Sugar Daddy-ish blurb (Patreon)

Hello! Let me know if you'd like a part two of this, I'm watching a k-drama that has me mad interested in a dynamic like this :D

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Harry thinks Y/N’s just lovely. 

He’s always thought so, from the moment he had first met her. She’d been working at a twenty-four hour cafe far too late into the night, when he’d stop by to get a latte before heading home when it was particularly chilly out. When it came to baristas, she was always the absolute sweetest -- always greeted him with a big smile, even though he could see in her eyes that she was tired. Would laugh at the lot of his stupid jokes, entertained him with conversation, and actually seemed invested in chatting with him when she didn’t even have to. And believe him, Harry is used to people talking to him, laughing at his jokes and the like -- when you’re the CEO of a multi-million corporation, it comes with a few social perks -- but he could tell that it wasn’t always a hundred percent real. He could see when the smile didn’t reach their eyes, or when they would clearly not be listening during their conversation (he liked to play a bit of a game where he would drop a small anecdote, or fact about something early on then bring it up later and watch as the person fumbled and pretended that they knew exactly what he was talking about).

But with Y/N, it never felt like that. With Y/N, she was all giggles and big smiles, chatting him up about all things ranging from weather, to a weird fact she’d known, or the latest celebrity gossip (she loved telling him that she saw him in the newspaper, and how she always pronounces to her friends that he likes chocolate lattes with low-fat whipped cream and cinnamon syrup). When he’d played the game with her, bringing up something small early on then asking her again about it, she’d answered quickly. It’d been about a scarf that he had ordered in the mail, they talked about something else for a little while, and then he brought it up again with no context, saying, “What colors do you think would go with everything?” To which she responded, “For your new scarf? Well, you said you’d gotten a muted red and grey so I think it’ll go with most suits if that’s your concern.” 

He’d never been so elated. 

Did this mean he spent far too much money getting this chocolate lattes when he definitely has the necessities to make it at home? Yes. Did it also mean that he always went home, feeling warm despite the loneliness that accompanied walking through the doors? Definitely, and it wasn’t just from the drink. 

She had a way about her, and after two months of constant chocolate latte buying, Harry had finally seen her crack. 

It’d been a cold night for mid-April, with an onslaught rain falling from the sky in sheets, drenching everyone who’d forgotten their umbrella. He’d walked in, expecting to see Y/N with her bright, shining face, and the bloke that she usually works with, but instead he just sees Y/N. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, if not for her bent over the counter in a very empty shop, crying into her palms. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Harry had immediately hustled over to her, concern wrapped up in his words, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

Y/N had jumped from his sudden, appearance, quickly wiped away the tears at her cheeks and tried to put on a smile for him, “Nothing, nothing, -- I’m okay, I just --” 

He’d tilted his head, giving her a knowing look, “Nobody crying alone in a cafe is okay, Lovie,” he’d told her, “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Sniffling, she looked away, “They’re letting me go,” she answered him, “Which I shouldn’t be so torn up about, ‘cos this job kinda stinks and the hours suck, but they’re giving me no time to find another place, this paycheck coming up is small, and my rents due in three days. I’m just a little stressed is all.” 

And Harry couldn’t have that; god, he just couldn’t have that at all. 

So without a thought, he said, “Come work for me.” She’d snorted at him, “I’m serious, Love. My personal assistant is leaving me by the end of the month. Until then, I’ll cover your rent and any bills that might come up, and you can start first thing come May.” 

“What?” She’d gaped at him, “Mr. Styles that’s crazy. I don’t know a thing about personal assistant-ing --” 

“Neither do  I,” he had cut her off briskly, “So, we’ll learn together. Now wipe those tears, yeah? Breaks my heart seeing my happy little barista like this. And call me Harry.” 

They’d exchanged numbers that night, talked things over through a three hour phone call, and after a lot of convincing, Y/N had agreed to all of it, as long as he let her pay him back for her rent.  He’d agreed to it casually but in the back of his mind he’d knew he’d not take a dime from her.

So that’s how they’ve ended up here, six months later in a Gucci store with Harry holding a pair of black heels and Y/N with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning deeply at him. 

“I’m not buying those Harry, they’re too expensive!” She’d told him, shaking her head but Harry pressed on. 

“Do I not pay you well enough to afford them? Then I’ll hand you a raise! They’ll go perfect with the diamond studded buttoned blazer I gave you.” 

“You do pay me well, but I have to save money so I can pay you back for that very same diamond studded blazer.” 

Sighing, Harry kept the he shoes in his either hand, “I told you, y’a didn’t have to pay me back for that Lovie, it was a gift.” 

“Well, you gift me too much for no reason! It makes me feel guilty.” 

It was true, Harry was keen on giving her things. He doesn’t know if its because he likes giving and he has a lot of money that just sits around or if it was because of that face she makes when he hands her a box -- one that’s a touch disapproving but giddy all the same. A smile that lights up his heart and the gratefulness she exudes is one he hasn’t been privy to in a long while. People expect things from him but Y/N expects nothing ever, and that’s why he wants to. Plus she’s a damn hard worker, and though he pays her plenty, he thinks she deserves a lot more and she won’t let him give her a raise so this is how he appeases himself. 

And normally if she scolded him enough he would put the shoes down and have them shipped to her place later, but these she kind of needed immediately. 

“Gifts aren’t meant to make you feel guilty. You’re a hard worker and deserve the best; besides, I used to do this for my previous assistant as well,” A minor fib on his part (he’d give her gifts although certainly nowhere near the caliber in which he does for Y/N), but he watches as her shoulders lessen their tense some, “But I kind of need you to have these. See, y’know that event in Brisbane you scheduled for me -- the, in your words, “fancy schmancy” one?” She nods, brows dipped inward, “Well, I need someone to accompany me during and who better than the best personal assistant on the planet?” 

She tilts her head, squinting her eyes at him some, “But I thought Miss. King was attending with you.”

Eliza King was somewhat of a fling for Harry, that Y/N was very much aware of. Harry got lonely -- very lonely -- and Eliza had always been willing to plug that loneliness. No matter how they’d discussed in the beginning that this was strictly casual and would include no strings though, Eliza had a knack for getting a little too pushy for his liking. She’d demand to know his whereabouts if she showed up at his home for a surprise and he wasn’t there (normally, he was off bothering Y/N), was particularly snippy when it came to Y/N, and at events like the one they’re going to, would snoop him out, wrap her arm around his, and stay at his side for the majority of the night. If Y/N happened to be there, this would scare her off, and it irked him to a fair degree but he was far too nice to say anything. Maybe too nice for his own good -- he didn’t want to hurt her feelings but he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea either, so by the end of the night he would politely decline her offer for a quick fuck in the bathroom, find Y/N, and go out for a greasy burger afterward. 

Going with her, he fears, might give her the wrong idea, and he’d much rather spend the night with Y/N anyway -- she’s right fun. 

“M’sure she has her own date. So here, I have a proposition for you,” he grins slyly and her shoulders slump because she knows exactly what it means, “I’ll buy you these sturdy, gorgeous, go with everything shoes and you come with me to the fancy schmancy event with them on! Then, afterwards, if we’re both on our best behavior we can have a good night with a plate of chili cheese fries and a big malted vanilla shake -- I know a lovely place down there.” He grins, and before she has a chance to answer, he pivots on his heel, “Perfect! This’ll be fun.” 

“Mr. Styles -- ” she begins to chastise, rushing to catch up with him but Harry’s quick on his feet, making it to the counter first while simultaneously whipping out his wallet. 

“How many times have I got to tell you, Love?” he swipes his card, turning to look at her, “Call me Harry.” 

                                                    .                         .                          .

Harry was absolutely knackered. 

They’d flown in the night before, which contributed to some of it, and when Y/N had originally booked Harry a hotel room she’d gotten him a single king sized and it was too late to change it. And Harry had always been a bit of a nuisance, so when they’d laid down for the night, he’d turned on his side to face her and accidentally got them both started on a conversation that lasted until three in the morning. 

Then, when Y/N had finally fell asleep, Harry had spent a whole other hour simply staring at her. Which is creepy -- god he knows it’s creepy -- but he just couldn’t help it. She looked so soft, gentle, and downright cute like this, even more so when he knows that she’s wearing witch cat pajama pants. Y/N’s always so go, go, go, and headstrong; the only time he sees her let her guard down is when it’s just the two of them alone like this. It made him feel incredibly special; had his heart racing too, which he hates to admit. He’s supposed to be one of the most eligible bachelors in business and here he is with some type of a schoolyard crush on his assistant. 

So he effectively got only three hours of sleep before they had to wake up, and they spent the whole day running around getting prepared (because Harry was tasked with packing his own suitcase and he’s shit at packing -- usually Y/N will do it for him -- but he told her he had it, then managed to not pack a matching suit, which they had no time to get tailored, so he’d settled on a cardigan over his purple undershirt and white slacks). Plus, being around so many fake people is absolutely draining as well. The event started at 4PM and lasted until 10PM, and it was currently on 8, which meant two more hours of hell. 

Y/N could tell that he was incredibly tired, and since she was at his side for most of the night, would take the reigns of the conversation. It blew him away really, how much she actually listened to him and retained information about the company, because she was able to spit out numbers and stocks that even he had forgotten, so it serves to warm him immensely. Her ability to do this had only solidified his reasoning for bringing her, because he truly did have the best personal assistant in the world. 

And they had gone a majority of the night without bumping into Eliza at all! Which had been lovely, absolutely lovely, because he didn’t think he had the mental capacity to deal with it tonight, until he hears a call of his name and both he and Y/N turn around to see her sauntering up to them. She doesn’t bother greeting Y/N at all, only pulling Harry in for a hug, “Glad to see you!” She’d exclaimed, “Been lookin’ for ya all night, but somehow the one and only Harry Styles had managed to slip beneath the radar.” 

He gives her a small smile, “Well, I’ve always thought I should’ve been some sort of spy.” 

Y/N giggles behind him and it makes his heart pick up some, while Eliza moves on to say, “It’s been too long, hasn’t it? Last time I saw you, you were ignoring me for some cake donuts.” 

Harry nearly grimaces, “Yeah, about that --”

“Bet they were good though! We should catch up after this, right? I know a great thai place that stays open late.” 

Harry bites at his lip for a second, blowing out some air, “M’sorry, s’just not a good time for it.”

She pouts her lip, eyes flickering over to where Y/N stands behind him and to the side, and her pout turns into a frown, “Oh, alright then,” she nods, “Well, I’ll see you later.” 

And she disappears after that, to which Y/N bursts into a fit of giggles, and Harry turns around to face her a smile playing at his mouth, “What’s got you so tickled, huh?” 

Y/N covers her mouth with the clutch she’s holding, her satin sleeve slipping down her forearm as her face contorts as she tries not to laugh, “That was just. . .” she presses some hair behind her ear, “So awkward --” she finally succumbs to her giggles, quickly cupping her hand over her mouth and Harry hates how endeared he is at her laughing at the expense of him, nearly hunched over. 

It’s contagious though and it tickles him to tittering, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at her, but he still can’t help but join her. It’s terribly unprofessional, he knows, but Harry thinks that being light hearted about things like this keeps him from going batty. Y/N’s good at making the worst situations not seem as bad, which is another reason why he knows he’d did a good thing helping her out all those months ago. 

Harry thinks that’s the last he’ll see of Eliza for the night, but apparently he’s never been so wrong. Because not only does he see Eliza again, he sees that she’s taken Y/N off to the corner for a chat, and he immediately senses something’s not very right. Especially when Y/N keeps looking back over to him, her features skewered confused and skeptical. Harry doesn’t know what they’re talking about -- sometimes it feels like those two couldn’t be more opposite than they already are, so he can’t imagine they’d have anything to talk about really. 

Though it becomes very clear that the conversation certainly wasn’t positive, because he watches as Eliza tosses her drink at Y/N and he’s on the move, nearly tripping over himself to get to her. By the time he’s crossed to where it’d happened, Eliza had fled the scene and Y/N’s standing, looking just as shocked as he feels, “What in the bloody hell was that?” Harry asks. 

“I’d like to know,” she responds, looking down to her blouse, now drenched, and there’s some droplets clung to her lashes, “She’d come to me, asked if we could talk and I said sure, thought it might’ve been about company politics or something, but she asked if you and I were seeing each other.” With two fingers, she pulls the wet fabric clinging to her skin away from her chest for a moment, “Told her that we weren’t so she asked why you always seemed uninterested when I was around and I said that I didn’t know, maybe ya don’t like her in that way, and that it was unprofessional of her to speak about this with me at an event such as this and then she threw  her drink on me. I didn’t think it would upset her this much, I’m sorr--” 

“No, no, you don’t need to apologize,” he shakes his head, slipping off his cardigan and slinging it around her shoulders, molding her hands so that she held it together over her shirt as to not bring attention to them as they left, “C’mon, let’s get you back to the hotel.” 

They’re brisk in their departure, with a few goodbyes to the right people, nobody questions where they’re off to. Once they’ve made it outside to wait for valet, Y/N’s shivering up a storm, and he presumes it’s not only from the drink that has soaked through her shirt, but the thin slacks that she had worn (upon Harry’s suggestion) and he feels guilty. Even if it wasn’t directly his fault, he feels so incredibly guilty, so with one arm he pulls her into his body and she allows herself to sink into the heat he exudes as he rubs his palm up and down her arm while they waited. 

The drive from the venue in which the event had been held is uneventful, apart from Y/N requesting they run through a drive thru for a burger and he feels as if he’s in no place to deny her. So he gets them two burgers, two large fries, a platter of chicken strips, and two large shakes to make up for it. “God, who else are you feeding?” She teases and Harry smiles, shaking his head, glad that she still has a sense of humor despite what happened.

“Only the best for the world’s best assistant.” 

Once they get to the hotel, Y/N immediately swipes off into the bathroom to get out of the clothes but she’d forgotten to bring any with her, so when she asks him to go through her bag he does. While in her bag, he comes in contact with a small little pair of satin panties and his heart speeds up, cock twitching some. His sweet, gentle little assistant in these? That’d be his undoing, he surely knows it. He stuffs them back in her bag and picks out a pair of pajama bottoms with bunnies on them, and a soft cotton blend he’s fairly certain he’d given to her in a care package. Though while he’s about to lift away from the suitcase, a envelope catches his attention. And normally he wouldn’t be so snoopy, but the envelope had his name on it so he was intrigued. 

It was an olive green color, his name scrawled nicely with a flower sticker at each corner. And when he picks it up, he sees that it was fixed to something wrapped up in glossy grey paper. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he takes that with him as he presents her clothes to her at the door, “What might this be then?” He asks her, waving it in front of the crack in the door and she gasps, reaching out with only her arm to grab it. 

“Oi! Who told you to go looking through my bag, huh?” She grumps at him and Harry grins.

“That’s the thing, Pet -- you did,” he holds it just out of her reach, “What is it then? A ring? Are you going to propose?” 

Y/N -- while she’s always dealt with his minor teasing -- refuses to have this. So unexpected to him, she disappears behind the door for two seconds, before re-emerging, covering her chest with her forearm as she reaches out and plucks the envelope and box from his hands. Harry would like to say he put up more of a fight, but he was sort of struck by her bareness. She still wore the pants, sure, but her tophalf was completely naked and since her hair was drawn from her face, he could make out the delicate slopes and curves of her shape. It feels like all the blood had rushed to his face, beaming a bright red as she retreats back into the bathroom and hides herself behind the door again, sticking out her hand, “Can I have the pajamas now?”

He clears his throat, mouth feeling dry, and hands them over to her easily, “Thank you,” she says triumphantly, then closes the bathroom door with a click.

Harry’s left with his heartbeat racing and a twitch in his trousers. 

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