#ceo!harry

She slept in her car close to a trailer park, just behind the lot. She rarely had anyone bothering her. A membership to a cheap gym provided her with showers, full access to exercise equipment, and a yoga room that no one ever used.

There was an opening at a burlesque club called the Haute Baude (she hated the name too, but the opening was for an amateur without experience, which was precisely her burlesque skill status). She was desperate for work. She came to Las Vegas knowing she’d probably be doing something like this. Being a burlesque dancer could be fun, but she wasn’t trained to dance burlesque. She had classic training, though, and was capable and athletic.

The gym’s yoga room had come in handy for her training. She had her first appointment for an interview in a week’s time and until then, she worked her ass off, studying burlesque fundamentals, and style. She was lucky the position was for someone with no experience. She could dance and keep rhythm and make her own dance routines… she had a solid foundation, but burlesque was something a bit different than she was used to. A little outside of her comfort zone.

A bit sexier. Daring.

For the interview, she scraped together something she thought might be appropriate to wear. A pair of tights with athletic shorts (cute athletic shorts, she thought), paired with a cropped long-sleeve top. All black. It wasn’t what she would have chosen if she had more money to her name but it could work. She hoped.

Hope was the only thing keeping her feet on the ground as backward as that may sound.

Tucking herself into her backseat with her blankets and pillows she watched out the window looking at the stars and moon. She couldn’t believe this was her life but at the same time, she was proud she had the nerve to leave her dad’s house. The safety net of home came with a big catch. Her dad was an alcoholic and could be abusive. Not physically (only a couple of times did he ever lay a hand on Y/n). And then there was her boyfriend. She lived with him for almost 6 months until his lease came up and he didn’t renew so he moved in with mutual friends but she refused to be a burden to any of her friends in that way. He also occasionally pushed her around.

He was edging toward being physically abusive. He never left bruises. He’d only ever shoved and pushed her, yanked her wrists, and pulled her hair (and not in a fun way). But it was never enough to see it for what it was.

Until she left. Until she got air. Until she could look in from the outside.

She soon came to learn that Chad didn’t care much if he saw her once they stopped living together. She’d drop by to see him but he never made an effort to see her. So she did an experiment. One week she just didn’t make plans to see him nor did she stop by randomly. He never even called her. He didn’t care.

That realization stung her a bit, but she figured if he didn’t care, then neither did she. That was the final push she needed to pack up her car and head West. She didn’t tell her dad, and she didn’t tell Chad. Neither had called her yet. She didn’t need them.

The day of her interview she showered at the gym and got ready the best she could. She had nearly perfected a sweet little winged eyeliner which she felt proud of. When her phone had fully charged she called her only friend, Vinnie, for a pep talk. Vinnie had been her best friend since high school. He moved away to California the year before when he got a job in costume design and production in LA.

“Today’s the day, beautiful!” He answered the phone excitedly.

Y/n laughed into the receiver, “It is. I’m so nervous Vin. I just had to shower and get ready at the gym. I hate the outfit but my eyeliner is on point,” she spoke as she leaned into the mirror to get a closer look.

Y/n spoke to Vinnie every day. She missed him a lot and one of the reasons Las Vegas was on her radar was because she’d be closer to him. Maybe one day she could make it to LA for good but rent prices were even higher in LA than in Las Vegas. She and Vinnie imagined living together in some cute little bungalow with a small yard and a dog, both working and grinding and doing what they loved most. But that was just a dream and even though she’d come this far, she couldn’t know what her future really held.

She only knew she was never going back to where she came from.

The club was busy when she arrived. She was led to a back hallway and into a room that looked a bit like a clinical waiting area. There was one woman sitting in a chair near reception but otherwise, the waiting room was empty.

She sat close to the door and read a little bit on her phone, an article she started reading earlier in the day before she went to get herself ready at the gym.

She tried to pay attention to the article but her mind was all over the place. The first thing she wondered about was the club. It seemed so busy and posh when she walked in, but this waiting area was the opposite. She could hear the thudding of the base from the main room’s music. The waiting room had bright lights with deep blue carpet and white walls and the sterile smell of the waiting room had her a little confused.

A door opened and a young woman dressed in workout gear called out, “Regina!”

The other woman who’d been sitting near the reception area stood up and walked through the door. Y/n wondered if Regina was here for the same job opening – or if for something different. Looking back down at her phone to continue reading she realized she wouldn’t be able to take in any of the information. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and crossed her legs.

When she graduated with her bachelor’s in dance, she felt so proud. Her mother would have been proud. Y/n’s mother was a trained dancer as well. She taught Y/n all about the world of dance and would bring her along to the dance studio when she went. Everything for Y/n was all about dancing and artistry and music and movement, especially when she was little.

Then she met Chad when she was 22 and he never encouraged her to dance and never went to any of her performances, not that she had many of them. He just really didn’t seem to care. The more she thought about Chad the more she realized he was never any good for her. Kind of a dick really. He was emotionally abusive and sometimes handled her with anger, shoving her, or yanking her arm. He never hit her, but he wasn’t nice. Now, away from everything, away from her dad and her boyfriend, she realized that even if she’s sleeping in her car in a not-so-safe area, she’s still better off.

Happier. Free.

The door was pushed open and the same young woman with the workout gear on popped her head out and looked at Y/n with a bright smile, “Y/n?”

The next room Y/n was brought to was darker and felt more like a club. There was a pole and a small stage with a desk facing toward where she assumed she’d be showing off her routine.

“Just wait here. Angelique will see you in a moment.”

Y/n walked around the room. There were speakers at the top corners and lights pointed at the small stage area. The room wasn’t large, but it made sense that it would be a spot for an interview or maybe a private dance. Y/n wasn’t exactly sure about what kind of club this was. Burlesque didn’t usually involve private dances or anything like that, but she hadn’t done a whole lot of research about Haute Baude.

“Ms. Y/n?”

Y/n turned quickly and took in the woman who was probably Angelique. She crossed the room and held out her hand, “Yes! Nice to meet you. Are you Angelique?”

The woman was older with dark hair and dark eyes and botoxed lips. She was fit and tall. She held out her beautifully manicured hand and shook Y/n’s with a nod, “Yes. It’s good to meet you.”

Angelique sat while she gestured toward the stage, “Do you have a song you’d like to be played or shall I pick?”

Y/n stepped up onto the stage and nodded, “Yes. I was hoping to do a routine to I Want To Be Evil by Eartha Kitt.

Angelique smiled and nodded, “Lovely. Do you happen to have the song saved so we can play it to the speakers?” She waved her hands upward gesturing toward the speakers.

Y/n did. It had been on repeat for over a week when she practiced every day in the yoga room. When Eartha’s voice came over the speakers, Y/n walked back and forth and began to move slowly, using her hips and stepping in line with the words spoken.

When the music really got started and Eartha began to sing, Y/n had memorized the choreography she put together and began to move and add texture to the sensual beat. It was a mix of things she’d learned along with some of her own little bits she added in.

One of the reasons she chose that song, in particular, was because it was classy and sexy and only three minutes long. She really hoped the amateur part of the interview would give her an in. She really needed this.

At the end of the routine Angelique stood up and clapped with a smile, “Great. Thank you, Y/n. Come and sit.”

Y/n jumped down off the stage and sat in the metal folding chair across from the desk.

Angelique rounded the front of the wooden furniture and sat down at the edge, “Your resume tells me you have a dance degree and that you’ve never danced burlesque. Correct?”

Y/n nodded, “Yes. That’s true.”

Angelique nodded, “I can tell,” she laughed, “but don’t worry. You’ll get better as time goes on. We don’t need someone here who is a star. You could become one someday, but right now we’re looking for someone who can dance in a group setting in the back to fill in space, and also serve cocktails.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. The way Angelique was speaking made it sound like she’d already gotten the job. Not something she expected at all.

“We have two big burlesque evenings every week. Fridays and Saturdays with two shows each night. We’re looking to fill bodies into the back. You can keep rhythm and you seem to understand the basics so you would work well for our needs,” the woman spoke with her hands, waving them around to punctuate her words, “We also would like you to be available for small parties to do dance routines in groups and serve cocktails from time to time. I know being a cocktail waitress doesn’t seem to go with the job here, but we get booked for small parties from high-paying clientele and generally, we like to keep our best on the big stage, and the small parties we can send out the amateurs to serve cocktails and maybe do a dance or two. No stripping or anything like that.”

Y/n listened intently with a smile and a nod.

“How does this sound to you?”

Y/n sat up straight, “I need the job. I’d love to do anything you could book me for.”

Angelique nodded and her smile revealed a row of straight white teeth, “Oh, honey I know you need the job. Most of the types coming in for a no-experience-required job are usually in a tough spot here in Vegas. Can you do the job and be available and on call as needed? That’s all I need to know.”

Y/n nodded again, “Yes. Absolutely. I have no obligations.”

. . .

There was no one to celebrate with and Y/n didn’t have money to buy wine or something yummy to commemorate the occasion either. But she did call her best friend and he squealed and she squealed.

It felt good to have a job. To have a place in the world, even though she’d not yet started. Her night ended just as it began, in her little car, at the back of the trailer park, doors locked, stars shining in.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face and just knew this could be the beginning of something good.

. . .

Things were not good. Her first night at Haute Baude did not go as expected. She was sent a text on Wednesday about her upcoming schedule and the dance routine she’d be working on. She was expected to be at the club and to practice and then be ready on Friday and Saturday.

The other burlesque dancers she practiced with didn’t give her the time of day. She still practiced with them, watched closely to learn the routine, and stayed after to really get the portion down that she’d struggled with. On Friday she arrived very early to practice again. She had been fitted for a costume after her interview and expected that it would be ready before the shows on Friday night.

The studio she practiced in was empty when she arrived but that was only better for her she decided. The other dancers weren’t very welcoming, and she knew they wouldn’t be. She was just the amateur thrown into the back anyway. Why bother?

After three hours of dancing, and practicing she’d worked up a sweat and an appetite. Y/n was hungry. She hadn’t really eaten all that much because she simply couldn’t afford to. The dancer’s locker room had showers and vanity areas to get ready. Y/n took a warm shower and shaved all her nooks and crannies. She knew what the outfit looked like and she really wanted to make it look good. If she couldn’t get the moves down perfectly, at least she could look perfect.

When she found Angelique after searching through the building for a bit, she was already out of breath. The show would start in two hours and Y/n still didn’t know where to find her costume.

“Angelique!” Y/n spoke excitedly.

The woman looked scattered and panicky, “Yes?” Angelique turned and once she saw Y/n her smile dropped.

“Hi. Uh, I just wondered if you knew where I could find my costume. I don’t…”

“You’ll need to find Richard. He should know where it is,” Angelique turned to walk away.

“Wait! Who’s Richard? Where do I find him?” Y/n followed Angelique, hating to be a bother because the woman was clearly busy but she needed to find her outfit.

“He’s at the bar right now. Short man with blue eyes. Bald,” she didn’t bother to turn and look back as she quickened her haste down the hallway.

Y/n stopped in her tracks with a frown. Angelique was busy and in a hurry. Y/n didn’t want to be a burden anymore than she already felt she was.

When Y/n got to the main room she spotted Richard right away. He was wearing a tracksuit and had a big belly.

“Richard?” Y/n spoke as she walked toward him. Patrons were in the lounge area already, filling up the space and chatting. Music was playing, and on the stage was a dancer doing a solo routine.

“That’s me,” he spoke and looked Y/n up and down. Y/n still had not done her hair or makeup yet. She wanted to wait until closer to show time.

“Hi. I’m Y/n,” she held her hand out to the bald man to shake. He smirked and took her hand with a limp hold.

“Pleasure. How can I help you?”

“I was told you might know where my costume is for tonight’s show. I’m one of the dancers.”

Richard’s brows went up and then he looked toward the corner of the room with a squint before turning his sight back to Y/n, “I don’t know of a costume that needs to find its owner. All of them have been handed off to the dancers already. Sorry, doll,” he turned back to doing whatever it was he’d been doing before Y/n interrupted him.

Y/n’s heart sank. This was not good, “Sir. Look, Angelique told me you’d have it. I’m new and I was just fitted for it on Wednesday, so would there be someone I can speak to who knows where I can find one if mine’s not ready yet?”

Richard sighed and cocked his head as he looked back at her, “I have another idea.”

. . .

Her costume was lost or had never been ordered. She wasn’t sure. So, instead of having her first dance routine that night, she was booked to serve cocktails for a private party. Not how she envisioned her dance career progressing, but a job was a job. She needed the money. She needed to eat.

She was given a basic outfit to serve cocktails in. There were four cocktail waitresses. The little outfit was a bit showy for such a job, but she wouldn’t stick her nose up at it.

She curled her hair and pinned the front back and applied makeup. She adjusted her little outfit and tugged at the hem of the skirt. It barely covered her bottom. The tall heels were a touch too small for her feet but she took deep breaths and kept calm. The private party was in a large room (not the main room) with a small bar, some tables, and a stage.

She stood toward the entrance and watched the room get set up.

When the guests who’d booked the private party arrived, Y/n took her spot as directed and saw a group of ten men with nice suits and big attitudes walk in.

She immediately walked up to the table assigned to her and smiled brightly, “Welcome! Can I get you started off with a drink gentlemen?”

There were three tables for the guests and four cocktail waitresses spread amongst them.

Two beers, a whiskey neat.

Back and forth.

A round of shots for the group.

Water. Don’t forget the lemon.

No ice for the one with the grey suit and pink tie.

Her feet were killing her. She leaned against the bar and slid her shoes off for a moment of relief. The fucking things were an inch too high and a half inch too small, and she was struggling. She took a breather and watched over the table she was working. They had just gotten fresh refills and more water so they would be good for a bit.

The dancers on stage were having fun. Y/n could tell they were fill-ins. Not main stage worthy. Like Y/n, amateurs most likely.

Bethany put her hand on the bar next to Y/n, “Can you take my table their drinks? I need to go to the bathroom,” she told Y/n the order and ran off.

The bartender quickly got the order ready and Y/n reluctantly slid the borrowed heels back onto her feet. Somehow, the short rest for her feet only made putting the tight shoes back on worse. Her gait was affected. Her heels were blistered, and her toes were smushed in. She tried to maintain a natural stride on her way to the table but the only way she could stand to walk was to go very slowly.

“IPA?” She lifted the pint up and a man raised his hand as she placed the glass in front of him.

She handed off the drinks one by one and the last was a bourbon on the rocks. The only man who’d not yet been served was looking at her with anticipation of receiving his drink. She moved toward him and her attempt to not step fully down onto her heel had caused her to lose her balance and she dumped the whiskey onto the man’s nice suit.

She gasped and so did the man. Kicking her heels off she ran to the bar to grab towels and then back to the table.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, sir! This is my fault. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning…” She got to her knees and placed the towel over the top of his thigh and looked up at his face with worry and noted his surprised smile.

She used her other hand to wipe the table as she blotted the towel over his thigh. She had not expected a smile from him.

“Don’t worry. Happens to us all. I don’t need you to pay for the dry cleaning either,” he said as he took the towel from her.

His voice was calm and deep. He sounded British. She stood up and stared down at the man and realized how kind he looked. His smile was genuine and the dimples poking into his cheeks were boyish and cute. He had crystal green eyes and broad shoulders. He was handsome. She was thankful that he was kind.

“I’m really so sorry, sir. I feel so bad. I’ll get another one for you and make sure to put all your drinks on the house,” she knelt down to pick up her heels and as she turned to go back to the bar the man gently grabbed her wrist, “Another bourbon is fine. You don’t need to comp any of my drinks, though. Please. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

She looked down to where he had her wrist. He had rings along his long fingers. His hand was big. She looked back up to his face with a smile, “Are you sure?”

The man with curly brown hair smiled and nodded, “I’m sure.”

The rest of the night was far less exciting. When Bethany returned Y/n went back to her original spot. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the other table to the man who’d been so kind to her, even after she ruined his suit. He was attractive and it was clear to Y/n that Bethany also thought so. She gave extra attention to him. Anyone would.

When the guests had left and Y/n could put on her sneakers, the room got cleared and everyone went their separate ways. The club didn’t serve food, which Y/n had kind of hoped it would. She was hungry. She’d barely eaten anything all day long. Her day started off early trying to perfect the routine but then after hours of practice, she learned she wouldn’t be on stage because her costume was nowhere to be found.

Running back and forth in tight heels to serve liquor was just as tiresome as dancing on a stage. And being hungry on top of it all was brutal. Her stomach was growling as she walked out of the club and to her car parked at the side of the building where all the employees parked.

“There you are!” The voice of a familiar-sounding man startled her.

Y/n jumped and lifted her head to find the British guy with the bourbon-stained suit approaching her. Her eyes widened. As nice as he seemed in the club, she was hesitant to give him her full trust at 1 am in a dark parking lot with no one else around.

The man stopped in his tracks, “I’m sorry. I know you probably didn’t expect to see me, but I noticed you walking out and thought I’d just come and, I don’t know… maybe say hi,” he suddenly seemed more timid. Perhaps he realized how scary it could be as a woman to be approached by a man in this way.

Y/n gripped her keys tight and looked around. His soft smile put her at ease a little, “Yeah. I figured you guys all left already. I was just leaving for the night. Everything okay?”

Even in her alert state, she still wanted to make sure the man was all right. She was probably too nice for her own good.

His husky laugh sounded like relief in Y/n’s ears and it made her smile, “Everything’s fine. I was hanging back. I have a friend who works here. Just happened to see you leaving is all.”

Dimples.

Bright eyes.

Dark curls.

Tattoos, that she hadn’t noticed until now with his sleeves bunched up to his elbows.

He was attractive and his demeanor slowly put her at ease. She loosened the grip on the keys in her hand and finally smiled at him genuinely.

“Oh. Who do you know?”

“The owner. Richard. Short guy,”

“Bald,” Y/n spoke with a smile and Harry grinned back at her and nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve known him for years. Always lets me get in for a quick last-minute private party if I need. A lot of my colleagues enjoy the atmosphere.”

Y/n nodded and kept her eyes on the man. They both fell silent.

“Uh,” he lifted his hand up in a waving gesture and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m Harry.”

Y/n’s smile widened, “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and stayed in his spot on the other side of her little car. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by getting too close.

“So, guess you’re headed home, huh?” Harry looked at her little silver car and back to her.

Y/n nodded, “Yep,” she didn’t know what home meant but she would consider her car her home at the moment.

Harry looked down at his feet and back toward the car, “I uh, are you new here? I mean, I only ask because I’ve never seen you around.”

Y/n nodded, “First day. Was supposed to be in the main room on stage but my costume was never ordered or it was lost, or I don’t know… So they had me serving cocktails. I just need the money so I’ll do almost anything at this point,” she laughed and her shoulders relaxed a little more.

Harry’s brows furrowed and he frowned, “Understandable.”

The silence grew loud again and Y/n shifted on her feet. Suddenly the sound of her stomach gurgling in hunger filled in the space in between them and she laughed it off, “Wow. I should uh, go get something to eat.”

Harry kept the small frown on his face, “Well, there are plenty of places open. Vegas baby. Right?” He chuckled lightly, “I guess I should leave you alone, huh? So you can find a spot to grab a meal,” Harry spoke as he backed away from her car, and slowly headed toward the main parking area.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for being so kind to me on my first day,” she slid the key into her door to unlock it and kept her eyes on the man.

He nodded and put his hands into his pockets, “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. I’m around often.”

~~

The following night her costume had been found. Another dancer had taken it, mistaking it for their own. Angelique apologized for the miscommunication and Y/n had her first night on stage. She was in the back, though. Which was expected.

After the group did their routine the main dancers got to use the locker room showers and vanities first. So, Y/n had to wait around a bit to let the room clear out. She and the other three amateur dancers sat together at the bar after the final show and chatted. They hadn’t really had the time to talk before. But Y/n was tired. The practicing and routine, the late nights, the lack of sleep, the lack of food, it was all catching up to her.

When they finally were able to use the locker room, most of the guests and the other dancers had already left. After a warm shower, she put on clean sweatpants and a t-shirt, pulled her hair up into a bun, and charged her phone while she scrolled through social media and saw that Chad had posted a blurry picture of himself and another girl on Snapchat.

Y/n screenshotted the photo before it could disappear and analyzed it. Now, even though she had considered Chad to be her ex (though they hadn’t officially broken up because they hadn’t spoken in over a month) it still felt gross to see. Chad wasn’t doing anything particularly damning in the blurry photo, that she could tell. But the girl was really close to him and they were facing one another in the photo.

Fucker.

She sighed and put her cell phone down. Closing her eyes she leaned back in the chair and stretched her arms above her head, groaning with delight from the yummy stretch of her back and arms.

Her stomach growled. Y/n shook her head. She couldn’t wait for her first paycheck. She was barely hanging on anymore. She hadn’t eaten at all that day. Her cache of food had disappeared, and her checking account was low. She didn’t want to put anything on her credit card until she knew she could pay it off. But she was hungry. And she was slowly becoming sore and stiff from lack of nutrients and a proper bed at night. But tomorrow was Sunday and she would take the day off from practicing the routines. She needed to let her body rest. She also planned on using the last of the money in her checking account to buy food for the rest of the week.

When her phone was mostly charged she grabbed her bag and left the building. Most of the lights were out. It was nearly 2 am. She hated leaving so late but that was her life. She’d chosen this path. Maybe one day she’d have an apartment to go home to.

A safe place to rest her head.

A refrigerator full of food.

But for now, using showers and mirrors and outlets at work and the gym, and sleeping in her car were her life.

Parking in the hidden spot behind the trailer park, she climbed into the back seat and curled up into the cramped space and closed her eyes. Eventually, sleep found her tired and hungry body. She knew she was doing the right thing, even if it didn’t seem that way to anyone looking in from the outside. This was her life. She would get there soon; she just needed some more time.

. . .

Y/n wouldn’t have her first paycheck until Friday, which was when the next show was. She continued to give herself pep talks. She could make it. She could do this. The paycheck wouldn’t be much, but she would be able to buy more food, pay her cell phone bill, and get another month at the gym. She could budget. She’d eventually be able to save up enough to find a place to rent one day. But going without enough food was hard. At the club, there was a small break room but the fridge was usually empty. Most of the girls at the club weren’t eating on purpose. Y/n wasn’t eating because she couldn’t afford to.

Sunday afternoon she bought groceries. Not many. Bananas, granola bars (the cheap sugary kind), a bag of off-brand pretzels, a jar of cheap peanut butter, and a loaf of cheap white bread. Not what she’d normally want to buy but it was all in her price range and didn’t need to be cooked.

On Thursday someone had brought in a fruit tray to share at the club. Y/n could have cried. She watched as the other girls picked at the fruit but Y/n was starting to cross over into survival mode. She stayed by the tray and ate fistful after fistful of grapes, apple slices, pineapple wedges, and oranges. She did it discreetly, not wanting the others to see how ravenous she was.

She guzzled water from the water fountain in the hallway and showered after her practice with the other girls and felt wide awake. Energized. The fruit brought life back into her body. Literally. The calories and the sugar were her saving grace that day. Her costume, which she’d only gotten the week before was already loose on her body. She needed to eat and while the fruit wasn’t quite enough, it made her body happy. It was far better than all the starchy foods she’d gotten herself, which had mostly all been eaten by that point.

Vinnie was worried about her. He knew her situation. But she insisted she was doing well. Because she was mostly. She was struggling yes, but she was doing something good for herself. Plus, Friday was just in grasp. Her first paycheck would be handed to her after the show. She could almost taste the pancakes and the orange juice. She had planned on going to a dingy little diner she passed by a few times after work.

The sign read: 24-hour breakfast. $2.99 all-you-can-eat pancakes. The one she drove past every day.

She imagined slathering each stack with butter and syrup and surprising the staff when she went for seconds and thirds. Her stomach growled as she got into place behind the other girls and the music started. Bethany raised a brow at her when she heard it.

The routine was the same as the week before. They had a short break before they went back up and did another set. Y/n hadn’t been in such a good mood in weeks, knowing what was coming after the show. She was shaking with the anticipation of finally eating something of substance.

Like last week, the main dancers got to use the locker room first. Y/n and the others sat at the end of the bar and watched the guests leave as they chatted. They never got into anything too deep. Y/n wasn’t keen on telling the others about her situation. It was embarrassing. She was technically homeless and she was dirt broke. But Angelique had given them their checks and Y/n was more than happy to use it. She wouldn’t cash it that night because it was too late, but she planned on using her credit card to buy the $2.99 buffet pancakes. Maybe she’d splurge on eggs as well.

After showering and charging her phone she nearly skipped to her car. She parked strategically under a lamppost and noticed right away a man leaning on her front bumper.

“Excuse me?” She stopped halfway between the building and her car, ready to run back into the building if needed.

The man stood and she saw the chocolate curls of the British man she’d met the week before.

“Sorry! I thought I’d wait out here for you. I wanted to tell you that you did a great job in there,” he smiled kindly. That sweet smile, dimples and all.

Y/n let out the breath she’d been holding and finished walking toward her car. She figured she could trust Harry at this point.

“It’s okay. Just startled me a little to see someone leaning on my car. And, uh, thanks!”

She dug her keys out of her bag and walked next to Harry. He was taller than she thought. She hadn’t stood directly next to him before but now that he was only a few feet from her as she unlocked her car door she noticed it.

Harry pointed into her windshield, “I don’t mean to pry or anything, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but I noticed the blankets and pillows in the backseat. Is that… are you…?” Harry didn’t finish his sentence but Y/n knew what he was asking.

Normally she folded up the blankets and stuffed the pillows into the floorboards nicely but that morning she didn’t care. She’d been in such a good mood about the upcoming pancake dinner that she left it all strewn about.

She thought for a moment about how to answer. She looked down at her shoes and sighed, “Just temporary. It’s not a big deal,” she brushed it off.

Harry stayed quiet. But the longer he was silent the stranger it felt. Y/n looked back up at him and he was stoic. Deep in thought. Her stomach growled loudly and she groaned. It was as if all the most embarrassing things in life could come out all at once in front of a handsome man it happened right then. She was hungry and homeless. That was the truth. And Harry was now aware of this fact.

Harry sighed and his face softened, “Look. I know it can get hard out here. But, let me buy you something to eat at least. I was hoping to chat with you anyway. Maybe we could just… I don’t know… get to know one another over a drink, or food. No pressure,” Harry was cautious. He knew he could be overstepping a little. But he probably felt it was necessary based on the circumstances he was now aware of.

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not necessary, Harry. I just got paid. I was going to buy myself something to eat. You really don’t need to…” The look on his face had her pausing her words. Harry’s brows were raised and the soft grin told her he wasn’t buying her I-don’t-need-your-help act.

“Fine. Then you buy yourself something to eat. Can I join you at least?”

And so that’s how she found herself at the dingy diner sitting across from Harry in a booth as she shoveled pancakes in her mouth. Harry ordered a coffee. Black.

He watched her for a bit as she scarfed down her first plate. Y/n tried to hold a conversation while eating but her body was on autopilot. She needed to eat. Harry could see that too.

When she finished the first plate she looked up at Harry. He was leaned back, comfortable in the booth with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused look on his face.

She licked her lips and sipped the orange juice before clearing her throat, “What?” She felt embarrassed. It was quite obvious to Harry what was going on.

“Nothing. Still hungry?” He smirked and leaned forward to the table, putting his forearms over the linoleum and clasped his hands together in front of him. He’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows again and Y/n could make out the dark tattoos that went up one arm.

She breathed out a laugh at the question. Without a doubt, she was still hungry. She nodded, “I am. Yes. Is it okay if I grab another plate? Do… uh, do you want anything other than coffee?”

Harry shook his head and kept his eyes on hers, “I’m fine. I’ve eaten today. Go and get another plate. I’ll be right here.”

Y/n brought back another stack of pancakes with a handful of margarine butter packets and went to work to make her second plate as sugary, fattening, and calorific as possible.

“So, where are you from, Y/n?” Harry took a sip of his coffee, and Y/n saw him wince. She doubted the coffee was any good. Especially black. It was probably old and bitter and room temperature. But she appreciated that he was sitting with her and trying to fill the void of loneliness. Though she would have been fine to sit and eat her pancakes in silence.

“Bible belt. Nowhere,” she kept her eyes on her meal, drizzling the maple-flavored syrup over the top.

Harry laughed, “I see. Okay. So, why are you here in Nevada? Big dreams of becoming a famous dancer?”

Y/n shoved a forkful into her mouth and shook her head, putting her finger up as she chewed. Another sip of her orange juice and she finally responded, “No. I needed a change of scenery. I am a dancer. Well, I have a bachelor’s in dance. I’m not a professional or anything. It was sort of a whim, but a good one. There was nothing keeping me back home. What about you Harry? Where are you from? How did you get here?” She tried to change the subject from herself to him.

She ate while Harry told her his story. He was born in Manchester and got a business degree in London and then moved to California when he was in his mid-twenties after being offered a job at a private equity firm.

After a couple of years at the firm he and a close friend of his decided on opening up their own business, a startup. Which turned out to be quite profitable early on. Harry was a managing partner and owner of a wealth management group specifically for entertainment companies. Like burlesque clubs. Like Haute Baude. The owner, Richard, hired Harry as his wealth management agent years ago and they grew close.

Y/n knew next to nothing about the finance world so she just nodded and hummed along, “Wow. So, you’re doing well. A successful businessman,” she smiled and licked her fork clean.

Harry chuckled and tilted his head to the side, “I guess so. You’re impressive too, you know. It was brave to come out here all by yourself.”

There was a bit of quiet after he spoke those words. Y/n smiled down at her empty plate and then looked up at Harry. His coffee cup was empty.

“And you’re cute,” Harry spoke the words quietly but he kept his eyes on hers.

Y/n set her fork down and kept her eyes on the handsome man, squinting at him in question. She didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t really been flirting with her, that she could tell, but she was aware of the way he was looking at her. How when she’d take a bite he’d watch her lips move and he kept licking his own lips.

“Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that,” Harry said but he didn’t hide his smile well when he pulled his lips into his mouth, that reaction only drew his dimples in deeper and it made Y/n smile and laugh.

She shook her head and looked down. His eyes were getting to her. His intense gaze was alluring. Harry was charming and handsome. She didn’t know what his intentions were but he seemed nice at least.

When Harry remained quiet for a beat longer than was comfortable Y/n looked back up at him. She couldn’t help but smile back at his expression and she laughed, “It’s okay. You haven’t been obnoxious or anything. I just… I’m a mess and hearing that threw me off a bit.”

“What do you mean you’re a mess?” Harry asked.

“I mean, well, come on… you saw my car. And here I am buying $2.99 all-you-can-eat buffet pancakes at 2 am the moment I get a paycheck. I’m… down on my luck a little. But I think things are better now. For one, my tummy’s full,” Y/n smiled shyly. She hated that this successful man was privy to her misfortune, but he felt trustworthy.

Harry shook his head, “Not a mess. Just a victim of circumstance. Are you sleeping in your car tonight?” He raised his brows in question.

Y/n looked to the corner of the room and breathed out a huff of breath and pursed her lips as she nodded before looking back at Harry with a shrug, “Have nowhere else to go.”

Harry nodded and leaned in with his eyes on Y/n’s, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Y/n, I know you’re doing your best, but I think it’s dangerous for you to be sleeping in your car. You’re vulnerable to the crazies out there who don’t care who they hurt.”

Y/n frowned. She knew she’d get a lecture from Vinnie about this but not someone she barely knew. It was understandable, though. She was being risky but what choice did she have?

“Thank you for your concern, Harry. I don’t really know what else I can do, though,” Y/n turned and put her hand into her bag and pulled out the envelope with her check, “this is all I have. I can’t afford a place to stay. This meal, it’s something I’ve been fantasizing about for days now.”

Harry sighed and cocked his head to the side, “Would you be comfortable if I offered you a room in my condo?”

Y/n was taken aback. She hadn’t expected it at all but she shook her head, “Oh, Harry… I couldn’t do that. You are kind to offer but not only can I not afford to pay you back, I wouldn’t want to be a bother and you barely know me.”

Harry breathed out a laugh through his nose and smiled, “I wouldn’t accept your money even if you tried paying me. Why don’t you come and just take a look? I’ve got a lot of space and no one to share it with. I like you, Y/n. I think you and I could be good friends and I’m just offering you a safe place to sleep at night.”

Y/n bit her lip and looked down at her empty plate and then back to Harry, “I hate my situation, Harry. I’m sorry that you feel like you need to help me when you barely know me. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

This wasn’t what she wanted from life. She didn’t seek this adventure to be handed things. She needed to prove herself. She wanted to make her own way.

Harry reached across the table and took Y/n’s hand as he shook his head, “Hey… don’t think like that. I may not know everything about you but I can tell you’re trustworthy. Do you trust me, Y/n?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “I think you’re probably a nice person. At least you are to me. I feel like you’re trustworthy, but… I just can’t accept the offer. It’s too much. And, not only do you not know me, I don’t know you, Harry. Not really.”

She hated this.

Harry frowned and let go of her hand, “Understandable,” he nodded and looked down at his empty mug.

~~

She regretted not at least taking Harry up on the offer for one night. A bed to lie flat in would have done her some good right about then. She rolled her body to face toward the seat and groaned. The backseat was uncomfortable and her car was tiny. She just longed to stretch her legs out and to have a comfortable mattress under her back. But at least she was fed.

It had been another week. She saw Harry again, but he didn’t stop at her car this time. She was a little disappointed by that, but it figured. He offered her something that put him in a vulnerable spot and she declined. So of course, he was avoiding her.

By the time she received her second paycheck, she knew which grocery store had the best prices and what food to get that was more nourishing than sugary granola bars and pop tarts. She still had to buy packaged foods that weren’t the healthiest but still. Her food situation was slightly better.

Saturday evening after the last show, she sat and waited at the bar for the main dancers to shower and leave the locker room. She was just happy to be off her feet. She sipped water and watched the patrons mill about, most leaving for the night. Then she spotted Harry with a dancer. One of the stars. Veronica.

Now, even though nothing had happened between Y/n and Harry she felt a wave of jealousy. Harry was very attractive. Anyone could see it. And it was obvious that Harry found Veronica attractive as well. The way he was stood so close to her, the dimples on his face, the way his eyes never left hers…

Y/n looked down at her water and closed her eyes. There was nothing to be jealous of. Harry wasn’t hers to begin with and just because he’d offered her a place to stay, that didn’t mean he had romantic feelings for her. And of course, he wouldn’t feel that way about Y/n. He barely knew her. A ridiculous idea from the start. Though, it didn’t stop Y/n from daydreaming to herself about Harry randomly every day. Even Vinnie had heard of Harry. Y/n couldn’t help but to mention him a time or two.

A half-hour later and before Y/n went into the locker room to shower and pack up she watched a freshly showered Veronica leave the front doors with Harry. Veronica grasped onto his forearm and laughed. It kind of made Y/n feel nauseated. But she had no claim on him. As far as she knew, Harry was a single man so he was free to do as he wished with anyone.

The showers were all empty, which was odd. Y/n plugged her phone in to charge it up and turned on one of the spouts to let the water heat up. She took her sweaty costume off and hung it on the space meant for her for the house to wash it (a nice little perk of working for a club, they washed her costume every week and it had it ready for her before the Friday shows).

When she put her fingers into the stream of water it was still cold. She frowned and stood for a bit longer, waiting for the water to warm up.

“Oh… the hot water got shut off fifteen minutes ago. We’ve got a leak and it’ll be fixed tomorrow morning. Sorry, hon,” Y/n heard the voice of Angelique and turned.

“Oh? Okay. Well. I guess I’ll just do a quick wash then,” Y/n laughed. She soaped her underarms and in between her legs and rinsed with the cold water. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than going without a rinse at least.

When she got to her car she saw Harry and Veronica leaning up against Harry’s car (which Y/n had become familiar with). Y/n kept her head down and unlocked her door quickly so she could get out of there and not witness anything she didn’t want to see.

“Y/n?” Harry’s voice was suddenly closer than she realized.

She lifted her head as she opened the driver’s side door to see Harry jogging toward her, “Hi, Harry.”

“Hey! You did great up there today. How’s everything going?” He stopped a few feet away and Y/n saw Veronica heading their way. Veronica didn’t look as happy as Harry.

“Thank you. It’s… going. Same situation but, ya know…” she trailed off. Not wanting Veronica to hear about her housing issue.

“Okay. Good to hear… Uh… here…” Harry reached into his inside-suit jacket pocket and pulled out a card. He stepped toward Y/n and held it out just as Veronica came to his side and saw what was going on.

Y/n took the card. A business card. Phone numbers, an email, and an address.

“S’got my cellphone on there. Call or text anytime you need anything. I meant to give it to you last time…” He tilted his head a bit. His eyes were soft on Y/n’s face.

Y/n smiled and nodded and then looked at Veronica who was frowning.

“Can I have one?” Veronica chirped suddenly as she looked at Harry.

Harry’s expression changed immediately, like surprise, almost as if he didn’t realize Veronica had seen the transaction. He turned to look at her and blinked a few times as he reached into his pocket, “Oh… sure…” he smiled at her and then looked back to Y/n.

Their exchange made Y/n curious. Perhaps they hadn’t been flirting, or perhaps it wasn’t Harry who was flirting with Veronica if she didn’t even have his card.

Veronica held the card up and grinned, “Gonna put this to good use,” she tucked the card away into her pocket and leaned into Harry, putting her arm through his as she looked up at him and then back to Y/n, her eyebrows raised.

Y/n knitted her brows together and pulled her lips into her mouth before looking away from how Veronica and Harry stood so close again, “Okay. Thank you, Harry. Um… I guess I’m gonna go now.”

Y/n hopped into her car, started it up, and drove out of the parking lot as quickly as was safe. She didn’t want to be witness to anything more intimate between Harry and Veronica. Maybe Harry just felt bad for her. Maybe that’s all that was.

. . .

With a few weeks of dancing burlesque on stage under her belt, she’d been given a few paychecks and it felt good to be working and getting paid. She was busy nearly every day of the week, gym, practice, gym, practice, on and on until Friday and Saturday where she did her best to improve her talent.

Sunday was a lonely day for Y/n. The club was closed, along with the studio for practice. She would go to the gym but her body needed the day to rest. She longed for a massage or a bed. But a nice walk outside and sunshine were relatively therapeutic as well.

Las Vegas was so different than where she came from. It wasn’t pretty unless you drove outside of the city. The main strip and the old part of the city were seedy, busy, loud, and full of anxious people. But there was plenty to see. She liked walking through the streets and people-watching.

Horns honking.

Music pouring out of storefronts, casinos, shops, restaurants.

Hot sun heating the pavement.

Greasy guys with greasy hair flicking cards with pictures of nude women on the street corners.

Soaring buildings.

Flashing lights.

Drunk tourists.

As lonely as a Sunday could seem, she couldn’t ever feel like she’d made a mistake. Perhaps things weren’t perfect but they were better. Always better than where she came from. Than where she was before.

Making her way back to her car she had the creepy feeling of being watched.

Turning to look behind her she saw no one.

The feeling grew more intense. A sense of dread. A warning.

She walked the long way to her car keeping her head on a swivel.

Yet no one was there.

There were no eyes on her.

No man dressed in black hiding in the shadows.

Not a single soul noticed her, followed her, cared about her.

It gave her an eerie feeling, though. Something seemed off. She kept her eyes and ears on alert for anything. Picking up the pace she tucked her hands into her pockets and continued the route. She was just being silly, she thought. But deep down she felt something. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

Once she was inside of her car she looked all around as she started the car up and backed out of the space where it was parked. No one seemed to be following her. No one was there.

She let out a sigh and turned her radio on as the sun began to set. The drive to the lot behind the mobile home park went by faster than she hoped. For some reason, she was really on edge. Something was giving her a warning. She didn’t know what it could be or why she felt but she felt it.

Parking her car in its usual spot, hidden from anyone who would drive past the lot, she kept her eyes on the entrance. Just to be sure. She had the sudden urge to call Harry. Perhaps just staying over at his for one night would be wise. But then she remembered how he had been with Veronica that night. And how embarrassing it would be to admit defeat.

To admit that she needed someone’s help.

She didn’t want to seem desperate. Her pride was still very much important to her. She put his business card back down in the drink holder and took a deep breath. She was just being silly, she reminded herself. There wasn’t a soul around. No one was following her. No one was watching. Why would they? No one wanted her. Not even her own boyfriend. Not even her own father.

. . .

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Y/n woke with a jolt at the noise of something tapping at the window above her head. She turned to see a man outside of her car. Making eye contact with the stranger she shook her head and pointed for him to leave. She hoped he could understand her gesture. She was most definitely not rolling down her window or opening her door for him.

The man put his hands flat on the window and brought his face close to the glass, peering in at her.

“Come on. Roll down the window. I just want to talk,” his voice was muffled but he was loud enough that she could hear him clearly.

Shaking her head, no, she sat up fully and moved the blanket off of her body, “No. Please leave.”

The scowl that took over his face suddenly caused Y/n to realize this man wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He smacked his palms against the glass loudly and Y/n jumped into the front seat as fast as she could in the tight space.

Her hands were shaking and her body was buzzing. She fumbled to put the keys into the ignition when the man had moved to the driver’s side window. She tried not to look at him as she twisted the key to start the vehicle but she couldn’t help when she noticed that he ducked down and when he stood back up he was holding a heavy metal wrench and a wicked smile stretched over his ugly face.

She pressed her foot onto the gas and her car jolted forward but she quickly realized something was wrong. Her steering wheel was pulling hard to the left and the car was clattering as she rolled forward. Her tire was flat. Or maybe multiple tires. She pulled her phone from her glove box and continued allowing the car to move forward and away from the man as she lifted Harry’s card out of the drink holder. She dialed the cellphone number and continued forward as she put the phone to her ear with trembling hands.

It rang and rang, and rang again, and then she heard his voice telling her to leave a message. The man was still walking toward her, now behind the car.

“Harry! There’s a man here and he’s slashed my tires and I’m stuck and in danger and I don’t have anyone else to call. Uh… I’m at the lot behind The Capri mobile home park off Wynn. And…” the man began to run as she looked in her rearview and gasped into the receiver, “oh god! It’s Y/n… Uh…” and then she disconnected. There was no use in saying anything further. She was in immediate danger and needed to figure out a way to safety.

She needed to call 911.

When the heavy wrench met the back of her car she screamed and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, causing her small car to bolt forward but she’d lost control.

Her phone flew from her hand.

The hood of her car made contact with the light pole.

Her face felt the burn of the rubber from her steering wheel.

Dark.

Silent.

. .

> Part 2 <

. .

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No one knew he was engaged before she appeared, not that they would've had the gall to ask such a personal question of their strict, no-nonsense boss. Rings always adorned his fingers so they never suspected anything. But when the tall, brunette woman with crystalline blue eyes asked if her fiancé was in his office, it didn't take long for the news to travel throughout the whole building.

Outside his office, you stare at an empty Word document, unable to get any work done as you impatiently wait for this stranger to leave. You had debated over whether or not to listen at the door, desperate to satisfy your curiosity, ultimately deciding the risk wasn't worth it. So you anxiously tap your finger against your knee, accidentally snagging your nail in your tights, ripping a small hole in them. You'd have to throw them out now, Mr. Styles' dress code didn't allow for imperfections such as ruined pantyhose.

Why was she here? There were a number of perfectly normal reasons why someone would like to visit their fiancé, but you were concerned that the reason may have to do with what had happened two weeks ago, when your boss had shoved his cock down your throat in his office, then took you back to his place and made you orgasm so many times you lost count. All of that occurred after the week prior when the two of you had ended up sleeping together at a work event.

Since then, over the past two weeks, Mr. Styles' behavior towards you has been inconsistent. Some days, he treated you as any other employee, reserved and irritated. Other days he did everything he could to keep himself from needing your assistance, sometimes to his own professional detriment. Once, he'd brought you coffee in the morning, a gesture that spread throughout the office gossip chain like a plague.

Mr. Styles being nice to an employee? It’s unheard of.

As worried as you were that she was here to confront him about his infidelity, you couldn't help but think selfishly while you waited. From the way his hand caressed your body, and the thick pulse of his hard cock in your mouth, to the dark look in his eyes while he watched you touch yourself…

She emerges out of his office, quietly closing the door behind her. With a polite smile and a brief nod, she walks past you without much care.

“Have a good rest of your day,” you call after her, remembering your role here. Impatient as you were, you make yourself stay in your seat until you hear the elevator doors close, making sure she’s gone before you dare to stand up and go into his office. There was something you had to ask your boss.

His office is empty when you sneak inside, the only evidence of him is the jacket wrapped around the back of his chair. The privacy is a relief, allowing your professionalism to slip away as you sigh. Safely tucked away in this room, away from the inquisitive stares of your colleagues, you feel like you can breathe freely. They'd want to know what happened, hoped you would give them intel, more gossip to share, but that wasn't why you had come in here.

The sound of water catches your attention, coming from his private bathroom. You contemplate waiting, before deciding to just march on in. Whichever version of him you were about to see, you want to confront it head on.

Mr. Styles is in the middle of drying his hands, when you barge in. His sleeves are rolled up, showing off the ink he usually hides, his tie is thrown over his shoulder, and his hair is perfectly styled, not a strand askew. The look of surprise on his face shifts into a tired defensiveness, guarded and tight. “What are you doing in here?”

Swallowing, you say, “I wanted to ask you something.” It comes out meekly, absent of all the courage you had summoned to come in here.

“It's none of your business,” he dismisses you, assuming what you were going to ask. His hands grip the sink edge as he ignores your gaze.

“That wasn't what I-” you insist, stepping towards him but he interrupts you, accosting you with a harsh glare through the mirror.

“I don't have to explain myself to you. If you can't get over it, if you can’t keep quiet, then you can pack your things.”

Shaking your head, you're only marginally concerned about your job as you press, “I'm not going to say anything.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked exasperated.

“I just…” you falter over your words. It sounds silly now, the reason you came in, the rationale that led you in here, alone with your boss. “I just wanted to feel your cock one last time.”

Spinning around to face you, Mr. Styles cinches his eyebrows, looking you up and down incredulously. “Let me get this straight.” His voice is quiet, restrained, if not for the echo of the tile, you probably wouldn't hear it even in the tiny space. “You just watched my fiancée walk out of here and you decided now would be the time to come in and ask me to fuck you?”

Your cheeks burn with shame. It sounded worse when he put it like that. “You… you didn't give it to me last time,” is your only excuse, bouncing pathetically around the bathroom. If this was your last chance to feel him, you needed to take it.

But all he does is stare at you, slack jawed, his chest slowly heaving, the only sound in the room is the hum of the overhead lighting. The longer he does nothing, the more uncomfortable you feel, running your hands over your skirt with agitation under his judgmental stare.

“Forget it. Forget I said anything,” you dismiss, turning to leave, planning on packing up and going home early for the day, faking a sudden bout of whatever cold had been going round the office.

You’re pulling open the door when it suddenly slams shut in front of you, your body forced up against the wood as Mr. Styles presses against your backside.

“Where do you think you're going?” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I thought you wanted this.” He ruts against you, his cock sliding along your ass, teasing you with the exact thing you wanted. You moan as he does it again, loving the way it feels to be crushed between him and the door. “You are a slut, aren't you?” he asks as his hand snakes its way between your bodies, curving around your ass until he reaches the warmth emitting from your pussy. Through the tights and the string of your thong, you feel his fingers pushing against the confines, smearing your arousal until it’s seeping through the mesh fabric, wetting his fingers. “Did you get this wet while you were waiting for me? While I was busy with my fiancée?”

As perverted as it is, the mention of the other woman, the other person who knew him like this, riles you up further. Did he touch her like this, you wonder, did he talk to her the way he did you? Or was this cruelty saved for only you? You selfishly hoped so.

Tangling his hand in your hair, he uses his grip to control your movements, turning you around. You nearly trip in your high heels as he directs you, leaning you over the sink counter, making you face yourself in the mirror. In the reflective glass, your hair bunches up in his grasp, your pupils are already blown out, but, most importantly, you have the perfect view of your boss as he slams his hips into your backside.

“Are you gonna let me have my way with you?” Mr. Styles asks, pulling your skirt up until it was gathered underneath your breasts, his hands snaking over your spine.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. Then your ass stings, making you gasp at the unexpected ache.

Mr. Styles glares at you through the mirror, rubbing his palm over the spot he had just smacked. “Did you forget the rules?”

“N-no, sir,” you respond, stumbling over your words, quick to correct yourself.

A wicked smirk curls up on one side of his face. “That's my babygirl.” Without warning, his nails pierce through your tights, ripping through the thin fabric. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps from the stale bathroom air as he keeps tearing through the mesh, widening the hole until your entire ass is exposed. Pushing the string of your thong aside, shoving his fingers into your sloppy pussy, you watch as both of your mouths drop open into soft moans. “Filthy fucking thing,” he grumbles, working his fingers inside you. “You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whine.

“Mine to play with.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mine to do whatever I want with.” He slowly pulls his fingers out, collecting as much of your slick as he can, then applying it over your other hole, intently aware of the way your body clenches instinctively at his gentle prodding. “Have you let anyone touch you here before?”

Gulping down, you see the blush creeping across your face as you admit, “Yes, sir.”

“Are you gonna let me?” he questions you, raising his brow as he meets your gaze in the mirror. There was a hunger in his darkened eyes, want in his shallow pants, an animalistic need emitting from his touch, which grew tighter, harsher, rougher as he waited for your response.

Sinking down onto your elbows, you bend over more, offering him more access, his finger nearly slipping in as you display your enthusiasm. “Yes, sir.”

His middle finger dips in experimentally, only to the first knuckle before pulling back out. Then he presses back in, going a little deeper, reaching a little further into you. Your eyes want to flutter shut but you don’t want to miss anything, especially if this will be the last time you’ll get to see him like this, the last time you’ll get to feel his hands on your body, the last time he’ll bring you to pleasure. When he finally pushes his whole finger in, you let out a hearty groan at how deep his finger is.

“Yeah, that’s it babygirl, let it out,” Mr. Styles encourages you, sliding his finger smoothly through your asshole. “Don’t worry, no one out there can hear how much you sound like a whore.” He leans forward, kissing the back of your head, before whispering, “My own dirty little whore, getting her asshole wrecked in the bathroom, you’re dirtier than I thought.” He waits until your body starts pushing back against his hand to push his other finger in, stretching you out more. “Need to make sure you’re good and stretched out. You remember how big it is, don’t you, babygirl?”

The intrusion of his fingers has an edge of pain to its pleasure, only making you squirm more, only making you more whiny. “Yes, ye-yes, sir.”

“That’s why you came in here, because you missed it so much.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond. It wasn’t a question, but you needed him to know just how badly, how desperately you’ve thought about his dick. That this was necessary for you, you had to come in here, you needed his cock.

“Reach into that top drawer, there's some condoms and lube in there,” he orders, his gaze barely flicking away from where his fingers disappear inside you, a cocky smile pulling on the corner of his lips.

Your hand pats along the counter top, curving around the edge, fumbling to find the drawer handle. When you feel the cool metal, you yank on the handle, the items clattering around at the forceful movement. If you tore your gaze away from the mirror, you would find what you were looking for easier, but then you ran the risk of missing the way Mr. Styles revered your body, the spark of lustful hunger in his dark eyes, the slow drag of his tongue across his lips. Eventually, you grasp the foil square, handing it back to him before searching for the lube. You briefly get distracted when he undoes his pants, savoring the sound of the dragging zipper, the view blocked by your own ass. When you find it, the bottle is slippery, escaping your hold several times before you successfully lift it out of the drawer.

“Can barely follow simple instructions and you think you deserve my cock?” he teases you. Sliding his fingers out of you, you're left gaping and empty as he rips open the foil with his teeth, spitting out the excess, letting it flutter down to the floor. You're able to catch glances of his dick while he rolls the condom on. Arching yourself back, your spine twinges in pain but you just want to get a look at him before he fucks you. Caught up in your desperation, you don’t notice him opening up the bottle of lube, squeezing some out onto his hand. Once you feel the chill of the lube being smeared over your hole, you’re startled back down onto the counter. Rocking yourself back to meet his finger as he spreads the lube, your boss just laughs. “God, how’d I get so lucky in finding such an eager whore?”

Resting your head on your arms, you whine as he starts scissoring his fingers inside you. You’ve grown so impatient for his dick, tired of all the prep work, you almost believe he won’t even fuck you, this whole thing a farcical punishment to torment you. If so, you don't want to see him deny you, wanting to be oblivious of his impending refusal.

But then you feel it, the weight of his cock, resting between your pussy lips, and hope is restored. His knuckles carelessly brush over you as he strokes his cock, coating himself in lube. “I can feel how wet you are. Can feel how badly you want this.” Mr. Styles inhales sharply, the exhale coming out choppy and sporadic, like he’s holding himself back. Grinding his teeth together, he allows himself to rub himself over your lips, collecting some of your arousal on his cock. “It's a shame, if you weren't so greedy, I probably would've begged you to come back to my place, and I would’ve fucked you good and proper. I should've known better.” He leans over you, nipping at the shell of your ear, his cock sliding up between your lips, nearing your prepped asshole. “Should've remembered how you like it, my filthy little slut.”

That's when you feel his tip, circling around your pulsating hole, the head of him warm even through the condom. He doesn’t offer any words of warning, doesn’t prepare you for what is to come. Instead, he presses into you, slipping through your clenching muscles without pause. Your body can’t keep up, just as you’re accommodating to his length, he’s pushing further into you. Without the time to adjust, you’re left panting and gasping, unable to form words or even sounds as he thrusts deeper into you. He doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against your backside, your ass jiggling at the contact.

“Ohh,” Mr. Styles sighs, pushing himself upright, looking at where his body merges into yours, your plump cheeks enveloping him. “Aww, fuck babygirl.” Experimentally, he drags himself back, watching himself slide out of you before plunging back in, enjoying the way you let him in so easily, how your muscles wrap around his dick, pulling him back inside you. “God you’re so tight,” he complains with a groan. “Can barely fit, fuck.” His movement speeds up, ramming his cock into you, pounding your crotch into the edge of the counter. “Oh, but you take me so well, don’t you babygirl?”

Your face is pressed into the countertop, making your words come out strange and muffled. “Ye- yesh, nnn, yesh, shir.” It’s important to follow his rules now. Any deviation and he might stop, might leave you bent over in his bathroom, your tights torn open, and arousal dripping down your thighs.

Even though he had stretched you out with his fingers, it wasn't enough to prepare you for the girth of him, the thick pulse of his cock thicker than his two fingers. Through the mirror, you watch as Mr. Styles kneads your cheeks in his grasp, gripping the flesh to pull you back, to meet his thrust, to slip even deeper into you. The edge of the counter pierces into your pelvis, your tits ache as they're smushed into the marble, there's no escape from the dragging of his cock or the slapping of his balls against your pussy. You're entirely under his whim.

“Can't get enough of you, babygirl,” he praises. “Did you really think I'd let you go? That I'd be done with you?” Threading his fingers into your hair, he forces your face up, makes you watch as your eyes blearily blink open, your hair disheveled within his twisted hold. “Answer me, dirty girl,” he purrs, leaning over top of you, slowing his hips down to a gentle rhythm. “Did you really think I was going to stop fucking you?”

With his sluggish pace, you feel like you can breathe, take your time to let his words sink in, understand what he's asking of you. It was inevitable, wasn't it? You were just a plaything, his toy, meant to be used, waiting to be replaced. Surely, his fiancée would be the one to take your place. “Yes, s-sir,” you answer.

“But I haven't grown bored of you, yet,” he whines, condescension echoing in the room as his lip juts out in an exaggerated pout. Nuzzling into your neck, he smiles at the surprised look on your face. “I can't lose you just yet. There's so much I wanna do with you still.” His teeth sink into your collar as his hips quicken, ramming into you recklessly while he lists off his fantasies. “Haven't seen you tied up yet. Or watch you struggle to ride my cock.” He leans back and smacks your ass, the clap reverberating off the tile walls. “Last week, fuck, last week when you kept biting your pen during that meeting, I couldn't stop fantasizing about making you wear one of those remote controlled devices, making you squirm in front of everybody, my needy little slut begging me to let her come in front of a whole room full of people.” Mr. Styles pauses, taking a moment to groan as he fucks you. “Haven't even seen what it looks like when you're covered in my come. No, I'm not done with you, not yet,” he vows, sealing it with a kiss to the side of your head, “not yet.”

The promise of more only brings you closer to your release, getting wetter at each image he conjures in your mind. Every fantasy he mentioned, you had imagined them as well, had even pleasured yourself as you thought about it. Had he done the same? Did he not think about the woman he was engaged to while he touched himself? Did you occupy his mind while he jerked off? The thought of him rubbing his cock while fantasizing about you leads to your undoing.

Your eyes roll towards the back of your head as you cry out, your moans amplified in the small room, vibrating in your ears as your orgasm hits. Squished between your boss and the countertop, your body shivers through your release, your movements restricted underneath his confinement.

“Aw fuck, babygirl, fuck yeah, shit.” Mr. Styles groans behind you, his grip tightening. You focus your gaze back on the mirror just in time to catch his eyes screw shut, his mouth drop open, watching him come undone as he releases into the condom, his hips stuttering against you. The blissful relief that washes over him is striking, the bathroom light catching on the spit that lingers on his lips when his tongue darts out to wet them. As he pants, his chest pressing into your back, his green eyes lazily open, sweeping over to the mirror, meeting your wide-eyed stare.

There's a moment, a flicker of time, where you're both watching each other, both of your faces flushed, your breaths rushing out in thick heaves. Your hair sticks up in awkward strands from his twisted grip, your mascara has melted around your eyes, you look just as dirty as you feel, yet he can't tear his gaze away from yours.

Until he blinks, slowly then more rapidly, straightening himself up. He sniffles then clears his throat as he slips out of you, disposing of the used condom in the trash before zipping up his pants. Then he steps up beside you, turning on the faucet and washing his hands, eyes cast downward. You’re still bent over the counter, frozen stiff as the moment passes, soreness taking over. Wiping his hands clean, he doesn't cast a glance towards you before spinning around. “Throw out those tights, they're ruined,” he orders over his shoulder, clicking the bathroom door shut behind him.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you hold back a whimper as the adrenaline dissipates. Your breasts ache, your tights are destroyed, your asshole is stretched out and tingling with pain, but there's a smile blooming across your face. Maybe you’d feel bad for his fiancée later, after the guilt had chewed away your glee. For now, though, you were content, already anticipating the next time you’d get to see Mr. Styles’ dick.

Tag list:

✨ @triski73 ✨ @maudie-duan ✨ @gurugirl ✨ @wrongrry ✨ @angeldavis777 ✨

✨ @harrywavycurly ✨ @sparklejumpropequeen1113 ✨ @happywhirlwindpraetorian ✨ @mema10 ✨ @escapismatbest ✨

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Part 1: Chemistry

Part 2: Meddlesome

Part 3: Trust Me

Part 4: Practice Makes Perfect

Part 5: Nervous

Part 6: This is Real

The same fiscal quarter was brutal each year. It had been since Harry started the company, but even more so since he thought he was going to have to lay people off. It was like a reminder or anniversary of the shitty year and time he yelled at her, fired Niall, broke her arm, all that awful stuff.

This year wasn’t as bad; but still made for long nights at the office. Long work calls. All that. Everyone was still on edge because Harry was still grumpy the way he seemed to be at this time of year.

There was a knock on his door, and it was very possible that he had been in the office for twenty-four hours. He didn’t remember going home and falling into bed beside her. “Hey kitten,” he mumbled without looking up from his screen. His gaze briefly flicked to the time in the corner of his current window which read quarter after one. So, it had to be her.

“Baby,” there was a frown in her voice and Harry wished he could tear his gaze from the computer for a second to confirm it, but he was too invested in his task. There wasn’t time to look up at her. “Harry, please,” she whispered much closer to him. “Did you sleep?” Her hand felt cool and nice on his face. He still hadn’t looked up at her. She sounded so pretty, so nice. It was hard not to look at her. But he was also exhausted. “Harry, baby,” her voice was so soft. His hands left his keyboard. He felt exhausted. His eyes fluttered a bit. “Harry,” that frown in her voice was back and finally he could make her out. She was a little fuzzy. But Harry didn’t need glasses, so he wasn’t too sure why. “Drink this,” she ordered, and a straw was at his lips. He sipped. It was perhaps the best water he ever drank. It tasted fresh from a spring, and he knew it simply came from the water cooler in the break room.

“Is he alright?” Niall asked.

“I don’t know,” she ran her hand across his face. “Harry?” She asked.

“Hi,” he murmured. “Y’look pretty. And fuzzy.”

“Alright, Harry,” Niall grunted helping Harry to his feet. “Time to get some sleep.”

“I have to—” He started to protest as he wobbled unsteadily toward the couch. Niall dropped him to the cushions.

“You are going to work yourself to death and you’re not married so she can’t even be a rich widow, so no. You don’t have to do anything but sleep. Darling, tuck him in or whatever it is you do to make him sleep. Unless it’s naughty, then wait till I leave.”

“Niall Horan,” her tone was sharper.

“I don’t fall asleep when she does naughty things t’me,” he mumbled, exhaustion dripping on every word.

“Go to sleep, Harry,” her tone was less sharp than she just spoke to Niall, but it was clear she wasn’t discussing it anymore.

“Quite tame,” Niall mumbled.

“Get out!”

“Ow!” He grumbled. “Your girlfriend is mean.”

“Good,” he yawned and before he could hear more of their banter any longer, he was asleep. No kiss or tucking in of any kind necessary.

*

Harry woke up in almost pure darkness if it weren’t for the subtle desk lamp across the room. It was from her office, situated on the small side table. His head felt huge. Like a hangover. “Ah,” he groaned rubbing his temples. Slowly he got up. Now he felt drunk as he walked across the room. Medicine, a glass of water, and a note was beside the lamp.

Do NOT drive yourself home. Take the meds. Sleep more if you need to. Do NOT open your computer. I’ve set it to self-destruct before a certain time.

I love you. (I know; say it again) I love you.

He grinned to himself and followed her directions. He felt significantly better. His vision wasn’t fuzzy any longer and he felt confident he could verbally spar with Niall about the naughty comment a little more forcefully. He texted the driving company for a car and headed toward the bottom floor to get his ride home.

He opened the door quietly in case she was sleeping. The lights were off in the main room, and he headed down the hall toward the bedroom where a strip of light came from the bathroom. It was a bit late for a shower, but sounded like a good idea nonetheless.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered.

Harry did not like the sound of that coming out of her without him inside her. Before he could even fully let the anger simmer, before he could work out every worst-case scenario in his head, he slapped the door open.

“Jesus!” She shouted and dropped the handheld shower head from her grip.

He glanced around confirming she was alone. “Oh my God, did you think someone was in here with me?!”

“No, ‘course not,” he shook his head. Because he didn’t. Truly. He was just a mess and exhausted. “M’jus not... no, m’not thinking clearly... what were y’doing?” Harry thought that maybe she was blushing harder than she would have had she been caught with someone else.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, uselessly. She bent to get the shower head and placed it back in the cradle.

But Harry knew every sound she made. He knew when she was close to coming and when she wasn’t. He knew every kind of whimpering and moaning noise that left her lips and which one was a precursor for each kind of orgasm he could give her. “Did I interrupt?” He asked quietly.

“No,” she answered again very quickly.

Harry was scanning her from head to toe. Her pretty body was wet and steamy from the shower. He stepped closer to the shower. “What were y’doing, kitten?” He asked quietly. His voice low as she turned away from him grabbing her body wash. His eyes landed on her pretty bum. He wanted to join her very badly, but he wanted his answer too. “M’pretty sure I already know, so y’may as well tell me,” he reminded her. “You’re only jus lathering up so m’thinking y’didn’t need t’use the shower head. Unless it was for something that wasn’t for washing,” he was standing in front of the glass, but she didn’t turn to look at him. He watched her hands slide the loofa across her making her sudsy and something he’d think about on the business trips she couldn’t go with him while he couldn’t sleep.

“Then I don’t think I need to give you an answer...if you already know,” she mumbled still facing the wall.

Harry felt his dick hardening at the idea of her getting herself off in the shower. “Why’s that, kitten?”

“I thought you were sleeping at your office.”

“Mm, I did, thank you for making me, beautiful. I needed t’sleep,” he mumbled. “So why does that make a difference for what you’re doing to your pretty body?” Harry kicked his shoes off, undid his belt, letting his pants drop to the floor in a heap. He watched as she remained unmoved from facing the wall. “How come y’won’t look at me, kitten?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“That y’were getting yourself off? S’pretty hot if y’ask me,” he tugged his shirt over his head. “Do y’do that often?” He asked.

“No...” she mumbled but it sounded like she was lying.

“No,” he repeated. “Y’sure?”

“When you’re not around...like on a business trip, sometimes I do,” she admitted quietly.

“Good,” he stepped into the shower placing his hands on the outside of her hips. “Why are y’doing it now, then?” He asked. He pushed her wet hair to one side and dipped his head to kiss the curve of her neck and shoulder. “Mm,” he sighed.

“It’s... um... been busy,” she whispered.

“What’s been busy? Work? D’you have too much on your plate?”

“No... you do. We...” she swallowed nervously. “We haven’t really had time to ourselves... in a while.”

Harry blinked thinking about the last time he saw her coming on his dick, his mouth, his fingers. It had been a while, and he didn’t even notice.

“Oh,” he murmured against her skin. “Have I been neglecting you, kitten?” He tutted, his hand sliding down the front of her hip and toward the apex of her thighs. “Y’miss me?”

“Mmm,” she hummed relaxing into his chest.

“M’so sorry, kitten. S’been crazy, yeah? Should always have time for you. Poor thing, y’had t’take care of you all by yourself, hmm?” his fingers dipped lower finding where the showerhead had been massaging her just moments before.

“Oh,” she whimpered. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I know you—”

“No, but you’re m’priority. I should have noticed. Bet you’ve been aching huh, kitten?” His lips grazed her earlobe as he circled her clit. “Your pretty pussy been aching for me, hmm?” He asked rhetorically. “Your clit been swollen jus’ begging for some relief?”

She melted a little further into him as the noises she made amplified with Harry moving his fingers lower, sliding easily with the soap, the water, and her arousal until he glided them inside her. She gasped softly. “S’good, beautiful,” he whispered. “M’sorry. I shouldn’t have neglected you so badly,” he pumped his fingers in and out while nipping at the skin of her neck gently—never hard enough to leave a mark. “S’been so crazy. I’ve been so tired. But s’not an excuse. Your pretty body needs it, hmm, kitten? Y’need t’come don’t you?” He hummed.

“Yes,” she whispered. He pulled his hand away from her warm, wet walls and she moaned. “No please don’t st—”

“M’not stopping,” he promised and knelt to the base of the shower. Carefully, he nudged one of her legs until she lifted it a bit. Harry made sure he had a good grip on her because he’d rather die than let her get hurt regardless of how good he intended to make her feel. The spray of the shower hit his back as he leaned forward and licked into her.

The moan that came from her was the stuff of dreams. Harry sighed nearly with relief. It had been a while and it was criminal to let it go this long. She tasted so good. He gripped her hips hard, holding her steady but pressing her closer to his mouth as well. He groaned quietly as he tasted her, licking her like she was the last bit of food on earth, and he was starving.

Her hand dropped to his hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging his face closer to her somehow while she grinded against his lips. “S’good,” he mumbled, but the sound was lost in the stream of water and her breathy moans.

He pulled back a little. “Better than the shower head?” He asked peering up at her with a mischievous smile.

“Shhh!” She hushed. “Please,” she begged her hips angling to get close to his mouth again.

“Mm,” he hummed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Whatever! Please, Harry,” she whimpered.

Harry loved itwhen she begged. Not because she needed to for him to pleasure her. He just loved the sound of her completely blissed out. Completely uninhibited and unembarrassed. He loved the way she sounded. She didn’t need to beg. Making her come was one of his favorite things to do. “Y’got it, beautiful,” he promised and pressed his lips back to her aching, swollen clit. He traced it with random patterns and slowly moved his hand from her hip to just below where his mouth had taken residence. He pressed his digits back inside her making her leg shake beside his cheek.

“Y’gotta promise t’stay standing, kitten, or m’not going t’do both. Don’t want y’falling.”

“I can’t promise that,” she managed. “Please,” she begged again.

“No begging, beautiful. Y’can have whatever y’want,” he promised pumping his fingers inside her in time with the licking and sucking he was doing to her clit.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered. Just like she had when Harry interrupted her earlier.

“Good,” he mumbled and continued his pace until she was shaking around him. He continued the licking and pumping while she clenched around him. Her body arching to grind further into his mouth. He sighed with relief, feeling good about making her come.

Carefully, he settled her leg back to standing. He could feel her thigh shaking as he placed it back down. He kissed her hip as he stood again and cupped her face, warm and flushed despite the chill in the water. “When did y’turn that cold?” He asked.

“When you made me hot.”

He smirked and rubbed his thumb on her lower lip before following up with his mouth. He groaned softly tasting his other favorite pair of her lips. He pressed her against the wall of the shower, his feet straddling beside hers. “Y’feel good, kitten?” He asked.

She nodded, grinding her hips toward him still. “Your turn,” she sighed.

“Y’sure? S’late.” She turned in his arms, her pretty backside arching as she all but presented herself to him. Her hands pressed to the wall of the shower. He moaned dropping his hands to her hips. “Kitten,” he mumbled. “Y’sure?”

“You sure you don’t want me to beg?”

Harry huffed out a breath of laughter as he lined his dick up with her pretty pussy. He slid the head of his cock along her arousal. His eyes practically fluttered with admiration for the feeling of it. “No need,” he assured her. “Jus’ want t’make sure you’re good.”

“I think I could fly if you asked,” she laughed quietly. He smirked, sinking into her in one push. “Ah,” she gasped. “Oh God, I missed you.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. It had been too long. He did miss her. Every part of her that he hadn’t attended to in at least a month. The poor thing. His cock was stretching her. She felt so warm and wet around him. He was still quite exhausted, otherwise he would have already finished inside her. “God, I missed you,” he groaned and tucked his face into her neck. “Such a pretty pussy,” he grunted pumping into her. He held her hips thrusting hard. “Not gonna go that long again. Gotta fill y’up full of m’cum, kitten. Practice for when we have babies. Full of me. Doesn’t that sound good. Getting y’full of me? Having our babies. Doesn’t it sound so good,” he croaked pumping hard into her.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“So good, kitten,” he moaned again. “Feel so good around me. Can’t believe I went this long. Never again. Your pretty pussy needs it, hmm,” he was rambling to himself practically. Unable to fully understand how good she felt around him. It seemed unfair. She was so good and he let a whole month pass without fucking her. Without making her come on him. “M’sorry for neglecting y’baby,” he whispered and pressed his mouth along her skin again.

“You didn’t—”

“Shh, jus’ come again, kitten. Please. Gotta make it up t’you. Gotta make y’come again all over me, please,” his mouth at her ear. “Gonna make me come when y’do,” he promised.

“Fuck,” she whispered and pressed herself hard against him, her walls clenching and fluttering while he continued thrusting into her slowly while she worked through her second orgasm of the night.

“You’re gonna look so pretty when you’re pregnant kitten.”

“Harry,” she whispered softly, her voice mostly air as she came down from her high.

“God, you feel good,” he moaned. “Jus’ want t’fill you so good,” he grunted again. “Can I baby, please?” He begged. “God, kitten,” he was almost whimpering himself. His heart was thudding hard against his ribs, and he was almost certain the water got inexplicably hotter, despite the fact she hadn’t touched it.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Yeah?” He moaned.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Please.”

“God,” he mumbled into her skin and pumped harder and harder till it felt like he might break her. She would have welcomed being broken this way, but Harry coming inside her was more than sufficient to get him to stop. He was panting against her, his mouth brushing against her skin wherever he could reach. He sighed and pulled slowly from her, turning her gently. “Did y’finish showering?” He asked a bit breathlessly. He scanned her for signs of distress or that he was too rough with her.

“I only came in here to finish,” she mumbled while she dropped her head to his chest, her arms wrapping limply around his waist. “I couldn’t sleep,” she explained.

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed up and down her back while he blindly took her sudsy loofa and brought his fingers to her center once more. She moaned softly as he gently cleaned her up. “So y’need t’come t’sleep? Noted,” he murmured.

“Just you,” she responded.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t need to come. I just need you.”

He kissed her temple. “Let’s go t’bed then,” he whispered, shutting the cold water off. He grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her. Her eyes fluttered.

“I missed you,” she said softly.

“I missed you,” he agreed and rubbed the towel over her arms for warmth. “Y’should have said something. I haven’t been thinking clearly—” He explained while grabbing his own towel and quickly drying himself off. Not that it would make his neglect better, but it would help explain that he never meant to ignore her.

“It wasn’t as import—”

“S’the most important, kitten. Anything ‘bout you is important,” he said reassuringly. She smiled and dropped her head to his chest again and she sighed. He scooped her up behind the legs and carried her to the bed, towel and all. “Good night, angel,” he mumbled and kissed her softly on the lips. “I love you.”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he chuckled.

A beautiful gentle smile toyed on her mouth and Harry pulled her towel away from her. “I love you too,” she said after a minute, her voice quiet, and almost far away. Like she was already dreaming.

“Say it again in the morning, kitten,” he chuckled. Climbing into bed, he tucked her to his body and fell asleep and slept well for the first time in the whole quarter. He should have known that he was neglecting her because his life was simply better when she was around. Even in his sleep.

--

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