#plus-size style

[iridessence]

put me in a movie…

[shopwitchvamp]

Dark Cathedral Midi (with pockets!) by @dobie

🖤witchvamp.com🖤

[harstyle]

the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” Y/N was snapped back following a short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He never let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this outburst worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his hands just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observation because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you be any type of way.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

-

part two!

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over?

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him?

A/N: This will be a 5 part series, commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you so much my dear!!). This is an enemies to lovers story with a twist. Reader is plus sized 🖤 I'll update chapter summaries as we get further into the series (I don't want to give too much away!).

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst, cheating mentions

Part 1: The Winter Ball (10k words)

part 1 sneak peek

You meet Harry at your boss's retirement party and your night ends with a bang.

Part 2: The Job Offer (9k words)

You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Part 3: The Mistake (9.5k words)

Things are a little hot and cold with Harry but then when you learn the truth about what happened that first night it feels like everything changes. But maybe it's a mistake to allow yourself to feel anything more for him.

Part 4: The Exit Strategy (9K words)

part 4 sneak peek

It's hard for Harry to overcome not feeling a bit hurt after you left him the way you did but there are bigger issues you need to tackle, like the fact that Harry's doing something shady as well as figuring out how you feel about him.

Part 5: The Coincidence (12.7k words)

part 5 sneak peek

Things have changed for you and Harry but when you see him at a meeting, you are taken by surprise. It feels like destiny. Maybe this time things will work out for you two.

[imanisays]

Mo’Nique as Jazmin Biltmore in Phat Girlz (2006)

.

.

Aunties outfits was cute as hell in this movie.

[iridessence]

Norma Devine, 1940s

[chrisevansonly]

Buy Some Flowers for You

harry styles x female reader

summary: harry’s always looking for an excuse to buy some flowers for his girl

warnings: none very fluffy

a/n: here’s a little shorty, i’m working on a short charles fic too don’t worry but i’ve been missing writing for harry<3

Harry was always thoughtful no matter what he did, whether it was for your birthday or an anniversary, even just a normal day like today. The sun was out for once in London, it was a warmer day thankfully after a cold and miserable winter.

One thing that often came with spring was Tulips and flower markets, which leads us to right now as Harry had stopped to gather a beautiful bouquet for you. No reason other than he wanted too and because he loved you so much.

You’d always loved flowers, and had a fresh bouquet every week courtesy of your ever so loving boyfriend or if you managed to sneak some past him, which was very rare.

He took his flower picking job seriously.

“Lovie?” he called out through the flat when he got home, the smell of dinner wafting through the front hallway

“In the kitchen!”

He smiled hearing you call back, kicking his shoes off by the door he then made his way towards you. As soon as you came into view he could feel his heart swell, an apron tied around you as you worked on yet another new recipe.

“Hi baby-oh! H you got me flowers…?”

Your eyes softened as you walked toward him, wiping your hands off on the apron before taking the bouquet from him and leaning forward to kiss his lips.

“Thank you so much baby..”

“You’re welcome”

Admiring them with a smile still on your face you quickly placed them in a vase with fresh water, placing them on the centre of the island.

“Perfect!”

“Just like you..” Harry said softly, which earned him another kiss and a hug, enjoying every moment of getting to be cozied up with you.

Harry always had a way with words, but he definitely had a way with flowers too.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

curves*

a plus-size!y/n fic

words: 3k

warnings: mentions of insecurities and bullying, smut, p in v sex, daddy-kink, creampie, kissing, dirty talk.

The mirror taunts you as you stand before it, clad in just your underwear. Your eyes trace the soft curves that spill over your bra, the swell of your belly, the fullness of your thighs. A familiar lump forms in your throat as those old insecurities threaten to resurface.

You can still hear the echoes of cruel laughter from your school days. The harsh whispers of "fatty" and "whale" bounce around in your mind like shards of broken glass. For so long, you believed those hurtful words, letting them shape your self-perception.

But then Harry came into your life, like a soothing balm on those deep-seeded wounds.

"Y/N? Baby, you in here?"

His warm voice summons you back to the present, and you quickly grab your robe, wrapping it around your body as a shield. "Y-Yeah, just getting ready," you call back, averting your eyes from the judgmental mirror.

The bathroom door opens, and Harry steps in, his brows furrowed with concern. "Hey, what's wrong? You've been in here a while."

You open your mouth, but the words get tangled in your throat. How can you explain this recurring battle, the one you thought you'd won long ago? The feelings of inadequacy still linger like a parasite.

But then Harry's arms encircle you from behind, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, emerald eyes finding yours in the mirror. "Talk to me, love."

A shaky exhale escapes your lips as you instinctively lean back into his solid embrace. "I was just...thinking about the past. The names I got called, the way I got treated because of my body."

Harry's reflection tightens his jaw, and you know he's picturing all the ignorant arseholes who ever made you feel less-than. His large hand settles on your stomach, warm and reassuring.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N. Every delicious curve of you." His voice is a deep, gravelly rumble against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "And anyone who couldn't see that can fuck right off."

A watery laugh bubbles up from your chest at his blunt words. Only Harry can make you feel so cherished and Protected one moment, and turn around and cuss like a sailor the next. You turn in his arms to face him properly, looping your own around his neck.

"I know, babe. You've helped me see myself differently, to appreciate this body instead of hating it. I've come so far in loving myself." You shake your head minutely, chasing away those last tendrils of doubt. "Most days, I do feel confident and sexy as hell. But sometimes..."

"...sometimes those shitty voices from the past still echo a little too loudly," Harry finishes for you with a sad, knowing smile.

You nod, fresh tears pricking the corners or your eyes. "Yeah...Exactly."

His large hands come up to cradle your face, calloused thumbs brushing away the stray tears. "Oh, my sweet, radiant girl. You're the most gorgeous, vibrant woman I've ever laid eyes on." His intense gaze bores into you, willing you to believe his words.

"You say that now, but what if -?"

"Stop," Harry cuts you off firmly. "Don't even go there, yeah? My feelings for you, the way I look at you and desire you, that's not gonna change. Whether you gain weight, lose weight, stay exactly the same. I don't give a fuck, because you'll always be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

His passionate declaration sends a fresh wave of affection swirling through your veins. You tilt your face up, seeking the solace of his lips in a slow, smoldering kiss.

Harry groans into your mouth, big hands skimming down your sides to pull you flush against his body. The hard planes of his chest press against the soft swell of your breasts through the thin robe.

"Feel that?" He husks out in a gravelly tone as he grinds his rapidly growing arousal against your lower belly. "That's what you do to me, baby. Just existing in all your glory does that."

You whimper at the heated promise in his words, at the undisguised lust simmering in those bright emerald irises. Harry loves and worships every lush inch of you, and you bask in the affirmation.

Looping your fingers through his lustrous chestnut locks, you angle your head for another drugging kiss. Maybe later you'll be able to see your beauty and sexiness reflected in the mirror, too. But for now, Harry's adoring gaze is more than enough.

***

A few nights later, you wake up in a tangle of sheets, your nude form deliciously intertwined with Harry's. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a warm, hazy glow.

Even in sleep, Harry's arm is curled protectively around your waist, fingertips splayed possessively over the dip of your lower back. His handsome face is smoothed in peaceful slumber, those pink lips parted around quiet snores.  

Unable to resist, you nuzzle closer and brush a feather-light kiss to the sharp line of his jaw. 

Harry stirs at the gentle caress, emerald eyes fluttering open in a sleepy squint as a lazy grin tugs at his lips. "Mmm, good morning to you too, beautiful."

"Hi," you murmur, ducking your head shyly as your cheeks warm. 

Even after all this time together, after all the layers of yourself you've peeled back for this man, his open adoration and unguarded desire still manage to fluster you. One look from those searing green eyes has your heart racing like a smitten teenager.

With a quiet chuckle, Harry hooks a finger under your chin to tilt your face up towards his own. His smile softens into something so tender, so reverent, it makes your chest ache sweetly. 

"Why're you blushin' so pretty, my girl?"

You nibble on your lower lip, suddenly bashful under his intense yet worshipful scrutiny. Your eyes rake over the cut lines of Harry's face, tracing the barely-there sprinkling of chest hair that tapers down his toned abdomen. Even sleep-rumpled and unguarded, he looks like some kind of mythic forest god come to life.

"Just admiring the view, I s'pose." Somehow, your self-consciousness evaporates the longer Harry gazes at you with open longing and love. You feel powerful and whole and sexy while naked beneath his stare.

Harry exhales a low noise of approval, skimming his knuckles along the soft curve of your cheek. "Is that so? Well, don't let me stop you then, princess."

He stretches languidly beside you, all lean muscle and sun-kissed skin and tousled bedroom hair. Like a lion awakening from an afternoon nap - regal and rugged and irresistible. 

You swallow thickly against a spike of renewed arousal watching those lithe muscles flex and bunch under his tanned skin. Emboldened, you take your time visually drinking in every hard line and sinuous dip of his bare form, from broad shoulders to narrow hips and muscular thighs you love having clamped around your own.

But soon your own curves demand equal ogling rights. 

Harry's heated viridian stare tracks hungrily down to your full breasts, sides spilling over ever so slightly as you stretch back against the pillows. His tongue instinctively swipes out to wet his lips at the sight of you.

Your hand drifts down to palm over one shapely globe, squeezing lightly while holding Harry's rapt gaze. You watch his pupils dilate further as you pluck at the tight bud, rolling the pert nipple between your fingertips until it furls into a stiff peak.

"Like what you see, daddy?"

A guttural rumble vibrates from deep in Harry's chest at your mewled words, like he's a big cat about to pounce. His broad hand suddenly cups around the side of your other breast, kneading and plumping the heavy weight of it.

"Fuckin' love what I see," he rumbles, gravelly tone dripping with pure sin. "Such a gorgeous girl you are, princess. Plump and soft and perfect for your daddy."

Your breath hitches sharply at his praise, arousal thrumming through your veins. Harry's hand maps an exploratory path across your ribs and lower, caressing over the gentle swell of your tummy before spanning wide over the curve of your hips.

"Built so sweet for me, hmm?" Harry croons, rutting his rapidly stiffening length against the plush swell of your outer thigh. "Such lush curves to grab onto while I fuck up into that greedy little cunt."

You whine high in your throat at his filthy words, legs instinctively falling open in silent invitation. Harry takes the hint, shifting to blanket your body with his solid weight as he settles in the cradle of your hips. His prominent arousal now notches snugly against your clothed core, providing a delicious tease of friction.

"You see what you do to me, baby girl?" he growls against the heated skin of your neck. "Get me so fuckin' hard just existing in all your glory."

Another whimpery plea spills past your parted lips as Harry grinds down with purpose. You can already feel the insistent ridge of his cock leaving a damp smear through the thin lace of your knickers.

Tangling your fingers into his wild chestnut tresses, you yank Harry's mouth up to crash against your own in a messy, desperate kiss. He groans deep in his chest, hips picking up a heavy circling rhythm to rut his thick length between your molten folds.

"Jesus, you're so wet already," Harry hisses out in approval as his hand trails down to cup your mound. "Such a messy girl for daddy."

Cheeks flushed and chest heaving, you hook one leg high over his powerful thighs to grant him better access. Harry doesn't hesitate before plunging two thick digits into your drenched entrance with one smooth stroke.  

"Oh fuck!" The broken cry tears from your throat as he immediately sets a punishing pace, calloused fingertips expertly massaging your striated inner walls.

"That's it, let daddy hear how good he makes you feel," Harry groans against the swell of your parted lips, kissing you hungrily. His palm grinds perfectly against your neglected clit with each measured pump into your fluttering channel. 

You whine into his mouth, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each inward glide of his fingers in a filthy grind. This is Harry's favorite way to make love to you - lavishing attention on every soft, lush inch with his hands and mouth and reverent words until you're a boneless, whimpering mess in his arms.

You cry out sharply when his thumb grazes your throbbing bundle of nerves, thighs tensing around Harry's pumping fist. But he slows his strokes to just short teasing thrusts, barely breaching your entrance now.

"Nu-uh, none of that just yet, princess." He tutts with a devilish grin. Harry loves to take you right to the brink before pulling you back onto sweet, delicious simmer. "Not until I'm buried so deep inside that perfect pussy."

Your heavy-lidded gaze meets his, all dark lust and wanton need. With a strained whine, you snake one hand down between your bodies to curl around the velvet steel of his achingly hard prick. Harry groans brokenly, pumping into your tight fist in tandem with his shallow thrusts into your core.

"Want you inside me so bad, daddy," you whimper, hooking your ankles high around his flexing backside to urge him closer. You can feel the slick, swollen tip of him catching against your entrance on each tortuously brief inward glide. "Need your big cock splitting me open."

A ragged growl rumbles in Harry's throat, fingers stilling inside your dripping channel. His large frame tenses above you, emerald eyes blazing down at where your smaller hand works his straining shaft with languorous pulls.

"Such a filthy little mouth, princess. Gonna make daddy fuck it so good..." 

With one deft tug, he rips away the tiny scrap of lace barely clinging between your thighs, leaving you completely nude and splayed open for his hungry perusal. Harry pumps his glistening fingers in and out a few times more, drinking in the way your body arches and whimpers at the welcome intrusion.

Then, with an obscene squelch, he pulls his digits free of your clutching heat, leaving you clenching around empty air. You keen softly at the loss, thighs squeezing around his hips in silent pleading.

But Harry just smirks wickedly and brings his drenched fingers up to circle your puffy lower lip. When you automatically part your mouth with a wrecked groan, he presses the thick digits inside, letting you suckle your own tangy essence from his calloused skin

"There's a good girl," he praises in a thick, husky rasp. "Get that clever little mouth all warmed up for me, hmm?"

You swirl your tongue enthusiastically around the welcome intrusion, eyelashes fluttering as you savor your musky tart taste clinging to Harry's fingers. He watches you with ravenous dark eyes, hips twitching unconsciously like he's battling the urge to sink into your drenched heat.

Finally though, Harry drags his digits free with a slick pop, leaving your lips spit-slick and kiss-swollen. Without preamble, he palms his impressive length, giving himself a few firm tugs before notching the swollen head right against your fluttering entrance.

The thick blunt pressure makes you gasp out a broken moan, all thoughts fleeing as your eyes roll back. Harry rocks his powerful hips forward in one sinuous grind until he's fully sheathed inside your velvet depths. You both groan in unison, bodies flushed skin-to-skin as he sinks deeper and deeper until he's bottomed out completely.

"Fuck, always so fucking tight 'round me," Harry grits out through a clenched jaw.

You shift your hips restlessly, inner muscles fluttering around the ribbed intrusion spearing you open so exquisitely. A sense of completeness settles over you, every nerve ending thrumming with euphoric fullness.

"Move, please...need you to move," you beg breathily, fingertips digging into the taut muscles of Harry's lower back.

He growls in compliance, pulling almost all the way out with one long torturous glide before slamming back home. The brutal stroke punches the air from your lungs in one harsh gasp. Above you, Harry plants his palms on either side of your head, framed by bulging biceps as he sets a piston-rhythm sure to have you crying out his name soon enough.

Your hands find purchase gripping the globes of his arse, fingertips digging divots in the muscular flesh as you urge his thick cock even deeper inside with every frantic snap of his hips.

"So good, so good, please don't stop..." The litany spills unheeded from your slick lips, words tangling together along with broken moans and whines. Your world narrows to just the unbearably sinuous glide of his thick shaft as it splits you open over and over, your soft body jolting with the force of each collision.

Sweat soon sheens both your bodies as you strain and cling to one another, the steady creaking of the bedframe echoing through the room. Harry's forehead slams against your own, panted breaths mingling hotly in the scant space between you.

"Look at me, baby girl." His grit-rough tone commands your heavy-lidded gaze back to his searing emerald stare. "Look how fuckin' perfect and delicious you are, taking every inch like a sweet lil' angel."

His words alone are enough to send your vision whiting out for a dizzying moment, every muscle convulsing around the penetrating shaft buried so deeply inside. A wild keening punches out of your throat, your orgasm cresting and shattering over you sudden and explosive. Harry snarls like a savage beast, hips jackhammering harder and faster as your convulsing inner walls clasp around him in fluttering waves of ecstasy.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Harry tenses fully above you, powerful frame locking up as his own rapture overtakes him. You cry out again at the feeling of his essence flooding your spasming depths, scalding heat spreading through your very core.

It's always like this with Harry, your passion igniting a wildfire that consumes every rational thought until you're both rendered to pure id and physicality.  Dimly, you're aware of his arms trembling violently to keep from crushing you beneath his solid weight as you both slowly float back down to earth, one quivering boned creature.

Eventually, Harry's hips still against the cradle of your thighs, buried balls-deep as you milk the very last pulses of heat from his spurting cock, hips twitching in the aftershocks as he released his load inside you. He sighs against your damp neck, his curls sticking to his own forehead as his lips leave a trail of kisses over your steadying pulse.

***

Y/N's gaze drifted over to the mirror, once again, but this time no self-doubt or criticism was clouding her vision. Cocooned in Harry's strong arms, she felt powerful, beautiful, and truly at peace with herself. His love was like a radiant force protecting her from lingering insecurities.

She turned her face up towards Harry's, drinking in the open adoration shining in his bright eyes. A contented smile tugged at her lips as she traced the line of his chiseled jaw. "Thank you," she murmured softly. "For always seeing the real me."

Harry's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer until their foreheads pressed together. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you, baby." His deep voice was thick with emotion. "You help me find peace too, y'know."

They stayed that way for long, quiet moments, simply basking in the profound intimacy and deep love surrounding them like a warm blanket. The outside world seemed to fade away as Y/N melted further into Harry's embrace. 

Eventually, he brushed a feather-light kiss to the tip of her nose, emerald eyes sparkling with pure joy. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up and I'll make us some breakfast, gorgeous."

As they moved around the bedroom, trading gentle caresses and soft laughter, Y/N felt lighter than she had in years. Harry's unwavering love acted as a beacon, guiding her out of the shadows of her past. She knew there might still be difficult days ahead, but she also knew Harry would be by her side through all of it.

Pulling on one of his oversized shirts, she sent him a radiant smile. "I love you, Har. More than I can ever say."

Harry's answering grin was blindingly bright as he gathered her into his arms once more, holding her like something infinitely precious. "I love you too, my radiant girl. Always and forever."

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[harstyle]

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now. 

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and had sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered. 

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself.  Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s whose name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?” 

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum. 

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?” 

“Of course.” 

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing out dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.” 

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke,  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

 “Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture most. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?!  I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone:  “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It felt instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight.  “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the next room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”  

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts.  Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they didn’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat.  He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head back so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.  

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want or need Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

--

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

[justmystyles]

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-downand leads you on a whirlwind romance with one of the biggest pop stars in the world.

*back to my master list*

Chapter 1:

A work breakfast at a local diner leads to a meeting and unexpected invitation.

Chapter 2:

You attend your first Harry Styles show, but the most eventful part of the evening is afterwards.

Chapter 3:

Harry reaches out following your night together, and invites you to come visit him on tour.

Chapter 4:

Things heat up between you and Harry when you attend Harryween night 1.

Chapter 5:

It's Harryween night 2, and your last night in New York with Harry.

Chapter 6:

Harry invites himself to come spend some time with you while he's on break from tour.

Chapter 7 (NSFW):

Harry spoils you for your birthday.

Chapter 8 (NSFW):

It's the morning after your birthday, and it's finally time to have the talk you've been dreading.

Chapter 9:

Harry has dinner with your family.

Chapter 10:

You and Harry spend the rest of the week together, and have some conversations about your relationship.

Chapter 11 (NSFW):

Just as you settle into your long distance relationship, Harry returns for his New Year's visit.

[bonesandchalamet]

Italy - h.styles

pairing: husband!harry styles x wife!reader

warnings: fluff

a/n: he looks so husband material in the latest Italy pictures!!! enjoy this lil blurb xx

you’d lay in the sun until you could become leather, or until the alcohol washed away and you were suddenly aware of the rays piercing down into your skin.

you’re laying at the head of the boat, towel underneath you collecting sweat and salty water droplets while you drift into sleep. you only wake the sound of a bottle squeezing out sunscreen and your husbands warm hands rubbing the cream into your skin.

“you’re going to get sun poisoning if you don’t wear this.” he mutters while furiously working his hands across your stomach to evenly distribute the SPF 30 to protect your skin.

“I’m fine, h.” you protest, but have no strength to push him off, just allowing him to help you.

“when you’re so red you can’t move tomorrow I’ll be the one to laugh.” he smiles, a chuckle escaping his lips before he places a gentle kiss to your Rudolph colored nose.

the rays of Italy were brutal. they were not kind like the sun in England that could give you just the perfect glow for the week or two. Italy’s sun loves to eat up pasty white skin and make anyone redder than a lobster.

he throws his leg over your waist and effortlessly pulls you closer to him, “you should drink some water or else you’ll get sick.” he reminds you with another kiss, this time into the crook of your neck. he burrows his nose into you, lips wrapped around your skin his teeth sink into the redness marking his territory.

“harry, stop.” you can’t fight the giggles or the gasps of air he has you in. you’re both so completely unaware of the passengers on board. he’s pulled you into a different universe with his tongue, lips, and teeth.

“alright, alright,” he pulls himself away finally. he swings his leg off of you sitting up right, “so water?”

“yes please.”

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over | Ch. 3 The Mistake

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 3. Summary: Things are a little hot and cold with Harry but then when you learn the truth about what happened that first night it feels like everything changes. But maybe it's a mistake to allow yourself to feel anything more for him.

Word Count: 9.5k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, alcohol consumption, feelings of confusion and turmoil, angst

Can We Start Over? masterlist

Harry had thought a lot about the way he treated you that night. He knew that what he’d done was shitty. Shittier than what you did to him. You were only retaliating. And he had to admit, your method of revenge was quite genius. It was cold and clever. And it gave you the upper hand in some ways.

It made him like you even more. And having heard it from your own mouth that you’d still been thinking about him after that night (even if you only told him as part of a drunken declaration) had him feeling things he shouldn’t. He wondered what had possessed him to insist on having you as his personal assistant. So far, things had been very professional between you but you’d only just gotten started and Harry, knowing himself, was quite aware that he could easily find himself falling for you, as crazy as that sounded. And he hadn’t had sex with anyone since you.

Not that he couldn’t go without for a bit… it’s just that having you in his home, sleeping down the hallway from him, seeing you every day in his office in your perfectly professional outfits and pretty face, and grabbable hips… his thoughts could tend to become inappropriate.

But as much as he enjoyed how cute you were he was tired the day after he had to pick you up from the club. You’d interrupted his nightly routine with your drunken antics and his mood was rather foul. It was also not wise to have been thinking about you the way he was so the following morning when you were still raging with a terrible hangover he was very curt with you.

“I want to have sympathy for you, Y/n, but I don’t. You put yourself into that situation last night and these are the consequences.”

He stood at his desk as he spoke and you had barely dragged yourself into his study. You weren’t going to bring up how your head was pounding or how queasy you were so you were surprised when he did. Perhaps he could see it on your face. You could hardly remember the night before. Except that Harry had helped you get home.

“I know. It was a bad idea. I went overboard. I’m sorry. But…” you sat down and opened up your laptop, “thank you for helping me and bringing me here last night –“

“I hope that will be the last time. I don’t like to deal with drunks and if it happens again on a night you have to be at work the next morning we will end our contract. I won’t tolerate it again.”

Yeah, he was in a bad mood. And you were his punching bag for the next few days. You could tolerate his bad attitude for the money for only a while longer before you’d quit. It was surprising to you how he’d gone from rather pleasant to suddenly cold and uncaring.

You wished you could recall what had happened, what you’d said to him while you were drunk but you knew better than to blame yourself. Harry was just an asshole with a few, rare nice moments you determined. You’d keep your distance and not allow yourself to feel as if he was a kind man again.

.           .           .

“Mr. Styles, the car is here. Your suitcase is already ready.” You poked your head into his office.

It was time to head to Vancouver.

You enjoyed traveling. When you worked for Alfred you had the occasional opportunity to do so. However, normally, he didn’t go with you. He’d send you alone. Mr. Spector preferred staying at his home unless the destination was Italy, where you’d stay with him and some staff at his lovely Italian villa.

Another thing you enjoyed about flying with or for someone wealthy was that you would normally get the larger business class or first-class seats. You did, however, hate flying coach now that you’d become accustomed to early boarding, free snacks, large seats, and generally better service all around.

But now you were working for Harry, who was still treating you coldly. And you’d booked the seats next to each other but you wished you’d booked them apart. It would have been nice to have a bit of a break from his attitude. Well, it was more just that he was hardly speaking to you unless it had something to do with work.

“Comfortable?” Harry asked as he buckled himself in. You hadn’t expected him to say anything to you at all. Much less ask about your comfort.

“Uh, yeah. This is great actually.”

It was great. In fact, the whole experience of flying that day had not been bad at all. Harry didn’t talk to you much but he wasn’t acting like your presence was a burden like the days prior.

When you got to your hotel you checked in and were each given key cards for your rooms. Harry needed your room to be attached to his so he could call you and you’d be right there if he needed.

You showered and enjoyed the view from your balcony before dressing and getting ready for the first meeting you’d have with Mr. Radatz, the owner of the gallery who kept the art piece for the owner. You were excited to watch Harry in action. To see how he worked and better understand what being an art dealer’s assistant entailed.

You knocked at Harry’s door to see if he was ready. It was nearly time to leave. He answered wearing a Lavender suit. 

“Did you know I was wearing this?” He looked at your lavender blouse and up to your face.

You laughed as you shook your head, “I did not. Just a coincidence I guess.”

.           .           .

When the driver parked in front of the gallery you realized that it was closed to the public. This would be the first meeting with the gallery owner, Mr. Radatz, and his wife. Harry wanted to see the piece before moving forward with making an offer to purchase. If it looked legit he’d agree to meet with the woman who owned it to negotiate.

You followed him inside and Mr. Radatz greeted you both, “Welcome. I have the work in the back for you to look at. Follow me.”

The lights were off throughout the large space except for the area at the back where the painting was hung with spotlights shining over the small piece.

Mr. Radatz showed Harry the folder the owner had provided so he could verify the provenance of the artwork, including a signed certificate of authenticity from the original artist, an appraisal, as well as a document containing information about the artwork itself.

“And where is the receipt with the most recent purchase?” Harry slid the paperwork back into the folder.

“Oh, the owner has that with her. Hallie didn’t want to part with that. She can show you tomorrow.”

You knew this should have been some kind of red flag from what you’d learned. Though all the rest of the provenance seemed good, the bill of sale should have been provided as well. You supposed you’d see that tomorrow.

“Perfect. This all looks very good. I’d like to negotiate with the owner tomorrow. I have a client who wants this. Will you let her know we’ll set up dinner to discuss?”

Mr. and Mrs. Radatz made arrangements with the owner before inviting you and Harry to dinner at their favorite spot.

And of course, once at the restaurant wine was ordered which you hoped you could avoid. The less alcohol around Harry the better you figured.

“Oh, Y/n, you must have a glass. I insist! You simply can’t come here and not have some wine. I promise you won’t regret having some,” Mr. Radatz said as he poured a glass for you.

Well. You tried.

And it turned out that the wine was quite amazing. Better than you thought it’d be and after Mr. Radatz kept refilling everyone’s glasses you realized how close Harry was sat. He seemed much more relaxed once he’d eaten his meal and had a few glasses himself. But he was still mostly ignoring you.

Mostly. Because a few times you noticed Harry’s eyes on you. And when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom he stood with you and helped you out of your chair. Which you certainly did not need.

You knew you’d had too much to drink. Maybe one glass too much. You weren’t trashed. But you were definitely a bit tipsy and feeling very warm. And Harry was looking very good. You could admit to yourself that you were horny. Despite how he’d been a bit cold with you since the night he had to pick you up after you were so drunk you could hardly stand.

Harry was sitting next to you while the gallery owner sat across. Harry had done quite well to mostly ignore you. He’d spoken to you when he needed something but otherwise, his attention wasn’t on you. Which for some reason, had you feeling absolutely insane. The way his suit fit him, the style of his hair was just right, the bit of unkempt scruff on his face, the way he handled himself with the gallery owner… he was sexy and confident and you couldn’t stop watching him. You blamed the alcohol.

“I think it’s time for us to head home. You and Hallie can work out the final details tomorrow for purchase. It was nice to finally meet you,” Mr. Radatz stood and shook Harry’s hand and then yours.

You and Harry stayed back a bit. Another drink and you finally had the nerve to say what you wanted, “You know…” you swallowed, “I get why you’re being so standoffish with me but it would be nice to put this behind us. Makes everything much easier if you can just let go a bit. I’d like us to be amicable, Harry.”

He snorted and looked around the bar before turning back to you, “Amicable? Why?”

“It just makes things easier, like I said. I know you didn’t like me being drunk and having to pick me up from-“

“Y/n, you and I will continue to have a professional relationship. You’re the perfect personal assistant and I really would like to keep this going. I’m trying my hardest to be reasonable here. You don’t make it easy.”

You blinked and looked down at your nearly empty glass, “Reasonable? What am I not making easy for you, Harry? The first week I worked for you wasn’t so bad. But after you had to pick me up that night you’ve been hard to deal with and honestly, it kind of sucks. You’re not rude, but you’re not nice either.”

You watched as he clenched his jaw and nodded before finally setting his gaze on yours, “What do you want me to do? Hmm? I know I’m not always nice but it’s a fine line for me. If I’m too nice I find myself wanting to do things I know you don’t want. But if I’m keeping my distance it’s easier to remain professional.”

You scrunched your face in confusion, “What would I not want you to do?”

Harry laughed and you watched as his eyes dropped to your mouth and he tutted, smacking his tongue, “Kiss you. Have a repeat of that first night.” He looked away and toward the edge of the room, “Things like that.”

You laughed and shook your head. You hadn’t expected him to say that, “Wow. Okay.”

“Exactly. Not the best way to conduct a professional relationship.”

“Well, you’re forgetting that when I decline your advances you don’t get to have a repeat of that night. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh I’m well aware,” Harry turned back to look at you, “You’d never want me in your bed again. I get it. It’s well deserved. I fucked up when I treated you like shit that first night we met. I regret how I went about things.”

You nodded and hummed, “Tell me what happened with that. You never really explained to me about what happened. I’m curious who called you and why you suddenly went from hot to cold.”

He sighed and took a gulp of his whiskey, “It was a friend. Someone who started to get attached and it was my fault for stringing her along. I was a coward to not break up with her sooner. It was never meant to be serious. I didn’t even know at first that she was serious about me,” Harry licked his lips and twisted the glass around on the dark wood tabletop. “But when I realized she’d stopped seeing other people and got her feelings hurt when I took someone else out for dinner I should have confronted her.”

You nodded, “So you kicked me out of your room because you invited her and forgot?”

He shook his head, “She was meant to be my date for the ball. But we had different flights and hers got cancelled and I didn’t know she was coming. Didn’t know she’d rebooked. The last thing I knew was that she couldn’t come. But then when I got her call she was already just outside of the hotel on her way up,” he looked at you, “I made a choice between hurting her feelings and yours but that blew up in my face, obviously. I thought I’d never see you again and so…” he sighed, “I’m sorry. It was a shit move. I’m shit. I know. I just… I had no time to think it through and Aster and I have mutual friends and sometimes we cross paths for work so… I was spineless.”

“Aster? That’s a pretty name. Have you spoken to her since?”

He shook his head, “No. I’m sure I’ll see her again at some point. Should be an interesting reunion.”

“So she found the condom and note,” you smiled with a laugh as you finished off the last of your drink.

Harry nodded with a chuckle, “Of course she did,” he shook his head exasperatedly, “If I could go back in time, I’d have been nicer to you. Had you stay. I’d have gone down to the lobby with Aster and explained what was going on to her. Tell her the truth. I would have told you the truth too. Of course, you probably would have left just the same once you knew about Aster. But at least I wouldn’t have been such an ass to you both.”

You pursed your lips as you looked toward the window in thought. So he hadn’t technically been cheating on someone but you would have probably bolted the moment you learned there was another woman there for him. Wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with that. But it was true, had he just told you the truth things would have been different.

Still, his knee-jerk reaction to treat you like shit wasn’t something you could just let go. You understood it better now, sure, but it still had your skin crawling and your tummy twisting when you thought about the way it made you feel.

But you were happy to know what had happened. And with all the alcohol in your system, you were looking at him in a different light.

It didn’t help that Harry kept whispering to you, pressing his shoulder to yours, trying to make you laugh. You figured he probably had a little too much as well. He was much looser. Laid back. Flirty. Kind of felt like the man you met that first night.

And of course, with all those thoughts mixed with alcohol, you almost didn’t care about the way you met him and left that night. Almost. Except that now you were thinking about it and that’s all you needed to remember who you were with.

“We should head back to the hotel, Harry,” you said, regretfully.  You were having a good time with him. Your tipsy brain was enjoying the attention from him.

Harry silently looked you over. His eyes roved over your features as he nodded, “Sure.”

The ride to the hotel was quiet. You tried to make sure there was a safe distance between you and Harry. Because he was awfully close at the bar and one or two comments were a bit suggestive. But either way, you couldn’t go back down that rabbit hole.

As you were swiping your room card Harry stood behind you. You pushed your door open and turned back to him, “Everything okay?”

He placed his palm on the wall next to your door frame and nodded, “Just making sure you get in safely. Want to be a gentleman.”

You coughed out a laugh in surprise, “A gentleman?”

He grinned softly, “Yes. Why? Did you not want me to be a gentleman?”

“Harry…” you warned. He was definitely stepping past a boundary. Even his own boundary. Maybe he’d had more to drink than you realized.

“Sorry,” he put his hands up in yield, “I’ll go to my room. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

You certainly did know where to find him. And it was even harder not to feel tempted when your rooms were adjoined by a door staring at you as you lay in your king-sized bed alone and imagined he was with you. That your fingers were his. That he was making you come.

You pressed your face into your pillow as you gasped with your fingers rubbing your clit.

There was a moment where you tried to imagine anyone else. Anyone but him. But it was difficult when Harry was so attractive and his comments to you were so suggestive. So you gave in to your fantasy. No one would ever know anyway.

.           .           .

Hallie, the woman who owned the painting, was at the restaurant before you and Harry arrived. She shook Harry’s hand and then walked him inside to the hostess who seated the three of you.

At first, you didn’t think too much about the way Hallie treated you. She focused on Harry from the moment you met her. And he was the buyer and ultimately the one she needed to impress. But the longer you three spent together you realized she was actively ignoring you.

It really ramped when she pulled out her chair to sit right next to Harry and leaned in to whisper something to him that you couldn’t hear. He didn’t seem to notice it. At first. But you kept it professional and ignored it the best you could.

When the waiter came to take your order she looked at Harry, “What wine do you like? I was thinking of a Bordeaux.”

Harry hummed and looked at you, “That sounds fine to me. What about you Y/n? Bordeaux?”

Hallie made a strange sound and spoke over you before you could say that anything was fine, “Well, it’s all about you, Harry. What you want. Not her,” she laughed as if what she was saying should be obvious.

Harry looked at Hallie and squinted his eyes in puzzlement, “I’m not sure what you mean, Hallie. She’s sitting here at this table with us, so she’ll be sharing the wine too.”

Hallie let out an exasperated sound, “Pfff…” she looked at you, maybe for the first time directly since you’d met her, “You’re probably not going to want to drink such expensive wine anyway being just an assistant. Right?”

You didn’t want to argue. Didn’t want to cause a scene, “Oh… no it’s fine. I don’t need to–“

“She’s going to share the bottle with us. Of course, she will. I know she enjoys wine,” he turned to look at you, “Don’t you, Y/n?”

You looked between the two. You had been treated this way in the past. Some people assumed you were just a lowly assistant. No one to bother with too much.

“I mean… I like nice wine but it’s not a big deal,” you shrugged.

“See?” Hallie gestured toward you while looking at Harry.

Harry shook his head and leaned toward you, “You’ll have some of the wine.”

Dinner was slightly awkward after that display. You kept quiet and ordered a cheaper option off the menu. Hallie clearly didn’t think you deserved to eat an expensive dish. You only had one glass of wine, despite Harry trying to get you to have more.

Harry and Hallie discussed the most recent bill of sale. Which, Hallie had not brought.

“Well, I’ll need to see that so I can give you a fair offer. Without it, there’s not going to be a deal.”

“I’ll make sure to get it to you. After this, we can get it. It’s in my office.”

“I was really hoping to have this deal finished by the end of dinner so I could meet with the Radatz’s and have the painting packed for moving it from the gallery.”

Hallie put her hand over Harry’s, “Don’t worry. We’ll have everything ready for you by the end of the night. The Radatz’s know to wait for my call.”

“Is anyone feeling like dessert?” The waiter asked after your dinner plates were cleared. 

“Harry, you need to try their flourless chocolate cake. It’s to die for.”

“That sounds good,” he said as he looked down at the dessert menu and then looked at you, “What about you? What would you like, Y/n?”

You appreciated that he kept including you, despite Hallie practically brushing you off the entire day. You smiled, “I was thinking the cheesecake. With the raspberry compote.”

You chose the cheesecake because it was one of the cheaper desserts. You didn’t want to hear Hallie balking about you wanting the $25 frozen hot chocolate sundae with Belgian chocolate truffles and strawberry glace.

“Oh, Y/n…” Hallie tsk’d, “Are you sure you want that? Cheesecake? I mean,” she looked at the menu and pointed out the fruit salad with mint, “The fruit is probably going to be better, don’t you think?”

You had seen that option but it had pineapple in it, “I’m allergic to pineapple. I don’t have to get a dessert if it’s too much money or something.”

Hallie scoffed, “Allergic to pineapple?” Her laugh felt like an insult. Like maybe she didn’t believe you.

“Get whatever you want, Y/n. Don’t worry,” he looked at you but you could see he was getting frustrated with Hallie.

You could hardly enjoy your cheesecake. It felt like you were doing something wrong. You weren’t sure if Hallie was trying to get you to go with the fruit option because it was cheaper or because it was healthier and she was making a jab at your weight. Probably both really. And that had you feeling a little nauseated. Like she was scrutinizing you and despite having ignored you for the most part was suddenly very interested in your dessert choice.

When the bill was paid and the three of you exited the restaurant Hallie’s driver pulled up and Harry’s just behind.

“Look,” Hallie grinned at Harry and put her slender fingers on his forearm, “My office is at my home, and this transaction might be better done with just the two of us.” She looked at you, “You can have his driver take you back to the hotel, right, Y/n?”

You began to nod but Harry moved to stand next to you and put his hand at your low back, “That’s not going to be necessary, Hallie. I have to say, I don’t appreciate how you’ve treated her and that you think you can suggest that she leave by herself. In fact, this transaction is not going to happen at all. You’ve really left a sour taste in my mouth.”

Hallie’s red lips dropped open and she looked shocked, “What?! Why not? I just paid for your dinner and hers and you’re telling me this isn’t happening?”

Harry pulled his wallet from the inside of his suit jacket, “How much do I owe you for the inconvenience?”

She put her hand up, “It’s not that. It’s just that you should have told me before we got to dinner that you weren’t interested.”

“I was interested before I met you in person,” Harry looked down at you, “Go get in the car. I’ll be right there.”

You walked away and waved at the driver as he ran to the back passenger door and opened it for you.

Once inside the car, you watched Harry and Hallie. You wished you could hear what they were saying to one another. You could see Harry’s body language indicated he was relaxed and uncaring. But Hallie was stiff and her face wore a scowl as she looked toward the window you sat near (though she couldn’t see in through the dark tint) and then back to Harry.

However that conversation ended, Hallie was not happy with the outcome as she stormed off toward the car waiting for her.

Harry slid into the backseat next to you, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been treated that way by other executives. A lot of people look at me like I’m just an errand girl or something–“

“Well, I won’t tolerate it. I didn’t recognize what she was doing until she said something about your dessert.”

“I’m sorry about that. You lost the deal and it feels like my fault.”

Harry took your hand, “No. I didn’t lose the deal. I called it off. I don’t want to work with someone like her. Can’t trust someone like that.”

You weren’t sure how to feel about the way Harry was acting around you. The night before had been confusing but you kept a level head and assumed he was acting the way he was because of the wine. You couldn’t deny you liked it when he flirted with you even though you knew you shouldn’t. And now that he took up for you and canceled a deal that could have been worth the cost of a small bungalow in Los Angeles had you even more confused.

“I still feel bad. If I hadn’t been there–“ Harry sat back in his seat, letting go of your hand, “None of that. I’m not going into these meetings without you so whoever I deal with will have to treat you as a colleague just as they would me.”

You looked out your window and smiled to yourself. You were starting to feel like you and Harry would work very well together. It had turned out much better than you thought it would. He seemed to be more easygoing after the previous night when you finally talked, and at that moment you were feeling fond after he didn’t go along with the way Hallie had treated you.

“Let’s grab a drink at the bar. Heard good things about their martinis here,” Harry said as you both walked into the hotel together.

“Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.” You could go for a martini. And it would be nice to chat a little more with Harry. Spend a little more time with him before you both parted ways for the night. And you resolved that it would only be a drink and nothing more. You and Harry and alcohol didn’t mix well. Or perhaps all that mixed a little too well and that was the issue.

The bar was full of people. You and Harry found the only little spot in a corner opposite the bar area. A high-top table with two tall stools that you found a little difficult to climb into. Harry steadied you as you planted yourself onto the cushion and he stood behind you. “What kind of martini would you like?”

You liked how close he was standing. Liked that you could smell his cologne again. You turned to look at him, “I don’t know. I’ve only had like a dirty martini and a Cosmopolitan. Didn’t like either much.”

“We’ll both have a French martini. How’s that sound?” His hand wandered to your upper arm; fingers softly pressed into your skin. His face was so close to yours that you swore he was about to kiss you. That he was–

You stopped breathing for a second when he leaned in and kissed your cheek. You thought he was going for your mouth. When he pulled away he turned around to find the bar and order your drinks.

You were very well aware at that moment of Harry’s intentions. And you weren’t sure what to think. On the one hand, this was the man who had taken up for you in front of a client and lost out on a lot of money because he didn’t like the way she treated you. He was also flirty, attractive, and you knew how good he was in bed and it really seemed like that’s what he was going for. And being a bit horny lately wasn’t helping matters either so you were wondering if it couldn’t hurt to let your hormones make that decision for you.

But. On the other, much bigger, hand the way he’d treated you that first night you’d met him, the way he kicked you out of his room… You couldn’t forget that he’d done that. Though, you had finally learned about what had happened and it made you feel less angry at him overall.

You laughed at yourself at how silly you were being. Clearly, the answer was going to be no. He did something pretty fucking shitty and that really should be the end of it. Right? Yes. So that would be it. You’d definitely turn him down should he try to take things any further.

Your pretty pink martini was sat down in front of you and then Harry’s next to yours as he dragged his stool right next to you and sat down, his body teasingly close.

Oh, he was dangerous.

He lifted his glass toward you, “Cheers to us.”

Your brows snapped together, “To us?”

“Yeah. I think we make a good team. We dodged a bullet working with someone like Hallie today and I’d much rather be here with you and this cocktail than spending a ridiculous amount of money on a painting.” He smiled with those mischievously seductive dimples.

“But that painting would have made you a ridiculous amount of money too. Your client was ready to pay well above whatever Hallie probably paid for it.”

Harry shook his head, “There’s no way I’d work with her. Even if that painting would have made me hundreds of thousands of dollars. Don’t like how she acted like you didn’t matter.”

You smiled at him as you clinked glass to his.

“Oh, this is actually good!” You were surprised you liked the taste.

Harry smirked, “It is good, isn’t it?”

You nodded.

“I’m glad you like it, Y/n. I hope you know that when I say I think we make a good team, I mean it. You’ve already made my life so much easier. I feel lucky that I get to work with you.”

You had one arm on the table, your fingers daintily gripping the glass stem, and your other hand was in your lap when you felt his fingers gently pushed in between yours as he took another sip.

You needed to shut it down. He was coming on strong and it was making your head spin too fast. Another sip of your absolutely delectable drink and you figured you could tough it out through one full drink and then before he could order another you’d make up some excuse to go back to your room. Alone.

“I’m trying really hard to be good here, Y/n,” Harry spoke, his body turned toward you, “But I like you a lot. More than I should given that you’re my employee.”

You cleared your throat and blinked as you looked down at your drink, “So, tomorrow morning you’ll get a wake-up call from the concierge and I’ll come get you at 10:30 before we need to meet the driver to take us to the airport.” You began rattling off the following day’s schedule. His hand wrapped around yours had you feeling so discombobulated that you weren’t sure what to say in response to his sudden confession. You just had to get through the drink. Then you’d call it a night.

“Why don’t I just have you as my wake-up call tomorrow morning?”

You sat your drink down and let out a laugh of disbelief, “What?!”

“Just a suggestion. We’re two adults. No one has to get hurt.” Harry leaned in closer and you arched away from him slightly

“Harry, you’re my boss and this is not a good idea.”

“At this moment I’m not your boss. I can take on two different roles if that makes you feel better.”

You shook your head. You tried not imagining his grunts that night. Right before he started to come, the little moan, and then when he filled up his condom he was breathy and raspy, and the jerk of his hips... It was so sexy.

“Not only that, but the way also you treated me when you kicked me out that night? That, I’m sure you would agree, is a good reason for this to not go any further. I can’t just forget that.”

Harry nodded, the smile faded from his mouth as he took a drink of his martini. “That’s fair. I fucked myself over by doing that to you. Then fate, or whatever, brought us back together and now I have to live with it. I know I said sorry already and that probably doesn’t mean as much to you as I wish it did, but I really am sorry, Y/n.”

“I can forgive you but how could I ever forget it? That was humiliating, Harry. I’ve never been treated like that before.”

He shook his head and looked down at the tabletop, “I’m sorry. I know. I was a proper dick to you,” he lifted his gaze to yours. “I can’t ever forget that I did that either.”

You squinted your eyes and folded your lips into your mouth in thought as you remembered that night. But it felt like such a long time ago in some ways.

He squeezed your hand and his handsome blushed lips wound upwards slowly.

Another sip and a reprieve from his eyes and his cologne did nothing to stop your mind from wandering. Maybe it was the scent that was bringing back all those memories from that night.

When he first revealed his sturdy chest and all its tattoos you were floored. You just remember wondering to yourself what Harry possibly saw in you. You didn’t figure you were his type at all. But the way he lavished you with attention... The way his mouth wandered over your body and how he looked at you… the way his hands smoothed over your skin and how eager he was to go down on you.

You shook those thoughts from your mind as he finally let your hand go. Maybe he could tell you were in turmoil.

“What?” Harry pressed his shoulder into yours.

“Nothing.” You didn’t look at him as you answered. He was too close and you weren’t sure you wouldn’t let your eyes drift to his pretty lips.

“I know I was flirting and I shouldn’t have been. That’s not fair to you. I promise to be good from now on.”

You smiled as you looked at him. And just as you knew would happen, your pupils dropped to his lips before you brought your sight back up to his eyes, “Thank you, Harry.”

You had only a few more sips of your martini before Harry spoke again, “Do you want to know what I told Hallie when I had you sit in the car?” “Of course, I do,” your eyes widened as you turned toward him.

“I told her she was trashy for treating you the way she did. That she ruined a deal that was ready to go and lost out on a lot of money which was stupid of her. I told her I was disgusted by her and that I knew what she was trying to do and that would never be happening.”

You laughed, “I do appreciate that you took up for me that way, Harry. I still can’t believe you did it, though. Could have been a big payout.”

He smiled at you softly, “It was an easy decision, Y/n. I love making money but I need to have anyone I work with to be respectful of me and you.”

And perhaps it was the martini that was making you look at him differently or maybe his words, it was an easy decision. For him to choose you over thousands and thousands of dollars?

Even though you really didn’t want to, you and Harry both made your way back to your rooms once your martinis were done. You kind of wanted to keep talking to him. Wanted to bask in his attention a bit longer. Despite you knowing that was a bad idea. You hated that you liked it.

Not unlike the night before, Harry stood by your door as you unlocked it, “I guess this is goodnight.”

You turned to look at him and shrugged, “Probably should be.”

He nodded, “Right. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “If you need anything, just knock. I won’t be going to bed for a bit.”

“Thanks, Harry.” You smiled at him as he waved and stepped away from you, leaving you to finally enter your room and close your door.

And for some reason, it felt so disappointing. Like it was a mistake to let him just walk away. A perfectly healthy and handsome man who clearly wanted to have a little fun with you. You could do no strings. It could be just something between two adults, like he said. Right?

You shook your head as you removed your clothes and turned on the shower to let the water warm. You couldn’t get him off your mind. It was impossible.

Standing under the running water you sighed and hated that you felt the way you did. Your own mind and body were betraying you. And it was nuts to be thinking of Harry the way you were but he was so goddamn attractive and he’d been so nice to you. Choosing you over all that money.

When you stood in front of the mirror and dried yourself off you felt pretty. The way Harry looked at you and flirted… you had to quit thinking about it. Had to quit picking apart all the details and his words and the way he looked at you.

But you were just a human like he was. And you had needs that you could both fulfill for one another. Harry could make you feel good and you knew you could make him feel good too.

“Stop it, Y/n.” You chided yourself as you slid the fuzzy hotel robe on before putting lotion onto your face.

But you couldn’t stop it. You kept thinking about his body and the night you met him. He was cocky but he was sexy. And he knew how to work you properly. He’d really gotten under your skin that night.

You plopped down onto your bed and clicked your TV on but your brain continued spiraling and that made you feel hot and despite your shower, you were already annoyingly slick between your legs. You couldn’t understand why you were so horny lately. Ovulation perhaps? Or maybe it was just Harry in general. He was too fucking attractive. In all honesty, it wasn’t fair.

You closed your eyes and before you knew it you were already using your fingers to rub yourself. But it wasn’t cutting it. The man just next door was more than willing. And you could say for certain that he was going to make you feel so good. So good. Better than your fingers would.

You moaned and rolled over to face the door that adjoined your rooms. You wondered what he was doing. If he was still awake like he said he would be.

Somehow it felt like the door was calling to you. Just to press your ear to it. Just to see if you could hear anything.

But there was hardly any noise you could make out. It could have been anything. TV. He could have been showering. Or maybe… you began to imagine him lying in his bed stroking his cock and thinking of you. Imagining that he was fucking you with that big thing…

“Stop…” you shook your head as you whispered to yourself. But just as you started to move away from the door you did hear something. A voice. Harry’s voice. He was on the phone perhaps. You strained to hear him but there was no other sound.

For some very strange reason, you decided to put your hand on the doorknob and twist. Just to see. If it was unlocked you’d just leave it. Or maybe you’d lock it. You hadn’t checked since checking in. It hadn’t dawned on you.

To your total shock, it was unlocked. The knob twisted easily and you felt the latch disengage from the spot that held the door shut but you stopped yourself. Letting go of the knob you backed away before you could open the door. It was unexpected that the door was unlocked but now your heart was pounding. All this time the door had been unlocked.

You heard a knock, “Y/n?”

You pressed your hand to the door, “Yes? Did you need something?”

“No. I thought I heard you at the door. Were you trying to open the door?”

You blinked your eyes and reached for the handle, opening the door only to realize that the door on his side was still closed, “No. I only just realized the door was unlocked.”

“Oh really?” You could hear his voice a lot better when suddenly his own door opened up. He was, to your surprise, only wearing pajama pants. His bare chest was still wet from a shower he’d clearly just taken. His hair was wet on his head.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” your voice came out weak as you and Harry stood in your rooms holding the adjoining doors.

“S’okay. Not disturbing me. I just got out of the shower and heard the doorknob.”

You nodded as your tummy flipped. You didn’t know what to say. And you didn’t know what to do either. Except to freeze and keep your eyes on him. It was almost like you were in someone else’s body when you reached for him and pulled him to your body, his mouth crashing into yours and hasty hands feeling his arms and his back and his shoulders as he wrapped his own around your body and stepped into your room fully.

You were naked beneath your robe, which had opened at the bottom as you stuffed your fingers into his wet hair. And you felt him against your hip. He was hard. Already. Just like you were wet. Already.

It was clear you’d both been pent up and thinking about the other and now there was no turning back.

Harry gasped as he parted from the kiss and looked down at you, “Do you want this? Y/n I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable–“

You drew his mouth back down to yours. Less thinking. More doing. The more you thought about it the less likely you were to go through with it. Your body had a great need and Harry could fulfill it.

He moaned as you pulled at him and made it to your bed. “I want you, Harry. God I need,” you pulled him with you into your bed and laid on your side with your lips attached to his.

You felt his hand roam up your hip and over your soft terry robe that had opened wider letting your breasts fall out. When he palmed over your tits you reached down to cup his large cock.

“Was just thinking about this exact thing, Y/n,” he whispered against your mouth, “S’why I’m so hard. Couldn’t stop thinking about you and your body.”

You moaned and pulled his hand down between your legs so he could feel your slick, “Me too, Harry. I want you.”

Your lips moved together wetly as you were pushed to your back. He took your breasts in his palms and kneaded before ducking down to lick and kiss softly. It felt so good. It was making you dizzy to have his hands on you again.

When he untied your robe the rest of the way he grasped your thighs and looked up at you, “Am I allowed? Can I eat you out, honey?”

You nodded with your brows stitched together and felt him lifting your legs, parting your thighs, and then running his fingers through your sodden crease.

But the moment his lips found your clit your body was elevated and soaring. His strong shoulders dug into the back of your thighs and you felt him suck and lap at you. Like he needed it so badly. Like he couldn’t wait to get a taste of you. The first time you had sex he took it slow but now things were feeling shaky and rushed and desperate.

His lips and his tongue and then his fingers added in had you moaning loudly and you’d barely even gotten started.

“God, it feels so good, Harry…” you placed your fingers into his hair and basked in the sensation of having a gorgeous man licking your pussy. It was a rare thing for you.

“That’s what I want,” he spoke against your clit and then lifted up to look at you, “Want to make you feel so good. Want to make you smile, Y/n. Want to make you happy.”

Your mind was spinning. He was too much all at once but you couldn’t stop it. Your body was in need.

His tongue ran up and down your folds and you could feel the warm breath puffing out of his nose as he worked your pussy over. The gushy sound of your hole taking his fingers and your gasps didn’t feel like reality. You must have been dreaming. Must have been imagining it all.

When he smacked his lips over your clit you groaned and pulled at his hair. He nuzzled down into you further, his fingers pumping into you smoothly.

He peeked up at you, kissing your mound, “You’re so fucking sexy, Y/n. I could spend all night down here,” he flattened his tongue through your crease and then licked over your clit teasingly.

“Oh my god…” you were feeling out of your mind. You pushed yourself up to your elbows so you could see him and you realized you wanted his cock. Right away.

Pushing at his forehead he lifted his lips from your cunt, “What’s wrong?” His chest heaved.

“I want you to fuck me. I want your cock.”

Harry moaned and sat up to peel his pajama pants down. His gorgeous dick coming into view with that one thick vein down the center.

He stroked himself and shifted between your parted legs, “Need to feel me, honey?”

You nodded quickly as you watched him line himself up with your pussy right where you wanted him. That yummy stretch and the feel of him moving into you had you crying out pathetically.

Harry hovered over you as he pushed himself in and then pressed his lips to yours, licking against your tongue as he drove his cock into the hilt.

You gasped into his mouth but he continued moving his lips against yours, stuffing himself in until he couldn’t push in any further.

The strength of him on top of you and the way his thighs flexed as he pushed in was dizzying.

And as he continued kissing you he pulled back and then plunged back in sharply. Over and over again deep presses of his hips against yours, rocking into you and slipping out to the tip, wet skin colliding in a perfect rhythm.

Your TV was still on in the background and the doors that joined your rooms were both wide open as Harry worked himself into you. The press of his balls to your ass as he ground himself in had you gasping.

“Oh fuck!” You whimpered.

“Yeah? S’deep in there isn’t it? M’cock fits inside of you perfectly, Y/n. Fucking opening up for me, sucking me in, squeezing around me…” He moaned.

He hardly knew what he was saying. He only knew how good you felt. How your walls split apart as he moved in, the way he could work you open bit by bit, and how filthy wet you were.

“Ohh… so deep like this. Jesus Harry,” you opened your eyes and watched his face as he fucked into you. It was ecstasy. It was relief. You could see it on his face how good he felt. How good your pussy was making his cock feel.

There was a delicious sting every time he buried himself into your guts. The achy stretch. Your walls warm and slick, accommodating his length and his girth just how he needed.

And you had the pleasure of hearing those sexy grunts again. The way he sounded as he fucked you and enjoyed your body. Grunting in time with every thrust, every smack of his hips into yours, wet skin pressing together, blankets under your back shifting with your body as you were railed into the bed.

“Sounds like it feels good, Y/n. Yeah?”

You whined, “It’s so good. Feels so good. Holy… holy shit!”

Harry knew it felt good by the way your body was shaking, your sexy moans, and how he could hear your wet pussy taking his hard cock.

He swiveled his hips in a circle, rutting into you as he lowered his mouth to yours again, needing to feel your soft mouth against his, your warm tongue on his tongue.

Thrust after thrust had your heart pounding, your cunt clenching, and when he angled himself over you with his pelvis against your clit your entire body began to vibrate.

You felt him moan into your mouth. He was drooling just the tiniest bit, you felt saliva dripping over your lips and down your cheek.

Sex with Harry the second time was frantic and heated. So different than the first time, but just as good. It felt even better somehow.

But Harry was going to come too fast. His go-to was usually to wank first and then get into it again so he could last longer but this time he’d been interrupted when he thought he heard the doorknob so he was already halfway there by the time you pulled him into your room.

He sat back, stilling his hips before moving his hands over your soft breasts, and looked at your pretty face, “Love how you take me, Y/n. Kept dreaming about you since that night.”

You moaned and rocked your hips up when Harry brought his hands down your sides and nudged himself in shallowly with a hiss. He watched his cock slide through your opening and repeated again before pulling out completely, “Sorry. I’m about to come,” he panted as he took your ankles and lifted your legs up, pushing your calves against his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” you chuckled as you watched his strong arms lift your legs. His long fingers held your calves, “I haven’t stopped thinking about that night either, Harry. It was so good.”

He grinned and you watched him drag his eyes over your body, “Rub your clit for me okay? Need you to come,” he smoothed his hands up and down your legs as you reached down to find your clit, pressing over it gently as you watched his face.

When you felt his tip pressing through your tight muscle again you both moaned together.

Slowly his thrusts got harder and deeper as he got into the motion of fucking you once again. His cock was so hard you swore it could rip you in half if he went any harder.

Your body jolted from the force of him, tits swaying up and down as his hips smacked into you harshly.

“Fuck…” he gritted as he watched your pretty face twist up and your lips part. He loved that he was making you feel so good. Loved how you were moaning and panting.

The bed began to lightly creak under the force of Harry’s thrusts. His back and his thighs were flexing with each plunge.

And you were rendered speechless as your pussy took him long and deep. His smooth punches into your cunt, his tip smashing into your insides had air being forced from your lungs and it was the only sound you could make as you panted and gasped.

You could see that he was sweating. He was trying so hard to hold off for you but it was sexy as hell. He wanted your release first and you certainly wouldn’t complain about that.

Slick and hot and sticky, Harry pushed into you over and over again until he felt you gripping him tight and your parted lips dropped open further and you began to cry, “So fucking hot, Y/n. You coming on my cock baby? Yeah?”

You had no idea what you answered him but you knew you nodded as your body melted and your pussy throbbed around him. Having a big cock sliding back and forth through your walls as you spasmed in your orgasm was incredible. Harry’s own grunts and the grip he had on your calves were just making it that much better.

He let you finish completely before he dared stop fucking you or allowed himself to come. He wanted to watch you fall apart on his cock like you had that first night. It was the best thing he’d ever seen.

When you moans slowed down and Harry felt his balls tighten he released your legs and pulled out, stroking himself over your pussy as he unloaded right there on your low tummy and over your cunt, his white come dripping down your pussylips.

You watched his face scrunch up as he threw his head back and moaned loudly into your room. His big palm slipped up and down his long shaft coated in your arousal, working himself to his end, spurt by spurt.

He nearly collapsed over you as he pressed a palm down into the comforter and lowered to kiss you again, “So good. So fucking good, Y/n.”

You moaned into his mouth and agreed. It was good. So fucking good.

Somehow you both wound up falling asleep in your bed. You normally would clean up but you were spent and so was he.

.           .           .

Your eyes peeled open and you blinked slowly as you realized that what had felt like a wild dream had been real. Harry was right there next to you in your hotel bed.

You smiled at first. Thinking of how hot it had been. How much you needed a release. How much he enjoyed himself. You slid out of his arms and sat up, noticing that your TV was still on. Everything had been so frantic. But you needed it. Right? You needed to have him again.

But did you really? You looked down over your body and felt a wave of disappointment. You remembered how you felt it could have been a mistake to let him walk away. But that wasn’t right. Letting him go back to his room hadn’t been a mistake. You should have left it at that. You pulled your robe over your body and frowned.

This was the mistake. Giving in to your desires was the mistake. It should have never happened.

You began to panic. You couldn’t kick him out of your room. Well, there was that flash of the thought that you should kick him out of your room like he had to you that first night.

But you weren’t Harry. You were a nice person who felt things deeply. It was almost 6 am. Perhaps you’d take a walk and clear your mind. Get a coffee…

And all you knew was that you needed to get out of there. You couldn’t stay in that room with him looking so innocent with his face smushed into the pillow. Nope. Because he wasn’t innocent. He was far from it and you’d fallen for his antics.

Letting it happen again had been a mistake.

NEXT PART

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