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daisyblog · 1 year

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Good Girl

The Royal Family Series Masterlist

Maia’s POV As we had planned last night, we were in our usual VIP club in London, but standing in the corner dressed in black were Tom and Hudson, my two guards. We had met here a couple of hours ago and it was safe to say the alcohol in our system was taking effect, especially after Jack and James insisted we all do a round of shots.

As usual, Ellie and Jake sat in the booth only having eyes for each other, despite them insisting they were “only friends”. Grace, James, Jack and I were all on the dancefloor, when Uptown Funk began blaring from the clubs' speakers. The four of us began jumping around and singing along.

‘cause uptown funk gon’ give it to you..woo ‘cause uptown funk gon’ give it to you ‘cause uptown funk gon’ give it to you Saturday night and we in the spot Don’t believe me..just watch

As Grace and I were hanging on to each other, laughing hysterically at our awful dance moves, James’ voice broke us from our bubble.

“Oh my fucking god”. His dramatic tone filled our ears as we stood huddled together.

“What? What is it?” Jack asked as he was trying to look in the same direction James was looking in.

“Pinch me now” James vaguely said as he stood and stared.

“I’ll fucking punch you if you don’t tell us what you’re looking at” Jack had zero patience.

“It’s Harry fucking Styles”. The name instantly causing me to search for the man himself.

Instantly my head spun around in the hope my eyes find him quickly. “What? Where? Tell me where?” I frantically said, and that’s when I saw him tucked in the corner with two other men chatting away with a drink in his hand.

“Ooo I’ve got an idea…let’s do a dare!” Jack interrupted my stare.

“I dare you to piss off”. James rolled his eye at Jack’s idea, making Grace and I laugh.

“Maia…I dare you to go over there and pretend you’re someone else”. Jack instructed as he took a sip of his drink.

Grace and James looked at him like he was crazy, well he was but that’s another story. “’cause he’s really gonna believe that isn’t he…he saw her last night you idiot”. James argued.

Sober me wouldn’t have accepted the dare but Maia with a system full of alcohol was not going to miss the opportunity of talking with a beautiful man. “Give me one of those” I spoke as I picked up a shot from the tray beside us and downed it. “Wish me luck!”. I said before walking towards Harry and the two men, recognising them, Nick Grimshaw and James Corden. As I approached the group, I stumbled over my own foot and ended up falling into Harry.

“You alright love?”. Harry’s deep and raspy voice interrupted my embarrassment.

“Bloody ‘ell am I that pissed or is that Princess Maia?” Nick sassily asked.

James chuckled at the scene “That was smooth Styles…only you could have a Princess falling into your arms”. The tree men chuckling at the reality.

“I-I’m so sorry” I stuttered as I moved from Harry’s grip.

“S’alright…shit we didn’t bow” Harry panicked.

“Please don’t fucking bow at me” I insisted as I flattened my dress out, feeling myself sober up slightly after embarrassing myself. “I’m going to sound crazy…but my friends over the just dared me to come over here and pretend I wasn’t actually me..but I ruined it”.

“Did you honestly think that was gonna work darling?” Nick asked as he giggled.

“A dares a dare” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Who were you gonna be?” James asked.

“No idea..anyone but me” I laughed.

“C’mon then..carry out your dare..we’ll play along with you” Harry spoke from the side of me.

“Uh…okay..hang on..let me prepare myself” I dramatically requested making the three of them laugh “Okay…I’m ready”.

“Hiya love..I’m Harry..who are you?” Harry spoke with a smirk on his face, clearly enjoying this.

“Hi..I’m..um..To-Townes” I hesitated.

“Townes?” Nick chucked again “I fucking love this girl”.

“First thing that popped into my head” I laughed with him.

“Is that even a name?” James asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“And where are you from Townes?” Harry continued the dare, still wearing a smirk.

Why did I agree to this? “Uh..uh…England but I’ve got family in Carolina” I thought quickly and feeling proud of myself.

“What have you been drinking?” Harry broke his smirk and chuckled instead.

“I don’t even fucking know…but that was all a lie..I blame the books I read” I revealed “Anyway..I’m really sorry for interrupting your night”

“Don’t be silly” “You’ve made my night” “You didn’t” the three spoke at the same time.

“Let me get you drinks to apologise” I thought and before they could answer I found the shot tray that was still on our table.

“Maia..what are you doing?” Grace asked.

“Don’t ask..I failed the dare”

I made my way back over to thr three in the corner, carrying the tray of shots. “C’mon you three let’s do a shot”

“Bloody hell…’aven’t you had ‘nough darling” Nick teased.

“Don’t worry about me ‘darling’” I mimicked “It would take a lot to sink me”. I handed each of them a shot “Ready..3..2..1..” and we all downed the shot, Harry and James grimaced at the taste, making me laugh.

“I hate shots” James revealed as he wiped his lips.

“So did you enjoy the show last night?” Harry changed the topic.

“Yes it was amazing..my friends are super jealous…my friend James over there-“

“The one that keeps looking over?” Harry interrupted whilst looking over in their direction.

“Yes..he’s a big fan”

“Bigger fan than you?” Harry teased.

“Hmm…that’s a tough one”

“You and James should come to another show” Harry suggested as he looked back in my direction.

“Is that an invite?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Maybe” he smirked “How would I send you an invite?” I knew he was a joker and a little flirt but was this him being friendly or am I that intoxicated?

I smiled at him, both of us staring at each other “We still live in the old days..so I’m afraid you’ll have to send it by pigeon” I tried to keep a serious face, but Harry burst into laugher.

“You’re funny…I guess you won’t receive an invitation then”

After thinking and going against the rule of ‘don’t give your number to anyone’ “You can text me, but you can’t tell anyone I’ve given you my number…can’t ruin my good girl reputation” I sarcastically said.

“How do I know you won’t leak my number?” Harry joked, tipping his head to the side as he wore his famous smirk.

After exchanging numbers, I spoke “You'll just have to trust me” I teased and walked back over to my friends but as I glanced over my shoulder, Harry was pouting his lips trying not to smirk.

---

Being woken up abruptly by a loud knocking on my door, I instantly jumped up in bed and regretted it as my head spun. I shouldn't have drunk so many shots last night! Slipping on a jumper and padding through the flat towards my front door, I opened it and there stood William with a frown on his face.

"What?" I snapped, annoyed that he was knocking on my door early in the morning.

"Are you asking for trouble?" He stood there, his eyebrows raised with a series expression covering his face.

"What are you talking about Wills?" I asked, walking back into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"You've been pictured out last nig-". Not giving him chance to finish, I interpreted.

"Oh wow...what a crime" I sarcastically said and took a sip of my water.

"Less of the attitude" he warned with raised eyebrows. “You’ve been pictured with that boy from that band you like".

"Harry, his name is Harry..how can you not know that?" I rolled my eyes.

"I don't care..what were you doing with him?" William quizzed.

"I was out with my friends..he just happened to be at the club and we got talking..no big deal" I shrugged.

"It doesn't look good does it?". William continued to press. Still disappointment on his face.

"Wills..I haven't done anything wrong..am I not allowed to talk to anyone now either" I huffed and crossed my arms.

"Mimi you know what it's like..we can't..we can't talk or look at anyone without them making a story about it". He tried to sympathise.

"So what's the story they've made up this time then?" I asked.

William took his phone from his back pocket and after scrolling and a few taps, he passed his phone to me showing me the article.

Princess Maia and Harry Styles getting cosy in London Nightclub

Last night, Sunday evening, Princess Maia was spotted partying with some friends in a club in London. It's no surprise that the Princess was enjoying herself, dancing and following her brother Prince Harry's rebellious ways. The onlooker told us "She was just being like any other girl that age, out with some friends, laughing and downing shots".

What did surprise us was seeing the Princess and Boyband member Harry Styles getting cosy. The Princess and Prince Harry attended a One Direction concert on Saturday night, where she was seen dancing and singing along to their songs. The onlooker reported, "I was so shocked when I turned around and saw the Princess and Harry Styles laughing together, it looked like they had known each other for a long time". Harry Styles was accompanied by James Corden and Nick Grimshaw.

Are they friends, or are they more?

"I hate that I can't just be normal and talk to someone without it being made into something more" I angrily stated, giving William his phone.

"I know..it's hard" he sympathised.

"I'm assuming I'm not in the good books again".

"I told Papa and Granny that I would come over and find out if it was true" he calmly said.

"Great..I'm in for it at dinner this evening then...do I even have to come?".

"Yes you do" William sternly said "Plus you can have cuddles with Lottie and George".

"Fine..you've won me over" I sighed.

---

After William left, I made some breakfast, had a shower and dressed into some cosy clothes before checking my phone. Shit..I gave Harry my number last night. Noticing some messages from my friends, I ignored them whilst I contemplated texting him to apologise for the article that was written. After some thinking, I'd decide to bite the bullet and began tapping on the screen Maia Hey Harry, It's Maia. I'd like to apologise for my behaviour last night, alcohol and me obviously don't mix. I'm also sorry about the article that's been written about us, I hope it hasn't caused too much drama for you.

After clicking send, I sat and waited for a response. What if he doesn't reply? What if he's angry? What if he hates me? What if his management is angry? What if - interrupting my worries, my phoned pinged in front of me.

Harry Styles Morning Princess. That was a very formal message. I was hoping for something else after your cheekiness last night and of course how cosy we were x

Was he flirting? Am I dreaming? What does one do when Harry Styles is flirting?

Maia Me...cheeky, I don't think so Styles x

Harry Styles Oh I forgot, you're a good girl 😉 x

Maia I am, I'm an angel! xx

Harry Styles That's a lie x

Maia Just you wait and see Styles xx

---

As I walked through Buckingham Palace and towards the dining room, I could hear muffled voices. Tom and Hudson waited outside the room, whilst I continued to walk in.

"Oh Maia, there you are" My grandfather greeted. Since I was little, I've always had a unique and loving relationship with my grandfather, Some might say I was his favourite Granddaughter.

"Hi Grandpa" I hugged him and he placed a kiss on my cheek. "Evening Granny" I turned to my grandmother and curtsied, before going to sit next to my brother Harry who was sitting opposite William and Kate.

"You look lovely Maia" my Grandmother complimented and I thanked her, relieved that they weren't angry with me.

"Where's Papa?" I asked them. Noticing that my father and Camila were missing.

"They're not here yet" William stated.

"So..Maia I've got a new favourite song" Harry began, we all looked at him confused "It goes...'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style..you got that long hair, slicked back, white t-shirt..."

"You're not funny" I rolled my eyes at his teasing.

"Wills..where's George and Charlotte?" I asked looking around for my nephew and niece. He looked towards Kate with a guilty expression "I hate you right now..you said they'd be here".

"Maia..do not talk like that young lady" my grandmother scolded, "I think you have caused more than a stir already don't you think".

I put my head down and kept my eyes on the white tablecloth in front of me as my father and Camila walked in greeting everyone. "Oh Maia, how was your night last night?" Papa asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"Papa..the article over-exaggerated it...we were just talking" I explained as he looked directly at Granny with raised eyebrows.

"'cause you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye" Harry hums and I nudge him with my elbow, making him chuckle and Kate is trying desperately hard not to laugh.

"Anyway..why would it matter if the article was true...Wills and Kate have been seen getting cosy as you put it before" I argued.

"Kate is a respectful young lady, not a rockstar" Papa responded.

"I think he looks...what's the word the youths use these days...cool..I think he looks cool" Grandpa randomly interrupted, making us laugh. That's the thing with Grandpa, he never took anything too seriously and would crack jokes at inappropriate times.

"He's very cool Grandpa" Harry agreed nodding his head.

"You need to be sensible Maia" Granny continued the conversation.

"I will Granny" before I turned to Papa "I promise".

---

After dinner this evening, I was back in my flat and changed into some pyjamas with a film playing in the background and a cup of tea in my hand. I'd replied to messages from my friends asking me about the article and if I'd gotten into trouble, when his named apperaed on my phone.

Harry Styles Are you flirting Princess? x

Reading the text gave me butterflies and I felt like a teenager all over again. but avoiding the question I typed a reply.

Maia My Grandpa thinks you're cool x

Harry Styles You're Grandpa is cool. So did you get into trouble? x

Maia Nothing I couldn't handle xx

Harry Styles Does that mean we can't get 'cosy' again? x

Maia Very bold of you 😂 x

Harry Styles Me? Bold? No definitely not x

---

Since Monday evening, Harry and I had been messaging back and forth, a few cheeky texts here and there. Harry explained the band had a few days off before travelling to the Manchester shows. He had invited me and my friends to the shows but I politely had to decline, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire.

So instead I'd invited him over, for some dinner. I had just finished getting ready when my phone buzzed with a text from Harry saying he was outside. I felt really nervous to see him in person again. Walking outside my flat, I sent Tom to the main gate to let Harry in. I watched them both walk towards my flat, allowing me to take in his appearance.

"Hi" I waved as he approached me, sunglasses still covering his eyes.

"Hey" He smirked.

"Come in...thanks Tom, thanks Hudson" to which they both bowed their head in response.

Harry followed me and took his boots off by the door before we walked into the living area. "Waw..I didn't expect this from the outside" he commented whilst looking around the room.

"Let me guess you were expecting big chandeliers and awful posh decor" I teased, as I sat down on the cream sofa, Harry following sitting on the opposite side and taking his sunglasses off and placing them on the pink pouffe in front of us.

He chucked at the assumption "Uh..yeh suppose so...it's very you though".

"Is that a good thing?" I giggled.

"Yeh..it is" he smiled over at me. Those dimples!

"Do you want a drink?" I offered.

"Uh yeh, please...water will be fine thanks".

I walked into the kitchen, got us both glasses of water and took them back into the living room, to find Harry looking at my bookshelf filled with books and photos.

"S-sorry..I was just looking" he frantically apologised and ran his fingers through his hair.

"It's fine..you can look" I reassured him and went to sit back down on the sofa, placing the glasses on the pouffe. I watched as he picked up the photo of me, my two brothers and Mum, his lips twitching up into a small smile.

"You've got your Mum's eyes and smile" he complimented. Glancing between me and the photo.

"Do you think?" I shyly asked, picking up my glass of water to take a sip.

He still had the photo frame in his hand "Yeh...she was a beautiful lady..my Mum was in awe of her". He placed the photo down and took his previous spot on the sofa.

"I-I...I..um..I don't really have many memories with her that I remember...so I love listening to other people talk about her" I admitted.

"I'm sorry" he apologised.

I couldn't help but laugh "Why are you saying sorry?"

He shrugged his shoulders "Dunno...just..can't imagine how you must have felt".

"I was three...I didn't understand...I still don't if I'm honest".

"Well she would definitely be proud of you" he tried to lighten the mood.

"Maybe..not of everything I do" I raise my eyebrows.

"Hmm...maybe not" he teased.

"Someone's got to keep it real" I sassily flicked my hair over my shoulder, Harry didn't say anything just kept staring "Why are you staring at me?" I asked paranoid I had something on my face.

"You're just different".

"Different?".

"In a good way..like you're just really humble" he complimented.

"Thank you...so shall we have dinner?"

We decided to make a vegetable stir fry and sat by the table to eat and talk. Harry was in the middle of explaining how he was looking forward to spending time with his family when the band have a break, when my phone buzzed from the kitchen counter, I muttered a 'sorry' as I got up to get it.

"Shit!” I muttered as I saw who was calling.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked with concern.

"It's my brother" I swiped the FaceTime call to accept. Harry's face popping up on the screen.

"Hey Henry" I said nervously.

"Mimi..do you want to come over?" my brother asked.

I glanced at Harry quickly to the side of me before answering "Uh..I..I can't right now"

My brother narrowed his eyes at me through the screen "Why?"

"I..I just can't"

"I'll come to you then"

"No" I answered too quickly and he raised his eyebrows suspiciously "I mean...I'm busy"

"Busy doing what..or should I say who?" This made Harry choke on his water next to me "Who was that?"

"No one"

"Mimi" he warned "Is that James Dean?"

"Piss off with that song will you"

"Hi Harry" my brother said with a big grin on his face, making Harry's eyes widen next to me.

"Uh..Hi"

"Henry..don't you dare" I warned him.

"What..I'm just being friendly" he argued.

"No you're being annoying"

"I'll leave you to it, bye Mimi...behave yourself...bye Harry"

"Bye" Harry and I said together.

As I ended the call, I put my face into my hands "UGH"

"What's wrong?" Harry chuckled.

"My brother won't let me hear the end of this" I whined.

"What..why did he call me James Dean?" Harry asked as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Taylor Swift's song...you know 'cause you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye" I sang part of the song.

"Aww...has he teased you about me before?"

"Yes..at our family dinner the other day"

"I'm guessing your family are not to fond of the thought of you being associated with me" Harry looked sad, almost hurt.

"No..no..it's not that" I began to explain "Look...it's complicated...it's not personal towards you..It's..I don't know how to explain it to you...but even though my grandmother is the Queen..we've got like an institute that we're answerable to..and..let's just say I've pushed their buttons a fair few times"

"For not following the rules?"

"Yes..exactly..doesn't mean I'm going to start listening but I don't want to drag you into my rumours and dramas Harry"

"What..what if that doesn't bother me?"

"W-what..I...what do you mean?"

"Well..I..I I'd like to get to know you...as in Maia..and not a Princess"

I was lost for words, nobody has ever wanted to know me for me. Everyone has always been interested in getting to know the Queen's granddaughter and the daughter of Diana and Charles. I didn't realise a tear had run down my cheek, until Harry swiped his thumb across my cheek.

"I'm sorry..I-I-I...I didn't mean to make you cry" he stuttered.

"Y-ou..didn't..It's..nobody has ever wanted to get to know me for me" I sniffled.

"That makes two of us...c'mere" he spoke and opened his arms to pull me into his chest and squeeze me tight "So..what do you say about me and you Angel?"

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney fanfictioncafe lilfreakjez jerseygirlinca iamahallucinationnn @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @acesofspadess @humptyhoran

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eveningepiphany · 6 months

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pirates gold, masterlist——✶

↳ pirate!harry x royal!reader

series summary: being a royal, you always knew you were meant to keep your wits about you. despite never fitting into your status, a lapse of your judgement leads you to getting taken captive by a group of pirates, and their captain, harry.

series warnings: getting captured by pirates, descriptions and talk of kidnapping, mentions of weapons and death, violent and heavy themes, alcohol, sexual tension, swearing, enemies to lovers. there will be smut!!

all parts will have individual warnings as we go

——✶——

↳[PART ONE]

published!

after you’re taken captive, you wake in a cell, and are trying to gauge exactly how much danger you’re really in being stuck on this ship.

❝Nice to see you’re awake, princess. Can you open up them eyes for me?❞

harry is a stubborn— but awfully attractive— captain. you are an equally stubborn prisoner. the two of you are very quickly figuring out just how far you’re willing go to get out of this situation.

——✶——

↳[PART TWO]

published!

challengers are arising as life on the ship continues. not only that, but all kinds of tension is building between you and harry. good and bad… and something that feels forbidden to even entertain in your minds eye.

❝You’re infuriating, you know? Unbelievably so. And I feel it all the way in my stomach.❞

yet somehow through all of this, you unexpectedly find a glimmer of hope. just not how you thought you would.

——✶——

↳[PART THREE]

published!

finally, a break from the ship is in sight. you and harry end up in a very pirate-y bar, but even a good night can’t last forever. and seemingly, neither can uncomplicated feelings.

“Does that scare you?” He asks, and then asks deeper, “Do I scare you?”

jealousy, protectiveness and a sense of undeniable wanting are no such feelings harry wants to have for someone he’s holding captive. yet he’s stuck with them nonetheless.

——✶——

↳[PART FOUR]

to be published!

summary is to be developed and written out. but this will be updated when it’s in production <3

I look forward to seeing how you all like this series! and thank you again from the bottom of my heart for your never ending support.

——✶——

to be added to the taglist, let me know in the replies and you’ll be tagged in ever part uploaded of this series in the future🤍

you can find my full masterlist here!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #piraterry #pirate harry styles #harry styles oneshot #royal y/n #harry styles writing

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iamjustaholeforyousir · 1 year

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Arrogant Son of a Bitch

summary: your father has been searching for suitors for you, and you finally come across an infamous prince, known for all the wrongs amongst the youngs.

warning: slight angst? bit of foul language, bad father figure.

word count: 1222

minors DNI

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5 part6 part7 part8 part9

You were hiding behind the curtains listening in on the conversation next door, how your father was signing your life away, gifting you to someone like you were a possession. Tears were running down your cheeks as you held your breath, waiting for your guests to make their decision, to accept you or to not.

You were aware that any choice they made would be disastrous for you; if they said yes, you would be sent with them to some place you don't know, and if they said no, your father would make mockery of you and condemn your life because you were the last daughter and had no luck finding a suitor.

You were aware that you were not the most beautiful princess out there and that you were frequently overshadowed by your sisters and later by other princesses. For you, hiding was easy. Yes, you have had your fair share of crushes, but none of them actually lasted long enough to develop further, and most of them would be snatched away from you by others before they could blossom.

When your name was called as you were beginning to get lost in your own thoughts, you immediately wiped the tears from your cheeks, smiled a couple times, and walked in. You enter the room with manners and grace, keeping your head down and not glancing up at the guests as you stand in front of your father.

When he says, "This is her," you turn to your right and lift your head, and what you see is something from a dream. Shiny brown curls, forest green eyes that seem to encompass the entire wilderness, his bow shaped lips that were the most exquisite shade of pink you had ever seen, he was clad in black, his suit jacket that had a golden pattern, and he stood prim and proper as you were walking in. Taking in his features, you looked at his face as whole, he had an expression on his face, you couldn't name the emotion, but it definitely wasn't one of happiness.

He was not delighted to see you.

And that is what brought you back down to earth from your high.

A more senior man stood next to him; you could tell by the way he looked that they were father and son. This man had a gentler, more forgiving appearance, you bow before them both.

"It is a joy to meet you, darling." The older man said, you tried giving him a smile, but you did not give him a sincere one. It went unnoticed by everyone, except the man in black. He looked at you with a sharp gaze, and something seemed to change in the way he was looking at you. He looked amused now.

you wanted to scoff.

What a twat!

“Y/n, this King Styles of Holmes Chapel, and this is his son Prince Harry.” your father introduced them. This was Prince Harry, who was infamous among the princesses for being a flirt, the kind of man who would make you believe you have something just to spend the night because, from what you heard, he liked having that kind of power over people.

“Y/f/n, if you don't mind, we can send the kids to talk, so they can get to know each other.” said King Styles.

"Of course! Y/n, show Prince Harry the gardens." There was nothing you could do but follow his instructions. Without saying a word, you signaled to the younger man to follow you and were relieved when he appeared to comprehend. During your entire stroll to the gardens, neither of you spoke a word, and you barely even exchanged glances besides when you needed to give directions.

You sat down on the bench in front of the large fountain in the gardens when you had finally arrived there, and he joined you. you Consider saying something because the stillness was becoming too loud. "Look, I understand that you do not want this, and quite frankly, neither do I." He interrupted your thoughts. You may not have wanted this, but you knew you needed it to get away from your father. He had to agree, and when he admitted he didn't, it clearly showed on your face that you weren't exactly happy. He immediately responded, "I have someone else that I..uh that i have my eyes on, and it's not like.. Look, I just-" "Prince Harry, you are one of the final proposals i will ever get, and i realize that i am not the most gorgeous princess out there, so you do not have to say yes to me, i know all about you, and what all you do,” He clenched his jaw at your oblique charge, “but i really need to get married.” He laughs this off, "Bloody Hell, you are so desperate! For what purpose? Huh? getting dick? That is it?” You were furious at him for using such outrageous language as you gasped at it. "I will have you know, Prince Harry, that I do not intend to do that. I simply desire such a thing because I need to leave this place. I have been forced into courtships for as long as I can remember. You have no idea what it is like for a princess to always be rejected!” “And whose fault is that, then?” He mumbles, you gaze at him in shock, and as his words sink in, your eyes begin to tear up. You turn away from him so he will not see you crying. Harry did not appear to care if he heard you struggle to control the sob that was escaping from your throat despite your best efforts to remain composed.

Until a servant arrived and informed you that your presence was wanted by your father, the quiet between you felt as though it had lasted for eons. Without waiting for Harry, you get up and leave. You could hear his footsteps following you, but you remained reluctant to turn around and look. As you got closer to the door, you slowed down and cleaned your face before waiting for Harry to stand next to you outside.

He keeps his hands behind his back as you lift your hand to knock on the door, but you can sense his anxiety. What does he have to be worried about? you wanted to yell at him. He is the one who was outrageous and cruel, and he is the one who will return to whatever princess he was pursuing regardless, while you will have to endure yet another encounter with yet another prince.

When you hear your father granting you permission to enter, you attempt to unlock the door once more, but this time he stops you and does it himself; what a prince! He caught you looking at him and noticed the sarcasm seeping from your face, but like everything else, he decided to ignore this as well, moving aside to let you in. Your hand was touching his front, which was too close for you. You looked at him as if to urge him to get away, but he gave you a contemptuous response. When your gazing contest was over, you looked ahead and saw something you had thought you would never see.

@remuslupinwifee @strwbrrydaydreams

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bunnyteetharry · 3 months

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Royal!Arranged Marriage!arry concepts

(guess who’s coming back + a little treat for me not being active lately )

Royal!Arranged Marriage!arry says he’s not jealous whenever prince Niall from the Ireland region asks for you hand to dance and sneaks in little pecks at your cheek knowing damn well the grumpy king is gripping his glass of whiskey from across the room watching them like a predator watching his prey

Royal!Arranged Marriage!arry dragging you to your private bathroom, bending you over the gold plated sink, pushing up your gown growling about his dear wife whoring herself off to whichever Prince gives her attention even when he clearly states time and time again he doesn’t who she sleeps with but fucking you and mumbling mine, mine, mine each harsh trust that has you squeezing him so tightly

Royal!Arranged Marriage!arry who basically begs you to come sleep in his courters tonight, holding you tightly against him, occasionally nuzzling his nose against your neck throughout the night, breathing you in with every breath he takes, and wakes up with his head of curls messy laying on your tummy

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #hshq #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #royal au #smut

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gurugirl · 20 days

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how is mean king harry coming along bestie? x

I'm chipping away at it!! I'll be honest... I'm trying to keep the story period appropriate (I'm imagining this being like 1800s??) but it's difficult - the language, the common items, plus all the stuff that goes into what royalty deals with... So it might take me some time because I've been researching things for it, but I've got a chunk of it written up!

Here's a tiny bit of what I have (unedited totally so please bear with me) to get a feel for what the story is going to look like (at least the first part). This takes place before he meets Y/n.

. . .

“Your Majesty, we apologize for the intrusion, but it is time to get to the order of official business.”

“You wouldn’t have to apologize if you weren’t intruding, now would you?” Harry’s groggy voice spoke as he remained sprawled on his back in his warm velvet bed with three naked women lying draped over his limbs still fast asleep and unaware of the two men standing at the King’s chambers door.

“May it please Your Majesty if we return in one half-hours’ time? Our Lord Mayer and the Orders of Council are awaiting you in the Great Hall. This is a very important meeting, Sir.”

Harry knew he had a meeting set up. He knew it was important to keep it and he understood the levity of it all. But he couldn’t resist when he took three lovely young things with him to his chambers and they each let him do as he pleased. He’d just been crowned King for Christ’s sake! He deserved to sew his wild oats before things got heavy and real and it was time to get down to the nitty gritty of his new stifling responsibilities.

“I will find myself in the Great Hall in one half-hours’ time. No need to return.”

“Yes, Sir. And what should we tell our Lord Mayer of your tardiness?”

“Fuck’s sake! I don’t care! Tell them I’ve got my privy member sallying forth and I’m in the sack with three concubines if you like! Our Lord Mayer can wait a half hour. Give him a thumb of brandy. Tha’ should keep him with a smile.”

It was this very attitude that had the folk of Thornekeep nervous. Harry’s proclivity for saying what he pleased with little regard for the people he was saying it to.

#ask #mean king!harry #king!harry #royal!au #harry styles x reader

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green-typewriterz · 4 months

Text

LILACS AND FORGET ME NOTS

Pt TWO

PART ONE

Harry Styles x Queen!reader

Summary: its been a few years since your wedding to harry and you couldnt be happier

ASK: Could you write a prince Harry Styles/ princess reader. It can be an idea of your choosing PART TWO TO PREVIOUS ASK

Warnings: talks of battle, death of mother, mentions of scars, misogyny if u squint (mediaeval era)

word count: 1295

Three years had passed since the wedding and both you and Harry were the happiest you could be together. However, despite the connection between the two allied families, war was still building in the west and there was no way to avoid it. Your father had abdicated the throne two years ago and it was your job as Queen to assure your people would not feel the effects of the storms raging in other places.

Harry stuck by your side, an innocence to war that you envied. He was a good fighter, skilled in combat, but he had never fought in battle, you weren’t sure if he was prepared. You had chipped away at his rough personality for years and made him a kind, generous king, but it was up to you to fight now - something he didn’t agree with. You both sat at the large birch table in the dining hall, hands intertwined tightly.

“The Western armies are approaching quickly, Y/N. I’m sure you realise I am expected to fight?” Harry spoke softly, not taking his eyes off of his beloved wife. You nodded slowly, understanding what had to be done.

You put down your glass and took both of his hands in your own, talking quietly, “you must understand that I am to fight as well.” His eyes widened, shocked into a silence that you spoke into, “I am nothing if not my mother. I must lead her army the same way she had.”

You barely spoke of your mother, but a portrait of her hung in nearly every room, watching like some kind of goddess. Harry found himself staring at the paintings for hours, wondering about the shine in her eyes and the scars on her face. He had never seen the same determined glint of battle in your eyes, so your confession scared him.

“You can't. You aren’t prepared, my love.” He replied, worry spreading through him like fire. You spared a short glance with your maid and she nodded silently, leaving the room. This was a private matter and Tilly understood that. “I don’t know how I’d live if you were to be injured.”

You sighed and let go of his hands. “You don’t think I feel the same? You are strong, Harry, I know this. But you’ve never fought!” He stared at you for a moment. Then, so quietly you weren’t sure he had ever spoken, he whispered:

“How can you feel the same?” You questioned his words in confusion, barely understanding what he meant. He spoke loudly now, “You may be Queen, but you are no warrior either. I don’t have a choice, Y/N. I have to fight. You don’t.”

You scoffed and stood, heading over to the large fire and staring at the dwindling embers. “I find, what makes a good ruler is their ambition, their willingness to die for their people. Don’t you?” You heard a scrape behind you and after a moment, felt Harry’s strong hands gently clasp your waist. He rested his head on your shoulder, breathing in the smell of your perfume. You leaned backward into him.

The fire burned low, the room’s coldness forcing the flames away. “Promise me you won’t go.” He whispered, begging. You didn’t turn to look at him, knowing you would not be able to give your reply to his face. His breathing was calm against your neck, blowing small strands of hair away from your skin.

“I promise.”

What a solemn lie it was.

——

You woke in the early morning, the sun casting a golden hue over the room. You had written a letter in haste, the parchment creased from the amount of times you had folded and unfolded it to check the wording. Once you were certain it was perfect, you got ready, putting on a simple tunic and trousers. Your horse was waiting in the crisp morning air, its armour already placed and secured. You spent a moment calming her and placed your head against hers, whispering a silent plea to any sort of spiritual being that was listening for her safety, then set off, heading to the large open field where the battle was to take place.

Your horse slowed as it reached the main knight’s grounds and you felt the stares of Harry’s army on your back. They most likely didn’t expect any women to be on the battlefield. Your own army arrived moments later, clad in their glinting silver armour. You were handed a chest plate and chainmail of your own and quickly got prepared, your fingers gently grazing over the forget me nots branded onto the front. This was your mother’s armour, your mother’s weaponry and you wore it with pride.

You stood in the main tent, strategising with your Countess Marshal, when Harry stormed in, clad in his own armour. “You left, not only without me, but after you had promised to stay behind!” He shouted and the knight excused herself with a knowing smile toward you, she had known this was coming.

“There is no time for this Harry, there is a war.” You spoke back, writing notes quickly on a bit of parchment. He walked closer and took both of your hands, stopping you from working. His eyes blazed with anger and worry, but you could tell any anger was not aimed toward you, yet to himself for not keeping you safe. “This is my country's tradition.”

He stood there, still clasping your hands. “What do you mean by tradition? There is no tradition here; it is a battlefield.”

You sighed and let go, fixing your armour tighter to you. “I am very aware of where we are situated, Harry. Don’t be fooled by my apparent femininity, I am not naive to what a knight looks like. Did you think the scars on my mother’s portrait were from sewing? The women here fight, just the same as your men do. I am trained for this, as are my girls. Don’t you worry about some futile argument of whether or not I can when I clearly already have before under my mother’s guidance.”

Harry had never seen this side of you before, the ambition, the strength. You seemed like some sort of warrior queen he had only heard of in legend. He smiled and stood closer, taking your chin in his hand. “Well, let’s agree to let one another fight. Though, you cannot stop me from worrying about you.” You nodded and he leant forward, your lips connecting in a sweet kiss.

“Milady- oh.” Your Countess Marshall, Lilibet walked into the tent, stopping in her tracks as she saw the two of you kissing. Her face tinted red. “My apologies to your highnesses, but we are all prepared.”

You laughed and pulled away from the kiss, leaving a lingering longing in Harry’s heart for something more than what had been given. “My bow, Lili.” She grinned and handed it to you swiftly. Your fingers traced over the engravings in a soothing pattern as you made your way out of the tent, sparing one last glance at your husband. You placed your sword into its hilt and headed for your horse, brushing its main gently.

“My love!” Harry called out and you turned to see him running toward you. He placed a strong kiss to your lips and lifted you into his arms, the momentum spinning the both of you around. “A goodbye kiss” He whispered as you pulled apart.

The both of you smiled and you smoothed his mess of waves as you replied, “Stay true, fight honourably.” You climbed onto your horse and rode away, preparing your bow. Harry watched you leave with a kind, loving smile. He knew you’d fight. And he knew you’d win.

#fic #fanfic #one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #prince harry x princess reader #king harry styles x you #king Harry styles x queen reader #queen reader #royal au #writing #text post

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babyyhoneyyyyy · 13 days

Text

༘⋆🛡️𝓜𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓪𝓵 📜₊˚ෆ - One Shot [h.s]

Storyline: Three centuries before the conquest of Eldoria, the monarch showcased his grandeur alongside his loyal soldiers—those brave individuals willing to sacrifice everything for their homeland, hoping to achieve significant progress. In this scenario, we find Sir. Styles, the most prominent knight of the five kingdoms, acknowledged by the king himself and invited to a royal dinner in his honor and that of all his companions. However, upon arrival, he discovers that neither the oracles nor his adversaries from all corners of the world could have forewarned him about what he would face upon encountering the mesmerizing and exotic beauty of Lady Revna, the king's youngest daughter. Word count: +8k Smut: 🔞

જ⁀➴

"These would be two lion coins".

The elderly individual responds calmly, leaning on his cane while the man in front of him nods in acceptance. The coins are carefully deposited into his frail hand, which reflects the imprints of time and wrinkles that narrate the story of his life. The hand closes firmly, holding onto the money, but upon feeling its weight, it opens again, revealing surprise at the man's unexpected generosity.

"Oh, blessed be the gods. This is considerably more than I expected-" the old man says, although his voice is interrupted by the sudden disappearance of the man, leaving his words hanging in the air.

The street market had always been one of Sir Styles' favorite destinations. He would meticulously explore the small stalls, giving donations to those he considered truly in need, to the friendly and to the nobles. This environment was even more pleasing to him, as it was the only place where he could go unnoticed, experiencing a sense of belonging and familiarity.

Sir's childhood unfolded in an environment identical to this, running through the land, enjoying the grass, and exploring the rivers, where he could end the day in serenity. Although this stage was fleeting, he preferred to preserve that particular memory.

Consequently, every time he returned to his hometown, he chose to immerse himself in the same routine, reliving those experiences. However, this time, the course of the day would take a different turn compared to previous routines.

King Arthur, with an insistence surpassing Sir Styles' preferences, had made it clear to him and all his knights that the royal dinner would take place on the first day of his return to the homeland, emphasizing the grandeur with which they would be received.

"As if returning exhausted wasn't enough, now we must attend a banquet in your honor," remarked William, one of Sir's main companions, upon receiving the king's message.

"It's a celebration in honor of all of us," corrected him. He observed the ironic expression on his companion's face, who raised his eyebrows before responding with a sarcastic "Of course".

None of them addressed the issue again since that moment, until the present day, where a change in William's mood was noticeable, showing renewed enthusiasm to return to his place of origin to deliberate on the choice of his attire for the imminent royal celebration.

Meanwhile, Sir Styles opted for silence, avoiding any allusion to what his companion had previously stated, even though he himself experienced palpable fatigue.

It is worth noting that large-scale festive events, such as the royal ball, were not to Sir's liking, who had never participated in one of such magnitude in the past.

While he had the opportunity to observe festivities held in different regions, each with its peculiar customs, banquets, and dances, he even actively participated when he was in a considerable state of intoxication. However, such experiences always ended the same way: waking up the next day with an inevitable headache and in the company of a woman of unknown allure.

It is valid to say that he truly enjoyed the celebrations, even if they were not a requirement imposed, as was the case this time.

With the arrival of dusk, he discerned that it was the opportune moment to return home and undertake the corresponding preparations; however, he chose to make a brief stop at one of the local establishments, solely to acquire some portions of his favorite fruit. On this occasion, upon receiving the price information from the merchant, he was unexpectedly interrupted by a commotion coming from a few meters away.

The plums were reinstated to their designated location by the individual, who hurriedly secured his belongings in fear. Frowning, Sir Styles observed him for a brief moment before immediately distancing himself and heading toward the surrounding tumult.

Initially, the suspicion of looting crossed Sir's mind; however, he quickly realized that the situation was rather an act of blatant robbery. An armed man, wielding a dagger, was committing the criminal act, threatening an unfortunate fruit vendor at her stall.

Indignation and fury quickly seized his bloodstream, prompting him to react instinctively by unsheathing his own weapon. However, surprise overcame him as he realized that someone else had acted swiftly, anticipating his own actions.

Before him unfolded a skirmish between a criminal and a hooded figure who emerged unexpectedly. Both contenders exhibited presumably advanced martial skills; however, he discerned that the hooded individual displayed a higher level of proficiency, evidenced by the mere fact of wielding a sword during the confrontation.

This exceptional mastery of the art of war did not escape Sir's perception, who reflected on the irony of encountering a warrior with skills comparable to those of a member of the royal guard, a detail that did not fail to intrigue him.

The contest persisted with the agile dexterity of the criminal and the strategic cadence of the hooded figure, both eager to wield their bladed weapons mercilessly. Even he experienced an unusual concern, subconsciously fearing that the hooded figure might be injured while seeking justice for those around them.

However, in the end, this apprehension dissipated when the thief succumbed to the ground after an unfortunate move, collapsing and letting his dagger slide momentarily in the air before finally plummeting in front of Sir Styles.

Instinctively, he leaned forward, about to grasp the weapon; however, once again, he found himself bewildered as the dagger he was about to take remained inches from his chin, carefully lifting his face. His gaze remained unflinching, fixed on the hooded figure who stood triumphantly before him, assuming a position of supremacy while he remained kneeling.

He couldn't help but feel a profound bewilderment at this moment, aggravated by the inability to glimpse the face of his counterpart, leaving him enveloped in absolute intrigue that seemed within reach of his fingertips.

For Sir Styles, this moment seemed to linger for several minutes, although in reality, only a few seconds had passed before the hooded figure resumed their march toward the thief. The latter lay vulnerable as his own dagger plunged into his leg, unleashing a scream that reverberated in the space, initiating the flow of blood.

For many, this episode might represent the end of victory, but for him, it signaled ironically that, this time, the thief would not only be prevented from walking to commit robberies but would also face the uncertainty of whether he would survive such a serious injury.

At that precise moment, Sir Styles became fully aware of the crowd that had gathered around him, as applause began to resonate in his ears, intertwined with enthusiastic cheers of celebration. Even the distressed lady, who was once on the brink of threat, now joined in the jubilation in honor of the victor.

However, not even the festive uproar managed to distract him from his fixed attention on the individual. With meticulousness, he observed every step, every movement, until witnessing how a subtle crimson curl stealthily emerged from the hood of the mysterious character.

Although he perceived the situation, he was not the only one to notice it. As the hooded figure approached, precautions were taken to adjust their hair and protect it immediately. Firm in determination, they tightened their grip on the hood and swiftly fled towards the woods. Even though he briefly contemplated the possibility of following, the growing darkness in the sky indicated the imminent arrival of the night. If he did not leave immediately, he risked being late for the banquet.

With a final sigh, Sir Styles made his way towards the hills.

The monarch bestowed upon each of his principal knights a moderately-sized property as a token of recognition and gratitude, providing them with a stable place to return to after military campaigns. This generous action by the king was one of his many ways of expressing gratitude to those who served him faithfully.

Although William suggested that this gesture might be a kind of relief for the monarch's conscience, Sir Styles, regardless of the motivations behind such a gift, chose to accept it. For him, the donation implied no significant loss. He had grown up without the warmth of a family, a circumstance to which he had become accustomed over the years.

The land assigned to him was located near the hills, and while its location significantly distanced him from the village, it brought him closer to the castle. Although not much time had passed since he received the property, Sir Styles had already dedicated himself to organizing it with the necessary resources for his comfort and functionality.

Finally, observing the alignment of the stars in the sky, he realized it was the right time to embark on his journey to the palace. During the journey, his steed accompanied him, encountering his comrades and other soldiers on the way, all dressed in the same war uniform. This consisted of layers made from the skins of animals he had hunted as part of his survival tactics during various campaigns, complemented by a bronze armor resting on their robust figures. Although they all looked uniformly equipped, Sir Styles stood out as the only one with braided hair.

Sir Styles boasted a mane that had reached a considerable length, extending to his shoulders precisely. Although initially challenging to deal with this hair extension, he had gradually adapted to it. Progressively, he adopted the habit of showcasing his honor through his hair, allowing each battle victory to be reflected in intricate braids. Thus, his hair now unfolded in a braided pattern that enveloped his contour, preventing his natural curls from sliding over his forehead.

The duration of the journey noticeably shortened when, finally, the majesty of the imposing castle revealed itself to the onlookers. The structure shone under the dim light of the night moon and the flames of torches held by the guardians of the enclosure. At the forefront of the procession, Sir Styles led the soldiers, dismounting from his steed with the purpose of making his formal entrance before the castle's main Lord. However, the said Lord dispensed with the need for any formal introduction, granting the knight immediate access and stating that His Majesty was already awaiting his arrival.

As they advanced through the castle corridors, the lighting highlighted every detail before the attentive gaze of the onlookers. From colossal paintings displaying portraits of ancestral monarchs and prominent personalities of the nation to ornaments that, for the most part, seemed to be made of gold, adorned the walls of the enclosure splendidly. The parade of individuals captured the essence of the aristocracy, who meticulously observed every visible corner.

In their journey, some ladies-in-waiting crossed their path, offering curtsies and smiles to the passersby, except for the main leader, Sir Styles, who remained in a reserved attitude, focused on keeping his gaze forward, trying to limit his observations of the surrounding environment as much as possible.

Sir Styles showed no enthusiasm for the ostentatious jewelry and the magnificence of the castle, perceiving them as mere appearances and even ironies. This perception was based on the belief that all the opulence accumulated in such structures was ultimately attributable to the contribution of the people and the decisions made by those who had once chosen their monarchs. Sir's preference was to establish connections with specific individuals, directing his attention to the impression that the king and some select Lords might potentially have in the more distant future. He had internalized the premise that existence revolved around building relationships and bonds, either with strategic contacts or facing loneliness, with no room for in-between terms.

The Lord finally stopped his advance in front of an imposing wooden door that stood out for its considerable height and the golden ornamental details that surrounded it. In a decisive gesture, he signaled to the herald, who in turn conveyed the order swiftly, allowing one of the service sentinels to proceed to open the magnificent doors. It was the voice of the herald that resonated in the enclosure, announcing the arrival of the royal guard to all present, immediately capturing the attention of every individual in the room, directed towards their conspicuous leader.

Sir Styles kept his attention focused forward, leading his fellow soldiers as they advanced along the main hall's corridor. By his side, he walked in step with Sir William. Together, they headed towards the imposing table at the end of the hall, where the most prominent personalities of the kingdom, including the monarch, gathered.

Sir Styles experienced a palpable increase in the speed of his heartbeats as he advanced, yet he found it challenging to determine the exact cause of this phenomenon. He was aware that it was not solely due to the attention he garnered when passing before the king's gaze or the anticipation of the crowd watching them. Although accustomed to being the center of attention, he perceived that there was something more underlying, something that escaped his certainty but somehow guided the rhythm of his heart as he advanced, urging him to maintain a harmonious pace with his own steps while attempting to regulate his breathing.

Sir stopped his advance upon reaching the end of the hall, bowing his head slightly in a reverential gesture as he perceived the monarch advancing to stand in front of him. Upon hearing the issuance of his title by the king, he raised his gaze again. The king's smile revealed deep enthusiasm, and rightly so; his army had displayed its prowess in every confrontation, conquering the most prosperous lands and amassing wealth in their wake. With another expression of joy on his face, he initiated the celebration ceremony.

Sir Styles settled in proximity to the main Lord, while on his right, Sir William took his place, both distinguished with pure gold medals that rested with notable weight on their necks. They were immersed in the enjoyment of a lavish banquet, where the table was adorned with an abundance of suckling pigs, a varied selection of vegetables and exquisite fruits, including plums. However, when he attempted to take one of the latter, he received a disapproving look from one of the Lords present. Initially confused, he responded with a gesture, but understanding dawned when he was informed that such fruits were exclusively meant for one of the princesses. It was then that he realized, at the main table, only knights were present, and he had not been introduced to any titled lady. About to express his discontent to the Lord with a gesture of displeasure, the doors of the hall opened again, followed by the voice of the herald announcing the arrival of Their Majesties.

Two young ladies, approximately the same age, even slightly older than him, stood out in height and had wavy brown hair. The distinction of their faces was evident in their delicacy, further accentuated by their silk outfits in vibrant colors that, if not for the crowns elegantly held in their curls, would have clearly proclaimed their elevated status. Although one of them was of shorter stature than the other, both were adorned in fine jewelry that revealed their opulence even from a distance.

The reverence of the entire hall materialized as an act of homage to the ladies, and in a matter of seconds, Sir Styles stood up, following the example of the group. In the distance, he perceived the king's laughter and the enthusiastic greeting that elevated his daughters, culminating once again in the resumption of the festive atmosphere.

Both women walked gracefully towards the royal table, where Sir carefully observed the strategically reserved places for them, located next to the monarch's seat. With meticulous attention, he witnessed how the ladies took their cutlery with grace, performing an elegant synchronized movement. In a mirror effect, both raised their knives to carve the pork, bringing the fork to their lips to taste the first bite.

While enjoying their meal, their gazes remained fixed forward, occasionally exchanging laughter as they watched the attendees participate in the dance and whisper in murmurs of conversation. Sir Styles, with patience, waited for a couple of additional minutes after the princesses finished their feast, hoping to see if either of them ventured to reach for the plums laid out on the plate. However, more minutes than necessary passed, and although their plates were already empty, neither of the ladies showed any sign of wanting to extend their attention to the additional fruits.

With a final expression of discontent, Sir chose to redirect his attention to the surrounding environment, marking the initial moment of the evening when he surrendered to detailed observation. The hall came to life with a symphony of laughter, intertwined with the graceful movements of the dance participants. Sumptuous and exquisite dresses extended across the shiny floor, while the knights' shoes occasionally emitted the characteristic squeak during their movements. The music, skillfully performed by the orchestra, had the violin as its main companion, imparting a melodic and refined atmosphere to the surroundings.

Unexpectedly, a voice beside him spoke directly to him: "Are you Sir Styles?" In response, he immediately turned and found the princesses now positioned on both sides of him.

With courtesy, he simply nodded affirmatively. "Yes, that's correct". He replied succinctly.

One of the ladies initiated the conversation by praising his latest campaign, and the other continued with more specific details mentioning the lands of Thundervale. "We've heard extraordinary tales about your feats in the campaign," one of them expressed, followed by the other who added, "Particularly, we are intrigued to know if it's true that the largest marine creatures inhabit those lands".

Thus, the conversation began, with Sir Styles leading the exchange, willing to share details about the journey through the blue land that had piqued the alleged interest of the ladies. They paid meticulous attention to every word the knight uttered, although as he delved into the story, he could observe more closely the proximity of both women, skillfully identifying certain characteristic gestures of female closeness.

He noticed how both their eyes stared intensely into his, although at times they wandered towards aspects beyond his person, whether contemplating his attire or occasionally resting on his hands. These gestures, marked by more than evident curiosity, manifested through glances that pierced beyond innocence, as well as smiles that deviated from mere charm.

Sir Styles struggled to maintain a respectful distance, not expressing indifference but rather intending to preserve space and the surrounding atmosphere. As he progressed in his narrative, the laughter and the wine he savored contributed to creating a set that resonated with his emotions. His visual acuity diminished, and words escaped his lips with slight difficulty, although his level of awareness remained intact.

At a critical point in his narrative, when the story turned towards the red lands he had explored and his encounter with the legendary figure of the "great lion" in one of those regions, a practically mythical creature that guarded one of the territories visited by him and his fellow soldiers, a female voice decided to interrupt instantly. This act left Sir Styles' words hanging in the air, while his gaze shifted in another direction, disrupting the flow of his story at a crucial moment.

In front of him stood a young lady, with reddish hair reminiscent of the glow of fire and blue eyes evoking the vastness of the ocean, of which he had spoken on occasion. Her gaze was directed towards him with an ironic, almost challenging and playful tone, reflected equally in her words, in which she expressed her skepticism and refused to believe him. She referred to the fact that, according to her perception, the only individual capable of defeating the creature in question had been her own great-great-grandfather.

However, the knight's attention was, at least apparently, focused on the possibility of refuting this claim. In his surroundings, a brief moment of stillness took hold, and for Sir Styles, it was uncertain whether the cause of his momentary silence came from the influence of the wine and its sweetness, or whether the surrounding noise had deafened his senses, or perhaps neither. The lady's words lost audibility for him, although he observed that her communications were directed solely to the women on his side, although occasionally, the lady kept her gaze on his.

The woman's pale complexion evoked the whiteness of milk, and from his low position, he could distinguish the freckles adorning her rosy cheeks. In response, the knight felt compelled to blink several times, experiencing a subtle discomfort from the warm flush that began to invade his body. With embarrassment, he promptly averted his gaze to divert attention from that moment.

Soon, Sir Styles realized that he was alone at the imposing royal table. On this occasion, his gaze sought only the face of the young lady who had shared the space in front of him, finally locating her engaged in a lively dance with an unknown Lord after a few minutes of searching.

Faced with such a scene, the knight directed his questions about the lady to one of the refined Lords who had previously conversed with him during the course of the evening. The response he received was that she was "Lady Revna, the youngest daughter of the king."

"And the one with the strongest character," added another Lord with laughter.

The hue of her red hair serves as an indicator of that, Sir Styles reflected to himself. However, he chose to remain silent in the presence of others, keeping his own thoughts to himself.

Sir took another sip of wine from a distant land, whose sweetness rivaled that of honey itself, intoxicating him with its mere flavor. An intensive and instantaneous thought crossed his mind as he continued to observe Lady Revna's dance.

The question of whether she would appreciate such sweetness as that of the wine troubled him. He immediately lowered his gaze, striving to redirect his attention to his empty plate. The mere idea of engaging in conversation with her was strictly forbidden, and his mind was torn between curiosity and respect for established norms.

A sigh, almost involuntary, escaped him, plunging him into reflections for a brief moment before deciding to take another sip of his drink.

Understanding of the situation only materialized when Sir Styles directed his gaze forward again, and the lady's reddish hair dissolved once more into the density of the crowd. It was then that he noticed the absence of an element on the table: the plum plate.

Plums were his favorite fruit. Just as they were for Lady Revna.

At that instant, Sir Styles was unaware that, as he crossed the ballroom aisle with his peers, attracting the gaze of the assembly, whether due to his revealing attire or his imposing demeanor, a young lady had also become captivated by his presence. However, unlike the other astonished spectators, this lady had the audacity to follow him as he advanced before the gathered crowd.

Lady Revna moved alongside, a few meters away from him, in the vicinity of the public, unnoticed by the knight himself, remaining inconspicuous despite her appearance, characterized by her hair and attire.

While he and his fellow warriors positioned themselves in front of the king to pay homage, Lady Revna inquired about him, receiving the concise response that he was "Sir Styles, one of the lord commanders of the royal army".

From that moment, the young princess dedicated herself to observing him throughout the evening, adopting an almost predatory attitude, similar to that of a hunter scrutinizing its prey. Every movement and gesture of Sir Styles fell under the watchful gaze of Lady Revna, although at a certain point, paradoxically, she herself experienced the sensation of being the prey, enveloped in the subtle dance of his movements and gestures.

The culmination of the dance occurred when the lady, to distract her thoughts, engaged in conversations with various Lords who approached her, some characterized by their courtesy, while others, influenced by excess libations, lacked verbal coordination. Despite the disparities, the lady usually enjoyed such encounters, whether due to the splendid feast, the accompanying dance, or the limited freedom that, ultimately, was allowed within the confines of the castle.

Minutes extended into the magnitude of hours as the imposing hall began to dissolve. Although a considerable number of guests still remained, their attention and thoughts were immersed elsewhere. Therefore, when she noticed Sir Styles beginning to withdraw from the room, she hesitated briefly before her own feet took the initiative and led her towards the outskirts of the grand hall.

Her heart beat with vigor as her mind insisted on recreating a single scenario, one in which she found herself in a skirmish in the small market of her town, and a gaze of a green and mischievous tone, similar to the liveliness of the forest itself, caught her.

There was a latent fear in her, the unease that Sir might have truly recognized her during the only unfortunate 'exchange' of words they had had earlier. However, such a perspective did not even cross her mind initially. The alteration of her attire and, even more significantly, the marked change in his demeanor compared to the encounter in the market, provided her with an unexpected anonymity. It was inconceivable that these were the same eyes that, on another occasion, had observed his intensely while she held a dagger beneath his chin.

This circumstance stood as her justification, whether she eventually recognized it or not. Her priority was to confirm that Sir had not identified her, and if he had, to take measures to ensure that her silence prevailed.

As she moved through the corridors, they seemed to lengthen, simultaneously acquiring an increasingly profound silence, a circumstance that did not bode well for her situation, as she was forced to hide more frequently than initially anticipated to avoid being heard or spotted by him. However, all these complications dissipated when she found herself alone in the corridor, with no signs of the knight she had followed at some point.

Her eyebrows took on a furrowed expression as her head turned in all directions to scrutinize every visible corner of the extensive hallway, whose familiarity she recognized precisely as it connected directly to her own quarters. In the middle of the soft carpet decorating the floor beneath her feet, she stopped, expressing her disappointment and almost frustration with a sigh. The unexpected disappearance of the knight, occurring in a matter of seconds, bewildered her, especially considering that the confirmation of his presence in the street market was fading away, leaving a bitter taste on her lips.

She then decided to return to the hall from which she had chosen to withdraw, only to once again meet the penetrating and green gaze that sought her. There he was, standing in front of her in person, but this time, she lacked a hood to hide her identity and did not carry a dagger as a warning gesture.

"What is the reason for your pursuit?" Lady Revna's slightly parted lips sought air, which suddenly seemed scarce to her, and although she tried to disguise it immediately, the deep inhalation she took was undeniable to the knight standing in front of her. It was the first occasion on which the knight's voice materialized in her presence, even after having crossed paths a few times, coincidentally on the same day. Although she had formulated some assumptions, she had never managed to perceive the reality of the situation. His voice came as a hoarse murmur that enveloped her more intensely than the wine he had consumed throughout the evening. Lady Revna, hastily, responded, "On what basis do you think I am doing so?"

Sir's head tilted to one side, a look clearly incredulous towards her. Lady Revna then looked away, with an almost mischievous smile, a result of her bold response when she clearly knew the answer. However, any trace of a smile began to fade when Sir Styles took the initiative to approach, allowing his back to collide with one of the large walls supporting his property.

"My Lady, my intention is not to be impolite; I simply wait in the hope that you provide an answer to my question". The knight's words slid with a light grace, in a characteristic hoarse whisper that caused a momentary silence in the lady, before she decided to respond: "I refer to your previous words, spoken so comfortably in the midst of your tale with my sisters," she began her justification, maintaining a soft tone similar to that of the knight. "I do not give credence to it". She concluded firmly.

"You made it clear at that moment," he replied, showing no annoyance, but rather awaiting the lady's response.

"So, you don't intend to deny it?" she inquired, showing curiosity.

"Would there be a reason to do so?" he responded, formulating his counterquestion with the same calmness that characterized the exchange.

"Perhaps," the lady whispered finally. Lady Revna, guided more by her intuition than her reason, took an additional step, allowing the game of closeness to begin. She distanced herself slightly from the knight for a moment, leaning against the wall, then delicately circled around him and finally positioned herself behind Sir Styles, who watched her attentively. "Do I not cast doubt on your honor? I thought you stood beside the strongest warrior of the five realms".

"I am". He affirmed, turning his gaze back, watching as the lady's face approached even closer and then withdrew.

"Then, prove it," the lady replied, allowing her face to return to proximity with his, exacerbating the marked height difference between them and directing the knight's eyes directly into hers. "Is it true that you single-handedly defeated the great lion, or is it just another ruse?"

A smile slid across Sir Styles' lips, leaving the princess's expectant expression before he answered, "Not alone, certainly. It was with your army," he explained. Lady Revna watched him continuously, waiting for him to conclude his words: "Although I would be willing to do whatever is necessary to prove it to you if that is your desire".

Lady Revna experienced an inexplicable sensation on the tip of her tongue, an apparently appetizing yet unexplored taste, after hearing the knight's words.

She had always valued the inherent power of her title and was not ashamed to admit that, on various occasions, she had used her position conveniently. However, in this situation, she was intrigued by a different feeling, even surprised to feel a growing warmth in her body, unable to look away from Sir Styles. She was not willing to make a proposal directly; she appreciated the idea of maintaining intrigue and ambiguity. "The proposal is simple," she responded calmly. "Engage in a conversation with me, if you are capable".

Sir Styles was immersed in confusion, not precisely understanding the nature of the lady's words, and questioning whether it was some kind of ruse or trap.

In any case, the knight maintained only an unwavering certainty, that he had never before had the privilege of meeting a lady of such caliber. This conviction was supported by his extensive experience, having interacted with numerous women throughout his journeys on the sea and in distant lands. In those encounters, he had been fortunate to come across ladies of delicate beauty, others endowed with singular intelligence, from whom he had learned valuable lessons and adopted some customs for his own life. Some looked at him with admiration, while others expressed an evident desire and lust. However, none of these women could compare to the uniqueness embodied by Lady Revna.

No lady possessed those copper-toned curls, imbued with the strong character that characterizes a haughty princess. None exhibited so much confidence, manifested in a charming smile as she engaged in the dance with another knight, nor showed the audacity to express her thoughts so frankly, generating in him a desire to know more.

Lady Revna, on her part, awaited with anticipation. Like Sir Styles, she had never before encountered a knight with such characteristics, although, it should be noted, her encounters with men of this kind had been scarce.

Her life unfolded among the same guards and nobles, forming a closed circle around her. Even when she ventured to visit the village, the familiar faces of lifelong merchants remained her only reference, never encountering a knight of the stature of the one before her at that moment.

The knight in question exhibited a masculine face that, at the same time, revealed fineness in his features. His presence stood out with an imposing figure, broad shoulders, robust arms, hands marked by prominent veins, and even visibly silky hair through the braids. A set of attributes that gave a unique and captivating presence to the eyes of the world, and now, were only for her.

In this way, Lady Revna provided Sir Styles with a more secure environment to carry out such a conversation, and that place turned out to be, significantly, the closest available space at that moment, namely, her quarters.

The journey down the hallway became smaller as both advanced in parallel, now side by side, allowed by the lady with a subtle gesture directed at the knight. Noticeably absent on the way was the presence of any Lord, and, for some reason, no lady-in-waiting was in sight either. The imposing wooden door, adorned with what seemed to be golden details, stood before them, and with a delicate push, Lady Revna facilitated entry for Sir after she herself entered the room.

The quarters were characterized by the predominance of warm and golden tones, imbuing the atmosphere with the pleasant scent of jasmines and roses dispersed in the surroundings. The room was adorned with some large pieces of furniture, elegantly displaying their presence. Lighting was mainly obtained through strategically placed candles, constituting the only source of illumination, apart from the windows that allowed the filtering of the scarce night light provided by the moon.

The feeling of contentment that enveloped Sir Styles in that environment surpassed any previous experience, endowing the atmosphere with a particularly pleasant resonance.

And that delight reached its zenith when Lady Revna directed her gaze towards him.

He was in a state of palpable anxiety, sensing the accelerated beat of his heart as his mind faced internal challenges. He walked a thin line, equidistant between what was ethically correct and immoral, tempted by the forbidden personified in an ethereal countenance and a blue gaze that acquired a darker hue as it approached him.

Despite his nature being less prone to pleading, he was willing to do so in order to have her in proximity, to experience her closeness and touch. His hands experienced a persistent tingling, and he was forced to clench them into fists to restrain himself from any impulsive act. A feeling of warmth ran through his body, intensifying to a painful point, longing to be released from this incessant tension.

Nevertheless, Lady Revna had proposed only a conversation, and that was the only allowed ground for him, despite the impulses urging him to go further.

However, his desires seemed to play an untimely hand as the minutes passed. In that interval, Lady Revna's figure took shape on one of the small armchairs, and her dress lifted in a nearly inappropriate manner, forcing him to avert his gaze and suppress a gesture that partially closed his lower lip between his teeth. Initially, he chose silence, allowing the lady's words to resonate in the air, accompanied by her distinctive floral scent.

For a moment, Sir Styles struggled with momentary doubt, questioning if all of this was nothing more than a product of his imagination, a side effect of the wine that was beginning to take its toll on his perception. However, Lady Revna, with her characteristic grace, brought him back to reality with a subtle touch, dispelling any ambiguity that might have lingered in his mind.

Sir's eyes opened with a slight surprise, finally realizing the proximity of the lady in front of him. Immediately, he wondered at what moment she had come so close, as her presence left him momentarily speechless, and the expressions forming in his mind did not seem suitable to be spoken aloud.

His breathing began to show signs of irregularity, forced to allow his lip to free itself and his mouth to slightly part, attempting to deal with the sensations that the unexpected closeness provoked in him.

"Allow me to inquire, Sir Styles, do you possess the real capacity to fulfill your word?" the lady whispered, her words delicately brushing his ear, granting him a moment to regain composure before responding: "Mostly, yes".

"Mostly?" she questioned with a light laugh. Lady Revna turned her gaze ahead, letting her blue eyes settle on the green forest that stretched beyond the knight, watching him with an evident challenge, waiting for him to say what they both knew. And that was precisely what he did.

"I have recently discovered that it is not always the case".

With these words, the proximity between them finally ended, and Sir Styles' lips met Lady Revna's in a fleeting moment. Neither the knight nor the lady managed to confirm who initiated that first move, but when the body of the red-haired woman reclined on Sir Styles' lap, his self-control was finally released. The touch of the knight allowed his hands, freed from the chains that had held them cruelly, to rest on the lady's body.

The intensity that both bodies shared at a certain moment seemed to converge at that instant, causing the clothing to lose its relevance. Sir Styles' hands were positioned directly on Lady Revna's back, delving into her rebellious curls and sliding unrestricted between the strings of the corset.

Kisses imbued with pleasure were indelibly marked on the woman's neck, causing her lips to part in search of air. The constriction of her attire heightened the feeling of confinement, and a gasp escaped her when she felt her body lifted in the air, fitting even more closely to the knight's body, who held her firmly with one hand, while the other continued carefully untying the laces of her corset.

Finally, her back rested on the soft surface of the bed, covered by the elegant fabrics of the canopy, intensifying the focus of the intimate encounter and the warm air enveloping their bodies. Moans and sighs began to resonate, manifesting the growing fervor of the moment. Although Lady Revna tried discreetly to preserve some caution, the man on top of her was not exactly contributing to maintaining serenity.

Sir Styles' bare torso stood before her, his warrior attire lying on the floor for a few minutes, allowing the lady's hands to explore unrestrictedly, ascending and descending on his biceps. In her explorations, she occasionally stopped in lower areas, observing the reactions on the knight's face. Sir Styles' forehead, already covered by a fine layer of sweat, enhanced his beauty and accentuated his features in the dimness of the night.

Simultaneously, as a playful expression began to appear on the lady's face, her corset finally yielded, revealing a fine fabric that almost immediately disappeared, exposing her bare breasts for the knight's delight. Sir Styles did not grant her the necessary time to react, as his lips went directly to one of her nipples, causing a more intense gasp than usual that hung in the air.

Lady Revna's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling of the chamber, and despite her attempts to keep it there, it closed easily due to the pleasurable contact her body was experiencing. Not satisfied with limiting himself to that, Sir Styles' fingers materialized on the nipple that remained free of saliva, exerting occasional pressure that left her breathless. Although it was certainly bearable pain, she finally reflected on facing wounds caused by daggers, coming to the conclusion that this nipple squeeze was at least something she had no reason to complain about.

Sir Styles' skillful free hand did not remain idle, skillfully sliding from the waist to the prominent hips of the woman, finally reaching a sensitive region where his movement provoked an involuntary reaction, and increased pressure became evident. Sir Styles' hoarse laughter echoed in the air, barely contained by his chest, while she looked down, mentally evoking the image of his sinful eyes and saliva-dampened lips.

A sigh escaped the lady, watching as the knight's body descended gradually, exposing his bare chest and extending his attention to the lower part, initiating the process of sliding the fabric of the dress that still covered her forms and culminating in the removal of her underwear.

Finally, Lady Revna lay stripped of garments on the imposing bed of her quarters, lying beneath the figure of a man who gazed down at her with an eager look, as if he had been deprived of savoring a morsel throughout his existence, expressing an insatiable hunger for her essence and a craving for more.

Lady Revna's head tilted back accompanied by an unexpected moan when she again experienced the dexterity of Sir Styles' tongue, directed this time towards the region that claimed more attention. Her clitoris, the object of stimulation, began to awaken sensations that, despite having been pleased on various occasions over the years, bore no resemblance to any previous experience, highlighting the skillful moisture generated by the knight's tongue.

Lady Revna's hands gripped the sheets, while her hips were stirred repeatedly, as if they had a life of their own, seeking to intensify the fusion with the man's eager tongue. Meanwhile, Sir Styles' hands remained firmly placed on her hips, either attempting to smooth the movements or enhance them, however, for both, the experience proved to be extremely satisfying.

When Sir Styles finally withdrew, realizing that Lady Revna's body was adopting more uninhibited movements, he fully confirmed his theory. Lady Revna indeed possessed a sweetness comparable, if not superior, to that of wine.

An almost exuberant smile manifested on the knight's face, observing her at his feet, filled with anticipation, panting from the effort as she looked at him with eyes half-closed, still corresponding with her own smile.

Sir Styles experienced a noticeable increase in the intensity of discomfort in his sensitive area, a sensation that manifested uncomfortably through the pressure against his clothing. At that moment, he did not hesitate to dispense with the last reserves of decency he held, allowing his member to finally rest on his pelvis, while the discomfort transformed into a more constant pulsation.

Holding his member in his hand, he made slight pumping movements as he approached a region that was already sufficiently stimulated for him. Before proceeding with any further action, he directed his gaze towards the lady accompanying him, observing her intently once again.

"Are you sure about this?" he questioned at that moment, approaching abruptly. He experienced sudden regret for not addressing this conversation earlier and for waiting until their garments had faded away on the room's floor. Lady Revna took Sir Styles' face between her hands, allowing the softness of her skin to become evident through delicate gestures, causing Sir's eyelids to close in response.

The lady's hands descended gradually, while the knight's gaze remained shadowed. Her touch acquired increasing delicacy until reaching the region he craved, causing a groan to materialize in response to the lady's subtle caresses on his cock. The action he once performed himself was now being executed by smaller but equally gratifying hands, holding his member firmly and stroking its tip with her thumb. The knight's body gradually descended, adopting an inverted position, with Lady Revna now on top of him, allowing herself to be guided by her skilled hands.

Curiosity prompted her hands to transition from a slow to a faster movement in a matter of seconds, intensifying the knight's anticipation, who was eager for more. It wasn't until he felt Lady Revna's warm breath on his cock that his lips parted more firmly in search of air.

Lady Revna chose to venture, letting herself be guided by the satisfaction sounds emitted by the Sir that resonated beneath her. At times, she looked up to contemplate the knight lying on the bed, with his eyes still closed and lips slightly parted.

Her tongue made an effort to traverse the entire length of Sir's member, while she struggled to contain her breath to encompass it completely with her mouth. Intermittently, she leaned on her hand to ensure complete coverage. Finally, when she perceived the pace accelerating, she decided to ascend again towards him, repositioning her face against his.

"I've never been more sure in my life". She responded with conviction, causing the green hue to return and a darkening to intensify in the surrounding forest.

"You must know how long I have awaited this moment," he expressed with a whisper that filled the nearby space, leaning over her once again, holding his member between his hands and settling between the lady's extended legs. "Since your pretty face manifested in my mind, I haven't ceased to contemplate you".

"Is that the same speech you deliver to everyone?" she inquired with a mocking tone, although her voice carried a bittersweet undertone. She could no longer conceive the idea of sharing it with anyone else. Her desire focused exclusively on having him for herself.

"No woman comes even remotely close to your presence". Sir Styles' expressions remained anchored in her mind, gradually enveloping her with his words as she felt them penetrate her being. In this moment, Lady Revna, once again, tightly gripped the sheets, focusing her attention solely on the intense gaze of the knight on her.

"I would mutilate my hands to never touch another". He declared, causing an involuntary groan from Lady Revna's lips with the first thrust. "I would pluck out my eyes to never look at another". He continued with another thrust. "I would cut off my tongue to never taste anyone else". He added, this time accompanied by a soft scream that she tried to stifle by biting her lower lip. "Because no woman would come even remotely close to your level". He concluded, amid shared moans, permeating the atmosphere with encouraging words that further fueled the fantasy and ego of a princess who, at that moment, felt no shame in considering herself selfish. "Neither in your taste, nor in your touch, nor in your scent".

Lady Revna experienced with greater intensity the thrusts, feeling her body move in a predetermined rhythm. Her hands left the sheets to focus exclusively on the knight's back, scratching it fervently and desiring to see the marks they would leave the next day. Her legs exerted pressure against his hips, contributing to making the movement more fluid.

"Tell me how you feel," she heard the growl of a hoarse voice in her ear, and just that gesture caused another moan to escape her lips.

"Blessed gods," she responded with effort, chanting the prayers she had heard throughout her life, expressing gratitude for the mercy that had been promised to her at some point and that she now experienced materialized in one man. "It feels so good".

"Oh yeah?" she heard a gasp from him, while his pace progressively accelerated. "How good?" he reiterated his inquisitive question with surprising eloquence, contrasting with Lady Revna's struggle to articulate words. "Tell me, my princess, talk to me".

Finally, she replied, "So good. Too good. Holy shit". Lady Revna's lips were bitten once again, while she experienced the intensity of movements deepening into her being, merging with her fluids, allowing Sir Styles' cock to pass smoothly. "Keep it up, Harry, please," she pleaded. His name acted as a stimulus that increased the acceleration of the movements. While she didn't exactly remember when she had revealed his name, Sir Styles internally thanked that her lips had finally pronounced that acknowledgment, and the sweetness of her tone gave a more intimate dimension to the shared moment.

However, Sir Styles perceived how the tight walls of Lady Revna's vagina contracted around his cock, recognizing that it was only a matter of minutes or even seconds for all that tension to burst. Knowing Lady Revna's playful nature, he did not hesitate to say, "It's 'sir' for you". While holding the woman's hips more firmly, watching her closely.

For her part, Lady Revna showed no surprise; rather, she experienced a notable excitement, which she confirmed by dropping her head on the mattress, while her grip on the man intensified. Her body experienced shivers, even slight tremors, while her breathing became increasingly irregular, struggling to maintain firm control.

"Y- yes sir," she pronounced a nod with difficulty, and it was at that moment when an expressive scream, immediately muffled by Sir Styles' lips, echoed in the room they shared.

The release manifested in both parties, with Lady Revna's walls being the main recipient, impregnated with both her own fluids and those of the knight, as both let themselves be carried into the abyss of climax, experiencing the peak of pleasure they had never known before.

They remained in the same position for an indeterminate period, with Sir Styles on top of Lady Revna, practically enveloping her with his presence, while both struggled to stabilize their breaths. The knight, taking the initiative, rose first, showing indifference to the possible stain on his shirt, and proceeded to address the task of cleaning the lower area of Lady Revna, where their fluids had begun to saturate the bed linen. With skill and tact, he moved the lady gently, allowing the fabric to slide between her legs, restoring order after the small incident they had caused.

Upon completing this task, Sir Styles observed that the woman's body now rested on the bed, making space for him, while a lazy smile appeared on Lady Revna's lips.

However, before lying down on the bed beside her, he proceeded to clean himself. He diverted his gaze downwards as he scrutinized for any sign of residual fluids, at which point the luminescence of the sword caught his attention on the expanse of the chamber's carpet, dazzling with its exquisite elegance and hue.

His attention immediately shifted between the lady with red hair and the sword in a kind of bewilderment until, even through a drowsy gaze, he managed to confirm the connection between both elements.

No verbal expressions were necessary for Lady Revna to understand the shared sentiment, and Sir Styles saw no need to articulate it, as both were already aware. He took a moment to reflect on his emotions, once again experiencing the deafening intoxication and numbing curiosity, both originating from the same person. In an instant, he blamed himself for his lack of insight, as it was as clear as the ocean in the lady's eyes and in the tousled curls falling over her face. However, it was imperative to acknowledge that perhaps he would have never discovered the depth of those feelings if he hadn't witnessed the display of the sword on the floor.

Nevertheless, such considerations became secondary upon waking up with the sensation of a body embracing him, and the gentle scent of flowers filling his nostrils. The magical night became ingrained in his memory, promising to be relived every night, eclipsing any other eventual assumption.

Thus passed a night in the splendor of a medieval castle, alongside the lady who represented the incarnation of his idealized princess.

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

Text

WONDERWALL (part 5)

A/N: aaaand the final part is here! thank you for coming on this royal adventure!!

PAIRING: Royal!Harry X Maid!Reader

WARNING: sexual content

WORD COUNT: 11k

SERIES MASTERPOST | SUPPORT ME!

Cassidy is out cold by the time you decide to sneak out. You feel like a silly little teenager, trying to trick her parents and hook up with her crush. Only that your parents are not around, you’re an adult and you have a crush on none other than the future king of the country. It’s a weird situation.

Pulling a hoodie on you tiptoe out of the room, careful not to wake your roommate and then head over to Harry’s room.

It’s been a couple of hours since what happened in the woods so you’ve had some time to think. You couldn’t figure out for sure what Harry’s intentions are, but from the nature of the interaction by that tree you are thinking that it might be just a no strings attached situation. He must be frustrated by his upcoming coronation and becoming a leader and he wants nothing else than just to blow out some steam.

So as you’re nearing his room, walking down the endless hallways of the palace you’re bracing yourself for the possible outcome where Harry asks you to have casual sex with him and nothing more. In the meanwhile, you’re pushing everything into the back of your mind that tells you how badly you want him more than in just a physical way.

As you stand at his closed door you take a few moments to yourself, weighing in on what you’re about to do. If your speculations are right, you’re just about to become friends with benefits with the man who’ll be the king of Eroda in just a little over a week.

Holding your breath you knock on the heavy door and wait for an answer, but instead, it opens and a very much cozy looking Harry appears in front of you. He is wearing sweatpants and a loose, grey t-shirt, appears to be fresh out of the shower, because his curls are damply falling into his forehead.

“Hi,” he breathes out, as if he is surprised you actually came. “Come on in,” he invites you inside holding the door open and you walk in, a sense of intimacy washing over you, standing in his room so late and out of work.

He closes the door and you turn towards each other, a few beats of silence falling upon the room, both of you trying to figure out what to say exactly and at last Harry speaks up first.

“I wanted to kiss you a week ago,” he confesses and your eyebrows shoot up at his words.

“Y-You did?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a soft chuckle as he starts walking towards you slowly. “I didn’t pull back because I didn’t want to. I just… knew that my actions will have consequences and I didn’t want to pull you into it before I figured out what to do.”

“Consequences?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m about to become king,” he comments with a cheeky smile and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him, but he wasn’t expecting anything else from you.

“Oh really? Haven’t heard about that.”

“On a more serious note,” he clears his throat, trying to contain his grin. “Everything I do is watched by the whole country. I can’t just recklessly do what I want and then move on like nothing happened. I hope you understand that.”

“I do,” you nod, nervously fumbling with your fingers.

“Most people expect me to only get involved with women from class, in fact, Valentina has been fantasizing about marrying me probably since she was eight,” he continues and your throat is going dry, you don’t really like where it’s heading so far, is it gonna be the point where he tells you nothing can happen between the two of you because of who you are?

“Decades ago it would have been the end of my family if I was caught with someone like you.” He is now standing about one step away from you and you pray he can’t see the sadness in your eyes. It’s kind of devastating that he cares about it all and now gonna reject you because of it. That’s not how you got to know him so far.

Reaching up he cups your face in his hands and you want to pull away, but the warmth of his touch is pulling you closer, melting into his palm.

“Good thing we’re not living in those times,” he then adds and your eyes widen in shock. That was a twist for sure. “I’m falling for you, Y/N. Like never before,” he admits and you almost faint. Is this really happening? Did he really just confess that to you? “I never thought that a woman who can piss me off like you can would turn my world upside down,” he chuckles and you break a smile too.

“I’m glad I can do that,” you breathe out.

“You do a lot of things to me, Y/N,” he murmurs leaning closer and teasing you with just nudging your nose with his, but not kissing you yet. “And there’s even more I want to do to you.”

“Do them. All of them, please!” you beg, desperate to feel his lips on yours at this point. Harry’s smirk widens, but still doesn’t kiss you.

“Patience. We still have a few things to discuss.”

“Like what?” you breathe out, staring more at his lips than at his eyes. He takes a deep breath and you can sense the change in him in an instant.

“We might not be living in those times but the judgement is still there. People will talk and gossip and say bad things. I don’t want to put you through it without telling you the truth. You have a choice, I don’t. I understand if it’s too much for you.”

“So… what is it exactly we are talking about? The thing between us?” you ask with a shy smile.

“Whatever we want it to be. I already told you I’m falling for you. I want to be with you, get to know you even more and… see what it could be.”

“So you want more than just sex?” you ask bluntly.

“I want you, Y/N. All of you, in any and every possible way,” he answers and a shiver runs down your spine at his words. “I’m using all my self-control to hold myself back right now, especially after having a taste of you already, but I won’t do a thing unless you tell me you want it. That you’re okay with being involved with me.”

“Harry, I’m more than okay,” you breathe out, running short on patience. You want him, more than anything and you’re ready to make sacrifices for him.

“Are you sure?” he hums as he leans so close, his lips are almost brushing against his.

“Completely, please, Harry, just—“ you start to beg, but don’t get to finish before his hungry lips claim yours again, finally.

He is kissing you like there’s no tomorrow, not holding back, his tongue pushing into your mouth right away, he is definitely over holding himself back.

You’re stumbling around in the room until the back of your legs hit the bed and the two of you fall onto the mattress in fits of giggles, but keep kissing, tangled together, rolling around until Harry gets on top of you, his hips pressing against yours and you can already feel him getting hard.

“Harry,” you moan, rolling your hips and he groans against your lips. He feels like a horny teenager again, like he can’t think straight and only wants to get himself buried deep inside you.

He drags his lips down the line of your jaw and the column of your throat while tugging your sweater up on your body along with your shirt underneath, finding a pleasant surprise; you’re wearing no bra.

“Y/N, oh my God I’m fucking crazy about you,” he grunts, tugging the fabrics off of you, leaving you shirtless and your back arches when his lips crash down onto your chest, taking your nipple in his mouth while he gropes your other breast with his hand. Breathing in your scent he feels like he is completely intoxicated and high on you, the best feeling he has ever experienced.

Your greedy hands impatiently fist his shirt as well, ridding him of it soon before he does the same with your pants, leaving you in only your underwear that’s already soaked. Reaching between your legs he swipes two fingers across your clothed pussy, feeling up just how turned on you are.

“This is for me? I made you this wet, huh?” he murmurs, kissing the soft spot behind your ear, his fingers keep moving, feeling you up.

“Yes!” you cry out, wiggling underneath him, desperate to feel more.

Hooking his fingers into the fabric he tugs it down and a moment later you’re lying completely naked on his bed, his lips tasting yours relentlessly with so much hunger. It doesn’t take long for his head to end up between your legs. The sight of him down there, watching you with greedy eyes, you see his back and shoulder muscles move with each movement and you just want to kiss each and every one of them.

He teases you with only kissing the inner side of your thighs, nearing where you need him the most and only allowing his lips on your cunt when you’re on the verge of tears. But then it’s like paradise. He sucks and kisses and uses his fingers to please you, tasting the juice of your pleasure as if it was the sweetest nectar he has ever tasted. One of his hands moves up your body, over your stomach and to your heaving chest and he loves feeling your racing heartbeat under the touch of his palm while he devours you with his mouth.

Though it would be heavenly to come like this, it’s not what you want right now. You want his cock inside you and before that, you want a taste of him as well. Grabbing a handful of his hair you tug him up and he understands the message, moving up he is eager to press his lips to yours and the taste of yourself mixes with your moans before you push him down to the mattress and get on top of him. You kiss your way down his chest, explore the patterns on his soft skin and every time your tongue presses against his hot skin he groans impatiently, his hips buckling up involuntarily.

When you finally reach the elastic of his pants the bulge in it is already impressive and you palm it over the fabric, earning yourself a loud moan and you can’t hold a proud smile back before you hook your fingers into the elastic and pull his pants down along with his underwear, his hard cock springing free in front of you.

Fuck, he is so big, the red tip already leaking and you haven’t even started with him. He watches you intently as you wrap a hand around the base and leaning down you kiss the tip before giving his massive length a lick from bottom to top.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he moans, the muscles in his thighs twitching from the sensation. You place your free hand to his inner thigh, his fingers digging into his flesh as you take him into your mouth and give him a gentle suck before taking several inches of him.

With a hand on the back of your head Harry’s eyes roll back into his head, your name falling from his lips as desperate pleas while you bob your head up and down, forcing yourself to take more and more of him, just the sounds that rip out of his chest are making you feral and obsessed with having him like this; at your mercy and falling apart.

Harry is about to burst in bliss, every time his cock disappears in your mouth he falls for you more and more and harder than ever. And as much as he loves having himself buried in your warm mouth, he wants to feel himself in your pussy already.

He cups your jaw in his hand and pulls you up, you let go of his cock with a pop, your lips are glistening from your saliva and Harry tugs you up, crashing his lips onto yours as he flips you over and onto your back on the mattress, getting on top of you, his hips settling between your legs and you moan loud and shamelessly when the tip of his cock presses against your clit. Harry reaches to the side and blindly tears the drawer of his bedside table open, but you grab his wrist and pull it back.

“I’m on birth control and I really want to feel you raw, please!” you tell him, kissing the corner of his mouth and his answer is a guttural growl before he kisses you hard and reaches down between your naked bodies to position himself to your center.

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment probably since the day I first saw you,” he murmurs against your lips and you whimper when he drags the head of his hard cock up and down your pussy, collecting wetness before he pushes just the tip inside. “Are you mine, Y/N? I want you all to myself.”

“I’m yours. All of me, it’s yours,” you gasp as he slowly pushes more and more in until his whole length is buried deep inside you.

“Fuck, say that again!” he begs as he starts moving, in and out, slowly picking up his pace.

“Yours, Harry. I’m yours,” you repeat as you wrap your arms around his torso, your fingers digging into his back muscles.

His arms frame your head and his lips capture yours in messy kisses from time to time as he keeps thrusting in and out of you. It’s everything you ever wanted and needed, you’ve never felt like this before with anyone and if you had an ounce of doubt in you about Harry, now it’s all gone. You want him, in and out, all to yourself and for as long as possible.

It’s almost embarrassing how fast your orgasm builds up and you come screaming his name, but he doesn’t last longer either, his hips falling out of rhythm as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, riding his high to the fullest.

After a few more sloppy thrusts his movements come to a halt, but he remains on top of you. Minutes or maybe hours go by before he rolls off or you, but his arms lock around you in an instant, pulling you against his sweaty body and you gladly melt against him. His lips press against your forehead and when you lift your head to look at him you see his beautiful green irises are filled with joy as he smiles at you.

“Your majesty, you’re a bit possessive, huh?” you tease him with a giggle, referring back to how he demanded you to tell him you’re his.

“As if you didn’t enjoy being labeled as mine. I saw the shine in your eyes,” he grins before craning his neck so his lips could meet yours for a short, chaste kiss.

“I’m yours, but are you mine too?” you ask softly as you cup his cheek in one hand.

“Completely,” he replies without hesitation before he turns his face and kisses into the palm of your hand.

You’re late.

Again.

But this time it’s not entirely your fault.

Running around the room you’re collecting your clothes from here and there, putting them on in a hurry while your hair is still one big mess, bouncing around with every movement. You have about one minute to be down at the morning briefing, but you have no idea where your shoes are.

“Under the chair, Love,” Harry’s voice snaps you out of your frantic search and your head snaps in his direction. He’s lying in his bed, king sized for a future king, no shirt and you know for a fact that no underwear under the sheets. His arms are tucked under his head as he’s watching you with a smug grin, knowing well that he is the reason you’re late.

You wanted to get up and out of bed in time, but he wouldn’t let go of you, kept stealing kisses until they turned a little more heated which eventually led to some hot morning sex. Not that you’re complaining, but Agnes won’t be glad when you stumble into the briefing late and looking completely unpresentable.

“Thanks,” you huff and grab your shoes from where he said they were and put them on with one hand while trying to comb through your hair with your other one.

“Can I get a goodbye kiss?” he asks innocently, but there’s no doubt the moment you’d get into his reach he would pull you back into bed. His morning meeting got canceled yesterday and now he is way too smug about having a few free hours for himself, even though it’s not the case for everyone.

It’s been two days since Sunday, the turning point. Two blissful days of… whatever it might be that’s going on between you and Harry. Now it seems ridiculous there was a time you thought Harry didn’t want you. Ever since the wall between the two of you broke down he’s been making sure you know just how into you he is.

“You look stunning today.”

“I love your smile, especially when it’s because of me.”

“I wish I could spend the whole day with you.”

“I’ll be thinking about you until I see you again.”

These are just a few of the things that made the butterflies in your stomach go wild, turning you into a giddy teenager. Every moment you spend apart you ache to know where he is, what he is doing and whether he is thinking about you, but according to him, you’re always on his mind. Which is great, because you can’t stop thinking about him either.

“We both know it wouldn’t be just a kiss,” you tell him with a knowing look as you somehow regulate your hair into a bun.

“I’m sorry I can’t get enough of you,” he innocently apologizes, but the grin on his face tells you otherwise.

“Stop trying to get into my panties again!” you warn him but walk closer to the bed anyway. He scoots to the side as you approach him, but you stop just out of his reach. “Just a kiss, Harry. Seriously, I’m already late.”

“Tell them I needed your immediate help.”

“With what exactly?” you arch an eyebrow, inching closer so now his hand can sneak up your thigh, under your skirt. His smirk widens and he needs no words to let you know his answer. “You’re so needy all the time,” you roll your eyes but lean down anyway, pressing your lips against his soft ones, he kisses you back right away, one hand remained on your thigh, his fingers gently massaging the muscles while his other one cradles the back of your head, gently pulling you down, keeping you close to stretch the kiss out for as long as possible.

“I really have to go,” you mumble against his lips and with one last peck, you pull away and head towards the door.

“The things you do to me!” Harry growls and you just laugh, glancing back at him one last time from the door.

“I didn’t do anything,” you wink at him before walking out and leaving him alone.

The gods had you in their favors. When you finally get to the briefing it hasn’t started yet, someone kept Agnes up so she storms into the room just about five seconds after you and misses how you were totally late.

You ignore Cassidy’s staring, who’s been on your case for a long time now. You haven’t told her exactly what’s been going on between you and Harry, but it’s obvious you can’t hide it much longer. She’s not stupid, she can tell something is up and you hate not telling her the truth.

Through the whole briefing you feel her eyes on you, she knows you didn’t spend the night in the room and you’ll have to come clean.

For the noon you get signed up for laundry along with Cassidy and two other girls, Krissi and Leah.

“That’s it for today. Report to me when everything is done on your list and we’ll see if there’s anything else to do. Thank you,” Agnes dismisses the group and everyone goes on their merry way.

“You’re not getting away from telling me everything this time,” Cassidy tells you as you head up to your floor, Krissi and Leah walking a few steps ahead of you.

“Chill down, I know! But this might not be the right moment,” you whisper back, looking around cautiously.

“The right moment was about two days ago. I want to know everything!”

Sighing you look around again and make sure no one is listening before you link your arm with Cassidy’s and lean close to keep your voice down.

“I’m… seeing Harry. Like, we’re… we’re a thing.”

“A thing? Like… you’re hooking up?” she whisper-yells with wide eyes.

“It’s more than just hooking up. We’re just gonna see where it’s heading.” You can’t hold a smile back from your lips just thinking about everything that has happened since last Sunday.

“Oh my God, you’re so gone for him!” she gasps. “What is he like in bed? Is he as good as people assume?”

“Cassidy!” you snap at her, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“Come on, I need a little something!”

Sighing you pull her to the side by one of the windows before you’d turn the corner to the queen’s suit.

“He is… the best. In every way. He is passionate and caring, always makes sure to give just as much as he gets, if not more.”

“Fuck, he sounds like the perfect lover,” she hums dreamily. “You spent every night with him since your little classes?”

“Yeah,” you nod with a giggle. “It’s been hard to keep our hands off of each other.”

“You lucky bitch! You have what the whole kingdom wants! Or at least the women.”

“Shh, keep it down! We don’t want the whole palace to know about it yet,” you shush her.

“So it’s a secret affair?”

“Well… It wouldn’t be smart to make it so public when we don’t know for sure what it is,” you explain. “It’s a complicated situation and he’s very protective. He danced back before because he didn’t want to bring me into something seriously affecting without thinking it through and having my approval.”

“That’s actually kind of sweet,” she swoons.

“I know,” you sigh with a full heart.

“Y/N, I’m happy for you,” Cassidy smiles back at you, giving your hand a squeeze.

Before anyone could pick up what you’re talking about you return to work and don’t mention Harry when anyone is around, especially Leah and Krissi. Laundry work is kind of a neutral task, you collect the dirty ones, bring them to the laundry room, start the machines and bring clean ones. Easy as it is, but it doesn’t need much concentration either and you can’t help but keep thinking about Harry.

You’re falling for him with every passing moment, even when you’re not around him. You’ve never felt like this before, no man was able to sweep you off your feet the way Harry has been doing and you know your feelings are already stronger than you ever felt for anyone else before.

There aren’t many questions in you about where you want to head with him. You see a future with this man, even with all the obstacles you might have to face for the most human thing to ever exist.

As if he could feel you thinking about him, your phone buzzes in your dress’ hidden little pocket and when you pull it out you see a message from him.

HARRY: Meet me in my office.

His study room just got finished this weekend and now he has officially taken the spot where his father used to do business. He didn’t say it but it’s obvious it means a lot to him, that it’s an important connection between his father and him.

“Cass, I’m gonna take a quick break,” you let your friend know. She smiles at you knowingly and nods before you part ways.

Excitement rushes through your veins as you try not to run down the hallways like an excited little kid. Walking past guards and other staff you finally arrive at his study and knocking on the massive doors you wait for an answer from inside.

The door opens as you’re rolling on the ball of your feet and you get pulled into the room before you could even process what’s happening. One of Harry’s arms curls around you to keep you on your feet in the sudden motion, he shuts the door closed and presses you up against it, his lips claiming yours in an instant.

“Mm, missed me, huh?” you giggle, returning his hungry kisses.

“I always miss you when you’re not with me,” he murmurs before burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hands already wandering underneath your skirt. As much as you would love to take it further, you know you don’t have enough time and it’s risky for you to even be here. So gently pushing him away you pepper his lips with a few more soft kisses and step away from the door. Luckily, he gets the hint and completely understands it.

The room looks fantastic. It’s spacious, almost every wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with books as thick as your arm, his massive desk situated near the bright windows, allowing the light to hit it perfectly, there is a corner with a sofa and some armchairs and a giant and probably incredibly expensive coffee machine with a set of china next to it. Everything looks so… royal, so impressive, it’s exactly what you’d picture for a king.

For your king.

“Wow, it looks amazing,” you look around in awe and walking over to the desk you slide your fingers over the shiny surface of it.

“You like it?” you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind.

“Yeah, it suits you,” you smile, turning to face him. “Sit there, let me see what you look like doing business,” you giggle, nodding towards the leather seat behind the desk.

He smirks, walking around the desk and you watch him take the seat, leaning onto the top as he watches you. You can’t help but bite into your bottom lip at the sight of him. He’s wearing his usual crispy white shirt, but the sleeves are rolled up, showing off the ink on his skin and the way only one corner of his mouth is curling up is giving you ideas of what you could do that would involve this desk between the two of you.

“Come ’ere,” he murmurs, leaning back in the seat and you obey without a second thought. He turns away from the desk and spreads his knees so you can stand between them. Reaching out you run a hand through his hair as his palms slip to your waist, tugging you closer, making you almost fall on top of him.

“You’re being naughty, what if someone comes in?” you warn him, but make no action to put at least some distance between you and him.

“No one barges in here without knocking first,” he hums and turning his head he kisses your arm, your hand still tangled into his hair. “But if someone did… would it be so bad if they caught us?”

“Weren’t you the one who said we need to think everything through before acting? Getting caught might not be the best way to make it official.”

“Make what official?” he smirks cheekily.

“That… we’re a thing?”

“A thing?” he chuckles. “That’s quite the label.”

“Okay, then what do you want to call it?”

“I want to call you mine.”

“I’m already yours,” you smile at him softly before leaning down you press your lips against his and he returns it eagerly. “And you’re mine, right?” you whisper against his lips.

“Yours. And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he answers before kissing you passionately.

Though you could stop yourself before, hearing his words you feel your self control vanishing and you want him way more than just moments ago. His hands are exploring your body as he kisses you with intense hunger and you return it just as eagerly, pressing yourself up against him.

He emerges from his seat without breaking away from you and the next thing you know is that he is helping you up onto the desk, his hips pressing between your open legs. The whole scenario feels like it’s straight out of one of your fantasies, never in a million years you would have thought you’d find yourself in this situation, with none other than the future king of Eroda. Sometimes you still feel like it’s too good to be true.

Soft moans slip through your parted lips when you involuntarily roll your hips against his, Harry groans against your neck where he is nibbling on the skin, kissing and sucking it, not even caring if he leaves marks behind. He is way too lost in the bliss of having you in his arms.

“Fuck, Y/N… You’re…” he mumbles before kissing his way back to your mouth.

“I’m what?” you breathe out, your words turning into a moan when his growing erection is pressed against your center.

“You’re everything,” he replies, stealing your next moan as he kisses you so hard you almost fall back on the desk.

Neither of you are planning to stop, it’s way too heated and you can’t think straight anymore, but when you hear voices coming from outside you jump off the table and Harry moves back, though the state both of you are in and the way your chest is heaving are massive give-aways of what was happening.

The people pass by the door and their voices die down in the hallway, but it was the reminder you needed that it’s not safe to just fall for your desires whenever and wherever.

“Sorry,” Harry chuckles, running a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath and you feel your cheeks heating up when you see the bulge in his pants. Hopping off the desk you walk past him and stand by the window as you fix your clothes and hair. He completely messed up your apron somehow, so you untie it at the back and try to redo it, though you’re not the best at it, usually Cassidy helps you out.

“Let me do it,” Harry softly murmurs as he steps behind you and takes over the task. He ties it carefully before his hands slip to your waist from behind and he kisses into your neck.

“Don’t start again, your majesty,” you sigh as you turn around in his hold and kiss him gently, careful not to get back to where you were just moments ago.

“I’m sorry, can’t help it,” he grins, stealing another kiss before forcing himself to let go of you.

Smiling to yourself you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress and absentmindedly glance out the window, realizing just how sheer the curtains are. The windows are massive and Harry’s desk is dangerously close to them, meaning that if someone was walking by they would easily spot what the two of you were doing.

Looking around cautiously you don’t see a thing, but there’s an eerie, unsettling feeling in your guts that tells you, you should have been more careful.

“Everything alright?” Harry asks and you tear your gaze away from the view to see him tucking his shirt back into his pants.

“Yeah,” you nod with a faint smile. “I really should go back to work.”

“Can I see you tonight?”

“We’ll see,” you chuckle. Walking over to him you fix his collars before pressing a short kiss to his lips and heading towards the door.

“I’ll be waiting,” he calls after you. Glancing over your shoulder you wink at him before slipping out of the room, hoping no one noticed your rapid visit.

It’s been a tiring day. Harry’s last meeting has stretched longer than he expected, but it’s been his usual all week. With the coronation coming up on Monday, so in just two short days, his duties are never ending, it seems.

His study finally empties out as his last guest leaves the palace and thankfully, he is finished for the day. Collapsing into his seat he takes a few moments in the quiet and peace he’s been dreading all day, knowing well it all starts in the morning again.

But it’s what he signed up for. This is what he always knew he would be doing and he loves to serve his country and be a leader, but sometimes he wishes he could just take a day off.

There’s a knock on the door and he almost groans, but when he calls out and sees his mother walking in he loses his lack of enthusiasm towards his guest.

“Hey,” he breathes out and standing up from his seat he rounds the desk and nods at Anne, inviting her to sit on the sofa.

“Hi, did you just finish for the day?” she asks. This past week the queen has completely given up on her tasks, allowing Harry to take over the lead before his official coronation. That means she hasn’t been attending many meetings along with her son so the two of them didn’t see much of each other.

“Yeah, finances always take longer than anything else,” he chuckles, as they settle on the sofa.

“Believe me, I know,” she smirks knowingly. “I wanted to come by and ask how you’ve been. The big day is just around the corner.”

“I’m doing fine. I don’t have much time to not be,” he jokes.

“It’s crazy for now, but you’ll get used to it and also better at it.”

“I know,” he nods. Anne takes a deep breath, taking a look around before her eyes settle over Harry again.

“I’ve noticed that there’s a little shine in your eyes lately. What do you have to say about that?” she asks and they both know exactly what she’s talking about.

Anne knows Harry better than anyone and even after spending so much time apart, she can easily spot the slightest change in him right away. She is the biggest expert of Harry Styles.

“Not much. Only that… I’m happy,” he admits with a chuckle.

“Is it because of a particular person?”

“Why do you even ask when you know exactly what the answer will be?” he rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “It’s because of her. Y/N. I’m… I’m seeing her.”

“So it’s somewhat official?”

“I mean… between us, it is. We haven’t figured out what to do.”

“So you’re planning with her? It’s not just a fling?”

“It’s not,” he shakes his head confidently. “She is… I want to be with her. Always. And I think she feels the same way about me.”

“Well, that’s a great start,” she smiles and Harry feels relief washing over him, even though he knew his mother would support him no matter what. “I assume you don’t have a plan then.”

“That’s the last thing I have,” he admits laughing.

“Alright. Then maybe think about it. So when you’re a little bit less busy you’ll know what to do. I wouldn’t want you to find yourself in a situation that might hurt anyone you care about, or what’s worse, hurt you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve just been so wrapped up in everything and it’s been nice to have something… just for myself.”

“I know and I wish you could keep it that way,” she sighs and reaching over she gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “But I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Do you think… Do you think she’ll be attacked if word gets out?”

“As I said before, there is always going to be judgment, no matter what. They won’t see the woman you see when you look at her. They’ll only see a maid who somehow got involved with the royal family and for some standards that’s unacceptable. So you have to brace yourself for the worst case scenario.”

“We’ll think about it and consult with the right people eventually,” Harry nods.

“I know you’ll make the best decisions. You always do,” she smiles before giving his hand another squeeze.

Harry can’t stop thinking about you after that in the sense where he is trying to imagine his life without you. He can’t. The way you’ve made him feel, he’s obsessed and he wants to keep it forever. When he was younger he questioned whether he’d ever find the person he’d want to stay with forever. Who’d make him feel so…

Loved.

And in love.

Harry loves you, he knows that now. He’s been trying to label his feeling, but because he’s never felt like this before he couldn’t decide what it was. Now he is sure he is in love with you.

That night he is waiting for your arrival impatiently, wanting to see you after a long day spent apart and when you slip into his room he is quick to pull you into his arms and kiss you with all the love he has for you.

“Hello to you too,” you grin against his lips, your arms hugging his neck as you stand on your tiptoes to lessen the height difference between the two of you.

“Hi,” he smiles, resting his forehead against yours. Just looking into his eyes you see the change in him and it worries you for a moment.

“What happened?” you ask, cupping his face in your hands.

“Nothing, I just… I’m thankful you’re here. With me.”

Smiling warmly at him you kiss his lips before pulling him towards the bed. Despite his words you can tell something is different and you feel like tonight it’s best if you just simply hold each other. Harry curls around you in an instant as you get under the sheets and you wrap your arms around him, his head resting on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat.

“Are you nervous about monday?” you ask, playing with his curls.

“A little bit, yeah,” he hums. “I just don’t want to trip and fall anytime during the ceremony,” he adds with a chuckle.

“That would be funny,” you grin. “But I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

“Y/N?” he softly says.

“Yes, Harry?” you answer and he loves the way you say his name.

“Nothing will change between us, right?” he asks, lifting his head up so he can look into your eyes. “Whatever happens, we’ll be the same. I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine, right?”

“We’ll be the same, Harry. No matter what,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

That’s all he wanted to hear, that even in the midst of the craziest time of his life he’ll have you the way he needs you.

On Sunday you wake up early in the morning and after kissing Harry goodbye several times and successfully peeling yourself out of his needy grip, you return to your room before the morning rush could start in the palace. Cassidy is still asleep, she has about thirty more minutes before her alarm goes off so you make sure to stay quiet for that time. Busying yourself with braiding your hair and scrolling on your phone you kill some time and enjoy the stillness of the early hours.

That is until a knock is heard on the door.

At first you think it’s Harry. Who else would be at your door so early? However as you walk over to the door and open it you’re surprised and kind of shocked to see Agnes. She is not wearing her uniform yet, though her casual attire doesn’t ease the seriousness she always carries in her presence.

“A-Agnes, good morning,” you say, not entirely sure how to act.

“Follow me,” she simply tells you and there’s no place for protest as you follow her down the hallway.

There are a million questions racing in your head but you don’t dare to speak as you head in the direction of Harry’s study and part of you already knows what it’s about, but you ignore it just for a few more seconds before you have to face reality.

As you’re escorted into the room the first person you see is Harry, he is standing behind his desk, leaning onto it, his head hanging low, but as you step inside it lifts and you see his wide, bloodshot eyes and your stomach drops.

Then you see the queen and a few more people who work for the royal family and suddenly you feel like you’re being examined through a microscope.

“G-Good morning, your majesty,” you breathe out, not sure about the etiquette in this odd situation. Harry ignores your confused greeting as he pushes himself away from the table and rounding it you see his pained expression just worsen.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes right away and as he reaches you he takes your hands between his.

“For what exactly?” you ask quietly.

Before anyone could say a word Agnes hands you a copy of the Sunday newspaper and on the very first page you see several pictures of yourself. They were taken through a window and you immediately know when they were taken so you’re not surprised the situations you see your past self in. You’re wearing your uniform and there’s one where you’re standing by the window, Harry right behind you, kissing into your neck as he holds your waist, and then there are the spicy ones, where you’re on the desk and though most of you is hidden behind Harry’s figure, there’s no denying about what was happening.

And then you see the headline: Future king caught hooking up with young maid.

“Fuck,” you breathe out as you stare at the pictures. You’re not a PR expert, but it’s obvious the photos are scandalous, the scenario is definitely not one you’d want to portray yourself in as a king.

“The timing of the publication was definitely set to be right before the coronation, to make it as big as possible,” one of the PR people speaks up, but you zone out on his further words as you open the newspaper and read some lines from the article. Additionally to the front page there are two more whole pages dedicated to the pictures, there are some more of just Harry from previous events and then they somehow got a few of you as well and it makes you realize your Instagram account is completely public. To make it go well with the narrative, they chose older pictures of you where you appear even younger and more inappropriate in age to Harry.

…The long time bachelor of the royal family seems to be fulfilling his needs with the staff of the palace. According to sources Y/N Y/L/N has been working as a maid for the royal family for the past few years and it seems like lately her duties have been expanded…

…Though the prince’s love life had always been kept private, it appears there’s more hidden than what we were expecting. And after all, we found out that his type is definitely the younger, more naive, classless women. Maybe he has had enough of the high expectations of the ladies in the kingdom and seeked something easier…

You hear more and more talking around you but all you can focus on is the article that keeps going on and on about how you’re just some nobody, a toy Harry likes to play with because you’re just an easy hook up, a temporary fix for his needs. It’s everything you feared from the first moment.

“We need to act right now or don’t do anything,” you hear the queen talk firmly. “We don’t have much left before hell breaks loose online, we need to have a plan.”

“We’re suing them, right?” Harry asks, one hand on your lower back while you just stand there, with the paper in your hand, your anxiety growing with each passing second. “Those pictures were taken on the property of the palace where they are not allowed.”

“Security issues are already being checked out to see how it could happen and our legal team is working on pressing charges. But that doesn’t make the story disappear,” the PR person says.

The discussion carries on and you feel like you’re not even there, like you’re just a ghost with nothing to add, nothing helpful and it’s starting to feel too much all at once.

“Excuse me,” you breathe out under your breath and you’re not sure anyone even heard you. Harry notices as you move towards the door and he calls after you, but you’re out of the room fast, running down the hallway and away from the issues that fell on your shoulders all of a sudden.

You know exactly where you’re going, to the place where you can be alone and have a breather from everything to think it all through. To the lake.

Harry tries to go after you, but he is held back, however he knows exactly where he needs to be also. With you.

“Your majesty, we need to take the matter in our hands, every minute matters,” the PR guy reminds him, but Harry is quick to shut him down.

“Do whatever you want. I trust you with the matter, but I need to make sure she is alright, understood?”

They want to protest, but Anne is the first one to speak up.

“I’ll take care of it. You go and do whatever you need to do,” she tells Harry and he looks back at her with appreciation before leaving the room to go after you.

By the time he frees himself you’re nowhere in sight, but he knows exactly where must have gone and he wastes no time running after you. To get there quicker he decides to take Ladybug out, heading to the lake in the woods.

You reach the water completely out of breath, but it’s not only because of the running, it’s also because of the panic attack you’ve been dealing with ever since you saw that newspaper. You should have seen it coming, that no matter what people would find the worst in you and pick you apart. You’ll always be the naive young girl, a little nobody next to the king of Eroda.

What if Harry sees you that way too? What if you really are just an easy, temporary fix until he finds someone with class to marry and be picture perfect with? You feel stupid for thinking he’d ever choose you, that he’d put himself through all of this for being with you.

“Fuck,” you gasp as you sit down by the water, onto the pebbled ground and just stare out ahead of you, tears dwelling in your eyes. It’s so early in the morning, you’re wearing the clothes you slept in, but you think about just walking into the water and submerging to feel isolated from everything.

However you don’t stay alone for long. You hear Ladybug’s galloping before you spot her with Harry. Wiping your cheeks from the tears you jump to your feet just as Harry climbs off of Ladybug, rushing up to you, cradling your face in his hands as he looks down at you with eyes full of worry.

“Y/N, why did you run away?” he breathes out, trying to catch his breath.

“I-I’m sorry, I just… It was too much at once so I wanted to think, but I’m so sorry for everything, Harry!”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, it wasn’t your fault!”

“But you’re being roasted because of me, because of my lack of status and class and it’s ruining your coronation, your big day!”

“Y/N stop, this is none of your fault!” he begs you, desperate to make you understand he doesn’t blame a thing on you.

“I-I’m sorry… It’s so… It’s okay if you want to end it, I would understand,” you whisper, your throat closing up as you’re fighting your tears back even harder, but you’re losing this battle.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he starts in a firm tone, still holding your face in his hands, his eyes focused on yours. “You rewrote my whole universe the moment I laid my eyes on you. Everything has been about you since then, every decision I make, every thought I have, every breath I take is to spend another moment with you even when things seem to be turning against us. There’s nothing that could change the way I feel about you. Absolutely nothing, do you understand me?”

Not trusting your voice all you can do is nod, your hands finding his waist as you push yourself closer to him, wanting to feel him. He rests his forehead against yours before speaking up again.

“Nothing they wrote in that article is true. You’re not just a hookup or a momentary adventure. I want to plan a future with you, Y/N. Forever or for as long as you’ll have me. Every moment I have with you is a gift to me, because… because I love you.”

Your eyes widen at his words and for a moment you think your knees will give up underneath you, but you manage to stay on your feet. It was unexpected and shocking, especially after the whirlwind of thoughts you just had a couple of minutes ago about him.

But one thing is for sure.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your hands fisting his shirt as you press up against him and your lips find his in an instant.

He kisses you back as if he was saying the words over and over again, I love you, I love you, I love you, his lips tell you in a different way than the first time, but you understand the words clear as daylight. The tears keep rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the taste of his lips, but they are a different kind now, you feel full and happy and most importantly, loved.

“Aren’t you needed back there to discuss the situation?” you ask when your kisses slow down, but you’re still tangled in each other, neither of you are willing to let go just yet.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” he smiles before kissing you again.

The two of you ride back to the palace on Ladybug, you practically melt against Harry, completely forgetting about the rest of the world or the fact that you’re sitting on a horse again. He walks Ladybug back into her box and then takes your hand as you head back to his study to face reality.

No one comments on your disappearance and most importantly on the way Harry doesn’t let go of you, not even for just a moment. You sit in silence and listen to the conversation intently as a plan is formed. Before the clock hits eleven a statement will be released that the photos were taken on private property and the person who took them violated the law. Legal steps will be taken and the pictures will be deleted from every media outlet. No further statement will be forwarded, no explanation, no comment. The two of you are required to stay silent about the matter at least until after the coronation.

“And what about after? They won’t just let it die down, will they?” you ask Harry quietly so only he can hear your words.

“We’ll figure it out. We’re gonna have to come forward at one point and give out our own narrative.”

Nodding you just nervously chew on your bottom lip until Harry reaches up and pulls it out from between your teeth.

“Hey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? Just… talk to me. We can never speak of it in public, if that’s what you want.”

“You know we can’t do that,” you say with a bitter smile. “But I’m okay with… whatever is needed to be done. I just don’t want to make you appear in a bad light,” you admit. “Being seen with me looks to be quite damaging and I understand if you don’t want to ruin your reputation.”

“Y/N, that’s not happening,” he smiles at you gently. “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.”

“I believe you,” you smile back and steal a quick kiss.

The rest of the day is filled with damage control. The royal legal team is nonstop working on getting a hold of the case and making every photo disappear from the internet, though everyone knows that’s basically impossible.

You stay with Harry for most of it, because one, you kind of want to hear every detail so you know what’s exactly going on. And two, because being with Harry is the only thing that keeps you sane for now.

When the end of the day finally comes you feel dreaded and want nothing else than to just sleep. You’re walking out of Harry’s study after one last meeting with the legal team and Harry is pulling you towards his room, but you stop him.

“Maybe we should spend tonight apart,” you suggest, exhaling shakily.

“What? Why?” he asks and you almost regret your suggestion seeing the panic in his eyes.

“It’s just that tomorrow is your big day, it’ll be busy enough without me being around. With the whole situation… maybe it’s best if we’re not seen together for now.”

Harry wants to protest, to tell you he wants you around him all the time but what you said was rational. It’s what you agreed to do and his day will be documented top to bottom tomorrow, so it’s better if you’re not around, just to keep yourself to the plan. But that doesn’t change the way he feels about you and how he wants you to be around all the time.

“When will I see you tomorrow then?”

“Um, I’ll be working, probably just in the kitchen so I’m not out in the front,” you add with a bitter chuckle. “But… let me know when the craziness is over and we’ll see, okay?”

“At least come to the ball in the evening. Are you working then as well?”

“No I’m not… but maybe it’s not the best decision to show up there.”

You can tell the rejection pains him and you hate that you make him feel like this, but today has been fucked up enough. As much as you need Harry by your side you also know you need some alone time to think everything through.

“Alright,” he nods, clearing his throat. Pulling you into his arms he kisses you without even looking around, checking if anyone is around. You melt into his embrace and kiss him back before he just simply rests his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile back at him, pecking his lips one last time before parting ways.

It feels like everything crashes down on you again once you return to your room. Cassidy is there, watching your every step as you practically fall into bed with the loudest groan that has ever been heard from you.

“So, are you alright?” she asks, rolling to the edge of her bed.

“I kind of want to die, thanks for asking,” you mumble into the pillow.

“What’s the plan? I read the statement about the legal steps, but nothing about the two of you.”

Sighing you lift your head and push yourself up into a sitting position, crossing your legs as you look at your roommate.

“There won’t be anything for a while. We need the coronation to happen and then we’re addressing the situation.”

“So what, you’re gonna hide until then?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Kind of,” you shrug your shoulders.

“And you’re okay with that? Most importantly, is Harry okay with that?”

“I understand it. I’m not quite the best person to get involved in for a royal, don’t you think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she scoffs. “No one is better than anyone just because of a stupid title, I thought you know that better than anyone. Why should you hide for literally the most mundane thing to ever exist? For being with someone? Does Harry want to hide you as well?”

“No… not really,” you admit.

“Thank God!”

“He wants me to go to the coronation ball tomorrow.”

“And you’re going, right?”

“I said I wouldn’t…”

“Y/N, you will not just hide in a corner until they let you make an appearance. Harry wants you there, it’s his and your decision, no one else’s. I say you go there, show up looking like a fucking goddess and make everyone regret all the bullshit they said about you!”

You blink back at her at a complete loss of words. You weren’t expecting a speech like this, especially not from her, but it definitely got the message through.

It’s mostly your own inner fears that are messing with your head. Harry made it clear he is not ashamed to be seen with you, he is planning a future with you and that’s exactly how you feel too. Then why should you let stupid, ignorant people decide how you live your life? You want to be there with Harry, support him and be part of the day that changes his whole life.

And no one can take that away from you.

At ten in the morning the next day, Harry officially becomes king of Eroda as the crown is placed on his head in St. Carolina Cathedral.

Just like everyone in the kingdom who is not present at the ceremony, you watch it through a live stream while working in the kitchen. Your chest fills with pride and joy as Harry is introduced as King of Eroda to the crowd, waving and smiling and you wish you could be there to witness it with your own eyes and not just through a screen.

The palace has been buzzing since early in the morning, the works for the big day seemingly never ending. When one thing is done there comes the next, there’s just no stopping.

Originally your shift should end at three, which leaves you just enough time to get ready for the coronation ball. However just five minutes before you are about to be off the clock Agnes comes up to you in a rush.

“Y/N, can you maybe take a few more hours of kitchen service?” she asks with her usual clipboard in her hands that definitely has a lot more papers clipped than on a normal day.

“Oh, I kind of…” you exhale, not sure whether you should come clean about your plans or tell her a lie. At last you realize you’re done hiding and it should start now. “I’m planning to attend the ball, Agnes. I can’t stay any longer.”

She examines you with a straight face and you’re convinced she is about to tell you how stupid of an idea it is, to go against the plan, but at last you see the tiniest smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards.

“You better look flawless, Y/N,” she tells you before rushing off to find a substitute.

The crown feels heavier than he expected, Harry thinks as he takes a look at himself in the mirror. He has just changed from his traditional suit he wore for the ceremony into a more conservative one for the ball, but with the crown on his head it would be hard to lose him in a crowd. All eyes are about to be on him again as he walks into the ballroom and dances with his mother to open the event.

Everything has been going perfectly, there was no mishap, no sudden issues, almost too perfect, if you ask him. But of course, above all the good he knew something was off all day.

He missed having you around.

He was really counting on sharing the night with you, but he didn’t want to press it after your suggestion. Waking up alone was disappointing and he hasn’t seen you all day either. Now the ball is about to start and you told him you wouldn’t be there. He has to go through the whole evening hoping to finally see you and hold you in his arms, that’s all he wants now.

There’s a knock on the door and as he calls out Anne walks in, wearing her ball gown, a black and golden piece that suits the occasion perfectly. She walks over to him with a proud smile to fix his collar even though it looks spotless.

“You know how proud I am of you, right?” she asks, brushing her hands over his shoulder gently.

“I know. And thank you for all the support you gave me,” he nods before pulling her into a hug she’s been dreading, but held herself back not sure if he’d be happy about it.

“I’ll always be by your side,” she smiles, squeezing him to herself. “Alright. Ready to make your first appearance?”

“I guess I am,” he chuckles as the two of them head out.

The ballroom is filled with lords and ladies, tonight is an occasion no one wanted to miss, of course. The trumpets go off as Anne appears on the top of the stairs and walks down gracefully, for the first time as not the queen. When she reaches the end of the stairs she steps aside, the trumpets start playing again and Harry finally steps out, taking a moment to look around in the room while the crowd cheers for him.

He walks down the stairs, just like his mother did only moments ago and the trumpets turn into music with a whole band and when he reaches the bottom he holds out his hand for Anne for their dance.

As they twirl to the middle of the room all he can think about is you and what you taught him about dancing. His posture, his movements, everything is resonating back at your work and the time the two of you spent together at your classes and his thoughts return to missing you once again.

While the two of them are dancing perfectly, at the back of the room the crowd starts to whisper and look around, even part as if someone more important than the king showed up.

It’s you.

You didn’t intend to stop the whole show with your arrival but as soon as people recognized you, it got out of hand. Wearing a simple, but elegant royal blue dress you only wanted to make your appearance known after Harry and Anne’s dance, but the crowd thought otherwise.

It gets to the point where Harry notices that something is happening, his gaze trying to spot what’s causing the scene and then he sees you.

The crowd of guests part until you’re fully visible to Harry as well and you’re obviously in the center of the attention now. Harry stops dancing, unable to look away from you while you look back at you a little uncertain and afraid that he might be mad at you for showing up after all.

He feels none of that, more like the opposite. He can’t believe you’re here, looking like a dream.

Anne squeezes his hand to grab his attention.

“Go, ask her to dance,” she smiles before slipping out of his arms.

Harry turns to face you and then walks up to you as every guest is waiting to see what’s about to happen. He stops right in front of you and takes his time to run his gaze up and down your appearance.

“Hi,” he then smiles at you, barely able to control his emotions.

“Hi. I just… I don’t want to hide. So if you’re okay with it—“

“Can I have a dance, Miss Y/L/N?” he asks with a wide grin as he holds his hand out for you, ignoring your rambling but also giving you an answer at the same time.

Relief washes over you and you could cry from happiness as you take his hand and he leads you to the middle of the room, pulling you into his arms, every pair of eyes glued to you but you only see the man in front of you.

You start dancing, just like before at your classes only that now the whole kingdom can see you and by the morning there will be no question that you and Harry are more than just a fling even though you didn’t say a word.

“When I first saw you at the lake a month ago I didn’t know you’d become my wonderwall,” Harry admits as the two of you sway to the music.

“Your wonderwall? What does that mean?” you ask.

“Someone you find yourself thinking about all the time, the person you are completely infatuated with,” he explains as you listen to him smiling to yourself. “That’s what you are. My wonderwall, my love, my queen…” he lists, his eyes keeping yours in lock and he stops before continuing. “And one day I’ll make you Eroda’s queen,” he adds and without a care in the word, he leans down and kisses you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #royal!harry #king!harry #prince!harry #wonderwall

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bloomvine02 · 6 months

Note

Could you write a prince Harry Styles/ princess reader. It can be an idea of your choosing but ideas are 1. they get engaged without their knowledge (something basic) I‘m really not that good in improvising so I‘ll let you decide on what to write and I‘m sure I‘ll love it! Thank you!!!

thank you for this ask! you can find it here:

#fic #fanfic #oneshot #harry styles #harry styles x reader #royal harry styles

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avalentina · 8 months

Text

More Harry Fics in progress! Keep checking back for

The Kindest Team Guy - A NavySeal!Harry oneshot (hoping to polish this one up and have it out before my procedure on the 26th) teaser!

The Princess' Lover - a Royalrry fic (might be a bit, I'm super loving where I'm at and where it's going, but it could definitely turn into a series.

1 Margarita Please (Or 4) - a oneshot (Next one up) should be sometime Wednesday.

Something I've Been Waiting For (2nd in my SSIBHSS) NOW LIVE

Fine Line: The Fic (new format song fic) this one has been writing itself recently, but I can only listen to fine line so many times before just balling my eyes out!

Let me know what you're most excited for and be sure to let me know if you'd like to be tagged in my works!

-Ava

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ

Harry Styles x British Royal!Reader

Her Royal Highness Princess YN, daughter to Prince Charles and late Princess Diana, Prince and Princess of Wales, younger sister to Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, and Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, and granddaughter to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh would’ve never thought to meet Harry Styles by accident—by literally running into him. And Harry Styles would’ve never thought to meet the Princess of England again after that seemingly fateful afternoon.

faceclaim: Saoirse Ronan

author’s note: If you see any mistakes I made—especially royal title wise—please send an ask (anon asks are enabled!). I seriously love and appreciate your help with that <3

series masterlist » prologue

;

sunflowerbutterfly Sometimes I really hate my job—especially if I have to change out of my comfy pullover and fluffy slippers into a dress, a coat, and some high heels.

Seriously, who invented high heels? Hey Alexa, who invented high heels? … ah, so ancient Iran, aka Persia, is to blame. Great. I will condemn those for centuries dead people happily while I suffer during every step I take this afternoon. Burn in hell, ancient Persian torturer.

Liked by MacMark, murderbane, gingerprince, and 4 others | 6 comments

MacMark You only have to find the shoe.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly It‘s easy for you to say because you can walk in every shoe, Meg 💀

↳ MacMark Well… That is true, but everyone has their pair of shoe 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Then my pair is obviously and most definitely my Nike sneaker or Converse

liked by MacMark

murderbane Rebell against the norms! Wear sneaker!

liked by sunflowerbutterfly

↳ gingerprince Not sure if Granny—or the monarchy as such—would love that suggestion, Meredith.

↳ murderbane Fuck the system!

liked by gingerprince and MacMark

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I know again why Granny won’t let you come to Buckingham for another lunch.

↳ murderbane Oh, come on, YNN! That flying sandwich was fun!

↳ gingerprince Wait, you are the one responsible for the Salmon Sandwich Incident???

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Please, don’t call it that, brother dearest.

↳ murderbane I am! And he definitely can call it that. It’s the truth and nothing but the truth.

liked by gingerprince

gingerprince High heels are way out of my league, but they look uncomfortable. Pack a pair of more comfier shoes as second choice?

↳ sunflowerbutterfly No shit, Sherlock 🙄

↳ gingerprince I am sorry that I don’t know more about the secrets of a lady 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I know again why William is my favorite brother.

↳ gingerprince He is not and we both know it 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Keep on dreaming 😙

↳ gingerprince I love you too, dear sister ❤️

instylemagazine Princess YN is now arriving at Strand Campus of King’s College London in a fitted navy blue mid-calf coat by Gucci and black velvet high heels by Jimmy Choo. She is wearing her signature golden butterfly pin—an heirloom of her mother, late Princess Diana.

Liked by yourfan1, yourfan2, royalistsbitch, annetwist, and 4,327 others | 1,441 comments

dianaforever The pin 🥺

↳ ynismyqueen She once told a reporter that she always wears it to official appearances because it helps her with her anxiety - it’s like her mom is with her 🥺

↳ dianaforever Oh gosh, that’s so sweet but so sad at the same time 😭❤️

yourfan1 Princess YN is a style icon.

yourfan2 Damn, she looks stunning.

↳ yourfan3 True!!!! Though the hat was kinda over the top, but I know for sure that she doesn’t want to wear those but has to

↳ yourfan2 Everyone is wearing those ridiculous hats, so she has to. She will probably rip it off as soon as she is back in the car 😅

royalistsbitch I’m on my knees again. This coat is gorgeous 😮‍💨 But the price 😩

yn_andharryshipper She is wearing Gucci, he is wearing Gucci, I want them to meet, but it will stay a dream, I know it.

hsfan1 Harry’s mom liked this post 🥺❤️

;

She could feel the looming shadows of her two Royal Protection Officers right at her back. Aaron and Egil—the first broad, dark, and Scottish, the latter tall, blonde, bearded, and Swedish—shielded her body from the screams of reporters and blinding lights of their clicking cameras while the princess climbed into the back of the waiting SUV. Inside the cozily warm vehicle, YN ripped off the obnoxious hat she was supposed to wear and threw it without a second glance onto the seat next to her. Meanwhile, her feet kicked off the high heels, and with a strangled groan, the blonde pulled them up one after the other and massaged her soles with closed eyes.

The left front door got opened as Egil climbed into the car; Bernard—her favorite driver—already sat behind the wheel and looked through the rear mirror back at the princess. She smiled at the sight of his kind and twinkling eyes. “To Starbucks, Your Highness?” He asked while Egil buckled up. YN nodded. “That would be great, thank you, Bernard. But could we grab a cup at the one in Notting Hill? Near Holland Park? I’m most definitely not in the mood for a crowd.”—Which would form in front of the Starbucks near the river on the other Thames bank opposite Westminster because most tourists frequented this shop. The driver hummed and used the blinker. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Sighing, YN leaned back in her seat but pushed back upward as Egil reached between his feet, clad in shining black Oxford shoes, and conjured a shoebox. He turned in his car seat to hand it over to the princess. “Your sneaker,” the blonde giant smiled, and YN grinned happily. “I thought I forgot them back at Kensington!” She exclaimed and grabbed the box with her current favorite Converse shoes—one in lavender and the other one in a sunflower yellow. Ever since the reporters had seen the princess wearing the odd color combination, every single pair was sold out in the UK and other parts of the world. The internet had been full of posts spotting the same two Converse shoes the princess regularly wore in paparazzi shots.

“Your lady in waiting had handed me the box right before we left, Your Highness, together with this,” the Protection Officer told her while YN had already put on the left shoe. Chuckling, she accepted the book carefully wrapped in soft tissue paper. She knew which book it contained, so she quickly continued putting on the more comfortable shoes before leaning back and unwrapping the book. The first edition of Pride and Prejudice was her entire pride and joy. YN knew it was kind of posh to carry this particular edition around instead of a cheaper paperback edition, but she only would read in it during the ride and maybe in the line while she waited for her coffee. No one would suspect it for a first edition, only if one had better knowledge about books than the majority of the population.

“Thanks, Egil,” she smiled, and the Swedish giant only nodded softly. “There’s nothing to thank me for, Your Highness.” And with that, he turned back and left the princess reading in silence.

;

Arriving at the comparably empty Starbucks, YN unbuckled while her door had already got opened by Aaron, who had sat in the car following them with two other Protection Officers. Egil slid off his seat and stationed himself between the opened door and the sidewalk, eyes wandering over the few people strolling down the street. She pushed her finger between the pages before climbing out of the SUV and straightened her coat before pushing a blonde curl behind her ear. The book was opened again in her hands because YN knew how this always went: she would leave the car with Aaron and Egil but would have to wait a few more moments until one of the other officers—Matthew was on duty today—had exited the place in question to give them the all-clear.

The happily moving bell announced Matt’s return, and he nodded to the other two officers. “All clear, only a few customers,” he told them, and YN moved without thought; book still opened and nose buried inside it. Aaron jumped forward to open the door, Egil right at her back, and Matt shielded her side from potential harm before he returned to the second car. “Thanks, A,” the princess mumbled, mind deep inside the world of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

“I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.” The words left her lips in a whisper and sighing, her finger stroked over the words, always feeling the wonder over literature as soon as she opened particular books. Pride and Prejudice was one of them.

And maybe it was because she read about the devastatingly romantic endeavors of fictional characters who had a much better functioning love life than the Princess of England ever had. Maybe it was because she always had such bad luck in love and interpersonal relationships ever since growing old enough to have the serious kind of it.

But the universe let her run into a solid chest, her precious book tumbling out of her hands and down to the wooden floor where it laid cover-up.

Suddenly, hectic erupted around her, and Aaron and Egil jumped into action while YN still recovered from the sudden stop. Strong hands were gently wrapped around her upper arms to safe her from following her book to the ground, and the fingers of her right hand had buried themselves into the soft fabric of a pullover out of sheer panic and surprise.

Aaron stepped around and stretched out his hands in order to remove the intruder from the princess while Egil tried to maneuver himself between them and the woman. Blinking multiple times, YN shook off the daze; her eyes wandering over an orange and white striped slip-over, a white and brown plaid shirt underneath until they moved to a handsome face with sharp features, a soft beard shadow covering his chin, cheeks, and the skin over his soft looking upper lip. Sea foam green eyes stared wide and in shock down at her, seemingly still taking in the person he had run into, but YN finally was back in reality as Aaron put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I need to ask you to step back, sir,” he spoke up in his most scaring officer voice, and as if the brunette only had noticed the presence of the two looming shadows in immaculate black suits now, his wide eyes moved from her face to the towering Scot. After he didn’t follow the order, Aaron grabbed his shoulder and stared him down with a glare as cold as the North Pole. “I said, I need you to step back, sir,” he stressed his request further, the threat lingering in his tone. Egil cleared his throat to get noticed too, and her collision partner almost paled, his hands slowly letting go off her upper arms, but only after he had made sure with another glance she was steady enough.

“Sorry,” he spoke and raised both hands before he took a step back but bent down to get the book from the floor. He looked up to her as he grabbed the old binding, and Harry still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the Princess of England had run right into his arms. He still wasn’t sure if all of this really happened or if this was a trick of his tired brain. But the grab of one of the suit wearers on his shoulder had been unpleasant enough to make him think that this really is happening to him.

YN stared down at him with just as wide eyes as he paused in his movements and couldn’t comprehend her current reality. Harry Styles crouched in front of her, in a Starbucks store, after she had successfully run him over. Her heart skipped several beats before it started beating in her throat. This wasn’t something usual, not even for the Princess of England.

“Here,” Harry Styles spoke softly after he had raised back to his towering height and held her book in his ring-clad fingers. “Thank you,” she breathlessly whispered but threw her two shadows a warning look. “Everything is fine, Aaron. Egil.” The men nodded shortly but held their gazes settled on the singer, not daring letting him out of their protective sight. YN looked back to the man in front of her, a unsure smile tucking at the corner of her mouth. “I am sorry for that.” It came out almost embarrassed because he obviously didn’t do anything resembling treason or murder. He only had saved her from the embarrassment of meeting the floor with her butt, just like the book had done in her place.

The man with the fluffiest curls she had ever seen only smiled and waved one of his hands lazily. “It’s alright,” he promised before suddenly something seemingly came to his mind. “Your Highness.” And with that, Harry Styles attempted to bow before her, but YN couldn’t have any of that. Gently, she pressed her unoccupied hand and the fist holding her book against his shoulders and shook her head at his confused expression. “Please, don’t do this. I should bow before you.” The princess chuckled. “I mean, I did it often enough in my rooms as a teenager, right in front of a poster of One Direction.” A hand shot up to her mouth and covered it so nothing more embarrassing knowledge would leave it.

And Harry? He stood absolutely stunned there before a soft grin spread over his face—which made him even more handsome in her still unbelieving eyes. But YN didn’t let him utter a single word before pointing over to the staring baristas behind the counter. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if their mouths gaped at the sight of the world’s most famous singer and the Princess of England in their shop. “Would you like to have a coffee? A tea? Something cold? A hot chocolate? After the inconvenience of me running you practically over, it’s the least I can do.” YN was rambling, she knew it but just couldn’t stop.

He made her nervous—as if she wasn’t a grown woman anymore and instead turned back into the insecure teenage girl she used to be (well, even today, she wasn’t the self-confidence in person).

Harry tried to shake his head, but a voice in there screamed to accept the offer to live a few more minutes in her presence. This was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of moment, so he should stretch it as long as possible—not because he wanted the paparazzi to know, but because his former teenager self would kill him if he would run away now. So all he did was slowly nod and instantly patted his shoulder internally because he got to see the most radiant smile he probably had ever witnessed.

Grinning, YN pressed Pride and Prejudice against her chest and suppressed a heavy but blissed sigh at the sight of his growing smile. If she had thought he was irresistible on-screen, she now knew that this assumption was utter bollocks. Harry Styles was even more captivating in reality, face-to-face, and YN almost dreaded the day when he would be in a happy relationship with cats, a wife, and a bunch of kids because it meant she had to bury her crush definitively.

Turning to her protection squad, as she loved to call them, the princess nodded to a table at the halfway point between counter and door. “Why don’t you sit over there until we’re finished? You don’t have to stand around,” the blonde suggested and pointed to a table with a pair of chairs closer to the counter. “You will have the best view of me and the door. Black coffee and a Caramel Frappuccino?” They nodded hesitantly, still not used to the princess's kindness even after years in her service.

As the two went to their assigned table, YN turned back to Harry and smiled up at him. “What would Harry Styles like to have?”

;

pagesix Rumors are getting loud that Harry Styles and Princess YN met at a Starbucks in Notting Hill, London, UK. Several sources claimed to have seen the singer-songwriter and Princess of England together near Holland Park, where she bought him a coffee before talking for hours. Sources say the two celebrities left together after getting another coffee.

Liked by hsfan1, hsfan2, yourfan1, yn_andharryshipper, and 3,287 others | 960 comments

hsfan1 EXCUSE ME???? 😱

1direction4ever She always was a 1D fan, if I remember correctly, so this would be just ✨chefskiss✨

hsfan2 SCREAMING RIGHT NOW

↳ yourfan1 SAME???? I literally can’t breathe.

hsfan3 If that’s true… Save me.

yourfan2 This would be a dream come true for YN 🥺

yn_andharryshipper Please stop pushing my expectations.

hsfan4 I SAW THEM 😱😮‍💨

liked by hsfan1, yourfan2, hsfan3, and 77 others

;

“I still can’t believe I ran into the Princess of England,” Harry laughed softly while walking next to the woman in question, steaming hot coffee in hand. YN grinned up to him, an equally steaming to-go cup in hand while contemplating how she had ended up running into Harry Styles, sharing a table at Starbucks, and now strolling through Holland Park next to him with a second coffee in hand.

This day was definitely something entirely else.

“Believe me. I would have never believed if someone had told me this morning I would meet Harry Styles because I run into him,” the blonde returned and shook her head in utter wonder. The singer gently nudged her to the side. “It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one a tad bashful, just so you know.” YN looked up at him while sipping her sweetened coffee and nodded in agreement. “It takes off the awkward edge of the situation, does it not?”

Harry hummed before turning around for the third time ever since they had left Starbucks to stroll through Holland Park just around the corner. “And they’re at your back every time you leave Kensington or Buckingham?” He dared to ask, and the blonde princess looked over her shoulder as well, where Aaron, Egil, and Matthew walked at a respectful distance but kept their eyes either on her very person or on her surroundings. Even Harry was eyed cautiously from time to time. “Every minute of every day I spend outside Kensington. I am sorry if they make you uncomfortable. And again, sorry for their treatment earlier—they are kind of… quick in their actions when it comes to me.” It still seriously bothered her as soon as she remembered the harsh grip Aaron had used on the man next to her, even though it had been her fault, to begin with.

But Harry only shrugged it off before pushing one hand into the pocket of his coat. “I really don’t mind, and the situation earlier is already forgotten. Really,” he told her with empathy as his eyes had witnessed the unconvincingly furrowed blonde brows. “I only imagine it to be… constricting. I have the freedom to walk around without security when I’m not on my way to shows or interviews and all the stuff, but you…” The princess clearly could see and hear the sympathy of the singer, but she only shrugged with a small smile. “I am used to it—it had always been this way. I can’t remember a moment outside the palace where I didn’t have them trailing behind me. Even during my studies at Oxford.” Now, Harry looked back again. “So… The dark brooding shadow and the light, bright giant always sat behind you in a sea of young adults? Let me guess.” He grinned now, and YN felt her heart beating even faster than it already did. She just had to laugh. “Yes, if you guessed that they had a lot of female admirers trailing behind them, then you are totally right,” the princess chuckled, the memories still very vivid in her mind. The man grinned as well and softly grabbed her hand to steady her as YN kind of stumbled over a bump on the stone path, and both felt their hearts flutter.

“Sometimes I’m too clumsy for this world,” she mumbled behind her coffee cup, and Harry chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, it never shows,” he winked. YN felt the blood rising into her cheeks and hid them in the collar of her coat. “I am glad to hear that. Imagine what Granny would say if she knew that the entire Commonwealth gossiped over their clumsy princess.” She always knew how to change topics involving compliments into a joke. Her family didn’t like that very much. But Harry seemingly caught up to it, judging by the knowing expression settling on his devilishly handsome face. “What does she say about the gossip throughout the country that their princess is a sworn Harry Styles fan?” YN let her head fall back while a laugh escaped her. “She took it surprisingly good. Well, she isn’t a huge fan of me talking to god knows what interviewers, magazines, and newspapers, but she knows my opinion about it and how rarely I change my mind if someone tries to change it—especially if the someone is part of my family. So, naturally, she wasn’t a fan of the entire world knowing the contents of my playlists. But my music preferences never bothered her, and I think she even enjoys some of your songs, but don’t ever mention that to her.” Smirking, YN softly shrugged to end her small monologue. Sometimes she really couldn’t shut her bloody mouth.

Harry laughed under his breath while maneuvering her around the fountain and behind the line of trees to escape a small group of young adults. “I will keep that in mind in case I’ll ever meet the Queen of England. But after today? I won’t say never ever again.” They rounded some sadly-looking bushes—winter should be cursed and banned from her island—before he increased his steps to stop right in front of her. Cocking a blonde brow, YN looked up to him, unsure what this meant. “I think I would’ve known if you ever went to one of my shows.” She hummed, interested in what this would lead to. But now, Harry looked nervous, as if he hadn’t thought this through, but he proceeded anyway after a deep breath. “Would you like to come to one? I could arrange that you won’t be bothered by anyone, save you a spot backstage, block an entire row for you, whatever you want. I just…”

The brunette fell silent, the panic evident in his eyes, and YN just had to think how thoughtful and… lovely he was. “I just thought you’d might like to come, ‘s all,” the singer ended in a lower tone than before, seemingly trying to find a hole in which he could vanish. But YN smiled warmly up to him, and the sight alone eased his rising anxiety tremendously. “Funny thing you mention that. My brothers and papa gifted me a ticket for the London show in your upcoming tour, so… yeah. It will finally happen.” But then, a thought occurred in her mind, and her bright eyes widened. “Could I come to your Fine Line listening?”

Now, he stared down at her with just as wide eyes as she did and felt himself nodding violently. “Yes! Of course! That… that would be great, actually. It’s supposed to be something small and… intimate, so this would be perfect. I… Give me a sec.” With that, he rounded YN with a mission in mind and stepped up to her protection squad. She couldn’t exactly hear what they talked about, but Harry returned with a piece of paper and a pen. He started to scribble something on the white surface as he stopped in front of her and smiled as he handed it over. YN took it, of course, and examined the number and the ‘Harry’ written in pretty handwriting. “You are aware of the fact that I possess and carry around a phone in my pockets?” The princess asked with a smile tucking at her lips, but Harry only shrugged. “I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to seem rude in assuming anything.” Her heart fluttered again at his thoughtfulness.

This man simply was a literal angel.

“It’s my private number. You can call or text me whenever you want. The details for the listening event aren’t wrapped up yet, so if you have dates in mind—let me know, yeah? I’d love to have you there because… I don’t know. You are just easy to talk to, and I think you’d enjoy this little get-together with some people to listen to me rambling about my writing and recording process, and me singing, of course, and that sounds so narcissistic, and I’m sorry for that, and…-“

YN stepped closer to him and tapped his lips gently with the white card to make him stop. “You do not have to worry about how you sound because I know you are not a narcissist. You just love what you’re doing. And I would love to see you in your element and talk to your lovely fans because Harries are the best kind of company.” He sighed deeply before taking a deep breath. “Okay.” She smiled up at him. “Okay,” she repeated and took a glance at her watch. “Fuck.” She surprised them both with her small outburst. “I totally forgot the time, but this was probably the best afternoon I had in a very long time.” Harry took her emptied cup out of her hand and threw them both in the bin next to the sadly-looking bush. “I will never forget the story about the Salmon Sandwich Incident,” the brunette told her with a serious look before breaking out into a chuckle, to which she followed close. “Dito with the Cheeto ice cream story.” Another laughing fit caught the pair before YN slowly held out her hand, which Harry gladly accepted.

They stood there for a rather long time, just shaking hands and staring into each other’s eyes, taking in the sight of one another while stressing the moment into infinity. “I have to go,” YN whispered, and Harry nodded. “I know.” But still, he didn’t let go of her hand, nor let she go of his. “I really want to see you again,” he all of a sudden almost burst out even though his brain had told him to keep this wish a secret. But after nearly three hours in her company, Harry couldn’t let her just go without letting her know what he thought. Surprise settled on her face. “You do?” The surprise was even evident in her voice. “Yes, I do. And not just at events or shows, or on the television.” Her breath hitched in her throat, and the princess swallowed dryly and tried to suck enough oxygen into her lungs to answer him properly.

“I’d love that.”

;

vanityfair Today’s guest is singer-songwriter Harry Styles! We had the pleasure to talk about the process behind his new studio album Fine Line, how life has treated the 26-year-old in the past months, and to which realizations he came during the promotion of his new album.

Liked by sunflowerbutterfly, hsfan1, hsfan2, gemmastyles, jefezoff, and 38,691 others | 14,436 comments

vanityfair “I recently had the most interesting and… and most mind-opening conversation in a very long time. You see, even though there are millions of celebrities out there in the world, there are… I don’t know, differences between some and others. I, for example, can cross the street and get my groceries without security officers behind my back, while others can’t do ordinary things like that—think about it for a second, and you are made painfully aware of the freedom and… and independence you hold. I can’t say it in other words, but I felt privileged when realizing it. Society has to keep that in mind before throwing assumptions through the room because even celebrities are only human.”

liked by hsfan1, yourfan1, annetwist, gemmastyles, and 2,316 others

↳ hsfan1 I’m so sure that he talks about YN if the rumors are true 🥺

↳ yourfan1 that’s definitely about YN, can’t change my mind.

hsfan2 He looked so handsome in that slip-over 😮‍💨

harrystylesforever He speaks the truth.

harrystylesfanpage Handsome, thoughtful, a literal angel. One could not ask for more in a man.

liked by sunflowerbutterfly, hsfan5 and 12 others

yourfan2 I wish the universe would grant me the sight of YN and Harry together in a happy relationship, but I know that that’s not possible because of Royal Protocol or some shit.

↳ royalistsbitch It is possible, but imagine the situation YN is in after her second brother married a “commoner”. She probably has the pressure to marry another royal because her Grandma wants it that way 😩

liked by yourfan2, yourfan3, ynismyqueen and 33 others

;

Returning to Buckingham had been unpleasant. Not because she disliked the palace—she kind of loved it, actually—but because she knew how her Grandma would react after she most definitely had read the articles and assumptions wildly thrown around. Her Granny never really believed what the tabloids wrote, but she still asked every single time her face appeared in one of these ever since that… incident with Lewis Cornwall, son of Nicholas Cornwall, Duke of Hastings and her father’s—former—closest friend. YN knew that she only deeply cared for her youngest granddaughter and always wanted to know her side of the stories circulating through the world before finally going down the drain because something new sparked the tabloids’ interest.

God bless the short attention span of those, the princess thought cynical.

“Her Majesty awaits you in the blue salon,” Harold, one of the many butlers, told her after the blonde had left the car, only two days after her fateful meeting with Harry Styles. With a soft sigh, YN walked up the many stairs, put carpeted hallways behind her, and crossed employees with a gentle smile on her lips and a nod of her head before finally arriving in front of the blue salon. Taking a last deep breath, the princess entered the grand room with the blue wallpapers through the wide-open French doors; her eyes immediately fell onto the white-haired woman sitting on one of the armchairs, signature purse on the coffee table right next to her. A few years back, it had its spot next to her feet, but now, with even more years on her life scale, the Queen opted to have it on elevated places so she didn’t need to bend down anymore.

“Ah, there you are,” the Queen of England greeted her granddaughter, and YN walked over to her, bent down, and pressed a loving kiss to her wrinkled cheek. “Excuse me, Granny. I just got your message and tried to get here as fast as possible,” she explained, but the older woman only dismissed her excuse with a slight raise of her hand. “Nonsense, darling. Only because I scream for attention does not mean you have to rush away from whatever appointment you had to get to your old Grandma.”

Chuckling, YN situated herself on the armchair opposite her and mumbled a silent “Thank you” as Hugh came with the tea. Taking the saucer with the cup of tea on it in hand, she softly stirred through the perfectly brewed Earl Grey with a hint of lemon and a teaspoon of sugar inside. She sometimes preferred milk to lighten the taste a bit, but with her Granny, she always drank it the most British way.

“Am I allowed to take a sip and get a bite of that sandwich, or do you want to get straight to the point?” YN asked with a smile tucking at her lips, and the Queen showed one of her rare grins, specially reserved for her grandchildren and her husband. “I thought I would let you taste the new recipe for the tomato cream first,” Elizabeth returned, and the princess laughed softly before putting down the saucer and the cup and folding her hands in her lap. “No, you can jump straight to the point.”

The Queen sipped on her tea herself before morphing her expression into something resembling seriousness. YN leaned back in the armchair, crossing her legs and elbows resting on the armrests. “I never object your tendencies to wander and stroll around the city, nor do I object your fondness of talking to… interesting magazines like a common celebrity. I fully understand that you belong to a different generation, which handles things differently. But what I have to object to is your contact with said common celebrities.” Cocking a blonde brow, YN waited for her to continue. “A singer, YN,” she almost spat it out as if his profession was something bordering scandalous. All the princess could do was shrug her shoulders. “I don’t see what is so wrong about being a singer for a living, especially if one is a worldwide known and praised artist. He is British, English even, Granny.”

Elizabeth didn’t laugh about it. Instead, her forehead furrowed tremendously, white eyebrows knitted. “This is not something to jest about, YN Diana.” Oh, they had reached the second name dropping. Sighing, YN put both feet on the ground and leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees, confusion visible on her face. “I don’t understand the fuzz about all of it, Grandma. You never objected to my friendship with Meredith or Archie, even after he had given up every single title and started his acting career. Why the sudden change?” The Queen eyed her intently. “Meredith and Archibald are proper associations for a princess.” Now she had lost her entirely. “And Harry Styles is not? The most thoughtful and loveliest man ever in existence is not a proper acquaintance?” Her Grandmother sighed deeply. “You don’t know him, YN, and… look how he dresses. This is certainly not an adequate connection for a princess. You have to think about this family, YN, about your title and position. You are not a commoner, so you cannot behave like one, not if you do not want to end like your…-“

The princess raised jerkily to both feet and let the Queen herself grow silent. “Do not dare to end that sentence how you intended to end it,” she whispered with a strained voice, anger boiling in her body, eyes resting unmoving on the older woman in front of her.

Gladly, Jameson just entered with a bow but stopped at the sight of the standing princess. “I am sorry, Your Highness, I didn’t know you were here. I will return when…-“ But YN shook her head. “No, it’s alright, Jameson. I was on my way out anyway,” she told him with as much grace as she could muster because she felt like screaming and leaving this place running. She spared another glance at her Granny before curtsying just as she had been drilled all her life. “Grandmother,” was all the princess said before leaving the blue salon to return to Kensington, back into the safety of her home.

;

First of all, thank you so freaking much for the AMAZING and mindblowing support on the first chapter of this little series. I’m already thinking about adding more chapters to it because I’m so in love with it. Let me know if you’d like that or if I should add little blurbs here and there! And now, thanks for reading this second chapter. Hope y’all liked it <3

Taglist: @onecrazydirectioner @tinyhrry @feestyles @r3vivedbur @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @oh-its-jennyyy @butdaddyiluvvhim @cwiphswmwasohmm @agustdpeach @sleutherclaw @formulasatellite @princessmiaelicia @rororo06 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @venomsvl @maraudersrry @theroosterswife24 @lovurryy @indierockgirrl @lazybot @laura-naruto-fan1998 @awesomebooklover17 @ihavelovedyousincewewere18 @illicithallways @mrosales16 @keriberry @b-reads-things @bugg06

I hope I got everyone on the taglist. If you miss your name—please reach out!

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eveningepiphany · 6 months

Text

pirates gold | H.S series, part two

[part one]

[series masterlist]

summary: challengers are arising as life on the ship continues. not only that, but all kinds of tension is building between you and harry. good and bad... and something that feels forbidden to even entertain in your minds eye.

warnings: swearing, tension, fluff, sexual mentions, talks of violence, harry being so so fine, mentions of kidnapping, one bed trope.

a/n: i cannot believe how long this took me to write, I’m praying I can do part three in half the time. thank you for your patience my loves<3

———

There are plenty of moments you are left wondering how in control of your life you actually are.

If you truly have any power at all— because sometimes it feels like everything is spinning relentlessly out of your grasp.

Well, especially under your current circumstances. Since your last 4 days have been spent as someone else’s prisoner.

Which, you couldn’t have predicted would lead you into the bathroom of your own captor and being left to bathe with his own personal collection of things.

Being in there was a shock enough as it is because… of course you’d noticed how well-groomed he appeared. But to see that he actually had things like soap and hair wash…

Another stereotype you presumed, was that pirates were horrendous when it came to maintaining a sense of personal hygiene. But it was another thing you were evidently incorrect about when it came to Harry. And seemingly the rest of his crew as well.

As you washed off in the shower, scrubbing away the collected dirt, dust and sweat off of your body, you felt almost like a new person.

It felt inexplicably good to use soap again, which is a luxury you took for granted much too often back home. But finally getting rid of all the residue on your skin was an amazing feeling. Including washing away the salt from your ocean dip a few days ago. Which was stuck in the crevices and creases of your skin, like it was slowly dehydrating you from the outside in.

So you took probably longer than you should in his shower… but it didn’t seem as time ticked on that he was in his room or at the bathroom door.

Not even when you eventually stepped out from the water, drying yourself off with a rag-like towel. Looking at yourself in the mirror, taking in your frame, and how the skin under your eyes is a tad less sunken in after a long shower.

Maybe it was from stress, or lack of sleep. But either way, you rubbed your fingers underneath them. Attempting to smooth out the remaining darkness there, as if that would work.

Settling on the fact what was left of them was only temporary, you decide to just get into the clothes Harry had given you. Pretending it doesn’t weird you out as you slide his black shirt over your body.

It was far from tight on you, and the fabric probably could’ve swallowed you up as it clung to you. And as you pulled the soft pants up, they were equally as big.

You gazed in the mirror again, looking at how his clothes fit you. Struggling to envision him in such simplistic clothing.

Suddenly, his body filling out the once baggy pants and shirt is taking up the confines of your mind. They certainly would fit him properly. And likely hug the muscle built on his chest... you have to swat the mental image away, before it conjures into something more.

So immediately, you jump to distract yourself. Eyes roaming around the bathroom until they lock onto the cabinet beneath the bathroom bench.

Your hands don't hesitate, coming to the cupboards to open them, pulling the handles so they unlatch.

It’s sadly sparse inside. Almost entirely empty despite a few miscellaneous items. A hair comb, a dagger sheath and a… sewing kit? You frown at the sewing kit, unable to imagine him doing anything as delicate and time consuming as hand sewing.

However, he does wear intricate outfits. He seemingly prizes them, actually. So, it seems fitting that if wear and tear got to them, he'd be keen to fix them. That's the conclusion you're going to go with anyway.

But regardless, in the small wooden confines, there is nothing you can steal for your own benefit. You think of shutting it, but in the silence something urges you to open the small plastic box anyways.

You drop onto your knees, sliding the container to the edge of the shelving, and hooking your fingers into the latches and pulling the lid upwards.

There are several little threading needles— even clothing pins— placed among regular cotton thread in an array of colours. But there’s also multiple wads of fishing line, which immediately makes you wonder why it's in there. Trying to pinpoint what kind of clothing needs fishing line as a stitching.

You’re about to pull it out, but conveniently, there’s a rattle outside of the door. One that indicates someone is coming into his quarters. You hold back a frustrated sigh, suddenly wishing you had of taken a shorter shower.

Your body kicks into quick movement, hurrying to click his sewing box shut and put it back where it was in the first place. Pushing hard on the latches that now suddenly don’t want to cooperate with your haste.

It’s silent outside of the footsteps that trail to the bathroom door, making you wince as the latch on the cupboard echoes a tiny clack as it’s shut.

The feet stop at the door, and your breath is held from where you’re kneeling. Not sure if you’re hoping for Harry or not.

“Y/N?” His voice calls with a rap on the door, “y’decent?”

“I—“ you slowly rise from the floor, cringing at the creak of the boards beneath your feet as you stand.

“Yea… yep.”

The lock jingles and the door swings open, revealing Harry— who looks no different to how he did almost an hour ago. Black blouse, black pants. Nothing had changed.

You feel suddenly vulnerable standing in his clothes in front of him, and you have to force yourself not to wring your hands at the bottom of his long shirt.

“Mm, nice to see you actually showered, ‘stead of tryin’ to break out.” He comments, nonchalantly stepping in through the door. Eyes scanning you in his clothes.

As he steps closer, the only difference you notice is the red bruising around his knuckles, on the hand hung down by his waist.

“Oh, I tried.” You mused, attempting to push confidence in your tone— adverting your gaze away from his bruised hand.

He hums, still staring at your frame, “To no avail, I see.”

“I suppose not.” You remarked, to which he shrugs. His body language is casual, but you’re still unconvinced that everything is normal.

Now you're staring at him, trying to decipher what the fuck is happening right now. Given the fact nothing about this seems planned.

“But I am confused...” You prompt, and to it, he cocks an eyebrow.

He steps forward, “Go on.”

“What exactly have you done in the last hour?” It comes from your mouth as an accusation. One that draws out a rash laugh from him pink mouth.

“Why is it you assume I’ve done something?” He's awfully close to you now, and it highlights the features on his face. Ones you're desperately trying to pay no attention to. But it's much harder to ignore the fall of his hair over green eyes when its up close.

“Because that just seems the most likely.” You stated. Walking to brush past him—shoulder passing his chest with a light touch— the bathroom feeling far too cramped for the two of you. And the air around you had suddenly gone hot with tension on your end.

You make your way out into his quarters, making use of your need for distance, and deciding to inspect the room while you could.

Harry turns on his heel, watching as you now suddenly walk around his bedroom like it was your birth right. Hands trailing over frames on the wall, and picking up random objects he’d strewn on the floor.

He sighs at this, part of him wanting to stop you from snooping around his place, but he’s also undeniably curious at your mannerisms while looking around. The way your eyebrows pull down into a frown as you pick up an array of things. Including odd ones, like a bag of dried out barnacles, and whetstones block he uses to sharpen his blades with.

“I bought ya up here t’shower. Because unlike many, I have a hygiene standard, darlin’.” He says, and you turn from where you were touching the cover of his unmade bed. Fingertips noting the softness of it. He sleeps here… your brain announces as though it’s unfathomable to imagine him at rest in his own bed. Which was tucked into the corner of the all-wood room, three circular windows running beside its edge.

Looking at his hand again, finally getting the courage to bring it up.

“And your knuckles are swelling up. All bruised. They weren’t like that earlier.”

He smirks, completely bypassing your question, “looking at my hands, ay? Didn’t pick you to be that kind of girl.”

You sneer at his stupid tease, irritated at his arrogance.

“Just seemed all rather impromptu, and now you’re back here with bruised up fists that you didn’t have earlier.” You challenge, after walking slowly away from his bed.

“You don’t stop until you get an answer y’like. Is that right, princess?” He scoffs.

But he knows you’re brilliant at reading someone, tragically so. And it’s obvious you’re not as stupid as he wishes. Because he watches as your eyes narrow, clear that you know he’s dodging your questions for a reason.

“And you don’t give answers unless it suits you best, I take, captain?”

To that, he chuckles, and decides to prove you right, walking over to grab your wrist with the unscathed hand.

“M’clothes are a bit big on you…” he comments, partially using it as an excuse to drag his eyes down your body again. Completely changing the subject.

“Tomorrow, we’re pulling into port, we’ll buy some stuff that actually fits you.” Despite being the one to decide this, there's a pang of disappointment in his chest at you getting out of his oversized clothes. He ignores it. The hand that's becoming all too familiar to your wrist is leading you out of his quarters, and your eyes dart to take in the room a final time. Hoping to commit it to memory.

“That’s a bit doting. Are you going to take me with you, or is that a far fetched wish?” You drawl, already figuring you’ll be locked away while they roam about. Buying you clothes while you sit prisoner.

You should probably just be grateful for the fact he is willing to spend gold on you, given the circumstances. But who would you be kidding if you tried to portray that right now. ‘Thanks for buying me clothes while I sat locked up in your jail cell!’ He would audibly cackle if you said that.

He chuckles at your bitter sounding tone, “I’d bet you’d be rather upset if we went into town without you.”

You scowl at him, having to bite your tongue as to not say anything rash, choosing not to respond at all.

He’s taken you outside of his room, and locked his door with the small ring of keys he keeps on him. Beginning a slow walk along the corridors of the ship, seemingly in no hurry at all. He pulls your arm to rest firmly between his elbow and ribcage as you stroll the halls, as though you’re on some kind of leisurely walk.

To your silent annoyance, he rolls his eyes with amusement, knowing you'll hold quite the grudge if he doesn't take you out when the ships docks at Sintir. “I’ll think about it, dove.”

The two of you walk in quiet for a minute. Clacking of shoes against decking echoes through the hallways below deck. You get lost in thought, until his voice quickly coaxes you out it.

“We’re stopping for two nights.” He suddenly clarifies for you, “After we buy you some suitable clothes, maybe you can come into town after dark.”

You’re skeptical of his offer, given that it’s not a guarantee. But you’re desperate to just get off this ship for a bit. Not even in an attempt to escape, you know that wouldn’t work even if you tried. Purely to be on land again, and around people who aren’t felons at sea.

So you soften your frown a bit, going quiet for a few moments. You decide to try the hopeless approach, no matter how weak your faith is in it. But maybe you'll get some pity from the man beside you, “I miss the towns, and being on solid earth, that’s all. It's all I've ever known.”

You were already embarrassed at how the helpless tone sounded on your voice. Maybe because is wasn't genuine, but either way, internally you gagged a little.

He laughs abruptly at your words, almost shocked that you attempted to persuade him with that.

“No need to pull the damsel in distress card.” He’d shook his head, smiling wide with humor at your expense, “My decision is impartial to a poor attempt at manipulation.”

“It’s not manipulation!” You turn to snap at him, dropping the meek mannerisms just as quickly as you put them on.

“Oh but it is, darling.” He bumps your shoulder with his own, turning a corner that reveals another set of stairs, “y’bad as any other pirate. Outside of the shitty lying.”

You shake your head, huffing out air from your nose as he leads you up them. The annoying thing is that he's right. However you still fight to prove your point.

“Can you blame me? I just want to go into a town and do something normal. Have a little stability amongst this shit show!” Your grumble made him chuckle, as it seemed to always do. Like as if he could not take a word you say seriously, even if he tried.

“I suppose I can’t fault you for it.” He hums, pushing a hatch open after unlinking your arms. He went through it first so he could help you up. Hands steadying you once your feet come in contact with the floor. Because suddenly, you’re on the bow of the ship. The afternoon sun out and warm on your skin as the waves are calmly lapping over themselves.

You momentarily forget that you’re pissed off with him. All you can focus on is the fresh air and golden sun.

His eyes take in your deep inhalation, and the way you look so relieved to be outside. Understandable given the fact you spent 2 days locked in a tiny room.

A feeling he can’t name stirs in his chest. And the voice in the back of his head is suddenly encouraging taking you into Sintir while the ships docked there.

“It’s… nice out.” You exhale, your gaze veering to him momentarily as you speak. His green eyes are locked onto yours, and you quickly make to slide your attention back out on the blue water.

Which is easy to look at, since it doesn’t technically end. Just melts into the equally blue horizon where the sky meets the sea.

“It almost always is, up this far north.” He nods, pushing the sudden emotion away. “It won’t stay that way once we leave the port. There’s a storm well in due this week.”

You mentally file away that you’re up north, but a part of you gets anxious with the idea of being out while there’s a storm.

On land, you always enjoyed them. They brought a sense of serenity to you. The thunder and rain sometimes came so loud in Kelna it drowned out everything going on in your life. Temporarily, of course, however it was nice while it lasted. But on water was a different story. You’d heard they’re rocky rides, treacherous even. That ships often enter a storm, and don't come out the other side.

“Don’t look s’worried.” He comments at your suddenly terrified energy, he places a palm on your back to usher you forwards.

“Just that I really don’t want to die out here.” You sigh, not denying the fear since it’s clearly that obvious.

You walk willingly wherever he’s decided to take you, sharing a short wave to the man up by the ships wheel. He had messy head of hair, one that you imagined when it was windy, would blow all over the place.

“Have faith in us, Y/N. We’ve weathered many storms jus’ fine.”

“Oi, H,” the scruffy pirate you just waved at calls down to his captain, as he tracks down the stairs with you. Going from the steering deck to the main deck.

Harry tilts his head over his shoulder, pausing on the stairs where you both stand, indicating he’s listening with a nod. You briefly trail your eyes over his side profile. The curve of his nose, and the cut of his jaw.

But his crewmate barely gets a couple words out before he’s interrupted shortly after, “How did ya go wi—“

“Fine, Liam.” Abruptly, Harry cuts in. Not rudely, but curtly.

The man on the wheel, who now has a name to you— Liam— alternates his gaze between the two of you suddenly. Like he’s dawning upon why he just got interrupted.

“Ah, I see.” He nods, quickly busying himself with what he was doing beforehand.

Harry continues walking you down a set off stairs, back down to main deck.

“I’m going to assume that was about earlier, and has something to do with why you dragged me out of my cell.” You say, attempting indifference.

“You’d assume right.” He nods, but you wait for him to say something more— which he doesn’t.

You sigh in frustration, “I'll also take that's why I'm still up here, and not locked back up."

You're trying to gauge yet again how much of his actions are kindness, and how much of them are out of an attempt to gain something.

"Not why you're out here, 'm tryna give ya a bit of sun." He brings you to a stop at the far left of the main deck, smirking as he talks, "I've got to patch up a old sail, incase we need it. No better place to do it but out here."

He pays no mind to you as he kneels down to a storage unit a few feet away from you in the floor, unlatching it, and hauling out a huge canvas sail it. The sheet crinkles as he carries it out, and dumps it on the wooden deck.

You frown, wondering if he's the only one on the ship who can do any sort of needlework... because it seems like the only reasonable option as to why he's doing it himself. So you ask, "Why exactly are you doing it?"

He laughs, striding back over to pull a much larger sewing kit from the bottom of the storage space, and also sheet of spare canvas.

"You are filled with clichés of us, darling. What is makin' y'ask that?" He chucks the kit and extra fabric down, following to sit shortly after.

You're still standing as you try to conjure up an answer that doesn't sound unbelievably stupid. But he is cross-legged, pulling the damaged side of the sail over his muscular thighs.

"Because..." You pause, still unsure how to phrase it as you stare at him. You're looking at his side profile again, and it's lit by the overhead sun.

He glances your way, essentially looking up at you from where he's positioned on the floor. He finishes your sentence for you, "'Cause I'm a captain? And why would I do something productive for myself and my crew when I could make someone below me do it?"

"Well... basically."

"You're going t’find out very quickly the dynamic between me ‘n my crew." he pulls open the sewing box, filled with larger needles, and thick thread.

"I may be their Captain, but we’re all like brothers. I see them as that, not as my workers. They are my team, and we help out whenever and wherever we can." He states, sounding completely sincere, "And, I'm the only one that can actually hand sew things, so here we are."

"Here we are..." you parrot quietly, almost finding it endearing the way he talks about his crew mates.

Delicately, he’s threading up a needle and starting to take it through the sail and its new panel, lined up over the relatively large tear. His hands are steady, hair fallen over his eyes as he concentrated on starting the stitch. You stare at the dark bruising over his knuckles, and you swear that wasn’t as deep a shade earlier.

Without thought, you slowly sink to the ground, back resting against the side of the boat, not waiting long before you start to ask him more questions.

“Whatever happened to put that large of a hole in your sail?” You’d quizzed.

He knew it wouldn’t take long before you started to pry him with more of your wonders, “A cannonball.”

Your face can’t hide the shock, because of how casually he answered you. Your lips were parted in surprise at his response when he glanced over to you. A smirk over his mouth, popping a dimple on his cheek.

“Jus’ a run in with another ship.” He mused, “They tore a hole in our sail, and we tore a hole into the side of their boat.”

You almost sputter a laugh, of course he has to brag about not having lost that altercation.

“I hope you have a winning streak under your belt.” You shake your head, smiling a little.

“Why? Because I’m carryin’ such precious cargo.” Alluding to you with a charming cadence to his voice.

You’re stretched out in the sun as he watches you, and you almost look happy. If he didn’t know any better. But maybe you are a little. Circumstantially, you’re probably far from it. But in this moment, you look calm in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“Obviously. And all this would be for nothing if I go down with your ship and you don’t get your gold.”

“Tragic really, after putting up with y’through all this. Including jumpin' off m'own ship.” He teases.

“It’s been like, 5 days. I cant have been that annoying outside of the jumping thing.” You can’t tell if you’re offended at his jabs like you should be. You wish you fully were, but the banter is almost pleasing to have with him. It gives you something to laugh at. And also gives you an excuse to be insolent with him.

“Mm, if only y’knew…” he sighs in faux exhaustion, a tiny laugh escaping through his façade.

The way the ship cruised through the waves was inexplicably calming to experience up here. With the sun and the warm around surrounding you.

His hands were weaving the needle through the material, it’s mesmerising to watch. He’s definitely skilled at it, since it has hardly taken him long to get one side sewed on.

“You look quite content over there.” He comments, not looking up from where he was.

The observation stuns you a little, because of how true it was.

“I… it’s hard not to be after being in a tiny wooden room for 2 days straight.” You answer, but it doesn’t feel like the only reason why.

“Y'know,” he begins, “I excepted someone like you to have the worst set of sea sickness, and to be constantly terrified, but you've seemingly proved me wrong.”

“Have you underestimated me?”

“Possibly.” He remarks. And you don’t answer him again.

You're struck with the realisation that you actually don’t hate being above deck. Or really on the ship— outside of the reasons to why you’re on it. You think you might have underestimated yourself.

Like a reel of film, your mind flashes through images of a life like this. Outside of the damn cell at the bottom of the boat.

One where you spend your days free on the water. Both free in regards to your imprisonment here— but also from your life and looming responsibilities at home.

You envision yourself suddenly in the most pirate-like attire, standing up on those huge masts like they do in fictions sold at the bookstore— the odd one that would romanticise the life of piracy instead of completely defacing it.

It hits you like a slap in the face. One that stings and burns on the side of your cheek, lingering for days after it initially impacted.

You have to forcibly squeeze your eyes closed, because there is no room to have feelings like that in your already muddled brain.

Harry speaks up from where you forgot he was sitting, “What exactly is Kelna like?”

“Prison.” You blurt, hand almost coming to slap over your own mouth in surprise.

Your head is in disarray, and that somehow slipped its way out. Because all the sudden, you realise you almost felt more trapped in your own home than you honestly do here.

You tried to escape this ship out of fear that you would be killed— or sent somewhere worse— but when that element is removed from the equation, you’re certain anything is better than Kelna.

“Im kidding—“ you hurriedly spew out, but his head is turned to frown at you, “it’s nice… it’s great. Very lovely people and we have… yea. It’s great.”

Of course, you love your family. Some of them. Your younger brother and older brother, your younger sister. But outside of your siblings, there were few people to love.

“Sound like y’trying to convince yourself more than me.”

You guess you kind of were in a sense. And a part of you wanted to just say how much you never wanted to go back, if that were an option. You only ever told your older brother Poe about how desperate you were to get away from the court. One person. One soul out of this whole world of them knows.

Only Poe knows how terrified you were that Misha— Kelna's infamous prophet— would come to the podium to speak the most misconstrued riddle, that supposedly announced you were to take the crown. Your own stomach churns at the concept.

But revealing that to Harry felt like giving away a vulnerable piece of yourself. He doesn't deserve to be the second person you entrust with something so pressing for you. Which you remind yourself that you swore not to lay an ounce of trust in this man’s hands. That your impartialness to a separate life here is due to your life at home. And that freedom on this ship is unlikely.

“I’m not…” you breathe out in defeat. Trying desperately to steer clear of the subject, because its easy to drag you into a pit of ever-welling anxiety.

However, he can sense your complete shift in energy. This is your first time really talking about home. And it seems like you have more than bitterness to it. He expected a whimsical answer. One that showed your longing for return, or that you even valued part of being in a court. But he got nothing of the sorts.

It slips from his soft mouth before he can stop it, “Are you not safe at home?”

He’s completely disregarded his sewing venture, and has turned to look right at you. His features have softened, and he looks genuinely a little concerned. But you brush it off for deceit. Of course he would want to know something like that. Want to pick away at your seams until all the sudden you're unraveling in the palm of his hands, tearing your whole village down with it.

“Yes!” You jump to clear that up. Secondly feeling like he's almost babying you.

“Probably safer there than I am here.” You bark, but it’s hardly true if you really think about it. Attempts on a royals life are always a threat, and it’s happened to your family members before. Which transcends into a whole other story, equally as painful for you as anything else at home.

His brows pull into a frown. He realises he’s struck something sensitive here. The topic seems to make you recoil completely. Your body language has changed, just like that. Straight from relaxed to on edge.

“I feel like there's a pretty equal risk." He provides, picking back up the threaded needle. Seeing what more he can coax out of you.

"I—" you cut yourself off.

"I am fine." Your tone is conclusive.

"Is that why you always sneak out of your royal residence in the middle of the night?" He pushes, a sarcastic lilt to his deep voice.

"That isn't any of your business!" You groan, "I'm not asking why it is you're a felon at sea, or your tragic past life that's lead you here, am I?"

"But you probably wonder..." he smirks, impartial to your jab.

"I don't, you ass!" You state defiantly.

"I'm just trying to gauge how much you actually like your homeland."

You scoff in disbelief, "Oh, piss off. You just want something to hold over me."

It's clear to him something much deeper is going on than what he initially thought. But its also evident that you are far from interested in talking about it now. So, he files away what information and suspicion he had, and finally allows the subject to change.

"Whatever princess... y'getting mouthy, and I've gathered that usually doesn't end well for either of us." he rolls his eyes in amusement, "You'll have to to tell me what kind of clothes you like, so I know what I'm in for."

"It only doesn't end well because you're so goddamn pushy." You huff.

"This is why you ended up locked in a cell for two days." his tone is airy, considering the topic, "Also, best of y'to recall I'm the one who decides whether or not ya coming off the ship tomorrow."

You hold back your bitter quip at his reminder, but not the deep sigh from your lungs. You feel stressed. Overwhelmed even. Which is the only good thing about your tiny room below deck, its stable. You know what you get down there. Yourself, and no personal questions that leave you reeling.

He finishes his double stitch in silence. Thinking of you, and wondering what exactly your perception of your home life is. In a long answer— not the short and guarded ones he's currently receiving.

You sit, still in the sun, but feeling significantly more riled up than earlier. That's when Harry stands from his work, and your eyes dart to the patch that's now one with the sail. Intricately sewed in place, with a clearly detail-oriented eye.

"An' she's done." He nods proudly, talking to himself as he picks the complete task up from where it was spread on the deck. Carrying it back into where it came from— along with the closed sewing kit. Laying it folded in the floor compartment and latching it closed.

His hands brush themselves off along his black pants. They admittedly fit him perfectly. Nipped in at his sculpted waist, and outlining his likely firm thighs.

His green eyes slanted down to you, as if he could feel your own gaze burning into his tanned skin. He smirks, a dimple popping out on his cheek as he looked at you.

He was trouble.

He looked at you like you were a game to be played. A challenge to be conquered. And somehow you met him right at that very level. You wanted to prove something to him— and the thing is, you don't even know what.

Its not something you can reverse, or take back. It's already long started, the second you pushed back from his demands when you first met.

His legs that you were just studying stride over to where you sit. He towers over you, examining you with a silent and smug smile.

"A corset, perhaps?" He proclaimed without context, and your face twists in confusion.

"Although, I've heard they are very hard to get on and off a woman." It clicks in your brain he's currently talking about you. Imagining you in the likes of a corset.

It's like he was pondering it aloud just for his own sick enjoyment, because he keeps going as your expression quickly bleeds into a scowl.

"And, there is no doubt in my mind you'd drive your own elbow into my stomach before you let me help lace you into a corset. Or out of it." His voice has dropped an octave, and his chocolatey hair has fallen over his forehead again. For such a heinous topic, he has the face of an angel. Maybe a fallen one... but an angel nonetheless.

"You would be correct." You confirm, "And I spend enough time in corsets at home. God forbid I wear one when theres no need for it."

He suddenly juts a hand out for you to take, which you stare at for an awfully long time, analysing the dark marks over his knuckles. Eventually settling to let him help you stand. It pulls you up effortlessly despite its visibly injury, and you feel the rough parts of his large hand as it cups yours.

"Espcially if im going to be laying around in a cell, whats the point in that?"

He still has grip on your hand, "Oh, dove, y'not going back down there for a little bit."

Your gaze narrows immediately. And you ask the first question and only question that makes sense in your mind.

"Who else is down there?"

"Someone who deserves to be left in the room with the cuff holders on the wall. Attached to them."

Your stomach sinks a little, recalling him saying thats sectioned off for people who have done truly bad things. Seems like it would explain his battered up knuckles perfectly.

But with the closest thing you’ve gotten to an answer all day, you’re quick to mentally move onto what the effects you the most.

"Where am i gonna..."

He says with a completely unfazed expression, "With me."

“With you?”

“That’s what I said, no?” He raises his brows, “unless you’d rather be down there with him. Who we’d then certainly have to kill once he knows you’re here.”

“Christ.” A wave of shock rocks through you at his vulgar wording, “can you put me nowhere else?”

“No.” He states, starting to walk with your hand gripped in his, “it’s just for the night. Don’t worry s’much.”

“Don’t worry? You just told me you would have to kill a man if I chose to stay away from you.”

You’re glaring at him as he holds open a door for you— one that leads to another kitchen room— despite you’re bitter look, he’s unbothered entirely.

“Let’s get you something to eat. Allow ya to process the fact you’re stuck with me for a night.”

———

Your night was significantly different to all the others you’d had on the ship this past week.

The evening had come on relatively quick. You’d sat above deck after he fed you some fruit, and watched the sun set as his crew gathered to share a pint.

You observed their dynamics, and the way a few men got themselves silly on one too many beers. Stumbling all over the deck.

Harry stayed closer to sober though—a bit tipsy, but nothing drastic— and as evening bleed into night, many of the boys had turned in for bed around midnight.

His blonde crew mate had shouted out for you to come down and have a pint, but you laughed it off. His drunken plea seeming far out of line considering the circumstances.

Not long after most of them had left, Harry came up to where you sat. You were perched atop a step on the stairs, and you know he’d been watching you. Making sure— as you stayed a fair distance away— that you didn’t disappear.

His hand had gestured out to you again as he had apparently come to collect you. You stood without it’s help, and he snorted a bitter laugh.

“You're infuriating, you know? Unbelievably so. And I feel it all the way in my stomach.” The lilt in his voice is intoxicating. He sounds like he disdains you, yet is addicted to the feeling all at the same time.

He’s standing the step below yours, and once you had fully straightened out, you were slightly above him. It almost gave you an added boost of confidence, “Right in here?”

Your hand reached out to breach the minimal distance, brushing your pointer and middle finger against where the skin of his stomach is.

His hand grabbed around your wrist, staring at you— he pressed your palm flat against his chest— you could feel the warmth of his skin beneath the sheer black blouse he was still in.

His bruised knuckles are pressed over yours. The dark spots a mosaic of blacks and blues— you wonder how bad it would hurt if you pressed down on them. Just out of spite, of course.

“Right there.” He affirmed.

“Too bad you have to room with me tonight.” You sigh in mock sympathy.

He looks like he’s about to say something else, when he bites his tongue and does his usual thing— tugging you along wherever he plans to go.

His leftover mates say goodnight as he walks past— all of them regarding you as well, surprisingly.

You’re lead to his quarters as you’d suspected, and you’re now faced with the situation of how this is going to all pan out.

Once inside the dark room, he lights a wall candle with a match— that he pulled from god knows where— casting the space in a golden glow.

He is quick to then shed the black material that’s covering his chest over himself without hesitation. Your gaze skates along the muscled skin of his back. Littered in black ink and scars that immediately piqued your curiosity. Ones that you undeniably want to trace over, and enquire how exactly they got there. Which feels like an odd thought to be entertaining considering how much you push to hate him.

His hands unlatch his belt, still adorning all its weapons. And he walks to the foot of his bed, laying it atop the cover.

“Would I be correct to assume I’m taking the floor?” You put forward, and his head turns over his shoulder.

“That one’s up t’you. Unless you’re that desperate to get away from me.” He drawls, the alcohol making him a tad drowsy now that the buzz has worn off.

A part of you begs to be stubborn. To say no. But the other half of you in rioting to lay down on a mattress for the first time in almost a week. Because you couldn’t physically sleep another night on the hard wooden floor.

You breathe outward, walking over in silence as you climb beneath his sheets without warrant.

He tries to ignores it, but a small smile breaks out over his lips before he can stop it. So he turns swiftly around, unzipping his black pants and shedding them off his long legs.

“What exactly are you doing?” You shrilly ask, palms ready to shield your eyes if he decides to strip the only remaining fabric below his laurel-adorning hips.

“You’re not sleeping naked next to me.” Certainty riddles your tone, and there is no way you’ll budge on it.

But to your statement he laughs, “M’not naked.”

“Not far off it either.” You murmur, observing as he walks over to the candle he not long lit and blows it out.

The room falls into darkness, all you can hear are the plodding of his feet on the wood floor.

Once he’s next to the bed, you hear his voice, “You’re on my side, by the way. S’budge up.”

You scoot over without words, and feel the mattress sink as his weight comes onto it.

“Better than the floor, no?” He asks quietly, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Undecided.” You whisper. “Comfier I suppose.”

His breath is quiet and consistent as you both fall quiet. You’re certain he falls asleep before you, because you’re awake for a while. Staring at the ceiling wondering how you got here yet again.

But eventually, the tiredness you’ve been feeling for the last couple days catches up on you, and it lulls you into a deep sleep. Unbroken from any uncomfortable surfaces or loud noises. Just peace.

Peace until you stir for the first time in the morning.

When soft light is shining through the circular windows, and you realise how truly warm you are. All the edges of your consciousness are blurred and hazy with your sleep induced state. You nestle into what you thought was the mattress, but register somewhere in your head that your body is pressed against someone.

And after that, it’s confirmed when they move. A slight roll, and a warm heavy arm that drapes over your waist, tugging you closer.

Your eyes dart open, and are met with the sideways view of a swallow on a collarbone. It stops you dead in your tracks. Because slowly you realise your plastered to someone's side. Harry's side. Legs thrown over his hips, head nestled into his neck.

You're frozen for a moment. Because he smells so nice. But alarm bells are sounding in your head. Too close to the enemy, they riot.

The rigidness of your body stirs him again, rolling him further into you. Legs intertwined, and the bridge of your nose bumping against the curve of his throat. Now he's truly swallowing up all your senses. His scent is genuinely intoxicating. Salty, just as you'd imagine a pirate would smell— of the ocean and all that lies beneath it. But it has a woodsy tone to it, deep and masculine. One you wonder how he just naturally carries.

His tattoos are gorgeous up close, chest chiseled and dusted with soft dark hairs. You use the finger that’s between your body and his to brush gently over the butterfly on his stomach. Tracing the details, despite how wrong it feels. In your moments of timid admiration, you don’t realise his eyes have opened. Green and glazed over with sleep, it takes him a solid minute to register what he's watching you do.

An intake of breathe, and his gravelly voice pressed out the only thing he can even think of saying, “g’morning.”

Physically, you flinch. Startled at his sudden consciousness. Finger withdrawing from its tender movements, your heart pounding.

“I— hello.” You whisper, unsure how long he’s been awake.

He stretches, which in turn scoots his body down the bed, leaving you face to face with him. A pink tongue juts out over his lips— wetting them.

“I should’ve established a no-cuddle policy.” You state, eyes wandering the plains of his face.

To this, his morning voice rumbles a laugh, “are you trying to blame me for this? ‘Cause you’re on m’side, touching up my chest, dove.”

You turn your head over your shoulder, glancing to the gap from where you originally feel asleep and where you are now. Red flushed over your face, It does look incriminating on your end.

A guilty sigh falls from your lips before you purse them together. Not having an explanation for how you ended up like this.

“S’okay.” His voice was so deep, and it sunk into your ears. Almost drawing a shiver out of you. It was attractive.

You can’t tell if that observation is coming only from the fact you have just spent a night curled into his chest. But it’s all you can think about.

“Didn’t mean to.” You say, the closest you were coming to an apology.

“Mmm, I bet.” He murmurs, his hand leaving from where it was on your waist and going to comb through his hair.

Perfectly tousled from sleep, he brushed through it with his fingers. You take the opportunity now that his hand has left your waist, to sit up, averting your eyes from the way his touch glides through his soft hair.

You look out the window, and immediately you’re shocked. You see land. Not even that far away.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“There’s land…”

“Ah,” he also props himself up with his elbows, “so there is.”

“Best we get ready.” He shrugs his bare shoulders, and you quickly jolt your head this way.

We?

He’s far from shy as he threw the covers off himself, with the daylight streaming through the windows, his whole body was on display.

You wondered if he realised the kind of body he had on him. Because undeniably, seeing him in just boxers makes your throat bob.

“Do you say we because you intend on taking me off the ship?” You ask, a silent plea behind your words.

“Tonight.” He states, glances back to see the palpable excitement spread over your face.

You rush out of bed, a sudden burst of energy at his confirmation. He is shocked as suddenly your arms collide with his bare waist.

“Thank you. Thank you.” You really are grateful, and you’re so desperate to get off this boat for a bit.

His lips part in surprise, “that’s… y’welcome?”

You hold him longer than you should, a part of you a little ashamed at your lack of self discipline. Because you should be able to contain yourself. You eventually pull yourself from him, smiling in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“We’re probably gonna dock in… 20 minutes? We’ll be gone for most of the day. I’ll come back and get you at evening.”

It sounded like a long time to wait. But you are sure you could do it. So you nod, enthusiastically.

You go and sit yourself on the edge of his bed, wondering where you’re going to end up— what the town will be like, where you’ll go— all while watching Harry go through his closet for an outfit.

It reminded you almost of how a royal would dress, particularly about what came out and what would go with what.

He stands with his back to you, still just in boxers. He has a nice ass.

You mentally scold yourself, yet unable to look away from him as he pulls a maroon pair of pants over his hips. They’re left unzipped as he gets a off-white linen shirt to tuck into them. However the shirt was left almost entirely unbuttoned. And his cross necklace sits between his pecs that are on full display.

He belts his weaponry around his waist, taking it off the wall from where they were hung. Odd of him to leave them so in the open, when you could’ve stabbed him in the night while he slept.

“Are you leaving me in here?” You ask, watching as he collects a few last minute things from around his room.

“S’long as you don’t trash the place.”

You think about teasing him, but decide not to risk it. You piss him off, then you’ll likely get put somewhere without anything to snoop around. And also miss out on getting off the ship tonight.

So you just nod. And at that, he’s satisfied.

“Well, m’off then. Don’t do anything stupid, Princess.” He raises his brows, face serious until it breaks into a small smile.

“I won’t.” You lie, because how are you meant to guarantee that.

He walks out, and obviously locks you in. You wait an hour, until you’ve been docked for a while before you start to dig around his room.

Not forgetting to take some time looking out the window to figure out where the hell you are in the world. Nothing was geographically giving it away, but once you saw a small fishing cart on the pier, you read Sintir fishery.

Sintir is so far away from your homeland, you let out an audible gasp when you read it. There’s no fucking way, you’d thought.

But as you walk away from the window, you register that it has technically been a week since you’d been taken.

You ponder it as you start to go through his things. You feel like some kind of home invader. Rummaging through a trunk under his bed, raiding draws, and flicking through his racks of clothes. Digging into pockets as though you were waiting to happen upon something of value.

It turned out to be the smartest places you looked, because in a thick raincoat, you fucking found it.

A key. One he has to have forgotten about, since there’s no way in the world he’s left you in here without being certain there’s no way to get out.

You ran to the door of his room, and held your breath as the sharp metal got pushed into the lock by your eager hands.

You turned it, jostling it a bit. And it clicked.

Quietly, you reach for the handle, gently pulling it down and breathing out as the door unlatches.

There’s no time to wait as you slink outside. Clicking it shut, and slowly trying to recall your way back down to the chambers.

Every noise has you on edge, and you’re terrified to get caught. Waiting to turn a corner and one of his crew mates to be there, catching you in the act. But it’s not enough to stop you. You may have made a few wrong turns, but you end up in a hallway that jogs your memory.

You make your way down the stairs to the cells, unable to keep your footsteps entirely quiet. It’s without warning you realise the space down there is in fact still occupied by someone… just like you’d initially feared.

You’re met with a guttural groan, and suddenly your anxiety nearly triples. It’s masculine— and when you reach the bottom of the stairs, still out of view from the cell door— you can confirm it when the voice echoes out from the dim room.

“Let me out, you… you fuckin’ bastards.” Whoever it is sounds exhausted, like they’ve been teetering on the edges of life or death for hours.

When you don’t reply he lets out a wet and chesty cough as he continues, “I don’t care about tha’ whore no more! The princess means nothing to me.”

Your heart is racing at the mention of yourself, and the man sounds like he’s dying. It’s certain in your mind now this man’s face was probably what caused the bruising on Harrys fist.

A heavy bang comes from his cell, sounding like metal cuffs being slammed against a wall.

His speech turns to slur as you slowly back yourself back up the stairs. Curiosity always kills the cat, you think. And you wished you’d stayed in Harry’s room.

“Or jus’ kill me already!” He begs, tone shaking with exhausted rage, “already beat me to a pulp after I called that royal a good f’nothing slut. S’cmon!”

That was your cue to leave, and as you break off into a near run down the halls, you’re shaking the whole time.

Yet somehow, despite what anyone would’ve expected, you made it back to Captains quarters without a single run in. Not a soul knows you found a key.

You slide down the relocked door once you’re inside, and pant with not only the physical exertion, but the anxiety you just put yourself under.

It takes a fair while before you can move again, but your hands skate along the floorboards beneath you, tracing the wood grains to calm down.

Rising, you go back to his closet to put the small key back exactly where you found it. Not taking chances in trying to harbour it for yourself.

The room is deafeningly quiet, it forces your mind to hear the likely dying man’s words on repeat. And wonder if Harry really punched the man because he called you a slut…

The only person that knows is him.

He only knows that the second that sack of shit opened his mouth and said the only thing you’d be good for is ‘a quick fuck and some gold’ he absolutely lost it.

He only knows the feeling of pure, red-hot anger that took over him until he slammed the side of his fist into the slimy man’s face. More than once. He’s not sure how many times, until it was bloody, and until his knuckles already had a bruise festering below the skin— darkening by the minute.

And god, can he not stop thinking about how it made him feel. It was all consuming. It solidified that you were not going back down into the cells. He would rather have you in his own bed than within a 5 metre radius of that scum.

So as he walks through the town, splitting off from his crew to go by you clothes, he realises that you’re making more of an impression on him than he thought.

And while he piles up half a wardrobe for you, not even worrying about how much it’ll all add up to, he clocks just how… infatuated he’s possibly become with you.

Just how he’s suddenly ended up in this position. Where he hates you, yet wants to protect you— and even sometimes dote on you.

God— It’s dangerous.

That feeling that lingers when he thinks about you. Both a good and a bad one.

You were dangerous for him… and he’s still trying to decide how much, and in what way. But the biggest thing, is he’s worried for when he finds out.

Whether it’s going to be when you stab him in the back— either metaphorically or physically— or when you trace your delicate touch over his bare chest, so gently his mental resolve cracks along with the walls guarding his heart.

His conclusion as he checks out with a plethora of clothes for you, you’re either going to kill him, or he’s going to end up killing for you.

Oh, and that he’s certain he wants to kiss you. But that’s a whole other thing he has to mentally unpack.

———

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iamjustaholeforyousir · 11 months

Text

Breathe Me In

part 9 of Look What We Became

summary: the prince and the princess try to come on decent terms before taking big decisions, but not everything goes as planned

warning: fluff, smut, oral sex, f receiving, mention of various body parts (tho none of them are described in heavy detail.)

word count: 3000

minors DNI

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5 part6 part7 part8 part9

You decide to wake up late the next morning, too tired from the events of the previous night. The sun had risen completely as the rays pricked your close eyelids. You sit up, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes and look at the sofa Harry was supposed to be sleeping in, but you only found it empty.

Not thinking much of it, you decide to get ready for the day.

You had a short bath, and were now wearing a silk blue dress with intricate yellow and red patterns, the skirt of your dress matched the corset and the sleeves, the fabric on your chest had frills and matched the one on your skirt, that went right in the middle.

You put your gloves on, and reached for your jewellery box, you took out the golden and blue earrings that your mother had gifted you as a parting gift at your wedding, the blue stone was stuck to the middle of the gold plate.

You kept the earrings aside and you took out a matching pendant.

Looking up in the mirror, you put the pendant around your neck, and when you reach down to pick up the earrings, you find one missing.

A bit weary you wear on the earrings and then start frantically searching for the other one.

“I believe we are looking for this.” you hear someone speak from behind, with a knowing and slightly annoyed face, you turn around to see your husband, holding one of your earrings, he had a smirk on his face, an expression that had invited you for a challenge,

“Give it back.” you say, walking towards him

“No ‘ my lord’ or ‘prince harry’? Why princess, where are your manners?” he says, with a false disappointment. You take a deep breath “prince harry. Give. it .back.” you say, “not good enough, princess, i don't quite hear the begging element in your voice.”

“Please, my lord, give me my earring back.” you say, feigning sweetness.

“Why don't you come take it yourself.” he says, and so you take a step forward, and he takes one back, you take another one forward and he takes another on back, you walk towards him and he walks towards the door.

“Catch me if you can, princess!” he says, before sprinting out of the room.

If he wants to play a game, you will give him a game, and you run out behind him.

Running around the halls, hiding behind servants walking around, you both were just causing such chaos.

You both were bumping into people walking, as you saw him make his way to the gardens, and you were glad, since you had more space to somehow catch up to him.

You thanked the gods above that they weren't watering the grass just yet, because if they were, your dress and shoes would have been ruined.

You are near the exit, a few feet behind your husband, when he takes a turn to the left, you reach the door and turn behind him, but he is not there.

You stop, out of breath, you walk ahead searching for him, you look behind the wall, turn around and look the other way. How can one just disappear like this? You were starting to get concerned.

“Prince harry?” you called out, frantically looking around, trying to look behind the fountains, turning around to look back at the wall, doubting yourself, when suddenly you feel strong arms around your waist as you are pulled behind, hitting a very strong chest.

His scent filled your senses immediately, a hint of caramel, sweet-smelling dried leaves and a touch earthy, hay-like scent, it calmed you down in an instant, as you rested your head on his shoulder.

No words were spoken, as he just held you in his arms, for god knows how long, he let go when he felt your breathing was normal.

He then removed one of his hands from your waist and tightly wrapped the other one around your torso, as if you would escape, if he let you loose. Opening his fist, your earring comes into sight, you put your hand on his, to take it, but he swiftly closes his fist again, trapping your hand in his, you look to your side, giving him a quizzical look, but he simply raises your hand to his lips, and gives it a light kiss.

He slowly moves down, kissing your wrist, peppering them along your forearm, placing a featherlike one on your elbow, moving up to your arm, kissing on your clothed shoulder. He reaches our neck and rubs his nose on it, inhaling your smell.

He then lets go of your hand, and gently turns you around, your arms immediately flying up and snake around his neck, as his hands find the small of your back.

He pulls you in completely, your body flush against his, and kisses you, slowly, gently, calmly, not like the one he gave you last night, right now he was taking histamine, as if he was getting to know you.

Breaking the kiss he says, “if i knew you tasted so miraculous, i would have done this the second i saw you. Would have been all over your soft skin, taking away that innocent glow from your eyes, god you make me ferrell sometimes, you know that?” resting his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“Whatever happened to “getting to know one another before taking big steps”?” you ask, equally out breath, “i am getting to know you, aren't i princess? I know what you taste like, what you smell like, how you laugh, how you smile, how worried you get, what a poor runner you are-”

“I am not a poor runner.”

“Yes you are”

“I am not.”

You both stare into each other's eyes, as if staring at the souls inside your bodies, with so much intent, the gaze was fierce, “yes. You. are.”

“No. i’m. Not.”

It was getting really intense, before you both burst out laughing, “and now I know you are horrible at pretending to be intimidating as well!” he says, laughing like a madman, “oh really? You are quite pathetic at hiding!” you say, “please, you couldn't find me, you got all scared as well,” he says, as the laughter died, he had not let go of you completely, though the hold was loose, but he pulled you closer again, “careful princess, some might think you care for me.” he says, and you slowly move your head to look up at him, “i do care for you.”

“The queen is calling you both for breakfast.” you hear a voice, far from sweet, as if words were being forced out of her mouth, you both turn around to see who it was and sure enough it was deborah.

Harry keeps his hold on you, and it becomes tighter, you look back at the girl, who was looking at you with sheer hatred.

“Let her know we will be there soon.” he says, nodding his head, but she didn't move an inch, as if she had no intention of conveying that message.

“I-”

“Let the queen know, we will be there soon,” he says again. A bit stent this time.

She only looks down, bows and leaves.

“Why must you be so distant, she was your lover after all.” you say, “i loved her, yes, i felt tied to her, as if we were already living a life together, and i deem lechery as the greatest of sins, though she did not commit lechery, not technically, it felt as if she did, and she showed no remorse. Now you tell me, my wife, wouldn't you show disdain to a monster such as her?”

“I would not call her that.” you say, lowly

“If it were up to you, a traitor shall also receive a chance of redemption, you are too kind.” he says “something i am grateful for of course, if it weren't for this kind heart, i would not be able to do this.” he says, as he reaches to kiss you once again.

You smile against his lips, before pulling away from him entirely, “do not take me for being too kind my dear, i can be ruthless when i want to win.” you say, “catch me if you can!” you say, and run back inside, Harry shakes his head and laughs, before running after you.

You both reach the dining hall, panting as you both composed yourselves. Walking inside youtube your seat next to your husband. “Good morning, dear, did you sleep well?” the queen asked

“Yes, of course, mother.” you say, shyly, it was the first time you had called her that.

“Mother? Aah,'' Harry says out loud, then leans into you and whispers “first you steal my heart, now you are stealing my mother? What more should I expect from you princess?”

You blush at this, you knew why he was saying such things, of course it wasn't as though he was in love with you, but he was making an effort, to show you that he at least likes you.

“Yes dear, she is just like my daughter,” she says to Harry, and then turns to you and askes, “I saw you two retire early, was everything alright?” she asked, in a very innocent voice, you choked on your juice as you thought of what happens when you both ‘retired early’, you could feel yourself getting flustered at the thought of it, his hands, all over your body, his face so close to yours, and you don't know why, but it caused you to squeeze your thighs together. “Is everything alright?” she asked again, and Harry started patting your back,

“Mother!” he says, looking at his mother with glaring eyes, “what?” she replies, again, innocently, “everything was quite alright, mother, we just needed to discuss some…things.” he says, while patting your back, your coughing came to an end soon, but your face was red, your brain was constantly playing the events of last night, the good ones, not the sad ones, you put our hand on his thigh, and you squeeze hard, which alerts him a bit he snaps his head to the side and looks at you, “princess?” he asks lowly, “um ... .uh, you must excuse me.” you say, as you get up, bow to all of them and leave for your chambers.

The feeling was there again, and it hurt, you were really uncomfortable as you walked up to your chamber. It was the same unbearable feeling, the frustration. Blood rushed through your skin, and suddenly everything became hot, your brain was fuzzy, you couldn't form words, you could barely keep your eyes open, you carved the feeling again, the closeness, touch ,you craved touch, his touch, no one else's.

You sit on your bed, as you remember the feeling, when he made you grind against his knee, that feeling when he was so close to you. God you needed to compose yourself.

Harry was confused, you seemed just fine before, what happened?

“She is probably tired, you both were running around quite a lot today.” his father offers some explanation, “no dear, i don't think that is it.” his mother says, with a knowing look. And Harry seems to understand, getting up he says, “i shall go see, weather she is alright.” and he sprints to your room, bursting the door open he finds you, laying on the bed, your chest heaving, as tears run down your eyes, you had closed the curtains and the room was dark, your dress sleeves falling off your shoulders and your skirt up around your waist, your knees were bent, and your legs were bare. You turned to face him, begging him to come closer with your eyes, and he did, he closed the door, and ran to your side, “princess? What ails you?” he asked, and you just shook your head, you couldn't possibly say anything, “if you don't tell me, how will i help you? Hm? Tell me princess, whatever happened?” he asked again, but you just took his hand, and guided it towards your inguinal region, his eyes followed your movements, as he saw what you're doing, he looked back at you. This was the boldest gesture you had made so far.

“Princess.” he says, before taking a deep breath in, “please, do something, it hurts.” you whisper out to him, your voice was whiney, thin, small.

He smirks at you and says, “Whatever happened to “getting to know one another before taking big steps”?” but you just whine louder, “i don't care! Just please! Do something! Please!”

Your plea was enough for him to remove his coat, and climb on top of you, bending down he kisses you hungrily, he had never seen you this desperate, and he was loving it, your hands find his hair as you kiss him back, his hands reach your shoulders, pushing the dress further down, you help him remove the sleeves off your hands, and then immediately find his hair again, he again puts his leg between yours as you grind on it, and this time you moan, loudly, “whatever has gotten into you today? Never seen you like this, tell me,” he says, all breathy, “what made you so needy?”

You dont reply, partly because you were too embarrassed to admit to your lewd thoughts and partly because you could not form a sentence in your head, “I asked you a question, didn't I princess?” he asks, and you just wail, “that is no answer.” he says, “what made you so needy princess?” he asks again, you shake your head, trying to find your words, as the feeling of pure pleasure fills your body, “y-you” you say, as you squeeze your eyes shut, due to the intense pleasure.

That one word, seemed to have done something to harry, as he goes completely wild, he rips his dress shirt open, and pulls your dress below the swell of your breasts, he puts one hand, beside your head, removes his leg, from between yours, which causes you to whine once again, his mouth finds your right breast, and his other hand reaches down to rub circles against your clothed clit. Your right hand finds his shoulder, while your left pushes his head further down on your breast, the feeling had heightened, and your mouth was now open, no sound came out, no words, until you finally let a moan out and it was music to his ears.

in one swift movement, he pulled your entire dress off of you.

You were bare in front of him, and you looked absolutely beautiful. He hovered over you again, and plants kisses on your neck, slowly moving down, to kiss the valley between your brests, to your stomach, and when he finally reached your clothed mound, looking up at you, he slowly, takes the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and pulls it away, you arch your back as cold air hit your wet pussy, then you feel him place a feather like kiss on your inner thigh, inching closer to your centre, he slowly brings his hand up and places his thumb on your now exposed clit, applying slight pressure and drawing circles, which seemed to make you look at him, moving closer to your pussy, he licked a bold stripe, tasting your arousal, and his eyes rolled back in his head, you could feel his hot breath against your cunt, which was contrasting with the cold air attacking the rest of your body, it made shivers run down your body, and harry looked up at you, as if to ask for approval, you nod your head, not knowing what exactly he wanted to do, but anything would good right now.

You keep looking at him as he moves to come directly above your slit, to you, he was just being cruel, taking his time, mocking your state, but for him, seeing you like this, he was in awe, never had he been so sensual with anyone, never so gentle, no one had ever begged him like this, silently, they were all loud, and harry loved it, but this was different, and your taste was heavenly, nothing like he had before, nothing like hers, yours had a different sweetness, a different scent, and it was making him wild, like an animal, your whimper seems to break him out of this transe as he looks up to see your pained expression, without wasting more time, he ducks down and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it, and it made you hiss, without stopping he looks up at you, back arching, breasts in the air, and he didn't know if he was hurting you or if that was a pleasurable sound, so he stops completely, “Don't stop! please!” you cry out and that was all he needed to go back, tongue flicking the sensitive nub, your hands flew to Harry’s hair, pushing his face further into your cunt, it felt right, and it felt good, you try to squeeze your legs together, but he pries them away with one hand and then brings his other hand and holds both your thighs in place, the room was filled with your moans and the sound of him licking you up, he unhooks his left hand from your thigh and goes to grab your right breast, pinching you nipple, your own hand finds his and you hold it from behind.

You then feel a knot in your stomach, and it feels like you might pee, “ha- prince ha-harry!” you mewl and he hums against your pussy, the vibration caused you to moan loudly, “i- i think-”

“Let go.” he says, lips still against your mound, and that was all you needed as you came crashing down, felt like you exploded, you closed your eyes and saw stars till everything went black.

A/N: OMG FINALLY DAMN IT. i hope you enjoy this one really, part will definately be posted more frequently from now on, i was having some personal issues due to which i couldn't post on time. love you all.

stay safe❤️❤️

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