Harry Styles One Shots

Y/N knows something she shouldn't and Harry does what on Fridays?

i.

Y/N had not expected this.

After university, when Y/N had graduated with a major in graphic design she had thought things would go a little differently. To start, she thought that she probably wouldn't be able to use the degree for a good while to make a living; she'd have a main job working somewhere she was only halfway qualified for to pay the bills, and freelancing on the side until an actual opportunity opened up had been her assumption. That's what everyone had told her at least, so she'd been more than pleasantly surprised when she was hired into a company (that's entire existence was based on helping other companies develop and supporting smaller companies for what she soon found out were criminally high prices) to create logos, do product illustrations, animations, and other things of the sort that she could utilize her four years of schooling for.

She hadn't thought she might fall in love with her boss either, considering a name like Marcel Crane aged him about forty years so she'd been fully expecting a grey-haired man with frown lines to step through the door her first morning. Y/N, once again, was pleasantly surprised to find he was nowhere near his 70s, his hair was auburn, he had gentle eyes, a kind smile, and went out of his way to come greet her and the other new hire. He was thoughtful and considerate, even though he was just about two steps under running the entire company and once he had offered her a muffin and let her eat it in his office, so she could stare out the large windows and overlook the city. She had decided that day that she liked him, and only moments later did she find out that he had a girlfriend – a fiance, actually. Though determined to squander her puppy love, that was easier said than done when he wouldn't stop being so fucking nice.

And she hadn't thought she would make a friend. Y/N wasn't a hermit, but she certainly wasn't the best at making friends. She got too far in her head, would say the wrong things, or would get too shy, and it hardly helped that she would often barely think before she spoke. All nasty habits that probably should have been kicked when she was a teenager, but she'd held onto for some reason (her Nan always told her the world always has a need for "reserved" people, which was just her nice way of telling Y/N she drew the short end of the personality stick and ended up a little mousy). She did though – the other new hire was called Malene, their desks were sat right next to each other, and she was nothing short of a talker and Y/N was fine listening to her prattle for endless hours so they got along well.

She also hadn't thought she would get herself an - well, she wasn't sure what to call him, because it wasn't like he was her enemy. They didn't know each other well enough to be enemies, and she didn't know his name, or what exactly his department was, but she did know that he did not like being covered in yogurt. She did know (now at least), that opening her yogurt container away from her while she peeled the top off saved her clothes, but not the guy walking past her in the break room. Sharp green eyes had pierced her like daggers, but when she opened her mouth to apologize, he'd been out the door and Y/N was left with a giggling Malene. It was a shame too because that hadn't been her only offense – somehow she managed to continuously inconvenience this guy several different times, and each glared gave was a little harsher than the last.

Above all things though, Y/N really, really hadn't expected to see that very same bloke she'd covered in a berry tart flavored probiotic, to be participating in an underground fight club.

Honestly, she shouldn't be there either. Y/N had only come out tonight because it was Friday, they had gotten out early, and Malene had coaxed her with the oddly timed happy hour and drinks where the fruit juice out-flavored the alcohol. It was within walking distance of her flat too, which was comforting in case she wanted to get home she could do so relatively quickly. Y/N knew inevitably she would be 3 or so drinks in and would immediately want to hold her Welsh Corgi called Blueberry, so it was better to be within a block or two. She didn't go out much – she never really had the reason to – but she thought she might as well, especially after the day she had (by "the day she had" she really was just forced to see Marcel's fiancé come in to drop his lunch off and it threw her in a foul mood the rest of her time there).