National Boss Day [h.s.]
- part I -
“But Harry had really gotten hooked on her when he asked her about how she was under pressure and Y/N answered by comparing herself to the calm and collectiveness of a wolf hunting its prey. Her specific words were, ‘On all levels except physical, I am a wolf.’ and he immediately recognized where the quote was from. He’s not ashamed to say that he’s stayed up pretty late on work nights watching RIP Vine compilations.
To her comment, Harry then answered with a huge, goofy grin and a small, squeaky bark like the one in the video referenced and any nerve-derived ice between them immediately broke down.”
or Y/N is Niall’s right-hand and Big Boss Styles claims to be the Gordon Ramsey of coffee cakes.
A/N: hello ladies and germs!! this is the long anticipated boss!harry fic that has been in the works for a bit and as i was reading through it, i realized how long it was and decided to break it down into parts so that you guys could at least get most of it as the rest gets finished up (and doing this will also push me to finish it faster bc i’ll have it out already). feedback is always welcome and thank you so much for your support! i love you all so much and i hope you enjoy the first installment! p.s.- im sorry if tumblr is wack and doesn’t put the “keep reading” but i promise i put one
rating: uhhh i’d say pg-13 bc there’s no smut but there’s mentions of Mature Content™ eskeet
word count: about 2.6k
masterlist : ask
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Working as a secretary for a member of a company’s board has it perks, Y/N could say.
She’s a key part in the business since she has to deal with organizing the corporation’s system, handling the dozens of phone calls that the business gets, keeping the big people on track with their schedules, doing interviews on behalf of the company, visiting schools and colleges and career fairs to inform the public of how their business works, helping plan, set up, and execute professional events and banquets— the list goes on. It’s not an easy job, but it’s one with a purpose and when it comes to a career, purpose is everything. It has just the right amount of responsibilities to give her work meaning, but it’s not too overwhelming to the point where she can’t handle it. It’s what she likes to refer to as a healthy challenge.
The job’s perks elevate even higher since Y/N’s employer also happens to be one of her closest friends. Thanks to Niall, days at the office aren’t a complete and total bore. He cares about her, therefore he doesn't’ treat her like shit, which some (most) bosses tend to do. Alongside that, he makes working fun thanks to his witty, happy-go-lucky sense of humor and his knack for telling her all the dirty gossip circulating around the business’s higher powers (to which they like to refer to as King Styles’ Round Table).
But with every job, just as there are ups, there are bound to be downs. That down happens to be a six-foot British curly-haired brunette, who likes to flaunt sheer dress shirts that show off his plethora of enticing tattoos along with his lean arms, who wears tight slacks that expose his beautifully thick thighs perfectly, who sports expensive custom-made Gucci loafers, and who trails the sweet yet tangy scent of Tom Ford all around the office building.
The thing about downs is that most downs can be surpassed, but it’s a little hard to best this one when he runs the fucking company.
It’s even harder because Y/N sees Harry quite often since she is the one who’s always delivering Niall’s paperwork and business files, sometimes even attending the board meetings on his part when Niall can’t make it.
It’s hard because there’s always been an underlying tension between her and Harry ever since they laid eyes on each other. Y/N could feel it when they shook hands for the first time— the way he gave the gesture slowly, as if trying to make it last. As if he wanted to keep their fingers interlocked for as long as possible. She could feel it in how when she had talked to him about her experience in the field, he was absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he watched her own with intense concentration, which had made her cheeks sting, much to his amusement. But Harry had really gotten hooked on her when he asked her about how she was under pressure and Y/N answered by comparing herself to the calm and collectiveness of a wolf hunting its prey. Her specific words were, “On all levels except physical, I am a wolf.” and he immediately recognized where the quote was from. He’s not ashamed to say that he’s stayed up pretty late on work nights watching RIP Vine compilations.
To her comment, Harry then answered with a huge, goofy grin and a small, squeaky bark like the one in the video referenced and any nerve-derived ice between them immediately broke down. For the rest of the session, they strayed from the normal interview etiquette and talked about funny videos and memes on social media and he can confidentially say it is the best interview he’s ever given. Y/N was something else. The sweet, witty, funny something else that he felt the company needed to— that he needed, as well, to keep himself from losing his youth to the business world. All in a professional sense, of course.
When the interview had been over, Harry had gotten up and given Y/N’s hand another shake, the corners of his pretty rose lips quirking upwards into a smile that was borderline childish and genuine and full of awed interest in this random girl who had run into his office in Adidas slides and changed into heels in the bathroom, all without realizing that she’d almost toppled into him on his way to the elevator.
His voice had been deep, accent annunciating every syllable to utter crisp perfection as he regarded her with entertained wonder. “I really look forward to having you on board.”
Within all the quirky behavior they shared in the company, Harry’s interest in her became a bit more sensual as his tiny, endearing crush grew into him being utterly, shamefully whipped. Their exchanges became speckled with intense moments that suggested lascivious intentions, and Y/N can’t say she wasn’t fond of them. It had gone on the entire time Y/N had worked for his corporation to the point where she craved these longing instances because she had become deeply invested in Harry just as much as he was towards her, though neither of them knew it yet simply because they did not intend to act upon their feelings.
Lingering stares shared across the large conference room table. Lame jokes exchanged in the break room as he touched her hip lightly, reaching over her to grab the powder creamer from the cabinet up top, his chest pressing against her back as she let out a light gasp at his close proximity. Opening the door for her every chance he got, “accidentally” bumping into one another in the elevator, having lunch in his office together when the two stayed back do to project pile-up.
Their relationship even went outside of the office. Since they worked together, they had the same friend group and therefore were bound to see each other all the time.
The tension between the both of them amplified after last year’s Christmas party at Niall’s place, where Harry had gotten drunk off his ass and come up behind Y/N while she was grabbing another bag of ice from the cooler in Niall’s garage.
Harry had pressed up behind her, big, warm, shaky hands perching on her hips, groping the material of her new maroon velvet jeans.
Y/N had flipped around, gasping quietly as he shoved her up against the cement wall, the cold air from the cooler rising in a heavy fog, contrasting Harry’s warm body and making goosebumps wash across her skin.
He had bitten his deep red lip with raw need, eyes hazy but bright with arousal as the alcohol clouded his inhibitions, flicking across different points of her face and stopping at her lips, letting out a soft moan. “God, they look absolutely delicious.”
One of his hands came up to cup Y/N’s face, his thumb swiping over her bottom lip slowly, eyes lulling shut at the electricity that passed from the ridges of her skin to his. When he speaks, his voice is low and throaty with a whimpery undertone. “Nice and plump and so soft...Bet y’taste so sweet— bet y’taste like honey.”
“Harry...” Her voice is small but stern as she clings to his wrist in protest, as forced as it may be.
Y/N wants him just as bad as he wants her— especially now, in his tight black jeans and expensive olive-green and crimson Gucci Christmas sweater, hair fluffed into a soft quiff and he smells so fucking good it should be criminal— smells like cinnamon and musky cologne and the faint scent of chamomile shampoo. Especially when he’s oozing sex appeal and sheer need, even while looking so cute with little rain deer ears propped on his head, the tiny bells twinkling faintly with his movements.
But Y/N can’t. She can’t because he’s drunk and it would feel like she’s taking advantage of him and that’s not fair.
“We can’t, Har.”
He let’s out a tiny, soft groan at the name, his cock twitching in his pants at how good it sounds rolling off her tongue. He loves the way her mouth forms his name, so delicately and affectionate and innocent. It makes both his heart and prick throb and all he can think about is Y/N whimpering it in his ear as he rams himself against her sweaty thighs.
“Please, Y/N? Been wanting you for ages. I just...jus’ this once? Here, and now? I’ll take you right here on top of the cooler and make you feel so good you won’t regret it.” His lips drift closer to her’s, his Tom Ford cologne wafting up from his neck and causing her knees to buckle at his intoxicatingly alluring scent. “Fuck you so good you won’t ever forget it.”
With a painful gaze and a half-sane mind, Y/N slowly pries his big hands from her body, clutching his fingers with emotion to communicate how much it hurts to reject his offer. “I’m sorry, H, but we just can’t.”
His brows had knitted in discontent sadness, his pretty rose lips tilting down in a hurt-filled grimace. But eventually, with sad reluctance, he’d moved to the side and let her go.
She had scurried up the steps to rejoin the party, hands trembling as she clutched the cold bag of ice to her heated body, hoping it would help cool her off.
When Harry had come back up stairs, he covered up the incident pretty well, although he was in a dampened mood the rest of the night. At times, Y/N caught him staring at her with longing, only to embarrassingly flit his gaze away when she looked over, trying to hide the flush in his cheeks.
They both went on pretending like that encounter never happened, but in his defense, she assumes he’d been so sloshed he probably didn’t even remember it.
And now Y/N stands here in the mail room, months after, on National Boss Day of all days, sifting through all of the board members’ mail and organizing it into piles (it’s her turn this week according to the rotation her and the other secretaries had derived).
Everything’s going fine and dandy until Harry waltzes into the small room, in search for his round of mail for the day. He had been getting back from a quick lunch at the falafel place down the street when he’d decided to swing by, wanting to save whoever was in charge of mail today a trip to his office.
But when he saw her standing there, carefully eyeing the small, slanted, tricky handwriting on an envelope, he couldn’t help but crack a teeny, amused grin as a certain giddiness fluttered in his chest.
“Y’know, there’s these things called ‘glasses’ nowadays. They work absolute wonders.”
Y/N jumps slightly with a squeak of surprise, whipping around with a wild look tainting her features. When she sees him giggling softly in the corner, sipping his vanilla chai with the corners of his lips tilted up around the brim of the cup, she gives him a playful scowl.
“Oh, hush.”
He weighs towards sticking around a bit, chatting with her about some new movies that have come out in theaters, well aware that one of her favorite things in the world is going to the cinema. The conversation is cheery and comfortable as he leans back against one of the sturdy shelves, arms crossed over his broad chest with his biceps chiseling into the expensive fabric of his dress shirt, an effortlessly cocky smirk plastered on his face for no apparent reason.
That’s one thing about Harry. He has a certain aura of unwavering confidence about him that borderlines arrogance in the hottest way possible; but in reality, he’s the sweetest dolt to ever walk the earth. Y/N had mentioned it before and his explanation was that in this business, one has to appear naturally self-assured and “edging towards assholey” to guarantee others’ respect. He’d commented that after a while, the façade just melted into his DNA and that he does it often without even noticing.
But she knew he was aware of it now— that he was doing it on purpose. Y/N knew because she could feel his cheeky gaze prickling her cheeks with heat as she struggles to detach two envelopes that had glued themselves together, trying not to rip either. Y/N knew because when he reaches over and takes said envelopes from her hands and frees them with one simple tug, the conceited simper he gives her is also complimented by a jesting quirk of his thick brows.
“Shut up.” She grumbles, snatching the papers from him and chucking them in their designated piles, trying her best not to stare at the large array of fancy rings hugging his fingers. He has three on one hand and four on the other and she can’t fathom how hands could be big enough to make those expensive, chunky rings look so small.
“I didn’t even say anything!” He laughs, pouting his pretty lips with faux hurt. “That’s not very nice.”
“You’re not very nice.” Y/N mocks in a high-pitched voice, scrunching her nose into a silly face.
“I beg to differ.” He exclaims adamantly. “I’m very nice. Just ask any girl I’ve been with. I make them breakfast, do the laundry, vacuum, clean the bathrooms— the bathrooms, Y/N.”
“You poor baby.”
“And I’m pretty giving when it comes to other things, as well, but we won’t get into that.” He waves a hand dismissively in the air. “It’s not necessarily appropriate office banter.”
She lets out a light laugh, a bit forced at the sly tone of his comment.
Somehow, Harry has ended up uncomfortably close to Y/N, his nose inches from the side of her face. His cologne fans over her and she’s suddenly flashed back to that moment so many weeks ago in Niall’s garage, the familiar scent sending her nerves into a frenzy.
The same bubbling starts to boil at the pit of Y/N’s stomach— the same feeling of anxious excitement that came with having Harry so close, with his interests set on her and only her.
When he speaks, his voice is a low drawl, every word annunciated by his accent, dripping with taunting suggestiveness. “Maybe I can show you one day.”
“Yeah, just maybe.” Y/N laughs softly, pushing the sentence out with difficulty, trying to make nothing of the situation.
“Maybe...” Harry leans his head to the side slightly, trying to catch her eye, and suddenly his mood changes completely from one of sexual tension to his normal, airy, light-hearted self. “Maybe today, it being National Boss Day and all. Mind treating me to your company for some coffee cake tonight at my place?”
Y/N gives him a wary glance.
“Just as a token of gratitude for your oh-so nice and giving boss.” His tone has lost it’s predatory edge, helping relieve some of her stress. “Just one slice. Made it myself last night. It would really hurt my feelings if you turned me down without even giving it a chance.”
He pouts childishly, pretending to sniffle, whimpering softly.
The young secretary rolls her eyes. “God, I hate you, y’know that?”
“I’m your boss. You’re supposed to hate me.”
