#saree pin

[swapnagandhacollection]

या राखीपौर्णिमेला बहिणींना ओवाळणी काय देणार?

ऊन सावलीचे खेळ दाखवणारा, रंगांची उधळण करणारा श्रावण येतो, आणि बाजारात सुंदर राख्या दिसायला लागतात. आणि मग यावेळी ओवाळणी म्हणून बहिणींना काय द्यावं यासाठी भाऊरायांची शोधाशोध सुरु होते. आपल्या लाडक्या बहिणीला आवडेल, शोभेल अशी छान भेटवस्तू हवी असेल, तर पुण्यात स्वप्नगंधा कलेक्शन हे खात्रीशीर ठिकाण आहे. इथे अगदी ₹५० पासून पुढे पैठणीच्या सुरेख नक्षीदार वस्तू आणि साड्या मिळतात. या एकाच ठिकाणी राख्यांची आणि ओवाळणीच्या भेटवस्तूंची सगळी खरेदी होऊन जाते. या सगळ्या वस्तूंमध्ये रंग, आकार आणि नक्षीनुसार असंख्य पर्याय उपलब्ध असतात, ज्यामुळे तुमच्या आवडीनुसार भेटवस्तू निवडणं शक्य होतं. 

पैठणी राख्या :

स्वप्नगंधा कलेक्शनमध्ये आकर्षक, विविध रंगातल्या आणि आकाराच्या राख्या उपलब्ध आहेत. सहा किंवा अधिक राख्यांची मागणी असल्यास या राख्या आम्ही कुरिअर सर्व्हिसद्वारे परगावीही पाठवतो. 

पैठणी ज्वेलरी बॉक्स :

तीन वेगवेगळ्या साईझ मध्ये पैठणी ज्वेलरी बॉक्स उपलब्ध आहे. आतल्या बाजूला काच लावलेली आहे, त्यामुळे दागिने तर ठेवता येतीलच. किंवा तुमच्या इच्छेनुसार ड्राय फ्रुट्स,  चॉकलेट्सही या बॉक्सेसमध्ये ठेवता येतात. 

साडी पिन Combo :

सुंदर पैठणी बांगड्या, नक्षीदार साडीपिन, आणि आकर्षक कानातले अशा तीन वस्तूंचा combo  उपलब्ध आहे. यातील बांगड्या सर्व sizes मध्ये मिळतात. साडीपिनवर समोरच्या बाजूला देखणी नथ असते. आणि मागच्या बाजूला मोठ्या आकाराची पिन असते, ज्यामुळे ही पिन घट्ट बसते. शिवाय एक सुरेखसा छल्लाही यासोबत तुम्हाला घेता येतो.

याव्यतिरिक्त आकर्षक, नक्षीदार पैठणी ड्रेसेस, पैठणी पर्सेस, पैठणी डायरीज, साडी कव्हर्स, इ. अनेक पर्याय उपलब्ध आहेत. ही सगळी खरेदी तुम्ही ऑनलाईनसुद्धा करु शकता. त्यासाठी आमची वेबसाईट, आमचं instagram page जरूर पहा, आणि राखी पौर्णिमेची मनासारखी खरेदी करा.

[namrata06]

Glosy design collection of  Saree pin for  online at best price by Anuradha Art jewellery.

Fancy design collection of stylish antique traditional Saree pin online by Anuradha Art jewellery.

[cosmicrhetoric]

the sangeet dance industrial complex 😔

[onlinesikhstore]

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Stunning Diamonte Silver Plated Vintage Look Retro Seahorse Christmas Brooch Cake PIN

Design: A7

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Diamonte and Crystals Silver plated Christmas Brooch Pin for Jackets Shawls, Dupattas, Coats, Suits, Decorations, Wrappings, Sarees, Decoration of Wedding/Birthday/Anniversary Cakes and many other uses as described in the listing below.

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Properties: Diamonte Crystals, 3 dimension

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Description: Stunning, glitter, elegant, beautiful. It is the perfect accessory for party, gift, weddings, proms, pageants, causal wear or other special occasions.

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[kusumasposts]

Enjoy the best products deals on halfpe.com

[a-b-riddle]

Okay, but Simon marrying an Indian girl…

Hear me out, okay???

He is a man who, before meeting his girl, had a very mundane life. A gray life, lacking color and warmth. No family outside of work. So when he wasn't deployed, he was alone.

And it’s assumed he’s someone who wants to be left alone, but then he gets thrust into this huge family…. And it’s like breathing again.

Relatives coming to stay with them for several weeks? No worries he has plenty of room. He’s the only fun uncle of the group who never gets tired of entertaining the kids. There is always something going on. Birthdays, holidays. Puja that his mother-in-law insists on doing over FaceTime whenever she’s not in the country.

Trading his Yorkshire tea for Chai.

Who doesn’t mind talking to his mother-in-law over the phone when his wife had her fill. Who is absolutely on board with starting on giving her grandkids.

Simon who never had so much as a birthday cake growing up, now gets his own boxes of homemade barfi and mysore pak. And even though his wife isn’t too found of cooking, he could eat her maggi everyday for the rest of his life.

The only thing in his entire marriage he doesn’t like, in fact hates, is when she fasts. Not in general. But for his health. The first year of marriage when Karva Chauth came up, he figured it was like Diwali or Holi. But when she explained she won’t eat until the moonrises, he wasn’t having it. He swore he hadn’t died yet and she could risk it. The next day he ordered enough take out, it lasted them three days breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Simon who learns how to help his wife pin her saree in place when her mother around to help.

Simon who begins to have a life in his 30s. Who laughs more and smiles often.

Who is thankful everyday that he got out of the gray.

[tasavvur-ki-duniya]

desi love languages: [cutting up fresh fruit] [oiling someone's hair] [buying methai as a gift] [making chai] [helping someone with their saree] [eating leftovers so that others can eat fresh food] [putting mehndi on someone's hand] [buying a whole carton of fruit after someone mentioned they liked it] [making pakorein when it rains] [watching cricket matches together] [holding the dholki in place while someone else plays it] [pinning jasmine buds in someone's hair]

[fishnets-fingers]

Can I Have This Dance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

warning - smut oral (f receiving), handjob

Word Count - 10.8k (not proofread) 

MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST

….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What place would that be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

////

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

“You worry too much, Shobs.” 

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

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

“You seem fairly confident with that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because he is a spy?”

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is he then?”

“We do not know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Decorum,” Shobita reminds them.

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

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

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

“Ah, man of the hour,” Y/N scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

“Your majesty-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

////

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

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

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

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

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

“I will see to it, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

“These sell out quickly?” He asks.

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

“This upsets you lad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would?”

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

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

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

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

////

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

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

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

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

She stands still.

“This morning, I -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shakes her head.

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

She stays quiet, stepping back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She slaps him. “Shut up, you coward.”

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

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

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

“Go ahead!” She taunts him. 

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

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

“I am unharmed, Mister Styles.”

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

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

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

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

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

////

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am well aware, Princess.”

“Why did you ask me to dance?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about him?”

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

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

“Mid seventies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for telling me, Harry.”

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

She arches her eyebrows in surprise. “How?”

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

“Oh, do you?” She smirks. 

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

“The music’s ending,” she notes. 

“I know,” he smiles wistfully. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

////

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods. “What about you?”

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

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

“What was the pinch for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, watching her unwrap her second candy.

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

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

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!

[littlest-w01f]

Light and Shadow

Azriel x blind!OC (Amita)

AZRIEL MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Azriel finally gets to have a conversation with the female always around Helion, the female that somehow makes his shadows go out of control in her light

Cw: Fluff, Azriel's shadows being a tripping hazard

part one - part two - part three

The sun shined brightly in the Day Court, Amita stood in front of the middle of her room, humming to herself as she combed her hair, her eyes glowing golden by her power, second nature to her as she used her light to detect where her dark hair was, everything important in her room was of darker shades, reflecting a little darker to her than other things.

Her friend, Akriti, the female who helped her drape her clothes came in, Amita knew by the scent that was her, polished wood on her, "Morning, Ak..."

"Morning," Akriti replied, standing in front of her, "I see you're still trying to do your hair," She smiled, moving her hand away.

"Come on, I'm sure I can do it one day." Amita groaned slightly, smiling a little as she was dragged to sit on the vanity table, Akriti beginning to do her hair.

"If someone can, my love, I'm sure it's you." Akriti began to braid her hair, looking into her friend's golden eyes, "But till you can, you have all our help."

Amita smiled, her head tilted to her ear in Akriti's direction, "What all is on plan for today? I heard something with the Night Court."

"Well, you get to spent all day with the sex that is our High Lord," Akriti sighed lightly but Amita caught it, "And lunch with the Night Inner Circle."

Amita cringed slightly, "Come on, don't talk like that about Helion, it's weird."

Akriti 'oohed', "I keep forgetting your lucky ass is on first name basses with him." She finished her braid, then watched her stand up, "It's so sad you can't see, if I was with him as much as you I would ogle his handsome face all day."

Amita rolled her eyes, used to her teasing, "Maybe that's why you aren't around him that much."

Akriti scoffed, trying to nudge her with her shoulder, Amita dodged her, "Come on, Am... You don't have to make me feel bad about it."

"Oh, but I did," Amita smirked, moving around, grabbing her saree from the edge of her bed, and offering Akriti the piece, "Now be a dear and put this on me, please."

"Well, since you said please, I guess." Akriti rolled her eyes playfully, helping Amita drape her saree, moving her around as if she were a mannequin and then pinning the fabric.

After Akriti finished up, she smiled, looking at Amita in the mirror, "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Amita smiled a little, only seeing her figure in gold, different shades of it all around, her light reflecting things in gold back into her eyes.

"Oh!" Akriti exclaimed as she moved around her room, looking for a box, "Helion got these for you, you need to wear these." She stressed as she pulled out four pieces of jewellery.

"What are those?" Amita asked, raising her hand to feel them up, "Jewellery..." She noted.

"Yep, very sexy pieces of it." Akriti moved behind her, handing her an armlet and two anklets, putting on the necklace herself.

Amita slit on the armlet and sat down to chain up the anklets, setting them design up by years of practice, trying to feel them up to guess how they looked.

Amita walked in the halls, halls that looked similar but she knew the path from her room to Helion's study and his private chambers by heart, while she was walking, her head held high as she strained her ears to catch any sound.

There was a little breeze of wind around her, not wind, she focused her eyes on a blob of darkness that had flown past her and decided to follow it, the darkness joined a few stuck to a wall. She gasped slightly, hearing a heartbeat.

"Hello?" She asked, moving her hand around in the darkness, gasping when a hand caught her wrist.

A rough voice answered back, a voice she couldn't remember where she had heard before, "You can see me?" A male, she guessed, let her hand go.

"Well, not 'see' see," Amita waved at her face and eyes, "But you're a... darkness?"

Azriel smiled seeing the female he had seen around with Helion almost at all times, "I'm Azriel, Azriel Shadowsinger."

"Of the NIght Court?" She asked curiously, "Are the rest of you here already..." She gave him her best glare, which looked adorable in the Spymaster's eyes, "Or are you spying on us? If that's the case, I'm going to have to tell Helion about it."

"No, no, darling," Azriel chuckled at her outburst, trying to not make a comment on how her glare was adorable, even if it wasn't directly faced at him, "I'm not here to spy, it's just kind of how I move."

"In a blob of darkness?" She stated curiously making Azriel bite his lips to stop from laughing as his shadows hissed in his ears at being called a 'blob' of all things, his shadows that we're buzzing about a moment ago when she had cast her light on them.

"You're making my shadows feel offended, Little Light." Azriel joked, smiled looking at her, "Also, no, I have colour on me, My lady."

Amita frowned, turning to face a whisp of darkness on his shoulder and said, "Sorry...? I didn't mean to offend you." In a soft voice, then turning back to the head of the darkness, "Well, I can't really see colour... And you appear all dark and shadow-y" She offered.

"No need to explain yourself, love," Azriel smiled, "It's quite alright."

Amita smiled a slight heat on her cheeks from all his nicknames, "Well, my name is Amita, so no need to call me all these nicknames."

"Why, Amita, then of course." Azriel gave her, what she could make out, was a bow, but not entirely low enough to be called one. "What are you doing here, walking the halls alone?"

"I don't really need help to walk around, I know my way." Amita smiled in the general direction of the shadowsinger, slightly making out his curious shadows reaching out to touch her nose or eyes, giggling slightly when Azriel apologized for them, "It's alright, they don't bother me. It's cute, really."

"That's impressive," Azriel hummed, not stopping his shadows from examining the female in front of him, smiling at the little chuckles she let one when one of them brushed against a ticklish spot, he finally took his time to take her in, the female he had wanted to approach in that High Lord's meeting years ago, she had been sitting beside Helion, a male who glared at anyone who even looked as if they were about to question her presence in the meeting, and now she stood in front of him, not scared of him in the slightest, laughing at his shadows that ghosted over her face and neck, wearing one of her signature white clothes, representing Helion with the Court emblem on the gold on her.

"We should get going," She said suddenly, "If you are here, then that means that the rest of your Inner Circle would already be here."

He nodded, taking the lead before hearing her yelp, he turned around just to see her tripping over some of his shadows, shadows that disappeared the second she looked back to glare at now nothing.

She scented night chilled mist mixed with cedar, something she stored in her memory as Azriel, her face lightly pressed against his chest. Azriel held her in his arms to keep her from falling, glaring at the unruly shadows that slid up his leg as if they had done nothing, he helped Amita back on her feet properly, after taking in the scent of her, warm sunlight, from the powers she used so much.

"I'm sorry..." Amita blushed in embarrassment, stabilising herself, "That usually doesn't happen, I don't trip."

"It's alright, darling." He smiled, still side-eyeing his scheming shadows, he offered her his arm, "May I?"

Amita smiled instantly, "Sure," She looped her arm around his and let her guide her, still looking down at her feet, blinking her powers to see something trippable in the clean hallways. While Azriel was sure he had never heard his shadows actually laugh in mischief before.

{General Taglist: @nox-ceur}

{Azriel Taglist - @fxckmiup}

[itsprashimusic]

Wildest Dreams Warm Realities

"Standin' in a nice dress"

Summary - You thought seeing him on the train was the last time you would but turns out, that Goa really is as small as some might say.

Pairings - Charles Leclerc x indian!fem!Reader

Warnings - reader likes to dance, curse words, reader can dance, y/n used i’m sorry, one of the outfits has a slit and another is off-shoulder, lmk if there’s anything else. Happy reading🩵

W/C - 2.9k

A/N - happy birthday to my first love<3 this gave me the motivation to finish a pt2 that has been in the works since march. if i bore you with my description of the dance, please feel free to let me know, but again be respectful.

Navigation | "Say you'll remember me" | "Standin' in a nice dress" | "Starin' at the sunset" | ..babe"

The first four days of doing absolutely nothing in Goa felt amazing. Waking up late had never felt so good. The sun was warm but not overbearingly hot. And the cool winds in the evening provided the perfect opportunity for wearing those long cotton skirts plastered all over your beach moodboard. 

You had nearly forgotten about the Monegasque you met on the train. Nearly. It was a quiet evening before a long next day when you remembered the cute foreigner. It was a unanimous decision to go to the beach where most of your friends dipped their feet in the rising tide while you and another friend sat and enjoyed the sunset. Reminiscing about the mysterious driver made you want to talk about him more to your best friend, Sarah, but after coming to the beach, she got lost in a crowd of people. She texted you saying she met someone and was having an interesting conversation. You wished that you were the person she was having a conversation with instead of a stranger she just met.

You soon forgot about Charles just as quickly though when your group called you and the other girl to the water. You got up and ran towards the incoming waves, hair being blown back by the salty winds. 

The next day you got up extremely early. The wedding was at nine in the morning, for some reason. 

The dress code was traditional Indian wear, and since you were the only one who could do it, you became the dedicated saree draper. You barely had an hour for yourself to get ready. By some miracle, your makeup, hair, saree and jewellery were ready in time. 

The wedding was beautiful. The first half of the wedding took place in a temple in the south of Goa. 8:30 in the morning you and all of your friends were surprisingly ready and sitting in the two cars and driving to the temple. Reaching just about on time, you saw that most of the venue was empty. You mentally face-palmed yourself. The group found a table and settled there, all the purses and water bottles were left on the chairs surrounding the table. 

About half an hour later the wedding party arrived along with the pandit and the families of the bride and groom. A few of the bride’s relatives were going around and handing the women long, fresh gajras. Sarah carried a bunch of booby pins with her, and helped all the women in the group, including you, with pinning the gajra to their hair. Some left their hair open while others had an updo. You had styled your hair in a way you knew would look good no matter what. 

The wedding continued. There wasn’t much that happened. Rituals were conducted, poojas were repeated and everyone was sweating horribly due to the humidity. The only thing keeping you from smelling like a pig was the powerful fragrance of the gajra. By around 12:30 pm, the wedding was more or less done. Your group scurried to be among the first to greet the newlywed couple and give the gifts. Everyone was hungry, and since there was going to be an evening extension of the wedding, no one really bothered to say ‘congratulations.’ The group gave their gifts, took 2 photos and left in a hurry to grab chorizo sandwiches from a cafe across the street. 

Thankfully in the evening, the dress code was not as strict. Meaning, that the grandparents and family elders were not there, allowing the newlywed’s friends and younger family members to wear western clothes. But you did not know this when you packed. All you had was traditional party wear.

“Konse kapde hai tere paas?” you asked as you walked into your shared room with Sarah. The girl just looked up from her phone with a confused expression. “Kya?” 

“Mere paas aaj shaam ke liye kapde nahi hai,” you complained as you started looking through her suitcase trying to find a dress you liked. 

“Woh blue off-shoulder wala dress hai, pehenle.” she dismissed you and went back to texting on her phone. 

You knew exactly what dress she was talking about and promptly found it. It was a baby blue off-the-shoulder dress with beautiful white flowers all over it and a tie-up in the front. You put the dress on, sat under the fan and began redoing your makeup for the evening. Your hair was behaving, so all you had to do was fluff it with your hands. Small butterfly earrings, a matching white butterfly-studded choker and a modern kada with the same butterfly decorating it; this was a jewellery set you were gifted on your birthday by Sarah herself. You thought that this was the perfect occasion to wear it. You had white heels to match along with a sling bag. 

Using your shoes as an excuse, you managed to convince one of the guys to drive instead. It was an hour before sunset when your car reached its destination. It was a lovely open area with a dance floor near the sea. You could hear the waves crash against the land as you walked to the entrance. The first thing that your entire group did was to go up to the couple, who were good friends of yours, to congratulate them and take photos. The next stop was the snack counter for a little energy boost before the dancefloor opened up. 

The newlyweds had their first dance to a very sweet song. Just as the song ended, the DJ switched it up to more upbeat tunes which got the entire crowd dancing. While you were dancing you saw and met many people who you had not seen in years, including some of your old school friends, a few of them complimented your jewellery. There was this one guy you had a crush on during your school years who revealed he also liked you at that time. Some old classmates admitted to not liking you at all. Basically, within the first 45 minutes of dancing you wished you were back in your room. But then a different song started playing and you coupled up with Sarah as the MC wanted people to find a partner. You did a funny version of the macarena. You did some line dances followed by some jiving music. 

It had been two hours of dancing, two hours of hearing different bollywood songs, maria pitache 3 different times, some punjabi and tamil songs, and english bops like shape of you and baby. You were sweating horribly by then and wanted to go get a seat right when you heard the iconic ‘pretty lady, pretty lady, pretty lady’ and took a u-turn back to the dance floor. 

Just as the song reached the line ‘bareli ke bazaar mein’, you stretched your arm out and turned. You felt your arm lightly hitting someone. When you went to pull your arm back, instead, you got tugged and ended up colliding with someone. Apologies started to pour out of you, as best they could over the loud music. Your butterfly kada got caught on a piece of a chain that was stitched to the man’s kurta. The bridge of the song was playing in the background as you looked up and saw that very face you were dreaming about at night during the past four days. 

To say that Charles was surprised when he saw you was an understatement. His left hand was on your wrist, and the other was held by his stomach. You both kept looking at each other and back down at where the pair of you were connected. The song shifted to the intro of Hookah Bar. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“Me?! What the hell are you doing here?” 

You both just kept staring at each other, your eyes seeming to be in a fight, trying to determine who has to answer the question first. You got fed up first and pushed your way out of the dancing crowd, Charles having no option but to be dragged by you and your butterfly kada. 

You reached a more quiet corner when you said, “I was invited to this afterparty. The bride and groom are my school friends whom I haven’t met in a few years. Your turn.”

He took a breath in before answering, “My brother said that he knew an authentic Indian party we could attend and my family trusted him.”

You bore a look of bewilderment on your face. “You know what, I am gonna ignore what you just said. I am happy to see you here, regardless of why you ended up here.” Charles breathed out a happy sigh and smiled. God, his smile was even better than you remember it. You moved to give him a hug when you were reminded that your kada was still stuck to his kurta. Damn, he looks good in Indian clothes, the colour goes really well with his ey- 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Charles’ warm hands over yours, carefully untangling the chain from the butterfly. Your hand was finally by your side and you were smiling widely at him when he pulled you in for a hug. 

The hug felt nice. It was not common for you to be hugged by a guy, so it felt nice. At that moment your mind flashed back to the ‘relationship’ you had in school where you fell for the attractive guy in your class who turned out to be an asshole who was openly dating someone else. It is not really that deep, but it made you think whether you were going to make that same mistake again because Charles is extremely attractive. And whether it was going to be an even bigger deal because you are no longer 14 years old, but an adult with a job and big girl responsibilities. 

Charles was the one to break the hug. Pulling back, he saw the look of doubt on your face. “Y/n are you alright?” he asked. You nodded while taking in a large breath. “Have you had dinner yet?” you say trying to change the conversation. “No, I have not. But I am excited to try the local food.” 

You told him to come with you. Taking the brunette to the Goan dinner counter you showed him all the different foods and explained what the food was made of. You took some of your favourite foods that you spotted. He ended up with rice, fish curry, prawns, crab legs and a bowl of dahi you secretly took just in case. 5 bites in and he was trying his very best to hide from you just how much he was feeling the spice. You laughed and took pity on him, “Here, this will help” you said while passing him the bowl of cold dahi. He managed a ‘thankyou’ in between coughs due to the spice and finished about half the bowl. 

In between your small talk with Charles, the MC came up to you and whispered in your ear. The Monegasque looked confused but didn’t question you. “Are any of your family members around? I need to go somewhere, and I don’t want to leave you alone.” Charles replied that he could call his brother. With that confirmation, you gave him your bowl of dahi and left, passing by his brother whom you greeted. Little did Charles know that you were heading to a changing room with hired anarkalis and ghagra cholis. 

About 10 minutes later, the stage where the couple were previously seated began filling up with smoke as the MC gave a monologue. The beginning of a song started playing just when he finished speaking. All of a sudden the lights went off as the sound of lightning played, leaving chills all over the guests' arms, legs and necks. The lights come on and there stood on the stage are women from your school and college who were known for their dancing skills, you standing front and centre.  

All that could be seen were the silhouettes of all the ladies. The music began, and the sound of a woman singing in a high pitch was heard loudly on the speakers. You were mouthing the words Shreya Ghoshal sang. As the upbeat tune of ‘Radha’ began, each woman stepped forward and gave a step in time with the music and lyrics. The crowd was loudly cheering everyone on. Charles was mesmerized watching you. He didn’t know you could dance. But now that he saw you dancing, he never wanted to take his eyes off of you. Never wanted you to stop moving your body in that rhythmic, captivating way. 

With the addition of the best man and the groomsmen on stage, the crowd went wild. They were all great dancers back in college, not losing touch with that side of them. The best man was your dance partner when it came to competitions and events. You guys were shipped together, but he was already dating his now wife back then. And just like back then, he joined you front and centre, not missing a single beat when doing your old handshake. 

The way he stood behind you and let his hand fall from your ear during the line ‘o radha tera jhumka’ and the way his hand hovered (at an appropriate distance) over your hip during the line ‘o radha tera thumka’ and the way he followed behind you like a puppy, holding your dupatta during the line ‘o peeche peeche saari nagariyaan’, it got Charles feeling some type of way. He’s only met you one time before, why is he feeling like this? And that dude is married for fuck’s sake! WHY IS HE FEELING JEALOUS?!!??!

The last line of the chorus played and as the men twirled and stood behind the women, came the first line of one of the sexiest songs alive. ‘Main ruthiya yaar manawangi…’ The lights dimmed, the focus was again mainly on you and the crowd shrieked so loud Charles thought his eardrum might break. Part of the costume came off, showing off more skin and allowing for easier and more movement. 

Your legs showed through the slit as you bent your knees sideways and tend stood back up, leaving the Monegasque’s eyes bulging and mouth open while the crowd wolf-whistles. 

‘Mere maahiya sanam jaanam’ had the crowd going insane as your shiny waist chain blinged underneath the expensive lights and made the party feel 10 times hotter. 

Charles swore in French, a word he doesn’t use often but which was almost too fitting for this moment. 

The hair flips, the arm movements, the rolling on the ground and the structure of your leg which was on full display when you stood up, all this was more than enough to hypnotise the driver. He was in a trance, under a spell, fixated on you and only you, his dahi a lukewarm forgotten bowl. 

‘Dariya dariya mere yaara’, the lights flashed everywhere, temporarily blinding everyone. But the sight that was waiting for them would definitely be worth it. For those 3 seconds where no one could see the stage, everyone’s position changed. You were kneeling on the best man’s shoulders, while he was standing up straight. You’re friends who were also watching and cheering you on lost it, along with the guests. Even though Sarah had seen most of the practice, she hadn’t seen this part, and it shocked her. She took a video of the entire song to show you later.

‘Akhiyan de mohalle mein, har shaam tera aalam’ The body rolls and hip sways broke Charles. He understood zero of what the song said, but the vibe of everything was more than enough to make it feel as if his entire body was on fire. The way you gripped onto the best man’s hair to avoid falling had him falling hard for you. 

You allowed yourself to fall face first but caught yourself with your hands and proceeded to do a front-facing cartwheel, landing a mere 10 cm from the edge of the stage. Now kneeling you completed the remaining steps of the song before it changed into another. As the song changed, all the women were lying back on their hands and were then dragged away backwards by the men, who were performing next. 

Once exiting the stage you stayed near the stage to watch the rest of the performance. The guests were filled with life, the energy only increasing. About 20 minutes later when the performance was done, all the dancers from all the different dances went up on the stage, music never stopping. You, the best man, the bridegroom and a few of the other main dancers were standing in the centre. ‘Mauja Hi Mauja’ played as everyone did the hookstep. 

Charles managed to catch your eye in the middle of it all. You both maintained eye contact. It broke when you were pulled down by the bride for a photo. Once the whole show was done, you got off the stage with the objective of finding Charles. But he was nowhere to be found. You came to the conclusion that he probably left since it was quite late. You and your friends were nowhere near done with partying since that was the point of coming to Goa. This was one hell of a Christmas Eve. 

A/N - Please bully me into writing and posting the remaining parts before this year ends🙏🏽 Hope you enjoyed reading🩷

Tags - @blue-eyed-mary | @sam-is-lost | @juleswrites223 | @kawaiiixchan | @holy-macncheese-balls | @rhythmstars | @nerdreader | @speedycycletyrant |

[desigyall]

desi love languages: [cutting up fresh fruit][oiling someone’s hair][making fresh chai][buying mithai as a gift][helping someone drape their saree][putting mehndhi on someone’s hand][buying a case of fruit after someone said they like it once][watching the cricket matches together][keeping the dholki in place while someone plays it][pinning jasmine buds in someone’s hair]

[mayakimayahai]

Kill lady

___________________________

An: as promised here it is, take it easy on me okay? This is just my way of giving him the kill lady he truly deserves (is that foreshadowing? Yes? No? Maybe..well okay only a little bit) hope you like it

Summary: after the meeting is over he realizes the quite innocent girl in the corner was a wolf in sheep's clothing, he doesn't really mind it tho

___________________________

The sun was beginning to set letting the evening clouds take over, a breeze of cold air sent a shiver down her spine while she hid behind one of the pillars waiting for her opportunity

He finally walked out the room after finishing up some stuff after the meeting was over

He walked through the corridor with a frown on his face opening a few buttons to let some air in

The cold air was starting to get to her, maybe a saree wasn't the best choice, she shivered making her hair fall on her face frustrating her further

Making a make shift bun she put in on of her daggers to keep it still

Her eyes found him again, him walked along the open collider made it easy to monitor him

The others had left..well minus Kamal

His head was around somewhere

She was glad he killed him, wasn't exactly ethical to kill your own client

He saved her the trouble

Someone rushed after him with a file in hand but with a single flick of his wrist he dismissed him giving her the perfect opportunity

He was alone with no one to bother him for a while

She tucked the pallu of her saree in her waist, putting on the silencer on the gun while putting on her glasses again

Soft air touched her shoulder making her push her hair back

Holding her gun properly she slowly creeped up behind him

She quickly caught up to him, when looking Around she noticed they were the only two people on the floor

He held her wrist, her eyes widened but before she could withstand the shock he knocked the gun out of her hands

She looked at the gun on the ground cursing at herself for not being more vigilant "tum?" He looked at her amused making her face him

He was more amused than angry

You really shouldn't underestimate a pretty face but it doesn't always turn out too bad

She grunted launching at him but he dodged her easily, she shouldn't have underestimated him but she sure enjoyed a challenge

Pulling out of her daggers she got away when he tried to grab her

She winked pushing him against the wall with her knife at his throat

The smile she had on her face was shortlived as he hit her wrist knocking the knife out of her hand

He held her wrist turning them around so she was the one against the wall

His hot breath reached her face as he looked at her still not quite believing this, she huffed a smile pushing him back with a kick to his stomach

He stumbled backwards but that gorgeous smile never left his face

He truly was amushed holding his stomach he chuckled "aayela kill lady?"

She smirked liking this a little too much, he was different..she liked it

She lunged at him again but he held her arms pushing her more into the wall examining her eyes "apun ko maarne aayi hai?" He smiled

He had never seen someone like this and it truly showed in his eyes that he couldn't believe himself

And she was here for him? That did things to his heart

"Dikh nahi raha" she flashed him a smile with her lips pressed in a line as she punched his neck getting him to leave her alone

He stumbled backwards taking a minute to recover giving her the opportunity to grab her gun off the floor

Coming back up he smiled having the time of his life

He couldn't believe it forgetting everything except her

He was ready to die at her hands right here if she pleased

Her eyes shined as he stared at them slowly and sensually loosing his mind

He wasn't even mad about it

She came at him again, this time he didn't even stop her- but something did

A ring

Flashing of her earpiece

She cursed under her breath tapping twice to answer it while having him pinned against the wall with her forearm on his neck "kinda in the middle of something right now" she snarled

Her being distracted like this gave him the perfect opportunity to look at her all he wanted

Her jhumke chimed as she talked her way through

He was mesmerized

Her on the other hand she didn't know who she wanted to kill herself or peirce

She picked the worst times

And didn't even apologize for it

Ofcourse why would she, she was the boss after all

Maya couldn't wait to be rid of her

"Stop" the voice came through making her eyes widen while he looked at her dumbfounded

"wHat??" She took a step back not believing this, the nerve of this women

He didn't like the frown on her face and streched out his fingers to touch her forehead getting some hair out of her face

That made her jerk her head in his direction fuming with anger while he just smirked "I need you to leave NOW maya" the voice came through again making her mutter a few curses

"You want me to leave the mission" maya asked digging her gun into his chest making him wrap his fingers around her wrist

She couldn't quite make out the expression on his face

She was too busy reasoning with peirce to even think for a second what was going on inside his head

"Kill him isn't worth the price maya come back now" she said hanging up the phone leaving maya open mouthed

"Wha- did she just??" She closed her eyes running a hand over her face "that bitch" she muttered

She closed her eyed taking deep breaths

She had him

Just one click of his gun and his body would be on the floor right now bleeding out

But no THAT-

She took deep breaths trying to stay calm

She could just squeeze her tiny little neck watching as the air slowly left her body

She was almost done

The mission was over- but no she had to intrupt her like this

She backed up closing her eyes trying to keep herself calm

"Kismat achi hai tumhari" she let out a bitter chuckle taking her pallu out letting it fall and securing her gun in place

She turned away a gush of wind taking out her frustration

Before leaving she didn't know what got into her but she turned around to face him once again

He took in the sight infront of him

His face instantly relaxed

His heart on the other hand?

It appeared it had a different plan

Her brows knitted "main nahi toh koi aur" she looked at the floor "zinda rehna" she breathed "Reh sakte ho" she turned once again

But before she could leave his fingers curled around her wrist

Her head snapped back fury in her eyes "leaving sona?" He asked that smirk not leaving his face

"Itni jaldi" his fingers tightened while he pulled her towards him, her anklet chiming while her pallu collided with his face

His eyes met hers as he softly took the net off his face

He pulled her away from the stairs "tum!" She shrieked trying to pull her arm away but he just chuckled dragging her into the last room of the corridor

She couldn't kill him anymore

The consequences weren't worth his head

Oh but it would look so good as a decorative piece in her room

Such pretty eyes

Shining when the sun touches them

She struggled trying to pull herself away but he pulled her into the room with ease

His hand left hers making her stumble for a second before she caught herself

Her eyes scanned the room

There were a few people in there

Approximately 6 or 7 excluding them

"Mereko ko marne ki koshish karne ke baad aase toh nahi jaane de sakta" he gave her half a smile

She laughed at the absurdity "zinda chood diya khush raho" she turned Around but his goons surrounded her

Did he think she could not leave? Ha this guy

"Kisne bheja tujhe sona?" He leaned on his side letting his elbow sit on the armrest while he leaned on his fist

"Tumhe marne aakeli aae. yahan se bahar nahi nikal paungi?" she laughed looking at the guys who thought too highly of themselves

If she wanted to she could burn this place to the ground without even a flick of her wrist

But that would attract too much attention and she would be answerable to the old hag

"Kisne bheja tujhe sona" he asked again

She sighed not giving him the time of day and looking back at the two guys blocking the exit

Two guys? Easy

Collateral damage

Peirce couldn't really blame her for collateral damage now could she? Maya smirked

Finally a way to take out her frustration

She wasn't going to hurt him but that didn't mean she couldn't have some fun

She turned Around but his mean held her back while he sat on the chair all powerful watching the scene unfold

She chuckled making him frown

"Tumhe nahi mar sakti par.." she smiled

She turned to her left making the guy's hold tighten around her and his jaw clench at the sight

He was relived when she let out a low and small smile

She hit his shoulder but he didn't budge and she couldn't exactly get to her weapon being a little tied up at the moment

Looking up to meet his eyes she kicked on of them in the shin to make him fall to his knees

She dug her heel into his leg as her fist collided with his nose making him scream in agony as she crawled back holding his nose

This gave her the perfect opportunity to pull our her knife to stab the other one

Her knife entered his throat like hot knife on melted butter she truly loved the process

Sliding the knife down his throat making some of his blood splash onto her own neck she pulled out the knife

His hands made their way to this throat but he couldn't do anything except look helpless

The first one tried to get up but she just kicked his leg once more making him sit still in his place, she graced him with a knife right between his eyes

Once he fell to the ground as well she cracked her next

No one else dared to move from their place, his palm stopping them keeping them where they are

she took of her glasses inspecting them "tsk" she wiped the blood with the pallu of her saree

"So where were we" their eyes met

______________________________

Prequel to kill lady sona

@vijayasena @meenammaisslay @mein-teri-mehbooba

[mamani-bento]

five (satoru gojo)

satoru gojo x reader, 1.3k, reader is wearing a saree

established relationship, fluff + humour

gojo would be soooo good at helping you out of your saree. source? trust me.

mamani-bento's masterlist!

"how many did you say there were?"

"four, i think. wait, no. there's one at the bottom of the pallu as well. five."

gojo sits on the edge of bed, surveying your saree-clad body. his eyes move top to bottom, gaze catching on all the places you remember putting pins in. "what about the one fixing the saree to your blouse?"

"oh, shit. yeah, there's one there."

you stand a few feet in front of him, sparkling midnight-blue chiffon wrapped around your frame. if it hadn't been such an exhausting day, full of socialising and preening, you would have been out of the saree ages ago. but you don't think you could take it off gently enough, what with all the pins holding it up. hence, the extra pair of hands.

"do you want to just get started and deal with the pins when we get to them?"

gojo hums thoughtfully at your question. you hope he says yes. you really hope he says yes, but there's no rushing him. this is a project, and every project must have its due diligence.

finally, making you let out an internal sigh of relief, he rises from his seated position. "yeah, okay. let's do that."

placing two hands on your shoulders, slender fingers brushing against the skin that your blouse exposes, he turns you so you're facing the full-length mirror on the wall. you both look at each other through the reflection. the heat of his front warms the goosebumps that had risen on your fairly exposed upper back. his own suit has been discarded on the bed, leaving him only in his light-blue shirt and slacks.

his blindfold was swapped out in favour of a pair of sunglasses, and he looks at you over the top of them now, bright blue eyes ridiculously complementing the colour you're draped in. pushing the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, he kneels behind you so he can access the bottom of your pallu, one end of the saree.

his white hair flashes from behind your frame as he carefully lifts the fabric, gently unlatching the tiny, golden safety pin and holding it out to you on the side. you accept it in your hand, fiddling with the clasp as he rises back up. the free end of the saree is open now, gorgeous border fanning out.

"there are two here," he says, slipping a long finger between your blouse and your skin at your shoulder. he tilts the pin forward as much as he can so you can awkwardly crane your neck to look. "does it matter which one i take off first?"

"uh. one fixes the pleats of the saree and the other fixes the saree to the blouse. maybe open the pleats first?" there's an affection in your voice that you're sure wasn't there a few minutes ago. there's something about his concentrated frown as he carefully, reverently handles the garment, handles you.

he nods, maneuvering the slippery chiffon and taking out the pin above. immediately, fabric tumbles down your shoulder in a rush, covers the length of your arm, flows down until it's nearly brushing your knees.

gojo steps back in alarm at the sudden deluge of sheer fabric, and pauses when he sees your reflection in the mirror. "whoah."

you nod in agreement, marvelling at the easy elegance that the piece of cloth offers in this form, all regality and decadently deep blue. the material is one of your favourites, not stiff like pure silk but delicately flowing and moulding to the shape of your body. the way it sits now – pallu open and saree cascading down your shoulder – makes you look royal.

“how come you don’t wear sarees more often?” gojo asks, momentarily foregoing his pin-extraction mission in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist, one snaking under the open material on your left to meet the other winding along the bare skin of your midriff. his breath puffs over your short hair, already growing past your ears and desperately in need of a trim.

the unimpressed look you level at him through the mirror is in direct contrast to the way you lean back into his chest and place your palms over his hands. “you want me to spend half an hour draping a saree before leaving for my next mission?”

a low chuckle reverberates against your back as gojo dips to place an affectionate kiss against your cheek. “point taken,” he mumbles, regrettably pulling away.

the next pin to come off is the other one at your shoulder, the one holding up the fabric on the upper half of your body. a lone index finger spiders under the fabric of your blouse until it reaches the fastening and unclasps it. in another avalanche of blue, the material tumbles off the top of your body, leaving you in your blouse waist-up. the intricately woven, silver top has a curved v-neck, colour matching the stones lining the length of the saree body.

“nice,” gojo says with a wink at your reflection, fingers reaching out to quickly pinch at the side of your waist with no real heat. you scoff at the audacity, but before you can retaliate, he’s swooping to kneel on the floor behind you again, trying to find the next pin in the fabric.

you decide to keep the revenge for after he finishes helping you out, and throw him a bone so you can get there quicker. “it’s in the front.”

dutifully, he shuffles to round your body. his palms pat you down, fingers smoothing over the fabric from your hips to your feet as he tries to feel out the other pin.

“i think this needs to be untucked first,” you observe. you pull out the folded segments of your falling pleats neatly tucked into your front. before you can address the pin there, gojo’s hands reach out still yours.

“my job,” he says when you raise an eyebrow at him, flashing a cheeky grin.

your smile at the top of his head is sickeningly fond, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out to run your fingers through his hair. he hums as your nails briefly scratch his scalp, but doesn’t say anything. only holds up the pin he’s retrieved so you can add it to the growing pile on the bed behind you.

it’s easy to see where the next pin is, the last catch holding the saree up. you’re standing in the middle of a shimmering pool of dark blue, and gojo tentatively shifts so he doesn’t end up kneeling on any of the stones. he has to bend a little for this one, sitting on his ankles so he can easily adjust the material to open the fastening.

immediately, the weight drops from your body, settling in a shimmering pile at your feet.

gojo rises smoothly, giving the sides of your covered thighs a quick pat in completion, palms skimming your hips above the material of the navy blue under-skirt. he moves his touch upwards, grazing the sides of your torso, front of your shoulders, toying with the tie at the back of your blouse.

“this too?” he asks, bending his neck to look at you over the tops of his sunglasses.

you nod. his forearms are a solid weight by the side of your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin as he tugs at the fancy end of the bow.

instantly, you breathe a little easier, letting out a whoosh at the subtle give around your lungs.

“thanks,” you say, huddling closer to his frame so you can wrap your arms around his waist. unsuspecting of any ulterior motive, gojo lets his own wind around your shoulders, humming in acknowledgement.

and that’s when you pinch him back.

[venusbby]

LOVE!! I SAW YOUR JHUMKA RIN DRABBLE AND OMG IM IN LOVE!! WE NEED MORE SOUTH ASAIN REP, PLEASE YOU’RE SO GOOD AT IT.

How about the blue lock boys seeing you in a saree or lengha for the first time?? Like all dolled up and shit ❤️‍🔥

➝ characters ♡ // itoshi sae, itoshi rin, mikage reo x desi!fem!reader (seperate ofc)

➝ warnings: kinda suggestive for sae's part (makeout session). rin makes reader sit on his lap, reo is a whole tease who's probably watched a bollywood movie and written some things down right before this happens.

note: THANKYOU SM for this 😕 this is actually kinda bad i think but idk ahdhsjndjd have it (cries) also im sorry if there's any typos im too tired to proofread it </3

ITOSHI SAE ｡⁠.ﾟ+ ?¿

he can't even comprehend it at first

lowkey going insane

extra touchy because wtf why are u so hot ? why do u look so good in every single traditional thing u wear ?

good lord. this man is whipped for you im sorry but he's going feral

standing in the living room while you're walking over to him in that red saree, the sound of your heels against the floor and the way your bangles shimmer around your wrists as you adjust your pleats, he feels his entire body almost lose its balance.

with the way your body moves with so much confidence in your traditional clothes, he doesn't understand why you're frowning with an anxious edge to your voice as you speak, his eyes fixed on your subtle pout. "is this too much? be honest."

too much? be honest?

sae was dying to be honest— to tell you just how much you're driving him crazy and it hasn't even been a minute since you came out of the bedroom, but it would lead to something that would make you miss your dinner with your friends and make your efforts to put on that beautiful saree go to waste because he was already dreaming of having himself completely stained with that same red on your lips.

"you look just fine."

really? just fine? you looked more than just fine. he wasn't fine.

your eyes still twinkle with that uncertainty and he slowly takes a step further until his slightly shaky hands can finally hold your hips. his eyes keep on darting from your eyes to your lips and it's making your cheeks flush with heat. "i just don't know, it's been so long since i wore a saree and—"

"stop. kiss me."

"what?"

he takes a deep breath. "kiss me, right now."

your lips curve into a shy smile then as you stare at him with that look. that look. your cherry red lips. he can't handle it anymore. his arm desperately reaches around you until he's pressed against your front with that same red all over his mouth as you share the heated kiss he'd wanted ever since he saw you minutes ago. he feels hot everywhere. this isn't good.

but it's so good.

he knows you're running late for your dinner— but he doesn't care. he doesn't want to care. his fingers trace circles over the soft skin of your waist, and he's not sure how to pick you up when you're in a saree so he settles on just gently pushing you against the closest wall as you stumble just a bit in your heels and let him kiss you with all that he has. the sound of your bangles rings right next to his ears as you tug at his hair and gasp at the way his fingers caress your bare sides.

"you look absolutely stunning," he whispers against your lips breathlessly when he stops kissing you. his forehead presses against yours, your thumb slowly reaching lower to rub the red shade away from his mouth as you breathe heavily and giggle— but it's of no use because he's going to kiss you again anyway. "and i want you all to myself right now. so call your friends and tell them to wait, yeah?"

ITOSHI RIN ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+ ?!

his brain short circuits tbh

he won't stop staring and drooling (internally)

please fix this boy with a kiss or two or maybe just tease him further who cares he's at your mercy now

"you never told me you had a saree."

"ah, i forgot about it too! do you remember my cousin who visited from home a few months ago?" you speak softly as you grab another safety pin from your little box and hold it casually between your teeth, adjusting the pallu over your shoulder so it's just right as you stare in the mirror. "she gifted me this."

you feel his eyes burn into your back as you attentively pin the layers of material over your shoulder so that your pallu stays in place throughout the night. you frown a bit, glancing back at where he's sitting on the edge of the bed. "are you okay?"

he blinks twice and notices he's been biting his lip the whole time. "yes."

you nod, humming as you continue to do some touch ups. it had been a while since you wore a saree, so its not too surprising that you're not used to handling it too well. it's why you've pinned the material at most places so you don't have to take care of it too much, thanks to the tips you remember from back home.

and just once you're finished, you finally turn around with a satisfied sigh, grinning as you give him a pose, your right hand resting on your waist as you let your pallu drape over your left arm. "i'm finally done. god, it's been such a long time since i wore a saree. does it look okay?"

he blinks again, mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the right word. his gaze doesn't shift away from you. the material of your light colored saree is quite transparent, he notices. he wishes instantly that he didn't notice because it makes him feel even more attracted to you— and it suddenly gets really difficult to keep his hands to himself. he clutches the sheets under him as you walk over.

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, the word echoes in his mind.

but he can't say it for some reason. his face feels hotter when you come and stand in front of him, and it's so hard to tear his eyes away from your visible stomach but he still does it anyway, turquoise eyes staring up at you as you raise an eyebrow at him expectantly. it's not like it's a new thing to him to see your stomach— crop tops existed. but seeing you in something that plays a role in your culture, and seeing you look absolutely breathtaking in it almost makes your boyfriend melt.

"you look beautiful." he manages to speak, still too afraid to touch you as if this saree just made you so much more valuable. so much more delicate. so much more powerful too, because he doubts he can handle any more of your beauty if he keeps staring.

you chuckle at his state, before leaning down to kiss his forehead. it's when he takes the chance and pulls you down to sit sideways on his lap, face still a little flushed, but a glint of adoration in his eyes as he pecks your cheek in return softly, his hand snaking around from behind you completely, slipping under your pallu as his warm palm gently rests on your stomach, making butterflies erupt throughout you as you lean closer to him.

"baby, you know i have to go." you grin as you talk just above a whisper, index finger tracing his lips slowly. rin knew just the right way to tempt you.

"i know." he says, but his tone is enough to tell you he clearly doesn't care.

"rin." you say in a slightly stern tone. however, the smile on your face doesn't leave.

but after you say his name like that, he's kissing your lips already, tasting the sweet and expensive lipstick on you as he holds you flush against him. his other hand carefully pushes your loose strands of hair behind your ear as he slowly holds your chin right after, mumbling quietly in the middle of his gentle kiss, "five more minutes, pretty. you look too good like this for me to let you go so soon."

MIKAGE REO ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+

he's gonna wife you up right there

gets you an expensive lehnga from india for your friend's desi wedding

how did he get a connection there? who fucking knows. all that matters is that his woman gets to look gorgeous in her traditional clothes

purposely making you cringe is his new favourite thing

"i knew that color would look good on you." he says as he opens the car door for you, a low whistle following as you step out carefully with your hand tight in his.

"i still can't believe this, reo." you shake your head as you start walking to the entrance of the restaurant, his hand now on your lower back as he quickly nods back at the driver and guides you forward— your lips twitching in a pathetic attempt to hold back a smile when you feel several eyes on you already.

"anything for you, i've told you this a hundred times, baby."

"yeah, but a lehnga? and this expensive?" you chuckle, looking at him as if he'd grown three heads as you both continue to walk. "where did that thought even come from?"

"your cousin once sent me a picture of you wearing one from a few years ago. i'm gonna be honest, you looked really sexy." he shrugs, earning a light slap to his shoulder as he starts to laugh. "and i thought, why not?"

you can't help but feel warmth rising up your cheeks, and you're so glad your cheeks aren't red. you look down as you walk, to make sure you aren't stepping on your long skirt as you hold it up just a little.

he notices that and the smirk on his face makes you feel too much at once.

"want me to carry you? like they do in—"

"baby, please don't." you shake your head as you laugh, walking faster once you see your friends standing right at the entrance of the big venue, leaving him behind in an attempt to hide your embarrassment and your flustered face.

but you don't make it that far and soon you feel his hand around your wrist. your eyes widen as you gasp and get pulled behind in one swift movement, your heavy outfit making you sway without balance and you instantly rest your other hand on his chest to make sure you don't crash into him when he pulls you in. he wraps his arm around your waist to keep you close, smiling innocently as you glare.

"i think this is where they start playing the lovey-dovey background music now. should we kiss?"

you can't stop yourself and you rest your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh loudly. "you're insane."

"insane for you." he winks, puckering his lips lightly as you continue to laugh from cringing so much. he was obviously playing around to tease you, and it was working.

however, you finally give in after a few moments as you press your lips on his in a sweet, chaste kiss— your face warm when reo's hand squeezes your side and his fingers trace over your curves ever so lightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

once you pull away, you notice he's more sincere now as he whispers softly, eyes not leaving yours. "you look amazing, y/n. from head to toe, everything about you tonight is even more breathtaking."

now that he's less playful, it means much more to you than it did before. "thank you." you whisper back, the gentle smile on your face changing into a smirk as you suddenly pull him closer by the collar of his suit so that he's resting his forehead against yours. his breath hitches just a bit when you look at him like that. your shimmering lehnga is mesmerizing enough— but your eyes have his knees going weak as he lets out a soft breath and his lips capture yours again.

your hands go up to his shoulders to squeeze as he now uses both of his arms to strongly hold you close to him and he tugs at your bottom lip gently. a few seconds pass and you hear your friends laugh from a distance, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you still continue the kiss but then it starts; the lovey-dovey background music from the inside of the open venue, which makes reo let out an amused huff of air as he picks you up and spins you around, keeping the kiss going until you're both breathless and dizzy.

[onlinesikhstore]

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USE OF BROOCHES:

* Brooches, once a mainstay of every woman’s wardrobe, now come and go for many in the same manner as other jewellery trends. It is, however, easy to make a positive case for this sophisticated piece of jewellery. It is, after all, more versatile than any other jewellery item.  * Brooches can be used the standard way: as an accessory to fashion. But that is by no means their only use. They can also be used on clothing accessories as well as in the hair. * Purchase one or more brooches, if they are not readily on hand.

* Use the brooch on clothing. Attach a brooch to the high neckline of a blouse, dress or jacket. Use one or more brooches (in a cluster) on the lapel of a suit jacket or place one or more on the shoulder of a jacket or dress. Pin several small brooches over the buttons of a blouse or dress to liven up the clothing or show off a collection. Try using smaller pins as a substitute for cuff links on a blouse by just pinning the brooch over the cuff's button.

* Hook a brooch through a “magna pin.” This converts the brooch to a magnetic closure, thereby doing away with the need to stick the pin part of the brooch into fabrics that could otherwise be damaged by the process. This makes it simple to use the brooch on heavy fabrics like boiled wool, suede or leather.

* Utilise the brooch to help securely attach an accessory to clothing such as a scarf, a shawl or a shrug.

* Attach a brooch to a hat to feminize it or give it a touch of pizzazz.

* Pin one or more brooches onto a handbag or clutch to convert a daytime look to evening chic.  * Use a magna pin for heavier fabrics, suedes and leathers. * Convert a brooch to a pendant by attaching it directly to a thick necklace chain, omega or collar. Hook a pin over a string of beads or double them up, pulling them together around the neck. Close with a brooch to create a unique choker. * Use a pin converter to turn a brooch into a standard necklace pendant. * Turn a brooch into a piece of hair jewellery. Attach a pin to a headband. Using wire or thread, attach a brooch to a hair comb or barrette. Run the pin of a brooch through the elastic of a ponytail holder for a top knot accent piece. Attach a brooch directly to the hair (or a wig). * Good use on Indian Saree, suits, dresses and dupatta etc. * Used to tie and decorate wedding/parties chair clothes on the back of chairs.  * Excellent to decorate Christmas presents and gifts. * It can either be used on the top of invitation cards/letters for wedding parties, birthday parties, evening parties or casual invitations. This will certainly give a posh look to your invitations. * It can be used for the decoration of Wedding, Birthday and Anniversary Cakes.

If you know any other use of brooches, please let us know and we will share these ideas with our privileged customers. Thank you in advance.

Please do not forget to add us to your favourite sellers list and keep looking at our listings, we are going to launch a wide range of brooches and a big variety of SMART Fashions Jewellery for parties and evening wear very soon.

We are UK based supplier. Items can be collected from our shop in Rochester, Kent, UK. Please check 100% positive feedback received for this item.

We have 100% positive feedback. Please bid with confidence and check our other fantastic listings. If you are not happy with your purchase, we will give you 100% refund.

Postage discount will be given for multi-buys. 

**** Please note any Gift bags or Organza bags or any other gifts are subject to availability and are not part of sale.

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