#Indian readers

[booksteacupandreviews]

Children's book for 5-10 years

Hello readers! Here are reviews of four children’s books for ages 5-8, featuring themes ranging from thrilling adventures and heartwarming animal stories to inspiring protests and captivating biographies. Whether you’re a parent or teacher, these books are wonderful additions to any child’s bookshelf, sure to inspire and motivate young readers. Children’s book for 5-10 yearsPuppy Trouble by…

[booksperience]

(via Silent Reading Clubs at Panampilly Nagar)

Silent Reading Clubs at Panampilly Nagar Something amusing occurred on a recent Saturday at Panampilly Nagar Central Park in Kochi. Kochi Book Reading Club had organized a readers’ gathering for silent reading at 4.30 PM. This marked their fourth meetup since the group’s inception just a month ago. However, on the very same day, a new group called Kochi Reads had scheduled its inaugural gathering at 4 PM at the same venue. People who had seen the announcements from both groups arrived and commenced the silent reading session. Those who had noticed the Kochi Book Reading Club announcement assumed that the gathering was affiliated with that particular group. Likewise, those who had seen the Kochi Reads announcement believed it was associated with their group. Consequently, two distinct groups gathered at the same location and sat together, silently engrossed in their own books, entirely unaware that there were two separate groups. Nevertheless, it didn’t significantly impact the activity, as each participant became absorbed in the book they held, regardless of the book club’s name. Nevertheless, I do wish that both groups would consider merging, as it would be a better arrangement... (Read full text on booksperience.org)

[kentosmirrorball]

{SMAU}: jjk men celebrating diwali with indian!reader !

{warnings}: reader is referred to as ‘girl’, ‘ma’am’, petnames (baby, honey, sweetheart), lots of fluff <3

includes: gojo, geto, nanami.

gojo:

geto:

nanami:

this was so long overdue 😭 anyways, Happy Diwali, y’all! 🪔✨🧨

[lateatnewyork]

COLONIZING AT ITS FINEST! 001

pairing: oscar piastri x indian!female!kohli!reader

summary: the indian women's cricket team is in australia the same time as the grid for their ODI tournament. and a certain rookie driver and a rookie cricketer fall for each other.

extra information: reader is kohli's younger sister and is 21, oscar wins the melbourne gp. reader went to a british boarding school so she knows like lando.

ynkohli

liked by BCCIWomens, ishankishan and 547,890 others me n the gang 💯renukasingh (virat's memes are top tier) view comments

viratkohli is that the only photo you could find ➥ ynkohli yeppers landonorris get into finals so i can watch 😞 ➥ ynkohli thats the plan user01 what's lando doing here ➥ ynsno1 yn went to a british boarding school and she met lando in britain when she was out. shes also a huge fan of f1 anushkasharma get the cup !! ➥ ynkohli will do 🫶 user54 why is she so famous compared to other cricketers? /genq ➥ user67 she was an influencer during her teenage years and everybody loved her cos shes rlly funny and shes also virat kohli's sister. mclaren 🏏👀 ➥ ynlover yo wtf ➥ user6 erm what ➥ user08 um renukasingh we ate those photos up ➥ ynkohli realsies!

mclaren

liked by ynkohli, oscarpiastri and 245,765 others i got two tickets to melbourne gp babyy view comments

ynkohli give them to me plsss 🙏 ➥ mclaren bet ➥ user05 IS SHE DATING SOMEONE ON THE GRID ➥ user49 not necessarily shes been a fan since she was a kid danielriccardo COME WITH ME SUNDAY DONT SAY MAYBE ➥ user67 going along with the caption is so him 😭🫶 maxverstappen watch me win... again ➥ lewishamilton hes a bit overconfident? ➥ landonorris ^ ➥ fernandoalonso ^ ➥ georgerussell ^ ➥ charlesleclerc ^ ➥ carlossainz55 ^ ➥ schecoperez ^ ➥ averagef1lover not the whole grid coming after max 😭 ➥ rbrmylove ok but is he wrong ➥ user07 if oscar doesn't win im gonna kms ➥ oscarpiastri dont do that 😓 ➥ user07 HOLY SHIT IM GONNA DIE WTF user03 this is a day after the odi finals 😭 if yn loses shes going to be so sad at the gp

BCCIWomens

liked by oscarpiastri, viratkohli and 350,905 little y/n kohli appreciation post because INDIA IS IN THE FINALS !!!! view comments

user09 what is oscar doing here ➥ ynsno1fan forrealsies user98 SHE DESERVES THIS SM ➥ user05 FR BRO user48 IM SO HAPPY

oscarpiastri

liked by viratkohli, landonorris and 463,218 others little gf appreciation post 💗 view comments

user58 OSCAR SOFT LAUNCHING WAS NOT ON MY 2024 BINGO CARD ➥ user48 SAME cricketlover whats virat doing here? ➥ user52 idk bro f1lover GUYS WHAT IF ITS YN KOHLI ➥ rbrmylove who?? ➥ f1lover shes an indian cricketer ➥ lestappenshipper BRO AND THE BCCI ACCOUNT POSTED AN APPRECIATION FOR YN AND OSCAR LIKED ➥ sixerhitter AND THE CAPTION ON THIS ONE logansargeant youre not slick ➥ oscarpiastri shut up ➥ averagef1fan LOGAN TELL US (ill give u three bucks) ➥ logansargeant I CANT (make it 300 and u have a deal) ➥ averagef1fan logan im broke ➥ logansargeant well too bad then user05 they look so happy in the last photo landonorris yk what big feet mean😉 ➥ oscarpiastri LANDO ➥ danielriccardo LANDO ➥ carlossainz55 LANDO ➥ maxverstappen LANDO ➥ fernandoalonso LANDO ➥ lewishamilton LANDO mclarenfan polite cat has rizz confirmed???

ynkohli

liked by danielriccardo, smrithimandhana and 506,472 others your honor, i love him. view comments

rohitsharma what 😀 ➥ishankishan 😀 ➥viratkohli 😀 ➥hardikpandya 😀 ➥jaspritbumrah 😀 ➥shubmangill 😀 ➥sachintendulkar 😀 ➥rahuldravid 😀 alexanderasaintmleux you both are so cutee ➥ ynkohli nuh uh u r lilymhe ur so adorable ➥ ynkohli stop ily averagef1lover um what are the wags doing here? ➥ user05 i think shes dating oscar piastri cricketlover whos oscar piastri? ynloml NO WAY SHES TAKEN WHAT

f1wagupdates

liked by alexanderasaintmleux, lilymhe and 209,879 others new wag??? oscar piastri spotted in a park with a girl view comments

averagef1lover thats so yn cricketlover yn and oscar?? user05 CRICKET AND F1 CROSSOVER??????? ynlover my two worlds colliding user06 if it was yn tho theyd be so cute f1fan THE WAY HES LYING IN HER LAP ➥ user49 THE WAY HIS HAND WENT LIMP WHEN THEY KISSED ➥ lestappenshipper SKSKSKKSKSK

BCCIWomens

liked by ynkohli, landonorris and 738,952 others THE INDIAN WOMENS TEAM ARE NOW ODI CHAMPIONS!!! view comments

cricketlover WOOHOOOO averagef1lover IDEC IF SHES A WAG OR NOT I LOVE YN ynloml shes so fine 🤭 lestappenshipper theres no way oscar 'polite cat' piastri has the yn kohli rohitsharma 🥳 shahrukhkhan 🥳 arshdeepkaur 🥳 sachintendulkar 🥳 renukasingh 🥳 anushkasharma 🥳 ritikasajdeh 🥳 sanjenaganasen 🥳 saratendulkar 🥳 landonorris IM SO PROUD OF YOU YN

ynkohli

liked by oscarpiastri, suhanakhan and 834,271 others colonized the colonizer ! oscarpiastri comments are disabled

oscarpiastri

liked by ynkohli, logansargeant and 506,783 others i love being colonized 😍 comments are disabled

a/n IM SO SORRY FOR BEING MIA FOR SO LONG GUYS I HAD THE WORST WRITERS BLOCK 😭 this is written for the sole purposes of entertaining me i havent seen and oscar piastri x brown reader anywhere so hopefully you guys like this !!

[talesof-old]

james potter is 100% a munch

you’re so right 😭 i’m absolutely feral for this man

pairing(s): james potter x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, i think that’s it

word count: 305

masterlist

If there’s one thing that James Potter could do all day, it was this.

James lapped away at your cunt, lewd noises echoing around the otherwise empty room. Your hands were fisted in his thick black hair, tugging this way and that, groans accompanying any particular forceful pull.

One of his hands gently stroked at your lower lips, keeping everything parted just the way he liked so he could have full access. His tongue speared into your cunt in time with the friction of his nose against your clit. You whined, hips bucking against his face. What could only be described at a puddle had formed beneath you by this point. You weren’t even sure you could cum again.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around James’ head for the umpteenth time. The muscles of your stomach clenched, your orgasm hitting you before you could stop it. Stars exploded across your vision. James’ nose bumped along your clit as his tongue dipped in and out of your cunt.

“James-“ You gasped.

Your body shook with sensitivity. Time melted away; you weren’t even sure how many times you’d climaxed at this point.

He hummed, the vibrations sending aftershocks through your body. You cried out. James pulled away with a grin, face shiny with your slick, and smacked a loud kiss to your inner thigh.

“That’s it, sweets.” His fingers trailed over your bare skin, your body shiny with sweat. You attempted to inhale, but your lungs stuttered instead. James face twisted into some half-sympathetic expression—you could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him.

“You good, sweetheart? Need any help with that?” You rolled your eyes, chest heaving as you weakly batted him away. “You’re a menace, Potter.” He chuckled, the sound full and warm as he pushed himself up to cuddle against you. “But I’m your menace.”

+++

[deathofacupid]

indian!reader x jujutsu-kaisen men; indian food?

gojo cannot handle spicy food. he just can't. when he has dinner at your parent's house for the first time, he's too embarrassed to ask for milk, so he just chokes it down, red-faced and teary-eyed. you couldn't handle watching that, so you got milk for 'yourself'. dryly, you asked him, 'would you like some, 'toru?' pfft. some. he guzzled the entire glass in two seconds flat. (and then three more after that.)

geto who loves spicy food. after a whole day of swallowing disgusting curses, the one thing he look forward to? flavor. jesus, he'll take anything. your parents love him for it. (you're also convinced his spice tolerance is higher than yours.)

nanami is okay with it. doesn't love it, doesn't hate it. if you ask him, pastries are more his thing, but he'd never waste food. his spice tolerance is in the middle. unlike gojo, he's man enough to confess to needing milk. his ego isn't easily bruised.

toji likes spicy food. (he'll also eat quite literally anything, but that's besides the point.)

choso doesn't take spice well. he'd eat whatever you made, (on the first date, you didn't take his spice tolerance in mind when you invited him over for dinner), just to please you. he's sweet like that. which is why you feel so bad for giggling whenever he's dying, you can't help that he's so cute. he'd definitely be begging for milk, no doubt.

sukuna is unbothered by spicy food. spicy food should be bothered by him.

@cuntyji, thought of you while writing this <3

[forza55]

Sebastian Vettel Driving Senna's Historic 1993 Mclaren MP 4/8 2024 vs Sebastian Vettel F1 2013 Indian GP

[arrja]

Ryomen Sukuna imagined in Indian regal attire

[mrspiastri]

mehendi lagake rakhna 🪷

pairing: oscar piastri x desi!reader

cw: pure fluff, slightly suggestive at parts but nothing tooo crazy lol

wc: 1.8k words

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡

“Oscar, don’t tell me you haven’t practiced your steps! The sangeet is tonight!” Y/N’s cousins were simply frustrated with her dear boyfriend, who could not seem to dance to save his life and had also forgotten to practice the night before.

“I didn’t think it’d be so difficult! These steps are way too hard,” he protested, looking around for his girlfriend, who was seated among some ladies while she got her mehendi done. Apparently, being a bridesmaid at her cousin’s wedding included entertaining the many aunties and listening in on all their gossip

“Baby, are you aware of how mean your cousins are?” he huffed as he sat next to her.

“I told you to practice last night, but someone was too busy sampling the different kulfi flavors at the buffet.”

The man made a sound of indignation, then looked at Y/N’s palms, which were being adorned with a beautiful design.

“How does it look? Nice, na?” she asked while admiring her own hands.

Oscar agreed with a nod and a soft smile. She turned to look at him.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a game for you! Your name’s written on my palm—it’s designed into my mehendi! You need to find it!” She giggled, and even the artist smiled at him.

“Really? Well, it should be rather easy. My name’s not very long.”

She winked at him. “That’s what you think. Just you wait!”

“He has another thing to worry about, Y/N!” her mum called out, coming to place her palm on Oscar’s back. They both laughed, with Y/N letting out a “Amma, don’t tease him!”

“Why do I need to worry about that?” he asked as the women laughed.

“Well, there’s this old saying: the darker a woman’s mehendi comes out, the more her husband loves her, so you better hope it’s dark, or else…” Y/N threatened him as her mother quietly laughed.

“But we aren’t married, darling. How’s that fair?”

Hearing this, her mother let out a huff. “You two are basically married. The specifics don’t matter.”

He let out a groan of faux annoyance. “You find the most wonderful ways to get me in trouble, don’t you?” He rolled his eyes while peering into her mehendi, trying to spot his name before she elbowed him away.

“You can only find it after it’s dried. Now go and practice your steps—you’re in the first line with me during Kajra Re.”

“What’s that now?”

“Just go and practice, you idiot.” She laughed at him as he ran away, fearing how much he would be yelled at for being a bad dancer.

🪷🪷🪷

“There we go, nice and easy. Now let’s get the next one.”

Y/N’s brother had been at work moving up and down the venue, helping out with small jobs like moving tables, carrying in suitcases, and asking the guests if they had eaten or not. Somehow, he managed to rope Oscar into helping, and help he did, eager to get away from the evil dancing bridesmaids.

After many attempts at trying to move a table, her brother said, “Mate, you need to help me lift this. It won’t budge.”

But before Oscar could do anything, he heard Y/N’s voice calling out to him from across the open ground where the mehendi function was happening.

“You better go. She doesn’t like to wait,” her brother said, chuckling.

“Don’t I know it? Coming, babe!”

“There you are. Look, I need your help. The bride’s uncle and his family are coming in from the airport. She sent someone to pick them up, and I need to call them and check if they’re on their way.”

“Okay, so do it,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

She rolled her eyes. “Osc, I’ve got to let the mehendi dry—I can’t really touch anything. Be a darling and reach into my pocket and take it out for me, please.”

She turned her hip slightly to the side, to where her pocket was, her hands in the air, carefully held up to make sure she didn’t smudge her henna.

“Yeah, of course,” he said as he reached around her waist, reaching for her phone.

It was only then he realized just how close she was standing to him. Her beige lehenga and blouse, showing off her midriff, with her hair cascading beautifully down her shoulders. She smelled heavenly, like she always did, with hints of vanilla and cocoa butter.

He then made the mistake of looking down at her, his face tinted with a shade of pink similar to hers. Y/N’s eyes were focused on him, and in that moment, it dawned on her that she hadn’t really noticed how handsome Oscar looked that day. Wearing a simple cream kurta with his sleeves rolled up and his token slightly messy hair, he looked effortlessly perfect.

It took a lot of self-control for her not to kiss him in that moment. They stared at each other for a while, neither moving, until eventually the sound of someone calling out his name was heard.

“Oscar! Need you to help with the tables, mate.”

Her brother, as usual, coming in clutch to be the cockblocker.

Y/N grit her teeth in annoyance, and Oscar finally remembered he had to take her phone out. He fumbled with it for a second before dialing and dealing with the contact she asked him to.

He held the phone to her ear till she finished speaking, and then put the phone back in her pocket.

“Thanks, babe. Now run along before someone else yells out for you.”

🪷🪷🪷

It’s the evening of the sangeet, and Oscar’s long hours of practice (read: 1 hour and 13 minutes) were finally going to be tested.

The guests were all seated, and Oscar felt a pang of nervousness, similar to the kind he felt waiting for the lights to go out at a Grand Prix. Y/N felt his anxiety and reached for his hand, gently squeezing it to alleviate his stress. He smiled and squeezed it back, and before he knew it, the opening tunes to the song Ainvayi Ainvayi began to play.

He managed to remember the steps, almost missing one before he got back on track. They danced to a few more songs before coming to the final one—and the most important—Kajra Re.

The two of them were placed front and center, with everyone able to see them. He saw her parents and grandparents in the crowd, along with her cousins, who whistled as they took their places on the stage.

The nervousness seeped in again, with the worry of having to impress her family. But Y/N leaned in, whispering to him, “You’re going to kill it, hon. Trust me.”

“What if I don’t?” he whispered back.

“Well, then I’ll mess my steps too. Then we can look dumb together.”

“That’s difficult to believe—you’re a good dancer,” he quipped.

“Leave it to me. I’ll fumble so bad we’ll have to hide out in our hotel room.”

They laughed, just as the music started. And believe it or not, Oscar killed it.

It turned out Y/N’s relatives were so excited to see the Australian dance to the Bollywood songs that they didn’t seem to mind if he messed up a few steps. They hooted and cheered, with their volume increasing at the final step, where Oscar pulled Y/N toward him and dipped her back dramatically.

The audience thoroughly enjoyed the performance, but for Oscar, everything else was drowned out. The only thing he focused on was his girlfriend, looking up at him with admiration and all the love she could conjure in a single look.

She mouthed, “Told you!” a triumphant smile on her face. He laughed, unable to argue with her words.

🪷🪷🪷

“That was some performance, you two!” Y/N’s dad complimented the couple as they ate—or rather, as Y/N ate while Oscar fed her.

It turns out being a bridesmaid doesn’t just mean you get to take cute photos and plan a bachelorette party; it also means you have a lot of work to do to make the bride’s life easier. She’d been running around post-performance, and Oscar had finally managed to catch a hold of her and sit her down.

“You’ve gotta eat something. The last thing you ate was a tea sandwich at 5:30,” he said firmly.

“I’m too busy to eat, Osc. I’ve got a lot of phone calls to make to the vendors for tomorrow’s haldi ceremony,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help out with it. For now, just sit down and let me get some food into your body,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

And that’s how they got here, with him feeding her a spoonful of biryani as she leaned back in her chair.

“Well, thankfully I had a good group of teachers,” Oscar said, motioning toward the other bridesmaids, who laughed at his compliment.

“Y/N, why are you forcing the poor boy to feed you?” her father asked, using the affectionate tone he always used for his daughter.

“I’m too tired to eat, Appa. He’s forcing me to,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the rice still in her mouth.

“Well, at least we know you’re in good hands. Isn’t she?” her father said, nudging his wife.

“Oh yes, the very best. You’ve got your work cut out for you, kanna,” her mother added, making the entire table laugh.

Oscar leaned in and whispered into Y/N’s ear, “What did she call me now?”

Y/N smiled and replied, “She called you kanna. It’s like a term of endearment. She doesn’t even use it for my brother, so you should feel special.”

Oscar’s face lit up at the explanation, glad to feel so accepted and welcomed by her family. He grinned at her and fed her another spoonful of rice.

🪷🪷🪷

“By the way, I found my name,” Oscar said suddenly, making Y/N look up at him in confusion, only to notice him staring at her palms.

“Did you now? Where is it, then?” she challenged, her brow raised playfully.

He pointed to her left hand’s ring finger, where a small but clearly visible “Oscar” was designed into her mehendi.

“You’re good at this,” she said, impressed. “I asked her to make it super hard to find.”

They both laughed, and then he added, “I’ve got something for you to see, although mine isn’t as difficult to spot.”

He pulled out his palm and faced it upward, revealing the mehendi he had secretly gotten done. The design was simple but heartfelt. On his palm, Y/N’s name was written boldly and clearly, surrounded by small hearts.

She gasped at the sight, catching the attention of the rest of the table. Realizing what the matter was, everyone cheered, thoroughly enjoying how enthusiastically Oscar was partaking in their culture.

“You’re so adorable. I can’t believe you got this done—I didn’t even notice!”

“Well, you’d be surprised at how sneaky I am, darling.”

“Is that so?” she teased, grinning.

“Why yes, yes it is. Now, how about we go get some kulfi? I’ve been craving it since last night.”

She laughed, standing up and taking his hand as they walked away from the table, their laughter echoing through the festive evening.

🪷🪷🪷

this was my first attempt at writing smth lol, lmk your thoughts, and if you’d like me to continue with this. xoxo 🩷 (also yes i made the reader tamilian in this bc i like to shamelessly self insert haha)

[booksteacupandreviews]

The Black Orphan by S. Hussain Zaidi - thrilling action thriller

The Black Orphan is engaging, gripping, tense and thrilling action thriller perfectly blending real world and facts with fiction. The Black Orphan Other Books I have read by the same author – The Black Orphan by S. Hussain Zaidi Publication Date : June 29, 2024 Publisher : Harper Collins India Read Date : June 13, 2024 Genre : Action Thriller Pages : 248 Source : Many thanks to Publisher…

[meelusinee]

SANTA'S IN TOWN | J.P X READER

word count \ 1.4k | chritstmas fluff | slash / james potter x reader

in which you dress james up as santa to surprise your kid author's note at the end!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

SANTA'S IN TOWN | J.P X READER

The fireplace was warmly lit right in the middle of the living room, Hari surrounded with people in the living room.

Sirius and Remus were both snuggled tight on the couch, with Sirius complaining about being cold despite being directly in front of the fireplace. Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary were sat on the rug with Harry, playing trains on the rug you had gotten for him recently.

It was a small gift for Hari, a little rug with train tracks and other designs on it made so he could play with his toys. Of course, James ended up using it more than you did, but at least he used it with Harry most of the time.

Which led you to where you were right now. Currently holding the white beard your husband would have to put on to finish his Santa costume.

“Are you sure that I have to go out there looking like this?” James grumbled, his hands running through his hair that had been charmed white. “Sirius will definitely call me old!”

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, looking at him with a small smirk. “I think you look rather dashing with the white hair, y’know.”

“Now that you mention it,” he mumbled under his breath, running his hand through his hair again as he leaned forward a bit more. In all honesty, he did look rather good with white hair. “I do look rather dapper, if I do say so myself.”

“Yes you do,” you smiled, walking forward and kissing his cheek lovingly. “You wanna put the beard on now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, grabbing the beard and putting it on. You thought that he made a rather good Santa, especially after seeing his eyes crinkle at the side. “You think Hari will like it?”

“I think he’ll love it.” you whispered, kissing his cheek lovingly. You knew Hari would love it, even though the clever boy would probably realize it was his dad after a couple of minutes. “He can’t love something he doesn’t know exists though.”

James gasped dramatically before nodding. “You’re right!” he said, quickly rushing to the door to grab the boots he bought for the costume.

“I’ll go out first,” you smiled, kissing his forehead. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Anything for you,” he whispered softly, pouting as he realized he couldn’t kiss you. He compromised, instead booping your nose with his gloved hand. “And Bambi, of course.”

You chuckled at that. “I love you.”

“Love you more.” he smiled softly.

“Hari!” you smiled widely, walking up to him as he waddled to you. “Hey baby.”

“Mama!” he smiled, hugging you as tight as a five year old really could. Which, surprisingly, was rather tight. “Where were you?”

“Mama was helping Daddy get ready for work,” you said with a small smile, kissing his forehead lovingly. “And, she has been very busy writing some letters to Santa for you.”

“Santa is coming?” Hari asked you excitedly, jumping up and down before you got a chance to say yes or no. “Thank you mama!”

“You’re welcome sweetheart,” you whispered, kissing his forehead and leading him to the couch.

Everyone got ready near the tree for photos, the fireplace barely crackling now as the kindle wood finally burnt itself dry. Remus was currently holding the camera, extending his arm far so everyone was in the photo. Lily, Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas were all standing together. Sirius was planning on hanging off of Remus’ shoulder, though him and Regulus started fighting midway through. Barty and Frank were both laughing in the background, Evan hitting them both with a newspaper.

And you were off in the corner with Hari in your arms, currently bouncing him up and down to distract him from all the noise. As much as you and Hari loved your family, you found that he didn’t like loud noises very much or very often.

“What’s on your mind, bubs?” you whispered, trying to divert his attention to just you while you had the chance. You didn’t need to try too hard to distract him though, as he was currently staring down the fireplace. “Something cool over there?”

“The fire’s green,” he mumbled, hand pointing at the tiny embers left kindling.

You gasped dramatically, watching as the fire roared and a tall man came out. He had on a red outfit and hat, along with glasses and white hair. “Is that Santa Claus?”

“Santa Claus!” Hari said happily, clapping his hands. Both of you walked over to where Santa, James, was standing. He had a sack of presents flung over his shoulder, and a wide smile on his face. “Hi there Mr. Santa!”

“Well, hello there!” James said, leaning down as his smile brightened even farther. He had gone the extra bit to try and deceive Hari, changing his eyes to a light blue color and his voice to a higher tone. “I’ve been told I’m making a visit to a very special boy this year, is that right?”

“I dunno,” Harry said, shrugging simply as he rested in your arms. “What’s his name?”

“Let me check.” James said seriously, pulling out a parchment paper with Hari’s name written in bold black ink. “His name is Hari Potter, do you know him?”

Hari laughed, clapping his hands again as he looked at the paper. “That’s me!”

“That’s you?” he asked, gasping dramatically before chuckling. His hands reached out to hold Hari, which you easily obliged to. “Well I’ll be, I’ve met a celebrity then!”

“I’m not a celebrity, Mr. Santa.” he said, still giggling. “I’m just Hari.”

“Just Hari is a great thing to be.” he smiled, placing Hari down on the floor before placing his sack of presents next to him. “Your mom pulled in a little favor and said you can open a couple of presents early, did you know that?”

Hari looked up at you with the widest smile you had ever seen on his face, and you knew that moment was one of the best moments you would ever have in your life. James obviously thought so too, his eyes crinkling from smiling so hard. You weren’t sure if he could even see with how far they crinkled, but you knew that he wouldn't care much.

“I can?” Hari asked excitedly, smiling brightly.

“Yes, ‘course you can.” James smiled, pulling out a medium sized present and handing it to Hari. “Here you go, Merry Christmas.”

Hari gasped loudly, opening it up to find a book that he had been wanting for ages. It was one you saw him eyeing every time you went to Hogsmeade, a book about the Quidditch team that his father played on. It listed every single member and their rank on the team, including photos of James and his broom. That was always Hari’s favorite part.

“Thank you so much Mr. Santa!” he smiled brightly, waddling over to the big green arm chair you had dedicated to your nightly reading sessions.

“Thank you, Mr. Santa.” you said softly, rubbing Hari’s hair lovingly as you kept the bit up. You watched as he opened the book and ran his fingers over the words so he could read it easier. You smiled softly, kissing his forehead with as much love as you could ever muster.

Santa Claus, or James, went through the fireplace just as quick as he appeared. His body went through in a green and misty fire, most likely apperating back to the bedroom to undress. You sat down next to Hari, the chair big enough for both of you to sit and read.

You barely noticed the rest of your family going around the house, Sirius and Barty guiding most of them to the kitchen for shots. Lily and Mary stayed behind though, both of them sitting next to you and helping you reenact the stories the book told.

“Dada!” Hari said, his eyes focusing on James as soon as he walked down the stairs. “You just missed Santa Claus!”

“I did?” James asked dramatically, frowning deeply as he stepped forward into the living room. “It seems he left presents too.”

“Oh yes, tons of them.” you smiled. “He even let Hari open one early, isn’t that right Hari?”

“Yeah!” he said, holding up the book with your assistance. “Look dada, it’s you!”

James smiled brightly as he saw the book, though you could tell it was a smile of genuine shock. James had been distracting Hari while you shopped for and wrapped presents, which made unwrapping the presents all the more remarkable.

“That is me!” he said, kneeling down to rest his head on the armrest of the large reading chair. “Why don’t you read it to me, bub?”

“Okay!” Hari smiled, sitting up properly as his fingers traced the words once more. His voice came out neat and crisp, even if he did stumble over a couple of words sometimes.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

i mainly worked on this today, but i did start on it yesterday so there's that i think? i'm still trying to recover from losing my daily streak that i had :/ BUT i will get back into it, maybe more like two to three times a week rather than every day. as a sidenote, i made a second blog for reposts and other things! if you want to check it out, its @meelusinees

AS ALWAYS, please like, comment, and reblog! i thank everyone who does genuinely it means so muchh and thank u all for the support!

[stainedpoetry]

I think the best thing that our generation has normalised is having "online friends" . The bond created with these people is not based on their looks or their status but on the basis of their likes, their personalities, their favourite fandoms and their interests. You might have never shook hands or hugged them but still you are more comfortable telling them about your stupid mistakes and stupid jokes. The best thing about these friends is you don't have to meet them regularly to keep your friendship alive. And it's also the worst part not getting to meet them regularly or even once a week or once a month. From meeting them in the comment section of a meme to listening to their rants to updating them about our lives, online friends become our forever friends. It's a different kind of friendship but it's the cutest no pressure of any sort just two people sharing bits and pieces of their lives with each other and supporting each other.

[gomzdrawfr]

Price on a date (he's a lil nervous)

his fit is based on this

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS DATING INDIAN!READER ── .✦

a/n: this is request (here) by anon but omg, the amount of questions and research that went into this omgg so I hope you guys enjoy and that I didn’t get anything wrong omg but literally I have like 5 Indian friends and like lots of friends around the world so I tried to ask them but all of them approved.

tags: ( batboys x Indian!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Cultural Enthusiast: Dick loves learning about your culture and asks a million questions about the history and significance behind every tradition.

Loves Indian Food: He will absolutely insist on learning how to make your favorite dishes, though he might need a few tries to handle the spice levels. "Is this mild? Because it feels like lava."

Bollywood Drama Fan: He gets hooked on Bollywood movies. Expect him to belt out romantic Hindi songs after only watching the subtitles once. His favorite genre? Over-the-top romance.

Celebrates Everything: Dick will go all out for festivals like Diwali or Holi, decorating Wayne Manor and forcing Bruce to wear a kurta. ("C'mon, Bruce, it’s festive!")

Hyping Your Look: Anytime you wear a saree, lehenga, or traditional attire, he’s speechless, openly admiring you and saying, "How am I even real to have you?"

JASON TODD ── .✦

Subtle Learner: Jason isn’t the type to ask questions outright but will quietly research your culture on his own to better understand and appreciate it.

Obsessed with Snacks: Once he tries things like samosas, pani puri, or chaat, he’ll never shut up about them and ask you to teach him how to make them. “If I learn this, I’ll never go hungry again.

Festival Protectiveness: During Diwali, he’ll hover around you to make sure you’re safe from fireworks and loud crackers. "Do you need earplugs? I don’t trust this neighborhood."

Subtle Appreciation of Traditions: He loves when you tell stories of mythologies like the Mahabharata or Ramayana, quietly finding parallels with his own struggles.

Sassy Compliments: "You look like a goddess in that outfit, and I’ll fight anyone who disagrees."

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Loves the Details: Tim is absolutely fascinated by the intricate designs of your traditional clothing and the amount of work that goes into it. He’ll compliment every embroidery or bead.

Overthinks Gifting: For festivals or birthdays, he’ll spend hours trying to find the perfect gift that honors your culture—whether it’s jewelry, sarees, or books on Indian philosophy.

Enjoys the Food Adventure: Tim has a terrible spice tolerance but will bravely try your cooking just to impress you, tearing up while saying, "This is delicious."

Cultural Festivals, Tech Edition: He’ll help set up fairy lights or use tech to create a synchronized light show for Diwali, because "plain candles are too simple."

Admires Your Strength: Tim secretly loves how strong your cultural identity is and feels inspired by your confidence in embracing your heritage.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Mutual Respect: Damian respects and admires the depth of Indian culture, especially its emphasis on family, art, and honor. He’s intrigued by the philosophical aspects.

Desi Food Connoisseur: Out of all the Batboys, Damian handles spice the best and will genuinely enjoy dishes that others would find unbearably spicy. "This is not ‘too much.’ It’s perfect."

Loves Animals in Indian Mythology: Damian will listen intently when you explain the importance of animals like cows, elephants, or even Garuda in mythology, seeing them as sacred beings.

Precise Festival Preparations: He’ll research every aspect of your traditions to ensure he participates respectfully, whether it’s helping with rangoli or lighting diyas.

Secretly Protective: If someone mocks or misrepresents your culture, Damian will not hesitate to put them in their place. "You will show proper respect, or I’ll personally ensure you regret it."

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Tries His Best: Bruce doesn’t know much about your culture at first but will make a genuine effort to learn, from attending festivals with you to eating spicy dishes without flinching even if it burns.

Helps with Family Relations: If your family is strict or protective, Bruce’s natural charm and respect will win them over. He’ll probably wear a sherwani to meet your parents.

Thoughtful Gestures: For Diwali, Bruce will make sure the Batcave and Wayne Manor are cleaned, organized, and decorated to your liking, even if it takes hours.

Admires Your Strength: Bruce will respect how deeply you hold onto your culture and traditions while navigating Gotham’s challenges, seeing it as a reflection of your inner strength.

[seonne]

"Your Barbie!"

"Grandpapa! Grandpapa!"

The pitter patter of tiny feet on the wooden floors caused a small smile to form on Masaru's face as he folded up the newspaper he was reading to be greeted by his very smiley and energetic granddaughter. She put up her tiny little arms and made grabby hands at him, successfully melting his heart enough to pick her up and put her on his lap.

"What is it, Erica?"

The 5 year old grinned widely as she leaned on her grandfather's lap.

"Grandpapa! Mumma told me to tell you that- ... that.... um..."

Her voice trailed off as her eyes darted back and forth around the room.

"That.... um...."

Masaru snickered softly.

"Did you forget, sweetheart?-"

"NO! I remember! She told me to tell you that... um..."

She put up her chubby little hand to his face and looked away with a serious frown.

"I can remember it..."

"Yes you can, sweetie. Think harder, I'm sure you'll remember."

The little girl thought for a few more seconds before jumping off her grandpa's lap.

"Wait! I'll be right back!" And she zoomed out of the living room to the backyard. Mere seconds later, she came hurtling back with the biggest grin.

"I remember! Mummy told me to tell you that Papa said he got you barbie ready!"

Masaru raised an eyebrow at her.

"My barbie?"

"Yeah! Your barbie! It smells delicious!"

Masaru looked at Erica and blinked at her before the smell from the backyard reached him.

"Oh you mean barbecue!"

The toddler grinned.

"Yes! Your barbie!"

Masaru chuckled as he picked up Erica and brought her to the backyard.

"Thank you for calling me, Erica."

Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck.

"I love you, grandpapa."

He pressed a kiss to her temple as they stepped outside, where Katsuki, Mitsuki and you were plating up the barbecue you had grilled. He smiled, sighing contentedly.

"I love you too, sweetheart..."

Thank you for reading everybody! Please comment if you liked and let me know if you have any requests. Visibly, I'm quite free right now, so don't leave me jobless please-

Regardless! Any likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! I've seen many creators say that interactions are very sparse and unmotivating and yes, it's true. So, if you liked it, please do leave a note behind! Makes my day, really.

And follow for more updates!

[fishnets-fingers]

Can I Have This Dance?

“I can recall the dressmakers sewing buttons on your shirt,” she points out, pushing off the door as she saunters towards the dresser. Her eyes unashamedly rake over the exposed skin of his chest.

“Did they?” He makes a show of feeling around for the buttons.

She rolls her eyes, taking off the pins on her head, and her hair cascades down her shoulder.

“I think you left something on the dance floor, Princess.” He produces her anklet from inside his jacket pocket. Y/N lifts up her saree and looks down to see that her left leg bereft of the gold rope.

"I hadn’t noticed,” she whispers, reaching out to take it from him.

“Allow me,” he says, quickly bending down. He looks up at her asking for permission and she nods. He carefully places her feet on his knee and fastens the gold chain, moving it around so the lotus motif faces him. His fingers linger and before he knows it he’s leaning down to press a kiss on her foot.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

warning - smut oral (f receiving), handjob

Word Count - 10.8k (not proofread) 

MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST

….

விருந்து. Feast. Harry’s had many dinners in his life that he’d consider a feast, whether that be hunched close to a boiling pot of stew - absorbing the warmth of the cracking fire - on  the ship with his father’s crew, stuffing his face by a candle post near a hole in the wall inn at a foreign country, tearing pieces of cured meat as he rationed his supplies on his missions, and gobbling up anything comestible with the Crown Prince at battle tents. But he’ll never forget the fanciest dinner, the Princes extended an invite for him to come dine with them one night after his riding lesson. So, he put on his best clothing, slicked back his hair using aloe vera, walked into the palace for the feast, and was seated beside the younger Prince. Despite the sumptuous spread in front of him, his eyes kept drifting over to the Princess, who was hunched over the province’s ledgers - absentmindedly chewing -  at the other end of the table, shooting glaring looks when they got too rowdy.

Compared to that palatial dinner he’s experienced, the informal dinner at Handuman was pompously grandiose. A feast of sorts. The King, Queen and their children of Handuman sat amongst hundreds of flickering candles. The table was filled with bronze statues and sampaguita garlands weaving between the plates of food. The Queen had just finished telling the Chola Princesses and her children the story of Rosita and Delphin -  a favourite bedtime story of hers. She was gracious and kind, often stopping by the servants and guards' quarters to make sure that they were acclimated from their travels. The Queen’s fondness for the two young Chola Princesses only grew since their first interaction, especially since they asked her questions about her homeland - the Philippines. Harry heard from the Guard Captain that the King was very impressed by Y/N’s ingenuity, when it came to changing some of the finer print of the trade agreement. 

He'd been in and out of the castle, following up on some leads for the Crown Prince, but he’d made sure to run the security detail with the guards several times before handing over the reins to the Captain - who’d been the Princess’ shadow since the moment they set foot here. The elephant parade and accompanying fanfare led by the Handuman Prince at the port made it clear that it was more than just a warm welcome; he was trying to tout himself for Princess Y/N. 

This particular night, he found himself standing a few feet behind Y/N’s seat beside the captain. The two best friends were talking amongst themselves in hushed voices, when Y/N tittered pointing at Princess Shobhita’s lap. He couldn’t see their expressions, but whatever the Princess Royal said, made Shobhita pick up the tassels hanging from the end of her braid and smack Y/N’s arm playfully, making the two giggle. The door bursts open, just as Shobita opens her mouth to say something, and the Handuman Prince saunters into the room.

“Princess Y/N,” he calls. “I have something for you.” He claps, grabbing a velvet box from the guard behind him. 

Harry peers to see a necklace with three rows of large jagged white uncut diamonds with irregular long pearls dangling at the bottom. It was an impressive gift but Y/N’s jewellery collection was intricate and magnificent, telling the story of her kingdom and the artists who made them. How gaudy, he thinks. 

“Thank you, Prince Vinay. Certainly very gracious of your family,” Y/N nods a thank you towards the King and Queen. 

“Only the best for our visitors. I did not forget about you Princess Shobita.” He passes a small brooch to her. She responds with a shy thank you but Y/N notices the corner of her best friend's mouth pulling downwards. 

“One could well appreciate the thought you’d put into both of our gifts,” she said sweetly, but it wasn’t lost on Harry that Y/N was pointing out his tactlessness. The Handuman Prince’s generosity towards Y/N’s best friend was merely an afterthought. It was evident that Prince Vinay disregards people unless they’re beneficial to him.

Prince Vinay plops down on the vacant chair at the other end of the table, reaching for the stuffed quail. “Father, did you know that the serfs get paid in Chozhamandalam,” he rolls his eyes, making the King chuckle. “It’s foolish,” he pointedly stares at Y/N.

“It’s hardly ludicrous. I do not think it is just for generations of people to be bound to serve a Crown if they do not wish to.”

“Princess Y/N, people should know their place,” he bluntly states. 

“What place would that be?”

“Beneath us, of course.” Prince Vinay laughs. “You plant the seed of social mobility amongst them and they will think they are capable of ruling the world.”

“My Prince, do you not think remuneration is vital for the well-being of palace staff?” Shobita asks.

“A large dose of fear amongst the serfs is all one needs. You would know more about loyalty and fear of the crown better than most, would you not? You are a vassal princess after all,” he sneers.

Harry’s body prickles with rage at the blatant disrespect demonstrated towards Shobita. And the  way Y/N’s fingers tighten around the plush armrest, his body springs to a renewed state of alertness ready to intervene. The Guard Captain leans forward in anticipation of the Princess Royal, despite the Princess Royal’s history of maintaining her composure. 

“I am done for the night,” Princess Y/N declares. “It was a wonderful spread, my Queen,” she nods graciously, standing up and Princess Shobita follows along. 

“Darlings, stay. You have hardly consumed anything,” the Queen implores.

“Princess Y/N, Princess Shobita,” the King clears his throat. “Do not take dinner table conversations to heart.”

“I am not, your highness. It has been a tiresome day of negotiations for a mutually beneficial treaty and I wish to retire.”

“Goodnight, your highnesses,” Shobita says and they both curtsy before leaving.

When they were out of earshot, Shobita pipes up, “I can’t believe you walked out.”

“Would you rather I tell him off for disrespecting you? Twice.” Y/N raises her eyebrows.

“You cannot be quick tempered. We are here for Crown’s business,” Shobita reminds her. 

“I am well aware,” she mutters, turning a corner.

“Princess Y/N,” the Captain catches her attention. “The bedchambers are to your right.”

“I am taking a stroll through the garden. They have lilies that bloom at night, I am told. Do you want to join me, Shobs?”

Her friend nods, “Some fresh air ought to do us both some good.”

“Would that be a problem for you two?�� Y/N turns around to face the two men. 

“No, ma’am. Although I can’t say the same for Harry here, he has had a certain vigour for the nightly excursions since we arrived” the Captain says. 

Harry throws him a dirty look. The Captain has gotten in his face about the importance of a fitful night’s sleep to be more alert and he has politely asked him to keep his nose out of his business. He knows the Captain’s pride does not take to the fact that the Crown Prince had put him in charge of the guards.

Princess Y/N raises her eyebrows at him curiously, and before she could comment, Harry reassures the two women, “It would not, your highnesses.”

////

“I do not think it wise to make our way to the markets, Y/N,” Shobita advises, perching on the closest chair next to the window overlooking the sunrise . “The ball is in two days and I reckon everyone in town wants a glimpse of you.”

“You worry too much, Shobs.” 

The younger Princess sighs, there was no changing her friend’s mind once she desires something. “How are you planning to convince the Captain for a market visit?”

“Harry is in charge of security,” Y/N reminds her. “I can get him to agree to it.”

“You seem fairly confident with that.”

Y/N shrugs. “I know how to get my way.”

Shobita narrows her eyes. Y/N rarely referred to the spy by his given name and lost was the tone of vexation that came when talking about him. Shobita was no ingenue; she presented herself in a way that was taught to her. The way that delighted people around her. The Princess Royal was brave, generous and curious, so she sought to guide herself in a timid and magnanimous manner. In her reluctance to conduct herself in a boisterous way, she hoped to inspire people to treasure their quiet strength in the face of perseverance. After all, she was raised to become one of the Queens of Chozamandalam the moment she drew her first breath, she only thought it apt to show her people that there was more than one kind of fortitude. But it does not mean that she was oblivious.

She first picked up on the lack of unease in Y/N a few days into their voyage. The way she seemed to look forward to nightfall on the ship, the way she was hunched over the star maps with a look of determination that was only present when Y/N wanted to prove her brothers wrong, the way she would quickly break into a coy smile upon her return to their cabin at dawn. She had deduced that something else was occupying Y/N’s mind, pulling her away, inhibiting her from pondering over her self professed bleakness of the seas. 

“What?” Y/N asks, breaking her away from her thoughts.

“You never wish to speak to, Mister Styles,” she points out.

“I do not wish to, yes. But I still have to.”

“Because he is a spy?”

“Precisely. And until we are in Handuman, the head of guards.”

Shobita nods. “Are you not irked that you have to convince him to get to visit the markets?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “What are you fishing for, Shobs?” Her interactions with Harry on the ship only happened in the cover of nightfall away from prying eyes. And since they docked at Handuman, she had made certain that there was not a single glance shared in his direction. She had been busy with her minister and the Handuman court the past days, and he was off doing whatever her older brother had requested him to do.

“Nothing.”

“Look,” Y/N takes a deep breath. “I absolutely hate that the mighty Crown Prince has commanded his way to let the spy,” she laces all the contempt she could muster in that last word, “be incharge of my whereabouts. I want nothing to do with any of it. Truly. But I want to go to markets with my best friend and he annoyingly is the only one who could approve of the visit. So I am merely playing nice to get my way.”

“Alright. Lead the way.” Shobita points to the door and they make their way to the guard quarters.

Need to be more cautious, Y/N thinks. If she is acting in a way that allowed Shobita to pick up on something, then it’s only a matter of time before she lets her guard down in front of her handmaidens. Once they catch wind of anything, gossip spreads like wildfire and it is the last thing she wants. Y/N does not wish to lie to her best friend but this is not the first time she has kept troubling information to herself to not cause Shobita any distress. Did whatever that has happened between her and Harry warrant a conversation? A few shared kisses, hesitant touches, and whispered sweet nothings aren’t novelty for him.

“Your highnesses,” an echoed chant comes after the two princesses' arrivals are announced to the room.

“Let Mister Styles know that we are to depart to the markets in ten minutes,” Y/N commands.

“He is not here, ma’am,” the youngest guard pipes up from across the room.

“Where is he then?”

“We do not know.”

“You do not know?” Shobita repeats, shaking her head.

“I see him leaving the quarters every night, your highness,” another soldier says.

“We believe he makes his way to the, um-” the youngest guard stops abruptly and scratches his hair, and the men in the room share a look.

“Well spit it out,” Y/N says impatiently.

“We believe he is making his way around town to get with the courtesans,” he says quietly.

The handmaidens giggle behind the Princesses. One even whispers, “Of course he is off sampling Handuman’s offerings.” They are silenced by Y/N’s stare.

“Decorum,” Shobita reminds them.

“Soldier!” The Captain’s voice booms as he makes his way to the room. “You are not to use uncouth language in front of your royal highnesses!” He makes his way to the two women and bows. 

“Humble apologies, my liege,” the young soldier nods, before scurrying away.

The doors burst open and Harry saunters in and stops in his tracks at the scene in front of him. “Majesties,” he curtsies. 

“Ah, man of the hour,” Y/N scoffs. 

“I apologise for my absence, Princess. I was out running, um, errands.”

“We depart to the markets in five minutes, Mister Styles.”

“Princess, the Crown Prince has explicitly stated that I am not to permit excursions to places where security threats cannot be fully contained.”

“Did the Crown Prince also explicitly state that you are permitted to scurry around in the town brothels, Mister Styles?” She spits that question out with vehemence. 

“Your majesty-”

“I do not care. Make haste,” she turns without sparing a glance behind.

Harry catches the way the Captain throws him an arrogant smirk and he cannot help roll his eyes.  

“Best clean the stench of the whores from your flesh Styles,” he comments.

“You know why this is a bad idea, Captain,” he implores. The Handuman Prince was on a boar hunt  - a royal tradition to be carried out before a ball. The game is then roasted meticulously by the cooks and proudly presented as the standout meal. Harry personally thinks of it as an excuse for Prince Vinay to show off that he possesses the capable skills for a hunt, even if he has not participated in a single battle before. 

The Princesses were not extended an invitation to participate in the boar chase aligned with Handuman customs, it is the men who hunt for game, and even then the invite would be futile. Princess Y/N thinks of the act of hunting animals as an efficacious show of brute strength. 

Harry shivers remembering the time he had seen the aftermath of Prince Vinay’s inebriated blood lust at the Chera hunt two years ago. The Captain had been there with him as well. Prince Vinay had repeatedly missed his shot with the deer and the alcohol he consumed did not help with bettering his aim. The evening ended with two women killed: one strangled as Prince Vinay took her and the other with a sliced jaw to better accommodate his girth. He had remembered the look on the Captain’s face when he had returned from overseeing the cleanup of the mess that had befallen at the whorehouse that evening.

“The path to the castle is through those markets and the hunt might be done in a few hours,” he continues. “Prince Vikram would not take kindly if the Princesses crossed Prince Vinay’s path.”

“I will accompany you as well. No harm will befall the two,” the Captain assures him. “We will take every soldier we have.”

////

Harry could feel the buzz of fervour and anticipation as they made their way through the market. The air was laden with scents of fresh delicacies and ripe fruits. Stalls adorned with colourful tapestries were accompanied by merchants in simple tunics clamouring for Princesses’ attention. “Ripest pick from the garden, your highness!” Cried out a merchant brandishing a reddish brown fruit in the palm of his hand. Y/N stops in her tracks mesmerised, she had not seen a fruit like that back home. 

“What are they called?” She picks one up from the tall stack, marvelling at the fuzzy texture of the skin.

“Velvet apples, Princess,” he replies, quickly offering her a freshly cut piece. She bites into it hesitantly, taken aback by the hints of caramel that manages to escape through the tart and sweet taste. “Shobita, you must try this!”

“You must take one crate home,” the vendor insists.

“Captain, can you see to it that these crates get to our ship on our eve of return? I would also like a few saplings from his garden to take home.”

“I will see to it, ma’am.”

She produces two gold coins and presents them to the seller. 

“Thank you.” The vendor examines the gold, bowing for the graciousness bestowed upon him. 

Laughter of children carried over as they darted between people’s legs holding the colourful trinkets that were gifted by the royal visitors. Harry could finally begin to understand why Princess Y/N insisted on visiting town markets. The chatter of the throng idly walking by, the music floating from a group of sullen teenagers, the weathered face of an old woman holding all the secrets of herbs and potions in her cart, women floating from one stall to another in search of the freshest produce and game with a basket looped around their arm humming a melody, men busy haggling as coins clink busy sniffing out the best deal as they barter, all accompanied the warm gleam of the sun was picture perfect. The markets were the pulse point of the town to experience its river of humanity.

The sea of crowd parts for Y/N as she moves, while the onlookers let out several gasps in awe. He is unsure what garnered a gasp -  the dazzling display of ornate wealth or her countenance battling the radiance of a thousand suns. I bet it is the latter, he thinks. “Finest silks from the Orient!” A merchant calls out, the one from which Shobita purchased two spools of bright red weaves. Harry quickly glances towards Y/N, who was busy enjoying the puppet show with the rest of the townsfolk. He hangs back with two other guards, on the lookout for the arrival of the hunting crew, while the others surround the Princesses.

 “Would you like some sweets, Sir?” A small boy asks, pushing a rickety cart in front of him. “My mummy makes the sweetest treats in all of Handuman.” There were only a few on display.

“These sell out quickly?” He asks.

“Aye, they are gone by the time I get to the market,” he replies, casting a glance towards the direction of the Princess, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards.

“This upsets you lad?”

“I was hoping that Princess Y/N would get to taste one. That would make mummy merry but seven measly sweets is not enough of the Princess’s attention.” He sighs, turning the cart around to head back home.

He examines the colourful cylindrical wax wrappers and before he knows it, the words slip out of his mouth, “Can I tell you a secret?”

The boy nods. “I would not tell a soul.”

“The Princess enjoys a sweet treat. Loves them lots that she does not bear to share them,” he whispers.

“I do not wish to share my sweets too!” He exclaims. “But mummy says I must because it makes my sisters cry.”

Harry laughs, ruffling the boy’s hair. “How about I buy these sweets from you and make sure to hand deliver them to Princess Y/N and tell her about you and your mother?”

“You would?”

“Uh huh. I got into some trouble with the Princess this morning, I think your mummy’s sweets might get me out of hot water.”

He laughs as he makes quick work of wrapping the last of the sweets in a banana leaf as he hands it over. Harry pockets them and hands the boy ten silver coins. “The Pastillas only cost seven coppers.”

“These are for you and your mummy from Princess Y/N.”

“Thanks Mister!” The little boy gleams and treads back home.

////

Y/N’s eyes are closed, face tilted up, her lips pursed in a thin line, breathing in the flowery scent at the edge of the garden. During her daily evening walks on the grounds of Queen’s quarters, she stumbled upon a patch of wildflowers of bright pinks, oranges, reds, yellows and purples dotting the tall blades of green grass. It was behind the tall hedged maze - the only spot in the garden that had not been manicured to perfection - dwarfed by the expansiveness of the former. Even without tender affection from the gardeners, the soil rewarded the onlooker with stunning beauty. A quiet tranquil after the liveliness of the market and the tension that radiated from both the Captain and Harry. Y/N noticed their collective sigh as their shoulders slumped in relief the moment they stepped foot inside the castle.

The market had been a wonderful distraction from what she had learned this morning: Harry’s dalliances. She cannot believe that she had let her guard down around someone like Harry, someone widely known to be indecent. Had you not learnt from the stories handmaidens told about the men and women he had lain with? She chastised herself. She had despised him, the freedom he had to mindlessly pursue corporal pleasure, the swagger he carried himself with, the self assured confidence he had in his ability to charm anyone into bed, the way his lips curled up in an arrogant smile when he would catch her looking, and most of all, his utter disregard over others - always in pursuit of putting himself first. And you still fell into his trap, her jaw tightens, trying to keep the anger at bay. She parts her lips, breathing in through the nose, letting the buzz of insects take over the noise in her head.

“Can I have a word, Princess?” Harry's quiet voice breaks through the silence. He had just relieved the soldier on guard, taking his place a few feet behind her. 

Her eyes remain closed and Harry sighs, “Y/N.”

She stands still.

“This morning, I -”

“Mister Styles,” she responds with venom, “I do not want to be disturbed.”

“I know and I will leave you be after I-”

“Stop it,” she warns with a withering look. 

“Guards!” She yells, and three come hurrying towards them. “See to it that Mister Styles retires for the day. I am sure he would appreciate his sleep after a night of..,” she trails off as she looks back at him with contempt. “A night of exertion.”

“If you wish, your royal highness,” he mutters dejectedly, walking away.

Y/N sighs, watching his figure disappear into the castle. Idiot, her mind taunts, making her shake her head. She signs the guards to leave her alone as she bimbles around the grounds, kicking off her shoes wanting to feel the blades of dewy grass underneath her feet, the cleaners back home would not appreciate the grass stains on her silks and any other day she would have lifted the fabric up but she was not in a mood to be courteous. She isn’t sure how long she’s walked or if she was still in the compound of the gardens when she stumbles onto a pond and perches on a stone overlooking it, hand absentmindedly coming to play with her anklet. The water at the pond's edge is still, reflecting the powdery blue sky and the green of the trees. But the middle is dotted with broad, waxy leaves that float lazily, rising above the surface. The flowers stand tall - pinks, purples, and white - smooth and translucent in the sunlight. 

The light caresses the edges of the pearls, glinting golden. Some shy away from the warmth, curled tightly into a bud, needing a few more coaxes from the sun’s rays. It’s quiet, apart from the occasional splash and rustle from the fishes darting beneath the leaves, and the quiet hum of insects flitting about. She smiles at how the pond seems to be a quiet haven - ancient and ethereal - despite the busyness of housing its own micro ecosystem.

“Princess Y/N,” Princess Vinay calls out loudly. “I have been in search of you.”

“Prince Vinay,” she greets him from the bench. “I seem to have lost track of time marvelling at the beauty of these flowers.” She twists around to find the Handuman Prince making his way towards her still in his hunting attire. The buttons seem to be done up in the wrong manner, the leather vest pulled over haphazardly, and his shirt untucked bunched around his waistband.

“The beauty of this filthy marsh,” he laughs. “You jest, dear Princess.” He stumbles closer to her. “It is the night jasmine you must admire. They are only grown in palace grounds. Fit for us nobility.”

The scent of alcohol permeates off of him and she straightens as it hits her nostrils. “It is indeed a fragrant blossom but something about lotuses -”

“Princess. Princess,” he tuts. “These flowers even bloom in the town's sewage ditches,” he slurs. “Even the common folk do not covet them. A Chola Princess Royal such as you must distance yourself from this abominable excuse of a flower.” He sways and regains his balance by leaning against the tree trunk.

“How was your hunt?” She asks - heart rate rising - hoping to be rid of the Prince by letting him brag about his alleged kill.

“Splendid. I managed to capture the biggest boar of the season. I had slain it with this very blade,” he unsheaths his swords and presents it to her - tripping over his feet as he did.

She quickly takes it from him, careful to not make any contact with his hand, and makes a show of examining the weapon. 

“This blade has been with me for many hunting trips. It is a sign of true bravery,” he steps closer to her. 

“Indeed.” Y/N agrees, standing up from her seat, taking a step backward.

“What do you think, Princess Y/N? Have you witnessed what true bravery looks like?” He whispers, gaze trailing down her body.

“One can certainly deduce your strength and bravery from how clean and sharp the blade is,” she slowly starts moving away from him. “The blades my brothers bring back from their hunts are dull and soiled.” 

“My strength impresses you, Princess?” He reaches for her hand.

“It impresses your subjects,” she dodges his question, bringing her hands behind her back. “That is what matters.”

“It is a shame,” he slurs. “That you would rather eat like a rabbit tomorrow than feast on the game.”

“I should be heading inside, my Prince.” She says firmly, eyes darting around for signs of any guards and disappointment quickly floods her when she finds no one. Her heart picks up speed.

“Do you know where I have been?” He pushes himself from the trunk and stalks towards her. 

She shakes her head.

“Of course, it is not proper to tell such things to a lady,” he chuckles. “But I know how you women speak. I visit the brothels after a hunt. I find it to be the most rewarding conclusion.”

She stays quiet, stepping back.

“I wonder how Chola women are. I have yet to sample one of you.” He laughs. “Do you think I would be disappointed, Princess?”

“This is highly inappropriate. I will take my leave,” she answers, turning away but he’s quick to grip her wrist.

 “You Cholas,” he chuckles. “You think of yourselves as high and mighty but you should know that one of your guards has been frequenting the whorehouse. Every night from what I hear.”

“What my guards do outside of their working hours is not my business.” She tries to wiggle her hand free but it only makes him clamp down harder.

“I fucked five sluts bloody an hour ago, Princess Y/N. Do you want me to show you what I am capable of?” 

“Let me go, Vinay. I order-” He grips her jaw, silencing her.

“Silence,” he slurs, squeezing her cheeks harshly, forcing her lips apart. “Fuck,” he leans in sniffing her neck. “Fuck,” he groans. “Maybe I still have it in me to put the Chola Princess in her rightful place.” His free hand goes to undo his trousers, looking down to locate the drawstring. 

Y/N uses that to her advantage and sinks her teeth into his hand clamping down forcefully, making him yelp. She drives her knee up his crotch with her might. He falls to his knees, eyes bulging in pain. “You bitch,” he curses. 

She slaps him. “Shut up, you coward.”

Prince Vinay looks up at her, eyes watering, and he opens his mouth to say something but is quietened when he hears the Captain call out for her. “Here!" She yells out, and he rushes towards them with Harry hot on his heels. 

“I will see to it that my father punishes you,” he spits out, rocking back and forth cupping his groin in pain.

“Are you going to tell the King that his son - the brave and strong Prince Vinay who has allegedly slain several wild boars - was brought to his knees by a woman? Let’s see how your senate and court respect you then, you puny scum.

“Go ahead!” She taunts him. 

“Your highness, we have been in search of you as soon as we heard that the Prince had entered the compound-” the Captain stops, taking in the scene in front of him, lips curling up imperceptibly in a proud smirk. 

“Princess, are you hurt?” Harry asks, eyes filled with concern.

“I am unharmed, Mister Styles.”

“Was he untowards with you, Princess Y/N?” The Captain questions.

She shakes her head. “He did not get a chance to.”

“Harry and I will handle the situation. We best get you back to your chambers.”

She nods, before turning towards Vinay, “I do not want to see or have you breathe in my or my company’s direction for the next few days. You will come forward to announce a twenty percent tax cut for our cargo ships using your docks at the ball or I will see to it that your people see you for the miserable pathetic excuse of a man you are.

“You know how us women speak,” she smiles at him, echoing his words from earlier, turning around leaving the Prince of Handuman writhing in pain on the ground.

////

Thousands of candles light up the vast ballroom of the Handuman palace, flowers strung all around, Hanuman’s potent toddy - maireya - flowing generously into the guests' glasses, people whirling around to the quartet, but the most impressive of all was the giant boar placed at the King’s table that was roasted to perfection. 

Handuman customs were different from what Harry was used to from back home. They required the guards and staff to be dressed appropriately. Princess Shobitha had handed the guards their formal suits a few hours before, and had explained that Princess Y/N had the dressmakers specially make each of them to fit Handuman’s standards. The guards’ suits were simple - black with a leaping tiger embroidered in the lapels. The Captain’s suit was a light grey with the Chola crest on the lapels but it had small marigolds - his husband’s favourite flower - embroidered in a straight line, running down the length of his sleeves. Harry’s was a sage green suit with a silver green silk shirt with the house crest, with a sailors collar and braided white threads - similar to the knots he’d used to secure the masts - running up from his front pockets and around the cuffs of his sleeves. What caught his attention was a motif of a  black bunny painted on the white button of his trouser; it looked shabby, the lines were crooked - almost like one had done it hastily in a bobbing vessel. Did Y/N do this? His mind goes back to that night on the boat, his chest blooming remembering the way she’d sweetly smiled at him when he told her that he grew up thinking that the shadow on the moon came from the bunny who lived there. You need to set things straight with her.

Harry notices the way people gasp from amazement when Princess Y/N moves past them, hand in hand, with Princess Shobita. He is tailing the two of them with the Captain tonight. The Captain was busy watching Prince Vinay like a hawk, while the two women were busy conversing with the lord and lady of the southern Handuman province. They took care of the situation two days before, calling over to his guards and fabricating a story about how he had tumbled to the ground. It didn’t take much to convince them, so they both deduced that him passing out drunk was not an unusual occurrence. 

Her laughter tears his gaze back to her. He’s been doing that a lot since the start of the night. Looking at her. A compulsion to take her in every few minutes in an attempt to convince himself that she wasn’t an image his mind conjured from his dreams. Y/N stepped out of her chamber clad in a cream silk saree and a matching corset - shoulders bare, skin luminous, hair pinned up to bring attention to the choker gifted to her by the Handuman family - with the fabric pooling and falling deliciously against her curves. 

He has been vying for her attention throughout the evening but she seems content ignoring him, flitting from one person to the next, keeping herself occupied, she’d even asked to dance with the Captain - who’d indulged in her with laughter as they spun around for three songs - when she saw him approach her. He’s left with no option but to approach her this way, using Handuman’s traditions for his benefit.

“Princess Y/N,” he says, approaching from behind as she takes measured sips from the glass of toddy. He extends his hand towards her, palm inviting hers, “Can I have this dance?”

She quickly looks to Shobitha beside her and turns to face him. She knows that he knows that in Handuman a lady can’t refuse an offer to dance from a gent. She gives him a smile that’s reserved for the public - a polite one that does not let you in on her feelings. “You may, Mister Styles,” she quietly says, handing over her glass to her friend and placing her hand in his.

He squeezes it reassuringly, as he leads the two of them to the dancefloor. They bow as the music picks up. She places her left hand firmly on his shoulder blade and he holds the other outstretched. He begrudgingly leaves space between their bodies as he puts his hand on her shoulder blade. When they move, he’s surprised at how effortlessly she’s matching his footwork with his galumphing ones. He hasn’t danced the waltz in years - his father taught him because it was his mother’s favourite - and he never once thought it would ever come in handy. But she is forgiving when she glides with him, moving with him in a way that concealed his missteps.

“That must have been one hell of a kick to his balls,” he chuckles, trying to break the ice after a few minutes. “He’s hardly looked your way tonight.” Prince Vinay has kept away from them, moving the other way as the Princesses made their rounds, barely touching her hand when he’d handed over the quill when they signed the treaty, gaze trained away from them and now, busily ushering a young maiden out the ballroom. 

“Some people ought to be reminded what I’m capable of,” she replies icily, glaring at him. 

“I am well aware, Princess.”

“Why did you ask me to dance?”

“You were avoiding me, your highness,” he replies.

“And you still can’t seem to take the hint.”

“I want you to know what I was doing at the…,” he trails off.

“Brothels,” she finishes. “Mister Styles, I don’t care for your explanations.”

“Even if that meant knowing why the Crown Prince sent me here.” He spins her around.

She laughs dryly. “I am sure my brother did not send you here to screw your way through the whorehouse. Even though that’s what the two of you do back home, isn’t it?” 

His cheeks tinge pink, heat rushing to the tips of his ears, and he clears his throat. “I did do that, yes. But I haven’t in several months, Princess. I swear. Not after…”

She looks up at him, his tousled hair dark under the candle light, shirt unbuttoned all the way down to reveal the ridges of his chest, eyes glimmering green as he holds her gaze. She noticed the way the ladies at court made moon eyes at him throughout the evening and as much as she tried distracting herself with pleasantries, their swooning bothered her.

“I don’t care much for your sweet talk, Mister Styles. You got what you wanted. You charmed a Princess into kissing you. Now you can move on. Another notch on your bedpost, right?” She says quietly. 

“Y/N,” he says firmly. “Stop that. I do not regard what transpired between us with such frivolity. Listen to me, please.” 

She stops as the song ends but he does not let go. He looks down at her earnestly and murmurs, “Please.”

“One more song, Harry,” she sighs, signalling to the quartet to continue.

“One of the men your brother managed to capture at the camps,” he looks around out of habit to see a few eyes on them. “Maybe we should talk about this more privately.”

“People are not going to suspect my guard to be divulging secrets in the middle of a dance with a ballroom full of people. Go ahead,” she prompts.

“They’re whispering amongst themselves,” he notes.

“Hold me closer,” she commands, and he does, bridging the distance between the two. “There. That’s enough gossip to hold them over until the song’s over.”

He smirks, stepping back into waltzing and she follows suit. “I was asked to go straight to camp  when I delivered your message to Prince Karthi in Lanka because of this prisoner.”

“What about him?”

“He had scars all over his body. When they had tortured him, they had found a branding on his shoulder. Two fishes,” he tells her quietly.

Her eyes widens and she falters to a stop, but Harry pulls her along, floating along the dancefloor. “How old was he, Harry?”

“Mid seventies.”

Y/N’s heart picks up speed. Branding, apart from livestock - was prohibited in the Kingdom but that particular branding was one given by her grandfather to traitors fifty years ago. Specifically to the traitors from the Pandiyan Kingdom. Hundreds of years ago the South was ruled peacefully by three kingdoms: the Cheras, the Cholas, and the Pandiyas. People were allowed to move freely between the borders, trade flourished, and the families remained friends until the Pandiyan King had struck a deal with the foreign clan and had murdered the Chera King. He had invited the Chera family under the pretence of a feast and had slaughtered the ruler and his heirs. It left the Kingdom in shambles with the aristocrats clamouring for power amongst themselves in the Chera Kingdom - unable to come to the aid of the Cholas when the Pandiyan King had attacked. Her grandfather had fought hard with his men for decades to restore peace to the realm. And during the decade long war, all the Pandiya royalty were slain and most of its people had become a victim to starvation because their King had funnelled all their resources into war. 

The people that remained had pledged loyalty to the Cholas, a few migrated to the North, and the Pandiyan empire crumbled. It had taken several years for grandfather and father to foster normalcy and growth in their kingdom - both old and newly acquired. Her father was crowned into an empire that was turning around from the ravages of war. 

“The traitors were all killed. Hundred and sixty three of them,” she remembers from the records.

“Spin,” he tells her, lifting their outstretched arm up and she twirls. When she faces him, there’s a furrow between her brows. 

“If he was killed, why are you here?” She asks, before resetting her face to look composed with a polite smile. 

“He’d mentioned something about an heir. ‘A child coming to claim his birthright,’ he said before Prince Vikarm had killed him.”

“Vikram’s such a hothead. You could not keep him around to ask him more questions?” She rolls her eyes. 

“I wasn’t around for his beheading,” he says dryly. 

“If there is a child that would mean…” She trails off, shivering at the images of civil unrest,  and the threat to their safety of their empire. Their succession.

“Prince Karthi stayed back at your castle to go through the bloodline records,” he tells her. It all makes sense for her, why her younger brother had uncharacteristically hung back in her castle - going against their fathers orders -  under the guise of seeing her off on this journey. “We also found a crumpled paper he tried to swallow. It was the coordinates to one of the brothels here in Handuman.

“That's why I’ve been going there all these nights,” he continues. “I wasn’t going for the solicitors, Y/N, I’ve been trying to follow the lead.”

“Do you think they are in on it?” She asks, looking over to Prince Vinay and his parents. 

“No, they are unaware. I’ve been trailing them too.”

She nods. “Very well. What did you find at the brothels?”

“Not much but the women talked about a man who’d come in once a while to collect coin from the keepers.”

“You think it’s the person that was caught?”

He shakes his head. “This was someone younger. His face is always covered, never talked but two women recalled seeing a tattoo on his wrist. Two fishes. That’s where my lead ends.”

“Thank you for telling me, Harry.”

“Don’t be angry at your brothers. They did not want to worry you until they’d found substantial evidence.” 

She arches her eyebrows in surprise. “How?”

“I think I know your expressions quite well, Princess,” he chuckles. 

“Oh, do you?” She smirks. 

“Yeah,” he says, as he dips her dramatically, before hoisting her up. 

“The music’s ending,” she notes. 

“I know,” he smiles wistfully. 

“You’re not terrible at waltz,” she jests, leaning against him as they sway. “Could use some practice with your feet though.”

He laughs. “Could use some practice with my lips too.”

“Harry Styles!” She lets out a giggle, before restraining herself, aware that everyone in the ballroom was now looking at them. 

“How about we give these people something to gossip about, Y/N?” He asks. 

He was right. People will talk. Sure she danced with the Captain and laughed throughout for three whole dances. But no one would care, given his avuncular disposition. She’s been intensely conversing with Harry for two songs. Surely there are a number of stories going around so far about whatever that was transpiring between them. She needed to give the audience something big that would pull their attention away from their conversation. So, she nods as the song ends and he lets go of her.  

He bows, sinking down on his knee, bringing her hand he was holding to his lips. “Princess Y/N,” he says loudly before pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “It was an honour.”

////

It’s past midnight when Y/N manages to retire from the ball. The party had morphed into something more rambunctious after the Handuman King and Queen bid their farewell. Dances got more suggestive, music got more rowdy, and the younger members of the court surfeited on alcohol had started passing out a pungent herb to smoke. Despite the insistence of people, she managed to get away with Shobita stating they needed to catch up on rest before they set sail tomorrow. 

The heavy wooden door creaks as they swing open, revealing the soft twinkle of her candlelit chamber. She leans against the doors, locking it shut, and lets out a sigh. Her gaze sweeps around the room, taking in the way the flames flicker, casting long harsh shadows against the stone walls. The lingering scent of coral jasmine and rosewater fosters a sense of sanctuary within her. She is more than ready to wash away the hours of bearing royal duties and expectations off of her skin. Windows carrying a cool breeze from the dark of the night, makes the thick velvet tapestries billow, and that catches her attention. “You’ve got to step up your spy game, Mister Styles. My handmaidens shut the windows when I left the room,” she says. 

Harry steps out from behind the curtain, with a sheepish smile, eyes shining in the buttery glow of candlelight. 

“I can recall the dressmakers sewing buttons on your shirt,” she points out, pushing off the door as she saunters towards the dresser. Her eyes unashamedly rake over the exposed skin of his chest. She undoes the clasp of her choker and tosses it on the table.

“Did they?” He makes a show of feeling around for the buttons.

She rolls her eyes, taking off the pins on her head, and her hair cascades down her shoulder. 

“I think you left something on the dance floor, Princess.” He produces her anklet from the pocket of his trousers. Y/N lifts up her saree and looks down to see that her left leg is bereft of the gold rope. She had no doubt that she’d fiddled with it to a point where she’d loosened the clasps. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” she whispers, reaching out to take it from him.

“Allow me,” he says, quickly bending down. He looks up at her asking for permission and she nods. He carefully places her feet on his knee and fastens the gold chain, moving it around so the lotus motif faces him. His fingers linger and before he knows it he’s leaning down to press a kiss on her foot.

She gasps, hand going to steady herself on the table. “Harry,” she murmurs. 

“Been craving this since our first night on the ship,” he confesses, gazing up at her. He traces her soft skin with his lips, thumbs massaging the soles. Her anklet tinkles from her squirming but he continues to pepper kisses.

“It tickles,” she giggles, tugging her feet from his grasp.. 

He rises swiftly, hands coming to cup her cheeks. “Did you really believe anyone could hold a candle to you? All the men and women I have fucked never stood a chance.”

Her brows furrow in confusion, but he continues. “You’ve ruined me, Y/N.” The green of his irises disappears, replaced by a blooming lust. “I may be one with the shadows, surrounded by lies and deception but I only speak the truth when I am with you. You are all my mind can conjure in dreams. You are all I see in the poetry I read. Your smile, your eyes, your wit, your grace, your lips…” He trails off, bumping his lips on her cupid’s bow. “I swore an oath to protect your kingdom, I swore to my best friend - your brother - that I would protect you from threats during this voyage and a part of me intends to honour those promises until the end of time. But you’ve claimed a part of me, one that goes beyond loyalty. A part that a spy like me never intended to give away. And you have it - you haunt me. Ever since I first laid eyes on you.

“I swear, Princess, I did not seek solicitors. I went to the brothels as ‘the shadow,’ the spy of the Chola heirs. Not as Harry. The man whose life belongs to you.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. Not knowing what to say, she gets on her tiptoes, a hand weaving in his curls as she crashes her mouth to his. Harry responds with vigour, groaning as she glides her tongue against his. Chest heaving, fire stirring in their bellies, and the air around them crackle with electricity.

“Y/N. Wait,” he whispers, tearing himself away from her. He opens his eyes to find her looking up at him in confusion. “I want to savour this.” He steps away from her and his hungry eyes rake over the way the light bounces off her skin. He picks up a candelabra and places it on the wooden dresser. 

“Do you know how ravishing you look?” He mutters, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. 

“Are you going to draw this out, Harry?” She asks, chest heaving, eyes hooded with lust. “I am used to getting what I want, when I want.”

“You’ll get what you want,” he bends down and whispers, his lips moving against the shell of her ear. “Who am I to deny the Princess Royal?” 

He cups her face, thumbs stroking her heated cheeks, and he teasingly brushes his lips against hers. His hands move down, brushing the column of her throat, along her collarbone, and Y/N’s eyes flutter close feeling the zips of electricity under his touch. He removes the loose end of the saree that hangs over her shoulders, undoing the pleats tucked into her waistband delicately, and tugging the fabric so that it pooled at her feet. He takes in the sight in front of him: Y/N just in a pair of white panties and the silk corset that pushed her breasts up in a delicious way. She stood proudly in front of him, head held high, gaze piercing through. 

“You’re overdressed, Mister Styles,” she notes, kicking the fabric of her saree away, reaching to push his suit jacket off his shoulders. She tugs his shirt from his pants, nimble fingers quickly unbuttoning the one button he has secured at the end. She brushes her fingers over his chest, nails grazing his nipples that harden under the attention. “You have a fine body,” she comments, rocking up on her toes to press wet kisses down the side of her throat. “Must spend a lot of time on it.” She squeezes the firm muscles of his abdomen. 

He nods, unable to take his eyes away from the path her hand takes down his belly button, fingers dusting along his happy trail. She tugs on the button, smiling up at him. “I couldn’t resist,” she mumbles, finger tracing the outline of the bunny. 

He grabs her hands when she goes to unbutton his trousers. “I don’t think I would last if you keep smiling like that while pulling down my trousers,” he confesses. 

“We certainly wouldn’t want that now, do we, Harry? After all you’ve got to live up to the rumours, however exaggerated they may be,” she smirks.

He’s stunned. No once has someone held themselves as his equal while having sex. He’s used to people mooning over him, eyes cast down, eager to please, and here she was jesting, like it wasn’t her first time. “No exaggerations. It’s all true,” he says, affronted, making her giggle.

He shrugs his shirt off, arms circling her waist as he walks them back until Y/N bumps against the bed. “Can I take this off?” He asks and deftly unhooks her corset when he gets a nod. He sucks in a breath as it falls off, “Fuck me.”

Y/N reaches down and peels off her panties and beckons him close. He’s imagined the sight in front of him countless times, but nothing comes close to this sight of her. The wanton in her eyes, the swelling in her lips, the cascade of her long hair, the fullness of her breasts, the deliciously puckered nipples, the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the dip of her waist, the pudge below her bellybutton, the curve of her hips, the dusting of dark hair at her groin, the sporadic white stripes running down her thighs, and those damned anklets decorating her feet.

“You’re drooling, Mister Styles,” she chuckles.

It took an immense amount of restraint on his part to not feel her up when they’d kissed in the past. He tried hard to not let his hands wander away from her waist. He’s certain that restraint was something he can’t exercise anymore. “I don’t think there’s a word in any language that could convey the beauty in front of me. And even if there was one, I don’t think it will do you any justice. No dream of mine could compare to how breathtaking you are. Truly. You are beyond imagination, Princess.”

Her cheeks heat  but she does not have any time to respond because he’s busy capturing her lips, hands cupping her breasts. She hums relishing in the pleasure that seeps in her veins, spreading through the corner of her being. He kisses the top of her breasts, smiling at the way she shivers under his mouth. 

“So soft,” he groans, breathing in her scent, as he toys with her nipples. She’s eager, pushing her chest forward, hands finding purchase at the back of his head, guiding his head down. 

A low mewl escapes her mouth as his tongue leaves against her nub. His hands glide down to her bum and he squeezes it, teeth tugging her sensitive nipple. “Harry,” she moans, full of need and his determination to take it slowly crumbles. “Lay down,” he says, hurriedly. “I need to bury myself in your thighs. Please.”

Harry gets on his knees beside her on the mattress, leaning down to kiss her cheeks, breathing in her floral scent. He kisses her as he tenderly moves her hair away from her face. His hand travels down, and stops at the curls of hair at the junction of her thighs. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes,” she replies, a furrow appearing between her brows. He smooths it away with his thumb. “Harry?”

“What is it?” He kisses the crescent birthmark by her chin.

“My handmaidens tell me that men do not enjoy pleasuring a woman with their mouth. You should not feel an obligation to do so because I am a Princess.”

He pecks the corner of her mouth. “My only obligation is to deliver on what I said that night in your tower.” Another peck on her cupid’s bow. “Make your body feel things that the Kamasutra failed to mention.” His fingers skate between her thighs, finding her damp, he moans.

“Fuck, Y/N. I really want to kiss you here.” His fingers brush against her folds and she gasps. “Will you let me?”

She parts herself and he settles between her legs, hitching her left thigh up to plant kisses on the inside. When he gets to top, he switches to her other thigh, trailing his tongue up biting down on a stretch mark. 

“Fuck,” she grunts, chest heaving in anticipation. He feels his trousers getting tighter but he brushes it away, laying down on the mattress and uses his thumb to part her folds.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, blowing on her heated flesh. He swoops in, burying himself in her, taking in her potent scent. He uses tongue to lick her from her opening to her clit, mewling at the taste.

“Ah, Harry,” she moans, fingers burying themselves in her hair, and he continues lapping her up, making lewd sounds as he continues. His tongue flicks the bundle of nerves that’s swollen and she cries out. 

He looks up at her to find her eyes scrunched shut, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, arching up from the sensation. “Do you feel it?” He asks, hands clamping down on her thighs.

She nods, opening her eyes to find him staring at her, with every flick of his tongue a zip of pleasure shoots up from her nub to her spine. The faster he does it the stronger she feels these bolts sizzling through her cells. He continues looking at her and he moans, “You taste heavenly, Princess.”

“More,” she demands, tugging on his curls. And he does, wrapping his lips around her clit, he suctions softly in quick successions and she shudders, back arching, thighs clamping down on his head. 

He suckles her through the orgasm, feeling chuffed to be the only one who's making her feel this way. He smirks when he hears the tinkle of her anklets as she’s riding it out. “There we go. One more, Y/N, give me one more.”

“Harry,” she squeals when his fingers replace his tongue, rubbing quick circles on the oversensitive bundle of nerves. He dips his tongue in her opening, teasing her. She tries to get up, gritting her teeth at the fire raging deep in her belly, and she balances herself on her elbows to get a look at him.

Her wild eyes take in the way his eyes are closed, as he hums to himself as he kisses her. It seems her handmaidens were wrong, Harry doesn’t seem like not enjoying himself. Her fingers curl around the sheets when he pinches her clit and she comes undone for the second time that night crying out his name.

“Fucking hell, that was-” he’s unable to find words. So he settles by peppering kisses to her centre, as she comes down, body relaxing into the mattress, gasping for air. He wipes her slick on her face using the back of his hand, before adjusting the tent in his trousers. 

“I want to help you with that,” she tells him.

He shuffles out of his trousers, and sits at the edge of the bed. Y/N follows suit, scooting beside him. He notices her staring at his cock, already beaded with precum from their actions before, and he twitches under her scrutiny. “What? My manhood’s got you speechless,” he laughs.

“I’ve never seen one before. Would you say you are an average representation of the male reproductive organ?”

“More than average I’d say.” He says, suddenly flustered. “Bigger than most, honestly.”

She cocks her head to her side. “That isn’t what I’m supposed to say is it?” She asks. “My handmaidens say I’m supposed to stroke a man’s ego and tell them that their manhood is impressive.”

“Princess, I do not give a fuck what your handmaidens say.”

“What would you like then, Harry? Can I touch you?”

“Please. Feels like I’m going to burst,” he whines.

Her touch is feathery, curious as she feels the velvety hardness of his throbbing member. “You feel heavy against my palm,” she notes. He lets out a shuddering breath. “You like that?”

“Yes.” He kisses her. “Spit in your hand,” he tells her. And she follows, wrapping her hands around - fingers barely enclosing him. She pumps him slowly. “Oh fuck yeah, just like that.”

A bead of cum blurts out, when she plays with the tip. “Y/N,” he moans. She leans forward, slipping her tongue into his mouth as she moves her hand faster, and he pants against her lips feeling himself climb. 

“How many nights have you dreamed of my hands wrapped around your cock, Harry?’ She whispers against the shell of his ear. 

“So many, Y/N,” he manages to get out before whimpering at the way she twists her hand around him. 

“Does this live up to your expectation?” She asks, mouth nipping the spot she’s found in his throat that makes him putty in her hands.

“Uh huh,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping the edge of the mattress, toes curling at the pleasure that bubbles at the base of his spine. Her mouth continues to suckle down his chest, tongue flicking his nipple like he did hers. 

He whimpers, “Kiss me, Y/N.” And she presses her lips to his in a scorching way, and he comes, hot thick ropes, spilling on his stomach and down her hand. 

He quickly reaches to the floor and wipes the remnants of his orgasm from her hand. “Why’d you do that?”

He looks up at her confused, “I thought yo-”

“I wanted to taste you like you did me,” she states, looking straight into his eyes.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he laughs. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he kisses her forehead, reaching between her thighs to wipe her clean.

She winces, hands clutching onto his arms at the over stimulation. “I know. Just a moment.” He tosses his shirt on the floor.

She leans against his chest, arms circling his neck and he wraps his arms around her, fingers playing with the bumps of her spine.. They stay quiet, relishing the cool wind against their sweaty skin, feeling their racing hearts calm down. He buries his nose in her hair, amazed that it smells like flowers too. 

“Are you okay? With everything that happened?” He asks, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She nods. “What about you?”

“I’m certain that this is a dream,” he sighs. “That we’re in court back home, and you are busy fucking me with your eyes- Ow!” He recoils, a sharp sting shooting against his love handles from her pinch.

“I did not fuck you with my eyes, Mister Styles.” She tells him firmly, but the heat blooming her cheeks tell him otherwise.

“What was the pinch for?”

“To prove that this isn’t a dream,” she laughs.

“I don’t think a Princess is supposed to go around pinching her spy. What would the Queen Mother say about your unbecoming behaviour, your highness?”

She frowns at the mention of her grandmother. The Queen Mother had always insisted that she uphold her duties to the people. ‘A Princess must always put the interests of the Crown before hers,’ she’d told her. Did you act in the interest of the Crown tonight? She knew how lucky she was to have the King let her act in her own free will. She knows the weight she carries on her shoulders to be worthy of her father’s decision. To prove the naysayers otherwise. She was the only Princess Royal in the history of the Chola kingdom to step into administration. She made decisions independently without needing approval from the King or the Princes. 

“Y/N,” his voice pulls her out of her reverie. He tilts her chin up. “Do not do that to yourself.” “Don’t let your duties stand in the way of the choices you make for yourself,” he says firmly. 

She nods, this was something someone like Harry would never understand. He would never understand that the sole purpose of a Princess was to expand the empire and forge allies through marriage. Never understand that the power she held at court was an anomaly, not an exception. That her parents and the elders trusted in her judgement to choose her spouse, without pressuring her.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he exclaims, grabbing his suit jacket. He fishes out colourful cylindrical wax papers from his inside pocket. “I got you sweets.”

“Sweets?” She takes one from him, unwrapping one.

“Yeah. Got them at the market. Figured I needed something to soften the blow. Get me out of the doghouse.” He pops one in his mouth. 

“You were going to bribe me with sweet treats?” She bites into the milky, peanut filled delight. 

“Figured it was worth a shot,” he shrugs.

She hums in delight as the sugary concoction melts in her mouth. “I think I’m going to have to be angry with you more often.”

He laughs, watching her unwrap her second candy.

 “I can try and bring more home,” he sighs. He can’t board the boat with her tomorrow. She knows that. He has a mission to complete. To figure out who that man was with the Pandiyan house tattoo on his wrist. To help her brothers and her piece together how that escaped traitor knew him. To uncover if there really was a surviving Pandiyan hair. 

He would have to play a role tomorrow, making up an excuse as to why he couldn’t join their party. Maybe he would be so drunk somewhere that he’d oversleep, missing the ship's departure. The many deceit and roles he took on as a spy. But that was tomorrow. His work could wait. For now, he was Harry. The man who had his arms wrapped around the woman of his dreams. He still had a few hours left with Y/N before he would have to slip away, leaving no trace of him behind. So, he focuses on unwrapping the candies he’d bought for the one he fancies, until the first light of dawn.

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