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seireiteihellbutterfly · 4 months

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Secure in your Lap

ft Nanami Kento

a/n: I can't believe I finally wrote thisI So this was inspired by this ask from @sitarawrites. It was supposed to be a cute fluffy fic, but somehow devolved into this angsty piece, so idk. Although I wrote this fic with a desi/asian reader in mind, I think anyone with a difficult relationship with their parents can relate to this, and I hope it comes across that way.

Rating: 13+, nothing explicit or sexual

Warnings: difficult family dynamics, mentions of familial trauma, guilt, manipulation

Pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

Summary: A phone call from reader's mother results in her remembering all the reasons she's grateful for her now fiance.

Word Count: 2343

Nanami masterlist

It’s never a good day when your mother calls. Sometimes you wonder why you put up with it and allow her to test your boundaries, despite setting a schedule that you would not be calling her except for Tuesday and Friday nights.

Even the hour spent on those nights are tedious at best. They never make you feel better; it's all for her. It makes her feel better. And despite the fact that you have graciously made this time for her, she never seems to appreciate it. In fact, most of these conversations are one-sided. You’ll have your headphones in, while she chatters away, as you try to focus on other tasks, like folding laundry, or tidying up the general clutter that always accumulates in the living room, throwing in the occasional ‘uhm hm’ every few minutes so that she knows you’re still on the line.

You’ve learned to tune out most of the conversation because very little of it is ever relevant to you. Unless you hear a few key words such as ‘dad’ or ‘finances’ or ‘house’ you don’t really pay attention to the conversation at all. Because you know how most of these conversations go. They start with her talking about her day, complaining about her job. Then she complains about your dad, despite knowing you’ve heard it all before. Then it devolves into blaming other people for circumstances she’s in right now based on events that happened long ago.

When all of these topics are exhausted, she gets to her juiciest arsenal; you. Oh, the things she has to say about you, about how you were such a wonderful child, sweet and obedient and how you suddenly became this rough woman who she doesn’t know how to talk to anymore. Or how you’ve stopped visiting of late, that you’re never home for the holidays, and that she blames your boyfriend for this. Then it’s criticism of your life choices, starting with how you moved in with your boyfriend while unmarried, the fact that he’s not from the same ethnic background as you, or the fact that she blames your ‘attitude’ on him because he defends you from her each time.

Today it was about how you could do so much better than him, and you finally snap.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence, then with uncontained glee, she says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Well relationships sometimes don’t work out, it’s ok-”

“Because he asked me to marry him.” You finish bluntly, cutting her off. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore because he’s my fiance.” You wait for the bomb to drop.

“Oh.” Your mother’s voice sounds tight, like it’s been stretched taut between pins on a tacking board. “And when did this happen?”

“He proposed last Sunday.”

“And I’m finding out just now. You really must hate me…”

“Don’t do that,” You warn, keeping your voice deadly calm. You knew if you raised it or gave any signs that her words had affected you, it would give her a rush of satisfaction. “Either you’re happy for us or you’re not. Now which is it?”

“Well, it hardly matters now does it? Although I supposed I should be grateful you’re marrying him after all this time. There’s nasty gossip back in our community…so at least you’ve spared me from the embarrassing idea that you wouldn’t marry a man you’ve been living with like an unprincipled woman.”

“How lovely,” you said through gritted teeth. “Be sure to tell the community I have zero fucks to give them as well.”

“Language…I raised such a proper girl, when did you start saying filth like this?”

“I have to go mom. Your behavior will determine if you’re invited to the wedding or not.”

“You are the type to exclude your mother from your own wedding.I’ve known that for years. So it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Anyway, talk to you later…Friday night now?”

She disconnects the call and you sit there in disbelief, heart racing. Every time you stand up for yourself, you know it should feel like a victory but somehow, she manages to even steal that from you. You sigh and rest your head against the back of the car seat.

You had just driven home after a long day’s work and decided that it would be easier to talk to your mom in the car and finish it off since you didn’t want to detract from the peace you feel at home. You feel tears prick the back of your eyes and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself.

Why did you let her in on your life? There’s a strange sense of loyalty to her despite her abuse of you. Because despite everything, there are certain things she did which she wouldn’t have done if she hadn’t loved you. Putting you through your degrees, both bachelor’s and master’s. Letting you live at your parent’s house for free when you were in between jobs. Letting you borrow their car to get to job interviews. There’s signs of love there but why did it have to come attached with this emotionally manipulative price tag?

You let yourself cry for a short while, then hold up your left hand to admire the engagement ring your now fiance had picked out. A watery smile breaks out over your face as you look at it. You feel vain when you allow yourself to do this, but you can’t help it. You weren’t really looking at it for it’s monetary value, but more so for what it symbolized; the peace and balance he brought to your life, the maturity your own parents lacked while raising you, and the security that it didn’t matter if you made a bad choice, he’d never make you feel worse about it.

Wiping away your tears, you turn off the car and quickly look at yourself in the mirror. Thankfully your makeup hadn’t smudged much and you could chalk up the tiredness in your eyes as lack of sleep. You take a deep breath before getting out and entering your home. Your fiance was unloading takeout containers from a bag as you entered. He looks up and smiles warmly at you.

“Thought I heard you in the driveway,” he says as he comes over to embrace you, his arms enveloping you with affection. Nanami presses a kiss to your forehead then pulls you in closer, tucking your head under his chin.

You let yourself rest against the warmth of his broad chest, the comfortingly familiar feel of his body relief to the turmoil inside your chest. Resting your cheek on his chest, you close your eyes and breathe in deeply.

“Y/n? Are you all right?”

Nanami always notices. There’s never a single moment when he’s out of touch with your feelings. He’s learned all the lines in your face, the way your different facial muscles contract or relax depending on how you're feeling. He notices the tension in your shoulders, the slight drop in energy in your step as you walk through the door. Nanami always notices.

You slowly shake your head no. The flurry of feelings inside you, the hurt, the disappointment, the inability to cut off your mom for good, the overwhelming feeling of being inadequate, a disappointment, churn inside you to the point that you feel like you may never come out of this cyclone feeling like a winner. It’s so complex that you’re not even sure where to begin or how to put it into words. Your thoughts and feelings tangle like a ball of string, knotting into a mess of strands that are impossible to separate.

“Kento.”

“Yes my love?” His hands run soothingly over your back.

“I need your lap.”

That was all you could say at the moment. The complexity of everything was too much to bear. Over the years his lap has become a safe space for you. A quiet, designated spot where you could feel everything you wanted to, without any judgment.

Nanami nodded wordlessly, gently taking your hand and leading you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap. Your feet wrap around his lower back, wedged between the sofa cushions and his body while your head rests on his chest, listening to his breathing and you try to match yours to his, a calming technique you’ve learned over the years.

His large hands play with your hair, stroking it, cupping the back of your head and gently pressing kisses to your forehead. He’s learned over the years that lap sessions meant you were in a state of distress and that it wasn’t his place to force you to talk. You would talk when you’re ready, if at all.

“Mom?” he asks softly, his voice fluttering through the top of your hair. You merely nod, the thought of explaining it too difficult to even form words. A deep hum of understanding echoes from his chest and you close your eyes at the comforting sound.

Everything about him screamed security. You remember one time breaking a cup while making your morning coffee, the distinct crack of shattering porcelain filling the kitchen. You had flinched, waiting for the tirade of blame and accusations of clumsiness to come at you, only to see Nanami rushing over to you, concern etched all over his face.

“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut?” His words had brought you to tears, that his primary thought had been you and your safety, instead of a very replaceable coffee cup. No one yelling at you for making a mess in the kitchen, or muttering under their breath that you had wasted a usable mug. Nanami had, in a befuddled state, watched as you came to his side, wrapping your arms around him. It wasn’t until 2 weeks after the incident had happened that you had told him what that moment meant to you.

And now here you were, again, allowing your mom to rob you of the happiness you had worked so hard to build. You're amazed at the patience Nanami has with you, at the way he always reassures you, never letting you forget your worth. That you're more than just your parents’ child. That you are a whole human being on your own, that has the right to live your life without their interference.

“I don't think I want my parents at our wedding.” The words fall out of your mouth. There's lingering guilt but deep down, you knew it was for the best.

Nanami adjusts himself on the couch and leans back against the cushions. Most of the time, he leaves handling your parents up to you, despite how much it bothers him that they ruin your mood every time. But there's understanding in his eyes.

“Not even your dad? I thought you wanted him to give you away.”

“My dad’s an enabler. He'll never come if I don't invite my mom. Besides,” you inhale deeply and continue, “The only person worthy of giving me away is myself.” You gaze into his warm brown eyes, feeling proud that you had come this far. This would be your achievement today. That you were able to say these words and believe them.

“That’s so very true sweetheart.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Look at you, remembering your affirmations.”

Although it’s not much, you still feel yourself glowing at his praise. Growth on your end. “Besides, if they got involved, they’d hijack all the planning, blow it up into a grand ceremony even though that’s not what we want. It’s just easier without them.”

“Anything you want.” He brushes his lips against your hair.

“No, not anything I want. It’s your wedding too. I’d be ok if you wanted a ceremony. I imagine there’s lots of people you’d want to invite. I just won’t be inviting anyone from my side. Except for my best friend.”

He grasps your chin between his fingers and with sincerity asks you, “How did you imagine it?”

You consider this for a second. Previously, you had imagined the typical traditional wedding that people of your background were expected to have. But the image has been fading lately, and now, unburdened from your parents’ expectations, your mind immediately creates a picture.

“I want to do it at the beach. Just…no expectations, no one grumbling about how we skimped on decorations or other unnecessary things like flowers. I want…to walk down towards you on the sand, barefoot. Feel the ocean breeze on my face. There’s a small group of guests. Very minimalistic.”

He looks like he’s considering it for a moment but his expression doesn’t show signs of objection. “We could do that. Small wedding, intimate ceremony.”

“Really?” You look at him with love in your eyes.

“Really. I think all the people I want to invite would easily fit into this setting.”

You lean forward and wrap your arms around him tightly. There were simply no words to express how grateful you are for him, for his presence in your life. That you could actually be a family, just the two of you. You lean back to take in all of him, just sitting serenely on the couch, in this shared space the both of you called home now.

“Thank you, Kento.” You say quietly. You know it’s unnecessary, that his love is so very unconditional, no emotional price tags attached. “I know I’m not the easiest to love sometimes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He draws you tightly to his chest. “It’s so easy to love you. Because every small thing you do is filled with love and consideration. Thoughtfulness. Emotion. And that’s enough. You don’t have to be more than that.”

Your heart swells as you hear his words, the only person to ever really understand just how much you needed to know those things.

“I’m enough.” You whisper softly, still on his lap, resting comfortably in his embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing.

I’m enough…

all banners and dividers by @cafekitsune

#nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento fluff #desi reader #nanami kento x desi reader #desi writers #desi women #nanami kento x indian reader #desi tag #nanami kento x you

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bobateababe · 2 months

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✿.｡.:* ☆:**:. going to a relatives wedding south asian ver. - w/Sukuna .:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

pairing: Sukuna x desi reader

Sukuna hasn't been to a lot of weddings, so the amount of confusion on his face is almost laughable when he sees how excited you are for your cousin's wedding.

However, he adores the way your eyes light up and how excited you get when you explain to him that desi weddings are filled with dancing and food and lots of people!

Sukuna's eyes go full blown with astonishment as you stride out of your room, wearing a red lehenga adorned with a garland in your hair and beautiful gold bangles clinking at your wrists. He can't help but lean back and stare at you, a faint smirk playing on his face as you brush by him; rushing to get your sandals.

He grabs you by the waist, holding you firmly as you walk past him. He whispers in your ear "Look at you, my darling girl..dressed like the Queen she is." His arms trail down to your wrists and he grasps them "You look as if you were made to sit on a throne" he purrs, slowly lowering yourself on his lap.

"-S-sukh" you managed to choke out your affectionate nickname for him. "I-i need my shoes.."

"Sweet girl" he murmurs. He grabs your face from behind, squeezing your cheeks and making your lips pucker. "The princess needs her shoes does she?" "Actually" you answer him, smirking slightly while looking deep into his eyes. "The Queen demands that her King put her shoes on for her." He laughs loudly, finding your demands amusing, adorable almost. Notheless, he obeys; kissing your henna covered hand and looking up at you. "Very well my queen"

The two of you arrive at your cousin's wedding, around the time of the reception. Sukuna decided to wear a red kurta as he said, "It would only be right to match with my queen." making you scoff yet blush at his act. Dark kajal surrounds his eyes complementing his magnificent dark red irises.

The reception lasts late into the night. Sukuna tastes Indian food for the first time, which he actually loves! He loves the spicy taste, not a single boring feeling on his tongue.

You force Sukuna to try gulab jamun. Begging and tugging at his sleeve. "Please 'kuna! Please it's so yummy!" you look up at him, batting your eyes, and looking at him with desperation; trying every trick in the book to make your boyfriend try the sticky sweet.

You bring the spoon to his lips, the sticky residue slightly coating his lips. He brings his mouth over the spoon, not breaking eye contact with you as he licks the sticky honey from his lips. "It tastes just like you" he breathed.

You smacked his shoulder for saying that, as a group of aunties were sitting right behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment finally comes, when they finally announce that it's the time to dance! You whoop and cheer along with the others as hoards of your cousins, uncles and aunties all rush to the dance floor.

You drag Sukuna to the floor with you. Laughing and giggling as your favorite song starts to play. "Dance with me!" you shout over the noise. "aao naachen!"

It gets messy real fast. Your shoes are kicked off in some random area, your dupata slid off your neck a while ago and pooled to the floor. You can feel Sukuna's firm hands on your hips as you move them up and down. His eyes watch intently as you spin around him, your red lehenga flowing just grazing your ankles, as your feet move in perfect coordination with your body.

To Sukuna, you looked just like a flower in the wind. Delicate, yet fierce and swaying with the wind. He turned his body to watch you spin, watching the pure bliss on your face and the excitement that came with it.

He grabbed you hand suddenly, disrupting your spin and causing you to be thrown into his chest as he caught you by the small of your back. "You really are a Queen my sweet girl." he whispered. His arms snake around your waist and pull you closer.

"Hmm am I now?" you smirked and slowly started to sway with him. "mm, not only that but a little minx too" he muttered, kissing your neck making you shiver in response. "You love it though." you retort, circling your arms around his shoulders playing with the back of his hair. He throws his head back, chuckling lightly. "You know I do."

sry ya'll I know that was really long but honestly I was debating if I should write a story or do more head cannons. (I'll probably do a poll abt it). constructive criticism is always welcome in the comments, i love to hear about ways to improve my writing!

>3333

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk ryomen #ryomen sukuna #indian reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #south asian #indian #desi tumblr #more south asian rep. pls!

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keep-calm-and-drink-caf · 7 months

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“He was a Punk, She did Ballet Bharatanatyam”

A Hobie oneshot

The idea for this oneshot was based almost completely off of @hobiebrownismygod ‘s post here! <3

Pairing: Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x Indian!Reader who does Bharatanatyam

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Uses of Y/N, reader pushes herself past her limits a little bit?, reader’s just a teensy bit rude to Hobie at first, my ✨interesting✨ attempts at writing Hobie’s accent and slang

A/N: I wrote the reader to be Gayatri’s cousin because I thought it might be interesting to look through the perspective of someone who knows Pavitr from Gayatri’s side! And partly because I used to be in a similar situation - my younger cousin would always randomly call me and spill all the tea of whatever had happened in school :) (she still does haha. mwah i love you my little butterfly xx 🫶)

Originally intended for it to be romantic but it I think it could also be interpreted as platonic!

(he’s so gorgeous akdjsbcjdbcjcnd i love him sm <333)

——————

It was late.

Late enough that you should’ve been packing up and heading home, not inside an empty dance studio practising your steps till your feet ached and your legs felt like they were liquefying slowly.

You were trying to perfect the fast-paced jumps and footwork, pushing yourself ruthlessly despite being on the brink of exhaustion, and now your heels hurt from the force with which you were slamming them into the ground. The ghungroo bells that were strapped around your ankles jingled almost tauntingly as you kept going off-beat.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you sat down on one of the benches placed on the side, sliding your ghungroo bells off your ankles and stuffing them into the side pocket of your bag. You were about to gather the strength to get up and go home when you heard the door swinging open and your gaze darted toward the sudden creak.

“Oh, hey Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Pavitr stood in the doorway, looking completely soaked to the bone and struggling to open an umbrella.

Gayatri was your slightly younger cousin, so naturally you knew Pavitr quite well since she would call you and gush about every little thing he did that she found absolutely adorable. Initially you had been frosty and skeptical towards him and he found you downright terrifying, but over time he had managed to charm you with his sunshiny personality and deep affection and respect for Gayatri.

“Hi, Pav. I was trying to practise my bharatanatyam but I think I should call it a day,” You responded, stretching your sore legs out and squinting through the glass panels of the door. “Is it raining?”

“Yep, we got caught in it while-” He cut himself off with a yelp as the umbrella opened suddenly in his face and he instinctively moved it behind his shoulder. You heard a soft ‘mmph’ come from someone right behind him who he had accidentally hit with the sharp spikes of the opened umbrella edge.

You tilted your head to look behind Pav as the person who had been hit stepped forward into the light, his hands out to prevent any further attacks from the umbrella. He flashed a charming smile at you, the studio’s warm light glinting off his piercings.

There was something slightly… odd about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It wasn’t his large wicks that were, somehow, completely dry though he had clearly been with Pavitr in the rain, some drops still sliding off of his spiked vest. It wasn’t the small, silver-spiked red fabric sticking out of his pocket either that he tucked out of sight the moment he saw your eyes drift toward it.

His outline - if you could even call it that - appeared to be in constant motion, seemingly shifting and changing colours every few minutes. You blinked a few times, simply chalking it up to your tired brain playing tricks on you.

“Oi, watch where you’re pointin’ that thing, mate. Y’might jus’ take someone’s eye out.”

You raised your eyebrows as you heard the sharp cockney British accent.

“Yeh aadhmi British hai. Vah yahaan Mumbattan mein kya kar raha hai?” (This man is British. What’s he doing here in Mumbattan?) You asked in Hindi. You realised, the moment the words left your mouth in your mother-tongue, that you were being quite rude by talking in a language he probably didn’t know. His eyes darted toward you, studying you intently as if trying to understand what you were saying.

“Vah itna bura nahin hai, mujh par bharosa karte hain. Aur vah sirph… yaatra kar rahe hain.” (He’s not that bad, trust me. And he’s just… visiting.) Pavitr gave a sheepish chuckle, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through his rain-soaked hair. [I know that yaatra technically means travelling, but I can’t remember the Hindi word for ‘visit’ so if anyone could tell me how to say visiting instead I’d be very grateful!]

“‘Ello to you too,” He laughed it off, the smooth, rich sound filling the air. “My name’s ‘Obie. ‘Obie Brown. Nice to meet you.”

You assumed he was saying Hobie and gave him small smile, getting up to go over to them and shake his hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Hobie.”

Pavitr leaned forward to whisper quietly to you, his tone lightly teasing. “Hamne aapko kaanch ke darvaaze ke maadhyam se naachte hue dekha. Vah ghoorana bandh nahin kar saka.” (We saw you dancing through the glass door. He couldn’t stop staring.)

You felt your cheeks heat up slightly at his words and you scoffed, suppressing a smile tugging at your mouth. “Aur vah bilkul bhee daraavna nahin hai.” (And that’s not creepy at all.)

“Well, I was just about to head out,” You would’ve liked to properly get to know Hobie, but your vision was starting to swim in front of your eyes and his subtle flickering didn’t help.

“Careful. There’s a ‘ell of a lot o’ pleasure and pain out there.”

You blinked in surprise and glanced at Pavitr for an explanation, trying to understand what Hobie had just said but also not wanting to come off as rude.

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Pavitr translated, snickering slightly at your confusion before your unamused eyebrow-raise shut him up.

“I have an umbrella. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Besides, it’s just rain.” You took out your umbrella, looking through the glass into the rain. It was pouring quite heavily, but you’d just have to manage.

Pavitr got a gleam in his eye that told you he was plotting something. You narrowed your eyes with suspicion. “What are you thinking?”

“Ah, nothing, but we were headed that way anyway, for that padoka stall a little further on. We can come with you!” Pavitr gave you a grin and held his umbrella out in front of him, pretending to examine it critically. “The only problem is… my umbrella can only cover one person.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you realised what he was playing at. “Pav. Ab matchmake ka samay nahin hai,” (Now is not the time to matchmake) You hissed under your breath, giving him a death glare.

Pavitr simply ducked his head, giving you and Hobie a little wave as he moved to stand outside in the rain, the umbrella spread over his head. “Well, are you two coming or not?”

Hobie chuckled softly, turning to you. “Let’s go? I can walk in the rain if you want, I really don’t mind getting wet.”

“No, no, you can stay with me. Sorry if I was rude earlier.” You opened the umbrella more skilfully than Pavitr had done, angling it so it could shelter both of you as you stepped outside into the rain and followed Pavitr.

“Nah, you’re good. It’s nice ‘earin’ you and Pav talk Hindi, actually. How long ‘ave you been doin’… what’s it called?”

“Bharatanatyam.” You giggled softly at how Hobie’s eyebrows lifted at the word, his piercings sailing up along with them. “Quite a while. It’s almost like an Indian ballet, if ballet was more about fast-paced movement and quicker beats rather than grace and controlled technique.”

“S’different from what I’ve seen. More chaotic, but beautiful. Do y’always wear those jingly things around your ankles?”

“Ghungroo bells? Yeah, they just serve as something to accentuate the rhythm that we tap out with our feet so that the audience - and the dancers themselves - can hear it better.”

Hobie’s eyes - were they always that shiny…? - were on you as you talked, slightly wide as he took in what you were saying with the utmost attention. “Hey, lovebirds! The rain stopped, in case you didn’t notice. Y/N, you’re here.” Pavitr’s teasing voice cut through your thoughts, which were albeit a little foggy the moment you saw how pretty Hobie’s eyes were.

You put the umbrella down and, sure enough, the rain had almost entirely stopped, reduced to tiny droplets that drizzled pinpricks of water on the pavement. Well, that was Mumbattan weather for you. Pouring one second and sunshiny the next.

“I’m never making gajar ka halwa for you ever again if you don’t stop talking,” You warned as you heard Hobie chuckle slightly awkwardly at the nickname Pav had given you both.

“Nononono please— I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that!”

You rolled your eyes and closed the umbrella, glaring at him.

“Fine, fine, just stop giving me that look. You’ll get your gajar ka halwa.” You softened your expression into a smile as you turned to look at the man you had just met. “Bye, Hobie. It was really lovely meeting you. I’ll see you around?”

Hobie smiled at you, dipping his head in a nod of farewell. “Yep. See y’around.”

You keyed open the door to your house, closing it behind you only to be greeted by Gayatri lying sprawled on the couch. You were used to her visiting unannounced, and your mother absolutely adored her, so you’d often come home to see her waiting for you, with new stories - whether they were scandalous gossip from the modelling agency, a few texts or actions from Pavitr that had made her lose her mind with how adorable he was being, or just random shower-thoughts she’d have (not to be confused with the ‘deep philosophical ponderings’ she had at 3am in the morning that she felt the urgent need to share with you straight away)

You could smell the sharp tang of spices wafting out from under the closed kitchen door as your mother cooked.

“Pav told me everything,” Gayatri giggled before you even had a chance to properly say hi to her. You groaned and flopped down on the couch next to her, moving her legs to rest over your lap so she didn’t take up all the space. “Brilliant. What did he say?”

Gayatri smirked up at you. “You met his friend Hobie? The one who’s visiting?”

You considered reaching for the cushion a few inches away on the floor, wondering if you could take it and throw it at her before she could bat it away. “Yeah, I did.”

Gayatri made her eyebrows jump up and down teasingly. “Do you think he’s cute?”

“Gayatri—”

“Oh, come on! This is totally like a rom-com. He was a punk, she did ballet — but make it Indian!” She mimed clicking a camera, now fully laughing, her eyes scrunched up mischievously. “Wow, and the guy’s British too. Who’d have thought? I think he’s here for a few more days, in case you want me to ask Pav to set up a date—”

You reached for the cushion, snatching it up and holding the fluffy patterned corner as threateningly as you could.

“Chhoti behen?” (Little sister)

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you.”

“Yep.”

“But stop talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

——————

Gajar ka halwa is a carrot-based sweet dessert pudding made by placing grated carrots in a pot containing a specific amount of water, milk and sugar, cardamom and then cooking while stirring regularly.

A pakoda/pakora is a fritter originating from the Indian subcontinent. They are sold by street vendors and served in restaurants in South Asia. It consists of items, often vegetables such as potatoes and onions, coated in seasoned gram flour batter and deep fried.

‘Pleasure and pain’ is Cockney rhyming slang for rain. (At least I’m pretty sure it is because I saw another website saying it’s ‘ache and pain’ so I’m not really sure which one it is)

Ghungroo bells are anklets that consist of small metallic bells (going from 50 to more than 200 bells depending on factors like the expertise of the dancer and the desired amplitude of the bells) knotted together. Ghungroo bells are used in many Indian classical dances such as Bharatanatyam, Kuchipudi, Lavani, Odissi, Mohiniyattam, and Kathak.

I don’t do Bharatanatyam, so some of this might be wrong. Please lmk if anything is incorrect! <3

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stuckinmoilalaland · 1 month

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Gojo x Hindu!Wife!Reader Arranged Marriage

Note: Cold Gojo.

You, a 25 year old Hindu woman, and Satoru were in an arranged marriage since 2 years. He's always cheerful, except when you're around of course. It's clear to everyone that you're not welcome into his life at all. This is why you aren't accepted into Satoru's friend group. Although, the students love you like you're their mother. They're always used to seeing your smile, which is fake of course. You are a very good teacher at Jujutsu high, and our curse technique is being able to bend the laws of physics. You were heading back from your missions at 11:00 PM, like normal, but something was different. You were hit by the cursed technique of the curse you exorcised. You somehow got into the house, but you were bleeding a lot. Satoru was sitting on the couch and chilling, he turned his attention to you, as his eyes widened, he rushed towards you and scooped you up in bridal style. Without a word, he took you to his bedroom and took out the first aid kit. He treated your wounds, and then let you rest in his bed because you fainted. 2 hours later, you finally wake up. Satoru is sitting at the edge of the bed with his head down low, you can hear him sniffling and sobbing...

You: Satoru?

You say as you sit up on bed. Satoru rushes to you, revealing his teary face. He jumps onto the bed and then hugs you tight. You blink for a moment with your eyes widened, but you calm down and hug Satoru back while smiling. Satoru cries onto your breast and hugs you tighter, while you caress his head. It looks like almost losing you taught him your importance...

You: Shhhhhh... It's okay........

You say while comforting Satoru and caressing his head. Satoru says in his breaking voice...

Satoru: Y-y/n..... I'm so s-sorry-y...... I-i should have l-loved yo-ou m-more and understood-d your-r importance-e.... I-i-

Before he can speak more, he bursts out into tears again. After a few hours, he finally calms down. Right now, he is hugging you with his face buried into your breast. You kiss his soft head and say...

You: Now now, stop crying my sukh(Note for reader: Sukh means happiness).

Satoru: W-wh-hat does Sukh mean?

You smile and reply...

You: Happiness in Sanskrit.

Satoru hugs you even tighter and says...

Satoru: E-even after I never l-loved you or c-cared for you, you still call me your h-happiness, why-y?

You: It's because of my dharma. Think of dharma as the code of conduct in Hinduism. Just because somebody considers me their enemy, doesn't mean I do the same thing. If someone does something wrong, I shouldn't repeat that same thing because it's wrong.

Satoru: I'm sorry....... I don't deserve you to be my wife. You're way too good for me.......

You peck him on the forehead and say...

You: I love you Satoru, and don't worry, everyone deserves a second chance. Also, you've proved that you deserve a second chance because you took care of me, forgetting all your hate the moment I needed you. I appreciate it.

**Should I continue this?**

#gojo x fem!reader arranged marriage #Hindu!Reader #arranged marriage #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo #Indian Reader #Desi Reader

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https-siren · 2 months

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Coconut Oil, and Faded Roots

As someone who is Indian, I tend to occasionally use oil in my hair as a way to strengthen any damaged areas.

Cw: Gender Neutral reader/overall just fluff/no quirks mentioned for the reader/ established relationship (?)/ aged up characters (3rd years)/ reader is hinted at being Indian

Not proofread

I headcanon that over summer vacations Kirishima lets his roots grow out and refuses to dye them. But while he's going on his hair dye "hiatus", you realize how damaged his hair is from all the bleaching he does.

July was what people called the "hottest month" of the year. The school had let out two weeks ago, and you were ready to take the few weeks left till the mandatory training camp easy.

Cozying up in your dorm, AC blasting, music blaring through your headphones. For you were ready to take this "filler episode" like day easy. Your eyes slowly shut. Things were so peaceful. Until you heard a very hesitant knock on the door of your dorm.

Slowly cracking up your door you see the figure of your once red-dyed boyfriend

"Sero and Denki won't stop bugging me about my hair", he said with a somber look plastered on his face.

"What's wrong with it?" You asked relatively confused, arms crossed, head slightly tilted from confusion.

"Since I dyed it so much, I have some damage. Speaking of damage, Momo said you helped in fixing hers with coconut oil?"

Intrigued you decide to take a closer look, upon further inspection you notice the ends of his hair that are littered with split ends. "No need to worry this is completely fixable!"

After your semi-thorough examination, you took your boyfriend's hand and led him into your dorm's bathroom. Situating yourself on the sink counter so you'd be able to reach his hair.

You then reached behind you to grab the container that held the solution to his hair dilemma. Pulling him in closer, emulsifying the oil on your hands, and slowly using your nails to massage it into his hair. His hands gently placed on your waist.

After about ten minutes of this, you close the container and flash him a toothy grin. "Now all you have to do is wait thirty minutes to an hour, wash it out, and then repeat this process biweekly and your hair should be good as new!"

A smile came over his face, "While we wait would you like to go play some Mario Kart?" He asked while helping you off the counter.

"I would love to!" You replied while taking his hand and leading him into the common room.

Reblogs, suggestions, and "asks" are appreciated!

#kirishima eijirou #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader #mha kirishima #boku no hero acedamia #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #x y/n #x you #oneshot #red riot #desi girl #desi #indian #bharat

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inzaine-norizz · 1 year

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Decided to draw Pavitr Prabhakar traditionally because Im more of a traditional artist rather than a digital one but I am practicing digital tho! But rn let's appreciate some traditional work, especially if its our boy Pavitr✨

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livesinfantasyland · 19 days

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Haldi Ceremony

The Haldi Ceremony is a pre-wedding ceremony performed a day or two before the wedding. Family members and friends playfully slather the bride and groom in a paste of turmeric, oil, and milk. In some customs, sandalwood, rose water, and gram flour are also mixed in the paste. The atmosphere is fun, lively, and filled with camaraderie. In Indian customs, turmeric's bright yellow colour is highly auspicious. The couple, who are beginning their new life together, is blessed with prosperity thanks to the good fortune of this element and its colour. For this reason, the groom and bride wear yellow attire for their wedding haldi ceremony. In addition to its ability to beautify, purify, and detoxify, haldi is also thought to lessen some of the anxiety that the bride and groom experience. Turmeric contains an antioxidant called curcumin, which has been shown to have mild antidepressant and headache-relieving properties.

Mehndi Ceremony

Sangeet Night

More Mood Boards

#henry cavill #henry cavill mood board #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x desi reader #desi! reader #desi tumblr #haldi ceremony #indian wedding series #bride and groom #Groom! Henry Cavill #Bride! Reader #indian wedding

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missbunnybunny · 11 months

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🦇" 𝕷𝖊𝖙 𝕸𝖊 𝕻𝖚𝖙 𝕸𝖞 𝕷𝖎𝖕𝖘 𝕿𝖔 𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 "🦇

Tw: 𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 , 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖙 𝕸𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑, 𝕹𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖙, 𝕾𝖔𝖓𝖔 (𝕴𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖇𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖙), 𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓, 𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌, Exhibitionism ( 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝖔𝖓 𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖓𝖔 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖔𝖔𝖒), 𝖀𝖓𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕾𝖊𝖝, 𝕸𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 Kink✅.

𝕬/𝖓: 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗, 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢🦇!

𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚘'𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚡 𝖄/𝖓 spider woman 𝟏𝟖+. 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎- 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝙿𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 Mi amor (my love), Cariño (Love), Hermosa ( beautiful) , muñeca (doll), good girl. 𝕴𝖋 𝖎 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖊!

To say you were careful would be an understatement; you were FUCKING paranoid. Miguel had come to study a spider woman from a newly found Earth. But you had no idea he was there; all you felt were eyes on the back of your head and your spidey senses all over the place. You were changing at your apartment after returning from a patrol. Miguel was watching you from outside your window, a noticeable bulge developing with each second he looked.

Finally, you removed your suit from the top of your bed while wearing your pajamas. Scratching could be heard coming from your bedroom door when you hung your suit in your closet. With a sigh, you opened your door to see your pets waiting for you. Nyx purred the moment she spotted you, while Hades' tail waggled in anticipation of being let in. You opened the door completely to let them in, and before you knew it, both your cat and dog snarled at your window. You opened your window, perplexed, to find nothing except the serene New York night sky. Closing your window and dismissing the incident as a bird or anything.

Miguel climbed the stairway before you could see him when he noticed the pets at your window and soon your following shape. When your upper body came into view, you were seeking whatever had made your companions nervous. He was captivated by your ethereal appearance, the multi-color lights giving your skin and eyes a wonderful sheen. He entered your room via the window as you were sleeping, your dog next to your bed, and your cat on a little bed on top of your bedside table.

He reached out a clawed hand and softly touched your face, removing a strand of hair. He moves his finger slowly to your slightly open mouth. He imagined how soft your lips would be over his finger, your tongue giving him love strikes softly but steadily. The mere thought of it sent shivers down his spine and a little shock up his cock. You let out a small groan as his finger was about to enter your lips. "mm…Nyx…don't do that," you mumbled. His hand slid away from you like it was on fire, and he watched as you shifted over and became more at ease. He only gazed at his fingers; he was correct, your lips were soft. How will they feel on his dic-

He shook his head, realizing that he shouldn't be thinking such things. He was only here for one reason and one reason only, let alone act on his thoughts. To determine if you were a threat that needed to be annihilated or whether you may be of use to the spider society. He returned to the window, and as quickly as he was in your room, he was gone; he didn't want you to wake up to discover him creepily staring at you with his glowing eyes.

The following day, while you were on patrol. While on top of a towering structure, you had the similar sense that you were being watched. When you turned around, you saw a towering man in a Spiderman suit staring down at you. Your immediate desire was to run, but your feet remained firmly planted on the earth. He removed his mask, revealing a gorgeous man with a strong jawline and wild curly hair. When he talked, his voice was deep and made your heart skip a beat.

" Is your Y/n correct?" he asked. You nodded, still a little affected by him. He had a watch on his wrist, began to type, and a golden doorway emerged. "My name is Miguel O'Hara from Earth-928, please join me." You stared at him before you spoke, he remarked, extending his hand to you. "Why should I trust you?" you questioned nervously. He sighed and rested his hand on his hip. " Mira, I will not harm you. "I'm taking you to the spider society, where there are many people like you." He informed you quietly that he was telling the truth. He was taking you to the spider society and would never harm you, he thought that you were stunning and needed to be protected.

You're not sure how or when he convinced you to accept his hand and lead you to the portal and into the Spider Society. When you entered this building, you were greeted with a dimly lighted chamber with dark blue and red illumination. Miguel called out, "Lyla," and a holographic lady materialized next to him. " Give me a report." He stated You zoned out while Miguel and Lyla chatted and gazed around the room. When the door opened and a group of individuals entered the room, you froze and gazed at them. When you noticed the young kid sitting in her carrier, they also stopped and stared at you. You could hear small laughter and chattering. You thought to yourself as you approached the group that the tiny person was cute.

"How might you be?" asked a young man dressed in a back and red Spider uniform. " Miles " "Don't be rude," the girl next to him murmured as she poked him with her shoulder. " How was I rude, Gwen?" While stroking his shoulder, he said. " It's impolite to point at someone." Gwen, the girl, chastised him, "Am Hobie, by the way." He reached out to shake your hand. " My name is Y/n, and it's nice to meet you. " You said. you were worried because meeting new people wasn't your strong suit. But simply by looking at them, you could tell they were kind and laid-back folks.

"I'm Pavitr, nice to meet you Y/n," the young guy approached you, and you nodded and shook his hand. You felt a weight on your shoulders, little hands on your face, and a small happy face looking down at you. You couldn't help but laugh. " And how are you doing, little one?" You asked the infant in your arms while gently tapping her on the nose, and she shrieked with delight. " Mayday, sorry about that. "I'm Peter B," he introduced himself. "No, it's all right, it's nice to meet you," you said, continuing playing with Mayday.

While all of this was going on, Miguel stood there with a heavy scowl on his face, watching the spectacle. Why were you smiling so brilliantly at everyone but him? His chest tightened as he observed the scene. What was this sensation he was having? The more he stared, the more it hurt, till they found it out when you drew closer to Hobie to get a better look at the outfit he was wearing. JEALOUSY was the culprit. He was envious of all the attention they were receiving from you, while he received none. Lyla photographed his face and labeled it # Jealous he didn't get more attention # Lame # Lmao # Ain't got no bitches.

They rapidly became your friends, and Hobie even began to teach you how to play the guitar. Gwen and Miles began swinging around New York with you, and you even invited them to your place, where they met your pets. Hades adores Mayday and Pavitr, whilst Nyx adores Hobie and will not let him go, she will bite and hiss at you. Miguel has been bringing you on patrol with him, and everything has gone swimmingly. But with every rise, there has to be a fall, and every time she goes to headquarters, someone is following her. They were following her from room to room, hall to hall at first, and suddenly it was much worse.

They began with little, discreet touches. They caressed her hair as though she had unintentionally brushed into someone only to find no one there. It felt like she was being pursued by a ghost, a particularly nasty ghost. But now they're squeezing her side while she's walking, or even hitting her ass. They seemed to be trying to get a rise out of her. They'd do it even if she was in public! She and Hobie were going down the corridor, Hobie's hands behind his head, while she showed him images of Nyx. She'd purchased a suit similar to his for Nyx, and the cat adored it.

Hobie was discussing how he should come to your place and customize the suit so that it appeared ever more stylish like his. You giggled as he grinded. You felt a strong grip on your chest all of a sudden. You virtually leaped out of your skin and spun around like a lunatic. Realizing there was no one around, Hobie came to a halt and glanced at you. He knew something was amiss the moment he saw your face; you were pale and slightly shivering, and your arms wrapped about your chest. "Are you all right? "What's the matter?" He asked. But you were absolutely paralyzed and terrified. That was the end of it; you couldn't take it any longer.

You glanced at Hobie and asked him, trembling, to take you to Miguel's office. He threw his arm over your shoulder and led you to Miguel's office, where you thanked him and stepped inside. Miguel had his back to you and was staring at many screens. others had abnormalities and others were within the building, although it appeared to be the latter. " Miguel," you said to him. He turned to view you, taking in the many expressions on your face, which was pale and on the edge of breaking down.

He sighed and walked up to you, softly caressing your face. "What's wrong, Hermosa?" "T-there is s-someone stal-stalking me," you said, on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Miguel embraced you, pressing your face to his chest as you sobbed gently. Miguel caressed your back while his head lay on top of yours. What you couldn't see was his big smile, and how much he enjoyed your vulnerability. It was your fault for not paying attention to him and his love for you, but the outcome is exactly what he desired.

He drew you away from him and kissed you passionately. He tightened his grip on you as he intensified the kiss. His tongue swiftly overtook yours, and he moved his mouth away from yours, taking a breath and licking his lips. You were gasping and trying to catch your breath as you stared up at Miguel, his eyes half-closed and burning red. His suit was incredibly tight, particularly on his bottom half, where a bulge was fast developing. His outfit dematerialized, leaving him in his boxers. He peered down at you and said in hushed tones, "Strip, and on your knees, Muñeca."

You did what he said, as if in a drunken stupor, and your suit crumbled off your body. Miguel smirked as your knees crumbled in front of his sight. "Open your mouth and stick your tongue out." He stated this while touching your lips with his finger. He tapped once, and with the second tap, your mouth opened, your tongue hanging out. He added a second finger to his slide up and down your tongue. He commanded you to "close your mouth and suck." You did as he said and began sucking on his fingers.

You swirled your tongue over his fingers, doe eyes on him. With an 'mmm', he removed his fingers from your mouth, glancing at the small string of saliva joining his digits and your tongue. You felt dizzy simply looking at Miguel, and when you heard him talk again, it was as if he was holding you on a tight leash. Miguel grabbed your jaw and innocently asked, "Won't you help with this, Cariño?" referring to the bulge in his boxers that was now generating a wet area from his excitement at having you beg under him.

You had lost all reasonable thought, and your mind had just become mush with desire, need, and Miguel. You pulled his boxers with trembling hands and saw as his dick sprung to life, completely erect and dripping little drops of transparent cream. "Well, don't just sit there and look, " he was huge and thick. Why don't you have taste, Mi Amor?" Inching your face closer and closer till you were kissing the base of his dick, he said. You put out your tongue and gave him a lengthy lick that ended with you kissing his tip. Taking him into your mouth and circling his dick with your tongue. Miguel groaned and buckled his hip.

"Ahh~ No, Y/n, don't use your hands." Show me how you like to be pleased." He stated. You followed his instructions with tears in your eyes. Your right hand squeezed your right breast and pinched your nipple. Your left hand instantly found your sex, easily locating the little bundle of nerves. You were drooling and feeling a knot form in your gut as Miguel drove into you, circling your clit with great yearning. The quicker you continued moving, the faster he pushed into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, and the knot got tighter and tighter until it eventually snapped and you came. Miguel followed with one more powerful thrust and let in out onto awaiting your tongue.

Your eyes were half-closed from crying and coming down from your high. He grabbed your limp body and carried you to his hair. He sat down on it with you in his arms, and you sat tiredly on his lap, staring at him. His second hand came to assault your already mistreated clit as his thick fingers tenderly touched your entrance, accumulating your fluids. You shuddered as if lightning had shot up your spine. "Noo…I can't, s'too much," you moan, struggling to break free from his grip. He cradled you in his arms and whispered into your ear, " Shhh… Won't you be a good girl and take it, Mi Amor? I'll give you the reward shortly."

He shoved his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out of you. He placed your clit in between his pointer and middle finger, giving it a small pressure, and made your back arch and lips drop open in a hushed moan/scream as your sinful song resonated through the room. You're not sure if it was your extremely sensitive sex or Miguel's deft manipulation of your climax. He drew his hand away from your sex, wet threads stuck to his fingertips. His lustful eyes locked onto yours as he licked each finger clean on his tongue.

They came out again as he wrapped your creamy thighs around his waist and you bucked against him frantically. You can hear him chuckle at your brattiness. "Patience~," he sang, kissing your lips lightly. He elevated your hips to the point where your sex was aligned with his dick. " Miguel… i-I won't fit," you whimpered as he forced you down onto his tip. He sank you into his dick, your cervix, and his pelvis joining as he pulled your face onto his palm and tilted it to the side to give you a deep passionate kiss. You moaned into his lips, and he swallowed them all. His hand let go of your jaw and came to a stop at your throat, wrapping his hand around it and giving it a light squeezed.

You were so full, and you could feel his dick imprint in your stomach, that it made your toes curl as all the ecstasy rushed over you. "mm, am going to fill up so much-nnn- you won't be able to think of anything but my dick." His cock twitched when your wall flapped slightly. Your moans became louder and louder, and you couldn't stop yourself from being engrossed in the sensation. A conversation could be heard getting closer to the door, as could footsteps. Miguel covered your lips with his palm to keep you silent.

"Shh~, you wouldn't want people watching you get slit on my dick-nnn- would you?" He breathed and thrust into you, your walls tightening at the notion of being observed while Miguel Fucks you stupid. The approaching footsteps came to a complete halt in front of the door, but the person's conversation continued. Your wall fluttered as much as your heart pounded in your chest. Miguel continued to pound into you, his dick digging deeper till it kissed the entrance of your womb. The prospect of being caught and Miguel furiously thrusting into you shattered your already frail strand of sanity, causing you to come undone on his dick.

Miguel continued to push into you while you babbled nonsense until he totally emptied out on you with one final thrust that kissed your womb. keeping you seated nicely on his dick, milking him out to the last drop "That's it, you took it like a good girl, Que Hermosa." He spoke into your ear. Miguel helped you put your clothes back on after pulling you from his lap. " Hermosa, go to your room and rest." "I'll be there soon," he said as he kissed you goodbye and sent you on your way. Hobie greeted you as the door opened. "I was waiting for you." He said.

" What happened to you?" He questioned. "Huh?" You replied out of it, gradually descending from your high. "You look like you've been crying." He stated. "Oh, yeah… But don't worry, Miguel helped me; he said he would help me." You told him, still feeling the heat radiate from your face. You started walking, only to slip and almost fall. "Are you sure you're all right?" he worriedly questioned. " I'm just tired." "Could you help me to my room?" you said shyly.

He merely chuckled as he took your arm and placed it over his shoulder and assisted you in walking to your room. When you arrived, you tiredly thanked him. "Not a problem." He stated this as he walked back to his room, waving to you over his shoulder. You were so exhausted that as soon as you got into bed, you fell asleep. Unaware of the glowing red eyes, that were possessively watching you as you slept not long after you came to your room.

" 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖊, 𝖄/𝖓, 𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙," Miguel said to your sleeping figure.

𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖑, 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊, anyways by the time ya'll are reading this it will be July 9th one day before my b-day, enjoy. 𝕻𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖔𝖚𝖙🦇

𝕺𝖍, 𝕺𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖐 𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔, 𝕭𝖞𝖊🦇

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robarazzii · 1 year

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punjabi james supremacy 🙏🙏

#marauders #james potter #james potter fluff #james potter headcanon #marauders era #marauders fluff #marauders headcanon #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders fancasts #punjabi #indian #robarazzii says

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fishnets-fingers · 1 year

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Underneath the Stars

“So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs.

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of not drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

a/n - i wrote so much. so, i’ve decided to split it into two parts. i made a banner for forbidden hours and it took me a lot longer than anticipated but i think it tured out great. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 6.2k (not proofread)

MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST

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நீள்பயணம். Voyage. News had spread far and wide across the expanse of the empire about the Princess’ journey far East. Throngs of people gathered on the docks to bid farewell to her and scream out wishes of luck and fortune. It was a busy day, filled with fanfare from the subjects, priests blessing the vessel and ministers of court spewing out strategies whilst handing bundles of parchment of the meticulously crafted plans.

A journey always stirred up feelings of unbridled joy, especially since the aim of this particular voyage is to draw up a treaty with Handuman - three small islands that lie smack in the middle of a crucial trade route between the Cholas and Burmese. A tiny island kingdom that was a thorn on Y/N’s side for the past year; with news of shipment from Burma being pillaged and sabotaged at sea constantly thwarting her plans of bringing components of machinery to assemble aiding with agriculture. She put together a counsel which oversaw striking a peaceful agreement that would mutually benefit both nations, a long drawn process of negotiations with a vacillating King that finally culminated to this day.

A day where she set sail on a three week journey to visit the islands, attend a ball hosted in her honour, and cap it off with signing the treaty. Needless to say the kingdom was ecstatic with the promise of the Princess Royal bringing more riches into the land. All of Y/N’s voyages to neighbouring kingdoms resulted in astounding successes, so people did have a shred of doubt that this one would go south. At the break of dawn, the majestic vessel was filled with her entourage - guards, a trade minister, the guard captain who was responsible for her safety, the sail crew, two of her handmaidens, and her lady-in-waiting, Shobhita.

Shobhita has been by Y/N’s side since they were partnered together for dance lessons fifteen years ago. As kids, Y/N took it upon herself to teach her how to conduct herself properly in court. Despite not liking the bossy Princess Royal, things took a turn for Shobhita when some children of nobility made fun of her lineage - going so far as to calling her ‘murky blood.’ She had light blue irises and hair the colour of sticky toffee - resembling her overseas mother, far different from what everyone else looked like and that made her an easy target. Though Y/N was not around for the name calling, she personally gave the other kids a stern talking, going so far as shoving one them and getting confined to her quarters by the Queen Mother. The two have been thick as thieves ever since.

“Remember Y/N, you are representing our Dynasty from the second you dock there until you set sail,” the Queen Mother starts.

“I know. I know, grandmum. Best behaviour and all,” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“You know better than to roll your eyes at me?!?” The older woman narrows her eyes in warning.

“Have I not conducted myself well on my trips so far?”

“I’m not saying that you haven’t, but be wary. I’ve heard nothing but vile things about the Prince of Handuman. I’ve seen to it that your guards have been doubled.”

“Is that why I’m going there alone without any advisors? You know I can take care of myself-“

“I know you can,” the Queen Mother interrupts her. “Keep an eye out on all our girls.” She whispers, taking her palm in her hands and gives it a warm squeeze, before walking towards the chief.

When she gets a minute to herself, Y/N turns away from the enthusiastic crowd, gripping on to a wooden mast, she closes her eyes, picturing her garden. The patch of flowering shrub - right by her reading bench - which attracted the prettiest of blue butterflies. She feels the tightness in her shoulders ebb away, only to have it disrupted when she feels someone pull on her braid. She flicks her head around in annoyance to find her little brother sheepishly looking at her.

“What do you want?”

“You’re sleeping standing up,” Karthi notes.

“I was not. I was trying to relax,” she sighs.

“I’m sure that the vast blue of the water is relaxing enough. Never knowing what’s under the thousands of leagues under the sea. Maybe there’s a giant fish with razor sharp teeth as long as the mountains waiting to capsize the boat. Shame, won’t even know it’s coming in the dark of the night with nothing but pitch black in the horizon-“

“Shut up, Karthi!”

“Calm down,” he throws his hands over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “You really think Dad is gonna let that happen to his favourite child. There’s no way this voyage was approved by him without contingencies for every single thing that could go wrong. He’s not gonna let the people’s Princess get lost at sea.”

“I appreciate you trying but it’s not helping. Why are you still here anyway? Didn’t Dad want you at the capital yesterday?”

“It can wait,” he shrugs it off. “I’m not going to leave without saying goodbye to my favourite sister.” He bends down to engulf his big sister in a hug.

“I’m your only sister,” she chuckles, swatting him away. “In other words you hung around for morsels of attention from Shobhita.”

“Give me some credit!” He says feigning being wounded. “I brushed my hand against her arm,” he whispers, pointing to his left palm.

Y/N shakes her head at the smirk that tugged at the corner of her little brother’s lips. They’ve had a crush on each other from when they were both old enough to understand what that meant. Being the daughter of a vassal king, who happened to be close friends with her father, it was agreed upon by the elders that Shobhita and Karthi were to wed. Though Shobhita was a Princess of a small hilly region in the dynasty, it was thought best by the parents to have her grow up in the palace and serve with Y/N as her lady-in-waiting to learn the ropes of handing the responsibilities that would fall on her shoulders once she married.

Right as Y/N was going to say something witty, their attention was pulled to the commotion at the gangplank. When Y/N peers over she sees Harry hold up his royal seal to the guards before lugging up his things.

“What’s he doing here?” Y/N asks her grandmother, but finds the Queen Mother cluelessly staring at her grandchildren.

“Your majesties,” Harry bows, and wordlessly hands the Queen Mother’s guard the parchment before it’s passed to the old woman.

His eyes flit over to Y/N with a small smile tugging but he finds her pointedly staring over his shoulder with a scowl. He frowns, did she forget our time at the docks? The last time he saw her was filled with fiery passionate kisses and sweet nothings. He didn’t expect the Princess Royal to throw herself at him in front of everyone but was he not warranted a polite smile.

“It’s from your brother,” the Queen Mother tells the siblings. “Looks like Harry over here would also be travelling with you.”

“What? Why?” Y/N asks, dreading the thought of being locked in close quarters with the spy.

“He wants Harry to accompany you and be added to oversee your guard detail along with the chief.”

“But that makes no sense, he’s hardly a guard,” she protests.

“That’s quite true, Princess but I do know a thing or two about fighting. The Crown Prince wants you to be protected, that-“

“I do not require your protection, Mister Styles,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The Crown Prince has spoken. His reasons are clear,” the Queen Mother tells Y/N firmly, handing her the parchment. “Harry Styles will be accompanying you.”

////

The texts spoke of the majestic wonders of the sea in all its boundless beauty, sailors talked about the vast bodies of water being their companion; the sea was glorified by almost everyone Y/N had met and even by herself - she’d allow herself to stand at the edge of the shoreline and daydream about what life on the other side of the water looked like. There was immeasurable poetry that was either written at sea or took place at sea, but what none of them talked about was what it did to your psyche. Four days of constantly bobbing about the tides, with nothing around but endless blue and a blanket of darkness at nightfall, not to mention the terrifying sounds that accompanied no visibility. She missed the feel of the earth beneath her feet, the smell of her freshly watered gardens, the buzz of bees, birdsong, the vivid colours of her flowers against the green.

She brushed them aside as champagne problems for the first two days but the confines of close quarters were slowly creeping up on her. It didn’t help that she was avoiding Harry on top of all this, so she’d holed herself up in her room with Shobhita working on a project for the gala that’s being thrown in her honour. That’s how she found herself standing at the stern, hands clasped firmly on the wooden banister, at an odd hour in the night. She had her eyes closed, not that it made much of a difference in pitch darkness as she felt the wind against her face. It was eerily quiet, yet noisy as the vessel zipped through the tides, and everytime she flicked her eyes open she would only stare into the vast expanse of the hazy abyss. An insidious fear crept in which made her bones tremble about the nightmarish creatures that would leap out from the water at any moment.

“Careful there, Princess, any more harder and you might splinter the wood,” Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, the teasing apparent in the undercurrent of his tone.

She blinks down at her the way her knuckles have gone pale from gripping onto the wood. Sighing she turns her head to the side, to catch a sweet smile painted on his face as he bows spitting out the formalities.

“Mister Styles,” she acknowledges him halfheartedly, turning her attention back to the abyss.

“Trouble sleeping?” He enquires, stepping forward but the guard captain steps out from the shadow, directly in front of him, blocking his path. Harry throws his arms up, pausing. “I don’t mean any trouble, Captain.”

“You may not approach her royal highness,” he warns, the captain towers over Harry.

“It’s alright, Captain. He may step closer,” Y/N says.

“Princess, no man is allowed in your vicinity without a chaperone,” the Captain reminds her, and it doesn’t escape Y/N, the way he flexes his mammoth muscles to intimidate the spy.

“He is no ordinary man, remember. The Crown Prince has instated him to oversee my guard detail,” she points out. “I think it is time he took over the watch. I have kept you up for three nights now, and it’s high time you get some sleep. You may retire to your cabin for the night, Captain.” She smiles, wordlessly thanking him for being diligent enough to follow her each night.

He nods, muttering something to Harry as he hands over his spear to him. He bids Y/N goodnight and disappears down to his cabin.

“Whew,” Harry breathes out in relief. “Thought I’d be tossed overboard. Thanks for the save.” He mutters, making his way to the banister, leaving a comfortable distance between the two in case the Captain decides to check in on him.

“Don’t go thanking your lucky stars yet, I can certainly see to it that it’s arranged,” she bites back at him.

“You’re angry with me,” he states, making her chuckle.

“Wonder what gave that away,” she mutters, directing an eye roll at him.

He ignores her retort and continues, “You’ve been avoiding me since the minute I came on board.”

“That’s two for two. Gee for a spy, you sure do have a knack for picking up on the fucking obvious,” she shakes her head.

“I don’t understa-”

“Of course you don’t,” she huffs out a weak chuckle. “Apologies start with an I’m sorry.”

“Princess-” he starts, running his hand through his locks. “Y/N, I don’t understand why you’re cross with me. Is it because I’m sailing with you unannounced?”

“God, you’re thick,” she lets out a weak chuckle. “A storm hit the coast two days after you set sail to Lanka, Harry. I didn’t know for weeks if Karthi got the message on time!”

“I’m a good spy, am I not? When have I ever faltered in keeping to your word? Prince Karthi reached the Port Palace two weeks ago, according to your word, did he not?”

“That’s not the point, you idiot!” She turns to face him. “I did not hear from you! I did not know if you made it there. For three whole months! I didn’t know what to think.”

“Oh.” His face reddens as warmth spreads across his chest. He doesn’t understand why but he feels his face split into a wide grin as he replies, “I was doing my job and protocol states that - .”

“And you rode off to Vikram up north,” her tone was still accusatory.

“I had to, Y/N.”

“Why? Why did you have to get to him with such urgency? Was it Karthi’s orders? Why was it so important that you come with me all this way? Don’t give me all that poppycock about me needing extra security. My brother and I trust the captain with our lives. He’s overseen our protection since we were children.”

“Vikram’s mingled with the close friend of the Prince of Handuman. He’s foul, according to his best friend’s admission. He hits women and beds them without consent. He has complete disregard for matters of the court and he is well known for schmoozing -”

“Why does that even matter?”

Harry lets out a frustrated groan, “Will you please just listen to me.” He continues when Y/N quietens down. “The royal astrologer had seen to it that your portraits were sent to all neighbouring kingdoms - under your father’s orders - for matrimony. Prince Vinay had come across it when you were liaising with them for the trade deal. He, um, publicly vowed to…”

“Vowed to what?” She implores when he trails off.

“I’m sorry for being crude but he said that he wanted to ‘tear off your clothes, pin you against his throne and thrust some obedience into you while the court watches.’” He takes in a long breath before he continues, “So you will be under his pinkie and he can boast that the great Chola Princess was another notch on his bedpost.”

Y/N’s face twists in disgust as she processes what Harry had just shared with her. “Vikram knows I can handle myself around such odious men. I have more protection during this trip than I ever had in my life. Why did he send you to supervise my security? You have no experience…”

“It was my idea actually. I asked him to sign that decree to let me join this company and this was the only way to not raise any eyebrows among our men. I know you can handle yourself around the Handuman Prince, but I would not forgive myself if something were to happen to you…” He pauses, eyes roaming around for any lurking shadows, what comes next is communicated in a murmur, “This could provide a perfect cover for a Chola spy to be digging around Handuman.”

“A cover for what?” Her eyebrows scrunch, mouth twisting down in displeasure of being kept in the dark.

“Too many ears around,” he reminds her. He interjects before she can protest, “You will be the first to know once I have evidence.”

They hear a heavy splash making the ship drag, and the two lurch forward at the sudden movement. Y/N gasps, grabbing hold of the bannister and tightening her grip as a strong hand wraps around her elbow and tries to pull her away.

Things feel dissonant for her, there’s a ringing in her ears that’s managed to make all other sounds feel like it’s echoing from deep inside a well, she feels her body spasm as she struggles to draw in breaths, like her throat has something blocking the way. Her vision fades around the edges making her scrunch her eyes shut, but that only makes the successive shallow drum of her heart louder. She can feel the way the boat has a pull under her feet, like it was lugging around something heavy as it resists the sway of the vessel. She’s experienced unease before, but this time was different. This uneasiness was not fleeting. It was a type of fear. Fear oozes from the centre of her bones, slowly following its wake across everything it could consume inside her being. Paralysing to her anomalous senses. “I knew it,” she whispers. “Consumed by the waters, of course.”

If this was how she was going to perish, so be it.

“Princess,” his voice is distorted and faint but she picks it up. “Y/N.” It’s louder this time, floating closer. “We’re fine.” She feels his arms tightening around her frame. “Y/N, look at me.”

////

Harry does not understand what’s happening. Once second, he hears the men throw the anchor into the water and the next Y/N’s crumpled over the banister beside him. She looks to be in pain, her face ashen under the silver beam, he tries to tug her back - away from the edge but she’s bolted, hunching over the banister. He tries getting her attention, but can hear her mutter something about being engulfed by the water and it all makes sense to him. Why she was so hesitant to get on his boat when they were at the docks, how uncomfortable she was sitting opposite him, what made her hole up in her quarters all this time, the way she was gripping onto the banister earlier. The ocean petrified her.

He understands why she was mad for not hearing from him sooner. He left right before a storm hit the coast, showering her in kisses and whispering sweet promises. Promises. Well, promise. He promised to be safe and he did keep up his word, and he left for the battle tents of the Crown Prince, like he normally would when his job was done. But things were not normal. They’d kissed. Several times in fact. And he’d confessed his fondness for her.

He never faltered in his duties, he’d kept them up this time too. He had not realised a duty had implicitly fallen in his shoulders to bear when their lips met. To let her know that he was safe and not taken by the treacherous waters of the stormy seas as she’d let herself imagine. She had been worried about him. He made her worry.

“We’re fine,” he reassures, moving closer to her, holding her close to him.

It takes him a few tries but he gets her to look at him and a few more to convince her to let go of the banister. Her quivering lips and glassy eyes pierce his heart, but he manages to get her to slump to the floor beside him. It takes her a long while to stop trembling but he tightens her torso to his side, hoping to instill some warmth into her.

“We’re fine now,” he reassures, squeezing her hands. “The men tossed the anchor overboard. That is what made us jerk forward along with the ship. It takes a while for the anchor to latch onto the seabed. They’ve retired to their cabins for the night. It’s just that. It has happened everyday since we boarded the ship. It will keep happening until we reach home. We will sail again just before the break of dawn. Nothing is wrong with the ship. We are not in the way of any harm.”

She nods as he continues, “I apologise for not letting you know that I had reached Lanka in one piece. I’m sorry for all the worry I have caused you. I never intended to. I promise to never make you fret again.”

“Okay,” she tells him in a quiet voice, closing her eyes, as she forces her shallow shuddering breath to regain its steadiness.

He looks around once more, making sure that they’re truly alone, before focusing on her blinking back her watery eyes. “Why did you agree to the voyage in the first place?”

“King’s orders,” she tells him softly.

“You’re terrified of the ocean,Y/N ,” he reasons.

“I have duties, Harry. I get to experience all the luxuries one can imagine, compared to all that-” she shrugs. “Champagne problems, I guess.”

Harry shakes his head, she says king like it wasn’t her father. He would never do something that he didn’t want to, no matter who’s orders. But it was important to the princess in front of him and there was no use trying to challenge that. This was her deal, and it only made sense that she saw it through - she owed her people that. Instead he picks a different route, one that would help him understand her better, “What’s got you this scared? I’ve never seen you like this before.” It’s true. She was the first Chola Princess to be trained in combat alongside her brothers - demanding her father that when it came to the worst, she wanted to defend her people. She did not want to be holed underground with other women of court or in a temple praying for victory. She was an excellent rider, often would compete in races and encouraged young girls to follow suit.

“I do not wish to say,” she says hesitantly. She leans back and scoots away, her face slowly regaining composure.

“I don’t mean to pry, Princess. I grew up sailing the waters, I understand not wanting to recount a time -”

“It’s not that. I don’t have a harrowing story or anything.” She adds the next part quietly, “It is risible,” and her cheeks heat in response. Harry quickly notes the way she blushes, making him smile down at her in endearment.

“I promise not to laugh. Sailor’s honour,” he crosses over his heart.

Y/N lets out a peeling giggle in response, “You’re no sailor, Harry.”

“Yes, I am! Was practically born on a ship, Y/N.”

“You were born on a ship?” Y/N asks, sometimes it felt like he knew more about her than she did him.

Harry shakes his head, “Was born in my mother’s cottage in North England.”

“Did you grow up there?”

He shakes his head again, this time quicker with a frown. “No. I grew up on my father’s ship. Back to what we were talking about; you can’t discredit me as a sailor.”

Y/N’s brows scrunch at the sudden pivot in the conversation, but she doesn’t press on further, opting to say, “I thought you were a spy.”

A warmth blossomed in Harry’s chest from the mocking undercurrent of her tone. He’s never had anyone volley a conversation with him, and it came easy with her. “I am more of a ‘Jack of all trades’ kind of person.”

“Ah, I see,” she chuckles, bringing her knees up to her chest and encircling her arms around it. “So a master of none?”

Harry laughs, a high pitched carefree one, “Better than a master of one.”

Companionate silence blankets around the two, Harry passes her his leather water flask - that was clasped to his belt - and she quickly drains it muttering a quiet thank you. Harry leans back on his elbows, looking up at the shimmering moon above, it’s lovely tonight, he thinks. He’s spent many nights in a bobbing vessel with nothing around but the moon as company but he doesn’t feel the familiar solitude tonight. There was no intolerable silence this particular night, just the tinkle of Y/N’s anklet and silent sighs that escapes her lungs. His gaze flits over to her cheek, smushed against her arm, her gaze is fixed on her fingers as they fiddle with the ornament. A simple gold rope with a small lotus motif made from three pink diamonds and an emerald, clasped around her ankle.

Her foot. That’s what caught his attention, not the precious stones, but the curve of the arch of her bare feet. He wonders if it would tickle when he runs his lips over them, as he slowly nudged her knees apart, the fabric slipping away, the way her anklets would tinkle over his shoulders in sync with his head between her thighs. He shakes his head, rubbing his face, shifting to conceal his hardening cock and shoots her a polite smile.

“Not knowing,” Y/N says. “I do not like the deep waters because I have no idea what’s underneath.”

“No one does, Y/N,” he reminds her.

“I know. It is uncomfortable to not know. It feels like I am at its mercy, with the currents that can drag me under in a split second, if I’m not careful enough. It’s vast, and we have not explored these territories. I met with this woman that studies living creatures, and she believes that there is a high possibility of colossal squids and fishes deep down. There are old sailing accounts and drawings as proof. You have seen giant sharks and whales, have you not?”

Harry nods, as she continues fidgeting with her anklet.

“Life began in the waters, Harry, and we hardly know a thing about it. We cannot survive diving the depths; we certainly cannot compete with the predators that we know of. Imagine being at mercy of something unknown. It is the biggest mystery known, quite possibly the worst because it takes up much of our planet and we cannot even begin to understand it. The ocean has had a longer time to evolve than us, and we know much of the sky than we do about what is below.”

Y/N looks up at him, chin resting on her arm, as she waits for a response. She feels a pang of regret opening up to him when she is not met with anything. You expect him to comfort him just because you kissed a few times, a voice rings in her head followed by her grandmother’s lecture of having one’s cards close to your chest. No royal ever spoke of things that frightened them, she never did either. So, why did she think this was a good idea? Her maternal great - grandfather, a Chera king, was thrown into the castle moat filled with crocodiles by his subjects. He was vain and cruel to his people - granted that could have been the reason - but it had been prophesied that he would meet his end by the scaly reptilians, so he rewarded people to poach every last one of them and had them all in his moat. Ironically, he actively participated in furthering his prophecy while trying to avoid it. People would not have picked death by crocodiles if they never knew about his irrational fear. The kingdom was in shambles for many years until the birth of her mother, which enabled them to forge an alliance with the Cholas through matrimony.

While the Princess was caught in her own dilemma, Harry had a similar one running through his mind. He wants to assure her how secure ships are. He wants to explain how when you’re in the middle of nowhere with dwindling supplies, you start to see and hear things that aren’t really there. He wants to tell her that worrying would do her no good, especially the things that were occupying her mind because they were simply out of her control. All of the things he’d come to learn from his father’s experiences and his own. She was right, they barely knew about the ocean, but it wasn’t something to lose sleep over. But he understands, Harry was also scared of the ocean as a child before he got used to it. This was Y/N’s first time, and fears aren’t supposed to be rational. It wasn’t far-fetched, she had her nose stuck in books for answers and was born into duties, which required she understood the workings of life. She prided herself for being a step ahead of people around her and to do that one needed control. But the moment didn’t call for revelations; she needed solace.

He gives her a sympathetic smile before going on to say, “I was scared of the endless ocean as a child too, especially at night. You’re right, we don’t know much about the sea but we do know a lot about the sky.

“Look up for me, Princess,” he continues and they both take in the twinkling dots in the blanket of the night.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, beaming up at the gleaming moon.

“It is. We’re so caught up by things around us, we often forget to look up. The sky's the one thing that will not change. The moon will wax and wane and the stars will stay right where they are, flickering, guiding us to shore. It helped to look up at the sky when I was scared or in trouble. To be reminded that in the grand scheme of things, my fears didn’t matter. For whatever reason, the cosmos flows through me and that would mean my existence is a marvel. Even for a speck - no bigger than a grain of sand on the beach - the sky has many wonders in store for me.”

She stays quiet, her eyes glassing over, blurring her vision. Harry quickly catches the stray tear from the corner of her eyes with the backs of his fingers. He coos, leaning over to brush his lips against her temple, “I apologise for saying something out of line, Y/N.”

“You're not out of line, Harry,” she hastily blinks back her tears. “It helps. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to-“

“I want to.”

Anyone else pondering their significance by looking out into the universe might end up feeling helpless, paralysed even, but she feels none of that. She was born into significance and her roles only cemented the burden of upholding the legacy of the Crown. So, letting herself feel like a mere speckle was liberating.

////

The days that follow the same routine - the Princess holes herself up in her cabin during the day with Shobhita. Harry’s unsure what she was up to - and formulating any judgement from the box of fabric spools one of the handmaidens carted into her room, and the occasional laughs from behind the door - he’s happy she was occupied. It was hard to catch a glimpse of her when the sun was shining; there were guard’s stationed outside at all times and he did not want to tick off the guard captain.

The nights. That solely belongs to the two of them. She would come out of her cabin two hours before midnight to catch some fresh air to find him softly smiling at her. He'd readily stand, at the ship’s bow, with a spear in his hand by the intricately carved wooden swan figurehead. Y/N had ordered the guard captain to retire at night, since he’d been stationed by her cabin all day. When he’d resisted - uncomfortable that the Crown Prince had instated a young man with no prior expertise as head of security- she’d gently reminded him that it was best for Harry to learn what guarding actually entailed in the safe confines of their ship. They’d spend the nights in each other’s companionship, Y/N’s heart swelled with Harry’s stories. Particularly the one of him as a boy, where he was convinced that someone had left a giant bunny up the moon. She looked at him endeared as he pointed out the outline of the rabbit in the dark markings of the full moon. It soothed her, looking up at the heavens with someone made her confining thoughts about the ocean melt away.

This night was no different, the Princess pads to her usual spot to find a blanket spread out with two pillows. Her eyes fly to meet him and he gives her the same smile he did every night, bending down to light the two oil lamps, illuminating the jade of his eyes. “Your highness,” he bows, stepping away.

She nods, shooting him a surprised smirk as she curls up with her book. Harry eyes the old parchment she unfolds, a star catalogue, and he can’t help the chortle that escapes his lips.

“Stop it, Mr. Styles,” Y/N shoots him a warning look, not wanting to draw the attention of the crew.

“I apologise, majesty,” he murmurs, but Y/N notices the mocking smile that paints his lips.

She pointedly ignores him with a roll of her eyes, as she focuses her attention on Aryabhata’s text in front of her. Harry had challenged her last night, and she was determined not to lose.

The crew had dropped the anchor and had retired below deck a short while ago, and Harry could not help but admire the furrow in between her brows as she concentrated. Harry had spent the last few nights pointing out different constellations that Y/N simply could not fathom. Harry was amused that it bugged her so much that she couldn’t map out the stars in the night’s sky with ease. Her anklet falls on the blanket, and he’s sure that she had loosened the clasp from how much she fiddled with it while reading. She sighs, turning her attention back to the gold rope, fastening it in place, making sure to press down on the hook.

“Rijl al-Qinṭūrus”, she reads out loud in Arabic after a long while, flicking up to look at the sky. The star map had a figure of a centaur and all she had to do was find the brightest one right at the bottom. Her head cranes to find the brightest spot in the sky - the alpha centauri.

The only problem was, there were multiple bright specks and she lets out a defeated sigh, pushing her hair back, “Fuck this,” she mutters.

“Not very royal of you, Princess,” Harry’s teasing tone floats over, she finds him slumped over the bannister looking at her.

“It is the brightest and biggest star to spot at night,” he reminds her.

She narrows her eyes at him, looking back at the star catalogue again, and slumps back in defeat. “There’s something wrong with this star catalogue,” she declares. “There has to be, Harry.”

“Or maybe you are inept at this,” he smirks, coming to sit beside her.

“I am not!” She protests. “The illustrations are misleading. None of the constellations look like this,” she points to the image of a centaur holding a spear on one hand and a dead goat on the other.

“That’s because it��s meant for people like you,” he chuckles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She arches her brow.

“Someone who learns from books. It only makes sense the catalogue has full fledged pictures of animals on there, otherwise it would be a mess of lines connecting one dot to another. So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs.

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin. They hadn’t kissed since he’d left for Lanka and every night he’d spend in her presence, Harry’s mind could not stop drifting to the way her mouth pressed against his with urgency.

Y/N eyes flutter shut, leaning towards him, nudging his cupid's bow with her lips. Her mouth brushes his as she whispers, “Not before I get my information, spy.” She backs away, observing the way his pupils dilate under the soft buttery light.

“You can’t spot the alpha centauri-”

“I know, which is why I asked you.”

He rolls his eyes at her hastiness. “No one can, because it can only be seen from the southern hemisphere.”

“You tricked me,” she gasps.

He shrugs, as he tugs her to him, wasting no time in capturing her lips against his. It was more heavenly than he’d remembered. Y/N’s hands snake up to bury them in the baby curls at the nape of his neck, bringing him closer. She melts against his chest, curiously slicking her tongue against his lips, smiling as he parts his mouth for her. She tasted like the tamarind candy she loved. Harry drops one of his hands from her cheek, finding home in the curve of her hip. It’s heady, both greedily smacking wet kisses the curve of their jaw when they part to draw in air. Harry’s heart thumps loudly against his chest, sending him rhythmic reminders that he was twitterpated by the woman trailing her lips against the stubble of his jaw. Plebeians and royalty don’t mix, and on the rare occasion that they did, it never ended well. But until midday tomorrow - when they would reach the port of Handuman - she was just a woman, made from the same stardust as him, whom he wanted to keep melding lips with.

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