#I promise I’ll draw more of them soon!!!

[hiorintruther]

Another (very) long overdue hiorin art dump for all y’all!

[cronchingsquips]

noirs & hams and hams & noirs

[rancidsugar]

[sunny1927]

Anyone miss this AU?

[biscuit-sheep]

Them <3

I think about them too much. I just finished playing the second case (I was on vacation the past couple of days so progress was slowed there and in art)

I was genuinely startled when Kazuma said that. Best mistake I ever made, all worth it for that one line.

Just throwing some other doodles I made. You can tell one was taken earlier in the day when I still had natural light (don’t ask me why my room lights are so orange)

also thinking about doing requests and stuff of AA characters (TGAAC as well but only of those in the first 3 cases so far due to not wanting spoilers)

My random thought I had today was “If anyone asks where I am tell them the ace attorney got me”

[ozcarr]

Realizing that all the ttrpg characters I’ve played/conceptualized recently have been exclusively pointy-ass half-lidded motherfuckers, which put me into crisis mode trying to prove that I don’t have same face syndrome.

[stump-salsa]

They call him Invader Zim!

[pucksandpower]

Princess Protection Program

Logan Sargeant x Princess of England!Reader

Summary: when your safety is compromised due to escalating threats, the decision is made to send you overseas for your own protection, with one caveat: no one can know about your true identity (aka the fix-it fic we desperately need right now)

The sun streams through the ornate windows of Buckingham Palace as you pace anxiously in your private chambers. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your designer blouse, a habit you’ve developed when stress creeps in. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air, thicker than the plush carpet beneath your feet.

A sharp knock at the door makes you jump. “Come in,” you call, trying to keep your voice steady.

Your father, King Edward, enters with a grim expression etched on his face. Behind him, your mother, Queen Charlotte, follows closely, her usual poise wavering slightly.

“Darling,” your mother begins, her voice soft but strained. “We need to talk.”

You sink into a nearby armchair, bracing yourself. “Is this about the threats?”

Your father nods, his jaw tightening. “I’m afraid so. The situation has ... escalated.”

“How bad is it?” You ask, dreading the answer.

The King exchanges a look with your mother before responding. “Bad enough that we can no longer ignore it. The security team believes your life is in genuine danger.”

Your heart races, but you force yourself to remain composed. “What does that mean for me?”

Your mother moves closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We think it’s best if you leave London for a while, sweetheart. Just until we can neutralize the threat.”

You stand abruptly, shaking your head. “Leave? But I can’t! I have responsibilities here, engagements planned for the entire summer!”

“Your safety is our top priority,” your father interjects firmly. “Everything else can wait.”

“Where would I even go?” You ask, exasperation creeping into your voice.

Your mother hesitates before answering. “We’ve been discussing options with the security team. We think it’s best if you go somewhere ... unexpected.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding your anxiety. “Unexpected how?”

“Florida.”

You blink, certain you’ve misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Florida?”

Your mother nods, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the gravity of the situation. “Your Aunt Maggie and Uncle George have that lovely beach house in Fort Lauderdale, remember? We visited when you were younger.”

“But ... Florida?” You repeat, still struggling to process the idea. “It’s so ... American.”

Your father chuckles softly. “Exactly. No one would think to look for you there. It’s the perfect cover.”

You begin pacing again, your mind racing. “For how long?”

“We’re not sure yet,” your mother admits. “But we promise to bring you home as soon as it’s safe.”

You pause, turning to face your parents. The concern in their eyes is palpable, and it hits you just how serious this situation must be for them to suggest such a drastic measure.

“Can’t I just stay here? Increase security or something?” you plead, making one last attempt.

Your father shakes his head firmly. “The palace is too exposed. There are too many variables, too many potential weak points. We need you somewhere more ... inconspicuous.”

You sigh heavily, knowing deep down that they’re right. “When do I leave?”

“Tonight,” your mother says softly. “We’ve already begun making arrangements.”

Your eyes widen. “Tonight? But I haven’t packed, I haven’t said goodbye to anyone-”

“I know it’s sudden,” your father interrupts gently, “but the quicker we move, the safer you’ll be.”

You nod slowly, reality sinking in. “I understand.”

Your mother pulls you into a tight embrace. “Oh, darling. I know this is difficult, but please try to think of it as an adventure. A chance to experience a different kind of life for a while.”

You lean into her hug, drawing comfort from her familiar perfume. “I’ll try, Mum.”

As she pulls away, your father clears his throat. “There’s one more thing. While you’re there, you’ll need to ... blend in.”

You furrow your brow. “What do you mean?”

“We think it’s best if you adopt a different identity,” he explains. “Just temporarily, of course. To throw off anyone who might be looking for you.”

“A different identity?” You repeat, the concept both thrilling and terrifying. “Like ... a commoner?”

Your mother nods encouragingly. “Exactly. You’ll be staying with Maggie and George, of course, but to the rest of the world, you’ll just be their niece visiting for the summer.”

You take a deep breath, trying to wrap your head around it all. “I suppose I could use a break from royal duties,” you admit with a small smile.

Your father’s face softens with relief. “That’s my girl. Always looking on the bright side.”

A knock at the door interrupts the moment. “Your Majesties,” a voice calls from outside. “The security team is ready for the briefing.”

Your father sighs. “We’d better go. Darling, start packing what you can. Someone will be up shortly to help you with the rest.”

As your parents move towards the door, you call out, “Wait!”

They turn back, concern etched on their faces.

“I just ... I love you both,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “And I know you’re just trying to protect me.”

Your mother’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as she rushes back to embrace you once more. “We love you too, sweetheart. More than anything in this world.”

Your father joins the hug, his strong arms encircling both of you. For a moment, you’re not a princess facing a crisis, but simply a daughter cherishing her parents’ love.

As they reluctantly pull away, your father says, “Remember, this is only temporary. Before you know it, you’ll be back home, safe and sound.”

You nod, forcing a brave smile. “I know. I’ll make the best of it, I promise.”

With one last loving look, your parents exit the room, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and a suitcase to pack.

You move to your closet, running your hands along the rows of designer gowns and tailored suits. How do normal people dress in Florida? You wonder, realizing just how much you’ll need to adapt.

As you begin selecting clothes, a bittersweet excitement begins to bubble up alongside your anxiety. It’s terrifying, leaving everything you know behind, but there’s a tiny part of you that can’t help but wonder what adventures await in this unexpected journey.

You’re lost in thought when another knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” you call, expecting to see one of the staff sent to help you pack.

Instead, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, Olivia, bursts into the room. “Is it true?” She demands without preamble. “Are they really shipping you off to America?”

You sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Florida, to be exact.”

Olivia’s eyes widen. “Florida? Land of alligators and questionable fashion choices? Oh, darling, no.”

Despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “It’s not that bad. I hope.”

Olivia moves to your side, helping you fold a blouse. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Until they catch whoever’s behind the threats, I suppose.”

Olivia’s face softens with concern. “Are you scared?”

You pause, considering the question. “A little,” you confess. “But also ... I don’t know. Maybe a tiny bit excited? Is that weird?”

Olivia shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not at all. It’s like your own personal Princess Protection Program, but with better weather and beach access.”

You snort, grateful for her ability to find humor even in the darkest situations. “I’m going to miss you so much, Liv.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffs, though her eyes are suspiciously shiny. “You’ll be having so much fun living your secret Florida life, you’ll forget all about little old me.”

“Never,” you promise, pulling her into a fierce hug.

As you embrace, Olivia whispers, “Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

“If you meet some devastatingly handsome American and fall madly in love, you have to tell me every single detail.”

You pull back, laughing. “Liv, I’m going there to hide, not find romance!”

Olivia winks mischievously. “The best love stories always happen when you least expect them, darling. Trust me on this.”

As you continue packing, chatting and joking with Olivia, the weight on your shoulders begins to lift slightly. Yes, you’re leaving behind everything you know. Yes, there’s danger lurking in the shadows. But with the love of your family and friends behind you, you feel a flicker of hope.

Whatever awaits you in Fort Lauderdale, you’ll face it head-on. After all, you’re not just any ordinary girl — you’re a princess. And princesses, as you’ve always been taught, are made of stronger stuff.

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across your room, you zip up the last of your suitcases. Olivia helps you change into a simple outfit — jeans and a t-shirt, clothes that won’t draw attention during your journey.

A soft knock at the door signals the arrival of your security detail. “Your Highness,” a voice calls. “It’s time.”

You take a deep breath, looking around your room one last time. “Well,” you say to Olivia, your voice barely above a whisper, “I guess this is it.”

Olivia pulls you into one last fierce hug. “Go show those Floridians what British royalty is made of,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “And don’t you dare come back with an American accent.”

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. “I’ll do my best. Take care of everything while I’m gone, okay?”

“Of course,” Olivia promises. “Now go, before I change my mind and hide you in my closet instead.”

With one last smile, you open the door. Your security team waits outside, their faces a mask of professional calm. As you follow them through the winding corridors of the palace, each step feels both like an ending and a beginning.

At the private exit, your parents wait. Your mother pulls you into a tight embrace, whispering words of love and encouragement. Your father, ever the king, maintains his composure, but you can see the emotion swimming in his eyes as he kisses your forehead.

“Remember,” he says softly, “no matter where you are, you carry the strength of your ancestors with you. You are a princess of the realm, even if you’re pretending not to be for a while.”

You nod, standing a little straighter. “I won’t let you down.”

“You never could,” your mother assures you.

With one last look at your family, at the only home you’ve ever known, you step into the waiting car. As it pulls away from the palace, you don’t look back. Instead, you fix your gaze forward, towards the unknown adventure that awaits.

Florida, you think with a mix of trepidation and excitement, I hope you’re ready for me.

***

The Florida sun beats down mercilessly as you step out of the air-conditioned car, squinting against the bright light. The humid air immediately wraps around you like a warm, damp blanket, a stark contrast to London’s typically cool climate.

“Welcome to Fort Lauderdale, sweetheart!” Your Aunt Maggie’s voice rings out, full of warmth and excitement.

You turn to see her hurrying down the driveway of an impressive Mediterranean-style villa, arms outstretched. Behind her, your Uncle George follows at a more leisurely pace, a wide grin on his face.

“Aunt Maggie, Uncle George,” you greet them, trying to infuse your voice with enthusiasm despite your jet lag and lingering anxiety. “Thank you so much for having me.”

Aunt Maggie pulls you into a tight hug, her floral perfume momentarily overwhelming your senses. “Oh, darling, we’re thrilled to have you. Aren’t we, George?”

Uncle George nods, giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Absolutely. Our home is your home, princess. Er, I mean-”

“Just Y/N,” you remind him quietly, glancing around to ensure no one overheard. “Remember, I’m just your normal, everyday niece visiting for the summer.”

“Right, right,” Uncle George says, lowering his voice. “Sorry about that. Old habits, you know.”

Aunt Maggie loops her arm through yours, leading you towards the house. “Don’t you worry, dear. We’ve briefed all the neighbors. As far as they know, you’re our lovely niece from England, taking some time to experience life across the pond.”

You nod, grateful for their thoughtfulness. As you enter the house, the cool air conditioning washes over you, providing instant relief from the oppressive heat outside.

“Now,” Aunt Maggie continues, “I know this must all be very overwhelming for you. Why don’t you freshen up, and then we’ll give you the grand tour?”

“That sounds lovely,” you agree, realizing just how grimy you feel after the long journey.

Uncle George appears with your suitcases. “I’ll show you to your room. It’s got a great view of the pool.”

As you follow him up the stairs, you can’t help but marvel at the casual opulence of the house. It’s certainly luxurious, but in a relaxed, lived-in way that feels worlds apart from the formal grandeur of the palace.

Your room, as promised, is beautiful. Large windows overlook a sparkling pool surrounded by swaying palm trees. For a moment, you feel like you’ve stepped into a holiday brochure.

“I’ll let you get settled,” Uncle George says, setting down your bags. “Take your time, we’re on Florida time now. No rush.”

As the door closes behind him, you sink onto the plush bed, finally allowing yourself a moment to process everything. You’re here, in Florida, thousands of miles from home and everything familiar. The reality of your situation hits you anew, and you feel a lump forming in your throat.

A soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. “Y/N, dear?” Aunt Maggie calls. “I’ve brought you some iced tea. May I come in?”

“Of course,” you reply, quickly composing yourself.

Aunt Maggie enters, carrying a tall glass of tea so cold that condensation is already forming on the outside. She hands it to you with a warm smile. “I thought you might need this. The Florida heat can be quite a shock to the system.”

You take a sip, the sweet, refreshing liquid instantly soothing your parched throat. “Thank you, Aunt Maggie. This is delicious.”

She sits beside you on the bed, her face softening with concern. “How are you really doing, sweetheart? I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

For a moment, you consider maintaining your composed facade. But something about Aunt Maggie’s gentle demeanor breaks through your defenses. “I’m ... scared,” you admit quietly. “And I miss home already. But I’m trying to be brave.”

Aunt Maggie wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Oh, my dear. It’s okay to be scared. What you’re going through, it’s not easy. But you are brave, just by being here.”

You lean into her embrace, allowing yourself this moment of vulnerability. “I just feel so ... out of place. I don’t know how to be a normal person.”

Aunt Maggie chuckles softly. “Well, I’ve got news for you. None of us really know how to be normal. We’re all just figuring it out as we go along.”

Her words bring a small smile to your face. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Tell you what,” she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “Why don’t you get changed into something cool and comfortable, and then we’ll show you around the neighborhood? It might help you feel more settled.”

You nod, feeling a flicker of curiosity despite your apprehension. “I’d like that.”

After Aunt Maggie leaves, you dig through your suitcase, realizing with a start that you have no idea what constitutes “cool and comfortable” in Florida. You eventually settle on a light sundress and sandals, hoping it’s appropriate.

Downstairs, Aunt Maggie and Uncle George are waiting. “Oh, don’t you look lovely,” Aunt Maggie coos. “Very Floridian chic.”

Uncle George grabs a set of keys from a hook by the door. “Shall we take the golf cart? It’s the preferred mode of transportation around here.”

You blink in surprise. “We’re allowed to drive golf carts on the streets?”

“Welcome to Florida, kiddo,” Uncle George laughs. “Different rules apply here.”

The next hour is a whirlwind tour of the neighborhood. You zip along palm-lined streets in the golf cart, waving at neighbors who call out cheerful greetings. Aunt Maggie provides a running commentary.

“That’s the Johnsons’ place — lovely people, but their dog is a menace to squirrels everywhere. Oh, and over there is the community pool, although everyone just uses their own pools, really. And that’s where we have our neighborhood barbecues ...”

As if on cue, a man watering his impeccably manicured lawn calls out, “Hey, Maggie! George! Don’t forget the barbecue tonight!”

Aunt Maggie turns to you with a bright smile. “Oh, that’s perfect timing! What do you say, Y/N? Feel up to a little neighborhood gathering?”

You hesitate, anxiety bubbling up at the thought of meeting so many new people. But you remind yourself that this is part of your cover, part of being normal. “Sure,” you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Why not?”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of unpacking and preparation. Before you know it, you’re walking down the street with your aunt and uncle, a dish of something called “ambrosia salad” in your hands.

The barbecue is in full swing when you arrive. The air is filled with the smell of grilling meat and the sound of laughter and cheerful conversation. Children splash in a nearby pool while adults mingle, cold drinks in hand.

“George! Maggie!” A jovial man with a impressive mustache approaches, clapping Uncle George on the back. “Glad you could make it. And this must be your niece!”

You smile politely, remembering your cover story. “Yes, hello. I’m Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Y/N,” the man says warmly. “I’m Bill, by the way. Now, let me introduce you to some folks. Can’t have you standing around like a wallflower, can we?”

Before you can protest, Bill is leading you through the crowd, making introductions left and right. You smile and nod, trying desperately to remember names and keep your story straight.

“And this here is Logan,” Bill says, stopping in front of a young man about your age. “Logan’s our local celebrity, drives race cars for a living.”

You look up, meeting a pair of startlingly green eyes. The young man — Logan — smiles, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Hi there,” Logan says, his voice a pleasant drawl. “Logan Sargeant. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hello,” you manage, suddenly very aware of your accent. “You’re a race car driver?”

Logan nods, a hint of pride in his smile. “Formula 1, yeah. I drive for Williams Racing.”

Your eyes widen in recognition. You’ve attended a few F1 events in your official capacity, though you’ve never paid much attention to the drivers themselves. “That’s impressive,” you say genuinely.

“Ah, it’s just a job,” Logan says with a self-deprecating shrug, though his eyes sparkle with obvious passion. “What brings you to our little slice of paradise?”

You launch into your prepared story about traveling abroad, surprised at how easily the words flow. Logan listens attentively, asking questions that show genuine interest.

Just as you’re starting to relax into the conversation, Aunt Maggie appears at your elbow. “Y/N, dear, come meet the Hendersons. They’ve got a daughter about your age.”

You turn back to Logan with an apologetic smile. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”

“Likewise,” he replies, that charming grin still in place. “Hope to see you around, Y/N.”

As Aunt Maggie leads you away, you can’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Logan is still watching you, and when your eyes meet, he gives a little wave.

For the rest of the evening, you find yourself scanning the crowd, hoping for another glimpse of those green eyes. But between meeting what feels like the entire neighborhood and helping Aunt Maggie with hostess duties, you don’t get another chance to talk to Logan.

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the gathering, you feel a mix of emotions washing over you. There’s still a lingering sadness, a homesickness that sits heavy in your chest. But there’s also a tiny spark of excitement, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, this unexpected adventure might not be so bad after all.

Uncle George finds you as the party begins to wind down. “How you holding up, kiddo?” He asks gently.

You consider the question for a moment. “I’m okay,” you say, surprising yourself with how true it feels. “It’s all very different, but ... I think I might be able to get used to it.”

Uncle George smiles, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That’s my girl. Now, what do you say we head home? I don’t know about you, but all this socializing has worn me out.”

You nod gratefully, suddenly aware of how tired you are. As you walk home with your aunt and uncle, the warm night air filled with the sound of cicadas, you feel a sense of calm settling over you.

This isn’t home, not really. But maybe, for now, it can be enough. And as you climb into bed that night, your mind drifts to a pair of green eyes and a charming smile, wondering what other surprises Florida might have in store for you.

***

The Florida sun has barely crested the horizon when you step out of your aunt and uncle’s house, running shoes laced tight. You’ve taken to early morning jogs as a way to clear your head and adjust to the new time zone. The neighborhood is quiet, save for the occasional chirp of exotic birds and the distant hum of sprinklers.

As you round the corner, lost in thought, you nearly collide with another runner coming from the opposite direction.

“Whoa there!” A familiar voice calls out, hands reaching out to steady you.

You look up, startled, into the green eyes of Logan Sargeant. He’s dressed in running gear, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Oh! Logan, I’m so sorry,” you stammer, feeling heat rise to your cheeks that has nothing to do with the morning warmth.

Logan grins, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before dropping away. “No harm done. I didn’t know you were a runner.”

You shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not really. Just trying to ... acclimate, I suppose.”

“To the heat or to Florida in general?” Logan asks, falling into step beside you as you both slow to a walk.

“Both, I think,” you admit with a small laugh. “It’s quite different from home.”

Logan nods understandingly. “I bet. I’ve been to England quite a bit since Williams is based there. Beautiful country, but yeah, not exactly known for its tropical climate.”

You’re about to respond when your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. Logan’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

“Sounds like someone worked up an appetite,” he chuckles. “Have you tried the coffee shop down on Atlantic Boulevard yet? They make a mean breakfast burrito.”

You shake your head, realizing you haven’t ventured much beyond the immediate neighborhood.

Logan’s face lights up. “Well, we can’t have that. What do you say we grab some breakfast? My treat, to make up for almost running you over.”

You hesitate for a moment, your ingrained caution warring with the genuine warmth in Logan’s smile. “I wouldn’t want to impose ...”

“Not at all,” Logan insists. “Besides, I could use a coffee after this run. What do you say?”

Against your better judgment, you find yourself nodding. “Alright, that sounds lovely. Thank you.”

The walk to the coffee shop is filled with easy conversation. Logan asks about your impressions of Florida so far, and you find yourself relaxing as you share some of your culture shock moments.

“Wait, you’ve never had a key lime pie before?” Logan asks incredulously as you approach the quaint storefront of the coffee shop.

You shake your head, laughing. “I had never even heard of it! Aunt Maggie was scandalized.”

Logan holds the door open for you, the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods washing over you as you enter. “Well, we’ll have to remedy that. They make a pretty decent one here, actually.”

As you settle into a cozy booth by the window, you can’t help but marvel at how ... normal this feels. Sitting in a cafe with a handsome boy, discussing pastries and local cuisine. It’s a far cry from formal state dinners and carefully orchestrated public appearances.

“So,” Logan says after you’ve placed your orders, “what brings you to Fort Lauderdale? Your aunt mentioned something about you taking some time off?”

You nod, reciting the cover story you’ve practiced. “Yes, I wanted to experience life outside of England for a bit before graduate school. My aunt and uncle were kind enough to let me stay with them.”

Logan leans forward, genuinely interested. “That’s cool. Any specific plans while you’re here?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Not really. Just ... experiencing life, I suppose. What about you? Shouldn’t you be off racing cars somewhere exotic?”

Logan grins, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes. “Usually, yeah. But it’s the summer shutdown right now. All the teams take a break for a few weeks. I always try to come home when I can.”

“That must be nice,” you say softly, a pang of homesickness hitting you unexpectedly.

Logan’s expression softens. “You miss home?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak for a moment. Logan reaches across the table, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, it’s okay. Homesickness is rough. But you know what helps?”

You look up, meeting his eyes. “What’s that?”

“Making some good memories in your new place,” Logan says with a warm smile. “And I happen to be an expert in South Florida fun.”

You can’t help but smile back. “Is that so?”

Logan nods solemnly. “Oh yeah. In fact, I’d be happy to be your official tour guide. If you’re interested, that is.”

Before you can respond, your food arrives. The conversation flows easily as you eat, Logan regaling you with tales of his racing adventures and you sharing carefully edited stories of life in England.

As you finish your meal, Logan glances at his watch. “I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got a training session in an hour. But hey, if you’re free later, maybe we could meet up at the beach? I could show you some of the best spots.”

You hesitate, knowing you should probably decline. But the thought of spending more time with Logan, of experiencing a slice of normal life, is too tempting to resist.

“That sounds wonderful,” you find yourself saying. “What time were you thinking?”

Logan’s face lights up. “How about three? I can meet you at the public access point near your aunt and uncle’s place.”

You nod, already looking forward to it. “Three it is.”

As you part ways outside the cafe, Logan gives you another heart-melting smile. “See you later, Y/N. And welcome to Fort Lauderdale.”

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. You help Aunt Maggie with some gardening, your mind constantly drifting to thoughts of green eyes and easy smiles. By the time 3 o’clock rolls around, you’re a bundle of nervous energy.

You spot Logan waiting by the beach access, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He waves as you approach, that now-familiar grin spreading across his face.

“Ready for Beach Life 101?” He asks as you fall into step beside him.

You nod, breathing in the salty air. “Lead the way, Professor Sargeant.”

Logan laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Oh, I like that. Maybe I’ve found my post-racing career.”

As you walk along the shoreline, Logan points out various landmarks and shares local trivia. You find yourself captivated, not just by the information, but by the passion with which he speaks about his hometown.

“And over there,” Logan says, pointing to a stretch of beach dotted with volleyball nets, “is where I learned that I am absolutely terrible at beach volleyball.”

You giggle, the sound surprising even yourself. “Oh? Do tell.”

Logan dramatically recounts a particularly disastrous game from his teenage days, complete with exaggerated gestures. You’re laughing so hard you barely notice when you stumble over a piece of driftwood.

Logan’s arm shoots out, steadying you. “Whoa there. You okay?”

You nod, suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing. “Yes, thank you. I’m not usually this clumsy.”

“Must be my sparkling wit distracting you,” Logan teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before dropping away.

As the afternoon wears on, you find yourself relaxing more and more in Logan’s company. He’s easy to talk to, genuinely interested in your thoughts and experiences. For a few blissful hours, you almost forget about the circumstances that brought you here.

As the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, Logan leads you to a quiet spot away from the main beach.

“This,” he says with a flourish, “is the best place to watch the sunset in all of Fort Lauderdale.”

You settle onto the sand, marveling at the view. “It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

Logan sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his sun-kissed skin. “Yeah, it really is.”

For a moment, you sit in comfortable silence, watching as the sun slowly sinks into the ocean. Then Logan turns to you, his expression suddenly serious.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod, a flicker of nervousness igniting in your chest. “Of course.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to your story than you’re letting on?”

Your heart races, panic threatening to overwhelm you. “What do you mean?”

Logan shrugs, his eyes searching your face. “I don’t know. There’s just something about you. The way you carry yourself, the things you say ... or don’t say. It’s like you’re holding part of yourself back.”

You look away, focusing on the horizon. “I’m just ... adjusting. To being here, I mean.”

Logan nods slowly. “I get that. And hey, if there are things you don’t want to share, that’s cool. I just want you to know that you can trust me. If you want to, that is.”

You turn back to him, struck by the sincerity in his eyes. For a wild moment, you consider telling him everything — who you really are, why you’re here. But the weight of your family’s expectations, the very real danger that drove you here, holds you back.

Instead, you offer him a small smile. “Thank you, Logan. That means a lot.”

He returns your smile, reaching out to squeeze your hand gently. “Anytime. Whatever brought you here, I’m glad it did. It’s been really nice getting to know you.”

As the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the waves, you find yourself wishing you could freeze this moment. Here, with the sound of the ocean in your ears and Logan’s hand warm in yours, you feel more like yourself than you have in years.

But as the sky darkens and the first stars begin to appear, reality starts to creep back in. You know you can’t stay in this bubble forever.

“We should probably head back,” you say reluctantly, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between you.

Logan nods, standing and offering you a hand up. “Yeah, I guess so. But this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing. Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

You smile, surprising yourself with how much you want that. “I’d like that very much.”

As you walk back along the beach, Logan’s hand brushes against yours. After a moment’s hesitation, you let your fingers intertwine with his. It’s a small gesture, but it feels monumental.

At the edge of your aunt and uncle’s property, you pause. “Thank you for today, Logan. It was ... wonderful.”

Logan’s smile is soft in the dim light. “I’m glad. And if you ever need a break from acclimating, you know where to find me.”

Before you can overthink it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Logan.”

As you hurry inside, your heart pounding, you catch a glimpse of Logan touching his cheek, a dazed smile on his face.

In your room, you sink onto the bed, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through you. You know you’re treading dangerous waters. Logan is everything you shouldn’t want — a distraction, a complication, a risk to your cover.

But as you drift off to sleep, your dreams are filled with green eyes and the sound of waves crashing on the shore. And for the first time since arriving in Florida, you find yourself looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

***

The gentle lapping of waves against the hull of the boat fills the comfortable silence between you and Logan. You’re sprawled on the deck, basking in the warm afternoon sun, while Logan sits nearby, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Logan’s voice breaks through your reverie.

You turn your head to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Just thinking about how surreal this all feels. A few weeks ago, I never could have imagined ... this.”

Logan’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement. “What, lying on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic? Or spending time with an incredibly charming race car driver?”

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. “Both, I suppose. Though I’m not sure about the ‘incredibly charming’ part.”

“Ouch,” Logan clutches his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me.”

Sitting up, you lean against the boat’s railing, taking in the endless expanse of blue around you. “It’s just ... I’ve never felt this free before. This ... unburdened.”

Logan’s expression softens as he moves to sit beside you. “What do you mean?”

You bite your lip, choosing your words carefully. “Back home, there’s always ... expectations. Responsibilities. Here, with you, I feel like I can just be myself.”

Logan nods thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s kind of like how I feel when I’m racing. When I’m in the car, nothing else matters. It’s just me, the track, and the speed.”

“That sounds exhilarating,” you say, genuinely curious. “Is that why you love it so much?”

Logan’s eyes light up with passion. “Partly, yeah. But it’s more than that. It’s the challenge, you know? Pushing yourself to the absolute limit, always striving to be better, faster.”

You listen intently as Logan delves into the intricacies of Formula 1 racing, marveling at the depth of his knowledge and the intensity of his enthusiasm.

“Sorry,” he says suddenly, looking a bit sheepish. “I tend to ramble when it comes to racing. I’m probably boring you.”

You shake your head emphatically. “Not at all! I love hearing you talk about it. Your passion is ... inspiring.”

Logan’s smile is warm as he takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Thanks. You know, it’s nice to be able to talk about this stuff with someone who actually listens. Most people just hear ‘Formula 1 driver’ and make assumptions.”

“What kind of assumptions?” you ask, curious.

Logan shrugs. “Oh, you know. That I’m some adrenaline junkie who doesn’t take anything seriously. Or that I’m living some glamorous, carefree life.”

You squeeze his hand gently. “But it’s not like that at all, is it?”

“Not even close,” Logan admits. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. But the pressure ... it can be overwhelming sometimes.”

“How so?” You prompt, recognizing the weight in his voice.

Logan leans back, his gaze distant. “It’s not just about driving fast, you know? There’s the physical training, the technical knowledge, the media obligations. And then there’s the constant pressure to perform. Everyone always questioning whether you deserve your seat.”

You nod, understanding all too well the burden of constant scrutiny. “That sounds incredibly stressful.”

“It can be,” Logan agrees. “But then I remember how lucky I am to be living my dream, and it puts things in perspective.”

You smile, admiring his positive outlook. “That’s a wonderful way of looking at it.”

Logan turns to you, his green eyes intense. “What about you? What’s your dream?”

The question catches you off guard. For so long, your life has been dictated by duty and expectation. The concept of a personal dream feels almost foreign.

“I ... I’m not sure,” you admit quietly. “I’ve never really thought about it in those terms.”

Logan’s brow furrows in concern. “Really? There must be something you’re passionate about, something you’d love to do if you could do anything in the world.”

You ponder the question, thinking back to the interests and passions you’ve had to set aside for your royal duties. “I’ve always loved art,” you say finally. “Painting, specifically. But it’s always been more of a hobby than a serious pursuit.”

Logan’s face lights up. “That’s awesome! Have you painted anything since you’ve been here?”

You shake your head, a twinge of regret in your chest. “No, I ... I didn’t bring any supplies with me.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that,” Logan says decisively. “I’m sure there’s an art supply store in town. We could go tomorrow if you want?”

The thought of picking up a paintbrush again sends a thrill of excitement through you. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

Logan laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Mind? Y/N, I’d love to see this side of you. Maybe you could even paint me sometime,” he adds with a wink.

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “I’m not sure you’d want that. I’m terribly out of practice.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing,” Logan says with such conviction that you can’t help but believe him a little.

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the sound of the waves and the occasional cry of a seagull. You find yourself studying Logan’s profile, admiring the way the sunlight catches in his hair and highlights the strong line of his jaw.

As if sensing your gaze, Logan turns to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, returning his smile. “I’m just ... happy.”

Logan’s expression becomes tender as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah? Me too.”

The moment stretches between you, charged with unspoken emotion. Logan leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you want to. But you don’t want to. Instead, you meet him halfway, your lips brushing together in a soft, sweet kiss.

When you part, Logan rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” he admits.

You laugh softly, your heart feeling lighter than it has in years. “Me too.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of conversation, laughter, and stolen kisses. As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, Logan steers the boat back towards the docks.

“So,” he says as you dock, “what do you say we go on a proper date tomorrow? Dinner, maybe? After our art supply shopping trip, of course.”

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. “That sounds wonderful.”

As Logan walks you back to your aunt and uncle’s house, his hand warm in yours, you can’t help but marvel at how much your life has changed in just a few short weeks. The weight of your royal responsibilities, the constant fear from the threats that drove you here — it all feels distant, like a half-remembered dream.

At your doorstep, Logan pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Logan,” you reply, reluctant to let go of his hand.

Inside, you lean against the closed door, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and an emotion you’re not quite ready to name. For the first time in your life, you’re experiencing something that’s wholly yours — not dictated by duty or protocol, but born from genuine connection and shared moments.

The next few weeks pass in a whirlwind of stolen moments and shared adventures. True to his word, Logan takes you to the art supply store, insisting on buying you the best paints and brushes despite your protests.

You find yourself rediscovering your passion for art, spending hours capturing the vibrant colors and energy of Fort Lauderdale on canvas. Logan is always eager to see your latest creations, his genuine enthusiasm bolstering your confidence.

One evening, as you sit on the beach watching the sunset, Logan turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you say we go for a swim?”

You laugh, gesturing at your sundress. “Now? We’re not exactly dressed for it.”

Logan shrugs, his grin widening. “So? Live a little, Y/N. When was the last time you went swimming in your clothes?”

You think back, realizing with a start that you’ve never done anything so spontaneous. “I ... never, actually.”

“Well then,” Logan says, standing and offering you his hand, “there’s no time like the present.”

Before you can overthink it, you take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Together, you run towards the water, laughing as the cool waves crash around your ankles.

Logan pulls you deeper, until you’re both waist-deep in the ocean. The water is refreshing against your sun-warmed skin, and you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all.

“See?” Logan says, pulling you close. “Isn’t this fun?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It’s perfect.”

As you float together in the gentle waves, the last rays of sunlight painting the sky in brilliant hues, you’re struck by a sudden, overwhelming realization. You’re falling in love with Logan Sargeant.

The thought should terrify you. After all, you know this can’t last forever. Your real life, your responsibilities, they’re all waiting for you back in England. But in this moment, with Logan’s arms around you and the vast ocean stretching out before you, you can’t bring yourself to care about the future.

“What are you thinking about?” Logan asks softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.

You look up at him, taking in the warmth in his green eyes, the gentle curve of his smile. “Just ... how happy I am right now. How I wish this moment could last forever.”

Logan’s expression softens as he leans in to kiss you. It’s a kiss full of unspoken emotion, of shared dreams and secret hopes. When you part, Logan rests his forehead against yours.

“Me too, Y/N,” he whispers. “Me too.”

As you float in the warm Florida waters, the stars beginning to twinkle overhead, you allow yourself to fully embrace the moment. You know that reality will intrude eventually, that the carefree days of this Florida summer can’t last forever. But for now, in Logan’s arms, you feel truly, completely free.

And for the first time in your life, you dare to dream of a future shaped by your own desires rather than the expectations of others. It’s a dangerous thought, a seed of hope that you know might lead to heartbreak. But as Logan pulls you in for another kiss, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

For now, you’re just a girl falling in love under the Florida stars. And for now, that’s enough.

***

The sun is setting over Fort Lauderdale as you and Logan stroll hand in hand along Las Olas Boulevard. The street is alive with the buzz of restaurants and boutiques, but you’re barely aware of your surroundings, lost in thought about the conversation you know you need to have.

Logan’s voice breaks through your reverie. “Earth to Y/N,” he says, gently nudging your shoulder. “You okay? You’ve been pretty quiet tonight.”

You force a smile, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “I’m fine. Just ... thinking.”

Logan’s brow furrows with concern. “Anything you want to talk about?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Actually, yes. Logan, there’s something I need to tell you-”

But before you can continue, a flash goes off nearby, startling you both. You turn to see a man with a camera, his lens pointed directly at you.

“Princess Y/N?” The photographer calls out, his voice a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Is that you?”

Your blood runs cold as more flashes go off. Suddenly, it seems like cameras are appearing from every direction, voices calling out your name and title.

Logan’s hand tightens around yours. “Princess?” He repeats, confusion evident in his voice. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You feel panic rising in your throat. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out. “Logan, I can explain-”

But Logan’s already pulling you away from the growing crowd, his jaw set in a hard line. He leads you down a side street, away from the main thoroughfare, until you reach a quiet park.

As soon as you’re alone, Logan drops your hand, turning to face you with a mixture of hurt and bewilderment in his eyes. “Princess Y/N? That’s who you are?”

You nod, your heart racing. “Yes. Logan, I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you-”

“When?” Logan interrupts, his voice sharp. “When were you planning on telling me that everything about you has been a lie?”

“Not everything,” you protest, reaching for his hand, but he pulls away. “My feelings for you are real, Logan. That’s not a lie.”

Logan runs a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think this was funny? Playing at being a normal girl, slumming it with the commoner?”

His words sting, and you feel tears pricking at your eyes. “No! Of course not. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“Then what was it like?” Logan demands. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been playing me for a fool this entire time.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “I came here because my life was in danger. There were threats, serious ones. My family thought it would be safer if I disappeared for a while, if I lived like a normal person.”

Logan’s expression softens slightly, but the hurt is still evident in his eyes. “Okay, I can understand that. But why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

“I wanted to,” you say softly. “So many times. But I was scared. Scared of how you’d react, scared of ruining what we had.”

“What we had,” Logan repeats, his voice bitter. “And what exactly was that, Y/N? Or should I call you ‘Your Highness’ now?”

You flinch at his tone. “Logan, please. What we have is real. My feelings for you are real.”

“Are they?” Logan challenges. “Because the Y/N I thought I knew wouldn’t have lied to me for weeks. The Y/N I was falling in love with wouldn’t have let me make a fool of myself, talking about my problems like they were anything compared to being actual royalty.”

His words hit you like a physical blow. “Falling in love with?” You repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s expression crumples for a moment before he schools it back into anger. “Yeah, well. I guess that just shows how stupid I’ve been.”

“You’re not stupid,” you insist, taking a step towards him. “Logan, I love you too. That’s why I was so scared to tell you the truth. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Logan laughs humorlessly. “Well, great job there. Because finding out like this? With paparazzi swarming us? That’s so much better.”

You feel tears starting to fall, but you make no move to wipe them away. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Logan asks, his voice softer now but still laced with hurt. “Did you think we could just keep playing pretend forever? That your real life wouldn’t come crashing back in eventually?”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of your reality pressing down on you. “No, I ... I don’t know what I thought. I just knew that when I was with you, I felt free. I felt like myself for the first time in my life.”

Logan’s expression wavers between anger and sympathy. “And who is that, Y/N? Because I’m not sure I know anymore.”

“I’m still me,” you insist. “The girl who loves art and quiet moments on the beach. The girl who laughs at your terrible jokes and feels safest when she’s in your arms. That’s all real, Logan. The only thing that’s different is my title.”

Logan scoffs. “Only your title? Y/N, you’re a princess. Do you have any idea what this means? The media frenzy, the scrutiny, the expectations ... it’s not just your title that’s different. It’s your entire world.”

You feel a flicker of frustration ignite in your chest. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t lived with that pressure every day of my life? That’s why being here, being with you, has meant so much to me. For once, I got to just be myself.”

“But it wasn’t really yourself, was it?” Logan counters. “It was a version of you. A version without the weight of a crown.”

His words hit too close to home, and you feel your own anger rising. “And what about you? You talk about pressure and expectations like I couldn’t possibly understand. But I do understand, Logan. More than you know.”

Logan shakes his head, his voice rising. “It’s not the same thing, Y/N! I chose this life. I worked for it. You ... you were born into it. And you lied about it. To me, to everyone here.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” You shout, surprising yourself with the intensity of your emotion. “Do you think I wanted to lie? Do you think I enjoyed keeping this secret? I was trying to stay alive, Logan. I was trying to protect myself and the people I care about. Including you!”

Logan takes a step back, his eyes wide. For a moment, silence hangs heavy between you.

“Protect me?” He finally says, his voice low. “How does lying to me protect me?”

You take a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. “The less you knew, the safer you were. And ... the more I fell for you, the more I wanted to keep you separate from that part of my life. To keep this — us — untainted by all of that.”

Logan’s expression softens slightly, but the hurt is still evident in his eyes. “Y/N ... I get that you were in a difficult position. I do. But relationships are built on trust. How can I trust you now?”

His words cut deep, and you feel fresh tears welling up. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But I want to try. Logan, please. What we have ... it’s worth fighting for, isn’t it?”

Logan runs a hand over his face, looking suddenly tired. “I don’t know, Y/N. This is ... it’s a lot to process. I need time to think.”

You nod, your heart sinking. “I understand. I just ... I hope you can forgive me. Eventually.”

Logan looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I hope so too. But right now I think we both need some space.”

As he turns to walk away, you feel a piece of your heart go with him. “Logan,” you call out, your voice breaking.

He pauses but doesn’t turn back. “Yeah?”

“I really do love you,” you say softly. “That was never a lie.”

Logan’s shoulders slump slightly. “I know,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. And then he’s gone, disappearing into the growing darkness of the park.

You stand there for a long moment, tears streaming down your face, feeling more alone than you ever have before. The sound of distant camera shutters reminds you that your private world has well and truly shattered.

With a heavy heart, you pull out your phone to call your aunt and uncle. It’s time to face the music, to deal with the fallout of your exposed identity. But as you dial, all you can think about is the look of betrayal in Logan’s eyes, wondering if you’ve lost him for good.

As you wait for your aunt to pick up, you gaze out at the Florida skyline, the twinkling lights now seeming cold and distant. For a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to imagine a different life — one where you’re just Y/N, an ordinary girl in love with a boy who races cars. But reality crashes back in as your aunt’s worried voice comes through the phone.

“It’s time to come home,” she says, and you know she doesn’t just mean back to the house.

Your summer of freedom, of love and normalcy, is coming to an end. As you give your aunt your location for pickup, you can’t help but wonder … was it worth it? The joy, the love, the heartbreak — would you do it all again, knowing how it would end?

As you spot your uncle’s car approaching, you realize with a start that yes, you would. Because for a brief, shining moment, you knew what it was like to be truly, completely yourself. And no crown, no duty, no threat could ever take that away from you.

***

The Florida sun beats down mercilessly as you sit on the porch swing of your aunt and uncle’s house, listlessly flipping through a magazine. It’s been a week since the paparazzi incident, a week since your world turned upside down. The threats back home have been neutralized, your security team assures you, but it feels like a hollow victory.

Your aunt’s voice drifts from inside the house. “Y/N, darling, are you sure you don’t want to come to the beach with us?”

“I’m sure, Aunt Maggie,” you call back, forcing a cheerfulness you don’t feel into your voice. “You and Uncle George go ahead. I’m fine here.”

As the sound of their car fades away, you let out a heavy sigh. Fine is the last thing you are. With only a week left before your scheduled return to England, you feel like you’re in limbo, caught between two worlds and belonging to neither.

The sudden roar of an engine pulls you from your melancholy thoughts. A sleek sports car you recognize all too well pulls up in front of the house. Your heart leaps into your throat as Logan steps out, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever in jeans and a simple t-shirt.

For a moment, you both freeze, eyes locked on each other. Then Logan takes a hesitant step forward. “Hi,” he says, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and determination.

“Hi,” you reply, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

Logan runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as a sign of his anxiety. “I ... I needed to see you. To talk to you. Can we ...” He gestures vaguely towards the porch.

You nod, moving over on the swing to make room for him. Logan sits, careful to leave space between you, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

Finally, Logan breaks the silence. “I owe you an apology,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way I reacted when I found out ... it wasn’t fair to you.”

You shake your head, feeling a lump form in your throat. “No, Logan. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I lied to you, kept this huge part of my life secret. You had every right to be angry.”

Logan turns to face you, his green eyes intense. “Maybe. But I’ve had time to think. To really process everything. And I realized something important.”

“What’s that?” You ask, hardly daring to breathe.

“That it doesn’t matter,” Logan says simply. “Princess, commoner, whatever — it doesn’t change how I feel about you. Because the girl I fell in love with? She’s real. Royal title or not.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. “Logan ...”

He reaches out, taking your hand in his. “Let me finish, please. I talked to my family, tried to sort out my feelings. And I kept coming back to one thing — how I feel when I’m with you. How you make me laugh, how you challenge me, how you see me for who I am, not just what I do.”

“I feel the same way,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Being with you ... it’s the freest I’ve ever felt.”

Logan’s thumb traces circles on your palm, sending shivers up your arm. “I know we have a lot to figure out. The distance, the media attention, our careers ... it won’t be easy. But Y/N, I think what we have is worth fighting for. If you’ll have me, that is.”

You can’t hold back your tears any longer. They fall freely as you launch yourself into Logan’s arms, burying your face in his neck. “Of course I’ll have you, you idiot,” you mumble against his skin.

Logan’s arms tighten around you, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank God,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I could bear losing you again.”

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. “I’m so sorry. For lying, for putting you in this position. I never meant to hurt you.”

Logan cups your face gently, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m sorry too, for not giving you a chance to explain. For letting my hurt and pride get in the way of what really matters.”

“And what’s that?” You ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“Us,” Logan says simply. “You and me. Everything else ... we’ll figure it out together.”

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. “Together,” you repeat, loving the sound of it. “I like that.”

Logan’s lips curve into a smile. “Me too. Now, can I please kiss you? Because I’ve been dying to do that since the moment I saw you on this porch.”

You laugh, a sound of pure joy and relief. “I thought you’d never ask.”

As Logan’s lips meet yours, you feel like you’re coming home. The kiss is tender and passionate all at once, an apology and a promise wrapped into one. When you finally part, you’re both breathless.

“So,” Logan says, his arms still wrapped around you. “What now, Princess? Because I have to say, I’m a little out of my depth here. Is there some royal protocol for dating I should know about?”

You can’t help but giggle at the mix of humor and genuine concern in his voice. “Well, traditionally, you’d have to ask my father for permission to court me. Preferably while wearing a powdered wig and breeches.”

Logan’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

You pat his cheek affectionately. “About the wig and breeches, yes. About talking to my father ... that might actually have to happen at some point.”

Logan gulps audibly. “Right. Talking to the King of England. No pressure or anything.”

You snuggle closer to him on the swing. “He’ll love you. How could he not?”

“I hope you’re right,” Logan says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Because I’m not giving you up without a fight, royal decree or not.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the simple pleasure of being in each other’s arms again. But reality begins to creep in, and you feel Logan tense slightly.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “What about ... I mean, you’re leaving in a week, right?”

You nod, feeling a pang in your chest. “Yes. The jet is being sent to pick me up next Saturday.”

Logan takes a deep breath. “And then what? I mean, for us?”

You sit up, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I want to make this work, Logan. More than anything. But I won’t lie to you — it won’t be easy.”

Logan nods, his expression serious. “I know. The distance, our schedules ... not to mention the media circus that’s bound to happen when word gets out.”

“Are you sure you want to deal with all that?” You ask, voicing the fear that’s been nagging at you. “It’s not too late to back out, to go back to your normal life.”

Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Y/N, look at me.” When you meet his gaze, he continues, “My life stopped being normal the moment I met you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Whatever challenges we face, we’ll face them together. Okay?”

You lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Okay,” you agree softly.

“Besides,” Logan adds with a mischievous grin, “dating a princess might actually be good for my image. Think of all the sponsorship deals I could get.”

You gasp in mock outrage, swatting his arm. “Logan Sargeant! Is that all I am to you? A ticket to better endorsements?”

Logan laughs, pulling you back into his arms. “Busted. It was all an elaborate scheme to get my face on a tea towel.”

You can’t help but join in his laughter, marveling at how easily he can lift your spirits. As your giggles subside, a thought occurs to you.

“You know,” you say slowly, “there might be a way to make the distance a little more manageable, at least for a while.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “I’m all ears, Princess.”

You take a deep breath, hoping you’re not overstepping. “Well, the F1 season isn’t over yet, right? There are still races in Europe ...”

Logan’s eyes light up as he catches on. “Races where a certain princess might be able to make an appearance?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of excitement. “It would be a good opportunity to show support for British motorsport. Purely diplomatic reasons, of course.”

Logan’s grin widens. “Of course. Very diplomatic. I’m sure the press won’t read anything into the Princess of Wales suddenly becoming a racing enthusiast.”

You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Let them talk. As long as I get to see you, I don’t care what they say.”

Logan’s expression softens. “You really mean that, don’t you? You’re willing to face all the scrutiny, the gossip, just to be with me?”

You nod, your voice firm. “You’re worth it. We’re worth it.”

Logan pulls you close, burying his face in your hair. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion. “More than I ever thought possible.”

As you sit there on the porch swing, wrapped in each other’s arms, you know that the road ahead won’t be easy. There will be challenges, obstacles, moments of doubt. But looking into Logan’s eyes, seeing the love and determination there, you know you can face anything as long as you’re together.

The sound of a car approaching breaks the moment. You recognize your aunt and uncle’s vehicle coming up the driveway.

Logan tenses slightly. “Should I ... do you want me to leave?”

You shake your head firmly. “No. Stay. It’s time they met the real you, not just the boy next door.”

As your aunt and uncle pull up, looking surprised to see Logan there, you stand up, hand-in-hand with the man you love. You’re ready to face whatever comes next, be it nosy relatives, prying media, or the complexities of a long-distance relationship between a princess and an F1 driver.

Because now you know — home isn’t a place. It’s not a palace in England or a beach house in Florida. Home is wherever you and Logan are together. And that’s a feeling worth fighting for.

***

The Florida sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon as Logan’s car pulls up to the private airstrip. The sleek private jet waiting on the tarmac is a reminder of the reality you’re about to step back into. Logan cuts the engine, but neither of you move to get out, both reluctant to face the inevitable goodbye.

“So,” Logan says, his voice barely above a whisper, “I guess this is it, huh?”

You turn to him, taking in every detail of his face as if trying to memorize it. “Not it,” you insist. “Just ... see you later.”

Logan manages a small smile, reaching out to take your hand. “Right. See you later. In England. Where you’ll be a princess again.”

You squeeze his hand. “I’ll always be me, Logan. Title or no title.”

“I know,” he says softly. “It’s just ... it’s going to be different, isn’t it? You’ll have responsibilities, obligations. And I’ll be ...”

“The man I love,” you interrupt firmly. “No matter what.”

Logan’s eyes soften at your words. “I love you too. I’m going to miss you so much.”

You lean across the center console, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m going to miss you too. But we’ve got a plan, remember?”

Logan nods, his breath warm against your skin. “Right. The plan. Want to run through it one more time? You know, just to make sure we’ve got it down.”

You can’t help but smile at his attempt to prolong the moment. “Okay, let’s see. You’ve got ten more races this season, right?”

“Yep,” Logan confirms. “Zandvoort, Monza, Baku, Singapore, COTA, Mexico, Brazil, Vegas, Qatar, and Abu Dhabi.”

“And I,” you say, sitting back slightly to meet his gaze, “will be making surprise appearances to as many as I can. To support British motorsport, of course.”

Logan grins. “Of course. Very diplomatic of you.”

“Then,” you continue, “once the season’s over, you’ll be spending more time at the Williams headquarters in Grove.”

“Which, coincidentally, is just a short drive from London,” Logan adds with a wink.

You nod, feeling a flutter of excitement despite the impending separation. “And I’ll make sure to have plenty of reasons to visit Grove. Lots of ... local businesses to support.”

Logan laughs, the sound warming your heart. “I’m sure the people of Grove will greatly appreciate the royal attention.”

“Then there’s Christmas,” you say softly. “I talked to my parents, and ... they want to meet you. Properly.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly. “Christmas with the royal family. No pressure or anything.”

You cup his cheek gently. “They’ll love you, Logan. How could they not?”

He leans into your touch. “I hope you’re right. Because I plan on sticking around for a long time, Princess.”

“Good,” you say firmly. “Because I’m not letting you go that easily.”

Logan’s smile fades slightly as his gaze drifts to the waiting plane. “We should probably ...”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah. We should.”

With a deep breath, you both step out of the car. Logan moves to the trunk to retrieve your luggage while you take a moment to compose yourself. As he joins you, bags in hand, you’re struck by how domestic this feels — and how much you wish this was just a normal trip, not a return to a life an ocean away.

“Your chariot awaits, Your Highness,” Logan says with an exaggerated bow, trying to lighten the mood.

You roll your eyes fondly, but play along. “Why thank you, kind sir. Your service to the Crown is most appreciated.”

As you walk towards the plane, Logan’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers. “You know,” he says casually, “I’ve been thinking about taking some flying lessons. Might come in handy for, oh, I don’t know ... surprise visits to England?”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “Logan Sargeant, are you planning on becoming my personal pilot?”

He grins, that mischievous sparkle you love so much dancing in his eyes. “Well, I figure if I can handle an F1 car at 200 miles per hour, a plane can’t be that much harder, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” you say, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Details, details,” Logan waves his free hand dismissively. “The point is, I’m going to find ways to see you. Even if I have to learn to fly, sail, or ... I don’t know, teleport.”

You stop walking, tugging on his hand to make him face you. “You know you don’t have to do all that, right? I mean, I love that you want to, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to change your whole life for me.”

Logan sets down your bags, taking both your hands in his. “Y/N, listen to me. You are worth changing my whole life for. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about finding ways to make our lives fit together. Because that’s what I want — a life with you in it.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes. “I want that too. So much.”

Logan reaches up to brush away a tear that’s escaped. “Then we’ll make it work. Whatever it takes.”

You nod, leaning into his touch. “Whatever it takes,” you repeat softly.

The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks the moment. You turn to see the pilot standing a respectful distance away.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Highness,” he says, “but we need to begin boarding if we’re to make our departure time.”

You nod, straightening your shoulders. “Of course. Thank you, Captain. I’ll be right there.”

As the pilot retreats, you turn back to Logan. “I guess this is really goodbye.”

Logan pulls you close, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “Not goodbye. Never goodbye. Just ... until next time.”

You bury your face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. “Next time,” you murmur. “The Netherlands, right?”

“The Netherlands,” Logan confirms, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be the one in the Williams car, trying not to crash while looking for you in the stands.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as tears threaten to fall again. “Please don’t crash. I quite like you in one piece.”

Logan pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “No promises. You’re pretty distracting, Princess.”

Before you can retort, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that takes your breath away. It’s tender and passionate, a promise and a farewell all at once. When you finally part, you’re both breathless.

“I love you,” you whisper, your foreheads still pressed together.

“I love you too,” Logan replies. “Now go, before I decide to jump in the cockpit of that plane and fly us both to some remote island where we can just be us.”

You laugh, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace. “Don’t tempt me. That sounds pretty perfect right now.”

Logan picks up your bags again, walking with you the last few steps to the plane’s stairs. “Your royal carriage, m’lady,” he says with another exaggerated bow.

You shake your head fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” he counters with a grin.

“I do,” you admit softly. “I really do.”

With one last lingering look, you start up the stairs. At the top, you turn back. Logan is still there, watching you with a mix of love and longing that makes your heart ache.

“Hey, Logan?” You call down.

“Yeah?”

You smile, feeling a sudden surge of certainty despite the impending separation. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

Logan’s answering smile is like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Yeah, Princess. We’re going to be more than okay. We’re going to be amazing.”

With those words echoing in your heart, you finally step into the plane. As you settle into your seat, you watch through the window as Logan returns to his car. He stands there, hand raised in farewell, until the plane begins to taxi.

As the ground falls away beneath you, you close your eyes, already counting the days until the Dutch Grand Prix. The path ahead won’t be easy — you know there will be challenges, misunderstandings, moments of doubt. But you also know that what you and Logan have is worth fighting for.

You’re leaving behind the carefree summer days of Florida, returning to the responsibilities and expectations of your royal life. But you’re taking with you something precious — the knowledge that you are loved for who you are, not what you are. And that, you realize, is the greatest gift of all.

As the plane soars over the Atlantic, you allow yourself to dream of the future — of stolen moments at race tracks, of quiet evenings in London, of a love that bridges oceans and transcends titles. It won’t be easy, but then again, the best things in life rarely are.

You’re a princess and he’s a race car driver. On paper, it shouldn’t work. But as you drift off to sleep, Logan’s last words replay in your mind.

“We’re going to be amazing.”

And you believe him. Because with Logan by your side, how could you be anything else?

***

The Texas sun beats down mercilessly on the Circuit of the Americas as Logan adjusts his fireproofs, preparing for another round of interviews. It’s his home race and the pressure is palpable. He’s been struggling all season, the weight of expectations and the constant comparisons to his teammate wearing him down.

As he walks towards the waiting journalists, Logan can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. You had told him you couldn’t make it to this race, citing royal obligations back in England. He understands, of course, but the thought of racing on home soil without you in the stands feels hollow somehow.

“Logan! Over here!” A reporter waves him over, microphone at the ready. “How are you feeling about today’s race?”

Logan pastes on his media-ready smile, falling into the familiar rhythm of pre-race interviews. “I’m feeling good, you know? It’s always special racing at home, and the energy here at COTA is incredible.”

“There’s been a lot of talk about your future with Williams,” another journalist chimes in. “Any comments on the rumors that your seat might be in jeopardy for next season?”

Logan’s smile falters slightly, but he recovers quickly. “I’m focused on doing my best in every race, including today’s. The future will take care of itself.”

As he continues answering questions, Logan’s gaze drifts over the bustling pit lane. Mechanics scurry about, making last-minute adjustments to the cars. Team personnel hurry back and forth, clipboards and tablets in hand. It’s a familiar scene, one he’s witnessed countless times before.

But then, something catches his eye. A flash of familiar hair, a silhouette he’d recognize anywhere. Logan blinks, sure he must be seeing things. But no — there you are, walking down the pit lane as if you belong there (which, he supposes, you do in a way).

“Logan?” The interviewer’s voice seems distant. “Logan, can you tell us about your strategy for today’s-”

But Logan isn’t listening anymore. His jaw goes slack, eyes wide with disbelief as he watches you approach. You’re dressed casually in a flowing maxi dress, your hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. To Logan, you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“I ... uh ...” Logan stammers, completely losing his train of thought. The interviewer follows his gaze, her own eyes widening as she recognizes you.

A hush falls over the pit lane as heads turn to watch your progress. You seem oblivious to the attention, your eyes locked on Logan. A brilliant smile lights up your face as you break into a run.

Logan barely has time to brace himself before you’re launching yourself into his arms. He catches you instinctively, spinning you around as laughter bubbles up from his chest.

“Surprise!” You exclaim, pulling back just enough to see his face. “Did you really think I’d miss your home race?”

Logan shakes his head in amazement, still not quite believing you’re here. “But you said ... how did you ...”

You grin mischievously. “I may have told a tiny white lie. Royal prerogative and all that.”

Logan laughs, setting you down but keeping his arms wrapped firmly around your waist. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink.

It’s only then that Logan becomes aware of your surroundings again. The entire pit lane has gone silent, all eyes on the two of you. Cameras flash incessantly, capturing what must be the most undignified public display the Princess of England has ever made.

Logan feels a moment of panic. “Y/N,” he whispers, “everyone’s watching.”

You shrug, seemingly unconcerned. “Let them watch. I’m just a girl supporting her boyfriend at his home race.”

The casual use of the word ‘boyfriend’ sends a thrill through Logan. Despite the months you’ve been together, sometimes he still can’t quite believe this is real.

A throat clearing nearby breaks the moment. Logan turns to see James Vowles approaching with a bemused expression.

“Your Highness,” James says with a slight bow. “This is ... an unexpected honor.”

You turn to face him, your arm still wrapped around Logan’s waist. “Mr. Vowles,” you greet him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced. I was just so eager to see how our British team is faring.”

James nods, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Of course, we’re always delighted to host you. Perhaps you’d like a tour of the garage?”

“That would be lovely,” you reply, your voice sweet but with an undercurrent of steel that makes Logan’s eyebrows raise. “I’m particularly interested in discussing team strategy. And driver management.”

Logan feels you tense slightly beside him, and he suddenly realizes what you’re doing. His heart swells with a mixture of love and awe.

James seems to pick up on the shift in atmosphere as well. “I see,” he says carefully. “Well, I’m sure we can arrange a meeting after the race-”

“Oh, I think now would be perfect,” you interrupt, your smile never wavering. “After all, I’m quite invested in the success of this team. Particularly when it comes to nurturing young talent.”

Logan watches in fascination as James visibly squirms under your gaze. He’s never seen his usually unflappable team principal so wrong-footed.

“Of course, Your Highness,” James finally manages. “Shall we step into the hospitality area for some privacy?”

You nod graciously, but before following James, you turn back to Logan. “For luck,” you murmur, pulling him down for a quick kiss that leaves him breathless and the watching crowd buzzing with excitement.

As you walk away with James, Logan overhears snippets of your conversation.

“I do hope, Mr. Vowles,” you’re saying, your voice light but with a clear edge, “that Williams is committed to giving all its drivers equal opportunities to succeed. It would be such a shame if rumors of ... unequal treatment were to reach certain ears.”

Logan watches in awe as James nods frantically, clearly understanding the implied threat behind your words.

“And these whispers about potentially dropping Logan,” you continue, your smile never faltering. “I’m sure they’re just baseless rumors. After all, it would be terribly short-sighted to let go of such promising talent, don’t you think?”

As your voice fades into the distance, Logan stands rooted to the spot, a goofy grin spreading across his face. He’s vaguely aware of the chaos around him — journalists clamoring for comments, team members and rivals alike shooting him curious glances — but all he can think about is you.

You, who flew across an ocean to surprise him. You, who jumped into his arms without a care for protocol or propriety. You, who’s currently backing his team principal into a corner with a smile and a veiled royal threat.

In that moment, Logan Sargeant knows without a doubt that he has never been more in love.

A hand on his shoulder startles him out of his reverie. He turns to see Alex grinning at him.

“Mate,” Alex says, shaking his head in disbelief, “when you said you were dating a princess, I thought you were having us on. But that? That was ...”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, still a bit dazed. “She’s something else.”

Alex laughs. “Understatement of the century. You better hold onto that one, Sargeant. And maybe put in a good word for the rest of us with her royal highness? I wouldn’t mind having that kind of backing in contract negotiations.”

Logan chuckles, finally snapping out of his stupor. “Sorry, Albon. This princess is spoken for.”

As Alex walks away, still shaking his head and laughing, Logan takes a deep breath. The pre-race nerves that had been plaguing him all morning have vanished, replaced by a surge of confidence and determination.

He may not know what the future holds — for his career or for his relationship with you — but in this moment, he feels invincible. Because no matter what challenges lie ahead, he knows he has you in his corner.

With renewed purpose, Logan heads towards the garage. He has a race to prepare for, after all. And now, more than ever, he’s determined to prove himself worthy of the faith you’ve placed in him.

As he reaches the garage entrance, he catches sight of you emerging from the hospitality area, James trailing behind you looking slightly shell-shocked. You spot Logan and wink, giving him a thumbs up.

Logan grins, blowing you a kiss before disappearing into the garage. He has a feeling this is going to be his best race yet. And win or lose, he knows he’ll have you waiting for him at the finish line.

And really, what more could a guy ask for?

[xo100]

Airport - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando Norris offers a woman, who missed her flight, a ride on his private jet to Monaco. They bond over light conversation and flirting, leaving with the possibility of seeing each other again.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1323

୨ৎ

The race weekend had been long, grueling, and filled with adrenaline. Lando Norris was ready to head back to Monaco, to the comfort of his own home where the sound of engines could be swapped for the quiet of the Mediterranean breeze. As he made his way through the airport, sunglasses perched on his nose and his cap pulled low, he weaved his way through the flow of people without drawing too much attention to himself.

It wasn’t until he neared the private terminal that he noticed something out of the ordinary: a young woman standing near the gate of a commercial flight to Monaco, her expression a mix of frustration and panic. Lando slowed his steps, curiosity piqued. She stood there, gazing hopelessly at the closed gate, gripping her passport tightly. Her bags were tossed haphazardly by her feet as though she’d raced through the airport only to fall seconds short of making it to her flight.

The sharpness of disappointment etched on her face was all too familiar. He’d been in similar situations before, dashing through airports, missing flights by mere moments. Only, she didn’t seem to have the luxury of a private jet waiting just down the hall like he did.

Lando hesitated. He didn’t know her story, but something about the way she stood there, looking so defeated, tugged at him. He glanced at his watch. His jet was leaving soon, but he still had time. And, well, maybe this wouldn’t be the worst idea. What was the harm in offering a bit of help?

He pulled his cap down a little further and crossed the distance between them, moving casually as though he were just another traveler making his way to his flight.

“Missed your flight?” he asked, his voice light but laced with concern.

She turned to look at him, startled at first, then quickly took him in—cap, sunglasses, and all. Recognition flickered in her eyes, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Just a flicker.

“Yeah,” she breathed out with a weak chuckle. “By about three minutes. They wouldn’t let me through even though the plane is still sitting there.”

“That’s tough,” Lando said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Where you heading?”

“Monaco,” she said with a shrug, though it seemed like a more resigned gesture. “Guess I’ll have to wait for the next one.”

Lando nodded, glancing around the terminal. The airport was buzzing with the usual chaos, and he could see the stress rolling off her shoulders. He thought for a second, then made a split decision. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m heading there too,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ve got a private jet leaving soon. If you want, you can take the flight with me.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and her lips parted slightly, a mixture of surprise and hesitation crossing her features.

“A private jet?” she asked, a little skeptical. “Isn’t that...a bit much?”

Lando laughed softly. “Maybe, but I’ve got plenty of room. Plus, you look like you could use a break from airport stress. I promise it’s less chaotic than commercial flights.”

She blinked, clearly processing his offer. The idea of getting onto a private jet with a guy she just met—even if he was Lando Norris—probably wasn’t something she had expected when she woke up that morning.

“That’s...really kind of you,” she said after a moment, her voice soft. “But I couldn’t—“

“Sure you can,” he interrupted, his tone teasing but warm. “Think of it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You miss your flight, and instead of waiting around, you get to fly in style. How often does that happen?”

She laughed at that, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “When you put it like that…”

Lando grinned, taking her hesitation as a positive sign. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? You get to Monaco an hour earlier, and we both get some company for the flight. No need to sit around waiting for the next one.”

She looked at him again, weighing her options. He could see the internal debate playing out in her eyes—logic versus the sheer spontaneity of his offer. Finally, she sighed, her lips curling into a tentative smile.

“Alright,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “Why not? But I’ll warn you, I might be a terrible conversationalist after the day I’ve had.”

“That’s okay,” Lando replied with a wink. “I’m known to talk enough for two.”

With that, he grabbed one of her bags effortlessly, motioning for her to follow him toward the private terminal. She trailed behind, still looking a little shell-shocked, but there was something about the ease of his manner that made her feel less anxious about the whole thing.

As they walked, Lando kept the conversation light, asking her about her trip and how she ended up almost missing her flight. She shared a story about how her taxi had gotten stuck in traffic, the minutes ticking away as she helplessly watched the airport get closer and closer. Lando laughed, offering a few of his own travel horror stories in return. By the time they reached the sleek jet waiting on the tarmac, the mood between them was light and comfortable.

-

“You weren’t kidding,” she muttered as they approached the aircraft, eyes wide as she took it all in. “This is...wow.”

Lando chuckled and waved a hand. “It’s not bad, right?”

They climbed aboard, and soon enough, they were airborne. The hum of the engines was soothing, and the view of the clouds stretching out below them was a peaceful contrast to the chaos of the airport they’d left behind.

“You know,” she said after a while, leaning back in her plush seat, “I still can’t believe I’m on a private jet with you. This feels surreal.”

Lando smirked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Trust me, I’ve been in a lot of surreal situations lately. This one’s pretty tame.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I guess that’s fair. Monaco, huh? Do you live there?”

“Yeah, for a while now,” he replied, glancing out the window. “It’s a nice place to unwind after the craziness of race weekends.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit,” she admitted. “I mean, I’ve been through a few times, but never really had a chance to stay.”

“Well, maybe this is your chance,” he said, eyes twinkling. “What’s your plan once we get there?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend,” she said with a sigh. “But it’s not set in stone. What about you?”

“Just heading home,” Lando said, then added with a teasing grin, “But if you need a tour guide while you’re there, I might be available.”

She raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you offering to show me around Monaco, Lando?”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin widening. “Depends if you’re up for it.”

She laughed softly, glancing out the window again. “I might take you up on that.”

For the rest of the flight, the conversation flowed easily, peppered with light flirtation and comfortable silences. There was something so natural about it—like they’d known each other for longer than just a chance meeting in an airport.

As the jet began its descent toward Monaco, Lando glanced over at her, feeling a strange sense of contentment.

“Guess we’re almost there,” he said.

”Yeah,” she replied, though her tone held a hint of reluctance. “Thanks again for this, Lando. You really saved my day.”

He flashed her a playful grin. “Anytime. Maybe I’ll see you around Monaco.”

“Maybe,” she said with a smirk of her own. “But next time, let’s hope it’s under more normal circumstances.”

“Deal,” he replied with a wink.

As they stepped off the jet and into the warm Monaco air, Lando couldn’t help but think that maybe missing her flight had been the best thing that could’ve happened to either of them that day.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember requests are open if you would like to request something. Also question for you guys, is there someone who can help me with the link of the requests so I could put it in my masterlist? I don’t know where to find that link, DM me if you know.

[mxmarsbars]

also very sorry for being so inactive >.< here’s a doodle dump (some of them are kinda old-ish)

I promise I’ll draw more fandom stuff soon :,D

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 5

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2066 Click here for Part 4

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando stood in the lobby of the hotel checking his watch and rehearsing his lines mumbling to himself. A sleek black car parked outside was ready for their drive. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long before Y/N emerged. She looked stunning, even though she was only wearing some jeans and a semi-elegant black top but it complemented her complexion perfectly. Lando’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her. He approached with a warm, nervous smile.

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit underdressed,” she apologized with a low voice. “I didn’t expect you to ask me out, so I didn’t pack anything fancy.”

Lando’s smile widened and he shook his head gently. “You look gorgeous, Y/N. I’m just glad you agreed to going out with me.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing slightly after hearing the compliment. “You look great too.”

Lando stepped forward to open the car door for her and she slipped into the luxurious interior of the car. He quickly got in the driver’s seat and soon they were driving through the streets heading toward their destination.

The drive was filled with a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the soft music playing on the radio. Lando kept sneaking glances at Y/N, stealing moments to admire her profile and the way the city lights danced on her face. Y/N, for her part, seemed content, occasionally turning to him with a smile that made his heart race.

The restaurant’s terrace that Lando had reserved for their table overlooked the city, offering a breathtaking panorama of the city below. “This is beautiful,” she said and admired the view. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Lando said, his gaze lingering on her. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

The waiter arrived to take their drink orders and soon they talked about everything and nothing - shared memories, future dreams and light-hearted banter. Each moment seemed to draw them closer and Lando found himself more captivated by Y/N with every passing minute.

“Speaking of quirks,” Lando began at some point, leaning in slightly, “Years ago I tried to impress my team with a homemade dinner.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh really? How did that go?”

“Well,” Lando said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I thought I’d go all out and make a fancy pasta dish with some chocolate mousse for after but I got so carried away that I accidentally used salt instead of sugar in the dessert.”

Y/N chuckled, “That sounds like a disaster. How did they react?”

“They were polite at first,” Lando said, trying to keep a straight face. “But halfway through the meal one of the guys said, ‘Well, at least we know Lando can make us laugh.’”

Y/N laughed, imagining Lando in the kitchen with a confused look on his face. “Sounds like you’re quite the chef.”

“More like an accidental comedian,” Lando replied with a wink. “But if you ever want a taste test, just let me know. I promise to stick to the recipe.”

“Deal,” Y/N said with a smile. “And I’ll bring my own sugar, just in case.”

The moment was light-hearted and endearing and Y/N couldn’t help but feel even more charmed by Lando’s playful and self-deprecating humor. 

A little while later, while he was telling her about his early karting days, she took a moment to really look at Lando. She couldn’t help but think how he looked like he’d stepped out of a fairy tale. There was something almost magical about the way he carried himself. The sharp lines of his black pants served timeless elegance, while the white shirt accentuated his toned body. His hair was perfectly styled, every lock in place as if it had been sculpted by an artist.

He reminded her of a Disney prince, the comparison making her smile. He had that same kind of defined, classic appeal, a blend of charm and grace that seemed almost otherworldly and she was the lucky one to share this evening with him. 

What had started as a simple Meet & Greet for the sole purpose of making her son happy, had turned into something much more. She had come to the event knowing very little about Lando, only the little bits Noah got excited about and told her but he was a toddler, so how much could he really know? But now she was fascinated by who Lando was as a person.

She was surprised at how Lando’s passion, his down-to-earth nature and his genuine kindness had drawn her in so quickly. The more they talked, the more she found herself appreciating the real person behind the public persona. She was falling for more than just the image of the driver; she was falling for the person he was, the one with a great sense of humor, love and genuine care.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lando met her gaze and Y/N realized that this was more than just an ordinary night. It was a magical moment and Lando was indeed her very own prince charming, making the evening feel like something out of a storybook.

“I have to tell you,” Y/N began at some point, “this is actually the first date I’ve been on since before Noah was born. It’s been a while, but tonight feels... special.”

Lando looked at her with genuine surprise. “I can’t believe no one has asked you out,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing, anyone would be lucky to spend time with you.” He meant every word he said but soon noticed the change in her demeanor. “I hope I didn’t upset you.”

“Oh god, Lando no,” Y/N tried to calm him down immediately, then took a deep breath, her gaze momentarily drifting to the city. “There’s something I’d like to share with you, if that’s okay.”

Lando nodded encouragingly, sensing the gravity in her tone. “Of course. I’m here to listen.”

“Noah’s dad…” Y/N hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I already told you he left shortly after Noah was born, he was just two months old. It wasn’t easy and I’ve been doing everything I can to raise him on my own. I guess I’m just a bit unsure about opening up to someone new, especially with Noah involved.”

Lando’s heart ached as he listened to Y/N’s words. He could sense the insecurity and vulnerability in her voice and he wanted nothing more than to reassure her that he was genuinely interested and understanding.

“I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for you,” Lando said softly. “I want you to know that I respect you immensely for how you’ve handled everything and for how much you care for him. The fact that you’re willing to open up and share this with me means a lot.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty but there was also hope. “It’s just that I’ve been so focused on protecting Noah and making sure he’s okay. I’d hate for him to get attached to someone else who’s going to leave and disappoint him.”

“I understand that completely but I want to be clear about how I feel. From the moment I met you and Noah I felt something really special. It’s not just about being interested, I’m here because I genuinely care and want to see where this can go.”

Y/N’s gaze softened and she took a small but relieved breath while Lando gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m serious about wanting to get to know you and Noah better. I understand that trust takes time and I’m more than willing to be patient and supportive. I genuinely believe there’s something here and I’d like to explore that with both of you.”

Just then he decided to share a small but - what he hoped - meaningful gesture. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen to show Y/N. It showed the photo from when they first met at the Meet & Greet.

“This has been my phone background from the moment you two left that day,” Lando said, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I have been thinking about you nonstop since then.”

She looked at the photo, then back at Lando, her heart swelling and with slightly shaking hands she pulled out her own phone, showing it to the young man sitting across from her who got a perfect look at the exact same picture on her device. “Looks like great minds think alike,” she giggled softly.

Once they had finished their meal Lando led Y/N to the edge where they stood side by side taking in the stunning view. He turned to her, his eyes reflecting the city lights. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?” he said, his voice low and soft.

“It is,” Y/N replied, her gaze fixed on the horizon before meeting his eyes. “Thank you for this night, Lando. It’s been absolutely amazing.”

Lando’s eyes were locked onto Y/N’s, his gaze intense and filled with an emotion that spoke volumes. The air between them was charged with a palpable energy. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s face, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

His eyes softened and he leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away if she chose. Y/N’s own heart raced as she felt the pull of his presence and slowly but surely her eyes fluttered shut. She tilted her face upward, her lips parting in anticipation.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and electrifying. At first, it was a soft, lingering touch, a gentle exploration of what had been building between them. Lando’s lips were warm and reassuring against hers, his kiss a promise of all the words he hadn’t yet said.

Within seconds the kiss deepened, it became more urgent, more passionate. His hands moved to frame Y/N’s face, his fingers threading into her hair as he pulled her closer. The intensity of the kiss conveyed everything they had both been feeling but couldn’t quite put into words. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands grasping the front of his shirt, drawing him even closer. The world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the sensation of their lips moving together. 

When they finally parted, their foreheads pressed together, both of them were breathless, their hearts racing from the intensity of the moment. Y/N opened her eyes slowly, meeting Lando’s gaze with a look of pure happiness and love.

“That was…” Y/N began, her voice trembling slightly and she was unable to put the buzzing feeling in her stomach into words.

Lando smiled, his eyes shining with the same emotion and a soft smile on his features. “I’ve been wanting to do this the whole weekend.”

They stayed there for a few more moments, simply holding each other and enjoying each other’s presence until Lando gently took Y/N’s hands in his, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“So,” he started with a grin, “when you tell Noah about our date, how do you think he’ll react? Will he be thrilled to know his mom’s got a new boyfriend or will he just want to know if I’m bringing him a toy car next time?”

Y/N laughed, her eyes lighting up with amusement. “Oh, Noah’s definitely going to have a lot of questions, he’s been very curious about everything lately. I’m sure he’ll be excited but he might also want to know if you have any cool stories to share.”

“Well,” Lando chuckled, shaking his head, “I’ll have to make sure I have some good stories ready. Maybe I’ll even bring him a little something again next time. I have to make sure he still likes me.”

“You’re already his hero, so I don’t think you will have to worry about that,” Y/N replied smiling.

Lando’s gaze saddened slightly as he added, “I’m not looking forward to you two leaving tomorrow but I’ll be there to help you get to the airport. It’ll be nice to spend a bit more time with you before you two have to go.”

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Lando and we will find a way to make this work.”

_________

Click here for Part 6!

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings @poppyflower-22 @vickykazuya @hadids-world @ririyulife @deafeningunknowntyrant @lexiecampos @littlegrapejuice @eloriis @yawn-zi @landossainz @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @casuallyeating @dramallama9 @hc-dutch @alana4610

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

‘Til The End of The Line

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, shooting and getting hurt

Summary: You get injured in a mission, and Bucky cannot bear to see you in such state.

Author's Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

I am so sorry for being gone (school’s been killing me)

I appreciate every feedback! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

“Ready to kick some ass, kiddo?” Steve’s voice was calm, almost soothing, but you could hear the adrenaline beneath his words as the two of you adjusted your parachutes. The jet engines hummed around you, a subtle reminder of the mission ahead.

You grinned, giving your suit one last check and tightening your grip on the gun in your hand. “Yeah, I’m gonna beat the shit out of them.”

Steve smiled, not bothering to correct your language. With him, you were always an exception.

Moments later, the wind was whipping against your face as you both jumped from the jet, splitting off into the night sky. Steve took the left wing—the more dangerous side—leaving you the right. Tony had assured you it was safer, but as you slid through the narrow gap in the door, the freezing cold hit you like a wall. The air inside was frigid, bitterly reminding you of Bucky’s stories about the winters he hated so much.

“As far as I can see, it’s clear here. How’s the situation there?” Steve’s voice crackled through the comms, full of concern. You knew he cared for you deeply, saw you as the daughter he never had, and would have taken a bullet to ensure your safety.

“It’s clear here too, Cap,” you replied, trying to ease his worry.

“Let’s stick to the plan: I’ll draw out the agents while you head straight to the operations room and grab their file IV data.”

“Copy that. Be safe, Cap—and I mean it. If you need help, just call me.”

“I will, kiddo. Be safe yourself. And promise to call me if you need anything.”

“I promise. Let’s fucking go.”

You raced through the deserted corridors of the right wing, a dagger in one hand and a fully loaded gun tucked into your suit for emergencies. The cold air bit at your skin, the silence amplifying every footstep. Suddenly, a loud, thunderous noise echoed behind you. Instinctively, you thought it was Steve, but it wasn’t. The sound was coming from your side of the building.

Before you could react, you were ambushed by over twenty armed agents.

On the other side of the wing, Steve was facing his own battle. He tossed a grenade down a hallway, expecting a swarm of enemies, but only three agents rushed at him. Something was wrong. There should have been more.

“Shit,” you hissed into the comms, struggling against the overwhelming odds. Steve heard the panic in your voice, but he couldn’t respond—one of the agents had him in a chokehold. His grip tightened on the comms as he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire, followed by a loud thud that made his blood run cold.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Steve managed to gasp out, but all he got in return was a pained groan.

“I’ll get to you in less than a minute, I promise,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. He could hear your labored breathing through the comms, and it was tearing him apart.

“Steve…” Your voice was faint, each word a struggle.

“Hmm?” he replied, trying to sound reassuring despite the dread clawing at his chest.

“Are the comms… still being recorded?”

Steve’s heart sank. He knew what you were doing, and he hated it. “Yes, kiddo, if there weren’t any changes to the plans, it’s on record.”

You exhaled shakily, the breath catching in your throat. There was only one person you needed to reach out to. “Buck…”

As soon as Steve heard the name, he knew the weight of what you were about to say. Even after four years of being together, Bucky’s name still brought shivers to your spine, thick with emotion.

“If by any chance you get to listen to this, Buck—”

“Y/N, kiddo, no, you’re not dying. I won’t let that happen.”

“You don’t know that…” Your voice was helpless, a reflection of your dwindling strength.

“Just stay there. I’m on my way. Please, don’t give up on us.”

But a part of Steve knew this might be your last moment. It was an instinct, a gut-wrenching feeling that he couldn’t shake. So he didn’t stop you from saying what you needed to.

“If you get a chance to listen to this…” You fought to keep your eyes open, tears mingling with the blood on the cold metal floor. Your mind flashed with the future you had imagined—a life with Bucky, growing old together, watching your children grow up. “In another life, we might—maybe we could have grown old together.”

Steve’s heart clenched as your voice wavered. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, but he knew there was nothing he could do except listen.

“I wish I could have given you babies,” you continued, your voice cracking with emotion. “Watched them grow in our backyard… I’m sorry that I can’t be the one to give you that life.”

Your vision blurred as sleepiness started to consume you. You fought against it with everything you had, but the darkness was closing in. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry that this is how it ends for us… I’m really sorry.”

“And if this is how it really ends… Promise me you’ll find someone else to love, to open up to. Find someone else… Call someone else ‘doll.’ And don’t grieve too much.”

The darkness was overwhelming now. You felt it pulling you under, felt the life draining from your body as blood poured from your wounds. “You deserve to be happy… And the past doesn’t—doesn’t define you.”

Your last words were barely a whisper. “I… Love you, Buck. And I’m sorry I couldn’t say that more often.”

And then… silence. The darkness consumed you, and Steve heard nothing but the empty static of the comms. He refused to believe it, refused to accept that you were gone. He sprinted through the hallways, throwing open every door until he found you, lying motionless on the floor, your suit stained crimson with blood.

He scooped you up as if you weighed nothing, his legs pumping with every ounce of energy he had left. The jet’s engines hummed steadily, but inside the cabin, chaos reigned. Steve knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he assessed your injuries. The bullets had done their damage—one near your heart, another through your stomach, and the last through your left arm. Blood pooled beneath you, soaking through your suit.

“Kiddo, hang in there, please,” Steve murmured, his voice tight with fear. He grabbed the medical kit from the overhead compartment, spilling its contents across the floor. His hands worked quickly, tearing open a pack of gauze and pressing it firmly against the wounds. The bleeding was relentless, and he knew he needed to act fast to save your life.

You were pale, your breathing shallow and irregular. It was a miracle you were still breathing at all. Steve knew he had to stabilize you before they landed, or you wouldn’t make it. His mind raced through the limited medical training he had received—enough to get through emergencies, but nothing like this.

He fumbled with an IV kit, his hands shaking as he tried to insert the needle into your arm. Your veins were fragile, but after what felt like an eternity, he got it in. He attached a bag of saline solution, knowing it was only a temporary measure.

“Stay with me, kiddo. Buck won’t be so happy about this,” Steve whispered, his voice trembling. Your pulse was faint, but still there. He applied more pressure to the wound, checking if you were breathing again. It was labored, but there were no signs of a collapsed lung, thank God.

He grabbed the portable oxygen mask and gently placed it over your mouth and nose, adjusting the flow to give you the support you desperately needed. Your chest rose and fell slightly more steadily—a small victory amid the chaos.

With one hand still applying pressure to the wound, Steve fumbled with the jet’s communications system. “Friday, please check if the team is ready for immediate surgery.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Stark has everything prepared, and Dr. Cho is on standby.”

“Can you connect me directly to Tony?”

“Connecting now, sir.”

“Cap, how is she?” Tony’s voice crackled through, tense with concern.

“I think I stabilized her. We’re landing in three minutes, max. Thank God this jet has autopilot, or else… she wouldn’t have made it.”

Tony was silent for a moment. It wasn’t the time for pride or self-congratulation. He was kicking himself for not being more cautious, for not having medics onboard, for underestimating the mission. You were the youngest, the brightest member of the Avengers, and he couldn’t bear to lose you.

Steve checked the wound again. The bleeding had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped. He packed the wound with more gauze, securing it tightly. You needed a blood transfusion, surgery—everything he couldn’t provide here. All he could do was keep you stable until they landed.

“Tony, do me one favor,” Steve said, his voice thick as he wiped the blood from your cheeks. “Please… Don’t let Bucky see her like this. He won’t be able to handle it.”

But Tony’s response was firm. “Sorry, Cap. James already knows. He’s waiting at the airbase. And he has the right to see her.”

Steve nodded, though his heart ached at the thought. “Okay, Tony, thanks… We’re almost there.”

The jet descended, the lights of the airbase coming into view. Steve cradled you close, whispering words of comfort that he wasn’t sure you could hear. “We’re going to make it, kiddo. Just hold on a little longer.”

As the jet landed, the hatch opened to reveal Tony, Dr. Cho, and Bucky. Bucky’s face was ashen, his eyes wide with fear as he took in the sight of you. Steve gently handed you over to Dr. Cho and her team, who rushed you to the medical bay. Bucky stood frozen, staring at the blood that covered Steve’s hands and suit.

“She’s alive, Buck,” Steve said softly, his voice raw with exhaustion. “But she needs you now more than ever. Don’t lose hope.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing hard. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think beyond the sight of you lying there so still. He followed the team as they wheeled you into surgery, praying with everything he had left that you would survive this.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

THERE’S GOING TO BE A PART 2 by Sunday

Part 2 is up y’all

[vanteguccir]

Them realizing your innocent / virgin

(Love your writing sm💕)

UGH THIS CONCEPT MAKES ME SO WET 😭😭😭

I firmly believe that knowing that you're still a virgin and that they'll be your first would make Matt and Chris feel so fucking aroused, they would go completely crazy, wanting to "mark" you as their own as soon as they discover it. I can see them losing their control, feeling like they could cum like teenage boys only with the thought of stretching you open for the very first time 😩

chris:

As the warm, muted glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in soft light, Y/N and Chris found themselves entwined in each other’s arms. The atmosphere was charged with an electric tension, the kind that had been building up over weeks of tender, stolen kisses, and longing gazes. Tonight, that tension seemed to snap as their lips met in a searing kiss, all restraint forgotten.

Chris’s hands roamed Y/N’s back, pulling her closer, pressing her against him as if trying to merge their bodies into one. She could feel his heart hammering against her chest, matching the wild rhythm of her own. His mouth moved with a fervor that sent sparks down her spine, igniting a fire in her core. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, as if afraid he might slip away.

His hands slid under her - his - shirt, fingertips grazing the smooth skin of her lower back, inching upward with a deliberate slowness that made her gasp against his mouth. He was on fire, each touch leaving a trail of molten heat in its wake. Her shirt rode up, exposing her midriff to the cool air, a stark contrast to the blazing heat of their bodies.

Chris’s kisses became more insistent, more desperate. He pushed the shirt higher, and Y/N’s breath hitched. She felt a flush of shyness, a stark contrast to the inferno raging inside her. His lips left her mouth, trailing down her jawline to the sensitive spot just below her ear, drawing a soft moan from her.

He started to lift her shirt higher, fingers brushing against the soft swell of her breast. But suddenly, Y/N’s hands flew to his, stopping him in his tracks. Chris pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and glazed with desire, a question forming on his lips even as he continued to pepper kisses along her neck and collarbone.

"Babe." He murmured between kisses, voice husky with need. "What’s wrong, huh?"

She took a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly as she held his, closing her eyes briefly while feeling his lips hugging her skin so perfectly.

"Chris, I… I’ve never… done this before." Her voice was barely above a whisper, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation coloring her words.

Chris froze for a moment, his mind processing her confession. Then, a slow, wicked smile spread across his face, and his eyes darkened even more.

"You’re a virgin?" He asked, his voice laced with both surprise and something else, something primal.

Y/N nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

"I’ve never been with anyone like this. I’m just… I've never felt ready for it before."

Chris’s breath hitched, and he pressed his forehead against hers, his own excitement surging to new heights.

"God, Y/N." He breathed, his voice thick with arousal, his warm breath caressing her skin. "Fuck, you have no idea how much that turns me on."

He captured her lips again, this time with a renewed intensity, his hands moving to cup her face tenderly.

"You’re so perfect." He murmured against her lips, his words a mix of praise and possessiveness. "So innocent, and all mine to destroy, yeah?"

Y/N whimpered at his words, the combination of his soft caresses and his dirty talk sending waves of pleasure through her. He continued to kiss her, his hands exploring her body with reverence, as if worshiping her.

"I’m going to take such good care of you." He promised, his voice both soothing and sinful. "I’ll make it so good for you, I swear."

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness.

"Tell me if you want me to stop." He said, his tone serious despite the raging desire in his eyes. "I want this to be perfect for you."

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with affection and arousal.

"I don’t want you to stop." She whispered, her voice trembling with need. "I just… I need you to go slow. For now."

Chris’s eyes softened, and he kissed her gently, his lips brushing against hers in a promise.

"I’ll go as slow as you need." He assured her. "We have all the time in the world."

matt:

Y/N nestled against Matt, the soft glow from the TV screen casting a warm light over their entwined bodies. The movie played on, but their attention was far from the plot. Matt's arm was wrapped around her, his fingers lazily drawing circles on her arm. She sighed contentedly, feeling the comfort and safety of his embrace.

Without warning, Matt's hand moved to gently tilt her chin towards him. His eyes, filled with an intensity she hadn't seen before, locked onto hers.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was different from any they had shared before; deeper, more passionate. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as she returned the kiss, her hands moving to grasp his shirt.

The kiss grew hungrier, Matt's lips exploring hers with a fervor that made her head spin, their hot tongues intertwining in a wet dance. She could feel the heat rising between them, an electric current of desire that made her heart race. Matt's hand moved from her chin to cradle the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss even further.

Y/N's breath hitched as she felt Matt's other hand begin to wander, tracing a path down her side, over her waist, and settling on her hip. Her body responded instinctively, a soft moan escaping her lips. She arched into him, feeling her arousal building with each touch, each kiss.

Matt's hand continued its journey, moving slowly, almost teasingly, down her thigh. He paused, his fingers hovering just above the hem of her small cotton shorts, and she could feel the heat of his touch seeping through the fabric. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling inside her.

When Matt's hand slipped under her shorts, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, going up to meet her panties, Y/N tensed. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying. She had never gone this far with anyone before, and the realization made her stomach twist with anxiety.

Matt immediately sensed her tension, pulling back from the kiss to look at her with concern, his working hand stopping abruptly.

"Hey." He whispered, his voice gentle. "What's wrong?"

Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"I... I just..." She struggled to find the words, her nervousness making it hard to speak.

Matt brought his hands up, meeting them with her face, cupped her cheeks in his palms, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks.

"You can tell me anything, you know that, baby." He said softly.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N met his gaze.

"I've never... I've never been with anyone like this before." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a virgin, Matt."

Matt's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she feared he might pull away. But instead, his expression softened, a mixture of tenderness and something darker crossing his features.

"You're so fucking perfect." He murmured, as if talking to himself, his voice thick with desire. "So pure."

The intensity in his eyes made her shiver, her body responding to his words in ways she hadn't expected.

"Matt..." She whispered, her voice trembling.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

"I've wanted to feel you for so long, petal." He said, his voice low and husky. "But I need you to be sure. I need you to trust me."

Y/N nodded, her breath hitching as she felt his hands move again, this time with more purpose.

"I trust you." She said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. "With my life."

Matt's lips curved into a wicked smile, and he began to place soft, lingering kisses along her jawline, down her neck. His hands explored her body with a newfound confidence, each touch sending waves of pleasure through her.

"You're mine, sweetheart." He whispered against her skin, his voice a seductive growl. "And I'm going to make you feel so good."

[charliemwrites]

Part 2 of obsessive!Johnny

(Part 1 is here)

Johnny’s there when you wake up. Eyes so, so blue, hands fidgeting. You’re in a bed that’s not yours, in a room you don’t recognize, with a man you’re fond of but know nearly as well as you’d like right now.

“Don’t scream,” he says as soon as your eyes are open.

That’s not a very good thing to say to someone, you think hazily. Your head hurts. You don’t scream.

“Listen, I know how this looks,” he continues. He can’t sit still. Keeps scooting closer, then away, then twitches like he wants to touch you, then twists his fingers together. “But you passed out in the alley and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Oh right. The alley. Those creepy, aggressive men. Well, the one man and his shitty friends. You remember Johnny flying from the bar like a bat out of hell, one of them knocking into you, and then your head bouncing off the brick wall. Right.

“You… could have taken me back inside?” you venture.

There’s something off about Johnny. Something in his darting eyes and awkward smile. Something that warns you to tread carefully for there are traps hidden around your feet.

“No, I know, I realized as soon as I got you in the car…” He scratches nervously at his scruff. You were just thinking earlier that night that it’s growing in nicely. “But… but then I got to thinking.”

Alarms start ringing in your mind as he meets your eyes. A strange, fervent glint in them you’ve never seen before.

“The world is so dangerous, hen. It’s safer here with me, where I can protect you.”

You shift. There’s something around your ankle. It jingles when you move again. Johnny knows you notice it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he hurries to say. “I was afraid you would run if I wasn’t here when you woke up. You hit your head it would be bad for you to run.”

Your heart is starting to pound, so hard and fast you can barely hear your own voice over it. Somehow, blessedly, calm and even.

“Okay… okay, soap that’s fair. Can we take it off now that I’m awake?”

“S-soon. Soon, Bonnie. There’s just - listen I want you to stay. I have to know you’re safe. I can’t… can’t function when I think about getting hurt or-or with other men…”

He’s working himself up and thats bad. That’s very bad. Especially considering that you’re his only outlet for these made up scenarios.

“Hey, hey,” you murmur, instantly getting his attention. “I think I get it. You… you just want to protect me. You like me.”

His expression melts, he leans in towards you.

“More than like you, hen. Oh, so much more than like.”

Oh. Oh you see now.

You draw in the slowest, deepest breath you can manage through trembling lungs. It’s still not enough.

“So please understand,” he continues. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen but… but I can’t let you go now. Not when I know you need someone to protect you.”

You don’t understand. You don’t understand at all.

But you don’t need to. You just need Johnny happy with you. You need to keep calm, because that will make him happy. It’ll keep you safe.

“O-okay,” you force yourself to say. “I’ll stay… at least for a while. Okay?”

Even as you say it, you can feel tears spilling over. You life and hopes and aspirations fading like smoke. Johnny makes a distressed noise, scrambles to grab onto your hand. Is still, somehow, so gentle as he strokes his thumb over your knuckles.

“I know, it’s a lot all at once, I’m sorry.” He almost sounds like he means it. “I’ll make it all up to you, I promise.”

[leaentries]

desperate | luke hughes

summary: luke’s girl has never had someone go down on her and he’d be damned if he didn’t change that

i believe this was a request but has been in my drafts for months...oops

warnings: smut, oral (f. receiving), teasing, begging, swearing

“Fuck, Luke.” You moaned into his lips. His hands gripped your thighs, perched on either side of his lap. You tugged at his thick curls as he trailed his lips down your jaw. He placed hot, wet kisses, making sure to leave a mark. 

Luke’s hands traveled up your legs, grasping at your hips. He pulled you further into him, the feeling of his throbbing cock pressed against your core. His lips continued their assault downward, sucking between the valley of your breasts. 

You tightly grabbed Luke’s broad shoulders, nails leaving angry red crescents in their wake. His light groans echoed in your ears. He began to work his way back up, dragging his tongue up the column of your neck. Luke pulled away to meet your blown-out eyes with his own. His chest was heaving with anticipation. 

“I want to go down on you.” He blurted. Your eyes widened in shock, but the surprise was soon replaced with the timid batting of your lashes. Luke took note of the flush that covered your cheeks and ears. You swallowed thickly. 

“I’ve, uh, I’ve never had someone go down on me.” You hushed out quickly. It was now Luke’s turn to be shocked. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“So you’re telling me no one has ever made you cum on their tongue before?”  His crude words made your skin ignite with new desire. Fantasies of Luke’s tongue deep in your cunt flashed through your mind. Your breath picked up, which did not go unnoticed by Luke.

A comforting smile made home on his swollen lips, “I promise I’ll take good care of you, baby. I just want to taste you, I bet you taste like fucking candy.” Luke swiftly flipped you over, laying you down gently. 

Sensing the uncertainty in your eyes, Luke reached to lock your fingers with his. “We don’t have to do anything, angel. Not if you aren’t comfortable.”  You shook your head. 

“No, I want to. I-I’m just a bit nervous, that's all.” Luke placed a long, reassuring kiss on your lips. 

“Okay, but if you want me to stop, tell me immediately.” He gave you a slight stare, before quickly removing his shirt. You just nodded in response, mouth going dry at the sight of his toned abdomen. You reached up to drag your hand over the ripples of hard muscle, taking note of every freckle and mark he had. 

Luke’s heavy-lidded eyes bore into your own, an unknown flame dancing within the dark pools. He let his fingertips graze from your breasts down, goosebumps rising through each pass. Your hands gripped the sheets by your sides as he reached your panties. 

He hooked his fingers through them, slowly slipping them down your legs. He didn’t fail to let his hands drag along the naked skin, sending volts straight to your core. After drawing your feet through, he placed a chaste kiss to the top of each ankle, marking his ascent up your calves. 

Luke’s lips dragged teasingly up your thighs, which began to clench out of desperation. 

“No, no, angel. Gotta keep those pretty thighs open for me.” He sucked in a harsh breath as you obeyed his demand, eyes glued to your glistening core.

 “Fuck me.” You heard him growl lowly, “Such a pretty pussy, all wet for me.” 

His words sent waves of electricity through your entire body. Your weeping hole pulsated at the lack of attention, wanting nothing more than Luke to bury his tongue deep inside. Your hips bucked pathetically, begging Luke to help. 

“Please, Lukey. I need you so bad.” You whined, becoming restless at his hands that traveled in dangerous patterns around where you needed him most. 

He took his lip between his teeth, burying a deep groan that threatened to escape his throat. The sounds of your whimpers making his cock twitch against his shorts. 

“Why don’t you ask me nicely, angel. Tell me what you want.” He lowered his face to your dripping core, as more whines left your mouth.

“Please, please Luke! I, fuck,” you panted, “I need your tongue inside me.”

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard.” Luke wasted no time before attaching his lips to your swollen clit. Your back arched as searing pleasure plagued your mind.

“Shit! Lukey,” Almost pornographic moans left your body as you became unable to control your voice.

The sound of Luke’s mouth slurping at your aching cunt filled the room. His tounge danced in circles around your slit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure to drive you insane.

Your eyes rolled back as you brought your hands to Luke’s hair, gripping onto the curls for some grounding. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue brutally plunged in and out of your entrance.

Your slick pooled around his mouth, causing him to move with ease. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his mouth, helping to ride his tongue.

Luke lifted for a moment, chin covered in arousal. His darkened eyes met yours in a heated match, before he returned his swollen, damp lips to your puffy clit.

Fire swelled in your lower belly, signaling the build of your impending orgasm. You dug your heels into Luke’s lower back as you trapped him between your legs.

Luke reached up with his right hand to intertwine it with your own.

Teetering on the edge, your cunt spasmed around him.

“Gonna cum for me, angel?” He looked up, gazing through his lashes while continuing his abuse to your clit, “Make a mess on my face, pretty girl. I know you can.”

The vibrations of his words were just enough to tip you over. The grip you had on his hand got tighter as your hips arched into his face. White-hot pleasure blinded your senses. Your ears rung as you felt your climax hit you.

Your eyes rolled back once more as your body twitched with orgasmic bliss. Luke continued to devour your cunt until you began to whine from overstimulation.

He pulled back, panting as he sat on his feet. Luke rested his hands on your knees, rubbing soothing circles into your, now sore, legs.

“You’re okay, angel.” He moved around to lay next to you, “Come back to me, baby.” Luke cradled your body, placing sweet kisses on your head until you came down from your high.

As your breath began to even out, you could only say one thing, “Holy fuck.”

[saph-cyare]

Always and Forever.

Summary — Lately, Joel’s been feeling a certain way about you. All he needs is a little push from Ellie and his brother in order for him to take action.

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: Established relationship, cursing, mainly Ellie’s potty mouth, unprotected sex, P in V.

Genre: Fluff & smut

Rating: Mature

Joel doesn’t know what it is. He has no idea what’s gotten into him, or why he can’t seem to turn his focus to anything other than you. Everything else has seemed insignificant lately. His duties around Jackson feel as though he's only going through the motions until he can return to the comfort of your shared home, and to the domestic bliss of the household, just you, Ellie and him. Even out on patrols, Joel couldn't keep his thoughts from wandering back to you. It was only Tommy that had brought Joel out of his own head, only just stopping him from setting foot into an old, rusted bear trap.

And this morning is the same. Only this time, Ellie is the one to notice. The young girl eyes Joel from across the breakfast table, the beginning of a smirk playing on her face. He's turned halfway to look over the back of his chair, his watchful gaze fixed on your figure roaming the kitchen. His eyes finally break away from you, only to be met with a sly look from Ellie, as well as her ill-timed attempt to avert her eyes and straighten out her expression.

Joel opens his mouth to say something in response to her smart look, but yet again, his attention is pulled back to you, this time setting a fragrant cup of coffee in front of him and pressing a kiss to his temple. Joel's gaze follows you as you make your way back to the kitchen before returning with two plates in your hands, setting one in front of him and the other in front of Ellie. She takes note of your missing plate and swiftly turns to look at you.

“You aren't gonna eat with us?” You offer a grateful smile to her concern, taking your hand to gently smooth her hair back. “Can't today,”you respond. “I’m helping with breakfast in the dining hall this morning. I just wanted to make you both something before I left.” You smile at the both of them. “I’ll be home soon. Promise.”You plant a kiss atop her head before moving to the entryway of your home, and Joel gets up and follows after you.

He leans up against the wall of the entryway, head tilted as he watches you put on your shoes and coat. You finally look up at him once finished, and move towards him. His hands wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him. You bring one hand up to his head, his eyes closing as your fingers begin to play with his curls.

“You gonna be okay without me?”

There’s a bit of teasing in your concern, but Joel only hums in response, too focused on the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair. “Don’t know,” he says. He opens his eyes to look at you. "Might just have to keep you here with me."

He moves his head to rest in your neck, placing a soft kiss over your pulse point. You let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his lips. You want to indulge in this feeling, but you know full well that if you let Joel go any further, you are not leaving the house this morning.

“Tempting,” you say. “But I promised Maria. I've got to go.” Joel only offers another hum against your skin as acknowledgment. “You sure?”

“Joel—”

You’re cut off when Joel begins to suck at a certain sensitive spot. He draws a gasp from your lips, followed by a soft moan, and you can feel him smirk against your skin. You sound divine. He wants to draw more sounds from you. He wants you to stay, wants to take you back to bed and keep you there for hours and hours. He wants to give you so much more.

But he knows it’ll have to wait.

Joel finally pulls back from your neck to look at you. Your breathing is uneven, and a warmth has now enveloped your skin. “Alright”, he says. He gives you a nod of approval, as if finally giving you permission to leave. Of course he does so after he’s gotten you all hot and bothered.

You huff out a breath. “You’re a tease, you know.”

He only shrugs. “I like giving you something to miss me by.” You give a humored scoff at his words.

This man.

Your hands move to cradle the sides of his face, and you can feel his scruff that you love so dearly beneath your fingertips. “Trust me, I’d miss you regardless.” You gently bring your lips to meet his. And when you pull away, Joel can’t help but marvel at you. This is the face of the woman he loves. You are the woman he loves. After everything that's slipped away from him, you are possibly the most precious of the few things he's gained. And you've stayed. Despite all that's been lost, you are a constant within Joel's life. He's grateful to whatever higher power there is that he has the privilege of holding you close to him. That you're his.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and then rests his forehead against yours. "You come home as soon as possible. You hear me?"

"I will." You nod against his forehead. "Always."

Joel presses one last quick kiss to your lips before opening the door for you, allowing you to step out into the fresh spring air. Joel watches you from the porch as you make your way toward the town's dining hall. You briefly turn back towards the house and give him one last little wave before continuing down the road. He returns it, along with a smile on his face before stepping back inside.

Joel makes his way back to the dining table and to his breakfast, Ellie nearly finished with hers. He sits down, ready to enjoy the meal you’ve prepared. Before he can even begin to eat though, he looks up from his plate and meets Ellie's stare once again, her expression the same as the one she'd given him earlier that morning. Joel only stares back at her in confusion.

"Hell’s going on with you this morning?”

“The fuck’s going on with you!”

“Watch your mouth—”

“You can’t even be away from her for one second. You’ve been like this all week. Actually, no, you’ve been like this for a fucking month. At least.” She raises her eyebrows at him. Joel stares at her before turning his attention to his plate. “I don’t know what your talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

“Ellie—“

“You might as well just marry her already, It’s about time anyway—”

Joel freezes.

He can feel is entire body go stiff. It feels as though all of his basic motor functions have left him, leaving every single muscle reduced to motionless mass. He doesn’t even know if he can offer up a response. And when he finally does, all he can muster up is a weak “What?”

Ellie throws up her hands. “I said about damn time! I love her. You definitely love her, with you being all over her all the fucking time.”

The signature smirk of hers returns to her face for the nth time this morning.

“By the way, I see her neck in the mornings, you know—”

Joel looks like he might have a heart attack, and Ellie has to resist the urge to laugh at his mortification.

“Ellie.”

“Okay, alright, listen, all I’m saying is she makes you happy. It’s obvious.” Her tone gains some seriousness now. “And I think you should ask her. It’s not like she’s going to say no. I mean, she’s been with us this long, right?”

Joel’s silent. Not out of shock, but pondering. He’s absorbed all of what Ellie said.

Marriage.

It’s a thought that hadn’t really occurred to Joel. Occasionally, for only seconds at the most, it’s entered his mind during some little moments with you. When you’ve laid your head on his chest after a long day, when you sing and dance with Ellie, when you’ve carefully, lovingly patched him up after a rough day of patrol. And during all the times that he’s felt you with his hands, his mouth, memorized every inch of your body with his own.

These things, he wouldn’t mind keeping forever.

Maybe Ellie is right. Maybe it is time—

Joel’s pulled out of his thoughts by a soft knock at the front door. He sees Ellie jolt a bit at the sound, and he extends his hand in a small action of comfort. In spite of having been in Jackson for quite some time, some of the effects of the past still remain. Though, you’ve made it better for them both.

“Easy. ’s okay” She softens at his action and gives him a nod. Carefully, Joel goes to the door, Ellie following behind him, and cracks it just wide enough to get a glimpse of who stands on the other side. Tension leaves Joel’s body when he sees a familiar face.

“Hey, brother.”

“Tommy,” Joel opens the door wide, moving to embrace him. Tommy smiles, a hand patting Joel’s back, before he extends an arm out to hug Ellie.

“What brings you over?” Joel asks.

“Maria and the little one are out at the dining hall, with your girl, I think. Thought I’d stop by, see what you were up to.”

Joel can’t help the feeling of pride he gets when he hears his brother refer to you as ‘his girl’. Joel pushes it aside as he invites Tommy further into the house, taking his coat.

Ellie returns upstairs to finish getting ready for the day as Joel leads Tommy to the couch. “You want a drink or anything?”

Tommy shakes his head at the offer, smiling. “Just coffee, if you have it.”

Joel pours Tommy a mug, and takes his own unfinished one from the dining table before joining him on the couch.

“You doing okay?”

Joel looks at his brother in slight confusion. “Yeah…why?”

“I mean, considering that you just offered me liquor at 9 A.M…” Tommy gives a small gesture of his hands to make the point. “Something on your mind?”

Joel doesn’t know whether to be grateful or to curse at the fact that his brother can read him this well.

“I just…” He pauses for a moment, thinking about how on earth he should even bring this up to his brother. Joel sighs before speaking.“How’d you know?”

Tommy turns to him. “Huh?”

“Maria.” Joel clears his throat. “How’d you know when, uh—“ Joel pauses again, but Tommy catches on quickly and offers his brother a comforting smile. “I think I just woke up one morning, and I realized that I wanted to wake up beside her for the rest of my life.”

Something within Joel clicks at Tommy’s words. He feels like that. Hell, he’s felt that way about you for longer than he can even remember. Tommy observes his brother and then speaks. “So,” he begins. “You thinking about it?” Joel is silent for a moment. “Bout what?” is all he says. He picks up his mug and drinks, making sure to avoid eye contact with Tommy.

“C’mon, Joel.”

Joel sets the mug down and sighs. “Ellie said something earlier today.”

“Kid’s smart,” Tommy says.

Joel shakes his head. “Too much for her own good.”

Tommy chuckles at him before speaking again.

“For what it’s worth; I think you should.”

Joel turns to look at him and finally makes eye contact with his brother.

“Listen, I ain’t seen you this happy since…” He trails off, but both him and Joel know what he was thinking. “She’s just changed you. Really changed you. Ever since you got together, theres just been this shift in you. I can see it. We all can. Me, Maria, hell, even Ellie, you said it yourself.” Tommy holds a soft expression on his face.

“She’s good for you, and for Ellie. She’s sweet, she’s kind, and don’t kill me for saying it, but she’s beautiful, Joel. Inside and out.”

Tommy looks Joel right in the eye.

“Do it, Joel.”

Joel absorbs Tommy’s words, and he knows that he’s right. About all of it. You have changed him, in a way that he never thought possible. After everything, Joel never thought he would feel completely physically or emotionally secure again. He never thought he would be able to have a full night of rest, without being taunted by unwanted memories and waking to an empty bed. Never thought he would be able to hold someone again, kiss someone again, touch someone again. Love someone again. But he does. He has all of these things now, because of you. And he’ll be damned if he ever loses it.

He’s going to marry you.

Joel nods at before finally speaking.

“I’m gonna do it.”

Tommy smiles widely at his brother’s words. “Well, alright then.” He pats Joel on the back as he gets up from the couch. “Vamos, hermano.”

“Where are we going?”

Tommy smiles at him.

“The metalsmith.”

The rings only took three hours each to be made; six hours that Joel spent thinking of how to ask you to spend the rest of your life with him. He had gotten two gold bands made, one for you and one for himself. To his disappointment, it wasn’t possible to add a stone to yours, but he was able to add something else.

“You feeling good about it?” Tommy asks him as they walk home from picking up the rings. Ellie walks in front of them, just out of earshot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“When are you gonna do it?”

Joel pauses before responding. He’s already waited all this time. He doesn’t know if he can wait anymore.

“Tonight, I think.”

Tommy smiles, and Joel already knows how thrilled Tommy is. Ellie, too. When they had gone to the metalsmith, she had nearly freaked out when she had found out that Joel was in fact going to propose. But he couldn’t even blame her, she was right. It was about damn time.

The three of them stop when they make it to the front steps of the house.

“I can take Ellie tonight,” Tommy offers.

“You sure?” Joel asks. “You don’t have to do that, especially with Maria, and the little one—”

“Are you kidding? Maria would love having her over, and the baby could use someone to play with.” Tommy then slightly raises his eyebrows at Joel.

“Give you guys the house to yourselves tonight?”

Joel knows what he’s insinuating. Hesitantly, he nods. “Thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy just smiles at his brother. The three of them make their way up the steps and enter the house to find you preparing dinner in the kitchen. You turn and smile at the sight of them, greeting Tommy with a hug before giving Ellie a kiss. Joel stands, rather impatiently, waiting for his turn to have your affection.

You finally break from Ellie to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“That’s all?” He mutters.

“Well, hello to you too,” You can’t help but chuckle at his pettiness. “Are you guys hungry? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Tommy speaks up. “Actually, Ellie and I were about to head out. She’s gonna spend the night at me and Maria’s.”

You’re eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh?” You turn to look at Joel, giving him a soft smile. “I guess it’s just me and you tonight.”

Those words make him more anxious than they should.

Once Ellie’s grabbed some clothing from upstairs, and you say goodnight to Tommy and Ellie. As Joel bids his brother good night, Tommy whispers to him as they hug.

“You’ve got this, Joel.”

God, he hopes he’s right.

The two of them leave you and Joel alone for dinner. He asks about your day, and you tell him about his little niece, what you had baked today, the town gossip you had heard from Maria. He listens intently, hanging onto your every word, and thanks the Lord that you don’t pry with questions about what he had been up to today.

You both make your way upstairs after dinner to unwind for the night. And this is when Joel begins to panic just a little. It’s getting later and later. He goes through the words in his head, thinking of what to say as he freshens up. Just before you’re about to undress and change into your sleepwear, he stops you.

“You wanna go sit on the porch with me?” He asks. “Still a nice evening.”

To his relief, you say yes.

“That sounds like a good idea,” you smile at him. “Meet you there?”

Joel nods at you. “Meet you there.”

He watches you leave the room, making your way downstairs. Joel isn’t sure what his plan is, exactly. But before he leaves to follow after you, he spots his guitar leaned against the bedroom wall. He grabs it, and brings it with him.

When he walks out, he turns to see you already seated on the porch swing. You sit up at the sight of him, guitar in hand, and can’t help but smile at the sight.

“You’re gonna play me something?”

He smiles, gives you a small one shoulder shrug before sitting beside you. “It’s been a while. Thought maybe you would like it.”

“You were right.”

He turns to look at you, smiling softly. He positions his guitar in his lap, left hand holding the neck, hovering about the frets.

“Anything requests?”

You shake your head. “Surprise me.”

Joel knows exactly what to play for you.

He begins to strum the opening notes of the song, fingers moving effortlessly against the frets. His voice is deep and rich as he sings. He’s so completely immersed in the moment, eyes closed, trusting his fingers and voice to do all the work.

When he’s finished singing, he turns to look at you, and it’s evident that he’s searching for your reaction, your approval. You smile softly at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to make me fall in love with you again.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “So it worked then?”

You gently brush his shoulder with yours, chuckling at him. He doesn’t think he could ever tire of that sound. Right now, in this moment, Joel thinks you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. The sinking sun paints your face lilac and deep blue, making your skin glow. And he knows it’s time.

“I uh—”

He stops abruptly, causing you to look up at him. His eyes are cast down, nervously fixed on the wood of his guitar.

“I’ve been thinking, and I just…” He trails off again. Your expression morphs into one of concern.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t respond. He simply begins to remove his guitar from his lap and allowing it to take his spot before moving off of the swing.

And he’s on one knee.

His hand travels behind his back and into his rear pocket to retreive a small leather box.

Suddenly all the air is gone from your lungs. It’s only the sound of Joel clearing his throat that forces you to snap out of your shock.

“Haven’t always the best at communicating. But, you probably already know that better than most.”

His words draw a choked laugh from your lips, and Joel’s finally drawn out of his nerves. He brings his gaze to meet the sight of your eyes, your soft smile, and it takes everything in him to not break right then and there.

No amount of recitation was preparation enough for this moment. He tries to find his words, speaking slowly.

“It hasn’t been easy. I know that. But you were patient. Always so damn patient with me.” He pauses. “You opened me up a little more. I uh…” Joel stops. Screw the words, whatever he had planned on saying before. He just wanted to let this moment be.

Joel opens up the box to reveal the ring, and you think you feel your heart stop beating.

“It’s just uh—it’s just gold. I wasn’t able to add a diamond or anything.” You almost want to laugh out of disbelief. He’s apologetic about it, but you could not even care less. The fact that he’s kneeling for you, ring in hand, the fact that Joel wants to be your husband, that he wants you to be his wife; that is more than enough. More than you could have ever dreamed. But there’s more.

“It isn’t much or anything, but if you look on the inner side of the ring…” His voice trails off. Curious, you look closer at the ring slightly to see a cursive engraving in the gold.

‘Always and Forever - J.’

If you weren’t crying before, you sure as hell are now.

Tears in your eyes well up as Joel says your name, and the quiver in his voice tells you there might be some in his own as well.

“I want you with me, always. It took me too damn long to realize. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t mine—I don’t even wanna think about it. All I know is that I need you. For the rest of my life, I need you. I need to have you with me. I need to be the only one to fall asleep next to you, the only one to wake up next to you. I want you, need you, always, for the rest of my life. Please; will you let me have you?”

He pauses and swallows hard, before finally summoning the words. Those words.

“Will you marry me?”

Your words are caught in your throat. Joel’s eyebrows are knitted tightly, nervously awaiting a response, something, anything from you.

But no words come.

You lower yourself off of the swing, mirroring Joel and kneeling onto the wood of the porch, facing him.

You have no words to speak; you only bring your hands to cradle the sides of his face, and softly connect your lips with his.

Joel’s kissed you countless times before, just as you’ve kissed him. But never has a kiss between the two of you felt like this. Never this tender. Never with this much pure, raw emotion behind it.

When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his gently. You softly nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Joel isn’t breathing. He gently pulls away to look at you, and for a moment it’s completely silent, save for the soft sound of the crickets in the night. And then it’s hits him.

Yes. You said yes.

Joel huffs out a breathless laugh, followed by one of your own. Tears that he hadn’t been aware of begin to fall, trailing down his cheeks as he goes to kiss you again, his lips colliding with yours. When you pull away, you both can’t help but laugh again, perhaps just out of the sheer disbelief or joy. Joel realizes that the open leather box still sits in his lap. He exhales deeply before removing the ring from the velvet of the box and holding it out towards you.

“Here,” his voice is heavy as he offers his other hand out to you. “Let me.”

You place your left hand in his, and he slips the band onto your finger ever so gently. The fit is perfect, and the gold shines under the warm glow of the porch lamp.

Joel intertwines your fingers with his as he kisses you again. It’s deeper, there’s a passion lying behind it that wasn’t there before. Joel’s tongue swipes against your bottom lip, a small tease before he pulls away. You nearly whine at the loss, but Joel stands up, offering you his hand. You understand instantly, eager to be back inside of your home.

He grabs the neck of his guitar from the porch swing before pulling you both inside, kicking the front door shut behind him. He leans the guitar next to the doorframe before turning back to you, guiding you up the stairs and into your bedroom.

As soon as the door shuts, Joel’s wastes no time kissing you again deeply, trying to savor the feeling of his lips on yours. He bites your bottom lip and he nearly wants to smirk at the little gasp that escapes you. His hands wrap around around your waist, holding you flush against him as he begins to kiss down your jaw. He dips lower, nipping at your pulse before soothing it with his tongue. You let out a pleasured sigh at the feeling of his lips on you. He knows you’re eager, and so is he, but he’s taking a different approach tonight.

He wants to show you how he feels for you, beyond words. He needs to.

His hands come to the hem of your shirt, lifting the edge slightly. He pulls away, his deep brown eyes looking into yours.

“Can I take this off you, sweetheart?”

You nod your head eagerly, allowing him to undress you. He removes your shirt and bra, tossing them aside. He allows himself to take in the sight of you for just a moment, before moving to the waistband of your bottoms and removing them as well.

“Lie down for me.”

It doesn’t take much for you to comply, coming to rest on the bed. Joel undresses in front of you, removing his shirt to reveal his soft body, dark hair starting from his navel, and trailing down, below the waistline of his jeans. You swallow hard at the sight, before he joins you on the bed. He hovers above you, one sturdy forearm holding himself up as his other hand gently brushes your hair back. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before moving back down to your neck once more.

Joel lips trail down past your collar bone and to your chest, beginning to nip and suck at the sensitive flesh. He leaves dark love marks littered against your skin, languidly kissing his way down your belly until his lips stop just at the waistband of your panties.

“Lift your hips for me, baby.”

Your breath hitches and you can feel a warmth within you beginning to bloom at his words. You do as he says, allowing him to slip the fabric down your legs before discarding it on the floor. He looks down at you hungrily, pupils dilated and lips parted as he hooks his arms beneath your legs, settling between your thighs. He nearly groans at the sight of you completely exposed for him, and he can feel himself growing harder, straining in his jeans. “All mine,” he whispers, mouth hovering just over your center. “You’re all mine.” You can feel the heat of his breath against your wetness and you need him.

“Joel, please—”

He cuts you off with a long swipe of his tongue, drawing a gasp from you. He continues his movements, applying pressure to your clit with each lap of his tongue. He braces your legs with his arms, pulling you closer to him. He does not even give you a chance to open your mouth as he takes your clit fully into his mouth, beginning to suck. A moan falls from your lips, and he smirks into your pussy at the sound, continuing to devour you. It’s not long before you feel a finger teasing your entrance. Joel looks up at you, eyes asking for permission. You give him a pleading look, and he knows it’s all the permission he needs.

Joel slides slowly slides in his middle finger, before adding another. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling, his fingers thick and long inside you. He curls his fingers inside of you, pressing against a spot that has you arching your back for him. He accompanies the movement of his fingers with his tongue, lapping at your clit fervently.

You can feel the heat within your lower belly increasing by the second. The combination of his tongue and his fingers inside you bring you closer and closer to the edge. Joel can feel you tightening around his fingers and he knows he’s nearly got you where he wants you.

He focuses in on the sound of your little pants and moans of his name, drinking in your sounds as he speeds up his movements.

Your hand comes to meet his head, fingers threading through his curls and tugging lightly. He groans into you at the slight pull, and the vibration is all you need to finally be sent over the edge, and he takes it all, swallowing, wanting to savor your taste.

Your chest heaves as you perch yourself up on your elbows, coming down from your high. Joel presses a kiss to your thigh, smiling softly at you. Despite the numbness in your legs, you sit up on the bed. Still between your legs, Joel stands from his kneeling position at the foot of the bed and leans down to kiss you. You sigh into the kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. Your hand trails down to the waistband of his pants, eager to pleasure him, to give him something in return, when he stops you, his hand grasping your wrist gently. He shakes his head, smiling softly at your eagerness.

“Not tonight,” he says. Any protest you might have had is silenced as he presses a kiss to your neck, gently pushing you to lay back further on the bed. “Wanna take my time with you,” he speaks in between kisses to your skin. “Wanna make you feel good. You gonna let me make you feel good?”

You nod your head. “Yes. Please, Joel.”

He sits up quickly on his knees, his eyes fixed on yours as he undoes his belt, letting his jeans fall before finally removing his boxers. His arousal is evident, the head of his cock wet with pre-cum.

Joel leans down to be on top of you, bringing himself to your entrance, running the head of his cock gently against your slit before pushing the tip in slowly

“Joel,” you gasp at the feeling, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, baby.” He rests his forehead against yours as he pushes in deeper, letting out a deep groan when he finally bottoms out inside you. He’s a stretch, but he gives you a moment to adjust to his girth. “You alright?” He asks. You nod, giving him the go ahead to move.

Joel pulls his hips back slightly before his hips meet yours, giving you the first thrust, slow and deep. You both let out a groan at the feeling and Joel gives you another, drawing a sweet whine from your lips.

He sets the perfect pace, strokes long and hard inside you. With each thrust of his hips, his cock hits that spot that nearly makes you tremble. Joel groans into your shoulder, nearly losing himself in the way you feel around him. He moves his forehead from yours to get a good look at you, and gosh, you’re a sight. Your eyebrows knit together, lips parted as little moans escape you from each thrust of his hips against yours. He kisses you with reckless abandon, swallowing your moans with his lips as he thrusts, strokes hitting deeper.

“All mine. You’re all mine, you hear me?”

You nod, overwhelmed by his words and each spearing movement of his cock inside of you.

“Yours,” you breathe out. “I’m all yours, Joel.”

Joel groans at your words, his thrusts growing deeper and harder, and that familiar feeling in your core returns, intensifying at each thrust. You squeeze around him, and he brings his hand to intertwine with yours, just above your head. You’re close to nearing your peak, breath growing more ragged and your moans turning to whimpers. The knot in your core is about to come undone and Joel can feel it, close behind you.

“Come on my cock baby, let me feel you. I’ve got you.”

With one last hard thrust, you come undone around him, crying out his name. “Atta girl,” he whispers against your skin just before reaching his own release, moaning into your ear as he fills you up. “That’s my good girl.”

He rests on top of you for a moment, panting into your neck before carefully unsheathing himself from you, and laying at your side.

You take in the sight of him, silver curls damp on his forehead with perspiration, his chest rising and falling. You steady your breath before speaking.

“When—?” You hesitate, unsure of how to broach the topic. Joel lifts his head to look at you. “When what?”

You draw in a breath.

“The wedding,” It’s the first time you say it out loud. You’re marrying Joel. Your Joel. All of the dry wit, all of the Southern charm. Every part of him is yours. “When did you want-”

“Yesterday.”

You laugh at him and he only smiles at you, both knowing that his eagerness is shared. He presses a kiss to the bridge of your nose. “As soon as possible. Whenever you want.”

Joel brings your closer into his arms, holding you tight.

“Gonna take care of you.” Joel lays a kiss on your forehead, so light, you barely register it in your blissed out daze.

He presses another kiss to your hair. “Gonna keep you safe.”

Your lips curve into a soft smile before planting a kiss to Joel’s neck.

“I know.”

You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life.

Author’s Note 📝🪶 : Hi :) This is my first time writing so if you made it here, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.