#watermelon sugar

[rosyrosethings]

King Harry and The Nanny

This is Part 3. Very angst.

Part 2

Summary: Y/n is feeling guilty about the affair. Charlotte finds out about the two.

///

Harry's body stiffened at Charlotte’s declaration, the silence in the room stretching into an uncomfortable beat. He felt a cold sweat break out at the back of his neck as he registered her words. Another baby. The idea felt suffocating, like an anchor tied to his chest, dragging him down into murky waters. His mind raced, trying to piece together the best response that wouldn’t betray his turmoil.

Before he could answer, a sharp realization hit him—Y/N was still in the closet, listening to every word. The thought of her hearing this conversation twisted his heart in a way that left him breathless. He needed to end this, to find a way to get Charlotte out of the room before things spiraled further.

“Charlotte,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice calm, “this is a conversation we should have when we’re both rested and not caught up in the emotions of the day.”

Charlotte’s blue eyes searched his, a flicker of doubt crossing them. “Harry, please don’t dismiss this. We’ve been distant, and I thought... maybe this could help us find our way back to each other.” The sincerity in her voice was laced with desperation, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He looked away, the weight of her gaze pressing down on him like a burden. He swallowed hard and forced himself to meet her eyes again, determined to keep his voice steady.

“We will talk about this,” he assured her. “Just... not tonight. Let’s get some rest first.”

Charlotte’s shoulders sagged slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips as she nodded, conceding to his request. “Alright, tomorrow then.”

She reached out, her fingertips brushing his forearm, and he had to resist the urge to flinch at the touch. With one last glance around the room, Charlotte turned and walked out, the soft click of the door closing behind her a temporary reprieve.

As soon as the sound faded, Harry rushed over to the closet and opened the door. Y/N stepped out, her expression unreadable but her eyes brimming with unshed tears. The realization of their situation hit her harder than before, the image of being the ‘other woman’ searing into her mind.

“I need to go,” she whispered, voice trembling as she pushed past Harry, brushing by him with a touch so light it might not have even been there.

“Y/N, wait—”

But she was already at the door, her back to him as she paused for a brief second. “Please, Harry. Don’t,” she said, her voice cracking before she slipped out, leaving him alone in the silence.

///

The next morning, Y/N walked through the grand entrance of the palace, the familiar scent of fresh lilies and polished wood greeting her senses. The corridors were already bustling with staff, but to her, it was just another day in the palace. She held her head high, determined to carry on as if nothing had changed, even though every step weighed heavier than the last.

James and Anastasia were already waiting in the playroom when she entered coloring sheets in front of them. their faces lighting up as they saw her.

“Y/N!” James shouted, racing toward her with the boundless energy only a child could possess. Anastasia followed closely behind, her giggles filling the room as Y/N knelt down to scoop them both into a hug.

“Good morning, my little sunshines!” Y/N said, planting kisses on their cheeks. She focused on their smiles, letting their joy distract her from the ache in her chest.

“Can we play outside today?” Anastasia asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

“Of course, but only after breakfast,” Y/N replied, brushing a stray curl from the little girl's forehead. The children chattered excitedly, and Y/N threw herself into their world, listening intently and laughing with them as though nothing had changed.

But that facade cracked the moment she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Harry’s presence filled the room, as undeniable as the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.

“Good morning,” Harry’s voice was deep, commanding, and tinged with a note of hesitation as he addressed them all.

Y/N’s muscles tensed, her fingers briefly pausing in their play with Anastasia’s hair before she forced herself to continue. Without looking at him, she stood and gave the children a bright smile. “Now that The king is here! I think it’s time for me to check on the kitchen staff to make sure your favorite breakfast is ready,” she said, her voice a touch too bright as she glanced over their heads, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“I can help!” James volunteered, grabbing her hand.

Y/N chuckled, crouching to his level. "Its okay James, I will be right back. Talk to your father." She said softly.

Before Harry could say anything or step closer, Y/N was already halfway to the door. She felt his gaze on her back, the intensity of it searing her skin. She quickened her pace and slipped out, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.

Harry’s jaw clenched, frustration simmering just below the surface. He turned to find James staring at him with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

Harry sighed looking at his, a smile naturally appearing ruffling his son’s hair. “Nothing, buddy. Let’s hear about your morning.”

The day continued in a series of frustrating near-misses for Harry. Each time he sought Y/N out, she was busy with some other task—organizing the children’s schedules, meeting with the staff about upcoming events, or simply disappearing down another hallway before he could catch up.

By midday, his patience was threadbare. He finally spotted her in the courtyard, chatting with one of the palace maids about the children. Harry's stride was long and determined as he approached, but before he could reach her, his aide, Mr. Renfield, intercepted him.

“Your Majesty, we need to discuss the details of the upcoming state meeting. The Prime Minister has requested an audience within the hour,” Renfield said, bowing respectfully but firmly blocking Harry’s path.

A muscle in Harry’s jaw twitched. “Can it wait?” he asked, his eyes locked on Y/N, who was now laughing at something the maid said, her smile like a knife to his already bruised heart.

“I’m afraid it cannot, sir. It’s urgent,” Renfield pressed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a final glance at Y/N, Harry exhaled sharply and nodded. “Fine. Lead the way,” he said, already feeling the frustration coil tighter in his chest as he was forced to turn away. The sound of her laughter faded behind him, and he knew that, for now, he would have to wait a little longer to have the conversation that had been gnawing at him since last night.

He finally stepped into James’s room. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the walls, illuminating James hunched over his desk, scribbling away at his homework. It was Friday, which meant Y/N had put the children to bed around 9 p.m. James often bargained for more time, and Y/N, with her gentle nature, would stay until he drifted off. Sometimes, that meant spending the night curled up in the chair beside his bed because James couldn’t sleep if she left. He would wake every hour, panicked until he saw her still there, a silent guardian against the dark. One morning, Harry had found them just like that: James, small and peaceful, nestled in Y/N’s lap as she cradled him with one arm, her head resting against the chair, eyes shut in exhausted slumber. The sight struck Harry so deeply that he couldn’t resist capturing the moment—a soft, candid memory that spoke of comfort and devotion.

James lifted his head at the sound of the door opening and smiled sleepily when he saw his father. “Are you looking for Y/N? She’s with Anastasia, putting her to bed.”

Harry’s brows knit together in mild surprise as he moved further into the room, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Why do you think I’m looking for Y/N?” he asked, easing himself onto the bed, his tone light but probing.

James leaned back in his chair, eyes wise beyond his years as he met his father’s gaze. “Because you’ve been trying to talk to her all day. I don’t know what you did, but... I don’t think she wants to talk to you.” His voice was small but certain, the kind of truth that only a child could deliver so bluntly.

Harry’s smile faltered, a sigh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right, James,” he admitted quietly, the weight of the boy’s words settling heavily in his chest. He glanced at the chair where Y/N would sometimes sleep, a pang of longing tightening in his heart. “You’re absolutely right.”

Harry smiled at James, leaning in with a playful glint in his eyes. “But I have a plan, James,” he said conspiratorially. “Part of that plan involves a surprise. I’ve asked the chef to stay late and make your favorite dessert.”

James’s eyes widened, anticipation lighting up his face. “What is it?” he asked, leaning forward with excitement.

Harry’s grin grew as he answered, “A special pavlova with fresh berries and vanilla bean cream.”

James’s mouth dropped open, and he jumped up from his chair with pure glee. “Really?” he squealed, barely able to contain himself.

Harry nodded, his heart swelling at the joy radiating from his son. “Yes, really. You can go get it now, but remember, you must be sneaky. Y/N can’t see you, and only one slice—if she finds out I gave you sugar at 9 p.m., she’ll have my head.”

James nodded eagerly, determination sparking in his eyes. “I promise!” He dashed out of the room, his footsteps quick and light as he made his way down the hall to the kitchen.

Y/N entered the room quietly, balancing a few books in her arms. She didn’t notice Harry standing by the window, his presence hidden by the shadows. Her focus was on her nightly ritual with James, and she began speaking softly, her voice gentle and full of warmth.

“Alright, James, I’ve brought some options tonight. We’ve got your favorite adventure story, a silly one, and a new book about knights,” she said, her eyes on the books as she stepped further into the room. It wasn’t until she glanced up, expecting to see James’s eager eyes, that she froze.

Harry stood before her, tall and composed, the soft light catching in the emerald green of his eyes. Her breath hitched as she noticed the brown sweater he wore, a rare departure from his regal attire. He looked softer, almost endearingly out of place, and for a fleeting moment, her heart swelled. But reality crashed back—he was married, and the fragile warmth inside her quickly dimmed.

Harry’s expression softened, a mix of regret and yearning. “Please, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and filled with a raw sincerity. “Let me talk to you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her chest, her grip on the books tightening as she struggled to keep her composure. She hesitated, eyes searching his face for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself before meeting Harry's eyes. “What we did was wrong,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. “I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

“It hasn’t gone far enough,” Harry countered, his tone desperate, eyes pleading.

She shook her head, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Harry, you are the king, and you’re married. We can’t do this.”

His jaw clenched, frustration darkening his features. “I know what I am, Y/N. But I also know what I feel. You can’t tell me this isn’t real.”

“Your wife,” Y/N said, her voice breaking as she forced herself to look away. “She wants another baby. I heard her say it.”

Harry’s expression faltered, a shadow crossing his face before he spoke, voice low and raw. “I don’t want a baby with her. She isn’t—” He paused, eyes searching hers for understanding. “She isn’t you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, heart pounding as he reached out and took her hand, his touch both electric and grounding. His voice softened, the words tumbling out as if they’d been held back for too long. “I love you, Y/N. I have for longer than I can remember.”

She stared at him, speechless, the room spinning as his confession sank in. “You... what?” she whispered, disbelief laced in her tone.

“I love you,” Harry said again, firmer this time, his gaze never wavering. “I see my future with you. Not just as the king, i do hate how we found each other but I'm meant to be with you.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, tears welling in her eyes as she searched for words. But none came; all she could do was look at him, the world as she knew it shifting under the weight of his truth.

"Is that true?" She said her voice choked up. Her heart swelled with affection. She hated how the two of them were in this situation. He smiled and nodded

"Very true my love." He said, her eye's swollen with tears

Y/N’s eyes searched Harry’s face, the storm of emotions between them unspoken but palpable. He leaned in, and when their lips met, the world around them seemed to fall away. The kiss was deep and desperate, a shared acknowledgment of everything they had kept buried for too long. Time stood still as they let themselves get lost in one another, their connection stronger and more real than ever before.

///

In the kitchen, James sat perched on a stool at the island, happily digging into his pavlova. His small feet swung back and forth as he savored each sweet bite. Charlotte walked in, catching sight of him with surprise.

“James, what are you doing up eating dessert this late?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm but tinged with concern.

James looked up, a touch of nervousness flickering in his eyes. “Daddy said I could have it,” he said softly, his voice uncertain. He never quite knew how to act around her, always feeling a bit unsure.

Charlotte’s brow furrowed, but her focus shifted. “Where is your father?” she asked, her tone more serious now.

“In his room, talking to Y/N,” James replied innocently, taking another bite without a second thought. To him, there was nothing unusual about it—his father spoke with Y/N all the time.

Charlotte’s eyes darkened for a moment before she composed herself. “Finish up and go to bed immediately, do you understand?”

James nodded quickly, watching her leave as he scooped up one last bite.

Charlotte moved down the hall with deliberate, quiet steps, her pulse quickening as she approached Harry’s room. The door was ajar, just enough for her to see inside. What she saw rooted her in place: Harry standing close to Y/N, their faces mere inches apart, eyes locked with an intensity she hadn’t seen from him in years.

“I love you,” Harry said, the words filled with raw honesty. “I see my future with you. Not just as the king, not with duties and titles—but as a man. A man who wants to wake up every morning to your smile, who wants to see you in every moment of my life.”

Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat as she watched them kiss, the tender and passionate exchange breaking what little composure she had left. The reality of what was happening unfolded before her, undeniable and searing.

Before she could react further, the sound of James humming a tune as he bounded up the stairs reached her ears. Heart pounding, Charlotte backed away and slipped down the hall, retreating to their bedroom before the children or anyone else could see her. Her mind raced, the sight of Harry and Y/N entwined haunting her with every step.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from Harry, her breathing uneven as reality seeped back in. They heard the distant hum of James’s footsteps nearing, and she took a shaky step back, clearing her throat as she tried to gather herself. “I should read to James,” she said softly, her eyes searching Harry’s for a moment before she moved toward the door.

Harry nodded, the lingering warmth of their kiss still buzzing in his veins. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered.

She gave a faint smile and slipped out just as James appeared in the hallway, a satisfied smile on his face from his secret dessert. Y/N ushered him back to his room, starting their nightly ritual with a gentle ease. The sugar rush had James chattering at first, but before long, his words slowed and his eyelids drooped. For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N watched as he fell into a deep sleep, no anxious glances to ensure she was still there.

Quietly, Y/N stood, brushing a soft kiss against his forehead before slipping out of the room, a sense of bittersweet contentment filling her.

Harry made his way back to his room, his mind still lingering on the warmth of Y/N’s smile and the memory of her touch. The thought of her, of what they shared and what it could mean, brought a rare softness to his expression. But as he opened the door to his room, that warmth was replaced by a sharp tension.

Charlotte was waiting for him, seated in an armchair by the window, her posture stiff and regal, her expression a mixture of anger and disdain. The dim light caught the gleam in her narrowed eyes, and Harry immediately knew this wouldn’t be an ordinary conversation.

“Harry,” she said, her voice low and controlled, though it carried an unmistakable edge. “We need to talk.”

He frowned, taken aback by her tone. “Charlotte,” he greeted cautiously, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. “What is it?”

She didn’t respond immediately, instead letting her piercing gaze roam over him. Finally, she spoke, each word sharp and deliberate. “Is there someone else?”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to play dumb, though his body stiffened under her scrutiny.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Charlotte snapped, standing abruptly. Her robe flowed behind her like a storm cloud as she approached him. “Are you seeing someone else?”

The room felt stifling, the silence between them heavy and suffocating. Harry hesitated, knowing that denying it would only prolong the inevitable. Slowly, he turned to face her fully, his green eyes meeting her cold glare.

“Yes,” he said quietly, the single word cutting through the tension like a knife.

Charlotte froze for a moment, as if the confession had stunned her despite already knowing the truth. Her jaw tightened, and she took a step closer, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “How long?” she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and betrayal.

Harry hesitated again, guilt flickering in his expression. “Charlotte, I—”

“How long, Harry?” she pressed, her voice rising. “I deserve to know!”

He swallowed hard, unwilling to give her the full truth. “Longer than I should have allowed it,” he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt.

Charlotte’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she blinked them away, refusing to show vulnerability. Instead, her expression twisted with bitterness. “It’s her, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice dripping with venom. “The nanny.”

Harry’s silence was answer enough.

“The *nanny*,” she repeated, her voice laced with mockery and disgust. “The woman who works for us. Who takes care of our children. That’s who you’re willing to throw everything away for?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly, his voice quiet but resolute.

Charlotte’s lip curled into a sneer, and she took another step toward him, her eyes blazing. “How could you?” she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. “I have been your wife for years, Harry. I’ve borne your children. I’ve stood by you in front of the world. And this is how you repay me? By humiliating me for some—some slut?”

Harry flinched at the venom in her tone, his jaw tightening. “Charlotte, don’t.”

“No, I won’t stop!” she snapped, her voice rising. “You’ve betrayed this family for her. And for what? What could you possibly see in someone so… *low*? She’s a servant, Harry. A servant.”

“Charlotte, that’s enough.”

“Enough?” she laughed bitterly, her voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, I haven’t even begun. She’s not even pretty! That dark skin, that unrefined look. She doesn’t belong here, Harry. She doesn’t belong with us. She’s beneath you.”

“*Enough!*” Harry roared, his voice echoing through the room with a force that made Charlotte flinch. He stepped toward her, his tall frame towering over hers, his green eyes blazing with fury.

“You will *never* speak about her like that again,” he said, his voice low and commanding, each word carrying the weight of his authority. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”

Charlotte blinked, momentarily stunned into silence by his outburst. But her shock quickly gave way to defiance. “You’re defending her? *Her*? Over me, your wife? Over this family?” she spat, her voice trembling with rage.

“Yes, I am,” Harry said coldly. “Because she doesn’t deserve your hatred. Y/N is kind, compassionate, and loyal—all the things you stopped being a long time ago. She loves our children. She knows them. She’s everything you’ve refused to be.”

Charlotte’s face twisted with anger and humiliation. “How *dare* you,” she hissed, her voice shaking. “You’re the one who betrayed *me*. You’re the one who ruined this marriage. And you have the audacity to blame me?”

“This marriage was ruined long before Y/N came into my life,” Harry said sharply. “You know it. I know it. We’ve been playing pretend for years, Charlotte. You don’t love me. You love being queen.”

Charlotte’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, but she quickly masked it with rage. “You will regret this,” she said, her voice icy. “You will regret everything. And that woman��she’ll be gone by the end of this week.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, his tone dropping to something dangerously calm. “If you so much as think of harming her or taking action against her, I will make sure you regret it. Don’t forget who I am, Charlotte. I was born to this role—you were chosen. Don’t test me.”

Charlotte stared at him, her fury burning bright but her words failing her. With a sharp turn, she stormed out of the room, her robe billowing behind her as the door slammed shut.

[tpwkmadeline]

literally swiped three more times before processing what bro meant by this

clutching my pearls

[moonchildstyles]

cloudburst

y/n and harry broke up. he goes on a date, and y/n drives in the rain.

wordcount: 8.5k+

—————

(Y/N) knew it was hypocritical to be feeling jealous at the moment—pathetic, even. She was there that night, she knew she was the one that ended her relationship with Harry. He was single, and there was nothing wrong with him going out with another girl; he could take her to whatever restaurant he wanted, including the one that they had found together last month. 

It had only been a couple of weeks, though. And, he had been the one that wanted to try and work things out with her. Harry had been the one that was insistent that they could work through this—the miscommunications, the lack of time together, the passive aggressive arguments—, but now he was the one moving on nearly immediately. She wanted to cry that it wasn't fair, that he was supposed to still be torn up about it the same as she was. 

It wasn't as if she didn't love him anymore or was itching to get out and meet other people, she was just finding herself more unhappy than she was happy when she thought about him. He had told her that he loved her, that he wanted her—needed her—when she had sat him down, she thought neither of them would be moving on this quickly. 

But, it's fine. It's whatever. Good for him. 

Locking her phone, she placed it face down on her kitchen counter with a startling slam. She didn't double check to see if she had cracked her screen, instead stepping away from the device all together as if it wanted to sulk just as back as she. If her phone was a good friend, it would delete the Instagram app as soon as possible; there was no reason to see any more pictures of Harry and his new friend at dinner. 

Forcing her head to clear, (Y/N) padded through her apartment with the intention of cleaning up. The last weeks had left her with heartbreak brain, chores having been pushed to the wayside as she recovered. When was the last time she went grocery shopping? Had she really run out of tissues or did she have an extra stash in some closet she'd been too lazy to check? 

She shook her head, taking the pile of dirty socks to her washing machine while her mind raced with distractions. It was late, but she could go grocery shopping, at least to pick up a few essentials so she didn't order in again for the next couple of days. Seeing the world for another reason instead of work would be good for her, she thought. Even if the thought of putting on shoes that weren't slippers made her want to tear up. 

After starting up the washing machine, she trudged up the stairs towards her room. The cloudy night called for something warmer than the ratted t-shirt and frayed shorts she had on, leaving her to rifle through the collection of sweats she had tucked in her dresser. No matter the garment she pulled out of the drawer, didn't seem to be enough; not thick enough, soft enough, warm enough. Leaving the pieces in a mess in the drawer, she didn't let herself think before she was drifting to her closet where there was a too familiar hoodie hanging up. 

The smell wasn't quite as strong as it had been weeks ago, but there was still a faint scent of Harry's cologne embedded in the fibers. It was truly nothing more than a plain black hoodie, the material showing wear in the way the strings were tied into a bow at the neck with frays at the end, holes lining the sleeve hems, and a lipstick stain smeared on the back shoulder in a shade she had on her bathroom counter. Though it was his hoodie, she had stolen it enough times that it lived at her home with Harry taking it back every now and then, imprinting himself on it for her to revel in once he gave it back. 

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she knew it was a bad idea. There was no reason for her to wear that hoodie. Really, it was surprising that he hadn't asked for it back yet—especially if he was going out with other girls. 

It would be crazy for her to wear it, right? It was not normal to be mourning a relationship she ended. That was not her hoodie.

She slipped it on, anyway. 

As much as (Y/N) was crazy, and hypocritical, and jealous, and insensitive—she missed him. 

This whole thing would be a lot easier if she wasn't still in love with him. If he had just broken her heart and ruined those feelings for him, she wouldn't be feeling insane as she pulled the sleeves over her hands and pretended as if she wasn't breathing in his scent. 

Going out didn't seem so bad when she had this on, though.

Collecting her bag and keys, she made a point to rush through the final steps of readying herself before she was going out the door. If she waited too long, she might end up crying in this hoodie instead. 

Outside, it was raining much harder than she had initially thought. Pulling up her hood, she attempted to protect her hair from the droplets though there were casualties that were immediately pasted to her face. By the time she made it to her car, the hoodie was beginning to grow heavy against her back, rain streaked down her bare legs (in the interest of getting out of the house, she didn't change from her shorts like she'd wanted), and her lashes made heavy with mist. 

Once safe inside her car, she pulled in a heavy breath. 

She could do this. While Harry was out at dinner on a date, she'd go pick up some spaghetti noodles and more cheese than she should eat in a week.

Because she wasn't upset. She wanted to be broken up. She's fine.

With a forceful turn of the key in the ignition, (Y/N) gladly focused on the mechanics of driving through the rain as opposed to everything else on her mind. The clean scent in the air filtered through the cab, comforting her more than she realized. 

No doubt, she could do this. 

Pulling onto the main road, she turned up her music to be heard over the sound of the rain beating against the windscreen. The pavement was slick, dyed a slate black with the help of the droplets, puddles growing in every small divot in the road. The streetlamp twinkled off of the gathered water, rippling with each added drop. Everything was just a bit bleary through the windshield, even with the reach of her wipers going in overtime to wipe away the streaks. 

While she was never a huge fan of driving in less than perfect conditions, especially at night, the scene out here tonight was a perfect match to the pit in her stomach. It made sense for the weather to act this way, she thought; she was too torn up for the world to be given a cloudless, warm night. 

The music playing sifted through a playlist she'd found the other day, her search having been nothing more than for "breakup music". While she didn't know every song, or if she was even allowed to be moping to the tunes considering she was the one that cut things off, the lyrics she could catch were felt in her chest with a weight on her lungs. The ones about the other party moving on before the singer was ready stung particularly sharp tonight.

Especially when an all too familiar song started up, a voice she'd heard thousands of times before pleading with his ex lover to keep from calling her new flame "baby". 

This song had come out long before (Y/N) had met Harry, written with another in mind, but she remembered listening to it back then. She remembered wondering just how heartbroken one would have to be to write stanzas just as these, how hurtful it would be to see your love finding someone else to take your place. 

(Y/N) automatically reached out to skip the song, not even knowing it was on the playlist despite it being an obvious pick, but her hand stopped short. 

It'd been weeks since she heard his voice, even longer since he sang around her. Even if this was through speakers, mastered and fit to music, it was something she'd been missing despite pretending she didn't. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, dropping her and back to the steering wheel as if she hadn't just submitted to self-torture. 

As the tune went on, (Y/N) no longer had to wonder what kind of heartbreak went into poetry like this. She was right where Harry used to be, wishing he would give her just a bit longer of pretending to be his baby before he chose another. 

She hadn't realized she was tearing up until her wipers were unable to keep her view from being blurry. The rain outside now paled in comparison to pools glimmering at her waterline. Her skin felt hot, resistant to the chill seeping through her vents. She didn't even make it through the full of the outro before she repeated the song once more, knowing it would only spur her tears on that much more. 

Before she knew it, her bottom lip was quivering before a broken sob puffed from her lips. She sniffled with tears racing down her cheeks, searing over her warmed skin. 

It wasn't her business, but did he share the same bite of sushi with this new girl that he'd also given to (Y/N) a month ago? Did he order the same bottle of rosé? Did he reach across the table to push her hair out of her face just as he did for (Y/N)? Was tonight going to be the first date they would relay to friends and family when asked how they had found someone so special? She had no right to ask any of these questions, but was Harry going to fall in love with this new girl? 

Did he think of (Y/N) at all tonight, like she was thinking of him? 

The idea of being on Harry's mind at all was enough to have her hands tensing around the wheel, but the thought of not crossing it at all had them shaking instead. Her eyes were flooded, hands wavering on the steering wheel, skin warm and nose wet. The rain beat down against the hood of her car with as much force as her heartbeat, riding the tempo as if she couldn't hear it well enough in her ears. 

She shouldn't've left the house tonight. It would be way easier to sob like this if she wasn't having to also keep track of the road in front of her and the slick pavement beginning to flood with more water than the drains lining the sidewalks could handle. At least she seemed to be the only one out on the road at the moment. 

Scrubbing her hand over her eyes, she attempted to clear them in hopes of regaining her focus. The song was over now and she planned on wiping that song and subsequent album from her vicinity as soon as she made it to the grocery store. 

By the time she blinked her eyes open, lashes sticking to one another under the weight of her tears, she was only a few hundred feet away from the vague outline of a stoplight. She hadn't even seen the light shift from green to yellow, let alone to the blazing red that shone overhead. 

Of course, now would be the time she saw one other person on the road, already creeping out into the intersection to use their own green light. 

In a knee-jerk reaction, (Y/N) stomped on her brakes. Her breath caught when she felt that tell-tale give under her tires, the feel of the back of her car shifting out of sync with the steering wheel. 

The broken rattling of her heart was replaced by the pounding of the beats against her ribs as she realized there was no way she was going to stop. She was currently gliding over the road, her tires unable to grip onto anything underneath them through the layer of rain on the pavement. All she could do was turn the steering wheel and hope that her car followed, hopefully missing the poor bystander who would learn that she wasn't paying as much attention as she should have been when coming to the intersection. 

Every thought in her head seemed to happen in slow motion, but the world around her raced by in a second. She could feel her mouth moving, her voice muttering curses that made no sense, but there wasn't a single sound she heard over her heartbeat. Beyond her windows, the rain blurred every moving shape, her foot still heavy on the brake despite it being a fruitless effort. 

Headlights shone against her face for a brief second before she cranked the wheel, spinning just in time as she hit the middle of the intersection. Her new bleary view showed off the vague outline of the pole of the stoplight for a brief moment before spinning out even further until she was facing the direction she'd come in, her car turning in a complete one-eighty in her lane until everything suddenly stopped with a metallic crunch. 

She heard the impact before she felt it. Her driver's side door whammed into the pole of the stoplight, denting through the layers of metal with the window cracking and breaking. Prisms of glass rained over her, grazing her face and tops of her thighs with prickling shards. Her dented door threaded to push in on her before stopping, leaving a pressure against the side of her body and a complicated way to get out of the vehicle once she found her head. Her dashboard was lit up with every caution insignia as if she had no idea of what had just happened. Through the broken window, rain began to stream in, seeping into the cuts on her face and legs. She shivered though she couldn't feel a single chill from the air, her body beginning to reel from the accident she had just found herself in. 

In the back of her mind, over the pelting rain and pounding heartbeat, she heard her breakup playlist filtering through the remaining speakers. 

A wretchedly familiar voice singing about fine lines and being alright. 

"Hon? Are you okay?" 

Turning to face the nice woman who'd come to check on her after witnessing her blunder, (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond. 

She burst into tears.

—————

Harry really needed to stop wearing this necklace. 

He'd known that for the last few weeks, and, yet, every time he'd thought to unclasp it and put it at the bottom of a jewelry box to never be seen again, he never had the strength to. Instead, he continued to wear it every day, absently playing with the single pearl sitting at the base of his throat. 

Natalie watched as he fiddled with the pendant, but he still couldn't get himself to stop his idle hands. 

He hadn't even wanted to be here tonight, anyway—he had to self-soothe somehow, even if that meant playing with the necklace his ex-girlfriend gifted to him. 

Natalie was nice enough, a friend of a friend of a friend who'd been around to some parties here and there, but she wasn't (Y/N). Harry had only agreed to come out tonight in hopes of giving him a reason to wash his hair and eat something that wasn't bread or coffee while sitting on the kitchen floor. Even with clean hair and an order of his favorite sushi cleared from his plate, he still felt slices of guilt; one for going out with someone while still being very hung up on his ex, and for going out at all with someone who wasn't (Y/N). 

Harry wasn't stupid, he'd caught the cell phones pointed in his direction when he and his date had been seated. If it wasn't up already, it was only a matter of time before those photos would be circulating on all of the socials and appearing on timelines. He could already picture the headlines for tomorrow morning, detailing the mystery woman on this dinner date while questions about his previous flame were posed. He just hoped (Y/N) would somehow be able to dodge these flecks of news—even for only a couple of days. 

Hopefully, he'd have a chance to talk to her before she knew. If she was open to hearing from him, he'd explain where he was coming from in even agreeing to this date, and maybe she'd take him back. If she knew he was still in love with her, willing to change his schedule, relearn how to communicate, start going to therapy weekly again, would it be enough to salvage their relationship? 

"But, what about you?" 

Being pulled from his head, Harry had to face Natalie with a blink of his eyes. She had been talking about a movie or something—or was it her last holiday?—, but he hadn't heard a single word. Another pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. 

He thumbed over the pearl at his throat. "Um... I'm so sorry, wh—" 

Divine intervention came in the form of his phone vibrating in his pocket. He shot an apologetic smile at Natalie before slipping the device out of his pocket, eager to pick up for whoever was on the other side. 

Until he saw the contact name, anyway. 

(Y/N)'s mother. She was calling him. 

"Who is it?" Natalie asked, canting her head at Harry's startled expression. 

"Um... Jus'—uh—someone I haven't heard from in a while. I have to take this, 'm sorry." 

He didn't catch Natalie's reaction before he was rising from his seat and heading towards the front door with the phone pressed to his ear. Rain sprinkled over his head while thunder cracked in the distance. A darker storm was moving in. 

"Hello?" 

"Harry?! Harry, are you there?" 

"'M here, yeah. Is everything alright?" He'd never heard her voice in such a frantic state, especially not over the phone like this. Was she that upset over the breakup? 

"(Y/N)—It's (Y/N). She's been in an accident, and I—we—Her father and I, we're—She's alone. I-I know you two broke up, but she's in the hospital by herself and the nurse said she's not doing okay, she's—I don't know, I don't want her to be alone but I can't get on a flight until tomorrow morning and there's—" 

Frantic chattering continued on through the receiver, but there wasn't a single syllable that was able to breach his thoughts. 

(Y/N) was in the hospital. She'd been in an accident and was now at the hospital. Alone. She wasn't doing well while she was in the hospital after being in an accident, all alone. 

His stomach turned. 

"Wha—Where's the hospital? What hospital is it?" 

Was he having a heart attack? Every beat of the organ fluttered at the base of his throat, the chambers squeezed tight. 

He needed to find her. She couldn't be alone. She had to be okay and he needed to be there. 

Her mother shakily relayed the name of the hospital and room number, stumbling over the syllables until Harry had them seared into his memory.

"I-I'm so sorry to ask you, I know what��" 

"No, no," he shook off her words, "Th-Thank you for telling me. 'M going to her right now, I'll let you know how she's doing." 

Shaky goodbyes were shared with quiet sobs sounding on the end of the other line. Harry felt breathless as he stowed his phone away, hands shaking with fumbling fingers. His head was a mess. 

All he wanted to do was go—get in his car and go, be with (Y/N). But, there was Natalie sitting at their table, a dessert ordered to the table with their check of sushi and wine waiting with their server. There were people around them who would no doubt post about any kind of commotion he sounded tonight, perhaps even leak his location if hearing he was on the way to a hospital in the city. (He usually liked to see the best in others, but it'd happened before, these wild invasions of privacy). 

Despite every instinct pushing him towards the parking lot and abandoning the night, Harry forced himself to walk back into the restaurant. He held a thin grip on his control, but it was enough to get him back to his table with Natalie so he could quietly speak with her. 

"Is everything okay?" she asked before he'd even taken his seat. 

Swallowing, his throat bobbed as he shook his head. "No, actually. I—'m really sorry, Natalie, but I have to go. My, um, a friend of mine—they're in the hospital. I need to go." 

Natalie's features were marred with surprise, mouth dropped open with her lashes in a glimmering flutter up at him. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. That's so scary. No worries, go ahead I'll take care of everything. Call me when you can, okay?" 

Meeting the blue shimmer of her gaze, Harry felt his features tighten. She was much too nice for him. 

He wasn't going to call. 

Harry didn't say anything before he was rushing out of sight, only stopping at the hostess station for a slick second to tell the staff to charge the card attached to the reservation. Natalie was open to order whatever she wanted for the rest of the night, but she wasn't paying for a single cent. This would be his apology for never calling. 

It was with shaky fingers that he typed in the name of the hospital (Y/N) was at—all alone—as soon as he was in his car. Though his heartbeat didn't settle much, his head felt a bit clearer knowing that with every mile he was cruising down the street, he was growing closer to (Y/N). His hands couldn't stay idle for very long, consistently reaching up to the necklace around his throat. 

(Y/N) was going to be alright, right? 

The question warmed the backs of his eyes, flushing his skin. As much as he wanted—needed—to be at her side, Harry realized he wasn't sure what he was walking into. Her mother had said she wasn't doing okay—whatever that meant. What kind of scene was he going to walk into? 

Stop lights and brake lights passing in a blur through the growing rain, Harry made it to the hospital in record time. The pavement was slick, reflecting the glow of the streetlamps and the many car lights bumbling through the carpark. He didn't think before he was pulling into the first spot he found, parking at a sloppy angle before he was rushing out. 

With the rain coming down, his hair fell across his forehead, slicking to his skin. The droplets acted as the tears he was unwilling to shed until he saw (Y/N) in person. 

He marched his way into reception, shoes squeaking over the linoleum. Behind the desk, a woman perked up, spotting him with bored eyes before she perked up with recognition he knew too well. 

"Hi, um, how can I help you?" she sputtered. 

Unable to muster a greeting smile, he kept his eyes low. "I—um—I need to see someone, please?" 

The rest of the checkin passed in a daze, Harry only barely able to keep himself from begging to see (Y/N). He relayed as much information as he could, showing any kind of identification needed. He was more than thankful to hear that her parents had approved his visit during their initial phone call, something he filed away for later so he could thank them when he had a clear mind. 

The best thing he heard, the one that stuck glaringly in his mind, was the fact that she wasn't housed anywhere to be treated for critical pain. She was being held somewhere safe and hopefully comfortable. 

Following the given directions, Harry felt like a ghost as he floated through the different doors and elevators. He moved restlessly while he dinged through the floors, feet shuffling while his eyes were trained on the rising numbers. 

Was this the slowest elevator on earth? Or were they always like this? 

Once set free on the correct floor, Harry floated through the halls, sweaty palms pressed into the pockets of his pants. All he could focus clearly on was the room numbers pinned beside the doors, the thumps of his heart bubbling in his ears. 

After going down what felt like endless miles of hallways, the correct room number finally appeared before him. The door was shut, the lights inside dim. His hand hesitated on the door handle.

He had been so consumed with making it to her, to make himself feel better with the sight of her, that he hadn't really considered if she would even want to see him. If she wasn't asleep at the moment, would she just kick him out? She had been the one to break up with him, anyway. 

Before he could doubt himself any more, he pushed through, keeping his steps light over the linoleum. 

Just as he thought, the room was quiet and dark, rain streaking down the window. There was a warm glow coming from the standing lamp at the corner of the room, machines beeping along with the television with a made-for-tv movie playing. A whiteboard marked with her name was pinned to the wall, filled with stats and jargon Harry didn't have the mind to decipher. 

Amongst it all, (Y/N) was laid in the hospital bed with the thin covers pulled to her middle. Her eyes were shuttered, showing off the bruising underneath alongside the myriad of cuts over her skin. As peaceful as she appeared, sleeping away under the crumpled sheets, Harry couldn't help the tears that touched his eyes. 

With the door closing behind him, he drew closer to her bed. It didn't take much examination to spot the tear tracks glimmering on her cheeks, the swollen puff of her lips. It was the same way she'd looked when she had told him she didn't want to be with him any longer. 

Harry wasn't sure what broke his heart more: the obvious evidence of weeping on her features, or the fact that her tears would have skated over every cut and scratch marring her cheeks? 

He shuffled over the floor. He wanted to be at her side, hold her hand and let her know she wasn't alone anymore, but he didn't want to wake her. There was a reason that she wasn't allowed to head home after being checked out by the hospital team, the more rest she received the better. 

Instead, he gingerly made his way to her bedside, taking a spot in the uncomfortable chair seemingly waiting for him in the lamplight. With the way she was laid up in the bed, he had an unobstructed view of her relaxed features, some of the more notable injuries on her face bandaged up while others were left treated with nothing more than a glistening salve. She didn't look particularly comfortable, especially knowing how she usually liked to curl up with her hands to her cheek and legs to her chest, but this was better than nothing. 

Better than being in a wrecked car somewhere. 

The thought was sobering, enough to have those tears he had been urging away to resurface on his waterline once more. 

She was here. (Y/N) was okay—hurt, but well enough to be left to sleep on her own. She was no longer alone. 

He hung his head in his hands. He didn't want to think about what kind of accident would have put her here, blood on her face with machines monitoring every vital in her body. 

With those tears in his eyes, peeking up at her between his lashes, she looked like a watercolor painting. The edges were blurred, leaving the general outline of the person that filled his dreams and became his muse for the better part of the last year and a half. 

He couldn't believe the last month of his life. He'd lost her. And for what? Because he didn't think it was important enough to send her a text when he was going to be out later than initially thought? Because it was easier to let his schedule happen to him, as opposed to shaping his life around making enough time to spend time with her? Because why would he talk to her, tell her where he was coming from, when he could be passive aggressive and sweep everything under the rug instead?

The beeping of the heart monitor was the pitched baseline that anchored him to the room. Every dotted sound kept him from being swept away in the rivers of tears dripping down his heated cheeks. 

He could have lost her today. In the worst case scenario of this day, he would have received a very different phone call. He wouldn't have had the chance to sit at her side right now. He wouldn't have seen these healing injuries on her, instead having only old photographs to remember what life looked like on her. 

As cracked as his heart was at the moment, he would take these cuts and scrapes, this uncomfortable chair, the stiff set of her bedding, over any other ending this night could have had. 

The rain pelted against the window as Harry fixed his gaze to the love of his life. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, if it had been nothing more than a few minutes or if it had been hours at her side, until there was the soft click of the doorknob twisting with the door pushed open. Entering was a nurse in soft purple scrubs, hair pulled back and a clipboard in her hands. She had her eyes trained down before looking up to catch Harry wiping his eyes and (Y/N) unstirring in her bed. 

"Oh, hello," she murmured, voice soft as they were both aware of the patient in bed, "I didn't know she was having any visitors tonight." 

A barely there smile curled Harry's cheeks, his skin smooth of dimples. "Yeah, got here as fast as I could. Have you been helping her?" 

The nurse shook her head, "A little, but she's been asleep for most of it. Poor thing cried herself into exhaustion, so I doubt she really remembers meeting me." 

Her statement had his bottom lip quivering. Harry had to remind himself to be grateful she was even here to cry. 

"She's doing alright, though?" 

With a quick glance at the clipboard, the nurse nodded her head. "Yeah, she's doing much better—now that she's calmed down a little. We've just gotta keep an eye on her for tonight. She got a good crack to her head, so I want to make sure she doesn't sleep for too long tonight." 

Harry gave her a nod, a moment from offering to wake (Y/N) for her before the nurse stepped forward. In gentle tones with a hand to her shoulder, she woke (Y/N). 

Unlike her, she had been sleeping rather lightly, jumping awake after only a single call of her name. (Y/N) fluttered her eyes open, lashes sticking together from the dried crust of her tears, enough so that she reached her scratched hands up to rub the mess away. 

"Hi," (Y/N) greeted, her voice in a croak as she got her bearings. 

"Hello," the nurse responded with a gentle smile, "Sorry to wake you, hon. I just wanted to check on you, then you're good to go to sleep, again." 

"Okay," (Y/N) breathed, struggling to sit up. 

Without thinking, Harry surged forward, helping her as much as he could. The second he put his hands on her, (Y/N) jumped, having not seen him prior.

It was clear she was more than surprised to see him with the way her eyes widened, blanching at the sight of him. 

"Harry?"

He offered a quiet, thin smile, sitting back in his spot once she was stable, sitting up for the nurse. "Hi." 

Before much else could be shared between them, the nurse began running her tests. Small talk was shared between the two, (Y/N) glancing more than once in Harry's direction. His hands were a fiddling mess in his lap, watching with rapt attention as every evaluation was run. 

"Everything's looking okay—what I expected we'd be seeing," the nurse mused, writing down her information on the clipboard in hand, "But, how are you feeling? Any extra pain, anything you want me to take a look at or mention to the doctor?" 

"I'm fine," (Y/N) smiled, the expression less than convincing, "Nothing hurts any more than earlier." 

"Okay, okay," the nurse nodded, "That's good, let me know if that changes. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours, so get in your rest while you can." 

A pointed look was placed in Harry's direction at her last statement, a teasing curl to the corner of her lips. (Y/N) gave a sheepish nod. 

"Right, thank you." 

The nurse departed with a couple of well wishes and a reminder that she'd be back in a few hours. Once the door clicked behind her, a stiff silence settled between them. The only sound came in the form of the mechanical beeping of the machines around her and the ending of the television movie playing. 

(Y/N) had her eyes facing ahead, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Harry stared at her. 

"(Y/N)—" 

"You're here." 

His throat bobbed as he heavily swallowed. "I am," he nodded, dropping his gaze to his picked cuticles in his lap, "Your mum called me." 

A furrow had her brow pinched. "Her and my dad are on vacation right now." 

Another nod, a strand of hair touching over his forehead. "They'll be back tomorrow morning, but she wanted someone to be with you tonight." 

Maybe it was the way her shoulders tensed, the glassy look that took over her gaze, or the pinch to her features, but something brittle settled in the air between them. Every breath felt delicate as he waited for any kind of response. 

"I'm sorry." 

It was his turn for his brows to knit together. "For what?" 

That fragile tension between them cracked. 

"You were on a date." 

Harry hung his head, lips thinning. He thought he would have more time to explain this. 

"'S not what it looks like, (Y/N)." 

She shook her head, voice quiet under her breath. "So it wasn't a date?" 

Sucking in a breath, his lungs squeezed. "I mean—It—Yes, it was a date, but—" 

The beeping of her heart monitor heightened, the pitch seemingly hitting higher than a moment before with the pace quickening. "So it is what it looks like." 

"(Y/N), 's more—there's more to it than that." 

(Y/N) only shrugged at his half-hearted response, her head hanging between her shoulders. 

Harry felt just as defeated as she looked now. This wasn't how he wanted to reunite with her, but he guessed beggars couldn't be choosers. This was the opportunity he had, and he wasn't going to turn it away. 

"What happened tonight?" he murmured, shifting the conversation away from his own blunders. Unfortunately, this avenue would be an easier section to stomach than anything she would want to know about his date. 

"I got into an accident." 

"I know," Harry gently prodded, "But, what happened? Y'usually only hit curbs, not anything else." 

His shoulders loosened when his teasing was enough to draw a huffed laugh from her, a slight smile softening her features. 

As much as they may have deteriorated recently, he did know her. He knew her better than he knew himself. 

"It was just raining really hard, and—I don't know—I wasn't able to stop like I thought. I slid and hit a pole, and... yeah." 

As much as he did like teasing her about her more precarious driving habits, he knew more than anything that she was cautious. It wasn't like her to settle into accidents like this—she rarely ever drove in weather like this anyway, let alone at night. 

"Y'never drive in the rain," he pressed, an unaired question bookending his words. 

"I know." 

Harry looked at her, waiting for more than those two syllables. It was fruitless, he knew. 

He hung his head, running an absent hand through his hair before his fingers found the pearl at his throat. Eyes on the floor between his feet, he couldn't look at her as he spoke once more. 

"(Y/N). What happened tonight?" This isn't like you. Why did this happen? 

The air in the room seemingly went still. 

When he chanced a look up once more, he saw her sitting in her hospital bed with sparkling tears in her eyes. His chest panged at the sight. He knotted his fingers tighter together, forcing himself to see from reaching out. 

"(Y/N)...," he started, voice decidedly more gentle than a moment before. 

She shook her head. "I didn't want to be home—and I was crying, and I wasn't paying attention and the rain was heavier than I thought—and just... Everything happened." 

What was worse? Hearing that she had cried more than once tonight, before she'd even got in her accident, or seeing her recount it with another set of tears racing down her cheeks? 

This time he couldn't help himself; Harry reached out to touch her wrist. Her skin was warm under the chill of goosebumps on her skin. While she didn't move to hold his hand like she used to, she didn't flinch away. That was enough, he thought. 

"Why were y'crying, lo—(Y/N)?" He internally cringed at his slip up. He had no place calling her anything but her name. "What happened?" 

Another shake of her head. "It's stupid," she sniffled, fluttering her eyes closed with the tears clinging to the tips of her lashes. 

"Not if it made y'so upset that y'ended up here tonight," he crooned, words a quiet lilt only for her to hear, "What happened?" 

"I—It's..." she cut herself off more than once, throat bobbing, "I don't... I was the one that broke up with you, I-I'm not supposed to be upset. It-It's not fair." 

Her voice was barely a whisper by the time she finished speaking. His hand on her wrist tightened, a snug warmth against her skin. He ran his thumb over the bone, pretending he didn't feel the cut just on the underside. 

He waited. 

Another made-for-tv movie started on her television. 

He waited. 

She took a deep breath. Her eyes still closed.

"You went on a date tonight." 

Harry's shoulders deflated. 

"(Y/N)—"

"No," she peeped, shaking her head with her arm stiffening under his hold, "No. You were on a date, and I'm crazy and I'm not supposed to be upset, but I couldn't handle it—I didn't want to be home alone an-anymore. I didn't think you'd be over it already since I'm not, but you-you can do whatever you want an-and I need to be okay with that. And, then you—your music, it started playing while I was driving and I-I—Harry, I couldn't stop crying and then I crashed." Her voice was clogged in her throat, muddy and thick. Her tone came in waves, ebbing and flowing until it gave out. "I'm sorry." 

There was no chance Harry had of keeping his own tears at bay as he listened. It was too much—all of it; hearing her beginning to sob over the thought of him being over their relationship, how just the sound of his voice over her speakers brought her to tears while driving, the fact that she'd seen photos of him out on a date had driven her from her home to get away from herself. 

He felt his skin flush, the warmth heading down his neck the same way his tears did. He sniffled his nose, his lips rolled between his teeth to keep himself from blurting out each thought he couldn't help but to have. 

He doubted telling her how much he loved her was going to be much help when she was so dedicated to the thought of him already finding someone new to replace her. 

"You—" he cut himself off when his voice came a croak, clearing his throat with his hand on her wrist. "Y'don't have to be sorry, (Y/N). You're not crazy, either—I don't know what I would do if I'd seen y'go out with someone else, either. Y—'M jus' sorry, I never—I didn't mean to—" 

"It's okay, it's okay," she murmured, shaking her head as she slid her arm out from under his hand, curling into herself while she refused to open her eyes. "It's not your fault—you—I ended our relationship, you can do whatever you want." A shuddering breath had her shoulders shaking, lungs rattling. "I-I'm sorry you're here instead of with her." 

Just short of climbing up on the bed beside her, Harry pulled his chair as close to her side as he could. There wasn't anything he could say—nothing that he could imagine would shift her mind on what she'd seen and decided was the truth. All he could do, even if it involved uncomfortable bending of his joints, was collect her into his arms and hold her. It was only then that the slow roll of her tears were let loose into full weeps, her face buried into his neck. 

She burrowed against him, sinking into him as if the last month hadn't occurred. His hands spanned over her form, familiar with every plane and curve. His fingers caught on the raised abrasions that could be felt through her thin gown, but Harry could only be grateful that those were the only evidence of her accident. The mechanical beeping of her pulse skittered high, enough so he worried that the nurse could be alerted of the disturbance. Nonetheless, he held her tighter. 

"There's nowhere else I want to be," he murmured into her hair, his voice watery like the tears running down his cheeks. 

Reaching towards him, (Y/N) wrapped her hands in the wool of his jacket, fingers clawing into the fabric in a tighter grip than he'd expected from her state. "E-Even tonight?" 

Her cry was thin and pathetic, causing Harry to pulse his arms around her once more. "Tonight—every night. As long as 'm with you." 

He could feel the flutter of her lashes as she cinched her eyes shut tighter. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again, just audible given how closely he had her wrapped around him, "Wh-What about her?" 

He shook his head against her hair, his nose skating over her crown. There would be a time to really unpack why he found himself at a candlelit table with Natalie, including everything that was going through his head every time she spoke to him, but that wasn't tonight. She needed him, and all of the reassurance he could give more than he needed to clear his conscience and monologue over his feelings. 

"She's not you and that's all that matters to me," he told her, sincerity dripping in his tone, "All I want is you." 

(Y/N) cried in a blubbering sob, "I didn't think you loved me anymore." 

Harry's own eyes had to be shuttered closed then, a fruitless attempt in hopes of stemming the tears falling out of his eyes and into (Y/N)'s hair. "I didn't think y'loved me anymore, darling." 

"I-I do, I do," she countered, shaking her head in his neck with her grip tightening on him, "We-We just never saw ea-each other anymore, and I-I thought you were mad at me all th-the time and I thought we'd be happier apart—b-but I was wrong and—" 

"It's okay, it's okay," he soothed her, starting a circuit of his palm over her back, "I-I understand. But now we know—you're all I want, an-and I'll do anything to make it work with you." 

"You're all I want," she whimpered, voice tight, "Don't leave me." 

While a part of him was soaring knowing that she was still in love with him, that this wasn't over the way he'd thought, he was still more than heartbroken to hear that she was so torn up and broken herself. She thought she had no choice but to end the relationship in hopes of making both of them happier elsewhere. He never imagined himself making someone he loved feel that way. 

"I won't." 

—————

Rubbing the lack of sleep out of his eye, Harry stood back as (Y/N) checked out of the hospital. Her mother was twined to her side with her father looking just as distraught, though he was better at giving his daughter space. They'd come straight here as soon as they landed only a couple of hours prior, walking in on Harry who had stayed far longer than the originally carved out visiting hours with (Y/N) still in his arms. 

Gratitude was exchanged between them—Harry for coming to (Y/N)'s side at a moment's notice, and her parents for telling him at all and letting him be there for her—with a thread of stiffness lingering afterwards. Harry couldn't blame them; the last they'd heard about him was the fact that he'd been dumped by their daughter along with all the reasons why. They didn't know what had come of the night before, yet, only seeing the aftermath of their tear puffed faces and his arms wrapped around her.

Truthfully, Harry wasn't even sure where he stood with (Y/N) at the moment. Promises uttered through sobs after a traumatic event wasn't something he was going to hold her to. Even if he wanted to believe she was still in love with him and wanted to be with him like she'd said last night. 

Armed with paperwork and parents at her side, (Y/N) nodded to the nurse at the checkout with a plastered smile. Though they were still clear on her skin, the cuts and scrapes she'd earned in her accident didn't look so bad when she smiled with light in the eyes. 

Though he was still a bit too far away, he could hear the mumblings of a quiet conversation happening between (Y/N) and her parents. He was sure she was going to go home with them, and sort out everything else that couldn't be helped with a night at the hospital, but he'd wait until he knew she was safe before he'd leave himself. 

He watched from the corner of his eye, giving them privacy, though he could see (Y/N) waving off her parents before stepping towards him. It was a lingering departure, her mother refusing to let go too readily, though she eventually resigned herself to head down the hallway towards the bank of elevators with her husband and her daughter's paperwork. 

(Y/N) took shy steps towards Harry, empty hands a fiddling mess. 

"You're still here," she said, voice quiet to match the waiting room. 

He shrugged, a small smile having curled the corner of his lips. Was he supposed to remind her that she had asked him to stay, or keep that ex-boyfriend barrier in place? (If it was even still standing, given the way she'd fallen asleep in his arms just hours before).

"You're doing alright?" he asked instead, scanning over the planes of her face as if he didn't have them memorized already. 

She nodded. "Just sore, but I think I'm just going to feel that way for a little while. My head's doing better, though—I still have a headache, but I don't think it's because of the accident." 

Though she ended with a laugh, Harry figured she wasn't sure what to make of last night anymore than he did. 

"'M happy you're alright," he told her, sincerity weaved through his words, "Are your mum and dad taking y'home?" 

"Yeah," she nodded, looking over her shoulder to the couple waiting at the elevators, "I think my mom wants me to stay at their house tonight, but we'll see." 

"Oh, y'don't want to spend hours watching soap opera reruns tonight?" Harry teased, a sly smile touching his lips. The curl only stretched when (Y/N) laughed. 

"Not particularly, but who knows," she said, sparing another glance over her shoulder to see the audience waiting on her, "Um, we talked a lot last night." 

"We did, yeah," he nodded, throat bobbing as swallowed, eyes dropping from her own, "But, we don't—'m not—If y'don't feel the same way as y'did last night, 'm not going to ma—" 

"I do," she cut him off, a bright chirp that matched the spark in Harry's chest. "I do feel the same, I mean. We should probably talk a little more, though, right?" 

A dimple dented Harry's cheek, suddenly feeling incredibly more alive than just a heartbeat before. "Probably." 

"Are you busy tomorrow? In the morning?" 

It didn't take a second thought before Harry was moving his schedule around to keep his morning stark open tomorrow. Those meetings could be moved—maybe even made into an email or a quick phone call. 

"Not for you." 

The blooming smile she gave him was reminiscent of the first time he pulled that flirtation on her. 

"Good," she quipped, "I'll call you tonight or something, then. Maybe we could get breakfast tomorrow?" 

"I'll be there," he cemented, "Jus' tell me when." 

The rewarding light in her eyes made it easy for Harry to forget the last month of his light (except for the night he'd just spent with her, of course). 

"I will," she told him, "Bye, Harry." 

Maybe it was the way she hesitantly stepped towards him, or the shy way she had her lips rolled between her teeth with a budding smile, or the memory of her warmth against his chest, but Harry didn't think before he was collecting her into his arms. (Y/N) melted into his chest on instinct, wrapping her arms around his middle. He could feel the mush of her cheek against the cuff of his shoulder. Despite the sterile scent of the hospital clinging to her, underneath it all was the familiar fragrance of her shampoo and sweet body lotion she somehow never ran out of. 

Drawing away first, (Y/N) only put enough space between them to get a look up at Harry. Though her eyes were bloodshot, bags darkening underneath, and the shadow of her tears lingering in the corners, he'd never seen anything more beautiful than (Y/N)'s eyes. 

"I'll see y'tomorrow." 

"See you tomorrow." 

Long after she untangled herself from his hold, Harry still felt (Y/N)'s warmth long enough to carry him home and keep him company until his phone rang a familiar tone later that night. 

—————

ahhhhhh I never write angst so I hope this turned out all right! thank you sm for reading, and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or anything at all send them in!

[jezebelblues]

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 | 𝐇.𝐒 ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

summary: it isn’t about fruit

cw: smut18+, oral (f!receiving) unedited, idk that’s it. there’s like brief mentions of cigarettes/alcohol if that’s an issue

word count: approx 3.7k

| LMFAO okay so here’s something i’ve had in the drafts for a bit. on the lil poll thing the majority of yall voted for smut so here’s a crumb i guess love u

yes it’s 70s!harry. i love u 70rry

masterlist

july 1972

harry knew of YN—a friend of mitch’s, the cousin of a girl he could still taste on his tongue.

she was always in the periphery of his world—not a groupie, not a colleague. she was the girl who held the bubblegum pink lighter to his lips if he couldn’t find his own, the girl who’d offer her red glitter pen if harry lost his black one.

so far, three songs in his notebook were written in sparkly cherry ink.

they met four months ago at a bar in california— his first night on the north american leg of the tour, she'd stood on her tiptoes to hug mitch, congratulating him over and over with a laugh like the fizz of soda on a hot day. harry remembers the scent of her hair when the breeze caught it—peach bubbly and honey. he remembers the crimson lipstick stains on the cigarette she passed him, the faint taste of her fruity cocktail on the filter.

since then, she'd been around. not a fixture, exactly, but something close to it. she didn't sing, didn't play, didn't take up too much space, but she had a knack for fitting into the cracks no one else noticed. sometimes, before a show, she'd twist his hair back just the way he liked it, or she'd swipe a bottle of polish to paint his nails in a shade that matched his shirt.

it was easy, the way she lingered. easy enough that harry never really questioned it.

now, the sucker in her mouth stained her tongue blue. her heart-shaped sunglasses, pink and a little scratched, sat low on the bridge of her nose as the sun painted the roof of the tour bus in a syrupy summer gold. she was stretched out on a towel beside him, humming a tune harry instantly recognized as his own.

he sat cross-legged next to her, the glitter pen—her glitter pen—rolling between his fingers. his notebook balanced on his knee as he scrawled down lyrics, but the words felt sluggish, stuck, like the heavy heat pressing down on them.

YN's hums drifted lazily in the air, quiet enough that the buzz of the bus engine nearly swallowed them up. her eyes were shut tight against the sun's glow, but harry couldn't help stealing glances at her. she looked serene, almost untouched by the heat that had him melting into his jeans.

the cherry-red ink glimmered faintly as he scratched another uneven line into his notebook.

with a sudden pop! she pulled the sucker from her lips and smiled without opening her eyes. "you're staring."

harry didn't flinch. he leaned back slightly and smiled—bunny teeth and dimples. "maybe you're my muse."

her laugh was soft and sharp all at once, the sound of a soda can cracking open. she propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. "hardly. if i were, you'd have more than that down by now," she teased, nodding toward the page.

harry smirked, his gaze skimming the floral pattern on her bikini bottoms, the curve of her hip. "or maybe you're just a really bad muse."

she kissed her teeth and let herself flop back down against her towel, the movement making her breasts bounce slightly in her top. harry's eyes lingered, just for a beat. she didn't seem to notice-or maybe she did, but didn't care. instead, she nudged his thigh with her toes, the sucker swirling back between her blued lips.

after a moment, she pulled it free and held it out toward him, her pink-painted nails glinting in the sunlight. "want the rest?" she grinned, tilting her head against her shoulder. "it's bubblegum in the middle. your favorite."

harry sighed theatrically, but he leaned in anyway, his butterfly creasing slightly as he plucked the sticky stick from her fingers. he turned it slowly, the blue sugar catching the light, slick with her saliva as he slid it onto his tongue. it was sweet, bright, with the faintest taste of her still lingering underneath.

she watched him with a raised brow, her grin spreading. “will you tell me who kiwis about yet?”

his lips quirked up around the candy. "no."

this was the third time she'd asked in the span of four months. it was her favorite song, or so she claimed.

it was a month prior in chicago. the aragon ballroom. he'd gone early, hours before soundcheck, to roam the venue, let his nerves settle. but that day the stage hadn't been empty. YN had been there, sitting cross-legged on the polished wood, his guitar resting in her lap. her fingers plucked at the strings hesitantly, her brows furrowed in concentration.

she wore a bright yellow bikini top that day, a pair of denim shorts slung low on her hips. the sunlight streaming through the high windows made her skin glow.

he'd stayed quiet as he approached, leaning his arms on the edge of the stage to watch. she jumped slightly when she noticed him, her cheeks flushing.

"move your hand up a bit more," his voice was soft, nodding toward her grip on the neck of the guitar.

she bit her lip, looking down to adjust her fingers. "like this?"

harry nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "press your index finger there. now try."

her cheeks darkened further, but she nodded, her focus snapping back to the strings as she strummed again-hesitant, but closer this time.

her fingers moved carefully along the frets, still hesitant, but with a quiet determination that made harry smile. the melody of kiwi—rough and unpolished—drifted softly through the empty venue, the rawness of it striking something in him. she wasn't bad, not really, but she played like someone who was just beginning to learn—calculated, deliberate, all concentration and no flow.

"it's better," he said after a moment, straightening up to rest his chin on his arms. "but you're still a little off."

she paused, sighing, her lips pressing into a line. "it doesn't sound right."

"you're playing it too clean," he laughed, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. "y’have to let it be messy, loosen up a bit."

her brows furrowed, and she glanced at him, her cheeks still pink. "messy," she repeated skeptically.

"messy," he confirmed, nodding toward the guitar. "you're trying t’control it too much. let it get away from you a little."

her lips quirked up in a soft laugh as she adjusted her grip on the neck. "easy for you to say, you've been playing since you were, what, twelve?"

"eleven," he corrected, grinning wider. "but who's counting?"

she rolled her eyes but didn't argue, her gaze dropping back to the strings as she tried again. her fingers stumbled at first, the sound of a muted note ringing out across the empty hall, but she pushed through it, letting the rhythm guide her this time. harry watched as her shoulders relaxed, the line of tension in her jaw easing slightly.

"better," he praised after a moment, and her head snapped up, her face lighting up with a cautious kind of pride.

"really?"

he nodded, standing to his full height and dusting his hands against his jeans. "you'll have it down by next week at this rate, sunshine.”

she snorted, shaking her head as she set the guitar carefully to the side. "next week," she repeated, her tone dry. "sure."

"what, no faith in yourself?"

her eyes sparkled as she hopped down from the stage, brushing past him with a grin. "none at all."

harry chuckled, turning to watch her as she headed toward the venue's exit, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. her yellow bikini top gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and the sound of her soft humming lingered in the air long after she disappeared from view.

the song wasn’t about her, no, written long before they’d even met—but it stayed hers in a way he couldn't quite explain. hers like the red glitter pen that sat loosely between his fingers, like the memory of the bubblegum sucker on his tongue, like the faint scent of peach and honey still imprinted in his mind.

he let the notebook fall shut and leaned back against the roof of the bus, the sun beating down on his face. beside him, YN shifted lazily, her hand reaching out to tug the sunglasses from her nose and push them up into her hair.

“you’ll tell me one of these days, harry styles.”

he didn't answer, just let his eyes drift shut, a soft smile curling at the edges of his lips.

YN huffed dramatically, flopping onto her side to face him. The towel beneath her crinkled, and the faint scent of sunscreen mixed with the lingering sugar on her breath. “you can’t just smile at me, harry. it’s not fair.”

he peeked one eye open, his grin widening. “fair’s got nothing to do with it.”

“don’t be annoying.” she poked his chest, her nail grazing the inked swallow on his skin. “you can’t write a song like that and then act all mysterious. it’s cruel. is it about someone you dated? someone you wanted to date? tell me something.”

he pushed himself up onto one elbow, the glitter pen rolling off his notebook and landing in the crease of the towel. “and ruin the fun of you guessing every chance you get?”

she groaned, rolling onto her back again and flinging an arm over her face. her sunglasses slipped slightly in her hair, catching the sunlight. “you’re the worst,” she mumbled.

he laughed, soft and low, and let his gaze wander over her—the curve of her shoulder, the way the waistband of her bottoms dug into her hips just enough to make him wonder how her skin might feel under his thumb. “but you keep coming back,” he teased.

“not by choice,” she shot back, her voice muffled by her arm.

he leaned closer, the pendant around his neck glinting as it swung forward. “is that so?”

her arm fell away from her face, and she squinted up at him, the corner of her mouth twitching. “mitch dragged me along,” she said breezily. “i just wanted to see california. maybe get a tan. didn’t realize i’d be stuck with a rock star who thinks he’s god’s gift to songwriting.”

“a rock star, huh?” he echoed, smirking. “that what i am to you?”

her brows arched, her lips quirking into something smug. “what else would you be?”

harry didn’t answer right away. the silence stretched between them, thick and warm, broken only by the hum of the bus and the distant buzz of cicadas. YN held his gaze, unflinching, and for a moment, harry felt a pull in his chest—something slow, something sharp.

finally, he reached for her abandoned sucker, still sticky and shining faintly blue. he popped it into his mouth, smirking around it as he settled back onto the towel.

“god’s gift to songwriting,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

her laugh rang out, bright and unrestrained, and harry closed his eyes, letting the sound soak into him like sunlight.

YN’s laugh faded into a hum as she sat up, legs tucked beneath her, her knees brushing against harry’s thigh. her hand hovered over his notebook, tapping the edge lightly with her fingernail.

“what’s this one about?” she asked, her tone softer now, less teasing.

harry cracked one eye open, the sucker shifting lazily against his cheek. “why d’you always ask questions you know i won’t answer?”

“maybe because i know you’ll give me something, eventually.” she tilted her head, her fingers trailing along the notebook’s cover. “or maybe i just like annoying you.”

“you’re good at it.”

“thank you,” she said sweetly, ignoring his smirk. she flipped the notebook open, her eyes skimming over the half-finished lines written in that unmistakable cherry-red ink. “you’ve been stuck on this one for a while, huh?”

harry sat up, propping himself on one elbow and leaning close enough that her hair brushed his arm. “what makes you say that?”

“the way you’re chewing that sucker like it owes you money,” she teased, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “plus, there’s about three crossed-out lines on every page.”

he sighed, plucking the sucker from his mouth and tossing it into a paper cup near his feet. “some songs take longer than others.”

“and some songs,” she said, grinning as she tapped the glitter pen against the page, “are about a certain someone you refuse to talk about.”

harry laughed, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “you’re obsessed, you know that?”

“just curious.” she rested her chin in her hand, her pink sunglasses slipping down her nose again. “what’s the line you’re stuck on?”

he hesitated for a moment, then reached out to turn the page. “this one.” he pointed to a scribbled-out verse near the bottom, the ink thick and smudged where he’d pressed too hard.

YN’s eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, the scent of her sunscreen warm and sweet. “hmm. it’s… cryptic. you’re trying too hard.”

“oh, am i?” harry raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

she nodded, pulling the pen from his hand and spinning it between her fingers. “you need to stop thinking so much. write what you actually want to say, not what you think you’re supposed to.”

“and what do i want to say?”

she smiled, tilting her head at him. “how would i know? it’s your song.”

he held her gaze for a long moment, the teasing edge in her voice softening. his eyes flicked down to the pen in her hand, then back up to her face. “what if you’re the one i’m writing about?”

her breath hitched—just for a second, just barely enough for harry to notice. then she laughed, light and easy, her fingers tapping the notebook again. “then i guess i’m an even worse muse than i thought.”

“terrible,” harry agreed, his voice warm with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure he wanted her to catch.

YN didn’t move away, still perched close enough that her knee brushed against his. She let her fingers trail along the edges of the notebook again. She flipped a page, then another, her curiosity pulling her deeper into the sprawl of his unfinished songs and fragmented verses.

“you really don’t use normal pens anymore, do you?” she said, watching the way the glittery ink shimmered against the light.

“don’t need to,” he muttered without looking up. “not when you keep leaving these everywhere.”

“it’s a service, really,” she teased, flipping another page. “you’re welcome.”

her tone was light, but her fingers slowed as she scanned the next page. the handwriting was messier, more hurried, as if the words had come all at once and left no time for polish.

YN’s fingers hovered over the page, her eyes catching on the title underlined twice in red—watermelon sugar.

“what’s this one?” she asked, tilting the notebook toward herself as she scanned the uneven handwriting.

harry froze, “it’s nothing,” he said quickly, but the tension in his voice was hard to miss.

she arched an eyebrow, flipping the notebook to face her fully. “doesn’t look like nothing.” she read the first line aloud, her tone curious. “tastes like strawberries on a summer evening.”

harry leaned over, his fingers brushing hers as he tried to tug the notebook away. “YN, seriously—”

“hold on,” she interrupted, pulling it back toward her chest, her grin widening as she flipped to the next line. “and it sounds just like a song,” she read, her voice lilting in amusement. “you’re getting poetic on me, harry.”

“it’s not finished,” he muttered, sitting back against the towel, his jaw tight as he ran a hand through his curls.

“yeah, i can see that,” she said, tapping the page with her fingernail. “but what’s it about? strawberries? watermelon? a fruit salad?”

harry let out a sharp laugh, but there was something uneasy in the way his eyes flicked to hers. “something like that.”

YN squinted at him, her smile softening as she studied the lyrics again. “it’s… sweet,” she murmured, her tone thoughtful now. “like—” she paused, glancing up at him. “like a crush. isn’t it?”

his mouth opened, then closed again. for a moment, he looked almost caught—like she’d stumbled onto something he hadn’t meant to share. finally, he shrugged, his fingers fidgeting with the cross between his swallows. “it’s about… a feeling,” he said carefully.

“what kind of feeling?” she pressed, tilting her head.

he hesitated, his gaze darting between the notebook and her face. “just… something good. something warm.”

YN rolled her eyes, her teasing smile back in place. “you’re being annoyingly vague. is it about someone? or are you just really passionate about fruit now?”

harry exhaled a laugh, but he didn’t answer right away. instead, his gaze lingered on her, quiet and unreadable, before he finally shrugged again. “do y’want me t’show you?”

her teasing smile faded, curiosity dancing across her features. “show me?” she echoed, her voice gentler now, uncertain.

he nodded, shifting closer. the notebook was forgotten as his fingers brushed along its spine, pushing it aside. his eyes swept over her face slowly, studying the way her cheeks were flushed from the sun, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to ask something but had forgotten how.

his hands rested near her hips, the towel wrinkling under his palms. he leaned in, close enough that his breath was cool against her lips. "it's not about fruit," he breathed, his voice barely more than a rasp.

she blinked, her pulse skittering in her chest as her eyes flicked between his. "i... kinda figured," she whispered, her tone shaky, but her gaze steady.

his lips twitched, a soft breath of laughter escaping through his nose. "do you trust me?"

her eyes dipped, lingering on the curve of his strawberry-red lips. the weight of the moment pressed against her, electric and unyielding. "just show me, harry."

he didn't hesitate after that. his hands settled on her hips, warm and firm, as he guided her flat onto the towel. the sun hung heavy in the sky, draping them in a creamsicle haze, but all she could focus on was him—his weight, his touch, the way his curls fell forward as he hovered over her.

his ring clad fingers drifted to her thighs, palms flat along the insides as he spread her apart. the tip of his nose grazed the gusset of her bikini bottoms over to the flesh of her thigh right against his thumb. he pressed soft kisses into the skin, nipping at it gently to watch her chest rise from a gasp.

his lips trailed like the sticky sweetness of honey dripping down her skin, closer to her center, each kiss slow and warm.

he paused, his nose brushing against her clit still covered by fabric, but he could still feel her heat radiating through it. “still with me?”

she nodded, her heartbeat everywhere but her chest. “please, harry.”

he smirked, his fingers hooking underneath the bottoms, his touch feather-light as he slid them down. the movement felt slow, intentional, every second stretching out as the anticipation buzzed through her like electricity.

her arousal glistened in the sunlight—a bright peach dripping with water in the georgia heat. he laid flat on his stomach, arms looping behind her knees and pulling her thighs apart. he breathed her in, lips grazing alongside her folds before he pressed soft kisses into her.

she was sunshine, she was rock and roll, she seeped nectar and smelt like champagne—he wanted to take his time.

he kissed right into her heat, his lips slick with the remnants of her, causing her tummy to flip. he drank her in, sliding his tongue up until he could make slow swirls around her clit. it sent a jolt through her, a sensation so vivid it left her gasping.

she clutched the towel beneath her, head tipping back as the sounds of summer—cicadas in the distance, trees shaking in warm breeze, the hum of the engine—faded into the background.

he took her bud between his lips greedily, suckling gently and flicking the tip of his tongue against her. his grip on her thighs tightened as he pushed himself father into her, drawing soft, breathy moans from her throat.

he tilted his head, cheek flat against the space between where her thigh and cunt met. he lapped at her pussy, slow and languid strokes as he gazed up at her through his eyelashes.

“like sugar.” he mumbled against her, the reverberation causing her fingers to tangle themselves in his curls, her hips bucking against his face.

he smiled, pulling her down flat against the towel, burying himself deeper into her. she would tug on his curls every time he moaned against her folds. she’d push up against his hands every time he’d shake his head between her thighs, coaxing whimpers to fall from her lips.

he pulled her thighs over his shoulders, his nose brushing against her clit as he buried his tongue into her hole, tasting every drop, drinking in the way she’d clench around his tongue.

her cheeks flushed, words caught in her throat as he found his rhythm, his large hands holding her steady. his tongue moved like he was writing lyrics, every motion a verse, every pause a chorus.

she felt herself unraveling, her body tensing as she drew her higher and higher, the knot in her core overwhelming and intoxicating. she was an unrelenting sea, pressure, thrashing and trembles until the wave finally broke—gasping his name, her thighs trembling against his shoulders as her back arched.

he didn’t stop, relishing in the way she slid across his tongue, easing her though the aftershocks. his hands trailed from her thighs to her waist as she sagged back down against the towel, her chest heaving, fingers still threaded through his hair.

he pulled back slowly, a string of her release and his saliva snapping from the departure. he kissed up her naval, lips glistening in the sunlight, his chin soaked.

he smiled, resting onto his forearms as he hovered over her. “showed you, just like y’wanted. right, needy girl?”

YN blinked, her breath still catching as her body buzzed with the lingering warmth of him. she hummed, nodding.

his dimples deepened as he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. “good,” he mumbled, pulling her lips apart as he leaned in. she could taste herself on him, sweet and heady, fruit and warmed by the sun.

he leaned his forehead against hers, their noses barely touching. “but if you need me to explain it again,” he hummed, kissing her once more. “i’ve got time, sunshine.”

[obadasalqawy]

Hello, my name is Obada and I am from Gaza. I work as a lawyer and I collect donations to help my family. I lost my home and office due to the violent bombing of Deir al-Balah - Gaza in October 2023. I had to evacuate the neighborhood in which I live and move south to Rafah. I left everything behind, my memories, my life and my dreams. It has been 9 months since displacement, and I am living with my relatives far from my home and relying on aid to feed my children.

Now the army has invaded Rafah and I had to leave for Deir al-Balah and entering Deir al-Balah is closer than before with rumors spreading widely about the troops entering Deir al-Balah, which is why we are asking for your help to enable my family and children to evacuate, leave Gaza and start a new life abroad.

Your help can save a life, it can save a family

The goal from this camp was to evacuate my family from Gaza but since the invasion of Rafah and the closure of the borders it’s not possible to evacuate anymore , so I’ll use the fund to support my family because I don’t work now and I have no source of income since the 7th of October

Please help us and share my link when My children are dying of hunger and thirst because of the high prices and living conditions in Gaza and the siege Don't forget to support my children.

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

Sneaking out

Summary: 70's!Y/n sneaks out

Warnings: lots of smut, my underwhelming return to writing 😭

Wc: 1kishhh

The dewy grass on Y/n’s bare feet only adds to the thrill, and maybe it's because she didn't get out much (hence her sneaking out at eleven pm) but the damp earth under her feet fuels her to keep running so she isn't caught by the nosy neighbors.

Out of breath, Y/n wraps her arms around her boyfriend. He wraps his long arms around her nightgown clad frame before opening the car door for her to climb inside. He shuts the door as quiet as he can before running to the drivers side and pulling away to their spot at the lake.

He quickly parks his car, unbuckling his belt and throwing himself on top of his girlfriend. Y/n laughs, wrapping her arms around him as he pushes her to lay on the seat. “Harry!” She gasps with a light chuckle in her voice. Harry just ignores her, his mouth attaching to her neck to kiss and bite, saving any hickies for spots her parents can't see.

He pushes up her nightgown, an excited look on his face as if he just won the lottery- and in his mind he has. “Take me out to dinner first!” Harry shakes his head and rolls his eyes at his girlfriend. “Oh hush” He kisses her to shut her up before sliding her panties down her silky legs.

Y/n yanks at his belt, trying to blindly unloop it while their mouths are still connected. She feels his large hand push away at her grabbing. He doesn't even break away from her mouth as he whispers, “Not yet” into her lips.

Her panties that were once crumpled into his hand are now thrown over his shoulder, landing on the dashboard where they will live until next time. He sinks down as much as he can, yanking her legs over his shoulders. “I thought this was going to be quick.” Harry looks up to her with a nasty look on his face, obviously offended. “I'm not fucking you without getting my mouth on you first.” He smirks, peering down again, spreading her open. He dives into her tongue first, absolutely devouring her as her hand slaps onto the window to steady herself.

His mouth sucks at her clit whilst his fingers slowly, achingly pump in and out of her wet cunt. Y/n gasps and her eyes squeeze shut, her free hand gripping tight at the back of his gelled hair.

Harry breaks from her for a split moment, taking a breath before he flicks his tongue over her clit. He smiles into her pussy as he pulls loud moans from her pretty mouth.

“H,” her hips buck up to meet his mouth, slowly grinding up. “I need you to fuck me, H” she pants as he rises from between her legs, slipping his tongue into her mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss with their teeth and noses bumping. Y/n can hear his belt clinking as he pulls his pants down. Harry collects her wetness on his hand before stroking himself a few times to be nice and hard for her.

“Are you ready firefly?” He mumbles, his thumb rubbing her clit as they continue to kiss. She spreads her legs even wider, wrapping them around his waist. “I need you inside of me, H” her cold hands slide down his chest, sliding her hand down to play with his balls. His thighs twitch and his breath gets caught in his throat, his hand flying to her wrist. He laughs, pushing her hand away and lining up to slide into her.

“Oh god” y/n sighs out when he finally slides inside of her. This exact moment has been on her mind all day, since the second she woke up she's had a pulse between her legs that could only be satisfied by her boyfriends cock- unfortunately for her, her parents absolutely hate him so after a long day of being deprived finally feeling him fill her up felt like a dream come true.

His thumb pulls at her bottom lip, his hand softly cradling her chin as he shoves his thumb inside of her mouth. He watches her wrap her soft lips around his thumb, waiting before he lowers his thumb and opens her mouth for him to spit in. He quickly collects the saliva in his mouth that is still riddled with the taste of her, watching it drop from his lips to her tongue.

Y/n moans, you back arching into him. “You're so fucking dirty.” Harry murmurs, gripping her jaw with his free hand then shoving his tongue back into her mouth. He speeds his hips up, dying to feel her squeeze around him unbelievably tighter.

She spasms around him and he swallows down every whimper and moan that falls from her lips. “Harry” she rushes out, gripping at him as she feels herself come closer and closer to cumming around him. He softly laughs at her, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “I know, baby. It's okay.” He breathes heavy in her neck, sloppy wet kisses cover the skin as he fucks her until his eyes are rolling to the back of his head.

He moans, cumming inside of her and filling up her pussy. “Fuck, sorry firefly.” He says while he huffs and tries to get his breath steady again.

Y/n quickly follow behind him, chanting his name as she cums on his cock.

Once they've collected themselves they sit cuddling together in the car, the windows steamed up but they don't care. Looking out at the view of the lake, bright stars from the night sky reflecting off of it. Harry runs circles on the bare skin of her shoulder. He presses his lips to her head, “I love you, firefly” she smiles at his words and pushes her nose closer to the skin of his neck. “I love you too, H.”

“Let's get you home, doll.” He starts up the car, reversing out of their stop and driving back to her house.

“What's wrong, hm?” Harry mumbles, lifting her chin up to him once he parks in front of her house. “One day we won't have to sneak around, okay?” Harry gives her a sickeningly sweet smile. “I know,” he nods, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “But you're worth it. Go get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow.” She nods, reaching for the latch to open her door but not before pressing a kiss to his lips and exchanging 'I love you’s.

“That's my girl” Harry waves as she walks off, waiting to see the lights in her bedroom flicker as a sign she got in alright before he rides off, already thinking about tomorrow night”

HIIII SORRY IF THE SPACING IS OFF ILL TRY TO FIX IT

sorry I haven't posted for.... I don't want to say how many months :D BUTTT Aly is getting her groove back okay? I'm finally feeling inspired again! Soooo if you have any thoughts about this or future writing or anything I'd LOVEEE to hear it :d

Tag list

@hopeyoustaythenight @harrysdimple05 @damnasstyles

@harrysfolklore @msolbesg @thismaydestroyme @stallrry @ayeshathestyles @michellekstyles @lhharrylilpumpkin @kissmyaxe140 @buckymydarlingangel @cherrycolas-things @luvonstyles @victoria-styles

[twopoppies]

https://x.com/mabelouis/status/1868903774544380254?t=0J4h3vzk4CiCkhTI5zJh9A&s=19

LMFAO 💀

shdGrhgdgfD

[catfindr]

[faithiescoldbrew]

summer fruit babe 🌅🥥🍒🍍🍐🫐🍈

[skyasma]

Ryeoun's needs an award for sure.

Eun Geol is supposed to treat his parents in their teen-selfs as his friends. But then, there are a few moments, he can't help himself but be the kid that he is.

You can see that effortless transition he did when he was pleading his 'mom' to forgive him, in front of their school. He bent down to reach her height, with all the innocence in his eyes, knowing for sure his mother can't stay mad for long.

Then, the same helpless kid we see again, when he hugged desperately his 'dad' after he pulled him out to the shore. He did give him a bit of a sassy response when Yi Chan got him a hot coffee, as a teen would do to his friend.

These very minute transitions are done so smoothly. Just top notch performance.

[thedarlingfawn]

"Watermelon Sugar" | Harry Styles

(Source: 🎀💖)

[rosyrosethings]

Love in Fine Print

Y/N, a quirky assistant, finds herself heartbroken and homeless after catching her boyfriend cheating. With nowhere to go, she reluctantly moves in with her billionaire boss, Harry Styles, who offers her a place to stay. Their dynamic changes as they start living together, and feelings between them quietly grow

Slow burn, friends to lover, will they wont they. Lots of fluff

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 (warning: daddy kink)

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10 (this one has a second part coming)

Part 11

[skelitist]

twinkling watermelon headers (3/3)

[hldailyupdate]

‘Watermelon Sugar’ just hit 2.9 BILLION streams on Spotify! (19 December 2024)

[becauseheartsgetbroken-hs]

every time i talk to someone who claims harry's music is overrated and gives watermelon sugar as an example i realize there's no point in continuing the conversation

[aninnocentpervert]

You know you’ve been gone a long time when you almost forget how to post lol🩷