#harry styles fantasy

[jarofstyles]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes 4- Preparations and Secret Keepers

Helloo my loves! They’re back. Lady Y/N and Princerry have returned and they’re ✨ in love✨ obviously. I hope you enjoy a bit more of them!

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Warnings- a smidgen of exhibitionism if you squint

WC- 3.9k

Fic masterlist

————

The ballroom was beautiful.

Y/N had nearly felt tears in her eyes when she first saw it. Swirls of saturated color all around. Flowers in opulent garlands wrapping around the marble columns and up to the ceilings. The lights twinkled from them as they hung down from the dark vines that curtained the ceiling, looking like stars in the sky.

The tables were lined with expensive cloth, a deep red with a lace runner going through the middle. Fine dishware was neatly stacked, the golden designs etched and foiled on them shining in the lights. Bouquets were the centerpieces, red ribbon tied around the vases in delicate bows. There were no expenses spared for this. His and her initial was painted on the dance floor with the royal family crest, gold foiling making it sparkle. Staff scurried about to put on finishing touches on the scene while Y/N and the Queen did a last check up.

What had her truly gasping for breath were the specific flowers that she had shown Harry in their walk decorating the royal table, the bouquet specially made for her at her spot clear next to him. The first time she would be at a royal event… as a future royal. Her hands were a bit sweaty as she followed the Queen dutifully, listening to her comments as she made small adjustments for the headmistress to go over with staff.

Y/N admired his gracious she was. Saying please and thank you to staff was not something most nobility did, but she did. She wanted to be just like her. Friendly and kind. Not a feared woman- unless she was crossed. Respected. That was her goal, above all else.

As soon as they had a moment alone, she turned to her. “How are you truly doing, my dear?” Her soft hand landed on Y/N’s forearm, true compassion on her face. She could see her bristling nerves grating on her even though most couldn’t. “You are good at hiding your emotions. The reason I can see it is because I was in your shoes once.” She soothed. “Having good control of when you show them is important. But you’ve proven yourself thus far.” Her kind smile made Y/N relax a little bit.

“Thank you.” She replied. “I am… I’m good. I think it is a bit overwhelming but I remind myself this is the first one. I will get used to it. It’s to celebrate our love and union, too, so I should not be worried.” Y/N refused to let jealous and bitter women ruin the beautiful thing that Harry and her had created. Had been thrust into; his arms welcoming her like a warm bath. The Queen nodded at her statement, the pair walking slowly as they observed the royal table. “He remembered.” Her whisper was caught by the Queen, watching her fingers brush one of the flowers with a smile.

“He is a good man. I am happy with how he’s grown.” The Queen loved her son dearly. She wasn’t fond of the way most royals before her had reared their children, handing them off to nanny’s and other staff dedicated to the job. She wanted to be hands on. To raise him to be a good man, to make changes she had already started to implement. He would not be arrogant and rude. That was a fear, knowing the power could get to his head as it did to many, but she did it herself. She was spoiled with ladies maids who would tend to him at night as a wee babe, but she did everything else. The bond between parent and child was gravely important. “Though I will say… the change I’ve seen in him since he has met you has made me ecstatic.”

Y/N turned to her with curious eyes. “How so, may ask?” She was treading lightly, still wanting to be respectful but dying to know. Any bit of information about him from a reliable source made her giddy. Filing it away in her favorite folder in her memories, she wanted to soak it all in.

“He seemed more… excited about ruling. He learns with vigor. Speaks up. He wants to know the intricacies more and more. Before… he was unmotivated in some ways.” There was a pause as she exhaled. “I suppose that was partially our fault. We wanted him to remain as carefree as he could, to form his own personality without it being directly tied to a title. He learned a lot during his childhood but he had been seemingly nervous as he grew. Now he seems far more settled in it.” It was most definitely because of Y/N. “Having a reliable, trustworthy and level headed ruling partner is one of the most important and undervalued assets a King can have. They do say, "What is a King without his Queen.” She gave a slight smile as Y/N followed her words closely.

“You have those qualities, from what I can tell. Keeping a level head and still being able to defend yourself and the person you love is a beautiful thing to have as a ruler. It isn’t easy. People will disagree simply because you spoke, you rule. I can understand why, to a degree. Taking into account the stress of being a King, I think that you will be able to elevate him. I believe him the same as you. The King may seem to be the one who holds all the power… but know that it isn’t true. I’ve helped come to all of the most important decisions in our kingdom’s history. It isn’t a job to take lightly.” The Queen could see it on her face, how she was agreeing but still spooked. This wasn’t necessarily a test, but it was a reality she needed to face. She couldn’t just play royal. It was a job.

“That is why I was so worried about who Harry would end up with. Many women.. they think that being a Queen is being lavished with diamonds and pearls, being fed delicacies by hand and never lifting a finger. They think it’s the custom dresses and crowns, the balls and the galas, the travels. But it is so much more than that.” She squeezed her hand, giving her another smile. “I was terrified that my son would follow a man’s intuition and just go for whoever appealed to his physical senses without taking a woman’s brain and intentions into account. He was incredibly lucky to stumble across you.”

It was abundantly clear that Y/N loved her son- and if not fully there yet, close to it. She never indulged when she was at the palace, was polite, thanked workers and never threw fits. The girl was respectable, well read and could hold a conversation. It was more than a lot of the other women on the court could say when they were vying for Harry’s hand in marriage.

“Do you truly think I’ll make a good Queen?” Y/N asked quietly, looking her in the eye despite wanting to look at her skirts. This was an intimidating conversation but she needed to hear it. None of it was enough to make her leave. It was a lot more than she had ever expected to take on as a wife- if she had ever married at all- but Harry’s tender heart and gentle touch was well worth the challenges. She hopes.

“I do. I think you’ll be one of the best we have seen. Continue to be fearless, to speak your mind to your husband, to be honest and open with him, rule with a fair hand and you will do amazing. The council will try to intimidate you. Do not let them.” The word of warning was clear. Y/N’s tummy turned at the serious tone. “They will try and sway you. The reason for it, as you know, is to have the people given more of a say. But do not let individual agendas influence your decisions. Make them as your heart and mind see fit. Harry will be behind you.”

That, she didn’t doubt. The man had been continuously proving his devotion to her every single day. She had read in her books; the romance novels that had her flustered and fanning herself at times, about love and men. About how she could be treated. Harry far exceeded any expectation.

“I understand. I will do my best, and I will trust my husband. I know he and I have had some conversations about it. I don’t know if he told you of some of the other encounters I’ve had with some of the women, but I already know the way people will treat me. How they will manipulate and how I will need to be careful. But as long as I have Harry, I have my family? I am strong.”

“You will be wonderful.” The Queen replied. “You are wise beyond your years. I’ve heard whispers of what people have been saying, what they’ve been doing. I am not one to abuse power but if you wish to have anyone removed from this party? That is your right.” She wouldn’t want anything to ruin this. It was a step in the new direction of the kingdom, her first real taste. She needed it to be good for her.

“Thank you, my Queen. I will.” Y/N nodded, looking back towards the bouquet. For him? She would do anything. For herself? She would prove that she wasn’t someone to stand on.

—————

Harry watched as she walked down the hall, alone at last. She was stunning, his intended. So beautiful and strong, her head held high as she walked the corridor as if she knew where she was going. She didn’t. All she knew was that Harry had requested her in the library.

“Hello.”

“My goodness!” Y/N yelped, hand over her heart as it raced like a hummingbird inside of her chest. “Harry! You musn't scare me like that.” She still walked towards him, entering the library as she tried to shake off her bout of fright.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Harry peeked down the hall to see it empty, closing the door behind them. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Approaching her, his hands reached for her waist to pull her into his embrace. Smooth. Always so smooth and warm to the touch, making his fingers flex into the dress. Her corset hid the squish of her flesh, something he was dying to feel under his hands, but he thanked the world that she let him handle her this way. The light blue of the dress did wonders to compliment her eyes, ruffled at the bottom in a way he usually dislike- but again, his sweet Y/N had a knack for making him enjoy things he rarely did in the past. She made any dress she wore look like gold. It was impossible for her to dull her glow, a beacon of light that his eyes always wanted to follow.

“That is a lie, my prince.” She laughed under her breath. His grin made sure to tell her he enjoyed making her jump. “Luckily for you, you’re handsome and far too charming to hold a grudge, so I forgive you for it.” Her head tilted back, taking in his content features. Alone. Truly alone with one another in the Palace’s library. It was quite big, shelves upon shelves of books in every color imaginable. A top floor with a balcony overlooking the rest, dark wooden ladders to reach the tall shelves at the bottom, a large reading area in front of the fireplace and a padded bench in front of the window to make for a nook to hide away in. The large arched window let in beams of light, streaking across the room and illuminating the front of it effortlessly.

“I fear that I’ll spend every free moment here.” She returned her gaze to him after looking around. It wasn’t her first time in here, but she was still amazed at the quantity of books in one room. The palace was much larger than she had ever anticipated. “I don’t think I could read every book in here, even if I read every moment in my lifetime. You’ll have to read with me.”

Y/N had expressed a want for that. To find a book to read before bed, just for them. A tradition.

“Of course. I’ll read with you every night if it’s possible.” He released her waist, taking hold of her hand and letting her lead him into the darker aisles of the library. It was relatively quiet in the room, the sound of their steps clicking over the wood floors being the loudest thing they could hear. “What are you looking to read?” His question was soft spoken, aware of how little space there was in these aisles. They were meant for one person to explore, but he truly didn’t mind. Being close to Y/N was a blessing.

“I’m partial to romance. I love all books- I love learning about my flowers and history, I love fairy tales… but I particularly enjoy romance. Happy endings, mostly. All of them, though…they can be quite eye opening. You’d never guess it. People love to diminish the literature because men do not usually enjoy them- at least publicly. Some of the most breathtaking quotes I’ve ever heard of were in such books.” She ran her fingers along the spines of the cloth bound books, grazing the embossed titles. “You learn a lot about people in them. How betrayal can affect a soul, how love can heal. Above all else, loving is a choice. An action.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, unsure of what she meant. “I don’t think I had a choice. I think.. my heart was yours the moment I laid my eyes on you. I’ve never questioned it.”

“There’s different types of loving. Having your heart belong to someone… It is a different sort of love. A soul deep love. But to be in love actively, you choose it. You choose to show the person your feelings, to express them. You do the acts of love by stroking my hand, by choosing the flowers for our table.” A coy look was shot his way. “It won’t always be easy. You’ll have to choose love above all else, even if it’s harder than another solution.” She turned to him, placing a hand on the side of his neck, the dim light doing nothing to hide his beauty.

“I feel the same. I feel as though you plucked my heart out of my chest like harp strings and held it in your hands. There wasn’t much of a choice in that. But the act of loving? It is a choice. Being loved and in love are two different things. We just happen to have both.” And god, did she love him already. It was soul deep, like she said.

“I see…” he rolled his lips in for a moment before pouting ever so slightly. “I can understand that. I haven’t thought of that before but… I suppose it’s because I haven’t read as many romance novels as you. Or, perhaps you’re just a smarter being than me.” He had to chuckle because sometimes he believed it to be true. Y/N’s thoughts were vast, complex, something he wanted to dissect over time. He loved hearing what she thought about policies so far, what she thought of their system. Even just her thoughts on books and flowers. She thought about things he never would have imagined- and it’s part of why he loved her. The creature challenged him in ways no one else ever would, kept him on his toes all while providing a comfort in her presence many would die to have.

“No. You’re just as smart, but in a different way. It’s refreshing. We both have qualities the other needs. It’s one of my favorite parts about us.” She slightly scolded him for that. No self deprivation on her watch.

“Yeah? What are your other favorite parts?” He murmured, feeling the tightness of the space but not wanting to back up. Instead, he got closer. “For example… I love your brain. I love how you speak, how your lips curl around words. I love how I feel like I was submerged in the warmest bath with all of the sweet smelling oils when I’m around you.” His fingers rose to brush her cheek. “But… I hate that I am not able to touch you how I wish.” Speaking of love always got to him. His reminder of how much adoration festered in his heart, how much impatience he had towards expressing it to her in a physical way.

Y/N’s mouth dried as she felt the man close in on her. If her heart was beating fast before? It was ready to fly out of her chest now. Breathing quickening as she leaned into his touch, she found her words on the tip of her tongue, hands settling on his forearms. Against her better judgment, she allowed herself to speak. “How do you wish to touch me?”

The voice was much softer than she would have hoped, showing how she was weak kneed just from this simple touch. Back against the shelf, she peered at him through her lashes, anticipating the next words out of his berry hued mouth. Oh, how she wanted that mouth.

“I wish to touch you without these corsets. I want to feel your skin underneath my fingertips, the softness of your flesh dipping as I hold you.” He paused, inhaling shakily. “ I want to bury my fingers in your hair and tug your head back so I can kiss you. God, I want to kiss you so, so badly. It aches in my soul. I crave nothing more than your affections. You know that?” He looked pained as he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. This was a dangerous situation, both of them in a state that they didn’t know how to handle. There were lines they could not cross, things he could not say, but he was feeling them all.

“You do?” She peeped, eyes round at his blunt words. He had expressed some of these things in a letter before but… hearing in person was a whole other experience. The low rasp of his voice as he kept it down, keeping their secrets between their ears and the pages of the books.

“I do. Words can not express how much I look forward to our wedding day.” When they would become man and wife, when he could take her the way they both wanted. “When I never have to worry, I can kiss you freely, in front of whoever I wish. I hate that there are barriers for us. I understand tradition, I respect it… but I can’t help but wish to break it.” He wouldn’t, but he had to hold his breath as he felt her nose brush against his own. The walls of rigid rules were so irritating for him, he wanted to make them crumble to rubble on the ground.

“I know. I crave it just as much, Harry.” She replied shakily, breath felt against his lips. “I want your touch on every part. But we have to respect the traditions. Don’t we?” She asked, feeling as though she could fall over as she felt their lips brush for a single second before his own rested over her cheek.

“We do.” He mumbled against the smooth skin. “But… I can kiss here.” His lips puckered ever so slightly on her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth. “I can kiss here… and it’s not breaking any rules. My ring is on your finger… I tend to claim you in the ways the world allows, to follow those rules.. but you are mine.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to arch into him. A little gasp left her as she felt a firmer kiss placed to her cheek again, letting their lips feather together before he placed one to the opposite side. “My bride. My queen. My heart. I will never be as proud of anything… as I am to have been chosen by you.”

Y/N let out a whimper, pulling him close and returning the gesture. Dangerously close kisses, right in the same places. Temptation. She should have pulled away, but she couldn’t. Her body pulsed, a heartbeat felt between her legs as he let out a quiet groan.

“My sweet…” he rasped. “My self control is so little. It’s merely hanging by a fraying thread. I respect you more than to take you in a library aisle…” he paused. “At least before we are married.” The thought flooded her brain, her skirts lifted up and his firm palm holding her mouth to keep her quiet. Taking her deep and slow against the shelves, filling her to the brim. Her leg hitched over his waist while fingers clawed at him- he didn’t know how he was able to wait.

“Harry…” she gasped, feeling his lips press to her jaw. “You’re making it so hard for me to behave. I need to be…” she lost her train of thought as her eyes closed, head falling back against the wood. His kisses were feather light, brushing over her jaw and making her fingers dig into his arms. If she was in this much pleasure just from this? What would it be like without all of the barriers? Would his fingers make her tingle as much on bare flesh? Would his kiss her all over?

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled against her skin. “I’m sorry…” teeth grazed her ear, making her whine. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I will stop.” He had to drag himself away from her body, tempted to nibble on her smooth neck and leave marks all over. He couldn’t. But he wanted to.

Y/N wanted to gasp at his looks. His dark gaze, eyes glinting in a darkness she had never seen before. Lust. True lust, his cheeks flushed and lips slightly swollen. It would look like they did more than look for books if they were caught, but Y/N committed it to memory. She wanted this very look painted in a portrait. Her Prince’s desire for her. Nothing had ever felt more real. “My beautiful prince…” she sighed, hands prying away from his arms to hold his hands. “We must leave or we will get carried away. You’ll never forgive yourself.” She knew that much. Harry was very proud of doing this properly. Of keeping himself a gentleman.

“I know.” his fingers squeezed over hers, taking his own deep breath as he calmed himself. “I’ll behave. It is hard, having the affections of a woman as stunning as you and not be able to indulge… But I must.” Even if it pained him. He would do this properly, honor her and make her his wife before he devoured her in the way he craved.

[freedomfireflies]

The Angel and the Fae | H.S.

The one where Harry is an angel that falls in love with a garden fairy.

And even the heavens can't keep you apart.

Based on this idea!!

Part One:

~ The Angel and the Fae

[eveningepiphany]

pirates gold | H.S series, part three

[series masterlist]

summary: 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.

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, teasing, sexual mentions, tension, pining, protective h, y/n being an absolute menace, mentions of death and disappearance, alcohol, violent themes.

a/n: this is really humbling to post after so long. I hope you all enjoy it, I’m so sorry for the wait.

———

You don’t realise how easy it is to forget sometimes.

How fast an old life can fall out of view, and shed off you like an old skin. How on occasion, it happens so quickly you don’t even register it’s occurred.

The shortest periods of time can alter how you view your life. You didn’t realise how different being on a ship was when compared to living on land— not until you bridged between the two while conscious, and felt the transition with your own body.

Your feet had came to the ground more unsteady than you’d thought. Maybe you forgot how to walk too. As dark had already consumed the town, you’re not sure if you were shaking out of anxiety or genuinely from how long it’s felt like it’s been since you’ve stood on solid unwavering ground.

Harry, whose hand occupied the flat of your back, felt the intake of breath your lungs pulled in as you finally made it all the way onto the dock.

He had come back into his room to find you asleep, curled into his side of the bed, knees tucked into your chest. To it, he’d smiled… legs carrying him over to glance over your peaceful frame closer.

Examining the rise and fall of your chest, as air passed through your nose softly. He noted that your hair looked damp, and he almost chuckled at the fact you’d seemingly helped yourself to a shower.

He gently said your name, “Y/N…”

When you didn’t stir, he muttered it again, hand coming to jostle your shoulder slightly. The touch woke you up, your legs uncoiling from their tucked up position, stretching out down the mattress.

A tiny sound whimpered from your throat as you started to fully wake up, eyes flitting open with a sleep-induced glaze over them.

“Evenin’.” He remarked, “fancied a shower and a nap, aye?” When you took in his frame standing next to the bed, he had an armful of brown paper bags.

You sighed out, sitting up, “Not much else to really do.”

However your brain was rerunning the fact you had plenty you could’ve done since you found that key in one of his pockets. Mentally, you had to shove it away so you didn’t end up with a guilty look plastered on your face.

“Well, waits over, dove. Got ya some clothes, you’re welcome to pick something out before we go. Want you t’blend in.” He placed the bags down onto the bed for you to shuffle over to.

You felt oddly curious, like a child on Christmas. All these bags filled with things for you. The abundance of clothes you pulled out shocked you, because there really was half a wardrobe in there. Including a pair of boots, ones you’re not sure how he figured out would fit your feet.

There was also white linen blouses similar to his own— others black lace with intricate detailing, and brown fitted long sleeves— and also an array of pants, all slightly differing in styles. You stumbled across a black under-bust corset, and your eyes shifted to him. He was leaning against the wall watching you, a smirk over his lips. That wasn’t even the only corset he had bought, there were 2 others.

However, the satisfied look on his face only grew as you reached the bottom of the last bag. Several undergarments lay folded, bras and underwear.

“Had to do some guessing with the sizing of those…” His voice comes from a few feet away from you. All too close given the fact you’re staring at intimates he bought for you.

Your face was flaming red, unable to contain the embarrassment that was coursing through you, purely at the fact he was shopping for your underwear and bras— probably imagining you in them. Someone acting so casual about this was throwing you into disarray.

His passing comments and dirty teases were one thing, this however, was another.

“Everyday you get a little more pervy.” You bite out, and he laughs at your defensive tone.

“Did you suggest I leave you without any? A thank you will suffice perfectly fine. No need t’insult me when im jus’ looking after you.” A smug smile fell over his features.

“Harry.” You groan, voice warning him, and he let it go after rolling his eyes.

He allowed you to pick out what you wanted, watching you flush as you discreetly pulled a set of undergarments out of the bag.

You had picked a white linen shirt, matching his own, and a black pair of pants. He let you change into them in his bathroom, but when you’d come out adorned in clothes that perfectly fit the pirate energy, he was holding what he’d deemed as the final touch.

The black under-bust corset.

“C’mere. You’ll be fine.” He says at your immediately displeased face.

“You might not be.” You sneer, frowning at him as the loosened corset hangs in his hands— leather shining with the golden reflection of the candle light around the room.

He walks over to you, since you clearly weren’t going to be the one to do it, and a tut comes from his pink lips, “Always so stubborn.”

You decide to just let him— since partial freedom is in sight— and you stepped into the corset, allowing him to slide it up your body, until it was in place underneath your breasts.

“This fine?” He checks in as he tugs the strings, waiting for your confirmation before the leather was too tight to your waist.

“I still think I should just elbow you.” You glare, hands clenched at the sides of your thighs with the looming pressure of the garment.

His attempt to be courteous was to no avail, clearly. And the white linen gets sinched inward, and he wrenches the strings roughly with purpose.

His deep laugh sounds, and with that firm pull you’re bought close enough to him you can feel his warm breath against your ear as he leans down.

“Let’s not be mouthy, dove. Not when I’m in control of how tight this thing is on you.” He tugs the laces a final time, hard enough the material feels like it’s completely restricting your diaphragm— making you hold your breath for a moment.

At your silence, he lets his hand relax, in turn the strings loosening enough for you to intake a breath. Your soft gasp makes his stomach heat up, warm with an unexplainable feeling.

He ties the corset at the back, and you don’t even get to step away before he’s linking arms with you.

“You look good." He states with a nod, and your eye's veered downward to see the corset against yourself.

That was what lead you to here, stepping off the pier, lit only by the latern Harry was carrying, and onto dirt.

Dirt that may have been separated from your feet with a pair of shoes, but was amazing to feel press against your boots again.

You were so eager to touch something other than wood, that this was like heaven.

The sea lapped up against the shore a few metres away, as the earth transitioned back into sand on the shore. You felt deep anticipation to get further away from the uniting of the two worlds. Because away from anything regarding the ocean and the vessel that floated upon was freedom in your mind.

Harry could see every micro-expression on your face, despite the weak candlelight. The way your eyes had lit up at the sensation of soft dirt below you, and it was endearing. He’d never seen one get so excited over merely dirt.

The air was warm, and felt like a summer night— but the breeze that blew through your hair was crisp. Whispering hints of a change in weather sooner rather than later.

He watched the wind twirl your hair, and he was almost envious of it. Watching its fingers comb through it, in such a way he could only imagine himself in its place with an intense longingly.

“The boys are at the bar. But if that’s not your scene, what we do is up to you.” He supplies, watching your eyes slant to him.

You hadn’t really thought this far ahead, what you’d do once you were off the boat. You looked at him, and then back to the cobble path that lead presumably into the heart of Sintir.

The buildings were lit up, warm light glowing, “Do they have a night market?”

“Mhm, infact they do.” He nods, beginning a slow walk to encourage you onwards.

Oddly enough, as his body was pressed to your side, you felt safe. He was something familiar in this new environment. “How exactly are you going to hide me?”

The pressing question to you was merely a slight concern to him.

“Chances of them knowing that you’re the missing princess is unlikely. And if they have seen the posters with your face on it, I somehow struggle to believe they’ll connect the dots.”

“That’s a lot of faith you have in that.” You comment, boots hitting the cobblestone with the same clacks they did back at home. There was a sense of invigoration that rushed through the blood beneath your skin at the sound.

It bought back your nightly adventures around Kelna, where nothing mattered. And all you had to worry about is what time you were sneaking back through your window without getting caught by your own guards.

It was nostalgic in a weird way. The kind that threw your mind spinning, since the memory was so fresh yet so distant. Too much had changed in the time from then to now.

“‘Cause y’don’t really look anythin’ like your picture.” He comments, dragging his gaze along your frame again, playing a mental spot the difference. He’d seen the flyers earlier that day, and was honestly unconvinced it was really you himself.

“God— tell me they didn’t use an ugly picture of me from 2 years ago…” It’s the kind of thing your parents would do, but Harry only shakes his head, letting out a prompt cackle at your distress.

“No, they didn’t use an ugly photo of ya at all. You’re just s’put together in it, hair slicked back in this fancy satin dress and pearls.” The two of you are walking between the first two buildings facing the sea, luminaries lighting up the path.

He continues, waving his hand as though it adds something to the conversation, “Now, y’hair is down now, all wild. And you’ve got this untamed look in y’eye. No one would look at ya an’ see y’fine dining in a gown.”

You’re not sure what to make of all of this, since he’s talking of you like he’s certain. Coming from his own perspective more than anyone else’s.

“They see a pirates girl. Probably look at you and think y’wrapped around my finger.” He nudges, and you finally scoff, “I would prefer they see it the other way around. That you’re following me like a lost puppy.”

“That’s never usually how it is, though.” He raises his brows, and your arm slips out of his, walking backward as you face him.

“But maybe it could be in their mind. They see you foaming out the mouth for me. And it’s like that ship docked over there,” your point in the direction you’d both originally came from, “is all mine.”

The concept feels like a power trip. You do wonder how many female captains there are in this world. Likely not enough.

“Sounds like quite the fantasy y’ve built up.” He muses.

“I want to go to the pub.” Your tone is certain and confident. To this he raises his eyes brows in challenge.

“Perhaps you’ll share a drink with me, dove?”

“Or it could be the other way around.”

“Well, it couldn’t, because you don’t have any gold to pay with. An’ things here aren’t complimentary like they are at home.” He huffs in amusement, poking fun at your previously lavish lifestyle.

“I don’t need gold,” you begin with a smirk that’s starting to spread across your mouth, “all I need to do is undo a few buttons on this blouse and I’ll probably be able to get a round for the whole crew on the house.”

You’re walking backwards, hands clasped together behind your back, a grin on your face that makes him feel insane.

His eyes immediately darkened, pupils blowing out at the thought of what you’re insinuating. Flirting your way for a free drink… something he can’t imagine you’ve ever done before. Yet would probably succeed at like you have a million times over.

“Right,” He clears his throat, trying to calm himself down, “didn’t take much for you to start whoring yourself out for some booze.”

“It’s not whoring… men are horrible creatures. They’ll do anything if they think it’ll get their dick wet.” He thinks you’re so… uneducated and naive. That just because you’re in a court, that you know nothing of the males on this earth.

However it’s quite the opposite. Sexual topics are strictly forbidden in the palace and court meetings… but elsewhere, when it’s private and no one is around to hear it, men help themselves to the topic.

They have no concern discreetly passing by you, head turned in whisper, just to tell you what a body you have. Or just how badly they want to…

And on the street, it’s even worse. So you know more than enough when it comes to that. That makes you anything but stupid to a man’s intentions.

He picks up the pace of his steps to breach the distance between you both, so that if you were to stop walking suddenly— he would probably crash into he was that close.

“You’re not doing that.” He says, tone serious.

“Why not, afraid you’ll get a little jealous?” You’re flirting with something dangerous now. Eager to prove a point.

“Don’t try to get a rise out of me. Because I said you’re not. Do y’want a drink or not dove? Because the way you’re headed, all your getting is a glass of water.”

“Whatever.” You scoff, still unsatisfied, but resigning your argument for now.

“I’m concerned your attitude will only worsen with alcohol in your system.” He deliberates.

The streets have now fully lit up, with other people starting to appear, and the nightlife is able to be heard from where you are.

The singing happening in the tavern can now be heard as you round a corner into what can only be deemed at Sintirs town centre.

A night market is clearly running, and you can see the pub a few doors down from it. Men and women out the front, drinks in hand and cigars hanging from their lips.

He catches up to you enough to slide his arm between your elbow again, silently obliging you you to stay right by his side.

As you get closer to the tavern, he verbalises this.

“You don’t move from here,” He pulls you tighter into his frame, “and you don’t make any trouble. Otherwise it won’t be pretty.”

His tone is firm, unwavering. You nod to it, accepting the rules begrudgingly, “Yes, Captain.”

You both come to the door, and he pulls it open. The building on the outside was rustic bricks, and inside it was the same— except the flooring was wooden. As the door opened, a bell chimed, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming amount of noise.

Men were shouting, and bellowing all about. Drunkenly chatting, playing darts, and stumbling around. There were women too, but they were not near as rambunctious. All of them were dressed like pirates… and it was clear this place was specialised for them. Maps on the wall, and news clippings of what appeared to be local Sintir pirates were framed around the place.

A few blokes stopped to greet Harry. And he engaged in short conversations. But in the back of his mind, he was regretting bringing you in here. Not because anyone recognised you, but because he could see every single slimy gaze that dragged over you.

One man stopped him by the darts—Harry had called him Evan— he said greetings to the captain, but his gaze never left you.

You had noticed immediately, and it was a bit disgusting. It made you regret calling Harry a perv. Because he was nothing like this.

It immediately pissed Harry off, the way the brutish and large man was eyeing you up and down like you were an object. And his blood spiked when he considered the array of things likely running through Evans head.

The grip he had tightened on you.

It’s protective, you feel. And at the least, you know you’re safe with him.

Harry almost regretted putting that corset on you now. It made you look too good. Too enticing.

He, unlike others clearly, has a moral compass. And enough human decency to see you as a human opposed to a sexual object. He was forgetful that most men lacked that ability.

When he spots his crew, he uses it as a quickly conjured excuse to get away from the other pirate. And as he leaves, he tugs your body in front of him, shadowing your retreating figure from prying eyes.

You’re a bit overwhelmed, in all honesty. But accept it as normal— you hadn’t been anywhere so busy for a while now. Especially when it’s in such a rowdy way.

The second his crew spots the two of you— your body sheltered by his own, and his hand on your hip urging you forward— Niall, the blonde one whose name you finally remember, lets out a bellowing cheer.

“She made it!” He’s excited like you’re an old friend of his, and he drunkenly rises up from the booth the boys had taken.

Harry feels a little more at peace knowing he’s now with his crew— the two of you are less likely to be bothered now, and he knows his mates will look out for you as well. Prisoner or not, you’re still a human.

Niall barrels towards you, and Harry renounces his hold on you. Chuckling as he pulls you into a drunk bear hug.

You’re unsure what to do with your hands as he rocks you around like a child, “Glad ya here, lovie.”

“Mmhm…?” You agree, looking helplessly his crew mates as they cackle hysterically— smacking their hands down on the table and sloshing their pints of beer in fits of laughter.

He eventually slides his arms off you, and hiccups, “are ya havin’ a drink?”

His already heavy accent is slurred as you make out what he’s asking, and you don’t even get an answer in before he reaches over the table and grabs you his.

Sliding the cold glass, around 3 quarters empty, into your hand.

“‘Ave mine! I’ll go get anotha’” He chortles, and then stumbles off just like that.

Harry watches in surprise as you bring the glass up to your lips and down the rest of it without hesitation. Hoping alcohol will take the edge off all the overstimulation you’re having in here. Calm you down a bit.

The rest of his crew whoop and cheer for you, which at the least gives you a bit more confidence.

Before they can all hand you over their half finished beers, Harry comes back to your side, head craning down to talk in your ear.

“Let’s go up t’the bar, get ya somethin’ fresh, instead of people leftovers.”

You nod, walking with him as he pulls you through the crowd.

At the bar, there’s several people sat at the stools. Including a touchy couple, that are practically feeling each other up, front and centre. She is sitting on the seat, but is taller than the man that’s between her legs. Clearly she’s in charge, and you smirk.

Go girl, you thought, and Harry clocks your pride for the woman. Something stirring in his chest.

He ignores it, going up the bar to place on order.

The lady at the bar, whose got muscles on her like an absolute god, nods at him to rattle off his order.

“Two beers and a shot of the best liquor y’ve got, thanks, Naomi.” He asks, but you interrupt before she can walk away.

“Make it two shots, please.” To your quick mouth, she smiles. She has dark skin, and a beautifully done head of braids, it’s clear you’ve piqued her curiosity.

“I’ll make it two,” she smirks, getting two shot glasses from beneath the counter.

“And who is the second one for?” She asks, implying she wants your name.

You slide your eyes to Harry, who is shocked that you’re trying to get his permission for giving your name. He blinks sharply in disapproval.

“Mary.” You nod, listing the fake name off like it was nothing. It was a common enough name, so she takes it.

You don’t realise how effortlessly you and Harry are communicating without words until he ghosts his thumb over your forearm, and you know he’s thanking you.

Naomi smirks at you, “Well, miss Mary, I have to say i quite admire you.”

You give her a thanks, and she slides the two shots on the counter, going on to prepare the beers.

“Been a while since your captain here has bought a girl around… nice to see.” The irony of the situation could almost make you laugh.

“Well, someone’s oughta keep him inline. Otherwise he’d end up prisoner somewhere.” You supply, putting up your best pirate imitation for her.

He shakes his head, your play on words half amusing, half unbelievable.

“Was good to see you, Naomi, thanks for the drinks.” He says, grabbing the beer while you grab the shots.

She gives her momentary goodbyes, and he walks over to a vacant barrel to place the beer down.

You follow suit, but with only one of the shots. You toss the other back before he can say otherwise. The brownish-gold liquid burning a trail down your throat.

He watches in disbelief. You are so shockingly rough around the edges, that the idea of you being a princess feels unfathomable to him.

“You broke a lot of those royal rules, didn’t you.” He raises his brows, voice unreadable.

Licking over your lips, the strong alcohol gives a zip up your spine, “on occasion.”

“Christ.” He mutters, picking up his own shot and downing it.

The two of you take your beers back to the booth his crew was at, and you drink that and whatever else got handed to you by his crew mates— that you’ve officially learned most names of— and are well and truly a bit drunk.

You were sat between Liam and Harry, and the night was actually quite fun.

It was nice to truly forget the situation you’d landed yourself in.

That was until, as the night drew on, and once the early hours of the morning were likely in play, the pub quietened.

It was now regular noise level, just drunk and tired chatter, and someone came over to your booth.

A lanky guy, sporting long dreaded hair with olive coloured skin. Despite his moderately tan complexion, there was an almost queasy undertone to it. It stained a faint yellow tinge under his eyes, and screamed future liver failure the longer you stared.

Yet a gold tooth that peaked through when he flashed a smile. He looked like the epitome of a pirate.

“Ah, Styles and his crew are back in town.” He announces rather loudly, like as if he has an audience he’s talking to.

“Leon… Hello.” Zayn drawls, far from enthralled to see the man.

“Great to see you all,” he claps his hands together, smiling, “now, I’ve jus’ come round to spread the word…”

It piques the men’s interest slightly, and they all start to pay attention to the skinny bloke.

“Garrets boat was found the otha’ day.” He states, looking between the boys, eyes stopping momentarily on you.

Harry pipes up from where he’s sat next to you, and if there was anything amiss, the only telling thing would be the way his hand snakes to your knee, tensing around it slightly.

It’s his bruised hand, and you try to draw your attention away from it.

“I’ve heard word of that… did he not turn up with it?” Harry asks, nonchalantly.

“No… it was in perfect nick, jus’ without its capan’.” He sighs out, stepping forward to trail his boney hand over the wood pattern on the table, “Reckon someone’s got him… so keep an eye out for raiders.”

“Mm, alright. Thanks for the heads up. Hope ya’s stumble upon him…” Harry nods, hand clutching your knee harder.

The man’s missing…

And suddenly, it clicks in your brain.

Despite his crews unreadable faces, you are almost certain that the man currently in the chambers of their ship is the same person Leon is on about.

It sends a wave of anxiety through you. In a room full of pirates, you are something they all would want. Yet for varying reasons.

You’re suddenly grateful again that Harry and his crew seem to only have the intention of money with you.

What a horrible thing to be thankful for in this world, you think.

That you’re happy the people who kidnapped you don’t want to use you in worse ways. Don’t want your body or to keep you as a souvenir.

You’re drawn from your spiralling thoughts as Leon speaks again,

“Ah, and you have a las with you too…” he remarks, although it adds no substance to the conversation.

“Mary.” Harry provides, and the boys all exchange a glance.

“You keep your eye out too then, sweetheart. You women have an attention to detail that us men don’t...” He flashes his golden tooth, and gives a final nod to the crew before turning away.

You purse your lips, glancing down at your lap, trying to hide your frown. Confused if the approach was a convoluted kind of threat, or just an odd exchange.

“That’s us done for the night,” Harry says, his previous relaxed tone was gone. It was riddled with seriousness now.

“Give it ten so it doesn’t look suspicious, and then we’re leaving.”

That was confirmation to you that Garret is the man below deck… and you were itching to ask questions, but knew now was likely not the time.

The tension aided sobering everyone up, and after around ten minutes they all collectively rose. And Harry scooted out of the booth, and gestured you to follow suit.

You slide out, leather gliding against your skin as you got to the edge and took his hand without protest. Despite being upset at this situation only minutes earlier, you craved to feel safe.

So as anxiety was welling in your chest, you easily allowed him to pull you against him. Tan hand clasped around yours as he held you firmly close.

This time, he held you with his good hand, free of dark purple bruises.

You transfixed on his complexion instead now. It was completely different to Leon’s. Tan from the sun, yes. But Harry was— as always— all beauty. Liquid gold was accidentally spilt into the colour of his skin. It shone under even the dingest of bar lightings, and never failed to completely encapsulate your attention. His skin had no sickly undertone.

Tiny freckles and beauty marks that trailed up his forearm. They were colour of chocolate… and he was perfection.

Christ.

You got pulled out of your trance by the tug of his hand, his bruised one busy fishing out a small bag of gold.

It’s unbelievable the state he can put you in. It’s otherworldly, and you feel sort of ashamed how easily your mentality can fold to him.

Taking you up to the counter that Naomi was scrubbing down with a rag, he placed the small coin bag atop the bar.

“Thanks for your hospitality as usually, there’s a little extra for all your help.” He was keeping the exchange short, bidding his farewells after her gracious appreciation.

She smiles a goodbye to him, yet eyes slide back over to you,

“And you too Mary, keep y’man in-line.” She teased, and Harry genuinely rolled his eyes.

“I will.” You stated, voice oversaturated with faux confidence.

With that, you all left the tavern. It felt odd stepping into the now cold air, a change coming in quicker than expected. The market having packed up for the night likely hours ago.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as the boys moved in haste, a unity of clanking boots against the paving.

“Y’shivering.” Harry remarked.

“It’s colder than it was earlier.”

“Even the tropics must feel the cold.” Tanner states matter-of-factly.

Once out of the town centre, they start running— it was sudden and unexpected. Like once they were fully out of view, urgency could be expressed.

“This’ll warm you up.” Harry raises his voice against the wind, pulling you along to match his pace.

By the time you made it back, storming across the pier, you were near breathless.

Blood pumping, and you did feel a little warmer at the least.

“Alrigh’, Liam, are you right enough to get us going?” He asked, patting his back as the boys walk along the temporary bridging from the pier to the ship.

“Plenty fine, H.” He nods certainly.

“That’s the way…” his voice raises, “Ashton, Miggs, batten down the hatches!”

His pirate-y tone was prevalent as he threw orders left right and centre. Before you knew it, the ship was starting to move from port. You were shocked, considering half of them weren’t even fully sober. But you supposed this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, readying up the ship for something unexpected while half drunk.

Maybe things were done better that way, with beer in the blood, you supposed. More officiant.

Once he was finished confirming what everyone was doing, his voice lowered, and gaze softened as he turned to you.

His eyes fell where you rung the bottom of the corset cinched around you. You were evidently anxious, it was written all over your face.

“Cmon, dove…” he walked the minor distance between you, “I’ll take you back below deck.”

“To the chambers?“ your voice was abundant with sudden fear, and the thought of going down there knowing there’s likely a corpse in the room across from you made you feel sick.

“No.” He immediately clarified, “My room. You’re not going back down there, Y/N.”

He said it with such certainty, and you wondered what changed to make you a permanent fixture in his room.

You were lead down the increasingly familiar way to his bedroom, “Nothing you can task me with?”

He laughed at your question, “Nothing, love. I doubt you even know how to tie a knot on a rope.”

You couldn’t say you properly did. And then you wondered why exactly you offered to help, considering you have no business aiding people who kidnapped you.

“I don’t.” You sigh, as he lets you into his dark room. He felt oddly domestic, stepping through the doors quickly to light a wall lantern so you can see.

“Then you’re better off safe in here, the waters already a bit rocky.” The ship was rising and falling more dramatically than this morning, which added to your list of things to worry about.

“Harry,” you say his name before he can walk out.

“Y/N?”

“Can you be honest with me…?”

He huffs a laugh, “Tha’ depends.”

“Is the man in the cells dead?”

The seriousness in your tone has him dead quiet. And you can hear the ticking in his brain as he decides on whether he’s answering you or not.

The innocent look in your eye pushed him to be truthful. He wasn’t used to this. Seeing someone undeserving of being captive on the ship. It was always horrible people.

“I’ll go a step ahead of you, yes, Garret’s dead.” He answered like he knew your next question would be that. And he was right, because it was.

You draw in a breath, the only sound heard is the crashing of the ship against the waves.

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

You pause to then think how to answer that.

“Yes and no…” You deliberate, because you truly don’t know. You felt safe with him today, but the concept of what he’s probably done to people is eye opening to say the least. And always the potential of what he could do to you.

The air was thick— the alcohol in both of your systems clouding your judgements— and something churned in your hearts. There was a shared breath in, and out.

You feel the cruciality of the moment, and are certain he can too.

Right now, this goes much further than the taking of a royal, the trapping of a person. It’s a question that the answer can only create more confusion.

Because why on this cruel, twisted earth would you be thinking of any response other than a plain, hard, yes.

A breath catches in the back of your throat, and the real answer slips out with a rasp.

“You scare me because I don’t know how to fully hate you. I hate you, but not like i should.”

A half blink, and the look in his eyes switches. It’s unreadable for a moment, blank in processing.

He steps closer, feeling an urge to touch you that he can’t explain where it come from. It’s so forceful he breaches the distance between you faster than he can rethink it. Fingers reaching out to brush a gentle stroke over your cheekbone.

Your lips part, the haze in your mind making you wonder if this was a dream of sorts.

All Harry is thinking about is the fact he wants more right now. The same whirlwind that pushed him to cradle your cheek with his hand is begging his lips to brush against yours.

He pushes it down into the pit of his stomach, replying with a tone so tender he wonders how it come from himself.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise on the damning of my own soul.” He reassures.

The lines have blurred. Blurred from keeping his prize safe, to keeping you safe.

His words feel like they carry too much weight to be coming from a pirate. Like the impact they have is meant for manipulation.

And if that’s they’re intention either way, it worked. Because a part of you resigns to believe it.

He waits for confirmation on your end that you understand, and you give that to him through a curt nod.

“Good. I’ll be back later, you go to sleep.”

Your heart wrenches for no apparent reason as he lingers close to you for a moment longer. Then he drags himself away from you, despite the intense urge to do otherwise.

You catch his eyes a final time as he leaves the room. Leaving the door unlocked…

It tempts you, but with the boat rocking like this, you think better for yourself.

Now you want to throw yourself off the ship again, but for an entirely different reason.

You’ve laid trust in him. Something you said you wouldn’t ever do. Oh how that promise to yourself broke quickly.

But you’re drunk and vulnerable, and his words were so soft and sweet. Two sides of yourself are at war.

Yet either way, you feel it can only lead to a plethora of bad things. It’s all too much for you right now.

Unlacing your own corset, you wiggle out of it, then slip out of everything else. You stand in only undergarments, realising how truly exhausted you are now that you’re back in his room.

The alcohol and emotional turmoil settles deep in your bones, you feel it rattle heavily with each step.

You grab soft clothes he bought for you today, and pull them over you, taking off your bra.

The storm is coming. You feel it within you. It’s a foreshadow of your mentality, the precursor of what’s to come with all of this— and the ever growing complexity of your feelings.

You crawl into Harry’s bed, ashamed at the way you inhale his scent. Hating the way it’s turned into a form of reassurance.

He has kept you safe this last week, which in your subconscious— whose clinging to any sort of saftety— means he is something to you that he shouldn’t be. And you wonder when he went from something you disdained to something you craved connection with.

The idea of stockholm syndrome was familiar to you, but didn’t resonate. Or maybe you were in denial… who fucking knows. All you are sure of is that he makes you feel somewhat stable. Your body craves that shred of stability more than anything.

Either way, it didn’t stop you from nestling into his sheets. Or falling asleep curled up in them.

Nor did it hinder you from when he finally returned to reach out for him, all while still hazed with the slumber you were just in.

A meek call of his name came from your mouth as he gets into his bed, it was at least an hour or so later. The sun would be closer to rising then not, but you choose to haul your body closer to him the second you could.

He sighs with relief of finally laying down, the weather sounds worse outside now. It’s gotten harsher sooner than he expected, something hurrying the system further south. Although it means it’ll hit earlier, at the least it’ll be over in a day or two.

He must’ve gotten undressed, because as you press yourself into his back, his bare skin is warm to the touch.

It was evident feeling him now that the sun coursed through his veins, it replaced the blood of a regular person. He spent so many hours in it, it seemed to be a part of him.

“You’re so warm.” You stated quietly, half conscious.

“Mm, and you’re so bloody cold.” He mutters, voice deep and ready for sleep. His comment causes him to roll into you, tugging you closer into his chest.

Somehow, regardless of if you had been asleep for an hour, you still felt exhausted. Maybe it was the drinks too, they were settling a slight hangover upon you. So, shamelessly you coiled further into his arms.

Your hands snaked up his bare back, and into the hair at the nape of his neck. The curls were damp as you played with them.

There’s definitely still something in your system, and he notices it as well.

“You’ve gotta be still a little tipsy… ya all over me dove.” He laughs tiredly.

Your front is pressed to his, his scent equally as distracting as the slabs of muscles you could feel up against you.

“Tipsy and exhausted.” You murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you carry on playing with his hair.

“Oh, are y’feelin’ needy?” He teases, voice slipping into a shockingly deep lilt, one you’d caught glimpses of yesterday morning.

It sparked a feeling in the pit of your stomach, “Shut up.”

The two of you did eventually go quiet, nothing but the sounds of mixing breath and the brush of hands against skin.

His own hands had taken refuge on your waist, rubbing gentle circles with calloused fingers. Somewhere in the back of your head you reevaluate for the seventh time just how intoxicated you still both were. Enough alcohol in your system to completely blur the lines.

You couldn’t even claim in the morning the cuddling was an accident on part of your sleeping selves. You’d have to try and pass it off as the drinks from earlier. Which although true, feels like a harder excuse to play off this significant.

You were wrapped up in his arms. Voluntarily. And… enjoying it.

It’s a horrible thing to be indulging in. It’s only going to spell you more trouble. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

He felt you slip back into a quiet sleep, evident in the way your fingers ceased their movement where they sat, tangled in his hair.

In the silence of the night, he thought about you.

Images trailed carelessly through his mind, dragging up ideas of what the two of you looked like right now. He wished he could see it from an outside perspective.

The way you had completely settled into his frame. Chest to chest.

He could feel the ridges and dips of your body too easily, only separated by a thin cotton sleep shirt you’d put on.

Something throbs inside of him at the touch, and to make matters worse, you stir, throwing your leg over his hip just like you had the night before.

He feels dirty as he conceptualises the idea of something more with you.

He wishes he didn’t drink now, because he can’t get the vision of himself inside of you out of his head. He’s weak after some beer and liquor, he lacks self-control, even when half of him is begging to sort himself out. Now, because he hasn’t stopped himself early enough, his prick has swollen in his boxers.

Thank the stars you’re asleep.

He stays deathly still, pursing his lips, waiting his boner out.

Staving away the idea of being pushed inside of you. Such a pretty girl, you were. It’s hard not to wonder how good your mouth would be against his own.

It takes atleast 15 painful minutes for his cock to soften. He’s thankful for being tired, because once the thumping of his heart calms down, he allows himself to pull you further into his hold.

He will let himself have this, at the least.

———

Waking up was almost a carbon copy of the morning before.

A tangle of limbs, but you’ve had a warmth that’s sprouted through you the entire night.

However, this time, Harry was already awake.

The hours of sleep you got were minimal. And the sun wasn’t even fully up. It was mostly cloud coverage outside the window. The room still dim.

He watched you wake up, thankful it’s now— because otherwise he would’ve had to get up and go. Too much to do to be laying in bed with you, unfortunately.

He got to watch your eyes slowly open, their glossy appearance. They lazily scoped the room, as if re-familiarising your brain with your surroundings.

Then they dragged to Harry’s face, catching the softness of the morning still on him.

“I have a headache.” Was the first thing that croaked from your lips.

Your throat hurt and the hangover was clearly in its full effect. You did not usually drink that much.

He hums a laugh at your lack of greeting, starting off the morning with a complaint. Oddly charming somehow?

He wanted to kiss you still.

“Big night for you last night?” He asks, jokingly, but he knows you didn’t drink enough to forget anything.

“Don’t tease.” You plead, head dropping back down to between his chest.

He strokes a hand along your back, “We oughta get some food into ya.”

His gentle encouragement falls on deaf ears. All you’re able to do is fall back into his hold.

“Dove.” The coo he lets out does nothing but makes your stomach flutter.

You shake your head against the warm skin of his chiseled chest. All the muscle there… fuck it makes you light headed.

But you can’t think about that.

You just wanted him with you right now.

“Harry.”

Hearing his name makes the heart in his chest clench.

“Stay here.” You say, simply.

At his momentary silence, your voice drops.

A whisper.

A plea.

“Please?”

Everytime you talk to him like that, a piece of him unravels.

Already too far in, he throws another handful of cation to the wind. Before he knows it, there will be nothing left.

His quiet demeanour is unusual. Where was his quip that usually followed?

You were slowly poisoning him.

“You’re like a drug.” He states.

You’re not sure how to feel. Is that good… or bad?

“Is that bad?”

He doesn’t say anything, just rolls his body weight to the side, moving you to be facing one another.

He stares into your eyes, searching for something. An answer maybe.

But it’s just not one he’s going to find yet.

Time is a virtue, they say.

And maybe if he waits long enough, unravels far enough, gives away enough of himself. He’ll know.

He’ll find out what it is about you that drags him in.

Maybe you’re like the current. Yet he’s not sure if it’s taking him out to a reef, where paradise lay. Or dragging him out into a rip.

His eyes wander the plains of your face.

And finally, he speaks.

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”

———

taglist:

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[loviestyless]

Shadowed Starlight*

Summary: Odile Einar has one purpose: kill the fae king and prevent the prophecy from coming true. the only thing that stands in her way is their deep rooted history.

fantasy au! king harry x assassin oc

Warnings: murder, violence, blood, smut: dom!harry, thigh riding, choking, praise kink, breeding kink

The shrill echo of a sharpened sword dragging against concrete announced the arrival of the lone warrior, stirring the ripples of shadows curling through the throne room and fuelling the whispers of terror warning her not to venture further. Night followed in her wake as her bloodied weapon etched stars in the dark, marbled floor of the building built off nightmares, the very essence of her power rolling off her body as rage coursed through her bloodstream at the sight of the figure sat atop his throne. Waiting.

Dark stories of the High Fae surrounded the golden throne, the ornate and intricate paintings shone through the shadows - depicting the cruel suffering his ancestors had inflicted upon the unfortunate common folk of Eroda. Every war, every rebellion and every battle for power the royal bloodline had successfully won filled all four walls of the gigantic room - embellished with gold to serve as a reminder to the unfortunate souls unlucky enough to kneel before the king that they never stood a chance.

The Fae King draped himself casually atop the ancient throne, his shadows humming through the walls, clawing at their invisible shackles in an attempt to strangle the woman for approaching the King so brazenly. But he remained unbothered, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as his emerald eyes soaked in her appearance. Everything about his demeanour was the least bit regal, as if he was merely a young prince playing up to a title, he would one day inherit, even his crown lay crooked atop his mess of curls. He maintained slouched against the throne while she approached, almost as if it burdened him to be cursed with such beauty his entire immortal life and the warrior scoffed at such petty vanity the King harboured.

But despite such a relaxed demeanour, the woman knew of the horrors that lay behind those gorgeous green eyes. This man was lethal, his shadows alone could smother the entire room in seconds, killing her instantly if she let her starlight dim under his watch.

Sweat and blood smeared across her dark skin, twinkling like stars as the rows of candles flickered in the breeze that swept through the building upon her entrance. Every slow, confident step forward made it harder for her to keep control of her power, tendrils of night eager to land a lethal strike.

"My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He purred, his sharp gaze dragging down her body to take in her blood-soaked armour with amusement. Swirls of shadows snaked their ways around his forearms, summoned silently by the King as a reminder of his potential power and to intimidate the Fae assassin refusing to bow at his feet.

It had been years since she had seen his face and as much as she hated to admit it, he still looked just as beautiful as when she'd left. His thick curls were shorter, no longer dusting the tops of his shoulders but sat messily atop his head in a way that emphasised his sharp jawline. Her brown eyes flared with specs of starlight as she forced herself not to succumb to his beauty - it was how she'd gotten tangled up in this mess in the first place and she couldn't afford to let him charm her again. Not when the fate of the entire kingdom rested upon her shoulders.

The shadow's whispers seemed to fall silent while the King taunted the warrior, waiting with bated breath for her to react to his cunning words.

"The little assassin returns." Harry mused softly. His legs swung over the arm of the chair so that he swivelled around to sit properly, his knees parted as he leaned forward with a sinister smirk. "I must admit, twenty years to seek out an oracle is a little excessive, is it not Odile?"

Every sentence that rolled off his tongue was meticulously planned, specifically chosen to tempt her into giving in to the rage he could see flowing through her bloodstream. The assassin felt her grip tighten around the handle of her weapon, a deep breath rattling her chest as she refused to let him affect her. The King chuckled lowly, emerald eyes darkening slightly they flickered over her body once more.

"And no babe in your arms, either." He mocked, shaking his head condescendingly as he stared at Odile's tense form, "What a wasted journey."

Odile fought the urge to stiffen at the reminder of the past, of her old self who was so foolishly naive and trusting in the Fae King that she wandered blindly into the forest twenty years ago seeking confirmation of a life she thought she wanted. But the answers she found were not what she expected. And judging by Harry's proud smirk, he too knew the prophecy that was handed to her instead - one that had changed her forever.

No longer was she a shy, timid woman that remained blindsided by the true extent of the King's powers. She was Eroda's assassin and she was here to kill the treacherous bastard that had reigned for far too long.

"Look at you, burning with rage." A deep chuckle rumbled in Harry's chest, only making Odile's power ripple with anger. Tendrils of night rolled off her body, inching their way closer to the throne where speckled starlight waited to strike the King's shadows. "I think I like this new you, it's more...enticing."

Honeyed words dripped off his tongue and Odile had to force herself to keep her eyes locked on his, resisting the urge to glance down at her feet under his intense glare. He knew exactly the right thing to say to charm people, to get them on his side and that was the exact reason she was in this position in the first place. But she refused to fall for it any longer, he was a brutal murderer and she wouldn't let him continue the vicious cycle for centuries to come. The prophecy would end here today. By her hand.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light. Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight. The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

"You deserve to die for what you've done." Odile's voice was steady and confident, revenge dominating every inch of her body and making her eyes darken with deadly intent.

"What I've done?" Harry snickered lightly, no sense of remorse at all. "I think we should start with what you've done, darling."

The ripples of shadows swirling around his hands slowly drifted towards her, snaking their way around her feet and up her legs as the King took in her bloodied appearance. Crimson soaked her leather armour, splashed across her skin and drenched her locs but not a single drop of it was hers. Odile was untouched, unharmed and standing tense as the shadows settled around her neck - the ghost of Harry's touch taunting her with the possibility of what he could do.

A chill ran down her spine as her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his power calling to hers, her inner starlight singing to the shadows and threatening to give in to him once more. She had felt these shadows brush against her skin many times before, but she refused to give in to their touch - not when the prophecy rang clear in her mind.

"Your governors are dead by my hand. They serve Hel now." She announced coldly, allowing her eyes to flare white with starlight so the King could see the threat she posed to his position on the throne - reminding him she was no longer the timid woman he knew twenty years ago. She felt his shadows squirm slightly as her power surged but the King remained relaxed. "You are next to join them."

"Well, you have been busy, haven't you?" He mused, sitting up straight in his throne and finally taking this seriously. It appeared the threat on his life was something to worry about.

No doubt he had heard whispers of the assassin rampaging through his lands the past two decades, training in the woods for the mission of a lifetime before hunting down every corrupt government official that served under the King. All of them were attacked when they least expected, brutally murdered and their bodies hung outside their houses as a warning to those that remained.

No longer would the poor be squeezed for every piece of copper they owned, no longer would the King's guards turn a blind eye to crime and no longer would the black-market fuel the underworld of illegal drugs and fighting rings. Eroda could go back to being the beautiful land, enriched with magic and beauty like the history books had once reported to the world.

All that was left was for the King to fall and the prophecy would be changed.

"I applaud you for your success, my darling. But I must address the little fault in your plan."

"If you intend to beg for your life then you underestimate my power." Odile's hand gripped the leather handle of her sword and carried a certain lightness in her feet as she prepared herself for the attack. Her best bet was to keep him talking, his ego was his downfall and all Odile had to do was catch him when his guard was down.

She was going to slit his throat where he sat and sit on the throne soaked with his blood as the Queen of Eroda - ready to rebuild the kingdom to its former glory.

"Not at all, Odile. I have always known what power you possess; you were just too blind to see it." His words were cocky, full of confidence that he shouldn't have in such a moment before his death. For many, it would be unnerving but for Odile it only made her all the more determined. "I simply intend to ask how you think the prophecy will play out when you kill your mate."

Odile felt her heart lurch at the reminder that the beautiful man in front of her was in fact her mate, the person fate decided was her other-half for all eternity - the person that completed her soul. When she had first met him twenty years ago, their bond snapped into place the moment their eyes locked and everything in her life seemed to fall into place. She was given a purpose, a lover and someone that mirrored her level of devotion.

Her love had blinded her from seeing what a despicable man Harry truly was, that was until the Oracle allowed her to see what she had been oblivious to the entire time. The bond still hummed within her, urging her to embrace his love after such time apart. The pining had almost driven her mad at first, unable to block out her power calling out to him at all hours of the day. Her magic needed him and his shadows needed hers. It would bring such pain to her heart to live on while her mate was killed - their bonded souls torn apart for the rest of eternity.

"You may be my mate and my husband, but I reject anything that binds me to such a cold-hearted leader as you. I would live with such pain knowing I had saved thousands from your blighted power."

Suddenly, bright starlight flooded the throne room, Odile's light bouncing off the golden accents of the entire room and blinding the King in an instant. His shadows recoiled with a hiss, leaving Harry unprotected long enough for the assassin to spring into action. One minute she was standing tall in front of the throne, the next she was straddling her mate's lap, pinning his shoulders against the back of the throne with the bloodied blade of her weapon digging uncomfortably into his neck.

Stars melted around them, revealing the rage filled warrior to the King so he could truly see her now. Honey brown eyes had darkened with anger, tendrils of night snaked up Harry's arms and pinned him in place so he could do little to overpower her.

Blood smeared against the King's face as Odile's left hand gripped his jaw, bringing her face so close to his that their lips almost touched.

Harry's pink lips curled upwards at the closeness of his wife, the twenty years of silent pining for her return finally silenced under her touch. Albeit because she was holding a sword to his throat and threatening his life. But he wasn't worried, he knew she still loved him dearly and had felt the same hollowness in her heart while she was away.

"I am not the man you think I am."

"It is your shadows the prophecy speaks of; you are the dark hands that have tainted this kingdom with corruption." She spat, starlight fizzling off her body and landing in sparks on the floor around her. Harry's eyes drifted down to glance at her lips before meeting her intense stare once again - he'd be lying if he said this new side to her wasn't turning him on.

"You are my lover and with your death Eroda will finally be free."

"I have protected this kingdom for five-hundred years, darling. You truly haven't worked it out yet, have you? We're supposed to save Eroda together. Why do you think I sent you out to the Oracle that day?"

No matter how much she tried to hide her confusion at her mate's words, there was little she could do to suppress the frown that tugged at her brows.

Harry had not sent her to seek out an Oracle, she had done that herself. She had thought she was pregnant and went to ask for confirmation that she was carrying the future heir to Eroda's throne. Secrecy was key if she truly was with child, the last thing she wanted was for rival kingdoms finding out and putting her and her baby's lives in danger. Odile hadn't even mentioned anything to her maid before she slipped out of the palace under the cover of darkness - how Harry had found out she had no idea.

"I never told you I thought I might be pregnant. You didn't send me anywhere."

"You think those books about royal bloodlines just appeared on my nightstand out of nowhere? You think the fact you overheard the royal reports about an Oracle causing havoc in the forest was a coincidence?" Harry's demeanour shifted for the first time since Odile had returned, no longer teasing her but completely serious. "I planted that idea into your head, Odile. I knew what the Oracle would tell you and I needed you to hear it. Because you held the power to save Eroda."

Harry shifted slightly under Odile's thighs, straining against her power and glancing down at the sword pressed against his neck uncomfortably.

"Darling, you already saved us. The darkness has been eradicated." Harry explained softly, making Odile's restraints falter long enough for him to free his hands, his warm touch ghosting her thighs as he rubbed them slowly. "Please, put the sword down.

"Y-you're the darkness. You rule over the kingdom, it's your fault corruption has plagued these lands. This room itself lays testament to the centuries of pain you and your family have inflicted on people."

"Odile, I've always wanted to be different from my ancestors, it sickens me to be surrounded by the monstrosities they carried out under my family name. I have dreamt of a kingdom that was filled with magic and laughter since I was a boy but that was not the plan of my father. He changed the laws of the council so I would not influence their decisions over my people, I became a King by title but with no power." Harry's voice carried a sense of vulnerability within it that Odile had only ever heard when she was with him. To others he maintained an air of arrogance within himself but with her, he was completely different. "I sought out the Oracle two hundred years ago, hoping for a way to save Eroda and that is when I learnt of the prophecy. Of you."

Odile's mind was reeling. She had spent twenty years with only the words that the Oracle had told her to understand the gravity of the situation thrust upon her. She had asked for an explanation, some kind of guidance but little was given outside the prophecy recounted throughout history. Hate had been forced to fester in her heart towards her husband - her mate - and that kind of pain was almost impossible to cope with.

"How can I believe you?"

Harry's lips twitched upwards slightly with a coy smirk, his eyes darkening in the way Odile recognised far too well. His touch grew stronger against her thighs, trailing closer to the place he knew she wanted him but was too stubborn to admit. He could sense her arousal from the moment she'd straddled his lap, no doubt fighting the memories of being in such a position countless times before.

"Because you're my mate and I know in your heart you feel this is right." Harry whispered lowly, leaning in slightly so that his lips ghosted against hers. The sharp blade of her sword dug harder into his skin, no doubt leaving a mark but he didn't care, not when he finally got to touch his mate after pining for her these past twenty years.

Odile gasped slightly in surprise as his lips finally met hers, warmth flooding through her body as she let her husband kiss her with as much love as he physically could. Their lips moved in sync together, the blade at Harry's throat slipping slightly as Odile let her focus drift to how perfect this moment felt. Her heart was thumping erratically in her chest, finally at peace after being torn apart by such distance for so long.

Misted shadows curled around the pair, ghosting touches along Odile's soft neck in a way that made her moan in anticipation while Harry's palms continued to tease the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing her warm arousal over the top of her fighting leathers. Gods, she'd missed this. No matter how much she'd tried to hate him the last twenty years, she'd always drift into the land of dreams where his touch would be waiting for her. She'd dream of riding his cock once more, hearing his grunts of pleasure ring into the night as she pleasured herself until years of pining was eventually satisfied.

"Look at you, giving in so easily. I knew you'd see sense." Lustful amusement hung off every word that escaped Harry's lips. "Let me fuck you, baby. Ride my cock and claim your throne."

And then it suddenly hit Odile - this was what the prophecy had spoken of this entire time.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light.

She had been the one to murder the corrupt governors and her starlight had sung her victory every time. Nobody was left to rule over the kingdom and so the laws were now irrelevant, all power was now reinstated to the crown. Harry was free to be the ruler that Eroda had desperately needed for thousands of years.

Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight.

Odile had previously thought it meant the final death must be Harry's, a final test to eradicate the plague of shadows over the kingdom before she could build Eroda from scratch. But with how things were currently playing out, it appeared to be referencing the passions of reunited lovers, perhaps about to conceive the first heir to the new world she had secured for the future.

The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

The loud clatter of metal against marble echoed about the throne room as the weapon finally tumbled from Odile's grasp to rest at the foot of the throne. Harry groaned in relief, rolling his head back slightly to stretch his neck out now he was no longer restricted, the harsh red mark of the blade standing prominent against his skin. Odile's hands cupped her lover's cheeks, smashing her lips into his as she ground her hips into his with a breathy moan as she gave in to her desire.

This was what she wanted, just her and Harry reunited once more and ready to rule Eroda by each other's side.

"Make me your Queen, Harry." She panted breathlessly, barely pulling apart from the King as she spoke her final demand. "Knock me up, give yourself an heir."

Harry's eyes darkened as his powers rumbled with desire, a lustful smirk appearing on his lips as he took in Odile's demands - his mind running rampant with all the possible ways to pleasure his mate after so long apart. He'd dreamed of the day he'd once more feel her wet cunt around his heavy cock, gorgeous tits bouncing in his face while her screams of pleasures rang out through the entire palace.

"You gonna be my good girl, yeah?" He breathed out, hands already trailing upwards to claim her body as his. Brushing her long, bloodied locs over her shoulder, Harry's lips met the exposed skin of her neck, sucking gently as his palms squeezed her heavy breasts. Odile squirmed in his lap in desperate need of some friction against her aching core, revelling in the feeling of her mate's hard cock brushing against her cunt through the layers of clothing in the way. "Bet you're dripping for me, aren't you?"

Odile whimpered at Harry's voice so deep and oozing with seduction, frantically nodding in agreement as she felt his hand slip down the waistband of her leather pants to confirm what he already knew. A soft hum of satisfaction vibrated against her skin as Harry continued to mark up her neck, his fingers toying with her wet folds while Odile was rendered breathless with desire. Speckled starlight flickered from her fingers as she tugged at her husband's curls, head tipping back slightly as she allowed him to take his claim over her body.

Her mind was a blur, uncontrollable whimpers escaped her lips as she rocked against Harry's fingers - chasing the pleasure that was already building in her core.

"Undress, Odile." The King's demand was clear, his fingers quickly removed from Odile's trousers as he pulled back to watch her carefully. The assassin let out a frustrated groan as the building wave subsided, her fingers desperately tearing at her leathers to obey her husband's instructions. The quicker she acted, the better behaved she was, the sooner she'd get to ride his cock. "Need you naked on my lap."

The moment her top hit the floor, Harry's eyes flicked downwards to take in her bare breasts, free from blood and tempting him with their perfection. He watched silently as they bounced slightly as Odile unbuttoned her trousers, lifting her hips off of Harry slightly so she could pull them off completely - exposing her naked cunt for him to admire. Ripples of shadows snaked up her body, teasing her hard nipples before settling around her pretty neck, waiting for the command to choke her just the way she liked and Odile let out a soft moan in anticipation, knowing Harry was going to fuck her senseless at any moment.

"Look at you, my pretty Queen." He hummed softly, dark emerald eyes sweeping over Odile's naked body as if he was committing it to memory.

"If I am your Queen, I shall need a crown." Odile stated boldly, her hands already gripping the golden halo framing her husband's curls and lifting it from his head. A subtle moan rumbled deep in his chest as he watched her place his crown atop her locs.

His cock stiffened even more in the confines of his trousers at the sight of his wife wearing nothing but the golden crown on her head, desire overtook him and he knew he couldn't drag this out like he'd originally planned.

"Now fuck me, my King. Show me how much you missed me." Odile gripped Harry's jaw, her brown eyes locked onto his green with such intent in an attempt to get him to submit. But that was not Harry, he did not submit to anyone - not even his mate. He smirked playfully as she felt his shadows squeeze her neck, restricting the air just enough to make her head go the perfect amount of fuzzy.

"You want my cock, then take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." Settling back against his ornate throne, he watched as Odile set to work unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his length from the confines of his pants. She didn't care he was still fully clothed, all she cared about was finally getting to fuck her mate after years of pining after this exact moment.

He hissed softly as she took him in her hand, tugging slowly at his cock just enough to tease him with pleasure as she ground her pussy against his thick thigh. Wetness seeped into the material of his trousers, leaving a patch of arousal as she continued to get herself off before taking what she really wanted. Breathless pants filled the air as the pair of them got lost in pleasure, blurts of precome collected on the dark skin of Odile's hand like sparkling pearls while Harry's shadows created a necklace of darkness around her pure neck.

Harry's mouth suddenly enveloped Odile's left nipple, teeth grazing softly over her skin as he sucked at her breast perfectly positioned in front of her face. The rhythm of her hips became uneven as she whimpered with sensitivity, already feeling herself hurtling towards the edge after such a long time of nothing.

"H-Harry..."

Stars and shadows snaked around the throne as both their powers were released from its confines, the bond between them growing the further Harry and Odile fell into their pleasure and healing their shattered souls.

"So, close, sweetheart. Such a good girl f'me." Harry mumbled breathlessly, obviously struggling just as much as his wife to last much longer. "Come on my thigh, darling. Let go."

And that was all it took for her to tumble over the edge, hips stilling as she came all over Harry's thigh. Her head tipped back as a loud moan escaped her lips, bright stars filling the room and almost blinded Harry as he watched her gorgeous features scrunch up in pleasure - a sight he had only dreamed of for twenty years. His own release followed almost instantly, spurting up his clothed torso as Odile's pretty moans filled his ears like his favourite melody.

"Fuck-" He choked on his own moans, unable to talk properly as he struggled to stop his power from clouding his mind and rendering him completely speechless. "Perfect girl, so perfect, sweetheart."

Slumped against her husband's body, Odile peppered gentle kisses along his exposed, sweaty collarbones - delicate fingers trailing over the inked swallows that were left on display after the material had fallen open in all the pleasure.

"Made a mess all over me." He chuckled lightly, running his hand over her thighs as he took in the wetness on his trousers. Instead of blushing with embarrassment, Odile simply raised her hand that was covered in her husband's come and made a show of licking it up with a satisfied smirk. The sight of her tongue dragging along the back of her hand, savouring the taste of his release made Harry's cock twitch once more as he felt himself grow half hard with every lick.

"And you." She hummed, "Just as desperate, darling. You're not kidding anyone."

Her hips began to grind against his both of them still sensitive to touch but neither caring. Odile needed to sit on Harry's cock and feel him fill her up for the rest of eternity - she'd been empty for too long and now she needed to satisfy her hunger.

Taking him in her hand once more, Odile lifted herself up just enough to position him at her entrance. Hungry eyes watched her eagerly as Harry waited for the bliss of feeling her tightness envelope him completely - both of them sighing with pleasure as their hips joined once more.

Shadows curled around Odile's wrists, forcing them upwards so that her hands tangled in Harry's messy curls in a silent demand before settling around her neck to choke her. Her head was spinning with lust at the feeling of Harry's power constricting the amount of air she could take in, all while revelling in being full to the brim with his aching cock. Their lips smashed together, tongues dancing in each other's mouths as she began to ride her husband with an eager rhythm, hands tugging at his curls just as the King liked it. Deep moans escaped his lips, filling the air as his hands gripped her butt tightly, helping her to grind harder against him for both their pleasure.

"So tight, so wet, sweetheart." Harry panted into the kiss, bucking up into her pussy to hit the sweet spot inside her. "Missed this perfect cunt."

"Harder, make me scream!" Odile pleaded as a dull ache settled in her thighs with all the effort it was taking to ride his cock with such energy. She needed him to take her, to fuck her so hard she saw stars and he was more than happy to oblige - but not without a little teasing first.

"Knew you wouldn't kill me, darling." He chuckled slowly in between trailing sloppy kisses along her collarbone towards her heavy breasts. His thumb teased her clit, rubbing slow circles to add to the building tension at her core that made her such a moaning mess. "Need my cock too bad, don't you?"

A sharp snap of his hips timed perfectly with her hips bouncing down on his cock filled her even deeper, causing a loud moan to echo about the room unexpectedly, only proving Harry right.

"Who else would fuck you this good, leave you screaming like I can?" He smirked against Odile's skin as her sounds of pleasure continued to ring out across the room, allowing his shadows to ghost over every inch of her body and enhance every delicate touch he was giving her. "You'd miss the warmth of my cock for all eternity."

"Uh-huh, you. Only you, baby." She replied breathlessly, unable to focus properly as her hips began to stutter. Sweat sparkled like glitter on her dark skin, making her appear like starlight itself, all gorgeous and addictive. Harry's cock ached at the sight, his chest heaving with desire as he let his shadows tangle with the stars rippling from her body, both their releases rapidly approaching with little warning.

"Look at you, so full of me." The King grunted with each powerful thrust upwards, his fingers digging into her hips so hard as he helped guide her cunt onto his cock there was no doubt bruises would be left in their wake. "Taking me like a good girl."

"All yours, belong to you!" Odile whimpered, her vision going blurry as she was practically blinded by the tight coil of pleasure that was threatening to explode at any second. With Harry's shadows wrapped tightly around her neck, his sharp thrusts timed perfectly to hit her g-spot and his ghosted touch on her clit, the woman could barely sit up straight - her forehead resting on Harry's shoulder for support as he helped her reach her peak.

"Harry-" Her moan was immediately cut off by another sharp thrust from Harry's hips, the King recognising all the signs that she was seconds from toppling over the edge. Her hips bucked frantically as she chased the rising feeling in her core, heavy pants filling the air between them as the pair turned animalistic in chasing their high.

"I know, sweetheart. Come for me darling." Harry demanded; his voice thick with lust as he felt ready to burst. "Soak my cock, milk me dry."

Shadowed starlight tore through the room as pleasure peaked in perfect waves, slamming into the walls and crumbling the dark paintings into tiny pieces. Their pleasured moans mixed together in a delightful tune as they rode out their highs, Odile collapsing into Harry's arms as her body felt weak after such a powerful orgasm. Soft kisses were pressed against her sweaty forehead as Harry's soft touch rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

Wrapped up in each other's warmth, with his cock still buried deep within his mate, Harry finally felt the peace he'd dreamt of since taking the throne five hundred years ago.

Centuries of terror and bloodshed was over. It was time to start anew.

[28whitepeonies]

Harry in 2017: “came to terms with the fact that that was so great and if I never get to do that on that level again that’s okay”

Harry in 2023:

[larrylimericks]

10Aug23

New actress, same script: Harry’s coupled. The effect is publicity doubled: He gets post-tour mentions, Her name gets attention From an audience easily hustled.

[writingsfromhome]

Red Rose II

A/N: Did some more work on this series. It’s one of the first fics I ever posted here (2020!?!) but felt writer’s block every time I tried to continue. The story is finally shaping up in my head though. It deals with fantastical elements. I’d say it’s not exactly my average fic…

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

—————————

My head is pounding like a bass drum when I wake up, the room I’m in is too dark to see but the sliver of light coming from below the curtains gives the day away. I try to make out the room around me, the night comes back to me in bits.

I must be at the handsome bloke’s-Harry it was. I remember, Harry offered to let me crash at his. I gently turn to stare at the spot next to me but it looks made. He slept somewhere else—he really was a gentleman.

My body creaks as I pivot off the bed and onto the plush carpet. With the softness of the covers and the quality of the carpet, I figured Harry was well off. Compared to my Ikea flat, and synthetic rugs, this was a castle.

I find the light switch and the brightness assaults my sensitive eyes, but I make out a bathroom off to the side. Sweet.

I looked horrible; as hard as I’d done myself up last night I had undone myself in the hours following. And looking at my puffy face and raccoon eyes, I could barely believe Harry wasn’t more afraid of me. Maybe he just pitied me.

By the time I walk back into the room, the curtains have been pushed open, the bed made, and a plain black tee and palazzo pants in my size lay on the bed. It looks exactly like something I would wear on my day off. A glass of water and two painkillers sit on the sidetable. There was no way Harry did all this, how did he find clothes in my size? And why would he make my bed?

I leave the questions for later and take the painkillers (after double checking the label), take the clothes back into the shower and wash the weird night away. It’s not hard finding the kitchen from the smell of coffee and baked goods.

I find Harry sitting in a robe on the balcony off to an open concept kitchen. Two women prepare breakfast, in uniform—so they definitely weren’t family, and another man in uniform stands outside. He definitely didn’t make my bed. I quietly head out to Harry.

“Once I can, that’s all she needs to know.” Harry sips a coffee with his back to me. The man outside only nods to me before going back in.  

“Rose,” Harry says. I jump, how did he know I was here. “I can see your reflection in the glass.”

“Do you read minds or something?” I ask as I walk into his view and settle into the chair opposite him.

“Or something,” he smiles. From what I remember from yesterday, he was big and bold and broody but this morning his face is lit from below and he doesn’t seem as intimidating—it holds a kindness that was missing yesterday. At an angle, he looks almost harmless. Almost.

“Thanks for...well for everything.” I wasn’t sure how to approach his kindness. I knew everything came with a price, Harry was being really nice, he’d kept to his word and left me to recover, but I didn’t know why. That made me uneasy. As I think it, Harry fixes me with a stare, waiting for me to continue but I don’t know what to say so I babble. “I usually don’t do this, follow strangers home. But last night was kind of really awful and-shit, Jeremy! I..”

I pat my pockets out of habit but of course my phone isn’t there. I look up and my phone is on the table. I grab it, and look up, Harry continues to stare as if he was watching a rat in a maze he’d constructed and a chill goes down my spine.

Leave it up to me to make things weird.

My train of thoughts freak me out so I just excuse myself and go inside, my screen isn’t cracked anymore. I run my finger over the screen to make sure but it’s entirely smooth. Was I hallucinating yesterday?

“Y/N, why are you calling so bloody early?” Jeremy’s sleepy voice answers the phone. I check the room and spot the time on the fridge. 8:44.

“Sorry, must be the jet lag. I just want you to know I’m okay.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you be?” I hear him shuffling.

“I...” I realise he knew absolutely nothing from yesterday. I never called him-he probably thinks I’m still at my ex’s! “I’m sorry Jer go back to bed. I’ll explain later.”

He grumbles something but he sounds half-asleep already. I tuck my phone into my pocket and go back outside. The women have disappeared and a buffet is laid out in front of Harry. He points to my seat and I take it.

“Wow,” I was at a loss for words. But I ask, “Did you fix my phone?”

“It fell out of your pocket when I was helping you to bed.” Harry says. “I cracked the screen so I fixed it. Brought it out here for when you had breakfast.”

“Oh no, I um, I actually broke it last night!” I pull it out with a nervous laugh. How did he fix it? “I got angry and sort of...yeah, anyway, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me. I really...I’m actually overwhelmed with how nice you’re being.” My laugh comes out in a rush of air, I’m trying to figure this man out. He didn’t feel threatening but there were all these red flags that made it seem so.

He finally cracks a smile back and nods. “This is how a woman like yourself should be treated. Let’s just enjoy the feast, and enjoy the morning.”

I smile as he pours me coffee. Something in the back of my head wants to analyze everything about the man in front of me, his good looks and his good manners. But also the cold way he observes me versus the short bursts of sunshine in his laugh. His hand keeps brushing mine, and he makes me blush with his compliments. But he continues to call me Rose, he doesn’t even ask for my name again. So I don’t offer it.

“So do you do this often?” I ask. “Invite a stranger from a pub and take care of her?”

“I’ve been visiting The Good Folk for decades and I’ve never met a woman like you.”

My heart skips a beat, not at the compliment. He said decades, but he had less wrinkles than I did and I wasn’t even 30. How old was he?

“I bet you say that to all the women you take home,” I say.

“Yes,” he admits and I look up from my toast. He seems unfazed by his admission but he notices my expression, “What?”

“You just admitted to saying that to all the women you take home.”

“Yes?” He stares. “This is the first time I’ve taken a woman home from there.”

It sounds like a lie or a technicality but he’s entirely honest. And I don’t know how I know that.

The uniformed man suddenly appears and says something to Harry who excuses himself and leaves. Was he like Mr. Alfred, butler to a billionaire type? Harry sure was mysterious enough to have one.

I use the time alone to look around, the view showed an expanse of green fields and in the distance the skyline of London. I’d lived here all my life yet I couldn’t figure where exactly we were.

I look back inside, the place is spotless. Harry must be richer than I thought if he could afford a place like this and hire help. He was a gentleman with a streak of odd, I conclude.

I wanted to figure the odd bit out.

“Are you done with breakfast?” I jump when one of the women from earlier appears beside me. But on a closer look, she was a lot younger than me. Maybe around 15?

“I’m done. You’re quite young. What’s your name?”

She giggles and looks back to where the other women is watering the outdoor plants. When she turns at the sound of the giggles, I realise she was just as young. Was this even legal?

“I’m called Dot, that’s Oona.”

“Nice to meet you Dot.” I watch as she picks up a stack of plates. She was stronger than she looked but still I ask, “Do you need help?”

She just giggles again as if what I asked was absurd and simply carries the large stack inside. I decide to help anyway, feeling unusual if I sat while they cleared the table. It wasn’t something I was used to.

I drop the coffee cups off on the counter when Harry appears and pulls me away.

“What are you doing?” He demands.

“I’m just helping clear...” I turn to point to the girls but they stare at us. It reminds me of the weird motorcycle guy yesterday who offered to give me a ride home. They have the same look in their eyes and when I turn to Harry I can see why. His features are set in an aggressive expression. I didn’t know what I’d done except to help out, and I didn’t want the two girls to get in trouble.

“Harry I...” I touch his arm. “They didn’t ask or nothing, I was just sitting there and thought I could help. I’m not usually waited on...especially by girls younger than me so it was just weird to just sit there.”

His eyes slide from the two behind me to me, his expression softens ever so slightly. “We all have our roles. Let them do theirs. They’ve been in my employment for many years.”

“Okay,” I agree quickly. I wanted to move away from the tense room and shift Harry’s attention away from Dot and Oona. I would have to apologise later, I didn’t mean to get them in trouble. And maybe ask what their skin care tips were—there was no way Harry hired children so they must have amazing genetics.

“Did you have any plans today? I know you people usually go to work during the day,” Harry leads me to a large room that must be an office. I’m taken aback by his bluntness saying “my people”.

“We’re not all rich unfortunately,” I say passively. I couldn’t figure out if Harry was a good guy or not. One second he was kindly hosting me and the next he looks ready to throw his help out the window because I helped them.

“What do riches have to do with your plans?” Harry looks genuinely confused. He played aloof really well.

“My people?” I remind him.

“Yes, what do you do during the day?”

I shake my head. He was so confusing. “I usually have work but I’m off for the week. I thought I would spend today with...my ex. But after yesterday-“

“You deserve better. He doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

I laugh, slightly nervous having all his attention so close. “Right. That’s nice of you to say. But I seem to have a bad history with men, I don’t think I even know what I deserve at this point.”

“I thought it was human nature to follow your hearts?” Harry stops fiddling with the book in his hands and moves towards me. “Love makes the world go round or something like that?” Harry drags his fingers up and down my arm and I feel it in the pit of my stomach. “How can you not know what you deserve.”

“I...” words leave my mind as I lean in towards him. His touch empties me of thought and I just want more of him. But as I lean into him it’s like he realises what was happening. He jumps back, letting go of me and I straighten up.

“Uh,” Harry clears his throat, “I can’t-“ he looks to the door just as it creaks open, I immediately feel the familiar burn of embarassment that came with rejection. What was wrong with me? He kept making it clear he was just being nice, he wasn’t interested like that. Why did I react to him so strongly?

“What is it?” Harry sounds annoyed at whoever’s at the door. When I finally look, it’s the man from earlier. His Alfred.

“Your presence is needed at...” he glances at me and back at Harry.

“I told you, tell her I’ll get back to her once I can-“

“It’s quite urgent,” his butler’s eyes continue flicking between the both of us.

I check the time on my phone and the movement catches Harry’s attention. I avoid looking directly at him, “I should head back home now anyway. You’re obviously busy.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a low voice. “You can stay as long as you need.”

“I’m pretty recovered from last night,” I smile. “I think I just have some of my things in the room I stayed in.”

“Dot will get it for you,” Harry puts his hand on my back as I walk to the door. His butler continues staring at us as he moves aside and follows us out.

Dot suddenly appears with my wallet and clothes from yesterday, laundered and smelling amazing.

“Wow,” I take them from her, scanning her face to be sure she was alright. She just gives me a bright smile contrasting her icy hands. “Thank you.” I tell her and turn back to Harry, “I can’t thank you enough for last night. I was a mess and...you helped. I seriously owe you one.”

Harry’s sharp gaze settles on me and I hear a gasp from Dot. It’s like the air was sucked out of the room, I glance back at Dot and her eyes are wide. His butler also looks startled. Were they okay?

“You don’t need to,” Harry finally says. “Consider it a kindness, not a favour.”

“No no,” I walk with Harry towards the front. His house was like a maze. “Nobody is ever this kind for no reason, I’ll make it up to you.” If there was anything life taught me, strangers didn’t do things out of pure kindness. I didn’t want strings down the road. I would rather just let him know I would return the favour and have that sit between us.

His expression is unreadable as he opens the door, a woman already stands outside with a car idling on the road. Woah.

“I accept,” Harry says. I raise my eyebrow, he had an odd way of talking. That’s what made him more intriguing.

On impulse, I go to press a quick kiss to his cheek but he jerks back. I back away, my cheeks aflame, and walk out with my things in hand. The woman opens my door for me and as hard as I try, I still glance back at Harry before I get in and give him a lame wave. His gaze never leaves mine, even after I sit in. He really did just do this to help me out, I read too much into it. He obviously didn’t feel the attraction I felt.

***

“You know that sounds completely made up? I’ve never even heard of The Good Folk.”

It’s late afternoon and I’m catching Jeremy up on last night’s adventure. I didn’t think his eyes could get bigger than they already were but with each part of the story they grow wider.

“As if you know every single pub in London,” I roll my eyes at my best friend.

“If the pub was lit at 1am it must be popular enough-I would know. Where does this guy live?”

“I...” I try to remember the route we took back to my flat but it’s foggy. Maybe I was too preoccupied with getting over being rejected multiple times. But I do remember we arrived at my flat within half hour. “Right outside London but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Doesn’t sound like you,” Jeremy nudges me. “Does somebody have a new special somebody in their life already?”

“I wish!” I really did. “He was mostly distant, nothing happened! He didn’t even let me kiss him goodbye. Plus, I just broke up with you know who.”

“We all knew that chapter was coming to a close,” Jer huffs. “You weren’t even in love with him.”

“Well,” I don’t have much to say to that. Jeremy was right, the relationship was getting colder. And after a warm bath and a meal, I could see clear enough. I was angry yesterday for letting it get to the point I was cheated on. I never had the balls to end it myself. As strong as I made myself on the outside, I hadn’t been strong enough inside to admit it and just end it.

Mostly I was scared to be alone again.

“Well,” Jeremy pulls me into a hug and kisses my forehead. “I’m going to start some dinner for us. You can go through the mail that’s been piling up for you.”

I reach for the stack he drops down beside me. Most of the bills I paid online, I put those aside. Junk, pamphlets, which just left two to actually look at. The first is a postcard from my foster sister, she was doing her gap year and made sure to send me a postcard from each country even though I’d seen her while I was away. The other is unmarked, thin. I open it and inside is just a note.

The Good Folk, tonight. 10:30pm.

Did Harry send this? I flip the paper over but it’s blank, until it catches the light and I realize the faint shimmer of a logo. It’s a spiral in the palest silver but there’s nothing else written anywhere. Maybe Harry did send it, he didn’t have my number but he did know where I lived. Maybe I was seeing him again tonight, maybe Jer was right. Butterflies take over my nervous system but I tell them not to get their hopes up. They don’t listen.

“What are you grinning at?” Jeremy calls from the kitchen—the open concept allowed him to see me.

“I might have a date tonight, half past ten,” I hold up the paper. “Harry.”

“Ooh,” he grins before it morphs into concern. “That’s late...you don’t think?”

“We’ll see,” I skim my fingers over the writing. Maybe he just wanted to talk, but if a guy wanted to see you twice in a day that usually meant something right? Even though he looked afraid everytime I went in for a kiss. I sigh. We’ll see.

***

I look back at the shops around me. I swear this was where I was last night. But the place where The Good Folk should have stood was just a Gregg’s. A Google search didn’t turn up anything so all I had to rely on was memory and even that was shoddy.

I ask a couple passing by but nobody knows what I’m talking about. Great, Harry would probably think I stood him up.

I decide to wander, maybe I’ll stumble on it again. I don’t even try to think, hoping my memory will lead me. The dark streets remind me of my near meltdown last night. It was late, if I didn’t find it in the next five minutes I was driving back.

Just as I think it, I see a familiar sign. The Good Folk. But it’s on a street corner and it was most definitely not on a corner last night. Definitely weird.

When I walk in, it’s past 10:30 and I hope Harry wouldn’t mind. I walk to the bar, even more people staring tonight than last. I definitely didn’t look how I did last night, was it just because I wasn’t a regular?

“Surprised you’re back,” the barkeep actually acknowledges me today. He has a petite woman working the counter too.

“Just meeting someone,” I say. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was late too.

“A woman like you should be careful,” he sets a drink in front of me.

“I didn’t order th-“

“I did,” a soft voice says to my left. I look at the source, and am surprised to see a blonde guy who definitely was not Harry. He did look familiar. Then I remember, I saw him last night.

“I know you. You were here yesterday-or rather this morning right?” He has kind eyes when he smiles at my question.

“Yes, I saw you come and go. I never got the chance to speak with you.”

I take a seat, may as well while I waited. As I do I remember more; he was glaring at Harry when we left. “Now’s your chance!” I smile at him and take a sip. “Woah, this is amazing.”

“I thought you might like it,” he watches me drink more. I wasn’t even halfway through and I already wanted a second. “Wild elderberry cocktail.”

“I have to remember that,” I say and make a mental note as I gulp down more.

“I never caught your name...”

“Oh, I didn’t even introduce myself how rude of-“

“Rose,” my back straightens as Harry’s familiar voice rings across the bar. What was up with him interrupting my conversations here?

“Rose,” the blonde nods, ignoring the fact that Harry had answered his question. I open my mouth to correct him, to give my real name but he gives me his. “Elliot.”

I can’t even respond because Harry suddenly crowds me. There’s a fiery heat emanating from him towards Elliot. Maybe there was something between them, and the way they glare at each other, I don’t want to find out.

“Took you long enough,” I tell Harry. But the pub is so silent you can hear a pin drop. I look around and everyone is staring at us, this must be one of those places where everyone knew everyone else. And the vibes were telling me these two must have a history.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks. “Why are you here?”

“Um, you invited me? The letter?”

“What letter,” he finally tears his eyes from Elliot and he looks fierce. My stomach drops and my eyes sting. I was such an idiot, of course he didn’t send it. Why was I so obsessed with the idea that I could mean something to this man I just met. Why was I acting like a hormonal teenager about this!?

“I got a letter to be here at 10:30...I just thought it was you I-“

“It was me,” Elliot interrupts. I look to him, his face is a breath of fresh air compared to Harry’s fiery storm.

“How did you know where I lived?” I ask but it doesn’t matter because Harry’s put his body between Elliot and I.

“You stay out of this. Leave her alone.” Harry’s words are threatening.

“She’s not yours,” Elliot says lazily. “She came of her own free will.”

“Free will? She came on an invite. By you.”

“An invite is just that. Her choice.”

“Stay away toadstool, if you touch a single-“

“Hey!” I use my hands to pry them apart. “I’m sitting right here! And I don’t need a knight in shining bloody armour. You,” I turn to Harry. “Don’t need to worry about me. It’s not like you want me. Elliot invited me out, I’m here for him. Not you.”

If I thought it was silent before, it was void of even a breath now. Harry looks like steam could be coming out of him and just like a switch, he backs away and straightens out. His face falls into neutral as he nods.

“As you wish.” He turns, with a last cold look at Elliot, he walks out. Everyone watches him go and as soon as he does there’s a burst of excited chatter.

“What was that about,” I turn to Elliot.

“The past.” He says vaguely before ordering me a second drink. I didn’t even realise I stress drank the first one.

The bartender eyes me as he hands me over the drink.

“Thanks,” I slide it closer to me.

“Remember what I said,” he mumbles as he glances at Elliot and walks away. Did everyone have something against Elliot? But when I look at him he looks too sweet to have ever done something bad enough to hold a grudge. Everything but his eyes, there’s an icy glint to them that wasn’t there before Harry interrupted. The past must be something formidable.

“Let’s go to my table,” Elliot gestures to where he was sitting yesterday. I follow with mixed feelings. Eventually, I decide I was just here for fun. It wasn’t that serious.

***

Dawn creeps on the horizon, and I’m surprised to see it as Elliot helps me into my coat.

“How has it been hours?” I ask as I slip my hands in. “We’ve been talking for so long!”

“I guess so,” Elliot lets go of the jacket and I untuck my hair from underneath. Tonight was...so different than any I’ve ever had. Elliot and I had just talked all night, I barely remember about what. He was funny too. And The Good Folk stayed open with people in and out all night. “It was nice to get to know you.”

“This place is busy as ever, does it ever close?” I glance at the patrons. Some of them don’t even hide their open stare. I was starting to get used to it.

“Closes at sunrise.” Elliot stares.

“Sunrise? It must open late then. That’s an odd schedule.” I think about what Jer said. A place like this would be infamous in London, why had nobody heard of it?

“It’s open sunset to sunrise.”

“Interesting.” I follow Elliot out into the street. The sky is brightening, the midnight black turning into a deep sea blue.

“This is where we part ways Rose.” He says Rose like an enchantment, and my body wants to move closer but I stay where I am. He continues studying me the way he had been all night. I had been studying him too.

“It was really nice. Tonight.”

“I enjoyed myself. Despite the nuisance from early on.”

“Nuisance?” I ask. “Oh. Harry?”

“Harry,” his lip curls. The boyish sweetness bitters before washing away again. “Don’t mind him.”

“Oh I don’t. He helped me out in a pinch yesterday but otherwise I barely know him.”

“In a…pinch?”

“Yeah. It was pretty bad but,” I shrug. “Anyway. I should get home. My friend might start to worry.”

“Of course Rose,” Elliot says. He eyes me for a moment. His brow tightens and he continues, “Maybe I’ll see you again?”

“Maybe,” my heart picks up its pace. “We’ll see.”

His smile stretches his lips, he seemed amused.

With a nod he walks away and turns the corner. I stand there even after I’m unable to see him, and smile into my scarf. I just had an all nighter date with a cute guy who seemed interested in me.

When I tell Jer this he just scoffs.

“Be careful,” he reminds me. “Firstly I’ve never heard of this bar. Secondly how the fuck did this Elliot guy get your address? And thirdly, you don’t get involved with two guys with history. Trust me.”

“Jer,” I roll my eyes. “Okay. The address thing is weird, maybe I said it out loud when I was trying to get a ride home?”

“Still creepy! Hold on-“ he picks up his ringing phone and I wait.

Aside from the address thing, sure. It was a big weird. But Elliot did not give off creepy vibes. I just had to do some more digging if I was interested.

Was I interested? I think of Elliot’s amused blue eyes and blonde hair, his laugh, and the way he made most of the night about me. He didn’t try to kiss me or take me home. We just talked. It was nice.

My mind wanders to Harry. He had taken me home, taken care of everything. Was respectful. But he was kind of overprotective, and aloof. I didn’t care for that.

Elliot was open whereas Harry was hard to read-

“Are you even listening,” Jeremy snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“Huh?” I look up and in the time I had gotten lost in my thoughts, Jeremy had changed into his parka and his boyfriend stands beside him ready to leave.

“Y/N get some rest. I’m worried about you. You can’t just go from one relationship—even if it was a dying one, and hop into a love triangle.”

“Love triangles are messy,” Bryce comments.

“I know! Promise me you’ll take a break. Process your last relationship before you jump into anything new?”

He was right. Of course he was. It had just been such a long time since I felt wanted that I was letting it fuck me up like I was a teen madly in love. I barely knew them. And I’d forgotten all about my cheating ex. On one hand it was good, but I couldn’t slide into anything new.

“Okay. Promise.”

“Good.” Jer sighs. “We’ll be out of your hair by tonight so don’t make me worry about you.”

“What? Why? You two stay the week like I promised!”

“No we need to head back north. He misses the countryside,” Jer points back to his partner.

“The cow shite can wait Bryce, please? Keep me company longer?!”

Jer hugs me against him. “We’ll do lunch today before we’re off okay? Get some sleep though.”

I’ve known Jeremy since I was 11 and he was 10. I had just been placed in a new foster home, the third one I’d been in since I was 6. Jeremy had arrived a month before me, he’d been in the system since he was 9. He had given me the downlow on who to avoid and who was nice, in return I’d stuck up for him when he was picked on. He was a tiny thing then, scrawny and wide-eyed. I had been weathered by the system and didn’t care who was nice and who you had to avoid. I learned after my first home you had to become the person to avoid, and then leave everyone else alone.

We were separated a few years later and found each other on the streets when I was 17 and he was 16. When I turned 18, saved enough money to rent a shitty flat with another girl, I let him crash with me until he could afford his own rent.

We always looked out for each other. He was one of 3 people I considered family. So when he gives me advice, I take it.

***

“No I’m telling you she works at Boots and she complimented my eyeliner.” Jer bangs the table. We’re sat at lunch, a couple day drinks in. “I was like bitch you spat on me when we were 12 and called me ten different kind of slurs!”

“Shut up!” I cover my mouth. “I need to see it for myself.”

“Tomorrow. Visit her. I wonder if she’ll recognize you.”

“Probably not. I look pretty different.” These days I dyed my hair a triage of browns and blondes and grew out of my baby face.

“True. She might compliment your hair.”

“She better not. She used to make fun of how frizzy it got-“

“Until you woke her up with scissors over her hair one night.”

“Shh,” I laugh. “Don’t say my crazy so publicly.”

“It’s not your crazy,” Jer grabs my hand. “It’s what kept you alive. Us.”

We grow quiet as the heavier bits of the memories sink in.

“It was tiring,” I slip my hand away. “Always being switched on. Even now, I can’t help it.”

“Until it comes to men. Then my good friend y/n goes poof and this stranger appears.”

I sigh, I had issues. “I can’t help being fucked up. It’s just like, when I sense they want me something inside me lights up. And I tell myself to calm down but all rational thought disappears!”

“Girl trust me I get it. Until I met Bryce, I was sharing beds with so many people.”

“I remember.” Back then it was me picking him up from random parts of town after being kicked out by a spouse home too early, or a partner back from out of town.

“What’s that bloke’s name? Harry was it? He didn’t want you-“

“Ouch! I know!”

“No not like that!” Jer says. “You seemed into him the first night you came back. Even though he wasn’t into you.”

“Yeah. Maybe just cuz he was nice. Why is finding love so hard? I feel like I’m not cut out for it!”

“You want a love that transcends everything because you read too much romance.”

“Stop being dramatic,” I roll my eyes. But it was true, romance novels were my vice. I couldn’t help but believe in true love.

The one thing I knew about my parents is that my mum died in childbirth and my dad died when I was 3 from heartbreak. He loved her more than he could love the sum of the two of them. He left me behind for her. That was true love.

I had a whole of 2 pictures from my life. One of my mum pregnant with me. Another of my mum and dad before they got pregnant I think. The way they looked at each other—I just want a slice of that. I always believed true love existed simply because I knew the story of my parents.

“Okay. Bryce is texting me nonstop let me see what he wants.” Jer leaves me at the table. I sigh and sip my wine, wishing I wasn’t such a hopeless romantic.

It was the part of me that always got hurt. Every other part I had learned to grow armour on but the part of me that yearned never learned how to.

My chest aches as I think about the love I don’t have. I feel it in the air around me as it quivers with something that feels akin to mourning.

“What are you doing?” I hear from the table next to me. There was a couple seated after us, Jer and I guessed they were colleagues. It was a game we liked to play—guessing the lives of people around us. We’d done it as long as we could remember.

The woman slides her hand up the man’s arm. He’s the one that asked the question. He doesn’t seem into it.

“Sorry,” Jer says, sitting back down just as the woman jerks back.

“I uh-“ she pushes her chair back. “Sorry I don’t know what-“

“Uh oh,” I look at Jer. “They just blurred some coworker lines.”

“No it’s okay. Mags wait-“ the guy manages to her back in her seat and they talk too low to hear.

“Juicy,” we eye them for a few seconds.

“Bryce is picking me up in 15, we need to start heading back otherwise we’ll be driving in traffic.”

“I wish you stayed the week.” I pout.

“Your 1.5 bedroom flat isn’t big enough for all of us. Call me when you finally get that promotion and buy a bigger flat.”

“You’ll be the first person I call. You know that.”

“I know that.” He smiles.

“When will you be in town next?”

“Not for a while unless my best friend decides to do something stupid.”

“I won’t,” I promise him. “Maybe I’ll come up to you in November.”

“Open invitation.” Jer reminds me.

I go home to an emptier flat, it makes me feel more lonely than I should. I never had a lot of people in my life, I’d grown accustomed to being alone. To loneliness.

But as an adult, the pangs dug in just as deep.

I soothe it by falling asleep early.

All I remember of my dreams are intense colours and emotions, vibrant landscapes and a looming sense of dread. I wake up drenched in sweat, the second time that week that my dreams were that intense. Maybe I should be visiting a doctor.

***

I feel like I’m wasting potential as I sit in my flat on a Friday night. I had been laying on my couch for the last two hours, first scrolling through my phone, then being jumpscared by a post from my ex, then zoning out to a movie, before going back on my phone.

The cycle is vicious. And all I can think of is Elliot. No. I couldn’t think of Elliot.

Maybe I should join one of those dating apps. Hopeless romantic looking for true love, but also dtf to fill the time.

God. I was miserable.

Something inside me is drawn to go back to the pub. To the patrons that loved to stare. To the pair of eyes I didn’t mind stared.

“Jer said no.” I say out loud. Well, he didn’t say no. Just not to do anything rash. To process my emotions. “Fine.”

I continue laying on my couch. Let my ex flit through my mind. I thought I loved him. I think I just liked the idea of him. After the initial lover phase, we were really in two different places all the time.

I sink deeper into the couch. Who have I loved? Have I ever lover anyone romantically?

I remember a guy I dated when I was 24. It lasted 8 months and 14 days. Jer had had to sleep on the couch for a week because the day I was broken up with I’d found my way to his flat, crashed on his bed, and stayed glued onto his mattress.

Until he had to physically carry me into a shower and spray me with water. But that’s another story.

He was the closes thing I felt to love. To loved. He moved to Mexico. I remember he told me it was wrong timing. I remember thinking I was cursed.

I sink further and further into the couch.

I was 28 and never really loved anyone. How pathetic was that?

Suddenly I can’t breathe. It feels like the couch was drowning me whole like quicksand.

Even pulling myself out feels like quicksand, I use all my strength to sit up and only then do my lungs inflate with a deep breath.

“Holy fuck.” I gasp.

What the fuck was that!?

I look back at my couch but it looks back the exact same. It felt like it was swallowing me moment earlier. What the fuck!

I had to get out of here.

That’s how I find myself at the local corner store buying junk, and browsing the crisps.

“Sweet tooth?”

“Huh?” I nearly jump at the sight of Elliot. “Wha-Elliot?”

“Rose.”

“What are you…are you stalking me?”

“Stalking?”

“What are you doing here?”

He tucks his hands in his pockets, that’s when I note how casual he was dressed. Slacks and a half-zip.

“I was at a party nearby,” his eyes flicker over the items in my hand.

“Weird coincidence.” He knew my address, I knew that.

“It might appear that way. What are you doing now?”

“Um…” I glance down at my hands. “Buying…stuff.”

“Want to join us? The party’s by the water.”

If it was a fake party he wouldn’t be inviting me. Unless he was going to take me to a second location to do something worse.

“I’m busy so…”

“Oh. My apologies.” He gets formal very quickly but his eyes crinkle with a smile, the blueish grey drawing me in. “I’ll let you get on.”

“Well,” he wasn’t pushy. Maybe I should see this party. See the people he hung out with. “Maybe I can drop by for a little bit? It’s nearby?”

“10 minute by walking.”

“I don’t need this then,” I pool my items onto a random shelf. “We can go when you want.”

He goes to the front with his items and at the last second I buy a pack of cigarettes. I tried to drop the habit many times but ever since I got back from my vacation I’d picked it up again. I tried not to blame my ex.

“Those aren’t very good for you.” Elliot eyes the pack as I slip them into my pocket.

“You’re telling me you’ve never smoked a cigarette in your life?”

“I have. It doesn’t taste very good.”

“I don’t think they’re supposed to taste good,” I can’t help but laugh.

“So what are they good for?” He asks and it’s so bizarre because he seemed genuinely curious about it.

“Um? Stress relief? Comfort?”

“Sounds like something a lover should offer.”

I nearly walk into traffic when he says it. So bluntly. Kind of like how Harry spoke. I wonder if they just grew up so rich they were from another world.

“Sure if you have one. Lovers are fleeting and temporary. Cigarettes—they’re permanent. Until I guess…you fuck your lungs up so much you become fleeting and temporary. Shit sorry.”

Elliot looks at me with confusion, like I was speaking an alien language. Maybe he didn’t get the joke. I dunno. I grow quiet instead.

“So what exactly is it you do?” I ask after a bout of silence. I can’t remember if he’s told me this in our conversation the other night.

“What do you mean I do?”

“Like in life? To earn money and all that?”

“In life? I lead.”

I glance up at him after the douchey answer. Oh he was serious.

“Cool so you’re like, upper management at your company or like you own the business?”

He cocks his head, “I manage my company yes. But I don’t own anything yet. I report to someone above me.”

“Right.” He was being very literal. And it sounded like nepotism. I didn’t want the headache of knowing what his company did so I don’t bother with more questions.

He leads me down a set of steps and to the canal. People sit along the grassy bank and I’m a bit surprised to see them.

“Elliot my man!” Someone shouts. “Did you bring the beer?”

Elliot holds up a hand holding two cases. I think back, I don’t remember him buying two. But I could have been too busy checking out his backside. I needed help.

“So Rose,” Elliot says after handing the drinks over. “I would like to see you again. Talk some more. Maybe come clean about all this.”

“All what?” I ask.

“The truth of your parents, how you came to The Good Folk-“

“My parents?” What did he know about my parents?

“Yes. You spoke about them the other night.”

“I did?” I blink to clear the cobwebs but I have a hard time recalling exactly what Elliot and I discussed. Mostly just that it was a nice time.

“Rose,” Elliot gets out in front of me and places a hand on my shoulder. His eyes are intense as they bore into me. “I’m not a threat. I was only curious.”

What a weird fucking thing to say.

I pull my cigarettes out. “I need a smoke.”

“Need?” He lets go of my shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Is it all consuming?”

“Sure?” I just needed to step away. There were too many people around for this not to be safe but I wanted space from Elliot. He was being weird.

“Understood.” He backs away. “I’ll wait until the need is satisfied.”

“Thanks?” I mutter. I step away and as soon as I do at least 3 women replace me and tug at him to join their group. His eyes linger on mine as he walks away with them and I look away.

I move further away from the group, closer to the underpass of a small bridge.

I take out a cigarette and place it in my mouth before I pat my pockets, and realize I had no lighter.

Shite.

I note a few people sitting around, a bright dot hovering around their faces. People had lighters. I could ask one of them.

But the more I look at everyone, the more I want to stay in the shadows. What was I doing here? Jer would kill me if he found out. Maybe I should text him. No, he’d freak out. Fuck!

I lean against the stone wall, pressing my lips against the cigarette still dangling in my mouth. The paper glides smoothly between my lips, the familiar smell of tobacco drifting up to my nose.

The air around me grows cooler and I close my eyes, tilting my head back. Trying to ground myself. The stone is uneven behind my head but it doesn’t matter. I feel cloaked in the dark, embraced by it. I feel safe.

I take a few deep breaths, the joint between my lips a prop for the time being.

As my body relaxes and my mind wanders, Harry’s face materializes before me; if I wasn’t so relaxed it might have scared me.

His green eyes search mine like they’d done before. He leans in closer, the darkness surrounding him. The only light comes from a smoke between his own lips. It throws shadows on his cheekbones, making him look like he was carved from marble.

We’re locked in a staring contest but it doesn’t feel weird. He’s part of the darkness, staring into his eyes keeps me grounded.

He leans down, closer to me. The orange tip of his cigarette touches mine and I can even feel the heat of it, smell the smoky air around us.

I inhale slowly, its an intimate gesture—him giving me light. My smoke catches fire and he leans away with a small smirk, away until the darkness swallows him and I’m alone again.

I take in a deep breath to sigh but smoke shoots down my throat.

I throw my eyes wide open as I cough. The cigarette goes flying out of my mouth and my eyes water.

“What the fuck?” I cough out uncontrollably.

My cigarette lies on the ground in front of me, dying embers on its tip.

What. I crouch down and it really is mine. How could that be?

I hold it to my lips and inhale. Exhale.

It was lit.

I whip my head around, was Harry here? Did I not imagine that?

But the closest person is making out with someone else on the other side of the bridge. No one had been here. Unless they’d lit it while I had my eyes closed and walked away.

A chill goes up my spine.

I had to go home. This was getting weird.

When I tell Elliot I was going to go home he’s flanked by half a dozen girls. They look at me with disdain but I ignore it. I was used to looks like that.

“You had your cigarette?” Elliot asks.

“Yeah. Oh. Sorry I didn’t offer one. Did you want-“

“That’s not my smoking preference,” he smiles and he’s the man in the pub again. Kind eyes and an infectious smile. “Meet me at the pub one of these nights Rose?”

“I can’t promise anything,” I play with the pack in my pocket, eager to leave.

“I don’t expect you to,” Elliot says seriously.

“Okay. Well. I’ll try to make it.”

“Great.”

I leave behind a weary smile and hitch it back home.

***

I wake up again drenched in sweat. This whole week I’d been having intense dreams, but all I remember when I wake up is how chaotic it was. The rest slips away like sand in the breeze. It’s frustrating because they feel similar, like I should be remembering what they’re saying.

“Have you been smoking pot?” Lydia asks. I’m back at work that Monday and I’m detailing to my friend who’s serving me my coffee.

Lydia and I met in uni when we were 19. Like all people, I’d been wary and guarded with her back then. But she’d been persistent and earned my trust somehow. We’d been best friends since. I’d watched her come up with and execute this idea of owning her own cafe all on her own. It was London’s top 5 book cafes. And even though it was out of my way I tried to come here most days for coffee.

“No, but it’s making me sleep so shitty.” I complain. “I wish I could just pop a nyquil and call it quits for the night.”

“I can hook you up with magnesium? It’s supposed to be superb.”

I grab my cup from her, “I’ll get super drunk tonight. Blackout for free.”

“Not alone,” she comes around the counter and hugs me. “You were mia this last week. I’m coming over with wine tonight and you catch me up on it.”

I sigh and agree. It would be a lot to cover.

The work day is lost in the bustle of catching up and meetings. By the time I see Lydia again I feel like someone could tip me over and I’d crash. But after putting on some face masks and pouring a generous helping of wine I settle in and tell her all about it.

“So mysterious,” she says when I’m done. Obviously I leave out the weird parts, like the pub moving physically and having my cig light up on its own because I’m not even entirely sure it happened. “The Harry guy seems like a gentleman. The other bloke seems a bit too coincidental to not be creepy.”

“But Harry was being so possessive.”

“Pink flag?” Lydia asks.

“Maybe. Jer said to stay away from it all. Honestly I need a man break? I think after my last relationship I just need to be alone again. I’ve been trying to fill the hole of loneliness with who I can date next. It’s gross.”

“It’s not gross,” she nudges me. “It’s human. Wanting connection.”

“Yeah,” I think on it. “I guess it is. Lord knows I didn’t get enough of it as a child.”

“There you go. We can’t help it. But maybe I agree with Jer? Lay off the relationships. Doesn’t mean you can’t do the horizontal mambo with whoever you want.”

“Dee!” I laugh. “Why do you have the worst names.”

She smirks behind her wine glass, probably considering it a win for making me laugh.

She stops herself early since she had to get back home and I carry the remains of the bottle to bed. Wine made me sleepy and just the same I knock out shortly after. And I don’t wake with a fright the next morning but as my dreams drift away I know they were crazy. This time I remember something about sticks. Random but I remember.

As I ride the tube to work I try to keep a reign on my hangover. I’d had plenty of water last night and popped some painkillers this morning yet my vision is blurry and everyone looks hazy around the edges.

I look to the woman sitting in front of me. She looked pleasant enough but there’s a ring of gray around her that bleeds into the pink of a little boy sitting next to her. His feet don’t quite hit the ground and they swish back and forth. It’s mesmerizing actually and I nearly miss my stop.

You’d think it gets better but the haziness stays the whole day. I should book an eye doctor too, I think somewhere in my brain. Whatever Lydia brought over last night was strong.

On Friday night Lydia invites me over to her place. She had a few friends over that was part of her couple group—her and partner Damon. And I hung out with them occasionally. With not much else to do I join them.

The week had been taxing and I’d had random bursts of feeling off throughout but I never got sick. Googling anything just told me I should rest, that I should expect a migraine after seeing these bursts of colours, that maybe I had a tumour. But nothing pans out.

“Ouch,” Damon says when he opens the door to me.

“That’s rude.” I shove the bottle I brought in his chest and move past him. I hear Lydia humming in her room and head straight to it.

“Something fucked up happened in the flat nex-“ She gasps when she sees me. “Y/N! Love are you alright!?”

“I’m fine—no I’m not. I think I’m going mad. Like proper mad.”

“No sit. Sit!” She pats her bed and kneels in front of me. “Damo can you get Y/N some water!?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t going to show. But I thought sitting in my flat would be worse-“

“Are you sick?” She lays a hand on my forehead. “Your temp’s alright.”

“I’m not sick! The doctor’s won’t prescribe me anything because I’m not anything! I’ve just had the shittiest sleep of my life the last week, I keep getting these weird migraine symptoms without the migraines, and I keep thinking I see something in the corner of my eye and I don’t! Nothing’s there!”

That was something that was new yesterday. Shapes moving around me but when I look everything is normal and still.

“Fuck!” Damon walks into the room just as the glass he’s holding breaks. “What the-“

“Nobody move!” Lydia screeches and I am so on edge I nearly scream at her to quiet down. “Damon what the actual fuck!?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t drop it it literally combusted in my hand.”

“You were probably squeezing it!” Dee accuses him.

“It was probably after getting one look at her,” Damon points to me. I flip him off and lay back onto the bed. I couldn’t even offer any help to pick up the glass.

I take a deep breath in, and out. In. And out.

I drift off, I imagine myself in the clouds, drifting through the air. I imagine a clean gust of air flowing into my lungs. And then out.

When I finally come back to reality Damo is emptying the glass into the bin and Lydia is dragging a wet rag across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I sit up. “I should help.”

“No.” Damon holds his hand up at the same time Lydia does. “Just go to sleep if you need it. Just don’t worry about this. Or the party. Seriously y/n.”

“Yeah,” Dee puts her hands on her hips. “We’re worried about you. Just take it easy.”

“I feel a bit better. I just needed a moment. Riding the tube had been sensory overload lately.”

“Stay in our guest bed tonight,” Dee offers, glancing at Damon who nods. “Change of scenery.”

As Lydia’s friends arrive I take my spot amongst them. I engage in light catching up, I wasn’t against socializing but tonight I mostly listen.

I try to ignore the way the room changes around the people who talk. Sometimes it feels comforting and orange and other times the temperature drops and it feels like everything is metallic. It sounded mental but that’s how it felt.

The more I drink the more the colours come back.

Lydia’s is like a sunset and as the night goes on it deepens. Damon’s is like Christmas lights, red bleeding into a deep green.

A few friends have similar colours, others complement each other’s. I wonder for a brief moment if anything I ate had pot but nobody says anything.

As the company loosens, I step outside for a smoke.

Halfway through one, I hear the door open behind me and close.

“Doing that again?”

I turn to the familiar face. Sean, I’d known him since final year at uni. We’d been casual friends but with him being Damon’s brother we interacted frequently enough it was more than casual with how much we knew about each other but we weren’t friends enough to ever hang out alone. He’s actually how Damon and Dee met.

“I’m gonna stop.”

“Like always.”

“If you followed me out here to judge me I’m good.”

“I didn’t. I just got here and I saw you alone outside.” He walks up next to me. He brings with him warmth and even though it’s not too cold outside I can’t help but savour it.

“You got here late.” I comment. “You want one?”

“I quit last year y/n.” He reminds me.

“So did I,” I say wryly. He cracks a smile, it’s toothy. The same smile he’s always had.

“One of my friends had a kid a few weeks ago. I was dropping some food off, ended up staying too long.”

“Wow. A kid huh?” I knew people my age—hell, people younger than me, were settled with children. I just couldn’t imagine it.

“Yeah.” He blows air out of his cheeks. “When he first told me he was pregnant I actually said What are you gonna do?!”

“Oh shit,” I look at him. “Was he upset?”

“He thought it was funny,” he glances back to me. “I forget we’re closer to 30 than 20 these days.”

“Tell me about it.”

Sean brushes his hair back, he tended to grow it out and then surprise everyone and shave it every so often. I wondered when the next surprise would be.

The longer I look at him the more his edges light up. It’s a deep blue, it blends into the night but when he steps back against the balcony doors it’s easier to see. It spreads outwards into a purple.

Sean glances back into the house and back to me.

“Are you thinking it’ll be those two next?”

“Huh?” I realize it looks like I was looking inside rather than around him. “Oh. Those two? Maybe not next but soon.”

“She keeps pushing the wedding date. Settling on one I mean.” Sean says. I raise my brow and he explains. “My brother told me. What’s up with that?”

A ripple of something flows through me. It aches a little. I step back to a chair and sit down.

I think about everything I knew about Lydia. I knew why. We all had childhood problems—her mum was trapped in her relationship with Dee’s dad and the Lydia I knew told me she would never sign a contract to keep a relationship. It had surprised the hell out of me when she said yes a couple years ago. But I guess she was now coming around to realizing she would have to give up the one thing she swore she’d never do.

“Damon probably knows about Dee’s parents,” I say. “Maybe tell him to jog his brain a little. Put the pieces together.”

Sean chokes out a laugh. “Okay. Whatever that means. Hey what about you? What happened to office guy?”

“That’s over,” I say.

“Shit. I’m gonna grab a drink first. Then I want to hear about it.”

“There’s nothing to…” Sean’s gone before he can hear me out. I sigh. I came out here to be alone.

I look out to the view, I would never get tired of this city. Its streets ran through me like my veins. I loved it here.

I can see the train going past and I think of the people on it. People with so many different colours.

I hear sniffling and look to the door but Sean’s still not back.

I turn to the divider behind me. It sounded like it was coming from there. I inch back and it’s distinct. Someone on the other side of this balcony was crying.

“Hello?” I call out. But they don’t respond. Oh god, what was neighbourly etiquette? Do i acknowledge it or ignore it?

Wait. I wasn’t even a neighbour here.

I walk to the edge and lean over so I can get a look into the balcony. I was right. A woman with cropped hair and a pantsuit on cries into her hand.

“Hey, sorry I don’t mean to intrude but-“

I gasp when she looks up at me. So does she. Her eyes are pools of black. Or it looks that way in the light. She swivels her head behind her but there’s nobody there. She looks back to me and points to herself.

“Yeah! You!” I laugh. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Are you safe?”

“I-“ she takes a step back. “Who-“

“I don’t live here. Sorry i know I’m being nosey,” I let her know. “I just heard you crying and-“

“I’m not okay,” the woman has a thick accent. It sound Baltic. “How do you see me?”

“Uhh,” I try to make sense of her question and answer, hoping I didn’t lose it in her translation. “You look sad. You’re crying obviously you’re sad I just-“

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“I stay here or I move on. I’m scared.”

“Oh. Move on like move out? Where are you moving?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know

“Well where are the people you love? Who love you?” I always imagined leaving this city, this country. Build a life far away. But every time it came back to being close to the few I loved or not. And every time I chose them.

“Here.” She sniffles. “In the end I wanted to stay.”

“If it matters to you, I’d vote stay. But I also don’t know your life so-“

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” I whip my head to the sound of my name. Sean closes the door behind him, two beers in hand, concern etched into his face.

“Are you…talking to someone?”

“Oh yeah,” I whisper. “The woman there seemed upset.”

I lean over again to apologize but she’s gone. Damnit.

“Nevermind. She left.”

“Are you fucking with me? There was a woman there?” Sean asks.

“Yeah! I just wanted to make sure she was alright.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear? About next door?”

“What?”

“The woman next door attempted…yknow. To end her life. But since we’re on the second floor it…she’s like, in the hospital now. On life support.”

“What?” My heart sinks. Lydia was saying something fucked up when I walked in. Is that what it was? “Maybe that was her sister crying? Or her lover?”

“No it’s empty. It’s got tape all over it until police clear it.”

My heart sinks even lower. I feel it like a lead weight. Who was the woman I was talking to?

“Anyway tell me about your tragedy,” Sean hands me a beer and I take it, my mind still reeling from the news.

“Um. It’s not really one. The relationship fizzled out.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“Well what about you? Last Christmas I heard you were dating a hot goth?”

“Who said that? Damo?”

“Maybe? So?”

“No! I brought her to a party but it wasn’t serious. And she wasn’t a goth. Just wore all black jeez.”

I laugh and the colours on the edge of Sean melt into pink. It’s a pretty sight even if it’s just in my head.

“I haven’t been all that lucky in love,” Sean sighs. He glances back inside. “But I look at my brother and think if he can find it I can too.”

It makes me laugh. Sean and I have always teamed up to shit on Damo for no other reason than it was fun. I never had siblings growing up and the dynamic, I imagine, felt like one.

“Do you see kids in the future?” He asks out of nowhere.

“Woah. Um. I don’t know. I can’t imagine it honestly, with the childhood I had…”

Sean nods. “I think you’d actually understand exactly what a child would need. I think you’d be good raising a child.”

“Maybe,” I shrug. “I think I’m also going insane so right now it’s a no.”

He chuckles. “Was that part of your insane bit? Talking to a ghost next door?”

When he says the G word a shiver travels down my spine. I remember the stranger seemed surprised I was talking to her.

No. It couldn’t be. I didn’t even believe in ghosts. The police must have lifted the tape. It was her relative or something.

“I think I’m a little drunk.” I change the subject.

“How are you getting home?” Sean asks.

“Might crash here. I…I think I’m actually going inside now.”

“Oh-oh yeah okay,” Sean steps aside so I can walk past him. He was like a human furnace with how warm he was. I leave him outside and head straight to the guest room. I couldn’t stay here. I didn’t want to worry my friends or do something crazy. The woman next door freaked me out too much.

I grab my jacket and purse and sneak out, texting Lydia an apology once I start walking home.

I thought about taking the train but I couldn’t handle the people. If I walked for a half hour there was a bus that was 10 minutes to my flat.

So I walk in the quiet night, interrupted by the occasional car or group of friends. I spot a fox as I walk and keep to my side of the street. I watch the silhouettes of the trees move gently in the light breeze, I watch as squares of light flick on or off as its inhabitants live their lives. I feel apart of it and outside of it.

I’ve always viewed the world this. I always feel I was this way—apart of something bigger but also on the periphery. Maybe it was growing up in the foster system, or simply always wearing my armour in order to survive. All I ever wanted was people. People to call all my own. Where I was so deep into something bigger that I never questioned where I stood.

Nearly to the bus stop I hear a familiar tune in the air. My palms go clammy as I follow it. I know where I was going to end up. But I was in a completely different part of town. So it was actually impossible.

And there it is. The Good Folk.

What the fuck was this sorcery.

The cherry on top: standing outside arguing with a woman was Harry.

My feet lead me without a single thought in my head.

[green-typewriterz]

Iron burns

King!Harry Styles x gn!reader

Summary: fantasy AU - you are a cook in the castle kitchens and are delivering food to your King, but the pan is slightly too hot.

Warnings: injury, burns, Harry is smitten

Prompt: “You don’t need to do this.” “I want to.”

word count: 1K

GIF BY ME

The food had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect. You had been working in the castle kitchens since you were old enough to walk, having taken over from your mother and her mother before her. Your family were trusted within the castle walls, and you were the one to prepare the most excellent meals whenever King Harry had guests over. The food that you had to prepare tonight wasn’t particularly interesting, just a meat stew of some kind, but even then you felt as if you had an expectation to be perfect.

You lifted the large metal pot with both hands, making sure you had a firm grip on it as you made your way from the kitchens and up the large stone stairs. Your feet echoed as you walked, your eyes firmly on the food so none of it would spill. You reached the dining hall and the doors swung open, Harry’s eyes flitting over as you hurried toward the table. Just as you reached it, an untied lace on your boot trapped itself under your foot and you tripped forward, spilling some of the stew onto your hands. You quickly placed the pot down on the table to stop any further accidents before clutching your hands together.

Harry rushed over from the head of the table and took your hands gently. “Y/N” He began, his eyes begging you to meet his gaze. You kept your eyes on the floor and bowed lowly, biting your lip so you wouldn’t cry. “Are you alright?” He asked and you looked up at him, face flushed in embarrassment.

“I am greatly sorry M’lord, I will clean this mess and then I will excuse myself.” You spoke and Harry seemed almost shocked at the thought that you assumed he would remove you from the castle staff. He took a cold pitcher of water from the table and gently traced his fingers over your hand, making sure you wouldn’t leave his side as he did. Then, with a small, worried smile he poured the water over your hand, frowning as you winced in pain. He caught the water on a cloth under your hand, which he then wrung back into the pitcher, before repeating the process until the water ran out. He knew this wasn’t the cleanest way, but it would soothe the pain.

You felt so embarrassed that the king had to deal with this and whispered (almost silently), “You don’t need to do this.” Your hands shook as you spoke and you couldn’t bear to look at him, or even near him. There was an emotion you couldn’t describe that almost radiated from him, the way he watched and cared for your injuries.

“I want to.” He replied softly, care laced in his tone. You looked up at him. Neat brown curls fell gently over his eyes and the small scar under his chin that you could see when he looked up. He kept his hands near you at all times, assuring you that you would be okay with small whispers. Harry was a caring king, this was a fact known across the kingdom, but you had never seen him acting like this, not in your years of working for him. He pulled out a chair and guided you to it, helping you to sit as if it were your legs that were burnt and not your hands. He sat down next to you and signalled to a knight to get the doctor. Though you tried not to, the pain from the burns was too harsh and a few tears fell from your eyes.

He gently took your chin in his hand and wiped the tear from your cheek, beginning to hum a song you had never heard in an attempt to soothe you. Eventually, the doctor arrived and you were ushered out of the dining hall, away from Harry’s worried gaze.

;༊

Days later, you were walking through the corridor of the castle when Harry along with his advisor and a few people whom you assumed were friends passed you. You quickly went into a bow until they had passed by, but heard the echoing footsteps stop as Harry spoke, “Pauli, keep going, I’ll follow after in a moment.” You looked up to see  Harry still standing there, a gentle smile on his face.

“How are your hands?” He asked, taking them in his own. The long sleeves of his cloak brush gently against your fingertips as he looks at the residual markings from where you burnt yourself. Harry’s hands seemed like an impossible combination of soft and coarse, his hands worn from battles gone by but there was a softness to his fingertips, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

You smiled gratefully, “Much better Your Highness, there is no pain thanks to your kindness.” He smiled as you bowed again in thanks. He gently took your chin as he had all those days ago and lifted you back to meet his eyes. There was emotion and meaning behind every movement the king had and you felt as though every time his skin touched you there was some kind of electric shock travelling through your body.

“Please,” He began, holding one hand to his chest as if he was the one who should be thankful, “Call me Harry. Your family has been loyal for generations, it’s only fair I show the same neverending respect you show me.” Harry’s lips slowly curved into a smile and eventually, the brightness behind his eyes made you smile in return.

Neither of you spoke for a while, simply watching each other in silence, your hands still holding each other. There was a fire in his eyes, it shone in a glint that looked like stars. It almost felt as if he were moving closer to you, his gaze moving down to your lips for a split second.

“Harry!” a voice spoke and you both looked over to see one of the Lords the king was speaking to earlier. He backed away quickly, coughing as if that would knock him from his trance. He looked back at you for a moment before moving away and toward his friend.

Shivers spread through your body as he turned to look at you just before he turned the corner, his eyes shining with want. As much as you wished for it, you knew nothing more could ever happen. He was the king, you were nothing but a cook.

[newblvotg]

[anxieteeeaa]

Animals

WARNINGS: psychopathic tendencies, yandere!harry, psycho!harry, stockholm!syndrome, knife play, adrenaline rush, blood, condescension, degradation, sexual content, orgasms, etc. ****IF YOU ARE NOT COMFY WITH THIS PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS!!!******

Baby, I'm preying on you tonight Hunt you down eat you alive Just like animals Animals Like animals-mals

She's thanking the heavens she ran track all of high school. Her legs burned but she could care less, she had to keep running. He was hot on her tail but she didn't dare to look back.

Finally reaching a dark alley she turned into and ran into the dumpster, shoving herself in between the trash bags.

Disgusting? She knows that, but it's better than being found. Especially by him.

She heard his footsteps coming closer, his voice in a such a sweet tone it was sickening. "Maybe you think that you can hide I can smell your scent for miles." He spoke with a large grin plastered on his face. His fingers covered in blood, her sweet scent all over him. He licked the blood off of his fingers and wiped his knife clean with the towel he carried in his pocket.

"I will find you doll. You know you're way safer with me than out here in this scary world. What if someone kidnaps you?" Sarcasm laced his voice as he asked that rhetorical question. That's how she got here in the first place.

"You know I love you!" He cooed. "And you know I'll take good care of you." He was starting to grow impatient. His hands gripped the handle of his knife, twisting it anxiously. "I'll give you until the count of three to come out. Or things won't end nicely for you."

Silence.

"One." She slowly steadied herself and prepared to make a run for it Would she make it past him and have enough time? Who knows.

"Two." This was her last chance to freedom.

"Last chance puppet." She wasn't taken any chances, she lifted the garbage lid and booked it.

"That's it. I"m done playing nice." He chased after her, knife in his hand and his eye burning with anger. He wanted her back. He needed her back. He owned her.

Baby I'm preying on you tonight. Hunt you down eat you alive.

Making a bee line throughout the ally way, she could hear him getting closer. "You can run, but you can't hide"

“Help! Help me! Somebody help me!” She screamed as she ran through the dark alleyway. There was a small corner store that still had lights on, this was her only chance. Her legs were aching, her chest felt like it was on fire but it would all be worth it.

Almost there.

“Gotcha. Didn’t think you’d get away from me that easily did you?”

click here for part 2!!

should i continue this???

it’s basically a stockholm syndrome story. harry’s a psycho who’s in love and doesn’t take no for an answer. lmk what you think! like, repost and comment if you’d like! tysm for your support!

click here for part 2!!

[eveningepiphany]

insatiable | H.S series, part I

eveningepiphany’s 1k special <3

summary: harry is a prince, natalia is a spy for his court. both of them can’t stand one another, but natalia having to take any direct information she learns about the attempt on his life directly to him seems to put the pair in an interesting dynamic.

SERIES warnings: darker topics, murder, death, cults, alcohol, smut, violence, royal au! harry, fem!oc, fantasy and swearing.

a/n: this is something I’ve wanted to write for a long time now. I love reading fantasy, and I think it would be fun to kind of test the waters in writing a proper series myself.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A part of me wishes it was nothing like this.

That I didn’t live in a world where everyone was out to deceive you.

But that’s exactly what you get in Carthion. I’d say it’s all you ever get, but maybe that’s just my outlook on it.

Especially when you consider I’m no better than the rest of them.

You see, when you grow up with parents who did the worst things just to get by, you’re conditioned to it. The expectation that everyone is out to get you.

And of course, the things they did weren’t just steal some bread and fruit from the night market to get a feed, or maybe pickpocket a passerby or two bad. The kind of stuff that would have you killed if it was unearthed.

But how I grew up is realistically how I got here.

I’ve been a spy— which is really just a justified way of saying I’m a deceitful murderer— “professionally” for only three years now.

But I’d been really doing it since I was 13. Sounds young, I know. It was young.

The thing was, I was small, smaller than my dad. I could squeeze into little places, move faster, quieter.

And who would suspect a 13 year old to be the one who’d shot a gang leader in an alleyway.

Not a soul apparently.

My father accompanied me on these little “missions” for the first, maybe, forty times? Until little by little he stopped.

He’d just tell me quietly what I needed to do in the dark of our small kitchen. And I’d be off.

Previously, my mother did a similar business. But she broke her leg on an outing when I was around 9. It left her much less physically able then she used to be, leaving her to stay home with me and my elder brother, Theodore. Making small knit items and pottery to sell at the markets— while dad was out.

I’d often catch myself falling into a daydream of where I’d be if I didn’t have the upbringing that I did. If I’d be a married woman yet, or maybe a guard for one of the royal courts if I had the same amount of drive.

But all of that is rather a waste of time, i reason with myself often. I’m busy enough as it is. And it’s about to get a whole lot more hectic.

I’m not conditioned to walk in heeled shoes. Nor am I proper enough to be in the dress that’s currently hugging my frame.

But when business with Royals arises, it’s what I can only assume is a must.

The guard, who bought me in is a few steps infront of me— awful move if I was an intruder— seems to know exactly where he’s taking me.

The corridors are lined with the families crest, large cream pillars with golden accents.

A single brick from this place is probably worth more than my life.

We’d been twisting and turning through the corridors until suddenly I’m greeted with large double doors, ones that would tower above any regularly sized one..

Another 2 burly men are positioned outside of them, gesturing a quick nod to whoever led me here.

A curt knock and a few beats of silence pass. I feel a little sick, I can’t lie.

A posh feminine voice sounds on the other side of the doors, undoubtedly Queen Annabelle herself.

“Come in!”

The doors get swung open, and I’m surprised to see that at first glance, this room is only a business or lounge room. It’s large enough to be a dining hall.

My gaze snaps back over to her as she begins to greet me, something I probably should’ve done first instead of marvelling at the room were standing in.

“Natalia, dear, hello.” My eyes switch between her and her unexpected guest, who— if this room weren’t so large— is tall enough he would’ve been the first thing I seen upon entering.

I’m positive it’s her son. The Prince.

Im unsure what exactly to say even though I practiced this in my head a million times.

I drop into a quick curtesy, “Hello, Your highness.”

I falter momentarily, hesitating to greet the Prince as well.

A extend my greeting to him, after a quiet intake of breath, “and to you too, Prince Harry.”

He has a scowl on his face, hardly giving me a me nod of his head.

I’ve only ever worked with people of a medium prestige. And only ever to silently cover up their dirty work. But I’m hardly surprised to see his distaste towards me.

If I am a minor disgust to the higher class, to the royals like Prince Harry, I must be the equivalent of skum on freshly polished shoes.

“Please, come sit with us. We have much to discuss.” She strides across the room, flowing ivory dress complimenting the green rug that takes up a large chunk of the floor.

She takes to a chair at the head of the table, it’s like a mock-throne, green fabric and deep wooden accents around its frame and arms.

The Prince reluctantly seats in the chair first to her right.

Despite the fact I’ve been allowed in this room, I feel terribly out of place.

I carefully take the chair thats two down from the queen, folding my hands neatly atop the rich wooden table which has a map in the centre of it.

I almost let out a sigh of gratefulness as Queen Annabelle begins talking, and isn’t expecting me to begin.

“Alright. You know the parameters in which you are here in, yes?” She raises her sharp brows.

“I do, for the most part. From the letters I’d received. I’m aware of what business you want me for.”

The Prince scoffs at the word business, and the Queen shoots him a glare.

“There are obviously some details left out. We need to smooth those out, before you can make your pledges.”

I nod, but sense that she’s not done talking.

“You acknowledge that this is going ahead yes? All that is left to do is get it in motion.”

“I do. I have a few questions regarding this job, but they can be covered at a later time if you’d like.” I try to keep my tone steady, formal.

I’m satisfied in her reaction to my words. She wasn’t expecting me to be so put together.

I had worked hard when I was younger to achieve this. My intellect is a strong point— and it makes me appear less rough around the edges.

It’s also that of a weapon, one you can carry everywhere with you, undetected. And it’s just as dangerous as the blade of a dagger.

“Of course. As of now, I’d like to discuss the raw details.”

She gestures towards her son, “My son, here, is a key part of this job. I believe in your letters you were ran down on an attempted assassination within our family. Since it’s now certain you’ll be taking the job, and you’ll be working closely with the both of us, I figure you should know he was the target.”

He’s frowning still as a lock eyes with him. And I connected those dots the second I realised he was in the room.

I have never met him. But from the great vine I’d heard mixed opinions on his person.

“Aside from myself and our head of counsel, he will be whom you take any learned information to.”

She lets out a sigh, “I would like him to be excluded from this process, however, it was made clear it wouldn’t go ahead without his involvement.”

I ponder a moment on how he is allowed a choice in the matter, seeing she’s the Queen and all.

She looks to me for agreement, “Understood.”

“Perfect. Im aware we have little information on who has committed this crime. That is why you’re here. I fear that they will come back and finish what they started.” I steal a glance at the prince again, who looks relatively unbothered considering we’re discussing the details of his near death experience, “I expect you to prevent this from happening.”

High expectations come with exhausting hours of work. But I nod anyways.

“My head of counsel, Tyrone will also need to receive a pledge from you and then he will run you down on the smaller details I have no business in. But other than that, your work will begin after our pledges.”

A lot of damn pledges, too.

This was the worst part of working with people of such a title, the expectance of you to lay yourself down for them, to swear your life and loyalty to them. A pledge knows no time, and can only be withdrawn by the one it’s given too. So the more pledges, the more you’re shackled to. To outright break a pledge would send you straight to exile— so it’s rare to hear of it. It’s like a fucking cult out there, in the barren of the north where the exiles call home.

She prattles on over some more details, that I take as much mental note on as possible, before standing from her chair, “Harry, will you please leave the room while she makes her pledge to me.”

I thank the stars for the this shred of dignity shes allowing me, but i catch the shock on Prince Harry’s face at his removal.

“But—“ he begins and she silences him, “Out.”

He sighs outwardly, sending another glower my way as he walks out the door.

I awkwardly rise from my chair, nerves bubbling through me, trying to prepare myself on what to say.

Theres no script, its all dependent on the situation, so you must say the right things and leave no room for misconception in your words. Mistake and gaps can easily be used against you.

It’s dodgy absolutely, but a risk that must be taken for this business.

“Natalia, is this your first time making a pledge?” She asks from where she stands a few feet away from me.

“No.” It was my third, but she doesn’t need to know that.

It’s not many, especially since in what I do, some people rack them up like it’s a competition.

“Have you been let go of all your previous pledges?”

“Yes.” I nod, which was almost true, all but one.

A risky game I’m playing, lying already, but no risk no reward I suppose is what they say.

Answering no raises to many questions on her end that I hardly feel mentally prepared to answer.

I take initiative to kneel at her feet, ready for her go ahead.

“Very well.”

“Queen Annabelle the fifth, I kneel below you as I vow to uphold my loyalty to you, for as long as it may be needed. I am aware that your life must come before mine at all times, and that I’m never to withhold information that could be of detriment to you or your family.”

I draw in a breath, “All information that I learn in my time working under you will be taken to those of your request, and nothing will be kept to myself that could endanger anybody in your circle. Outside of those im working with, all that I find out is kept to myself. Gossip is for the lowly courts, and I do not wish to start it.”

I pray that ive covered the basis, and begin to close off the pledge, “My name is Natalia Atalanta Finley, and I pledge myself to you, Queen Annabelle the fifth.”

A shudder passes through me as my middle name breaches the tip of my tongue.

This is how the pledges are set in stone. Your second name is to be kept close to your heart; it can be easily used against you. Hence why business using them is unfavourable.

I had held her eye contact, and watched as she nodded. Her face was netrual, not showing whether she was pleased or not.

“Thank you. I will send Harry in for you now.” She sounded calm. Of course she was. Considering she wasn’t the one now down a point.

I only can nod.

Carefully standing, despite the fact I’m going to be kneeling again in a few moments, I brush my hands down the waist of my satin dress.

She heads out the doors, I strain to hear a few muffled whispers that are presumably exchanged between her and her son. Then the door is opening again.

I fight the urge to look away. I am not about to appear shy, or like I am now certainly below them. He strides in, and I finally get a good look at him in the full.

He’s in a black kind of overcoat, and a smooth white blouse-like shirt. The tattoos on his collarbones, which im not sure what they are yet, visible through the material.

I make note of his black trousers and my eyes make their way back to the hair on his head. Its mid length, unruly and curly is the best way to describe it.

He looks smug, yet somehow still inconvenienced by my presence, “kneel, wont you?”

These are the first words he’s said to me directly, and I already want to jam my elbow into his stomach. Terrific.

I take a few steps towards him, and slowly sink back down onto my knees, feet tucked under myself as I hold eye contact with him.

“Your highness,” I begin, but theres an unmistakable edge to my voice.

“Sound like you mean it at least.” He hums.

With a passive aggressive clear of my throat I start again, “Your highness,”

“This y’first time making a pledge?” He quirks a brow almost assuming.

“No.” You frown.

“No need to get your back up.” He laughs briefly, but it’s laced with an audacious tone, one lacking in kindness.

“Continue on, then.”

His gaze is back to burning into me as I pretty much recite what I said to his mother only minutes ago, sticking to the same promises as to not get any misconstrusions on their behalf.

The golden hour light is seeping through the cream coloured curtains that line the windows, it’s casting a glow on his sculpted face. I begin to close off my pledge to him, but he interrupts.

“Remind me again who is in charge of you?” He knows there’s hardly any need for this, considering im on my knees basically promising him my obedience, but he’s doing it to just get a rise out of me.

Which all though he doesn’t get it verbally, he can see the disdain on my face.

“You, Prince Harry.” I say, carefully.

“And you will not do anything without my go ahead first, correct?”

“Within reason, yes.” My job is too impulsive to say yes to that and it not backfire on me.

“Within reason? Elaborate, will you.”

“I must make impulsive decisions. I cannot promise you will always be debriefed on them when its an in-the-moment choice, or if you are possibly a few hundred miles away.”

His gaze narrows, “Within reason it shall be then.”

I close it off, earning a small raise of his eyebrows as he hears my full name.

“Good girl. You may rise.” He says it with a smirk, and with an air of power of me, which of course he now feels he has after my pledge.

“Do not call me that.” I state, pulling at any shred of dignity I have left as I stand up.

“What else would you prefer then?” It’s asked, however it’s clear to me he doesn’t care.

“My name.” I scoff.

“Alright then, Natalia.” He rolls his eyes.

He stares at me a moment, looking ready to leave,“I will see you, unfortunately, tomorrow then.”

I shoot him an unkind look, but keep my lips sealed.

“Anything else to say, sugar?” He teases, a cruel smirk on his face.

“Natalia.” I correct, “No, there is not.”

I decide to be the one to exit the room, uncaring if that is rude. I’ve already sworn him my life, and despite him acting like I’m of no use to him, I know I am— more then he’s leading on anyway.

I open the doors myself, and the guards are quick to check on the prince.

“Are you ok, Sir?” One of them tentatively asked, like as if I’ve hurt him.

“Just fine.” He brushes them off, eyes trailing me as I walk down the hallway despite no sense of where I’m going.

One of the guards hurries behind me,

“Ma’am, where are you going?”

He reaches my side and I glance to him, “Take me to the head of counsel, please.”

I figure I get the last pledge out of the way, and any other debriefing so I can just get out of here for tonight. Worry about it all later, in the earlier hours of tomorrow morning when I have to wake up.

The guard nods, and takes the lead while I try to memorise the twists and turns were making around the palace.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tyrone is a fucking asshole.

If I had thought Prince Harry was rude or demeaning, I was in for a shock.

He hardly greeted me as I’d came into what I can only assume is his office. It was dark and unwelcoming, the wood was stained to the colour of black coffee, and nothing about it was homely.

He’d had me making this pledge for what felt like an hour. Running over detail upon detail.

Harshly demanding for more information, more promising.

By the time I’d closed it off— which at the rate we were going I thought was never going to happen— he made me stay for another hour going over what he wanted me to do, so I could start first thing tomorrow morning.

He basically gave me the caseload and then kicked me out.

I was mentally muddled as I left his office, and the halls were now completely dark aside from the warm casting of light from the candles, which sat in candelabras coming out of the walls.

I just wanted to go back to Mabel’s. Get this dress off and back into the confines of her cupboard and sleep.

However was almost caught off guard as someone was at the end of the hallway.

“Natalia.” I heard the deep voice regard me, walking up closer to me.

It surprised me in all honestly, I hadn’t seen them when I first walked out, “Yes?”

“I’m here to take you to your room.”

I was immediately confused.

“My room?”

“Yes. There’s a room made up for you in the western-wing of the palace.”

“I didn’t request a room.” I frown, and no one had told me I’d be staying here.

“All I know is Her Majesty had a room made up for you to stay in while you’re here. Allow me to lead you there.”

I nodded cautiously, but I knew what this was, it was to keep me under watch and control. It seems like a lovely customary gift in exchange for my work, but realistically it’s to stop me from interacting with anyone outside of the palace when I don’t need to.

I contemplate refusing to go, but figured that would just add unnecessary suspicion on my behalf.

I reluctantly followed the bulky man halfway across the palace, and everything started looking the same in the dark until we stopped outside a room. And i nodded a ‘thank you’ as I went through the again, abnormally tall doors.

The room itself was bigger than any whole house I’d ever lived in.

There was a large bed placed in the centre of it, perfectly made of course. And I noticed a closet on my left that took up majority of where the wall would’ve been.

There were a multitude of things hanging in there, ranging from gowns to things only someone like me would wear around here, like cargo pants and plain long sleeves.

The bedside antique lamps were on, casting an also warm glow to the space. The light to the bathroom was also turned on. And when I walked in there, the bath was run, with a set of silk pajamas folded on the large vanity.

It was too much. Wayyy too much for me.

Bribery at its finest.

Poor girl having to do the worst of the worst kind of business because it’s all she knows, suddenly spoiled with the kind of riches the royals had to offer.

I know just how far these kinds of people will go to earn your trust.

However, i still cave when it comes to the bath. I manage— with a slight struggle— to unzip the back of my dress and get fully undressed and into the bath.

It was perfectly warm, small petals floating atop the water.

I keep in the forefront of my mind just how well materialistic bribery like this work because god, it is nice. That’s the whole point.

I don’t know how long i stay in there, trying to soak off the grievances of the day.

But when I finally get out and slip the silky pyjamas on I’m too warm.

I pad out of the bathroom, and find myself at the balcony door.

The cooler air hits me as i step outside. I examine the surroundings. Part out of habit and other out of curiosity.

The ground is not that far away, a survivable jump at least. And if the railing would hold me up I definitely would be able to scale up onto the roof.

I’m mid-inspection when I hear another door open nearby, and my head whips to find the source of the noise.

I drop into a crouch keeping my eyes searching through the gaps in the wooden railing. My eyes fall on a room just across the small courtyard from me.

I spot the tall figure leaning against their own balcony and I realise with a sink of my heart that it was the Prince.

Why his quarters were so close to mine I could only guess. To keep tabs on me?

I stay deathly still as I watch his figure, it’s facing the direction of me, and from his angle he could probably only see the warm lamps and the light streaming out of the bathroom door.

A shake of his head, a spin of his heel and he’s returned into the confines of his own quarters.

I take a breath and am careful to keep my self low as I slip back into my room. Standing to my full height once inside and away from the window.

It is now that I need to fully accept he is going to be a terror to deal with.

I flick the bathroom and bedside lights off, and slide under the covers of the bed.

Head plagued with thoughts, I can’t help but wonder how the fuck I’ve gotten myself into this.

And how exactly it’s all going to pan out.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you again for reading this. your support means the world to me. stay tuned for future parts, and feel free to reply or send me an ask saying you want to be added to my taglist if you do, since I’ve had a few people ask to be on them!

asks & requests, here.

taglist:

@straightontilmornin @hs-tpwkrry

[muserryy]

masterlist

Harry is such a baby girl. He’s that little girl I want to take care of. I want to run a warm bath full of bubbles, wash his silly brown curls and massage his scalp so he relaxes. i want to rub baby lotion on his soft skin, especially on his face and tuck him in his pink night pjs. I want to make his bed with a colourful set of sheets and lots of fluffy pillows. I want to bake delicious cupcakes for him and feed him with frosting of chocolate, strawberries, bananas, and blueberries. And while he eats those cupcakes, I want to click little colourful hairpins in his hair. I want to pepper kisses all over his pretty face and make him giggle until he can't take anymore and asks me to stop. I want to wrap him in a cozy blanket and cuddle him while reading him bedtime stories. At last I want to give him a forehead kiss and admire him while he sleeps.  ~n. (@muserryy)

[leviethinsaint]

Rp partners needed!!!

Hello my name is leviethin, or Levie for short. I am 21 and I use they/ he pronouns. I have been role playing for around eight years. I have a hard time finding partners, who have the same styles I do.

I write either first or third person, mostly whatever my partner is comfortable with. I write novella style. I’ve been known to go over the discord limit with my responses. I write mostly mlm but I can also do wlm and nblm or nblw though I’m the most experienced in the hood old gay stuff.

I don’t have many limits aside from bathroom play, pedo and anything to do with animals. Pretty much everything else is on the table. Though I prefer darker plots. I can throw in fluff here and there. But I prefer not to do only fluff based plots. Some of my favorite plots are yandre, kidnapping, enemies to lovers, mafia, assassins, killer and victim, single parent. (There are darker plots but I’ll keep those for potential rp partners)

I role play various fandoms and also do oc stuff. I just recently got into both kpop and anime, so that is my main focus right now. But I also do band work like 5sos, one direction etc. I’m open to video games as well. I really like genshin impact, fnaf and final fantasy. I do movie and show based plots too like twilight, stranger things, the last of us. I’ll pretty much write anything as long as you give me time to research!!

I write as both dom and sun characters, I usually prefer to switch. If doing doubles though I can play whatever role you’d like, as long as you’d do the same with mine. I am perfectly okay with smut. Though I will only write with 18+ people, seeing as I’m 21 and that would just be gross. I am kink friendly and don’t mind if a plot is mostly sexual. Though I prefer all plots to have a little smut, makes the writing better in my opinion.

I love fully Immersing myself in the rp. So I will make playlists and Pinterest boards. I would also really like to also be friends outside of the rp too!! If any of this sounds interesting please feel free to message me. I can give you my discord link there or like this and I will message you. I hope to hear from you soon, so we can get to work making some beautiful writing!!!

[my-strange-addiction-isu]

Miss my claws 😈

[unabashegirl]

Lycan 2 (HS)

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is forced to return to the town where she was born for extraordinary reasons. Her father is extremely sick and on the verge of passing away. Alsfield has changed and is far from what she remembers and even though she lived in town until her high school graduation she barely recognizes it. The town hides a big secret from a few individuals that live in it including Y/N. The man who maintains the town's secret and protects it is no other than Harry Styles. Things take a sudden twist when they meet. Numerous things will impede Y/N from returning to San Francisco to her somewhat ordinary life, will she be able to abandon the town that she had successfully escaped the first time? What is the big secret that the townspeople are hiding, and what is Y/N's role in it? Who is Harry? Where does he come from? Had she met him before? And what does he want from her?

Author's note: I know that I've kept you all waiting for the next chapter of Lycan, but I wanted to get ahead and post a few more chapters on my Patreon. Anyway without further do, here you go! I hope you enjoy.

— all chapters of lycan —

Word count: 1.2K

The last time that Y/N had been in her house had been the day after her graduation. She had just recently turned eighteen. Her father hadn’t even gone to her graduation. She had gone on her own and when her name had been called, no one had cheered for her.

The situation was very eerie for her, which was why she wanted to run as soon as she crossed the front door.  Nothing had changed, everything was still in the same place. Her mother’s paintings were still hung on the walls and even though the house was covered in dust, everything looked organized. She was surprised not to find bottles all over the house. It only meant that someone had cleaned the house before he was admitted to the hospital.

The power was off and so was the water. So, she went upstairs to check the state of her old bedroom.

“Great” she mumbled, as she saw that her room had become a storage room. Her bed was covered with clothes. She couldn’t even walk past the door without bumping into some type of furniture.

Y/N couldn’t stay at the house and not because the bedroom was disorganized but because there was no power or water. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t take one of the cars. She loaded her bags into the trunk of her old car and started her drive back into the town.

“Finally! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you ever since you left!” Evelyn said as soon as she placed her phone on speaker. “I was freaking out!” Evelyn worked with Y/N, and they met at the office. She had quickly become her best friend in the last few years.

“Sorry. Everything has just been very hectic” She exhaled loudly as she carefully drove down the streets.

“I’m guessing you already visited him?” Evelyn had been caught up with all the details of Robert’s and Y/N’s relationship. She knew everything that Y/N had endured. Since Y/N had told her, Evelyn held lots of respect towards her.

“No. I’ll do that first thing tomorrow. It’s all so weird. It’s like time had stopped. Nothing has really changed” Y/N explained, “The only thing that has changed is the mayor. At least that’s what Niall told me” She shrugged thinking aloud.

“Niall? Who is this man?”

“I met him on the bus. He lives here and told me that there is a new mayor in charge of the town.”

“Was he cute? Did you get his phone number?” Evelyn asked as she walked through the grocery store, getting a few things for a recipe that she had seen online.

“What is this obsession with getting me a boyfriend?” Y/N laughed as she drove past her high school.

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that you are almost twenty-six, and you’ve never had a boyfriend?” Evelyn laughed, “Sorry to break it to you babe, but that is just very odd”.

“What can I say? No one has caught my eye before! Plus, it’s only unusual for you because you’ve always had a boyfriend since you were like ten”.

“Thirteen, bitch” Evelyn corrected her, noticing that the man beside her trying to figure out which cereal to take home was watching her.

“Alright. I’m a believer that whenever the time is right, I will get a boyfriend” She explained, “Anyway, I got to go. I’m pulling into a hotel to get a room for the night. I’ll text you if anything happens”.

“Fine. Love you” Evelyn called out as they hung up.

Y/N pulled into the well-lit inn. It was the most decent hotel.

“Welcome! How can I help you?” The receptionist asked her with a big smile.

“Hi, do you have a room available for the next week?” Y/N asked as she looked around the lobby. She used to dream of staying in the hotel ever since she was little. Unfortunately, even if her parents had wanted it was too expensive for them to afford.

“We do! Is one king bed all right for you?”

“That would be perfect thank you” Y/N nodded as she looked through her purse for her wallet.

“May I have a credit card and some ID?” She asked, just as Y/N pulled them out. “Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N?” The woman asked after looking through her credentials. “It’s me, Ava! We used to sit together in AP bio?”

“Right! Ava Harrison!” She had changed quite a lot which was why Y/N hadn’t been able to recognize her. For starters, she was now a short-haired redhead as opposed to her long brunette head of hair in high school.

Ava reached out and hugged her over the counter.

“How’ve you been?” Ava asked, genuinely curious about her life, “Last time I heard from you was after graduation. People were saying that you had run away”.

“I’ve been good!” Y/N giggled, trying her best not to look uncomfortable even though she left like it. She hated speaking about that era of her life. “It’s not that far from the truth. I went to college in California. I am currently living in San Francisco”.

“Oh wow! You accomplished all your dreams. Not like the rest of us,” she made a face just before swapping her credit card. “What are you doing here?”.

“How is your family?” Y/N asked wanting to change the subject.

“They are good. They are still living in the old house. You are welcome to pass by” Ava smiled, “Alright your room is on the fourth floor, and it's room 102. Breakfast is at eight. Here is your key, and please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.” Ava was still curious about her sudden arrival, but to her, it seemed like just a casual visit. So, she abstained from inquiring further.

“Thank you, Ava. Say hello to your parents for me.” Before she could take the elevator up to her room, she needed to retrieve her bags from the trunk.

Y/N closed her trench coat and tighten it as much as possible as a gust of chilly wind hit her as she walked out. There was no one else in the parking lot or driving down the street which made her walk faster towards the car. She cursed at herself for parking so far from the main entrance.

Y/N couldn’t shake off the feeling that someone was watching as she attempted to open the trunk of her car and get her bags out.  Suddenly, the sound of something in the woods startled her. The sound made her skin crawl and for a second, she considered leaving her things in the trunk and getting them in the morning. Terrified, she turned to look at the source of the shuffling which came from the woods across the parking lot. She leaned forward and squinted her eyes in an attempt to get a clear view of what was making so much noise.

Two glowing eyes stared back at her from the depths of the dark woods. She took a step back, trying to get some distance from what was staring at her and that’s when she felt something grab her.

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[cidnero]

please vote nero #nerosweep he was the second smartest in his grade when he was 12 and it ruined his life. he broadcasts his divorce live on air.

EDIT: NERO WARRIORS WE ARE THRU TO THE FINALS. CLICK HERE TO VOTE FOR HIM VS HARRY DU BOIS