responded with an ease that conflictingly encouraged her to feel calm even though she was feeling anything but calm. She’d barely recovered, now flustered by the interaction she just shared with her boss.
Her heart hammered in her chest, feeling like a fly caught in a spider’s web, but the way her name sounded on his lips was divine. She’d never loved the sound of her name before. Not until it was wrapped around his cushiony lips.
He holds eye contact with Jenifer for a majority of the statement, but glances down to look at Y/N for the briefest second when he says her name, only to find Y/N already watching him from beneath her lashes—eyes wide and curious with blown out pupils, her mouth slightly agape and leaving just enough space to slip a key through it—at the man standing before her. That same little smirk is curled at the corner of the left side of his mouth, the ghost of a dimple playing at his cheek as amusement dances in his staggeringly green eyes.
Y/N feels herself curl up her shoulders shyly in her Jenifer-Harry sandwich, wondering if he really does have something to say about the notes or if he actually has something to say about her dumbass remarks from earlier. On the bright side, at least he wasn’t asking to speak to Jenifer in private instead. Surely he’d be making a complaint about her if that was the case.
“Oh,” Jenifer says, and Y/N can hear the way her voice is surprised-but-not-surprised simultaneously, with a lingering curiosity—a questioning in her tone heard perhaps by Y/N only. “Yes, of course. That’s fine. Y/N, please swing by my office after you’re done.”
Jenifer breezes past Y/N and Harry, the sound of her heels thunking on the carpet of the long hallway. Y/N’s finally able to take a step back so she’s not breathing in his face when she brings her head up to look at him.
When she does, she sees the dazzlingly pretty man up close in person for the very first time—a vision she will not soon forget; stubble on his face and the planes of it bordered with lines so sharp they rival the crisp cut of a piece of cardstock. The color of his eyes is a whimsical, woodland kind of green, flecks of gold sprinkled throughout, and his fluffy chestnut curls are still held back in that frustratingly adorable claw clip, little wisps escaping on the sides of his head to caress and hug the shells of his ears.
Truth be told, she’d actually been a fan of One Direction back in the day. She’d always found him the most attractive out of the other boys in the group. She also loved his voice the most, easily identifiable on their tracks. But life goes on, and Y/N’s music tastes expanded and spanned across many genres and artists, and then One Direction broke up. It wasn’t until working at Capitol Records that she’d gotten herself up to date with all their biggest clients, including Harry Styles as a solo artist.
She’d been impressed with his last three records, and enjoyed his new solo music thoroughly in her research. But life had just been so hectic, that she really hadn’t spent much time following social media or keeping up with trends or what was happening—celebrity news was different from music industry news. She’d had no time to care about who was dating who, if so-and-so broke up with so-and-so. But she knew she’d recognize him if she saw him, however she hadn’t spent much time paying attention to the details of his face and how he looked these days.
But now that she’s standing in front of him, allowing herself to look at him for longer than a second unlike she’d done in the meeting or in the elevator, she’s at a loss for words. He’s just so… Handsome. She can’t find a physical flaw. Too gorgeous for his own good, honestly.
He’d aged and matured like a fine wine. A delicacy for luxurious tongues.
Opening her notebook, she stutters through her words. “Um, s-so, what did yo-you need to add t-to the notes?” She clicks her pen, readying to make an adjustment on the pages, then peeks up at him through her nervously fluttering lashes.
When she sees him, she sees that he’s already smiling at her, dimples dipping into both sides of his cheeks. It’s a sweet, sincere kind of smile—the kind of smile you give when you’re standing in front of a shy child you’re trying to say hello to for the first time.
There’s a moment where he doesn’t say anything, and Y/N thinks she might burst. Luckily, she’s out of awful jokes right now, mind blank in exhaust from the day already.
“Knock knock,” is all Harry says in response, ignoring her question altogether.
Y/N blinks owlishly at the man. She knows what she’s supposed to say, in theory, but also… what the fuck is going on?
“Er…” He looks like he’s stifling laughter as he waits for her answer. “Who’s… there?”
“Hula,” Harry says, waiting for her again.
Okay, this was definitely going down in her book as one of the weirdest conversations she’d ever had with a famous musician.
“Hula… Who?”
Harry pops a p sound, and it takes a moment for it to click before Y/N absolutely cannot not stop the giggle that bubbles up out of her.
And then she’s giggling like a madwoman. It’s a delirious sounding giggle and she just can’t stop herself. She reaches her hand up, covering her mouth as more giggles spew out of her.
It’s the result of all the tension she’d felt since that silly little moment in the elevator. It’s the result of the anxiety she felt when she worried that her boss wasn’t aware that Harry Styles was in the building today. It’s the result of the nerves she felt when she realized she was about to go into an important meeting with him right after making a terrible joke and then running away from him. It’s the result of her squeezing her thighs tightly throughout the hour and a half meeting she sat in with him, as she admired and listened to the way he captivated and charmed everyone in his presence. It’s the result of the tension she felt when Jenifer assumed they’d hooked up, which was an outlandish accusation in itself, before telling her that she could possibly lose her job over it. It’s the result of nearly slamming into Harry on her way out of the conference room whilst talking about how nervous he made her. It’s the result of Harry asking to speak to Y/N privately after she’d nearly slammed into him. It’s the result of Harry making a knock knock joke at the end of all of that.
“What is even happening?” She coos out giddily through her giggling, holding her stomach with her other hand because the muscles were aching from the spontaneous workout induced by her giggle fit, and then she hears Harry sputter out a laugh in response.
“I thought we were jus’ exchanging terrible jokes,” he says, looking exceedingly proud of himself, like he’d maybe spent the whole meeting coming up with that joke and that having made her laugh with it was the best thing he’d ever done.
She gasps, feigning offense through her continued giggles.
“See you next time?” Harry asks, his smiley face watching the girl in front of him become unraveled, her entire face pinking again.
“Next time,” Y/N parrots, as she tapers down her giggles and pulls herself together, giving him one last look before walking past him towards Jenifer’s office.
Harry listens as she quietly giggles to herself as she gets farther down the hall, already thinking of reasons he could come back to visit her.
pairing: carmen berzatto x afab!reader (established relationship)
summary: carmy's girl is the human embodiment of a sweetheart. that is, unless it's that time of the month and richie provokes her.
wordcount: 3.2k
warnings: swearing, fighting, weaponized incompetence from richie but we still love him.
a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but turned into 3k words. so it's written kinda like a drabble?? (hence the lowercase i can't be arsed to change) but just... long. idk hopefully its entertaining. also, i don't mean to demonize richie, he's my favorite character i think,, i just love writing him as problematic lmao cuz he's so funny. anyways, enjoy!
as carmy’s confidant and girlfriend, you were always the voice of reason. with just a string of words, you’d be calming him down after a hectic work day, giving him a fresh perspective on his work dilemmas since you were outside of the restaurant circle. in the time he’s known you, he hadn’t seen you do as much as barely raise your voice. maybe the occasional snap, but you always follow it up with swift apologies and big watery eyes.
that is, unless you’re in pain. specifically cramps. the sight of you 180ing from a sweet girl with a bright smile and even sweeter words, to an evil sorceress with spells rolling off your tongue, inflicting curses onto anyone who irritates you is jarring. a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s what you were during that time of the month—dramatic.
carmy tries best to dote on you. you would never ask him to go out of his way for something, unless it’s grabbing a heating pad or water, but carmy wants you to. it takes prying to hear your desires and cravings after asking a million times, and you begrudgingly give in with no expectations. nevertheless, you end up with exactly what you asked for, or something close to it, and you’re endlessly grateful.
on days when you stop into the restaurant when you’re feeling down, carmy enacts this same routine. if it’s food, he’ll cook it for you; desserts, he’ll grab any extras marcus has (or marcus happily makes it from scratch if they're not busy, claiming he needs the practice). if you want snacks, he sends his right hand man richie out to grab them despite your protests.
richie does it often whenever you stop into the store, and he acts like it’s a chore sometimes, but everyone has a hunch that he really loves it. come on, twenty dollars to get a few items for you and pocket the rest for himself? plus a break from work? done deal.
richie wouldn’t admit it, but he liked taking care of you too. you were always a sweetheart to him, but it wasn’t in his personality to be as sincere as you, so this was a little act of service to show his love. besides, the year and a half you’ve known him has definitely earned you the title of a friend, and you’d agree.
now, you don’t ever want to seem ungrateful, but when you ask for a specific treat, you get disappointed when you don’t really get it. maybe it’s the fluctuating mood talking, but you always end up snapping at richie due to his poor choices. if you ask for one thing, he’ll get you the next, and you even suspect he does it on purpose sometimes. pulling reactions from people is his specialty.
it’s not like you’re a complete bitch about it, because he took his time out to go get you something, but richie has a problem with weaponized competence even with his new and improved attitude. you know he can get you the jolly ranchers you suggested, but he chooses to grab goldfish because it’s closer to checkout. it was annoying, but you never really brought it up to carmy. it's not like you needed to, it wasn't a huge deal. you figured richie could use the little break, and you don’t hate the snacks he brings.
except on days like this.
you were at the restaurant on a slow day, dragged yourself out of bed despite your cramps just to see your little grumpy boyfriend and hide in his office. even as you entered the establishment through the back you glared at richie (who sweetly waved) in passing, side eyeing a few of the newbies who ran in front of you despite their apologies. none of your usual bright smiles and cheery greetings. the bee line straight to the office was a clear enough explanation for how you were feeling.
upon entering, carmy looked up in a panic, which quickly melted into a soft smile at the sight of his girlfriend. “hey, baby.” he cooed softly, immediately scooting back from his desk to reach out to grasp at your waist. you let him, but pushed down the irritation, not favoring touch at the moment. however, his rough hands sliding a little under your shirt to grasp at the flesh of your hips calmed you down, earning a small quirk of the lips from you.
“whatcha doin’ here, love?” he asks, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss softly, still looking up at you.
you shrug, squeezing his hand, face a bit stoic. you’d been like this for a couple of days so he wasn’t surprised by your lack of friendliness. knowing you this long, carmy became accustomed to your monthly mood swings, and he felt privileged that you didn’t feel the need to put up an act for him.
“missed you.” you finally sighed, scooting closer so you stood between his knees. palms found both sides of carmy’s face and tilted it upwards a bit so you could study his appearance. stressed and tired. however, he seemed to glow at the mere admission of you missing him. it took a few seconds for his brain to rewire, looking up at you like you created the cosmos. the only reason you heard his soft, shy, ‘missed you too’ was because of the stagnant silence.
“hungry?” carmy asked, beaming from the attention. you shrugged again, allowing him to tighten his grip on your sides and tug you onto his lap. whining a bit in protest, you reposition yourself, legs falling over his lap and arms around his neck. your faces were closer now, and carmy looked at your sad eyes with a little pang in his chest. brows furrowing, he tilted his head and snuck a hand under your chin. long, tattooed fingers tickled at your chin, and before you knew it you were giggling and grinning while batting his hand away.
“cmon, i know you must want somethin’.” your grin was infectious and laced in his soft words. you hummed, already cheered up, and tapped a finger against your chin to make a thinking face. carmy chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and patiently waited.
a thought crossed your mind and you met gazes again. “i might go grab some little debbie snacks from around the corner.” you decided and nodded to yourself as if solidifying your decision.
as you started sitting up more, carmy’s grip tightened on your waist. “ah, ah, no. stay here.” he protested. soon enough he was calling out ‘cousin!’ and richie came bounding over, opening the office door.
richie’s face used to contort in disgust at any visual sign of affection exchanged between you and carmy, but he was used to it now. “what’s up, cousin?” he asked, almost seeming out of breath, eyes flickering between the both of you.
a short exchange between the two occurred: carmy asking richie to run to the corner store, handing richie a twenty, and richie asking you precisely what you wanted. you made it simple and easy, something he could remember: oreos and ho-hos, a midwestern's guilty pleasure.
“ight, cap’n, i’ll be back.” richie says, saluting you two before heading out. both you and carmy exchanged an amused smirk, knowing the only reason richie went was to get himself some cigarettes and hot fries he would scarf down on the walk back.
__
in the twenty minutes richie was gone, the kitchen had gone to shit. the newbies had been running the wrong food to tables, online orders were filling the tablet nonstop due to a discount glitch, and carmy was close to losing it. sitting in the office, now alone with the muffled sound of your boyfriend yelling, you were more grumpy than before. arms crossed, you snapped your head to the side once the door creaked open. in walked richie with a plastic bag, inside of it holding your hope for a better day.
"what took you so long?" you frowned up at him, but sat up straighter in anticipation. you eyes almost shone as you looked at corner store logo on the bag.
"went the long way." he mumbled, digging in the plasic. the skeptical look on your face didn't leave as he pulled out an item and set it on the table. your frown deepened further as you noticed there was nothing at all you asked for, only met with a crushed sleeve of crackers.
“where are the oreos?” you sighed out, lips pursed in a bit of a pout.
“didn’t find any, so i got you some peanut butter crackers.” he mumbled, digging around the bag again, as if he didn’t just break your heart. if it was anyone else you'd believe them, but with richie you figured he just got bored of looking.
your jaw fell slack and you gaped like a fish for a moment, waiting for him to pull out more treats from his bag. but that time didn’t come, as he fished a pack of cigarettes out instead. “and the ho-ho’s?” your voice was hopeful.
richie perked up at that, putting the cigarettes down next to the crackers. the next second he presented you with a smushed mountain of brown and white concealed in a plastic wrapper sitting atop the palm of his hand. eyes flicking between the disappointment before you and his face, you frowned in disbelief.
richie only managed to emote as much as a ‘yikes’ face before placing it on the desk. “got smushed in transit, but tastes the same!” he gave his best attempt at a smile. your brows grew taut together and anger bubbled up in your chest. you were sure your face was quickly turning red.
“carmy gave you twenty dollars, and you come back with this?!” you hiss out, daring to look at the dry crackers and smushed up dream of a ho-ho. the sight only made you become angrier. this was something a senile old person would give you, not a competent 40-something-year-old man. his lack of care was clear, and you were boiling.
richie just scoffed—he had the nerve to scoff.
“no, not just that! i got a sprite and a few pack of cigs for myself and the guy.” he waved around one of them to prove his point. if you thought you were mad before, you reached a new level of anger. usually, you’d deal with the disappointment and thank richie for even going—aside from a smart alec remark.
however, the demon conducting your period for this month did not make your rational decisions seem clear nor enticing. as you shot up from carmy’s chair, you only knew you wanted to make richie as upset as you were in this moment.
with one finger poking his chest, you began raising your voice. as soon as you started talking, richie's eyes turned wide as saucers, exactly like a deer in headlights. a string of curses snuck into your tirade, between phrases such as “you always fucking do this richie!” and “are you fuckin’ dumb?! did you get dropped on your head?!”. you only figured he didn't fire back right away because he was so stunned.
outside of the office, the kitchen was calmer now. things were finally falling into order but still required carmy’s supervision until the sudden rush ended. the only disturbance was you. now, it was your voice yelling behind closed doors and not carmy’s.
the chef—in the middle of helping sydney plate a dish—just about gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around to look at the barely cracked door of the office. there was the telltale muffled yelling, but what shocked him was it was clearly you yelling.
turning back around, carmy gawked at sydney who silently shared the same look of surprise. it was only until they heard richie start yelling back that sydney silently pushed him toward the door. it didn’t take more than a second for carmy to snap out of his surprise and march over to the office.
throwing the hand towel he was using over his shoulder, he yanked the heavy door open before all but body slamming his way into the room and slamming the door closed. the yelling was suddenly clear, as if carmy was being pulled out from underwater.
“YOU GET ME WHAT I ASKED YOU, OR GET ME NOTHING AT ALL!”
“THEN YOU’D BITCH ABOUT THAT TOO—“
“OR NOTHING AT ALL!”
“hey, hey, HEY!” the two of you were too busy at each others throats to even hear carmy enter, until his voice brought you both to a halt, heads turning towards him.
carmy’s eyes were immediately glued to you, not paying the least bit of attention to richie. your arms were stiff as boards to your sides, fists and jaw clenched, brows taut, and race beet red. the man had never seen you look like this before, and his instinct to comfort you took over. turning to richie with a look that could kill, carmy finally spoke. “what did you do?”
“what did i do?! except take precious time to get your girl shit she didn’t even want?!”
an offended gasp left your mouth, and you retorted instantly. “oh please! because a crushed up sleeve of crackers and a mountain of mushed up cake is just what i asked for!”
“you’re ungrateful.” richie pointed a finger at you now. carmy launched forward and slapped it down. he knew richie would never hurt you, and you knew it too, as you just rolled your eyes in response, but carmy’s instinct’s took over. richie didn’t even look phased, just irritated. carmy stood in front of you and forcefully turned richie around by his shoulders to send him to the door. if carmy didn't have half of a sane mind, he would’ve kicked richie's bottom with his shoe for good measure.
“go take a break chef! or do whatever the fuck, i don’t care.” carmy shouted after richie, and the man left with a slam of the door.
you simply watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and that same deep set frown. carmy turned around to face you as the air settled, a hand running through his hair. blue eyes raked over your tense form and carmy decided he would give you a little space to calm down. however, the second he saw your bottom lip wobbling and eyes grow watery he threw that thought to the wind
“hey, no, no, don’t cry.” carmy extended his arms and collected you into them. the tense posture you held relaxed into his slouched form as he held you close; one hand in your hair, and the other rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled.
a pit of guilt burned in your stomach and spurred you into attempting to bury yourself into carmy. blue straps of his apron rubbed against your cheek as you shuffled impossibly closer. usually, carmy would love this, but right now he'd do anything to not see you so out of it. shushing you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
there were a few beats of you hiding away before you decided to pull back a bit to face him again—and boy did you look pitiful.
the same cheeks previously bright with anger were now flush with embarrassment and stained with tears. a tattooed hand found itself sitting on your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eye to collect a fallen tear. at the touch, your eyes fluttered closed, and carmy’s heart broke at the sight.
“you gonna tell me what happened?” your boyfriend asked, trying not to make you feel even more guilty. his full attention was on you. exhaling slowly, your eyes fluttered back open and were met with those bright blue ones that always calmed you down.
“i dunno, i just-“ you shook your head and carmy waited patiently, “it wasn’t even a big deal, but richie just really set me off for some reason.”
“yeah, may as well join the club.” carmen’s words were light, not at all sarcastic, but aiming to ease you and bring out a smile. it worked, your lips turning upwards and carmy mimicking the half smile. he looked down at you with such love, head tilted to follow every time yours moved, and thumb caressing your cheek as he took in every expression.
your smile finally faltered as you glanced back at the office desk. “i feel so awful. he went out and got me stuff and i just yelled at him.” you sputter out.
carmy followed your gaze over his shoulder to finally see what started all of this. at the sight of the crackers and ball of what looked like mush, carmy scoffs in both disbelief and amusement, because of course richie would bring you that. turning back towards you, the chef finally gets it.
“baby, if someone brought me that shit while my insides were shedding i’d kill them.” he chuckled.
“really?” you asked hopefully, smile forming again.
“yes, really. even if i wasn’t goin’ through that i’d actually kick his ass.” carmy mirrored your smile.
nodding, you let yourself chuckle along with him. strong arms found you again and you were wrapped in a tight hug, allowing his squeezes to take away some guilt you were feeling. a moment passed and you knew carmy had to get back to work. with a sigh, you pulled back.
it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek. guiding his face close, you met him halfway and pressed your lips to his in a kiss. lips moving against his, your noses brushed, and after a moment you let the kiss dissipate; lips slowly falling away from where they were molded together. one last peck was placed on carmy’s lips, as if saying, ‘thank you for being so attentive’. that earned an appreciate hum.
you both beamed, faces still close as you came back down to earth. “you gotta get back to work, and i gotta apologize.” you murmured and carmy nodded obediently.
with apprehension, carmy let you go, arms floating in the air for half a second as he walked backwards towards the door. “don’t go easy on him, though. richie lives for a fight. that was probably his anger management for the day.” carmy smirked, grasping the doorknob.
you just shook your head, eyes narrowed teasingly. before he turned to leave, you called out to him. “thank you, carmy.”
the man just gave you a confused look, chuckling. “don’t thank me, you're my girl.” with that he was back to work and you were left to your own devices. with one more glance at the monstrosity on the office desk, you left the room and went on a search for richie.
thirty minutes later, carmy was due for a smoke break and approached the back door. he slowed his tracks, lighter and cigarette in hand as he cracked the door and heard giggling. the sight before him was drastically different than before: you and richie sitting on a ledge next to each other, giggling and bumping shoulders. carmy breathed out a laugh at the sight and fully walked out. this caught both of your attention, grinning ear to ear as you clearly made up.
“hey, cousin!” richie grinned, and you both waved. figures.
Ummm...I got a 🤏🏻wee bit 🤏🏻 horny and this happened...it's just filth.
WARNINGS: inappropriate relationship, slight dom/sub dynamic, bondage (collar and leash), subby male, oral sex (fem receiving), performative cunnilingus, prostate play, p in v, very light cbt: overstim, multiple forced orgasms, squeezing), degradation and praise kink, anal play, anal sex w/strap on, cum play.
WC: 5.9K
One thing you loved about Harry was his complexity. He was such an interesting and wonderfully multifaceted person, it was wonderful to see and to experience. Even now, as he reprimanded your class for all failing his last exam, you couldn’t help but smile down to your lap as you imagined how different his mood would be when you met up later.
“Is there something amusing about this, Y/N?” He questioned, but your head was in the clouds.
“Y/N.” Your friend Allen whispered and elbowed you lightly and you glanced up at him, he glanced over to the front of the lecture hall. You glanced over and saw Harry staring at you expectantly.
“I’m sorry, what was that, professor?” You asked as you uncrossed your legs rather sloppily as you sat up to ensure he saw your underwear from down at the front of the room.
“I asked if there was something amusing about you all failing the exam on the diagnoses chapter? You’re sitting there smirking as if something about this isn’t serious.” He called you out.
“I’m sorry, professor.” You mumbled.
“What was that?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as if trying to hear you better.
“I’m sorry, professor.” You repeated more loudly and he hummed and went back to chewing you all out. Truth was that psychopharmacology was a bitch and everyone in your class was resigned to fail this collectively since Harry dropped your lowest score from the final grade. Therefore, you guys didn’t try and it showed and now Harry was pissed because you had all taken advantage of his policy.
He spouted off on everyone’s lack of integrity a few more moments before he took a deep breath and then said, “Anyway…” before he started to lecture. You smiled every time you glanced up from your notebook, he looked so fucking hot today. He was wearing his glasses today, and his scruff was outgrown how you liked it, and he had a vintage looking vest on that really showed off how big his chest was. You squirmed a bit at the thought of his stubble tickling your sensitive pussy as he got in there and ate you out. You couldn’t wait to see him later.
************
You said goodbye to your roommate and headed down the stairs and out of your apartment complex near campus. You walked to the first intersection and turned left towards the park and there was his range rover near the bus stop. You hurried over and he unlocked the door and you slipped into the passenger seat.
“Hi, baby.” You hummed and he smiled and leaned over the console as you shut the door, lips puckered out and waiting for you to kiss him. Finally your lips met quickly as your thumb brushed up his jaw.
“Hi.” He said when he pulled away, “Buckle up.”
“Oh yeah.” You said and strapped in before he took off. “What’re you in the mood for tonight?” You asked him.
“Need you first. Then we can order in, yeah?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” You hummed and reached your hand over to his thigh and gave him a squeeze. He placed his hand over yours and slid it up a bit, “Don’t rush me.” You said and he smiled.
“Sorry, I had a day.” He hummed.
“Yeah, even got a little snippy with me there.” You said with a smirk.
“I know…sorry about that.” He apologized.
“S’alright, baby.” You smiled
“I liked your panties, do you still have them on?”
“Of course I do.” You assured him.
“Good.”
You got to his house quickly and soon he was parking inside the garage. You unbuckled as the heave metal door closed and he hurried around to help you out of the car.
“A kiss, please.” He said as he loomed over you and you smiled and puckered your lips for him to kiss you quickly.
“C’mon, lets get inside.” You insisted and he grabbed your hand and guided you into his house. “Wanna get straight to it?” You asked him and he nodded.
“Please.” Harry mumbled as he locked up the garage exit.
You started off to his bedroom and he soon caught up with you. He draped himself over your body and walk over with you. You leaned into his hold as he cuddled up closer to you.
“Need you so bad, babe.” He hummed lowly.
“I know, we’ll make it better soon.” You assured him as he kissed your shoulder. As soon as you made it to his room you unwrapped him from you and set your overnight bag down on the chair by the door and he came around to the front of you. His lips latched to your neck and started sucking gently, gradually getting harder and harder to leave a mark. You moaned as you tossed your head back, “Harder. Mark me.” You requested and he did just that, leaving an achey little blossom right at the base of your jaw. “Mmmm, now get naked for me.” You instructed.
Harry immediately started undressing and you did too as you walked over to his bed. Once you were naked you sat down and smiled, just as he was taking off his socks. “God, you’re so hot. And you know it. Don’t you, baby?” You asked and he smirked and shrugged modestly as he strutted over, his hardening cock swung a bit with his movements, “You know, I thought it was cute. How you got all stern with us in class today.” You reminded with a casual smile, “I love how much you care that we’re learning from you.”
“Of course I care, baby. Always wanna be good for you.” He said as he stopped before you and you smiled up at him. Your eyes raked back down to his cock, it was almost completely hard, it was erect but still hanging a bit. You wanted his big, fat cock standing straight up for you It always amazed you when it did, it was just so heavy, it always surprised you and made your mouth water. You wanted him so hard that you could see him throbbing and twitching aggressively at random.
“And you are. You’re so good for me, professor.” You purred up him, “Already getting hard for me.” You smiled and he nodded when you peered up at him. “Because you were so cute today you can pick three toys but for you only.” You said and he smirked and then hummed pensively as he walked over to his closet where he stored all your toys and accessories. In the meantime you went over to your bag and opened it up. You reached inside for the black velvet drawstring bag and then opened it up. You reached inside and pulled out your strap-on. You smiled as you smoothed over the indigo blue silicone six inch piece. You then reached in and grabbed the remote for the vibrating parts and the lube before going back to the bed. Moments later Harry was returning with a few things. “What’d you bring?”
“A fleshlight, a prostate wand, and a leash and collar set.” He said with a grin.
“You’re such a whore.” You smirked and he chuckled timidly, “Look at me.” You said and he glanced into your eyes, “Get on your knees.” You ordered and he set the things on the bed beside you and then knelt down. You spread your legs and he licked over his lips at your perfect little pussy. He could see your little cunt throbbing, begging for him to do something to it. “Please, lick my wet, little pussy, professor.” You pleaded and he groaned and delved right in. His hands went to your thighs and held you open and you thrust yourself forward as much as possible so that you could feel more of his mouth on you. His fast and agile flicks over your clit had you giggling and whimpered in minutes, “Oh fuck you’re so good at this, professor. Fuck you’re going to make me come…” you groaned and tossed your head back as your fingers gripped his duvet tight.
He started slurping you up and sucking as he prodded his fingers into you, hardly meeting any resistance from how fucking soaked you were for him. He loved the warm and sticky feel of your arousal coating his fingers and dribbling out of your tight little fuck hole. He wanted to ram his thick cock into you and add to your mess.
“Yes! Yes, I’m coming, professor! Oh yeah, baby that’s so fucking good.” You slurred quietly and he hummed happily as he eased up on your clit as soon as he felt your legs twitch, “Oh fuck professor, you’re so good. You eat my pussy so good…” you panted out. He continued kissing and licking at you as you pet at the high point of his cheek bone, “So good for me. Clean your fingers and help me get the strap in.” You said and his eyes fluttered up at you and he smiled as he pressed a gentle kiss to your puffy little clit.
“For a kiss.”
“Right.” You smiled and pulled him up to kiss his lips deeply. “Love to taste you like this.” You hummed and sucked on his lip and inhaled the scent of your arousal and cum around his mouth and on his nose. “It tastes good, huh?”
“So fucking good, baby. Would lick you raw if you’d let me.” He muttered against your lips. You smiled and kissed him again and it deepened. He got up and straddled your body as he reached for the strap beside you. It had a hook shaped insert for you that sat right against your g-spot and then a textured pad for your clit and then at the next end the slender and slightly curved six inch cock with a warming and vibrating tip. “Fuck you’re so wet.” He chuckled as the tip slipped past your entrance. He was gentle as he slid it upwards and when he felt it dip he pressed in and felt the tip sink past your entrance. You moaned softly as he added more force and sunk it deeper, sliding it along your inner wall. It tickled your entire body as it smoothed over the ridges inside of you, and then finally he bent his wrist forward and the rounded tip sank right against your g-spot. Your eyes closed and you shivered as you moaned lewdly.
“Oh fuck, professor!” You explained.
“It’s good right there?” He asked and you nodded profusely.
“Yeah, baby. So good, you hooked into my pussy so good…” you keened and then laughed as he swirled it into spot making you gasped. He smiled down at you and you tutted, “Alright baby that’s enough. Lets get you into that collar.” You suggested.
“Mmmm, lets.” He hummed happily and grabbed it for you as you sat up. You hesitated for a moment as the hook of the strap dug further into you.
“Shit, okay give it to me.” You said and he handed it over. You quickly unbuckled it and he knelt down so that you could fasten it back on him. “Is that alright?” You asked, giving a sudden experimental tug by the d-ring at the front.
“Yeah, that’s perfect.” He hummed.
“Good. Let’s get you laid.” You said patting the bed and he got up and went over to the top of the bed and laid in the middle as you wiggled on up on your knees with the toys in hand.
You giggled at the tickle of the rubber pad of the strap over your clit and he smiled at you. You grabbed the lube and the wand and got that set up on the slimmer side. You hovered over him and ran the cool metal wand down his tummy. He twitched and then relaxed again under you. He hissed when you set it down right over his pelvis before running your lubed up finger over his little ribbed entrance. He immediately relaxed and you smiled.
“Good boy.” You praised, “You’re such a good boy for me, professor.” And he moaned as you reached for the lube bottle again. You squeezed some onto you finger and then smeared it against him before leaning back over him and kissing him as you pressed in, waiting for the tight muscle to give way, “C’mon baby, let me in. S’gonna feel so good.” You encouraged him and with a bit more pressure you sunk in and pushed deeper until you felt that little raised area for the umpteenth time in your life and then you smoothed over his prostate as he moaned loudly and his cock twitched wildly as the pleasure zapped through his body.
“Oh fuck yeah, baby. Fuck yeah…” he sighed in relief. You did it again until he was squirming and thrusting up into the air.
“Oh professor, love to see your heavy cock swinging around like that. You want something tight and warm to put it in, yeah?”
“Yes, baby. Yes, please give me something to sink my cock into.”
With this you reached over to the fleshlight and brought it up to your mouth, he looked at you with a pained expression as your tongue ran from the bottom to the top. You nipped at the clit with your lips and then tongued a bit at the hole. When your eyes blinked open you chuckled at him and reached for the lube.
“What was that?!” He asked in shock, “Where did that come from?” He questioned.
“I don’t know…I just saw it and it looked so pretty and pink. Supple and smooth like a peach.”
“Interesting…” He posed and you chuckled. You’d never even kissed a girl before so you had no idea where this had come from. But he made you do crazy things when you were in charge.
“Yeah, huh…now I wanna see it stretching around your cock. Wanna see that fat cock spreading that tight, little cunt apart.” He groaned and you squirted some lube into it and then held up his cock. You pressed his cock at the opening of the toy and the excessive amount of lube you’d spurted in started to drip down the length of his cock.
“Please.” He breathed out and you bit your lip as you pushed it down enough to swallow up his swollen and ruddy tip. “Shit…want you back inside. Put your finger back inside.” He mumbled and with a look you communicated that he grab the flashlight for you and he did right away. Once your hands were available again you pushed your index finger back into him, helping him open up just a bit more before you stimulated his prostate with the metal wand resting over his lower tummy. You couldn’t wait to fuck him…
“Go on, get yourself off then.” You instructed and he looked relieved when he thrust his hips up to sink the rest of his cock into the the flashlight. You heard the squelch as he bottomed out and it made you smile at him. “Feels good?”
“Yes, baby. Feels so good…” he groaned as he watched his girth stretching the little silicone hole open wide around his erection. The sight was mesmerizing for you as well, you grew even wetter at the thought of your tight little hole stretched wide and slightly puckering around his thick length the way this toy was.
“Gonna get the wand in now, OK?”
“Please.” He agreed as he nodded and you soon had the bulbous head rubbing against him before applying pressure and sinking it with the intent to get it deep to where your finger had been. It was tapered, the deeper it went, the more girth it had and this would also help to open him up for you a bit more. Finally, when the rounded tip prodded against his prostate he groaned, “Oh fuck yeah….”
“Right there?”
“Yes, baby. Yes, right there…” he confirmed happily as you started to swirl the metal toy so that the tip could rub and prod at his prostate.
You loved watching him like this, balls heavy and tightening every time he buried his cock to the hilt because you then prodded at his prostate a bit faster. His chest was glistening in the dim light of his bedroom and his abs clenched as he tried his hardest to stave off his orgasm. He had such a long and annoying day, he wanted this to last as long as possible. You could see him struggling, his brows knitting in concentration as he tried to will away the feeling of his orgasm.
“You don’t have to ask when you want to come tonight.” You said to him and his gaze found yours.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, professor.” you smiled, “Just want you to feel good.” You hummed and he sighed in relief.
“I do…fuck baby, you make me feel so good. Best girl I’ve ever had.” He panted and you loved when he told you this. It made your brain grow fuzzy and your heart to race with pride.
You knew he had fucked three other students before you came along. Well, the first two were just isolated incidents after those people graduated. The third one happened when he had decided to just risk it with one of the students from one of the upper division elective courses he taught, so that they would be on the older side but not majoring in his department. He’d have them all semester and then it’d be over. He chose someone who really cared about school, wanted them to be so eager to please him and when that went well he found it hard to let go, so he stopped for a couple years. And then your junior year you had him for the first time in his Learning and Behavior class. He recalls how you had come nearly 15 minutes late on the first day, he found it quite annoying actually until you stayed after class to explain yourself.
He just remembers the warm and sweet scent wafting around you as you told him that you had just transferred and had accidentally walked in the wrong direction from the parking structure. You asked for his syllabus and if you had missed anything at the start, he assured you that you only missed a little introduction on himself to which you responded with “Well that’s a real pity…” with a regretful smile and after that he was enraptured. It was ironic that you would be studying reinforcement and punishment methods and theories all semester. Without realizing it you were conditioning him to crave you. You felt that he was conditioning you too, every time he spoke of a reward he’d somehow make eye contact with you.
You were bright and you worked so hard, all of the faculty you had spoke highly of you and so you were invited to join their Psi Chi chapter - basically an honor society type of organization for psychology students. This small group of students always got to have an exclusive holiday party at the department chair’s house with all of the faculty. You guys were privy to the future pans of the department, you got to know your professors better, and even form surface level friendships with them. After all, you’d be colleagues in the field a few years from now. You had Uber-ed to the party since your car was in the shop, so after it was over you stalled until mostly everyone left before you walked to to nearest bus stop and waited around for someone to pick up your ride request. It was Saturday night before dead week, people were raging before they’d have to be in study mode so it was hard to get a driver leave the downtown area where all the people were. Harry happened to see you and offered you a ride home and well, you actually kissed him and you ended up parked down a dark little street while you tugged on his cock until his cum was dripping down your fist.
Over time though, things started shifting when Harry realized how safe he felt with you. You guys had been talking about things you wanted to try and you causally mentioned pegging because you felt like it must feel really powerful to do the fucking. He said he’d let you peg him and you even laughed because clearly in this relationship the one with all the power was him. He was your professor and you were just a 21 year old student…having power over him felt strange almost, but he insisted that you try it with him a couple times until you finally did and boy, you loved it. You didn’t know you had this whole other side of you until your strap was balls deep in him as his sperm squirted out of his tip all on its own. After witnessing that there was no going back, you guys did anything and everything you could together and now here you were a year later…still making each other feel good.
“You’re doing so good for me, professor. I like to make you feel good.” You hummed and he sighed as he ground into the fleshlight. The slick sounds of it all had your ears ringing. You reached for the remote of the strap and switched it on to the lowest setting and the vibrations made you freeze for a second, “Oh shit…” you whispered as you got used to the feeling of the vibrations deep in you and over your clit. Your eyes went down to his cock again, watching the little, silicone pussy puckering around him, “Fuck baby, need to get inside you.” You muttered and he nodded furiously.
“Please, please fuck me, baby.” He panted and you pulled the wand out of him and set it down before gabbing the remote again. You switched on the warming setting for the cock part of it and then lubed it up generously. Harry looked feral and impatient as you did the prep work, he was itching to feel you fucking him the way you did. It was always so good with you.
“Ready for me?” You asked and he nodded. “Wanna hear it.”
“Yeah, baby. I’m ready. Get inside me, please.” He mumbled and you were gentle as you pushed in. He moaned in satisfaction, thanking you for how good it felt. You smirked when you noticed he was copying your actions on the fleshlight, teasing himself the way you were teasing him. After allowing him to get a little more used to the new girth you picked up your pace and he fucked at the fleshlight this way as well, deep and slow, getting all the way in until his eyes pinched shut and he winced.
“Too deep, professor?” You asked him and with his expression still tense he shook his head and hummed.
“Mmm-mmm…s’fucking perfect…fuck baby, you fuck me so good.” He praised, “Take such good care of me, baby. Always wanna do your best for me, don’t you?”
“Yes, professor.” You nodded, “That’s why I need you to come for me.” You said and he groaned as you picked up the pace a bit more. He started moving the fleshlight faster over himself until his head was falling back into his pillows as he groaned.
“Oh shit, I’m coming, baby! I’m coming!” He warned as he thrusted up hard as he could and spilled into the toy.
“Good boy. You’re so good for me, professor.” You praised him as you caressed over his tummy as he twitched a bit. This next one was the one where he got real subby for you. He was too sensitive so he stopped stroking his cock but if he was going to come again for you then he needed to keep going. You reached for the leash and gave it a tug. “Did I say you could stop, professor?”
“I’m just so sensitive-”
“I don’t care.” You cut him off, “You’re gonna give me another one so we can come together.” You said and he moaned and started to pull the fleshlight up and down ever so slowly, “There you go, work up to it. In and out…just like that, professor.” You smiled. This time you were copying him, being gentle and working back up to a pace that would make you both come.
When he was in moods like this he wanted to feel at your mercy, he liked when you’d get a little mean with him. So you started to thrust faster and harder, the more force you used to fuck him the deeper the the g-spot stimulator on the strap rubbed into you and made you tremble. You grabbed the remote and turned up your vibrations a few notches and then turned his on. He immediately shot up and moaned loudly as his prostate buzzed with the toy kissing right up against it.
“Harder?” You asked and he shook his head and swallowed thickly, “Too bad.” You smiled and turned up his vibrations to the next setting and he grunted lowly as he started to writhe. You reached for the leash and tugged him up a bit, his abs were burning, you could see them clenching hard, “Come for me, professor. Come for me.” You demanded and his eyes rolled back before shutting as he shot another load into the silicone pussy wrapped around his cock. The sounds of him sliding in and out of it were so sinful, you moaned as you saw his cum started to leak out of the bottom. He always shot such big cum loads, it made you crazy and seeing it starting to drip down his full, swollen balls got you closer to your high. The leash was pulled taught as he fell back into the pillows panting and whimpering.
“That’s so good…fuck that’s so good!” He moaned as he shivered. You smiled as he shook with the pleasure, goosebumps rippled over his skin as he relished in the relief you were giving him, “More, baby. Fuck me better, please. Fuck it all better.” He pleaded and you did just that. You went a little bit faster and moaned as your clit rubbed into the textured vibrating pad every time that you bottomed out and ground into his prostate.
“Like that, professor?”
“Yes baby, fuck I love it…” he groaned lowly his eyes meeting yours.
“Fuck, look at you.” You smiled, “Such a big, smart, handsome man getting fucked like a helpless little whore. Mmm, such a good boy.” You hummed and he moaned. “Tell me professor, what are you?”
“I’m your good boy.” He panted and you smiled.
“Yes you are, baby. Taking it all so well. S’hard being in charge all the time, isn’t it?” You asked and he nodded and winced when you sunk in hard and started to grind, “How would you know? You’re not in charge. Not at all. I’m in charge, aren’t I?” You smirked and he nodded, “Do you think they know?” You asked and he groaned, “Do you think they know Professor Styles isn’t actually in charge? Do you think they know that you drop your pants for me and beg me to stuff your little hole?” You asked him and he moaned loudly. You bit your lip as you watched his balls start to throb. “Wait for me, I’m so close.” You moaned and he groaned and tossed his head back. You yanked at his leash and he grunted.
“Baby, I-I can’t hold it…” he warned and you bit your lip and focused on the feelings deep inside of you, the pleasure from the vibrations deep in your core radiated throughout your body in a delicious wave, “Shit…shit! You’re making me come! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck me, baby!” He mewled as he started to stroke himself even faster and he groaned as he sunk the fleshlight down over his cock until his cum started to seep out of the top end of it.
You moaned at the sight of his thick, creamy cum oozing out of the too hole of the fleshlight, it was stuffed full with three loads of his sperm, it had to come out from somewhere. And you thrust faster until you were shivering as you started to come as well. Your eyes were squeezed shut and your breathing hitched for a few moments as the euphoric wave rolled through you beautifully. Your soft moans were like music to his ears, he loved that degrading him a bit got you off as much as it did him. After allowing yourselves a few seconds to come down from the peak of it all you let go of his leash and reached down to his balls. You squeezed at them gently and he groaned, his eyes were lidded and he looked completely fucked out.
“Think we got it all of out of you?” You asked and and he nodded frantically as he whimpered and bit his lip when you squeezed a bit harder, you loved how soft his skin was there, could play and suck at them all day if he’d let you, “Mmmm, I don’t know…they still seem quite big and full to me.” You said and he gasped as you tightened your grip around the base and gave them a few taps with your other hand. You saw his thighs tremble and you laughed a bit.
“Don’t make fun.” He whined and you rolled your eyes.
“You love it.” You said with amusement as you let go of his balls. They really were looking quite swollen today, but considering how sensitive he was, you didn’t want to make him too uncomfortable, just a little bit. “Let’s see how much you came for me, I’ll decide if you need one more.” You said and he hissed as you gently pulled the fleshlight off of his cock and inevitably, his sperm started dripping down his thick shaft and ended up puddling at his lower tummy. His cock was at half mast and it fell against his tummy with its weight. You watched with an amused smile as his cock twitched, almost as if it were fighting for its life. “That’s respectable.” You commented cooly and he huffed out a laugh. He knew you were still in the role, but he kind of wanted you to acknowledge that it was a lot, even for him. He wanted you to tell him that he did so well for you because he truly had. He had even spilled out of the top of the fucking thing. “What?” You asked him.
“Respectable?” He asked and you smiled.
“Yeah. What else do you want me to say?” You asked him with a hint of indifference. He needed, no, required, your praise. All day long he’d been waiting to hear you tell him that he played so well and that he made so much cum for you, and now you weren’t giving it. It was the itch he needed scratching to forget about the shit show of a day he had.
“Baby…” he whined softly and you smiled and leaned down to peck his lips.
“What is it?” You asked softly. Your lips tickling his own with your words.
“Say it.” He mumbled and you smirked, “Please, I need you t’say it.”
“To say?” You asked and he pouted.
“I came so much for you. S’more than respectable.” He said and you hummed. “Please, tell me I did good for you. I only wanna do good for you, baby.” He hummed desperate and you smiled and kissed him deeply, your tongues tangled for a moment before you pulled away with a smile.
“Seems like I don’t even need to say it, you know it don’t you, baby? Know that you played so fucking well today.” You said and he nodded, “And you did come loads, never seen it gush out of the other end of the fleshlight, like that.” You chuckled breathily and he hummed as he smiled into your kiss.
“Right!” He said and you nodded, “Are you proud of me?” He asked and you nodded.
“Course I am, baby. Only pity is that all that cum went to waste.” You said as you swirled your index finger through it a bit before bringing it up to your lips and cleaning it off. “We’re waiting a full week for next time-”
“Baby-” he started to whine.
“I want you to fill me up with your cum, professor. Lots of it.”
“I like the sound of that.” He smiled and kissed him again and laid over him for a bit before you pulled out and started to help clean him up.
Understandably, he wanted to have another body shower to run his skin of that sticky feeling, as did you. When you finished up he ordered in your food while you cleaned the toys thoroughly before putting them aside to drip dry for a bit. When you wandered back into his bedroom he had laid out a t-shirt and some of his briefs for you even though you had brought your own clothes to sleep in. You watched his back muscles ripple until he finished pulled his shirt of himself and then you went over by him to get dressed. You got the briefs on first only to see him holding the shirt for you.
“Arms up.” He instructed and you did just that as he slipped the thin, cool shirt of your body. He then hugged you tight and pulled you down into the bed with him. He kissed the top of your head a few times and you hummed happily, “Thank you. I needed that.” He said quietly.
“Of course, baby.” You hummed and then sat up, straddling his hips as you looked down at him with a smile.
“Baby?”
“Yeah?” You asked sweetly as you ran your fingers into his curls.
“I ummm, I think er, I’m uh…I’m in love with you.” He confessed and you paused. He was so scared of just having said that, but it had been weighing on him since the winter break when he wanted nothing more than to be beside you for those three weeks.
“Um, I-”
“You don’t have to say anything i-if you don’t fe-”
“I love you too, Harry.” You whispered and he pulled you down and kissed you with so much joy.
“Best thing I’ve heard you say yet.” He mumbled against your lips and you giggled and hugged him again, “I’m so relieved to hear you say it.” He sighed into the room and you felt him relax beneath you.
You were beyond relieved too. Yes, this was all very unconventional, but in getting to know Harry the way you had, had made it nearly impossible for you to not have any feelings for him. He was kind and considerate and caring and smart. He looked out for you and challenged you in ways you’d always wanted. He helped you grow, he treated you like an equal, he made you better. For a few months now you’d been tiptoeing around the feelings. You’d fallen for him and you loved it so much that you couldn’t even feel stupid or embarrassed for it. Your heart lied with your hot and wonderful professor, but it was only sweeter that you now knew that his lied with you too.
“Did I make it better? Your day?” You asked and he nodded.
BIG content warnings: massive, glaring warning for an inappropriate relationship. y/n is a graduate student in this and of legal consenting age, but there's an age gap of four years between her and harry. she is his TA, which means there's a big power imbalance between them. bc this is fic we'll pretend it's romantic and all very consensual but if this is triggering to you in any way, DO NOT READ IT. it's not worth hurting your mental health. also, if anything remotely like this happens in your personal life, IT IS NOT OKAY.
other CWs: small smut scene at the end (m masturbation with descriptions of m receiving oral, slight cum play), y/n alludes to having seasonal depression but it's never outwardly said (just be aware since the descriptions of it could be triggering to some!), a bit of angst but nothing crazy
with all that out of the way, if you still choose to read, I hope you enjoy :) love you all lots!!
masterlist | talk to me
patreon
. . .
Professor Styles is a dick.
That’s what the entire English department said when it was announced that Y/N would be his newest teaching assistant for the spring semester.
They all sneered at her, throwing what they pretended to be caring warnings her way, claiming that he was impossible to work with and he didn’t even actually need a TA, he just liked picking students to embarrass. With their noses upturned at Y/N but not actually offering any kind of advice, she left the small English building shortly after the Dean unveiled the new schedule for TAs, anxiety bubbling in her stomach and thick, salty tears in her waterline.
She knows Professor Styles doesn’t have the greatest reputation on campus. She actually actively avoided taking any classes with him throughout the duration of her bachelor’s degree, and even as she chose to stay on to enter her first year of graduate school, she picked any other available professors over him.
He was known for his less-than-personable demeanor and the way he picked apart students’ essays, leaving them questioning their entire life path. Y/N has never felt much insecurity about her career — she’s always wanted to go into English, maybe opting for a small but impactful job in publishing or editing — but having a professional ruin her writing sounded… well, awful.
In reality, Y/N didn’t have much of a choice when it came to her teaching assistant preferences. She needed a job that wouldn’t take up too much of her time. Her first semester of grad school was difficult and stressful. All of her friends graduated and went on to cool jobs all over the country, while Y/N just stayed in the same apartment. She was homesick for her family and walked through a campus every day that reminded her of a better version of herself — one who had a flourishing social life and excellent grades. Just a few months of working on her masters degree had worn her down.
Despite the slight dip in her grades from university to graduate school (an expected change, her advisor had explained), she was still recommended as a TA for the English department in the spring. She’d really been gunning after Professor Rooney, a kind, middle-aged woman who had spent years working glamorous jobs in the publishing world. She had connections everywhere and was incredibly sweet, and Y/N knew she would feel comfortable working in her sections for the semester. All winter break, she imagined how wonderful it could be; that maybe it was the huge win she needed after such a shitty fall.
But Professor Rooney didn’t choose her. Professor Styles did.
Even with a promise of a reasonable stipend contingent on the completion of her TA position, Y/N’s world felt like it came crashing down just a little bit — but she knew better than to complain or blubber on about not getting her way. Instead, she chose to just get through it.
In the final days of winter break, Professor Styles emailed her to meet in his office the day before classes began. He didn’t ask if she was back on campus or if she had a good break. Y/N wanted to resent that, but chose to swallow it down.
When she got to his small office in the department, she gently knocked on the open door, signaling her arrival. He peered up from whatever book he was hunched over on his deck, straightened his posture, and checked his watch.
“You’re late.” he said flatly, shutting the paperback with a force she didn’t even know was possible. With furrowed brows, she glanced at the lockscreen on the phone she held.
“You said 10:30, right? It’s 10:30 now.”
“On time is late,” he muttered, folding his hands on his desk, “Early is on time.”
She swallowed, her lips parting like a guppy. He rolled his eyes and motioned to the seat on the other side of her desk. Quickly, she took it, placing her tote bag at her feet and making a mental reminder to arrive at his classes five minutes early from this point on.
“Right, so you’re my TA, then?”
She nodded, “Yes, for the spring semester.”
He hummed, though she couldn’t tell if it was a sound of approval or discontent. He moved his computer mouse over the surface of the university provided mouse pad, making his computer buzz to life. With an awkward silence settling between them, the sound of the mouse clicking was the only thing that filled the dim office.
“You just graduated from the English department last spring,” he said, eyes scanning over what she now assumed was her student file, “3.8 GPA. That’s fine.”
She blinked at that, resisting the urge to balk at him. 3.8 was .2 away from a perfect GPA. It was more than fine.
“You didn’t take any classes with me during your time as an undergrad.”
“Um, your sections were always full—”
“I don’t really care what your reasoning is,” he cut her off, continuing to scroll down the screen. A lump formed in her throat but she tried to swallow it down. Nothing sounded more embarrassing than crying in front of Professor Styles. “And now you’re getting your masters in English with a concentration in Feminist Literature. That’s an unusual one. Why?”
She’s surprised he’s bothered to ask her a question, so it takes her a moment to form a cohesive answer on her tongue. She’s flailing a bit and she knows he can tell, based on the unamused expression on his face.
“I’ve read a lot of literature where there’s a female main character and she’s just used to state a point or some sort of backwards lesson that was considered modernized for the time,” Y/N speaks softly, picking at her nails in her lap, “I’m interested in studying that more.”
“What kind of literature?” Professor Styles instantly fires back.
“Well, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on The Scarlet Letter, but I’ve also been thinking about basing my graduate capstone on Ophelia from Hamlet.”
He makes that annoying humming noise again, and she’s still unsure if he’s pleased or thinks she’s an idiot. She wasn’t unused to the latter — a lot of snobs in the English department thought it was stupid of her to care for critiquing older pieces of writing from an argumentative, feminist perspective, even if they acted like The Odyssey was an “absolute must-read” for everyone.
(It’s not. Y/N thinks The Odyssey is dumb and boring, but she’ll never say that, especially not to Professor Styles.)
“Right, well,” he lifts a white ceramic coffee cup to his mouth and swallows briefly. She glances down to see he’s drinking hot black coffee, and her lips furl into a quick, involuntary wince. “You’ll be with me three days a week. You are to attend the daily lectures — Mondays and Wednesdays are the shorter section and Friday is the long, three-hour one. Helping out with grading and holding office hours will be your primary tasks. If you fall ill or need to take a day off, I need at least 24 hours notice. If I receive any complaints from students, you’re out. Otherwise, it should be a fine semester. Any questions?”
She shakes her head, hoping he’ll show some inkling of delight at her quick ability to understand and process. Instead, his lips remain in a flat line and he nods, taking another sip of his coffee.
“You can go now. See you tomorrow.”
She scrambles to leave his office as quickly as possible.
. . .
Professor Styles barely speaks to Y/N for the first few weeks.
It’s unsettling in a way, especially because she doesn’t know if she’s doing a good job. She thrives off of reassurance, but every time she hands him a neat stack of newly graded papers or drafts, he simply waves her off with an, “alright, thanks.”
If she’s being honest, it makes her want to try even harder, though she’s not entirely sure why. She has the urge to claw her way to the very top of Professor Styles’ repertoire of students and assistants — a need for perfectionism that can only be quelled by the person least likely to give it to her.
And it’s driving her absolutely insane.
She wants to ask, straight out, “am I doing an alright job? Do you need anything more from me?”, but she’s positive that will only make her glow with insecurity. He’d probably laugh in her face and call her a baby for needing his acceptance.
It eats her alive as she sits at the front of the lecture hall, watching his female students stare at him with hearts in their eyes as he discusses the politics of Ursula Le Guin. It bugs her only more than he's one of the most attractive people she's ever seen, always impeccably dressed with long, ring-clad fingers.
Grumbling, she realizes that she probably looks just as pathetic, so she quickly straightens her posture and runs her fingertips over the mousepad of her laptop so it glows back to life. She’s supposed to be going over the grades of the students’ first essays — her and Professor Styles were meeting after class to discuss them in the event that anyone needed additional assistance for the upcoming paper.
She busies herself with that until he ends class, creating a list of a few names that would potentially need to be met with one-on-one. He doesn’t say anything as he gathers his own materials from the lecture, and she follows him out of the hall and to his office just as silently, carrying her laptop in one hand and her tote bag on her shoulder.
Professor Styles’ office is always cold and dark, never failing to send a shiver down her spine when he unlocks the door. Today, her shoulders shudder involuntarily and she pushes her sweater sleeves down to cover her hands. With a rumple in his eyebrows, he sits down.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
Y/N snaps her head up in surprise. She doesn’t mean to look shocked, so she quickly revises her facial features in an attempt to look collected.
“Oh, it’s just cold,” she says, waving him off nonchalantly, “I’m fine.”
“Yeah. I think this winter has been especially brutal.”
His reply especially dazes her — she’s unsure if that’s an attempt at making small talk, something Professor Styles has never done with her before, but she instantly nods her head, as if she’s speaking with a toddler who’s expressing their emotions for the first time.
“Yeah, I think so,” she says softly, “The snow is awful to walk through.”
“Do you live far from campus?”
She shakes her head and sets her laptop and planner on her side of the desk, across from Professor Styles and his things.
“No, just a 10 minute walk or so, but I don’t have a car.”
He hums at that — that stupid, unassuming hum that contributes absolutely nothing to the conversation. She wonders if she’s in her head about it, but she feels his eyes linger just a beat longer on her face before tearing them away. He licks over his teeth as he taps on his laptop to wake it back up.
“Right, then. Did you go over their grades?”
As she pulls her things out from her bag, she tries to ignore the small pit of disappointment in her tummy from Professor Styles shifting their conversation back over to class.
. . .
That weekend, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating as she meanders up and down the aisles at Target.
She’s not really looking for anything in particular. Sometimes she just comes here for something to do. Her bank account isn't exactly flowing in a way that permits her to buy all the cute home decor she gazes at, which is why her basket currently consists of the following: pads, a new pack of her favorite gel pens, cookie dough, and a lip balm that she’ll probably put back before she checks out.
It’s another harsh, cold day out, the freezing temperatures refusing to let up as the days of the month flit by. This is Y/N’s least favorite time of year — when winter sticks around despite the holidays being long gone. All that’s left between now and spring is pesky snow and fake Hallmark holidays, and she yearns for the days where she can walk to campus and admire the tulips peeking out from the damp soil. By then, she’ll be closer to returning to her hometown for the summer, where she’ll likely get a job for a few months working in the local library or bookstore.
It’ll be good — she’ll get to see her friends and spend time with family and save up some money, and maybe the hopefulness of life warming up in a few months will be enough to get her through this semester.
And as she’s daydreaming of brighter days, that’s when it happens — when she thinks she must be fully hallucinating, because as she strolls down one aisle in particular, Professor Styles is standing there, his bottom lip pinched between his fingers as he stares at space heaters.
She’s never seen him off campus. Sometimes that happens since a lot of professors live close by, so it’s not unheard of to pass by an advisor or faculty member at the supermarket or through the park. But seeing Professor Styles here feels… illegal, somehow, especially given his casual, dressed down attire. He’s wearing what looks to be a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts, despite the temperature nearing the 20s today. (Y/N is bundled up in three sweaters, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and leggings beneath her jeans.) White socks go just above his ankles, and the running shoes on his feet make her wonder if he’s insane enough to actually be working out in this weather.
She must be analyzing his form for a beat too long — maybe it’s the shock from it that still hasn’t worn off — because he feels her gaze, eyes veering to his peripheral, realizing that his teaching assistant is standing there as if she’s waiting for permission to enter the aisle.
“Hey,” she blurts out when she realizes she’s been caught.
Confused by her frank, laidback greeting, he lifts his head to face her. “Hey.” he echoes awkwardly.
“Um, sorry.”
He quirks an eyebrow and Y/N’s body heats with embarrassment. “Sorry?”
“Sorry… I-I should’ve just walked away when I saw you,” Y/N quickly attempts to revise, but she realizes it’s just making her sound stupider, “I was just surprised to see you here.”
“In a public store?”
“Right,” she nods curtly, turning on her heel, “Have a good rest of your weekend—”
“Wait, did you need something down here?” he rushes out, almost as if he’s fearful she’ll leave. She pushes the thought down but parts her lips nervously, eyes scanning over the contents on the shelves. She doesn’t need anything, she was just putting off having to brave the cold weather on her walk home.
“Yes,” she says slowly because, once again, she’s suddenly stupefied and enamored by the prospect of small talk with Professor Styles, “I needed… lighters. For my candles.”
He nods, a quiet “ah,” sounding from his lips, and they stand there like they’re doing some sort of parallel play; Y/N pretending to look at the long, safety lighters while Professor Styles continues to look at space heaters. She wonders if he for some reason is pretending, too, but then he’ll squat down to look at the features on one box, making a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, and straighten back up to analyze a different model.
When he finally decides on an option that’s best fit, he grabs the box and places it in his cart. Quickly, Y/N plucks a random display of lighters and throws them in her basket.
“Hope you found a good one,” she mutters out dumbly, feeling the need to interject one last sentence into their silence. He glances down at his cart, then at her basket, and then, finally, at her.
“It’s for the office,” he says. “You said it was cold.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“This should help with that.”
“Sure, yeah. I have one at home, it helps a lot with the draftiness.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
“Maybe you can get an extra lamp in there, too. Spruce it up a bit.”
A wrinkle forms between his brows, “What do you mean?”
Y/N wishes the ground would swallow her up whole.
“Nothing! I just meant— like, sometimes it’s a bit cold, and with the weather, it can get dark, too. The winter’s tough, don’t you think? That’s all I meant, I’m sorry—”
“No, you’re right,” he says with a decisive nod. “You’re the only other person that really spends time there besides students. Do you want to help pick one out?”
“Sure, okay.”
They walk in silence to the lighting display, which is filled with a myriad of different options. Professor Styles looks semi-overwhelmed by it all and Y/N has to bite her lip so she doesn’t smile too widely at his confused expression. She points to a simple, inexpensive standing lamp.
“I think something like this would be good, in the corner or something. Just for some extra brightness.”
“Is that the one you like?”
Y/N doesn’t have strong lamp preferences, especially when it comes to a space that she’s not even living in, but for some reason, it seems important that she says yes. So she nods her head, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and she realizes that’s the first time he’s ever smiled at her.
“Okay. I’ll have this stuff set up for when you come in on Monday.”
She swallows, feeling the mountain of adoration in her stomach grow. She shoves it down.
“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” she says.
“Sure. I’ll see you then. Have a good rest of your weekend.”
She hides in the lamp aisle for another 15 minutes, until she’s positive he’s left the store.
. . .
Professor Styles and Y/N are working in their typical silence when he says something that makes her jaw nearly drop to the floor.
She thought that after their short but personable interaction at the store, things would change a bit. Maybe he would feel more comfortable talking to her outside of monotone grunts or the occasional “are they failing my class?”, but things remained the same. When she came in that Monday, the space heater and lamp were both on and running as he promised, but it was as if nothing happened.
It irks Y/N to no end.
She assumes that he sincerely doesn’t care for her, which she supposes is fine considering kindness or approval aren’t part of the job description. That’s why she’s shocked when he says it a few weeks after the weekend they saw one another in public.
“I think you should ask to change your advisor to me.”
Y/N chokes on her spit, hurriedly coughing into her hand so she doesn’t spray saliva all over his desk. Once she recovers, he’s staring at her expectedly, as if what he said was completely and utterly sane.
“Sorry?” she asks, “Why would I do that?”
She doesn’t mean it to sound rude, but it’s a genuine question. Typically, there’s some type of rapport between a grad student and their advisor, and she and Professor Styles have absolutely none of that.
Professor Styles clears his throat and folds his hands on his desk. “Because I got my masters degree in the same thing, so I spent four years studying exactly what you’re studying. I think you’ve been doing very well as my TA and I would like to advise you.”
“Why would you ask me why I was studying that, then?” she blurts out, confusion apparent on her face. “The first day we met, you told me it was unusual.”
“It is.”
“But you studied it.”
“I did.”
“So why would you say that?”
Professor Styles sighs as if this is the most boring and obvious conversation he’s had all day.
“I wanted to hear you defend it. See why you’re interested and make sure it’s not all bullshit.”
Y/N shakes her head, “So you were playing some kind of mind game with me? For fun?”
“It wasn’t a mind game, Y/N. I just wanted to know why you’re interested in it.”
She bites her lip and looks down at her laptop screen, which has since gone dim since they began talking. If she’s being truthful, she’s grown tired of Professor Styles. Up until now, she was positive she was doing things wrong and he just didn’t care enough to correct her — only to find out that he wanted to work with her even more. It made zero sense.
“Are you going to do it, then?” he asks, tearing her from her thoughts. Her expression pinches as she rolls her lips into a thin line.
“I don’t know.” she answers in a watery voice. “I like my advisor, and I assumed you didn’t like me very much.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”
“You barely utter three words to me on a daily basis and never tell me if you’re happy with my work.”
Professor Styles scoffs, leaning back against his leather computer chair.
“You need regular approval from me to know whether or not I like you?”
“Yes,” she admits, anger building in her chest until she can’t help but blurt out what she’s thinking, “It’s how I work. If you were a good professor, you would’ve asked how I best function at the beginning of the semester. Instead, you ignore me for fun.”
“You don’t think I’m a good professor.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean that. I think you are. I just don’t think you’re the best at managing teaching assistants.”
He shrugs, but she notices a slight wince in his features. “We can’t all be good at everything, can we?”
“Right,” she mumbles, drumming her fingers on the edge of his desk. When he doesn’t reply, she shuts her laptop and stuffs it in her bag. “I’m gonna go then. I’ll see you next week.”
He’s silent as she gets her things together and pulls her jacket on, wrapping her scarf around her neck and zipping it on top of her sweater for extra warmth. As her boots carry her across the length of his office and to the door, he stands from his seat.
“Y/N,” he says, and she turns to look at him. “The deadline to change your advisor is next Friday. I hope you’ll still consider it.”
. . .
That evening, all Harry can think about is his sweet, quiet TA. The one who he undoubtedly offended earlier today — he cringes at the thought of it, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He can’t stop thinking about the upset look on her face. When she asked if he was playing mind games with her, he wanted to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He never meant to hurt her, not one bit.
He sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He’s had reruns of some shitty sitcom on since he got home from work a few hours ago. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but even a laugh track and ‘90s era merriment couldn’t distract him from thinking about her.
He considers the things she said about wanting his approval. He’s never been well-liked in the English department, likely because of his rough exterior. He’s not immune to the things he hears from students and faculty, about how he’s grumpy and someone to be feared, even if he didn’t even intend to come off that way. In all honesty, he never wanted to be perceived in that matter — but once his reputation began to precede him a year or two ago, he figured there was no use in trying to convince people otherwise.
That's how it had always gone, anyway — in high school, when he started experimenting with different styles of clothing, everyone assumed he was gay. He'd desperately tried to refute those claims, even if he wasn't completely sure of his sexuality himself. But no one cared — they'd already made up their minds, and it seemed useless to attempt to change their ways of thinking.
And when people spoke here, mumbling about how mean and terrible he was... well, what was the point?
Y/N was the only person he cared to win over, and it was eating him alive.
So much so that he made the blind decision to maybe, possibly cross a very clear boundary between professor and TA. Despite Y/N being of legal, consenting age (after looking at her student file, he found that he’s only four years older), he still attempted to prioritize maintaining a professional relationship with every one of his students and TAs.
He couldn’t help himself with her, though. He knew it was bad — he could feel his heart thumping quickly in his chest, the logical part of his brain telling him to stop while he’s ahead, but he couldn’t. Not as he grabbed his laptop, logged into his work email, and composed a message to her student address. Not when his fingers danced over the keyboard and resisted the urge to implore her to start fresh with him. Not when he clicked ‘send’ without even proofreading to make sure it sounded appropriate, not creepy or weird.
He pushed his laptop away and got up to pour himself some wine, attempting to rid himself of any lingering guilt.
I wanted to apologize for how I acted today. It wasn’t kind of me and you deserve far better than that. I understand if you have no interest in changing your advisor. Please know that whatever you decide, your TA position will not be in danger, should you choose to continue working with me.
Thank you for all of your hard work. You’ve been doing an excellent job and I’ve very much enjoyed having you this semester. Have a good weekend.
x Harry Styles
. . .
On Monday, Y/N’s mind is whirring.
It’s not because the semester is nearing midterm season, although that’s part of it. It’s because Professor Styles emailed her an apology at almost 10 pm on Friday evening, and she’s repeatedly read it over at least 50 times since receiving it.
She didn’t reply because she wasn’t sure what to say — and, most shockingly, he didn’t sign it as Professor Styles. Instead, he ended the message with a kiss, for crying out loud, followed by his name. His name!
It’s all she’s been able to focus on for days, to the point where she contemplates not showing up to his lecture on Monday. But she’s better than that — she’s stronger, and she’s smarter, and she doesn’t want to hide.
She avoids Professor Styles’ gaze all throughout his lecture, instead focusing on grading first drafts for the class’ midterm paper. She knows she’ll have to sit with him in his office afterwards, and her stomach churns at the thought. In some way, she feels ashamed that she said anything to begin with. Her comments about him not managing TAs properly have made her shrivel into a mortified version of herself, and she’s shocked he didn’t fire her on the spot.
Worst of all, she hates the way her heart jumped into her throat when his name popped up on her screen on Friday night. She craved the feeling, hoping he would, for some reason, do it again, even though she never responded. She wasn’t playing hard to get by any means, but the fact that her brain even veered in that direction proved one thing to be true: she has a big, fat crush on Professor Styles.
The knowledge sits like a rock in her stomach, especially as they walk in silence to his office after class. The air between them feels awkward, but she’s not sure that there’s ever been a time where it hasn’t felt odd between them. When he unlocks the door, she quietly steps inside, her heart skipping a beat at the space heater and lamp already turned on.
Usually, he keeps the door open while they work. Today, he shuts it, the soft click of the lock making her jump.
“Can we talk?”
Y/N’s throat dries but she nods, gripping the strap of her tote bag close to her arm. She turns to face him, and for the first time ever, she notices that he looks… nervous.
“About last week. I’m sorry, but I’m even more sorry for emailing you that on Friday,” he rushes the words out like he wrote a script out and was waiting to perform them, “It was completely inappropriate, and I got the hint when you didn’t reply.”
“The hint?” she peeps out, her voice squeaky and embarrassing.
“Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “About not wanting me to advise you and… you probably found my email to be weird, right?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. “No, no. I.. I actually haven’t given much thought to the advisor thing, but I didn’t think it was weird. I just didn’t know how to respond.”
His eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that?”
“Because I felt guilty about what I said to begin with! A-and you could’ve fired me if you wanted to, but instead you apologized and said that I’m doing a good job—”
“You are.”
“Exactly!” she exclaims frustratedly. “I didn’t know how to respond to that.”
“To me being… kind?”
“Yes.”
He blinks at her, the crinkle between his brows deepening.
“I’m just not used to it, Professor Styles.” she says with a sigh.
“Harry,” he corrects.
“What?”
“My name is Harry. I don’t want you to call me Professor Styles.”
Y/N ignores the quickening of her heartbeat and shifts her stance from foot to foot.
“Why are you doing this?” she eventually blurts as she crosses her arms over her sweater-clad form. She’s not sure if she detects an inkling of pity in his face, but if she does, she wants nothing more than to run for the hills and never return. For some reason, the thought of Professor— Harry feeling bad for her makes her shoulders shudder, a prickly sensation tip-toeing down her spine, as if shame is completely and utterly eating her alive.
His lips part in a quiet sigh. “I just… I spent the weekend thinking of you and feeling awful for the way I’ve treated you.”
Thinking of you.
I spent the weekend thinking of you.
Her stomach turns as his words echo throughout the chambers of her brain. But then there’s a click — like the second part of the sentence just ekes its way through, planting a seed of self-doubt and insecurity. And she backs away like he may explode at any moment.
“You shouldn’t— no, that’s alright,” she shakes her head, gaze set low on the carpeted floors of his tiny office.
“Y/N—”
Again, she cuts him off with a shake of her head, raising her eyes to look at him. His expression is pained and she wonders if hers is any better, though she assumes for different reasons: He doesn’t want to get fired for torturing another grad student. She has an inappropriate crush on the professor she works for.
“It’s all good. Call it even?” she rushes out, leaning over to grab her things from her chair, “Fresh start on Wednesday. Don’t mention it again, alright?”
She’s gone before he can stop her.
. . .
Harry accidentally falls asleep in his office that evening.
It’s half because he’s absolutely swamped with work, too fearful to email Y/N and add things to her grading pile after the way she all but ran away earlier today. He’s terrified he made her uncomfortable.
He doesn’t want to return to the quiet loneliness of his apartment, where he’s constantly faced to force the reality of his life: A man in his early 30s with a job that he likes, but no one actually likes him at it. His entire family resides in London and with the exception of a few friends from his schooling years, he’s alone. Especially in the romance department.
His heart aches for Y/N. He realizes it’s a bit dramatic, even slightly taboo given the nature of their professional relationship, but he likes her. He likes her so much that he doesn’t want to go home and think about how badly he messed things up, so he falls asleep face-down on his desk, his cranium wedged between piles of pens and a Post-It list of to-do’s.
When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for. The soft, golden light from the lamp is still just barely bathing the circumference of the room, but as he blinks his eyes open, he realizes that it’s silent. He can see through the small frosted window that the hallways are dim, which means it’s most definitely sometime in the evening.
He feels… somewhat guilty but charged as he wakes from the fog of his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he stretches his arms out. His neck already aches from the discomfort of his sleeping position and he groans, lifting a palm to sort the knot out.
And that’s when he realizes it — why he feels as if his body is buzzing, his hands sweaty and his throat dry. He’d woken up in the middle of a sex dream and, like a pathetic teenager, the star of it had been his crush. Y/N.
He scoffs to himself as he glances down at his crotch where, sure enough, his length is painfully hard beneath the constriction of his trousers and underwear. He swallows, eyes flickering closed. He can remember the exact details of his dream, even if they send a bead of guilt dripping down his chest — they’d been in his office, just like this. She was between his legs, knees pressing into the carpet of the floor, her eyes rounded and expectant as he toyed with her, pretending to guide his cock between her lips only to take it away at the last minute. She pouted every time, a plushy lipped-frown punctuating the words he hadn’t even realized he’d been dying to hear: “Please Professor Styles, stop teasing me.”
At the realization, he’s sent into a frenzy. He doesn’t even think to check whether the door is locked (or maybe if he’s locked in the building, no less), before he’s clawing at his belt and zipper, yanking the fabrics down to reveal a pair of swollen balls. His length stands hard, his eyes nearly rolling back just from the feeling of looping his fingers around the base. He can’t remember the last time he was this pent up just from his own imagination, but it’s not a difficult place to return — not as his head leans back against his office chair, allowing his dream to pick up and take form in full consciousness.
So much pre-cum is bubbling at the tip that he doesn’t need much of his own spit to lubricate himself. He bites his lip hard to prevent himself from groaning out too loudly, envisioning the way she’d finally suckle around the tip of his cock, looking up at him with proud eyes. He’d gradually help her go deeper, but she’d be excited, willing to bruise her throat for him. She was so good — in his dreams, in real life, she was always so, so good.
“So good, Professor,” she’d pant out, popping off to lick a stripe up the side of his cock. With spit-swollen lips, she’d venture down to his balls, rolling them in the palm of her hands before taking each one into her mouth. In reality, he gasps at that, tugging them in his own hand.
But what really gets him there is an impossible thought — one that has nothing to do with the silly wet dream his brain conjured while he slept. Her in her own bedroom, her naked form wrapped up in her sheets while he gazed over lovingly, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder and down her arm. She’d giggle breathily before flipping onto her side to face him. And she’d say it — I love you — and it’d feel like heaven.
That’s what pushes him to finish all over his hand, cum dribbling over his fist as he pants and gasps like he’s just discovered masturbation. His orgasm encompasses his entire body, a few beautiful, peaceful moments of complete pleasure that causes all of his muscles to tighten deliciously. Of course, he envisions her taking all of his cum, licking it up eagerly over his digits, making a show of it — she’d open her mouth, pretty pink tongue out, and he’d watch as she swallows. He shudders at the thought of it, quickly snapping his eyes open and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk to clean himself up. He’s immediately back to his grumbly state as he does, irritated that he allowed himself to lose control in such a finite way.
He tosses the dirty tissue in the garbage can and stands up to tug his briefs and pants back up. The clink of his belt buckle is the only sound throughout the small room, so he jumps when a knock sounds on the other side of his closed door.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, someone knows, I must have said her name, I’m such a fucking freak—
His eyes widen when the person speaks: “Profess— Harry? Are you in there? It’s Y/N.”
To be kissed like this by Carmen, you giggling when he pushes on your back in the bed; your hand going under his shirt to feel his skin underneath and he moans and kisses you hard.
YOU GET IT. the amount of times I replayed this scene in the show just because I could not get over how sweet it was.
Him just kissing all over your face when he gets home from work. You can’t help giggle. It took awhile for Carmy to really open up to you once you two started dating, but now that he has, he’ll shower you with affection any chance he gets.
When his lips finally meet yours, they move with fervor. The kiss heats up as his tongue makes its way into your mouth. Your hands move on instinct, sliding underneath his shirt. The muscles underneath your finger tips tense at the touch. He groans into your mouth, and presses your body down on the bed with his-
you get a job working as a waitress at the bear. if only you knew it would get you here. ─ 3.68k ─ angst and fluff, breakups / fighting, some cursing, reader is younger then carmy.
THE STRANGERS PHASE
The first time you and Carmen met was when Nat and Richie had hired you as part of the Bear staff.
A waitress, and a sweet looking one at that. Younger than him. "You guys finally settled on a candidate?" Carmen asks as Natalie and Richie watch you from the small window in the kitchen.
You sit there for a moment before adjusting the silverware, passing Richie's test almost immediately. "I believe we just did." Nat confirms. Carmen takes a look for himself and swears his heart skips a beat as he watches you for a brief moment before clearing his throat, having to pull himself away. "Okay. Cool." He brushes it off.
He didn't get the chance to meet you right away, not until the night before their soft opening. You'd been through training, getting used to the system at the Bear and getting accompanied with staff. All but one. The head chef and owner, 'Carmy' as everyone called him.
"Hey, you're the new hire, right?" A voice asks as you shut your locker. You jump a bit, as you turn, smiling. "I am." The male nods, holding out his hand. "Sorry about scaring you. I'm Carmen Berzatto, don't think we've had the chance to meet." He introduces.
You accept the handshake, swearing you feel a little spark between you two just from touching him.
───
From there, it was like clockwork. You and him would get stuck closing together, and each night you'd dive into a new part of his past. "So, what made you wanna open this place?" You question. He exhales, momentarily pausing his movements of scrubbing the counters before he sniffles. "My brother left it to me after his death."
You pause, staring at him. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked-" He laughs. "You couldn't have known. It's okay, really. I actually wanted to work here, or what used to be here, for the longest time by his side but he didn't let me. Never knew why. It was the thing he left me in his will." He gives a more in depth answer.
You nod slowly. "I'm sorry about that, Carm. His death and not letting you work here." You specify as you look at him. "If it's any comfort, I think your brother would be really proud of what you've turned this place into." You say.
He nods, sniffling again. You set your rag back in the soapy water, sighing as you mark off your final station to clean on the clipboard.
"See you tomorrow night?" He asks as you begin walking to the lockers.
You smile. "It's a date, chef." You confirm. He blushes at the idea of you and him being on a date.
───
Carmen swore to himself he'd take you on an actual date. The planning was easy, it was actually asking you that he found to be a challenge.
"So, are you seeing anyone?" He asks, trying to sound as casual as he can the next night when you two are closing, which didn't come for almost a week. Though he was grateful, it also felt like torture having to wait to get you alone.
"No, I'm not actually. Chicago hasn't exactly been my Paris, you know? City of love and all that bullshit." You answer as you stare at the chore list for that night. "Check the mayonnaise labels. Does Nat think our mayo is expired?" You question.
“Nat thinks all of our stuff is expired one way or another. It doesn’t expire ‘till the nineteenth of May.” He grabs out a knife to start chopping the vegetables. “Anyway, Chicago isn’t really known for its romance.” He points out.
"So I've been told." You stare at the menu. "What's a vegetable medley?" You question as you look back up at him, catching him staring at you. He clears his throat and quickly sets the knife down, wiping his hands on a towel. "Uh, it's a bunch of veggies like green and yellow bell peppers, asparagus and squash topped with balsamic vinegar.” He answers.
You nod slowly. “Only you can explain something like that and make it sound so good right now, Carm.” "Did you eat today?" He doesn't hesitate to ask. "Haven't had a chance to. Richie had me running around all day with the new system, but don't worry, I'm gonna make myself something at home."
"No, come on. I'm- You're not driving home hungry like that. It’s a safety risk. Sit." You go to protest before he repeats himself. "Sit."
The entire night was spent with you and Carmen eating his way too fancy dishes and talking. Sharing memories - childhoods, dreams, stories.
He likes to consider it your first date.
You like to consider it the night you fell in love.
───
You weren't sure what you and Carmen were after that night in the kitchen. Or how to even ask. Do you just come right out and say it? Is there a specific way or time to ask? Google provided zero help, so it was up to you to solve this one.
Maybe that’s what was driving you and Carmy apart for the next week: your mind trying to run through how to even approach that with him. It wasn't until he ambushed you at your locker that you were forced to approach the topic with him. "Not talking to you all week has been driving me insane. Are we okay? If dinner was too much.." He lets his voice trail off.
You smile, as you exhale. "Carmen, I loved dinner. I was just unsure of where we stood. Thought I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out if that was a date or not." You admit. He stares at you, nodding slowly. "Let me take you out to an actual dinner. A real date night." He requests.
You nod. "Okay, I'd like that." You barely have another chance to speak before Richie's calling your name. You place a hand on Carmen's shoulder as you pass him, giving him a small smile before you rush to find out what Richie needs you for.
Carmen watches you leave, wishing you'd come back to him.
Carmen had thought of your date night perfectly. A romantic, rooftop dinner overlooking Chicago’s nighttime streets. “You bring all the girls up to your rooftop, Berzatto?” You question as you stare at the cars passing by.
“Only the special ones.” He’d answer with a grin.
You wished he kissed you that night, but he didn’t. Instead he settled for dropping you off at your apartment before leaving. You could tell he wanted to kiss you, too, but he wanted to wait.
"So, you and Carmen?" Sydney asks as you help her open the Bear that morning, cutting vegetables up with her. You sigh, a smile on your face regardless. "How'd you hear about that?" You question in return.
“It’s the Bear. There’s no such thing called secrets when you work here. Everyone knows everything about everyone. Now, you and Carmy?” She asks again as you laugh. “There’s nothing going on between us. He and I got dinner a few times, but I don’t think it’s going anywhere.” You say with a shrug.
She stares at you, noticing the blush in your cheeks. You grin. “Don’t even. Nothing has happened between us.” You reiterate. She laughs, grabbing her bucket of vegetables. "Whatever you say!"
You roll your eyes, turning and staring at Carmen in the doorway. There he goes again, staring at you when you aren't looking. It doesn't slide past you that he has a noticeable sparkle in his eyes.
───
Of course the universe would have it out for you and Carmen to close together that night. As you two stand over the counters, cleaning them down, you decide to ask the question that had been plaguing your mind.
"What are you and I?" You ask, looking up at him for the first time. His scrubbing stops, as he looks back at you. "I want us to be together." He answers honestly, and you're a bit taken back by his honesty.
“You seem like you’ve thought about this.”
“More than you know.” Translation: I’ve thought about you.
You nod slowly as you walk over to the sink, beginning to wash your hands. "I want us to be together, too. I just don't want this to be weird between us because we work together, you know." You voice your concerns as you grab the towel, drying your hands.
You turn, finding him standing behind you. "I don't care if we want us to be together. I want us to give.. us.. a chance." He says, taking your hand in his. You stare at your hands interlocked as you hum. "Carmen."
"Yes?" He asks softly.
"If you don't kiss me right now I might just walk out and not come back." You tease.
He doesn't have to be told twice, and he kisses you like he's been thinking about it. Like he's been needing that. Hands cupping your face, yours finding his waist.
You didn't need much of an answer as to what you and Carmen were after that.
THE LOVERS PHASE
You and Carmen had agreed: the staff didn’t need to know you two were officially dating. If it was important enough to share, sure. But other then that, you two wouldn’t go around publicly announcing it.
Turns out, dating Carmen wasn't much different from being friends with him. Except now you were in the kitchen at two in the morning, slow dancing with him.
It'd started with dinner that night. Him holding you from behind,
Frank Sinatra plays lowly on the radio as he spins you around, with you grinning as you sway with him. “Who taught you to dance, Berzatto?” You question.
“Nat did. Taught me for her wedding. Said if I looked like a fish outta water she’d ban me from the reception.” He answers with a lovesick grin. You laugh, throwing your head back. “Sounds like Nat.”
He smirks. “And who taught you?” He asks in return. You hum as he pulls you closer to his chest, as Sinatra’s ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ plays. “I did. Convinced myself when I was a little girl I'd be like Misty Copeland.” You answer.
He grins. Only two weeks had gone by with him being officially yours, and he was falling in love with you. Maybe that’s why it spilled out as he held you close.
“I love you.” His voice is hushed.
You pulled away only a bit to look at his eyes. Maybe searching to see if they were genuine, if he said what you think he did. "Carmen..." You smile, a laugh coming out. "I love you, too." You repeat it back to him.
"Take the too out. Makes it sound like you're just agreeing." He requests softly, lips brushing barely against yours. You giggle at his plea, but comply anyway. "Carmen, I love you." You say it again, this time it feels more real.
Two weeks in, and you two are in love. If you knew any better, you'd assume you were screwed.
───
"What do you wanna do with your life?" The question startled you as you and Carmen sat on the balcony of your apartment, overlooking downtown Chicago. Buildings illuminating the night sky, car horns blaring every few minutes from the nighttime traffic.
"I wanna open a bar. Maybe go to Los Angeles or New York, just open my own place. You know?" You hold your knees up on the patio chair with you, a cup of tea in hand. "Some dive bar but... fancier. Live music, live entertainment."
He nods slowly, grabbing out his notepad. "Get out of Chicago?" He asks. You laugh. "Pretty much. Don't get me wrong, I love this city. This just.. isn't the plan." You say with a shrug.
"Mm." He says, scribbling something down on the paper. You lean over, staring at it. "What are you drawing, Berzatto?" You question. "Nothin'. It's a surprise, if I show you it now it won't be a surprise." He points out.
You grin as you lean your head back. "Okay. What about you? Is the Bear your final dream?" You question, still looking over at him. He sets the pen down, looking over the skyline. "I don't know. Though until I met you I had all my dreams and goals figured out."
"Don't say it-"
"You're my new dream." He grins, looking over at you. You laugh, rolling your eyes. "That was unbelievably cheesy, Berzatto. I don't know if I can ever look at you the same after that." You tease.
"You don't have to look at me to kiss me." He points out as you roll your eyes, standing up. You give him a quick peck as you open the door, stepping halfway inside. "Don't take too long getting to bed, okay? It's cold out here." You comment.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He waits until you're fully inside to pull back out the notepad. Sketched on is a logo for a bar, your bar. Your name written in what he imagines is neon lights. 'ANGEL'S BAR'. The way he views you, an angel. His angel.
He hums, standing up and making his way inside, the notepad tucked under his arm. He finds you in the living room, sorting through the mail. “Hey, hey, my old college roommate’s getting married. New York. What a terrifying city.” You laugh as you set the invite down, before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you down to the bedroom.
───
Carmen had spent so much time in your apartment that it practically felt like his own. So, the idea of asking him to move in wasn’t totally crazy. His clothes were now hung up in your closet, his cologne and cedarwood soap lingered.
Your relationship with Carmen had grown, so much so that you were now spending time with his family. You stood in the kitchen of the Berzatto home. Your first family dinner with them, and it had been more drama filled then a soap opera. Soft music filled the room, cinnamon roll scented candles lit making the house smell like a bakery. Your scarf hung on the staircase banister.
"First official Berzatto dinner. How ya holdin’ up?" Sugar asks as she slides beside you, handing you a glass of wine to match her own. "Oh you know me so well. It's going.. as good as I expected it to be. Are they always this chaotic?" You question.
"Hell yes. The Berzatto family has never been calm, y'know?" She laughs. "But you seem to be fitting in nicely. And this is the first year of us doing one of these that Carmen truly seems happy, I think you're to thank for that."
You grin. "Well, as long as he's smiling." You and her watch him in the living room, chasing down the younger family members, laughing as they tackle him down to the floor.
"Yeah, well, I've seen Carmen with other girls before, and none of them have made him this happy. So, on behalf of the Berzatto family, thanks for bringing us a smiling Carmy." She raises her glass to you as you laugh, lifting yours as well.
Carmen watches as you clink glasses with Nat as he enters the kitchen. "You two doing good in here?" He asks. "Oh, we are doing wonderful. I should go find my husband." Nat says, smiling and walking out of the kitchen.
You sigh, setting your wine glass down behind you on the counter. "Hi." He greets, arms wrapped around your waist. You hum, wrapping yours around his neck. "Hey you." You reply, pressing your lips against his.
“I’m really glad you’re here.” He says quietly after he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.
You smile, placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m glad too, Carm.”
───
Arguments in relationships are common. They’re healthy, they bring growth. You and Carmen had a fair share of disagreements but never ones where he called you the name he did tonight: clingy.
“Can you just fucking leave me be for a second?! I don’t need you crowding me and being so- so fucking clingy.” Right in the office of the Bear, as you made sure he understood what was happening with Syd’s plans.
Now here you were, in Nat’s living room. “He probably didn’t mean it, you know?” She asks softly as she pushes some of your hair out of your face, wiping tears that fall down your cheeks. “I think he’s just been so worried about our mom, her issues and the Bear.”
“What if he did mean it though? What if.. What if he was just with me out of convenience or pity?” You voice your worries. She shakes her head. “I have never seen Carmy as happy anywhere else as he is with you. He loves you, Y/n. He wants to be with you, no one else.” She replies.
“You don’t call the people you love clingy.” You point out. She sighs, letting you lay your head on her shoulder. No matter what she said, nothing changed how you felt. Carmen thought you were clingy. Whether subconsciously or not, he thought it.
The thought made your heart ache.
───
You were younger than Carmen, you knew that much from the moment you met him. But it had never been an issue in your relationship, until now it seems. A simple, offhand comment about kids and marriage you had made to Syd. You wanted those things, and you wanted them with Carmy.
That’s what landed you in this position on a cold night, with him sitting on the armchair in front of you and you on the floor, crouched to try and read his eyes. Find any sign that you could get past this.
“We’re just on different paths. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get this close to you. And I should have stopped myself before I hurt you.” Translation: you’re still young and I can’t hold you back.
He didn’t stay after that. His clothes still hung in your closet, with you on the floor of the living room.
Translation: what now?
THE ENEMIES STAGE
“So, plans for you being in New York?” Diane asks as you and her sit on the rooftop of her apartment building. You sigh, as you lean back on your chair. “Drink a lot. Forget my relationship problems in Chicago and hope for the best.” You answer with a nod.
She rolls her eyes. “Come on. You can’t expect to fix your relationship in different states without talking.” She points out as you look over at her. “When did I hire you as a relationship therapist?” You tease. “Carm and I will be fine.”
You couldn’t find the translation anymore for what “fine” meant.
───
The wedding was gorgeous. Diane looked stunning and her husband was the sweetest man. The sun was setting over Manhattan, as you sat at the open bar perched on the rooftop. Staring at the missed call from a familiar contact: ‘Chef’s Kiss’. Carmy.
Maybe you had asked him for too much. Wanting kids, marriage. He’d give them to you if you asked, you knew that. But the idea of him just putting up with that just to keep you?
You didn’t return his call or any of his texts. Instead, you kept quiet until you returned to Chicago a week later. A box perched on your apartment doorstep with your belongings. Jewelry, shirts you left at his place. All of them except for the scarf that still sat on Donna’s staircase banister.
Maybe he kept it because it smells like you. Or because it reminded him of something pure. The one thing he really knew was now gone, and the scarf was a fragment of that.
───
It didn’t shock any of the staff at the Bear when you turned in your notice and stopped working there. Or when you took the couch you and Carmy used to sit on during late night conversations and moved it eleven hours with you to New York. Along with his hoodies, the one you wanted to keep most because it smelled like him still.
You didn’t delete the videos or photos you had with him. It feels too real if you do.
You stared at the kitchen. Where he used to hold you, scolding you for how you handled knives. The balcony, where he told you that you were his new dream. The living room where he’d kiss you like it was the first time. The bedroom, where some nights, he made you his own, and others he held you while you slept.
The only thing you found in the apartment that was foreign to you? A piece of notepad paper, with “ANGEL’S BAR” drawn on the front. You stuck that in your pocket as you made your way to your car.
It hurts to look at. It hurts to think about him.
Now it’s just you, in your hundred square foot apartment that you share with a roommate now. You manage to delete the playlist of songs that he loved swaying with you to in early mornings in kitchen lights. You learn his favorite melody by heart: stranger, to lovers, to enemies.
───
Closing that chapter of your life, you focused more on opening Angel’s Bar. His logo on the front, in downtown New York. Soft piano playing as chatter fills the room, drinks being poured in the corners.
It may have just been Carmen’s luck to find you on opening night, chatting around with the customers as he watched from the window, a familiar red scarf wrapped around his neck to help fight the cold air.
Translation: it reminds him of innocence. It reminds him of the better part of himself, the one you brought out in him.
Carmen learned to take lessons from break-ups. The one he got from you? Falling in love isn't for the weak. So don't try it at home.
shine on, shine on, my loves!
thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! check out my carmen berzatto masterlist here for more fanfics!
taglist ✨ (to be added please reply to this post in the comments!)
a/n Right... I just have so much love for all of you and the support I've been getting on this... mind blowing! I hope y'all will enjoy this!😭✨🤍
warnings: cursing, mental health struggles, puking and angst just the same sweet angst.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Carmen knew something was off. The moment you stepped out of the office. You were there, but your mind was elsewhere. You looked almost dazed. Fighting some battles Carmen didn't know of. So even if the heat of the kitchen was burning all around him, Carmy stopped. Striding away from his spot as he crosses the distance between the two of you. You flinched only when his fingers were slowly creeping against your upper arm. "You okay? Are you good?", he asked through the clicks of the pots.
Yet what brought all of the oxygen out of Carmy was the way you looked up at him. It was a look he had never seen on your face. Never directly at him. There was no way he could even describe that look. Sadness? Yet it didn't seem deep enough. Anger? The flames were barely sparkling. Disappointment? It looked more like a never-ending orb of nothingness. You were looking at him, but you might as well be looking through him, behind him.
"Darling", Carmen breathed, and you swallowed quickly, nodding your head. "Well, well. Where do you need me?" The tone of your voice nearly chilled Carmen's blood. Once again, there were no emotions that twisted through it. And that scared him because he did not know what was going on. And he wished he knew, "Are you sure?", he asked softly, moving to touch your face, but you slipped past his fingers. Humming as you step deeper into the kitchen, Carmy bit down on the frustration that suddenly blossomed within him. Trying to keep it down. At bey. To put a leash on it so it wouldn't come out clacking its teeth at you.
He turns back to you, calling out your name once more. The moment your eyes are on him, Carmen rubs his fist over the left side of his chest. Do the same thing, he begs in his mind; do the same thing. Calm down my mind. Tell me this is something we'll talk about in the privacy of our home. You watched the gesture. Watched. Nodded your head a couple of times, but the nods didn't even look like a nod of agreement. Just a look at something. Someone who wasn't fully there.
Maybe it was stupid that you didn't just address it. You knew you should have. Isn't that what grownups do? Get to the root of the problem and solve it. They don't run away from it. But you couldn't. A twisted part of you wanted to wait for Carmy to say it himself. Bring whoever Claire was himself. You had watched him pick up his phone during family. Fork still in your hands. You had left the messages open. It would have been the first thing he saw when he opened it. You waited for him to get uncomfortable. Frown maybe. Stager at the sight of it, but he didn't. Instead, a light smile softened his features. A fucking smile. The only person you'd seen him smile at was you. No one had received a single smile here in New York from Carmy. And here your form of reality was being crushed right in front of your eyes as you watched him eagerly type the reply.
Now you're here. In your bed. With what you now struggle to pinpoint as your boyfriend sprawled beside you, hand over your stomach, light snores leaving his mouth. You knew you could have. The phone was right there. You could unlock it. See what Carmy had to say in reply, but you couldn't bring yourself to. From the very start, trust was something you valued. Both of you did, or at least you thought you did. You both were the victims of late nights and schedules that overlapped. You had tried putting up a spreadsheet of your work and class times so you could cross over the free slots. Did it work? No, but you two had laughed over it at four am while eating shit gas station ice cream cones Carmy had bought.
"Do you believe in happily ever afters?", your head was hanging off the side of the couch, and your legs were up against the back cushions. Carmy was twisting a bottle of beer in his hand. This conversation was so random. You two had just started exploring the beginnings of the feelings blossoming within your chests. Here is the tiniest living room in New York at odd hours because that's how life was back then. "No", he said almost immediately, making you turn your head towards him. "Why not?", Carmy chuckled nervously, "There's no such thing as never-ending happiness". You had struck up a big fight there about that with him. "But would you want that? An ending like that?", you were ready to agree to disagree. Tiredness was already making you delusional. Carmy halted his answer here and took the last sip from his bottle before saying, "I think people are selfish. They want to have things constantly, but they never hold onto them in the end".
You wished you had let those words sink into you back then. Let the weight of them press into you. Because you had brushed it off way too soon. But that was the first and only time you had gotten so close. Truly get to the core of Carmy. Fuck sex. It brought bodies together. Minds too, if the bodies were truly in sync. But you can have sex with someone without even knowing them fully. The bliss of it all covered up the voids of the unknown.
Always have, but never hold. The words spun and spun in your head. Who was this man lying beside you? Did you know him? How long has he been seeing someone else? Was he even doing that, or were you being paranoid? You looked down at his sleepy face, so calm and without a single frowning line. Your fingers mindlessly ran over the scars and little freckles on his face. All these little, tiny details that had imprinted themselves in your brain. That you remembered in the back of your head. That you would remember even if he changed his mind and started loving someone else.
Bile rose in your throat, and you tried to breathe through it. But the thoughts kept on coming, snapping at the sides of your mind. Over and over and over and over and over. Bringing waves of nausea. And then it overflowed. You reached for the blanket, ripping Carmy's hand off your body as you rushed towards the bathroom. The dinner came right up, or at least the total of two bites you had managed to swallow, even if Sydney was nudging your side playfully, trying to lighten the mood and get you to eat something more. Then the acid rose next. Making the gagging more unbearable. You felt hands pulling your hair away from your face, and you jumped at the sensation. You knew it was Carmy, and it only made the tears that much more painful.
"Breathe through it; try not to gag aimlessly", Carmy's voice was soft, tired but soft, as he ran his hand up and down your back. "Do you still feel like throwing up?", he asked after flushing the water. Your body felt clammy. Cold but on fire at the same time. Your forehead was pressed into the side of the toilet seat as you tried to breathe. Tried to get the nausea away, yet moved to gag once more. But your mind was singing the same tune over and over. I'm so glad I got to see you again. I miss your silly face already. Your body trembled; the cold bathroom tiles soothed the nausea, yet your bones were catering from within, it seemed. Carmen didn't rush you, and for that, we're thankful. One more jab and you might just break.
Carmen was worried. He got woken up by your sharp movements, and the moment the gagging filled the quiet space, he was up. He wondered if your offbeat mood the whole evening was just the beginning of what was happening now. Maybe you were feeling off. Maybe there was something wrong with the food he gave you. But fuck, what if he poisoned everyone who ate? What if people, the customers, will be piling outside the restaurant tomorrow morning with papers in their hands, wanting to file reports? What if they sue him? Carmy would lose the last thing that tied him to Mikey. He couldn't. No, but what if... Another gag pulled Carmy out and back to the present.
"Do you want some water?", he leaned in to take a better look at your face, which was covered in beads of cold sweat. You shook your head, but Carmy still filled one up, "Wash your mouth at least; it'll feel better". You pulled yourself away from the toilet, palms pressed to the cold ground. Carmy pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder, watching you. His gaze burned your skin and face, but you didn't have it in you to say anything about it. Your head lulled back, and Carmy quickly moved behind you, catching it on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.
"Do you think... should I get a doctor?", his tone sounded so much more panicked now as he ran his fingers over your skin. Things like this frightened him; you know about that. He was scared that any form of illness was going to take away the last and maybe only thing he truly cared about. But you shook your head.
You didn't have it in you. You could explain. Tell him it was panic and anxiety that had dragged you here, but you couldn't bring yourself to it. "No..", you whispered just as another sob slipped past your lips, and your hand instantly came to rest on Carmy's. "Just... hold me", you blurt out, breaking completely after that. All the nerves flowed freely down your cheeks alongside your tears. "Hold me, Carmy", and he did. And it's selfish. It's wrong, but you curl into him. Wrapping your whole body all around him. Clinging to him like a child. Letting his heat pour into you. Welcoming it. Trying to take handfuls of it in case he decides to take it away eventually. Rob you of the only happiness you had.
The days after that were a blur. You didn't leave the bed, and Carmy once again says nothing. He did slip back home early, sometimes even making midday stops. Bringing food that you rarely touched. Going as far as bringing home flowers, something he hadn't done since the first weeks of you two being together. You wondered if he ever noticed that you always kept and dried some of the petals from the bouquets that he gifted you. Now you just stared at the delicate, barely blooming things on the kitchen table while they stared at you. Until it got too heavy. Too real, and you dragged yourself back to the bedroom.
It had been close to a week when you found yourself walking the same old streets leading to the restaurant. The numbness had subsided. You managed a basic conversation with Carmen without bursting into tears. That was enough for the guilt of not doing enough in the restaurant and not helping Carmy grow. So after an hour-long shower, you quickly pulled your hair into a messy bun, threw some old baggy jeans on, pulled one of the older Carmy's hoodies on, and headed out.
"Get out of my way", Sydney's voice rang out even through the chaos of the kitchen assembly. A shiver ran through your body. What a hellhole this was if it had turned that girl into a shouting mess within days. "Fuck off, leave me alone", she barked, and you quickly stepped forward. Raising a warning finger at Tina, who was about to speak up. "Are you sure?", Marcus's gentle voice filled your ears. "I'm fucking sure! You ask Carmy if he was sure. You don't", the full force of Sydney's voice sent ripples through the place. What had happened here to make everyone so on edge? "So stick to your shit", she spat back at Marcus, who stood dead silent there.
You loved the guy. He was as sweet as a honey bun. Not a single bad bone in his body. So you gently rested your hand on his back, running it up and down in a comfortable manner. His eyes fell on you, and like a wave of relief, a wave of ease flowed through them. "Y/N", he muttered as you smiled at him softly, letting him wrap you up in a side hug for a moment. "Step out, chef", you murmured, patting his chest. "I'll take it from here", Marcus only nodded, giving Sydney one more apologetic look before slipping out of the freezer.
When the doors were barely open, you turned back to Sydney, who was standing there looking as on edge as you had felt all of this time. You reached your hands towards her. "Come here", you mumbled, inviting her into your embrace. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, shaking her head no. But you still stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her gently, and her frozen figure instantly let up. "Fuck, shit, I'm sorry", she muttered as a couple of tears fell from her eyes. "Yeah, not a big deal. Breathe for a minute, mhm?", you said softly, giving her time to feel it out. Give her enough breathing space. "This place sucks ass", she sighed, her head resting on your shoulder. "Tell me about it", you breathed out with a light chuckle.
"Fuck Carmy too, and I'm sorry, but fuck him", the amazement in her voice you had heard before when she talked of him was long gone. "He put so much shit on, wants me to do so much, but then.. then he takes off running", pulling away, Sydney runs her hands over her face in frustration. Then she stops, looking at you for a moment, and says, "I thought he was running to you, so I...", she must have seen the expression on your face because Sydney's voice died down, and she just nodded her head. You lowered your eyes to the floor. Ran off. Claire, no doubt. In a rush. Probably all excited. Probably even glad that you weren't around here much.
"You look like shit,", Sydney breathed out, "Sorry, but...", she shook her head, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "No, no, I saw myself in the mirror before I left. I know I look amazing", you air-quoted the last word, and Sydney snickered alongside you. You sat there for some time. Just letting the rare moment of silence surround you. "You don't let them kill your spark; you hear me", you said, turning to Sydney and gently tapping her thigh, "Throw shit back at them, but don't let them take away what you love most". Her eyes watched you, just like the first time you told her that you were proud of her. Just this time she leaned over, embracing you in another hug before muttering, "You don't know how much this means to me". But you knew. Because you knew how much it meant to you and how many times you hoped that someone would say those same words to you. But just like St. Frances's prayer went, Where there is darkness, let me be light.
"I'll be back as soon as possible", Carmy's voice rang through your apartment as he was getting ready to leave. He had opted for one of the later mornings. Drank coffee with you and ate at the same table. "I want to go to that market with you", he said while putting on the shirt. "We can", you muttered back, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest. "Stop by to eat before we go", Carmy stepped closer to you, hands resting on your hips as he looked at you.
"We'll get through this", he muttered, leaning against you. "I love you; take care of yourself today", he said, cupping your face in his hands. Carmy pressed a kiss on your forehead. Your hands sneaked beneath his shirt, fingers dancing on his naked skin, which was always way warmer than yours. You hesitated for a moment. Not sure if your decision was the right one. "Can we talk tonight? I want to talk about this. What's going on", your voice was barely a whisper, but from the way Carmy's eyes glistened, you knew that he heard you just fine. He smiled softly at you, kissing your forehead once more before bringing you closer to his embrace. "We'll talk later," he said, "Talk about it all if you want". You followed him to the door, holding onto his hand until Carmy had stepped far enough away from you, his fingers slipping through yours. "Be more gentle with them today", you called after him. Carmy looked up from the staircase and said, "Heard, chef".
You had found joy in cleaning the space for the time. Going as far as unpacking all the kitchen stuff from the boxes. A light smile on your face as you slowly filled out the empty shelves and drawers, sorting everything out just like you knew that Carmy was going to love it. Maybe that's another part of what's been missing—this sense of stability and belonging. You never wanted to stay in New York for long; sure, Carmy was doing wonders there, but you had hoped that you two would move to a smaller, less crowded city after you were done with your studies. Finally, start something new for yourself. Life sure altered those plans, but you also helped it get worse. Those boxes could have easily been unlocked weeks ago. You just mentally told yourself not to.
You had just finished cutting up the empty boxes when the doorbell rang. Strange, you thought as you looked at the clock. It was way too early for Carmy to be home, and you weren't even supposed to meet here. Maybe he left his keys and wallet? Something for the restaurant? You dropped the box cutter to the side, getting up quickly and paddling towards the door. "What did you...", but your voice died down almost as soon as it started. You blinked a couple of times, "How can I help you?".
The girl shifted awkwardly, backing away so she could look at the number above the door before she took a second glance at you. "I'm looking for Carmen", she said, a smile spreading across her face. "I think this is the right apparent, but... He never said someone lived with him". You clenched the door handle in your hand so hard that your knuckles turned white. "Let me guess, Claire?". you said through gritted teeth. She smiled so brightly that, for a split second, the urge to punch her was burning bright within you.
"Same old, can I come in?", she pointed to the still somewhat ajar door, "I can just wait for him inside; I won't bother you". You clenched your jaw. You weren't even sure what you were thinking. If she knew where he lived. If he had told her that. Was he hoping you would get out of the apartment sooner to do your daily walk to the local gallery and he could just be here with her? "Of course, make yourself at home", you yanked the door open, moving to the side.
"So you two are roommates?", she asked so innocently, making you let out a chuckle as you watched her move around the place. "Yeah, it might be just that", you said bluntly, still unsure of what to do next. "And you two? How do you know him?", you asked after a while, your tone more than bitter. Her face softens as she sits down on the little, run-down sofa. "Childhood sweethearts, been Claire Bear ever since", she chimed, and you could swear you heard your heart breaking. A nickname. He had even given her a nickname. And she must have been his first, meaning that all you two had... Everything Carmy said was just between you and he was a lie. You blinked quickly a couple of times.
"How sweet...", you muttered, turning away from her, as the first tears rolled down your cheeks, but you quickly wiped them off. "You know...", you said, turning back to her. Letting yourself glance at how stunning she was. "Good you're here; I was just moving out and had to run", you blurt out. "I'll leave you here with the keys if you don't mind", plastering the fakest smile, you watched her nod before you darted towards your bedroom. Yanking the first box in front of you open, shoving random stuff into your bag. Kicking random stuff out of your way. You wanted to scream about how stupid you were. Was that why Richie hated you? He must know about her. All of them. All of his family. Maybe they even think they are together, and then who were you, some random bimbo showing up uninvited?
You thought about just walking out like that. You didn't own any of them anything. Especially not her, but you still halted, "Do tell Carm that I'm proud of him; he did a good job", and with that, you slipped out. Rushing down the stairs.
You barely saw where you were going through the tears that were now flowing freely down your cheeks. Was taking the car a bad idea? Yes, but you needed to get as far away from all of this. Another person honked at you, making you swirl the steering wheel in the opposite direction. You weren't thinking straight; you knew that. Equally, as much as you know that you shouldn't be driving now. You weren't even sure if you could stop where you did, but you were beyond caring. Quickly shuffling through your bag, you reached for your phone. You wiped your eyes messily as you tried to find the right caller id.
There was no one here. You didn't have a family here. There were no friends you could crash at. This wasn't your city. You should have never come here in the first place. "Bunny, bunny, bunny", the smooth voice quickly replaced the calling sound, and you clapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sob from slipping through your lips. "Long time no call. I was starting to think you had forgotten about me", it called out, you shook your head even if no one could see it. Your insides felt like they were going to explode. The line went silent. You tried to speak up, but you just couldn't get a single sound to escape your throat. "Bun?", it called out again, much more concerned this time. Just how you wished someone would have been considered for you ever since. That broke the last string within you, making you let out such a heartbreaking sob that you felt sorry for yourself at the moment. You just cried there until you could finally pull yourself together enough to mutter, "Luca".
janainaart
izzy806
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
