#harry styles x plus-size!reader

[maudie-duan]

Summary: "It was everything, all at once, it was you, it was him, it was the broken girl inside you, crying to be healed, to be wanted, to be needed, to be loved, because you wanted to be loved, you wanted to be seen, you wanted someone to love you the way you deserved. You had always had so much love to give, but no one who could reciprocate, the world always taking, but never giving back."

Word Count: 11.6k

A/N: Plus-sized!reader x Trainerry based on this request <- To the Anon that requested this. I hope it's everything you wanted and more. I really had to pull at some feels for this one. Thanks you so much for this!!

Warning: Angsty self-hate with a happy ending, and a mild sweet smut scene at the end that you can skip if that's not your cup of tea. (Heavy themes centered around hatred of body-image/body shaming. All self-induced)

It wasn’t that you wanted to change yourself entirely. You just wanted to be able to look into the mirror and, for once, like what you saw. It wasn’t a size or a number you were after, you wanted the peace of mind, the relief, the weight of the stigma lifted for more than just the occasional, oh yeah, I look good kind of moments.

 Because let’s face it, we all know those moments were fleeting, but what if you could feel it for longer? What if your eyes could roam over your body, and maybe, just maybe, you could spend less time picking yourself apart. What if you could try on those jeans and this time they fit just perfectly—none of the excruciating cut of the waist digging into your belly while you sat, or the fear of not even being able to button them in the first place. 

You wanted freedom, you wanted joy, you wanted less days of the mental prison that your brain held you in every time you looked into the mirror, or binged on that food you knew you should avoid. That was what this would be, the journey you were ready to embark on—a journey to confidence, a journey to loving yourself, a journey back to you. These were the words you were filling your head with, the prep talk you had given yourself that morning as you got ready, and now that shit was laughable, you thought as you walked through the gym doors, eyes already darting around as a gust of cool air spread over your bare arms. 

This was the part you hated, the part you were dreading. It hadn’t even been two seconds and you were already tugging at the hem of your oversized tee, your gaze scanning over bodies in motion, most fit as fuck, some laughing and moving about, some focused forward in the zone, their eye on a prize that felt out of your reach, bending and flexing with an effortless ease you couldn’t even wrap your mind around, let alone even conceive the amount of energy you knew went into making each rep look like a walk in the park.

And now you felt crazy, because you were signing yourself up willingly, putting yourself out there for what? To fail? To be judged?

Was this really what you wanted? Did you really hate yourself this much? Was this even considered hate, or was this self-love? Because suddenly, the line was becoming blurred, and here you stood, waiting by the front desk on full display, following the instructions given via email, because you were too weirded out to set up everything in person. Hell, you didn’t even know where the bathroom was. It wasn’t like you could disappear until you were ready.

So maybe you couldn’t run and hide, but you could hide behind your phone, and wait for your trainer, god, what was his name again? Henry? Harris? Fuck, how could you be blanking, and as you took to searching for your welcome email, a deep voice sounded through your frantic thoughts:

“Hey there! ” a cheerful voice called out.

That’s when you turned to see a tall figure approaching you, his bright smile lighting up the room as he ran a hand through his tousled dark hair, green eyes reflecting the light, and holy shit, that physique, that body screamed fitness. And as you peered over your shoulder to see if he was signaling for someone else, your heart skipped a beat, cheeks flushing, because there was no way in hell this dude was going to be your trainer.

“Oh… were you talking to me?” you stammered, trying to maintain eye contact but failing miserably, hands already fidgeting with the him of your shirt.

“Yes, you have a training session at 9, correct?” he asked, extending his hand. His grip was firm yet gentle, and you felt a jolt of electricity the second your hands collided. “I’m Harry, it’s really nice to meet you. I can’t wait to help you on this journey.���

“Thanks,” you replied, trying not to drool over his British accent as your voice came out small. Your palms were sweaty, and you quickly wiped them on your pants, hoping he didn’t notice.

“So, what are your fitness goals?” Harry asked, his tone encouraging and friendly, and just by the way he was making eye contact, you could tell that he was genuinely curious, like it wasn’t just his job to know.

For a second, you hesitated, your mind racing. You had so many thoughts swirling around this very question. What was it that you wanted again? To lose weight? Feel healthier? Gain some kind of confidence? But the words felt stuck in your throat, your mind going blank as you said, “Um, I just want to… you know, get in shape and feel better about myself,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

Harry nodded, his expression holding a warmth you weren’t expecting, maybe an understanding, like he knew exactly what you meant to say, a sort of grace given that sent a flutter to the pit of your stomach.“That’s a great start! Remember, it’s all about progress, not perfection. I’d love to work together to set some goals that suit you and your lifestyle. I’m all about sustainability for the long-term, not the instantaneous results that rarely last long.”

And even though his words sent a flicker of hope through you. You could feel the self-doubt trying to creep back in. “I’m not really sure about all this,” you admitted, eyes moving around the room. “I’ve never been good at working out, and honestly, this place isn’t really my vibe. Like a place I feel like I belong... I guess.”

Yet as you said the words, Harry’s smile never wavered. “I get it. Change is always a little uncomfy at first, but you know everyone starts somewhere. The important thing is that you’re here, ready to take that first step, and as cheesy as it sounds, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

For a moment, you looked at him, holding his gaze, and that’s when the nervousness seemed to fade. There was something about his confidence and the kindness he exuded that was infectious, and you felt a small spark of determination ignite within you. “Okay…” You breathed.

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise you anything,” you told him with a small smile, feeling a bit more resolute, like yeah, maybe you could actually do this, like there was hope for the self-loathing bitch within you, because fuck her, she couldn’t have it all, you deserved a little light, some time away from the shadows of your self that kept stealing tiny moments of joy you could never get back. 

At some point, you had to live, right?

“That’s the spirit!” Harry answered, his enthusiasm making your smile grow despite the lingering insecurities. “Shall we get started?”

And as he led you deeper into the gym, you couldn’t shake that feeling of awe, that mix of anxiety threatening the surface. You were about to do it, finally take that leap, about to be trained by this gorgeous guy, and while the thought made your heart race for maybe all the wrong reasons, you also felt a sense of possibility, like maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something great, something to make you feel alive again. 

But it’s crazy how quickly excitement can fade.

The first week was pure torture, and the second week was no better. You wanted to quit, but you didn’t know what you wanted.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? You had walked through those gym doors with all these grand ideas about transformation, about becoming someone new, but now, three weeks in, you were just as sweaty, still a breathless mess who couldn’t even do a proper squat without Harry having to adjust your form for the millionth time. 

And god, those hands, always professional without a doubt, but there was something about the way they would ghost over your shoulders, the way they corrected your posture, or lightly pressed against your lower back to guide you, that had your skin burning from everything but the workout.

“Let’s try something different,” Harry said, and you could hear that patient tone, the one that never made you feel like the failure you knew you were. 

He grabbed a bench, positioning it behind you. “…Seated squats. They’re gentler on the knees, and the bonus is they’ll help you build the strength for the full movement.”

Your first instinct was to prove yourself, to convince him you were able to do a full fucking squat like every other person in this gym, but somehow the words died in your throat when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror—red-faced, sweat pooling in places you didn’t want to think about, your oversized shirt clinging to rolls you had been spending years trying to hide, and lets not even get started on your arms, fucking hell, your arms felt like they were made of jello, wobbling with each movement. Not to mention your thighs had already been chafing with every step, that familiar burn a reminder of exactly why you had been avoiding this place for years.

It was torture, pure fucking torture, but you sat anyway.

“Hey,” Harry called out, pulling you from your thoughts, and suddenly he was in front of you, those green eyes level with yours as he crouched down. “Where’d you go just then?”

“Nowhere… I’m fine,” you lied, because what were you supposed to say? That you were having a mental breakdown over a squat? That you could feel every pair of eyes in the gym judging the “chubby girl” who couldn’t even do basic exercises?

But Harry just nodded, like he knew exactly what you weren’t saying. “Right then, seated squats it is. And after that, we’ll work on some upper body stuff. Sound good?”—The thing about Harry was that he never seemed to push when you shut down. His superpower was to redirect, adapt, and move on to something else, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

Never an ounce of judgment.

You had noticed other things too, in these first three weeks—like how sometimes he shifted his weight to his left side during demonstrations, or how he would choose specific exercises over others without explanation. Once, when he was showing you how to do lunges, he distinctly favored his right leg, the change so evident that you almost asked about it, but something in his expression had stopped you.

One day, near the end of week three, the gym’s usual crowd of fitness models decided to make their appearance. You had recognized them by now, you know the type, the group of women who looked like they just stepped out of a Lululemon catalog, all tight abs and perfect ponytails, not a jiggle in sight. They were hard to miss, and even more apparent the way they gravitated toward Harry like moths to a flame, and why wouldn’t they? He was gorgeous, British, and had the kind of body that made you wonder what he looked like without a single scrap of clothing.

And these were the kind of thoughts that you had to shake from your head, because you didn’t want to go there.

Not when he was that close.

“Harry!” one of them shouted, her outfit like a latex glove, leaving little to the imagination as she bounded over. “Could you check my form on these hip thrusts?”

And fuck, you would have laughed if you weren’t trying to make yourself invisible, focusing on your water bottle like it held the secrets of the universe, but you couldn’t help watch them from the corner of your eye. Harry glanced at his watch and then back at the woman.

“Sorry, Melissa, I’m with a client right now,” he said, and was it your imagination or did he step slightly closer to you? “Maybe check with Tom at the front desk about booking a session.”

That was when the woman’s eyes flicked to you, and you could practically feel the onset of her assessment, knew the exact look she was giving, that up-and-down glance that was cataloguing every flaw, every roll, every reason you didn’t belong here. But Harry had already turned back to you, already demonstrating the next exercise like the interaction hadn’t even happened.

“Right, so for this one, you’ll want to keep your core engaged to protect your low back,” he was saying, but all you could think about was how he had just dismissed her, how he had chosen to stay focused on you when he could have just as easily given her five minutes of attention, and you chalked it up to professionalism without a second thought. He was getting paid to train you, after all.

This was his job.

But then why did your stupid heart skip when he smiled at you after you completed your set?

Week four started like any other, except it felt harder as you dragged yourself through the gym doors, already anticipating the torture ahead. You felt like shit... not good at all, more like death had warmed over you. Even though your body was starting to recognize the routine, your brain was still screaming at you to run every time you saw the weight rack.

“Morning!” Harry called out, and damn him for always being so cheerful at 9 in the morning. “How’re you feeling? Any soreness from last session?”

“Just my entire body,” you groaned, but there was less bite to it than before. “Who knew your ass muscles could be this sore.”

He laughed, that genuine sound that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Well, that means you’re doing it right, and that’s a win, ay? Today we’re going to work on some balance exercises, really activate those stabilizer muscles.”

You were halfway through a set of single-leg stands, wobbling like a baby giraffe and cursing Harry’s name in your mind when it happened. It was quick, you losing your balance—again—and you stumbled backward, your elbow connecting with Harry’s leg as he moved to steady you, and out of nowhere, he made a sharp, pained, involuntary sound that made your blood run cold.

“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry!” and when you whirled around, he was gripping his knee, face tight with a pain that looked too familiar to be from your clumsy elbow. “Harry, I—”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, but his voice was strained, and he was still holding his knee like it might shatter if he let go. “Just an old injury acting up. Nothing to do with you. I promise…”

But you had seen that kind of pain before, in your own mirror when your body would decide to remind you of all the ways it had been pushed too far. “Sit down,” you tell him, taking charge of the situation, surprising even yourself in the process. “Seriously, sit.”

For a second, he looked like he might protest, but something in your expression must have convinced him because he lowered himself onto the nearest bench, still favoring that right knee. The gym suddenly felt too quiet, too exposed, and without thinking, you positioned yourself between him and the rest of the room, like you could shield him from all the curious glances.

“It’s an old football injury,” he said finally, the words coming out reluctant, like he was still trying to hold them back. “Soccer… I mean—sorry, I know you Americans call it soccer. Tore my ACL completely about six years ago. Had surgery, did all the physio, but...” He shrugged, a gesture that looked too casual for the weight of what he was sharing. “Sometimes bodies don’t heal the way they’re supposed to.”

Startled by his words, you stared at him, this perfect-looking trainer with his perfect-looking body, and it was like something shifted inside your chest. “But you’re... you’re a trainer. I always pictured you all so—”

“Perfect?” He finished, looking up at you with a wry smile. “Yeah… that’s what everyone thinks. But the truth is, I can’t even run anymore. Can barely kick a ball without my knee giving out. Gosh, some days I wake up and have to spend like twenty minutes just trying to convince my knee to work properly.”

The words seemed to linger, weighted with an openness you hadn’t expected. Here was Harry, this beautiful, confident man, admitting to being broken, and somehow it finally made him real in a way that his encouraging words, or the professional distance he kept, never had, and that seemed to scare you.

“Is that why you became a trainer?” you asked, settling onto the bench beside him, your workout forgotten. “Because of the injury?”

He nodded, absently rubbing his knee. “Yeah… I guess in a way…I couldn’t play anymore, but I couldn’t stay away from fitness entirely… it was kind of my life, so I started learning about adaptive training, about working with bodies that don’t fit the typical mold. Turns out I’m better at helping people find their own path than I ever was at following mine.”

In that moment you wanted to say something, wanted to match the encouragement of his words, but all that came out was, “Well, that feels really fucking unfair.”

He laughed, surprised, but sincere. “Yeah, it really fucking is.”

And just like that, something changed. That professional distance he had been maintaining cracked just a little, and you saw him, not Harry the trainer, but Harry the person, a man who had his dreams ripped from under his feet, but still learned how to build new ones from the scraps.

“I should probably tell you,” he said, his voice lighter now, “this is why I modify so many exercises. It’s not just for you—half of them I can’t do the ‘proper’ way anymore. Those seated squats? I do them on my bad days, oh, and those knee-friendly lunges? Learned those during my physio.”

And fuck, there it was beating at your insides, that crush, that you had been desperately trying to ignore, suddenly felt less like a schoolgirl fantasy and more like... god dare you say it… Something else. Something deeper. Because now, when you looked at him, you didn’t just see the attractive trainer who was nice to the “fat girl”. You saw someone who maybe understood you more than you knew, who probably knew your body better, knew all the ways it betrayed you, the frustration of every limitation, and the slow, painful process of finding acceptance.

“Thank you,” you breathed, really wanting him to know you meant it. “For telling me.”

He stood to his feet then, eyes sweeping over your face, before offering you a hand up. “Come on, let’s finish your session. But maybe we’ll skip the jumping jacks today, yeah? My knee’s not the only one that needs babying.”

After that day, everything shifted, not just in your mind. Harry, of course, still maintained his professionalism, but there was a warmth now, an understanding that hadn’t existed before. Your workouts became less about pushing through pain and more about finding what worked for your body—and his.

“See, the thing about traditional training,” he explained during week five, while demonstrating a modified plank that didn’t make your wrists scream, “is that it assumes everyone’s working with the same equipment. But we’re not, are we? You’ve got your challenges, I’ve got mine… but the trick is finding what works for us.”

Us… 

And, damn it was such a small word, but boy did it seem to carry weight.

That’s when you started noticing more things, like how he would ice his knee between clients, or how he would shift positions during longer demonstrations, or how his jaw would tighten on particularly bad days. But you also noticed how he never let it stop him, how he moved through it, and adapted his entire life around this limitation without a trace of self-pity.

So why couldn’t you?

“After my surgery,” he told you one day while you struggled through a stupid resistance band exercise, “I spent months being angry. Angry at my body, at the universe… I guess at everyone… everyone who could still do what I couldn’t. It took me a long time to realize that anger was just fear wearing a different face.”

“Fear of what?” you asked, breathless from exertion but curious nonetheless.

“Fear that I’d never be enough again. That, without soccer, without that, I guess that identity, I was just... nothing.” He told you, adjusting your form gently, his hands warm through your shirt. “Sound familiar?”

He had you there; it was all too familiar. Because wasn’t that exactly what you felt every time you looked in the mirror? That without the body you thought you should have, you were somehow less than? And the parallel hit you like a ton of bricks, because was this not him basically telling you that he understood, that he had been where you were, just in a different way—that maybe not all trauma was the same, but it still hurt, even when the two weren’t comparable.

“So what changed?” you asked during a water break, after you finally digested the realization, watching him absently massage his knee.

“Perspective,” he said simply. “Started focusing on what my body could do instead of what it couldn’t. Yeah, I can’t play soccer anymore, but I can help people like you find their strength. That’s not nothing, is it?”

People like you… And maybe the phrase should have stung, but the way he said it, with such an honest warmth, made it feel more like a compliment.

“You know what I love about training you?” he asked suddenly, and your heart did a stupid flutter in your chest. “You’re honest. You don’t pretend like it’s easy or fun. You show up even when you hate it. Do you know how rare that is?”

This makes you laugh, wiping sweat from your face with a towel. “Yeah, I’m a real inspiration... The girl who nearly cried doing wall sits yesterday.”

“Maybe… but you still finished them, though,” he pointed out. “That’s what matters. Not how pretty it looks or how easy it is. Just that you don’t give up.”

With perfect timing, the gym hotties made another appearance, a new group this time, but technically the same, all giggling and hair-tossing as they tried to catch Harry’s attention. One of them even “accidentally” dropped her water bottle right by where he was spotting your chest press, and for a second you held your breath, waiting for him to look, to give them the attention they were so desperate for, but he just kicked the bottle gently out of the way and kept his focus on you.

“That’s it, three more,” he encouraged, and maybe it was your imagination, but his voice seemed a little louder than necessary, like he was making a point. “You’ve got this.”

Later, as you were packing up your things, you overheard one of them complaining to her friend: 

“He’s always with that girl. Like, what’s the deal? Is she paying him extra or something?”

It was one of those times you wished you could roll it off, but the words pricked at your skin, and before you could spiral into self-loathing, Harry appeared at your elbow. “Ready for the cool-down stretches?” he asked, and his hand touched your lower back, guiding you away from the women who were still whispering their gossip. 

“I’ve got a new routine I want to try—it’s specifically designed for people with knee issues, but I think it’ll help with your hip flexibility too.”

People with knee issues. 

Like him, like you, like your fucking body that creaked and fought you at every turn, but now what was once a negative connotation had shifted, had become a positive acknowledgment, a thing you both shared. All the modified movements, the limitations, yes, they were real, but gone was the judgment, and the monster you could make of them.

By week six, you had developed a routine. You still hated mornings, still wanted to die during cardio, but there was something else now, a sense of anticipation. Not for the workout itself, god no, but for the hour you got to spend with Harry. 

A growing anticipation for the way he would light up when you managed something you couldn’t do the week before. All the terrible jokes he would tell to distract you during the dreadful planks. The way he would casually touch your arm or back—always appropriate, always professional, but still, there was something that made your skin tingle, a curious wonder that had your mind reeling.

“You’re getting stronger,” he told you one morning, watching as you completed a set of squats—real ones this time, not the shitty seated ones. “Can you feel it?”

And honestly, you could. Not just in your muscles, but in the way you carried yourself. You still had times when you tugged at your shirt, still felt your thighs rub together, but it was different now. Maybe less shameful, more just... fact. Your body was what it was, but it was capable of more than you thought.

“My knee’s been acting up this week,” Harry had admitted during a demonstration of a new exercise. Mentally, you had already noticed that it was less fluid than usual, but you didn’t say anything. 

He cleared his throat, trying to hide the wince of pain, “Probably the weather change. But look—” Then, he showed you how to modify the movement, turning what should have been a jumping exercise into a step-touch pattern. “Same muscle activation, less impact. All of this to say we work with what we’ve got, yeah?”

We…

And there was something in the way he said it, like he was trying to bind you both together through all the tiny imperfections. That’s when you found yourself, starting to stay a few minutes after your sessions, helping him reset equipment or just chatting while he iced his knee. It was during one of these moments that he opened up a little more about his injury.

“The thing is… the pain wasn’t even the worst part…” he said, pressing a bag of ice into his finicky knee. “It was watching my mates continue on without me. I mean, of course, they would visit the hospital, tell me about matches, and I was grateful… really I was… and I would smile and nod, hit all my marks… but the truth was I was dying inside… Took me years to be able to watch soccer again without feeling bitter.”

“Do you still feel bitter?” you asked, organizing dumbbells to avoid looking at him directly.

“Sometimes,” he confessed. “On bad days, when my knee won’t cooperate and I see people running without thinking twice about it... Yeah, it stings. But then I remember that without this—” he gestured to his knee, “—I’d never have become a trainer. Never have met the people I’ve helped. Never have...” He paused, and when you looked up, he was staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “…Never have met you...”

You couldn’t help the heat creeping up your neck, your face burning with it, and like an idiot, you fumbled the dumbbell you were holding, completely giving yourself away. “I’m sure you say that to all your clients,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice from wobbling, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said simply. “I don’t.”

And as his words settled, the world around you seemed to pivot, the air now filling your lungs, charged with something that felt dangerously close to desire, but then someone dropped a weight plate across the gym with a thunderous clang, and the spell was broken, but you held onto that moment for as long as you could, because you felt it, felt the need beginning to ache in your bones.

But the one question that would always remain was:

Could he ever want a girl like me?

Week seven was when you nearly quit. It had been a bad week all around—work stress, family drama, and your fucking period decided to show up with a vengeance. You had barely slept, your body hurt in ways that had nothing to do with exercise, and the last thing you wanted was to squeeze into workout clothes and pretend like everything was fine, when it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry… But I don’t think I can do this today,” you told Harry the moment you walked in, not even bothering with a greeting. “I just... I can’t.” And there was shame in the way the words came out, like maybe this was your true self after all, and the rest was just an act.

He took one look at you, like, really looked at you. Not the quick bullshit assessment most people did, and nodded. “Okay. Tell me what you need?”

And his words nearly blindsided you. It wasn’t the “you have to push through” or “you’ll feel better after.” It was just a simple acceptance of where you were at, and you stood there trying to gather your words, feeling the burn at the back of your throat. 

“I don’t know,” you forced, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “I’m honestly so exhausted and everything hurts, and I looked in the mirror this morning… I don’t know… it’s just been a shitty week, and I’m just not sure what the point is anymore, and—”

“Hey,” he gently interrupts, steering you toward a quieter corner of the gym. “Breathe for me, yeah? Just breathe.”

And you did, gulping in air like you were drowning, and maybe it was his hand on your low back, but gradually the panic receded just enough for embarrassment to creep in. “Sorry. I’m being dramatic.”

“You’re just being human,” he corrected. “We all have these days. Hell, I had one last week—woke up and my knee was so stiff I could barely make it down the stairs. Wanted to throw things, and cry, and give up. You know what I did instead?”

“What?”

“Called in sick and spent the day on the couch watching terrible reality TV and eating biscuits.” Your brows shot up, and he grinned. “What? You thought I was going to say I powered through with positive thinking? Fuck that. Sometimes you need to just feel what you’re feeling.”

You felt overwhelmed. His answer was so unexpected, so honest, that you found yourself laughing despite the tears. “So what should I do?” You asked, wiping at your eyes.

“Today? If you want to stay, we can modify everything. Gentle movement only, nothing that makes you want to die. We can do some stretching, maybe some light resistance work if you’re up for it. And if at any point you need to stop, we stop. No judgment, no pushing. Just listening to what your body needs.”

And thank the heavens up above, because it was by far the easiest session you had ever had, physically speaking. But emotionally? God, emotionally, it was everything. Harry had adapted every single movement to match your energy level, never once making you feel weak or pathetic for needing the modifications. Everything was intuitive, even when the gym hotties walked by and gave you pitying looks, he shifted positions to block their view, talking louder about muscle groups to draw your attention away.

“You showed up,” he said at the end, as you were doing your final stretches. “On a day when everything in you said to stay home, you showed up. That’s a huge win.”

“It feels like nothing,” you muttered, but he shook his head.

“Six weeks ago, would you have come in feeling like this?”

And as you gazed into his green eyes, you thought about it. Six weeks ago, you would have used any excuse to avoid the gym. “No… I would have stayed home.”

“Then that’s progress. Not all progress looks like smaller jeans or bigger muscles. Sometimes it looks like showing up when you don’t want to.” His hand rested on your shoulder, warm and steady. “I’m proud of you.”

His words seemed to hit you harder than any physical exercise could ever touch the surface. When was the last time someone had said that to you? When was the last time you had given someone a reason to?

By week eight, something fundamental inside you had changed. Not just in your body, though you had to admit, you were feeling stronger, more capable, but in how you existed in your skin. You still had all the same insecurities, all the same soft places and jiggly bits, but they felt less like failures now and more like... just parts of you.

Which is why, when you got dressed that morning, you reached for the new workout outfit you had bought on impulse—fitted leggings and a tank top—there would be no hiding behind excess fabric, not today. Of course, your reflection still showed everything you usually hated—the belly that refused to lie flat, the arms that continued their gentle wobble, the thighs that would always touch. But for once, you didn’t want to reach for the oversized shirt.

“Fuck it,” you told your reflection. “Let’s see what happens.”

And what happened was Harry nearly dropped his water bottle when you walked in.

“You look—” He caught himself, his professionalism snapping back into place like a rubber band. “That’s a great color on you… It really brightens up your complexion.”

And try all he wanted, but you had seen that first reaction, the way his eyes had widened, tracked over your curves before he could even remember himself. It sent a thrill through you, gave you a sense of power that had you on cloud nine.

“Thanks,” you said, trying to sound casual even as your heart hammered. “Figured I would switch things up a bit…”

“Yeah… It’s a nice change for sure,” he said quietly, and there was something in his voice that made you look at him. I mean, really take in his expression, because it said it all. “Just... for what it’s worth, you should wear whatever makes you comfortable. But this—” He gestured vaguely, carefully not looking directly at your body. “This confidence suits you.”

He had you soaring, and the workout that followed ignited a new kind of tension growing between you. Harry had always been hands-on with corrections, but now each touch felt loaded with a new possibility. When he adjusted your hip position during bridges, his fingers seemed to linger a beat too long, and fuck, when he spotted your chest press, he stood closer than strictly necessary. And when he demonstrated proper form for a new exercise, you caught him glancing at you in the mirror, checking if you were watching.

You were. You always were.

“You know,” he said during a water break, his own face flushed from a particularly intense movement, “I’ve been training people for five years, and I’ve never seen someone transform the way you have.”

“I haven’t really transformed, though,” you told him, gesturing at yourself. “I mean, I’m maybe a size smaller? If that?”

“That’s not what I mean.” Then he sat on the bench beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “When you first walked in, you looked like you wanted to disappear. Moved like you were apologizing for taking up space. Now look at you—wearing what you want, taking up all the space you need, moving like you have a right to be here. Because you do.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tight. “It’s because of you,” you said quietly. “The way you teach, the way you... see me. Not as a project to fix, but as a person. Like I don’t have to fit into the mold I thought I did.”

“Fuck the mold. It’s boring,” he said, and his hand covered yours on the bench, just for a second. “Lifes too short to try and keep up with all the bullshit.”

That was when the gym hotties chose that moment to make their appearance, a trio of them this time, chest high, all sports bras a size too small, stretched across their fucking boobs with an obvious intention. You watched as the tallest one made a beeline for Harry, her trajectory as clear as a heat-seeking missile.

“Harry! I was hoping you could show me that lunge from the other day during our session… it seems to have totally slipped my mind.”

“I’m with a client, Bridgette,” Harry said, not even looking at her. His hand had left yours, but he shifted closer, his knee touching yours. “Like I tell the others, you can book a session at the front desk if you need personal instruction.”

Bridgette’s eyes flicked between you and Harry, taking in the minimal space between you, the way Harry’s body was angled toward yours like a plant seeking sun. “Right. Sure. I’ll do that.”

And just as she was about to turn to leave, she says, “Oh… and it’s Courtney, by the way…” then she stalks off, and you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. 

“You know, I think they’re all convinced I’m either paying you extra or sleeping with you.”

Harry’s amused expression fell. “Have they been saying things to you?”

“No… no more than I expected,” you confessed. “You know how it is.. heaven forbid the chubby girl get any personal attention from the hot trainer? It’s probably not realistic in their world… and I guess in mine either… but of course, they’re going to talk.”

“You’re not—” He stopped, jaw clenched, and when he continued, his voice held a careful control. “First of all, I don’t think your chubby… if that’s what you want to call it… so fuck them. Second, you’re not just nothing. You’re a client who works harder than anyone else in this gym, who shows up even when it’s hard, who—” He cut himself off again, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “And I’m not just giving you attention because... Christ, I’m making this worse.”

“Because what?” you urged, heart racing.

He looked at you then, and for a moment, you saw past the professional mask he was trying to hold, to something real and wanting underneath. “Because it’s my job,” he said finally, but the words sounded hollow. “Come on, let’s finish your session.”

The rest of the workout passed in tense silence, both of you overly aware of every accidental touch, every shared glance in the mirror. When he helped you stretch at the end, his hands on your calf as you lay on the mat, the tension was almost unbearable, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself grounded.

“Same time Thursday?” he asked when you were gathering your things, and there was something helpless in his expression, like maybe he was afraid you might say no.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Same time Thursday.”

As you left, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror by the exit, flushed and sweaty, curves on full display in your fitted outfit, looking like someone who belonged here. Not because your body had dramatically changed, but because maybe you were actually starting to believe you had a right to exist in places like this, exist in your own skin, like maybe it could be okay.

And just as your eyes were about to move forward, you caught sight of Harry watching you go, and the look on his face...

Yeah. You were definitely in trouble.

But for once, you didn’t want to run from it. You wanted to see where this path could take you, just as you were.

When week nine rolled around, you were back on track, your mind totally on board, and everything was going great. Even you were amazed by yourself, the way you were hitting every mark. Harry still kept a professional distance, but it wasn’t taking from the attraction you felt, now a low hum over your skin, signalling an obvious draw to him, that sent a pulse between your thighs every time his hands touched your body.

It was becoming a problem, actually. The way your body responded to him now—not just the flutter in the pit of your stomach, but it had turned into a full-body awareness every time he was near. When he corrected your form, his fingers grazing your hip or pressing against your back, you had to bite back sounds that had nothing to do with exertion. And you were pretty sure he knew it, too, from the way his jaw would tighten, the way he would step back a little quicker than necessary, like he needed the distance just as much as you.

One day, you were in the middle of box step-ups, feeling strong, feeling capable, feeling like maybe you were actually becoming the person you had wanted to be when you first walked through those doors. The fitted workout clothes were your new normal, and while your body hadn’t dramatically changed, the way you moved in it had. Confident. Taking up space. Belonging.

Because like Harry said “Fuck them all.” 

“That’s it, drive through your heel,” Harry encouraged, and god, his voice when he got all instructor-mode did things to you. “Really activate those glutes.”

You were focused, you were in the zone, you were—

And then your fucking ankle rolled.

One second you were stepping down, controlled and strong, and the next you were falling, your right ankle giving way beneath you with a sickening pop that you felt more than heard. The sound that tore from your throat was raw, primal, and suddenly, you were on the ground, hands clutching at your ankle as pain shot through it like lightning.

“Fuck!” The word came out high and sharp as a sob ripped from your throat, and then Harry was there, dropping to his knees beside you, his professional calm never wavering even as his hands hovered over you, not quite touching.

“Don’t move,” he demanded, his accent thicker with urgency. “Let me see—can you wiggle your toes?”

You tried, gasping at the pain that radiated up your leg. Around you, the gym had gone quiet, and you could feel every pair of eyes turning your way. The fat girl has fallen, was all you could think, because, of course, she had. Everyone was probably thinking you couldn’t handle the exercise, probably pushed too hard, probably—

“Hey, look at me,” Harry whispered, cutting through your thoughts. His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Just me, yeah? No one else matters right now.”

But they did matter. You could hear the whispers, feel the stares, and like another betrayal, the tears of frustration burned at your eyes, already threatening to spill over. Not just from the pain—though fuck, it hurt—but from the humiliation of it all. Nine weeks of progress, nine weeks of building yourself up, and here you were, crumpled on the gym floor like every stereotype you had been fighting against.

The stares felt like the harsh truth of ‘I told you so,’ feeding that inner monologue you had been trying to suppress.

“I need to check if it’s broken,” Harry said, his hands gentle as they ghosted over your ankle. You hissed at even the lightest touch, and he pulled back immediately. “Right, we’re going to the hospital. Can you stand at all?”

“I don’t—I can’t—” The tears came then, hot and angry. “Everyone’s watching.”

“Fuck them,” Harry said fiercely, and the sharpness startled you enough to look at him. His green eyes were blazing with something protective, something furious, something lighting a fire within him. “Marcus!” he called to another trainer. “I need you to clear this area. Now.”

Then, to you, his voice softer now: “I’m going to help you up, okay? We’ll go out the back exit. Can you put your arm around my neck?”

The next few minutes were a blur of pain and movement. At that point, Harry was essentially carrying you, your weight supported against his solid frame, and for a moment, you forgot about everyone else because all you could focus on was how strong he was, how easily he held you up despite his own bad knee. When he got you to his car, he helped you into the passenger seat with a gentleness that made your chest tighten.

“I need to cancel my appointments,” he muttered, pulling out his phone as he started the car. “Sarah? Yeah, it’s Harry. Let’s go ahead and cancel the rest of my appointments for the day...”

And you listened, dazed, as he gave her instructions. “You know you don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a look.

“Yes, I do. You’re hurt, and you need to get to the hospital. End of story.”

The hospital was a whirlwind of X-rays and ice packs, and doctors with cold hands. Your ankle wasn’t broken, thank goodness, but a bad sprain that would have you off your feet for at least a week, and even though the news was disheartening. There was joy in the way Harry stayed the whole time. He even held your hand during the x-ray, kept you distracted with silly stories while you waited for results, and graciously helped you fill out paperwork when your hands were shaking too much from residual adrenaline.

“You know,” you said at one point, watching him charm the nurse into bringing you an extra ice pack, “most trainers would have just called an ambulance and been done with it.”

He looked offended at the proposal. “What kind of person would I be if I did that? Besides,” his expression softened, “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

The drive to your apartment was quiet, your ankle propped up in the backseat, wrapped in an ace bandage, throbbing with every heartbeat, or sudden bump in the road. Harry had insisted on driving you home, waving off your suggestion for an Uber, and now here you were, trying not to think about how normal this all felt, him driving you home, eyes flicking to yours in the rearview mirror, every time you stared too long.

“Third floor,” you said when he pulled up to your building, and then realized what that meant. “Shit. I’m on the third floor. With no elevator.”

“We’ll manage,” Harry said, already getting out to help you.

‘Managing’ turned out to be a slow, painstaking process. Harry’s arm was around your waist, taking most of your weight, and you had never been more aware of your body—not in the usual self-conscious way, but in how it pressed against his, how his fingers splayed across your hip to hold you steady. He smelled good, inviting even. You liked this proximity, enjoyed the feel of the muscles in his shoulders working as he nearly carried you up each step.

Halfway up the second flight, his knee buckled slightly, and you both had to stop, pressed against the wall, breathing hard.

“Your knee,” you gasped, guilt flooding through you. “Harry, I’m too heavy—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, his arm tightening around you. “Don’t do that. You’re not too anything. My knee’s just being a bastard today. We’re both a bit broken, remember? We’ll make it work.”

And you did, step by careful step, stopping when his knee was cranky, adjusting when your ankle screamed, a quiet give and take, you both seemed to be savoring, and by the time you reached your door, you were both sweating and trembling, but something about doing it together, about both of you pushing through your limitations, made it feel like a victory rather than the anguish of a struggle.

Harry helped you inside, getting you settled on the couch with your ankle elevated, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, both breathless from more than just exertion. The silence felt weighted, thick in the air, heavy with the words unspoken, and you found yourself saying, “Do you want to stay? Like hang out, I mean? I could order food or—”

“I should get back,” he said too quickly, but he looked reluctant. “I probably need to get back. Sort out the schedule for tomorrow, since I canceled on everyone today. Figure out how to rearrange things…”

That’s when reality crashed back in. Right. Of course. This was his job; you were just a client, and he had definitely already gone above and beyond. The disappointment must have shown on your face because then he quickly added, “But we’ll need to talk soon, yeah? Go over modifying your workouts for your current situation. Once you’re healed enough to come back, I mean.”

Situation…

The word like a fucking knife to your gut… “Your situation,” he said, like you were some kind of problem to be solved, a complication to work around. Just like always, too much, too difficult, too... everything, and all at once, you felt the warmth of the last few hours evaporate, leaving you exposed, foolish in the way you thought there could be more, but silly you.

“Right,” you said, your voice coming out flat. “My situation.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, clearly sensing the shift but not understanding it. “I just mean with your ankle—”

“No, I get it.” And you forced a smile that felt like plastic. “Thanks for everything today. Really. It was... above and beyond.”

He stood there for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something else. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Here, let me... I don’t normally do this, but...” He seemed to be fighting with himself. “Can I give you my number? Just in case you need anything or have questions about the ankle?”

Your heart sank. He was giving you his number out of pity. Poor chubby girl who hurt herself, better make sure she doesn’t feel completely abandoned, god, it was so obvious—it was charity, wrapped up in the typical nice guy package.

“Sure,” you said, typing it into your phone with numb fingers. “Got it.”

“Text me so I have yours,” he said, and you did, sending a simple “Hi, it’s me” that felt like swallowing coals.

The awkwardness stretched between you like taffy, both of you unsure how to move the moment forward. Harry shifted his weight, favoring his good knee, clearly wanting to leave but not knowing how. “So... rest, ice, elevation. Doctor said a week minimum before trying any weight-bearing exercises. We can work with that when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, definitely.” You told him, trying to keep that plastic smile in place. “I’ll let you know.”

After he left, you sat in the growing darkness of your apartment, ankle throbbing, and did what you always did when things got too real—you retreated. But you did send him a text that night: 

Y/N: I appreciate you shifting your day around. It was really kind. I’ll reach back out when I’m ready to come back. Thanks for everything.

Professional. Distant. Safe.

And his response came quickly: 

H: Of course. Rest up and let me know if you need anything. We’ll get you back on track in no time. 

But you didn’t reach back out. Days turned into a week, then two. Your ankle had healed, but your mind had spiraled back to old patterns. Every time you thought about the gym, you remembered falling, remembered everyone staring, remembered Harry having to literally carry you because you were too much for your own body to handle. 

To your surprise, his texts came sporadically:

H: Hey, how’s the ankle?

H: Just checking in. Doctor cleared you yet?

H: We got some new equipment that I really think you’ll like. Excited to try it when you’re back.

H: Hope you’re okay. Miss having you in sessions.

That last one even made you cry, but you still didn’t respond. It was easier to ghost him than to face the humiliation of going back. Easier to order takeout and binge Netflix than to deal with the messy feelings he seemed to stir up. You had been down that road with guys like him; it never works. Always the friend but never the lover. You were stupid to think there was something there, stupid to believe you were anything more than a client he felt sorry for.

Two and a half weeks after the ankle incident, you were deep in the trenches of doubt, sucked in by yet another self-loathing pity party, when the doorbell rang, but you ignored it at first. Then it rang again, followed by a knock.

“If that’s Mrs. Gladys about the rent, it’s in the mail!” you called, not moving from your cocoon of isolation.

“It’s not Mrs. Gladys.” You froze. That accent, that voice, fuck, it was Harry at your door. 

“I know you’re in there,” he continued. “I can see the TV light under the door. And... I brought Chinese.” He spoke up again.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You hauled yourself up, catching sight of yourself in the hall mirror, and immediately regretted it. But it was too late, he already heard you moving, and it would be worse to leave him standing there, so you opened the door just a crack, trying to hide your body behind it.

“Harry, what are you doing here?”

He looked good. Of course, he looked good, in jeans and a worn tee that clung to his chest in ways that should be illegal, especially on a Tuesday night. He was holding a massive bag of takeout in one hand, and wait… were those flowers?

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the genuine worry in his eyes made your chest tight. “I know this is weird, but I wasn’t sure what I should do. You hadn’t answered any of my texts, and I was worried about you…”

“I thought it was just protocol,” you answered, your voice tight.

He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Well, I mean I was asking from a trainer’s point of view, yes, but I was hoping that it would come across as... I don’t know... more?”

“More? What do you mean?” You asked, cracking the door open a bit more.

“I thought when I gave you my number, you were catching the vibe that I was trying to put out...” He laughed, looking down at his feet, and the bashfulness was so startling on him that you almost forgot to breathe as a strand of hair fell loose. “What I’m saying is I thought there was a vibe between us?”

“Mmm,” was all you could manage, stunned. “A vibe?”

“Honestly, I thought you gave everyone your number?”

This made him laugh, looking back up at you with those heartwrenching green eyes, and fucking hell, those dimples. “No, trust me, I’ve learned my lesson with that one... Have you seen some of those ladies at the gym? A little persistent, yeah? Trust me, they’re not my type. I’m not interested.”

“I see...” You were mesmerized. This guy, this gorgeous, sweet, amazing guy, was standing at your door with flowers and food, talking about vibes.

“I can go, though... if this is too weird... but I’d hate to eat all this Chinese takeaway by myself,” he said, holding up the bag, and it did indeed look like enough to feed a small country, and it took everything in you not to make a fat joke, but something in his expression stopped you. 

He was nervous. Harry was nervous.

“No. Please... come in... I never pass up... what did you call it? Chinese takeaway...”

When he came in, you shut the door and immediately examined the bag. The smell was incredible, and your stomach reminded you that depression meals of cereal and toast weren’t actually sustaining.

“I do think you bought enough to feed a small army, though...”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a little of everything...”

This got a laugh out of you, the first real laugh in weeks. “Well, lucky you, I like everything... You don’t get curves like these being a picky eater...”

“I see...” He said with a sexy smirk, that had you giddy as his eyes roamed your body with the same heated look you had seen that day in the gym mirror. He wasn’t hiding it now, wasn’t trying to be professional. He was just a man, looking at you like you were something to devour, pajamas and all.

“Yeah... there was definitely a vibe...” You teased, narrowing your eyes at him while taking the flowers from his hands and bringing them to your nose. They were simple, but the gesture made your heart flip.

“I’ll put these in water...” And as you moved toward the kitchen, you felt his eyes following you, suddenly aware of how small your apartment felt with him in it. 

The energy you guys had been dulling in the past was present, making itself known as it filled the space. Now you had a new hunger growing in your belly that had nothing to do with Chinese food and everything to do with the way Harry was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room worth seeing.

Fuck it you thought, and you set the flowers down in the sink for later, “I’m not usually this forward… but I’ve been dying to kiss you?” you asked pressing your back against the sink, and you said the words with an air of confidence that seemed to flee the second your eyes found his. Sending you right back to that place of self-doubt.

Harry didn’t answer, and you watched as he silently pushed himself away from the counter and closed the small space between you.

 It felt like every movement slowed, every breath hollow, as if the sight of him before you was a figment of your imagination, and you couldn’t quite bring your eyes to meet his, not yet. You just stared at his broad chest, his strong stature like stone before your gaze, unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of his breath, like maybe he was waiting for you to make the move.

But it was something about the way he stood there, that same gentle patience he had exuded all along. It was devastating, the kindness now an ache that deepened inside you, the second you pressed your palm flat to the center of his chest. 

Yet his stillness remained as you felt the warmth of his body, the beating of his heart, but you still couldn’t look, because here was the fear telling you that you couldn’t have it, that you weren’t worthy, that this wasn’t real, but god he was real, and the breath that left his body was real.

And it hurt, and you were scared, and when his hand moved to yours, pressing your palm into his chest, you felt yourself breaking. Then you braved a look, your eyes finding his, and it was like something cracked within you, a well of every insecurity you had ever had, came spilling from your chest with a gasp, as a sob rose, and it wasn’t even him that you were crying about.

It was everything, all at once, it was you, it was him, it was the broken girl inside you, crying to be healed, to be wanted, to be needed, to be loved, because you wanted to be loved, you wanted to be seen, you wanted someone to love you the way you deserved. You had always had so much love to give, but no one who could reciprocate, the world always taking, but never giving back.

Then his hand was cupping your face, his eyes on your mouth, and the second his lips pressed to yours, delicate and soft, he drew in a deep breath, like you were the air he needed to fill his lungs with, like suddenly here you were, and as your mouths begin to move, the chatter in your head began to fade away.

As the kiss deepened, hands roaming, you felt yourself letting go, slipping to a place of peace, to a place you had only ever felt with him, to those times when he had you in a room full of people, yet the world always seemed to narrow to just the two of you. This was that moment, a universe that belonged to you and Harry.

And for the first time, maybe ever in your life, you allowed yourself to just exist.

When you pulled away, your eyes met, making a silent exchange, and you grabbed his hand with a slow nod, ready to make sacred what you felt in your heart, give him the pieces that he had made whole with the kindness of his spirit. You wanted to give yourself in the only way you knew how to convey what words couldn’t say.

And when he laid you down on the bed, he was gentle, hands moving over your curves like they were the most sacred gift you could give, and maybe they were in that moment, and when he kissed your lips, you felt the passion and the need in the delicate balance of his control. It felt safe. Harry was taking his time to explore the plains of your body, no rush, just a tender embrace that had tears streaming down your face.

“Is this okay?” he whispered against your skin, and the care in his voice made your chest tight. Always checking, always making sure, like you were the most beloved artifact, instead of too much.

You nodded, but your hands were already moving to guide his away from your stomach, that soft place you had spent years hating, years hiding. He noticed, you knew he would, and he paused, his green eyes searching yours in the dim light of your bedroom.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, his hand stilling on your hips. “What’s going through that beautiful mind?”

“I just...” You said, turning away, and the look in his eyes was too much for the shame pricking at your skin. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had sex before, but there had never been this level of positive vulnerability on both parts. The feeling reminded you of your first time, and maybe almost every time, actually.

The good times, few and far between.

Yes, the fear was there, and so was the desperation, but that was the part you didn’t want to be there. You didn’t want that desperate feeling of doing, just to feel wanted. You knew this wasn’t the case now, but it was hard to shake that pattern of thinking when this was the only relationship you had to sex. “You’ve probably been with so many girls who are... who look...” And the words stuck in your throat. 

Skinny. Fit. Perfect. Everything you weren’t.

“Hey.” His finger gently turned your chin back to him. “I’m here with you. Only you. And I’ve wanted to be here, exactly here, for weeks.”

But when his hand moved again, you caught it, redirecting it away from your middle, and this time he didn’t let you. Instead, he slowly lowered down your body, holding your eyes as he did, and before you could stop him, his lips were pressing against the soft flesh of your stomach, right where you were trying to hide.

“Harry—”

But he was already kissing every inch, every delicate place, every roll and curve you had spent years despising, and as he continued, your body trembled with sobs beneath his lips, overwhelmed by the adoration in his touch.

“God,” he breathed against your skin, “Every inch of you is beautiful. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

And just when you thought you couldn’t break anymore, here was another wall crumbling, and when he moved back up to kiss you, you could taste the mingling of your tears on his lips now, salt and beauty, a messy mix of his devotion and time.

“Can we just...” you start, then stop, embarrassed by what you wanted to ask. This was the part you wanted to skip, the lead up, you didn’t think you were strong enough for it, not right now, not in this moment, not when you were barely hanging by a thread, your emotions everywhere.

“What do you need?” He pulled back slightly, studying your face. “Tell me.”

“Can we just... be together? I want to feel you, to kiss you. Is that okay? I don’t need...” You gestured vaguely over your body, unable to say the words.

Then you watched as understanding dawned in his eyes. “If that’s what you want,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But… hopefully you’ll let me take care of you another time—”

“Another time?” You repeated, a little too excited, because god, the hope in your voice was already embarrassing.

He smiled, that dimpled smile that had you out of your mind from the beginning. “Yeah, love, there’s no way this is a one-time act. I’m already hooked. You have me completely. Trust me.”

That was all you needed, because then you were reaching with a shaky hand to your nightstand, pulling out the condom you had optimistically kept there. He took it from your trembling fingers, and the care he took with everything—with you—made fresh tears spring to your eyes.

And it was like a light switch flipping on in your brain when he pushed inside you, like something waking. At first, you weren’t sure what to do, whether you should just lie there, and let him lead like you had usually done in the past with others, or if you should use your words. But everything in you wanted to take some kind of control, to show him that you weren’t just passive, that you could give as good as you got.

The feeling built slowly, his hands mapping your body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every response. And just as you felt yourself getting close, that familiar tightening, a surge of confidence unlike anything you had ever felt before, flooded through you like a line of fire.

That’s when you pushed your hands into his shoulders, trying to be smooth about the move, hoping he would get the hint, but then he stopped without hesitation, concern flashing across his face. “Do you want me to—”

But you were already moving, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top, not giving a fuck that your stomach was visible, or that your boobs would bounce, that hell, maybe everything would jiggle, but for once, you didn’t care, because the way he was looking at you, like the fucking goddess you were and felt, was everything. It made you feel powerful, turning what was already pleasure into a feast that fed the famished hunger within.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands gripping at the flesh of your hips, as he bucked up to meet you, and the awe in his voice was already pushing you to the edge. It didn’t take long until you came hard, crumbling forward, and his arms wrapped around you immediately, holding you tight against his chest as he followed you over.

Even though you were aware of everything, all the flaws, all the thoughts, the way your body felt pressed against his, you stayed like that for a long moment, giving your body time to meld with his, no matter how uncomfortable it was or if you felt like your body would crush him. You wanted to be with this man in every way, maybe even savor the way his hands still moved up and down your body, caressing over every curve as both of you caught your breath. When you finally lifted your head, he was looking at you with such tenderness, such wonderment that it made your chest ache.

“You’re incredible,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Absolutely incredible.”

Later, after he had cleaned you both up with a warm washcloth, yes, you let him, because he insisted on taking care of you despite any objections, and damn he was a sweet talker, you knew you couldn’t resist the power of his words. Because you knew he meant them. Afterward, when you lay curled against his chest, his bad knee elevated on a pillow, and you with all your insecurities knocking at your mind’s door. You knew in that moment that you were two broken people, but even two broken halves can make something whole together, and that was the devastating truth you held onto.

And as you drifted off to sleep, his arms around you, his heartbeat steady under your ear, you thought maybe the universe was finally giving you something good, giving you someone who saw you, saw the real you, not just as a project to fix or some kind of problem to solve, but as someone worth loving, exactly as you were.

You knew the journey to confidence wasn’t over. You knew that you would still have your bad days, still struggle with mirrors and fitted clothes, and that fucking voice in your head that said you were never enough. But for now, you had someone who wanted to be there for those days, too, someone you knew would remind you of your worth when you forgot it yourself.

Someone who would love every inch of you, especially the parts you’ve allowed yourself to hate. Someone who made you believe that maybe, just maybe, you deserved to take up space in this world—and in his heart.

And that was worth more than any number on a scale could ever be.

Taglist: @mads3502 @matildasatellite @likea-silhouette @lizsogolden @manna86 @chelseatpwk @aileen1237 @aglimpseofharry @olvsbee @bibltch @xnthld @cherrycolas-things @avas-daniel @mellamolayla @caroll-94 @montse1608 @hellohowareyouearthlings @bentley-119 @harrymatcha @girlslovejahseh 

@peach-x-petals @boredhsblog

Other One-Shots<-

[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.

[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."

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

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[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.”

[itscoucouharry]

Rewritten Scars part 6- CEO Harry x Plus size reader smut

Warning: Smut

Ok so this is my very first time writing smut. Please be gentle 😂🙏 as always enjoy !!

Ever since you left Harry’s loft, his eyes were burned into your mind—deep, green, intense. They wouldn’t leave you. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see were those eyes, combined with the gravelly rasp of his voice that made it even harder to resist the pull he had over you. You wondered if he thought about you the same way—about the same wild fantasies that had invaded your thoughts for days now.

It wasn’t every day that your childhood bully turned into a sexy, powerful CEO who seemed desperate for you to see the man he had become. There were moments when you almost believed he had changed. He wasn’t the same arrogant, taunting boy who made you feel small. But then your heart and mind would take you back to those vulnerable years—the ones where he left you broken and bruised.

You tried to ignore it, tried to push it down, but the memories were still there—the relentless teasing, the sharp words, the moments where you felt your world had shattered around you. Those years weren’t easily forgotten, no matter how hard you tried.

It all felt like a storm of conflicting emotions, the anger, the rage, and the confusion. How could you be so furious with someone who was so clearly enamored with you now? Someone who was doing everything in his power to make your life at Styles Enterprises easier, to show you that he cared? Harry was nothing like the person you once knew, yet your heart didn’t seem ready to trust the change.

You found yourself torn, unsure of how to act when he was around. How could you stand before the man who had hurt you, yet somehow, wanted you now? The tension between you was suffocating. And even after the gala, after all the little moments of kindness he had shown you, it only became worse.

He was so sweet, attentive—nothing like the boy you once knew. He took time to learn about your likes and dislikes, made your workday easier, and every word that slipped from his lips seemed to cut through the walls you had spent years building. It left you confused, frustrated, and undeniably drawn to him.

It wasn’t just emotional. It was physical, too. Every time he smiled at you, every time his hand brushed against yours in passing, something inside you stirred. It was like a constant tension building up, but instead of being angry, it was turning into something else—something that burned and ached.

You tried to resist, tried to remind yourself that he hadn’t earned your trust. But his charm, his efforts, his presence—it was all slowly wearing you down, leaving you more sexually frustrated than you ever thought possible. You couldn’t stop wondering how he would feel, how his lips would taste, how those strong hands would feel on your skin, and how different everything was now—how everything felt like it was on the edge of something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But the truth was, you were already deep into it. Harry had a way of making you want him, even if it terrified you.

So, you did what you always did when you didn’t know how to deal with your feelings—you threw yourself into work. It was a habit you had perfected since school, diving headfirst into assignments, projects, anything to distract you from the weight of your emotions. You had to stay busy to keep from confronting that feeling of overwhelming sadness that always crept up on you when you least expected it. You didn’t know how to deal with the vulnerability, especially when it came to him.

You arrived at the office at 9:30 a.m., determined to stay focused. The plan was simple: submit documents, make the finishing touches on your project, and forget about the powerful CEO who seemed to have taken up too much space in your mind.

But somehow, hours slipped by. It wasn’t until you glanced at the clock that you realized it was almost noon. You had spent the last couple of hours lost in work, but your thoughts kept drifting, no matter how hard you tried to focus. It was like your brain wouldn’t let go of Harry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

And then, as if fate couldn’t make this any harder, he walked in.

Harry entered with a quiet confidence, two cups of coffee in hand. You watched as he approached, and your breath hitched at the sight of him—perfectly put together, as always, but there was something different in the way he looked at you today. He didn’t say anything at first. He just handed you one of the cups with a small, knowing smile.

“Remembered your order,” he said casually, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“How did you know I was here?” you mumbled, lifting the cup to your lips. The coffee was freshly brewed, scorching hot, and it felt like a bit of comfort.

“I know your vice,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and teasing. “I also know it’s working. Especially since the office is quiet today.”

You sighed inwardly, trying to ignore how his voice sent a flutter through you. And then, that damn smirk—that smirk—the one that drove you crazy, the one that made your knees weak.

It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing. The way he looked at you, the confidence radiating off him, all of it made something stir inside you. You could feel it—your body betraying you, responding to him in ways that left you frustrated and confused.

“God, you’re insufferable,” you muttered, trying to regain some composure. But Harry’s grin only widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

And if you were being honest with yourself, the thought that crossed your mind was dangerous. Because all you wanted to do in that moment was kiss him, maybe more. You couldn’t stop the thought, and the way he stood there, so close, only made the desire grow.

“Maybe,” Harry said, his voice a little softer now, leaning just a little closer. “But I think you secretly like it.”

You froze, caught in that moment of tension. Part of you wanted to deny it, wanted to pull away from him and hold onto your dignity, but the other part—the one that had been stirred by his smirk, his presence—was aching to give in.

Completely on impulse, you cupped the sides of Harry’s face, pulling him closer, your hands trembling as you stared into his eyes. You didn’t know what had come over you. All you could focus on was the desperate urge to taste the very lips that had given you hell throughout your childhood—those same lips that had been part of your past torment, now looking at you with such intense desire.

It was hard to stop yourself, especially when Harry was looking at you just as hungrily. His eyes were dark with want, his breath shallow, the veins in his neck and forehead taut, and it only made the heat in your chest grow stronger. You could feel the pull between you—magnetic, unavoidable—and you couldn’t fight it any longer. The tension snapped as you closed the space between you and kissed him.

But the kiss wasn’t anything like you expected. You had imagined it would be desperate, messy—full of pent-up frustration. But what you got was something far gentler. It was soft, almost tender, and for a moment, it felt like an apology. As if Harry was telling you everything he couldn’t say with words—I’m sorry for the past, for everything I’ve done to you. His kiss was his plea for your forgiveness, for you to see the man he had become, not the one who had hurt you.

His lips moved in perfect sync with yours, the rhythm of the kiss almost therapeutic, and before you realized it, his hands were at your waist, tracing circles on your belly. It felt like he was soothing something deep inside you, erasing the insecurities you’d held onto for so long. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he was worshiping you in the way you had always longed for.

It was the same body that once made you feel ashamed, the same belly that had been the subject of so many of your childhood fears. But now, in Harry’s hands, it felt like something he wanted—like it was a part of him, something he desired, rather than something he would criticize.

You ran your hands down his chest, wanting to feel more of him. The suit jacket felt like an obstacle you needed to remove. You pulled at it, trying to get closer, but then, in a sudden moment of clarity, you froze.

You pulled away, your chest rising and falling with the quickness of your breath. Harry’s eyes snapped open in surprise, but when he saw the vulnerability in your expression, the concern in his gaze was immediate.

“Is this okay?” His voice was soft, laced with tenderness. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” His words were gentle, almost like a balm for your soul, and it hit you harder than you expected.

You shook your head, your eyes brimming with tears you hadn’t realized were threatening to spill. “I want to do this with you,” you whispered, your voice small and fragile, “I just don’t know how you’d feel about seeing my body.”

Harry’s heart broke at the admission. He could feel the weight of your insecurity, and it cut him deeper than any of the mistakes he’d made in the past. This hesitation—it was his doing. His fault that you doubted yourself, that you couldn’t see how beautiful you were, inside and out. How could he have ever made you feel this way?

He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I know I’ve convinced you otherwise with what I’ve done in the past,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret, “but if you want to let me see you… if you want to let me love every part of you, I’ll be honored, baby. Truly.”

There was no rush in his words, no pressure—just pure sincerity. He wasn’t asking for anything. He was giving you the space to decide, letting you know that no matter what, he was here for you, all of you.

You closed your eyes, taking in his words, and felt a warmth spread through you that you hadn’t expected. Maybe this wasn’t about your body, about what you had or didn’t have—it was about trust, about letting go of the shame and allowing someone to love you, truly love you, for everything you were.

And Harry? He was ready to prove to you that he saw you—every part of you—and that he wanted all of it.

You both went back into it as if it never stopped. The desire building up with every kiss and touch that’s shared. His hands move up to your shirt. Tugging at the bottom as if he’s asking to take it off. You raise your arms, still hesitating.

As he removes your cute pink blouse, he can’t help but keep his eyes on your chest. You can’t help but keep your arms crossed in front of your stomach.

You were afraid of him being completely turned off. Afraid of him looking at you with this disgusted glare.

But when you look at his face, he looks even more hungry than before. His hand goes for your arms slowly removing them from your stomach.

“Don’t do that baby.. don’t hide yourself from me. You’re so beautiful. There’s no shame here.”

You couldn’t help but look down as your top half is fully visible to him. The small strawberry bumps on your skin. The stretch marks on the sides of your hips. Your belly hanging a little over your casual jeans you opted for today.

“My god, you’re so beautiful.” He mutters as he spreads kisses all over your breasts and stomach. Kisses on your stretch marks. Kisses on your belly.

You start feeling a bit more confident as you reach forward, unbuttoning his white button down. Along with his help, you finally remove it slowly moving your hands down his shoulders.

“It’s okay to touch me baby” he says as he engulfs you into another hungry kiss with more tongue this time.

With his confirmation, you run your hands down his chest as his hands are working his way down to your jeans.

You can’t help but shudder when his hand meets the button. Your fear starting to creep in again.

“I’d love to see, if you let me”

You fall back into his embrace as he unbuttons your jeans and you lift up your hips so he can get them off. This piece of clothing is the last barrier you have. The last wall that was being broken down.

As he removes the pants off your legs, he leaves a trail of kisses as he moves down. You let out a small moan. To which Harry would do anything to hear again.

“So perfect, fuck baby”

Now you’re fully undressed except for the pink thong you have on. Harry licks his lips at the sight of your pussy through it.

“Already soaking for me pretty?” He taunts, his hand finally rubbing your clit through the pink fabric.

“Mhmm. Please…more” you barely make out clearly. His hand making you feel ways you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. He obliges your request as his hands move in your panties.

“Mmm. So pretty when you moan for me baby.” Harry is fully hard now. He’s been ready to show you just how much of a man he’s become. Since the night at the gala, all he can think about is pleasuring you.

Pleasing you. Making up for his past doings and mistakes. Making up for lost time. Making you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Harry decides he’s had enough and takes off your panties. He looks up at you as his head starts to disappear between your thighs.

You’re a bit taken aback at first. Never thinking that he’s wanted you this much. Until he kisses your inner thighs right next to where you need him most.

You moan fully as his tongue comes in contact with your pussy. He moans along with you when he tastes you.

“Taste so fucking good baby. Gonna have me in between these sexy thighs all night.” You moan at his words. Such dirty words that feel so fucking good.

After years of not feeling pretty enough to have a man worship you like this. You can’t help but have this surge of confidence and excitement as he’s making you closer and closer with every flick of his tongue.

As he’s flicking your clit faster with his tongue, you gasp and grab his hair to which he lets out an animalistic groan. Letting you know that he wants you to keep tugging at his hair.

The office that seemed quiet before was now full of moans and sounds of pleasure.

“I’m so fucking close daddy please keep going” you moan out. In the most porn-star like way that makes Harry’s cock twitch. Along with the fact you called him daddy. He just couldn’t get enough.

He inserts a finger inside of you as he continues flicking and sucking on your clit. That familiar feeling in the pit of your belly starts to build up as you moan louder and louder. Signaling your orgasm.

Harry is more than happy to make you finish on his face. As your hips start to twitch and move his hands keep them down. This simple gesture making your orgasm all the better.

“Oh my fucking god.” You let out. Harry chuckles as he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on him. Which makes you ready for him to fuck you into oblivion.

“Get on top?” Harry asks with a small smile. You stop in your tracks as you’ve never been on top before with anyone.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you” you say low.

“You’re not going to hurt me. This is all I’ve wanted. I’ll do the work. Just get on top baby.”

As you carefully hoist yourself on top of him. His arms find their way to your ass as he aligns his cock along with your pussy.

You both let out a loud moan as he slips in. The feeling of fullness entering you. The feeling of your warm, wet pussy around him—is something he wishes he would’ve felt a long time ago.

You both stay still in the moment. Fully enjoying this feeling. Harry’s hands find the sides of your face as he looks into your soul.

“Can’t believe I missed out on this. You’re doing so good for me baby.” He grunts out, teeth clenched.

“You can move now daddy” signaling you were ready for him to fuck you.

Harry starts off slow, kissing you with every stroke. Hands finding his way to your breasts and playing with your nipples. Earning a pretty moan out of you.

Harry wants to hear you moan forever. He’s sure of it.

Then his arms wrap around you as he bucks up his hips and starts going faster. Both of you are panting and moaning with every pump into you.

You’re sure no man has ever made you feel this good. No man had ever taken the time to get to know your body and know the ways to make you cum.

He goes even faster and harder with every moan and scream you let out. The sound of grunts and skin slapping in the luxurious office.

You’re getting close and can feel he is too.

“So fucking pretty riding me like this baby. Look at these tits bouncing in my face. That ass bouncing on my cock.” His words leave you a bigger mess than before. Fully panting as you work your way up and down. Feeling way more confident than when you first started.

“Never let any man tell you how to feel about your body. That goes for me or any man.” For some reason, this brings you closer and closer to finishing right on his cock.

As his grunts become more and more frequent, so does your clenching. The both of you wrapped up in each other as you’re coming closer to the edge.

All it takes is for him to find your clit between your sweaty bodies and you’re coming undone. Releasing everything you got, as he does the same. Hips now bucking up as he came deep inside of you.

After riding out your orgasms, you’re not so quick to move off of each other. Him inside of your warmth. Still leaving trails of kisses on your face and lips. You can’t help but feel a rush of emotion.

Your tears fully coming down now. He cups your cheek as he rubs the back of your head with his thumb.

“You are everything. No matter what it takes. No matter how long it takes. I’m gonna show you that you’re everything to me. Don’t ever hide your body from me. Don’t hide your feelings from me. I want every part of you. Even the ones you don’t think are pretty.”

And just like that. The weight of his past doings start to diminish. You don’t say much but kiss him in return. Getting lost in his love and adoration for you. Feeling freed from your insecurities. Feeling free from the shame you felt all of those years.

[harrysarchive]

I love tattooarrist harry and baker!y/n so much!! Can we please have more of them🥺🥺

No big deal; h.s.

Pairing:

Tattooartist!harry x baker!y/n

Summary:

"I don't see the problem we were just staying in." He tries to defend himself his eyebrows furrowing, a common tell sign that he was getting worked up, "Me and Niall had a good fuckin day at work so we decided to celebrate. We can do date night another day no big deal."

POV:

Y/n's

Warnings: Slight angst

I watch as the candle slowly melts with a sigh leaving my mouth, the cold dinner left untouched and the wine was left getting warm. I look up at the clock and my frown deepens.

I'll be back at 8, just me and you tonight love.

His charismatic voice with a wink rings through my mind. The clock taunts me with the hands striking 10, finally deciding he wasnt showing, I shoved my chair back the legs of the chair weeping from the tension against the wooden floor, and started picking up the dinner left to waste. Wrapping Harry's plate in plastic wrap i shove it in the fridge when a black ball of fur swivels its way between my legs, matilda meows sorrowful and i give her a light smile.

"He probably had to work late 'tilda." I hum giving her a pat before walking towards our bedroom.

As i sit on our bed I pull my phone out and scroll through my contacts, clicking his name i put my phone to my ear and wait as the sound of the ringing vibrates through my ear.

I obviously couldn't answer I'm probably busy at work or with y/n. If it's important give her a call.

I let out a frustrated huff at the voicemail, "Where the hell are you? We had plans tonight remember? Just give me a call back please."

My body jolts as i hear the sound of keys jingle and the front door snapping open. I grab ahold of my glasses on the side table shoving them on and looking at the clock, 2:00 A.M. glares back at me. Are you actually kidding me? I put on my house shoes and walk towards the living area of the apartment, i watch as Harry pour himself a glass of water.

"And where the hell have you been?" I ask sharply as i glare at him, my hands on my hips Harry stops pouring the water and turns towards me with a frown.

"Out with Niall." He states bluntly taking a swig of water, a harsh laugh escapes my mouth and i nod.

"Did you forget something?" I ask with a sarcastic smile on my face.

He looks as if he's trying to remember something then shakes his head, "not that i recall."

Thats the fire that ignites my anger, "You made plans for us tonight! You wanted to have a nice quiet night in. I fucking made dinner, I had picked out a bath bomb for us to use. I even left work three hours early for this!"

"I don't see the problem we were just staying in." He tries to defend himself his eyebrows furrowing, a common tell sign that he was getting worked up, "Me and Niall had a good fuckin day at work so we decided to celebrate. We can do date night another day no big deal."

No big deal.

"No big deal?!" I snap taking a step in his direction, "We barely get to spend any time together because you're always working late, you fucking promised me tonight and you broke that promise. You come home six hours later from a pub and expect me not to be upset? I mean fuck Harry!" I huff massaging my temples.

"Well maybe you should have called me!" He bites and i sigh shaking my head.

"You know what, this isnt even worth it." I hum grabbing my keys from the key rack.

"Where the hell are you going?" He asks moving over towards me.

"Martha's."

"Dont do this," he sighs, "look i'm sorry okay just dont leave please."

I take a look at him, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, hair disheveled and a frown on his pretty pink lips before taking a deep breath, "i need some time to think and breathe before i make a mistake and do something irrational, if we keep going at this it'll turn out that way. Please respect my wishes."

His frown deepens and brows furrow further, "be back tomorrow?"

"I have work all day, i'll be back at 8." I spit his words back at him before throwing the door open and making my escape.

"...all im saying is he's a prick, plain and simple make him suffer." Martha states as she wipes down the colourful table.

Marthas been giving me a lecture since i walked into her little cottage yesterday at 2 in the morning and she hasnt stopped. I walked in the bakery with a frown at 6 A.M. and it hasnt came off the entire day, regulars constantly coming in giving me a sympathetic smile and wishing my day well.

"But Martha..."

"No but, no nothing. Dont give me that bullshit, sure he loves you and you love him but its the principle of the matter." She hums sitting in an old rustic arm chair next to the bean bags. "Think of it this way, if it was the other way around; him staying home making the dinner and you didnt show till ass crack in the mornin', he would do the same shit. Walk his pretty ass out of the house and drive off to Niall's."

I huff as i plop myself on the bright pink beanbag bringing my palms to my eyes trying to rub out the migraine that was destined to form. I know she's right he would be upset if it was the other way around, and the fact that he was being so blunt and  careless was very disrespectful.

"So what now?" I ask picking at my nails.

"You wait till he apologises."

I let out a deep sigh, "Martha I was also wrong for just walking out."

"No you werent, you told him yourself. You would have done some stupid shit that you didnt mean if you stayed there." She replies sharply, "and while he's at the apologising tell him to come clean the damn tables and dishes."

I let out a snort and shake my head, glancing at the clock 8 o'clock is staring back at me, Martha looks at the clock and hums.

"You can go, Nat is here so she can help clean up."

"No, i'll stay." I smile at her before snatching her rag out of her hands and smirking at her, "get up you old hag it's deep cleaning day."

She gapes at me then glares, "fuck that shit, you can do that yourself for calling me an old hag!"

I look at the clock on my dashboard, 10:30 it reads. Letting out a huff i grab my purse and some desserts I decide to bring home, everything will be fine i hoped. Walking up to the door i let one last deep sigh out before making my way through. The sound of things being knocked over make me jump slightly, looking up towards the dining area i see Harry with blood shot eyes and a blotchy face.

"You're home." He croaks out smiling at me with watery eyes.

"Yeah, stayed late to help Martha deep clean." I mumble sitting my purse on the coat rack and my keys on the key holder.

"I- um I made dinner for us." He chirps pointing to the meal on the table, "chicken parm your favourite."

I give him a weak smile before nodding and walking towards the dining table, looking at the meal my heart pulls. "Thank you thats thoughtful of you."

"No it's not, it's the bare minimum, you shouldn't thank me for this." He sighs shaking his head, "i have neglected you for weeks y/n. Making you promises and never pulling through, telling you we'd spend time together but it never happens. When you left last night, i um i got to thinking and do you know how many dates i've fallen through on?" He ask and i shake my head, not really one to keep count on things like that, "six, fucking six, that is six to many. I wanna make it up to you, i decided to cut back on my hours-"

"Harry you didnt-"

"I know i didnt have to, i wanted to." He smiles grabbing ahold of my hands, "i want to spend a lot more time with you, i want to be there for you the way you've been there for me."

Tears stream down my face as i smile at him letting out a chuckle, "i'm sorry for leaving."

"Dont be sorry, i would've left to if i was you."

A/N: oh my god :') hello guys i miss yall so fucking much its insane first off thank you so much for the request anon<3 i've been dealing with personal shit and just been in a reading (and writing) slump </3 and i've also been waiting for someone to request something so thank youuuuu!!!! I hope you guys enjoyed as much as i enjoyed writing this<3

-All the love,

em

Xo🐝

[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!

[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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[jarofstyles]

Sugar, Sugar 13

Hey… sorry it’s been so long angels 😭 here you go!! I hope you missed them as much as I did.

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Sugar Sugar masterlist

WC- 3.1k

warnings- mentions of disordered eating and bad relationship with food, body issues, fad diet mention, bad relationship with a parent, body shaming, etc

--------

“So, spill. How was it?” Delilah asked as she eyed Y/N. 

“How was what?” Playing coy behind the counter, she did the initial cash wrap check as she avoided her best friend’s eyes. She knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“Getting railed half to death.” She deadpanned, making Y/N choke on her laughter. “Don’t play games with me, girl. I can see your literal glow.” She paused, her eyes moving south. “And your man has a nasty habit of biting you.” He did. Y/N knew exactly where the hickey was on her collarbone, but her wrap she had on over her lacy tank top usually hid it. She was just careless this morning and didn’t think about it being on display. 

“He is quite bad with that, isn’t he?” She snorted, turning to her friend with giddy light in her eyes. “Great. Better than I expected. Made me really comfortable and I spent the whole night and day.. Y’know.” Her face felt hot as she placed the cash into the register before starting up the POS and making sure everything would be right for when the day ended. “I was worried for nothing. The man is kinda unreal, if I’m being honest. I was taken care of in every way. I shouldn’t be surprised considering he’s been really good to me so far.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder, the drawer was closed and she took note of her green tea, picking it up for a sip now that it wouldn’t burn her tongue. 

“It’s what you deserve.” Her friend smiled softly. “You deserve a great love like you read about in your books. Besides, I know you’re going to get it. It’s written in the stars.” She was joking, but also… not really. Delilah knew things without knowing how she knew them, and it was almost always true. “Where is he today? Are we expecting a drop in from him?”

“Actually, I don’t know.” Y/N hummed. He hadn’t replied after his initial good morning message but she wasn’t too worried about it. “He said something about stopping by the bakery. He had today off to go run errands so he’ll be dropping things off but I know I’m seeing him tomorrow. We’re going to that new pizza place.” She was excited about that. There was a flatbread she was looking forward to trying, and Harry had suggested getting two different things and splitting it. It was nice to feel comfortable eating with someone. That was one of the anxiety triggers she had to unlearn as she got older. 

“I think we’re going to get a drop in.” Taking one of the baskets they used for restocks, she went towards the tumble table and began to deposit the little baggies of colorful stones and minerals into the correct cubbies. “Have you brought up that Claire woman yet?”

Y/N hadn’t, very well for a reason. She didn’t like the feeling it gave her stomach. Somehow, she was well aware she and Harry had been involved. Somehow, someway. It didn’t seem strong, as she obviously couldn’t be that close to him anymore if she’s unable to contact him but… It still wasn’t a good feeling. The woman wasn’t nice, her energy was rancid and muddy, and she obviously looked down on them for believing in their own thing. That was the exact person she tried to avoid. Y/N knew it was perhaps rude to judge solely off of one interaction, but something told her Harry wouldn’t be happy to hear about her coming in. 

“Not yet.” She said sheepishly, spooning a bit of yogurt into her mouth. “I know, you don’t have to give me the eyebrow. I’m just… You know how it is. When you know it’s going to cause an issue.” Y/N didn’t think it would be with her but the idea of upsetting Harry at all wasn’t something she enjoyed. Being so new in the relationship, she wanted that honeymoon stage. It had been so lovely this far, she selfishly wanted to avoid the past and the real world from inserting themselves in her rose colored daydream with her dreamy new boyfriend. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how life worked. 

“Putting it off isn’t doing either of you any favors, Cher.” She gave her another look, hanging up a necklace back on the display. “I trust you to handle it on your own time, but do it soon. I have a feeling she isn’t done sniffing around yet.”

—--

“Hey.” A wide smile greeted her as she heard the chime of the bells on the door, seeing the man that had been on her mind. High waisted black pants with a flare at the bottom and a yellow tee shirt, he walked in with his boots clicking on the hardwood floor. Lifting his sunglasses off his face into his fluffy hair, he extended his arms to motion for her to walk into them. She did so without a question. How could she not? 

Falling into his warm scent, she nuzzled her face into his neck and allowed herself to be engulfed in him. Something about them felt closer now. More intimate. Maybe she was making it up but a layer had been shed and he felt even more close to her soul. Lips pecked a few times into her hair, swaying her back and forth as her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, a relieved sigh leaving the man. “Y’alright, Sugar?”

“Mhm.” She nodded against him. “Tired. Spilled my coffee a quarter through but it’s been a bit busy today so we haven’t had the chance to get away. You win some, you lose some.” She’d rather be a little tired and making money, giving readings, all of that. 

“Should have texted me.” His tongue clicked, finally getting a good look at her as she pulled out of his neck. Didn’t she realize he’d do almost anything for her? “Would have brought you some over, sweets. What good is having a boyfriend if you’re not gonna use me?” He was joking, but not really. He knew that he’d bend over backwards for the girl in his arms. 

“In all honesty, I didn’t even think about it. I knew you were busy today running errands and we had a lot of walk in readings, I’ve been a little busy.” Her fingers ran through his hair again, liking how it felt between them. He always melted like a pup getting pets when she did it too, so it was a win win. “Did you get everything done that you needed?”

“I did.” He moved on swiftly. “Are you sayin’ you didn’t eat?” His brow raised, making her wince. Sometimes she forgot, but it wasn’t on purpose. It was genuine distraction. “Baby…” 

“I had a yogurt and granola bar. I was planning on making some food when I got home, but I was busy. Promise.” She tried her luck at a pout which luckily seemed to break down the glare. 

“Too bad.” He sighed. “M’gonna run and get you both food. I don’t like this, Sugar.” Large hands cupped her face, making her feel more delicate than she ever had been. Sometimes it felt hard to lean into that femininity of delicacy when she’d been treated as the opposite most of her life, but Harry had her falling into it so easily. “I know you’re a big girl and you can handle yourself, but it’s okay to ask me for help. I want to help you, I want to be a good boyfriend and grab your things when you’re busy. I know you’d do the same for me.” She already had. The girl had given him a whole welcome basket when he opened his own business, for fucks sake. 

“I know. It’s…” Feeling slightly guilty now, she rested her hands on his wrists. “It’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been independent for years now and I don’t like to rely on people.” It was always thrown back in her face. “I’ll try harder, H. Promise.” Turning her head, she caught his palm with her lips and pressed kisses to it. That move melted him completely, leaning down to kiss her lips a few times before peeling himself away. 

“Good girl. I’ll be back in a bit. Be good for me.”

Y/N hated to see him go, but she loved to watch him leave. Still buzzing from the affection, she jumped as Delilah came out of the back room fanning herself. 

“That man is completely gone for you. Lord…” She shook her head. “What a guy. I’m glad he wants to take care of you, Cher. You deserve it.” Her hand squeezed her shoulder as she slipped past her. 

“It has nothing to do with the fact he’s getting you lunch too?” She snickered, watching her friend shrug. 

“That definitely helps.”

—--

Y/N’s good mood was squashed just 10 minutes later when a familiar face walked through the shop doors, nose wrinkling at the scent of the incense. 

God, why now? 

“Y/N, I’ve told you that these smoky scents are going to drive away customers.”

Yeah, that was the point. Drive away customers with impure intentions. 

“Hi, Mother.” Y/N sighed, feeling her shoulders tighten as she watched the woman come closer into the shop. Her tumultuous relationship with her mother had a lot to do with the fact that Y/N reminded her of her own. They’d been extremely close, sharing their love of the spiritual world, of magic, all the things while her mom had rejected it. Y/N had been easier to bond with for her grandmother and she knew she held resentment over it for years. 

She wasn’t an awful person, was the thing. She liked to support her at school, took her shopping for makeup, taught her how to do her hair and tie her shoes. She held her when she was sick, stuck up for her when she got bullied- but she didn’t realize she herself was her daughter’s first and biggest bully. 

“Hello. It’s been weeks since you’ve visited me or your father.” She sent her a look. “Are you well? Do you need money? I know the shop is a bit of a hard venture to keep up…” 

There it was. Her mother had always hated this shop. Hated what it stood for, what it represented. Y/N never faulted or judged someone for not believing or being connected in the things she was. It was a calling, she truly believed, whether natural or brought on by a life event. But her mother thought it to be a bit of a waste of time. Always expecting her downfall, though she didn’t think she was cruel enough to hope for it. 

“No, we’re actually doing incredibly well.” It was the truth. They were making bigger profits than the years before and she was more than glad about that. They’d paid off the loan they took out and now they were working towards a possible expansion. But her mom didn’t want to hear about that. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’ve been a bit busy.” 

Her mom gave her a scrutinizing eye, unsure if she believed her. Y/N wasn’t usually a busy person, despite the shop. She liked a slower lifestyle and she knew that, which is why she understood the look on her face. “Have you gone back to the gym like I asked? I haven’t seen you there. I can go with you, you know. I think you’d love my trainer. He’s very dedicated.”

There it was again. Y/N felt her stomach drop, though she should have expected it. Her mother was obsessed with her weight. She’d been the one to try and get her on diets at an early age, effectively ruining her relationship with food. While she knew her mother was someone who cared about her, sometimes she cared about the wrong things a bit too much. Once Y/N had made peace with the fact that she’d always be a bigger girl, her mother had pushed back at it causing more of a rift. She wasn’t going along with her plans and fad diets anymore, and it felt like a personal insult. 

“No, no. I’ve been busy with something else, actually.” With Harry. The pretty, driven, thoughtful man that had her tummy in knots and her head in the clouds. 

“Well, what? I’ve sent you dozens of recipes. I doubt you’ve tried them though. It looks like you’ve put on a bit of weight in the last few weeks. I thought you were making progress.” Her frown made Y/N’s stomach hurt. She’d resigned herself into knowing she would probably never get her mother’s approval on her body, but the reminders didn’t do much to make her feel good. Accepting it didn’t mean liking it. 

“I may have. I’ve been fine, though.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll come by for dinner next week, I promise. I just-”

The door chimed again, interrupting them both. Her stomach dropped as she saw Harry’s smiling face, something that usually would make her erupt into butterflies- but this wasn’t the introduction she wanted to make. Not quite yet. 

“I’m back, sorry. There was a line.” He murmured, going behind the desk and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her body flushed as she looked towards her mother, her eyes wide as Harry adjusted her hair for her before setting the food bag and coffee tray on the counter. “Sorry, I’ll step out of the way if you’re helping someone.”

“Who’s this?” Her mother’s interest was immediately evident. 

“I’m Harry, Y/N’s boyfriend. Nice t’meet you. What’s your name?” He asked, placing a hand on his girlfriend’s back. 

“H, this is my mother.” Y/N swallowed, looking between the two of them. She could see his eyes widen, reaching a hand out for her to shake. He was always so polite, so charming, but she couldn’t help but see the look on her mom’s face. 

“You’re her boyfriend?” She asked, brows raised. Her voice sounded in disbelief, looking between the two of them as if something didn’t add up. “I didn’t know she even had a boyfriend.” 

Thankfully she’d let him know she hadn’t exactly told her yet so he didn’t seem shocked about that, but the meeting was a little unorthodox. 

His brows did furrow at her tone and she could tell he didn’t like it. But for her sake he kept a smile on his face, shaking the woman’s hand lightly. “Yes, I am. M’quite gone for her. You raised an incredible woman, Ma’am.” He spoke earnestly. 

“Excuse my shock, I just didn’t realize….” She trailed off, still seeming confused. “Y/N does like her secrets, it seems. You’re very handsome. What do you do?” It was likeher mother to be nosy, sniffing out why exactly the man was around her daughter. Y/N could see that she was suspicious and it hurt her because she knew exactly why she was. 

She was making sure he wasn’t using her for another reason. For money or something else, because it was hard for her to believe a man as attractive as him would be with her for pure attraction and chemistry. 

“I actually own the bakery across the street.” He said easily. “Thank you for the compliment. She’s an incredible woman, so welcoming and kind. Beautiful to boot.” He meant every word, tapping the tip of her nose. “I don’t want to interrupt, though… I brought the girls lunch.” 

“Oh, it’s not trouble. I was coming because my daughter forgets she has a phone.” She shot her a look. “Why don’t you come to dinner next week with her? You’re more than welcome. Her father would be more than happy to meet you.” 

“If it’s alright with Y/N, I will.” He nodded, showing his loyalty immediately. Harry wouldn’t do anything that made his girl uncomfortable and he was dedicated to the cause. He was already unsure about the woman, but the next words solidified it for him. 

“Alright, whatever you decide. Just make sure she doesn’t have too many sweets from your bakery, hm? It’s starting to show again.” She was joking as if it was funny, patting her daughter’s hand before stepping back. “I hope to see you next week, Harry. Call me, Y/N, we have much to discuss.” 

Her mother was swift, walking out the door as quickly as she had come in. As soon as she was gone, the energy calmed and her shoulders fell, groaning low in her throat as she moved to hide her face in Harry’s chest again. He knew better than to talk, instead stroking over her hair as he let her recover from that interaction. 

Internally though, his view on her mother was soured. How dare she make a comment to not only her daughter about that, but to him? A man she was dating and obviously really liked her? Did she not realize how awful it was to comment on something like that? Y/N had told him that her relationship with her mother had been a weird one but he hadn’t expected her to say something cruel like that. It didn’t even seem to register that she was being mean, she genuinely seemed to think it was funny. 

“I’m sorry about that.” She sighed, pulling back from his chest. “She’s… she’s a lot. I promise she isn’t all bad, but she’s got quirks.” Her face pulled in a slight grimace, making him smile sadly at her as he caressed her warm cheek. 

“That wasn’t nice to say, but I have a feeling it isn’t something you want t’unpack in the middle of a work day.” It wasn’t something he felt could be properly discussed out here anyways. “We can talk about it tomorrow, if you want…but I just have to say this one thing.” His head dipped to get closer to hers. “I don’t mind if you gain or lose weight. I don’t care about that at all so long as you’re healthy and comfortable. I’ll never restrict you from eating, never make you feel as though you’re too much. I know you struggle with it, but I’m never going to contribute to that. I’m here to support you.” 

His words were genuine, eyes shining as he told her his truth. She could feel it radiating off of him and it made her want to tear up, but he didn’t give her a chance to reply to that before he smacked a kiss to her nose and pulled back to open the paper bag that had been stapled shut. “But now I want you to tell me if I did a good job choosing your meal, please. I did the caramel coffee with oat milk, iced. I remembered that bit.” 

Y/N wasn’t sure where the hell Harry had come from, but she was thankful for whoever had sent him. It seemed like she needed him now more than ever.

[justmystyles]

Big Winners - Part 1

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x record producer plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 3,118

summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them.

a/n: earlier this month, all the grammy memories popped up, and it inspired me to write this. i have a million half finished 'moment turned fic' stories in my drafts, but I actually managed to (mostly) finish this one. this is either going to be 2 or 3 parts, i still have a bit to finish, so we'll see.

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

Y/N and Harry met fifteen years ago, One Direction had been recently formed, and she was doing an internship at the studio where they were working on their debut album. She had befriended the entire band, but she and Harry clicked instantly, and formed a tight bond. 

They stayed close throughout the years. Harry’s career, both with the band and as a solo artist skyrocketed, while Y/N moved through the industry and had found herself producing some smaller projects. She rarely turned down an opportunity, taking on any work that came her way just to get the experience and the connections. Then, she received the offer of a lifetime. 

Once Harry had finished Love on Tour, he celebrated by inviting some of his closest friends and family to his villa in Italy for two weeks to relax and recharge. Y/N was one of the first people he asked. One night during the trip, Harry and Y/N snuck away from the group; it was intentional on his end, because he had something he was dying to ask her. 

As they sat on the moonlit beach shoulder to shoulder, their toes in the sand, Harry leaned over and bumped his shoulder against hers. “So, I’m going to be starting work on the new album soon.”

“Jesus Har, you’re not even finished with your recharge vacation and you’re already thinking about the next thing?” She chuckled. 

“You know I can’t turn it off.” He said with a sheepish laugh. “But there’s actually a reason I brought it up… I’ve been thinking about the direction I want to take, and who I want to work with, and I was wondering if you’d want to produce it for me?”

Y/N lets out a loud bark of laughter, startling Harry. “Good one.” 

“I’m serious.” He looks at her, and she can see that he really does mean what he says. 

“Harry, I don’t have production experience on that level.” She says, still in shock. “I mean, unless this is like a lullaby album or something.” 

Harry chuckles. “It’s not, but I know you can do it. I know your work, you’re so much more talented than you give yourself credit for. And sure, you haven’t got experience on my level, but you’re never going to get it if you don’t put yourself out there, who better to get the experience with than your best friend?” He says with a toothy, dimpled grin. 

“Literally anyone else?” She teases.

“Hey,” he whines with a furrowed brow. “You know you love me.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” The two of them are silent for a moment, while she lets his offer sink in. “You really want me to do this? You want me to be your producer?”

“That’s why I asked.” He scoffs. “But seriously, nobody knows me better than you, you understand me, you always push me when I need it, and you don’t take my shit. Imagine how that would translate to music. I think it could be something really amazing. Plus, we’d get to hang out a bunch.” 

“Ugh… you were making a good argument until you mentioned spending that much time together.” She says sarcastically as she rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” Harry says in a serious tone. “If you don’t want to do it, just tell me. But I really can’t imagine taking the next step in my career with anyone else.”

She sighs and smiles softly at him. “I would really love to work with you, Harry. If you’re sure, let’s do it.” 

His smile grows once again as he pulls her into a big hug. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” 

A few months later, the two of them embarked on their first collaboration, Harry’s fourth studio album, and it was an even better experience than either of them thought it would be. They knew each other so well, that they were perfectly in sync with every chord and every lyric. By the time they had a completed album, they were both confident that this was the best work of their careers. 

They were so proud of what they had done that they didn’t care how it sold, or what the reviews said, they knew that they had created something magical and if they were the only two people that liked it, they couldn't care less. However, that wasn’t the case. The record was a hit; glowing reviews, great numbers, and the fans positively ate it up. 

Harry and Y/N’s friendship was one that was well known, his fans would go crazy everytime they were seen together, the fandom was constantly shipping them. So when they found out that she was producing the record, it amped up the anticipation tenfold. As soon as it was released, they were combing the lyrics, and criticizing every background vocal and sound to find any clues about the true standing of the relationship. Of course, there was plenty of speculation, but the truth wasn’t anywhere near as exciting as the conspiracies and analysis. They were genuinely just two best friends with creative minds that made something amazing together. 

Given the reception the album received, it was no surprise that, when award season rolled around, they received a generous amount of nominations. So here they were, in LA, sharing a hotel suite and preparing to attend the Grammy Awards. 

As Y/N sat down to begin the hair and makeup process, Harry stepped out to go for a run to clear his mind. He was nervous about what the evening would hold. Partly for his performance, especially given the mistake at the beginning of his last Grammy appearance in 2023. He had insisted on extra rehearsal time, and extended the production meeting to make sure that everyone knew exactly what needed to happen and when. But more than that, he wanted this night to be perfect for Y/N. He had won awards before, but this was her first time being nominated. When they had first met, Y/N had told him about her dreams and one of the things she mentioned was the Grammys. He wanted this for her more than he did for himself. And although he knew she had matured in the last fifteen years, and valued more than just accolades and awards, if he could be the reason one of her childhood dreams came true, that would mean more to him than anything. 

When Harry returned from his run, he saw Y/N sitting in the common area, her hair and makeup still being worked on. She locks eyes with him through the mirror. 

“Hey, did the run help?” She asks. 

Harry shrugs as he approaches her. “A little, still pretty nervous though.” 

“What’s making you nervous? The nominations, or the performance?” 

Harry thought about the best way to answer this question, he didn’t want to tell her that he was nervous for her. He knew that even though she was hiding it well, she was nervous too, and his nerves on her behalf would make hers worse. On top of that, Y/N was alway so sweet and empathetic, she would take it personally and see herself as the reason he was nervous and end up feeling bad. He didn’t want to put a damper on this night for her. 

“Mostly the performance, I guess.” He finally responds. 

She extends her arm out, wiggling her fingers in an invitation for him to take her hand. When he joins his hand with hers, she squeezes gently. “You’re going to be amazing. I’ve never seen you give a bad performance. You’re going to kill it, and I’m going to be right there in the crowd losing my shit for you, just like I always do.” 

Harry laughs at her pep talk. “You know this is an industry thing, not a concert, right? People aren’t exactly going to be losing their shit in the audience.” 

“Good, then it will be easier for you to notice me from the stage.” She looks over at him with a sweet smirk. 

“Like I could ever miss you.” He scoffs, squeezing her hand.

“You’re showering before you get dressed, right?” She asks with an arched brow, lightning the mood. 

“Not before I give you a big, sweaty hug…” He says, outstretching his arms and moving closer.

“Harry Edward,” she says in a warning tone. “I’m already forty-five minutes into getting ready, and still have at least thirty to go. I cannot start over.

“God, you’re such a girl…” He groans and kisses her on the cheek before going into the bathroom to shower. 

While Harry showered, Y/N’s mind was racing. She’d known Harry long enough to know that there was more going on than just being nervous about the performance, but she wasn’t going to push him. She would just do everything she could to support and comfort him.

After his shower, Harry stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe just as Y/N’s hair and makeup was being finished. She stood from her chair, thanked her glam team and stepped up to Harry. 

“We should just go like this, it would cause quite a stir.” She joked as they stood face to face in their matching bathrobes. 

He smiles softly, still feeling the nerves flow through him. 

“Hey, you’ve got this… we’ve got this.” She assures him. “Even if we don’t win, the album was amazing. We made something beautiful. If the academy sees that, great. If not, whatever, we don’t need them anyway.”

Harry smiles and pulls her into a hug. “Yeah, I know, I know. No matter what, I am so proud of what we did. It’s better than I even imagined it would be, and I owe all of that to you.”

She giggles as she pulls out of the hug. “I didn’t do anything. I just pushed buttons and bossed you around.” 

Harry laughs loudly. “Two things you’re good at. Being bossy and pushing my buttons.” She gasps in mock outrage and slaps his chest playfully. “Seriously though, you brought my vision to life, and you did all the behind the scenes work to make sure it was the best album possible. You’re the biggest reason we’re here tonight.” 

Y/N smiles shyly and blushes. “Oh come on…”

Harry smirks mischievously, he always found it hilarious when he’d make her blush. He decided to double down. “Well, whatever the outcome, at least I’ll have the cutest date in the room.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“God, you’re the worst.” She chuckles as her blush deepens. “I have to go put my dress on. You changing?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that now. Meet you back here in ten?”

“It’s a complicated dress, might need fifteen…”

“God,” he groans playfully. “Such a diva!”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at him and turns to go into her room to get dressed. 

Twenty minutes later, Harry is pacing around in his suit, it’s a simple black suit with a gold silk shirt, unbuttoned enough to display the sparrows on his chest, and the butterfly across his abdomen. He steps up to her door and knocks gently as a reminder that they need to get going. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She calls through the door. 

A few moments later, she emerges in a long gown, made of the same golden silk as Harry’s shirt. Harry’s eyes go wide when he sees her. She looks stunning, the gown hugs her curves in all the right places, and compliments her skin tone perfectly. 

Harry’s silence makes Y/N feel a little self conscious. She rarely dresses up, and when she does, she doesn’t usually pick things that put her body on display like this.

“Is it… do I look okay?” She asks tentatively. 

“It’s stunning, Y/N.” Harry looks at her in awe. “You look so incredibly beautiful, like an angel…”

“Alright Har, come on…” she says bashfully as she drops her gaze. 

“No, seriously. You clean up nice.” He chuckles, punching her on the arm playfully. 

“Yeah, well you don’t look so bad yourself.” She looks him over, a small smirk appearing on her face. “Is this why you wanted me to work with your team to pick my outfit? So we would be matching?” 

Harry chuckles and shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe…”

“You’re such a little pain in the ass.” She chuckles. 

“Whatever, it was worth it.” He says, grabbing her wrist and positioning them in front of the full length mirror. “We look damn good” 

“That we do.” She replies with a smile. She notices his expression grow more serious and furrows her brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… fifteen years…” He says wistfully. “We’ve had a hell of a run, you and I.”

“Well it’s not over yet!”

“No, I know. Will you just shut up and let me have a moment?” He says as he nudges her. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I can’t really express how much it means to be standing here with you right now. No matter what happens tonight, we’ve definitely already won.” 

“Yeah, we have.” She sighs, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him into a side hug. “Now cut it out with all this mushy stuff, my makeup took way too long for me to start crying right now.” 

Harry laughs and pulls her into a tight hug. “Alright, alright, we’ll save the mushy crying for later.” He gives her one last squeeze before pulling out of the embrace. “Ready to go?”

She nods and he leads her out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. As it makes its descent to the lobby, Y/N gets uncharacteristically quiet. 

“You good?” Harry asks softly. “You seem quiet.”

She looks up at him, almost as if the sound of his voice broke her out of a trance. “Hmm? Yeah, sorry. I think the gravity of everything is finally hitting me. Like, it was all conceptual before, just words. But it’s real, we’re on our way to the Grammy awards… we’re nominated.”

Harry takes her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know. But you can’t worry about it, no more stressing out, okay? Tonight is our night, we just need to go out there and enjoy it.” 

“Can I say one more mushy thing before we stop trying to make each other cry?” 

Harry chuckles and nods, looking forward to hearing what Y/N has to say.

“I… when I decided I wanted to be a producer, my big thing was that I always told people I wanted to win Grammy awards. And I know we shouldn’t be defined by awards, but in an industry like this, you have to have some way to quantify or legitimize what you do to people who aren’t a part of it, and that was my way of doing it. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and this is the first time I’ve been nominated. I can’t tell you how glad I am that my first nomination is with you. It means the world to me that I can have this moment, share this milestone with my best friend. So thank you for letting me be a part of this album. You have no idea what it means to me.”

Harry is taken aback by Y/N’s words. While they were close, and shared everything, she would rarely be so open and vulnerable with her words. No matter what happened at the award show, that moment, right there in the elevator, would be the highlight of his night. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, burying his face in her neck. 

“You have no idea what this means to me.” He mumbles against her neck. 

“Okay, so no nerves then?” She asks, pulling out of his embrace. “Whatever happens tonight, we will always have this moment together, and that’s what matters.” 

“Agreed.” Harry says, holding his hand out to shake hers. She giggles at the gesture and shakes his hand firmly. 

After a short ride in the limo, Harry slips out of the car and extends his hand, helping Y/N out. They walk through security and up to the start of the red carpet. Harry turns to face Y/N, and she adjusts his jacket, making sure he looks picture perfect. 

“Okay, go out there and smile big. I’ll see you on the other side.” She says like a proud mom, sending her son off to picture day. 

“How’s my hair?” He asks cheekily. 

She giggles and runs her hand through his hair. “Perfect.” 

He winks and gives her a sly smirk before stepping out onto the carpet and posing for the cameras. 

Y/N watches him take a few pictures, and once he moves on to the second pose position on the carpet, she turns to walk behind the step and repeat. Her arm is quickly grabbed by one of the producers. “You’re up.” He tells her.

“Oh no no no, I’m not walking the carpet.” Y/N insists. 

“Are you nominated?” She nods, a slight panic on her expression. Y/N was a behind the scenes person, she didn’t step in front of the camera. “Then you walk the carpet.” He nudges her forward, and she finds herself standing on the first mark, posing awkwardly for the camera. 

A few steps away, Harry’s gaze is traveling from camera to camera, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Y/N posing, he also sees the panic on her face. He quickly backtracks, coming up beside her and placing his hand on the small of her back. 

“You okay?” He whispers softly. 

“I didn’t know they were going to make me do the carpet…” She whispers nervously. 

Harry keeps his hand on the small of her back, his fingers moving along the skin gently to soothe her. “I know, I know. But you’ve got this, I’m right here with you, we’re going to do this together, this is our night.”

She nods, feeling more comfortable with Harry by her side. The two pose together as they move down the carpet. Harry was completely in tune with Y/N’s emotions, and any time he’d feel her start to stiffen up or get nervous, he would whisper a joke or silly comment in her ear to loosen her up. 

The photographers went crazy observing the chemistry between the two of them. Harry was aware what would be printed about them, and the status of their relationship, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to him in that moment was that nothing ruined this night for Y/N. 

[enalovesharry]

Out of a dream

summary : you and THE harry styles had a one night stand.. the night was a blur so the morning you wake up you’re quite surprised.

warnings : mentions of sex, swearing, fluff?? pls let me know if there was anything else!!

*HEY GUYS!!! first of all I want to thank you for everything on my first ever writing post, i know it’s not the best thing you’ve ever read, it’s definitely not the best thing I’ve written but I didn’t expect that much love. I’m so sorry for just disappearing, life has been very busy but I will get back to things soon! p.s this is how y/n will be in most of my writings, not shy, very outgoing and sarcastic!!!*

Last night was very much a blur.

The only thing you remember was drinking at a random club in the Hollywood Hills, then stumbling into a SUV before everything else was just a blackout.

Waking up to the sun beaming onto your face, your eyes flutter open, hand coming up to block the bright light from your eyes. Although everything seems quite normal, you feel a heavy thing over your torso and a soft aroma of a Tom Ford cologne, pushing yourself up quickly you scan the room, confused on how you might of ended up here.

Well, you already know because the most logical reason would be that you wanted to get someone’s dick wet. You look down to see if the man you pleasured was good looking at-least and-

“Holy fuck.” Your eyes widen, your heart beating out of your chest as you freeze. Harry fucking Styles is sleeping right beside you, curls sticking up left and right, you realise his face was buried into your stomach because of the red mark on it.

You also realise you both were naked, quickly scrambling out of the bed- or wait, his bed. You grab your panties from the floor pulling them up, panic mode absolutely activated.

You hear him moving on the bed, sheets rustling as he sits up, glancing to him he’s stretching his arms above his head, turning his head to you and you notice the panic now evident on his face.

“Hey.. uhh, are you okay? Did I scare you or something, I promise I didn’t kidnap you.” He watches you as you put on your bra, grabbing your shirt and jeans to put on.

“I didn’t realise I literally just fucked Harry Styles, sorry.” Looking into the full-size mirror he has next to the bed you fix your hair up, not noticing how he’s got out of his bed and put his boxers back on, you also didn’t notice how he winced from what you said, he didn’t like when he was labeled as just a famous celebrity a random girl had fucked after having the best sex he’s ever had.

“Hey, chill out. Calm down I’m not gonna like bite you or anything. Unless..” he walks up behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Harry, this isn’t funny. 15 year old me would be absolute screaming right now that I actually finally fucked Harry Styles.” Your face blooms in redness at the confession, you see him raise his eyebrows in the mirror, smiling.

“‘S really cute y’know, your dream coming true. You don’t have to go right now.” His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you back into his chest as you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror, clipping your earrings back into your ears.

You practically lose your breath as his hands caress your hips, all you want to do is pounce onto him and fuck him yet again. But you can’t, you always tended to have attachment issues and having them with Harry Styles was not the way to go.

You had to continue on with life and hide the fact that you hooked up with Harry in the back of your head.

“I have to go, Harry. I have a home and a life, maybe we can hook up some other time in like 3005 or something!” You muster up a smile for him, turning to look up at him, his eyes shine a beautiful emerald green, a dimple pokes out of his cheek, his lips a beautiful shade of pink.

Oh you wanted him so bad again, you knew Harry, from his music of course but you didn’t know or let’s say like him enough to be a fan, that’s for sure. He tugs on your hips again, your hands coming to his waist to brace yourself.

You did wonder if this is what the routine was with all his hookups, fuck them till he was satisfied? Part of you also didn’t think so as he was such a gentleman.

“Come on, darling. Jus’ a little bit longer? I promise, this is not what happens wit’ all the girls I have seen.” The pet name makes you all giddy, your hand coming up to comb through his chocolate curls.

“Are you just trying to make me feel bad for you so then I can follow your music and promote it and whatever?” You ask, eyebrow raising. You see he’s taken aback by that, his eyebrows creasing.

“No, no! Y/N im so sorry if it looks that way, oh my god. I promise that’s not- that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do.” You giggle at his panic, a little surprised that he remembered your name.

“I’m just kidding.” You smile as he pushes his bottom lip out in a soft pout, without thinking you push up onto your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his soft ones, he kisses you back almost instantly, innocently pecking your lips a few times before he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Harry then lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he moves back to the bed, mumbling something softly against your lips.

“Maybe you could give me your number or something if I prove to you that the night was really worth it.” He pulls away, a smirk on his lips, you laugh, biting your bottom lip softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Dream on Watermelon Sugar singer.”

You see a spark in his eyes and as he leans back in to kiss you again your vision goes black.

You feel heat on your body and your eyes snap open, the sun beaming on you, yet again. You look around the room, sitting up, you’re in your own room. You look beside you, a messy empty spot beside you.

Your head then whips to someone walking into the bedroom, it was your fiancée, a bright smile planted on his face seeing you’re finally awake.

“You were having a good dream so I didn’t want to wake you, sounded like you were having fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows, coming to move onto the bed, pulling you into his chest.

“Yeah, it was about the first time i met you.” You plant a kiss onto his bare chest, arms wrapping around his waist.

“Ohh, s’right when I was Watermelon Sugar boy.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “Lucky you finally gave into giving me your number and accepted me into your life, hey? Now m’getting married to my one night stand in two weeks.”

“You’re still a loser, Harry. And no I’m still not following your Spotify even when we’re married.” You mumble against him.

“Dang it.”

hehe lol this has no plot xx

dividers by @firefly-graphics 🤍

[itscoucouharry]

Rewritten Scars- CEO!Harry x Plus size! Reader chapter 1

Definitely inspired by this gif bc hello CEO daddy :,)

I’ve been dyingggggg to write about CEO Harry:) as always enjoy!! There will be multiple parts

Harry styles,CEO of Styles Enterprises, finds himself revisiting his childhood when a certain plus size Y/N comes into the office for an interview. Little does she know, Harry has changed a lot since then.

Chapter One: Ghosts of the Past

My Masterlist

Styles Enterprises was one of the most renowned companies in the industry. Getting a job here would be a career-defining moment. But what no one knew—not your friends, not your family—was the weight of what this interview meant to you.

It wasn’t just about the job. It was about confronting a ghost from your past.

Harry Styles.

The name alone brought back memories you wished you could forget: snickering laughter in the hallways, cutting remarks about your size, the cruel nicknames he and his friends had thrown your way. You’d spent years healing from the damage he’d caused, working to believe in your worth despite the scars he’d left behind.

When you’d first heard the CEO’s name during your research for this position, you’d frozen. Surely it couldn’t be the same Harry Styles. But a quick Google search confirmed it—the piercing green eyes, the unmistakable smirk. It was him.

Now, as the elevator doors slid open, you took a deep breath and stepped into the bustling office space. It was modern and elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering sweeping views of the city. Employees moved about with purpose, their voices a murmur of activity.

“Hi, can I help you?” a perky receptionist asked, her bright smile welcoming.

“Yes, I’m here for the marketing position interview,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Of course! Have a seat, and Mr. Styles will be with you shortly.”

The mention of his name sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded politely and sat in the waiting area, smoothing your skirt nervously.

Moments later, the door to the corner office opened, and there he was.

Harry Styles.

He looked different—older, more refined. His tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders, and his hair was styled perfectly, a few loose curls framing his face. But the moment his eyes met yours, the same piercing green you remembered so vividly, your heart sank.

He froze for a fraction of a second, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to place you. Then, something clicked, and his expression shifted—an almost imperceptible flicker of surprise and… was that regret?

“Y/N?” he said, his voice deeper than you remembered but still unmistakable.

You forced a polite smile, standing to shake his hand. “Mr. Styles,” you replied evenly.

His jaw tightened as his eyes scanned your face, clearly taken aback. But before he could say anything, he quickly regained his composure.

“Come in,” he said, gesturing to his office.

You followed him inside, your heels clicking against the polished floor. The space was just as impressive as the rest of the building—sleek furniture, expensive artwork, and a massive desk that screamed authority.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, motioning to a chair across from his desk.

You sat, clutching your portfolio tightly as he took his seat. For a moment, there was only silence.

“I have to admit,” Harry began, his voice measured, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

You forced a neutral expression. “It’s been a long time.”

He nodded, his fingers lacing together on the desk. “It has.”

The tension in the room was palpable. You could tell he wanted to say more, but instead, he picked up your resume and began flipping through it.

“Your credentials are impressive,” he said after a moment. “You’ve clearly worked hard.”

“I have,” you replied, your voice firmer now. “I’ve put everything into building my career.”

He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours again. There was something unreadable in his expression, something that made your stomach twist.

“I can see that,” he said quietly. “You’ve come a long way.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You weren’t sure if he was referring to your professional accomplishments or the fact that you were no longer the insecure teenager he used to torment.

“I’m here for the job,” you said, breaking the silence. “Nothing else.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he looked almost ashamed. “Right,” he said. “Let’s get to it.”

As the interview progressed, you kept your answers sharp and professional, refusing to let your emotions show. But you couldn’t ignore the way Harry watched you, his gaze lingering just a little too long, as if he was trying to piece together the person you’d become.

When it was over, he stood and extended his hand. “Thank you for coming in, Y/N. We’ll be in touch.”

You shook his hand, your grip firm. “Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Styles.”

As you left his office, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of triumph and unease. You’d faced him, shown him that you weren’t the same girl he used to tear down. But part of you wondered if he’d changed—or if this was just the beginning of something far more complicated.

One thing was certain: working for Harry Styles would be anything but simple.

[chrisevansonly]

Welcome To The Final Show (blurb)

pairing: harry styles x female reader

summary: love on tour has come to a close, and there is nothing but tears backstage

warnings: none, very bittersweet and cute

a/n i sobbed watching the concert, im unwell, i cannot do this anymore😃

Chants and cheers were ringing around you as you made your way backstage, eyes puffy, tears still finding their way down your cheeks. Love on Tour had officially come to an end, with many surprises and a song Harry had written specifically for tonight’s grande finale. Let’s face it you were in tears with Anne before the concert even started, but now, you were oh so a mess. Seeing Harry get as emotional as he did, giving his all, sharing his heart with those that love him back just as fiercely was something you would never get over.

As you got to the back of the stage where everyone was standing around, you took your time trying to find your husband, he wouldn’t be hard to miss with his silver tassels and stars. The second you two found each other, in that moment, nothing else mattered as the noise faded to zero, your arms pulling each other in, grasping tightly as if you would both fade away with the noise.

“I’m so fucking proud of you baby. So fucking proud”

Harry didn’t offer any words back yet, just a few kisses to your neck, a few drops hitting your bare shoulder, you knew he’d be crying probably just as much as you’d be. You both stayed in each others arms for a few moments before he pulled back, taking your face in his hands, a tired but happy smile on his lips

“It’s over..”

“It’s over H…now we get you home to rest, you deserve it, m’so proud of you”

Slight colour appeared on his cheeks as he shook his head, leaning down to connect your lips in a kiss, one he made sure would last longer than the short moment you both had together right now

“I love you y/n, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you, the support you-you show me everyday…you kept me going, and I can’t thank you enough for that”

Not wanting to cry again you blinked quickly a few times

“I love you too H, so much…this tour has been a dream come true for me as much as it has you, getting to travel with you, hear you sing, see you dance and just getting to watch you smile each and every night….I will never forget any of this, i am the proudest wife on the planet”

Catching a couple tears from his cheek he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, knowing in a few hours you’d both be heading home to take some much needed time off. Time to get lost in one another all over again, to laugh, to love and to share with each other, something Harry was looking forward too.

“Together forever?”

Smiling at his words, remembering the tradition you both started when you’d begun dating, you stuck your pinky finger out, hooking it with his before you both leaned down to press a kiss to your hands

“Together forever H.”

There was no doubt in either of your minds, along this crazy whirlwind of a life, of a love and of a partnership, that the two of you could ever be without the other. A true match made in heaven.