#harry styles royal

[daisyblog]

Good Girl

The Royal Family Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A dares a dare” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Who were you gonna be?” James asked.

“No idea..anyone but me” I laughed.

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

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

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

“Hi..I’m..um..To-Townes” I hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t ask..I failed the dare”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes..he’s a big fan”

“Bigger fan than you?” Harry teased.

“Hmm…that’s a tough one”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Princess Maia and Harry Styles getting cosy in London Nightclub

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

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

Are they friends, or are they more?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maia I am, I'm an angel! xx

Harry Styles That's a lie x

Maia Just you wait and see Styles xx

---

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

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

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

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

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

"They're not here yet" William stated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

Harry Styles Are you flirting Princess? x

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

Maia My Grandpa thinks you're cool x

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

Maia Nothing I couldn't handle xx

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

Maia Very bold of you 😂 x

Harry Styles Me? Bold? No definitely not x

---

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

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

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

"Hey" He smirked.

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

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

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

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

"Is that a good thing?" I giggled.

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

"Do you want a drink?" I offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry" he apologised.

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

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

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

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

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

"Hmm...maybe not" he teased.

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

"You're just different".

"Different?".

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey Henry" I said nervously.

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

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

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

"I..I just can't"

"I'll come to you then"

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

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

"No one"

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

"Piss off with that song will you"

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

"Uh..Hi"

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

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

"No you're being annoying"

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

"Bye" Harry and I said together.

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

"What's wrong?" Harry chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For not following the rules?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[chuutoro]

the queen is dead: an internet round-up (plus: argentinian journalist celebrates her death)

#that video is so 😳👀 #irish social media has been brutal GOOD FOR THEM #queen elizabeth #uk #ireland #england #uk politics #british royal family #undertale #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #princess diana #supernatural #chris pine #harry styles #history #christopher eccleston #don’t worry darling #twitter

[eveningepiphany]

pirates gold, masterlist——✶

↳ pirate!harry x royal!reader

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

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

all parts will have individual warnings as we go

——✶——

↳[PART ONE]

published!

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

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

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

——✶——

↳[PART TWO]

published!

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

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

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

——✶——

↳[PART THREE]

published!

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

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

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

——✶——

↳[PART FOUR]

to be published!

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

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

——✶——

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

you can find my full masterlist here!

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

[jarofstyles]

prince harry and common girl lover (best friends since childhood) + “we can’t keep hiding like this”

OH YES!!!! A bit of forbidden love.

Check out our Patreon!

------

The wind billowed the edge of the blanket they laid on, hiding underneath the willow tree as the sun got a bit lower in the sky. Being wrapped in Harry's arms was the most safe she ever felt, despite the fact it was the most dangerous place to be. His heart thumped steadily against her cheek, fingers running over the opposite as she felt his eyes burning a hole into her.

"We can't keep hiding like this." His voice rasped, lips turned downward. "I can't handle it anymore, Petal. I've been trying to find ways to be alright with hiding how much of my heart that you own but I keep hitting a wall. I believe it's because something is telling me I shouldn't hide you." He gently ran his knuckle over the bridge of her nose. "I want to tell them. Everyone."

Y/N's eyes burned as she closed them, trying to control the shaky exhale she released. It didn't work. She knew he was an optimist, her beautiful sunshine prince, but he had too much to lose. She couldn't be selfish with him, not when the entire kingdom would rely on him one day. "You know we shouldn't, Harry. You've been promised to someone else since the day you were noticed in your mother's belly." It was hard to control her voice, the weakness of it giving it away to Harry that she was struggling.

Nudging her up, he cupped the side of her face and thumbed over the high round of her cheek. Eyes scanned her face, taking in her slightly wobbly bottom lip and the glaze over her eyes that wrecked him. It shouldn't be this difficult. He shouldn't have to hide the person he loved with his entire being, so much so that she consumed him. He knew his mother would understand, but his father would be resistant. He would tell him that a future king had to make decisions they didn't like, and he would need to abide by the arrangement.

"I want to marry you, Petal." He whispered, connecting their lips at the end of the word. It was a pained kiss, one he was trying to melt into softness. Take away the brittle edges and file them down smoothly, let her feel the way he did. His sweet girl was so afraid, so nervous of what would become of them but Harry couldn't fathom a world without her at his side. "I want you to lay next to me at night, I want your hand in mine, your lips to only ever feel the shape of my own. I crave you every single second you are away from me. Don't you understand? How I yearn for you, I ache. Not just to be inside of you, but to be with you. To listen to your breaths as you sleep, just knowing that you're there." He swallowed thickly, nudging his nose against her own and took another kiss. Harder this time, a harsh breath leaving his nose as he pulled her, moving her dress so she could straddle his lap.

"My love, my sweet, my Petal. Please... allow me to take the risk." He pleaded. "Allow me to tell them of us, let me take the punishments if need be. I will do anything for you." His words were whimpered as he pressed frantic kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. "I feel like I'm going insane. As the day of the engagement party grows closer, I feel the walls of the castle getting smaller. I feel suffocated. The only time I can breathe is with you." His hands clutched her close, almost as if to prevent her from slipping through his fingers.

"Oh, Harry." She whispered sadly, watching his eyes water. It was unlike him, her sunshine prince. He was so bright, so warm. To see the storm clouds settle over the sun was alarming and she hated the sight. It wasn't right. "Do you think I don't feel the same? That I'm not physically ill at the idea of you bedding someone other than me, even if it is only to provide an heir? Do you think I don't cry in my bed after I leave the sparkling stars and you, wishing I could crawl back to you? But I feel so selfish." She pecked his nose, letting their foreheads rest together. "So, so selfish. What if they strip your title? What if they banish you? What if it's forced regardless and there's a rift between you and your family? I cannot bear the idea of ruining your life. I can't take the sunshine away from you."

The world was quiet. The birds chirped and the branches moved, leaves rustling in the wind, but the only sound they could hear was each others breaths and their own heartbeats in their ears.

"I would let them." He whispered after a moment. "I would let them take it all away from me before I let them take you. I don't think you grasp how much you mean to me. You are my heart." His eyes burned as he looked at her. "I would run with you, I would find us somewhere and build a life with you. Nothing else matters more than you." He sniffled, pressing his lips back against her and laying repetitive kisses to her lips. It was hard to convey just how much he truly loved her. How she had his heart in her hands and his should wrapped around her finger.

"Harry..." She laughed through a tear, looking down at the hand holding her waist tight. "I hope you know I feel the same for you. You're what I need." Her fingers brushed the hair that had fallen into his face, the soft curls unfairly highlighted caramel in the sunlight that bled through the leaves. He was inhumanly handsome. "I'm afraid for you."

"I'm afraid for myself if I don't admit my love for you. I can't be trapped in a loveless marriage when I have a love. The greatest lover there is. I want children with you, I want you by my side. Whether I'm king or not, having you would be my biggest accomplishment." He meant every word. Every beat of his heart belonged to her. "I'm going to tell them. I'm going to make you my wife, regardless of the cost. All I'll ever need is you."

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry drabble #harry styles imagine #harry writing #harry styles writing #prince harry styles #royal harry styles #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry angst #harry smut #harry fluff

[chaoticlywise]

just opened tumblr.com and this was the exact journey i took

#what timeline is this #just when i thought 2022 couldn’t get any more interesting #the chris pine thing #chris pine #harry styles #spitgate #the queen is dead #queen elizabeth #the british royal family #god these tags #i’m so sorry

[thestylesindependent]

With ballet dancer and producer Melissa Hamilton at the Royal Opera House in London

#harry styles #melissa hamilton #royal opera house #march 2024

[iamjustaholeforyousir]

Arrogant Son of a Bitch

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

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

word count: 1222

minors DNI

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5 part6 part7 part8 part9

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

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

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

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

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

He was not delighted to see you.

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

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

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

you wanted to scoff.

What a twat!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@remuslupinwifee @strwbrrydaydreams

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #smut #harry styles smut #enemies to lovers #forced marriage #arranged marriage #soft girl #grumpy x sunshine #light angst #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #royal au #royalty #perioddramacentral #1d #one direction #hazza #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry x y/n #harry x yn #harry x reader

[eviesaurusrex]

ʜᴀʀʀʏ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇꜱ x ʙʀɪᴛɪꜱʜ ʀᴏʏᴀʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

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

faceclaim: Saoirse Ronan

author's note: I decided to start a little Harry Styles series after I read the Royal Series by @harrylilies and got heavily inspired by it (so thank you for writing this masterpiece and giving me fuel for something on my own <3). Y'all really should go and read it! It's great! This one will contain mixed chapters—so, full text and social media blurbs because I wanna try it :3

This will be set in the timeframe of the Fine Line release, so starting in December 2019 and there will be no Covid-19 drama because I really can’t stand it anymore (this pandemic really fucked with my mental health) 💀

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ

ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ

ꜰɪɴᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ [ʀᴇʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ꜰᴇʙʀᴜᴀʀʏ/ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ]

ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ

ᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏʀᴋ

ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ

ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ... ᴏɴᴇ?

ᴀɴ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ

ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴅʀɪᴠɪɴɢ

ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ꜱᴜꜱʜɪ ʀᴇꜱᴛᴀᴜʀᴀɴᴛ

ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ… ᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ?

Chapter titles could get altered during my writing process + it could end with more or less chapters than now planned!

header by the amazing @hspoem and @real-afterglow

Taglist: @onecrazydirectioner

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x royal!reader #harry styles x princess!reader #harry styles x british royal!reader #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles social media blurb #harry styles fake social media #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake ig #harry styles instagram imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles social media au #harry styles au #harry styles series masterlist #eviesaurusrex masterpost

[lenomcakes]

#queen elizabeth #queen elizabeth ii #british royal family #chris pine #harry styles

[bunnyteetharry]

Royal!Arranged Marriage!arry concepts

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

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

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

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

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

[gurugirl]

how is mean king harry coming along bestie? x

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[1800titz]

A pirate Harry AU :D

WATTPAD ALTERNATIVE | piraterry things

DESC:

"It's a trek," he murmurs against the shell of her ear. The trail of his fingertips has something hungry wracking down the knobs of her spine, chills flourishing in the wake of his touch as he draws a line from the center of her ribcage, a column. They wind around her belly button, and back up. Pass on the underside of her breast, riding along the curve, and spiral toward pebbling flesh.

"You have to ride the wave and follow the map—"

His touch slows before he can graze over the sensitive bud, and it plucks a pretty sigh from her. Lewdly, the corners of his strawberry mouth buckle, hidden by frizzy strands of her hair. He drags the pad of his thumb over the jut of her hip bone, and fingers slink closer, closer. The pirate picks his touch back up to smooth a line down from her sternum with his palm.

"—before you can get to the treasure."

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

#pirate!harry #pirates #piraterry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #pirate x royal #enemies to lovers #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #dom harry styles #piraterry things

[eveningepiphany]

pirates gold | H.S series, part two

[part one]

[series masterlist]

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So immediately, you jump to distract yourself. Eyes roaming around the bathroom until they lock onto the cabinet beneath the bathroom bench.

Your hands don't hesitate, coming to the cupboards to open them, pulling the handles so they unlatch.

It’s sadly sparse inside. Almost entirely empty despite a few miscellaneous items. A hair comb, a dagger sheath and a… sewing kit? You frown at the sewing kit, unable to imagine him doing anything as delicate and time consuming as hand sewing.

However, he does wear intricate outfits. He seemingly prizes them, actually. So, it seems fitting that if wear and tear got to them, he'd be keen to fix them. That's the conclusion you're going to go with anyway.

But regardless, in the small wooden confines, there is nothing you can steal for your own benefit. You think of shutting it, but in the silence something urges you to open the small plastic box anyways.

You drop onto your knees, sliding the container to the edge of the shelving, and hooking your fingers into the latches and pulling the lid upwards.

There are several little threading needles— even clothing pins— placed among regular cotton thread in an array of colours. But there’s also multiple wads of fishing line, which immediately makes you wonder why it's in there. Trying to pinpoint what kind of clothing needs fishing line as a stitching.

You’re about to pull it out, but conveniently, there’s a rattle outside of the door. One that indicates someone is coming into his quarters. You hold back a frustrated sigh, suddenly wishing you had of taken a shorter shower.

Your body kicks into quick movement, hurrying to click his sewing box shut and put it back where it was in the first place. Pushing hard on the latches that now suddenly don’t want to cooperate with your haste.

It’s silent outside of the footsteps that trail to the bathroom door, making you wince as the latch on the cupboard echoes a tiny clack as it’s shut.

The feet stop at the door, and your breath is held from where you’re kneeling. Not sure if you’re hoping for Harry or not.

“Y/N?” His voice calls with a rap on the door, “y’decent?”

“I—“ you slowly rise from the floor, cringing at the creak of the boards beneath your feet as you stand.

“Yea… yep.”

The lock jingles and the door swings open, revealing Harry— who looks no different to how he did almost an hour ago. Black blouse, black pants. Nothing had changed.

You feel suddenly vulnerable standing in his clothes in front of him, and you have to force yourself not to wring your hands at the bottom of his long shirt.

“Mm, nice to see you actually showered, ‘stead of tryin’ to break out.” He comments, nonchalantly stepping in through the door. Eyes scanning you in his clothes.

As he steps closer, the only difference you notice is the red bruising around his knuckles, on the hand hung down by his waist.

“Oh, I tried.” You mused, attempting to push confidence in your tone— adverting your gaze away from his bruised hand.

He hums, still staring at your frame, “To no avail, I see.”

“I suppose not.” You remarked, to which he shrugs. His body language is casual, but you’re still unconvinced that everything is normal.

Now you're staring at him, trying to decipher what the fuck is happening right now. Given the fact nothing about this seems planned.

“But I am confused...” You prompt, and to it, he cocks an eyebrow.

He steps forward, “Go on.”

“What exactly have you done in the last hour?” It comes from your mouth as an accusation. One that draws out a rash laugh from him pink mouth.

“Why is it you assume I’ve done something?” He's awfully close to you now, and it highlights the features on his face. Ones you're desperately trying to pay no attention to. But it's much harder to ignore the fall of his hair over green eyes when its up close.

“Because that just seems the most likely.” You stated. Walking to brush past him—shoulder passing his chest with a light touch— the bathroom feeling far too cramped for the two of you. And the air around you had suddenly gone hot with tension on your end.

You make your way out into his quarters, making use of your need for distance, and deciding to inspect the room while you could.

Harry turns on his heel, watching as you now suddenly walk around his bedroom like it was your birth right. Hands trailing over frames on the wall, and picking up random objects he’d strewn on the floor.

He sighs at this, part of him wanting to stop you from snooping around his place, but he’s also undeniably curious at your mannerisms while looking around. The way your eyebrows pull down into a frown as you pick up an array of things. Including odd ones, like a bag of dried out barnacles, and whetstones block he uses to sharpen his blades with.

“I bought ya up here t’shower. Because unlike many, I have a hygiene standard, darlin’.” He says, and you turn from where you were touching the cover of his unmade bed. Fingertips noting the softness of it. He sleeps here… your brain announces as though it’s unfathomable to imagine him at rest in his own bed. Which was tucked into the corner of the all-wood room, three circular windows running beside its edge.

Looking at his hand again, finally getting the courage to bring it up.

“And your knuckles are swelling up. All bruised. They weren’t like that earlier.”

He smirks, completely bypassing your question, “looking at my hands, ay? Didn’t pick you to be that kind of girl.”

You sneer at his stupid tease, irritated at his arrogance.

“Just seemed all rather impromptu, and now you’re back here with bruised up fists that you didn’t have earlier.” You challenge, after walking slowly away from his bed.

“You don’t stop until you get an answer y’like. Is that right, princess?” He scoffs.

But he knows you’re brilliant at reading someone, tragically so. And it’s obvious you’re not as stupid as he wishes. Because he watches as your eyes narrow, clear that you know he’s dodging your questions for a reason.

“And you don’t give answers unless it suits you best, I take, captain?”

To that, he chuckles, and decides to prove you right, walking over to grab your wrist with the unscathed hand.

“M’clothes are a bit big on you…” he comments, partially using it as an excuse to drag his eyes down your body again. Completely changing the subject.

“Tomorrow, we’re pulling into port, we’ll buy some stuff that actually fits you.” Despite being the one to decide this, there's a pang of disappointment in his chest at you getting out of his oversized clothes. He ignores it. The hand that's becoming all too familiar to your wrist is leading you out of his quarters, and your eyes dart to take in the room a final time. Hoping to commit it to memory.

“That’s a bit doting. Are you going to take me with you, or is that a far fetched wish?” You drawl, already figuring you’ll be locked away while they roam about. Buying you clothes while you sit prisoner.

You should probably just be grateful for the fact he is willing to spend gold on you, given the circumstances. But who would you be kidding if you tried to portray that right now. ‘Thanks for buying me clothes while I sat locked up in your jail cell!’ He would audibly cackle if you said that.

He chuckles at your bitter sounding tone, “I’d bet you’d be rather upset if we went into town without you.”

You scowl at him, having to bite your tongue as to not say anything rash, choosing not to respond at all.

He’s taken you outside of his room, and locked his door with the small ring of keys he keeps on him. Beginning a slow walk along the corridors of the ship, seemingly in no hurry at all. He pulls your arm to rest firmly between his elbow and ribcage as you stroll the halls, as though you’re on some kind of leisurely walk.

To your silent annoyance, he rolls his eyes with amusement, knowing you'll hold quite the grudge if he doesn't take you out when the ships docks at Sintir. “I’ll think about it, dove.”

The two of you walk in quiet for a minute. Clacking of shoes against decking echoes through the hallways below deck. You get lost in thought, until his voice quickly coaxes you out it.

“We’re stopping for two nights.” He suddenly clarifies for you, “After we buy you some suitable clothes, maybe you can come into town after dark.”

You’re skeptical of his offer, given that it’s not a guarantee. But you’re desperate to just get off this ship for a bit. Not even in an attempt to escape, you know that wouldn’t work even if you tried. Purely to be on land again, and around people who aren’t felons at sea.

So you soften your frown a bit, going quiet for a few moments. You decide to try the hopeless approach, no matter how weak your faith is in it. But maybe you'll get some pity from the man beside you, “I miss the towns, and being on solid earth, that’s all. It's all I've ever known.”

You were already embarrassed at how the helpless tone sounded on your voice. Maybe because is wasn't genuine, but either way, internally you gagged a little.

He laughs abruptly at your words, almost shocked that you attempted to persuade him with that.

“No need to pull the damsel in distress card.” He’d shook his head, smiling wide with humor at your expense, “My decision is impartial to a poor attempt at manipulation.”

“It’s not manipulation!” You turn to snap at him, dropping the meek mannerisms just as quickly as you put them on.

“Oh but it is, darling.” He bumps your shoulder with his own, turning a corner that reveals another set of stairs, “y’bad as any other pirate. Outside of the shitty lying.”

You shake your head, huffing out air from your nose as he leads you up them. The annoying thing is that he's right. However you still fight to prove your point.

“Can you blame me? I just want to go into a town and do something normal. Have a little stability amongst this shit show!” Your grumble made him chuckle, as it seemed to always do. Like as if he could not take a word you say seriously, even if he tried.

“I suppose I can’t fault you for it.” He hums, pushing a hatch open after unlinking your arms. He went through it first so he could help you up. Hands steadying you once your feet come in contact with the floor. Because suddenly, you’re on the bow of the ship. The afternoon sun out and warm on your skin as the waves are calmly lapping over themselves.

You momentarily forget that you’re pissed off with him. All you can focus on is the fresh air and golden sun.

His eyes take in your deep inhalation, and the way you look so relieved to be outside. Understandable given the fact you spent 2 days locked in a tiny room.

A feeling he can’t name stirs in his chest. And the voice in the back of his head is suddenly encouraging taking you into Sintir while the ships docked there.

“It’s… nice out.” You exhale, your gaze veering to him momentarily as you speak. His green eyes are locked onto yours, and you quickly make to slide your attention back out on the blue water.

Which is easy to look at, since it doesn’t technically end. Just melts into the equally blue horizon where the sky meets the sea.

“It almost always is, up this far north.” He nods, pushing the sudden emotion away. “It won’t stay that way once we leave the port. There’s a storm well in due this week.”

You mentally file away that you’re up north, but a part of you gets anxious with the idea of being out while there’s a storm.

On land, you always enjoyed them. They brought a sense of serenity to you. The thunder and rain sometimes came so loud in Kelna it drowned out everything going on in your life. Temporarily, of course, however it was nice while it lasted. But on water was a different story. You’d heard they’re rocky rides, treacherous even. That ships often enter a storm, and don't come out the other side.

“Don’t look s’worried.” He comments at your suddenly terrified energy, he places a palm on your back to usher you forwards.

“Just that I really don’t want to die out here.” You sigh, not denying the fear since it’s clearly that obvious.

You walk willingly wherever he’s decided to take you, sharing a short wave to the man up by the ships wheel. He had messy head of hair, one that you imagined when it was windy, would blow all over the place.

“Have faith in us, Y/N. We’ve weathered many storms jus’ fine.”

“Oi, H,” the scruffy pirate you just waved at calls down to his captain, as he tracks down the stairs with you. Going from the steering deck to the main deck.

Harry tilts his head over his shoulder, pausing on the stairs where you both stand, indicating he’s listening with a nod. You briefly trail your eyes over his side profile. The curve of his nose, and the cut of his jaw.

But his crewmate barely gets a couple words out before he’s interrupted shortly after, “How did ya go wi—“

“Fine, Liam.” Abruptly, Harry cuts in. Not rudely, but curtly.

The man on the wheel, who now has a name to you— Liam— alternates his gaze between the two of you suddenly. Like he’s dawning upon why he just got interrupted.

“Ah, I see.” He nods, quickly busying himself with what he was doing beforehand.

Harry continues walking you down a set off stairs, back down to main deck.

“I’m going to assume that was about earlier, and has something to do with why you dragged me out of my cell.” You say, attempting indifference.

“You’d assume right.” He nods, but you wait for him to say something more— which he doesn’t.

You sigh in frustration, “I'll also take that's why I'm still up here, and not locked back up."

You're trying to gauge yet again how much of his actions are kindness, and how much of them are out of an attempt to gain something.

"Not why you're out here, 'm tryna give ya a bit of sun." He brings you to a stop at the far left of the main deck, smirking as he talks, "I've got to patch up a old sail, incase we need it. No better place to do it but out here."

He pays no mind to you as he kneels down to a storage unit a few feet away from you in the floor, unlatching it, and hauling out a huge canvas sail it. The sheet crinkles as he carries it out, and dumps it on the wooden deck.

You frown, wondering if he's the only one on the ship who can do any sort of needlework... because it seems like the only reasonable option as to why he's doing it himself. So you ask, "Why exactly are you doing it?"

He laughs, striding back over to pull a much larger sewing kit from the bottom of the storage space, and also sheet of spare canvas.

"You are filled with clichés of us, darling. What is makin' y'ask that?" He chucks the kit and extra fabric down, following to sit shortly after.

You're still standing as you try to conjure up an answer that doesn't sound unbelievably stupid. But he is cross-legged, pulling the damaged side of the sail over his muscular thighs.

"Because..." You pause, still unsure how to phrase it as you stare at him. You're looking at his side profile again, and it's lit by the overhead sun.

He glances your way, essentially looking up at you from where he's positioned on the floor. He finishes your sentence for you, "'Cause I'm a captain? And why would I do something productive for myself and my crew when I could make someone below me do it?"

"Well... basically."

"You're going t’find out very quickly the dynamic between me ‘n my crew." he pulls open the sewing box, filled with larger needles, and thick thread.

"I may be their Captain, but we’re all like brothers. I see them as that, not as my workers. They are my team, and we help out whenever and wherever we can." He states, sounding completely sincere, "And, I'm the only one that can actually hand sew things, so here we are."

"Here we are..." you parrot quietly, almost finding it endearing the way he talks about his crew mates.

Delicately, he’s threading up a needle and starting to take it through the sail and its new panel, lined up over the relatively large tear. His hands are steady, hair fallen over his eyes as he concentrated on starting the stitch. You stare at the dark bruising over his knuckles, and you swear that wasn’t as deep a shade earlier.

Without thought, you slowly sink to the ground, back resting against the side of the boat, not waiting long before you start to ask him more questions.

“Whatever happened to put that large of a hole in your sail?” You’d quizzed.

He knew it wouldn’t take long before you started to pry him with more of your wonders, “A cannonball.”

Your face can’t hide the shock, because of how casually he answered you. Your lips were parted in surprise at his response when he glanced over to you. A smirk over his mouth, popping a dimple on his cheek.

“Jus’ a run in with another ship.” He mused, “They tore a hole in our sail, and we tore a hole into the side of their boat.”

You almost sputter a laugh, of course he has to brag about not having lost that altercation.

“I hope you have a winning streak under your belt.” You shake your head, smiling a little.

“Why? Because I’m carryin’ such precious cargo.” Alluding to you with a charming cadence to his voice.

You’re stretched out in the sun as he watches you, and you almost look happy. If he didn’t know any better. But maybe you are a little. Circumstantially, you’re probably far from it. But in this moment, you look calm in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“Obviously. And all this would be for nothing if I go down with your ship and you don’t get your gold.”

“Tragic really, after putting up with y’through all this. Including jumpin' off m'own ship.” He teases.

“It’s been like, 5 days. I cant have been that annoying outside of the jumping thing.” You can’t tell if you’re offended at his jabs like you should be. You wish you fully were, but the banter is almost pleasing to have with him. It gives you something to laugh at. And also gives you an excuse to be insolent with him.

“Mm, if only y’knew…” he sighs in faux exhaustion, a tiny laugh escaping through his façade.

The way the ship cruised through the waves was inexplicably calming to experience up here. With the sun and the warm around surrounding you.

His hands were weaving the needle through the material, it’s mesmerising to watch. He’s definitely skilled at it, since it has hardly taken him long to get one side sewed on.

“You look quite content over there.” He comments, not looking up from where he was.

The observation stuns you a little, because of how true it was.

“I… it’s hard not to be after being in a tiny wooden room for 2 days straight.” You answer, but it doesn’t feel like the only reason why.

“Y'know,” he begins, “I excepted someone like you to have the worst set of sea sickness, and to be constantly terrified, but you've seemingly proved me wrong.”

“Have you underestimated me?”

“Possibly.” He remarks. And you don’t answer him again.

You're struck with the realisation that you actually don’t hate being above deck. Or really on the ship— outside of the reasons to why you’re on it. You think you might have underestimated yourself.

Like a reel of film, your mind flashes through images of a life like this. Outside of the damn cell at the bottom of the boat.

One where you spend your days free on the water. Both free in regards to your imprisonment here— but also from your life and looming responsibilities at home.

You envision yourself suddenly in the most pirate-like attire, standing up on those huge masts like they do in fictions sold at the bookstore— the odd one that would romanticise the life of piracy instead of completely defacing it.

It hits you like a slap in the face. One that stings and burns on the side of your cheek, lingering for days after it initially impacted.

You have to forcibly squeeze your eyes closed, because there is no room to have feelings like that in your already muddled brain.

Harry speaks up from where you forgot he was sitting, “What exactly is Kelna like?”

“Prison.” You blurt, hand almost coming to slap over your own mouth in surprise.

Your head is in disarray, and that somehow slipped its way out. Because all the sudden, you realise you almost felt more trapped in your own home than you honestly do here.

You tried to escape this ship out of fear that you would be killed— or sent somewhere worse— but when that element is removed from the equation, you’re certain anything is better than Kelna.

“Im kidding—“ you hurriedly spew out, but his head is turned to frown at you, “it’s nice… it’s great. Very lovely people and we have… yea. It’s great.”

Of course, you love your family. Some of them. Your younger brother and older brother, your younger sister. But outside of your siblings, there were few people to love.

“Sound like y’trying to convince yourself more than me.”

You guess you kind of were in a sense. And a part of you wanted to just say how much you never wanted to go back, if that were an option. You only ever told your older brother Poe about how desperate you were to get away from the court. One person. One soul out of this whole world of them knows.

Only Poe knows how terrified you were that Misha— Kelna's infamous prophet— would come to the podium to speak the most misconstrued riddle, that supposedly announced you were to take the crown. Your own stomach churns at the concept.

But revealing that to Harry felt like giving away a vulnerable piece of yourself. He doesn't deserve to be the second person you entrust with something so pressing for you. Which you remind yourself that you swore not to lay an ounce of trust in this man’s hands. That your impartialness to a separate life here is due to your life at home. And that freedom on this ship is unlikely.

“I’m not…” you breathe out in defeat. Trying desperately to steer clear of the subject, because its easy to drag you into a pit of ever-welling anxiety.

However, he can sense your complete shift in energy. This is your first time really talking about home. And it seems like you have more than bitterness to it. He expected a whimsical answer. One that showed your longing for return, or that you even valued part of being in a court. But he got nothing of the sorts.

It slips from his soft mouth before he can stop it, “Are you not safe at home?”

He’s completely disregarded his sewing venture, and has turned to look right at you. His features have softened, and he looks genuinely a little concerned. But you brush it off for deceit. Of course he would want to know something like that. Want to pick away at your seams until all the sudden you're unraveling in the palm of his hands, tearing your whole village down with it.

“Yes!” You jump to clear that up. Secondly feeling like he's almost babying you.

“Probably safer there than I am here.” You bark, but it’s hardly true if you really think about it. Attempts on a royals life are always a threat, and it’s happened to your family members before. Which transcends into a whole other story, equally as painful for you as anything else at home.

His brows pull into a frown. He realises he’s struck something sensitive here. The topic seems to make you recoil completely. Your body language has changed, just like that. Straight from relaxed to on edge.

“I feel like there's a pretty equal risk." He provides, picking back up the threaded needle. Seeing what more he can coax out of you.

"I—" you cut yourself off.

"I am fine." Your tone is conclusive.

"Is that why you always sneak out of your royal residence in the middle of the night?" He pushes, a sarcastic lilt to his deep voice.

"That isn't any of your business!" You groan, "I'm not asking why it is you're a felon at sea, or your tragic past life that's lead you here, am I?"

"But you probably wonder..." he smirks, impartial to your jab.

"I don't, you ass!" You state defiantly.

"I'm just trying to gauge how much you actually like your homeland."

You scoff in disbelief, "Oh, piss off. You just want something to hold over me."

It's clear to him something much deeper is going on than what he initially thought. But its also evident that you are far from interested in talking about it now. So, he files away what information and suspicion he had, and finally allows the subject to change.

"Whatever princess... y'getting mouthy, and I've gathered that usually doesn't end well for either of us." he rolls his eyes in amusement, "You'll have to to tell me what kind of clothes you like, so I know what I'm in for."

"It only doesn't end well because you're so goddamn pushy." You huff.

"This is why you ended up locked in a cell for two days." his tone is airy, considering the topic, "Also, best of y'to recall I'm the one who decides whether or not ya coming off the ship tomorrow."

You hold back your bitter quip at his reminder, but not the deep sigh from your lungs. You feel stressed. Overwhelmed even. Which is the only good thing about your tiny room below deck, its stable. You know what you get down there. Yourself, and no personal questions that leave you reeling.

He finishes his double stitch in silence. Thinking of you, and wondering what exactly your perception of your home life is. In a long answer— not the short and guarded ones he's currently receiving.

You sit, still in the sun, but feeling significantly more riled up than earlier. That's when Harry stands from his work, and your eyes dart to the patch that's now one with the sail. Intricately sewed in place, with a clearly detail-oriented eye.

"An' she's done." He nods proudly, talking to himself as he picks the complete task up from where it was spread on the deck. Carrying it back into where it came from— along with the closed sewing kit. Laying it folded in the floor compartment and latching it closed.

His hands brush themselves off along his black pants. They admittedly fit him perfectly. Nipped in at his sculpted waist, and outlining his likely firm thighs.

His green eyes slanted down to you, as if he could feel your own gaze burning into his tanned skin. He smirks, a dimple popping out on his cheek as he looked at you.

He was trouble.

He looked at you like you were a game to be played. A challenge to be conquered. And somehow you met him right at that very level. You wanted to prove something to him— and the thing is, you don't even know what.

Its not something you can reverse, or take back. It's already long started, the second you pushed back from his demands when you first met.

His legs that you were just studying stride over to where you sit. He towers over you, examining you with a silent and smug smile.

"A corset, perhaps?" He proclaimed without context, and your face twists in confusion.

"Although, I've heard they are very hard to get on and off a woman." It clicks in your brain he's currently talking about you. Imagining you in the likes of a corset.

It's like he was pondering it aloud just for his own sick enjoyment, because he keeps going as your expression quickly bleeds into a scowl.

"And, there is no doubt in my mind you'd drive your own elbow into my stomach before you let me help lace you into a corset. Or out of it." His voice has dropped an octave, and his chocolatey hair has fallen over his forehead again. For such a heinous topic, he has the face of an angel. Maybe a fallen one... but an angel nonetheless.

"You would be correct." You confirm, "And I spend enough time in corsets at home. God forbid I wear one when theres no need for it."

He suddenly juts a hand out for you to take, which you stare at for an awfully long time, analysing the dark marks over his knuckles. Eventually settling to let him help you stand. It pulls you up effortlessly despite its visibly injury, and you feel the rough parts of his large hand as it cups yours.

"Espcially if im going to be laying around in a cell, whats the point in that?"

He still has grip on your hand, "Oh, dove, y'not going back down there for a little bit."

Your gaze narrows immediately. And you ask the first question and only question that makes sense in your mind.

"Who else is down there?"

"Someone who deserves to be left in the room with the cuff holders on the wall. Attached to them."

Your stomach sinks a little, recalling him saying thats sectioned off for people who have done truly bad things. Seems like it would explain his battered up knuckles perfectly.

But with the closest thing you’ve gotten to an answer all day, you’re quick to mentally move onto what the effects you the most.

"Where am i gonna..."

He says with a completely unfazed expression, "With me."

“With you?”

“That’s what I said, no?” He raises his brows, “unless you’d rather be down there with him. Who we’d then certainly have to kill once he knows you’re here.”

“Christ.” A wave of shock rocks through you at his vulgar wording, “can you put me nowhere else?”

“No.” He states, starting to walk with your hand gripped in his, “it’s just for the night. Don’t worry s’much.”

“Don’t worry? You just told me you would have to kill a man if I chose to stay away from you.”

You’re glaring at him as he holds open a door for you— one that leads to another kitchen room— despite you’re bitter look, he’s unbothered entirely.

“Let’s get you something to eat. Allow ya to process the fact you’re stuck with me for a night.”

———

Your night was significantly different to all the others you’d had on the ship this past week.

The evening had come on relatively quick. You’d sat above deck after he fed you some fruit, and watched the sun set as his crew gathered to share a pint.

You observed their dynamics, and the way a few men got themselves silly on one too many beers. Stumbling all over the deck.

Harry stayed closer to sober though—a bit tipsy, but nothing drastic— and as evening bleed into night, many of the boys had turned in for bed around midnight.

His blonde crew mate had shouted out for you to come down and have a pint, but you laughed it off. His drunken plea seeming far out of line considering the circumstances.

Not long after most of them had left, Harry came up to where you sat. You were perched atop a step on the stairs, and you know he’d been watching you. Making sure— as you stayed a fair distance away— that you didn’t disappear.

His hand had gestured out to you again as he had apparently come to collect you. You stood without it’s help, and he snorted a bitter laugh.

“You're infuriating, you know? Unbelievably so. And I feel it all the way in my stomach.” The lilt in his voice is intoxicating. He sounds like he disdains you, yet is addicted to the feeling all at the same time.

He’s standing the step below yours, and once you had fully straightened out, you were slightly above him. It almost gave you an added boost of confidence, “Right in here?”

Your hand reached out to breach the minimal distance, brushing your pointer and middle finger against where the skin of his stomach is.

His hand grabbed around your wrist, staring at you— he pressed your palm flat against his chest— you could feel the warmth of his skin beneath the sheer black blouse he was still in.

His bruised knuckles are pressed over yours. The dark spots a mosaic of blacks and blues— you wonder how bad it would hurt if you pressed down on them. Just out of spite, of course.

“Right there.” He affirmed.

“Too bad you have to room with me tonight.” You sigh in mock sympathy.

He looks like he’s about to say something else, when he bites his tongue and does his usual thing— tugging you along wherever he plans to go.

His leftover mates say goodnight as he walks past— all of them regarding you as well, surprisingly.

You’re lead to his quarters as you’d suspected, and you’re now faced with the situation of how this is going to all pan out.

Once inside the dark room, he lights a wall candle with a match— that he pulled from god knows where— casting the space in a golden glow.

He is quick to then shed the black material that’s covering his chest over himself without hesitation. Your gaze skates along the muscled skin of his back. Littered in black ink and scars that immediately piqued your curiosity. Ones that you undeniably want to trace over, and enquire how exactly they got there. Which feels like an odd thought to be entertaining considering how much you push to hate him.

His hands unlatch his belt, still adorning all its weapons. And he walks to the foot of his bed, laying it atop the cover.

“Would I be correct to assume I’m taking the floor?” You put forward, and his head turns over his shoulder.

“That one’s up t’you. Unless you’re that desperate to get away from me.” He drawls, the alcohol making him a tad drowsy now that the buzz has worn off.

A part of you begs to be stubborn. To say no. But the other half of you in rioting to lay down on a mattress for the first time in almost a week. Because you couldn’t physically sleep another night on the hard wooden floor.

You breathe outward, walking over in silence as you climb beneath his sheets without warrant.

He tries to ignores it, but a small smile breaks out over his lips before he can stop it. So he turns swiftly around, unzipping his black pants and shedding them off his long legs.

“What exactly are you doing?” You shrilly ask, palms ready to shield your eyes if he decides to strip the only remaining fabric below his laurel-adorning hips.

“You’re not sleeping naked next to me.” Certainty riddles your tone, and there is no way you’ll budge on it.

But to your statement he laughs, “M’not naked.”

“Not far off it either.” You murmur, observing as he walks over to the candle he not long lit and blows it out.

The room falls into darkness, all you can hear are the plodding of his feet on the wood floor.

Once he’s next to the bed, you hear his voice, “You’re on my side, by the way. S’budge up.”

You scoot over without words, and feel the mattress sink as his weight comes onto it.

“Better than the floor, no?” He asks quietly, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Undecided.” You whisper. “Comfier I suppose.”

His breath is quiet and consistent as you both fall quiet. You’re certain he falls asleep before you, because you’re awake for a while. Staring at the ceiling wondering how you got here yet again.

But eventually, the tiredness you’ve been feeling for the last couple days catches up on you, and it lulls you into a deep sleep. Unbroken from any uncomfortable surfaces or loud noises. Just peace.

Peace until you stir for the first time in the morning.

When soft light is shining through the circular windows, and you realise how truly warm you are. All the edges of your consciousness are blurred and hazy with your sleep induced state. You nestle into what you thought was the mattress, but register somewhere in your head that your body is pressed against someone.

And after that, it’s confirmed when they move. A slight roll, and a warm heavy arm that drapes over your waist, tugging you closer.

Your eyes dart open, and are met with the sideways view of a swallow on a collarbone. It stops you dead in your tracks. Because slowly you realise your plastered to someone's side. Harry's side. Legs thrown over his hips, head nestled into his neck.

You're frozen for a moment. Because he smells so nice. But alarm bells are sounding in your head. Too close to the enemy, they riot.

The rigidness of your body stirs him again, rolling him further into you. Legs intertwined, and the bridge of your nose bumping against the curve of his throat. Now he's truly swallowing up all your senses. His scent is genuinely intoxicating. Salty, just as you'd imagine a pirate would smell— of the ocean and all that lies beneath it. But it has a woodsy tone to it, deep and masculine. One you wonder how he just naturally carries.

His tattoos are gorgeous up close, chest chiseled and dusted with soft dark hairs. You use the finger that’s between your body and his to brush gently over the butterfly on his stomach. Tracing the details, despite how wrong it feels. In your moments of timid admiration, you don’t realise his eyes have opened. Green and glazed over with sleep, it takes him a solid minute to register what he's watching you do.

An intake of breathe, and his gravelly voice pressed out the only thing he can even think of saying, “g’morning.”

Physically, you flinch. Startled at his sudden consciousness. Finger withdrawing from its tender movements, your heart pounding.

“I— hello.” You whisper, unsure how long he’s been awake.

He stretches, which in turn scoots his body down the bed, leaving you face to face with him. A pink tongue juts out over his lips— wetting them.

“I should’ve established a no-cuddle policy.” You state, eyes wandering the plains of his face.

To this, his morning voice rumbles a laugh, “are you trying to blame me for this? ‘Cause you’re on m’side, touching up my chest, dove.”

You turn your head over your shoulder, glancing to the gap from where you originally feel asleep and where you are now. Red flushed over your face, It does look incriminating on your end.

A guilty sigh falls from your lips before you purse them together. Not having an explanation for how you ended up like this.

“S’okay.” His voice was so deep, and it sunk into your ears. Almost drawing a shiver out of you. It was attractive.

You can’t tell if that observation is coming only from the fact you have just spent a night curled into his chest. But it’s all you can think about.

“Didn’t mean to.” You say, the closest you were coming to an apology.

“Mmm, I bet.” He murmurs, his hand leaving from where it was on your waist and going to comb through his hair.

Perfectly tousled from sleep, he brushed through it with his fingers. You take the opportunity now that his hand has left your waist, to sit up, averting your eyes from the way his touch glides through his soft hair.

You look out the window, and immediately you’re shocked. You see land. Not even that far away.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“There’s land…”

“Ah,” he also props himself up with his elbows, “so there is.”

“Best we get ready.” He shrugs his bare shoulders, and you quickly jolt your head this way.

We?

He’s far from shy as he threw the covers off himself, with the daylight streaming through the windows, his whole body was on display.

You wondered if he realised the kind of body he had on him. Because undeniably, seeing him in just boxers makes your throat bob.

“Do you say we because you intend on taking me off the ship?” You ask, a silent plea behind your words.

“Tonight.” He states, glances back to see the palpable excitement spread over your face.

You rush out of bed, a sudden burst of energy at his confirmation. He is shocked as suddenly your arms collide with his bare waist.

“Thank you. Thank you.” You really are grateful, and you’re so desperate to get off this boat for a bit.

His lips part in surprise, “that’s… y’welcome?”

You hold him longer than you should, a part of you a little ashamed at your lack of self discipline. Because you should be able to contain yourself. You eventually pull yourself from him, smiling in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“We’re probably gonna dock in… 20 minutes? We’ll be gone for most of the day. I’ll come back and get you at evening.”

It sounded like a long time to wait. But you are sure you could do it. So you nod, enthusiastically.

You go and sit yourself on the edge of his bed, wondering where you’re going to end up— what the town will be like, where you’ll go— all while watching Harry go through his closet for an outfit.

It reminded you almost of how a royal would dress, particularly about what came out and what would go with what.

He stands with his back to you, still just in boxers. He has a nice ass.

You mentally scold yourself, yet unable to look away from him as he pulls a maroon pair of pants over his hips. They’re left unzipped as he gets a off-white linen shirt to tuck into them. However the shirt was left almost entirely unbuttoned. And his cross necklace sits between his pecs that are on full display.

He belts his weaponry around his waist, taking it off the wall from where they were hung. Odd of him to leave them so in the open, when you could’ve stabbed him in the night while he slept.

“Are you leaving me in here?” You ask, watching as he collects a few last minute things from around his room.

“S’long as you don’t trash the place.”

You think about teasing him, but decide not to risk it. You piss him off, then you’ll likely get put somewhere without anything to snoop around. And also miss out on getting off the ship tonight.

So you just nod. And at that, he’s satisfied.

“Well, m’off then. Don’t do anything stupid, Princess.” He raises his brows, face serious until it breaks into a small smile.

“I won’t.” You lie, because how are you meant to guarantee that.

He walks out, and obviously locks you in. You wait an hour, until you’ve been docked for a while before you start to dig around his room.

Not forgetting to take some time looking out the window to figure out where the hell you are in the world. Nothing was geographically giving it away, but once you saw a small fishing cart on the pier, you read Sintir fishery.

Sintir is so far away from your homeland, you let out an audible gasp when you read it. There’s no fucking way, you’d thought.

But as you walk away from the window, you register that it has technically been a week since you’d been taken.

You ponder it as you start to go through his things. You feel like some kind of home invader. Rummaging through a trunk under his bed, raiding draws, and flicking through his racks of clothes. Digging into pockets as though you were waiting to happen upon something of value.

It turned out to be the smartest places you looked, because in a thick raincoat, you fucking found it.

A key. One he has to have forgotten about, since there’s no way in the world he’s left you in here without being certain there’s no way to get out.

You ran to the door of his room, and held your breath as the sharp metal got pushed into the lock by your eager hands.

You turned it, jostling it a bit. And it clicked.

Quietly, you reach for the handle, gently pulling it down and breathing out as the door unlatches.

There’s no time to wait as you slink outside. Clicking it shut, and slowly trying to recall your way back down to the chambers.

Every noise has you on edge, and you’re terrified to get caught. Waiting to turn a corner and one of his crew mates to be there, catching you in the act. But it’s not enough to stop you. You may have made a few wrong turns, but you end up in a hallway that jogs your memory.

You make your way down the stairs to the cells, unable to keep your footsteps entirely quiet. It’s without warning you realise the space down there is in fact still occupied by someone… just like you’d initially feared.

You’re met with a guttural groan, and suddenly your anxiety nearly triples. It’s masculine— and when you reach the bottom of the stairs, still out of view from the cell door— you can confirm it when the voice echoes out from the dim room.

“Let me out, you… you fuckin’ bastards.” Whoever it is sounds exhausted, like they’ve been teetering on the edges of life or death for hours.

When you don’t reply he lets out a wet and chesty cough as he continues, “I don’t care about tha’ whore no more! The princess means nothing to me.”

Your heart is racing at the mention of yourself, and the man sounds like he’s dying. It’s certain in your mind now this man’s face was probably what caused the bruising on Harrys fist.

A heavy bang comes from his cell, sounding like metal cuffs being slammed against a wall.

His speech turns to slur as you slowly back yourself back up the stairs. Curiosity always kills the cat, you think. And you wished you’d stayed in Harry’s room.

“Or jus’ kill me already!” He begs, tone shaking with exhausted rage, “already beat me to a pulp after I called that royal a good f’nothing slut. S’cmon!”

That was your cue to leave, and as you break off into a near run down the halls, you’re shaking the whole time.

Yet somehow, despite what anyone would’ve expected, you made it back to Captains quarters without a single run in. Not a soul knows you found a key.

You slide down the relocked door once you’re inside, and pant with not only the physical exertion, but the anxiety you just put yourself under.

It takes a fair while before you can move again, but your hands skate along the floorboards beneath you, tracing the wood grains to calm down.

Rising, you go back to his closet to put the small key back exactly where you found it. Not taking chances in trying to harbour it for yourself.

The room is deafeningly quiet, it forces your mind to hear the likely dying man’s words on repeat. And wonder if Harry really punched the man because he called you a slut…

The only person that knows is him.

He only knows that the second that sack of shit opened his mouth and said the only thing you’d be good for is ‘a quick fuck and some gold’ he absolutely lost it.

He only knows the feeling of pure, red-hot anger that took over him until he slammed the side of his fist into the slimy man’s face. More than once. He’s not sure how many times, until it was bloody, and until his knuckles already had a bruise festering below the skin— darkening by the minute.

And god, can he not stop thinking about how it made him feel. It was all consuming. It solidified that you were not going back down into the cells. He would rather have you in his own bed than within a 5 metre radius of that scum.

So as he walks through the town, splitting off from his crew to go by you clothes, he realises that you’re making more of an impression on him than he thought.

And while he piles up half a wardrobe for you, not even worrying about how much it’ll all add up to, he clocks just how… infatuated he’s possibly become with you.

Just how he’s suddenly ended up in this position. Where he hates you, yet wants to protect you— and even sometimes dote on you.

God— It’s dangerous.

That feeling that lingers when he thinks about you. Both a good and a bad one.

You were dangerous for him… and he’s still trying to decide how much, and in what way. But the biggest thing, is he’s worried for when he finds out.

Whether it’s going to be when you stab him in the back— either metaphorically or physically— or when you trace your delicate touch over his bare chest, so gently his mental resolve cracks along with the walls guarding his heart.

His conclusion as he checks out with a plethora of clothes for you, you’re either going to kill him, or he’s going to end up killing for you.

Oh, and that he’s certain he wants to kiss you. But that’s a whole other thing he has to mentally unpack.

———

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i really hope you guys enjoyed this part since i have rewrote it and reread it that many times i seriously have no idea if it’s any good HAHA

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[jarofstyles]

Stay Right Here Masterlist

Alpha prince Harry was smitten with omega maid Y/N from the first glance. A taste of forbidden love at it’s strongest.

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writing

Warnings: contains ABO elements, alpha Harry, knotting, angst, forbidden love, smut, biting kink, and plenty more.

1. What Started It All

2. The First Meeting

3. The First Day

4. The First Touch

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #Harry styles abo #Harry styles angst #Harry styles fluff #alpha harry #alpha harry styles #abo harry #royal Harry styles #prince Harry styles #Harry fanfic #Harry one shot #Harry au #Harry styles au

[myladyofmercy]

this is just the ending scene of episode 6 but with fine line by harry styles instead

no other editing lmao

for @tooindecisivetopickaurl

#young royals #yr #young royals s3 #young royals season 3 #yr netflix #yr s3 spoilers #young royals netflix #wilmon #wilmon edit #harry styles #fine line #beeedits

[a-long-furby]

Getting November 5tg flashbacks

#queen elizabeth #england #royal family #Ireland #dont worry darling #chris pines #harry styles #florance pugh #olivia wilde #sans #mp100 reigen #trisha #trisha paytas