i.
Harry is a nice man, he promises. He just has to work with stupid people all god damn day, and being the boss of them doesn't really help him in the slightest, so he comes off as a bit of a prick and he can't help that. It's like – these people don't understand all he has to do in one day, and it's tiring trying to keep a smile on his face when he's pissed off, so they'd labeled him some sort of hard ass and well...he guesses it's not too bad being feared.
So he pities the people who have to come to him for a job interview, when Liam (who was the nicer face of the company) wasn't in. Especially the younger ones – while Harry is only 27, he feels as if he's gathered enough knowledge to be in his senior. Running a chain of supermarkets rivaling Costco was not an easy feat, and he needed hardworking people who knew what they were doing, so there were a lot of interviews cut short for pauses and "uh's", plus he wasn't the easiest to impress. It's safe to say not a lot of people are hired because of him, but the best people are hired because of him.
When there is a knock on the door, warning Harry that someone was heading to his office with a fun little outfit who's hoping for a job, he spins his chair from facing out the window and scoots up to his desk. An application waking up his fax machine that he peels out and reads over, because most the time this was his favorite part – a lot of people get declined right off the bat from this, especially if they seem useless. Though he's gotten good laughs from seeing these people's cheesy descriptions of themselves.
However, with this one, he finds himself reading over it seriously. A casual hand cupped over his mouth as his eyes scanned over, this Y/N's application – a 21 year old girl, fresh out of college, and seemingly exuberant in her writing. Even the list of her strengths and weaknesses had him intrigued, from a strength of typing to a weakness of having too many tabs open at once, it made him want to giggle almost and not at her...with her, which is very unusual for him. There's an eloquence to it that makes him eager to meet her, and the elevator ride up is taking far too long for his taste.
There's a knock on the door to which Harry gives an unfazed, "Come in." while he skims over the last few items on the resume he'd switched onto, closing it when the click of his secretary's boots hit the floor, "Good luck." He whispers to the girl – who Harry presumes to be Y/N, before patting her on the back and she smiles graciously before turning towards Harry.
"Good morning, Mr. Styles," she grins, reaching into her purse, "I brought you a muffin."
Harry is...startled, to say the least, a snort catching him off guard from his own lips, "Already trying to bribe me then?" He asks, and Y/N nods, handing it to him, "I'm not an easy man to bribe, Miss. Y/N. Take a seat."
"I heard white chocolate chip muffin's were your favorite," she continues, smoothing down her skirt to take a seat on the chair before him, "So I baked a batch from the heart."
"While this is a nice gesture, you're not being interviewed for a job in a bakery," he reminds her, "I don't mess around in interviews, I don't care to get to know you, and I'm not easily persuaded," he starts off, seeing if he can see any form of doubt in her eyes but they stay unruffled, "So I will give you exactly five minutes to wow me. You're lucky, it's usually three, but your application and resume intrigued me, so lets hope you speak as well as you write."
Y/N nods, scooting closer to him in her chair, "Well, for starters I'm Y/N Y/L/N. . ."
This is where she begins, simple and easy, before diving into where she went to high school, to college, her grade point average throughout, the community service she's done in the past and present, and nowhere does he hear the usual I'm a hardworker and very dependable, which doesn't perturb him any. He finds the ones who say that to be the least of those two attributes. She tells him a brief history of previous jobs, her minor in astronomy (and he didn't seem to care she got carried away talking about stars), explains to him that she has the utmost respect for her higher ups and has "nifty pens for notes! I'm stellar at taking notes, Mr. Styles, best in my class I'd say".
By the time the five minutes was up, Harry was wary, but sold all the same. She didn't look like the type he'd usually hire – her outfit was fun, with a butterfly blouse and white tights that had 3D Swallowtails decorated around the ankle. Fresh faced and an innocent gleam to her features, she looked rather young and it wouldn't take a genius to figure she's inexperienced.
But Harry likes her. Sees that determination and drive he had himself at that age, and figures if anything he could start her somewhere and let her work her way up to the top. If she is like him then she'll claw her way there, and he is almost excited to see it.
"One last question," he begins, leaning forward, "Why do you want this job?"
She's quiet for a moment, tilting her head a bit, "Can I be honest with you, Mr. Styles?" Harry nods expectantly, "I need the money. I'm in a lot of debt from UNI and I'm a bit behind on my bills, and I – well, I've seen so many people struggle with money in my life I just want to be able to live comfortably and happily."
And there is something about how she says it – the raw candor of her words – that doesn't make him hesitate in his next words.
"I expect you here tomorrow at 8AM. Not a minute more nor less. You'll start as an assistant secretary and see where it goes from there, okay?"
Her eyes widen, mouth dropping open, "I got the job?" then continuing after he nods, "Holy shit!"
Harry's eyebrows raise, saying a stern warning, "Language" but ultimately he's amused. Likes that he can practically feel the excitement jittering in her bones, radiating from her like the glow of that smile she's got and he feels...weird. A good weird, but weird none the less when he reads her face so easily and can see nothing but pure admiration towards him in that moment, "I'm taking a chance on you, Miss. Y/N. Don't make me look like a fool."
"Definitely not, Mr. Styles!" She chirps brightly, and Harry raises to a stand, walking around the table so he can shake her hand but when he thought he was going to feel a soft grip in his own, he feels soft arms around his neck. A squeeze around him that is quick and harmless, before she giggles happily and draws back, "Thank you so much. I won't let you down!" Then she's out of his office, more or less skipping and Harry is left standing alone, in the middle of his floor, feeling warm all over and a fondness sinking in his stomach.
This girl, he thinks, might be a mistake.
He doesn't really care though.
+
Y/N shows up on time today, which is nice, but his secretary calls in sick, which is not so nice. He figures this is probably a sign that he should've gotten an assistant secretary a long while back but there was nothing he could do about the past, and Y/N was here now with wide eyes following him pace a mechanically across his office. "I told him," Harry grumbles low, "Told him that he'd have to orientate you and the bleeding bastard decides just now to tell me he's got nobody to watch his kids?" He looks up to Y/N, "Once you know how to do this, he's fired."
It was a bit of an empty threat – he can be mean, but not heartless – so he pinches at the bridge of his nose and breathes in deep, "Okay...okay, we're fine, you're..." he pointed at her, moving over to the side of his office besides his bookcase, "...you'll be right here. I'll snatch up my calendar, I'll give you a list of my appointments, and you'll sketch out a draft of my week for me, okay? That was due today, but god knows Chris didn't fucking do it."
Chris was – in his own – trying his best. He had a lot of kids and not the best paying job for them, so Harry keeps him around because again, he's not a bleeding monster. Though he was sort of shit at being a secretary, he got everything done in somewhat of a timely manor at least.
"Don't mess this up. I'm putting my faith in you."
"Okay, Mr. Styles." She hums, reaching into her bag and grabbing a packet of pens and also another muffin, "Here you go."
+
Y/N had been sat near the corner of his office for the better part of five hours, doing all these different little tasks he gives her and with very little guidance, but he gives her Chris' number so he can message him or call if she was in need of any extensive help. Though she didn't make a nuisance of herself, her presence was still known, with quiet hum or the strong scent of vanilla beginning to cling around their surroundings. This with her gentle little comments about him being a busy bee, and he really wouldn't mind if she was in his office all the time.
Though, he notices she clutches her stomach every so often, followed by the low thrum of a growl and his eyes widen. He really hadn't noticed she wasn't given a lunch break, because he rarely takes one himself. "Oi, Y/N," he begins, startling her to look over at him, "You're hungry?"
She nods sheepishly, "Sorry, I forgot to pack a lunch this morning."
Harry shakes his head, thinking it over only momentarily before nodding to himself, "I'm quite hungry myself." He utters, spinning in his chair, thumbing thoughtfully at his lip as he looks out the window. He wonders what Y/N likes to eat – was she vegetarian? Maybe vegan? If he proposed the deli down the street he wouldn't want her to see him as a cruel animal feasting type of person. Perhaps the bistro down the way would be good, at least they have nice salads that she could nibble on if she were against meat. Or maybe she's a fast food kind of girl, but wouldn't that make him look cheap a bit? It's no secret he has money, if his office and suit are anything to go by, so what if she assumes he's some sort of cheapskate?
He's stuck in his head for quite a few moments, until something finally clicks.
Why doesn't he just bleeding ask her?
"What do you like to eat?" He asks, eyes not parting from the window and he hears her hum, as if she'd returned back to work for the time being.
"I eat just about anything, I think." She tells him.
"You think?" He questions bemused.
"Well, I haven't eaten everything so how should I know?"
With a snort, Harry spins back around in his chair, "C'mon then." He orders, lifting up from his seat and grabbing his wallet from his desk, "Let's go get food."
"Together?" She scrambles to clean up her spot, setting everything off to the side standing up and smoothing out the sweater she wore, and sweeping away the little bits of paper on her black dress pants. It's then he sees the ends rolled up, and he wonders if it's weird to think someone has cute ankles.
"Is that a problem?"
"No!" Her body jumps, tugging her sleeves down, "No, no, it's just – not a problem, um do you mind if it's some place sort of cheap? I haven't got much money."
Harry swings the door open, "Nonsense," he tells her, pressing it open and holding it for her to toddle through, "I'm paying."
"Oh, Mr. Styles that's a very sweet offer but I couldn't –"
"You could, and you will," he hums, tapping his fingers against the receptionist's desk, "If anybody comes for me, tell them I'm out to lunch."
He doesn't wait for a response, only looking back to make sure Y/N was still following him, which she was. Looking around with a bit of a helpless gaze, locking eyes with a lot of snooty glares, because it's not everyday Harry has someone trailing behind him without him at least yelling a little bit. Nor does he ever use pet names, but a "Oi, Doll, pick up the pace will you? My stomach might just start eating itself." He fits his hands in his pockets, in a lighter mood than normal, and he relishes in it before someone inevitably comes to ruin such a fine moment.
When they hit the elevator, and the doors close, Y/N snaps her head over to him, "Why do they all look like they want me dead?"
Grinning, Harry replies, "Dunno'. Maybe 'cos I don't allow sweaters. Rather unprofessional."
Her eyes widen, "Oh Christ! I'm sorry I hadn't known of a dress cod–"
"I'm kidding," he rolls his eyes, patting her head, "They're upset I've taken a liking towards you, is all. Not often do I have a cute lil puppy following me everywhere." He teases, and it's so unusual but terribly easy to, it almost frightens him.
"I resent that!" She says, "You told me to "c'mon then" so I was just –"
"Following orders? Do you play fetch too?"
She gasps and grunts, before settling in a huff, "You're mean, Mr. Styles."
It makes him laugh, because believe it or not, he doesn't think anybody has ever admitted it out loud.
+
"You can pick whatever you like," Harry tells her, looking up at the menu behind the cashier counter, "Remember to get chips and a drink as well."
Y/N's face turns serious, "Mr. Styles, the combos here are like...expensive a bit, I would be fine with just a –"
"Have you ever been here, Miss. Y/N?" She shakes her head, "Well then I'll decide for you. It's well worth the price. Go find a place for us to sit."
Harry isn't quite sure what compels him to be this kind to her – he thinks perhaps its the fact he feels if he yells at her she may look something like a wounded puppy, and he hadn't wanted to be responsible for that. From what he could tell so far, she was a hard worker, doing most of his tasks quickly and efficiently, all the while looking impossible ... adorable? He thinks, she is quite cute, he can admit that. He can't particularly act on it, but he can sure as hell admit it.
(And maybe, it's because the muffins are really working. She's buttering him up a nice degree, at the rate it's going she might just swindle him into giving her half the company.)
After ordering, he sees she's picked a seat towards the window on one of the higher sat tables. Legs crossed and swinging lazily while she propped her chin with her hand, the other scrolling through her phone with a lip brought between her teeth. He has half the mind to ask her what was so intriguing, but she speaks without any need of a gateway, "There's this face mask, right? And it makes you look kind of like a sea monster because it foams up and it's s'pposed to get rid of blackheads and it has no bad reviews."
"You say it like that's a problem," he says, hiking himself up onto the chair, "Shouldn't you just buy it?"
"It's suspicious," she grumbles, "Not one bad review? It's almost like they're plotting something."
"You're a paranoid little thing aren't you?" He hums, taking out a handful of napkins, "So are they trying to take your kidneys or summat?"
Y/N glares at him, but a worker comes with their food on a large platter, which changes her face to one of awe. This was something Harry had grown accustomed to, though this wasn't the standard server/customer environment, they'd done it for him since he was a regular and he always tipped nicely. It was an unspoken agreement between the establishment and himself. "So, Miss. Y/N, tell me...who told you I liked muffins?"
She's picking at the Styrofoam container, opens her mouth to answer but Harry's work phone rings in it's place from his left pocket. He rolls his eyes, placing one finger up in the air for her to hold on as he answers, "Yes?"
"Mr. Styles, level 3 isn't understanding the new accounting programs and it's James' off day," the level's representative speaks in a haste, like he's walking quickly, "They're typing in the key codes but it won't let them login."
"First, I'm on lunch, so I don't know who told you to bring this to me," he begins, his voice ghosting over the lighthearted blithe he had prior, "Second, you tell James to come the fuck in or he can start scraping underneath the tables for gum to keep his bleeding beach house. Third, and most important, don't call this number unless the place is in flames, got it?"
He hangs up after a small, "Yes, Mr. Styles." Before he turns to his own container, popping open the tab and spreading his food out as he likes, with the chips on the right and his drink on the left. Y/N's eyes haven't left him since he'd started speaking over the phone, brows furrowed and instead of a horrified look like most give, he gets one of confusion. He raises his eyebrows, encouraging her to voice her concern.
She clears her throat, "I've just not heard your voice like that yet," she tells him, "I know I should expect it, I've been here for but a day but – well I don't want to jinx it."
"I'd advise you to take the chance," he tells her, biting into his sandwich with a happy hum, "But, what?"
Looking down, she continues, thumbing at the bread, "You've been really nice to me, is all."
Harry nods, swallows and takes a drink before reaching over, patting her cheek, "Just don't get on my bad side, Puppy, and I'll keep being nice."
Grunting at the name he's dawned on her, she takes a bite.
+
Harry decides after lunch, he's going to give her one last easy task. It'd been a busy day for the both of them, and she kept yawning – which he would usually be a bit pissy about, but apparently none of his usual guidelines and annoyances apply with her. Which, in itself, is very annoying.
But it was her first day, and it was a long and confusing one. He's not going soft, he swears to himself, and the reason she must stay in his office is given that the other's would riot against him. There's just something about her that makes him...protective? He thinks that's the feeling, so when she yawns wide and starts nodding out on the way back to the building, he turns on the seat warmers (it was a little chilly that day) and lets her nap for just a little while. Waking her up with a tap on her thigh, "C'mon, let's get back upstairs."
She blinks owlishly, stretching and looking around trying to regain focus on her surroundings, before she freaks out just a little, "Oh god, oh god, I'm so sorry Mr. Styles, I hadn't meant to – shit, I –"
"Language." He reminds her.
"Sorry." She repeats, looking down, but he tuts his tongue.
"If I cared you were asleep I would've woken you up." He tells her, "When we get back to my office, you're going to file just a few things for me, then you're welcome to clock out."
+
That night, when Harry climbs into bed, he wonders if the novelty of Y/N will have worn off by the time he's woken up.
He hopes so...he may just make a fool out of himself if it hasn't.
+
Harry hates meetings – he really fucking hates meetings, but it seems like he has countless in a day and he can never get out of them no matter how hard he tries. Sure, he's the boss, but there's all these proposals coming at him left and right and today is not as good a day as yesterday had been. He'd only seen Y/N for an aborted minute, Chris telling her to follow him about for a short tour of all the places as a secretary she'd need to go. She'd given him a small smile and a short wave, scurrying behind with a notebook tucked to her chest.
It was his 3rd meeting of the day, sat at the front with his hands over his eyes and he'd practically given up for the day. Groaning in the middle of a burly man's conferencing, trying to convince them to carry their brand of toilet paper, and he's just about had it. "Sir, with all do respect," he starts, knuckling at one eye, "I'm not going to buy your fucking toilet paper. The test you did with the liquid and whatnot, didn't work in your favor, but thanks for trimming our list down. Have a good day."
He spins around in his chair, "That's enough for today gentlemen, unless any of you have an idea about bleeding toiletries then leave me alone."
There's a soft knock on the door, before those who have been dismissed move and Harry inwardly whines, turning back around, "God dammit, wha– oh," he stops, brows furrowed, "Y/N? What is it?"
She's only peeking her head through, "Sorry for interrupting, Mr. Styles, but Mrs. Elmhurst is here as a representative of Charmin."
"Tell her to go home, I'm done with proposals for today."
Only unlike Chris, Y/N doesn't leave right away, startling the majority of the people in the room as she steps inside the conference room, "If I may, Mr. Styles?" She begins, but continues before he agrees to it, "I think it'd be wise to hear her out. They run through tissue fast, which is annoying – yes – but when me and my family would use it we'd go through a bundle in no time at all it felt like." She stands a little firmer on the floor, not bending her knee as she does when she's being casual, "So people would buy in bulk continuously. I think you should do it." She finishes, before looking around the room and her eyes widen a bit, looking back towards the ground.
Now, given Harry's mood, most everybody was ready for the show. New secretary speaking out in something that doesn't involve her – there was sure to be an explosion of curses from Harry's part, no?
....No?
He looks around the room, seeing all their smug faces because for once he wouldn't be barking at him and well that...that pisses him off a bit. Why would they want someone as sweet looking as she, with a voice like plum blossoms, to be barked at by Harry while he's in a foul mood? They're meaner then he is, he thinks.
"Send her in then," he hums, a smile threatening at his lips when their faces drop, "One more. I'll trust your judgement, Miss. Y/N."
"Thank you, Mr. Styles." She says, giving him a nod, before her face lights up, "Oh, she holds out her hand from behind her back, "I've brought you another muffin. Would you like it now?"
He shakes his head, "I'll grab it later."
There is a low murmur of whispers throughout the room as they wait for Mrs. Elmhurst, but nobody dares to ask him about it.
Harry cups a hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
+
Later on that day, before Harry's about to start finishing up to leave there is another soft knock that he's coming to recognize, and he shouts a come in for Y/N to pop her head through. "Mr. Styles, do you need me to do anything before I leave?"
He shakes his head, "You're good to go." He tells her, continuing before she turns all the way around, "Thank you, for today. None of those bleeding people knew what they were talking about."
"No problem, Mr. Styles! Told you I wouldn't let you down." She wiggles her fingers as a goodbye, tucking back out of his door and he can see her walking away through the window leading out of his office.
Shaking his head again, Harry holds his face with his hands, blowing a raspberry at the air. The smell of vanilla soothed him immensely and he makes a mental note to ask her how she got the fragrance so potent. For a moment, he wonders what makes her so different from every other person he has hired. It isn't just that determination and strive he knew he had starting at the bottom – there's no way it was only that, because he had hired Zayn the same way and while they are friends he'd never let him just walk into his conference room and start going on about his opinion without any request to. Hell, he doesn't even think he'd let Liam do it, and Liam was as close to second in command as anyone could get.
But for some reason, he couldn't bark at her to leave. Couldn't tell her to take her idea and shove it up her arse, because. . .well, it was a good idea, and she's got such a puppy like face...how was he supposed to yell at her? He doesn't believe in showing favoritism, but for god sake, in the few hours he's spent with her, she's pushing all these half arsed bastards out of her way.
Dare he say this may be thanks to a small, little friendly crush, but that always can be smothered away. Harry doesn't have time nor want the time to do relationships, he'd rather focus on himself. Who would want there thoughts to be overwhelmed with one person constantly?
Definitely not him.
+
It'd been three weeks since Harry hired her, and five ideas of hers that had worked and the financial clerks had documented how it went in their favor, that Harry promotes Chris to an information clerk and hires Y/N as the main secretary. Sure, not a huge step, but now she's got a more secure title, and if he were to push her too highly people may start questioning his motives with this girl (as he had been), so he thinks this is a nice Switzerland for the both of them.
Harry was headed to the roof of the building to clear his head – he can only deal with so many papers until he starts to drive himself batty so he has to take the occasional break, and the stuffy office building wouldn't wipe away any smog covering his brain. The roof was one of his favorite places; little picnic tables set up and small elevated cement blocks towards the edge so you could sit and look over safely, the fact that it was nearly deserted always because really nobody but a few people have the key.
So when he goes to sit by the ledge and he hears quiet sniffles, it's safe to say he was a little scared, a little concerned, and terribly confused.
Now, either it was Liam crying, which wouldn't be completely off the mark for his character; sometimes things got to be too much for him and he'd get really stressed out. Harry normally sends him home with his chauffeur and orders a care basket his way, letting him know he'd take care of his branch of the company as well for a few days while he rested up (one of the nicer things Harry's done). If not Liam, then the janitor – an angry old man called Tim, but he doubts Tim shows emotion at all. If not Tim then it could be Paula – the receptionist on his floor – but she was off today, so that wouldn't make much sense at all.
That leaves...well, Harry, and he sure wasn't crying.
He sits up from his seat, walking slowly in attempts to quieten the click of his boots against the concrete. Following the soft sniffles like a compass until he's peeking around the building's air conditioning unit, seeing a familiar pair of butterfly tights with suede looking flats and his heart does a twist uncomfortably in his chest. "Y/N?" He calls before he's even made it all the way around to see her face, hearing the sniffles abruptly stop before she says a shaky, "Yes?"
When he sees her, his stomach hurts. Eyes rimmed red and puffy, cheeks with stains from hot tears dripping down the skin, and a wad of tissue pressed to her what he presumes to be snotty nose, "Oh, hi Mr. Styles." She says quietly, wiping away her face with the dry back of her hand, "How is your day going?"
"Y/N," he starts, finding himself bending down to her level and sure it may scuff up the knees of his pants but he can't really care about that right now, "What's the matter?"
She shakes her head, "You'll make fun of me," she mutters, "I really shouldn't even be crying, but I can be real sensitive sometimes, even if it's just high school bullshit. Sorry." she apologizes for the swear, but he doesn't say anything – let's it slide given the situation at hand.
"I won't make fun of you, now tell me what's happened. Why're you crying?" Harry doesn't think he's ever felt so – so troubled by somebody being upset before. He yells and makes people tear up on a daily, but not once had it ever twisted this sick feeling inside of him.
What the hell is going on with him?
"These – these girls, in the break room," she starts slowly, "They were talking about me like I wasn't there. Said that the only reason you promoted me was because I must be giving you head and letting you do me up the arse," her voice is sad, however she doesn't get sheepish as she says it, she looks at him with gloomy eyes, "But I'm not! You know I'm not, and I told them to stop, but they wouldn't. So I called them a bunch of pricks and left and came up here." She explains, "Tim gave me a key, he said I could use it."
Now Harry feels something different – something akin to rage bubbling into a boil in his body, "Who were they?" He asks sternly, starting to stand but Y/N grabs his wrist, squeezing tight.
"Please don't!" She tells him, "Please, if they – if I tell you and you yell at them they'll only think that you favor me, then they'll be worse." Her reasoning falls flat with him, though he understands he suffocates it with the anger he felt. He couldn't even enjoy how she holds his wrist so familiarly, with how he feels right now.
His brows are furrowed, "They won't mess with you, Darling, tell me who they are."
"Mr. Styles –"
"I'll fire you," his threat his empty, but effective, "Tell me."
Her mouth opens and closes, whatever she was about to say faltering before she looks away, "It was Kim and Denise from the marketing level. I get my Zingers from the vending machine in there. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't thought we were becoming friends, I'd helped them earlier to file their documents since they wanted to run out for a bite."
"You stay right here, okay?" Harry tells her, gently plucking her fingers off of his wrist but giving her a reassuring squeeze, "I'll be right back."
Before she can say anything more, he walks briskly towards the door and jogs himself down the stares, nearly stumbling but he feels a fire in his body that surges him onward. He's pissed – fucking pissed that anyone would 1, be so blatantly, outright nasty and 2, shame someone for being bleeding good at their job. Harry had known that people may be suspicious but he didn't know they'd be out right rude about it.
He zeros in on Denise and Kim right away, their cubicles besides each other and he barks their names so loud that the whole floor goes silent. Every type on the computers stilling, every person halting in their step, and even the printer shutters to a stop (it probably had just finished printing but it was very well coordinated with everything else). It was unprofessional to do what he was about to do, but they weren't showing any level of professionalism when they accused Y/N of what they did.
Stopping at their desks, he leans against the wall, tilting his head, "Would you like to tell me, why I have such unbecoming and inapt employees, that they would go around and bully someone? Accusing them of sucking me off to get to where they are now?" Their eyes widen, "Do you forget that I write your checks? Did you just let it slip your mind that I could fire you at the drop of a hat if I very well pleased?"
"Mr. Styles –" Denise begins, but he holds up his hand.
"I will not have a hostile work environment," he says, leaning in a bit, "Next time you think of speaking about business that doesn't involve you, nor your floor, then you should just pack your stuff up right then. You will apologize to her. I will not repeat myself, this is your one and final warning." With this he pivots on his foot, poking the button for the elevator rather aggressively, and he notices the place is still silent. Turning to look over and see everybody staring at him, a fear in their eyes that he'd grown accustomed to, "The lot of you, get to work, or I'll fire your whole damn floor."
When he gets back to Y/N, her tears have stopped but she still sniffles quietly and sadly, only now she fiddles with the fabric of her shirt until she hears him clear his throat, "Don't let people walk all over you, Moppet," he says, the pet name slipping out but he feels endeared by this small, sad flower before him. Reaching out, his thumb caresses her cheek gently and it's sticky from tears but he doesn't mind it. Though he has to stop himself from kissing her forehead, it nearly happens, that's when he knows he has to take his hand back...even if she leant into it so sweetly.
"Alright Puppy, you're going to stay in my office."
Her brows furrow, "Mr. Styles that will only make them talk more –"
"I'm not going to make you sit out there with people who think you're fucking me, okay? They'd stare and I can't have you crying again, so you're staying with me. Understood?"
She guppies like a fish once again, before nodding slow and taking his hand to help her stand, "Thank you for sticking up for me, Mr. Styles." Her voice is soft, "I'm sorry I've caused such a fuss."
Harry shakes his head, "Don't let people walk all over you, Puppy," he utters seriously, "You'll never make it in this world if you do."
+
It's been four days with Y/N in his office, which means four days of looks he's shot down with glares, and four days of vanilla swarming his nose like a hornet's nest (only delightful), and four days of her voice sweet in his hears asking him if he'd had a good day thus far. Harry preferred working alone, but Christ, he didn't really mind this. Didn't mind her catching him staring and making a kissy face at him before going back to what she was doing. Didn't mind the little yawns, or a little hiccups, or little coughs that startled him but ultimately made him smile as he typed up emails.
He'd forgotten that at some point she'd have to go back to her new desk and do work there like a proper secretary. He liked having her in here better, knowing nobody was being rude to her and knowing nobody could be rude to her. Seeing her cry broke his heart, though he doesn't understand why, he'd like to keep his heart in tact from now on.
There was a knock on his door that brought him from his thoughts, and when he calls for them in Liam's face pops around the door, "Oi, Harry, can we talk for a minute?" He asks gently and Harry nods, beckoning him into his office. However, Liam doesn't start right away like he normally would, looking over towards Y/N and then back at Harry, which is his polite way of requesting 'alone'.
"Y/N?" Harry begins, and she answers with an awful cute hum that he shouldn't find cute at all, "Why don't you go take your break? The gas station down the street has them zingers you like, you can use the change from the frisco melts, yeah?"
"Okay, Mr. Styles. Do you want anything?"
"I'm fine Puppy, you just get some food I can hear your stomach growling from here."
Y/N puts a hand on her tummy, smiling embarrassed before making her way out. When the door clicks shut, Liam's face twists, "Puppy?"
"Never mind that," Harry utters, "What'd you come for?"
Liam takes a seat before him, relaxing into the cushions, "There's been a lot of talk Styles," he begins, "That you and that girl have something going on, and I didn't believe it for a second – I still don't – but I know why people think so." Then he leans forward, elbows to his knees, "Why is she sat in your office to do her work Harry? And why'd you yell at Denise and Kim, they talked my ear off about how "mean" you were."
"They were mean to her!" Harry exclaims rolling his eyes, "A ton of wusses they are. Were all talk when we weren't around, but when they got her alone they'd accused her of fucking me to get her job, and she was crying what else was I supposed to bleeding do?"
"Well, yelling at them in front of the whole floor probably wasn't the best route." Liam eases into his point, "What is it that you see in her, Harry? That makes you so protective?"
"I –" he begins, but it falters soon after. Covering his face with his hands, he groans, "She's just so – she's too sweet Li, and she's still so fresh out of college and new to the world, I don't – this is a business with a lot of shitty people you know that," he tries to reason, "But she's so determined and kind and I can't let them mess that up, okay? I just need her to be okay."
With a sympathetic smile, Liam nods his head, "I understand, just – just, try and keep it to a minimum how about? The pet names and being nice and whatnot? The other's would stop talking, but maybe you guys could do stuff after work, I feel that would be better for the both of your sake?"
Harry nods, but he doesn't want to. Knows that Liam is suggesting it and really, Harry could do whatever he bleeding wanted – it was his company – but this is why he needed Liam. For work disputes that he doesn't know how to deal with very well.
Besides, there was a time before Y/N so going back to how he acted with his employees shouldn't be to hard, should it?
+
It was hard.
Really hard.
Y/N was fine going back out to the secretary desk – she didn't mind it and thanked him for letting her stay in his office even though he'd basically ordered her to. But pretending like she was like every other employee meant not meeting her smiles that she gives when he passes, and avoiding her at all costs so she wouldn't give him his muffin. It even meant barking at her once, when she'd sent over what he thought had been the only copy of revised employee handbook without telling him so he could make copies and though he was actually a little pissy about it he hadn't meant to be mean. The teary eyes she got when she said quietly, "I left the other copy on your desk, Mr. Styles. I'm sorry for sending the other." Ans sure enough when he went to look on his desk beneath a few other papers was the booklet, with a post-it that had 'I sent the other copy over so they could make copies of their own and distribute them to the different branches!" ending it with a smiley face and the date and he feels like shit. Like absolute shit.
He hadn't thought she'd call him out on it – despite her talking him through business deals in front of people who'd been there for years, she was rather soft spoken – but when he calls her into his office she brings it up before he can ask her what he needs to, "Are you angry with me?"
"What?" Partly he's playing dumb and partly he's startled by her being so outright with it.
She looks down, "I – if you're going to fire me, then can I at least –"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down," he sits up straighter, "Fire you? Who says I'm going to fire you?"
"Well, the word around is that – well they say that you're going to fire the "newbie" because you haven't been acting so familiar with me lately. I noticed it too, so I just didn't know if you were actually going to."
Harry lets out a disbelieving laugh, "Love, I'm not going to fire you, Christ, what is wrong with this building," he shakes his head, "I called you in to ask if the district manager from the store in Santa Monica emailed you. He was supposed to."
"Oh!" Her face lightens up, "Oh, yeah he did! I'll forward it to you –"
"Mr. Styles," his phone speaks at him, and it makes him jump. He bleeding hates the new feature for receptionists, "Mr. Payne is on his way to your office."
"Fuck," he mutters to himself, looking around, "Shit, shit – I need you to hide."
"Wha–" she begins but Harry stands from his desk, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her over to his seat, pressing her down by the shoulders, "Mr. Styles, what the –"
"Shh, shh, shh, just stay there." He tells her helping her tuck her head underneath it before he scoots in, trapping her between his legs. When he peeks down he sees her eyeing him, confused and disgruntled, but ultimately she keeps quiet. Huffing gently before Liam knocks and Harry invites him in.
Liam looks distraught, "I didn't mean fire the poor girl!" He cries, the door swinging shut with a loud noise that makes Y/N flinch, "I just said keep the cutesy stuff to a minimum for christ sake! You're the one who said you cared about her, now she's gonna be all alone with no job and it's all my fault I –"
"Breathe!" Harry cuts him off and he feels Y/N lie her head on his knee, startling him but he looks down and sees it, and has to hold back a coo before looking back to Liam, "I didn't fire her you dolt."
(The words "she's literally between my legs beneath this desk right now" die in his throat).
"You – you didn't?"
"No," Harry insists, "When have I ever taken your advice so closely to heart that I did something drastic?"
Liam plops himself down in the chair, "Thank heaven's to Betsy!" He sighs in relief, "I was willing to go out and find her if I had to. May be an odd one but she's damn good at knowing what products we should have. And I felt bad too...where is she now? Need to pat her on the head or summat to clear my mind."
"She's..." Harry trails, "...probably off to lunch, I'd presume. I don't keep bloody tabs on her, Liam."
"You say that like you haven't thought of it."
"Sod off," he cavils, his fingers reaching down as if to scratch his thigh but really he combs his fingers through her hair just once, because he feel like he can, "You can bugger off now Liam, haven't you got a few floors to run?"
With a hefty sigh, Liam kicks himself up, "Send her my way when you see her next."
Harry nods, and when the door shuts he lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.
"Um, Mr. Styles?" Y/N hums from underneath his desk, her fingers pressed to his knee, "Can I come out now?"
"Yeah, yeah, c'mon Love, sorry about that." He runs a thumb across her cheek, a fuzz having clung to it somehow from the short time she'd been there. "I'll explain it all to you later."
"Mr. Styles while I was down there you got hard." Y/N rushes, tense and bashful, "I want you to know I don't mind it – it's a normal reaction, that's just the human body y'know, I took an anatomy class so I understand. I wanted you to know that it's okay."
Harry's brows furrow, looking down to his lap to see, low and behold, a bump forming in his suit pants. Now, Harry isn't entirely shameless, but he likes how squeamish Y/N appears before him, darting her eyes everywhere around his room to avoid looking at him as he holds back a chuckle. "Sorry, Y/N, it's just been a little while since someone's been so close to my prick. Got a bit too excited, but I'm sure there's something in anatomy to explain that."
"Oh, um really?" She refers to his first part, "With someone like you I'd figure there would be people throwing themselves at your feet – oh, shoot, I shouldn't have said that should I? Forget I –"
"Someone like me?" He presses, "What do you mean by that?"
Y/N's looking at her feet now – he thinks he can feel the heat from her cheeks from where he sits, blazing hot – fingers twisting together, and her bottom lip dented by incisors, "Hmm?" He hums expectantly, waiting for her answer.
"You know...like...cute."
Harry guffaws, "Cute?" He laughs, border lining loud, "I'm your boss you know? I write your checks –"
"I know, I'm so sorr–"
"I would have expected sexy, or hot or summat."
He knows it's inappropriate to indulge in this and her seeming to be developing crush, but he just can't help himself. Indulging in this school like game for once, letting himself loosen up and leaning back into his seat, raising his eyebrows as she stutters through a response, but he stops her after he's had enough fun. "How about you go on break, Darling? Bring me a thing of Zingers, I wanna see how they taste."
"Oh, okay, Mr. Styles." She gives a flustered nod before pivoting on her heel and scurrying out.
Figuring he's played enough for today, his cock has to be ignored in favor of finishing his work, so he wills the throb away and tries not to think of Y/N.
It was hard, to say the least.
+
Office parties are not Harry's favorite things, but Liam says they increase worker happiness tenfold and that's needed for how harsh he can be sometimes, so he figures he'd give it a go. So every once a few weeks, after they're all done working for the day they can go home and get out of all their get-up (or stay in it if they'd rather), and dress in something either comfier or fancier, and they all get together and have a good time. Liam drags Harry out into the muddle of people more often than not, and he does exchange a few conversations with his employees, but ultimately they're all too scared to act like real people around him, so he gets fake golf stories, and compliments that he doesn't want nor need.
But he lets them happen nonetheless, only this time he'd successfully dodged Liam and made it to his office. The party usually took place on the floor below him – Liam's level – because they had a more spacious area for people to hang around and crowd in. So music only plays a gentle thump in the background as he types away on his computer, submitting payroll early because he was in a better mood than most days.
Though inevitably he was caught, however, it wasn't by Liam as he had suspected.
Y/N stumbles in through his door, noticeably a little drunk by the way her steps get jumbled and the tipsy-like giggle that leaves her when she steadies herself. It's no secret they spike the punch at these things, but he figured at least Liam would warn her before she drank too much.
Apparently he was wrong, because Y/N is knuckling at her eyes with one hand and supporting herself with the other. Looking up to see him before her face brightens, a chirp of, "Mr. Styles!" before making her way closer to him, "Why're you not down at the party, huh? It's nice!" She finally ends at his desk, squirming her way into the seat across him so she could set her elbows on the wood, settling her chin on her hands, "But Mr. Payne told me you were up here all alone, so I figured I would come and be your company!"
Harry chuckles, "You got into the punch, I'm taking?"
"Mhmmmm." She smiles dopily, reaching out her hand towards him, "Hey, will you hold my hand?"
"Why?" He asks, but he's already taking her hand in his own, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingertips and trying not to coo at the smile she gives him. Big and bright, moving her arm down to the table and placing her head atop of her bicep.
"Yours are big and warm." She tells him, squeezing his gently, "Like – it's so nice, yeah? Love your hands."
"Yeah? You like my hands?" She nods again, "I like yours too. They're very soft."
Her head pops up, "You think? I put Vaseline on them and then put on disposable gloves for an hour every night, oh!" She swings her other hand around, entrapping his one in between before bringing it close to her face, "Your fingertips look a bit calloused," she murmurs, zeroing in on his index finger and holding it up with her own, "Maybe that would help! Oh, Mr. Styles, let's hang out and we can do hand treatments together! And then I can show you all my Korean skin care products, they're really nice. Not saying that you need it – your face is already great, but like – a sleep pack never hurt anybody."
The amount of fondness he felt for this girl right now, was downright ridiculous. Harry's positive if someone were watching them that he'd have the most endeared face anyone has ever held. Letting her mold his hand anyway she liked, biting at his lip when her lips get close enough that she could've kissed it, and trying not to let the disappointment sink in too deep when she draws back until he realizes she's only trying to scoot closer.
"Maybe we should, Sweetheart." He knows even proposing the idea is inappropriate, but technically this whole conversation was, so Harry doesn't think he really gives a shit. The yellow glow of light casting warm shades from the small lamp on his desk, creating such a cozy atmosphere that all Harry wanted to do was snuggle with Y/N in that sweater she's wearing and kiss at her cheeks and entertain her alcohol induced thoughts until she's nothing but sleepy sighs and snores.
"You can't be driving home tonight," Harry runs his fingertips over the bumps of her knuckles.
Y/N shakes her head, "I ride the bus, Mr. Styles, so you don't have to worry."
But he does worry – he worries way more than he should, but he really can't imagine a drunk Y/N going on a city bus home to end well.
"Well that just won't do either," he decides, "I'll take you home then."
Y/N doesn't disagree to it – a familiar smile pulling at her lips with the thought of him taking her home (or at least he thinks that's why she's smiling, but she is dancing on inebriated so it could be she noticed the stars outside are twinkling a little brighter tonight. Harry had noticed them earlier, and they reminded him of Y/N's eyes.) and she squeezes his hand again, twisting it so his palm faces the ceiling before leaning in close and letting her lips graze over the center. Peppering exactly three kisses: the first one light, the second one a little harder, and the third one she leaves his hand with a bit of a wet smack before she curls his fingers inward. "You're super sweet, Mr. Styles, but I was planning on sleeping in the park anyways. You see," she begins, holding tight to his hand, "I lost my apartment, a little while back, because they up'd the rent and I couldn't afford it any longer. So I live with my friend Niall, but he's got a lady over, and I don't wanna disturb them too much, and I doubt they'll let me squeeze in for a cuddle."
"There is no way in hell, I'm going to let you sleep on a fucking park bench, are you kidding me?" Harry erupts, startling her to a jump, "You know how many fucking creeps are out there? How many terrible people who are just waiting for someone like you to come blundering about with a pretty face and little to no self-awareness because you've drinkin – bleeding hell, no, no, not happening." He draws his hand back from her, exiting out of the windows on his computer, and pressing all his shit on his desk to the side. He grabs his keys and his wallet from the second drawer, then stands beckoning to follow him, "You're coming home with me."
She doesn't reject it – only yawns wide and follows behind him, though she was too slow for his liking, so he grasps her wrist in his hand and heads towards the elevator. Tugging her inside of it and she giggles, her purse wobbling on her arm as she falls into him. Harry doesn't mean to be rough, he's just seething with the thought of her sleeping on a park bench rather than going home. Why does she care so much about how other people feel than how she feels herself? Why does she let people bully her about fucking him, but still does their filing and paperwork? Why does she willingly actually toss around the idea of sleeping on a park bench because her friend as someone over?
Too fucking precious. She is too fucking precious to be left at a park bench by herself, at night, when so many things could go wrong. Harry can't believe that her friend would actually let her do it, and he has the mind to make a pit stop by their home and yell at the prick.
He fucking would, he's certain of it, if he wasn't also certain that a wobbly on her legs Y/N would start drunkenly crying.
+
Nervous isn't the right word for how he feels when she steps through his doors. He isn't sure what the word is, that he's looking for, because he doesn't worry what she'll think of it or anything, but he just feels on edge as she slows to a stop in the living room, looking around with wide eyes and her toes digging into the shaggy carpeting, "It's huge!" She gushes, spinning in circles. His living room was like a large half circle, with a dip in it like stairs to a den only open and she stood in the middle of that carpeted circle before the TV, which she also gawks at before asking him if he's got movie channels.
It's been a long time since anybody new has been in Harry's home. Sure, it's big enough that he could throw great parties, but again, he isn't a partying type of guy. Would rather spend his off time lying about, sleeping, maybe shopping online if he wants to, and that's how he's figuring he's going to spend tomorrow, only he's wanting to factor in Y/N. Wants her to stay here with him, because he doesn't want her riding the bus, and he doesn't want her having to sleep at a friends – he just wants her safe and happy. Maybe it's not normal to feel this way for his employee, but he is the fucking boss and he'll do whatever he wants.
"Mr. Styles, do you have any chips I can nibble on or summat? I don't wanna be a bother but my tummy is growling. I forgot to eat today."
"I've got more than chips, Moppet, c'mon," he motions her in the direction of the kitchen, "Do you like sandwiches? I've got turkey and provolone, they're really good when you melt them like a grilled cheese."
Y/N worries her lip between her teeth, "You sure it wouldn't be too much?"
Nearly rolling his eyes, he takes out a pan from his top right cupboard, "It's a sandwich, Babe, not a lung."
After buttering the pan, he turns around to see Y/N still standing awkward in the middle of his kitchen, and now he does roll his eyes. Of all the times to get uncomfortable with him, she chooses now? She'd been inches away from his hard cock beneath a desk, but standing in his kitchen is too much? "Over here, Y/N." Harry says to her, and she's there in less than five seconds, eager for something to do. Although, Harry grabs her by her waist and hikes her up onto the counter easily, making her squeal. "Relax, okay? M' making you a yummy sandwich and you're going to love it."
She rubs her feet together, "Okay, Mr. Styles."
"How about you call me Harry, when we aren't at work yeah? Mr. Styles is a mouthful." He offers, and she nods shyly, smiling soft.
When Harry finishes cooking and he's plated it and gotten her water, he sets them down at the table and helps her off the counter steadily. Or at least he tries – her sweater gets caught in one of his drawers and she stumbles, which makes him stumble, and they fall atop of the floor with a thud and a peep. Their arms and legs tangled, Y/N huffing and grumbling her self to sit up but she still sits legs astride him, holding a hand to her forehead but giggling, "You made my brain get all jumbled I think."
And Harry laughs too – he laughs a lot, until it slows to a giggle, till it slows to a stop, and he's staring too much. If he stares any longer he's going to kiss her, but he can't fucking stop looking at her. Her eyes are glossy, swimming and bright, and her cheeks look so soft, and her lips she keeps licking over so they're spit slicked, bitten red, and she rocks forward, dropping down, "Y/N..." he starts slowly, "What're you –"
Her lips are so close to his, he can feel her breath puff over his face, "I – um, Harry –"
That does it. That does it for him, her saying his name, because Harry surges forward and presses his mouth to hers. Cock twitching with the whimpery whine that escapes from her throat, nose nudging each other and her hands are up in the air, fingers stretched out. Harry's eyes are still open, shocked in himself for what he's doing but that doesn't stop his kissing her. That doesn't stop him from lifting up his hand, sliding his fingers between the gaps of hers, letting his fold over to hold her tight. His other hand at her hip, and he feels her kissing back. Tongue slipping against his lips, cautious and attentive and her hips give such a subtle roll that if he weren't so hypersensitive everywhere he wouldn't have felt it.
There's something about it that digs into the raw, carnal desire in Harry's body. It makes him lift his knee just a bit so she slides down against him again, moving the bump of his cock with where he she must be getting hot, and moaning boldly against her mouth. The kiss was wet, warm, and slick and she tasted like honey dew and smelled like jasmine lily face wash. Her eyes having fluttered like the butterfly wings in his belly, closing like her sole intent of this kiss was to just feel him and his lips that latch to the corner of her mouth and suckle. The pads of his fingers digging deep into her side to stop himself from reaching up to those pert and pebbled nipples, twisting them before eventually drawing back to tug that into his mouth. He figures somewhere in the back of his head, during terribly boring meetings he's though of sucking at her nipples more than he'd admit.
Apparently Harry's lungs are shit, because he has to dig his fingers into her hair to tug her back from him, parting with a smack and a wet gasp. Y/N bleats pitifully, opening her eyes and gives him one last roll of her hips, looking so blissful and fucked out already it's killing his prick. He wants her – god does he want her, and he would've went back up to kiss her if not for the rumble of thunder in her stomach and they both look down to her tummy, "Oh jeez," she mumbles, putting a hand to it, "Never shuts up!"
"You need'a eat, Puppy." He lugs them both to sit upwards, arm slung low around her waist, "Your food will get cold."
Her brows furrow, "But I was g'na make you nut off," she explains to him, "I can feel how hard you are."
Harry chuckles, giving her the sweetest smile he has in him as he helps them both stand, "I can take care of myself, but you need to eat, yeah?"
Y/N pouts at him but still grabs the sandwich and takes a big bite, shuffling to slide her phone out of her pocket and as she unlocks it he figures he could sneak away then to deal with his problem.
A while – it'd been a while since Harry kissed anybody so unreserved and pleasantly, so he still feels the tingle and burn of it on his lips as he shuts himself into the bathroom. Not wasting anytime with unbuckling his belt, popping the button and pulling at the zip, barely getting the jeans down his thighs before he wraps an urgent hand around himself. Thumbing away a bead of precum so he could rub circles of it around the head, slicking it up then pressing down for the rest of his cock and it presses the air from him. Balls already swollen heavy and drawing tight to his body, tugging in the most relaxed pace he can muster with how the fire in the pit of his stomach flames all over his body.
Thoughts of her riding him being rather invasive in his head, her tits pressed to his chest and his cock fitted in her to the brim, swatting his hand over her arse before grabbing onto it ravenously. Can't imagine how he wouldn't buck his hips up into her, and he himself apart from his fantasy is murmuring, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," as he feels his cock thrum and he thinks he might look like a bloody teenager with how he's sliding his hand over himself. No real rhythm, totally blown by how good it feels this time around and wondering absently if it was the knowledge Y/N was just a little ways away from him. He wants to know if she can hear him – if it's making her squeeze her thighs together.
It's the image of Y/N falling to her knees before him, tongue to her bottom lip and eyes big and pretty staring up at him, practically begging him to nut off all over her beautiful face, splattering it with white and hoping to get some on her pink tongue – that does it for him. Harry's clenching taut as a bow, cumming white ribbons that pool around his hands and shoot across his belly. Head knocking back into the door with breathless whimpers leaving him as he rides out his orgasm.
God, Harry's so fucked, but he doesn't mind it.
+
Later that night he gets her all cozy in his bed, before turning to leave so he can make himself comfortable on the couch, but Y/N stops him. "Where're you going?" She slurs sleepy at him, eyes already falling shut and from where he stands, with the glimmer of moonlight casting over her face, her lips look still kiss swollen. Not waiting for his answer with a mumble of, "Stay here, s'your bed." Before her eyes are shut completely and she's seconds away from snoring.
Well, Harry doesn't much like sleeping on his couch through the night (only for naps), so he climbs in on the far side of the bed. Even if he's kissed her, he still doesn't really understand what they are right now, and what's going on between them. All he knows for certain is that it shouldn't be happening.
But when Y/N makes her way to him about thirty minutes into him watching TV, flopping her leg across his thighs and her arms his chest, Harry doesn't exactly pull away.
+
"Under my desk, Y/N, quickly, quickly!" Harry rushes, pressing himself away from his desk and this time he doesn't have to pull her towards him. After the receptionist tells them, "Mr. Payne is coming to see you." they look at each other wide eyed before Y/N was scrambling to the desk, shoving her food in his drawer before sitting herself between his thighs once again.
Harry had started letting Y/N eat her lunch in his office now. He knows there will be talk, but there already was talk, and Harry would at least like to shield her from the nastiness in this company so he is doing what he can. However, Liam is not exactly happy with him for it, and he suggested they stop that as well, and Harry figures that it wouldn't hurt if Liam just thought they stopped. He really doesn't appreciate being scolded at, but Liam has a very affective way of doing it and it ruins Harry's day mostly so he just lets him think he's swayed him in someway.
So Y/N is in the same position as she was a few days ago, silently sat underneath his desk as Liam drones on and on about how the chip sales have plummeted and he thinks it's because they don't have regular doritos, only the knock-offs. Harry was bored with it, compared to the conversation he and Y/N had been having, and he supposes she was bored with it too, because she starts fiddling with his pants. Closer and closer to where his cock was tenting up, because that was happening a lot nowadays, since their kiss and him tugging one out to the thought of her – it opened up a can of worms Harry didn't know how to deal with.
"It's just ridiculous, I don't understand what's so bleeding important about having the real fucking doritos, they taste the bleeding same –" Liam rants, and Harry nods like he's listening, but his mind is so far off of this topic right now. Y/N's popped the buttons of his pants open, undoing the zip slow as to not make much noise before reaching into his pants and his eyes shoot down, catching a glimpse of her biting down at her bottom lip, using feathery light touches to get his prick out before gazing at it in awe and he remembers Liam is in front of him then. Shooting his attention back up to him so Liam wouldn't find her, because this would be way worse than him just finding her underneath his desk.
He should reach down and stop her, but that looks a little suspicious, and maybe he doesn't really want her to stop. Liking the way her breath ghosts over his erection in a way that has precum bubbling up at the tip, threatening to slide down the ridge of his head and towards his balls. Her nose knocks into him a bit, and he just about giggles before that's caught in his throat when her tongue very gently licks at him. Almost like she was seeing how it'd feel against her taste buds, like a test run, and he guesses she liked it because she takes a big lick from the part of him not covered by his suit pants to the tip, letting it lull around the head.
"Harry? You listening mate?" Liam asks, "What do you think we should do?"
Harry has to clear his throat so his voice doesn't crack, Y/N taking these kitten like licks all over the parts she can reach. He wonders if she likes how hard it feels against her tongue, and maybe that's why she's doing it like this, but he has to readjust himself. Moving closer to the desk and she makes an annoyed little huff from being disrupted, "Let's order the doritos," he answers, biting his cheek to keep from moaning when she goes back to those little flicks of her tongue, especially when they're at the crown of the head, "If that's what it takes for more people to buy the chips then lets do it." His words are a little strangled, cock throbbing so much that he has to hold on to the edge of the desk.
"Yeah, yeah you're right," he agrees, sitting up and heading towards the door, "Thanks for letting me go on about it man, it's been a long day."
"No problem." He calls out, and when the door shuts with a click he peels back a bit from his desk, looking down to see the most lewd thing he thinks he's ever witnessed in his life.
Y/N was on her knees, hands digging into his thighs and she looks up to him, with those big pretty eyes he fantasized about and there were strings of spit and precum connecting her to his tip, bowing down till they snap as she licks at what she can, "Christ, you naughty little – where did this come from?"
She hums, "Just wanted to taste you, since you kissed me. Couldn't stop thinking about it."
With this she stretches her mouth over the drippy pink head, suckling and making him moan before his fingers tangle up in her hair, "fuck, Baby, you can't – oh –" she takes him farther, his palm pressed to her ear, "God, your mouth. . ."
Between her starting this in front of Liam, to Y/N bobbing and licking and sucking insatiably, Harry feels his pulse in his cock and his balls are so heavy and swollen with cum he thinks they might burst. Trying to give her a warning, through a mewl of, "I'm g'na cum, Sweetheart, I'm g'na cum so much down your pretty little throat if you don't pull off me right now."
Y/N seems to like that, however, because she moans around him and sucks hard, the vibrations rattling his bones until the strings inside him snap and he's cumming. An orgasm that has his blood roaring in his ears and sparks of white behinds his closed eyes, as he lifts off of the seat just a little and up into her mouth, holding onto her hair like a lifeline. She swallows all of it, even licking greedily at the residue of his cum on the softening head until he's twitching and tugging her back, body thrumming bright as he runs a thumb over the corners of her mouth, feeding the rest of it to her.
"You taste really good." She compliments.
He laughs breathlessly, "Fuck, Puppy," he runs a hand through his hair, "You're filthy."
She grins at him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and digging into his drawer for the rest of her chips and sandwich while Harry tucked himself back into his trousers.
Maybe it's the post-orgasmic honeymoon stage he's feeling, but Harry lulls his head around to look at her, humming, "I'm gonna keep you okay?"
Y/N smiles again, big and wide, and Harry decides that it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen.