#not helped by the fact that her friend refuses to acknowledge that her father turned her best friend into a child bride

[clowndensation]

alicent haters are wild they'll be like "she's such an ungrateful vindictive hypocritical bitch. why isn't she nicer why didn't she have a spine and stand up for herself when her dad groomed her into being a child bride" like child brides are victims with no autonomy, which often affects how they develop (as they are busy being brides who are children in those crucial developmental years, where they learn things like how to cope with (the) stress (of being a child bride) and feelings of jealousy (over other people not having to suffer through being a child bride) and self hatred (over your body being used without your consent as a child bride)). she isn't capable of being your perfect madonna figure because of the being sold as a child by her father to her best friend's father. as his bride. hope this clears things up!

[jedischooldropout]

Rhaenyra’s Sexuality Adds More Context!🏳️‍🌈

Hello again, back with more opinions. I was thinking about Episode 2.06 and the reveal that Rhaenyra is also attracted to women. Some people are saying “this is out of nowhere.” It really isn’t.

In the first season, Rhaenyra brings Alicent to the dragon pit while she flies Syrax, even offers to take her for a spin, which Alicent refuses. Dragon riding is a very intimate thing. It’s a status of power for Targaryens and very exclusive. For Rhaenyra to offer that to Alicent, someone who is not a Targaryen, speaks volumes. She even mentions wanting to fly around the world with Alicent, enjoying life away from the throne.

Now, when Viserys reveals he will marry Alicent, Rhaenyra’s reaction seems more intense than expected. Yes, she feels lied to and it’s VERY gross to think of your father marrying your best friend. However, she harbors such animosity towards Alicent and towards baby Aegon, this to me screams jealously. She’s furious that the woman she loves is married to her father and is having his children. I also believe that Rhaenyra’s coldness towards Aegon also has to do with the succession, but I think the heart of it is that every time she looked at Aegon reminded her of Alicent fucking someone else. I think Rhaenyra would feel this way towards anyone who married Alicent.

This also raises the question why Alicent had no suitors before Viserys. Yes, Otto was grooming his daughter for the throne. However, in medieval times, if you were a lady-in-waiting for a Princess, it was part of the Princess’s job to find you a suitable match. How come Rhaenyra didn’t do this for Alicent?

Rhaenyra’s search for a suitor also highlights the fact that she loved Alicent. On her tour, she only travels for a couple months and in the end insults the men who put their names forward and returns home immediately. After she returns home, she reconciled with Alicent! She acknowledges that Alicent didn’t have much of a choice in what happened. It’s like she had a realization after experiencing being a pawn in the suitors own motivations that she realizes what Alicent went through.

Now, the catalyst of this whole thing: the accusation. I truly believe this is what causes the Dance because when Alicent hears of Rhaenyra’s dalliance with Daemon, she is furious. She is not coming to Rhaenyra as a friend, concerned for her reputation and offering to help her; she is coming to her as a woman scorned and demanding if the accusations are true. It reminded me of seeing couples accusing each other of cheating. I know Alicent’s whole thing is about duty and honor, but her reaction is way more intense than just approaching a friend about a one night stand. It becomes Alicent’s mission to prove Rhaenyra’s promiscuity, like a suspicious partner checking their partner’s phone. It’s after this that Alicent splits the family apart and makes it her mission to take the throne from Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra also did everything in her power to avoid a war. She offers a marriage between Jace and Helaena. Her reckless plan to talk to Alicent in King’s Landing shows just how much she still loves Alicent and wants to reconcile. The fact Alicent didn’t turn her in also shows how much she still loves her.

I think Rhaenyra was bi-sexual this whole time and her love for Alicent motivated her to spurn her half-siblings. Meanwhile Alicent’s closeted feelings for Rhaenyra caused her to harbor anger towards her. If these two women had just kissed, they would be one happy family right now 🤷‍♀️

GIF from @gameofthrones

[gaybananabread]

•• @/Anon For the TT prompts, how about Lee!Miguel and any ler for day 5 or Ler!Peter B. with any lee for day 24? ••

TickleTober Day 24 - Joke

~This is the second half of a request for day 5. Not sure if the Anon will see it, but I still had fun writing this! Hobie’s little quips towards Peter were so casual and fun; I think they deserve more little moments together. If you’re seeing this, thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Hobie Brown

Ler: Peter B. Parker (& special guest appearance by Mayday)

Summary: Peter is in an extra corny mood, telling all of his best (worst) dad jokes. Hobie refuses to acknowledge anything funny about them, staying stubborn. With a little help from his daughter, Peter quickly finds a method to get him to appreciate the jokes.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

“Okay, okay, how about this one?” Peter chuckled, bouncing his little girl in his arms. Hobie was hanging out with the two that morning, and the father had decided to unload his favorite dad jokes to pass the time.

“I just read a few facts about frogs,” Peter grinned, giving the line a few seconds to sink in. “They were ribbeting!”

Hobie giggled through a groan, running both hands down his face. That was, like, the thirtieth dad joke he’d told within the past ten minutes. One man can only take so many horrible puns and cringe-worthy jokes.

“I’ll pay you ta stop.” The punk peeked out from behind his hand, seeing the goofy grin on his friend’s face. Peter was a great guy, especially when Hobie just wanted someone easy to talk to and chill with. Plus, Mayday was adorable.

The jokes, however, were killing him.

“They’re good! Mayday likes my jokes, don’tcha, sweetheart?” Peter held his daughter out in front of him, making her giggle and kick in the air. “See? She gets it.”

“She’s yer kid. She’s gotta ge’ it.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Peter’s reasoning. He doubted the toddler understood the concept of jokes just yet, but it was still a cute thought. “Lil’ bit pro’lly don’t even get the point o’ jokes.”

“Hey! Every Parker gets jokes!” Peter huffed indignantly, hugging his daughter to his chest. The girl squealed as she was slightly squished, wriggling in her father’s arms. “Watch this. Mayday, what do you get when you cross a bee with a sheep?”

The girl stuck her tongue out at him, studying his face. She was trying to figure out what he was saying, paying about as much attention as a child of her age could.

“A baa-humbug!” Peter made an obnoxious baa-ing sheep noise at the beginning of his punchline, making the toddler squeal in amusement. It was a good trick, Hobie had to admit.

“Aw, c’mon! She jus’ liked the sheep noise!” Hobie rolled his eyes once again, tossing his hands up in protest. The joke was so corny; it made it hard to laugh when all he wanted to do was cringe.

“You are such a downer!” Shaking his head, Peter hoisted Mayday onto his shoulders. He glared at Hobie, nudging Mayday’s little arm until she copied him. It was – unfortunately for Hobie’s resolve – utterly adorable.

“Cram it, ol’ man.” The punk turned away, crossing his arms as he hid a fond smile. He adored Mayday more than he’d like to admit, and Peter was a funny, sweet guy to hang around. Even if he did hurt Hobie’s brain sometimes.

“I’m not that old yet!” Peter’s shoulders jumped up with his protest, his daughter snickering at the feeling. “Oh, hush, you little scamp.” He scratched a finger down one of her tiny soles, making the girl kick and squeal. She tugged at his hair to keep her balance, which he was used to by then.

Actually…he might’ve found a way to show Hobie just how funny his jokes really were.

While the teen's back was still turned, Peter fired a shot of web at him. Hobie's spider sense buzzed a second to late, not really counting Peter's silliness as a threat. The thread hit him square in the back, yanking him towards Peter.

Hobie’s back hit the man’s chest, two strong arms quickly wrapping around him. It was a little awkward with the height difference, but Peter made it work. While Hobie may have had height on his side, Peter was stronger.

“Lemme go, ya geezer!” Hobie twisted and thrashed in Peter’s grip, but he couldn’t fight with his full strength; Mayday was still on the man’s shoulders. He didn’t want to risk accidentally hurting her.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Peter’s smug voice grated against Hobie’s nerves as he tried to pry the man’s hands off. "Why was the stadium so hot after the game?"

“I don’ care!” Hobie stomped his feet, trying to drown Peter out. Unfortunately, the man could just say it right in his ear.

“Nope! Because all the fans left! Eh, eh?”

Instead of waiting for Hobie’s inevitably underwhelmed reaction, Peter dug his finger’s into the punk’s hips, making him snort into a burst of loud, scraggly laughter.

“GAHAHAHAHA! FUHUHU- *snort* PEHETER!” Hobie tried to fold in on himself, but he was stopped by the man’s strong grip around his chest. He was trapped in a tickly hug with no viable ways out.

“Language! You know better than to curse around Mayday.” Peter shook his head before drilling his thumbs into the little pocket above Hobie’s hip bones, pulling a shriek from the lanky teen.

Mayday seemed thoroughly amused by all the chaos, climbing over her dad’s shoulders to reach for Hobie. She nuzzled her tiny head against his neck, her wily curls softly tickling behind his ears and across his neck. Hobie tried scrunching his shoulders up, only causing the girl to giggle and press closer.

“GEHEHE’ YOUHUHUR DEHEHEVIL- *snort* OHOFFA MEHEHEHE!” Hobie tossed his head around as carefully as he could, trying his hardest not to hit the girl on his shoulder. It was incredibly unfair, using her as a shield like he was. The teen had to admit that he was a bit impressed.

“Devil?! My little girl is an angel, thank you very much!” Gasping dramatically, Peter spidered his fingers up to Hobie’s sides and ribs. While the boisterous laughter was quite nice, he didn’t want to exhaust the teen entirely.

“I-Ihi dohohon’ wahanna ahaccidentahally huhurt heher!” Hobie’s cackles died down to pitchy giggles and laughs, his voice about an octave higher than normal. He made a good point, but the man still needed Mayday to keep him from fighting.

“You wouldn’t hurt her. I’d trust you with Mayday’s life if I had to. It’ll be fine.” Peter disguised a tease under the compliment, clawing his way up and down the punk’s sides. He really was enjoying himself; seeing the kids laugh was always fun.

“Y-youhuhu- GYAH! Youhu neehehehek!” Hobie nearly cursed, but Peter censored him with a quick scribble to the navel.

“Being mean in British is still being mean, Hobie.” Peter chastised him, tutting as Mayday went right back to snuggling her fuzzy head against his neck. Now that his reactions were calmer, the little squeaks and voice cracks came through perfectly.

“B-Brihitish ahain’t a lahahanguage!” Hobie’s shoulders scrunched once again, giving Mayday a little boost. She giggled from the movement, patting her small hands against his rosy cheek. It was adorable, making it near impossible for him to be irritated at her.

“So nitpicky. First, you criticize my jokes, and now you’re correcting me? For shame, Hobart, for shame.” The dad gave Hobie’s hips one more good squeeze, mainly trying to distract him from the fact that he’d just said the boy’s full first name. That usually got some not-so-nice words in response; he wasn’t looking to teach Mayday anything else that MJ would scold him about.

While the punk usually could’ve held on for much longer, his cheeks were getting sore, and he could feel Mayday slip a little with every big laugh and squeak. He knew Peter would never let her even come close to hitting the ground if she fell, but the teen was anxious nonetheless. He knew what he had to do…

Enjoy the ego boost, Parker.

“F-fihihihine! Youhuhuhur johohokes ‘re fuhuhunny!” Hobie finally conceded, trying to bring his squirming down to a minimum. He’d get his revenge later, no doubt, but peace was his only option for the time being.

“There ya go, kid!” He gave Hobie one last squeeze of a hug before pulling back, taking his daughter with him. Mayday whined at the break in contact, reaching out for the giggly punk.

“J-jehehez, ruthless ol’ bum…” Hobie muttered the words under his breath, meaning absolutely nothing by them. It wasn’t uncommon for him to exchange loving insults with his older friends and mentors.

The teen recovered pretty quickly, taking the squirmy toddler into his arms when he was able to breathe normally. She immediately cuddled into his chest, demanding snuggly affection that no being with a heart could deny.

“Yer lucky she’s ‘ere, or you’d be in tears.” Hobie calmly laid the threat out, slowly swaying to make Mayday smile. He loved the little rascal’s grin, especially the cute little gap between her front two teeth. While he didn’t seem the type, he really did love kids.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Peter huffed, knowing all too well how true that statement was. One thing that was always interesting about Hobie: he was willing to dish out whatever he received, and vice versa. It made for playfully fun slow days at the Society.

“It’s almost her nap time. Wanna help me put her down, maybe grab something from the cafeteria? I’ll pay,” Peter offered, gently nudging the boy’s shoulder with his own.

Hobie was quite peckish after all the goofy activity, and making Peter pay for things would be a step in the vengeance direction…

“Al’ight, yeah. Let’s go, gramps.” Cradling the sleepy little girl against his chest, Hobie started for the lobby. Peter rolled his eyes before catching up, reminding himself to steal some of the teen’s fries in retaliation.

Maybe he could even have busted out some of his worst burger puns, though they might’ve been too cheesy.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Grey Zone 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: It's a Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You’ve always been the kid at the table of adults. Even now, legally of age, you feel like the same child forgotten on the sideline. The most acknowledgement you get is from your father when you thoughtlessly lean an elbow on the table or slouch. Sometimes, you think the fact that you’re still breathing is a disappointment to him.

“Thinking of converting the garage…” your dad says, “or we’ll wait till the kid is out and do something with her room.”

You don’t react. It comes up a lot. When you show him your pay cheque, he tells you exactly what to do with your money.

How much you should save so you can get out of his house. You’re not left with much else as he takes interest for your tuition; which he’s kindly allowed you to hold off on paying back until you complete your degree. It’s better than most people deal with, better than some debt collector chipping away at your credit.

“You’re a fucking busy body,” Mr. Hansen chortles as he stirs around with his spoon. You’re not a fan of the dish either. “You ever put any of that energy into, I don’t know, fucking your wife.”

Your spoon hits off your bowl but you try not to show your shock. Your father chokes and your mother guffaws drunkenly. Mr. Hansen is crass but usually when he doesn’t know you’re listening.

“At the table?” Your father huffs.

“He has a point…” your mother mutters.

“What? We’re all adults? I’m teasin’ you, Ray,” he insists, undeterred by your dad’s hot glare, “I’m just thinking out loud and there’s a tension here. Someone’s not getting fucked.”

“Lloyd, my daughter–”

“Oh, so you do know she’s here?” Hansen scoffs, “she’s grown. She can hear the fuck word a few times.”

Your father sputters, speechless. For once, he has no reprimand at the ready. He is a man who always has his way faced with another who can steamroll any refusal.

“Whatever, I was gonna ask you something important,” Hansen diffuses the conversation with the shift in tone, “I bought a lake house up north. I’m not handy, you know that. Not in that way,” he chuckles and your mother giggles into her wine.

Your father sighs and sits back as he lifts his chin, crossing his arms as he squints at his guest. That look doesn’t work on a man like Hansen. You look between them, waiting for either to explode.

Hansen smirks and sits back, mimicking your father’s posture but keeping his arms open. He braces his thighs as he puffs out his chest. You never noticed before the way his shirt perfectly fit him, clinging to his well-toned muscles.

“I’ll pay you. Same as any contractor. And you can bring the family to enjoy the lake,” Hansen counters, “enough for you to continue tearing this place apart.”

“Hmmm,” your father rolls his tongue under his lips.

“It’s a good idea,” your mother slurs, “it’s been forever since we went on vacation.”

“You just got back from Malibu two weeks ago,” your father chides.

“I mean, as a family,” she leans heavily on the table, her finger hooked on the stem of her wine glass, “I love the lake,” she looks as Hansen, pouting flirtily, “I just bought a bunch of new swimsuits.”

“Well, it gets pretty cold up there. Even this time of year. It’s why I bought the place. I hate the heat.”

“Oh, you seem to handle it well,” your mother winks.

Your father brings his hand down on the table, causing every dish to tremble. “I’ll think about it, Hansen. But you gotta think this out, materials and all that.”

“Zoning’s taken care of. All that paperwork bullshit,” Hansen says surely, “seems like it would be a good opportunity for you to get away and let go.”

You peer around the table. Your mom leans back in her chair, chin in her hand as she watches your father. Hansen takes his spoon again and smoothly stirs the bright broth. Your father shakes his head.

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

🖤

Despite how often you attract unwanted leers and looks, you have a knack for disappearing. As the adults leave the table, you clean up, fading into the background but not quite fitting into the pristine aesthetic of the house. Most of the bowls still hold a decent amount of the fishy bouillabaisse. It tasted fine enough but who likes that much fish.

You dump each and start washing out the dishes, putting away those pots and pans you dealt with before dinner was served. If you don’t do it, your mother won’t, and your father will chuck a fit about a single dirt dish left in the sink. So you go about the task, earbuds in, nodding your head along with the music.

Your dark nail polish flakes off in the warm water as your scrub with a sponge. It’s fine, it’s cheap. You want to try the new mystic blue you got anyway. You set a bowl in the rack and nearly scream as you feel a squeeze around your hip.

You splash water through the air as you spin to face your accoster. Mr. Hansen stands close as he holds an empty wine glass. Your mother’s lipstick stains the brim. You reach with a dripping, shaky hand to pause your music with a tap.

“I didn’t hear you,” you gasp.

“Oh? I thought you were just playing hard to get,” he twirls the glass, “your mom’s off to bed. Face down.”

“Um, okay,” you reach for the glass but he moves it out of your reach. You furrow your nose and retract your hand.

“So…” he wiggles the glass thoughtfully, his eyes clinging to you, “what do you think?”

“About?”

“The lake house.”

“Er, I don’t know. If dad wants to…”

“I don’t care what daddy wants, what do you want?” His blue eyes gleam, the dark outlines feeding the lustre of his oceanic irises, “seems like no one’s ever asked you, sweetheart.”

You shrug.

“Could be nice,” you say. You don’t get your hopes up. If your dad accepts, you think he’ll somehow manage to leave you and your mother behind.

“And… if dear old daddy did say no, and I asked you to come anyway…”

You blink, confused. Why would he do that? He laughs at you.

“Think about it,” he hands over the glass, “this place is a drag. Young girls like you need that distance. To find yourself.”

You don’t know what to say or think. You really don’t understand what he’s offering. You don’t get where his sudden interest in you came from. Mr. Hansen was only ever peripheral. He was there to give colour commentary and needle away at your father’s patience.

“I don’t know,” he backs up, “maybe they don’t make swimsuits in your style…” You hold the glass close to your chest, caught like a deer in headlights. “But it’s a private lake.” He pokes his tongue and winks before spinning on his heel. “No rules…” he calls over his shoulder as he passes through the door.

You shudder and turn back to the sink. You plunge the glass into the water and swirl it to rinse the residue of wine. Hansen is just like that. He’s always looking for a reaction. You suppose you’re old enough now that you’re a new victim for his jokes. That makes more sense. You’ve always made a good target.

You tap your earbud and drown out your racing thoughts with the music. Just finish this up and you can go hide in your room.

🖤

You shut off the kitchen light and quietly pad through the house. You climb the stairs as an eerie silence permeates the space. Mr. Hansen must be gone since your mother turned in. She often didn’t end the night without some grand finale.

As you near your bedroom door, you notice that it’s slightly ajar. That damn mechanism. Your father can fix every part of this house except for that. You sigh and push it open as you enter, stopping short as you find a shadow standing by your bookshelf. The coffin shaped furniture holds more than just books but some crow statuettes and deathly trinkets.

The glow of your lamp casts a purplish light over Mr. Hansen’s back. He hasn’t heard you. He closes the book in his hand and slides it between the others. He pauses and takes the deck of tarot before he can knock it over with his hand. He shuffles through and you flip on the overhead light.

He turns, unshaken by your entrance. He keeps the cards fanned out in his hands. He smiles at you.

“I never really looked close at these sorts of things,” he says as he runs his thumb over the emperor card, “they’re pretty.”

“What are you doing in here?” You ask.

“I got lost,” he says coolly, “can you read these?”

He smoothly pushes through your chagrin, sidestepping your question. That’s annoying but he’s older and he’s a guest. You didn’t need him ratting to your father about your attitude.

“Yeah, they’re really just for fun though,” you near him and reach for the cards. He claps them into a neat deck and keeps them away from you.

“I like fun,” he says, “can you read mine?”

“I don’t know. It’s late–”

“How much?” He asks curtly.

“What?”

“I’ve seen those ladies down at the market. What do they charge for a reading? I’ll pay you double.”

“No, it’s–”

“I’ll buy you some new boots or something,” he barters.

“Why?”

“I’m bored. This place is boring.” He says. You won’t ask why he doesn’t just leave. You inhale and clamp your lips tight. “You must hate it. So… I wanna know my future.”

“I… fine,” you shrug, “shuffle the cards.”

You look around. There’s really no good place to do the reading. He shuffles the cards and strides by you, brushing against your arm. He sits on the side of your bed. Alright, well, you guess that’s fine.

You move your laptop and books and climb up, smoothing the blanket before you. You sit on one legs and keep your fingers on the duvet.

“You need to ask a question?” You say.

“A question?”

“Yeah, like something about what you should focus on at work or in your relationships,” you explain, “something to guide the cards.”

“Hmm, oh, well, the second one.”

“Okay… any specific relationships?” You prompt, “like family–”

“With you.” 

“What?”

“Me and you.”

“Uhhhh,” you drone, “that’s… alright. Focus on that then.”

You put your hand out. He hands you the cards and you fan them out. He watches, tilting his head as he brings his knee up onto the bed and faces you straight on. The strangeness of the situation does not escape you. It sears down your neck.

“Pick three cards.”

He does so easily. One, two, three. Most people would take their time but he is always straight to the point. You point to where he should place each card. The first there, the second next to it, and the third above.

“Alright, so,” you set the deck aside, “this is basic. The first card represents you, the second would be the other person.”

“You,” he smirks.

“Sure,” you say, “and the third, would be both together.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he rests his hand on his thigh, tapping his fingers.

“Alright then, flip the first one.”

He does as you say. You consider the card.

“Temperance, reversed,” you announce, “it means you like excess, you often go to extremes, so much so that your life often lacks balance and harmony.”

He nods and clucks, “I can’t disagree.”

“Second,” you direct him.

He flips it.

“Nine of swords, upright,” you utter. You let the air linger.

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“Anxiety, or sadness, dread,” you don’t look up at him, “so this other person… me, I guess, has a lot on their mind to worry about.”

“Wow, the cards really are magic.”

You wince and look at him. Is it that obvious?

“Final card.”

“Oh, I’m excited,” he turns it over, “what does fate have in store for us?”

“Page of wands, upright; represents exploration, excitement, and…” you pause as you search your mind, “freedom?”

“Sounds like a good time to me,” he snickers.

“They’re just cards,” you quickly gather up the trio. It means nothing.

“Do you read palms?” He asks as you put the cards with the rest of the deck and shimmy to the edge of the bed.

“No, I… no.” You eke out as you let yourself down to the floor, “look, thanks for humouring me but I’m tired–”

“Hard to tell with all the eyeliner,” he remarks.

You give him a sharp look. He smirks as he turns both legs over the edge of the bed and leans back on his hands. It’s almost a boyish expression.

“I’m pretty beat myself,” he says, “cozy.”

He lets himself fall onto his back. You put the deck back on the shelf and chew on the situation. What the hell is going on? He’s invading your space, mocking you, and you’re just letting him.

“Maybe you should go home–”

“Pretty big bed–”

“I kick in my sleep,” you go to the end of the bed and he turns his head towards you. You see that devilish gleam in his eyes.

“You bring a lot of boys in here?”

“What?” Your voice wilts out, barely rising.

“Easy enough to sneak em through the window. Got that tree right out there, they could just–” He motions with his hand, “zip right in.”

You let your anger burn through. You get that from your father. You fight not to let it win over but it rises so hotly that sometimes you can’t.

“I don’t appreciate this.”

“What do you mean?” He rubs his chest.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

“You are. This is my room and I…” you swallow and ball your fists, “I want you to get out.”

“Sweetheart, really, I’m not–”

“You are. You can’t say or do anything that hasn’t been said or done before. I get it, okay? So please, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”

He blows out and turns his head straight. He deflates and reluctantly pushes himself up. He tidies his hair as he stands.

“You’ll see, baby doll,” he struts lazily to the door, “the last thing I’m doing is making fun of you.” he looks back at you, his lips slanting, “I’m out for a different sort of fun…”

You storm towards him and shoo him out the door. He cackles and you slam the door behind him. Out. Get out! You feel like you need to cleanse your room now. You hear his rocky laughter on the other side as he lingers, his hand hitting the door before dragging down it.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls through the door.

He pushes off, the door jolting in the frame, and his footsteps peter away. You huff and face the room. He never told you why he was in there. You cross to the bed and drag your laptop and books off. As you do, you smell a trace of his cologne disturbed by the movement. You turn away and stack them on your desk.

You are ready for the day to end, even if tomorrow holds little promise.

[stomach-bugg09]

summary: [y/n] is introduced into the way of omaticaya, whether she likes it or not.

neteyam x fem + metkayina!reader

a/n: whoops guess who did this instead of studying!! it’s kind of good i think actually, but it’s also kind of not good, so we shall see. and yes, this is taken from httyd whoopsies!! (also i'm pretending that ikrans have a little bit of free will) feedback, reblogs, and requests are always appreciated

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir

warnings: kind of enemies to lovers type of beat, fluff, [y/n] being a lil bitch but we love her so it’s okay!

take my hand

[y/n] hated the newcomers. maybe it was her refusal to bend to her father’s will, him being the right hand man of tonowari, naturally prompting him to tell his daughter to treat toruk makto and his family kindly. or, maybe it was the fact that jake sully’s children were unbearable.

[y/n] grew up close with tonowari and ronal’s children, leading her to feel particularly connected to ao’nung due to their age. sure, the boy was annoying most of the time, but he was a lovable type of annoying. the two’d quickly acclimated to the title of being ‘partners in crime,’ eventually changing to a trio when they picked up rotxo after meeting him in their younger years.

now, ten years later, the three of them sat warily on the beach, scowls glued to their depressed faces. each of them sported a good looking wound, blood dried on their lips and cheek bones. how in the world had the sully boys beaten them? embarrassing.

the silence between the three of them was deafening. they’d just taken a load of crap from tonowari and ronal, and it didn’t take long for [y/n]’s father to come storming over to her.

she’d hissed in pain as he grabbed her ear, yanking her off of the drift log that she was perched on. “what were you thinking?” he demanded, voice hushed and full of disappointment. when he was met with silence, he shook his head. “that’s what i thought. you weren’t thinking. how many times do i have to tell you to treat them like they’re one of our own? why are you so… so daft, daughter? i know you are intelligent, where has that gone?”

his words stung, but she understood where he was coming from. although she liked to pretend that she was always one-hundred percent correct, she secretly acknowledged her moral faults.

after her father left her, walking away with one last look of shame, [y/n] looked over at her two friends, still seething in self-loathing layered with the fury of their chief. she took a deep breath in, turning around. she needed to take a walk.

without another word to her friends, she began to take steps in the opposite direction. the sand was soft against her feet, the give of the ground causing her knees to lock when she took a step that happened to be a bit too deep.

she cursed at herself, anger radiating through her veins at yet another thing not going her way. but, she had to keep going. she soon found herself on the stone-paved paths that lead to the small clusters of trees standing behind the maruis.

without much thinking, she kept going, feeling the warmth from the sun on her shoulders disappear as soon as she entered the shade. birds and bugs flew around, buzzing and small chirps being heard from every angle.

it was as if she suddenly felt at peace in that moment. the change of scenery helped, of course, but so did being away from everyone and everything. it didn’t take long for her to find a particularly comforting spot, sitting down in the center of a “tree-circle.”

and then, when she had finally found peace and quiet, eyes closed as she enjoyed every second of a stress-free moment, her ears perked up. with eyes squinting and staring upwards at the sky, she watched as a creature of some sort landed on a tree, him and his rider staring down at her.

immediately, she groaned, a scowl returning to her face. “what are you doing here?” she demanded, venom laced in her words.

neteyam’s hands went up in mock defense. “nothing,” he hummed. “was just taking a flight, and i saw you. what are you doing here? in the trees?” he didn’t miss the chance to send a teasing smirk.

she furrowed her brows, lips downturned in annoyance. “you lie, stalker. and i was taking a moment to myself, but of course you had to ruin it. like you ruin everything, tree boy.” with that, [y/n] pushed herself off of the ground, brushing dirt off of her legs.

“wait!” he cried before she could walk away. surprisingly, she paused, looking back up at him. “why do you hate me? hate us? i keep trying to understand, but you are not easy to... well, understand.”

she only rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders. [y/n] chose to be difficult, especially with him. “maybe you are just an extremely unlikable person.” she shook her head, beginning to walk again.

all in one quick second, neteyam and his ikran leapt off the tree, catching the air as he soared downwards. the creature’s feet grabbed her shoulders, talons careful not to pierce her skin.

[y/n] let out a yell of fear, feeling as her feet left the ground. her words got stuck in her throat as they kept lifting upwards, gaining height. subconsciously, the girl clutched the legs of the ikran, not wanting to fall to her death.

“what are you doing?” she screamed, tears pricked in her eyes. “let go of me!” and so, he did, dropping her on the top of the tallest tree. she quickly wrapped her arms around its trunk, mouth dry and ears ringing from the wind sailing through.

“why do you hate me?” neteyam demanded again.

“i don’t know, forest boy. let me down! i am not a tree-hugger like you!” she swallowed. “please?” her voice was quiet, eyes catching his.

he let out a sigh. “please, [y/n]. i don’t understand what you have against us. we are na’vi just like you.”

“i repeat, neteyam, i do not care what you are. get me down!” her eyes were shut as she held on, whispering words of affirmation to herself, trying to convince herself she wouldn’t die.

suddenly, everything seemed to go silent, the wind calming down. she felt a hand lingering next to her shoulder, allowing her to pry her eyes open in the slightest. “take my hand,” neteyam offered quietly. “let me just… show you something, alright? and if this doesn’t convince you to stop hating me, then you can continue to think of me in any way you desire. but… give us a chance.”

hesitantly, [y/n] stared at his hand, and then, slowly but surely, she let go of the tree and grabbed it. he helped her onto his ikran, the beast rumbling beneath her. she shook from the fear of it all, but all she wanted was to be on the ground again.

once she was settled, she grabbed neteyam’s waist, arms wrapped around him. “if you kill me, i will haunt you and curse you with whatever ghostly ability i have.”

the boy chuckled. “understood.”

and then the wind picked up, the ikran’s wings spread. the tree began to top with the weight of the creature, leaning closer and closer towards the ground… before it took off straight into the sky.

[y/n] let out a bedraggled scream, feeling as they gained altitude moment by moment. she felt her weight tip backwards, and she clutched the warrior tighter, eyes squeezed tight. “neteyam!” she screamed.

“whoops, sorry,” he chuckled nervously. “he’s not, uh, usually like this.” she felt as they leveled out, feeling a little bit safer—for a moment, that is, until she heard neteyam mumble “oh no.”

and down they went. “oh my—eywa please!” she cried, taking in a deep breath right before the ikran dunked them into the cold ocean waters. three times.

“what are you doing?” neteyam cursed at his ikran. “we need her to like us!” that did not seem to help, because instead, they went straight back up, their ears popping from the change in pressure.

“and now the spinning,” he commented dryly just as the beast began to turn rapidly through the air, aimed downwards right back into the waters.

[y/n] gripped his chest at this point, face buried in his back. “okay,” she began breathlessly. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry for how i’ve treated you and your family. just, please, get me off of this thing.”

and then, the ikran pulled up, leveling off.

all of a sudden, everything was calm. the wind was no longer the strongest aspect, and [y/n] could finally feel her nerves again. although still shaking, she felt safer, clutched onto the back of neteyam.

the sun was setting in front of them, the sky a gorgeous orange, contrasting the aquamarine of the ocean.

she felt as they lifted upward, slowly and smoothly. her skin was blessed with the moisture of the clouds that they soared through, her hand instinctively reaching out to feel it. [y/n] looked around in awe, the imagery feeling.. fake. it was as if she were in a story, like those kinds her mother used to tell her.

it was beautiful.

as they pulled up even farther, they reached the tops of the clouds. she gasped at the brilliance of the moment, tears touching the corners of her eyes. “neteyam,” she breathed, one arm still wrapped around his waist.

“how about that?” he teased, although he himself was feeling rather lightheaded thanks to his extremely flushed face. thank eywa she couldn’t see it.

she chuckled lightly. “i admit it, that’s pretty extraordinary.” they sat in silence, the chilled breeze allowing for her to calm down. and then, suddenly, the guilt pooled itself in her stomach.

“i’m sorry,” she began softly. “i’m sorry for who i’ve been, what i’ve done. i.. i just have been here for so long, it feels, or felt, i suppose, like letting your family in would change everything. and i don’t want change. it’s scary,” she admitted, a weight falling off her shoulders. she’d never told anyone that before, not even ao’nung.

she felt his smile from where she rested her chin on his shoulder. “i understand that more than you would think,” he whispered. “leaving your home is not at all the easiest change.”

“no,” she agreed. “it is not. and neither is flying for the first time, but it can be done, and it can be enjoyable.”

with that, they fell into a comfortable silence, her weight leaned against his as he directed his ikran through the air.

and in that moment, they both were thinking one thing. this is perfect.

[lajulie24]

Don’t mind me, just watching GIFs of Luke throwing away his lightsaber in ROTJ and reclaiming himself as a Jedi “like my father before me” and thinking about all the things that led him there and all the people who contributed to Luke making that decision. Yes, that decision was incredibly personal and speaks to how Luke has grown throughout the OT, and at the same time Luke himself would likely acknowledge that moment wouldn’t have been possible without everyone who has been a part of his life, who helped him get there. Some of whom he never even knew.

It’s a victory for Padmé Amidala Naberrie, whom Luke never knew but who managed to outmatch Sheev Palpatine so many times through her life, in part by refusing to play his game, which is exactly what Luke did here. Palpatine claims Luke’s faith in his friends is his weakness, but both he and his mother knew that it was a strength. Padmé’s friends (particularly Bail and Obi-Wan) are the reason the twins survived at all, the reason Luke had a sister and friend in Leia to lean on during his journey, the reason Obi-Wan survived long enough to watch over him and introduce him to the Force.

It’s a victory for Shmi Skywalker, whom Luke never knew but who influenced her stepson Owen Lars and her daughter-in-law Beru Whitesun Lars, who in turn helped Luke grow into the person he was. Yes, Anakin turned in part because he feared to lose Padmé the way he’d lost Shmi, just like Luke came close to turning when Vader threatened Leia, but I have to think that part of the reason Luke was able to stop was that he had that foundation of love and stability Owen and Beru had nurtured that made Luke remember who he was.

It’s a victory for the Jedi, whom Palpatine had manipulated and twisted and exhausted through the Clone Wars until by the time they faced genocide at Order 66 they were already a shadow of what they could have been. Luke reclaiming what it means to be a Jedi — and again, refusing to be defined by the structures and traps Palpatine had constructed for his father and for the other Jedi — would not have been possible without Luke being introduced to the Force by Obi-Wan, taught in the Force by Yoda, AND remembering himself through his bonds with other people. The fact that these Jedi who had survived a horrific genocide could still offer that connection, that hope, says that Sheev had not succeeded eliminating their light. Just like Sheev had not succeeded in eliminating the light in Anakin.

It’s a victory for all the beings with whom Luke was connected, because Luke had learned the thing his father struggled so hard to do: he learned to love, to trust, and to let go. At this moment, there was no guarantee Luke was getting out of there alive. In fact, a second later he’s being electrocuted by Palpatine and probably going to die. But like Luke said, Palpatine has already lost. Luke won’t turn to the Dark Side. He’ll keep trusting his friends, and trusting in the light. And everyone who has connected with Luke—Leia, Han, Chewie, Lando, his friends in the Rebellion, everyone — has been changed by that connection in a way that Palpatine can never take away. No matter who survives, that light in some form will survive.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Truth Comes Out of His Well (Chapter 4)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Lee Fletcher, Kronos, Apollo, Apollo Cabin (and many more) As always, @stereden is responsible for the accompanying podfic! Warning for some sensory overload in this chapter! << Chapter 3 Listen to chapter 4 on AO3

“Alana,” Kronos said.  “Your turn.”

Next to him, Aquila startled.  “He didn’t answer mine, Lord Saturn,” they protested, sounding put-out.  Kronos shot them a look and they recoiled slightly; even Kronos’ own demigods clearly feared him, Lee realised.

The daughter of Demeter, a couple of years older than Lee, stepped forwards as the girl with Reuben and Aquila dragged her friend back, out of Kronos’ immediate eyeline, for what little it mattered when the titan had returned his inspecting gaze to Lee.

For his part, Lee couldn’t help staring helplessly at the girl he’d once considered if not a friend, at least someone he’d got on with, and wondering when things had gone so wrong that she was staring at him so dispassionately, almost looking through him rather than at him.

“My favourite flowers are dahlias.”  Lie.  “I grew up in rural Ohio.”  Lee hadn’t known that about her, but that was probably the point.  “The only time my mother ever acknowledged my existence was when she claimed me.”  Lee knew other demigods had it bad, had heard sentiments to that degree scattered throughout camp across the years, but hearing it here and now, surrounded by demigods that had decided to throw their lot in with the titan best remembered for eating his children, vehemently against their own parents…

The weight hit so much harder.

“Well?” Kronos prompted when he didn’t react.

Lee shook his head, dragging out the stubbornness again because it was the only defence he had.

“This is not optional, Lee Fletcher,” the titan growled.  “One way or another, you will answer.  I suggest you take the easy route while it’s available.”

The sheer absence of a lie in his words should have been enough to get Lee to cave and save himself the torture, but he couldn’t do that, because surrendering and helping Kronos meant betraying his siblings, his father, and he couldn’t do that, no matter what was at stake.  Besides, truth wasn’t always what people thought it was.

Truth was finicky.  What was true for one person was a lie for the other, and it had taken Lee years to work out exactly how his sense worked (Apollo had helped with that, in his dreams, answering questions and explaining just enough for things to make sense).  Luke had known the basics, but if Kronos was trying to use it to intimidate him, he was missing one crucial detail.

Truth was personal.   It preyed on belief, powerful and unwavering.  If someone believed in something whole-heartedly enough, then it was their truth, and even if Lee knew it was a lie, it didn’t set the tingle going down his spine.

Just because Kronos believed he could break him didn’t mean he could.  It was admittedly a small sliver of hope, because Kronos was a titan that also apparently had access to everything Luke had ever known about Lee, and Luke knew quite a lot, but it was enough of one to matter.

Lee met Kronos’ eyes firmly.  “Go back to Tartarus,” he growled, words tumbling together in the back of his throat.

Gold eyes flashed in anger and the titan stepped forwards, kneeling down and gripping his shoulder again.  It hurt and Lee had the sudden flash of fear that if he kept not cooperating, then Kronos would break him physically, even if he couldn’t mould him mentally.

That was better than being used to hurt his loved ones.  Much, much better, even if the concept was terrifying.

“Claudia,” Kronos snapped.  “Your turn.”  The girl of the original trio stepped up, and Alana faded into the background again, making no indication on her thoughts of Lee, or the fact that he’d refused to answer her.  She’d always been smart.

Claudia was sending Lee silent daggers with her eyes, arms crossed and muscles bulging.  Where Reuben had a dove, she had two crossed spears tattooed on her arm, with the same letters.  “I am a daughter of Mars,” she proclaimed, spitting the god’s name as though she couldn’t think of a worse father to have.  From his interactions with cabin five over the years, that seemed bizarre to Lee.  Ares wasn’t close with his kids, not compared to Apollo, but he wasn’t often resented by them.

Then again, the fact that he gave them shiny new and dangerous weapons from time to time probably helped.  Clarisse had loved her first electric spear, and had become a lot more protective over the replacement when she’d received it, presumably after realising that even godly-given weapons weren’t infallible.

Claudia started to speak again, to either spit out her lie or throw another truth into the room, but Kronos held up his free hand with a sharp jerk that promised retribution to anyone that disobeyed the gesture and she instantly fell silent.

“Truth or lie?” the titan demanded.  Lee swallowed, not sure what to think of the change but figuring it was only going to mean bad things for him.

“What happened to two truths and a lie?” he asked.  The words came out slightly muffled, but Kronos’ dismissive hand wave – with entirely too many sharp gestures and wary looks from the closest demigods – proved that he’d understood Lee without any issues.

“The game has changed,” he growled, voice thick like gravel.  “Truth or lie?”  His hand slipped from Lee’s shoulder to wrap around his throat instead, pushing until he could feel the cool stone of the cavern wall against the back of his head.  “My patience is not infinite, demigod.”  That was quickly becoming apparent as the grip tightened and his windpipe began to fear being cut off from the air.

“No,” he strained.

Kronos scoffed and released him.  “Next statement,” he snapped, as Lee’s head sagged forwards, gasping slightly.

Claudia didn’t hesitate.  “I ran away from home when I was ten,” she said, and the prickle of a lie ran up Lee’s spine.

Calloused fingertips brushed against his ear before forming a fist in his hair, yanking his hair hard.  Lee was sure several hairs had just parted company with his scalp, and that more were on the verge of joining them.

“Truth or lie?” Kronos asked.

Lee grit his teeth and stayed silent.

He was a terrible liar.  That was common knowledge in camp, and not all that rare a trait for an Apollo kid to have – Joy physically couldn’t lie, after all – although Lee suspected it was a direct consequence of his own ability.  There was something poetic in being able to uncover everyone else’s lies while being unable to hide his own.  Most of the time, it didn’t bother Lee – he didn’t like lies, mostly for the way they made him feel, and always tried to be truthful – but sometimes it was annoying.

Either Kronos also knew that, from Luke – likely, because he knew Luke knew he was a terrible liar – or he’d already worked it out, because yes/no questions like this were his bane if he was trying to hide something.  If Lee was confident in his ability to lie, maybe he would have started to answer, mixing up truths and lies so Kronos couldn’t trust him.

Unfortunately, he knew that if he tried to claim she’d told the truth there, Kronos would see through it in an instant.  Luke had been one of the ones to first point out to him that he was a terrible liar, and Lee had always wondered if there was a possibility that a child of the god of thieves and liars could do something similar to him.  Apollo and Mr D had also told him, with drastically different words and ways, that his skills didn’t lie in deceit.

All Lee could do was stay silent.

He’d had years of practice of not calling out when people lied – living in a camp full of teenagers meant that lies seemed to float around near-constantly, mostly small and inconsequential white lies but sometimes bigger, more important things that made or broke relationships.  He could do it.

Even if he’d never tried to not do it during an interrogation that felt barely a step away from looming torture.

Kronos shook his head slightly, forcing him to meet those horrible golden irises of his again, and they bored into him as though the titan had his own truth-sensing ability.  Lee hadn’t even considered that he might do, too – he associated the truth with Apollo, lies with Hermes, and how the mind worked with Dionysus.  Kronos was the titan of time and agriculture – neither of those should lend themselves towards lies.

But also he was a titan.   Lee couldn’t tell when a god lied – his head hurt when gods spoke to him, a constant clash of lie-lie-lie, and Apollo had explained to him that it was because gods knew so much more than Lee could comprehend, so everything triggered as a lie because Lee could sense there was more, even if the god was actually telling the truth.

Apollo and Mr D both actively blocked his ability when they spoke to him, now, to save him the migraine.  He still wasn’t quite sure why Mr D did it, but he wasn’t complaining about it.

For some reason, though, Lee wasn’t getting the same incessant feedback from Kronos.  Maybe titans were less complex, or maybe it was because he was in Luke’s body, rather than his own.

Maybe that made him functionally closer to a demigod, or demititan, than he should be.

Lee wasn’t going to ask.

“You will answer,” Kronos promised him, voice low and gravelly.  The weight of a truth fell from his tongue.  “Third statement.”

Golden eyes pinned Lee in place, a metaphorical restraint to go with the physicality of manacles and a hand balled in his hair, as Claudia dropped another truth.  “I left the legion when I was fifteen.”

These demigods with tattoos on their arms and their strange words had Lee wanting to ask questions.  Legion, and legacy, and Lord Saturn, Mars, Vulcan.  The Latin for Greek, used as a clear slur.

There was something going on there, something that niggled at him as being big and also very concerning, but he couldn’t ask questions, because Kronos would use that against him.

It would also reveal which things they’d said were truths.

“Well?” Kronos asked him, raising Luke’s eyebrow again.  Just one, in a look that would be inquisitive if the eyes below it weren’t burning with unmasked fury.

It was foolish to keep antagonising that fury, Lee knew, and he liked to think he had a reasonable degree of self-preservation.  Being a demigod at risk of being attacked every time he stepped out of camp did a lot to nurture one of those.

His self-preservation did not outweigh his need to protect his siblings, and he knew they were safer as long as he didn’t answer, so he set his jaw defiantly and stayed silent.

“This stubbornness of yours is pathetic,” Kronos sighed.  He let go of Lee’s hair and stood up, turning away from him and striding across the room.  Lee sensed the other demigods also tracking the titan as he found his way to an outcropping and sat himself down on it as though it was a lavishly decorated throne, and not simply a chunk of rock at odds with the rest of the cavern.

The sight put Lee on edge, for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint.

Kronos waved a hand loosely in their direction.

“Lie,” he said.  “All of you.  Now.” 

Lee’s breath caught in his throat.

For a moment, there was silence, the demigods looking at each other.  It was difficult to lie on demand – for all of Kronos’ talk of Lee being good at two truths and a lie, he’d always actually lost because he was both a terrible liar and also couldn’t think of one, ever – and for a heartbeat, Lee had the faint hope that they wouldn’t manage it.

Then Reuben spoke.  “I like you,” he said, and the zing of a lie down his back was potent.

It was the single pebble that sparked an avalanche.

Lee could handle lies.  He lived in a camp full of teenagers, which all but forced him to have a high tolerance to lies setting off his senses more often than not.  Usually, though, they weren’t all aimed at him, and they weren’t in such quick succession, either.

And he had his limits.  Most people didn’t know that his headphones were noise-cancelling, or that they didn’t actually play music.  Hades, most people didn’t even know that they were a gift from Apollo, specifically designed to cut him off from voices whenever it got too much for him.  Lee could still have a conversation with them on – he’d learnt lipreading fast – and it had left most of camp none the wiser.

Those headphones were long gone, maybe still in his bunk where he’d left them before the battle, maybe burnt with Marcus’ body, maybe tidied away along with the rest of his things.  That would have been his siblings’ decision – and Michael knew, so he might have treated them specially.

Reuben led the charge, not even bothering to be creative but repeating the same words over and over again – I like you – each one stacking on top of the last one, but for whatever reason, likely fear of Kronos (Lee hoped it was fear of Kronos more than a desire to hurt him, tried to persuade himself it was that), the entire crowd joined in.

The words overlapped with each other, a building cacophony the same way an orchestra slowly crescendoed to a fortissimo finale with more and more instruments joining in and filling the area with sound until there were no gaps to be found, nowhere for silence to find a home and wait it out.  Lee counted his breathing, trying to hone his focus away from the lies bombarding him and keep his body under control at the same time.

He could only stave it off for so long.

Despite his best efforts, his breathing started to hitch as lies thrummed through his body, crawling out from just his spine and dancing across all of his nerves, leaving its localised, normal, area and branching out desperately for any space it could find to express itself.  It took over his back first, the trapezius first to fall, followed by the latissimus dorsi, before it sprawled out further, down past his glutes and up across his deltoids.  His limbs were second, creeping down the backs of them before it started to wrap around his torso, setting sparks that burst into flame over his pectorals and obliques.

Breathing got harder still as his chest tightened involuntarily, trying to protect itself from the sensation that wasn’t supposed to be there.  It had only got so bad once before, an occasion back when he was seven that ended up being the inciting incident for the gifted headphones.  Lee had forgotten how bad it had been, trapped with no way out.

His wrists tugged uselessly at the metal that held them in place, hands desperately reaching out to try and cover his ears, to try and block it all out, but they were too secure, and too far away.  The best Lee could manage was awkwardly straining his neck far enough to reach one, and attempting to raise his other shoulder high enough to block his still-exposed ear.

It didn’t work.  His knees drew up, trying to curl into some sort of protective ball as his breathing turned to wet gasps and moisture flooded down his cheeks, completely out of control with no way of reining it in, but that didn’t work, either.

The lies had long since turned into an indistinguishable sound, one that his truth sense could still identify as lies, somehow, despite not being able to hear the particular words.  It echoed around in his ears, bouncing off the inside of his skull as the prickling closed in on the crown of his head.

Hands grabbed his legs, forcing them to unfurl and pinning them mercilessly back to the floor.  Lee thrashed, trying to kick out and force his freedom, but they were too strong.  Another hand grabbed his hair, yanking his head upright and away from any attempts at muffling the noises.  Through watery vision, Lee could just about make out Reuben’s sneer, so close to his own face that it was almost impossible to focus on.

It was too much.

It was too much.

Lee thrashed harder, but both the metal and the hands overpowered him, forcing him to stay still as more lies were poured upon him, turning his entire being into a single, overcharged lie detector that had hit its limit a long time ago but had been pushed over the line with no regard for whether or not it could handle it.

The pleas started to fall from his lips with no conscious thought, sobs and moans.  “Please,” he begged, barely able to even feel the cold stone and even colder metal that surrounded him.  “Stop, please, stop, please, please, please.”

He couldn’t even think any more, his whole being a single raw nerve that got ignited over and over and over again.  If he was even still breathing, no air was getting into his lungs, and his vision was dark.  He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but there was a tightness to his face that had to be him screwing them as tightly shut as he could.  His raw voice echoed in his ears, gasping and begging.

Distantly, he heard a voice cut over the others, felt the restraining hands disappear, and somehow ended up with his knees up, face buried in them again.  His heartbeat was too high and showing no signs of slowing as he trembled and shook in his restraints.

Lee had no idea how long it took before the ignited nerves burnt out, leaving him a raw husk trembling and sobbing against the wall.  His eyes cracked open to show an almost empty room, the demigods all gone but Kronos still sitting on his throne of stony outcrop, golden eyes boring into him like he could see past Lee’s skin and into his soul.

Maybe he could.

Something must have alerted him to the fact that Lee was aware of his surroundings again, because he suddenly moved, fluidly finding his feet and striding across to squat in front of Lee.  A sword-calloused hand grabbed his hair, yanking yet more poor strands out from his scalp, and tilted his head back.

“I will break you,” the titan said, the absoluteness of truth blanketing Lee and sheering a swathe through the residual traces of lies that still wracked his body.  “Truth or lie.”

Even if Lee wanted to answer, he was still too wrecked to even consider trying to wake his voice.  It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Kronos ruffled his hair with a grin that was far more evil than anything Lee had ever seen on Luke’s face before, twisting the scar until it was almost unrecognisable.  “Good boy,” he said.

Then he stood and left, leaving Lee alone in the cave, still shaking and filled with an indomitable sense of dread.

Chapter 5>>>

[codemonki]

It has come to my attention that people actually like hearing about other peoples oc's occasionally. So im gonna be posting some images of my ocs and telling you about it! (its gonna be character specific for each one gonna do my Ace Attorney OCs, Idk about the others yet)

Starting off! Fahlin Starr, defense attorney in japanifornia.

^ her reference image.

(theres a lot under this so if you're interested lmao)

I used Joan of arc as an inspiration for how she looks, but she is a modern day knight within the courts. She attempts to take on all the damage against the defendant and reflect that evidence against the prosecution.

Here are her sprites!

She doesn't have many friends. She trusts to easily, and because of that she's shielded herself away from most people, only really giving time to her defendants (though she knows they could spurn her too, she has to take the risk). In short, she likes to protect her peace. There is one person however who's managed to get through her cold exterior! and its her long time private investigator companion, Bast Guess.

The companies of which they hailed from were close (and their mentors, closer) so they spent a lot of time working together. Fahlin swears she only requests Bast's help because it would be inconvenient to vet out a different PI, Bast knows however its because Fahlin actually things theyre friends.

Fahlin tries her best to be controlled by facts and distance herself from her emotions, but she usually fails. Though her face doesnt usually portray that fact. Shes plagued (ish) by resting bitch face.

she keeps herself organized, and doesn't stray away from networking with other attorneys. Its part of her duty to spread the word of her agency. She's also married to her work.

despite being very organized she also doesnt use calenders or daily schedules. Sometimes post-it notes but very rarely. This drives Bast mad.

I like to think that her pride can take a few dings, before she crumbles (shield motif <33)

Fun Fact!: She's a lesbian but she refuses to accept that she doesn't like men (she doesn't care if you're gay, but she cant be). She's got compulsive heteronormity up the wazoo. She had a situationship with a women named Anita Rhinum in Highschool and just... hasn't acknowledged the fact that she looks for her in every man she dates.

Her mentor was a veteran Attorney, set to retire soon named Leah Mason. She had already mentored many rookies, but Fahlin would be her last one and the only one to have stayed in the Japanifornia jurisdiction. Mason Law Agency would get renamed to Starr Law Agency, where Fahlin resides on the first floor, and the upper became home to Bast Guess's private investigation agency. (it has a name I'll remember it when I get to her).

Starr Law Agency Wait Room ^

Fahlin's Office^

Leah Mason and her husband Finn D. Clau (retired attorney and retired private detective)

Leah Mason was an almost motherly figure for Fahlin, they met when Fahlin was in college and needed an internship, so at age 19 she was taken under her wing.

This would be the first time Fahlin felt how a mother should treat their kid (even if it wasn't for long, and wasn't the same). When Leah retired she left to go travel the world, but made sure Fahlin had her number in case she ever needed help.

here is were the fun family drama begins. :))

Fahlin has her father, Basile Starr, her mother Reine Starr, and her older sister (by 1 year) Jess Starr.

Basile Starr was a very busy man who didn't have a lot of time for his kids, though if he found time he was a very kind man who did really love them. Reine Starr on the other hand had very high expectations, and made it clear that if her children wanted her time, they had to prove to her that they were worth it.

(its also important to note that by the time the kids turned 5, the marriage was becoming very loveless and Reine had begun seeing other men)

Fahlin did everything she could to make her mother proud, she worked to excel in everything she could and put effort into doing the things that she liked. Jess on the other hand, tried, failed, and decided she didnt want to appease their mother. Fahlin likes feeling as though she *earned* something, so she'd keep trying.

Growing up Fahlin did fencing and ballet with her sister, she wasnt graceful enough for dance but she did have the skill for fencing.

*this is NOT blood

Jess and Fahlin were very close when they were younger. Though they were one grade apart in school, they shared many of the same friends and hobbies.

they were each others best friend.

But things started to change when they got older, they drifted apart (Fahlin not keeping friends as easily). It all came to a head when their mother was accused of murder, and Jess was called to testify agaisnt her.

This testimony permanently severed their friendship, as Fahlin couldn't believe that their mother could kill someone. She convinced herself that Jess hated their mom so much that she would lie.

Once Fahlin turned 18 she moved out of her home in France and went to college in Japanifornia. She nothing back home worth staying for anyways.

When she met Anita in college, Anita showed her around town and introduced her to a lot of what Japanifornia had to offer. They met in an elective class then began hanging out outside of it.

I haven't draw doodles of them yet (bc Anita's a newer character)

last fun image <3

[duhbatmann]

History of Mary Linton

Background

During her youth, Mary was in a romantic relationship with Arthur Morgan and the two were deeply in love, but it ultimately fell through due to Arthur's life as an outlaw and affiliation with the Van der Linde gang, leading to prevalent disapproval from her family as a result, particularly her father.

Afterward, Mary eventually married a man named Barry Linton and took on his surname. Barry later passed away after contracting pneumonia, leaving her a widow. To make matters worse, her family grew to be dysfunctional as well; her younger brother, Jamie had joined Chelonia, an infamous fanatical cult, while her father gradually became more withdrawn and verbally abusive to his children, growing increasingly dependent on alcohol, whoring, gambling, and eventually began pawning off much of their family's property.

Horseshoe Overlook Chapter

Mary contacts Arthur for the first time in many years and pleads for his help in convincing Jamie to leave the Chelonians. Arthur is apprehensive due to poor relations with the Gillis family but admits that he was at least on good terms with Jamie. If Arthur accepts, he successfully chases down Jamie and persuades him to leave the Chelonians, before taking him to Mary at Valentine train station. Mary thanks Arthur for his help and then boards the train with Jamie to return home. After this, Arthur laments how he feels both elated and foolish for how Mary can manipulate him and resigned to the fact that he would not be able to refuse her. He also writes his initials and Mary's in his journal with a heart between them.

Saint Denis Chapter

Mary later asks Arthur for help with her father, much to Arthur's ire. Mary begs for his help and tries to justify her father's poor treatment of him, but Arthur angrily points out that Mary's "pure life" hasn't fared well at all, referencing Jamie joining the Chelonians, Mr. Gillis' deeply hypocritical and deplorable habits, and the fact that she was now begging him for help. If Arthur accepts, he accompanies Mary to Mr. Gillis, who verbally abuses Mary before storming off. Arthur and Mary follow Mr. Gillis to an alley and discover him selling a brooch gifted to Mary by her mother. Dismayed at what she had seen, Mary angrily confronts her father, as Arthur goes to take the brooch back from the buyer named Ashton. After Arthur gets the brooch, he returns to the alley and finds Mary sitting down dejectedly, expressing indifference to wherever her father went.

After the situation with Mr. Gillis, Mary asks Arthur if they could go to the theater together as friends. If Arthur accepts, he takes Mary there and the two begin to warm up to each other and reconnect. After the performance, Arthur walks Mary to the trolley. As they reach their destination, Mary laments the deteriorating state of her life and asks if it is too late for her and Arthur. Arthur admits that he does want to run away and be with her, but states he does not want Mary to get hurt, he has people in the gang to take care of, and that they need money. Arthur promises that his gang life is really coming to an end this time and as soon as he can get some money, they can run away. The two part ways again for the final time.

Beaver Hollow Chapter

Arthur later receives a letter from Mary, enclosed with the engagement ring he gave her many years ago. In the letter she says her goodbyes to him and that it was time to let each other go, as he never kept his promise to show up after the supposed final robbery. She acknowledges that Arthur is unlikely to ever leave his life behind and apologizes for how their relationship turned out. She hopes that the ring can be passed down to another couple in love in order to help them too.

If "Of Men and Angels" is completed and Arthur has high honor, he will meet Sister Calderón at Emerald Station during "The Fine Art of Conversation", in which Arthur mentions Mary when conversing with her, describing her as "a girl who loved me" and regretting giving up the chance to run away with her.

Mary's final words to Arthur are some of what he reflects upon during his last ride.

Personality

Mary is a well-meaning woman, who tries to see the best in people and most situations. She loves her family but tries to see past its apparent dysfunction, the brunt of which is attributed to her father.

She loved Arthur and desired to have a life with him, even retaining feelings for him over the years. However, she acknowledges that Arthur's preference for his criminal lifestyle would prevent them from ever having a future together, eventually coming to terms with it and deciding to cut ties with him. Despite that, Mary visited Arthur's grave and wept for him, showing that she still loved him enough to overlook his faults.

Appearance

Mary has long, dark brown hair, tanned skin, brown eyes, and a beauty mark on her right cheek. In her first appearance, her hair is tied back in a low braid and is then tied back in a low bun for the rest of her appearances.

In her first appearance, Mary wears a dark green blouse with light brown ruffles on the front, a gold brooch with a red stone, a brown belt with a gold buckle, and a long dark blue skirt. In her second appearance, Mary wears a pale blue shirt over a checkered yellow dress with a long skirt of the same color. She will always be wearing worn brown boots with light brown half chaps.

Trivia Time~

Should Arthur refuse to assist Mary in "We Loved Once and True II", the contents of her letters will also change slightly depending on whether Arthur previously helped her out.

Susan Grimshaw expresses her disdain for Mary, stating that she "never liked her". Similarly, Tilly Jackson says to Arthur that Linton is "not worth it". Mary-Beth Gaskill says to Arthur that Mary was a fool in "No, No and Thrice, No". This line can also be heard in "A Fork in the Road" if the player has high honor. Mary-Beth additionally mentions her in several private conversations at Horseshoe Overlook and Beaver Hollow. John Marston will also mention Mary once in "The Sheep and the Goats" when the two of them are arguing and comparing their own lives. Karen Jones asks Arthur if he will get back with Mary to which he responds that "it's too late".

Abigail Roberts on the other hand will mention that she "always liked" Mary. Considering that Abigail joined the gang in 1894, this implies that Arthur's relationship with Mary before the latter got married must have lasted at least until then.

For the credits scene where she cries over Arthur's grave, her motion-capture was done by Roger Clark, who is Arthur's mo-cap, voice actor, and face.

[lothiriel84]

Never Knew Myself

All his life, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy had prided himself on being a rational being above such trivial matters as the ever-changing dispositions of the heart.

A Pride and Prejudice ficlet. Aroace spectrum!Darcy.

All his life, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy had prided himself on being a rational being above such trivial matters as the ever-changing dispositions of the heart. Over the past few years, he had watched Bingley fall in and out of love dozens of times, and every time his friend had sworn she was the one woman meant for him, while in fact that turned out to be not so. He quietly congratulated himself on his own level-headedness, and how he appeared to be immune to the trappings of anything as undignified as romantic affection, let alone those baser desires which, he was convinced, were utterly unbecoming to a gentleman of his station.

Of course, he would have to marry one day, as that was the only way open to him to procure an heir for his family estate; still, he was in no hurry to do so, and she truly would have to be a most remarkable woman for him to be willing to tolerate her as the companion of his future life. As it was, he felt uncomfortable enough when forced into close proximity to any eligible young lady that performing his basic social duties became such arduous a task he was left tired and irritable for days after. It was on such occasions that he found himself contemplating the possibility of defying all expectations set upon him by his own family and society at large, and refusing to enter the married state altogether; Pemberley was not entailed, after all, and he would happily leave it to any nephew or niece Georgiana would provide him with.

That was, until he set his eyes upon one Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

.

Caught in the turmoil of the most confusing emotions he had fallen prey to in all the eight-and-twenty years of his existence, it had taken him a considerably long time to acknowledge the strength of his feelings towards the lady in question, let alone putting a name to them.

And then, of course, he had to go and make an utter mess of things with his shameful disaster of a proposal. The only woman he could ever bring himself to love, and he had made it so that she hated him with a passion.

He was a complete, utter fool.

And he was going to die a bachelor, there were no two ways about it now.

.

Could you possibly tell me, brother – what does being in love feel like?

Darcy could still remember it like it was yesterday, Georgiana coming to him with such a loaded question in the aftermath of those terrible days at Ramsgate. She had fancied herself in love with that blackguard, and that had very nearly led her to her ruin. Oh, how dearly he had wished he could give her a straightforward answer, one that would help her with her current grief as well as protecting her from any further attempts on her virtue; instead he had merely shaken his head, and strived to reassure her that she would know, when the time came.

He had not known, back then. He had never once fancied himself in love, nor was he under any expectation to find himself in such a predicament one day.

He knew what it felt like now, and he wished to God he didn’t.

.

Mr Darcy had never known such happiness in his life as he did on the day his dearest Elizabeth finally consented to accept his hand in marriage. He thought she had never looked as handsome as she did when he informed her he had gained her father’s consent, and she surprised him by running into his arms and resting her beloved head on his chest.

That was the first time he experienced the stirring of something utterly unfamiliar, and he had to suppress the sudden urge to gather her even closer and be as daring as to press his lips to hers.

As it turned out, Elizabeth appeared to have no such qualms, and she surprised him even further by tugging at the lapels of his waistcoat until he was almost level with her, and kissed him as sweetly and inexpertly as she knew how.

My Elizabeth, he breathed against her mouth, and in a flash of clarity, he recognised those stirrings for what they truly were. Appalled at his own lack of propriety as well as the unexpected insurgence of such ungentlemanlike thoughts, he pulled back abruptly, staring down at her with an odd mixture of longing and what he could only describe as some kind of horrified fascination.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he started, only for Elizabeth to gently press her fingers to his lips, effectively silencing him.

He would dream of her that night, and for the first time in his life, the urgency of his needs would outbalance his shame in finding himself so weak as to succumb to them.

. 

Colonel Fitzwilliam had laughed at first, declaring it a near impossibility that a man of eight-and-twenty could be completely ignorant on such matters. Upon sensing the acuteness of his cousin’s embarrassment, he had eventually relented, and promised to procure him with the sort of literature he would find most enlightening when it came to the mysteries of the wedding night, and all kinds of intimacies afforded by the marital bed.

“Not that a bed is always required, of course,” Richard had jested, and very kindly ignored Darcy’s flushed countenance at the implications of such a statement.

He had diligently perused Richard’s books, of course, and while they had made him even more eager to be finally afforded the privilege of knowing Elizabeth in such an intimate way, they had also had the unfortunate effect of feeding his uneasiness at the prospect of making an utter fool of himself before his lovely bride.

There he was now, staring into the fire, desperately trying to summon whatever amount of courage was required to walk the distance to the connecting door and seek to be admitted into his wife’s bedchamber. He very nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a soft tapping at the door, followed by the lovely sight of his Elizabeth, dressed in nothing but a nightshift, her bare feet treading silently on the carpeted floor.

“What is it, Fitzwilliam?” she demanded at length, coming to stand directly in front of him. “You know you can always speak to me.”

He looked up at her, his features softening in a most reluctant smile. “You will think me the most ridiculous of men, surely.”

“And since when have such considerations been enough to stop me?” she teased him, her fine eyes sparkling with the warmth of her affection, and before he knew what he was doing, he had reached out to her and tugged her onto his lap.

He marvelled at the breathy sound she let out then, and suddenly his lips were on hers, all of his worries momentarily forgotten.

.

“We will have to leave these chambers, eventually,” his delightfully dishevelled bride murmured without much conviction, as he traced a path down the soft plains of her body with feverish lips.

“I disagree.” He paused momentarily, looking up from where he was nestled at the juncture of her thighs. “Unless you don’t wish it, Elizabeth. It was dreadful of me to presume – I truly do not wish to impose.”

“I would hardly call it imposing, Fitzwilliam,” she laughed, her fingers coming to gently stroke at his curls. “The servants will talk, however.”

“Let them talk,” he declared most fervently, pressing a heated kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I have never known such happiness in my entire life, I can hardly be expected to be parted with it so soon.”

Elizabeth sighed happily, and willingly surrendered herself to the ardour of his attentions.

[espectres]

do u ever see a page that just has SO MUCH GOING ON CUZ

"chill" CHILL!!! has anyone ever told Ritsu to just chill ??? cuz he omg, he truly desperately needed to hear that, especially with how easily he slipped into his vaguely sinister "no one understands me" attitude whenever someone mentioned Shigeo??? and this time is no exception except now he has someone to just tell him OFF!!!!

we see a lot of ppl cowering under Ritsu's standard brooding terrifying 13 y/o nature but SHOU IS NOT HAVING IT IN THE SLIGHTEST LMAO, very ready to take this emo boy DOWN all brutal & well-meant <3

the fact that Shou specifically says that it makes Ritsu feel MORE inferior??? Implies that Shou is already AWARE of Ritsu's ever present inferiority complex despite being around him for like half a day!!! And he's already taking it for fucking read and acting on it and calling it out like he sees it and ACCEPTS IT !!! Shou sees shit Shou points out shit.

That one panel with their auras, god it'd have been so pretty had it been animated, their auras just flaring around them in a colorful haze in the middle of a cinematic void of black, a moment of silence for this lost opportunity.

SHOU YELLING AT RITSU!!! TO STFU!!!!! You're Shou's new friend and Shou is so freaking confidant about everything he's doing and that meams if he thinks you're talented and strong and smart then he's qualified to confirm you're just talented and strong and smart and you are in fact just that!!!!!!!!!

the fact that all of Shou's relentless brutal and undaunted confidence stims from the URGENCY OF BELIEVING HE CAN DO THIS. HE CAN BEAT HIS DAD. And if he is not confident enough then how on earth is he supposed to fight the fear that eats him on the inside???? Shou's fucking terrified and he's making a scene to hide it, always has been.

He also refuses to let someone who reminds him so much of himself and his struggles like Ritsu be left in the darkness of inferiority and fear that Shpu himself has been experiencing, it doesn't matter to him if he just straught up fucking lies, Ritsu should stop saying he's weak and should stop talking about his OH SOOO STRONG OLDER BROTHER cuz to him Shigeo is a fucking wimp and Ritsu should stfu about him!!!!!!!!!! ( up until that point at least lmao ) Like my guy is so confident it breaks my heart. im gonna cry.

The way Shou goes about phrasing things is so simple and childish, "else your life would suck" ? "trouble-maker of a dad" ? That's a life full of trauma and violence and that's his terrorist father who practically mass murdered too many to count. I can't do this. He's so 13 years old.

He mentions freeing everyone cuz he's acknowledging the presence of his lackeys, people who want Claw to be done & destroyed but never got enough strength to do anything, people who want out but you can't just walk out from an organization like Claw without having your life in danger, he mentions freeing everyone because he is aware of the kidnapped kids and brainwashed people, he wants to free everyone and himself too, becuz really he just wants a normal simple life where he could call his mother and not lie to her face about his dad turning into a psychopathic terrorist.

Something I like is how Shou's lackeys don't really serve a big purpose when it comes to battles and plot and things like that, yes they helped with the pacing of action when Minegishi showed up but that is so minor it's barely there. The sole purpose of Shou having lackeys is to demonstrate how much of a responsible and capable person he is, how he proved himself so much that adults saw enough good reason to put their faith and power in the hands of a 13 y/o, Shou is such a ruthlessly honest unashamedly intense ball of enthusiasm and confidence, and he makes such a good leader and supporting friend throughout the most bizarre spontaneous plan you could ever see, which btw made so much sense it just sounds weird out of context, but that's for another post.

[wingedshadowfan]

not to sound like i'm doing rebuttal (because everyone is entitled to their own opinion and i am way more interested in having a discussion!) but i have to admit i saw all these things way differently.

personally i think violet's changed a lot inside the quadrant - she's had a lot of turning points, like her fight with dain (in whom she lost trust, stopped listening to and fell out of love with), her conversation with liam in the scribes (learning she doesn't know everything and not all she knows is true so she should doubt command/history more, her attitude towards the marked ones changing), her killing jack (having to come to terms with her power and the fact he won't be the last person she'll kill), etc. she became good friends with the marked ones in her squad, whom she used to distrust (and yes, at the end she did have a moment where she thought she'd been tricked and that they actually still plan on harming her and navarre, but i saw that as a contextual and momentary jump to the wrong conclusions, not as proof her prejudices didn't change).

furthermore, i didn't find her to be average at all?? her poisoning all her opponents (even with brennan's book as a guide, she pulled it off herself), figuring out how to pass the gauntlet (with xaden's cryptic ass hint), her questions at battle brief, her idea to steal the map in lilith's office, surviving that long in the quadrant despite being at a constant physical disadvantage and the fact she only had half a year of training, enduring pain constantly, retaining her humanity and compassion way longer than most (refusing to go for the kill, not being apathetic towards all the death and despair), etc. i saw her as smarter than most, capable, brave and ferocious (facing xaden many times and talking back to him without budging when she knew he could've killed her easily, same with jack, fighting him, tynan, and oren at threshing, she even got stronger and better at fighting towards the end).

i fully agree with xaden's character being exceptional too, possibly even more so, but i also think it makes total sense that he fell for her. from the get go, he noticed her switched boots with rhiannon at parapet (she risked her own life to help a stranger), he figured out her poisoning scheme, he was impressed with her way of beating the gauntlet on a technicality, his intuition told him she will keep his 'club meetings' secret and she really kept her promise, she was afraid of him but never ran away (except when dain told her to), faced him with a chin up and refused to give him any power in their interactions, her chucking daggers at him and then jack, he saw her defending andarna against 3 stronger men with her own life while injured at threshing, he quickly learnt she has really impressive and strong shielding and wielding abilities, he saw her father's note in the fables book, etc.

you're right about her seemingly not having a reason to like him, let alone love him (other than his looks) - except to me it read like she did have a reason, she just refused to admit it to herself and give him credit for all he did for her. she didn't want to believe that he was a good person or that he was helping her, but in her defense, when your two closest most trusted people tell you to stay away from someone, that someone wants to kill you because your mother executed his father, and his father killed your brother, then... you'd believe them. so she did, for a long time. even unfairly lashed out at xaden for not helping her (when he was helping her so much already and had a million things on his plate she didn't know about) and sending liam and imogen to do that instead. but she'd already changed in that belief of hers by the time her squad visited montserrat and defended xaden against mira's accusations, finally acknowledging all he'd done for her. i think that's what had her falling for him more than just his beauty. he began properly flirting too.

at this point, she'd been wronged by her mother, her sister and dain multiple times, even command and her scribe training itself turned out to be deceiving, and a bunch of cadets had tried killing her, and then xaden who she'd finally began to trust and fall for in more ways than one dropped a bomb on her that basically shattered her whole world. and here I'd love to reiterate that she didn't refuse to believe him or join his side of the war. she only refused to continue being in a relationship with him, because he kept the truth from her for so long for no good reason (yes, dain saw her memories but imogen could've wiped his or xaden could've taught violet to shield against dain since she was alr so good at it), and she needs to trust him again before she can be emotionally or physically intimate with him. which i personally side with her on and i think it's consistent with her prior refusal to keep being intimate with him unless he admits his own feelings for her - she's saving herself a world of hurt by setting up walls to protect herself

the one good thing about rebecca yarros killing liam off at the end of fourth wing was the fact that if he'd survived, he'd get shipped with violet so hard that "xaden vs liam" would become the new "peeta vs gale" or "edward vs jacob", a thing for the history books

[loki-is-my-god-of-mischief]

Puppy Love (Draco x Male!Reader)

Draco Malfoy was sat in the Great Hall eating his dinner whilst trying to hide the fact that he is observing the Gryffindors. He was told to recruit someone from that house so that his Lord could get close information on Potter. He has been observing the house for three months now and has noticed and unusual pattern in one of the students. There was a boy, (L/N) I think, who wasn't always at the meals or in classes. This was enough to pique his interest so he decided that he would start to follow him.

After months of following him around, he noticed that he always went to the infirmary before he disappears for a little while. After a while his curiosity gets too much and he eavesdrops one time when he is in the infirmary. "Back again dear?"

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey. Do you have the potion for me?"

"Yes. Here you are, one Wolfsbane Potion. Would you like me to lead you to the forest this time or will you be going yourself again?"

"It is too risky for you to come with me Madam Pomfrey. I will be fine going on my own."

"If you're sure dear." The rest of the conversation wasn't heard by Draco as he had already left and heading for the owlery. A werewolf... in the school. His father has to hear of this.

It was a few days later that he got a letter back from his father. His father had told his Lord about the werewolf and Greyback came forward and told him he was the one to bite him and wanted him back in his pack. The Dark Lord agreed and now Draco has to befriend him to get him to join their side...Great.

______________________________________________________________

Draco tries for the next few weeks to befriend him but each time he refuses to even acknowledge him. He ends up going to his Godfather. "I just need your help talking to him."

"Why are you so interested in him talking to you?"

"I...maybe sort of...like him...a little. But he won't even acknowledge me to give me a chance. Please Severus, a chance is all I'm asking." He lied. He must have looked desperate enough though as his Godfather seemed to believe him.

"Alright, I shall pair you up in potions as you are two of the top students."

"Thank you Severus, that’s all I ask."

______________________________________________________________

Turns out the task that they were paired for in potions was a rest of the year thing. So now he was stuck with him. However, as the months start to pass he realised he has more in common with him than he thought and werewolf or not, he wasn't that bad. He knew though, that when he admitted to him that he was a werewolf, that he was more attached to him than he should be. He has connected with him over the pain they both feel. His pain came from the world not accepting him and the preconceptions about how he is meant to be a viscous killer every month. His own pain came from him not wanting to be a Death Eater and the preconceptions that he will become his father and a viscous killer every day. He's fallen for him...he's screwed.

He knows he has to come clean; he would rather lose him than have him hate him and belonging to Greyback. So, during one of their study sessions in the Room of Requirements he tells him. "You…what?"

"I was told to pretend to be your friend to get you to join the Dark Lord, Oh God I am so sorry. I don't want that for you, really I don't. I don't even want it for me."

"Draco..." (Y/N)'s voice is filled with so much pain and sorrow but not for himself but for the guilt ridden boy in front of him.

"You must tell Dumbledore."

"Are you insane?!?! He will expel me and then the Dark Lord will kill my mother."

"He would never turn away someone who so desperately needs his help. As for your mother, I'm sure he will come up with something to keep her safe. Please Draco."

"...ok."

______________________________________________________________

After an eventful meeting with Dumbledore, it was decided that Draco would become another spy for him and to protect his mother, (Y/N) would become one to so Draco can 'fulfil' his task. It was during the initiation of the 'Junior Death Eaters' that (Y/N) showed his Slytherin side in convincing the Dark Lord not to mark him. "Mr (L/N) please step forward." Said person walk toward his 'Lord' and bows deeply.

"Before you mark me, may I say a few words my Lord? This will be of importance."

"If it is indeed important then yes, if not you will be punished."

"Of course, my Lord. It's just, as you know I am a werewolf and Dumbledore is also aware of this fact. This means that after my transformation every month I spend a few days in the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey does an extensive medical check on me. Do you really think she would not notice your Mark on my person?"

"That is indeed a good point, what would you suggest then?"

"If I may be so bold as to suggest a delay on when I am marked, to after graduation and I am no longer required to stay in Hogwarts infirmary."

"Crucio." (Y/N) drops to the floor and screams at the unexpected torture. Once the spell has stopped the Dark Lord continues. "That was for refusing my Mark however delayed it may come. However, you have a point and your Mark will be delayed. As soon as you Graduate, you WILL be marked. Dismissed."

______________________________________________________________

The next few months have gone smoothly, well as smoothly as spying on the Dark Lord can go. A werewolf is a natural Occlumens and Severus has been teaching Draco it since he was a child so it went smoothly than most they supposed. However, after one meeting Draco ended up in the infirmary at Hogwarts for being under a Cruciatus curse for a long time, not too long but long enough that he still feels it and is twitching. Throughout his time in the Infirmary (Y/N) does not leave his side. Not even for classes. After a while though Draco asks why he looks so nervous. "It's just, seeing you under the curse made me realise a few things."

"Like what?"

"Well...That I like you and I never want you under that pain ever again."

"I like you too."

"No Draco, I mean as more than a friend."

"I know." At this (Y/N) looked confused until what he said sunk in.

"Does that mean when you said-" Draco cuts him off by pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. (Y/N) breaks out into a grin and says, "You call that a kiss?" Draco leans in again and fully captures his lips and takes his breath away. Neither notice Albus Dumbledore and his annoying twinkle enter the infirmary until he speaks causing them to jump apart.

"Ah, I do believe muggles would call this Puppy Love."

[wizkiddx]

3 hearts broken

I did an angst thing again oops also not proof read double oops

summary: an argument between you and tom, except it takes him hurting someone else for you to loose it

warnings: alot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) idk anything else except commitment issues?

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It was an argument you and your boyfriend regularly had. In fact, it was the only argument the two of you ever had. And especially recently, one that Tom seemed to want to have every day. It didn’t matter where you were on set; in the rental home; out for dinner. Or like now… in the airport lounge.

You were sitting across from each other in a semi-private booth. Tom in his joggers and a burgundy hoodie, you in your black leggings and an oversized tee that actually belonged to your boyfriend. The rest of the place was almost deserted, given the late-night time of the flight. It was probably why Tom felt so comfortable bringing up this touchy subject in a public place.

You were both way past overtired too, owing to the end of a gruelling shoot. All you wanted was to get back to London and get into your own bed. Without an unnecessary fight with Tom.

Unfortunately for you, when you had naively said those exact words, Tom’s overtired brain skipped straight to it being a personal attack.

“I don’t see why you can’t commit to moving in Y/n! We practically live together for filming anyway so-“

“I love you Tom, more than I could ever express. I just… I can’t do this yet. I need… more-“

“More time, I know.” He grumbled, already standing and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder - as the flight’s gate was announced by the intercom. Had he not already turned his back and started heading along the hallway, you would’ve tried to protest and calm him down. But thanks to his urgency to get away from you… all you could do was sigh. Slumping back against the seat before hauling yourself up and grabbing the bags - that he had helped you with on the way in.

No doubt this would be a long flight.

That it was. Tom had been maturely giving you the silent treatment at the gate, as you were boarding, and finding you seats. You were both in first class, so you had adjacent little pods with a little partition in the middle. It’s standard position was to be lowered however, before you’d even been able to settle into your window seat, Tom had already switched to button to have it slowly slide up.

Real fucking mature.

Thinking he just needed some time to cool off, you rolled your eyes but let him be. Even though you were such a frequent flier, you were terrible at getting any sleep on them. Tom knew this, knew how much you disliked the idea of being hurtling through the air in a tin can. Usually, he’d be holding your hand, entertaining you by watching a movie and providing a shit commentary over the top. Sometimes, when you were both as exhausted as right now, he’d even slide into your chair, having you perch on top of him so you could fall asleep listening to his heartbeat in his chest. Now though? He refused to acknowledge your existence.

Tom never had such issues flying, he was like a switch that could just choose to fall asleep at any and every point. Which is perhaps why it shocked you to see him still wide awake, staring angrily at the corner of his pod when you went to the loo, hours later. Thinking it was time for a peace offering, on the return to your seat you made eye contact and began to smile softly at him. However, that plan lasted for all of two seconds, since as soon as he realised you had seen him staring, Tom instantly shut his eyes - playing asleep.

He really was being particularly stubborn tonight.

By the time the plane landed, he’d still refused to say anything - and it was starting to really piss you off too. You’d tried to be mature, tried to offer the metaphorical olive branch and he had quite literally thrown it back in your face. So by the time you were being escorted off the plane (first because you were first class), you hung back from your boyfriend, wanting to have your own space.

Which was exactly why you didn’t want to give up your own apartment yet!

The two of you walked across the bridge into the terminal with a good 8 metres between each other. Tom didn’t bother to turn round and check on you, taking purposeful steps as though he wanted to get away.

Thankfully the terminal was quiet, probably due to the ungodly hour in the morning you’d landed at. The halls echoed only with your and Toms footsteps, the echo exaggerating just how far away you felt from him at this point. Still, Tom hadn’t acknowledged your existence, or anyone elses for that matter - the pair of you almost got to baggage reclaim before seeing any other humans.

And that is where it all went wrong.

It was typical, an otherwise empty airport except for you, Tom and a family with 2 girls. 2 teenage girls. 2 teen girls whose eyes widened to almost comical levels at the sight of your boyfriend. You’d seen them from a mile away, but from Tom’s reaction to them - he clearly hadn’t.

In fact, you were such a distance away you couldn’t exactly hear the exchange. But what you saw, had your heart in your mouth.

The girls ran over from the seats their whole family were sitting in, squealing at Tom with that overcited little jump you’d seen so often. Instead of Tom turning to them and entertaining them with small talk and a photo or two - he did the opposite. If anything, he quickened his cadence, looked as though he waved the girls off without muttering two words.

And maybe there was a reason. Maybe they had shouted something really rude at him - but fuck, the chances were slim. One looked ten, and one looked a couple of years older - as you approached, you saw the dejected and shocked faces melt into ones of intense disappointment. The eldest turned and hugged the younger, whose chest appeared to be shaking in a way that meant only one thing. Tom had made her cry.

Just as both the mother and father stood up to rush to the girls, you matched their hurried steps - getting their first.

“Hi, excuse me… “

You felt really awkward but knew you had to do something for these poor girls. And quite possibly for Toms career too. “Are you guys okay?” It took a second or two, but the girls clearly both recognised you too (thank god), throwing nervous looks at each other.

“Are yo-you Y/n?” The younger one asked, bright eyes glazed in tears which broke your heart to see.

“Yeh-yeh I am, what are your names?” You knelt, smiling warmly at the girls, who seemed to chirp up a bit.

“I’m Tima” The eldest spoke first before nudging the other to speak. You waited patiently till the little girl had wiped her eyes before replying.

“I’m Azara.”

“Wow, you’ve both got very beautiful names. Where are you both headin-“

“Can I ask you a question!?” Litte Azara burst out, interrupting you, but in the cutest and sweetest way. You just laughed and said of course, as she twiddled with her thumbs nervously.

“How big is the biggest T-rex?” Her little eyes were so curious and you had to suppress a giggle, seeing how serious it was.

Of course, the T-Rexs in Jurassic world (one of your movies) were all CGI. But Azara didn’t have to know that.

“Oh, they are bigger thanthan the tallest trees you’ve ever seen!”

You carried on your little chat with the girls for five or so minutes, laughing with them and exchanging soft nods with their parents too - who seemed appreciative of your time. Eventually, though, it was the dad who pulled time on the exchange, signalling that the girls had taken up enough of your time. As you stood up, Tima spoke up - after being relatively withdrawn from the conversation.

“You’re friends with Tom Holland right?” You nodded, subconsciously biting your lip to see what she would say. “Can you tell him sorry for bothering him, it’s just Azara was excited, we only wanted to say hi.”

Yeh, there was absolutely no way these incredibly sweet girls did anything to Tom. He was just being a knob.

“Hey, it’s not your fault at all. We’ve just had a really, really long flight, and he’s in a bit of a mood at me - I’m so sorry that he let it out on you.”

That explanation seemed to satisfy Tima with a nod, and with some final hugs you bid the girls both farewell. By this point, the rest of your plane had caught up along the corridors, so it was busier, and you had to fight against the small crowd to get through the airport as quickly as possible. Because you were seething with rage for Tom and could not wait to tell him exactly what those poor girls thought of him.

Unsurprisingly Tom had chosen not to wait for you in the airport at all, instead already hiding inside the blacked-out windows of the 4x4 waiting at the collection point. You marched up to that car angry to the point you thought the whole airport would notice. Yanking the door so hard you were surprised you did no damage to it, you threw your bags in - momentarily ignoring the sight of Tom huddled into a corner, staring at his phone with AirPods in.

But once you slammed the door shut and the driver started the car, you let yourself go.

“Who the fuck do you think you are!”

“Y/n can we just leave it for- “

“You made 2 girls cry!!! You were so self-absorbed in your temper tantrum that you made 2 teenage girls cry. You proud of yourself?”

This time he did look at you, eyes wide and confused - clearly not understanding. So you continued - laying it out for him.

“Those two girls you waved off because you were so busy running away from me? Well the youngest one cried and then the eldest didn’t speak and when she did it was only to ask me to apologise to you. You’re a fucking dickhead!”

“I didn’t mean-“

“Oh god, that makes it all better. You didn’t mean to make them cry on purpose, so it’s fine! God if you’d only said I’d-“

“Fuck off Y/n you’re not being fair, cut the sarcasm.”

“I’m not being fair?!? Because I’m the bad person in this situation, right? I just saved you from a very, very bad headline tomorrow morning because you were too busy giving me the silent treatment.”

“Yeah, well, your the one who doesn’t seem to give a damn about me!”

You scoffed hard at his words, air trapped in your throat that now felt completely stuck. How could he say that? How could he even think that?

As much as you hated showing it, you felt your eyes well up with tears. Because who the fuck did he think he was.

“Now that, that is so unfair. You know exactly my history and why I don’t want to move in yet AND you know just how much I fucking love you. So don’t you dare.”

“You're not convincing anyone.” He spoke quieter, but the venom behind his tone was still there. As the first tear escaped over your bottom lashes, you knocked on the partition to the driver and asked him, in no uncertain terms, to pull over.

“Congrats Tom. That’s three women you’ve broken the hearts of in 20 minutes. Must be some sort of a record.”

And with that you slammed the door shut, abandoned on the side of the road somewhere within Heathrow.

?a part 2? idk where id go from here aha

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala

[missmentelle]

What makes a codependent relationship? Is it healthy for someone to rely on you as a constant source for support, talking all the time? Getting seperation anxiety and experiencing extreme stress when they are without you? Is it selfish to not necessarily reciprocate that stress?

Let's start by defining what a codependent relationship is.

In a codependent relationship, one person (the codependent) consistently enables the dysfunction of another person, often assuming a "caretaker" or "protector" role. The dysfunctional person usually struggles with a serious issue that may make it difficult for them to function on their own - often addiction, mental illness, or serious underachievement/irresponsibility - and the codependent partner will make extreme personal sacrifices to take care of this person and shield them from the consequences of their actions.

Codependent relationships aren't always romantic relationships - they can be found between friends, parents/children, coworkers, other family members, or any other type of relationship. Wherever they exist, are very unhealthy for both of the people involved in them. The codependent person focuses so heavily on the dependent person's needs that they entirely neglect their own, while the dysfunctional person is enabled to continue being dysfunctional and is often prevented from making any kind of progress toward recovery.

Common traits of codependent people include:

a fear of being alone. They often seek out relationships with people who will depend on them and encourage that dependency to ensure that the other person will not leave them.

extreme fixation on the feelings and needs of others. They often view their own needs as unimportant or secondary and prioritize the needs of others, even when this has not been asked of them.

a compulsive need to "fix" the problems of others. when they see a person who is struggling, they feel the overwhelming need to step in and start "fixing" the situation, even if doing so is not their responsibility.

low self-esteem. They often have chronic issues with self-esteem, and don't feel that they "deserve" to have their own needs prioritized. Their self-esteem is often tied to their ability to maintain their caretaking role at all costs, even when it is incredibly harmful to them.

controlling and perfectionist tendencies. Codependent people often struggle to cope when they don't have high amounts of control in their relationships, or when things aren't done "just so". They gravitate towards caretaking roles where they have high amounts of control, and struggle to let go.

external locus of control. They often feel powerless in their lives, and feel that they simply have to accept their circumstances and the way that others treat them.

high capacity for denial. They often cannot or will not see problems that are right in front of them, and refuse to acknowledge the seriousness of a situation - the house will be burning down around them and they'll refuse to even admit that it's getting a little warm.

a history of interpersonal trauma or abuse. Codependency is often a learned behaviour - many people who fall into these patterns experienced codependency from their parents, or witnessed their parents' codependent relationship at a young age. Many have also experienced extreme emotional abuse, from their parents or a past partner.

a strong need for approval. Codependents need to be liked. They need approval. Doing things for others and letting others walk on them is the best way they know how to gain that.

boundary issues. They often cannot and do not set personal boundaries - they take a "Giving Tree" approach to helping others, endlessly giving even when it seriously hurts them. At the same time, they may overstep boundaries to try to fix others' issues, even when it is not their responsibility to get involved.

a lack of personal identity. The codependent relationship often becomes the focus of their whole life. They invest so much time and energy into it that without it, they wouldn't know what to do with themselves.

a tendency to be drawn to close relationships with substance addicts, alcoholics, people with personality disorders, or other codependents. Codependent relationships are usually not a one-off thing - they tend to be a recurring pattern in a person's life. In particular, people with untreated BPD often seek out relationships with codependent people, as they tend to prefer relationships with people who don't set personal boundaries and are willing to provide the extreme amounts of reassurance and caretaking that they need. People with BPD also tend to be codependent themselves, further complicating things.

an appearance of being "addicted to chaos". Codependent people often appear to gravitate toward drama, dysfunction and chaos. Having relationships with people who have healthy boundaries, autonomy and stable personal lives often holds little interest for them - they prefer relationships where they feel needed and depended upon.

Codependent people often have a "martyr" or "victim" complex - they often feel that it is their lot in life to suffer for others, that self-sacrifice is a key part of their identity, or that suffering is simply a part of loving someone. The idea that they should set expectations in a relationship, leave a relationship where they aren't treated well or have an identity of their own outside a relationship is something they struggle with. They often hop from codependent relationship to codependent relationship, becoming steadily more beaten down and burnt out in the process - breaking free from codependent tendencies can be a long process, and often requires professional help.

There is a lot of variety in what codependent relationships look like. Some examples of codependency in action would include:

A mother allows her chronically unemployed and irresponsible 38-year-old son to live with her, and does everything for him. She never confronts her son about the fact that he doesn't contribute financially or help out around the house, even though it's placing a great financial and personal strain on her. When other family members ask why her adult son isn't taking steps to get his life together, the mother becomes highly defensive, and may make up lies about the progress he's made, or insist that he's still young and that this is normal for his age.

A woman assumes the role of "caregiver" for her unstable and very mentally ill partner. She bends over backwards to keep her partner happy, and doesn't seem to notice or mind that her partner never does the same thing in return. Her partner constantly burns bridges with their own family or friends with their explosive anger, and she rushes in to make excuses and try to fix the situation. When friends raise concerns about the relationship, she brushes them off, insisting that she's happy and everything is fine.

The parent of an autistic teenager infantilizes their autistic child, and insists that the child needs much more care than they actually do. Being an "autism parent" is a huge part of their identity. The child has never been allowed to attend an overnight camp, go for sleepovers or stay at home with a babysitter, as the parent is highly fearful and believes that other people will not look after their child properly. The parent strongly resists all of their child's attempts to gain more independence, insisting that it's too dangerous or that the child cannot handle it.

The US version of the television show Shameless is almost entirely centered around codependent relationships. The main characters are all in codependent relationships with their alcoholic and dysfunctional father, Frank. Although the main characters are often angry with their father, they constantly allow him back into their lives no matter how horribly he treats them - at times, they give him money, provide him with alcohol, let him move back into their house, visit him in the hospital and cover him with a blanket when he passes out on the floor. The boundaries they set with him never last long, and they always resume having a relationship with him, even after he does things that most people would find unforgivable.

So with that said: is it healthy for someone to rely on you as a constant source of support?

It sort of depends.

Relationships are supposed to be a reliable source of support for both of the people in them. That's sort of what they're for. I worry sometimes that the internet is making us too transactional in our relationships, and too quick to think that someone is taking advantage of us if they constantly turn to us for support. It's normal to find comfort in your relationships, and to turn to your loved ones whenever you need someone to talk to. I talk to my partner, my parents and my closest friends every day - that often means mentioning things that we’re stressed or anxious about, or venting about problems in our lives. Sometimes people are going through something and need extra support for a while - that’s just a normal part of close relationships. 

With that said, there are times when someone leans on you too hard. If helping someone is starting to take a serious toll on your own life, that’s a problem. Every relationship needs boundaries; if your boundaries are consistently pushed or broken in the name of supporting that person, it may be time for a serious talk. Staying up until 4am to talk someone through a crisis is fine if this is a rare occurrence. Staying up until 4am to talk someone through a crisis multiple times per week, every single week, is an issue - that’s you sacrificing your own need for sleep, and something needs to change. Are you willing to set boundaries and balance your own needs with your friends’ needs? Is the other person willing to respect boundaries, or do they lash out with anger, guilt-trips, accusations of not caring for them or threats to harm themselves? 

If you and a friend are both willing to communicate and work on establishing boundaries, I think it’s fine for one person to need a lot of support. If the relationship is damaging for you and one or both of you just isn’t able or willing to discuss boundaries, that’s a sign there could be some codependence going on. 

A person experiencing separation anxiety and extreme stress when you aren’t around could be an issue - but again, it depends on how it’s being handled. Is your friend able to cope with this anxiety on their own, or are they constantly putting this anxiety on you? Are they blowing up your phone and getting anxious if you’re 10 minutes late answering a text? Do they ever try to guilt-trip you or blame you for triggering their separation anxiety? Do they accuse you of not caring about them if you try to take time for yourself? Are they jealous of your other relationships? Is their extreme stress taking a toll on your life and preventing you from having other relationships or having personal boundaries and space? If your friend is willing to work on boundaries and find healthy coping mechanisms for their stress, this might be something you can overcome. If your friend is burning you out and one or both of you is unable to set boundaries, this might be a very unhealthy situation. 

Not feeling the same stress and anxiety, however, is definitely not selfish. It’s not healthy for someone to feel that level of extreme stress and separation anxiety - it’s not your friend’s fault that they experience that, but it’s still very unhealthy. The fact that someone feels an unhealthy attachment to you does not mean that you should feel an unhealthy attachment right back. No one benefits from that. In any healthy relationship, both people have a life and identity outside the relationship. This is, fundamentally, the issue at the core of many different unhealthy relationships - whether they are codependent, enmeshed, or abusive.

 Being so attached to someone that you can’t handle them needing friends, hobbies, space and independence isn’t a compliment or something to aspire to - it’s just unhealthy.

Hope this answers your question! MM

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you’re prince harry’s personal bodyguard.

a/n: hi angels! i’m SO EXCITED to be finally sharing this story, and i’m really proud of this piece! like it’s genuinely one of my favorites i’ve ever written and one of my babies, so i can’t wait to hear what you all think! this story is inspired by gold rush by taylor swift, and this story immediately came to me once i heard the song. so, enjoy and please reblog and leave feedback! 

thank you to my best beta and friend tina @sunflowers-styles​ and miss zoey @serendipitystyles​ who screamed with me when i just started writing it, ily both! 

WORD COUNT: 24.7k of prince!harry x guard!yn (it’s gonna be a rollercoaster <3) 

WARNINGS: ANGST (genuinely a lot of it), smut, mentions of death and disease 

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘SINKING SHIPS’ i’d love to know your thoughts! 

pls rb to share! <3

.・。.・゜

‘Eyes like sinking ships

On waters so inviting

I almost jump in.’ 

With a slight groan, you were taken out of your slumber by the sunlight that was seeping through your curtains. The birds were chirping away quite loudly this morning—acting like there weren’t people who were sleeping at seven in the morning, but early birds get the worm, right?

You sat up, stretching your arms towards the ceiling as you let out an inhumane sound that was very ‘unladylike’ before freshening up in the restroom. After putting on your regular and daily uniform: black slacks, white crisp shirt with a black tie, and black formal shoes—you opted out on wearing a blazer since you were going to be out for most of the day—before you headed towards the kitchen that felt like miles away because the Royal House was huge. 

The chefs were already up, bright and early, ready to feed the Royal family. The aroma of French toast and sautéed vegetables filled your senses, making your mouth water. 

“Morning, everyone!” You greeted happily once you entered the kitchen. 

“Goodmorning, Y/N!” The chefs welcomed you into their kitchen in sync. You softly smiled, walking over to the fruit basket at the edge of the marble counter, grabbing a banana and orange before walking over to the island and leaning your elbows on it as you watched the chefs cook. 

You always loved watching them work on their art, it was quite mesmerizing—the way they sautéed the vegetables, tossing the contents into the air was always something you loved ever since you were young. They were always so proud and humble about their work, presenting it with a satisfied smile as satiated empty stomachs. 

Suddenly, the side door opened, revealing Maria tugging on the wagon that carried basketfuls of fresh vegetables and fruits. You quickly walked towards her, grabbing the basket from the wagon to set it down on the counter. The baskets were always quite heavy, and you always made sure to help her out every morning since she wakes up at sunrise to pick out and wash the produce for the day. 

“Thank you, my dear,” Maria said, smiling. 

“Of course, Maria. These are beautiful.” You handpicked vegetables and fruits. “One day, I’ll wake up earlier to help you out in the morning, so you’re not all by yourself,” you suggested. Maria was like a mother to you, and you truly looked up to her ever since you started to remember things. You never really knew who your real mom was because she had passed away when you were just a year old, so you saw Maria as a motherly figure. 

You remembered when you first visited the Royal House; your father, Josiah, used to be a stableman and would bring you to work with him every day, occasionally letting you ride on the horses with him if it was allowed. Josiah and Maria had a mutual liking towards one another, but neither of them had acted upon it. They had just simply acknowledged the fact they had feelings for one another. So, you were around Maria a lot, and it wasn’t forced because you genuinely took a liking towards her and she started becoming a female figure in your life that you never really had. 

“Oh, you’re so sweet, but that’s not needed. I know how exhausting your day is, so get those few extra hours of sleep, okay?” She raised her brows at you, and you chuckled, nodding your head at her. “And besides, I’ve actually got some help…” she trailed off in suspense. 

It was your turn to raise your brows at her. “Really? And who might that be?” A tint of pinkness hit Maria’s cheeks as she looked down, occupying herself by taking the produce out of the basket. 

“Just…Nathaniel.” 

“Nathaniel, really?” 

“Yeah, he’s nice, yeah? Handsome. Funny. Kind,” she started to sound like she was convincing you, but you really didn’t need all that much convincing because you actually knew him.

“I know Nathaniel, but thanks for the little recap,” you joked, chuckling as Maria blushed. “So, do you like him?” You asked. 

“I mean…I don’t know. Maybe,” she admitted shyly. You gave her an encouraging smile because you knew that she was only shy to confess the truth because she had been in love with your father. 

“Good—that’s good. Well, if you are taking a liking towards him, don’t run away from your feelings,” you told her sternly as if you were the mother now. “You deserve to be happy and in love!” 

“Suppose you’re right. I just feel…bad.” 

“Don’t be. He would want you to be happy, I promise,” you reminded Maria. 

You could definitely understand why she felt bad about the fact that she was interested in Nathaniel. Maria and Josiah were in love, once upon a time, but ever since your father passed away two years ago, due to his heart condition, it was difficult for Maria to move on from the love of her life. With regret wilting down on her face, she asked herself why she didn’t bother to do anything about her love for him, and she didn’t know if it was the right thing to do to be interested in someone else. However, you constantly reminded her that Josiah wanted you two to have a great life, containing a lot of love and laughter. 

Looking at the wall clock above the chocolate brown cabinets, you realized that it was a bit past seven, so duties for the day were calling. You kissed Maria on the cheek, telling her that you’ll see her during lunch before bidding the rest of the staff goodbye as you headed out of the kitchen

Your clad black shoes clicked against the shiny and polished tiled floor, echoing the corridor of the Royal House as you walked towards the West Wing of the house; the staff and employees all lived on the East Wing, and it was quite a walk from one end to the other. 

Knocking on the tall and heavy door, you heard absolute silence on the other side, which wasn’t abnormal. So, you knocked once more, hearing no movement before you allowed yourself inside of the bedroom of the Prince. 

As you expected, he was sprawled out onto his large bed, too large for one person, with his curls covering his forehead. His mouth was slightly agape with puffs of breaths coming out as he was in deep sleep. You opened the long curtains, letting the sunshine enter his room before walking over to the side of his bed, placing the two fruits on his bedside table so he could fuel himself as he’s getting ready; you gently tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Your Highness, It’s time to wake up,” you softly said. With no response, you shook his shoulder a bit harder to get him out of his deep slumber. “Your Highness, it’s past seven.” 

The Prince groaned, eyes still closed as he began to writhe around the bed. You took a step back from the bed, waiting for him to wake up fully before greeting him. He buried his face into the pillow, refusing to budge, as an exhausted muffled groan came out of his mouth. 

Once his eyes were fully open and he was aware of his surroundings and consciousness, he turned his head towards you, giving you a look as if to momentarily remember who you were; you gave him a smile to start off his day. 

“Good Morning—agh!” You let out an unexpected squeal, cut off by the Prince’s large arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you down onto the bed with him. His lips immediately attacked your neck and face, peppering your skin with his affection. You laughed softly, trying to keep your voice down in case anyone heard you, but you couldn’t help it because it tickled. “Your Highness!” You pushed his body away from yours, and you knew he only pulled back because of the name you had called him. 

He pouted, looking at you with puppy eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that, Princess,” he joked slightly. 

You raised your brows, mouth slightly open as you playfully patted his chest. “And I told you to stop calling me that, Harry.” 

“Then I’ll stop calling you that once you stop calling me ‘Your Highness,’” he said in a mocking tone before he raised his brows to see what you were going to respond with because he knew that you loved being called ‘Princess’ even if you were far from actually becoming one. You two would have these playful arguments on which nicknames to call one another, and ‘Princess’ and ‘Your Highness’ were both a bit of an inside joke now. 

You simply just rolled your eyes. “Not fit to be a Princess.” Harry’s arms wrapped tighter around your waist as both of your heads rested against the same pillow. You loved mornings like these, and although it was unusual to be sleeping in different rooms, it had to happen under certain circumstances. 

“You definitely are fit enough to be a Princess because you’ll be mine…soon…one day,” he lightened up the air, pressing a kiss to your cheek and forehead. “Perfect for me, I swear.” You smiled admiringly at the Prince, feeling incredibly grateful for him and his presence. 

For five years, your love for him had only increased when you thought that your heart couldn’t get any bigger. But Harry somehow made it happen; he filled your beating organ with so much love and devotion, making you feel so overwhelmed with happiness that you felt like you could burst any minute. You’ve known Harry since you were a little girl, but you didn’t play with him much since you had to stay close to Josiah. But when you did, you two would always go riding together; it was an innocent and pure friendship, and even when you were younger, you would find yourself missing your friend, who just so happened to be the Prince of the country. 

Five-year-old Y/N simply understood that he was a Prince, but you understood it just like the Disney movies. So, you and seven-year-old Harry would play Prince and Princess for fun. Every morning you would tell Josiah to dress you up in a pretty dress because your “Prince was waiting on the West Wing,” as you said. 

As the years went by and you two played less of Prince and Princess, but you and Harry were still inseparable. He was your best friend—still is, and you couldn’t be more happy that you two had never drifted off into the fog that vanishes every afternoon. 

With how close you were to Prince Harry, you realized you had feelings for him when you were thirteen, and it wasn’t until you were twenty when you two got together. Harry had told you that he’s liked you since he was seven, and fifteen years later, he finally had the balls to tell you. Typically for some, it wouldn’t be the most ideal relationship since your blood didn’t bleed royalty, but you’d rather have him in private rather than displaying your relationship to the entire world, especially his family. 

The bubble that was his room, was your hideout. The sanctuary where you felt most comfortable because it was where he slept in, as his scent roamed around the room, making it feel like home. You loved how you immediately felt safe and calm when you opened his bedroom room door, especially when you saw him peacefully sleeping; it was your favorite thing to do. 

Harry didn’t mind, either. He knew how brutal his family could be if they ever found out about your relationship with him, and no matter how much he wanted to shout his love for you from the top of his lungs to the world, they truly didn’t need that because the only people who were the most important in this relationship were you and Harry. As long as the two of you knew that you were in love with one another, that’s all that mattered. 

He was there for you for most of your life, and with a clueless mind, you didn’t know where you would be without him when your father had died. Since Josiah was working for the Royal Family with your occasional help, you had thought the Queen and King were going to kick you out because you had no place or purpose staying in the Royal House. But luckily, Harry quickly proposed the idea of you being his personal bodyguard. Someone who just followed him around while making him seem less lonely because the other men that were his guards before rarely said a word to him when he was out. 

The Dutch and Duchess, and especially the Queen, were a bit skeptical, but let him have his way to avoid any sort of resentment in the future. You were ecstatic and thanked him profusely for letting you stay at the Royal House, but he brushed it off, telling you that he would’ve asked a million times more until they said yes.

 So, for two years now, you’d been Harry’s personal bodyguard, and you thought it was the easiest job. One, because even if you weren’t his bodyguard, you’d protect him with your life, putting yourself in front of him when chaos would come his way. Two, he made the job seem fun and it didn’t even seem like a job because you two laughed and messed around from time to time, not actually doing work. And three, who doesn’t love working with their partner?

“Is that a promise?” You tested him, seeing if he was willing to promise you that he was going to marry you. It didn’t seem possible if you were honest. Either he would have to run away from home or you two wouldn’t get married at all, and just stay together, which you wouldn’t mind either. 

“That’s definitely a promise. You know me—don’t say shit just to say it,” he said, a smug smile on his face. 

“Okay, well. Whenever that day comes, I’ll be waiting to become Mrs. Styles.” 

“Princess Styles,” he corrected, and you breathed out a chuckle, shaking your head a tad bit as you surrendered your argument on him calling you that. 

You snuggled closer to him, enjoying his presence and warmth; and for a moment, you had forgotten yours and Harry’s responsibilities for the day; you just enjoyed this small and quiet moment you two had together that only usually happened in the mornings. But you cherished them nonetheless. 

Nearly drifting off to sleep, you jolted to stay awake. You looked at Harry to see him looking at you with a small but fond smile on his face, eyes gleaming ever so brightly as the sun gently cast its light through his window from above his bed. 

You gave him a quick kiss to his lips and nose before getting out of his hold, earning a groan from him. You stood beside the bed, smoothing out any wrinkles that creased on your clothing. 

“C’mon, we have so much to do today! Plus, we’ve already exceeded morning bedtime hours.” You grabbed his arm, tugging him towards the edge of the bed. He sighed, resisting as he pulled back. 

“Don’t wanna do anything today. Just wanna lay in bed all day with my Princess.” His words came out muffled as he spoke into the pillow. Your cheeks heated up as you held his arm; you wished that you’d get the chance to spend the entire day with him, doing nothing instead of keeping a distance from him throughout the day. But alas, being with him for most of the day was still what you considered a wonderful day. 

“Let’s go,” you softly insisted. You kneeled down onto the floor beside him, pecking his face all over. The left side of his face was smashed against the mattress, but you could see the smile forming onto his face as you kissed his cheeks. “Get up, dreamy.” You used your nickname on him, and you realized that was a bad idea since you were trying to get him out of bed. 

Harry suddenly perked up, smirking before he turned around to lay on his back. He pulled your arm, hauling you to lay on top of him; you giggled once you landed on him, and he connected his lips with yours, kissing you passionately and sensually. Your legs were straddling him, and you unconsciously ground against his sleep pants, feeling his bulge grow harder and bigger. Harry softly moaned into your mouth, slightly bucking his hips upward towards your center. 

You pulled away, about to tell him that you couldn’t do this right now, but once you saw his flushed face and swollen pink lips, not to mention his aching hard-on that was rubbing against your thigh, you decided against it. 

And Harry knew you all too well to know that you were going to say something but held back. So, instead, he grimaced and wrapped his arms around your waist before trailing them down to your ass, giving it a squeeze over your pants. 

“Think we got time for this?” He raised his brows teasingly at you, and you bit your lip. 

Grinding your hips against him was your way of giving him your answer, your mouth met his ear as you whispered, “All the time in the world for you to fuck me.” You nibbled on his earlobe before moving your lips down to the spot under his ear, resulting in a moan slipping out of his mouth. 

He flipped you two over, now his turn to hover over you. The Prince gave you a certain look that you knew all too well; it was a look of certainty like he had all the time in the world to have his way with you, and he definitely wasn’t going to shy away from it. 

“Wanna feel me? Think you could handle me?” He challenged teasingly. His voice was low, raspy, and deep—much deeper now since it was morning and he’d just woken up. But the way he spoke sent a shiver down your neck, making you jerk, causing a mess in your panties. 

“Know I could handle you. I’ve been handling you for years now,” you smirked. A flushed tint rose onto Harry’s cheeks; he always seemed to feel himself get giddy over the fact that you two had been together for years, and hearing it come out of your mouth made it much better. 

“Let’s see about that.” He began to kiss down your neck and body as you relaxed into the pillow, completely enjoying his lips and body on you. 

And just like all the other days, it was going to be a long morning. But the early birds get the worm, right? 

Harry headed towards the dining room where his family was eating breakfast. They all looked up at him suspiciously, like they knew about his morning escapade with his Princess, and he was nearly gutted because they had gotten caught, but they simply just looked at him and continued eating. 

“Morning everyone,” he relaxed, clearing his throat as he took his seat, unbuttoning his black suit jacket; a light pink button-down shirt clad on his tattooed torso. The servers that had been serving them for decades, Mariah and Deborah, poured him a tall glass of water and set down his mug of coffee. He thanked them, and they gave him a smile, always surprised to receive a ‘thank you’ in the Royal House. But Harry wasn’t snobby or arrogant, he had manners and was polite. 

“A bit late to breakfast, Harry, and you didn’t show for morning tea,” the Queen herself had pointed out. Elaine hadn’t even made eye contact with him, she just continued eating as she sat at the head of the table. 

Harry froze for a moment to look at his sister to see if she’ll help, but Gemma just raised her brows, not knowing how to back him up. 

“Sorry, Nan. Couldn’t sleep last night, so I slept in a little bit,” Harry lied. 

“Hmm, and where was that bodyguard of yours to wake you up? Isn’t she supposed to wake you?” She wondered, but by her tone, it was like she knew already; and Harry really hoped that wasn’t the case. 

“Uh, yeah. She did, actually, and I told her to give me a moment. Guess that turned into forty-five…” he curled his lips in, containing the smirk that was begging to show through. His cheeks formed a tint, and he quickly grabbed his glass of water to cool down and to cover his flustered face. 

The two of you had stayed in bed longer than anticipated, and when it was only supposed to be a quickie, Harry took his time with you the first round but decided to go two more rounds, fucking you hard until your teeth were biting the sheets and screaming into the pillow. You had to cover all of the marks that littered his neck, but the others that only you were able to see were casually resting under his clothes. 

Harry shifted in his seat, remembering how your eyes looked up at him as you kissed down his body to wrap your lips around his cock. His mind was spiraling, immediately thinking filthy things your mouth and body could do to him; that was until Gemma had kicked his foot under the table that got him out of his head. 

He looked at her, flicked his head at her, a way to ask ‘what was that for?’ She tilted her head towards the Queen as Elaine was still talking to Harry. 

“Okay, just wanted to make sure she’s doing something right. If not, you let me know, and we’ll have her removed from the House,” she advised quite sternly. 

“There’s no need for that, Nan. There hasn’t been a problem for the last two years she’s been my guard, so there certainly won’t be,” Harry explained quickly. He didn’t know if his eagerness sold his disagreement, or if it helped his case with his secret relationship with you. But he didn’t want you to leave his side, let alone, leave the House. He wanted you here, and if having you in private was the only way, where you two had to sneak around and kiss behind closed doors, then he didn’t mind that.

Elaine nodded, letting go of the subject before talking to the Dutch, Harry’s father, about some of the duties that needed to be completed today. Harry let out a sigh of relief once the Queen’s attention wasn’t on him anymore. He ate his breakfast in silence, thankful that the conversation he had with his grandmother didn’t go any further than a bit of scolding; he would say it was going to be a good day if they went a morning without Harry marching off early from breakfast. 

Breakfast went on quickly after that, thankfully. Mariah and Deborah began to clean the table before setting up a few cups of coffee for his mother, father, and the Queen. Harry and Gemma excused themselves, saying they had a few things to do for the day before they quickly walked out of the kitchen. 

The siblings rounded the corner and walked until they were far enough before Gemma spoke, not wanting their family to hear their conversation from the echo because of how large their home was. 

“You really need to be careful, H—the both of you, I mean it. Staying in with Y/N can’t happen consistently—I feel like she’s starting to get suspicious. ” Gemma started. She had a concerned expression as the part in between her brows creased. 

Harry sighed, nodding his head. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. We’ll try to be more careful. It’s just hard, y’know.” 

“I understand. I get it, I really do,” Gemma sighed before chuckling as if a realization had popped into her head. “Hell, I’m doing the same thing, but I’m just better at hiding it,” she chuckled.” It was true; Gemma was in a relationship with one of the servers—Sebastian. 

They’d been together for seven years, ever since she was twenty-three. She kept it a secret for three years until she decided to tell Harry, which of course, Harry was ecstatic to hear the news—only because he had just told his sister about his own relationship, which you two had only been together for a year at that time. 

Gemma and Harry were supportive of one another, looking out and covering up for each other because at the end of the day, they were on the same side and in the same situation; neither of them wanted the other to get caught because there would be worse consequences coming from the Queen, and the two tried to avoid those said consequences as much as possible. 

Naturally, Gemma loved you. You’d grown closer to her and seen her as a best friend, someone you could always go to and count on. The appreciation you had for her was vast, and you thanked her almost every day for how grateful you were that she was so supportive in your relationship with Harry. 

“Thanks for kicking me back there, though. Didn’t need another morning where Nan flames my ass,” he scoffed, shaking his head slightly. 

Gemma laughed. “Yeah, don’t know why she’s picking fights with you. She used to love you, wonder what changed,” she wondered, genuinely thinking what the cause may be. 

“Don’t know what it is, but if you know, tell me because I can’t always eat my meals stressed because she’s always onto me.” Gemma giggled. “Anyways, gotta go. I’ll be at the charity event until late afternoon, and I gotta find my girl. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you. I’ll wait for you to eat dinner, so you’re not alone. Have a good day, little brother, be safe.” The Styles siblings hugged, a nice and warm embrace that showed much appreciation and respect they had for the other. 

“You as well, big sister.” 

Harry walked in the opposite direction as Gemma, smiling to himself as his heart felt so full. He was lucky to have a sister that was so encouraging and caring, and he always made sure to give the same love back to her because she needed it. Their parents were always a bit strict on them, but he was sure they had to have gotten that attitude from the Queen—well, at least his father. His mother, Anne, was a sweetheart. For some odd reason, she didn’t show much love to her kids because of Elaine. When they were kids, Nan would always get on Anne’s case about how she shouldn’t show them much affection or treat them like babies because they needed to learn discipline and from their own mistakes. 

Walking over to the East Wing and past the kitchen, Harry headed towards the living area, where some of the staff, including you, were hanging out, waiting for the Royal Family to finish their breakfast. One of his father’s guards immediately stood up, making the rest hastily stand up to greet the Prince. 

“Your Highness…” The staff greeted in sync; the men bowed as the women curtsied as Harry stood in the doorway of the living room. His eyes found yours, watching you curtsy; and on your way up, your head perked up, shyly smirking at him. Harry’s heart flipped as he puckered his lips to the side, containing his smile; you two would always laugh about these kinds of greetings, and sometimes Harry would greet you the same way because after all, were his Princess. He wasn’t one to be formal with greetings, and if it were up to him, he would tell the entire staff to stop greeting him like that, but he didn’t make the rules around here. 

“Goodmorning, everyone,” he greeted back. “Hope everyone has a great day. I should get going, though. Y/N?” He looked at you and slightly raised his brows. You walked across the living room and past him, standing before him before making sure to give him a smile. He bid everyone goodbye before you two walked alongside one another. 

The two of you headed towards the large front door in silence. You occasionally glanced up, but quickly averted your eyes towards the path, and Harry was also looking at you through his peripheral vision, smiling to himself as he saw how many times you glanced up at him. The silver Rolls Royce was waiting for the both of you at the end of the steps with the back door open with his driver, Benjamin, holding the door open. Harry gestured for you to get into the car first like the gentleman that he was. 

“Hi, Benjamin,” you greeted the middle-aged man with a smile. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he responded, tilting his hat down. 

“Thank you, Benjamin,” Harry shook his hand appreciatively. Benjamin had been Harry’s driver for the past ten years. He used to be his father’s driver, but when Harry grew older and was able to go to events and out on his own, they assigned Benjamin to be Harry’s driver. 

“You’re welcome, Prince Harry,” he slightly bowed before closing the door after Harry slipped into the car. 

Benjamin drove to the facility where the charity event was held. The privacy compartment screen between the driver and back seat was up; the fancy car seemed more like a movie theater with so much leg space and a middle console between the seats with a blank privacy screen in front of you. It screamed expensive, and Rolls Royce was the company that helped the Royal Family get from point A to point B as their entire underground garage was filled with these types of vehicles. 

You and Harry had about half an hour to chat and touch one another, so you unclicked your seatbelt, quickly moving towards his seat. He smiled, unclicked his seatbelt before letting you half-sit on his lap, your legs rested on his thighs, and he pulled the seatbelt over the both of you and clicked the metal buckle before pulling the seat belt strap behind him so it wouldn’t get in your way. 

A sigh came out of both of your mouths, enjoying this moment that felt short, but was cherished. You cuddle into his side, resting your head against his shoulder as his arms were tightly wrapped around you. You could feel his heart pounding through his chest, and you enjoyed the sound, knowing it was maintaining a steady heartbeat for you. 

Harry kissed your forehead, lips delicately brushing across your skin, making you flustered. You looked up at him as he smiled down at you, the two of you smiling like idiots before he took his lips in with yours. 

“What’s it like to grow up always being so beautiful?” He suddenly asked, very charmingly, might you add. He couldn’t get enough of you and how stunning you looked every single day; no matter how much you disagreed with him, he always thought you were the most gorgeous person on this Earth.

You smiled, looking, and studying his face. Some strands of his hair had fallen into place against his forehead; you pushed them back, softly kissing his forehead. 

“Could say the same for you. You always have a beautiful heart and a lovely face.” You grazed his jaw with your thumb, his stubble scratching against your finger. 

A breathy chuckle fell from his lips. “Love you, my Princess. Dream girl, I swear.”

“And I love you, Your Highness. Love you like crazy,” you softly giggled, kissing his jaw. “How was breakfast, by the way?” 

“The usual. Gemma said Nan is starting to get suspicious, so we have to be careful, can’t have too many mornings in,” he explained sadly. You slightly pouted, but quickly covered up your sad expression with a neutral face, not wanting to make him feel bad because he had no control over his grandmother. 

“Okay…” you agreed, nodding your head. 

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “Know this is hard, but we’ll figure it out, alright?” His hand cupped your cheek, gently caressing your soft skin as he looked deeply into your eyes. His green eyes held an immense amount of care and love, just like his heart, and just being in his view of vision was an honor enough. 

You nodded, blinking back the tears that had quickly formed. “I know we will. Don’t mind having you to myself, though,” you chuckled. The corners of his lips turned up as his dimple popped out. You took your finger and poked his dimple, something you had been doing ever since you were younger. 

“I don’t mind it either, but sometimes the sneaking around sucks, doesn’t it?” His brows slightly furrowed, clear frustration expressed on his face. You took your thumb and smoothed out his stressed and wrinkled forehead, and he immediately relaxed. 

“It does, but if that’s what it takes for me to be with you, then that’s how it’s gonna be.”

Harry deeply sighed, resting his head against your neck. You lifted your head up, so he had more room to perfectly fit against you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Butterflies soared in your stomach once you felt his lips against your neck, pressing soft and gentle kisses to your skin. After all these years, his touch still made you giddy while goosebumps rose on your skin. His kisses didn’t lead to anything more as they simply spoke the words of admiration and gratitude. 

“Hmm, don’t deserve you,” he mumbled against your skin. 

“Yeah, you do. Deserve love and happiness more than anything, and if I’m the one to provide it to you, then that’s all I need in life.” He pulled his head back, coming face-to-face with you now as your words had really meant something. Your hand grazed his cheek, feeling his soft but yet somewhat stubbled skin. 

“I love you so much. Genuinely think my heart is going to explode full with my love for you.” He took your hand that was on his face in his, giving the back of your hand a kiss before placing your palm against his heart. You felt his heart beating fast, hard, and it was all for you. “You have my heart in the palm of your hand.” His actions were literal, and you loved how he always had a way with his words. “Full of love for and from you.” 

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him as your hand was still against his chest. For the rest of the car ride, you two relished in one another’s touch; it felt nice to be with one another outside of the Royal House where you didn’t have to hide behind corners or in secret passageways. 

When the car came to a smooth stop, you quickly unclicked the seat belt and got off of Harry, giving him a peck to his lips before situating yourself in your own seat. Benjamin opened Harry’s door and you let yourself out on your own side, quickly jogging around the car to stand next to Harry. 

A line of Rolls Royces were parked behind the vehicle you were in previously, and five guards, including you, were surrounding Harry as you all walked inside of the banquet room. You were standing in front of Harry, between two guards, while the other two were slightly behind the Prince, making sure he was safely boxed in between you all. 

Quite a few gasps were let out once people saw who had just walked in, and the volume in the room had increased. People were starting to walk towards you all, bowing and curtsying to the Prince as he said his hellos to everyone. Straight ahead, you noticed a woman running towards you, and you knew that wasn’t safe at all, considering this was a children’s charity event and you had the Prince right behind you. 

“Prince Harry-” her arms reached forward and she gained a little air, jumping a tad bit, but you had immediately stopped her, making sure she did no harm to the royalty. 

“Ma’am, please step back,” you stood in front of her like a brick wall, pushing her slightly as she stumbled back a bit. Her face had gone red, stepping aside; Harry softly smiled at her, waving his hand. You turned around briefly to see if Harry was okay, and a small smile appeared on his face, nodding at you to proceed. 

The group of guards walked Harry to one of the tables a group of kids were sat at. Harry told the guards that he was okay and that they could stand back until he was ready to leave. The four guards, including you, separated along the wall behind the Prince. 

You observed the room, noticing that there were a few photographers, clicking away at the charity event, making sure they get Prince Harry in their shot, along with volunteer workers and some parents at the event with their phones out, snapping pictures of him. You watched Harry interact with the children, helping them build legos with an enthusiastic smile on his face; he would high-five them, telling them that they did an amazing job building the ship before taking his phone out and snapping a picture of the wonderful sets the kids had built. 

Your heart warmed at the sight, and you couldn’t help but think about Harry being the father of your children because he would be the best dad; he would treat them so sweetly, spoil them rotten, and support them in letting them be whoever they’d like to be. A sudden warmth hit your face as you curled your lips into your mouth, hiding your smile—you suddenly thought about being pregnant and how Harry would be so gentle with you as he touched and kissed your stomach. 

With your leg shaking as you stood, you were getting jitters as you daydreamed. One of the guards noticed that you couldn’t stand still, so he slightly nudged your shoulder with his, bringing you out of your pleasant daydream. You looked up at Earl, raising your brows before he asked if you were okay. You nodded your head, standing straighter and placing your arms behind your back, interlocking your hands as you continued to watch how Harry’s smile brightened up while playing with the children. 

Harry absolutely loved charity events, not because they gave him good press but because every time he had gone to one, he would forget that there were cameras around him. Being and spending time with the kids had made him so happy, and the children seemed to enjoy their time with him as well, so that’s all that mattered to him. 

The charity event was being hosted by a foundation that helped kids who lacked a certain connection with their youthfulness because their parents didn’t have the money to get their kids toys or bring them to amusement parks. The foundation was a non-profit organization that simply organized donations to be used towards the children. They hosted toy drives every month, picnics every other Saturday, and sometimes Disney trips every six months if they reached their donation goal. 

Harry was all for donating to them, and this foundation was one of the five organizations for children that he was a member of and was very active with them throughout. He was very passionate about helping the children out, and he wanted them to have a nice childhood, helping them outweigh the good from the bad. His natural liking towards kids in general very much helped him easily bond with them. 

After a few hours, making sure every child got his attention, he was ready to leave. He didn’t leave without saying a small speech because it was expected; thanking everyone for donating and supporting this foundation, and he also thanked the kids for playing with him, which he earned many cheers from the young ones. 

Once he got off stage, he made eye contact with you, telling you that he was ready, and you headed towards him, the other guards followed after you. Just like you arrived, the guards boxed Harry in safely as he bid everyone goodbye. Everyone waved as a series of farewells were scattered across the room, sad to see the Prince go. Once you all were outside the venue, Benjamin was waiting by the passenger door. From the three hours Harry had been at the event, news had spread out like wildfire that the Prince was attending the event, so there was a swarm of paparazzi waiting outside the venue. 

The box of guards that were surrounding Harry closed in tighter since you had to get through the crowds. Harry, being the polite prince that he was, said hi to everyone as they reached out to hold his hand. But he rarely let anyone touch him because of an incident he had six months ago when he had reached over to shake someone’s hand, but they had taken advantage of the opportunity and harshly yanked him forward, making him stumble. Being frightened by that, he informed his guards to not let anyone touch him after that. He wasn’t being obnoxious or a typical ‘no one can touch me because I’m the Prince’ kind of guy, it was simply for his safety. You absolutely hated that someone was out to hurt him, and it pained you to see how shaken up he was that day. If the Prince had actually gotten hurt that day, there would be massive consequences for that person, but anyone would risk their lives to feel his touch. 

Once you were close to Benjamin, Harry let you get into the car first, but Benjamin stopped you. With a confused look on your face, you asked if everything was okay while Harry asked if there was something wrong. Benjamin leaned down to whisper in Harry’s ear, and you furrowed your brows, suddenly becoming suspicious as you watched them. Benjamin pulled back and Harry deeply sighed, shaking his head. 

“Y/N is my personal guard, though,” Harry mentioned. 

“Yes, but this was a direct message from the Queen herself. I’m only delivering the message, Your Highness. I don’t want to lose my job if I don’t comply,” Benjamin explains sadly. There was clear stress on his face, saddening him that he has to go against the Prince’s orders, but he couldn’t afford to lose his job when he has a family. And besides, it’s the Queen—everyone follows her orders. 

“Okay. Thank you, Benjamin,” Harry said, and Benjamin bowed. 

Harry turned towards you, leaning down to whisper into your ear just as Benjamin did to him. “Nan said that I have to take one of the other guards to ride back to the House with me. Specifically said, ‘Have the other guard come back with Harry, don’t care who it is.’ She told Benjamin that she wouldn’t be happy if he’d let us ride together. Fuckin’ ridiculous.” Harry pulled back, rolling his eyes. You simply nodded, knowing you couldn’t comfort him in any way since you were still in public, so you moved out of the way and stepped aside. 

Harry gave you a quick smile before turning his head to one of the guards, asking if he could join him. They quickly said yes, and safely got into the car. The rest of the guards waited until the car door was closed before walking towards the cars they arrived in. You slipped into the car, the one you didn’t arrive in, as you watched the one with your Prince inside drive away and towards the Royal House. 

Sighing, you looked out the window and watched the road and houses pass by. The Queen had never really taken a liking to you—never really made the effort to talk to you. You were the closest person to Harry, physically, since you were his bodyguard, but all she had ever done was question your actions when you’d been doing your job correctly, according to the instructions and demands from Prince Harry. 

But the worry and anxieties had increased because Elaine had become more suspicious than she was last year. Had she found out about your relationship with the Prince? You two had been doing well at hiding it besides this morning. And you had been good, denying Harry’s wishes to stay in up until this morning. But every day, it got more difficult hiding your love and affection towards the Prince. The word ‘no’ coming from his beautiful mouth as he would stare at you with those captivating emerald green eyes as he would plead to spend more time with him in his comfortable bed; the word completely vanished from your head. 

You wished the situation was different, but for now, you only hoped that things would get better from here. 

Once the car was parked in front of the large cemented steps that led up to the front door of the Royal House, Harry sighed, thanking Benjamin for driving him as well as Nico for accompanying him on the ride back. They both bowed, saying ‘you’re welcome’ before Harry let himself out and up those steps. Benjamin quickly reminded him that the Queen would like to see him when he arrived home, making Harry dread the conversation. 

He walked slowly towards the front door that was opened by two of the front gate guards. Saying a quick ‘hello’ to them, he walked towards the Queen’s lair, where she always prevailed when she said she needed to have a conversation with someone. 

The hallway leading to the double doors always made Harry anxious, ever since he was a little boy. He hated how dimly lit the hallway always was, and he never understood why she never wanted to put lights in this hallway. Probably to match her heart, Harry thought, but immediately took back the thought because he shouldn’t think that way about his grandmother, better yet, the Queen. 

Taking a deep breath, his shaky hand knocked on the door, hearing ‘Enter’ from the Queen from inside, and Harry opened the door. His grandmother was sitting at her large desk chair that was lined like a gold antique frame and was drinking tea out of her teacup that was passed down from generations. 

“Your Majesty,” Harry bowed, greeting his Nan. She placed her teacup down onto the small plate, placing her hand out to indicate him to sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk. There were no greetings, not a word out of her when he had entered, and now, she was staring at her grandson with snake eyes, ready to attack. 

Harry gulped, hands fidgeting in his lap as he sat straight up so she didn’t point out any more of the things he was doing wrong. 

“How was the charity event, Harry?” She suddenly asked, breaking her silence. 

“Uh, good. Had a lot of fun with the children.”

“Good, good. Anyways, I should get to the point with this, hmm?” She raised her brows as she asked her question as a genuine one. Harry’s face remained neutral, slightly nodding. “I called you in here because I wanted to tell you a bit of news that I found out earlier this week…” she trailed, taking a deep breath before she revealed her news. “I found out that I’m dying. I have a tumor in my brain, and the doctors have found it too late. They gave me the option to have surgery where they would try to take it out, but that would lead to very risky complications that I can’t afford. So, I told them that I would hold out.” 

Harry was shocked. His mouth was open, eyes wide, and speechless. Not knowing how to process this new information, he couldn’t believe how casual her tone was when she told him, even her face remained calm like she expected this to happen. 

“I, uh…Nan…” 

“I’ve been preparing for this—I’m getting older, so this was bound to happen already. I’m making sure the kingdom and our country are safe, and I’m making sure your parents are ready for the job they are about to accept.” 

Harry nodded, eyes welling up. “H-How much longer do you have?” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “Doctors said six months to a year, but that could change anytime. We just don’t know.” Harry exhaled deeply, looking down at his lap. He felt as if his heart was heavy as he listened to her talk about her disease—how okay she was with dying. Sure, now, he and Nan don’t get along very well, but once upon a time, they were closer than ever. The Queen absolutely loved her grandson and was always so sweet and gentle with him, but things quickly changed when he turned twenty-two. The older you get, the more distant they become, he thinks. He sighed, wishing it wasn’t like that. 

“I do have a wish from you…before I go.” 

“Anything,” he answered immediately, and he had wished he hadn’t answered so soon because the words that came out of her mouth next was his worst nightmare. 

“I would like to see you get married while I’m still alive. I’m arranging a gala this weekend and I’d like you to meet some people, you know, you can take your pick or whatnot,” she said with an emotionless face. He always disliked how much she lacked enthusiasm or emotion, and how she talked about things so casually. 

Elaine picked up her pen, writing out Thank You cards that she was sending to some people in the village. 

“I…what?” 

“Might I need to repeat that again?” She raised her brows annoyingly, hating when she needed to repeat herself. 

“I can’t do that…” 

“And why not?” She asked sternly, her change of voice had surprised Harry as she slapped her pen down onto the wooden desk. 

“Because…” This was it; he could easily out his relationship with you, tell her the truth, and it would be over with, but he didn’t because he knew that you weren’t ready for what was to happen after. Besides, you would have to know if he was going to tell her the truth, so Harry couldn’t go behind your back. “I don’t wanna meet someone at the gala just to get married right away. What happened to falling in love?” He questioned. 

Elaine scoffed, waving her hand. “Falling in love, that’ll happen when? Never? I’m gonna be gone, Harry. You’d rather fall in love in a year’s time rather than fulfill your grandmother’s wish?” Her voice started to increase, echoing, and bouncing off the walls of her office. Harry started to shake his legs anxiously from the volume of her voice and the idea that she proposed, absolutely hating it. 

The Queen had guilt-tripped him into marrying someone; she had used her disease and lifetime time limit so she could get what she wanted. Elaine knew full well he was going to obey her wishes because that’s how Harry was—he didn’t want anyone to feel bad and he certainly didn’t want it to come from him. She would ask Gemma, but she had much thicker skin than her brother, so she would turn the idea down faster than Elaine would be able to get it out. But Harry, on the other hand, was much easier to get to. 

“Harry, I’m only asking for one thing. When have I ever asked you for anything major?” She crossed her arms, resting them down on the desk. “This is my dying wish. Wouldn’t you want your wish to be-”

“Okay,” he interrupted. His voice was soft as he didn’t dare to look her in the eye as he spoke. 

“Great, it’s settled. Make sure to get your fittings done before the weekend. You have to look your best.” Harry didn’t have to look at her to know that she was absolutely beaming, knowing that she got what she wanted and didn't try hiding her excitement. “Please close the door on your way out.” 

Harry stood up slowly as he was in disbelief. Walking out of her office and closing the door, he started to breathe heavily. Tears were in his eyes and his chest felt heavy as his hands started to shake. He picked at his fingers to calm the shakiness down, but it didn’t work. Walking down the hallway, he rushed towards his room, not even checking to see if you had arrived yet, but he couldn’t face you, not yet. He had just agreed to marry someone that wasn’t you, and you were bound to be upset—he would be suspicious if you weren’t. How was he going to break this news to you? Hell, he didn’t even know how to process this himself. 

All he knew was that this was not going to end well. 

Hours later, you were wandering around the house, wondering where your Prince could be. You hadn’t seen him since you left the banquet hall earlier this afternoon; and Benjamin had told you he was to meet with the Queen once he had gotten home, but as the hours went by, you hadn’t heard or seen him. 

Quickly walking over to the West Wing, you headed towards his room because that was the last place you hadn’t checked. You walked by some of the guards and maids, saying a quick ‘hello’ to them as you passed by; it wasn’t odd for any of the staff to see you heading towards the Prince’s room because you had done it many times and Harry had instructed you, in front of the staff, that if you ever needed to see him, you could knock on his door. 

So, that’s what you did; you knocked on his door, waiting for a word from the other side, but you heard no movement whatsoever. You had checked the entire Royal House from top to bottom, but he was nowhere to be found, so he had to be in his room. You took a look around if anyone was near and once you saw the second floor was empty, you slowly opened the bedroom door of the Prince’s room. And what you saw was as if a tornado had hit his room; a mess was what described his room perfectly as objects were thrown all across the floor, the bed was unmade, chairs and sofa were flipped upside down, and the mirror was cracked in half, leaving shards of glasses on the dresser. 

You slowly walked in, afraid that someone other than Harry might be in his room, and had purposefully trashed it. There was light coming from his bathroom, so you walked towards the light, slowing your steps so your shoes wouldn’t squeak against the polished and shiny tiles. 

“Harry?” You softly called out. By now, he would have come out because you were the only one allowed in his room without permission, so you were starting to get worried. 

Once you were close to the restroom, you started to hear sobs echoing the bathroom, filling the room with soft and quiet heartbreaking sounds, making your heart drop because you knew those cries and you knew exactly who they came from. When you were inside the bathroom, you saw Harry sitting against the wall, arms leaning on his knees as his face was resting on his arms as Harry cried and sobbed. 

Seeing the love of your life in pain and in such anguish, it genuinely felt as if your heart was tearing into pieces or if someone had ripped your heart out and stomped on it. The pain that Harry endured was also felt through your heart as well because he was your soulmate, you both felt everything the other felt. 

You kneeled beside him, gently calling out for his name once more so he knew that you were right beside him before you placed your hand on his shoulder. Harry didn’t have to look up to know that it was you—your touch, your voice, and your presence before leaning to the side and into your arms, sobbing into your chest uncontrollably. You quickly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, comforting him in the best way that you knew how, and that was to simply hold him. 

He liked being held and it made him feel at ease, made his mind shut out the noise. You would simply hold him for the rest of your life if your life depended on it, and if that meant keeping him calm and at peace, then you didn’t mind. 

You ran your hand through the locks of his hair, scratching his scalp and pushing his hair out of his face. You kissed his forehead, giving him many pecks in a way to comfort him. Harry roughly coughed and sniffled; you could feel his heart beating radically, so you smoothed your hand down his back, somewhat rocking him in your arms. You knew he wasn’t a baby, you knew that, but if it worked with crying babies, then it must work with adults too. And besides, who didn’t like to be held while crying? 

To your credit, it had worked; Harry was calming down and his heartbeat wasn’t out of control. He looked up at you through his glassy eyes, sniffling; he looked defeated, and you hated that you weren’t there when he was breaking down because it must have gone on for hours.  There were visible tears that stopped against the crevice of his nose, so you took your hand and wiped his tears away before kissing his nose. 

Harry sat up, sitting against the wall as he was before you came in. Propping his knees up, you moved to sit in front of him, in between his legs, so he could know that you were there for him and that he had your full attention. He grabbed your hands, sadly kissing them but in a way, saying ‘thank you’ for comforting him and making him feel better just by your hold. You rubbed his hands with your thumb, gently caressing his skin as you patiently waited for him to talk to you. 

He took a very deep breath as if it physically pained him to breathe before he spoke, wishing the words that came out of his mouth were a sick joke, but it wasn’t—nothing that came out of the Queen’s mouth was a joke. 

“I spoke with my grandmother earlier…” he began to tell you that she had brain cancer and that she wasn’t going to do anything about it, just live the rest of her life until she couldn’t anymore. Your face saddened as Harry explained, simply just listening to him as he spoke. You placed one of your hands around his neck, playing with the curls that sat on the back of his neck. 

“Bub, I’m so sorry to hear that.” You leaned forward, kissing his cheek before giving you a hug. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, taking in your scent and comfort; he felt better for the time being—before he had to tell you the other part. A new set of tears streamed down his face, unable to hide his emotion now. 

Once you pulled away, you softly wiped his face with your hand before he spoke again. “Sadly, that’s not the news that I’m crying over.” 

Raising your brows, you looked at Harry with a surprised expression, wondering what got him so sad to trash his room and breakdown in the corner of the bathroom. 

“Oh…W-What is it?” You hesitated. 

You listened, watching his mouth as he spoke. Every ounce of hope had disappeared from your body as Harry explained the situation that he was in, that you were in. He cried, unable to be coherent as possible as his sobs won over his ability to speak a full and proper sentence. It genuinely felt like you were asleep like this was a dream, more of a nightmare. As if all of the plans and dreams you had patiently waited for was thrown out the window in a world record time of a minute, maybe less. The color from your face had completely drained, leaving you shocked, appalled, and hurt. Every word was just another twist of the knife that went straight to your heart as you wished his words would get better to relieve the strong and harsh ache in your chest, but they didn’t. 

Wake up, please, wake up, you told yourself, but this was reality. It was real.  

Silence had washed over you two after Harry was done explaining the horrible news. The silence was louder than glass shattering, loud and pitchy. Contrasting to the silence outside of your head that laid between you and Harry, the inside of your mind, your world, was similar to the glass, breaking and crumbling into pieces with one hard hit of the enemy.

“I-I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve said something, anything. But instead, I said yes,” Harry bawled through his words. 

“Are we…over?” You asked nervously. The lack of eye contact you were giving him only pained him, but he knew how difficult it was to say that. He took your face into his hands, tenderly cradling your sad but beautiful face. 

“No,” he immediately disagreed. “I mean, not if you don’t want it to be. I understand why you would, though—didn’t even fight for you. Please, let me fix this. I’ll talk to her, tell her everything. She can’t make me do this, I have a right to my own words and decisions, right?” You stayed silent. Harry understood why you were quiet as you were still taking in this information and how to process that your boyfriend was to be married in the next few months, but he really needed to hear your voice. He needed the reassurance from you because you always seemed to know the right words, but he knew you needed him more. “Princess, please look at me.” His voice was shaky, and you glanced up at him through your lashes. “I’m gonna fix this, okay? Not gonna let her walk all over me again. I love you, and it’s time for her to know that.” 

You nodded briefly, not able to get the right words out. Harry didn’t mind; he took you into his arms, wrapping his strong and tattooed arms around your shaking and frightful body. 

He held you tight as you both sat on the floor of his bathroom, pretending that everything was going to be okay. But in reality, neither of you knew if it really would be. 

The weekend had come by too quickly for Harry’s liking. He didn’t get the chance to have a moment with the Queen because she was busy with handling errands for the gala; from talking to event coordinators, caterers, and floral arrangements, so she hadn’t gotten a moment to sit down unless it was nighttime. Harry practically felt her negligence towards him, always telling him she’d talk to him later, which left Harry feeling defeated because the more she ignored him, the quicker the days had gone by—closer to the gala. 

And to his dislike, it was the morning of the gala, something he had been dreading ever since Elaine had told him she was hosting one. It felt like his world was crumbling; he noticed your demeanor change—how could it not. Things weren’t the same, and they weren’t going to be the same again until he got himself out of the unwanted arranged marriage that the Queen was putting him upon. 

You didn’t mean to act differently around Harry, your boyfriend, or whatever this meant for your relationship, but it was difficult to act like your normal self. You sought comfort from Maria as she told you that this wouldn’t be the last of you two; she had a gut feeling it wouldn’t be. 

You had always imagined getting married to him as you two would excitedly talk about marriage and how life would be when you were husband and wife. But Harry was soon to be meeting his wife, and you had to be in the same room as him, possibly feet away from him when he did so. Your heart ached, dropping to your stomach as you felt sick to your gut every time you thought about it.

You were wearing your usual attire but you added a black corset over your white shirt and a black blazer since the gala was a more formal event. Standing in front of the large bedroom doors, you closed your eyes for a mere second, taking a deep breath before knocking, entering right after. 

Upon your eyes was Harry standing on the block square step in front of the mirror that was placed in the corner of his bedroom. His seamstress sewing the crystals that were loose on his embellished jacket that he paired with white trousers. The gold buttons on the front of his jacket were engraved with his initials, adding a touch of personalization to his attire; along with his white lace gloves, white pearl necklace, and cross pendant. 

He looked absolutely marvelous, rightfully so, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him no matter how heartbroken you were. 

His eyes caught yours in the mirror, widening before turning around to face the seamstress. “Jaylin, I think we’re good, yeah?” He asked, hoping she wouldn’t find any more flaws in his suit. 

“Yes, we are. Have a great time at the gala, Your Highness,” she curtsied, grabbing her supplies before heading out the door. You greeted her on her way out, and you earned a smile from her. 

The click of the door was heard, indicating that it was just the two of you in his room. Usually, you would take advantage of being alone with him, but again, things were different this time around. 

Harry stepped off the step, slowly walking towards you. His eyes never left yours, piercing through you like fire, and you were going to melt. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he greeted softly, looking you up and down. You slightly grinned, looking down at your feet. 

“Hi, Your Highness.” 

He placed two fingers under your chin, lifting your head up. You looked at him with doe eyes, and he couldn’t help but fall in love with you even more with just your stare. 

“You look gorgeous,” he complimented. Leaning forward, he was about to place a kiss on your lips, but you felt his hesitancy as he pulled away. He hadn’t felt your touch, your lips in what seemed like years; completely deprived of your touch, but it’d only been a few days. 

“Thank you. You look wonderful as always.” You grabbed the edge of his jacket, tugging on it to straighten out the material before smoothing your hand over his shoulder and down his arms. Harry sucked in a breath; that was the most you’d ever touched him in days, and he was cherishing every second of it because reality had hit him, and this could possibly be the last time you were ever going to touch him. 

You sighed, pulling back as you crossed your arms behind you. Harry could tell that you had a million thoughts racing in your head and you were wary of saying them, but nothing you could say would scare him; he was already faced with his biggest nightmare. 

He walked towards you, taking your hands in his. The softness of your hands juxtaposed to the slight roughness of his that carried multiple heavy rings on his slender fingers. 

“Hey, I’m gonna fix this, alright? I’m telling her tonight, and I promise that I’m gonna be yours forever, no matter what happens,” he reassured, looking ever so deeply into your eyes so you would get the message. His eyes had captured yours, putting you under his spell, so you nodded and believed him. Harry sighed in relief, thankful that you trusted him. “I actually got you something.” He let go of your hands, walking over to his dresser before pulling out a square box from the drawers. 

Harry was always one to give, always the giver and he loved giving without expecting anything in return. Throughout your relationship, he would always buy you random but sentimental things that he saw at the shop simply because it reminded them of you. The thought was incredibly sweet and you loved the fact that even when you weren’t around him, he was still thinking of you. 

He opened the box, revealing a pearl necklace that had a gold anchor in the middle. It was a necklace that you had thought of getting to match the tattoo that was inked next to your right breast. You and Harry had gotten complimentary tattoos the second year of your relationship, and he proudly got a ship tattoo on his left arm as well as an anchor on his wrist to match with you. Harry was your anchor; he kept you upright. He was the backbone of your ship, helping you slow down whenever you needed a break. 

“You were secretly eyeing this when we visited that farmer’s market a few months ago. And since I couldn’t go and get this by myself since you’re always with me, I asked Gemma if she could get it for me. Hope this was the one you were talking about,” he explained shyly as he held the box open for you. 

You were speechless as your heart fluttered. “Harry…” Your fingers delicately grazed the necklace, studying and feeling his gold chain; it was the exact same one you saw at the market. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes, I do—I love it.” You softly smiled up at him. “D-Do you mind putting it on me?” He immediately nodded, taking the necklace out of his case, and you turned around, slowly pulling your hair to the side. 

Harry unclasped the necklace; the small skin on the back of your neck was exposed to him, so he leaned down, placing a small kiss on your skin. The action sent shivers down your spine, but you took the touch that you’d been starved of. He put the necklace on as it sat perfectly against your collarbone; and Harry wrapped his arms around your waist, taking in your delicious scent. You felt extremely warm as if you were standing in the courtyard and the sun was casting its light right down your spine, providing you warmth. You placed your arms on top of his, hugging him to yourself as he rested his face against the crook of your neck, tenderly kissing your skin. 

A deep sigh of relief was released from your lips as you let loose in his hold. His arms were a place you wanted to be in forever; it was a place where you found security and comfort, and the thought of leaving, a chance to never be in his arms, had never once crossed your mind. 

You turned around in his arms, facing him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, mindlessly playing with the small curls that sat so effortlessly on his neck. 

“Thank you for the necklace, I truly love it,” you sincerely said, reaching up to place a small chaste kiss on his lips. Your lips against his had made Harry’s stomach flip, and he couldn’t bear to hide the smile that made you fall so hard for him. 

“You’re welcome, my love.” 

“Do you mind…fixing my corset? It’s a bit loose.” You offered him a smile, and he nodded. You took off your blazer before he reached behind you to untie the knot that you had tried to make look decent. 

“I love you, you know that, right?” You suddenly asked as Harry pulled the strings tighter, making you take a big breath in before he started to tie them smoothly without the need to look if he’s doing it correctly; he’s tied your corset for you so many times already that it was all muscle memory. 

“Yeah, I do know that,” he nodded, looking deeply into your eyes. You had practically felt Harry’s doubts and insecurities of your love deep through because of the news that he broke to you the other day. And you figured you weren’t being a good enough girlfriend to him and failing to remind him that you loved him and it wasn’t his fault for everything that’s happening. “You know I love you as well, yes?” 

You raised your brows at him, nodding. “Mhm. Just wanted to see if you knew.”

He chuckled, finishing up the knot. “Yeah, I know.” 

He placed his hands on your hips, and you leaned to give him a kiss to thank him as well as just to kiss him lovingly, something you two hadn’t done in days. Giving you a smile, he was going to go in for another one, but a knock was heard on the door, making you two pull away quickly. 

That knock on the door only meant that the car was ready and that Harry should be heading to the gala now. That knock only meant that it was time to face his future—the future that was going to fight for, the one that he wanted and not the Queen. 

That knock only indicated that it would be determined if he was to live with or without you, and there’s no way in hell he was living without you. 

Elaine had definitely gone all out with this gala, Harry thought. It was held in a museum that was closed due to the Queen’s personal favors and demands. 

When a guest entered the gala, they were immediately caught with the gold antique lining on every end of the wall; the high crystal chandeliers reflected off the gold and illuminated the room even further, bouncing off the shiny and polished floors. Long champagne color curtains were draped in front of each window with a historical gold statue pushed up against the window. The dome-shaped ceiling was high, painted to tell the story of the Renaissance. When a guest entered the gala, they were welcomed with elegance, grace, and exquisiteness, prepared to have a gold evening that would only end in secret affairs and tragic events. 

You led Harry through the room, many guests greeting him with such poise as they tried to get his very best impression. With suits looking sharp and dresses were extra flowy, they bowed and curtsied as Harry politely said his greetings to them. 

Many of the guests had been mentally and physically prepared to have a proper conversation with Prince Harry, and hopefully get a chance with him on the dance floor, if he allowed it. Everybody wondered what it would be like to walk into the building with Prince Harry on their arm, how they would flaunt and brag about how they arrived with him. 

During galas and balls like these, the guards were instructed to be present, to be aware, so they didn’t need to always be close to the Royal Family. Once you got an approving nod and smile from Harry, you left him be; guests surrounded him, the men were shaking his hand as the women gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was completely soaked up in the attention, everyone praising him for the recent work that he’s done for different foundations and events that he attended recently. He’d been offered too many invites to grab a drink, or to the dance floor later in the evening, or even to their bedroom when everyone was asleep. 

Politely and respectfully, he told all of them that he’d see where the night would take him, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to reject them fully because the only one he wanted to have a drink with was you. The only one he wanted to invite and take on the dance floor, dancing and spinning the night away to classical and soft music was you. The only one he wanted to go to bed with, to make love under the sheets, and wake up in the early hours of the morning to admire how you slept was you. 

The Queen was sitting on her throne, crown sitting perfectly on her head as she watched Harry for over an hour, interacting with her guests. She could practically hear the conversations that the many women whispered to in his ear, inviting him for a night in their presence, but she noticed how uninterested Harry was—the look on his face said it all and how he would politely brush off their question without giving them an answer. She observed how he, quite often, looked over at you, standing against the wall, watching him as well. 

You were nervously watching him, observing the way he acted around the guests, seeing if his demeanor would suddenly change since you weren’t right by his side anymore. It wasn’t as if you were jealous—you were never one to be jealous; it was your own insecurities that made you constantly worry about how Harry could just pack up and find someone else that was much better for him. Everyone always wondered what it would be like to love Prince Harry, and you were the lucky one to know what his love felt like, and you would hold onto that love for as long as you possibly could. 

Elaine had made her rounds and chatted with several people who were eager to talk to her, and they were lucky enough to get a chuckle out of her. It was difficult impressing the Queen, her own family even struggled to get her approval, so it was a rare sight to see Elaine walk up to someone and initiate a conversation. 

But that person wasn’t just ‘anyone,’ they were that person the Queen had specifically picked out to wed her grandson, someone who was worthy of hers and the Prince’s time. Elaine had asked the woman to follow her, which she immediately complied as Elaine walked through the room, nodding her head at everyone who greeted her, for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

Harry was in conversation with one of the Dukes when his grandmother had walked up to him, the first time tonight, with someone, who he had never met before, trailing behind her. 

“Harry,” The Queen made herself known. 

“Your Majesty.” Harry bowed. 

“I would like you to meet Venus. She’s the daughter of one of the board members for the Water and Power Organization,” Elaine introduced the dark-haired girl. 

Venus curtsied. “Your Highness.” She smiled, flashing him her gorgeous smile. Venus was pretty, anyone knew that from just a glance. She wore a champagne silk dress that had crystals embedded on her waist, cinching her figure. She added white silk gloves and diamond earrings to top off the look. 

“Pleasure,” Harry simply said behind a smile, masking his anxious and nervous attitude. He knew this was the moment where the Queen would tell him who Venus was and what he was to do while you were standing in the back watching the entire interaction, holding in your tears as your heart broke a little more. 

“My dear, Harry,” Elaine started. Harry looked at his grandmother weirdly; she hadn’t called him that since he was younger. “Shall you accompany her to the dance floor? Get to know each other, hmm?” She suggested, brows raised. 

Harry was all too polite to reject the poor girl as Venus looked at him with hopeful eyes. He simply cleared his throat and nodded, hesitantly offering her hand to the dance floor. Venus gladly took his hand, and Harry led them under the high crystal chandelier before she put her hand on his shoulder while the other still held his hand. Harry respectfully placed his hand on the small of her back--his actions unsure. Sure, he had danced with many people throughout the years, even while being with you, but this was completely different; this was the woman who he was to be wedded to, and he was sure Venus knew that as well. 

“The Queen is very kind. I thought she disliked a lot of people, so I was shocked when she started up a conversation with me.” Venus made conversation to fill the void of silence between her and the Prince as they swayed to the classical music. 

Harry lightly scoffed to himself. “She’s the Queen, could do anything she wants.” 

“She told me the plan, and I will happily be your wife, Your Highness, an honor really.” Her voice was light and hopeful. Harry knew that she was a kind woman and anyone would jump at the chance to marry into royalty, but he couldn’t deal with this, not right now. Not when you’re standing feet away, containing your pain. Harry pulled away swiftly from Venus’ hold, leaving her confused. “Your Highness?” 

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t do this,” he told her before walking away and leaving her on the dance floor. 

The Queen had watched the entire interaction, anger, and disappointment present on her face as she watched Harry walk away and out of the main ballroom. You were about to follow him out once you saw him frantically walk out, but you noticed the Queen quickly trailing behind him. Holding tightly onto your thumbs to contain the shakiness, you stayed put as your mind had begun to wonder if your boyfriend was okay or not. 

You understood why he seemed upset and stormed off; dancing with someone who wasn’t your partner hurt just the same as watching it right in front of you. All you wanted to do was hide away with him, in each other’s arms forever, but that wasn’t reality. 

Harry’s footsteps clicked against the tiled floor, walking in pure frustration as he tugged on his hair. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, a groan slipped from his mouth. He heard footsteps following behind him, and he already knew who those particular steps belonged to. Turning around to face what seemed like the devil itself, he inhaled deeply, holding his breath. 

“What in God’s name are you doing? You left the poor girl hanging!” Elaine scolded, eyes piercing through him. 

“Nan, I can’t do this. You can’t make me do this.” His eyes and voice pleaded, begged for mercy as he was asking for a favor as her grandson, not the Prince. 

“And why may that be?” She tested. Harry’s mouth opened but quickly closed, refraining himself to say anything. The words were right at the tip of his tongue and he had told you that he would tell her everything, but when it came to the moment, anxiety and nerves got in the way. But it seemed like the Queen knew exactly what he was going to say because she spoke for him, saying, “Is it because of that girl out there who happens to be your personal guard? Y/N, is it?” Her voice had a hint of sarcasm, and that’s when Harry knew. 

She knows, she knows everything. 

“H-How did-” 

“Oh, for god sake, Harry. Do you think I’m naive? Oblivious? It’s painfully obvious--the way you two look at each other, how you walk so closely next to each other, not to mention, the mornings in. You can’t tell me that every time you sleep in, she’s nowhere to be found too? Hmm?” Crossing her arms, she knew she defeated Harry. There was no way around it and no room for lying because she knew everything.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I thought it was a one time thing, the first time I noticed it--that it wouldn’t last long. But I’ve watched it happen for five years, and now that I’ve had limited time on this Earth, I didn’t want to see it anymore.” She shook her head in disappointment. “So, you will marry Venus,” she instructed sternly. 

“I will not,” Harry bit back, holding his ground. 

“You will do as I say-” 

“Your Majesty!” Harry interrupted, his lip wobbling involuntarily. For a moment, Elaine had seen the seven-year-old Prince as he gave her big puppy eyes, pushing his bottom lip out as he begged. For a moment, she was about to give in to his wishes, disagreeing to be wedded to a woman he had never met before tonight. If it were twenty years ago, she would have, but twenty-seven-year-old Harry didn’t have the same effect on her as he did two decades ago. 

She loved her grandson, she did. As cruel and heartless as it was, her love for him had begun to slowly dissipate ever since he started dating you, making her a bit more harsh with him as it was a complete switch up from how she acted around him when he was younger. 

“You are to be married to Venus next Saturday, and that is final,” she said in an unrelenting tone before she walked away, heading back into the main room without another look back at her heartbroken grandson. 

Harry was left in the empty hallway on the verge of a full breakdown. His knees felt weak, about to give out from holding him up. Luckily, you entered the hallway, quickly walking towards Harry who looked completely stunned. The bottom of your shoes clicked loudly against the quiet hallway. 

You placed your hands on the side of his face, frantically worrying. “Harry, baby? What’s wrong? What happened?” 

He finally exhaled the deep and big breath that he had been holding in since his conversation with the Queen. The absence of your presence had made his breath shudder as he quite frankly couldn’t breathe properly when you weren’t around. 

His legs gave out as he couldn’t properly stand, and without warning, he collapsed, but you had caught him as you quickly placed your arms under his underarms, trying your best to pull him up. But his deadweight had won, bringing you both to the floor. You caught his fall, somehow maneuvering yourself to be placed behind him, so he wouldn’t completely fall on his back. Sitting in between your legs, he turned himself in your hold, burying his head in your neck as he began to sob. Tears soaked your skin as they slid smoothly down to your shirt, dampening the piece of clothing. His hot breath hit your skin as he bawled his eyes out, holding your top tightly between his fist, wrinkling your perfectly ironed white shirt. 

His wails broke your heart, and you had no clue as to what happened prior to getting this reaction out of him, but it must have been something horrible; something the Queen had said to him as you saw her walk into the ballroom just before you walked out. You only assumed it had something to do with the arranged marriage that she mentioned earlier this week. 

“Baby…please, you’re scaring me,” your voice was shaky, anxious as to what the reasoning for his breakdown was. Your fingers threaded through his chestnut curls, comforting him in a way you only knew how to do. 

Harry’s breath stuttered as he sniffled, catching his breath as he calmed down a bit before he spoke. “S-She knows.” Your breath had hitched in your throat, heart dropping to your stomach. The Queen knows everything, constantly replayed over in your mind like a broken record. “She knew from the very start of o-our relationship that’s why she started to become so harsh and short with me.” Your heart broke for Harry as he spoke about his grandmother, and you couldn’t help but think that you were the one that caused the Queen’s unpleasant tone with the Prince. “But I am to still be married to the woman in the ballroom. She scheduled it for next Saturday,” he added as his voice cracked towards the end. 

His words were echoing in your head, and it only added fuel to your terrible nightmare. You thought you had time, time to convince Elaine that your relationship with Harry was serious and that you loved him. But you’re starting to think that Elaine didn’t care if he was happy or in love, that she was doing this completely out of spite. 

“W-What are we gonna do, Y/N?” Harry needed your words—he needed your console, your reassurance that everything was going to be alright. 

But this time, you didn’t have an answer. 

Your footsteps were the only thing that were heard as you walked through the dark and quiet hallway, leading up to the Queen’s office. She had asked one of her guards to tell you that she requested to see you after breakfast, and your thoughts had been running ever since. This had been the first time the Queen would speak a word to you; the other times had been full of her ignoring your greetings as you curtsied politely. 

You asked Harry if she knew if he knew what she was going to say to him, but he just shook his head no. Rightfully so, he’s been in quite a gloomy mood, but he’d been more clingy than ever since this was most likely your last week together. You tried not to think about how Harry was to be married to another woman at the end of the week, and that only led to crying into your pillow until the early hours of the morning; Harry’s been the same, maybe even worse. 

With a shaky hand, you knocked on the door; not too hard but not too soft either. You gulped as you heard Elaine say ‘Enter’ from the other side of the door. Nervously opening the door, you were faced with the Queen sitting in her chair with her hands linked together as she rested them against her desk. 

“Your Majesty.” You curtsied, anxiously looking at her for some sort of approval, but all she did was gesture for you to sit down. 

Once you were sitting rather uncomfortably on the edge of the seat, she stared at you for a moment, looking at you up and down as her glare was rather deadly. You tried not to fidget or anxiously bounce your leg, but her eyes were probing into your soul, and you were afraid of how she may react if you disconnected your eyes from her. 

“I assume you know why you’re here?” She started. You nodded lightly, not saying a word. “I don’t appreciate you and my grandson going behind my back to have this…affair of yours, especially for years. First, did you think nobody would find out? You’re in the Royal House, everyone reports things back to me when they see something suspicious, so don’t think you were all that sneaky. Second, Harry’s a Prince, you’re a…guard.” She said with much emphasis on your title. “Did you think it was going to work out? I mean, he’s a Prince.” She added a bit of a scoff at the end, but her tone was stern. 

“My apologies for going behind your back, Your Majesty.” You hadn’t a clue on what to say to her other than to apologize because there was no reason for lying only to make the situation worse. 

“Hmm. You see, Prince Harry is to be married in four days. That means you are no longer in relations with him, and since you’ve disrespected me and my family, you are no longer needed in the Royal House. You are to be packed by Saturday, and you’ll never go close to my family ever again—more importantly, the Prince. Understood?” She instructed unsympathetically. 

Your breath was stuck in your throat, your stomach in knots, and your heart didn’t feel like it was beating anymore. You were absolutely crushed. The thought of not seeing Harry anymore frightened you; you didn’t want to do life without him. You needed him, and unknowing to the Queen, he needed you too. 

“I asked if you understood,” she said, wanting a vocal answer to seal the deal. 

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Yes, I understand, Your Majesty.” 

Elaine leaned back in her chair. “Very well. You may leave now.” 

You got up, making your way out of her office, closing the heavy door before you let out a wracking sob, chest heaving up and down. You quickly made your way to your room, covering your mouth to contain the volume of your cries. The fee staff that you passed by had called out for you, asking what was wrong, but you ignored their calls, heading straight to your room where you locked the door and cried into your pillow, just as you had for the past few days. Your heart broke into a million pieces for yourself and for Harry, and you didn’t know how you would ever recover. 

As you were talking with the Queen. The Duchess had found Harry lingering around Elaine’s office, pacing back and forth as well as pressing his ear up against the door. 

“Harry? What are you doing?” Anne asked worriedly. 

“Mum, please. I need you.” Tears streamed down his face, and Anne’s heart broke as she saw her son so heartbroken. All of the rules Elaine had instructed Anne to do on how to raise her children, like completely stop showing her kids affection, had completely torn in half. And just like that, her child needed her.

Anne quickly took Harry into her arms, and Harry sobbed into her shoulder, hugging her tightly. “There, there, my darling. You’re alright.” She rubbed his back soothingly. “What’s wrong?” 

Harry pulled back. “Uh, Y/N—she's in there with Nan. Mum, she knows everything.” Anne’s eyes widened. “We’ve kept it in for so long, why now?” Harry choked in between his words as his cries had heightened. 

Anne looked at Harry with a defeated face. She’s always known about his relationship with you ever since the beginning. A quite fresh six months into the relationship, Anne had caught you two running around in the courtyard under the moonlight, past curfew hours. Harry suggested sneaking out because that was the only time you two had alone, so you hesitantly said yes without thinking about getting caught. Sure enough, you two did get caught by the Duchess. You relentlessly apologized to his mum, saying you won’t pass curfew hours anymore, but Anne simply just smiled, telling you two to be more careful next time because it could’ve been the Queen who had caught you. 

As Harry’s mother, she understood the importance of wanting him to live his life the way he wanted to. She always encouraged that he could be whoever he wanted to be, and she would always be there to support it. She didn’t want to tell him who to love or who to marry because that decision should be completely up to him. And throughout the years, she’d seen how much love he has for you while that same love was also being reciprocated. That’s all she wanted for him—someone who would love and cherish him. 

“I don’t know what to say, darling. Maybe you could talk to her?” Anne suggested, caressing Harry’s arms. 

“I-I tried before, but she just brushed past me. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” Frustration was clearly going through Harry’s body as he pulled on his hair, something he does when he’s anxious and frustrated because he was somewhat in control over it. 

“C’mon, let’s go into the living room.” She grabbed his arm, leading him out of the hallway, but he pulled back. 

“But…” 

“She’ll go to you when she needs to. The last thing you need is getting caught lingering around when I’m sure the Queen doesn’t want you two being around one another.” 

Anne was right; a mother does know best. Following her wishes, he nodded, trailing behind his mother and out of the hallway, away from his poor girl who was being confronted by the Queen. 

It was Friday night, and you had just zipped up the last of your luggage. Your room was empty, and it pained your heart that it was your last night at the Royal House, the last time you would ever see Harry. 

You were due to be out of the Royal House by seven a.m and off Royal grounds at nine in the morning; there was a boat scheduled for everyone visiting the grounds to departure at nine, and you would be on your way to God knows where, but far away from the one person who had your heart. 

Harry’s wedding was to be scheduled quite early in the morning, around eight-thirty, or so you’d heard from the staff. The entire staff had no clue of your leave, except a few of the guards that were going to escort you out of the Royal House and to the docks. The Queen had bumped into you in the hallways and specifically instructed you to not tell anyone that you were leaving because she was going to tell them that you resigned if they asked. You simply had no energy to argue, to disagree with her choice, so you nodded, not saying a word. 

You sat on the edge of your bed, completely drained physically and emotionally, and the one thing on your mind was to go to sleep—sleep and Harry, your dearest Harry who you hoped was okay. You got ready for bed mindlessly as a numbness fell throughout your body. You couldn’t feel anything but pain, and the suffering you’d endured for the past week had overwhelmed your mind and body, leaving you dazed. 

Your heart pounded through your ears with every movement as it started to make you feel dizzy, so you laid down on your side, facing the wall while you hugged your pillow tightly while your hand was wrapped around your gold necklace Harry had gifted you. Shutting your eyes, you forced your mind to go to sleep. 

A few moments passed by, and due to your ears ringing, you didn’t hear your bedroom door open and close. But you did feel the edge of your twin bed dip down, making you open your eyes in startelement as the figure behind you engulfed you into their arms, and you immediately relaxed. 

Sighing deeply, a few tears shed from your eyes, feeling relief from the pair of arms around you; you hadn’t felt his arms around you since Tuesday, the day you talked to the Queen. You also hadn’t seen him since Tuesday because after your meeting with Elaine, she had found Harry, telling him to stay away from you. Many arguments had come out of his mouth, but Elaine immediately shut him down after that, sternly telling him that he was to never speak to her that way again. Knowing that Harry would break the rule of not seeing you, Elaine ordered for you to not cross the boundary of the West and East Wing as she knew you wouldn’t break her rules. 

The feeling of being this close to one another after three days was such a relief, and it almost felt wrong because of the Queen’s wishes, but you simply couldn’t care less because you were in the arms of the person you adored. 

Turning around to face him, you were immediately greeted with a loving ‘I missed you so damn much’ kiss. His lips glided over yours smoothly, but rushed, desperate to feel your touch as his arms never loosened around your frame, needing your body close. 

“Hi, Princess,” he said breathlessly once he pulled away. 

You kissed the tip of his nose, making him blush. “Your Highness, how are you?” You asked concerningly. 

“Was doing horrible without you, but right now, I’m just happy to see you, happy to be in your bed.” You softly smiled, pecking his lips. 

You were also happy to have him in your bed. He’d only snuck out of his room to sleep in your bed a handful of times, but he could easily say that it’s the best bed he’s ever slept on because your scent was all over the sheets as well as your body being pressed up against his due to the lack of space you two had. You’d tease him, saying that you were baffled he would rather leave his king-size bed for your small one, but he would charm your pants off and come back with how he liked your small bed better because that meant you would be closer to him the entire night. A charmer, he is. 

A silence fell over you both, simply just looking and taking one another’s presence in. You had both memorized every inch of each other’s face throughout the entirety of your friendship and relationship—every mark, mole, crease, and wrinkle was ingrained into your mind as it was your fear that you would forget how your handsome Prince looked like—but this time, it was different. You two were looking at one another, so neither of you would actually forget what the other looked liked because you wouldn’t be able to see him again. 

You lowered your eyes to your neck, stopping yourself from crying, but it seemed like your tears and emotion for the best of you. A small sniffle came out of you and Harry pouted, bringing you into his chest and holding you tightly. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said against his skin. 

“C’mon…” Harry said with slight annoyance, lightly scoffing as he was in disbelief of what you were saying. 

“I mean it, I’m really gonna miss you.” You pulled your head out of his chest, looking up at him. 

He shook his head as tears formed in his eyes. His heart was breaking more than it already had, and it upset him how much you were letting all of this happen—accepting it, more like. 

“Don’t do this.” He looked deeply into your eyes, brows furrowed; you could tell that he looked frustrated and offended, but you didn’t know what you could do to make your situation better, so you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. 

“There’s nothing else for me to do, Harry. I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t want you to resent me for not being close to your grandmother when she’s practically on her deathbed.” He pulled away from you, laying on his back as he looked up at the ceiling fan, hoping if he looked long enough, he would be hypnotized into another life—a life where it involved just the two of you. But he was still in your room and his realities were still coming true. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” you added. 

“Don’t accept the fact that we’re not gonna see each other again!” He whisper-yelled, trying to keep his voice down, still not making eye contact with you. How could he ever resent you? For most of his life, you’d made him the happiest—ever since you two were kids, you would always find a reason to put a smile on his face and get out of bed in the morning. 

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes. This wasn’t how you wanted your last night to go, and you could understand why he was frustrated, but you really didn’t know what he wanted you to do because there wasn’t anything you could do. 

He turned his head towards you, seeing that you were closing your eyes, exhaling through your nose deeply. He turned his whole body to lay on his side, facing you before bringing his hand to your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. You opened your eyes once you felt his cold touch, chills rose onto your skin as you looked at him through your glassy and sad eyes; a look that broke his heart. 

“I’m sorry for raising my voice, my Princess. I’m just…angry and sad.” He lowered his eyes, feeling subdued. 

“It’s okay, I understand. I just don’t know what to do to make this situation any better, but we have to accept that this is our ending. And it may not be ‘happily ever after’ for the two of us, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you.” He nodded as he took in your words. 

“Just…hold me, yeah? Until you have to l-leave.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, finding it rather difficult to accept the fact that you won’t be on the same grounds as him anymore. 

You nodded, closing the inch of space, and wrapping your arms around him. As your face was pressed against his chest, Harry’s chin rested on the top of your head as you two held one another. It was a surreal but heartbreaking moment, but the two of you cherished the last several hours you had with one another. 

You lifted your head up, only to be met with his chin, and you pressed a kiss along with the sharpness of his stubble jaw; Harry sighed in relief. You hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer than he already was, and trailed your lips to his neck, sucking and licking his soft skin. Harry groaned, involuntarily bucking his hips into yours as the feel of your lips had that much of an effect on him. 

Shifting upwards so you were face-to-face, you looked in his eyes momentarily, taken back by his beauty. He was so immensely beautiful that he quite literally took your breath away. He almost didn’t seem real, so tangible, but he was definitely a sight. You’ve had a crush on him for more than a decade, and not once had it minimized into something frivolous or vanished; you hadn’t doubted your love for him and you never would. You were always going to have a crush on the Prince until the day you took your last breath when you would think about giving him one last kiss goodbye. 

Connecting your lips together, you felt like you were home. The peace his lips provided made you melt with every kiss, every single time his tongue glided over yours, or when he bit your bottom lip and pulled back a bit—just being connected to Harry physically and emotionally made you feel secure, and you couldn’t ask for anything more in life because you would be too greedy. 

In the midst of moving your lips in sync with his, he traced his tongue against your bottom lip, making you open your mouth, a moan leaving your lips. His tongue met yours, swirling and tasting one another as the grip you had on one another had stiffened, pulling each other closer. With your hips slightly grinding against his, the breathy moans that left his mouth, and Harry’s lips perfectly and gracefully kissing yours, the electrifying feeling was more powerful than ever. The spark ran down your back, making you want more as chills ran down the course of your body. You would always want more when it came to Harry; he had that appeal where he would leave everyone wanting for more, but luckily, you were the only one he would be giving it to. 

You pulled away, completely breathless by his soft and pink lips before you whispered, “Want you, please.” Your eyes were pleading with him to do anything to your body as you just wanted to feel his touch, his body against yours. 

“Sure?” He asked as he always did before you two ever had sex, and you appreciated the thought because it really showed how true of a gentleman that he was before he fucked you relentlessly into the mattress. 

“Mhm. Give it to me…one last time,” you sighed, curling your lips into your mouth as your fingers pushed away the curl that fell onto his forehead. 

He shook his head softly, disapproving of your choice of words. “Okay,” he responded, brushing off your statement as he gave you another kiss, unable to get enough of your sweet, cherry-flavored lips. 

Soft kisses were pressed against your cheek, trailing down your neck as he gave you a love bite; you threw your head back into the pillow, allowing him more access to your neck. His hands found the hem of your baby pink silk nightgown, bunching the soft fabric up to your waist as he held your thigh up to his waist, softly grinding his pelvis into yours. 

You sat up and raised your arms straight up before Harry took the chance to peel your nightgown off of your body and on the floor. You laid back down, completely naked, besides the necklace that rested perfectly on your skin, as his eyes bored into you, admiring your figure and being quite mesmerized by you as he always was. Your room was dark besides the soft glow of the moonlight that peeked through the window and casted down at your body, giving Harry a clear and beautiful vision of you. 

“So beautiful, my love. Take my breath away every single time I look at you,” he said softly. You shyly smiled under his state, finding it quite intimidating for a moment. 

Harry raised his arms and reached behind his head to take off his shirt, showcasing his tattoos that you’ve traced, counted, and kissed plenty of times throughout the years. His inked skin was something you loved most about him because despite being Royal blood, he still wanted to be himself—not someone people assumed he was as if they’d figured out his entire life and personality. Just Harry.

He was outright the most stunning man you’d ever laid your eyes on. You were sure there would be no one like him because there was only one Harry that you loved, only one person that you loved. 

You reached your hands out for him, and Harry slowly placed his weight on you. His lips sucked and licked the swell of your breasts and nipples, giving each the same amount of attention. You grabbed his face, bringing it up to your lips as you missed them. 

He molded his lips with yours for a few moments, enjoying your touch before you briskly flipped the two of you over so you were on top now. 

Harry smirked, hands immediately finding their way to your waist. “My girl wants to be on top, hmm?” You nodded as you began to take his striped pajama pants off; his cock was hard, sitting against his lower abdomen. You leaned down, licking one long stripe from the base to the tip, earning a raspy moan from your Prince before kissing up his body, making sure to leave a few love bites so he had something to remember you by in the morning on his wedding day. Call it petty if his new wife would see them tomorrow on their night as newlyweds, but rightfully so, he was yours and you had his heart first. 

You reached his neck, littering his skin as you sucked and licked. “Wanna feel you deep. Can you sit up, please?” 

“Always so polite. Of course, I can.” He sat up against the headboard, and you pressed your body against his as his cock laid perfectly between your folds. You could practically feel your arousal dripping onto his hard-on, so you slowly started to grind against his hard length as you feverishly kissed him. 

A throaty moan came out of both of you as your hands desperately held onto one another, grabbing whatever you both can to really feel each other. 

“Please,” he whimpered. “Need to feel you.” 

“Look who’s being so polite now, huh,” you teased, and Harry giggled. He loved being able to giggle and tease one another during the intimate times you two had together; it made things fun and less serious as you two were able to be yourselves around each other. 

You sat on your knees to raise your hips before you licked your hand and grabbed a hold of his cock, giving him a few pumps before you lined him up with your entrance. Slowly sinking down on him, your walls hugged him tightly as he graciously filled you up. After five years, he still filled your walls and stretched you out as his thick and long size was something you still had to adjust to. A soft moan left both of your lips once you were fully on him, keeping yourself there for a moment. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Could stay like this for as long as possible,” he breathed out. 

You softly smiled. “Give me a moment. Always gonna need to adjust to you, just so big.” You praised him for endeavors, knowing he liked being praised; and he smirked. 

“All for you,” he breathed out, making you smile. 

After a minute or two, you started to move up and down on him, raising your hips until only his tip was inside of you before sinking back down, taking him in fully. He always hit that special spot in this position; with just one thrust, it had you moaning his name out like there was no tomorrow. 

You squeezed around him, making him throw his head back onto the headboard as he started to guide your hips that were working on grinding and bouncing onto him. Your movements began to pick up, finding a rhythm as you swiveled and grinded on his cock, feeling on edge already. 

His mouth attacked your tits as his hands squeezed and slapped your ass, leaving a red mark onto your skin, but you loved it, you always did. You wrapped your arms around your neck, hugging his face to your chest as he hugged your waist, keeping you close while kissing the valley of your breasts. 

His hands gripped your hips, pushing you down so you would stop your movements. You looked down in confusion as big doe eyes looked up at you. Pushing his hair back and scratching his scalp, you gave him a small smile, kissing his lips fully. 

“W-What’s wrong?” You asked once you pulled back from his lips, your voice soft and tender. 

“Just…wanna make this last longer.” 

You nodded, agreeing. “Okay.” You didn’t continue your movements after that, just simply staying seated on him, keeping him warm as he was tucked in away with your softness and warmth of your velvety walls. 

“I’ll love you forever, y’know that, right? Not gonna love another soul again,” he confessed sadly. 

“I know that, and I love you more than life itself. But baby, you’re getting married—spending the rest of your life with someone. You’ve ought to love her someday.” As hard as it was for you to tell him that he could love someone else, you knew that it was inevitable for him to catch feelings, especially for his new wife. 

He shook his head in disagreement. “No, no. I can’t do that, even if you’re telling me to love someone else, I physically and emotionally cannot open up my heart to someone who isn’t you.” His eyes were glassy; the moonlight still made his gorgeous green eyes sparkle. 

“I know, I know.” You lovingly placed a kiss onto his forehead, lingering your lips onto his skin for a moment as his fingers trailed down your spine. “Just know that I’m gonna love you forever, too.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, smiling slightly; you nodded. “Please do. Need your love,” he sniffled, a tear slowly streaming down the side of his face. 

You wiped it away, leaning down to kiss his nose and lips. “Need your love too. Can you feel mine? Can you feel my love?” You asked as you began to start moving your hips. 

A throaty moan left Harry’s lips as he nodded. “Yeah, I can feel it all over. Feel it everywhere—never want to not feel it.” He gripped your hips hard, squeezing the flesh as you whimpered. 

Slowly bouncing on him, you started to revive your orgasm as you started to whine and mewl, desperate to get there. Your thighs were shaking and burning from being on top and grinding on him for so long, and Harry started to see that as your movements slowed down and you had to take a few breaks. 

“Tired?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Okay, I got you, baby. Let me love you.” He shifted down so he was on his back and your body was pressed up against his. “Let me take care of you.” You nodded softly, burying your face into his neck, hiding away from him as you whispered from the movement. 

Harry planted his feet on the bed, bucking his hips and fucking up into you; it wasn’t fast, no, it was slow but his thrusts were hard. He was so deep that you felt the electrifying shock run down to your toes, making you curl them in. Hot breath hit his skin as you moaned out his name before he felt your lips continuously kissing, sucking, and licking his neck. 

“My Princess. My dream girl. Gonna love you forever. Gonna miss you, gonna miss this.” His voice cracked, hugging you tightly to his chest as he continued to thrust up into you. “Please, let me feel you,” he pleaded for your release. 

His cock was hitting your special spot as you were very close. After a few more thrusts, a few more moans, and a few more words that effortlessly slipped out of Harry’s mouth as he encouraged you to find your pleasure, you let go. Your beautiful sounds were muffled from the pillow and the way you buried your face into the crook of his neck. You were quite overwhelmed as you began to sob, a quarter of your distress was because of how powerful your orgasm was, but most of it was because of how empty you would feel when you had left the Royal Grounds tomorrow morning, and how you wouldn’t see Harry anymore. 

Harry continued to fuck you, riding your high out before he spilled into you, loud and raspy moans slipped filled your ear as he moaned your name and how much he loved you. 

Once he calmed down, the room was in absolute silence beside the sounds of the gut-wrenching sobs that came from you. You were incredibly sensitive and emotional as you held onto him tight, Harry still inside of you. His heart was breaking as he started to quietly cry with you, which caught your attention, so you lifted your head up to face him. Witnessing Harry crying wasn’t your favorite sight to see; it pained you to see him so upset, and you wanted to take his pain away and keep it to yourself so he would be happy. 

“No matter what…” you started, stroking his cheek tenderly. “I’m gonna love you. And even though I’m not going to be physically next to you, you’re still gonna have my heart and you’ll feel how much I love you. Just…remember that, please?” 

Harry nodded. “And you’ll have my heart,” he reciprocated. 

“Mhm, and I’ll guard your heart for the rest of my life.” 

He pecked your lips sweetly. “I know you know this, but you’re my ship. You’re the thing that brings me home safely and securely while I lay out in the sun for hours and be completely content and happy with life. And no matter what storm you, or we, encounter, you’re always able to guide us to a brighter part of the Earth. And for that, I will love you forever. Got you inked on my skin permanently and I will cherish the memories and the love you have given me for the past twenty years.” 

His proclamations had you in tears, sniffling throughout his words. You knew how difficult it was for him to say those words because it meant that he was accepting his reality. 

You captured his lips in with yours, sobbing and shaking against them as you cried, holding onto one another for dear life as you two only existed in each other’s arms—forgetting about the outside world. Your heart had sunk so far into your stomach, making your insides feel like they were in knots. Harry had been your safety net for so long, your source of happiness and love. But now, he was going to be added to the list of people that you had lost; the first two being your parents. 

The three most important people in your life had sailed a ship far away from you and you weren’t able to see them anymore. Maybe in another lifetime, but right now, you needed them.

It was quite ironic how Harry thought you were his ship, something that kept him afloat and content when all you felt was the numbness, the pain, and the sinking of your heart, making the depth of the ocean feel so inviting. 

A shake on his shoulder had woken an exhausted Harry up. Inhaling deeply before letting out a groan, he opened his eyes to be met with the day ahead of him. If it were any other day, he would be met with his love, looking at him so lovingly and sweetly as you would beg him to get out of bed, but he would pull you to get in the covers with him before spending half an hour of making giggly and sweet love in the morning. 

But today wasn’t any other ordinary day…it was his wedding day, and the person waking him was Anne, sadly smiling down at him as she wore a rather beautiful lilac gown. He looked at her confusingly before taking a look around the room; he was in your room and that’s when he recalled the night prior. You two fell asleep holding onto one another, whispering lovely words into one each other’s ear, pretending that the next wasn’t happening so you two could be Y/N and Harry. 

“Morning, darling. I see you’ve made your way in here last night.” 

Harry sat up, looking down at his body; he was fully clothed, and he smiled to himself at how thoughtful you were to put his clothes back on. But his smile quickly disappeared when he took a clear look around the room. Your belongings were gone and the luggage that was packed wasn’t there anymore. A piece of him felt like it was ripped out of his chest, leaving him to suffer and sleep through the nightmare. 

He sighed deeply, chin meeting his chest. “She’s really gone, Mum.” 

Anne didn’t say anything but nod. She rubbed Harry back comfortingly as she kissed his forehead. She’s never seen her son so heartbroken before; sure, she’s had to distance herself from him, but she was always observant of Harry. She noticed that whenever he walked into every room, he had a smile on his face and that was because he was laughing at something you had said or blew him a kiss that made him flustered. So, Harry being so sad and heartbroken was a new kind of Harry that she will have to encounter because for most of his life, he was always happy, never had a complaint in his life, and that was because he had you. 

“She left you this.” Anne presented a white envelope, which made his eyes widen, but he immediately took it from her hands. The front of the envelope wrote Your Highness with a heart at the end, making his heart flutter. He looked up at his mother and she smiled at him, caressing his face before planting a kiss on his cheek. “Be quick to read that. The Queen is still expecting you to be married today,” she sighed. “You have to be ready soon—the ceremony starts in an hour. Be out of this room before anyone else catches you.” Anne walked towards the door, and before she walked out, she called out for him, making Harry lift his head up. “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.” 

With that being said, she left your empty room, leaving him with the letter in his hands and your scent that swirled around the room, making him miss your presence even more. 

His hands shook as he carefully opened the envelope—you even spritzed some of your perfume that he loves so much as he brought the paper to his nose. Unfolding it, the letter was quite long—the entire page—and Harry could feel himself already getting emotional over it, but he read it anyway. 

My sweetest Harry, 

I am writing this in the early hours of the morning as you’re sleeping peacefully in my bed, hugging my pillow. You look so peaceful when you sleep, did you know that? Besides the occasional snoring, which I don’t mind because you know that I’m a snorer myself, you have this sense of calmness to you when you sleep. It makes me not want to wake you up in the mornings sometimes because you look like you’re at complete peace. But then I miss you too much and want your kisses so eventually, I do wake you up. 

I’m going to miss that, waking you up, and having a morning to ourselves where we get to be us. But I’m also going to miss all the other times we get to spend together. In the car on our way to events, in the courtyard running around like we’re kids, midnight strolls under the moonlight, and sneaky makeout sessions when you would pull me into a random room in the Royal House. 

I’m going to miss every single moment. 

It pains me that I am no longer by your side and we had to part this way. I’ve never felt so heartbroken in my life before, and I thought I wouldn’t ever get to feel this type of agony because I was with you. And we promised to not hurt each other, no matter what. But I’m proud of us because we kept our promise until the very end. We never hurt each other—we always talked it out and never left one another to fight one’s own battles. We were such a great team. The best team. 

You’re everything to me, Harry. My whole entire heart belongs to you, and it will always be yours as long as you hold onto it and keep it safe. Thank you for protecting my heart since we were kids. Thank you for always being there for me in a blink of an eye. You’ve truly helped me get me back on my feet when my father passed, and for that, I don’t know how to thank you enough. I felt like I'd lost the fight when he passed and I didn’t know what I was going to do, but then you reminded me that you were by my side, and for that, we won. 

It has truly been an honor to know you. To be in your presence. But to be in your heart is the greatest gift that I’ve ever received because you love like no other. There will be no other that’ll compete against you. It will always be you. 

My lips will remember the way you love, the way you taste. Your lips are my favorite, and I smile every single time I feel your touch because it’s quite unforgettable. 

You are my heart, my sun, my lover, my best friend, my dream boy, and my forever Prince that I will love for the rest of eternity. 

Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me into your heart, Your Highness. 

Yours forever, 

Y/N. 

With his face slightly damped from the tears that streamed down his cheeks while his eyes were swollen and red, he cried into his hands once he finished reading your letter a third time in a row. The feeling in his chest felt like it was physically tearing him apart as it was difficult to catch his breath, gasping for air through his sobs. 

All he wanted to do was to hug you, hold onto you for the rest of his life, and he would be completely satisfied with everything. But you were soon to be on a boat, sailing away from Royal Grounds, further away from him. 

He looked down at the piece of paper, making sure to not wrinkle the last physical piece he had of you. You signed your name off with a heart at the end, admiring your handwriting that he never failed to compliment every time you would handwrite him a note. Bringing the paper to his lips, he kissed your name briefly, exhaling heavy breaths through his nose before pulling away and safely putting it back into the envelope. 

His heart grieved for you two because neither of you deserved this consequential punishment that broke you two apart. 

Standing at the altar in front of hundreds of people wasn’t something Harry imagined his wedding to be like. He pictured his guest list to be quite small, only the people he truly loved and appreciated. It definitely wouldn’t have been in a large venue that held six figures worth of art. And it wouldn’t have been Venus walking down the aisle, meeting him in a white long gown with a veil covering her face. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he felt slightly guilty. Harry knew it wasn’t his fault as to why he’s standing here, but he would have never thought he would ever be standing at the altar without you walking towards him. You two had talked about getting married and the wedding itself so many times that, naturally, it was the norm. Neither of you were scared of getting married to one another, so there was no need to worry about the other running away from the idea or the relationship. 

You always talked about wanting to get married in a garden where there would be bushes of flowers surrounding the area, giving the scene a pop of color. You two agreed on only wanting about fifteen to twenty people, most of the guests would come from Harry’s family and friends, and you would invite some of the staff that you had gotten quite close to throughout your life of living in the Royal House. You would ask Maria to walk you down the aisle as you wore a light champagne dress with hints of gold embedded into the dress; you always told Harry you didn’t want to wear a traditional white wedding dress because you would be too afraid to stain it, especially if you were going to walk on the grass. Harry didn’t mind one bit as long as you were the one walking down the aisle towards him; he would be the happiest man on Earth. 

But now as he watched Venus make her way towards him, this wasn’t the magical night he dreamed of ever since you two got together, and he wished this was a dream so you could wake him up as soon as possible. But you didn’t because it wasn’t a dream, and he realized that when he shook Venus’ father’s hand, giving her daughter away to marry the Prince as she was soon to become a Princess.

Harry and Venus stood in front of each other as she held his hands tightly, feeling that she needed to hold up his hands because he wasn’t holding onto her at all. Venus nervously gulped as she looked at the Prince; he wasn’t making eye contact with her nor the Priest. He was looking down at his shoes and the doors that she had entered as if he was impatiently waiting for someone to burst through those doors as he didn’t listen to a word of what the Priest had said. 

“Harry, do you take thee, Venus, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do you part?” 

The moment was finally here as Harry blinked his tears away, knowing two words were going to change his whole entire life. 

Your heart was beating fast as you struggled to hold onto your belongings with your two arms. You rolled two suitcases that sunk their wheels through every crack of the wooden and old dock as you walked; your duffel bags took every other bump, struggling to remain on your luggage, making you stop once again to place it back in its rightful spot. Towards the side of the dock was a schedule on what time the faerie was arriving for departure, and you had about twenty minutes to spare if there were no delays. 

It was a quite gloomy day—unfortunate that Harry had to have this kind of weather on his wedding day, but maybe that was Mother Nature’s way of expressing her sadness with you. 

You looked at your small gold watch on your left wrist—an accessory your father had given you when you turned eighteen as he told you it was your mother’s and that she used to wear it all the time. The small watch made her feel powerful, independent, and a grown woman who had grown up from the beaded bracelets she used to make when she was younger. It was a piece of your mother that you got to keep with you wherever you went, so you cherished it with your whole heart. 

When it was nearing T-minus 5 minutes, you gathered your bags and headed towards the boat where every passenger crowded around. There were quite a few people and you hoped that the boat ride off the Royal Grounds was a quiet and smooth sailing ride because with the headache you’re enduring from crying and your heartbreak, you needed silence. 

One of the members of the faerie stood on the edge of the boat with a megaphone raised to his lips. “Attention! People who are boarding for the nine o’clock departure heading West of the Royal Grounds. We seem to have noticed a last-minute complication with the engine, which will delay us for about another thirty minutes. We will update you all if we need to switch boats, but for now, hang tight and hang around. Visit the Royal gift shop and get yourself a crown!” He finished his announcement as everyone groaned as you chuckled at everyone’s reaction. You didn’t mind the delay because it meant that you got to stay on the same ground as Harry for a bit longer, even though you weren’t able to see him. 

You headed towards a bench that overlooked the ocean and set your bags close by you as you grabbed an apple from your tote that you snatched from the kitchen on your way out of the Royal House. There were little kids running around with balloons in their hands while their parents tried to chase them, telling them to be careful or they’ll fall off the dock. 

Suddenly, a little boy jogged towards you, nearly startling you. “Hello, are you Y/N?” 

You raised your brows, leaning your arms on your thighs as you wondered how he knew your name. “Why, yes, I am. And who might you be?” You asked in a friendly tone. 

“I’m Russell. This is for you.” He handed you a bouquet of a gorgeous arrangement of daisies. 

“These are lovely, thank you! Did you pick these out yourself?” 

“No, I didn’t. I was told to give them to you. Your husband wanted me to give it to you!” He exclaimed excitedly. 

“Really? And who might my husband be?” You amused him, not thinking seriously about his statement. But he suddenly pointed behind you, making you turn around in suspense. 

There he was, your Prince, smiling down at you as you looked up at him in pure disbelief. He looked dashingly handsome in a silk hot pink blouse and a floral embroidered black suit that suited him very well. You took a moment to observe him, trailing your eyes down to his hands, only to find his left ring finger bare. His face looked too happy to be married to someone who wasn’t you, but his smile looked as if it was relieved as if his worst nightmare had come to an end. He was relaxed, the complete opposite of the trepidation that he held for weeks. 

Your observation was coming to a conclusion, and once you realized what was happening, you matched his smile as you stood up. 

“Your Highness,” you curtsied, making him giggle. 

Before he could explain to you why he was standing in front of you with no security, he turned to the little boy who had helped him. “Russell, thank you for delivering the flowers to my wife.” 

“Your welcome, Prince Harry!” The little boy bowed excitedly before running off to his mother who was waiting and watching on the sidelines. 

Once Russell was safe with his mother, you turned back towards Harry. “Your wife, huh?” You raised your brows, teasing him as you masked your giddiness. You intertwined your hands behind yourself, containing yourself from reaching out and grabbing him. 

“Yeah, my actual wife—someday—not the one that was walking towards me earlier.” 

You smiled softly, still lost on why he’s in front of you. “What are you doing here?” 

“I left. I ran away from the altar. I couldn’t do it, Princess. No matter how mad the Queen would be, I couldn’t marry that woman,” he explained. You exhaled in relief, tears pricking your eyes. “I felt guilty, y’know? Never have I imagined standing at the altar without you. It was…weird and I didn’t like it.” 

“How did you even manage to do that? To run away?” 

Harry slightly chuckled. “Mum helped me.” 

“Really?” Your eyes widened as you were in shock. 

“Yeah,” he answered, explaining to you what happened thirty minutes prior to him racing to the dock to find you. 

When the Priest was reciting the vows, he waited on Harry’s promise to marry Venus. But Harry had turned his head to look at his mum before earning a nod of approval. He turned his head back to Venus, and she had some sort of look of understanding like she knew Harry clearly hadn’t signed up for this wedding—to marry her. Harry gave Venus a small smile that apologized for what he was about to do before turning to the Priest and telling him that he couldn’t do any of what he had said. The guests’ chatter had increased, some softly gasping as they wondered why the Prince wasn’t complying with the marriage. 

He let go of Venus’ hands, heading towards Anne to give her a kiss on the cheek. Anne had sneakily handed him a pair of keys to one of the Rolls Royce cars, and he smiled in appreciation. He glanced at Elaine, not even bothering to say goodbye to his Nan, but Elaine had a few words herself, so she grabbed Harry’s wrists before he walked down the aisle. 

“Walk out those doors, and you wouldn’t even be considered a Prince anymore, you are not allowed back on Royal Grounds if you walk out, and you are no longer going to be part of this family,” she warned, eyes piercing with such disappointment.

He gave Elaine one last look before yanking his arm out of her hold, which earned a loud gasp from the guests. Elaine looked around at the people who had watched the two, and she felt embarrassment heat up in her cheeks. 

Once Harry walked out the doors, he jogged to the front of the Royal House where Gemma had closed the trunk. He took his sister into his arms, hugging her tightly and gratefully. 

“Thank you, Gemma. For everything,” he said, giving her an extra squeeze. She patted his back before pulling away, giving him a smile. 

“I’m proud of you, H. Now, go and get her. I’ve already flagged down the captain and told him to delay the boat for thirty minutes, so you should hurry before the other passengers start to fret. And the boat you two are going on should be ready by the time you’re there.” 

He smiled. “Thank you, again. I’ll see you soon? I’ll call you from wherever I am.” She nodded, telling him to reach out soon. “You take care of yourself, alright? Don’t take shit from her. You and Sebastian deserve to be with each other.” 

“I will. I won’t. And yes, we do,” she answered in the order Harry said, making him chuckle. “Now, go. You’re making her wait.” She patted his back once more before he got into the car. 

With one last wave, he was off to the docks where the love of his life was waiting for him. 

“So, here I am,” Harry said with a smile, arms opening as he presented himself. You smiled widely, giggling. You were still in shock how he simply gave up his family and his position to once rule the country for you. You knew he would do anything for you, but this was more than anything—this was leaving his family for good, walking away from being connected to royalty. And he left it all behind. For you. 

“Here you are,” you breathed out a chuckle. “I can't believe you’re here. That you didn’t marry that woman.” 

“You know I couldn’t do that. You’re the only one I want to marry, the only one I wanna see walk down the aisle, wearing a beautiful champagne gown.” You were slightly taken back, tears glazing your eyes; he remembered the small detail you had told him about not wanting to wear a traditional white dress to your wedding. “So, you’re not the Prince anymore, hmm?” 

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Not gonna leave me to find another Prince, are you?” He joked, raising his brows. You playfully slapped his chest, but he caught your hand, bringing it up to his lips as he placed a chaste kiss on the back of your hand. 

“Course not. I’ve had a Prince of my own for the past five years.” You unconsciously reached towards him to straighten his jacket. He pulled you forward by the hand that he was already holding, and your chest was pressed together against his with your faces inches away from one another as you looked up at him. 

“Our six-year anniversary is coming up soon. How should we celebrate?” 

“Hmm, now that we have all the time in the world, wanna go on vacation? I’ve been dying to go to Italy,” you suggested, and Harry’s eyes lightened up as if you had suggested the greatest idea ever. 

“I would love that. Where in Italy are you thinking about? Because I’ve been thinking of the Amalfi Coast. Think about it…driving along the coast, cliff diving, swimming in the ocean. Sounds nice, huh?” You nodded your head at his plans. 

“Sounds amazing. Maybe we could…get married there?” You suggested another plan hesitantly, testing the waters to see how he felt about it. 

“You wanna get married? Next month?” You nodded your head. “Are you proposing?” 

“Only if you say yes.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing his chin. 

“You know I will.” A tint of pink hit his cheeks as he smiled down at you. 

He leaned down to place a tender kiss on the tip of your nose, and when he pulled back, your eyes sparkled with such love and happiness—a gleam that he’s missed seeing in your eyes, and a gleam he would make sure was always there as long as you two were together. 

“Well, in that case…Your Highness, my love, will you do the honor of becoming my husband in one month?” You asked with a hopeful and playful tone as you couldn’t contain your smile. 

“Of course, my Princess. Wouldn't wanna be by anyone else,” he answered as you softly squealed. 

Harry placed his hands on your jaw, gently bringing your face to his. His forehead rested against you as the tip of your noses touched, giving one another an Eskimo kiss. Your lips merely brushed together so delicately as you smiled once you felt his touch. With one last small touch, Harry kissed you with such passion and devotion as you two moved your lips in sync. The kiss spoke every beautiful and exquisite word in the dictionary that it wouldn’t be enough to describe how tenderly and passionate he kissed you, and how much love your heart held for him. 

 Neither of you cared if there were bystanders, wondering why the Prince was kissing someone in the middle of the Royal Grounds, in public. But there was not one hint of care because you two were together, and this kiss indicated what’s to come for the rest of your lifetime. 

He pulled away, and you were so caught up in the sensation and the feeling that you didn’t realize that he had stopped kissing you. When you opened your eyes, you were met by your favorite green eyes that stared at you with a big smile on his face, dimple indenting his face. 

“I love you so much, Princess, you have no idea.” His words were slow, hoping to engrave them into your mind so you wouldn’t forget it. 

“And I love you, too, Your Highness.” He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, too quick for your liking. 

“Now, c’mon, we have a ship to catch.” Harry grabbed one of your bags as he held one of the duffle bags on his shoulder. He informed you that you two were going to take the family ship and that his belongings were already loaded on the ship. 

You nodded, grabbing the other luggage and duffle bag. You turned around, taking a look back at the Royal House that peeked behind many buildings and trees. This was the end of the story, and it was time to start a new one. You were able to close the book and set it down while you reflect on the memories you had made in one house with the one person who had your heart. 

Sure, you don’t know where you and Harry would be settling down; maybe you two would constantly move around and travel the world since neither of you got the chance to do so, but whatever the universe had in store for you both, you were glad to do it with Harry by your side. 

“Hey, are you coming with or what?” Harry called out, making you turn around. A smile that was brighter than the sun was plastered on his face as his arm reached out in front of him, palm facing up, telling you that it was time to leave. That it was time to start a new life together. 

You smiled, walking towards him as your eyes were glossy. Taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his, he held your hand tight as you two crossed the ramp that was securely resting on the edge of the dock and the edge of the boat. 

You leaned against the railing of the boat, looking out at the deep ocean that you once felt like you were drowning in. But once Harry’s arms wrapped around your waist, chest pressed up against your back while his lips attached to the skin behind your ear, you no longer felt like your ship was sinking. It was smooth sailing and immensely happy. 

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