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solxamber · 1 month ago

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And I Choose...

In which you pick the dorm you want to join

Part 1: Choose Us

Heartslabyul

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d be willingly moving into Heartslabyul, but here you were, standing at the entrance with your bags (and Grim, who was loudly complaining about the lack of a tuna fountain).

Riddle was the first to greet you, looking as composed as ever. “Welcome to Heartslabyul,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was formal, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed his excitement. “I trust you’ll follow the rules properly now that you’re part of this dorm.”

Before you could respond, Trey appeared beside him, looking far more relaxed. “We’re glad to have you here,” he said with a warm smile. “I already saved you a slice of cake—figured you’d need a snack after all the chaos today.”

Bless this man. Truly.

“Say cheese!”

You barely had time to process Cater’s voice before you were blinded by the flash of his phone. “Oh my Sevens, the new dormie vibe is immaculate! This is totally going on Magicam!�� He snapped another selfie, this time pulling you into the frame. “And guess what? I’m using my clones to make moving day a breeze! You’re welcome!”

True to his word, Cater’s clones were already grabbing your stuff. You stared in disbelief as three Cater clones carried a single small bag together while laughing like they were in a cheesy sitcom. Efficiency clearly wasn’t their strong suit, but at least they were trying.

And then there was Ace and Deuce. The moment you’d announced your decision to join Heartslabyul, the duo had erupted into what could only be described as the most uncoordinated, chaotic victory dance you’d ever seen.

Deuce was spinning in circles like he was trying to summon a tornado, while Ace alternated between bad breakdancing and finger guns pointed at no one in particular. “We won! We won!” they chanted, completely ignoring the way Riddle’s eye was twitching in disapproval.

“You know,” you said, watching them make absolute fools of themselves, “I think I made the right choice.”

Grim snorted from his perch on one of your bags. “You’re surrounded by idiots, henchhuman.”

“Maybe,” you said with a grin. “But they’re my idiots.”

Savanaclaw

The moment you announced that you’d chosen Savanaclaw, chaos erupted.

Jack’s tail started wagging so hard it was like a propeller trying to take off. You half-expected him to lift into the air. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his usually calm voice brimming with excitement. “We’ll make sure you feel at home here.”

Ruggie wasted no time grabbing you in a headlock and giving you the noogie of a lifetime. “I knew you’d make the smart choice! You, me, and all this bribe cash—donuts for a whole year, easy! You’re officially part of the Savanaclaw hustle now!”

“Ruggie, I swear, if you ruin my hair—”

But the true shocker was Leona. At first, he played it cool, lounging lazily in his chair like your decision was no big deal. “Hmph, took you long enough,” he said, voice dripping with fake indifference. But then, as if he couldn’t help himself, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug grin.

And that’s when he pulled out his phone.

“Leona, what are you doing?” you asked, watching as he sidled up to you with the confidence of a king.

“Taking a picture. Gotta rub this in a little.”

Before you could protest, he snapped a selfie of the two of you. Then, with the smoothness of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, he took another.

One went to Vil. The other went to Malleus.

The captions?

To Vil: "Looks like I win. Stay beautiful, princess."

To Malleus: "Better luck next time, lizard."

You groaned, face burning. “Leona, was that really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket and smirking like the cat who caught the canary. “Welcome to the pack, herbivore.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help smiling. Maybe Savanaclaw wasn’t such a bad choice after all.

Octavinelle

The second you announced you were choosing Octavinelle, chaos descended faster than you could say “Mostro Lounge.”

Floyd let out an earsplitting cheer and, before you could blink, scooped you up and tossed you into the air like a beach ball.

“Shriiiimpy’s ours now!” he cackled, catching you before launching you up again like he was testing the room's ceiling height.

“Floyd, please!” you yelled, your life flashing before your eyes as you flailed. “I don’t wanna meet the Great Seven this soon!”

Eventually, Jade stepped in, placing a hand on Floyd’s shoulder. “Now, now, Floyd. Let’s not accidentally lose our new dormmate to an untimely accident. We wouldn’t want to scare them away before they’ve even unpacked.”

Floyd, grumbling, set you down but kept a firm arm around your shoulders, as if daring you to second-guess your decision.

Jade, meanwhile, adjusted his gloves with a serene smile that somehow felt a little too sharp. “Welcome to Octavinelle,” he said smoothly. “It’s wonderful to have you with us. I assure you, you’ll be treated with the utmost care here.” He looked way too pleased with himself, his gaze lingering like he was already planning your initiation.

Then there was Azul.

Azul looked like he’d just won a billion Madol jackpot. His eyes gleamed, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to break into a little dance right there in the lounge. But then, with Herculean effort, he composed himself, clasping his hands and clearing his throat.

“Well, this is certainly a wise choice,” he said, adjusting his glasses like he hadn’t just been doing mental cartwheels. “I’m honored you’ve decided to join Octavinelle. We’ll make sure all your needs are taken care of.”

But then… he slid a very familiar-looking contract across the counter.

“Of course,” Azul added with a dazzling smile, “just a small formality. You see, this document simply guarantees that you’ll remain a proud Octavinelle student until graduation—oh, and a few other things.”

You stared at the contract hoping it might spontaneously combust. “Azul. I literally just joined. Can I have a minute to breathe before I sign my soul away?”

“No rush, no rush!” Azul said, not looking remotely deterred. “Take your time. But, ah—do keep in mind that signing sooner ensures the best possible benefits…”

As Jade handed you a drink (which you were very suspicious of) and Floyd draped himself over you, already talking about all the “fun” you’d have together, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just made a deal with the devil.

Still, as Azul's smug smile softened into something almost genuine, you decided it wasn’t the worst deal in the world.

Scarabia

The moment you announced your decision, Kalim was on you like a whirlwind.

“YOU CHOSE SCARABIA!!” he yelled, tackling you into a hug so tight you thought you might pop like a balloon. Before you could even gasp for air, he was spinning you around the common room like you were some kind of trophy he’d just won.

“This is AMAZING! We’re gonna have so much fun! Parties! Feasts! Adventures! You’re gonna love it here!” Kalim babbled, his infectious excitement making it hard to even feel dizzy despite the rapid spinning.

“Kalim,” you wheezed, clutching his shoulders, “please put me down before my life flashes before my eyes.”

“Oh, right!” he said, gently setting you down with a sheepish laugh. “I got carried away. I’m just so happy!”

As you tried to steady yourself, a much calmer—but no less relieved—voice spoke from behind Kalim.

“I’m glad you chose Scarabia,” Jamil said, his expression carefully composed, though you could see the faintest hint of relief in his eyes.

You blinked at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jamil replied, crossing his arms and glancing away like he didn’t want to elaborate. But after a beat, he sighed and added, “You’re one of the few people here who keeps things balanced. With you around, maybe I’ll have a chance to stay sane.”

Your heart melted a little at his quiet admission, even as Kalim jumped in again, declaring he’d throw a party that night to celebrate your move.

“Let’s get food! Music! Oh, we should decorate your room! Jamil, can we hang up those golden lanterns I found last week? And—”

“Kalim,” Jamil interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose but unable to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips, “one thing at a time. Let them breathe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the dynamic, feeling a warm sense of belonging already. Scarabia might be a lot, but it felt like home.

Pomefiore

The second you announced your decision, Epel let out a laugh so sinister it would’ve sent chills down a villain’s spine. “HA! TAKE THAT, EVERYONE ELSE!” he shouted, whipping out his phone to snap a selfie with you.

Of course, Rook popped into the frame with perfect timing, striking an overly dramatic pose as Epel sent the picture straight to the first-year chat. “VICTORY IS OURS!” was the only caption needed.

Before you could even blink, Rook had swooped in, bowing theatrically. “Ah, mon cher, your choice has blessed us with the most magnifique triumph! Let us celebrate with a dance!”

You barely had time to protest before he twirled you around the room like you were in some period drama. His excitement was so contagious you almost didn’t notice when he dipped you dramatically—until you felt yourself tipping back, only to be caught by Vil.

“Honestly, Rook,” Vil sighed, steadying you with all the grace in the world. “Do try not to give them whiplash their first day.”

He turned to you, his usual poised demeanor firmly in place, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings. “Welcome to Pomefiore,” he said, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’ve made the right decision.”

You were about to respond when Vil, ever the perfectionist, immediately began fussing over your uniform. “Honestly, you can’t be seen like this. Your tie is uneven, and—Rook, stop standing there and help them adjust their collar properly!”

As Vil worked, meticulously fixing every little detail, you couldn’t help but notice the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He might’ve been playing it cool, but there was no hiding how pleased he was to have you here.

Epel and Rook, meanwhile, had started arguing about who deserved the credit for your choice, while Vil made it very clear that it was his influence that sealed the deal.

And just like that, your chaotic new life in Pomefiore began.

Ignihyde

The moment the words “I’m choosing Ignihyde” left your mouth, Idia froze like someone had yanked his power cord out. His hair flickered erratically, and for a second, you thought he might actually pass out.

“Big Brother? Big Brother!” Ortho shook him frantically, his mechanical arms making a soft whirring sound. “Stay with us! They chose us! You can’t glitch out now!”

Idia finally snapped back to reality, though his face was still pale, his hair sputtering like a dying neon sign. “W-Wait, what?! You…chose here? Are you serious? This isn’t like, a prank, right? Did Ortho bribe you?!”

“No pranks, no bribes. I chose Ignihyde,” you said, trying not to laugh at his genuine bewilderment.

He blinked rapidly, processing your words. “B-But the PowerPoint… I thought it was way too cringe. I mean, I had like, fifty slides about food optimization! Who’d find that interesting?! You were supposed to be like, ‘Ew, no thanks,’ and leave!”

“Actually, I thought it was kind of cute,” you admitted, watching as his hair flared a bright pink.

“C-CUTE?! AAHH, STOP, YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!” He clutched his hoodie like his heart was going to short-circuit.

“Big Brother, calm down!” Ortho interjected, practically beaming. “They chose us! Isn’t this the best thing ever?”

Idia rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. “…So, uh, do you wanna, like…celebrate or something? I-I mean, I know you probably have better things to do, b-but if you wanna…play a game or something, that’d be cool.”

You smiled. “I’d love to.”

Ortho let out an excited cheer and zipped over to hug you tightly, his arms surprisingly warm. “Welcome to Ignihyde! I’m so happy you’re here! This is gonna be the best!”

As Ortho buzzed around you, already listing off all the things you could do together, you caught Idia sneaking a shy glance your way. His hair was still flickering pink, and he looked like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You weren’t sure what life in Ignihyde would bring, but if it meant seeing Idia like this—flustered, happy, and maybe a little hopeful—you knew you’d made the right choice.

Diasomnia

The moment you announced you’d chosen Diasomnia, Sebek practically burst into flames.

“OF COURSE YOU CHOSE DIASOMNIA!” he boomed, puffing up with pride. “It’s the only logical choice! With the Young Master here, there was no other dorm worthy of your presence!”

Silver chuckled softly at Sebek’s theatrics, stepping forward with a kind smile. “Welcome to Diasomnia. I’m glad you’re joining us. Let me know if you need help moving your things—I’ll be happy to assist.”

Before you could respond, Lilia appeared out of thin air, laughing like a mischievous ghost. “Ah, welcome, welcome! We’ve been expecting you…or at least, I have. Let me go fetch Malleus so he can hear the good news himself!” And with that, he vanished in a puff of green smoke, leaving you blinking at the empty spot he’d occupied seconds before.

Malleus arrived moments later, his towering presence filling the room. His emerald eyes softened as they landed on you. “I heard you’ve made your decision. Have you truly chosen Diasomnia as your dorm?”

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, I chose Diasomnia.”

The way his face lit up was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His usual composed demeanor melted into something warmer, brighter. He almost looked…giddy.

“This pleases me greatly,” he said, his voice rumbling with quiet joy. “Come. I’ll give you a proper tour of our dorm.”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer before he gently ushered you forward, beginning the grand tour of Diasomnia. Lilia popped in and out of nowhere as you walked, adding bizarre and entirely unnecessary facts.

“And over there,” Lilia said, gesturing to a decorative suit of armor, “is what I wore when I once tripped and almost spilled soup on Malleus when he was a child. Ah, good times.”

Malleus sighed but didn’t stop him. “This area is the library. Feel free to browse the shelves at your leisure. I can show you my favorite tomes later.”

“And this hallway is where Sebek shouted for the first time when he thought Malleus was missing! Nearly shattered all the windows,” Lilia added with a grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the whole thing feeling so surreal yet oddly comforting. Silver walked quietly beside you, throwing in the occasional useful tidbit, while Sebek followed behind, grumbling something about Lilia not taking the tour seriously.

By the time the tour ended, you felt strangely at home. The eccentricity, the warmth, the oddly familial atmosphere—it all wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

Malleus turned to you, his expression soft but sincere. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll personally see to it.”

Lilia smirked. “Safe and well-fed. I’ll whip up something special to celebrate!”

“Please don’t,” Sebek muttered, but you just laughed, already feeling like you belonged.

Secret ending: Ramshackle

When you finally dragged yourself back to Ramshackle, you were met with Grim, lounging on the couch like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well, henchhuman? Which dorm are we moving to? I hope you picked the one with the best tuna," he yawned, tail flicking lazily.

You slumped down next to him, groaning. "None of them."

Grim's ears perked up. "Huh? What do ya mean, none of them?!"

"I told Crowley to just fix the worst parts of this place. I’d rather stay here. Everyone’s so excited for me to join their dorm—I don’t wanna disappoint them."

Grim blinked at you, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. "Eh, as long as you're still my henchhuman, I don’t care. Besides, this place has character! And by character, I mean it’s haunted, but still."

The next day, Crowley gathered the staff and shared your decision with them. You’d half-expected him to brush off his promise, but to your utter shock, the teachers actually…pitched in.

Vargas showed up first, flexing dramatically. "Alright! Time to show these walls the power of my biceps! I’ll have this place sturdy in no time!" He started hammering away, though you were slightly concerned when he tried to patch a hole in the ceiling using a workout bench.

Trein followed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "This building is a historical relic, and it deserves proper restoration." He brought Lucius along, who mostly supervised by napping in different corners.

Crewel arrived next, snapping his gloves on. "We’re not half-assing this. Ramshackle is getting a full makeover. And you’re going to help, pup. Start scrubbing those floors. Chop, chop!"

Even Sam surprised you by popping up with a toolbox and a grin. "Can’t have my favorite customer living in a death trap, can I? Plus, a little investment in the neighborhood never hurts business!"

The repairs were chaotic but effective. You spent days dodging Vargas’ overly enthusiastic demolition attempts, enduring Trein’s lectures on historical preservation, and running errands for Crewel while he barked orders like you were a rookie in boot camp.

By the end of it, Ramshackle was almost unrecognizable. The roof no longer leaked, the walls were sturdy, and the floors didn’t creak like a ghost was stalking you (though you were pretty sure the ghosts were still there, just quieter).

Grim looked around, nodding in approval. "Not bad, huh? Maybe this place isn’t such a dump anymore."

You smiled, patting his head. "Yeah, it’s still home."

And as you settled back into your slightly less ramshackle life, you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Sure, your dorm might not have been the flashiest or fanciest, but it was yours. And that was more than enough.

Masterlist

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justinspoliticalcorner · 1 month ago

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Keith Edwards at No Lies Detected:

Donald Trump has been in office for one week, but it feels like a year’s worth of events have been crammed into those seven days. That of course is by design. Trump thrives on overwhelming our capacity to react, flooding the zone with chaos until we are too exhausted to resist. He wants you to feel powerless. He wants you to surrender. But this is not about resistance; it is about reclamation. Resisting implies he is in control, and we are simply pushing back. Reclaiming puts us in the driver’s seat, taking back what was always ours to begin with. Today, I’m going to write about how not to give up, how to take back your voice in your own future, so that when a year actually has passed, you’ll be able to look back not with exhaustion and despair, but with the satisfaction of knowing you fought back.

Give Yourself a Break – But Do Not Break

You do not have to be a political warrior every waking moment. If following every outrage sends you spiraling, turn it off. If breaking news alerts drain your energy, silence them. Stop following doomer influencers or left-wing media outlets that profit from outrage-mongering. To borrow an exhausted but accurate phrase: this is a marathon, not a sprint. Take the time to process your anger, to feel the betrayal, to curse the failures that got us here. Be furious at the Democratic Party’s fecklessness. Be enraged at the indifference of Republican enablers. Allow yourself to mourn the election loss. But do not wallow. Do not linger in the abyss. Feel your anger, harness it, and then use it. Because we never truly processed the trauma of the first Trump presidency – like with COVID, we let it taper off without closure. Whatever you need to do to process the fact that Trump is in power again, do it, because...

Accept That This Is All Going to Suck

There will be worse weeks than this one in the next four years. Many will seek refuge in denial, pretending that the worst-case scenario is mere hyperbole. Do not indulge them. Reality, however grim, is better faced than avoided. When I lost my sister, I found that I actually felt better when I accepted that she was not coming back. I found that the alternative – resisting reality and trapping myself in an endless cycle of grief – actually caused more suffering. Once we embrace the truth, however, we can begin the path toward something new. This applies here, too: America will not be the same, nor is it lost. If we accept the darkness ahead, we can begin carving out the light. The only way through this is forward. This is going to be bad. And the sooner you accept that, the better you are prepared to fight.

Get Involved

Fighting doesn’t have to feel big. Start small. Do something that reminds you that you have agency, that you are not a passive observer of history but an active participant.

When Trump was first elected, I refused to wallow in misery. I joined my local Democratic club, handed out ballot proposals, and took an active role in shaping my community. That decision put me on the path to becoming a Democratic strategist and creating a successful YouTube channel. Starting locally is the most satisfying way to get involved, because politics are most responsive when they are local. Federal politics are sluggish and hard to break into without experience, but local activism can be swift and potent. Attend a city council meeting. Get involved in your local Democratic Party. Knock on doors for a local candidate or ballot initiative. Don’t just vent your frustration into the digital void – channel it into tangible change.

[...] Do not let Donald Trump eat your hope. He is not a king. The courts have already blocked his blatantly unconstitutional rollback of birthright citizenship. State governors are taking advantage of our federal system to prevent the rollback of rights and protections. Federal employees are pushing back against sweeping policy changes. We are only in week one, but this gives me hope.

Keith Edwards wrote in No Lies Detected on how to survive Tyrant Trump’s 2nd reign: don’t give up.

#Trump Administration #Trump Administration II #Donald Trump

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pucksandpower · 6 months ago

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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?

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mimiamorewon · 2 months ago

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jjk men’s favorite place to have sex

—★ mdni, reblogs appreciated

included: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, choso, takuma, & higuruma

content: (these are mostly jokes lol), suggestiveness, fluff, crack, explicit language

Satoru Gojo

Favorite place: The balcony of some skyscraper because he just loves being above everyone else. both literally and figuratively.

Gojo’s would no doubt go for maximum drama. He’d make jokes like, “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall,” whole time he’s the clumsy one who might just end up tripping over his own pants.

Suguru Geto

Favorite place: A quiet hot spring or getaway in the middle of nowhere, with a no-cell-service guarantee.

Geto absolutely loves the peace and beauty of it all, but there’s definitely a part of him that enjoys “embracing his mysterious villain energy,” as stated in his own words.

He’s the type to randomly monologue about the stars or the meaning of life mid-act, leaving you wondering if you’re being seduced or lectured. +Bonus points if he can dramatically pull his hair back as steam swirls around him like he’s in a perfume commercial. “Are we even here for the sex at this point?” you’d ask him.

Kento Nanami

favorite place: A swanky, ultra-modern hotel room, preferably one with a nice view and complimentary breakfast for the morning after.

Nanami is a man of precision and schedules, so the location must be clean, practical, and include its perks.

He insists on the bed being neatly made before and after. he’s not a heathen, after all.

The whole time, he’s probably calculating how many hours of sleep he’s losing and debating if it’s worth it (It always is.)

Toji Fushiguro

Favorite place: The backseat of a stolen car, possibly still running, most likely in a fast-food parking lot.

Toji thrives on things like chaos and bad decisions, so naturally, he’s picking somewhere dangerous and trashy.

He’s definitely cracking jokes mid-action, like, “Think the cops’ll give us five minutes if they show up?”

If the car is manual, he’ll probably accidentally hit the clutch at some point. but it’s all part of the “fun” he says.

Ryomen Sukuna

Favorite place: On the throne of his spooky, abandoned temple, surrounded by ominous torches.

Sukuna is extra in every sense of the word. He’ll insist on a spot where he looks like a final boss in a video game. +Bonus points if there’s a sacrificial altar nearby for “the aesthetic.”

He doesn’t have an inch of subtleness within him. He’d definitely say things like, “Bow before your king” while you’re simply just trying to bust a nut.

Choso Kamo

Favorite place: A private moonlit garden, probably near a koi pond (he read online that it’d be romantic.)

Choso is sweet but awkward, so he’s constantly trying his best to nail the mood. He’ll light a million candles and bring up random facts about flowers- “Did you know they symbolize eternal love?”

He doesn’t even care about the location, it just has to feel meaningful.

If you reassure him he’s doing great, he might actually shed a tear mid-session.

Bonus!!!!

Takuma Ino

Favorite place: A public library after hours. (breaking small rules is as edgy as he gets).

Ino thinks he’s being super daring, but the whole time he’s whispering, “Shh, baby, don’t get too loud..” like a paranoid hall monitor.

He’s the type to accidentally knock over a stack of books mid-action and panic, saying, “Holy shit— we’re gonna get banned from libraries forever.”

Hiromi Higuruma

Favorite place: A courtroom after hours, with papers dramatically scattered everywhere.

Higuruma is a walking contradiction, so of course, he’s picking the most ironically serious place possible.

He’s 100% the type to sigh mid-moment and say something like, “This feels wrong huh? but that’s what makes it right.”

He’d definitely joke about “objecting” if you’d try to rush things due to your fear of being caught.

@nanaslutt for the layout inspo !╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

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tarotofhope · 5 months ago

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PAC: ♡゙ First Impressions - (Your FS + You) ♡゙

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

Pile 1

What would you think of them:

Cards: 7 of Swords clarified by 3 of Swords Rev, Knight of Swords, Justice, 4 of Cups and Queen of Swords.

They might appear very calm and quiet to you. They could be like this by nature or because they've gotten their heart broken earlier, you will know the reason eventually. They might have been very impatient and driven by quick and not so thoughtful decisions before they became calm like a lake. They had to learn the hard way. You might also think that they speak in an unbiased manner and are very fair in their judgement. Although they might appear to you as if they don't speak much and might have a very close circle of 2-3 friends or very few people who are very close to their heart, they speak when it is required and then they speak their heart out. They appear very reserved and aloof to you. They like their solitude and would cut off ties easily with people who don't put as much efforts in a relationship as them. They might also appear very secretive to you but they are also the one to take other people's secrets to their grave. They might have major air sign placements such as Libra, Gemini Aquarius along with some water sign placements such as Pisces, Cancer, Scorpio in their chart.

What would your future spouse think of you :

Cards: The Tower clarified by 10 of Cups Rev, 8 of Swords, Empress, Judgement and Ace of Pentacles.

Their first impression of you would be that you are a f**king empress and you're just unaware of this fact. You appear to them as if you think so little of yourself, it could be so because you're very grounded and down to earth, you might find it hard to take compliments, for example: Maybe you look so gorgeous/handsome(generally) but when someone compliments you on your looks, you find it hard to believe. They do think that you look very beautiful. You become a shying mess or it becomes very awkward for you. Just like them(but yet differently), you had your own hardships, it is something related to family, now see, there could be 2 scenarios here, for a few of you, you could be facing major problems in relationship with your parents/guardian, siblings or you had to cut ties with them and for a few you, there could be a major breakup or divorce before meeting this person. Your future spouse thinks that you have a lot of potential to grow and become successful, they believe in you. They also think that you have a good judgement of right and wrong, good and bad people. They might also think that you could already be taken. You could've joined a new job or started a new business when you meet them. You could have major Libra/Taurus placements, Virgo and Capricorn, a little bit of Scorpio as well because Judgement card is ruled by pluto.

Extra Message: You guys could meet during travelling. It could be anything, while travelling within your own country or foreign travel.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 2

What would you think of them:

Cards: Knight of Wands, 9 of Wands, The Star, The Hierophant and the Page of Pentacles.

You would get the impression that they travel a lot or more so, you have seen them travelling a lot with your own two eyes. I'm getting that you meeting them could be mostly work related. You've seen them working a lot, handling a huge pile of work by themselves, working under so much pressure yet so efficiently and with so much determination. You know that they have come so far in their career. They could be someone who started very young yet very popular/successful in whatever job they're doing. I'm getting someone senior to you mostly your superior/boss but someone who's young. They could be handling a family business or it could've been their own startup business/organisation. You draw so much inspiration from this person. This person is very helpful too, they know how to handle a team and they'll help you grow in your workplace if you work under them. They give very good career advice and they can very well figure out who's got the potential to become successful. I'm getting major Aquarius, Taurus, Capricorn, Leo, Aries zodiac signs here for your future spouse.

What would your future spouse think of you :

Cards: 2 of Wands, 7 of Pentacles Rev. clarified by Wheel of Fortune, The Fool, The Lovers and Temperance rev. clarified by King of Wands.

They could think that even you travel a lot but here with the 2 of wands, they can see in you, a lot of passion for travelling to different places, learning about different cultures and languages. They really admire that. They think that you are very tough and determined and you work hard to achieve your goals. You're not afraid to give in your all for whatever you're ambitious about. They think that you can't be controlled but rather you must be handled carefully. You have your own king/queen kinda vibe to you. You have your fate in your own hands, and nobody can make you do something that you don't want to do. You value your independence and freedom above anything else. They see a lot of potential in you because they see leadership qualities in you. This reminds me of a quote which Phil says in Modern Family, “If life gives you lemonade- make lemons and life will be all like "whaaaaat?”😜 This is what your spouse might think of your personality because you do exactly this to turn your life around.😉 That's the vibe you give. You are the bold and confident one. They think you could be a very good partner to them(both, in work as well as romantically). For zodiac signs, I'm getting Leo, Aries, Sagittarius, Gemini and Aquarius for you and strong 7th house placements.

Extra Message: You both could meet at workplace, office meeting, debates, conferences. I'm getting an office building or tower.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 2. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 3

What would you think of them :

Cards: The Star, Page of Swords, 9 of Wands, The Hanged Man, Temperance, 5 of Swords clarified by Knight of Cups rev.

You think that they are quite balanced. They are very generous and kind with their money and other resources, very helpful too. They might be someone who's an heir to some ancestral property or their parents' property, they got a will under their name or something. You might think that their family has a good reputation and they are very protective of their family. You might also get to know that they were stuck in some situationship earlier or stuck in a job and they recently got out of it. They do not seem very lovey-dovey nor they seem too cold. They are just at the right level, perfectly balanced, according to you. But they might be someone who argues a lot, throws tantrums, wants to prove their point, likes to debate. Mostly they are very calm and won't talk much but they can't hold back when they're challenged. They might like mind stimulation a lot, puzzles or any game which challenges their mind. They might be of average height and they have a well shaped healthy body. You also think that they are very young at heart. They neither take things too lightly nor even too seriously. Most of the times, they don't show extreme emotions. For zodiac signs, I'm getting Aquarius, Gemini, Virgo, Libra and Pisces for them.

What would your future spouse think of you :

Cards: The Fool, 2 of Swords, The World, Judgement, Ace of Cups and Empress.

They get the first impression that you're freedom loving, you love to go on trips, vacations and adventures, but you might be quite indecisive, you take other people's opinions in both small and big decisions. You have a lot of patience for the world, they think. You might be a good judge of people and they admire that. You might appear very religious or spiritual to them. You have an eye for fine things, you might be into beauty or fine arts. You might be someone who's very connected to their family and roots, someone who values relationships a lot. They think you're very pretty/handsome, and you'd make for a perfect partner. They think that you're also someone who waits for the right people to enter their life rather than opening up their heart to anyone. You appear very loyal and trustworthy to them. For zodiac signs, I'm getting, Libra, Taurus, Cancer, Scorpio and Aries for you.

Extra Message: You both could meet at a small family gathering or you both are going to be introduced to each other by a third party or through family friends. It's mostly going to be from the comfort of your homes or atleast a safe, comfortable place. For a few of you, I'm also getting a place where you go to heal yourself, where you attain peace of mind, where you get some valuable advice, it could be through therapy, counselling, hospitals, spiritual or religious places, yoga centres or ashrams.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 3. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 4

What would you think of them :

Cards: 9 of Wands, Strength, The Fool, 4 of Cups, 6 of Cups and King of Cups.

You might get the impression or you get to know this about them, that they were bullied by people or hurt in the past by friends, maybe when they were very young and because of this they might like to be left alone, they like their peace of mind and solitude so much that they don't want to be bothered by anyone. Though they may appear naive or weak to you, but they have so much inner strength, they've survived on just this strength for so long and they'll continue to do so further. They might like animals a lot. They might also love to go on solo trips, solo camping, solo adventures but here's the sad part, from deep inside within their soul, they crave for that true friendship, maybe they're looking for a true friend in a partner. They never got one, never found one. Maybe romantic/lovey-dovey relationships makes them cringe. They might be very emotionally mature too but they know the price of their maturity. Unlike others, they were given harsh/cold treatments for small mistakes, they could've gone through mental trauma, guilt or anything that challenged their calm demeanor and innocence. Keeping their solitude aside, you'll see that they're someone who's very helpful, in general. They might love to do charity and donations. I can see that the courtship period between you guys could be very challenging for you, especially. Zodiac signs of your future spouse could be Aquarius, Sagittarius, Leo, Cancer, Scorpio and Pisces.

What would your future spouse think of you :

Cards: Knight of Swords, The Devil clarified by 6 of Pentacles, 8 of Swords, Empress, 7 of Wands, Justice.

They think that you are quite the opposite of them. You fight for things that don't seem right to you whether it is for you or others. They really admire this quality about you though. They can see that you're a social butterfly, you like to make friends and hang out. You find it easy to talk to people too. They might also get to know that your actions are being controlled by other people in your life, somebody does not allow you to decide for yourself. There's someone who's told you that you can't do this or you can't do that, you feel mentally trapped with this person or these people. You just want to run away and never come back. Your spouse respects your fighting spirit, and they really would like to help you in this matter. Your future spouse and you could help each other in healing past traumas of friendships and relationships. They kind of feel secure and safe within your presence. They know you wouldn't harm them. Over the years, people have made you believe falsely about yourself but you'll get to know your inner strength when you'll meet your spouse. This relationship is manifesting in reality because you both need healing and together you'll be able to achieve this. You both have a fair sense of equality and justice. You really stand out from the crowd, for your spouse. In the beginning, this connection might look difficult, but once the bond is developed, you both will be unbreakable together. Your zodiac signs could be Libra, Gemini, Sagittarius or Virgo.

Extra Message: You both could meet while on beaches, holidays, vacations, someplace where any kind of drinks are involved such as parties, pubs, bars or clubs. There's going to be a water body surrounding this place wherever you guys meet, such as a pond, lake, river, ocean, fountain, waterfall, etc.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 5

What would you think of them :

Cards: Death clarified by 10 of Wands, Page of Swords, Knight of Swords, Queen of Wands, 3 of Pentacles, 6 of Pentacles.

You would keep your guard up when you meet your future spouse because they appear too bold, loud and cheerful to you while you're the opposite of them. You'd think that they're not your type. At first, you might be very skeptical about your connection with them. You think that they are very quick and direct in their approach which might irk you a bit. They are also very straightforward with their words. They don't like to sugarcoat, whatever they feel or think, they would speak. So, if they like you, they'd say that directly to your face. They could be a huge flirt too. They live in the here and now. They might appear very confident and full of pride to you but this first impression of them will slowly fade away because you'll get to know that they can be serious too, they give very good advice, they are very mature, they help people a lot and they are very kind. They are the 'life of the party' kind of person and you might be the one who enjoys being alone in the corner. Eventually afterwards, they might feel like a breath of fresh air to you, like a burden has been lifted off your shoulders, when you actually get to know them. There can be some anger issues here though, some stubbornness in this person. If you see major red flags in the beginning, then you shouldn't get yourself further involved in this connection, but, because we are talking about your future spouse here, this connection is going to develop further but that does not mean you should stay in a relationship even if it gets toxic in the future. Their zodiac signs could be Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, Gemini, Libra, Taurus, Capricorn and Virgo.

What would your future spouse think of you :

Cards: The Hermit, The Hierophant, Page of Pentacles, Knight of Wands, 8 of Wands, 4 of Swords.

They might get the impression that you're very wise and knowledgeable. You appear very calm and serene to them. You might either be very traditional and religious or very unconventional and spiritual, or a contrasting mix of both. They can see that you're someone who's converted their passion into a profession, someone who's earning money from their talents and you've faced a lot of challenges regarding this. Maybe you left a proper job behind which gave you good money and started something which gave you very less money. They might be more rational and you might be someone who goes with your heart but there is mutual respect between you two. They really admire and respect you for whatever you're doing. They do not harshly judge you like others. They think you have a very calm demeanour and you're very patient. There's this innocence to you which reflects on your face and in your speech. You appear emotionally understanding and mature to them. They also think that you're quite hard to impress. Your zodiac signs could be Virgo, Taurus, Cancer, Pisces, Libra and Sagittarius.

Extra Message: You both could meet at a celebratory event, wedding, concerts, festivals, where there's lot of grandeur, lights, music, flowers, where people are dressed in their best. It could be a fine dining restaurant, a museum, art gallery too.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 5. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

——————————— ♡ ♡ ♡ ———————————

#astrology #divination #spiritualgrowth #spirituality #tarot divination #tarot pick a card #pick a card #tarot pac #pick a pile #tarot asks

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itneverendshere · 5 months ago

Note

the aftermath of sex with rafe and you’re about to roll out to leave and he’s like “what’s going on” and you’re like “oh you want me to stay?”

decided to use this request for bitchy!pogue!reader, bc i love their dynamic in my last drabble for them and wanted to see their relationship develop!! hope that's okay and thank you for the request!!🫶🏼🫶🏼

said it a million times, only stay with you one more night - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

your breath was still shaky as you lay in rafe’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. the room smelled like sex and bad decisions—the same old combination every time you found yourself tangled up with him.

what the fuck had you done? again.

you groaned internally, rolling to the side and blinking at the mess of clothes on the floor. your clothes. you needed to get out of here, like you always did after. this was a routine by now—fuck rafe, get dressed, leave before shit got weird.

but, of course, it was always weird with rafe.

he was your worst mistake on repeat, the asshole kook you swore you hated but couldn’t seem to stop ending up in bed with. and you weren’t entirely wrong. he was an asshole. that perfect jawline of his clenched every time he looked at you, like he wanted to snap or—snap you in half, depending on the day. he acted like he couldn’t stand you most of the time, and you loved it.

especially when you knew exactly where that frustration would end up: right between your legs.

you knew the deal. this thing with rafe was nothing but sex. pure tension. you loved driving him insane, loved the way his face would twist, how his hands would grip your hips with just a little too much pressure, like he had something to prove. but the second it was over, he always turned cold. he’d stare at you with that same look—disgusted, maybe even regretful—like he couldn’t believe he’d let himself touch you.

and you weren’t about to stick around for that bullshit.

with a sigh, you pushed the covers back and swung your legs out of the bed, standing up with a wince as your body reminded you just how hard he'd fucked you. the soreness in your thighs was a not-so-subtle reminder of how you ended up here, naked, in his bed again when you swore to yourself that the last time was really the last time.

you didn’t even bother looking at him as you reached for your jeans on the floor, pulling them on quickly. you needed to get out of here before he started up with that whole “i don’t even know why i did this” attitude, like you were the problem.

“where are you going?”

you didn’t even look back at him as you yanked your top over your head. “leaving. what’s it look like?”

the bed creaked as he sat up, and you could practically feel his eyes burning into your back. “what the fuck is going on?”

you paused, one arm halfway through your top, rolling your eyes at his tone. now he wanted to act like something was different? “what do you mean, what’s going on?” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word. “’m leaving. you know, like i always do after we fuck.”

rafe didn’t answer right away, and for a second, you thought maybe he’d just let it go. but then he surprised you.

“you don’t have to go.”

you turned around slowly, narrowing your eyes at him. “what? you want me to stay now?” he never asked you to stay. hell, he was usually halfway out the door emotionally before you even got your clothes back on.

his face hardened at your reaction, that familiar pissed-off look settling into his features. “yeah, i don’t know, maybe i do.”

you laughed, genuinely surprised. “since when? you want me to hang around and play house after?”

“do you always have to make everything so fucking complicated?”

you raised an unimpressed brow, “okay, i think you hit your head on the bedframe earlier.”

“shut the fuck up and get in bed.”

you froze, mid-laugh, because—wait—what? rafe cameron, the king of "get out before i pretend you don’t exist," actually wanted you to stay.

“excuse me?” you blinked at him, fully expecting him to break character any second

he was unpredictable like that. one minute, he was treating you like you’re beneath him—like you were the dirty secret he couldn't believe he kept hooking up with—and the next? he was saying stuff that made your heart do this stupid thing it had no business doing.

“get back in bed,” he demanded, like he actually expected you to listen.

“why? so you can flip back to being a fucking asshole in the morning?”

he rolled his eyes and groaned like you were the exhausting one here, “can you just—” he hesitated, clearly fighting with whatever stupid thoughts were bouncing around that kook head of his. “just come back to bed.”

and oh god, why did he have to sound almost...vulnerable?

you stared at him, fully aware this was a bad idea. the two of you didn’t “do” feelings. shit, he barely “did” conversation after sex. this wasn’t just out of character for him; it was out of this planet.

so you crossed your arms and tilted your head, leaning against his dresser like you had all the time in the world. “are you serious right now, cameron? you actually want me to stay? for what, a cuddle session? netflix?”

he gave you that trademark irritated look, tongue poking his cheek. “you’re so fucking difficult.”

“yeah, well, you’re not exactly easy, baby.”

you smirked, half expecting him to snap again. but instead, he did something you never saw coming. he ran a hand through his messy hair—full-on frustrated—and sighed. a real sigh. and then, in this quiet voice that was so unlike him, he said, “maybe i just don’t want you to leave.”

you felt your stomach flip. no no no. this wasn’t part of the deal. you two weren’t supposed to catch feelings. but the way he was looking at you, all raw and real for once, made your brain go foggy. you could leave right now. walk out, just like you always did, like a smart girl.

but something in his voice was pulling you back, like maybe this time was different. “rafe…”

“just stay,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours, and for the first time since you started this whole messed-up dance with him, you saw something in his face that wasn’t anger or lust or annoyance.

it almost looked like...he cared. maybe you’d stay, just to see what this was about.

you weren’t about to let your guard down completely. you weren’t some naive kook princess. you knew how to protect yourself—especially from guys like him, because let’s be honest, rafe was a certified disaster in human form. and you weren’t any better.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “if i stay, you’re not gonna pull some ‘i don’t know why i did this’ bullshit tomorrow, right? ‘cause ’m not dealing with that again, cameron.”

he huffed, but there was this softness to it. “can you just stay without turning everything into a fight?”

“turning it into a fight?” you raised a brow, incredulous. “that’s literally your specialty.”

rafe’s jaw tightened—again—but instead of snapping back like usual, he just stared at you. “’m not asking for forever, alrigh’? just one night. jesus.”

one night.

you could do one night, right?

you climbed back onto the bed, settling into the sheets next to him. it felt...weird. not in a bad way, just different. usually, you’d be out of here by now, shorts half-buttoned, sneaking out like some guilty secret. but this? lying next to him, clothes still off, in his bed, with his scent all around you? it felt more intimate than any of the wild, angry sex you’d had with him before.

“happy now?” you muttered, glancing over at him.

rafe didn’t say anything for a second. he just looked at you, like he wasn’t sure how to act either. “yeah. maybe i am.”

it was bizarre, how different this felt from all the other times. there was no rush to leave, no awkward scramble to avoid the inevitable “i shouldn’t have done that” speech. just the two of you, lying there in silence. you felt his hand brush against yours under the covers. it wasn’t a big, dramatic move, just his fingers lightly grazing your skin.

it was such a small thing, but somehow, it felt... huge. rafe was the last guy on earth you ever expected to be soft, especially with you. but here he was, in this tiny, almost awkward moment, doing something that felt closer to intimacy than anything else you’d ever shared. what the hell was happening?

“you’re acting like a human being. it’s weirding me out.”

he smirked, but it didn’t have the usual arrogance behind it. “maybe 'm just tired of being an asshole.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “that would be a first.”

he didn’t fight back like you expected. instead, his hand moved a little under the covers, and suddenly, his fingers were really holding yours, not just grazing but actually intertwining with your own. you blinked down at your joined hands, feeling your heart flip-flop in a way that annoyed you. this wasn’t what you signed up for, not even close.

but then again, when had anything with him ever gone according to plan.

“why are you doing this?” you asked quietly, trying to ignore how fast your pulse was beating.

rafe’s jaw clenched—again, with the jaw clenching—but this time, it didn’t feel like frustration. he was thinking, actually thinking about what to say, and that alone was enough to make you nervous.

“i don’t know,” he admitted, “i just—” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath like the words were hard for him to get out. “maybe i don’t hate you as much as i thought i did.”

that threw you for a loop. he was never this honest. you stared at him, eyes wide, waiting for the punchline, but there wasn’t one. he wasn’t smirking, wasn’t trying to act like he didn’t care. he just... said it. like it was the most normal thing in the world to admit feelings when feelings weren’t even on the table.

“Wow,” you breathed, genuinely shocked. “you really hit your head earlier.”

he snickered, but it sounded different—soft, even. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

“should i call for a doctor?”

it was unsettling seeing him like this, not lashing out or shutting you down with a snide comment.

“you don’t always have to make everything a joke.”

your eyebrows shot up at that, the surprise clear on your face. “excuse me? that’s literally what we do—” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “that’s our thing.”

he just sighed, shaking his head like he was genuinely exasperated with you. before you could throw out another sarcastic remark, he grabbed you by the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

his hand gripped the back of your neck with just enough pressure to hold you in place, but there was a tenderness in the way his fingers tangled in your hair. his lips met yours gently at first as if testing the waters, and the softness of it scared you. you were so used to him being all teeth, nipping, and biting, that this moment of quiet, hesitant intimacy caught you off guard. he kissed you like he was savoring it—like this was something he wanted to remember.

his thumb brushed lightly along your jawline, as the kiss deepened, his lips pressing a little harder against yours, but it still lacked the aggression you’d come to expect from him. there was no desperation here. his tongue flicked against your bottom lip, gentle but insistent, and without thinking, you parted your lips, letting him in. your bodies stayed close, but it wasn’t the usul closeness that came from lust. the slow, languid rhythm of his mouth against yours was intimate in a way that felt too personal.

rafe was kissing you like you were someone he cared about, like you were more than just another way to burn off steam. this wasn’t what you two did. you weren’t supposed to share soft touches and slow kisses. you were supposed to fight, tear each other apart, then fuck like it was the only thing holding you together.

when the kiss finally broke, you felt dazed, staring at him like you didn’t recognize the person in front of you. rafe, however, didn’t seem fazed. he just looked at you with those piercing blue eyes, still holding the back of your neck like he was afraid you’d bolt the second he let go.

“i meant it,” he said quietly, his voice a low, “i don’t want you to leave.”

“i don’t do this,” you muttered, shaking your head. “we don’t do this.”

rafe’s grip on your neck loosened, but his hand didn’t move. “i know. just tonight.”

you closed your eyes, breathing him in. he smelled like sweat and sex and something that made your entire body hurt in a way you hadn’t expected. maybe he wasn’t asking for forever, but staying here with him felt like it could change everything.

one night and you’d worry about tomorrow when it came.

1K notes · View notes

delulujuls · 8 months ago

Text

the true one | jacaerys velaryon

hi, here comes the pt3 of my jace series. i was having few ideas for how to end this one but i got carried away and i even started to feel bad how i decided to solve it.

we will see if i will end this up on here or write another part because man i do really feel bad for aegon:( im not gonna lie, at one moment i started to smell a love trangle forming up here lmao

summary: love lifts you up, but it can also hurt you. in case of dragon princess and young prince from dragonstone, love saved westeros from war, but it broke one heart that was already broken enough. a shattered heard from someone who since the beginning wanted love, not the crown.

warnings: mentions of sex, nothing crazy though

pairing: sister!targaryen reader x jacaerys velaryon (ft. cregan stark aka the-best-wingman-in-whole-westeros and aegon 'the broken boy' targaryen)

King Viserys did not engage in many wars during his reign, for he was considered a wise and good ruler. However, those that were unavoidable, he almost always managed to win. There was one battle he unfortunately could not win, and that was the battle with his illness.

Death came for the good king shortly after his 52nd Name Day, leaving Westeros without a ruler. There were two candidates vying for the Iron Throne, each equally certain of their right to it.

Many believed that Rhaenyra, the king's first child, was the rightful heir to the throne. However, because she was a woman, the crown fell to Aegon, Viserys' eldest son. Ultimately, he was proclaimed the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, but not everyone agreed with this decision. One of those who did not was Rhaenyra herself.

The Princess of Dragonstone, believing there had been a misunderstanding, began to gather allies around her who were willing to support her claim to the throne. Aegon, of course, did the same. At some point, however, there was no more talk of a peaceful resolution, and gathering allies turned into gathering armies. A cold wind blew over Westeros, heralding not only the coming winter but also war.

The most distant from the sunny King's Landing to the south was the North. There lay many settlements rich in resources and armies, which were now more valuable than gold. Both Rhaenyra and Aegon had no intention of wasting time. They had to secure allies faster than their opponent.

"You will go North," Rhaenyra told her eldest son. "Lord Cregan is closer to your age than mine. I am sure you will find a common language."

Jacaerys nodded silently and embraced his mother. He understood the weight of the task entrusted to him and intended to fulfill it to the best of his ability. Similar words Alicent Hightower directed to her eldest daughter when she visited her in her chambers one evening.

"Me?" the young princess asked, sitting in front of the mirror and brushing her hair. The maid who had been doing it earlier quickly left the room as soon as the queen appeared. "You have the King's Best Sword and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard at your disposal, and you want to send me to the North?"

"Aemond may wield a sword skillfully, and Ser Criston may be an envoy of even the Father himself," she said, gripping the back of the chair her daughter sat in. "But they are still men. They are driven by the desire to fight and pride."

When she looked at her daughter's face in the reflection, the girl merely shook her head.

"The people of the North must see the sacrifice we are willing to offer. You will not gain their support by intimidating them with a dragon but with gentleness and a good heart, burning with zeal and the desire for peace."

"The desire for peace," the girl scoffed. "You want to send me there to gather people ready to go to their deaths."

Alicent lowered her gaze. She looked at her daughter's bright hair, flowing down her back like liquid gold. She took it between her fingers and began to braid it.

"You are betrothed to the king, soon to be his wife and queen of the Seven Kingdoms," she said. "You will present yourself to them as the king's prudent right hand and future good queen. No one warms the image of a ruler better than his wife."

"Rhaenyra doesn't need to send anyone to the North to gain their support," she replied, glancing at her mother in the reflection. "You know well that no one will stand by the usurper."

"Perhaps not by the usurper, but by the future queen, they might."

The young princess knew that her mother left her no choice. Knowing that her journey was doomed to failure, she mounted her dragon the same day and set off in the direction from which the cold, winter-foretelling wind blew.

The eldest Targaryen princess and the prince of Dragonstone had not seen each other since they had celebrated Rhaenyra's 32nd Name Day together with King Viserys. Much had changed since then. News of the king's death spread across Westeros, and the Targaryen family split in two. Nothing indicated that the young princes, bound by feelings, would ever meet again. Certainly, none of them expected to meet hundreds of miles from home on frozen ground.

Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, knew this well. Ravens informing of the visit had reached him from both King's Landing and Dragonstone. The Small Council, in which the Wolf of the North sat, tried to dissuade him from the crazy idea of bringing both warring sides to Winterfell. However, Cregan was hopeful that Jacaerys was not driven by his mother's spirit and that the young princess was not a reflection of her cruel brother. He believed he would see dragons dancing while playing on the snowy sky, not waging war. He believed that youth and good hearts would prevail.

The prince of Dragonstone arrived in Winterfell first. Vermax swooped down from the sky with a roar, causing the inhabitants to watch the winged beast in horror. Neither the dragon nor its rider had any ill intentions. The same intentions did not drive the young princess, who arrived in the capital of the North shortly afterward. Just as the relatively small Vermax instilled fear in the people, so did the sight of the massive Vermithor prompt many to clasp their hands in prayer. May the Old Gods watch over the North.

When the Bronze Fury descended from the sky, Lord Stark and Prince Velaryon were on their way back from the Wall. They learned of the guest's arrival only when a rider came to meet them, announcing the arrival of a dragon.

"A dragon?" Jacaerys furrowed his brow and looked questioningly at the host. "Another dragon has come to Winterfell?"

"Yes, my prince," Cregan replied, urging his horse forward. "Let us hurry, we must not keep the guest waiting."

The young princess was informed that Lord Stark would soon arrive and was taken from the cold and invited to the chamber set aside for her stay in Winterfell. She removed her warm cloak and sat by the fireplace, rubbing her cold hands. She had been uncertain during the journey, but now she began to feel genuinely nervous. What was her mother thinking, sending her here?

Jacaerys remained silent throughout the return journey, gripping the reins so tightly his fingers went numb. Who had come to Winterfell? Had his mother sent someone after him? If so, why? And if it wasn't Rhaenyra, someone from King's Landing must have come North. Aegon? No, that would be too prudent. Aemond? Had he come to secure allies? And why had Lord Stark accepted this so calmly? Was it an ambush?

When they arrived at Winterfell, they headed straight for the castle. Instructed which chamber the guest awaited in, they went there immediately. Jacaerys' heart pounded wildly, and he did not share Lord Stark's calm demeanor. When Cregan knocked and pushed open the heavy door to one of the chambers, Jacaerys felt his heart leap into his throat. Hearing the knock at the door, the young princess felt the same. She took a deep breath and rose from her seat, smoothing her tunic with her hands. She looked up at the entrance and saw a tall, young man. She guessed that the steely-eyed youth was Lord Stark. However, he was not alone; someone else entered right behind him. The princess could not believe her eyes. She felt as though her mind was playing tricks on her after the exhausting journey.

"Jace?" she spoke uncertain, almost questioningly.

Jacaerys was in such shock that he felt as if his legs had grown roots into the ground.

"Princess," was all he could stammer out as she quickly approached him and hugged him tightly. The young prince closed his eyes and returned the embrace strongly. Feeling her in his arms, her hair tickling his face, he realized it was not a dream. It was truly her.

Cregan smiled at the sight of the dragons lost in each other's embrace. He knew he had no reason to worry. Kindness and youth would always prevail.

Still holding the girl, Jacaerys glanced at the Wolf Lord. Cregan smiled at him and quietly left the room.

"I thought I would never see you again," the girl whispered after a moment, pulling away and cupping his face in her hands. Tears shone in her violet eyes. Jacaerys took her hands and kissed each one.

"I feared the same," he admitted, not hiding his own emotions.

The pair sat by the fireplace, talking animatedly. They held each other's hands tightly the entire time, as if afraid that one might disappear at any moment.

They talked for a long time, forgetting the world around them. They spoke of what had happened to them since their last meeting, about the events that were tearing their family apart, and about the looming war. When their conversation turned to more serious topics, a servant entered the room, announcing that Lord Stark invited them to dinner. The Dragon Princess and the Prince of Dragonstone joined the Wolf of the North. The dinner was sumptuous but did not have many guests. The dining room hosted only the three of them.

"I hope you don't hold this arranged meeting against me, your Highnesses," Cregan said, pouring them wine.

The princess shook her head while eating, taking a sip from her goblet.

"It was a bold move, my lord," Jacaerys admitted. "I guess you had no certainty about how it might end."

"Indeed," Cregan acknowledged. "But I felt that neither of you held the dark values that sometimes blind your families. Luckily for me, and even more for the people of Winterfell, I managed to avoid making another Harrenhall here."

"You can't deny your courage, my lord," the girl smiled, glancing at him. "A bit of madness too."

Cregan smiled at her words and raised his goblet in a toast.

"I hope we can reach a good understanding together."

The princely pair also raised their goblets in a toast. That evening, there was no lack of wine and ale, and the topic of the impending war, though important, was left for another day. That evening was spent on more pleasant and mundane conversations. It did not resemble an evening where three representatives of different values gathered, but rather three friends.

As the wine started to buzz in their heads and the table was cleared of food, Lord Stark declared it was time to retire. After wishing each other a good night, Jacaerys went to escort the princess to her chamber. He held her securely by the waist to prevent her from falling, as their legs wobbled like reeds in the wind. The pair giggled quietly in each other's arms, their cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

"Stay with me," she whispered when they reached her chamber. "I guess the nights are exceptionally cold here."

"How could I refuse you, princess," he smiled, and she returned his smile and pulled him inside. On unsteady legs, she walked to a small mirror and sat down, beginning to undo her hair. Jacaerys approached her and gently, with great reverence, began to help. He carefully untangled her braids, occasionally glancing at her face in the mirror. Their eyes met frequently, eliciting soft giggles. The young prince had never stopped having feelings for her, feelings that had blossomed so vividly when they spent time together on Dragonstone. The young princess couldn't recall a day when she hadn't thought of him. Her heart, which she was supposed to give to another, loved the Velaryon youth unconditionally.

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered," he whispered. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, feeling as if he held velvet in his hands.

The girl smiled and stood up, facing him. She touched his cheek and ran her thumb along it. Jacaerys did the same, pulling her by the waist closer to him with his other hand. He noticed a necklace with a three-headed dragon, each head holding a green emerald, around her neck. The young prince's face saddened.

"Have you already married him?"

"No," she replied. "And I still don't want to."

Jacaerys looked up at her, about to say something, but she kissed him impulsively. Realizing what she had done, she wanted to pull away and apologize, but the young prince caught the back of her head and deepened the kiss. She cupped his face in her hands, returning each kiss.

"Marry me, princess," he whispered. "We'll run away to where the map doesn't reach. Away from all this."

The Dragon Princess smiled and nodded, kissing him tenderly in response. Their wine and ale-soaked lips exchanged deep kisses, and their hands clumsily removed each other's clothes. Shortly after, they found themselves in a fur-covered bed, lost in each other's embrace. They didn't think about whether what they were doing was wrong. What was wrong was marrying someone you felt only fear and hatred for. The young princess knew she could never feel for Aegon even a fraction of the feelings she had for Jacaerys.

As night turned to dawn, the pair lay entwined together. Their naked, sweat-drenched, and kiss-marked bodies lay intertwined, almost as one. The girl pressed her cheek against the prince's chest, stroking him gently, and he held her, tracing patterns on her bare back with his fingers.

"Let's get married here," she said after a while. "Here, in the Godswood."

Jacaerys smiled sleepily and hugged her tighter. "Do you think Lord Stark would agree to that?"

"I think he'd be the first to bless us."

The young prince chuckled softly at her words. The girl lifted herself and looked at his face.

"I love you, Jace," she confessed almost in a whisper. "And I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."

The boy smiled and cupped her face. His heart swelled at her words. The love he saw in her eyes was boundless.

"I love you too, princess. I would give my life for you."

The next day, even before the three of them sat down for breakfast, Lord Stark knew what had transpired in one of his castle's chambers. He had heard that the bed in Jacaerys' room remained unmade and that he had arrived at the dining hall in the company of the princess. Cregan would be lying if he said he wasn't pleased. He hadn't realized the feelings the pair of dragons had for each other. It turned out that love could indeed conquer war. Still filled with apprehension, Jacaerys decided to present the Wolf of the North with the idea of marriage.

"Who am I to dissuade you from this idea?" he replied. "I will gladly lead the princess to the wedding myself."

That same day, in the Godswood, the wedding ceremony took place. Compared to weddings held in the Faith of the Seven, it was modest. Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, fulfilled his promise and led the dragon princess to the Weirwood tree, where her Velaryon prince awaited her. Beyond the wall of the Godswood, two large dragon heads watched, occasionally breaking the silence with squawking and growling.

The witnesses to the wedding were dragons, the Wolf of the North, the Heart Tree, and the Old Gods, who silently observed the marriage. Dry leaves rustled in the icy wind, and snowflakes settled on the rosy cheeks of the soon-to-be-married couple, who became husband and wife after a brief ceremony.

"So, it is done," Lord Stark smiled. "But what kind of wedding would it be without a feast?"

The newlyweds exchanged smiles and, holding hands, followed the Wolf of the North towards the castle. That day, the specter of war had to wait as well.

However, the next day, the issue of northern allies and whose side they would take had to be addressed. The dragon princess represented the greens, while Jacaerys the blacks.

"Have your lords side with us," the princess proposed during a Small Council meeting, gripping her husband's hand tightly under the table. "Not with Aegon or Rhaenyra. Let them withdraw from this battle for allies."

"With all due respect, princess, are you planning to fight? To be a third party in this conflict?" one of the men at the table asked.

"There will be no war," Jacaerys interjected. "And even if there were, it wouldn't be the North's war. They won't participate in what's happening in the South. This will weaken the military forces."

"We can't be neutral," another man stated. "Lack of a side is worse than betrayal. What if someone less benevolent than you comes on a dragon and razes us to the ground?"

"No one will do that," the princess assured. "I guarantee your safety."

"I do too," Jacaerys added. "The capital must understand that this conflict has no higher purpose and will only bring unimaginable misery."

"I'm afraid, Your Highnesses, that neither Princess Rhaenyra nor King Aegon will relent," one of the men replied. "Do you think your marriage would dissuade them? The King could annul it at any moment."

"The King can continue doing what he does best, drinking himself into oblivion and fucking whores," the girl snapped, involuntarily squeezing Jacaerys's hand harder. "If the news of the wedding isn't already on its way to the South, it will be soon. Tomorrow we'll head back and announce that the marriage is a peace treaty. And if that doesn't impress anyone, we'll send a message to all who have allied with both Aegon and Rhaenyra to withdraw their commitments. I swear by the Seven, no one, given the choice, will go to certain death. The fight between dragons will bring nothing else."

The princess's words brought silence among the gathered. After a moment, Lord Stark stood up and drew his sword, kneeling before the girl.

"You can count on me, princess. The Stark family will side with the young couple."

The dragon princess smiled and nodded to him. Grateful, Jacaerys did the same. Soon after, each of the men at the Council meeting followed the Wolf's lead. The girl's passionate and convincing words withdrew not only the Stark family but also the Umbers, Karstarks, Mormonts, Boltons, Ryswells, Reeds, Hornwoods, and Cerwyns from the conflict. And it was just the beginning.

That same day, ravens were sent to all who had castles from the Wall to Moat Cailin, from the Stormy Shore to Widow's Watch. Each message was signed by the young couple and the Wolf of the North himself.

"I wish you much perseverance, Your Highnesses," Cregan said before they mounted their dragons. "But I believe you will manage to dissuade us from war."

It might not have been appropriate, but the girl hugged him tightly in farewell. Cregan had done unimaginable things for them in just a few days. The Wolf of the North smiled and hugged her back.

"I've never met someone with a heart like yours, princess," he admitted. "You have my word that the North will always protect it."

Jacaerys extended his hand to him, but Cregan hugged and patted him on the back. The Prince of Dragonstone smiled and returned the embrace.

Two dragons left Winterfell, but the icy wind carried them for a long time. That same wind brought news of the wedding to the South shortly after, before they had traveled even a quarter of the way.

"May the Seven protect us," Alicent sank into her chair when the maester came to her with the news. She strictly forbade anyone to speak of it, especially to Aegon. She quickly sent for the Hand.

Otto laughed when he heard the news. His daughter, however, found no humor in it.

"Brilliant," he remarked, filling his goblet and taking a sip of wine.

"Brilliant?" Alicent thought everyone had lost their minds. "She broke off the engagement. Aegon could burn Dragonstone to the ground when they return."

"If I were Aegon, I'd pack the crown in the finest cloth, seal it with the best wax, and send it to Dragonstone immedatiely."

Alicent shook her head and buried her face in her hands. Otto did not share his daughter's pessimism.

"Or better yet, he should place it on dear sister's head himself when she returns from Winterfell," he corrected. "The girl circumvented a code we didn't even know existed."

"She caused a catastrophe!" Alicent exclaimed, looking at her father in disbelief. "She was Aegon's betrothed and the future queen. She was only supposed to go North to gain allies!"

"And she decided to end the war," he replied. "We definitely placed the wrong child on the throne."

Alicent shook her head in disbelief. She didn't know if her father was joking or if he genuinely saw no problem with the situation.

"So what should we do?" she asked, looking at him.

"First, we should wait for them to return and announce this joyous news," he said.

When the dragons reached the South, they decided to separate. Jacaerys returned to Dragonstone, wanting to personally deliver the news to his mother not only about the marriage but also about the withdrawal of the northern armies from the war. The princess returned to King’s Landing and immediately made her way to Aegon’s chambers.

She didn’t know if the news had reached her brother, but she decided to handle the matter herself and as a priority. A small dagger hung at her belt, and she had no guards with her except for the two standing in front of Aegon’s chamber doors. The men greeted her and bowed slightly, but she dismissed them as soon as she stood in front of her brother's chambers. She took a deep breath to muster some courage as she raised her fist and knocked on the door.

When a voice from inside instructed her to enter, the young princess pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. Aegon stood before a large mirror, dressed in armor. Three men were fussing around him, making adjustments, adding and removing parts of the armor. Three guards stood beside Aegon, talking animatedly with him. However, when they noticed the princess, they bowed, and the two tailors did the same. Aegon saw in the mirror’s reflection a figure he hadn’t seen for several moons. He smiled and turned, taking a sip of wine from the goblet he held.

"My brave, sweet sister," he said, stepping down from a small stool. He was drunk, as always. "Did you secure the North for me, my dear?"

"I need to talk to you," she approached, glancing at him. "In private."

"You heard the future queen, out!" Aegon commanded, waving his hand. Shortly afterward, the room was empty except for the siblings. The young king finished his wine and set the empty goblet aside, stepping closer to the girl. When he was within arm’s reach, he raised his hand to touch her cheek, but she pulled her head back.

"I hoped that your visit to the North would cool your temper a bit," he admitted, lowering his hand. "But i see that even the harshest cold can’t chill a dragon."

"I married Jacaerys," the girl said quickly, almost as quickly as if she had shot an arrow from a crossbow. Her voice didn’t tremble. She raised her eyes to her brother’s face. "I won’t be your wife, Aegon."

The boy snorted, but seeing her serious expression, he couldn’t help but laugh.

"What did you do?" he chuckled. "Repeat it, because I must have misheard."

"We got married in Winterfell, and Lord Stark decided to withdraw from the war. His vassal lords too, and the whole North was given the same choice."

Seeing that his sister wasn’t joking, Aegon wiped the smile from his face. His eyes, though glossy with alcohol, looked at her in shock. His eyelid twitched.

The young princess clenched her jaw. However, she didn’t take a step back. Her muscles tensed involuntarily, readying for a fight or flight. Aegon, however, didn’t say a word. He was the first to retreat. He reached for the goblet and poured himself some wine, drinking it greedily. The girl expected anything. She was ready for his screams, insults, and threats. She was even ready for him to raise his hand against her. But Aegon did none of that. He sat on the stool he had stood on moments ago and gripped the goblet in his hands.

"Why did you do it?"

The princess didn’t expect to hear that question. Now it was she who felt as if she had misheard.

"To weaken and humiliate me?" he asked, raising his eyes to look at her. "Or to hurt me?"

"I love him," she admitted sincerely. She wasn’t lying. It had never even crossed her mind to strike at her brother in such a way. "And he loves me. He is kind to me."

Aegon lowered his gaze, staring at the goblet in his hands. Despite the armor he wore, despite the title of king he held, he felt like a rat. His reaction surprised the girl. To such an extent that she didn’t know what to say.

"Would I be incapable of loving you?" he asked after a moment, looking at her again. The girl couldn’t meet his eyes.

"You only fill me with fear," she admitted quietly.

Aegon’s eyes roamed her face. He recalled a time when he had gone too far and threatened her with a knife, the times he bullied and intimidated her. He lowered his gaze. You fill her with fear, monster, he thought. You are a monster, Aegon.

In silence, the girl raised her eyes to her brother’s face. Deciding that the conversation had no chance of continuing, she turned to leave his chambers.

"I'm sorry," his voice called out behind her. The young princess turned and looked at her brother. Aegon’s cheeks were wet with tears. "I apologize for everything I did to you."

"I was never your enemy," she replied. She couldn’t muster anything more to say.

She quickly left her brother, heading to her chambers. She wasn’t ready for a confrontation with her mother. She needed to recover from what she had just experienced.

Nevertheless, Westeros managed to dispel the looming specter of war. The wind from the North brought only winter, not bloodshed. Every few days, ravens arrived at Winterfell with news that another castle had joined the young dragons’ marriage and withdrawn from the war. Families from the east, west, and south did the same, sending their assurances directly to Dragonstone. Rhaenyra and Aegon had to abandon the conflict. Viserys’s eldest daughter even planned to go to King’s Landing to reconcile with her brother and acknowledge him as king. The same day she planned to set out, a messenger brought her a small chest.

"What is this?" she asked, glancing at the young man. She accepted the gift uncertainly.

"From King’s Landing, Your Grace."

Jacaerys stopped his mother’s hand as she reached for the latch on the chest. "It could be a trap."

"Would Aegon want to kill me in such a way?" she looked at him with amusement. The young prince hesitantly withdrew his hand.

Rhaenyra opened the box and had to blink several times. She reached into the chest and pulled out a crown. The same one her father had worn on his head.

In shock, she looked at her son and niece, who were as astonished as she was.

"Aegon returned your crown," the girl said quietly.

"It doesn’t have to be Aegon," Jacaerys shook his head. He didn’t believe in any good intentions from his uncle.

The girl took the crown from Rhaenyra and examined it in her hands. In several places, she noticed fingerprints stained with wine. She had no doubts.

"It was Aegon."

#jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #hotd one shot #aegon ii targaryen

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hyorijie · 17 days ago

Text

Valentine's Day Special

Little Dear | Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings Smut, Nsfw, Alastor is in hell for a reason, possessiveness, attraction, sexual tension, strangers to lovers, P in V, raunchy sex, creampie, Lector is in hell for a reason, bratty attitude, Discord (Lucifer), MDNI, Typical canon violence, Mafia implications, Mimzy knows who is Reader, lots of bad language. Summary Fleeing a fate worse than damnation, your steps lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, the most ridiculed place in all of Hell. You couldn't have come at a worse time much less crossed paths with the worst person in Hell. N: I'm sorry for the delay, there were some technical problems (disease) but here I bring this piece of smut, enjoy! Second story coming soon *wink*.

Of all the places you could be right now, you never imagined you would end up in front of the huge, decadent Hazbin Hotel, the place that all hell was making fun of as if it were a bad joke. A place that, for many, was nothing more than a badly told joke, a ridiculous fantasy of redemption in a world where forgiveness was as scarce as sunlight.

And you were beginning to think you had arrived at the worst possible moment.

Your gaze swept over the scene in front of you, trying to process the spectacle of overflowing tension unfolding between the King of Hell and the radio demon.

How had you ended up right in the middle of this? Just another tenant in a hotel that sold itself as a haven of redemption, caught up in a game of egos that vibrated with static electricity and bad intentions.

Cornered between facing the consequences of your decisions or running away without dignity, you had chosen the latter. But now you were here, caught in a storm of power and influence where every glance carried a different poison.

The nervous twitch in Alastor's eye did not go unnoticed by you. His usual mischievous grin was stiff, the pressure of his jaw evident even beneath the glint of his sharp expression. One glance and you knew this was going downhill imminently.

Lucifer stood there, with his imposing bearing - despite his short stature - and that damned smile of false courtesy, holding his staff with an apple on the tip, as if this was all a game that he was assured of winning. Alastor, for his part, remained steadfast, radiating a presence that darkened the atmosphere, especially when his hands rested too familiarly on Charlie's shoulders.

It was an instant, a spark, but enough for Lucifer to intervene. His smile didn't falter for a second, but the way he pushed Alastor's hand away with a swipe of his forearm made his displeasure clear.

You watched as Alastor brought his hand to the affected area and slowly stroked it with his fingertips, without losing his smile.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Not from the blow, but from the look the red demon cast towards the sovereign.

It was not anger.

And yet, it was still something dangerous.

You rolled your eyes, feeling that you were witnessing the most ridiculous and dangerous rivalry at the same time. As if both were two beasts in a territorial duel, using gestures and sharp words instead of claws and fangs.

—Charlie, daughter, why don't you introduce me to your other friends? — Lucifer exclaimed in a light tone, his melodic and charming voice echoing in the air. His staff was raised a little higher, the red apple glowing in the light.

Charlie broadly, trying to hide the obvious tension in the air.

— Oh, of course! Dad, this is Vaggie, my girlfriend.— replied the princess, as she looked at Vaggie with a cozy, sweet affection.

The King of Hell seemed to exhale with relief at hearing the word "bride," as if that dispelled any misconceptions that hovered in his mind about the closeness between his daughter and Alastor. The latter, however, remained in the background, his dark eyes watching the scene closely.

It was only for a second, but you felt his gaze meet yours.

That simple eye contact was enough for a shiver to settle on your back.

You didn't know how long you were caught in that exchange of glances until Charlie grabbed your arm, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts and away from Alastor's enveloping presence.

— And she, Dad, is our new tenant. —Charlie announced excitedly.Lucifer turned his attention to you, and for the first time, examined you with genuine curiosity.

—Well...— he whispered, smiling a broad, refined smile.

In his bright gaze something difficult to decipher. Perhaps surprise. Perhaps interest. Or maybe he was just evaluating something he himself found fascinating.

As if it was the first time he had seen a sinner without obvious demonic traits.He stepped forward and took your hand gently, bending slightly to bring it to his lips.

— It's such a pleasure.— he murmured, his silky voice bordering on charming and calculating.

His touch was brief, just a light pressure of his lips against your skin, but enough to send a shiver through you. You knew how to hide it well, keeping your expression serene, but when Lucifer winked at you in an uncovered way, the discomfort became more evident inside you.

Instinctively, your gaze lifted... and you made a grave mistake.

Alastor was no longer simply staring.

No.

The twitch in his eye had intensified, his smile was strained to the point of looking like an edge about to tear. His brow barely furrowed, his fingers gripping his cane with calculated pressure.

The atmosphere became dense, and without warning, the sharp stroke of his staff broke the contact between your hand and Lucifer's.

— Oh, what a pity, your majesty! —Alastor intoned with venomous politeness, bowing his head in mock apology.— I didn't notice.

The impact resounded, but Lucifer only raised an eyebrow, smirking.

— How clumsy, Alastor. I'm surprised you're not more careful. — Alastor kept his smile, but the darkness in his eyes intensified.

— It's a flaw of mine, I suppose.— he replied with wry lightness, as his fingers gripped his staff tighter.

The air around him vibrated with a slight crackle of static.

And then, the tension exploded in a crossfire of words laden with mockery, defiance and hatred disguised as diplomacy. Subtle insults and veiled jabs of arrogance filled the air until, finally, Alastor dropped the entire facade of politeness with a single word, one that escaped his mouth with a charge of pure irritation.

— Fuck you! — The filter in his voice distorted the word, but the rage hidden in it was impossible to ignore.

Lucifer blinked, then laughed. Not with genuine amusement, but with the kind of laughter of someone enjoying an impending fight.

And you, caught in the middle of it all, could only wonder how the hell you were going to get out of there without the situation becoming even more chaotic.

Because if one thing was certain...It was that the storm was just beginning.

The air was already tense, charged with the growing hostility between Lucifer and Alastor, when suddenly a third voice broke into the conversation.

— I've arrived, Al!

The high-pitched, overly animated sound contrasted with the gravity of the moment, causing a regretful silence in the room. Everyone present turned their heads towards the newcomer, with the same puzzled expression, as a hulking figure strode forward with a firm step and imposing attitude.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, visibly irritated by the interruption.

— Ah, Who? — he asked coolly, his eyebrow arching as he didn't recognize the voice.

But the answer came before anyone could explain.

— Mimzy, of course! — Your stomach cringed at the sound of that name.

As soon as your eyes recognized her, they widened like saucers. Mimzy. That damn woman.

Murmurs began to spread through the room as the relationship between her and Alastor became apparent. Her closeness with the radio demon, the familiarity with which she had called him...even the slight relaxation in Alastor's posture at the sight of her.

A new detail that left everyone in shock.

Alastor, who barely and barely tolerated the presence of most, seemed... pleased with her arrival.

But the worst was not that.

The worst was that, after scanning the room with an air of superiority, Mimzy fixed her attention on Lucifer, and her expression changed. His eyes shone with a particular sparkle, his face took on a smile of fascination and admiration.

Oh, of course.

Now she was also dazzled by the ruler of Hell.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore her as you discreetly slid up to the bar. You grabbed a glass at random and raised it slowly, pretending to be more interested in the drink than the new arrival.

Maybe, just maybe, if you didn't look at her, she wouldn't notice you.

But you knew it was a futile hope.

Your hunch was confirmed when Mimzy, with all the confidence in the world, advanced to the bar and settled next to you, waiting for Husk to pour her something strong.Your breathing remained steady, but your body was stiff.

Angel Dust, at your side, seemed much more interested in deciphering the relationship between Mimzy and Alastor than in noticing your discomfort.

But Mimzy did notice.

She watches you with a slight frown, as if trying to remember where she met you.

And then, it happened.

Her expression changed completely when she recognized your face.

—So here you were! — she exclaimed, his shrill tone piercing your ears like a rusty nail.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you reacted immediately.

— I don't know what you're talking about, I don't know you,— you answered in a modulated voice, trying to feign disinterest.

But it was too late.

Mimzy didn't buy your act for a second.

Her eyes narrowed and a smile full of venom spread across her face.

— Come on...— she murmured, leaning toward you with a sweet but intent tone. — You left everyone dead by your departure.

The sentence was carefully constructed. It was not a simple comment, but an accusation disguised as nostalgia.

You knew exactly what he meant.Your throat went dry for a moment, but before you could respond, before you could even process the weight of his words...An explosion reverberated through the hotel.

The walls vibrated violently, the lights flickered, and the deafening roar of the detonation rippled through the building, throwing several of those present to the floor.

Chaos erupted in an instant.

Cries of confusion and alarm rose, mingling with the crunch of falling debris. Husk cursed loudly, covering his head, as Angel Dust clung to the counter to keep from being knocked over.

Your glass shattered against the floor as the impact jolted you, but you didn't have time to worry about it.

Turning your head, your pulse racing and your mind still shaken by the recent explosion that had erupted before your eyes, you found Mimzy in a state of absolute hysteria. Her hands were shaking, her eyes moving frantically, as if her mind was trying to calculate at full speed the next step.

You frowned suspiciously. There was something about her reaction that didn't quite add up. It wasn't just fear, but an unmistakable certainty that she knew exactly what was going on.

And make no mistake.

The clatter of furious pounding against the gate echoed through the air, followed by a male voice exploding with

—Mimzy! You fucking bitch, we know you're here. — The threat came with the force of thunder, echoing off the walls, charged with hatred and the promise of imminent violence.

Your breathing stopped for a moment. That tone... that voice... A shiver ran down your spine as your mind immediately identified it. The world around you seemed to vanish for a second.

— Holy shit... — you whispered, feeling your heart hammering in your chest.

But you were not alone in that recognition. Next to you, Mimzy murmured exactly the same thing.

Her eyes met yours. You didn't need words to understand what that meant. You were both running from the same nightmare.

Before you could process it, a blinding glow illuminated the room and a portal burst open. From inside emerged Charlie, his father and Vaggie. The latter, with a frown on her face and her voice heavy with tension, asked:

— ¿Qué carajo? — Vaggie exclaimed coming out of the portal.

Chaos was tangible in the air. Mimzy, still panting, confessed with a frustrated addition:

— I fucked those bastards.

Of course, you wouldn't judge her. You had done exactly the same thing. But there was a problem.

They didn't know you were here.

— Hey, you filthy pieces of shit! — A shrill, mocking voice pierced the tension of the moment, freezing your blood. — Guess who's here!

Panic turned to pure fire in your veins. You turned your head just in time to see the wretched woman who, with a cruel smile, was screaming your name at the top of her lungs, handing over your location to those damn sharks.

For an instant, rage and survival instinct eclipsed all other thoughts.

You let out a choked scream and, without thinking twice, you threw yourself on her with the force of a wild beast.

— Fucking bitch! I'll kill you! — you bellowed as you lunged into the air.

The impact sent both of you crashing onto the bar with a crash. Glasses and bottles shattered under the weight of the fight. The bitch went cold, trying to get away, but you didn't give her a chance. Your fists descended in fury, slamming into her face with a rage that had been building up for some time.

In the background, Charlie screamed in terror, trying to stop the fight.

Angel jumped back, stumbling and falling over a table with a curse.

And Husker... that bastard just laughed, eyes narrowed in pure delight, watching you smash the face of the wretch who had just put your life in danger.

Chaos erupted in the hotel like a symphony of destruction. While your hands still clutched the traitor with the intention of beating her existence out of existence, an explosion of fire erupted inside the building. The shockwave shook the walls and sent flames in all directions, devouring curtains and reducing furniture to ashes.

From outside, the clatter of splintering wood and the deafening screams of the mobsters indicated that they had not come to negotiate. No, those bastards had brought a damn catapult.

— HAHAAHA! You've got guts, you cock-warming bitch! — roared a mocking voice from outside. — Did you really think you could run away from me, beauty?!

The tone was a mixture of sadistic delight and suppressed fury. The blood in your veins froze, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to move, to tear out the throat of the one who had betrayed you, but a pair of arms held you tightly.

— That's enough, doll! — Angel Dust struggled with you, pulling with all her might until you managed to break free from Mimzy.

The woman was left leaning against the bar, panting with a blank stare. Her face was bruised, her lipstick smeared, her hair a mess of curls and blood. You were in no better shape, but at least you could stand.

The tension rose as Vaggie, his face alight with fury, raised his spear with determination.

— I'm not going to stand here and wait for them to kill us, I'm going to fight those bastards!

Her shout echoed loudly, but before she could take another step, a guttural, mocking laugh came from behind her.

— Easy, my dear... — Alastor's voice, charming and dark at the same time, drifted through the air like a shiver. — Leave them to me.

A heavy silence spread as his smile widened wider than any normal face should allow.

— I'll show them all... why I'm here.

His figure began to change, elongating in a spiral of shadows and twisted energy. His antlers grew with a grotesque crackle, expanding like infernal branches. Its eyes took on a dull, sinister glow, dark dials swirling in its pupils as its body distended into imposing size. The atmosphere became suffocating.

From the floor, Mimzy let out a dry laugh.

— Finally! You were late, you bastard!

Alastor's laughter was the last thing you saw before he slid out the door with inhuman grace, leaving behind an echo of pure malevolence.

But while he indulged in his personal carnage, another battle raged inside.Lucifer, standing with the elegance of a king on the verge of an announced collapse, looked at his daughter with a grave expression.

—This is what I was trying to tell you, Charlie. — His voice was calm, but with an edge of deadly warning. — Sinners will never change.

Charlie, his face creaking and his hands trembling, clenched his fists tightly.Hell was on fire, and his conviction hung in the balance.

Flames were still smoldering in the wreckage when the massacre finally came to an end.

The air was thick with the smell of blood, gunpowder and burnt flesh. Outside, the dismembered bodies of the mobsters mingled with the rubble, and in the center of it all, Alastor was settling his jacket with a satisfied smile.

Inside the hotel, Charlie was trying, almost desperately, to talk some sense into his father.

— Dad, don't you see? — Her voice was laden with emotion, the pain visible in his expression. — Alastor may have... brutal methods, but at least he's helping us. Isn't that what matters?

Lucifer watched her in silence, his face inscrutable. His eyes reflected the disappointment of someone who had already seen the truth countless times and expected nothing different.

The scene was touching, it really was.

But you were too busy directing looks of pure contempt at Mimzy, who, of course, merely shrugged her shoulders with an expression of indifference. Her attitude only fueled your anger, but before you could say anything, a hoarse, cracked voice caught everyone's attention.

The last shark demon, staggering with its mangled body, dared to speak.

— You may be protecting those two bitches now... — His voice dripped venom, barely held by the thread of life she had left. — But that bitch who came before Mimzy is mine, MINE, AND I WILL KILL HER!

His words pierced the air with utter contempt.

A tense silence fell over the scene.

For an instant, Alastor did not react. His smile froze on his face, his head tilting just a millimeter as if he was processing what he had just heard.

Then he laughed.

A slow, thick laugh, full of twisted delight.

— She's yours, you say? — he repeated with unnatural sweetness. — Oh, wow... that's pretty hilarious.

And without giving a chance for more words, he devoured it.

Slowly.

Painfully.

The shark's shrieks of agony mingled with the sounds of its flesh being ripped away, its life snuffed out in desperate death throes.

Everyone present stood in complete silence, unable to look away from the horror show.

Finally, when it was all over, Alastor exhaled with satisfaction and shook his hands as if he had simply got rid of a little annoyance.

— Ah, my. — he commented in an almost nonchalant tone. — It's been a long time since I've been able to let off steam in such a way.

He settled his jacket with meticulous precision, as if nothing had happened.

Mimzy, who had been paralyzed all this time, straightened up like a frightened animal. Even with her attitude discarded, she could not hide the trembling in her hands as she muttered.

— Well... thanks for the help, Alastor. — Then, with a mocking and ironic tone, he added: — I'm very sorry for the disasters.

The demon did not respond immediately.

His smile was still present, but there was something else in his expression... something dangerous.

Then, when she dared to continue speaking, blurting out a comment about what a good friend he was, Alastor simply closed his eyes for a moment.His brow furrowed slightly.

— Go away, Mimzy. Get out.— His voice had not changed in sweetness, but the edge in his words was unmistakable.

She blinked, surprised by the cold tone.

— Huh? What's the matter with you now?

— You came here deliberately — he continued with forced patience — and endangered everyone. Go away... before I end up with you too.

The shiver that ran through Mimzy was almost visible. But instead of keeping quiet, her wounded pride made her let out one last retort, furious and defensive.

— This hotel is a trash ball full of freaks and misfits!

However, when his dark eyes landed on you, something inside you tensed.

The way he looked at you, with that smile still plastered on his face but with a twinkle in his eye that you couldn't quite decipher, sent a shiver down your spine.It was a warning.

Or something worse.

The atmosphere was still charged with the tension of what had happened, but you were no longer paying attention to any of it.

The murmur of the others faded into a distant echo as you made a clear decision in your mind: leave that damned hotel from hell.

That place was permeated with bad luck, with absolute chaos, with problems that only seemed to multiply.

Slipping into the shadows, you began to walk away without arousing suspicion. No one seemed to notice, too absorbed in the drama of Mimzy and Alastor, in the feud between Charlie and Lucifer, in the mess that still smoldered inside and outside the hotel.

You don't look back. There was no reason to.

Running through the corridors, you reached your room with your heart pounding in your chest, more from the urgency to leave than from fear. Once inside, you closed the door tightly and hurried to gather your things.

Your hands worked fast, saving the essentials: the little you had brought with you, any valuables, and, of course, the money you had stolen from that damned mobster.

With every bill you put in the bag, you felt a kind of bitter satisfaction. At least you'd walk away with something.

But when you finished and headed for the door, something changed.

The air became thick.

The electricity in the air crackled with a strange static that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

Before your hand touched the doorknob, a presence materialized behind you.

— Too much of a hurry to flee, my dear? — Alastor's voice hit you with a mixture of sharp sweetness and a buzz of static that chilled you to the bone.

Your muscles immediately tensed.

Something inside you screamed that you were not afraid. That you didn't show weakness.

There is nothing behind you. Don't look at it. Just open the door and walk away.

You rested your hand on the knob firmly, but as soon as you tried to turn it, a dry snap echoed in the room.

A sound similar to that of a disappointed parent reprimanding a disobedient child.

— Too bad, precious... — His tone became more serious, much more than you had ever heard from him before. And worse. He didn't have the filter.

It was his real voice.

A primitive, deep sound, a whisper of something that was not meant to exist on this plane.

The sensation that ran through your body was not just a shiver. It was absolute terror.Your fingers loosened on the doorknob.

You knew you could no longer ignore it.

Slowly, with the weight of uncertainty weighing on you, you turned around.

The silence between the two of you was a suffocating presence in the room.

You watch him closely, every little detail of your posture, every shadow that seemed to move subtly around his figure. To the naked eye, Alastor seemed serene , completely at ease, with that polite smile that always adorned his face like an unwavering mask.

If you hadn't heard that voice of his moments before, the real one, the one that demanded and threatened with a tone that rumbled in your bones, you could have sworn he even seemed docile.

But you were not naive. He could not deceive you.

Fear pulsed in your veins like a slow poison, but still, it forced you to keep your composure. Pretending bravery was the only thing you could do, even if you knew you didn't really possess it.

You stepped forward, you faced him.

— What the hell do you care if I leave or not? — you demanded, your voice trying to sound firm, though the slight tremor in it betrayed you.

Alastor let out a loud, raucous laugh, the radio filter distorting the sound with an unsettling echo.

You felt a spark of genuine anger.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to resist the mockery, and waited for him to speak.

— Honey, you can stop pretending.— he said with obvious mockery, his smile stretching in an almost predatory manner. — That role of bravery doesn't fit you.

And then he advanced.

His steps were firm, graceful, but had an implied danger that made you, without thinking, step back.Still, you held his gaze.

— To run away from those pathetic attempts of demons, to hide perfectly and only be found by a betrayal... my dear, I'm impressed. — Her voice took on a honeyed, enveloping, manipulative tone. — What did you do?

The weight of his words fell on you like an unbearable burden.

But you would not falter. Not with him.

— Leave me alone — you answer in a broken voice. You wanted to sound calm, but you weren't succeeding. And you both knew it. — I just want to leave this place.

Alastor arched an eyebrow, feigning consideration, before narrowing the distance between you alarmingly.

— Mmm... I don't know. — His tone took on a more amused tinge, as if he was enjoying the game. —I have another detail in mind.

His smile widened, and the gleam in his red eyes became even more intense.

— That piece of meat I devoured a few minutes ago said something very interesting? — he muttered mischievously. — He called you a "cock warmer", if I'm not mistaken.

His gaze descended slowly and deliberately down your body, analyzing you as if you were a piece up for auction.

— A very appropriate name for you, indeed.

The boiling of your blood was immediate .

You gritted your teeth, rage burning in your chest as you glared at him.

— Fuck you... — you whispered angrily.

And in the blink of an eye, the distance between you disappeared.

— Do you think I didn't see how the great king, Lucifer, looked at you like a dirty doll to satisfy? — he remarked with apparent amusement, though his voice had a bitter, dark note, hard to decipher.

The way he said it, with that cutting laugh, with that tone full of an emotion you could not understand, puzzled you.

You opened your eyes in surprise, incredulous at his words.

But you weren't going to let yourself be swept away in anger.

If he wanted to play, then you would provoke him into his own game.

You smiled sideways, and in a mocking tone, you blurted out:

— Don't tell me... is it envy I see and hear? —you raised an eyebrow while tilting your face.

The twinkle in your eye was a direct challenge.

Alastor tightened his smile for the first time .

And that was enough for you to seize the opportunity.

— I think someone wants the place of the sexy sovereign. — you whispered provocatively and mockingly.

The demon's expression froze for only an instant, before returning to normal. But you noticed the way his fingers twitched subtly.

You smiled even wider.

— I bet if I went right now, I could check out how good your majesty is. — Your voice took on a seductive cadence, accompanied by a deliberate gesture: you bit your lower lip as slowly as possible.

The result was instantaneous .

Alastor growled.

A real growl, low and dangerous, as his patience finally broke.

In one swift movement, he cornered you against the door , his arms locking you in with no escape.

Breaths mingled dangerously at such a distance.

You met his gaze closely, his eyes burning with something you hadn't seen in them before.

When he spoke, his voice descended to a dangerous murmur, laden with a dense, heavy weight, something you didn't know whether to interpret as a threat or... something worse.

— Don't push your luck, my dear.— His tone was serious, and there was a latent frustration in it that took your breath away.

Latent sexual frustration.

The cadence in his voice distorted your perception of things, and you felt dizzy seeing him in this state.

— Any luck? — You whispered with irony as he laughed — Come on, dear radio demon, we both know what you want — You exclaimed looking him in the eyes.

Alastor's lip curved into a predatory smile as he heard your response. The frustration you glimpsed in his eyes intensified, but he did not recoil. On the contrary, he seemed pleased to have provoked such a bold reaction in you.

— Oh, really? Enlighten me, my dear, what do you think I want? — His breath caressed your face as he spoke, and you could feel the slight trembling of his body against yours.

Fury raged through you like wildfire, but you would not allow yourself to show weakness. You lifted your chin and looked him straight in the eye, not giving an inch of ground.

— Don't play. We both know this isn't about Lucifer or my past. It's about power. It's about control. And about proving that you can have what you want, when you want it.

Alastor let out a soft chuckle, laden with cynicism.

— Insightful, as always. But you're wrong about one thing, precious. Power and control are certainly attractive, but what I'm really interested in is seeing how far you're willing to go to protect your secrets. — He brought his face even closer to yours, his red eyes shining with an almost hypnotic intensity.

— How much are you willing to sacrifice? Your dignity? Your morals? Or perhaps... something more valuable?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you refused to look away.

— have nothing to offer you, Alastor. And I'm not afraid of you.

— Ah, aren't you? —He whispered, his tone suggesting otherwise. — Then why are you trembling?

His hand slowly rose and brushed your cheek gently, tracing a line of fire along your skin. You closed your eyes for a moment, fighting the wave of sensations that swept over you.

— I'm not afraid of you.— you repeated, though your voice sounded slightly weaker this time.

— Prove it. —The demand was a challenge, an invitation to cross a dangerous line.

You opened your eyes and met her gaze, and for a moment, you were lost in the darkness that emanated from it.

What did you want to prove? That you could resist her charm? Or that you were capable of yielding to temptation?

Before you could respond, Alastor leaned in and brushed your lips with his. The contact was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to ignite a spark inside you.

You broke away abruptly, feeling the heat spread throughout your body.

— I'm not going to play your games, Alastor.

— Are you sure? —He smiled, showing his sharp teeth.— Because I think, deep down, you're dying to play.

Before you could reply, his hand slid down your neck and pulled you to him, kissing you with an intensity that took you by surprise. His lips were soft but firm, and his tongue explored your mouth with a boldness that made you shiver.

You resisted at first, determined not to give in to his control. But as the kiss deepened, you felt your defenses begin to crumble. His taste was intoxicating, a mixture of sin and danger that drew you into an unknown abyss.

His hands moved down your back, tracing every curve and contour of your body. You moaned into his mouth, unable to control your body's involuntary response.

For an instant, you forgot your anger, your fear, your distrust. There was only the desire, the need to be closer to him, to melt into his embrace and lose yourself in the darkness.

But then, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water. What were you doing? You were allowing Alastor to manipulate you, to use you as a mere tool in his power play.

With a superhuman effort, you pulled away from him, gasping for air.

— Stop — you said, your voice trembling, — I'm not going to do this.

Alastor looked at you with an indecipherable expression, his dark eyes hiding his true thoughts.

— Why not? — He asked, his tone soft in contrast to the intensity of the moment before.

A small spark of fire and frustration settled in his crimson eyes, his state was no better than yours, and yet....

You refused to answer. Instead, you pushed him aside and backed away from the door, determined to put distance between the two of you.

Instead of allowing you to escape, Alastor smiled with playful mischief. In an instant, shadowy tentacles sprouted from the floor and walls, surrounding you like a dark, throbbing prison.

You found yourself cornered, your back pressed against Alastor's chest, his warm breath brushing against your neck.

— Did you think I would let you go so easily, my dear? — he whispered in your ear, his voice charged with an intensity that made you tremble. — From the moment I saw you walk into this hotel. Something about you... something drew me like a moth to a flame.

Your words were sweet poison, a promise of ecstasy and doom. The shadowy tentacles slithered over your body with deliberate slowness, exploring every curve and nook and cranny with eerie precision. You felt a shiver run down your spine as the tips of the tentacles caressed your skin, awakening sensations you thought you had buried long ago.

— No one. — Alastor continued, his voice husky and full of possessive longing.— not even you, will take from me what is mine. You brought this on me from the first moment.

Your gasps grew louder, choppy, as the tentacles traced circles around your nipples, tightening them with each rub. An involuntary moan escaped your lips, and you felt Alastor's smile widen against your shoulder.

— Yes, my dear, that's it — he murmured, his hot breath echoing in your ear. — Surrender, just like that, my precious.

Your legs trembled, unable to support your weight as desire consumed you. The fury and fear faded, replaced by a primal need, an urge to give yourself completely to the darkness that enveloped you.

As Alastor played with you, you found yourself in a feverish state, caught between the need to resist and the overwhelming tide of pleasure. You tried to speak, to demand that he leave you alone, but the words stuck in your throat, choked by the gasps and moans that escaped your lips uncontrollably.

— Let me... please...— you managed to whisper, but your voice sounded weak and shaky, lacking conviction.

The pleasure was too intense, clouding your judgment and breaking down your defenses. Against your will, you began to move your hips, desperately seeking friction against Alastor's clothed erection. It was a silent plea, a tacit surrender to the desires that consumed you.

Alastor responded to your movement with a triumphant smile. He pulled you even tighter against him, imprisoning you between his body and shadowy tentacles.

— Fuck, you sure are a dirty cock warmer.— he whispered in your ear, his voice husky and full of desire.

His tongue slid over your neck, exploring every inch of skin with torturous slowness. A shiver of pleasure ran through your body, and you closed your eyes, abandoning yourself completely to the sensation.

— More... please, more... —you begged, your words barely audible between your gasps.

Alastor reveled in your submission, intensifying his assault. His hands slid beneath your clothing, caressing your skin with a softness that contrasted with the hardness of his erection pressed against your ass. The shadowy tentacles moved in sync, massaging your breasts and thighs with expert precision.

You writhed in his arms, moaning and sighing as pleasure swept you into an abyss of sensation.

You were no longer able to think, to resist, to fight. There was only desire, the need for more, the total surrender to the impulses that dominated you.

In the state of fervor in which you both found yourselves, Alastor slid his hands between your breasts, squeezing one of them in his path, then traveled to your waist, until he reached the coveted spot. Feeling you tense, he recognized that he was needier than ever, harder than a rock.

— Beg for me, now —he demanded, his voice turning into a guttural growl.

You only nodded, your mind clouded with desire. Alastor turned you to face him, his red eyes glowing with an almost unearthly intensity.

He began to whisper words full of obscenity, sexual nicknames that, though racy, retained the elegance and twisted charm that characterized him.

— Tell me, my naughty delight, how much do you want this, mmh? How much do you want this demon who has you trembling in his clutches? You are my "little doll", my little dear.— You looked at him lost, recognizing that you were hotter than ever in your life or death.

His closeness, his voice, his hands on your body, all contributed to a storm of sensations that threatened to consume you completely.

— Say it. — Alastor insisted, his hot breath brushing your lips.—Tell me you need me.— He growled with absolute demand.

— I need you.— you whispered, the truth escaping your lips unfiltered.

Hearing your confession, Alastor smiled with predatory satisfaction. The shadowy tentacles disappeared in an instant, replaced by his arms that wrapped tightly around you, pulling you tight against his body. The closeness was suffocating, but at the same time, strangely comforting.

The bed was very convenient at the moment, and Alastor didn't miss the opportunity.

He lifted you in his arms and carried you between sloppy kisses to the soft mattress. You fell onto the sheets, feeling the soft fabric against your skin as Alastor pounced on you, never breaking the contact of his lips with yours.

You had almost no clothes on anymore, just a rustle of fabric barely covering your nakedness. Alastor, on the other hand, was still clothed, a frustrating barrier between your desire and the consummation of the act.

Desperate, you tried to remove his jacket, but he grasped both your hands with surprising strength, pinning you under his weight.

— Be patient, my little temptress. —he said, his voice husky and full of anticipation. —There is an art in waiting, a pleasure in torture.

He kissed you more intensely, sucking on your lower lip with a possessiveness that made you moan. Then, with exasperating slowness, he began to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, revealing his chest full of marks and a fur that aroused in you an eagerness to caress.

— Do you like what you see? — he asked, with an arrogant smile.

You nodded, unable to articulate a word. Alastor took off his jacket, dropping it on the floor with disdain. Then, he unbuttoned his dress pants, releasing his erection that pulsed impatiently beneath the fabric.

With a look that promised paradise and doom, Alastor grabbed your legs with his free hand, lifting them up to place you in a vulnerable, submissive position.

He lined up his erection at your entrance, feeling the heat and wetness that awaited him.

And then, in one particularly rough lunge, he began.

A lascivious scream escaped your lips, a primal, savage sound that echoed through the room, filling it with the promise of pleasure and despair. Pain mingled with ecstasy, creating a symphony of sensations that snatched your control and plunged you into an abyss of lust.

The way Alastor began to move, without giving you a single respite, just ripped the air out of you. You moaned meaningless phrases, incoherent words that expressed the maelstrom of sensations that invaded you.

You felt Alastor deliver thrust after thrust, each one rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you to the limit of your endurance.

He, meanwhile, grunted and emitted messy static throughout the room, a distorted echo of his arousal mingling with the obscene sounds of clashing skins and your occasional moans. Every time Alastor touched that vulnerable spot in you, he made you see stars, a burst of light and pleasure that took your breath away.

—You're mine, understand? — Alastor growled through his teeth, his voice harsh and possessive. — Completely mine.

—Yes... yours, ah!... more...— you gasped, your body responding to his dominance with desperate need.

— Look my eyes. — he commanded, stopping his movements for a moment.— Tell me how much you want me.

You looked up, meeting his red eyes that burned with an almost demonic intensity. At that moment, there was nothing but Alastor and the insatiable desire that united you.

— I want you, Alastor. — you confessed, your voice trembling. — I want you more than anything in this damned hell.

Alastor smiled, a wild, triumphant expression that made you shudder. He resumed his onslaught with renewed fury, bringing you to the brink of collapse.

— I will make you cry out my name, my sweet torment. — He promised, his voice a hoarse whisper in your ear. — I'm going to make you beg for me.

With the intensity of the moment, Alastor felt you on the verge of climax, and you felt it too. The tension in both of you was about to explode, and all the while, you were screaming Alastor's name in a mess of pleading.

— Alastor! Ah, Alastor! Please, Alastor! —you cried, your voice cracking with pleasure.

Meanwhile, he was transforming back into his demonic form a little, with dark eyes and dials that stood out against his pale skin. Seeing him in that state, feeling his onslaught, you couldn't help but think out loud and exclaim in a broken voice and a moan.

— I love those eyes... like that... so beautiful... — You gasped looking at him with intensity.

Alastor paused for a second, his body tense over yours. His smile widened, revealing a row of sharp teeth.

— Damn, you are divine...—He answered with his voice full of static, which caused a slight tremor in your chest. You groaned as you listened to him and your gaze only confirmed that he looked absolutely perfect.

He then resumed his thrusts even deeper, so intense that you were now a bundle of screaming pleasure as you trembled uncontrollably. Your orgasm erupted violently, your body responding to his assault, and a silent scream formed, your hands clenching strands of his hair, trying to hold on to something as the aftershocks of climax wiped out your sanity.

And still Alastor whispered obscene words in your ear, fueling your arousal and prolonging your agony.

— You're a pervert, you know that? —he gasped, his hot breath brushing against your neck, feeling you tighten around him.— A little devil that drives me crazy.

And he was so close to cumming too.

With each thrust, the tension in his body increased until, finally, he came, cumming inside you, painting your walls with his seed.

And with two final gentle lunges, he pulled you close to him in a messy kiss, his salty, heady taste flooding your mouth.

Once he was finished inside you, he was satisfied to see his work. Your body trembled beneath his, exhausted but sated. Your eyes were glassy, your breathing agitated, and a faint expression was plastered on your face.

Alastor slowly pulled away, watching you with a possessive gaze.

You, you simply looked at him, utterly exhausted.

— Well? —Alastor's voice echoed with that peculiar mixture of amusement and latent menace, as he arched an eyebrow in your direction. His gaze remained fixed on you, expectant, insistent... and fucking annoyed.

You tried to deflect the conversation, as if ignoring his scrutiny was enough to dispel the discomfort settling in your chest. But patience wasn't exactly one of your virtues.

You took in a good amount of air, feeling the weight of his expectation build in your chest. You knew you couldn't evade the question much longer, but you didn't want to give him too many details either. After all, how would you explain everything that had happened without revealing parts of yourself that you preferred to keep hidden?

—Well... you see...—You paused fleetingly, choosing your words cautiously.— One of those guys you gutted tonight practically expected me to fuck with him. I refused and ran away, that's all.

The way you said it was deliberately brief, as if by reducing it to a couple of sentences you could downplay its importance. But you couldn't fool yourself. Least of all him.

Of course, you left out some details.

Like the fact that you had been playing with that demon for weeks, taking advantage of his inflated ego and his utter stupidity to extract as much money as possible from him. Fake smiles, sugar-coated words, veiled promises... everything in order to cajole him. In the end, the idiot thought he owned you, that he could take you whenever he wanted.

How pathetic.

Running away was the only option... well, running away after emptying his pocket one last time.

But fuck with him... that was never going to happen. Not with that disgusting piece of amorphous flesh, with his rotting breath and his raspy voice drooling orders as if you were his.

No, that privilege was exclusive to someone else.

Shit.

You shuddered at the mere thought.

Alastor, this fucking demon did manage to provoke something completely different in you. And that was dangerous.

You realized you sounded evasive, and by the way Alastor tilted his head slightly, you knew he'd noticed it too. His smile, that smile that always seemed on the verge of mockery, widened just barely, as if he was enjoying your discomfort.

— That's it, huh? — he repeated, his voice soft but with a tone that made you feel as if he was unraveling your every word. — Curious. Because, my dear, you don't sound very convinced of your own story.

— I don't know what you're talking about — you lied, averting your gaze to the window. The night was quiet, but your mind was not. — It was exactly as I told you. That's all there is to say.

— Do not worry, my little darling... —Alastor's voice slid like a shiver across your skin, vibrant, permeated with that static that seemed to seep into every corner of the air.—I will know exactly what keys to play for that answer... I will know....

Your body was still trembling, from their recent encounter. The intensity in your eyes, that bright red glint that devoured the gloom, the way your smile stretched with an almost playful malevolence....

The room spun slightly, or perhaps it was you who let yourself be swept away, caught in the hypnotic sway of her presence.

One more time.

Another round.

Your skin burned where his hands had already traced their path, and his mere nearness electrified every nerve. His laughter seeped into your ear, vibrating, accompanied by an insistent hum that entangled your thoughts in a sea of static and desire.

Of course, you weren't going to sleep through the night.

Not when he had every intention of making sure of it.

#alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #valentines day #alastor smut #smut #hotel hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon

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thewritetofreespeech · 7 months ago

Text

Here & Now

pairing: Aemond targaryen x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: on the morning you were set to return to Dragonstone to reunite with your family, the Greens make their move to take the throne, and Aemond comes to you.

tags: heterosexual sex, fingering, loss of virginity, targaryen incest themes, tw: blood, tw: knives

words: 3.1K

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When you were a little girl, your mother used to read you stories. Ones about knights, fey creatures, and princesses locked in towers. You never liked the tower ones. You always asked why they just didn't jump out of the tower to get away.

Looking down at the courtyard from your window, you realized that maybe they had a long way down as you did and that's why they couldn't get away.

The door opened and you sprung from your seat to face your intruder. You weren’t sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t Aemond. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.” His voice was even, but years of being near each other told you that his undertones were that of someone who was ashamed. “Are you alright?”

“I am a prisoner in my own home, Aemond. What do you think?!” You don’t mean to scratch at him. You are sure this is none of his doing, but he was the only one here.

You felt the fool for choosing to stay with your great-aunt Rhaenys, not wanting her to be left alone; even fierce she-dragons needed someone to lean on. But this morning you were barred from leaving your chambers by gold cloaks. You demanded to know what was the meaning of this. Demanded to know what was going on. Demanded to speak to your grandfather. Yet no one would answer you.

“Our patriarch is dead.” You felt a stone sink into your stomach. Somehow, you knew this to be true. King Viserys was very ill. It was only a collection of days in the best circumstances. “They’re going to make Aegon king this afternoon.” You felt as though the stone, and your breakfast, was going to come back up.

“So you are going to usurp my mother’s claim?! Take her birthright away!”

“It’s not my doing.” Aemond snapped at you. Clearly tired of being scratched. “It’s my mothers.” You scoff. You both know that Alicent’s clumsy maneuverings are just the attempts of her father. The King’s Hand with the knife in his back.

“So I am to what, hm? Sit here quietly while you take away my family’s future until you throw me over the walls edge?”

“I doubt you would sit here quietly, and no one is going to throw you over a wall, or any other ledge. Not if I have a say in it.”

You laugh. Despite yourself. Aemond was always funny, if you paid attention to him.

So few ever did. A second son, of a second marriage, with a princess in line for the throne. He was as meaningless as sand to the beaches to most people, then avoided completely after he was maimed. You always felt bad for that. Thought it was unfair that Lucerys got off scot-free after he crippled one of their own. People called those who took blood from their family Kinslayers, but what of those that maim their members?

“So you will let me go?”

Aemond shrugged. “Probably.” It was likely the best answer he could give. This wasn’t his decision. He couldn’t honestly tell you either way. But he did know, “you cannot take your dragon though.”

You felt your heart freeze in your chest. As if your Targaryen blood rushed out of you at the thought of abandoning your dragon. “You would take Stormsheild from me?” Your voice quaked despite your efforts. “Why not just cut off my arm? My heart….”

Aemond rushed over to you as you began to sob. Everything crashing down around you, and the thought of losing your dragon too much to bear. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He whispered in your hair. “You can stay here. With me.”

You pull back from Aemond’s chest to look at him. Blinking away tears as you must not have heard him right. “What?”

“Stay here with me.” He repeated it. You had not misheard. “Stay with me and you can keep Stormshield and your home, and be back in line for the throne. As my queen.”

You step back from Aemond to look at him. “You would…have me forsake my own mother? Turn my back on her?”

“You were always meant to turn your back on her to be with me.” He clasped at your hand. Not pulling you close again but not letting you go. Aemond speaks of course of your engagement. You had been betrothed from a young age, much like Aegon & Helaena or any other noble child in the realm. King Viserys last ditch effort to bring the two sides of his family together, you assumed. It had not gone over well with Alicent or your mother. Your father threw a chair when his side was alone. But none of them could stand against the king and his decision, so the pact stood.

You had not been upset about it like the adults. You cared for Aemond. He had been sweet when you left him. You sent him ravens. He remembered your nameday and sent your candied treats in secret. And when you return, he had grown into a fine, if not jaded, man. Fierce, refined, handsome. What had been childhood friendship and fancy turned into a blooming love overnight. One you were excited to explore. But now your blooms were burning into ash.

“My mother won’t stand for this. My father will come.”

“I have no doubt he will try.” There was no way Daemon would let his truest daughter, his favorite, stay here without a fight. He wouldn’t be so brazen about his favoritism like his father, but even with his one-eye Aemond could tell that you were his favorite over his Velaryon vipers. If Rhaenyra took the throne, he would have broken their engagement the first chance he got. A second son nowhere near good enough for his Targaryen jewel. Now he had all the more reason to break it, as Aemond wasn’t stupid enough to think Rhaenyra & Daemon were going to give up the throne without a fight. But what if he didn’t have a choice?

“I want you to be my wife. Right here. Right now.”

You looked at Aemond in shock. Suddenly afraid. “You’re not going to—“I would never hurt you.” He seemed offended you would even suggest it. Understandable. “But this was how it was always meant to be. You and me. No matter what happens, no one can take that away from us if you agree to be mine. We can be together.”

Your head was swimming. Your heart was pounding. “L…Let me think…”

“There’s no time.” Aemond insisted. “Once the coronation starts, Aegon will be King and that will be the end of it.” They will be divided. Those for Rhaenyra. Those for his brother. And Aemond did not trust his brother or family not to ruin this for him. Just as Daemon would have her taken from him, his mother and family would do the same. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear to give up one more thing for Aegon’s happiness. “Say you’ll be mine. Say you will be my wife. Say you’ll stay here with me and we will be here together. Tell me that you want that.”

“I do.”

The words leave your mouth without you even realizing it. You had spent so long imagining a future with Aemond. He was your intended. He was your future. You loved him, but you also loved your mother & your family.

Aemond doesn’t recognize your distress though and swooped in to kiss you passionately. The two of you had kissed before. Brief, as children, to see what it was like. Then again before you left as a sort of parting gift. Then once final upon your return as a welcome home and back in his arms. It had never been like this before. Aemond, for all his hard edge, was gentle and shy with you. Now, however, he kissed you like a man who meant to consume you. Taking you into his body, instead of the other way around, so you could never leave him. When he broke away from you your vision swam. Righting itself after a few deep breaths but all you could see was Aemond.

“Undress.” You blink up at him in shock. “If we do this now, there’s nothing they can do.”

You realize Aemond wants not just your words but your chastity. As a sign of good faith. He wants to consummate your marriage before your vows. Cart before the horse. Everyone would have no choice but to accept your marriage now, or your side would risk the news that you were no longer a maiden and rumors Aemond was no more than a craven opportunist who would force himself of a captured princess.

You gulp. Feeling your tears bead up again in your eyes. This was not how you pictured your life with Aemond starting. This was not the dream you were meant to share. But dreams often fall short of reality.

For Aemond’s part, he also swallowed the lump in his throat and began to undress. Paying no mind to the habitual work of undoing his jerkin and belts to look at you. He hadn’t thought much on his marriage before your return. Save that he would do it and try his best. He would do his duty and have you give the realm more Targaryen blood to reign and treat you as honorably as he could. But on the few times he did think of his marriage, he would think of the wedding and your wedding night. How he would take his time with you. Appreciate you, the way you should be appreciated as a lady, as a Targaryen royal, and as his wife. But that was all gone. They will not have time for sweet words and sweet moments. That will have to come later now. Just another thing taken from him.

You feel embarrassed to be standing naked in from of Aemond. Your hands hopelessly trying to cover your modesty. Fretful glances around as if some septa in the shadows was going to jump out and cast shame on you. “Lie on the bed.” You do as you’re beckoned and lay down. Stiff. Ridged. Your hands balled into fists at your sides to keep them from flying up and covering you again.

Aemond watched all of this and did not look pleased. Still, he climbed onto the bed on top of you, and you try to sink further into the mattress to instinctually get away. “I will try to be gentle.” His words certainly were. You relax as a bit of the Aemond you knew came back into his voice and nuzzle against the hand on your cheek. “But this may hurt. It is not my intention. None of this…this wasn’t what I wanted.”

You know he doesn’t mean ‘this’ in general, but how this has come about. “I know.” You were both doing something neither of you wanted in order to get what you did want. What was love without sacrifice?

“It should only be this time. And I swear I will never hurt you again. Please, do not hate me.” You touch Aemond’s cheek in return. You could never hate him. Be cross with him. Snap and bite at him from time to time, but never hate him. He must know that.

He nuzzled into your palm as you did his and rested there for a moment with his eye closed. He then nodded, opened it, and his hand was no longer touching your cheek but the sacred spot between your legs.

You jump at the touch with a sharp hiss. Trying to crawl out from under Aemond but blocked by the pillows. He held you back. Shushing you as he continued his touching. “It’s only this time.” He reminded you. And you try to remain calm and still as he kept going.

Aemond needed no proof that you were a maiden. Your trust and faithfulness was all he needed to know that you would not break the arrangement between you; although he had not been so chaste, but he was a man. When he touched you, however, it was clear that no one had been there before him. Your entrance was tight around his finger. Nearly barring him out. He wanted to tell you to relax, but felt he had no place for it. ‘Yes, my love, relax. Don’t think about the fact that you are about to lose your chastity to a brute. Or that my family is usurping yours. Don’t think about the fact that this still may not work and you have thrown everything away for a hairbrained plan of a desperate man who just doesn’t want to be alone.’ Yes. Those were the sweet words every girl wanted to hear on her ‘wedding night’.

He removed his finger from her entrance, bringing it up to his mouth to lick two then pushing both back in. You whine. Feeling your entrance stretch to an uncomfortable level of accommodation. Your mother had been very forthcoming on what to expect from your wedding night, although she had been clear she wished it to be far in the future. She let you know that there would be pain. That there would be times that it felt like it wasn’t worth it. But it was your duty as a wife, and, with the right man, it could be quite enjoyable. You knew what she meant now as you felt your apex burn. When would the ‘quite enjoyable’ start?

By the third finger inside you, you had gnawed on your bottom lip so hard you were drawing blood. Aemond said nothing. Just watched you. He seemed terrified to do anything than what he was doing. Finally, his fingers came free of you and shifted above you. "You need to spread your legs." They had instinctively closed when he pulled from you and you blush as you do as he says. "Please do not hate me."

You had thought your apex burned when his fingers were inside you, but if that was the case then your whole pelvis was on fire when he pushed inside you. Your hands fly up to claw at Aemond's back as you let out a wordless scream when he split you & your maidenhead open. "Stop! Wait, wait! It hurts!"

"I know." His words are apologetic as he offers you a kiss on the cheek but does not pull out. "Just bear with it for me."

He stopped long enough to give you time to adjust. Try to relax. Anything. Then he pulled his cock out and slid it back in. Your teeth grit at the pain. It’s not as bad as you thought, after the initial shock. It does hurt, but to hear people talk about it it was the same as losing a limb. You fell off Stormsheild once when you were a little girl. Bruised something fierce from the fall. That hurt worse than this, but it was no less uncomfortable.

Aemond tried to take this as slow as he could for you. He knows this is not how a maiden expects to become a woman. Some hard fast thing to be done with and move on. But the clock was ticking. They had very little time left before the coronation and the ceremony started. It needed to be finished before then.

That’s what he told himself.

In truth, he was a lost novice again inside you. Your warmth. Your tightness. Just…you. This was not how he pictured you being bonded to him, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t still elated that you were beneath him and soon all his.

He could feel his climax building. Unable to hold it back any longer. Aemond reached blindly for the knife at the side of your bed, as no true Targaryen would ever go to sleep without a blade at their side, and sliced your hand open. You cry out finally. Having kept your jaw tight the whole time you were doing this in order to not scream and turn wild eyed toward Aemond to ask him what the hells he was doing, only to see him cutting his own hand. He threw the knife away to the side and linked your hands together. His eye turned to you. Holding you there for a moment before he kissed you deeply to fully seal your bond. A Valyrian bond.

With the pain redirected to your hand, you can finally feel Aemond inside you with some joy. It’s not pleasurable, but it’s not painful. Your head swam at the realization that he was inside you, he was kissing you, that he was all around you until suddenly Aemond’s hips stopped and you realized that there was more than just his cock inside you.

He let your lips go after that. Panting with you. Sweaty. Whole. You hiss sharply when Aemond pulled out of you. The pain returning to your center from your hand. Still bloody, sheets bloody, why did there have to be so much blood for this?

Aemond sat up and ripped a corner of the sheets into two clean strips. One for you and one for him. He wrapped your hand first and then his own, before he pulled you close to him on the ruined bedding. “Are you alright?”

You shrug against him. Your maidenhood was sore. Your hand was throbbing. Your mother was about to be tossed aside and you were still technically a prisoner in your childhood home. You weren’t sure how to answer that question.

“I will have to go. For the ceremony.” Aemond doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does have to go. Must show a united front for the kingdom. “I’ll come back later. To check on you.”

“Will I be allowed to leave?” You ask him. That question had still not been answered.

“After it’s over we’ll go talk to my mother and King Hand.” A name you both gave his grandfather as children to tease him, in secret of course. It wasn't nearly as funny as you remembered now. “You are under my protection now. I will keep you safe.”

Safe. How strange that word sounded now. You had felt safe with your parents. You had felt safe within these walls. You had felt safe with Aemond. But all of that had suddenly changed. What was 'safe' now?

Aemond dressed quickly, then came over to you again. Tentative, shy even, he came over to give you a brief peck on the lips. Like the ones you used to give as children. “I will come back.” He promised again. “Everything will be alright.”

Then he was gone. You were alone. You pulled your knees to your chest, despite the pain in doing so, and look out your window. Maybe the other princesses stayed in the tower because they had no choice too.

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cozycottagetarot · 9 months ago

Text

How Will They Pursue

How To Pick A Group:

Typically I recommend going with the image that you find you keep coming back to after giving each of the piles a once over.

Notes:

This Reading's Contents:

Initial Intentions — Why will they decide to pursue you?

Initial Approach — How will they initially approach you?

This reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨

LINKS: Dividers | Ko-Fi | Patreon | Paid Readings — Open 🫧

PILE 1

Initial Intentions — Why will they decide to pursue you?

Cards: Two of Cups, King of Cups, Nine of Swords (Bottom Deck: Queen of Swords)

I feel like this is a decision that is well thought out and long pondered on. Your person may come across as slightly intimidating in some manner— likely due to a label attached to them. They are also someone who is very loving and very giving but guards their heart. A relationship with you or I should say pursuing you is something they acknowledge would have its respective challenges due to your differences, but the pull or attraction they feel towards you is one that they don’t want to miss out on. For them, there’s this sense that they’d endure anything because the reward of solidifying your bond is worth it.

Initial Approach — How will they initially approach you?

Cards: The High Priestess, Nine of Swords, Three of Cups | Four of Wands, The Chariot, King of Swords rev

Your person's initial approach may have a bit of a faulty start. With the nine of swords here, they may overthink how to get you to like (?) them and come across as a bit of a ‘know it all’ … it’s not intentional, I’m hearing that they’re just trying to come across as a good candidate. That doesn’t feel like it lasts a long time though, it could simply be the first conversation or so… or maybe it happens before they decide they want to actively pursue you. Your person would turn to their intuition or lean on that 'divine guidance' for insights on how to best approach you. They’d approach you as a friend first or at the very least someone who wants the best for you. They want to be there by your side celebrating every accomplishment and cheering you on. I think they may also feel like that’s the most authentic way for them to show up balancing being true to themselves and what they believe in versus how you would be receptive to them.

Thank you for reading! 💕 This reading has an extended version available on my Patreon. All tiers have full access to the reading, along with the images of the cards, or you can purchase that particular reading as a one-time purchase from the shop section.

Extended Reading Includes:

Hidden Desires — What desires are they not openly expressing?

Actions and Effort — What actions will they take to show interest? (Available on Patreon Free)

Communication Style — How will they communicate their feelings and intentions?

Romantic Gestures — What kind of gestures can be expected?

Timing and Pace — what will be the timing and pace of their pursuit

PILE 2

Initial Intentions — Why will they decide to pursue you?

Cards: Nine of Coins, Five of Coins, Four of Swords

Your person pursues you because they feel abundant with you. I think they’ve been through a lot from a young age and have been 'demonised' throughout their life… seen as someone who just represents destruction. But with you, it’s a new sense of happiness and joy. You’ve offered them comfort and kindness seeing them for who they truly are under the surface (which may be a little rough around the edges). I kind of feel like they hate or resent everyone (not out right but it’s there) but you. They put in the work though and now it’s like ‘okay, I can enjoy life fully’ and in a way, you’re sort of a reward for all the bad things that have happened.

Initial Approach — How will they initially approach you?

Cards: Knight of cups, Two of Laurels, Eight of Laurels | Death, Ten of Cups, Eight of Cups rev

Your person is going to offer you their love right off the bat, but it won’t be inherently romantic. More along the lines of offering themself as a friend or companion. They will work to juggle putting the effort in with you versus their fears and insecurities. I think it could create a little bit of a push and pull between you two… or not quite a push and pull but more so one moment they're easily available and the next they're there for you still but you can sense they’re distant. It’s a new beginning for them (and in so many other areas of their life) so they’re working through those fears as they come to see where things go with you. With the ten of cups, they may also see you as family— found family to be more specific. So where things go from here they don’t know— but they are willing to find out.

Extended Reading Includes:

Hidden Desires — What desires are they not openly expressing?

Actions and Effort — What actions will they take to show interest? (Available on Patreon Free)

Communication Style — How will they communicate their feelings and intentions?

Romantic Gestures — What kind of gestures can be expected?

Timing and Pace — what will be the timing and pace of their pursuit

PILE 3

Initial Intentions — Why will they decide to pursue you?

Cards: Queen of Cups, The Empress, The Star

Your person may idolise you a little bit. You have a very feminine energy (regardless of gender as always)— you’re very caring and have a motherly/parental quality to you. Subconsciously this is attractive to them… I don’t know why yet. You’re someone they can turn to when everything feels bleak. On some level, I think there’s that possibility that they could want you to be the parent of their kids (hear me out 🤦‍♀️) or they want someone who can handle kids – What I mean by this last part is that I think there’s a certain level of patience/understanding/compassion that one has to have to 'successfully wrangle' kids lol. I think you’re also just someone who brightens up the world and is so abundant, and they want you to brighten them up too. It’s like that song “Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, Never let it fade away.” But as much as they see these attractive qualities in you, they also want to give you back some of that light that you always give out.

Initial Approach — How will they initially approach you?

Cards: Five of Cups, Page of Wands, Six of Wands | The Waker, The Queen, The Diviner

I kind of feel like your person pursuing you won’t be very difficult for them because I think you’ll be down for it. Spoiler alert, for the other piles it kind of felt like their person was more subtle and those reading the pile were kind of oblivious to it, but with you, it’s like you’re down for them from the start too. Are they aware that you would say yes to them? I’m not fully sure. I haven’t been reading the bottom of deck cards but I ended up looking at the bottom of the deck and you have The Lovers. For me it just all kinds of feels like commitment or the acknowledgement that you too are very important to each other is inevitable… but you guys are open to the journey and seeing how it plays out. There’s a factor of excitement in their pursuit of you also but overall this person feels pretty chill but confident in how they show up.

When it comes to their initial approach, they’re going to put in the effort to pursue you in a way that feels comfortable for you. They’ll learn about your past hurts and do their best to get to know you. I think that’s really what creates success, them getting to know you and learning how you want to be loved/cared for. Even when/if you pull back they’ll be patient. They won’t rush the development of your connection or your readiness.

Extended Reading Includes:

Hidden Desires — What desires are they not openly expressing?

Actions and Effort — What actions will they take to show interest? (Available on Patreon Free)

Communication Style — How will they communicate their feelings and intentions?

Romantic Gestures — What kind of gestures can be expected?

Timing and Pace — what will be the timing and pace of their pursuit

#cozycottagetarot #cozycottagetarot readings #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a picture #pick a pile reading #pac #pick an image #tarot reading #free reading tarot #free tarot reading #free tarot #future spouse

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harunayuuka2060 · 6 months ago

Text

WHB Series #1 (Cont.)

Gabriel: I see that you're alone.

MC: ...

MC: Congrats. You have eyes.

Gabriel: *immediately shows displeasure*

MC: Chill. You've just arrived.

Gabriel: A foolish human pretending to be god. I don't know how you managed to convince Raphael, but that's not important right now.

Gabriel: I will punish you myself.

MC: Would that be a wise decision? Let me remind you.

MC: I had you incapacitated for months. And I will do that again.

Gabriel: ...

Gabriel: *smiles* You didn’t think I came here alone, did you?

*Other angels showed up.*

Gabriel: You made a grave mistake of sending those devils away.

MC: Maybe? Maybe not.

MC: I just don't like getting bothered.

Gabriel: *has sensed something is wrong*

MC: *smirks*

MC: I was expecting you, Gabriel.

Gabriel: *magic circles started to appear around him*

MC: These angels are under your control. So let me borrow your authority for a moment.

MC: ...

MC: Die.

*The angels, in an act of self-destruction, snapped their own necks, resulting in everyone falling from the sky.*

Gabriel: How dare you...

MC: *nods in satisfaction* Not bad.

MC: I should thank Gusion for helping me with the calculations.

Gabriel: *tries to break free*

MC: Give up. It'll be useless.

Gabriel: AAHHH!

MC: *rolls their eyes*

MC: You're telling me you can't lock up this guy?

Belphegor: We were not expecting you'd catch him.

MC: Okay. Can't you make him sleep for eternity then?

Belphegor: Too bothersome.

MC: You're fucking useless.

Gabriel: I will kill you in the worst way possible...

MC: Shut the fuck up.

Beleth: ...

Beleth: Descendant of Solomon, won't it be possible to do the same thing to him?

MC: 'That'?

MC: ...

MC: I've already got one psycho. You want me to make them two?

Beleth: Would that be a problem?

MC: You're really trying your luck.

Beleth: *chuckles*

MC: ...

MC: *sigh* Make him drink the blood.

Beleth: *nods then approaches Gabriel*

Gabriel: What are you going to do?!

Beleth: You'll see.

MC: ...

Gabriel: *is on the floor, writhing in pleasure*

MC: ...

MC: Ew.

Beleth: *who is surprised too* Was Raphael like this when he drank your blood?

MC: Nope.

Gabriel: God... You've returned...

MC: ...

MC: I got myself another burden.

Andrealphus: I'll kill him for you.

MC: Calm down. As much as I hate this, I have to take this bastard to Gehenna.

Belphegor: Huh. How are you going to do that?

MC: *frowns*

Beleth: Don't do them like that, Your Majesty.

Karelphus: MC? You're leaving?

MC: Yeah.

Karelphus: I'll go with you!

MC: ...

MC: No. You stay here.

Karelphus: Why? I can be useful too...

MC: I know. But Niflheim needs more "responsible" devils.

MC: If only your king is not a deadbeat.

Belphegor: *chuckles*

Karelphus: ...

Karelphus: Once I become an adult, I'll follow you!

MC: Yeah, yeah. Sure.

Karelphus: *cheers up*

Gabriel: *still moaning in pleasure*

MC and the others: ...

MC: Beleth, you have a stapler?

Barbatos: This time it's Seraph Gabriel?

Foras: *nods* *displeased* And he seemed to enjoy it.

Glasyalabolas: This is bad.

Glasyalabolas: Looks like them being god could be true.

#what in hell is bad #whb mc #whb gabriel #whb belphegor #whb niflheim #whb hades #whb series 1

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solxamber · 17 days ago

Note

I loved the platonic Malleus helps Yuu get Idia fic and I was wondering if you could so something similar with Cater or Trey or Vil or Leona or Floyd? You can choose, anything like that would be amazing my liege.

you asked and i answered, i love this concept so much

Fae Courtship 101: Romance for Dummies || Floyd Leech

In your desperation to confess to Floyd, you made the grave mistake of recruiting Malleus for help—now the only thing you’re courting is death.

For reasons beyond mortal comprehension—beyond your own comprehension—you have fallen for Floyd Leech.

Floyd. Leech.

The man who treats personal space like a suggestion, bites people for fun, and once chased a first-year across campus while laughing like a slasher villain because he was “bored.”

The man who once tried to sell you to Azul in exchange for a really nice hat. The man who could, at any given moment, be contemplating something as simple as “what’s for lunch” or something as horrifyingly chaotic as “what if I threw the prefect off the third-floor balcony to see how they bounce?”

It’s a bad idea. Objectively, scientifically, in every single way, this is a mistake.

Grim and Deuce have been holding interventions. The ghosts of Ramshackle have been looking at you like they’re already preparing to welcome you into their ranks. You're rapidly losing the moral high ground in any discussion about Ace’s bad life choices.

But the heart wants what it wants. And unfortunately, yours wants to make terrible decisions.

Which brings you here, pacing alongside Malleus Draconia, crown prince of Briar Valley, king of ominous nighttime strolls, and your designated therapist for the evening.

“I just—I don’t get it, Malleus!” you wail, gesturing wildly as you stomp through the moonlit campus. “I should like normal people! People who don’t consider attempted murder to be a love language! I should have instincts!”

Malleus hums in thought. “Hm. Concerning.”

“Exactly!” You throw your hands up. “I should be running in the opposite direction! Instead, I’m over here, wondering if he’d bite me gently if I asked nicely!”

Malleus stops walking.

You stop too, looking over to see him gazing at you with a carefully neutral expression. There’s a brief silence. A beat. And then, slowly—gravely—he nods.

“Understood.”

You blink. “...Huh?”

He turns to you with the air of a man who has just accepted a sacred duty. “You have chosen a perilous path, Child of Man.”

You stare. “I—??"

“But fear not,” he continues, raising a hand to his chest in solemn promise. “I shall help you attain your romance.”

Silence.

A breeze rolls through the courtyard. A crow caws in the distance. Somewhere, Grim is experiencing a deep sense of foreboding.

“…You’re going to what?”

Malleus nods again, expression determined. “Leave it to me.”

You suddenly have so many regrets.

Grim looks at you the way a doctor looks at a patient about to flatline. Gravely. With pity. With deep concern for the irreversible damage.

"Okay, listen hench-human, I’ve let a lot of things slide, but this? This I gotta ask—do you hate life that much?"

You blink at him. "What?"

Grim waves his little paws dramatically. "First, you fall for Floyd of all people. That’s already a death wish. And now, you’re actually listening to Malleus for dating advice? What’s next? You gonna ask Kalim for tips on financial responsibility?!"

You open your mouth. Close it. You… okay, you really have no defense. But before you can say anything—

There’s a knock at the door.

And you don’t even have to guess who it is.

You open it to find Malleus standing there, his expression set in earnest determination. In his hands is a book that looks older than your grandmother. The kind of ancient tome that looks like it holds dark secrets, forbidden spells, possibly even a recipe for soup made from human souls.

Standing right next to him, grinning like a goblin, is Lilia.

You feel your soul leave your body.

"Ah, Child of Man," Malleus intones. "I have found it. The ultimate guide to fae courtship rituals. You shall use these techniques to win the heart of your eel."

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," Lilia cackles. "Do you know how long it's been since I’ve seen these methods in action? The devastation! The absolute carnage!"

You stare at them. You stare into the abyss. The abyss grins back.

Grim looks at you, his face a perfect picture of someone watching a loved one make the worst life decisions in real time.

"You’re really doin’ this, huh?"

…You sigh. "Yeah. I’m really doing this."

You are simply minding your own business, walking to class like a normal person, when you spot Floyd approaching from the other end of the hallway.

As always, you smile at him, because you have fully accepted your fate as a fool with horrible taste in men. You expect him to either grin back or threaten to suplex you for fun—classic Floyd things.

What you do not expect is the sudden sensation of a phantom hand shoving you forward.

And just like that, gravity wins.

You crash into Floyd with all the grace of a drunk goose, smacking into his chest with enough force to send both of you stumbling. Floyd barely moves (because he is built like a problem), but you rebound like a cartoon character, nearly falling over before his hands land heavily on your shoulders.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you stare at him.

Then, slowly, your brain remembers what just happened, and you whip around—

Only to see Malleus standing at the end of the hallway, looking extremely pleased with himself.

He gives you a smug, regal nod.

He is also holding a book titled "How to Romance for Dummies."

You are going to throw hands with a literal prince.

Before you can implode, Floyd’s grip on your shoulders tightens. You turn back to him, only to find him looking entirely too displeased about being your impromptu landing pad.

“Shriiiimpy,” he drawls, squinting at you like a judge in a courtroom drama. “What’s up with that, huh? Tryna tackle me first thing in the morning?”

“I—I tripped!” you stammer, trying to collect the shreds of your dignity. “I didn’t mean to crash into you, I swear!”

Floyd hums, unconvinced. Then, after a beat of consideration, he shrugs.

“Aaah, whatever.” His fingers dig just slightly into your shoulders, a slow grin stretching across his face. “You still ran into me, soooo… you owe me.”

You blink. “Wait. Owe you?”

“Mhm!” His grin widens, teeth sharp. “Now ya gotta hang out with me today.”

You blink again. Slowly. You could argue, but you have a sneaking suspicion that it won’t get you anywhere, and honestly? Maybe this is exactly the opening you need.

Maybe… Malleus isn’t that bad at this.

You take that last thought back immediately.

Because not even a day after that whole hallway fiasco, Malleus finds you again, pulls you aside with all the gravitas of an ancient ruler about to bestow divine wisdom, and insists that, in order to properly court Floyd, you must—

Compliment Floyd’s strength three times. At first, you thought, okay, easy enough, I can just tell him he’s strong and call it a day. But then—THEN—Malleus, in his infinite wisdom, handed you a quill and parchment and declared, “It must be in verse. Poetry carries the weight of true devotion.”

And now, here you are.

Standing in front of Floyd Leech. Holding a piece of paper with the most cringe-inducing attempt at poetry you've ever written in your life.

Floyd, to his credit, was already giggling the moment you approached with a look of sheer suffering. But when you clear your throat and attempt to actually read the thing—

"Oh mighty Floyd, with hands so bold—"

He just. Loses it.

Absolutely wheezing, doubling over, practically using you as a support beam to keep himself upright.

You glare at him and continue, determined to power through:

"A force unmatched, a tale retold—"

Floyd: "PFT—!!!"

He’s straight-up crying at this point. Tears. You swear you hear Jade laugh somewhere in the distance.

You don’t even make it to the third compliment. You just turn on your heel and walk away before your soul crumples in on itself like a dying star.

Malleus, watching from afar, sighs in clear disappointment. “You lack dedication,” he murmurs, shaking his head like an elder watching the youth fail at life.

You absolutely regret everything.

You don't know why you keep letting Malleus give you advice. Actually, no—that's a lie. You do know. It's because the second he heard you liked Floyd, his eyes lit up like he’d just been given a personal quest by the divine forces of romance, and now he refuses to rest until your love is secured.

Unfortunately, this means you are currently locked in yet another horrendous discussion about fae courting rituals.

"Scent-marking is a vital step in courtship," Malleus declares with the kind of grim authority that should be reserved for battlefields, not this. "He must recognize you as his."

You blink at him. "Oh, like giving him my hoodie or something?" That’s normal. That’s doable. That’s the kind of thing people do when they like each other, right? You’ve seen couples swap sweaters before. Maybe Malleus is finally onto something not-insane.

Malleus shakes his head gravely. "No. You must present him with something you have personally scented. Ideally, by rolling upon it."

Silence.

Rolling upon it.

You stare at him. He stares back. Completely serious.

You try to process what he’s just suggested. What he has just, with full sincerity, told you to do.

"Malleus."

"Yes?"

"You want me to roll around on an object like a dog and then give it to Floyd."

"Precisely."

You briefly consider just walking into the ocean.

It takes twenty full minutes to talk him down from this absolute lunacy and convince him that simply giving Floyd a sweater you’ve worn will do the job just fine. He looks at you the way a disappointed coach looks at a failing athlete.

"If you are not dedicated to the craft," he mutters, "you cannot expect great results."

You pretend you don’t hear him.

Fast forward to the next day, and you are sitting in class next to Floyd, who is draped over his desk in a deep and powerful boredom coma.

You pull out the sweater and awkwardly nudge it toward him.

"Here."

Floyd immediately perks up. Dangerously interested. He tilts his head, peering at the sweater like you’ve just handed him a rare treasure.

"Eh? What's this?"

"It's mine. You can have it," you say, trying to play it cool, despite the fact that your entire soul is trying to flee your body from embarrassment.

Floyd picks up the sweater and—without hesitation—presses his face into it.

You almost die. Right then and there. Instant expiration.

He leans back in his chair, grinning way too wide. "Heheh~ You smell nice, shrimpy~"

You barely manage to hold onto your composure. You are barely hanging on.

Malleus, watching from the hallway, narrows his eyes and mutters, "It is not the worst effort... but it lacks the impact of true commitment."

You ignore him. You ignore everything. You're just grateful that—for once—this wasn’t completely unhinged, and that Floyd somehow seems to like it.

"Nothing says romance like a meal made with your own two hands!" Lilia declares, slamming an ancient, definitely cursed cookbook onto the table.

You blink down at it. The title is in some language that makes your vision swim just looking at it. The edges are charred, the pages stained with substances you’re 70% sure are not food-safe, and Malleus—Malleus Draconia himself, looks a little unsure.

That should have been your first hint.

But you? A fool. An idiot. A desperate, love-struck buffoon? You press forward.

“Alright,” you sigh, rubbing your temples, already regretting this. “What ingredients do I need?”

Lilia beams, flipping to a page that looks like it came from an alchemist’s horror novel.

"Let's see! We’ll need:"

• Moonshade Truffle,

• A pinch of Sablethorn Dust,

• Three drops of Evernight Basilisk Extract,

• Seven Tears of a Joyful Banshee,

• And a Love-Smitten Fire Spirit’s Breath!

…

You stare.

"Lilia."

"Yes, beastie?"

"These sound like potion ingredients."

"Oh-ho!" Lilia chuckles, waving a hand. "You humans always get so caught up in technicalities. But what is cooking if not a kind of magic?"

…No. No, this is actual magic. You are not making a love potion, but this sure as hell sounds like one.

But, like the fool you are, you go along with it. You spend far too much money (your entire savings) at Azul’s Most Definitely Not a Scam Emporium for all of these ridiculous ingredients. He knows you’re up to something dumb. He does not care. He simply profits.

And now, here you are. In the Ramshackle kitchen. Grim watches from a safe distance behind a chair. Malleus stands off to the side with his arms crossed, looking like he is rethinking his life choices. And Lilia, that menace, is watching you mix the ingredients like a proud mentor.

Everything is going fine. Suspiciously fine.

And then—

"Alright, time to bake it!" Lilia claps his hands. "It says here to bake at 350 for 20 minutes!"

You nod. This is reasonable.

"However!" He flips the page. "In the olden days, we used a slightly different method."

Malleus frowns. Your stomach drops.

"Instead of 350 for 20 minutes…" Lilia hums. "It says here—750 for 10!"

…

"What."

"Don’t be shy! Give it a try!" Lilia gestures for you to do it.

Malleus shifts, looking like he wants to intervene. Grim is slowly backing out of the room. You ignore all of this.

Because you are an idiot.

You turn the oven to 750. You shove the pan inside. You watch in real-time as your dignity burns.

The oven makes a sound ovens should not make.

Something explodes. The smell is indescribable.

When you pull the pan out, it is a pile of pure, blackened charcoal.

You are horrified. Malleus looks concerned. Grim looks betrayed.

"Are ya tryin’ to kill me, Henchhuman?!" Grim yells. "I thought we were friends!"

But Lilia? Lilia is nodding approvingly.

"Ah," he sighs, nostalgic. "Just like how I remember it."

…This man should not be allowed in kitchens.

But you, an absolute buffoon, take the charred remains of your so-called courtship offering and bring it to Floyd anyway.

You find him in the cafeteria, dump the plate in front of him, and sit down. Defeated.

Floyd stares. Pokes it with a finger.

And then, he looks at you.

With pity.

"Shrimpy." His voice is gentle. You feel a chill of fear. "You goin' through hard times or somethin'?"

…

You die inside.

Your cooking was so bad that Floyd Leech—FLOYD LEECH—was feeling sympathy for you.

You have never known such shame.

You sit there, staring into the distance like a soldier who’s seen too much. A philosopher pondering the futility of existence. A person who has scent-marked a sweater and written poetry at the behest of a fae prince who thinks you’re simply not dedicated enough to the craft of love.

You are contemplating life, death, and the many, many decisions that have led you here.

And then, Jade sits beside you.

You don’t even flinch. You should. You should be wary. You should immediately launch yourself into the bushes and prepare to be interrogated in some terrifying eel version of psychological warfare. But you don’t. Because you have nothing left.

So you just turn your head slowly, look at him with the dull, hollow eyes of someone who’s really going through it.

Jade looks positively delighted.

"My, my," he says, in that syrupy, knowing voice of his. "What could possibly put you in such a state?"

You inhale. Exhale. Consider your options. Death is looking really attractive.

"I don’t want to talk about it."

Jade hums, obviously entertained, but then—then—he decides to make it worse.

"You know," he muses, "even Floyd has started to get concerned."

You blink.

"…Huh?"

"Oh, yes," he says, resting his chin on his hand, enjoying every second of this. "Between the odd gifts, the unusual behavior, and your general aura of suffering, even he has begun to notice. Which means you are being particularly obvious, because he rarely pays attention to anything that isn't entertaining."

You don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed.

"What’s your point?" you mutter.

Jade smiles like a predator about to land a final, devastating strike.

"You should simply tell him. Because this…?" He gestures vaguely at your soul-deep despair. "This is rather pitiful."

You stare.

You process.

And, somewhere in the depths of your heart, you realize he’s right.

You are in shambles.

Like, properly, horrifically, soul-crushingly in shambles. You’ve been through so much. You've spent weeks engaging in increasingly deranged behavior at the behest of a well-meaning yet hopelessly out-of-touch fae prince. You've endured ritual poetry readings, scent-marking disasters, and a culinary war crime that left you emotionally and financially bankrupt.

And now, standing in front of Floyd Leech—the very cause of your descent into insanity—you finally snap.

"I LIKE YOU!" you blurt, voice cracking like a cheap mirror. "I LIKE YOU AND I'VE BEEN ACTING LIKE A LUNATIC BECAUSE MALLEUS SAID I HAD TO FOLLOW FAE COURTSHIP RITUALS AND I—" your voice hiccups, borderline hysterical, "—I THINK I LOST A PIECE OF MY SOUL WHEN I TRIED TO BAKE THAT DAMN CAKE BUT IT'S FINE, BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT'S JUST WHAT LOVE IS??? AND I DID IT ALL FOR YOU, FLOYD, BECAUSE I AM A DUMB IDIOT WHO LIKES YOU FOR SOME REASON."

You gasp for air, because this has been a lot.

And Floyd?

Floyd is laughing.

Not just a chuckle, either. No, this menace of a man is bent over, hands on his knees, actually wheezing with mirth as if you’ve just performed the comedy routine of the century. His shoulders shake. His teeth glint in the light. He looks absolutely delighted.

And you? You just stand there, a broken, hollow shell of a human being.

"You should’ve just told me, Shrimpy~!" he cackles, wiping a tear from his eye. "I like you too, y’know?"

...

There’s a moment of silence as your poor, battered brain struggles to process this information.

"WHAT."

Floyd grins, like you haven’t just endured weeks of psychological torment at the hands of a dragon prince. "I mean, you’re fun! You make me laugh, and I like squeezin’ ya. ‘Course I like ya!"

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, he lunges forward and grabs you in a hug so tight that your ribs beg for mercy. You are crushed, consumed, engulfed in the sheer force of his affection. Your spine may never recover, but at this point, what’s another injury to your dignity?

And honestly? You don’t care.

Because he likes you.

Floyd likes you back.

Which means—you realize, tears pricking your eyes in relief—you never have to perform another insane fae courtship ritual again.

No more humiliating poetry. No more dubious scent-marking. No more playing Russian roulette with your digestive system in the name of romance. You did it. You won.

And then Floyd leans down, cups your face, and kisses you.

It's a little rough, a little overwhelming, but you melt into it anyway, because Sevens, you earned this.

Somewhere in the distance, Malleus Draconia watches from the shadows.

Arms crossed, nodding sagely, he looks upon his greatest success.

"My expert techniques," he murmurs, pride swelling in his voice, "have secured my child of man their eel."

Behind him, Lilia wipes an imaginary tear.

"Beautiful," he sighs.

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #floyd leech x you #floyd #floyd leech #platonic malleus draconia x reader #platonic malleus x reader #platonic malleus #malleus x reader

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