#while his parents were just afraid for his safety | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

parasite-core · 1 year ago

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This week in Pathfinder we had the most stressful cooldown episode ever :)

@scarlet-the-girl

The party arrived back to the Clocktower after fighting Kostchtchie. It was still early in the day, so after getting some healing done and getting Greta so that Cesseer could rest, we decided to get a plan together to clear out the Water Palace where the final known Crone Queen was located. We came to the conclusion that trying to infiltrate the place like we did with the library and the winter wolves’ palace would be our best course of action.

Unfortunately, this would mean going in unarmed and unarmored, since it was a bathhouse.

We stored all of our equipment in Calio’s bag of holding to place in the Water Palace’s locker room, then we made our way to the bathhouse. The trip there was uneventful—we’d thinned out the patrols so thoroughly at this point that we easily made our way halfway across the city without being noticed. Calio took the lead entering the water palace, talking to the receptionist and playing the part of a regular customer. Greta, Nestian, and Edeya joined him, while Aenland, Nevra, and Talsune waited for Calio’s signal on a nearby rooftop, and Roscoe was safely stashed in the Bag of Holding.

The group scouting out the Water Palace entered the changing room, and everyone but Edeya stripped down with no second thoughts—Greta and Nestian being a wolf and a bear respectively in their true forms, and Calio just being Calio, Edeya was the only one who considered that being flustered was even a normal reaction to this particular situation.

Once everyone had gotten changed, they entered the bathhouse proper. There were 3 tubs, with a waterfall between each, and stairs leading up to whichever you wished to enter (the hot, lukewarm, or cold tub). In the middle of the uppermost tub was what appeared to be a magical statue made entirely of water, shaped like a dragon, with water spilling forth from its open maw. To the side of each of the other tubs were two enormous ice yai onis, which stood statue still—pretending to be inanimate.

Greta and Edeya walked around one end of the tubs, while Calio and Nestian walked around the other way. Unbeknownst to them, their disguise was almost seen through by the ‘water dragon’, but it got distracted at the last moment when Edeya swung around and accidentally went face first into Greta’s chest.

While shenanigans were happening on the girls’ side of the tub, Nestian spotted something written in the pool in Skald—which he couldn’t read, but he knew Calio could. So he pointed it out to his companion, who translated it as ‘the VIP room’. They determined this must be where the secret entrance to the room the Crone Queen was hidden in was. Nestian and Calio got into the pool, catching Edeya and Greta’s eyes to get them to follow suit.

They moved away from the onis and other patrons as much as possible, and discussed what Nestian and Calio had spotted. They came up with a plan: Nestian would return to the locker room and get the Bag of Holding. Calio and Edeya would open the hidden door and stealthily slip inside, and Calio would signal to Aenland. Then when they were inside, Edeya would use her Bracelet of Friends to transport Nestian inside, and Greta would just have to burst in on her own once shit hit the ceiling.

We got into positions, giving Nestian enough time to get down to the locker room and gather our things before Edeya and Calio carefully slid open the door.

And they heard a strange unnatural sounding voice announce to the Crone Queen and the elven man with her that they had uninvited guests. The voice came from one of four enormous spiders that took up the corners of the room. And in the pool was a writhing mass of tentacles and wolf heads—a Scylla.

Edeya immediately shut the door, but it was too late as a booming noise echoed through the complex, alerting everyone within. Calio understood the noise to be speech due to Tongues—it was a foreign speech from something far far too massive, coming from somewhere deep below them.

A staff member ran into the locker room and asked Nestian—in Skald—if he knew where the intruders were. Nestian shrugged noncommittally, with no idea what she was saying or precisely what was going on, except that clearly the alarm had been raised. Despite Nestian now being in his bear form, and therefore very clearly not belonging here, the dragon-blooded sorcerer ran off to find said intruders.

Immediately the onis, the water dragon, and the various other staff members went on the offensive. The Onis moved from their pedestals, one taking a swing at Calio, and the other managing to get a swing at all three—Calio, Greta, and Edeya. Beneath the Onis, one of the monks swung around and tried to Quivering Palm Greta.

Calio tried to get revenge on the monk for his attempt to instant kill Greta, casting a Fire Storm on every inch of the bathhouse he could see—including kicking open the door to the secret room and tossing fire in to burn the Crone Queen and her spidery friends. Unfortunately the monks dodged—but everyone else in both rooms burned. The water of the baths kept most of them from being lit on fire for any extended amount of time—except for the dragon-blooded sorcerer, who ran in at just the wrong moment and got caught up in the blast. Without his components, Calio was limited in what spells he could Quicken, so he attempted to Banish one of the Onis, but it resisted his attempt, refusing to be sent home by a puny human.

After the sorcerer ran out of the room, Nestian activated his Boots of Speed and dashed out of the room himself, using his ursine strength to climb straight up the sides of each of the tubs as he reached them and then propel himself forward, until the reached the rest of the party, holding out the Bag of Holding.

The water elemental dragon breathed boiling hot steam at us, Calio took the brunt of it, with Nestian and Edeya dodging entirely and Greta resisting a good portion due to her ring. Without his Bone Armor or his belt boosting his endurance, Calio was already on his last legs.

Aenland, Nevra, and Talsune were Dimension Doored into the metaphorical belly of the beast. Aenland began having back and forth shit talk with the elven wizard, who was also named Aenland, but it was pronounced Eenlend, which infuriated Aenland worse, and he was all high and mighty that he was a proper elf wizard and only elves who can’t handle the rigorousness of magical study become lowly *archers*.

However Aenland held himself in check enough to aim for the Crone Queen instead of the mage, shooting her to death with a flurry of arrows before turning his attention back to the elven wizard, who was quite offput that Aenland had ruined a deal that was going to make him very rich.

While he did that, Talsune tore into the enormous Scylla, and rended it apart before it or its summoned Charybdis could act. However it wasn’t the only thing in those dark waters. Unnoticed by the bathing elven wizard, something big and ancient and hungry swam deep below the surface of this dark pool. And with the Scylla out of the way, it rose to the surface.

It was immense, too immense to even see the entire beast as it surfaced. What could be made out appeared to be a whale-like beast with a shell of ice down its back and frost tapering down its sides. It was like a Leviathan, but changed to better fit with the icy waters of Irrisen.

Outside, things weren’t looking too good. Calio had his equipment back, had tossed Roscoe through the doorway to help Talsune and Aenland, and he managed to patch himself up with a Harm spell. Then he Boneshakered the monk who’d tried to kill Greta, and dragged him under the water. He never resurfaced. However right after, the two Onis continued laying into everyone in the party—with Nestian helping to block what he could, but doing so was leaving him battered and bloody as well. And two more monks ran in and attempted to Quivering Palm members of the party, to no effect thankfully. But now we were well and truly surrounded.

And then Aenland got eaten.

Talsune had charged the Leviathan and gotten a respectable slash across the monstrous whale, but it didn’t even acknowledge the essentially papercut sized gash when compared to its massive girth. Instead, it propelled itself out of the water just enough to grab Aenland and then dive. Deep, deep, back into the darkest depths of the pool where no one would reach them.

Talsune immediately told Calio what happened, and Calio told the others. Nestian told him not to worry, he had an idea to save Aenland. Calio trusted in Nestian, and kept trying to deal with their own problem. Especially when the water dragon flew down, flanking with one of the Onis. Calio took advantage of its new positioning to cast Horrid Wilting, which did some massive damage to it and respectable damage to everything else around it.

Nestian pulled off the bow and arrow charm on his bracelet of friends, teleporting Aenland from the much more literal belly of the beast and back out to the middle of battle instead. Frying pans and fire and all that.

After Aenland appeared we saw that the dragon-blooded sorcerer, who we’d mostly forgotten about, had been making her way around the tub and was now here—a bit singed for her trouble. She spoke a word, and tried to kill Aenland instantly, identifying him as the most injured member of the party. Nestian threw the protection of the Black Rider around Aenland, strengthening his resistance and saving him from an instant end to his story (or at least from needing to be resurrected).

Aenland repaid the trouble by killing both the water dragon and the draconic sorcerer with a flurry of arrows.

The nearest Oni tried to reposition herself so she and the other Oni would be flanking us in place of the now-dead dragon, earning her an attack from both Aenland and Nestian, but it did not down her and she was able to get in position. Not for long as Greta tore into her, slaying her with a brutal bite.

The other Oni threw her attacks on the party, which again left us battered, but Calio stepped out of her range to cast Oracle’s Vessel and then Harm on Aenland to heal him, while Talsune finished off the last Oni—having been teleported out of the Leviathan’s chamber by Nevra before the enormous beast resurfaced to find a new target. Roscoe was left behind, taking pot shots at the spiders from the ceiling of the chamber, much as he’d been doing to Daemons during his solo week in Abbadon.

The party regrouped and entered the chamber with the dark pool. Roscoe had paralyzed the spider nearest the door, leaving it unable to take swipes at anyone entering and making it an easy target for Nevra to finish off, while Aenland took shots at the spider in the back corner. Nestian charged in at the spider in the opposite corner, despite being on his last legs with more blood in his fur than in his body. Edeya followed behind and avoided an attack of opportunity to heal him.

Then the Leviathan rose to the surface, and once again grabbed Aenland off Nevra’s back. With his Stone of Farspeech he told Calio not to let Edeya teleport him out with her other Bracelet of Friends until they’d killed this thing. Calio complied, flying in on Talsune’s back and unleashing a Slay Living empowered by his pocket watch, followed by an attempt at Boneshatter that was resisted. Before the Leviathan could dive back under the waves with their friend in tow, Nestian finished it off with a final swing of his axe. Aenland escaped its now limply open mouth, and its body fell back into the darkness of the depths below.

The party investigated the room further, trying to discern where the portal into the Dancing Hut was hidden. Aenland gave Nestian his Goggles of Trueseeing so he could explore the magical darkness at the bottom of the pool. Nestian dove under and found a rune carved into the side of the pool, which could send them to the hut, dispel the darkness, and turn the pool into a magical bath that would empower them if they bathed in it for an hour.

Forebodingly, however, he did not find the body of the beast they’d just slain at the bottom of the pool.

The party was exhausted by this point, and decided to head back to the Clocktower.

Calio had a talk with Nestian about a conversation he’d had with Aenland. He hoped that Nestian could get through to Aenland, because Calio wasn’t good at dealing with him when he got stubborn. Calio had talked to Aenland about how *obviously* he and the others were going to help him to fight Treerazor when this was all over, it was a given. Aenland had disagreed vehemently. After some back and forth it come around to Aenland telling Calio that he didn’t want them to go because they would die if they went. Calio tried to reason with him that *he* had a better chance of survival if they all went, but he was having none of it, he didn’t want to see people he cared about killed by Treerazor a second time. So Calio was hoping that Nestian could talk some sense into Aenland, because Calio didn’t know how to get through to him when he was running on his emotions.

Nestian suggested approaching this from a different angle: instead of trying to convince Aenland that he logically should let them come along, Calio should try convincing Aenland that him going off on his own and getting himself killed would hurt them in the same way Aenland losing his family had hurt him. Calio agreed that this was a good argument—and one he never would have thought of on his own.

As Calio was making to leave to rest for the evening, Nestian mentioned that they would be going to the Dancing Hut to get Anastasia the next day. Calio was surprised this was his friend’s priority, and he said so, pointing out that Nestian’s mother and her Eidolon were still trapped in the Nonagon. It hit Nestian for the first time that his mother was likely still in danger, and he agreed that going to deal with Keisuke—one way or another—should be their first priority tomorrow.

Before Calio left, Nestian asked him why he cared so much about Keisuke. It struck him that there was more to it than just Calio feeling he owed the kitsune his life. Calio was quiet for a time before admitting to Nestian that, the way he saw it, if he’d met the party at any point other than when they did—whether he was still without his memories or the Grimm Rider in this scenario—the others would have tried to kill him on meeting him, just like they had Keisuke. They only liked him now because they knew him.

Nestian disagreed with Calio’s assessment. He agreed that Calio and Keisuke had some things in common, but they differed in a vital way: Calio couldn’t bring himself to be pointlessly cruel. Sure, he could be cruel to people who slighted him first, but he never just went around hurting innocent people. Calio pointed out that just hurting innocent people without cause was pointless and a waste of energy, it gained him nothing. Nestian said that’s the point: plenty of people they’d met and defeated DID hurt and kill innocent people just because they found it fun. Calio argued that the fact they had killed all the people who did that proved that it was an ineffective means of getting and keeping power. Nestian told Calio that he was better than he gave himself credit for—he’d never hidden the sort of person he was from Greta, and she loved him all the same, just like he loved her, and that said something about who he really was. Calio had no argument for that.

Elsewhere, Aenland had gone looking for the Night Monarch, to give her the gift meant for Desna to get the goddess of dreams’ blessing in saving Xanthadon from her demonic patron.

He and Nevra flew to the top of the opera house, in hopes that the Night Monarch might pass by one of the highest buildings in the city—or at least it would give them a good lookout spot.

While they waited they talked. Much like Calio and Nestian, they talked about Aenland’s plans for when this was over, and his desire not to have his new family join him in battle and get themselves killed. Unfortunately, he knew they were stubborn as hell and weren’t going to just take no for an answer. And if he tried to go on his own there was a good chance they were going to use everything at their disposal to try to track him down to help.

Nevra tried to bounce some ideas off him on how to either convince them to not come, but they both knew that in the end the others wouldn’t be dissuaded. Aenland bemoaned that as ‘his family�� they were incredibly frustrating, to which Nevra added that that’s what made them good friends, though.

As they talked, The Night Monarch appeared on the rooftop alongside them. She said it was pure luck that she happened to land here on this night—but luck had a deeper meaning to her and her lady than it might to others. She noted that she knew Aenland had something to give to her.

Aenland offered the acorn he’d taken from Earth—the progenitor of Vigliv’s tree, which had also taken in power from the herald of a god of another universe that had slipped between the cracks in reality into this world. He explained that he’d taken this acorn with the intention of it being his anchor back to ‘that sad planet’—he’d intended to go back to do something to help that world that Baba Yaga hailed from, where magic was dead. But now it had become something more, after absorbing whatever power the herald of that alternate Gozreh held. He believed it was something that Desna should safeguard.

The Night Monarch took the seed and examined it. Then she told him that what this told her was that he was thinking about the future. This wasn’t the offering of a man who was throwing himself into a fungal cave to die. This was the offering of a man who was looking ahead. She accepted his gift, and granted her blessing.

Aenland returned to the Clocktower, where Nestian had waited up for him with some dinner he’d saved. Aenland confirmed that he’d successfully done what he’d gone out to do, and he had the last piece of the puzzle for freeing Xanthadon. Nestian told Aenland their plan to go to the Nonagon in the morning. He and Aenland agreed that they had promised Calio not to attack Keisuke immediately—but Nestian told Aenland he believed that Calio was beginning to have his doubts about Keisuke, and the two agreed that this was probably going to come down to a fight.

The next day, the party teleported back to Artrosa, and returned to the Eon Pit. Calio asked the others to remain outside until he gave a signal. He wanted to try to talk to Keisuke first, and see if he could simply get him to release Nestian’s mother and eidolon—and he didn’t want to go in looking like he’d come with hostile intent, dragging the entire party along.

Calio went through the nine-sided door and walked down a long hallway. Up some stairs, he found himself at the same entry to the Nonagon that he usually Plane Shifted into. Keisuke had his back to the entrance, facing the final of the nine doors around the room. His ears perked up as he heard someone behind him, and he asked if it was Calio. As he was turning around, he was beginning to cast a spell—but he dropped the spell when Calio confirmed that it was him. If it l had been anyone else, apparently his first instinct on being snuck up on was to Death Clutch a bitch. As you do.

Keisuke expressed excitement that Calio had made it just in time. ‘The time and the place’, he kept telling Calio that’s all he’d needed, and now with the deal he’d struck with the King in Yellow he’d gotten it. Calio noted dryly that Keisuke could have warned him about the Demon Lord that was going to jump them in the Eon Pit, but Keisuke told him he’d honestly had no idea that was going to happen. All he’d known was that his bargain had been for him to help a Demon Lord with one task, and then he’d get the information he was seeking. And he did. And then he got right out of there, and slipped Calio the means to undo his handiwork while he was at it.

Keisuke asked Calio if he was just here to talk, or if he was here to see the end result of Keisuke’s work. Calio admitted he did want to see what Keisuke had to show, but also told him he *needed* to talk to him. Keisuke told him they could talk, but first he would show Calio the fruit of his labor—he opened the door he was standing before, revealing a chamber that was much more decorated than the plain chambers all the other simulacrums were kept in. This one looked like it was a room pulled right out of Cheliax—although Calio failed to identify the foreign nation’s style and only knew it looked more stylized than the other plain rooms. Keisuke told him that he’d been looking for a long time for the hidden cache of one of the greatest spymasters in the world, Eirtein Obeirago.

And now he had what he’d been seeking. And the means of mythic ascension were finally within his grasp.

#pathfinder #pf weekly #the end of Calio's arc with Keisuke is this weekend #I am SO excised and SO afraid at the same time #Calio is so sure this can still be handled without having to kill Keisuke #and despite his talk with Nestian he can't bring himself to not want to for a lot of reasons #what he told Nestian was the truth and it's what he believes but I don't think it's the full truth #I don't think he even really knows why #I think he likes having someone who's almost a parental figure who encourages the things he does #but for him to admit that would mean admitting it bothers him that his regular ordinary parents #didn't want him to go to Irrisen and chase his ambitions #or that he's never done anything to even try to make them proud because they only wanted an ordinary life for him #and he wanted to be extortionary and found the life they wanted for him dull and essentially beneath him #while his parents were just afraid for his safety #and while he'll admit to part of that he'll never vocalize that it actually bothered him in any way #of course it didn't bother him he's above that #he's not the scared child in the dark with nightmares of Winter Witches anymore #he doesn't need mommy and daddy's approval #of course not #but some part of him feels so pleased when Keisuke acknowledges him #even if he knows that he's surpassed the master at this point

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pucksandpower · 3 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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blarshwritezz · 8 months ago

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Yandere King sadistic x male reader prince. He fell in love with you at first sight when you made a diplomatic visit to his kingdom, you are kind to everyone and he is cruel even to his nobility.

After a while, he proposed marriage but you refused, much to his anger.

He invades your kingdom and captures you, and forces you to marry him and guarantees that the honeymoon will be full of punishments for rejecting him.

Yandere King x Prince Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, manipulation, abuse of power

King!Yan didn't understand you. You were nice, even to lowly peasants and servants, and it didn't seem to be for your own gain. You would even give them rewards and assist in tasks at times.

But what confused him the most was how you made his heart want to burst out of his chest and place itself in your hands.

He's never felt like this, not even on the battlefield. He just lived the adrenaline rush he got when destroying another kingdom and taking it over, claiming it as his own.

He first saw you when your father and mother brought you along for a diplomatic meeting, attempting to gain his assistance in a war that seemed to be on the horizon. Who did they think they were?

It was when you were talking to one of the many maids in his palace. It wasn't much, you just told her that you were grateful for hers and everyone's hard work, saying his palace looked immaculate. But it was his palace, you should be giving your compliments to him.

He carefully watched you for the entirety of your stay. And over the week, he was certain. He wanted you.

And he always got what he wanted.

So, at the end of the week, he made a proposal to your parents. "I'll protect your measly kingdom...for your son's hand in marriage."

Not wanting to speak on your behalf, your parents brought you in. And so, after a moment of consideration, you gave him your answer: "I'm sorry, your majesty, but I'm afraid I simply can't. This is far too sudden, and I don't think we'd be a very good match, anyway." You bowed, giving him a kind smile as you stood up straight again.

He didn't like this...not one bit. He left the room without a word, a butler coming in soon after telling you and your family to go home.

For the next month, you worried if you made the right choice. Your parents were clearly stressed, as one of the neighboring countries has been preparing for war, threatening to act if they didn't get what they wanted. But that would leave your kingdom in a state of disarray.

So maybe you should have agreed, just for your kingdom's safety, but at the end of the day it might not guarantee anything. He could still come after your home, your family, and your people after you become his husband, if you were to agree. And that didn't even take into consideration your own safety...

You knew he was beyond cruel. Even monsters would fear him.

You sat alone in your room, pondering all this for the millionth time this month, when it happened. Your personal butler bist in, clearly in disarray. "Your Highness! The castle, it's under attack! Quickly, you must-" But he couldn't finish. Not before a double sided axe found its new home deep in his skull.

As he fell to the floor, blood staining your carpet, you stared in horror at the man who did it. The king had come for you...

"Come on now, my husband." He lifted you by the neck before slinging you over his shoulder and carrying you out. "I'll have to punish you on our honeymoon. I can't wait to see how good you'll look covered in bruises~"

I feel like this one was a bit rushed- sorry about that

#yandere #yandere x reader #blarsh writes #x reader #male yandere #male x reader #anon ask #yandere x you #yandere x male reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x male darling #yandere king #king yandere

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lukesvangelista · 8 days ago

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𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧ʷˢ²

in which will's arm becomes your canvas in the moments you need it most.

warnings; anxiety, bullying (pre-school), BRIEF mention of parents fighting, but other than that, pure fluff. if you can think of others, please don't hesitate to let me know!

You had met Will Smith in pre-school. On the first day that you had stepped inside the classroom, you had been captivated by his blond hair and blue eyes. His hair had been neatly cut, safely tucked behind his ears, while his eyes matched perfectly with his charming smile. Even at four years old, he had you wrapped around his finger.

You didn't get the chance to talk to him, however, until the winter of that school year. You had always been the anxious type, finding it hard to reach out and speak to your classmates. So, you didn't. Ultimately, that led to a group of boys catching you on the slide, alone, during recess one day. It was a typical Massachusetts day for that time of year - a white blanket of snow enveloped the state, and the ice on the ground was as smooth as glass. But in that moment, none of that had mattered. A brown-haired boy in the group had approached first, asking the question everyone wanted to know the answer to.

"Why don't you talk?"

Those words stung. It wasn't like you didn't want to. It just felt like your mouth was zipped shut and someone had thrown out the key to unlock it every time you tried to speak.

So, naturally, you didn't answer.

A few moments later, another boy stepped forward, "Aww, is the little baby too afraid to speak?"

You took a deep breath, trying to gather yourself, but it was clear that you weren't going to get out of this one easily. Despite your observation, you carefully hopped off of the slide you were perched on and turned your back to the boys as you attempted to walk away. You had only made it a few steps when you felt a hard shove from behind - one that made you fall face first onto the ground. Your face burrowed itself into the thick layer of snow that had blanketed the ground, the cold powder stinging your face. You tried to burrow into the safety of your heavy winter coat, but not even that worked.

You could hear the muffled laughs of the boys behind you, one shouting, "Mute freak!" and the other shouting, "Scaredy-cat!" Suddenly, however, a third voice had joined the conversation. The voice was both recognizable and unrecognizable to you, both comforting yet oddly familiar. That was enough for you to gather the strength to look up from the ground.

"Leave her alone!"

It was Will.

His neatly-trimmed blond hair had grown shaggy over time, the wisps of it curling at the nape of his neck. A white winter hat was covering the rest, but you could almost see the way it was curled at the top of his head. A flame of anger was dancing in his usually icy blue eyes, and his smile was no longer charming, only frustrated.

He shoved the two boys back, but not hard enough for them to fall to the ground. That didn’t matter, however. Will had the upper hand - he had a few inches on both of the boys, which meant that in their eyes, he towered over them. Without any other words being spoken, the two boys ran off in fear, occasionally looking back only to find Will glaring at them as he carefully walked over to you.

As he approached you, he offered a compassionate smile, one that would’ve made you feel better if your face wasn’t going numb from the snow. He grabbed your hands and helped you sit up, his gloved hands immediately going to gently brush the snow off of your face.

You flinched in surprise, but the soft material felt comforting against your rosy cheeks. He glanced at you as if to ask if it was okay for him to continue, and you nodded softly. Once he was done, he wiped his snow-covered gloves on the material of his puffy coat - no doubt one his mom made him wear - and offered a gentle hand to help you up off of the ground.

“I’m William, but I go by Will,” he smiled, his hand lingering in yours until he knew for sure that you were safely off of the ground. When he let go, your hands immediately went to fumble with the hem of your hoodie in both anxiety and relief.

You weren’t sure what, but something washed over you, and timidly yet undoubtedly, you raised your voice.

“I’m Y/N.”

And that was the first time you talked to one of your classmates. That classmate just happened to be Will Smith.

As the year went on, you and Will grew inseparable. He continued to be the only classmate you talked to, but he didn't seem to mind. Everyone around you wondered why Will received your special treatment, but the truth of the matter was that he was the only one who made you feel safe. He never judged you for your anxiety, but instead welcomed it because even at four years old, he knew it was apart of you.

Later in spring, you were having a particularly bad day when Will handed you a pack of markers. He had recently turned five, a milestone you were still waiting on, and he received the package of colored ink as one of his gifts. He opened the table's cubby to reveal some coloring books, but as he placed them down, he felt your hand grab his wrist.

Without a word, you had taken the cap off of a light blue marker and began drawing a flower on his skin. Will hesitated for a moment, but when he took sight of your face, he could see the way your eyes visibly drained of worry as you traced the ink. So, naturally, he continued to let you do it.

Little did you know that that tradition would last for fourteen years.

Even at 19, the tradition of drawing on Will’s skin had become second nature, something neither of you ever questioned anymore. He constantly had markings on his skin from you, but he didn’t mind. It was a quiet way for you to find your balance in waves of emotions and for him to remind you that you were never alone.

It had been a long day for you. You had come over after a family dinner that had left your nerves frayed, your usual quietness amplified to the point that Will could tell something was wrong the second you walked in. Now, hours later, you sat on his bed, your legs cocooned into your chest as if that would provide you with any sense of comfort. Your mind was racing with more bad thoughts than good. The faint glow of “Ratatouille” illuminated the room through the screen of Will’s laptop, but neither of you seemed too interested.

Will glanced at you, catching the way your knees were pulled up to your chest, your fingers picking at the hem of your sweatshirt like they had the first time he met you. Without a word, he reached over to his desk, opened his top drawer, and grabbed the same pack of markers that had been sitting there since you were kids — the ones he had received for his 5th birthday — and held them out to you.

You glanced up at him slowly, your eyes meeting his blue ones. The flames of worry dancing in them almost matched the yellow marker you had grabbed from him. Will leaned back against his headboard, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence but not the calm.

With the marker in your hand, you forced arm down until his wrist was stretched out in your lap. You were focused, your brow furrowed in that familiar way as you worked on filling the empty space of his skin with tiny, intricate designs.

You didn’t look up, the marker stilling for only a second before continuing its careful strokes. “Just thinking,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the scratch of ink against his skin. Will sighed softly, gently grabbing your chin with his free hand to get you to look at him.

“About what?”

You hesitated, your hand pausing again. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and for a moment, you looked like you might change the subject. But then you sighed and went back to drawing, your voice low, “Dreams, I guess. The future. If my parents stop fighting. If I’ll ever feel… well, less like this.”

Will didn’t need to ask what this meant. He’d been your best friend long enough to know—this was the restlessness, the anxiety, the weight you carried in moments like these. Hell, it was the weight you carried all the time. He watched as you traced another flower on his wrist, your hand steady despite the storm you clearly felt inside.

His heart broke, but he didn’t falter.

“You will,” he said simply, the steadiness in his voice making you chuckle slightly.

Your lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “You make it sound easy.”

Will smiled softly, the compassion he’d always held for you radiating through him, “It’s not. But you’ll get there,” he said, leaning forward just enough so that your knees touched. “And until then, you can keep putting your dreams on me.” He tilted his head, gesturing toward the growing garden of flowers and stars you were creating.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound warming the room. It was the first time Will had heard you laugh all day, “Dreams?“

Will shook his head, his grin small but sincere, “These are the outlines of what’s in your head, Y/N/N — your dreams, your worries, all of it. You’ve been doing it since we were five years old.”

You laughed, your eyes meeting his again, “But what makes you think they’re my dreams?”

“They constantly change,” he explained, a wisp of his blond curls falling in front of his eyes. He looked exactly like the four year old you had met on the playground that winter day. “When we were six, you drew rocket ships because all you wanted was to be an astronaut. And when we were 11, I constantly had drawings of cats and dogs on my wrists because you wanted to be a veterinarian. And last year, you drew the Boston College logo over and over again because you wanted me to be happy at B.C.”

“And what about my worries?”

“They remain more steady, but I don’t mind carrying them for awhile,” he whispered softly, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Your marker stilled, and for a moment, you just looked at him, your chest feeling a little lighter in a way only Will could manage. Then, with a soft smile, you added one last detail to the sunflower you’d been working on—a tiny heart at the center.

“You’re so corny,” you said, placing his arm back in his lap.

Will smirked, lifting it to admire your work, “And you’re the one who just drew a heart. Who’s corny now?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out. You tucked your legs under you, leaning back against the headboard beside him. He might’ve been corny, but he meant more to you than you could ever know,“You’ll always be my favorite sketchbook, you know.”

Will nudged your shoulder lightly, the marker still in his other hand, “And you’ll always be a flower on my skin.”

Neither of you said anything else after that, the room settling into a comfortable silence. But the outlines of your dreams stayed etched on Will’s arm, just like they always would.

a/n; this might be one of my favorite works that i’ve ever written. i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did!

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makuzume · 3 months ago

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Toge Accidentally Uses His Cursed Speech on You (Part 4)

🔅content: Light angst/light comfort; gn!reader; no pronoun mentions

🔅synopsis: It's been 2 days since you last seen Toge... How do you go about this? What are you supposed to do? You wonder how to address the situation at hand...

🔅a/n: "What happened to posting part 4 soon" I ended up scraping the entire part 4 draft and remade it because I didn't like it :'D Thank you everyone for being so patient and putting up w my bs aaa Let me know if you want to be in the tags list and enable ur tagging :3

[JJK Masterlist] [Part 1 & 2] [Part 3]

🔅Word Count: 2.2K

"...Should I... open it...?" You asked yourself quietly, looking down on your phone as you stared at the multiple notifications you received from Toge.

13 missed calls

31 new messegaes

All unopened, all unanswered.

Slowly, you hover your finger over to his chat box, however, you hesitate- quickly shutting off your phone and plopping down on the soft mattress where you sat.

While the rest of the Okkotsu family went out to watch the movies, you decided to stay in the house by yourself. "You should come...! I'm sure it will help lift your spirits." Mrs. Okkotsu offered, to which you kindly declined her offer.

You figured you needed some time to be alone for now, but the lack of presence in the house ended up cauing a deafening silence to fill the halls, creating more opportunities for you to overthink the recent events between you and Toge.

'...I wonder... what did he say...'

'...why am I so scared to read it...?'

Over the past two days, you've been comfortably staying over Yuta's family home in the city. But since Yuta wasn't there at the moment, his parents and sister have been kindly accomodating you the entire time.

You were incredibly embarassed and reluctant to stay over, afraid of becoming only a nuisance to the Okkotsu family, especially since current situation between you and Toge was not at all very dire, just an arguement between two lovers.

Fortunately, Yuta and his mother were understanding and very insistent that you were welcome for as long as you'd like. Afterall, you were also one of Yuta's closest friends.

Trying your best to not cause them too much trouble, you help out with minor chores like the dishes, setting up the table, throwing out the trash- but each time you do so, you were met with gentle scolding.

"We told you to rest! You're still very hurt!"

"No no no, you're a guest, put that down!"

"We are not letting you wash the plates. Go back to bed and lie down for a nap! We'll bring you some snacks later."

"Nonsense! You are not a burden! You are a good friend of Yuta, and he asked us to take care of you, so sit down and don't worry about us."

Though that did seem to reduce the amount of guilt you felt, you were still rather embarassed for staying over someone else's family home just to hide from an ongoing dispute with Toge. So, you figured you shouldn't overstay your welcome, at least.

You look at your phone once again, staring at Toge's contact name as you remember your last encounter with him.

Staring at the ceiling above, you allow the memories from the incident flood your mind once more- remembering the sorrow, the pain, the sadness....

The entire time you knew Toge, he had always felt like the safest person to be around with, and you trusted him more than anyone- be it about your safety or your feelings. Naturally, the shock from accidentally getting cursed would shaken you up quite a lot.

You were badly hurt, both physically and emotionally.

And even for a short moment, you even felt afraid of him for the first time.

A feeling you knew would devastate him if he knew.

As shy as you were to admit it, all you did the entire day after the incident was quiety cry inside the guest bedroom in Yuta's home.

You can say that you rather had mixed feelings about the whole thing. Not a moment has passed in which you weren't thinking about it.

At first, it was shock, then fear, followed by pain before sadness, eventually leading to worry- the feeling you were experiencing right now.

Why 'worry'? You think to yourself, curious as to why there was this sense of longing to see him despite the accident.

It was a strange feeling in your chest. Most certainly, you were still very much upset and hurt about what he had done to you, but still-

"...I wonder how he must feel right now..." You hug the pillow nearest to you closer to your chest, unable to stray away the concern you felt for him.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at you the moment he misused his speech on you. The way Toge's eyes expressed so much shock, the way his voice was filled with so much guilt and fear... You have never seen him act in such a way before, especially considering the fact that he was always the more calm and composed one between the two of you.

You couldn't get the desperate tone of his voice out of your head, and you frequently find yourself vividly remembering the panicked expression he displayed on his face.

"...He must be worried..." You whisper to the pillow you held tightly, your eyelids closing as you replay the events of the accident.

More than anyone, you understood him the most, and you knew that this must be really messing up his mind right now.

It was one of his deepest fears, hurting someome he loves unintentionally with his speech, and you knew how deep this sort of wound would cut him on the inside.

More so, there was also the fact that Toge had personally witnessed the tragic events that happened to his allies in Shibuya... not to mention the fact that he had also been heavily pinning the blame on himself for the death of innocent civilians' lives.... lives which he felt responsible of protecting, all because he led them to take shelter to the same area Sukuna had unleashed his Malevolent Shrine.

'Truly...' you thought.

'this must be really messing up his mind right now....'

You turn over to your side, eyes staring blankly into the empty air in front of you.

"...He was distant and acting different from what happened in Shibuya afterall... I know he didn't mean to hurt me..." you whispered quietly, trying to think of how to address the situation.

You sat up, your hand firmly grasping your phone, a hesitant but concerned tone evident in your voice "I... don't want to make him feel any worse than he already does..."

Without a doubt, Toge was always so good to you. So protective, so understanding, so kind, so loving...

He was always there for you at your lowest points... and you never even had the chance to return such comfort to him before, so you think to yourself:

'...it's my turn.'

Your previous attempt to aid his sorrow didn't end up so well, but that's why you were willing to try again; To try again for him.

He probably hasn't been consoled ever since the incindent in Shibuya either. You, Panda, Yuta, or even Maki hadn't heard from him the entire time, and that's considering that all of you are his closest friends.

You ponder about it, and then you realize he probably wouldn't have ended up hurting you by accident or behaving so distant towards everyone if he had just allowed himself to be comforted- to be held and be told 'it's okay.'

...And you couldn't help but want to be that person who does that for him.

The more you thought about this, the more you wanted to see him.

You already released all the shock, hurt, and sadness for the past few days through a few weeping sessions in the small guest room before, and you think it's about time to come out of hiding.

You try to gain back your composure.

"...I wonder where he is... I hope... he's not pushing himself." You glance at your wallpaper, looking at a picture of Toge holding up a silly little peace sign while he sat next to a cute little dog you randomly met on the street.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly for a moment, then, your smile slowly fades back to form a serious expression on your face.

You miss the smile in his eyes like in the photo.

The idea of him in such sadness, worry, and pain ended up hurting you just as much as well.

"...I should talk to him."

So, you unlock your phone, open messages, and look for his contact name once again.

His contact nickname and his silly little photo appear.

'Bonito Flakes'

"...There."

Just when you were about to tap his name, you paused.

"Uh... wait... what should I say...?"

You pull back your thumb from the screen, suddenly having a bit of a panic on how to address the situation.

"..How do I reach out to him...? What... did he text me..? Is he upset with me? Is he looking for me...?"

His last text was from yesterday night, so you weren't sure what should be the best mood to approach him at this moment.

Just then, as if fate had timed this moment perfectly, a notification suddenly pops up on the top of your screen.

1 new message from Bonito Flakes

You gasped, completely taken aback from seeing his name.

'Wait... I'm not ready...!!'

You panicked slightly, causing you to drop your phone on the hard wood floor by accident, a loud thump echoing throughout the room. Fortunately, the Okkotsu family still hasn't returned from their outing yet, otherwise, you'd give them another reason to be worried about you.

You sigh, picking it back up as you lightly shook your head to gain back your composure.

As you check your sceen, you see another text from Toge come in.

Then another.

And another.

It made you slightly nervous but curious as to what his multiple texts were saying right now, and it sort of made you even more worried to know what he sent.

Is he sad? Does he need you? Is he just reaching out? Is he leaving the school? Does he want to distance himself from you?

"I'll... wait a little..."

Ultimately, you decided to let him finish sending his messages before you view it.

He sent quite a handful of texts, and it took a while before the messages stopped coming in. But just to be sure, you waited for a few minutes in case he had any late follow ups.

"I'll.... wait a little more..." You whisper to yourself as you stare at the phone in front of you, hoping to view his messages during a time when he's offline- You just wanted to make sure there was enough time for you to process and react to his texts without the pressure of him waiting for your response.

But the green dot next to his profile picture was still lit up, meaning, that he would be able to immediately see your replies the moment you send it.

But you would prefer he only sees it AFTER you're done sending your responses.

Sighing heavily, you whisper once more '...I guess I'll wait again...'

You check again after a few minutes, it was still green. So you wait again.

More time had passed but still- the green dot remained.

You wait again.

It was all you could think about for the past few hours as you move back and forth from checking your phone to lying down, staring into nothing...

Untul finally, at hour three, the green dot turns dim.

And with that, you were left with no excuse to delay opening your inbox any longer. "...alright... here we go.... I guess..."

With a hefty sigh and a single tap of your finger, you open his inbox.

Your eyes widened suddenly, immediate shock at the realization.

With a quickened pace, you hurridly limped towards the nearest window, the cast on your leg creating a slight scratching sound as you drag it across the floor.

Pulling away the curtains, you scan the street below in search for the white haired boy.

You squint your eyes slightly, trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness of the night.

Then, you see him.

"He... he's still there...?"

On the opposite side of the street, there sat Toge on the small pavement across from Yuta's house.

His head rested on his arm and his head hung low, perhaps taking a bit of a nap as he waited for your reply.

A wave of guilt suddenly washes over you as you realize how long you've made him wait out in the cold for a single reply.

You text him.

Toge???? Why did you wait for me?

You look drenched, what happened???

How long have you been there???

But your messages didn't seem to get through, not showing a mark of it being delivered.

"His phone battery must've died...."

Instictively, you hurried out the room with a more detemined expression, carefully treading the stairs with your injured leg, and rushed out the door.

Unintentionally, the noise of opening the door a little too quickly echoed across the dead silent street, casuing Toge to immediately jolt himself awake.

He made eye contact with you while he remained seated across the street, shocked at your sudden appearance.

Embarassed for startling him, you slightly lose your confidence and shy away from his gaze, a small lump in your throat preventing you from voicing out any words.

Toge stood up slowly, his eyes widen but his chest beated out of nervousness.

He doesn't expect anything positve, but still, he remained hopeful, as much as he felt like he didn't deserve you.

"...um...." you started, hoping to break the akward silence that filled the air.

"...I-...."

"....."

"....p-...please, come in...."

....

[Back to JJK Masterlist] [Part 1 & 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

a/n: So happy I finally finished this :')))))))) Shoutout to anon that poked me abt this that genuinely helped me lolol I just really needed a little push to finish this

NOTE classes are back ^^ and I'm doing some part-time comms sooo I'll be a lil busy but ofc I won't abandon this I luv this series <3

Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.

tags list: @zhenyuuu @cowcreamers @mushroommorgue @yunho-leeknow @lemonnotade @exodiam @an-ever-angry-bi @cirieria @chifuyufirstwife @strxbxrrylover @sturns55

#edged y'all so bad for holding back part 4 for so long #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fic #fanfic #fan fic #toge #inumaki #Toge.#angst #comfort #smau #x reader

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kaiser-author-san-iii · 3 months ago

Text

What if creator reader is separated from their nephew and nugget is crying, sobbing - just wanting to be with [Y/n] when all of a sudden they see some dilf/grandpa looking dude (Pierro) and then it all clicks to him and decides to adopt them for now all while helping Nugget find their guardian/relative who happens to be the all ruling deity that created the world.

---

He felt it's been hours as his feet attempted to carry him to safety where that was. He had never been here as his parents not his favorite guardian ever took him to a place like this. It all seemed too strange and also scary as he heard sounds of things that he has never heard of before.

He would have been brave if they were here since when they were, everything seemed to be afraid of them. That's why he loved them so much - they were his protector.

But they weren't here.

What if the monster that's out there gets him? He's small. He can't outrun many things.

"Where are you? Mami... Papa...! Tita! I'm scared!" The voice of the child cared through the winds but no one heard.

Or at least that is what the child thought as it clutched onto the one thing that he brought with him - a stuffed animal plushie that was gifted to him by his guardian when he was five. It was some sort of raccoon animal but didn't look like a raccoon with it's cute tail and fluffed up red and white fur.

Beneath the very ground, the land started to sing and cry as they had no way to comfort the boy personally, except maybe to send a sort of message to anyone that was in the area of the forest nearest to him. There were a few but they were too far away and of course, the animals and fungi would only frighten the child.

There was one.

One that had been shunned, one that has been in hiding in far away lands but had come to the great Dendro forests once again in hopes of new methods. He had heard the cries of the child and decided to follow the sounds, a few of his subordinates following the foreboding man of a nation now destroyed by time and gods.

His lone icy colored eye watched the path ahead to a clearing where the cries were coming from. He could have easily ignored it as lost children were quite common in the Sumeru forests as told to him by Dottore and from what he remembered. But this cry, there was nothing to explain other his heart shattered from hearing the pain, to hear an innocent be so distressed.

As if is body was moving on his own.

"Titi! W-where are you?!" The young child huddled into what looked like a small burrow possibly made by a small fox or even the whopperflowers that decided to stay close but were eliminated quickly by his subordinates. Guarding the entrance of the burrow where he easily hid were two dendro slimes though one was big. The Child seemed to be scared but the slimes seemed to make flowers appear on top of its head as a way to comfort the crying child.

A crying child was worrisome enough.

But if the crying child had sparkling silver streaming down his cheeks?

'Teyvat had started with a simple speck floating endlessly. A great force soon took possession of it. Day and night, it worked endlessly until the speck grew and grew. The great earth overgrew with the power of fire spewing, forming mountains and land together, storms brewed with the help of a simple blow from the Force themselves, creating the winds, the storms - lightning, and rain were created from the frustrations and determination of Them. Over time, thanks to the rain, the oceans, lakes, and rivers, the land had become to freeze, and in others, forests had become bountiful. From the bountiful lands of green, soon great beasts of each domain rose from a slumber they had no recollection of. Awaiting them in front of them was a being of pure golden and silver light, a wave of their hand, and the great beasts, "dragons" as they were bestowed by the light, bowed before the Light. Before them stood the Divine Creator. The ruler of Teyvat. They had breathed life into their world and what else could they do other than what they asked, which was to live well and prosper. It's unknown what happened as it all went so quick. Many events occurred at the same time but what everyone remembered was the favoritism the Creator showed to the nation of Khaenri'ah.

Oh, how the creator loved Khaenri'ah. How they were so willing to do more, happy to learn more and had treated Them like one of them.

They were a nation closest to the Creator and the first to know that the Creator had a family and one of them was with child and their Creator loved the said child. The child was said to be who will inherit Teyvat.

The Heir.

The Little Prince.

"One day, I shall bring him here to show him all that I love and hope he will love as well. One day, I want him to walk and talk among you all so he appreciates you all. He will be dearly loved and he shall be friend to all - my future benevolent prince."

He was one of the lucky few who have read the scripts of when the creator was still among them. How they adored the idea of Gods and humans living in harmony and the future friends he might have.

Of course, They always appreciated free will. Something that the Anemo Archon was inspired by. They never really placed harsh judgement. They always treated everyone fairly.

But seeing the child in person like this must be a dream. Did this mean that the benevolent Creator has returned? If so, where are They? And why is the Heir crying?

Pierro carefully approached the child and though the slimes should have been dispatched and before he could give the order, the slimes stopped as if they knew the Harbinger would help. The child still crying and sparkling silver streamed down his cheeks and hiccuping.

Everyone surrounding the area took pity. They had to ensure the Heirs happiness.

"Little one, where is your Guardian?" He asked gently and was happy to see that he stopped, wiping his tears for a moment before replying. The child was unsure to say anything but his instincts were telling him that the man was a good man.

"I... I don't know. We were in [Guardians name] ride home when.. when there was a big crash...! I was so scared I c-closed my eyes! I open them and they were gone..! I don't know where I am! I miss Tita! I want my Tita! I wanna go home! I must ask mama and papa to punish the fool who hurt Titia's ride! Ah! Tita! I hope they're not hurt!"

Anger soon filled their bodies.

Someone brought harm to the Heir and the Creator?!

Divine retribution is indeed in the makings for whom dared to bring harm to their Creator and the Heir.

But first...

"What is your name, Little Prince?"

The child looked up, wiping more of the tears from his face and tried to put on a brave face. He has to be strong until he finds his Guardian again!

"I'm [Nephew's Name]! But... Tita calls me Nugget! Or Little Prince like you did, Mister."

Nugget was happy that the man smiled and even patted his head. Though he looked "stern" and "emotionless" like those people his Tita mentioned, the man was very kind. And he was the one he stuck to when he decided to go with them. And Mister Pierro promised to help him find his Tita. If they're in danger, then he'll be able to come and rescue them like the hero he is!

"Mister Pierro, do you have friends?"

"Friends? Something like that." Pierro will indulge in the Little Prince. Who cannot?

"Then we have an army! We have lots of people to look for Tita and it'll be easy! Oh, you'll like them mister. They're really nice and though clumsy, are the best!"

He couldn't wait to see the Creator in person. To see the benevolent being that his predecessors practically worshiped. The man who formed the Fatui will assure that he will leave no rock unturned till their Grace is safe in the lands of Snezhnaya

---

That's all I got. Thanks folks :3

#genshin sagau #drabble #just a thought #genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #genshin pierro #genshin impact fatui

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catsteeth · 8 months ago

Text

The Caged Bird and The Leased Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 5 ✿:+ : Wild Fire

1-2-3-4-_-6

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.

CW: NSFW themes MDNI, afab reader, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of death, mention of arranged marriage, mention of infant and parent death, blood, war, threats of violence, violence.

Word Count: 3767

Since the riot the city was restless.

You felt like the walls closed in on you, and for good reason. You understood the small folks' anger. You understood why they rioted. You understood why they threw shit at Joffrey, why they swore at him and his mother.

But the constant threat towards Joffrey’s safety only grew. Making it near impossible for you to steal a moment with Sandor. And the eyes of your ladies made it even more impossible. He was just as much on your mind as the Vale was. Although you never touched yourself at the thought of the Vale.

Little had you known that Sandor had done the same. Spent any moment he could walking underneath your window. Checking if the candle light was burning still. Walking by your room more often, even when you slept.

He’d stopped looking for any whores whom resembled you in the slightest. Although Tyrion might have picked up that habit. For Sandor, it was of no use even if the women looked like you, even if they looked exactly like you, they weren’t you. They didn’t have your scent, your softness, your sounds, or your eyes. He couldn’t do it, and his hand had not done justice ever since he felt the softness of your thighs gripped around his cock. Being away from you was harder than battle, but it was even more necessary to be away now that a battle was approaching.

Most of the days were filled with women asking you about your engagement and avoiding everyone at any cost.

You had gotten good at finding ways to sneak out of the sight of your ladies. You’d gotten even better at completely losing them. So that afternoon you decided to sneak away from them and get far enough anyway from them it would take them a good while to find you.

With you newly regained freedom, you’d wandered the garden. You thought it might be the last time you could before it was a war torn battlefield.

However your temporary isolation was soon disturbed by the voice of a man.

“My lady.” Baelish greeted you.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You’ve no greeting to your uncle?” The title he bestowed on himself made you want to vomit. It was not incorrect, you supposed but it was chilling.

“Hello, what are you doing here?”

“Came to offer my support.”

“Your support? I see so have you turned my titles to me?” You raised an eyebrow and he let out a small chuckle,

“Afraid not, My Lady. But support your betrothal. It would seem your aunt, and my Lady wife, are not quite fond of the union.”

“It is not like I’d a choice.”

“Of course not. But when you are wed to the man who killed your father, what can you expect?” He said with a stomach turning grin

“What did you say?” You looked at him as if you dared him to repeat such nonsense. The man you were betrothed to would never have done such a thing.

“Lord Tyrion stood trial for the murder of your father. Did he not tell you?” He said in a manner far too calm.

“You lie.” You said, almost like a hiss

“Never to you,” He had the audacity to touch your cheek.

“You would. You’ve stolen from me, who’s to say you’d not lie to me.” You moved backwards away from his touch.

“I am no thief, My Lady. Our King bestowed me with those titles. In times of war, the realm needs to have some kind of stability. A lady becoming head of such a great house? Well the lords of the realm might not be so supportive. Besides, your father would have wanted a man of experience to look after the Vale.” You scoffed at his insulting response and smiled at him with a furrowed brow, in awe of his audacity. “If your father had married you to myself, you’d still have your power.” Your smile was wiped away by that remark. But he walked off as two men walked towards you,

One was tall, with dark hair and a beard, he was older and seemed much more confident than the shorter man next to him. A pale, brown haired squire who flashed a dimwitted smile your way.

“Lady (Y/N)?” The shorter man asked,

“Who’re you?” You asked, your gaze fitting your unwelcoming tone

The shorter man's smile was gone in an instant and he stood up straighter as if to try to better impress you, “Pod-”

“Lord Tyrion wishes to be graced with your presence, my Lady.” The taller one interrupted.

You huffed, then motioned with your hand to have them lead you. The taller man let out a dry chuckle whilst the shorter one’s lips pressed into a line and nodded as they led you on wards.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

As you followed them into a private room, Tyrion sat at a desk with lots of papers that were inscribed with meaningless knowledge of the Coin in the realm.

“What is it now?” You said, now furious by the knowledge you’d just received. The only reason you didn’t leap over the desk and kill him then was because you did not trust Baelish enough to know he didn’t lie. And didn’t want to do it in front of his Sellsword and squire.

“Aye, you were right, as feisty as she is pretty.” The tall one said through a chuckle. Your head turned from Tyrion to the tall man, your face filled with disdain.

“Shut up” Tyrion snapped at him, “I am sorry, please come in. And you two leave us!” As he commanded the men, the tall one was still chuckling and the small one shot you another quick smile. As soon as they left your attention shifted back to Tyrion..

“I wanted to tell you that there have been arrangements for you to be stowed away deep within the Red Keep when war comes. You’ll be there with other women and children.” You simply nodded though your face was harsh, and angry. “You’ll be safe there, I swear.” He attempted to reassure you thinking that was the problem. When you didn’t lighten up at all he asked “Have I done something to upset you, My Lady?”

“I spoke with Baelish.” Your voice is cold.

“And you’re upset with that experience? Seems natural.” He attempted to jest, which was not wise.

“Why did he tell me you were tried for the murder of my father?” You stepped closer to him, he looked guilty. “I am sick of being held blindfolded, Tyrion.” He looked down, as if he was disappointed with himself and angry at Baelish. “You know things, things I should know!” You said almost crying out.

“I was tried for it-” You let out a sharp exhale, feeling yourself about to burst into furious tears, to which he stopped himself and tried to clarify “But I was not found guilty was I? I am not lying dead at the bottom of the Eyrie.” He stopped himself again, calming himself to help calm you, “I didn't do it.” He sounded earnest, genuine. You were a good judge of it.

“Tyrion, if I am to be your wife, please. I beg of you this. Honest truth. What happened to my father?” You tried your best to hold your composure.

“Poison. Tears of Lys. It was speculated by a Maester.” He said his eyes filled with remorse for you.

“Who by?” Venom in your voice raised.

“No one knows. Your aunt believed it was me, but it wasn’t.” He shook his head, “It was believed that I or another Lannister had it done due to your father investigating the very claims Ned Stark was. Claims of the legitimacy of my sister's children. A subject I strongly suggest you do not speak of. However, a beheading is not an easy solution to rumors, but it was one they happily took. So poisoning seems out of character.”

“Who do you think it was?” You raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious of his opinion.

“I don't wish to put such things in your mind.” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“Please.” You asserted,

“It would need to be someone with such access to such a poison, and potential to gain from the death. And that person, could only be one person.”

“Petyr.” You said, finally realizing it. “I’ll kill him.”

“Then they shall kill you, my lady.” He got up and walked towards you, “I have no doubt that is your wish, and I no doubt you have the courage to complete it. But you should know, if you’re caught they’ll cut that pretty head off. Doesn’t matter if you’re married to me or not.” He said but you were hardly listening as you paced the room, looking at the ground, piecing things together finally.

“That’s why he said those things…” You said under your breath, unaware that he’d heard you.

“What things?” He asked you in a whisper but it sounded protective, and his hand reached for yours, his face was concerned.

“I should have married him, I'd still have my birthright.” You summarized.

“Well if he said that, he either wants to fuck you or kill you.” He said, you looked at him with a disgusted and confused look. “Think of it, he requested your hand long ago and was rejected. He wants your birthright so badly he killed the man who rejected him, so you’d be in line to inherit. As soon as you are betrothed to someone else he steals it from under you anyways by marrying your Aunt. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have married you just to kill you to have it all for himself.” He said with that natural confidence he always had.

“And which do you want with me, to fuck me or kill me? You’re father betrothed us together because of my birthright, that isn’t lost on me.”

“Well, I did promise I would never harm you.” He said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “You always were an observant girl. Just as smart as you are pretty.” He said softly. It made your stomach flip.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

“I don’t understand it.” You said, teary eyed peering into the fastness of the mountains surrounding your castle.

“You will one day, long from now. When you are a woman grown, when you’ve a Lord husband and sons of your own.” Your father said with a smile.

“I won’t. Not even then.” You said, your face remained stoic but your eyes teared, water falling out of them and off your cheeks with each blink you took. Your father sighed, it was always a fight with you. “I won’t ever have a child.” You said more sternly.

“Now, you are speaking of nonsense.” He said growing more agitated.

“How could you possibly even think I could, ever, after all I saw that day?” You said turning to face him. “The blood and screams. My mothers last breath was a scream, and my brother’s a cry!”

“She was my wife and he was my son, Y/N. Do you not think I grieve for them too?”

“No I do not. Not when you marry her sister.”

“Your mother, and your brother have died. It is a tragedy- a nightmare I wish to wake us both from but cannot. My heart has broken, but our name cannot die with them.”

“Is that all you care of? The name?” You raised your furrowed brows.

“Our history books do not tell a tale of blood but of names.” He said sternly.

“I wish I could’ve been a son.” You shook your head,

“I’d not wish for you to be a son.” He tried to reach his hand out towards you. But you backed away from him.

“Not for you, but for my mother. She’d be alive if it wasn’t for your pride.”

“You speak out of anger, daughter.”

“I speak out of disgust, father.”

You turned away from him. You didn’t hear from your father until that very night. He let himself into your room as you laid in your bed just half asleep. He pet the side of your head softly. You opened your eyes softly.

“Before your birth. Your mother delivered three children. All were born without breathing. When You were still in your mothers womb, I prayed every night to old Gods and the new for you to be healthy, for you to be alive. When you were born, I thanked them everyday. I still do.” He said softly as if to not fully wake you from your sleep. “The vale, the east, the gates of the moon must rest in the hands of a leader capable of keeping it safe. Capable of asking hard questions, someone headstrong, and wise. Someone capable. And you my daughter you are capable.” He said, with such devotion and love you’d hardly ever heard from him before. “It is a heavy burden but you are my daughter. My heir. I shall not live forever. One day you shall be the Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, Lady of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, and Warden of the East. No son born shall challenge it.” He said in a lower voice. “You are my daughter.” He stated once more before rubbing his thumb on the temple of your head and leaving you to rest.

You’d not responded. You simply allowed your tears to fall down your cheek. You wouldn’t be able to forgive him, but you would still love him. You’d be eternally loyal to him, just as he was to you.

That was when you woke up. You often dreamt of memories. Ones of your mother holding you as a young girl, singing sweet songs to you. Memories of the Knights of the Vale teaching you to ride Lika when she was still young, like you were. Even the memory of holding your brother as he took his last breath.

But this memory made your heart ache harder after realizing the man who killed your father is now the head of his house. And now you know, you’d have to avenge him. First however, you’d need an army.

That day however would not have been the day to plan it, as there was another army knocking on your cages door.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

That day you were taken deep within the keep. Tyrion’s men who you now knew were Bronn and Payne escorted you there personally.

As you entered the deep underground chambers of the Keep, you were taken aback by how small it was. Crowded by women, children, and babies.

“(Y/N)” Cersei called towards you, you obeyed her call and stood in front of her as she was being poured wine. “Pour some for Lady (Y/N).” She said to the maid behind her. You could smell the wine emanating off of her.

You took the wine, and took a long sip.

“Are you frightened, my dear?”

“Nervous.” You said taking a breath after your long sip.

“Wine will help with that.” She said, “Come drink, sit.” She said, throwing a pillow down for you, “Whom do you fear more for yourself or my brother?” You were taken aback by such a question, but not surprised by how drunk she was.

“Your Grace, I-”

“You don’t have to act, anymore, I understand it. To be betrothed to a man you don’t love I understand that well enough.”

“Your brother is a good man.” You earnestly,

“Is he?” She smiled condescendingly into her glass as she sipped from it. “My advice, if he survives this. Once you are wed, have his baby. It is the only happiness life will grant you.” She said looking over at a woman holding her fairly newly born child in her arms. You looked over at the same woman with her babe. You found yourself feeling strangely empty at the sight.

“I think I could be a good mother.” You said, almost blurted out, as you looked at the woman and her babe.

“You’d be a fierce one. You’re already too fierce for your own good, if you’d a little falcon in your nest you’d be even worse.” She said with a drunken smile.

The words rung in your head.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

Meanwhile,

Sandor entered a small area, filled with knights, gold cloaks, city watch, kings guards, all the kinds of men he hated. Specifically one, Bronn, who had a naked woman in his lap.

“Welcome friends.” Bronn called out as if to gain good will. “This rounds on me,”

He ignored his greeting, only giving him a scowl. He sat as he got himself a cup of ale, he drank most of it down wishing that it was stronger, he chugged the rest of it.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Bronn said to the naked woman on his lap.

Sandor placed his cup onto the table.

“It's warm in here, we've got beautiful women and good brown ale and all you want is to put one of us in the cold dark ground, with no women to keep us company.” Bronn jested,

“There’s women in the ground. I’ve put some there, so have you.” Sandor said with annoyance.

“Aye, but you’ve saved some ‘aven’t ya? Like that little blue bird my lord loves so much. Aye?”

Sandor felt a heat rising in his chest hearing those words, but he was unwilling to show it. “You saved that bird from the mobs didn’t ye’? What man would go against his own King's orders, and fight his way through an angry mob, just for a gal? Hm? That makes you a great hero.” Bronn said as he drank.

He hadn’t thought anyone would have questioned what he did for you in such a way. Especially not in front of an entire room of men. It felt like a challenge. “You think you’re a hard man?” Sandor said back,

“Oh I know I am,” Bronn jested as he patted the woman on his lap. The men in the room laughed, but soon were silenced by Sandor's scowl that spanned over the room like a flood of cold water.

“You like fucking, drinking, and singing. But killing, killings’ what you love most. You're just like me.” Sandor stood and towered over Bronn, “Only smaller.”

“Is that what you love most?” He asked, no doubt drunk with confidence.

“Your Lord Imp’s going to miss you.” Sandor said as his hand met the handle of his sword.

Bronn stood with a sigh, “Aye, I suppose he will some day.” He said as his hand met the handle of his dagger.

Just before anything could happen, the bells of war rang.

“One last drink?” Bronn offered, to which with a gruff sigh Sandor gave in and accepted.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

While war raged on, you were oblivious to the horrors happening outside the walls of the Keep.

Loras barged in calling to the Queen,

“What is it!” She snapped,

“The imp has set blackwater on fire. Stannis’s ships are burning, but-” Loras’s tone shifted “His fleets have breached city walls.”

“Bring Joffrey to his chambers, now!” She barked at him, as Loras stormed off, unhappy with such a cowardly choice.

Cersei sat back in her chair, “I lied to you. Ser Illyn is not here to protect us. You want to know the truth? Stannis might take the city but he will not take us alive.” She said into her cup.

You placed your glass down, you glanced at Illyn Payne who scowled at you. You wouldn’t have that be the last face you’d see.

As Ser Loras entered the room once more, you stood and rushed to him, your hand touched his briefly as you ran out of the room. You could hear Cersei yell out “Let her go.” As you ran down the halls towards your chambers.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

As you entered your chambers you were content to find a corner of it to hide in til the war was over. If Stannis took the city, maybe he’d help you if you pledged your loyalties to him. That was until you were startled by a large man you saw in the corner of your eye. Your large man.

“I’m leaving, I can’t stay here.” He said as he drank from a wineskin in the corner of your room.

You were startled, but that feeling subsided soon as confusion set in. Why wasn’t he fighting?

“What’re you doing in here?”

“You always ask that.” He said as he took another swig. “The cities on fire. Men, burning.” You began to realize how truly frightened he was. He stood and walked towards you closer and closer til he towered over you. “Do you want to go home?” His tone, gentle

“I don’t have a home.” You looked up at him with big eyes, and furrowed brows.

“I’ll make one for ya.” He rasped. Your face heated up as you imagined it. A small cottage, a large farm, you and him in simple clothes, sleeping in one bed. Maybe, even a babe in your belly, maybe not. But, what of your duties? The promises you swore to keep.

“I can’t betray my name. I can’t leave my fathers death unjusted.” Your eyes tearing up as you spoke, he could see the glimmer of water sparkle over your big eyes.

“Cant or wont?” He grabbed onto your arm and his voice was slightly harsher.

“Can’t” You almost cried out, but you being you, you were unwilling to cry. He let your arm go.

“I’ll keep you safe. Safer than the men here can, safer than the dwarf can. Anyone looks in your direction, I’ll hang them by their own guts.” It was as if he was pleading.

“I made an oath, long time ago but I made it to someone I love. I can’t leave the Vale like this.”

He sighed, “I’ll take you North. To the Starks. They’ll get you that army you want. I promise I’ll get you there.” He said softly, his hand now grabbing ahold of yours.

“You can’t promise such a thing-”

“I can- I will.” He assured me. He knew he would do anything for you. Anything to be near you.

You looked into his blood covered face. How the light casted a frightening shadow over his horrific appearance. To anyone else this would have been one of the more terrifying sights they’d ever seen so close to them. But to you, you were face to face with an angel.

“Alright then.” You whispered,

You're an angel, I'm a dog

Or you're a dog and I'm your man

You believe me like a god

I'll destroy you like I am

I'm sorry I'm the one you love

No one will ever love me like you again

So when you leave me, I should die

I deserve it, don't I?

I can feel it gettin' near

Like flashlights comin' down the way

One day you'll figure me out

I'll meet judgment by the hounds

People always gave me love

Others were never to blame after all

You believe me like a god

I'll betray you like a man

NOTE: Now that was a whole lotta shit huh? The next one will be a lot better. This one is def gonna be a really good transition to the next stage in this story and believe you me - its gonna be nutty… k love ya bye. OH also yeah I did add a mitksi song what about it? RIP Sandor Clegane you would have loved mitksi’s new album.

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Seasons of Grief

The reader comforts Kento as the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death approaches, and after, as Kento faces the threat of losing her.

WARNINGS: 18+, Fluff, comfort smut and angry smut, hurt, angst, grief. You know what you came here for, you dirty birds.

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You felt Kento change like the seasons, when Yuu Haibara's death anniversary approached. His signs of grief, the post-traumatic stress, and his guilt at being unable to save his best friend, showed in the most curious ways. Remaining, as always, so outwardly stoic, Nanami appeared to all others unaffected; but to you, who as his fiancée, loved and knew him best, your heart broke softly for him year after year.

Firstly, the holiday brochures. More and more of them, ordered online and addressed to Kento- Malaysia, Australia, New Zealand...and countries you knew he and Yuu had spoken about visiting together after qualifying from Jujutsu High. Backpack tours of Europe. Scotland and Ireland. The Americas. Sometimes Kento mentioned taking a holiday to you, and sometimes he didn't- but you had seen his notebooks and the itineraries he had written, all comfort blankets for him, all escape plans, all safety nets. In one instance, you saw where he had accidentally written Yuu's name instead of yours, then crossed fiercely through, and replaced. He had always insisted you were his best friend. It never upset you that Yuu had been his first best friend.

Second, the clumsiness. The sound of porcelain smashing to pieces on the kitchen floor as Kento tidied the dishes. The quiet swearing as he caught his belt loop on the doors. The increase in minor injuries from missions, and his hushed, subdued apologies to you as you cleaned and dressed his wounds, laying gentle kisses on his temples while his forehead rested on your breasts, quiet and still, shadows long against the evening sun.

Thirdly, the phone calls to his parents and grandfather. Usually a weekly event, they become twice weekly, then every other day, then daily. He could not face calling Yuu's parents; although they would never allow him to apologise, full of guilt, for his perceived part in their son's death, his thumb still sometimes hovered over his screen, the Haibara's name listed on his screen. So, he called his own parents, just to let them know he was fine, and safe, and that you were fine and safe. His grief, he shared with his grandfather, in quiet Danish, curled up in an armchair late at night.

Finally, came the nightmares. Kento would wake up gasping, bare chest coated in cold sweat as he reached out for someone he would never make it to in time. You reached out to take his hand when it flung out in the dark, and he would pull you to him and start comforting you, and start reassuring you, wholly unaware that you heard his deep voice breaking so slightly in his chest. Unaware that he had been crying out for help in his sleep- help that never came when he and Yuu had needed it so badly. He stroked your hair and hushed sweet reassurance to you, letting you know he would never leave you, alone and afraid in the night.

Except, for this night. The night before the anniversary of Yuu's death. Kento did not want you to visit Yuu's grave with him on the anniversary, not wanting to burden you with his regrets. Wanting to offer Yuu the one-on-one time that he offered just once a year.

Kento's nightmares on this night were his most vivid so far. Desperate to sleep dreamlessly, he had sunk his fears into a whisky bottle, wordlessly allowing it when you gently removed the bottle after five large glasses. He had fallen asleep fitfully, tense with terror for the night ahead, but taken by force, numbed by the sweet opium of the drink.

You had curled close behind him, spooning him to you. You fell asleep with your nose to his shoulder blade, your arm barely reaching round his barrelled ribs to his chest, where he had grasped you tightly with his upper arm.

Kento's panicked shout broke you from your sleep in the wee small hours of the night. Chest heaving violently now, you were pushed away to your side of the bed. His hair, mussed and soft sat scatteringly over his forehead, head tossing from side to side, his arm reaching out again. You took his hand, calling his name, but Kento's hand clasped and unclasped around yours, unable to gain purchase. Your heart clenched painfully and you began to panic, unable to wake him, unable to bring Kento back and feeling like he would die there if you left him--

"DON'T HURT HIM-- PLEASE--"

"KENTO!"

Kento woke, shuddering gasps and wide-eyed, seeing Curses in every shadow as he sat hard up in bed, leant back on his elbows, chest and abdomen lurching with exertion. You crawled to him instantly, straddling him and clasping his tear-stained cheeks in your palms. Your face, contorted with pain, all for him, filled his vision. He sat up fully, thick corded arms wrapping you to him completely, enveloping you against his sweating chest. This time, you held him, whispering reassurances that you wouldn't leave him and that he was safe in your bed. Fingers tangled in his hair, scratching his scalp softly, rhythmic, in circles. His breathing calmed, his bounding heartbeat beginning to slow against your breasts.

Gently leaning you away, he wiped his eyes with one large movement. He had never loved you more than when you held him during his pain. He knew he was never less of a man to you, for crying out in his sleep. He knew he could hold his head high outside of these four walls, wearing your love like armour as he headed to battle.

Kento pulled you closer on his lap, nuzzling deeply into your neck and feeling the heat of your core against his hips. In his shirt, and only his shirt, he noted. Sighing against your throat as you felt him begin to harden beneath you.

"Thank you...please-- I just need to sleep." He groaned as you rocked your hips softly against his, granting wordless permission. He shuddered, chest bursting with love and gratefulness, lips and tongue paying homage to your throat while he unbuttoned your shirt. Your pussy sat directly atop his hardening shaft, and you shivered, whining as your shirt fell open, and Kento's calloused fingers cupped your breasts, insistently rolling over your nipples.

Kento moaned softly as you rode him through his pyjamas, cock straining upwards against the soft material. Your hand reached downwards, snaking across his abdomen and trail of hair until you grasped his shaft, pulling him gently upwards out of his clothes. His cock rested against his abdomen, and you swiped your thumb against the drop of precum at its tip. Kento's shoulders tensed and rolled at the sensation, yearning to be inside you, to feel you closer.

Kento took your nipples into his mouth and hands again as you gripped his cock, feeling his pulse bounding there, and you began to stroke him, firm and practiced, from ball to tip. Kento's eyes fluttered closed in pleasure, reaching down to grasp your hand under his, obsessed with how exceptional your small hand felt gripping his length.

Kento's hands left your body to lift you upwards, and you guided him to you, rubbing him between your folds to coat him in your arousal. Still sat upright as your knees and thighs embraced his hips, Kento's hands grasped your waist and gently pushed you downwards. You whimpered at the stretch of his length and girth, feeling so full before he was fully sheathed in you.

He shushed into your hair as you fell forwards against his chest, your fingertips pressing hard against it.

"You're so good to me...just a little more," and his arms wrapped around you, forearms pressing your hips downwards until he bottomed out, groaning and bucking, lips firm against yours as he drank your gasps and cries.

Barely pulling out, you cried his name as you felt him rocking your pussy tightly against him. Kento allowed no space between you, chest tight with affection and holding himself back so as not to squeeze you too hard. His pulsing tip continually pressing against your cervix and deepest walls, Kento gripped your hair at the roots, tipping your head back swiftly to expose your throat, his second hand still effortlessly thrusting you down his length, trying to close the space between you until you were one. His head tipped sideways, teeth scraping down either side of your throat, and you stilled completely, at his mercy as he took his comfort and pleasure from you.

The constant pressure against your cervix, and clit rubbing against his pubic bone, had your orgasm building quickly, and you fell prone in his arms; his hand gripping the roots of your hair grew tighter, and you felt him growl against your throat as his own built.

"Kento...harder...please..." And you felt his hand lifting you on and off his cock quicken in response, his hips raising to meet them, feeling the pressure of his thrusts jumping in your belly now. Your cheeks flushed and your belly tightened as you rocked harder against him, taking the clitoral stimulation you needed to shunt you over the edge. You gasped and cried, his name tumbling off your lips in waves.

"I'm so close...wait for me," Kento whispered against your lips, breaths quickening as his hands thrust you against him hard just a few more times before he stilled, pouring deep inside you, breaths juddering, feeling the fear seep out of him, his own body and mind full of you, and only you.

Kissing you softly, Kento deftly flipped you onto your back in bed. You gripped him by the back of the head, kissing and nipping at his ears, and he gently pulled out of you, reaching to his bedside table and pressing a soft cloth between your legs.

"Stay," he urged. As he rolled aside again to close his drawer, you clung against his back, spooning him again. Kento hesitated, tears pricking in his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the love you gave. He allowed you to pull his back to your chest, falling asleep with you, shadows chased away, for now.

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"I've been requested for a mission. I don't like to be away, not today. But..." Kento smiled gently at you, hand reaching out to cup your cheek as you straightened your mission-wear.

"I'll be alright, I promise." He assured you, on the day of his visit to Yuu Haibara's grave, "But will you be? You're going with someone?"

"As always. I'm supporting Ino. It's only a low-end Second Grade apparently. We'll be fine."

Kento's stomach clamped painfully for a second, but he urged himself to relax- she'll be fine, Ino would never let anything happen to her.

You left shortly after, Kento's lips lingering on your own a second longer than usual. He finished getting ready, lunch prepared to sit with Yuu and catch him up on his life and his love, and headed to Jujutsu High. Under Torii gates, past effigies and low soft willowy branches, he found Yuu's grave, surrounded by too many others. Relaxing, feeling the positive purpose of his visit start to wash away the pain, Kento sat, greeting his old friend.

Kento sat with Yuu for hours. He found it just as easy talking to Yuu now as he had all those years ago-- probably easier, mused Kento sardonically, he talks a lot less now. Brushing crumbs off his suit, and picking up his jacket, Kento placed a hand on Yuu's headstone, wishing with a pang that it was Yuu's shoulder instead. Quashing the feeling with firm resolve, he spoke to Yuu, with Yuuji Itadori, and all of his subordinates clear in his mind.

"I'd die before I let them go the way you did, you know. Gojo and I...he may be a moron, Yuu, but we can change the system. I'm sure of it."

Kento bowed deeply, bidding his friend goodbye. Fat drops of rain started to fall, his light suit growing quickly more speckled, a flick of hair loosening and tipping over his forehead. Heading up the steps to the school buildings, and hoping he may run into you there after your mission, he passed another pair of sorcerers, and he froze as he heard a snippet of their conversation.

"...Second Grades died on a mission today. Body's being brought in now."

"Oh man. Just one of them at least. Wonder who it was?"

Kento felt ice-water rush through his veins. A thousand violent, bloody images flashed across his mind, and a wave of nausea threatened vomit. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he lost his footing, staggering sideways into the red pillar of a gate. Vision swimming, rain and red mist clouding his vision, he yanked off his glasses and dropped them into the mud, brown shoes slapping into a run, spattering gravel up his trouser legs.

You. Ino. You. Ino. You. YOU. Your faces and voices flashed in Kento's mind as he sprinted towards the mortuary, feeling sick to his stomach as he hoped beyond hope to meet Ino's corpse there, and not yours. Full of shame and fear, he ignored everyone and every greeting along the way until traditional Japanese wooden corridors made way to clinical white floors, metal doors. Slamming through the final set of metal doors, the scent of chloroform and death hit his nostrils, and he found Shoko completing the sign-in of a single body bag.

Shoko's eyes met Kento's as she reached into her pocket for her phone. Thick eyebrows tilted in surprise, she took in Nanami's appearance, dishevelled, soaked, wild.

"Nanami," she started, hesitantly, "I was just about to call you. Why are you crying? Nanami? Nanami?"

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It had taken a long time for Shoko to calm Kento down for long enough to tell him it wasn't you in that bag. Kento had fallen to his knees, hyperventilating, eyes wide and seeing nothing, as Shoko had shaken him by the shoulders and called for him.

There had been two second-grade missions that day; yours, and another. The casualty had been from the other, another young sorcerer slaughtered in combat. Your phone had been destroyed in your combat, so Ino had contacted Shoko at your insistence, for her to seek Kento out to tell him in person instead of interrupting his vigil at Yuu's grave. Just a misunderstanding, Nanami, Shoko insisted, she's alright, she's alright.

Fragile and exhausted, Nanami sat alone now in a quiet office, hands shaking around a mug of cheap coffee. Aside from the creak of passing footsteps on floorboards, Kento was in silence, only his thoughts for company.

"Nanamin? Can I come in?" Kento didn't answer, and a few seconds passed, before the door clicked open, Satoru letting himself in. His usual plaintive smile on his face, Satoru walked forwards to place a reassuring hand on Kento's shoulder.

"Nanamin. Shoko told me what happened." Silence, again, from Kento. Satoru continued, "Ino just messaged. They're in the car with Ijichi now. Both of them. She'll be back soon. Minor injuries apparently, Shoko can fix them right up, but..." Kento scowled up at Satoru, alarmed.

"I'm not in the mood for your games, Gojo. What is it?" Gojo's smile dropped, face uncharacteristically grim, and...disgusted?

"It wasn't some low second-grade they were sent to, Nanamin. It was a middle of the road first-grade at least. And the higher-ups who sent Ino and y/n knew that. I've suspected for a while that they've been bribing the administrators to rank certain Curses lower so they can justify sending in lower-grade sorcerers, and spare the big clan sorcerers. Saves them money, and it's handy when they don't have the higher-grade sorcerers to hand to deal with it." Satoru grimaced. "I'm going to deal with it, but I thought you'd want to bring them hell too. You and y/n deserve to know."

Kento was silent again as Satoru left. But, this time, he was wordless with rage. A red veil had descended over his thoughts, and Kento found himself close to collecting his blade and hunting down the Jujutsu Headquarters' higher-ups one by one.

How dare they, Kento seethed, up and pacing now, fists flexing pulse points in his temple and neck raised with fury, how dare they send you like a lamb to slaughter, to protect their wallets, to protect their own in the great clans.

His stomach churning, Kento realised now why the location of Jujutsu Headquarters was a closely guarded secret-- they'd have been murdered through spite years ago, he realised. He had only one connection to the higher-ups, and he had reached for his phone with shaking hands, when the door opened once again, and you walked in, scraped and bruised but undeniably, completely you.

Kento dropped his phone back into his pocket and crossed the room in three great strides, lifting you into the air with the force of his embrace. Putting you down, huge warm hands patting you down all over, Kento checked you- scrapes, bruises, but whole, alive. A shaking sigh of relief escaped him. You stroked his cheek, the look of sweet concern in your eyes nearly bringing him to tears. You opened your mouth to speak, but Kento interrupted.

"Get home. Now. Call a taxi, charge it to my card." You opened your mouth again to argue, but Kento silenced you instantly. You felt a chill in your stomach, Kento looming over you, an unstoppable force, undeniably livid, but not with you.

"Don't argue with me. Go home, clean up. Eat. Lock the doors. I've got something I need to do, then I'll be home. And you're never coming back here again."

Kento left the room, leaving you in stunned silence. You hadn't even been able to greet him. Shaken up, you called for a taxi, and made your way outside. The corridor was already empty, Kento's footsteps fading away from you.

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"Principal Gakuganji?"

Yoshinobu Gakuganji sat in his office, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, and he is prickled instantly at the tone of the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Speaking."

"Good. I'd like you to listen very carefully." Cold seeped into Gakuganji's stomach as the man continued to talk.

"You, and yours, at Jujutsu Headquarters, approved two second-grade missions today. Neither of these missions, as it turns out, were second-grade appropriate, were they, Principal Gakuganji?"

Gakuganji's grip tightened on the phone. He knew this voice.

"Nanami-san? I suggest you think very carefully before saying anyth--"

"Oh no, Sir, I suggest you think very carefully. One second-grade sorcerer died today, and you should consider yourself extremely fortunate that my fiancée was not the one brought to the school in a body bag. Because the next body bag would have been yours."

Gakuganji stood, appalled at being spoken to like this.

"And before you ask yourself how I'd have the audacity to call you like this, I'd like you to consider: would you like me as your enemy, after you take from me the thing I love most in the world?"

Gakuganji had dropped the receiver now, staring at it like it had burned him.

He heard the voice at the end of the phone hum, pensively.

"I could be quite the Curse-user, you know."

A faint click as the call ended, and Gakuganji was left alone with Nanami Kento's threats and a lingering dial tone.

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You had been home just long enough to shower and pull on a dressing gown, worry clawing at your insides over the state you had found Kento in. His voice, cold and gravelly, had chilled you, and you needed him home and happy with you to feel certain you had done nothing wrong. Stomach roiling, you couldn't bring yourself to eat. The door clicked, and your heart leapt into your throat. Stepping into the hallway you found Kento, trousers and shoes coated in dried mud, jacket slung on the hooks by the door, tie already off and hanging from his pocket. You could feel the rage still rolling off him in waves and your hands went cold, pushing them round yourself and under your arms.

"...Kento? What's happened?"

Kento's jaw-clenched. He was quick to reassure you, "You've done nothing wrong. I'm not angry with you. I could never be."

You visibly relaxed, and Kento continued, "But you're never going back to that place. They don't care about you. Hand in your notice."

Filled with indignation, you began to argue back.

"You think you can order me to leave my job without an explanation? Please, Kento. I'm not a child."

"An explanation?" He spat, striding towards you now, "Here's your explanation. It has come to my attention that the higher-ups are routinely under-ranking Curses to send inappropriate sorcerers to manage them. You and Ino dealt with a First-grade Curse today, so congratulations to you, but another Second-grade sorcerer came to Shoko in a body bag today, unsuccessful."

You felt cold to the pit of your stomach. You had been convinced the Curse had been an innocent misclassification. You had been overwhelmed, your life very much on the line, and you and Ino had succeeded through luck and teamwork alone. Suddenly, you understood Kento's rage, but couldn't allow him to make rash decisions on your behalf. You inhaled deeply, and let out a shaking breath. Kento was inches from you, cursed energy bounding off him in hot pulses.

"Be that as it may, and we can address this so it doesn't happen again, I'm not leaving my job over thi--" Kento snarled at you, backing you into your bedroom now.

"This is what you want?" He inquired coldly, slamming the door behind him, "For me to bury you? Or, what's left of you? We only had half of Yuu's body, you know. I wonder, did they know that Curse was a First-grade?"

You continued to back away from Kento, unable to quell his rage, the backs of your knees bumping against the bed.

"Is that what this is about? What happened to Yuu? Kento, be reasonable--"

Kento's hand pressed over your mouth. "Enough," he rumbled, voice low and dangerous. You felt heat pool in your belly now, feeling the heat, anger and possessiveness radiating off him.

Kento removed his hand and tilted your chin forcefully up to him, crushing his lips to yours, so different to his usual tender kisses, and his hand slipped under your dressing gown, squeezing your breast hard. You mewled against Kento, pleading again for him to be reasonable--

"I am being reasonable," he purred at you, hands now undoing your dressing gown, stripping it off you, tossing it aside and leaving you naked and vulnerable in front of him, "because you and I both know I wouldn't want to live without you. Why do they deserve you more than I do?"

Kento spun you away from him, tossing you face down onto the bed. You gasped, opening your mouth again to tell Kento off, and as you began to lift yourself off the bed, you felt Kento's knee on the small of your back, forcing you down, and his hand over your mouth. Your breath hissed from your nose in surprise, and you felt Kento, powerful and completely immovable, caging you in.

"So if I am being reasonable, and we know I am, how else can I make you leave that place?" You felt his tongue on the back of your neck, licking a bold stripe up to your ear, before biting your earlobe a little too harshly. You mewled behind his hand again, growing wetter, pussy aching despite your indignation.

"How about I put a baby in you?" You squeaked in shock behind his hand, and he laughed dryly, "Come now. It's not like we haven't spoken about this. Would that be enough to take you off the battlefield?" You felt Kento palming himself through his trousers now, completely unhinged in his anger and desire to protect you, and heard the zip of his trousers, feeling his bare cock dropping, throbbing and huge between your thighs, wet with your arousal.

Kento hummed at you, prone and gagged by his hand beneath him, and slipped his length between the wetness of your thighs, groaning as you clamped them together in surprise. He began to slowly thrust into the tops of your thighs, groaning lowly and wettening his cock. He felt your panting breaths from your nose against his hand, rage still coursing through him at your refusal, his irrational mind placing your safety above all else.

You nearly fell apart at his next question, asked slowly, millimetres from your ear; "Should I be gentle?" A moment of hesitation from you, before you shook your head. Kento chuckled darkly- "Good. I wasn't going to be."

With no warning, Kento angled his cock upwards and thrust deeply into your prone body, instantly bottoming out, grunting with the pleasure. You squeaked behind his hand, arms reaching round instinctively to grab at Kento. Now your body was pinned completely by his, his other hand swiftly collected yours together and pressed them hard to the bed above your head.

You mewled and whimpered behind Kento's hand as he pounded into you relentlessly, owning you, marking you as his own with harsh lovebites to your neck that no amount of make-up would hide. You were dizzy from his pace, cockhead slamming against your cervix and sweet spot, now unmoving and completely succumbing to Kento, allowing yourself to be so used, as he panted and groaned above you.

Kento felt only a spark of guilt as he continued to bully his way into your pussy, feeling wholly justified in his rage, needing you to know how serious he was about keeping you home and safe.

His hand left your mouth to reach under your body, sliding between your folds and pinching your clit harshly, "Loud as you like now, my love." And Kento was rewarded with you gasping his name, before crying out like a song, music to his ears, and his pace picked up again, determined to hear you call his name again.

Your orgasm crashed into you with little warning, Kento's harsh ministrations on your pussy and clit rushing you through your orgasm rapidly to overstimulation, and you squirmed and writhed beneath him, only spurring him on more.

"Again," Kento ordered, growling into the back of your neck as within seconds, you cried his name out again, begging him now for relief.

Kento continued, and you lay spent as he continued to pound you into the mattress, pussy now fluttering weakly around him, and he reached under you, holding your lower belly as he came with a roar, holding you up to him as he spilled himself inside you. You panted, duvet tear stained beneath your eyes, and Kento pulled out to a whimper from you. He appraised his work, using his fingers to push drips of his cum back inside your pussy.

You lay in silence as Kento dropped back onto his knees, head tipped back and cracking his neck from side to side.

"Alright," he spoke slowly, as you laughed into the mattress at his strange duality, "we can talk about it now."

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Love you all, MWAH

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wlntrsldler · 9 months ago

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shades of cool | luke castellan

part two to how to disappear

a/n: happy endings don't exist on this page.

i. and when he calls, he calls for me and not for you; he lives for love, he loves his drugs, he loves his baby too.

“hermes is angry.”

you knew it was your mother before you even saw her. the two, white doves cooing in the middle of downtown berkeley gave her away. although you hadn’t spoken to her in months, too afraid and too upset to put your faith in the hands of the gods since the night at the pier, your mother tried to get your attention every day. the flowers bloomed like clockwork. on your way to class, red and orange bunches sprouted from the corner of your eye. the once welcome reminder of luke turned bitter and painful. it was as if your mother was mocking you for losing him, for losing love. you felt as if you disappointed her, the daughter of the goddess of love, unable to experience it for herself. it was pathetic, really.

you tucked your hair behind your ears, suddenly feeling self-conscious with aphrodite’s eyes on you. she was your mother, sure, and she’d been a better parent to you than most, but she was still a goddess– the goddess of beauty at that. your arms were crossed over your chest, eyebrows furrowed, “why?”

she didn’t answer your question just yet, but she studied your face, eyes scrutinizing the marks of imperfections. she reached over to run her thumb across the bags under your eyes. “you’ve aged, my child.”

you fought the urge to roll your eyes. this was normal with your mother. she made these snide comments about your appearance, but her comments to you were not nearly as bad as what she said to your siblings, and especially not as bad as what other godly parents put their kids through. you could handle a few jabs here and there. you shrugged, “not all of us have the power of eternal youth.”

she nodded, pulling her thumb away, “we have not talked in a while.”

“been busy,” you lied, chewing on your bottom lip. you tugged on the scarf around your neck, wanting to keep your hand occupied as you avoided her gaze. you wondered if your mother missed you, if she actually cared about you. in the weird way that gods do, you suppose that she did care, but you wondered if she cared about you the way a mother would; worry about your safety when you went out at night, worry if you were wearing enough layers in the winter, mundane things like that. “college and stuff, you know.”

“hmm,” she hummed, unconvinced. she motioned for the two doves perched on the tree branch to fly away. they obeyed her, circling around each other in a dance, before flying away in separate directions, away from the both of you. “how many more years do you have left?”

“another two after this and then i’m done.” it was odd talking to her like this, in her human form, like she was a normal mother who was just curious about college and her daughter’s future. maybe she even sounded a little bit proud of you; a child of aphrodite, making a name for herself outside of the life she was dealt. “hopefully, i’ll make it to graduate school.”

a heavy tension hung in the air as your words echoed. aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, thinking. she looked up at the sky, before repeating herself. “hermes is angry.”

you stared at her, waiting for her to continue. there was an unreadable expression on her face, somewhere between anger, pain, and desperation, but it wasn’t her own emotions that she carried. she was mirroring someone, as if their pain was so unbearable, aphrodite herself had to shoulder some of it to save them. the gods were selfish. most of the time, they thought of nobody but themselves, but there were some moments when they showed compassion, when they showed mercy to mortals and demigods alike.

“his son resents him,” she continued, eyes closing like she was picturing it in her mind. “he is angry at me because his son prays to me instead of him.”

“mom, i don’t want to hear this,” you sighed, anger rising in your system. you knew she knew how you felt about the situation. you’d ignored her attempts to talk frequently. “he made his decision. he’s betrayed us all.”

“i cannot ignore him, don’t you understand?” she looked at you, eyes glossed over in a pleading manner. she looked too human. it was unsettling. “his love is loud. he is desperate. i am the goddess of love and i cannot ignore him while he suffers, even if he makes me his enemy.”

“the other gods listen to his prayers to me because i can no longer carry the burden on my own. it is too much, my child,” she shuddered, “all he talks of is you.”

you stared at her, internalizing her words. a shiver went down your spine as you looked at her, “i don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

“i have tried to tell you, but you’ve been stubborn,” aphrodite frowned, “you do not pray, you do not make your offerings. you have not spoken to your siblings since that night. you have disappeared from this life as if you were not part of it at all.”

“because i didn’t ask for this!” you screamed. “i don’t want anything to do with this, mom. losing luke… it killed me. you know this. i can’t go back there and i can’t make offerings to you or the gods when you all are the reason why he did what he did!”

since that night, you began to question your blind faith in the gods. you’d been taught to worship them and you did because you had to. you were luckier than most, being the favorite of your mother, so you never went against the gods. you thought you had no reason to, until luke began talking to you. he planted seeds of distrust for the gods in you, learning about thalia, meeting annabeth and learning her story from luke, what luke had to go through during his quest. how did the gods sit back and leave their children for dead? but you always believed there was a purpose for all of this, and it provided you with some misguided comfort. then, luke left everyone who’d ever loved him because the anger in his soul won against all odds, and you knew there was no reason to trust them anymore.

if the gods were all-mighty and all-powerful, how could they let him grow so angry and accept this fate? how dare they ignore him and ruin him? he was kind. he was patient. he was luke. he deserved more than what they gave him. all of you do. aphrodite blinked, trying to understand you. a look of panic flashed across her features, her human form slowly peeling away, but you could see her pulling back.

“i’m not saying i’m joining him,” you sighed, rubbing your face with your hands, “i’m just saying what he said to percy made sense. luke had a point. the gods were horrible to him and to all demigods. hermes has no right to be angry with you, or with luke. he should be angry at himself. all of you should be.”

“i can’t forgive luke for what he did,” you whispered, voice calming after a rumble of thunder shook the ground. the gods were listening. “beth still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. she writes to me every month. i haven’t written back because it hurts, mom. i keep thinking of luke. she reminds me so much of him and it kills me that i can’t do anything to help her. where do i even start? i can’t fulfill the hole he left in her life. nobody can.”

your mother nodded, clearing her throat. “do consider returning to camp this summer. your siblings miss you and your sister is not doing well.”

“piper?”

“silena,” she replied. the doves returned to her. “it was lovely to see you, my child.”

in a blink, she was gone. you wondered if she’d show her face again, but the rain fell from the sky soon after she left, and you realized you probably wouldn’t.

ii. but you are unfixable, i can't break through your world.

“i’ll catch up with you guys in a second,” you motioned for your roommates to keep walking home without you. the two girls nodded, sending you a small wave of goodbye, before they turned the street corner. you began walking towards the entrance of the science building, towards the silhouette of a boy you could recognize in every life.

luke’s jaw was clenched as you approached him. he was caught. luke knew that he shouldn't be here. he knew it was too dangerous, but he couldn't help himself; he had to see you.

berkeley suited you. in college, you were a normal girl, stressed about finals and getting a summer internship. though luke had never seen you outside of camp before, he always imagined that you’d look even more beautiful when you didn’t have the stress of this life on your shoulders. it was weird seeing you out in the world like this. if he hadn’t known you, if he wasn’t already under your spell, he would undoubtedly fall to worship aphrodite’s favorite daughter.

your friends didn’t know who your mother was, but if they saw through the mist, if they knew the truth, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to them. you had an aura about you that was undeniable and for a minute, luke was jealous that these people around you could freely succumb to your pull, to allow themselves into your orbit, while all he could do was watch from afar. they didn’t realize how lucky they were to be around you, they would never fully understand.

you looked happy in the bay area, free, like you weren’t a demigod, like you weren’t preparing for a war. a war that he knew he caused.

he looked down at his feet before rising from the steps. he hadn't planned to speak to you. he’d been following you for weeks, from a distance, of course, he wasn’t going to test his luck any more than he already was, but then you approached him and luke knew there was no hiding anymore.

truth be told, there was never any hiding from you in the first place. you knew him better than he knew himself. sometimes, it scared him, just how vulnerable he was with you. when he first realized how he felt about you, he wanted to squash the feeling between his fingers and make it disappear into thin air. he knew there was nothing good that could come out of it, but he couldn't help but hope.

how could he not? how could he not hope that maybe, in some twisted way, he would be able to be with you? that one day, he could stop running, stop fighting, and just love you the way he wanted to. hope was a cruel thing, luke realized after the night on the pier. it makes him believe that there is good out there, somewhere in the future, daring him to hold on just a bit longer, only to leave him high and dry, an empty shell of who he once was.

“what are you doing here?”

luke let the question linger between the both of you for a second. partly because he didn't know what he was doing here. i needed to see you didn't feel like enough. it barely scratched the surface of what he was feeling. luke was never a wizard with words, but he used to be able to at least say something. now, though, as you stood in front of him, his mind went blank.

“what are you doing here?” you repeated. you had your arms wrapped around yourself to soothe your skin from the wind chills. luke didn't know it got this cold in california. “i’ve seen you a few times, and i thought you’d give it up, but it’s been weeks, luke. so tell me, what are you doing here?”

luke’s mouth was dry. he thought he was being careful, but he should’ve known better. you could always sense when he was around, just like how he knew whenever you were around. there’s something that shifts in the air, as if it gets lighter and it’s easier to breathe. luke wondered if it was still the same for you.

“he's using me,” luke whispered, “like a stepping stone to gain power.”

for a second, your face softened into a look that he knew too well. it was the same way you used to look at him when he talked about his nightmares or when he talked about his mom. a flicker of hope passed through luke’s mind, but he knew better now. he extinguished it before it got too comfortable.

there was a hint of disbelief in your voice when you spoke again, “what did you think was going to happen?”

“i thought i was doing the right thing,” he felt small. “i thought he wanted to make things better for us. the gods, they’re terrible parents. you know this. what they did to thalia, to all of us, i-i just thought that he would make things better.”

you shook your head, “luke, you betrayed all of us. percy, annabeth– did you know that she cries at night over losing you? over losing her brother? she’s lost everyone luke! and you were supposed to stay. you were supposed to be there for her! i saw her last summer when i came back to camp. beth is so much like you.”

“i know,” luke was crying. he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. kronos was taking over every part of him. he was there in every crevice of him, just waiting for the moment to drain him of everything he used to be. “gods, i know, angel. i just thought i was doing the right thing.”

“and me luke,” you rubbed your temples with the pads of your fingers. you hadn’t told anyone this before. you were too busy trying to make sure that everyone else around you was okay. as the oldest one now that luke was gone, you had to step up. your mother was right. your siblings were not doing well, nobody in the camp was. “i feel so stupid for ever trusting you. i keep thinking of every small interaction, every word you said, and i just keep wondering if any of it was real.”

“you don’t mean that,” he shook his head, stepping down to get closer to you. under the light of the streetlamp, you saw him better. if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you probably wouldn’t have recognized him. “everything, all of it, i meant it. you know that right?”

his eyes were sunken in, dark bags outshining the once vibrant sparkle of his eyes. now, the rims of his eyes were red. his hair was matted against his scalp like he let his curls tangle into knots and didn’t bother to fix them. there were newer, smaller cuts that joined the scar on his face. they weren’t as deep, but they were fresh, a sign that whatever he faced was recent.

“i love you, please tell me you at least believe that,” luke rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm, “your mom doesn’t answer me anymore. i don’t know what else to do.”

when you didn’t say anything, luke felt the ground crumbling from under him. luke could live with a lot of things; being a failure in the eyes of his father, being a traitor, but you thinking that he didn’t love you was something he didn’t think he could live with. it was real to him, all of it. he didn’t know if this was the right time to tell you that those moments with you were the only things keeping him grounded.

the image of you throwing your head back in laughter as he tickled your sides, the freckles on your cheeks that showed up during the summer that he would spend hours counting while you slept on his chest, the sound of your voice, talking in hushed whispers, in the dark of the hermes cabin; it was you who he held onto as he fell deeper and deeper under kronos’ control.

luke walked closer to you, holding out a hand to touch you, when you flinched and backed away from him. your fingers unconsciously reached for the dagger you had on your belt loop. he shuddered, taking in a breath. he looked down at his hands, lips trembling as he wiped them on the fabric of his jeans. there was nothing on them, but he wanted to scrub them clean because it felt as if all the blood he spilled was stuck under his flesh, staining them red.

you thought he would hurt you.

“i…” luke trailed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets. he cleared his throat, “i didn’t come here to fight. i could never hurt you.”

“i don’t know anymore, luke,” you bit your lip, heart breaking as you spoke to him. “i never thought that we’d end up like this.”

“come with me,” he begged. “run away with me.”

“is this what you came here for?” you asked, “to try to recruit me like you did with percy?”

“no,” he shook his head vigorously. he was on the verge of getting on his knees to beg you to believe him. “i want out. i messed up, angel.”

“you did,” you whispered. he looked genuine like he meant it, like he did want to run away from it. a piece of you wanted to say yes, yes, i’ll run away with you. tell me where to go and i’ll follow you, but it was the part of you that still clung to him. the foolish part of you who still wanted to believe that the boy you met when you were younger, stubborn, selfless, sweet, luke castellan was still there.

you listened to that part of you on the final night in the hermes cabin, when you told him you loved him and he said nothing back. you tried so hard to lock that part of you away since that night, but it was hard to deny it when he was there in front of you.

“tell me what i can do to fix it,” luke felt like he was going crazy. “anything, angel. i’ll do it. just say the word.”

you closed your eyes, “there’s nothing you can do anymore, luke.”

“that can’t be true,” he hiccuped.

“you need to go.”

over the last few years, luke experienced brutal types of torture. he often spent days without sleeping, too afraid that kronos would visit him while he dreamt. he fought monsters he didn’t realize existed. he walked away from fights barely hanging onto a thread of life, but this– you telling him that there was nothing else left for him, like he no longer had a place in your life, this was a different type of torture that might just send him plummeting to his end.

“please don’t come back here,” you added, motioning to the buildings behind you. “this was the one place in my life you haven’t tainted.”

his apology was left stuck in his throat as you walked away, not once looking back at him.

iii. but i can't help him, can't make him better and i can't do nothing about his strange weather.

“y/n,” percy said, approaching you from behind.

it was the summer. you were sitting on the pier, a joint loosely hanging off your lips. you put out the lit end on the wooden pier, stuffing the joint in your pocket. you knew percy knew you smoked, but you still tried to hide it from him as much as possible. he was too young.

“hey, perce,” you smiled, kindly, scooting over to give him space to sit next to you. “sorry. you caught me. i’m not really being a good role model right now.”

“it’s okay,” he assured you, sitting beside you. he looked out into the lake, extending his fingers to cause a ripple effect in the water. “i don’t judge.”

you nudged his shoulder. percy looked his age in the light of the sunset. you wondered if you ever looked that young. “don’t tell mr. d.”

“he has plenty of other things to worry about,” percy scoffed, “how are you?”

you knew why he was asking. beth had told you today that they saw luke in the labyrinth. he was now kronos’ host. when she first told you, you were stone cold, no emotion on your face. you knew something like this was possible. it was only a matter of time until you lost luke all over again, completely this time, but it still hurt even though you knew it was coming. you simply nodded and walked off, finding solace at the pier as you always did.

“i’m okay,” you replied, though your voice said differently. you played with the sleeves of your sweater, luke’s sweater actually. he left it in the hermes cabin along with the rest of his things. nobody dared to touch it so his bed remained the same as it was years ago, collecting dust. “he came to see me in berkeley… before, y’know.”

“did he?”

“yeah,” you sighed, leaning back on your elbows. “he said he wanted out. asked me to run away with him.”

percy looked at you, “what did you say?”

“i told him it was too late,” you met his gaze. “i don’t know if it actually was.”

he didn’t know what to say to that. he’d only witnessed your relationship with luke for a few hours when he returned to camp for the first time. it was only a few years ago, but percy felt like it had been lifetimes. he’d heard about you and luke from annabeth and grover. when there were lulls in their conversations, one of them would bring you up and joke about how you and luke should just confess your feelings for one another. percy didn’t understand it until he saw the way luke was with you.

luke, who’d taken him under his wing, was love struck. percy didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but there were traces of you weaved into luke’s life. a picture of the two of you in his wallet, a small cal berkeley flag taped messily on his wall, a box of his things under his bed that were reserved for you, doodles of hearts in black and pink ink on luke’s counselor clipboard when he did cabin checks, you were in every piece of him.

luke was glued to your side the entire time you were there and nobody batted an eye. it was normal. luke and y/n, two names that seemed to go together, like they were meant to be uttered right after each other. it felt right.

“i met your mom,” he said, “she was weird.”

“sorry,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “what did she say?”

“she was obsessed with me and annabeth,” there was a blush creeping up on percy’s cheeks. he looked down at his lap to shy away, but you caught it. it was such a teenage boy response of percy to call your mom, the goddess of love, weird because she caught onto the two kids’ feelings for each other.

“yeah, she does that,” you decided to spare him the details of why. you were sure the boy would explode in embarrassment if you told him that you also knew about his feelings for beth. you sensed it when you returned to camp last summer. there were inklings of it when you first met them, but now their bond was stronger and it was harder to ignore. “she used to obsess over me and luke.”

percy blinked, “she said your love was her favorite to watch.”

now it was your turn to go red, “did she?”

“yeah,” he nodded, “annabeth thinks that you’re aphrodite’s favorite because you and luke had a great love and she was drawn to it, which is a little mean if you ask me.”

“agreed,” you replied, “i… i miss him, percy.”

“i know.”

“i love him,” you cried, smudging the mascara on your eyes.

“i know.”

“he wasn’t always like this,” percy watched your eyes unfocus, like you were playing back the memories you had with luke in your head. “when we were younger, before luke was the golden boy, he used to help me sneak out of camp when i’d get home sick. he’d take me to this abandoned cabin a few miles away. an old couple used to live there and they set up a little free library. luke knew i loved to read so he would take me there so i could pick out new books for the summer.”

“i didn’t know it then, but before i got to camp, he would steal books from stores during trips into the city and put them in there so i would have new selections to choose from when i got back,” you had a fond smile on your face as you continued, “the cabin was sold to new owners and they took the library down a while back. i think they thought nobody really used it anymore.”

“he was always good at sneaking around,” you hummed, “he’d walk out of a place with something that wasn’t his inside his pocket; a lollipop for a new camper who was missing home a little extra one summer, a can of soda for beth from mr. d’s stash when it got too hot under the sun, a flower from the demeter kids’ secret garden for me. he never got caught, but everyone knew it was him. i don’t think anyone cared, though, because it was luke. he always had good intentions at the end of the day.”

“do you think he’s still there?” percy asked, voice hushed into a whisper. “do you think he could ever come back to being that way?”

“probably not,” you turned to face him. you were mourning him, percy realized then. luke wasn’t dead, not physically anyway, but the way you spoke about him felt like he was already gone. “luke, he internalizes everything he does. he beats himself up over the things he does wrong. if he were to survive this, i don’t think he’d ever forgive himself for it.”

“this life, this prophecy, it feels like too much sometimes,” he mumbled. the sun was gone now, the two of you sat in the dark, listening to the calm sounds of the water. “i still feel like i don’t know what i’m doing most days.”

“yeah,” you played with the pink lighter in your hand. the heart you drew on the plastic was long gone and there was no more fluid in it, but you kept it anyway. “my prophecy said that i would lose a love to worse than death and i ignored then because it didn’t make any sense to me, but now it does.”

“i’m sorry.” percy didn’t know if it was the right thing to say.

you smiled at him differently, like you were tired, a look of resignation across your face. you stood up, motioning for him to follow you back to camp to join the others. as you walked together in silence, you noticed a single dove fly across the horizon.

iv. high, neglectful lover. you’re crumbling, sadly. you’re sadly, crumbling.

you’d fought through your wounds, even as your bones ached and your blood stained the clothes over your body. luke appeared then. you didn’t know if the gods took on mercy on you at that moment, or if was the lack of energy to distinguish real life from your dreams, or a mist that covered the truth from you then, but the world seemed to stop and everyone seemed to fade away.

all you saw was luke, in his camp half-blood shirt, five beads around his neck, the same boyish smile on his face. his eyes were sparkling as he approached you. his lips felt soft to the touch and his voice was kind.

“my angel,” he said, wrapping his arms around you the same way he always did when you returned to him each summer.

if you were to choose the way death came for you, you would choose it just like this, you decided– in the arms of the one love you’d ever known.

#frances writes #frances song fics #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfic #pjo fanfic #pjo series

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thebisexualwreckoning · 2 months ago

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Armand's backstory and how I, your local bengali vampire fucker and armand's 24/7 defence lawyer, am going to make him bengali and muslim while still keeping it showcannon accurate

(Note: this is not meant to be taken seriously and is very much just written because I was bored and had time on my hands and if i have gotten anything wrong please correct me)

One thing that always annoyed me about IWTV showcannon is the fact that armand pre-marius days were either left majorly unexplored or made absolutely no sense to the time period. Which, I find pretty surprising considering the care and sensitivity Louis' new backstory was handled with by the same creators and show writers.

We know 3 things about Armand and who he is as a character in regards to his ethnicity:

His birth is Arun

He is Muslim

And that he was taken from Delhi somewhere around the early 15th century

For the purposes of this essay, we are going to assume all of this is true and not something Armand made up to get sympathy from both Louis and the audience.

Armand's birth name being Arun, while incredibly lazy, does make his identity as a bengali man much easier to confirm. My own full blooded formerly bangladeshi grandfather has the name Arun and Arun continues to be an incredibly popular bengali name for boys to this day. The problem arises when it comes to his religion.

The thing about the name Arun is that it's an incredibly *Hindu* first name, given that it is quite literally one of the names for the Hindu god of the sun (Source: I'm Hindu and confirmed with my mom who is sitting beside me scrolling on facebook). While muslim people can have the name Arun, given that Bengal was still an independent kingdom around the time which Armand would have been born in, his parents being hindu would have been likely.

However, around a similar time, the Mughals were setting up shop in, you guessed it, delhi and the surrounding region. Now, my proposal is as such: During the same time period, many parents sold their children to zamindars (land owners) for money or food or land. Young Arun's parents did the same thing. Now, this zamindar either sells armand to someone else immediately after who takes him delhi or takes young arun to delhi himself where he either sets up shop with him or once again sells arun to someone else.

Seperated from his parents and newly immigrated indenture (because yes, mughal era punjab and bengal were different kingdoms and as such this would count as immigration) to a kingdom which had just gone through a major political upheaval and had a new ruler forcibly converting people to islam, arun, who has no ties to hinduism given that a. he is a child and b. his hindu parents very much just sold him into slavery, converts to islam as well as a safety tactic.

Thus child arun grows into teen arun and he has never known anything of his life before delhi but those first few years that he spent in bengal and has definitely had no contact with hinduism and has been a devout muslim for the vast majority of his life. Here is where things get a bit iffy. There are two ways how the rest of this can now go.

Route no. 1, armand's indenture is sold to the portuguese, the portuguese take him to europe, marius buys him, everything proceeds as it must.

Route no. 2, the overly complicated, book and show canon accurate version which requires some significant suspension of disbelief and handwaving to accomplish but i like it so i'm still writing down this crack theory. Also we're doing this in dot points now because i'm getting tired:

We know armand speaks crimean because daniel mentions it after he catches fake rashid praying

crimea was part of the ottoman empire during this time period.

the ottoman empire had relatively friendly relations with the mughals because they were afraid of babur.

crimean ottoman merchants buy armand's indenture

armand ends up in crimea

crimea and kievan rus, book armand's original homeland's complex relation means armand ends up in kievan rus.

Things proceed as they did in the books for how armand goes from kievan rus to under marius's hold

and that's all i have, this has been your local crack theorist on tonight's armand show. see you next time.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #armand #tvc #vampire chronicles #the vampire armand

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anadiasmount · 1 year ago

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love - jude bellingham x reader.

— small blurb (or scenario from my head) that i thought of to write this! 🤍😌

the wedding was wonderful. filled with many laughters and tears, everyone rejoicing, drinking, talking, or dancing. like how jude and you are, your bodies cling together as they swayed side to side. the sea breeze and smell reminding you of the beautiful paradise you got to travel to with your boyfriend.

when you met jude for the first time he had no clue how to dance, yet he’s still learning but right now you didn’t care, all you could feel was the warmth and safety in his embrace. his hands rested just above your bum, while yours were wrapped around his shoulders.

his head was rested gently on your temple, yours the same, just whispers of how happy the two of you were and stuff you wanted to do here on the island. but when it did get quiet, all you could hear was the commotion of people and your heart beginning to race faster. “you know… today has me thinking of something…”

your head pulled back to face him, his eyes filled with love and pure adoration as he looked into you. “yeah? and what is that?” you ask, your hand coming up to the nape of his neck to draw small shapes. “how badly i want this with you. a wedding. you and me married one day…” jude reveals, his face going from soft to serious in matter of seconds.

you intake a breath of air, the room becoming hot all of the sudden at his confession. one of his hand comes to your face where he tucked back a piece of hair behind your ear, being careful with your earrings, then holding your cheek as he continued to speak. “i love you, y/n… so much. i want to do everything with you…”

as your bodies continued to sway and danced to the music, you stayed put and came to a halt, tippy toeing to hug him tighter. you’d been together for a few months but never said the three words. there was times when you’d be on the phone, saying goodbye, when watching movies, or when you woke up from your sleep you almost said the words. when he visited your parents for the first time and the two of you were left alone by the bonfire.

love. the word love continued to replay in your head as you kissed his neck, jaw, cheek, his nose and then finally his plump lips. the two of you smiled into the kiss, teeth clashing as you kissed him a bit harder before pulling away. you held his face with both hands as his returned back to their place on your hips.

“i love you jude. i always have and always will.”

“i was so scared you’d say it, because i wanted to say it first,” he says making you giggle as you lean in to peck his lips once more. “i’m just so grateful to have found someone like you. you’re special and truly one of a kind, and i can’t help but feel to lucky to have a strong beautiful woman who isn’t afraid to follow me while i chase my dreams…”

“if anything im the lucky one… jude you’re my best friend, and if one thing is for sure, is that i’ll never stop following you as long as your happy and content,” you say, your bodies going side to side as you return to dance.

“but jude… if you want to get married one day, we have to work on your dance skills pretty boy,” you tease, jude gasping acting offended. “ma’am i’ll have you know my dancing skills are wonderful and unique,” jude defends himself with a joking smile plastered on his face.

“whatever you say…” you laughed, your forehead resting together as you continued to sway. it didn’t feel real, but when you felt him kiss your forehead and bridge of your nose you knew it wasn’t a dream or fairytale.

one day it’d be a different place and time. the dream of the both of you being married one day would become true. filled with many tears and laughter, but most importantly, love.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fluff #football x reader #footballer #football fanfic

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compact-turtle · 1 year ago

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How would all three yans react to having children? Good or bad?

This is actually such a fun prompt and ask! Thank you for sending it in. I'd actually love to write a full post sometime instead of a small little drabble about this! It'd be so much fun imaging one of their daily routines and lives with a family.

Atticus:

-Isn't really that interested in kids unless his darling wants them. At first, he'll try to talk his darling out of it. Gives lists of reasons on why he can't be a dad. Eventually, comes around to it if his darling really wants them.

-He's a strict and stoic father. Makes sure the kids go to bed at a certain time, finish their chores and do their homework. The kids have to be punctual.

-Not a fan of extreme harsh punishments at all. No taking away meals, locking in closets or any of the sorts. Especially, hitting if they don't listen. (His parents used to do it to him which has resulted in a traumatized farmer)

-More type of look at the consequences of your actions. You don't do your homework, then you fail your class. You don't collect eggs from the chicken coop, no eggs for breakfast. You don't feed the dogs, look at them go hungry. (The doggies don't actually go hungry since Atticus secretly feeds them, they're just always begging for food)

-Shows he loves them through his actions instead of words. He'll take them special getaway trips, go bird watching, catch bugs, make presents, etc. He wants his kids to know that he loves them despite his strict behavior. He's trying to break the cycle of generational abuse that came from his parents. It's hard ngl but he makes an effort every day to overcome it.

For readers who imagine pregnancy:

-kisses your belly when you're asleep. Reassures the baby that he'll always take care of them. He would never do it when you're awake since he's nervous you'll deem him as less than manly or "strong".

-Does not let you work on the farm at all!! He hires extra farmhands to replace your usual help. Lectures and scolds you when you try to do anything. Don't you know that an accident could happen any time especially somewhere dangerous like this farm??

-Your safety and the baby's safety are top priority at all times.

-Watches films and tv shows about pregnancy and families. He makes sure to remember all the details so he can be the best father just like on the tv!

-No sexy time at all when pregnant! He's afraid it'll injure the baby. Only complies when his darling coaxes him into it but even then, it took a while.

Orion:

-Hella yea. The only one who's willing to jump on board and be excited for them. Takes the kids out on daily foraging and exploration nearby the home. Teaches them how to jot down information.

-Shows them his notes on all different types of plants, creatures and landscapes. Tells them which things to avoid and how to survive if in contact with dangerous creatures.

-Kids grow an immunity to his terrible cooking. Actually, enjoy it and treat is as an odd delicacy to be savored.

-The children are taught both languages. Darling's for communicating with other members of the species but his in case they need to talk, and others are listening in.

-Reminds the kids how much he adores them and their mother every day. Tells them tales about his home world and adventures with their mother.

-However, his favorite story to tell is about how their mother heroically saved him from death and starvation. Sometimes he embellishes details like

"Oh, your mother also fell in love at first sight with me. They were just too shy to admit it, but I could tell."

-The real question though, are human species able to get darling's species pregnant???

For readers who imagine pregnancy:

-Does darling get pregnant like a human? Orion will have to find out. However, I imagine the way of getting pregnant to be similar, but they don't give birth. Instead, an egg like thing forms within their reproductive system and they push out something similar to an egg.

-The egg would hatch within two months after growing to full term.

-Orion has built a nest for the egg and watches it every night. Proudly tells the egg about all the adventures they'll go on as family.

-Darling insists that Orion doesn't need to baby the egg since the shell is quite strong. Still, he doesn't listen and frets over any small movement from it. Makes little hats and scarves and dresses the egg in it.

-Orion makes sure to take so many notes during this period. What color is the egg? How long before it hatches? How many times does it move in an hour?

-He takes notes in case darling and him decide to have another egg baby. He'll be more prepared second round.

-Enjoys setting the mood up for some sexy time. He feeds you the right food, sets up the small hut just right and everything. Ofc he'll makes sure to cover the baby egg with a blanket. He doesn't want your baby egg to see anything inapposite after all.

Ivar:

-He'd want to wait a few years into marriage. The idea of kids is daunting. He's seen the worse of man and how destructive the world can be. Really nervous about letting kids out into that type of environment. Still, he does desire a family that you'll raise together.

-He's a fun goofy dad. Takes all the stress of the kids when he arrives home. Plays with them, teases them and drains all their energy so you can relax. I'd imagine that Ivar insists that you be a stay-at-home mom while he goes to work.

-Listens to his kid's problems from boyfriend issues to " I can't believe they cancelled my show". Actively enjoys listening to his kids talk about anything and everything.

-Signs his kids up for self-defense classes. He's aware that there's so many dangers in the world and he can't always be there to help. They've got to be prepared for anything that could happen.

-Supports his kids in all their activities. Shows up to every single game, recital, spelling bee, etc. Whatever it maybe, he'll be there. Wants them to know he cares about them and their interests.

-Doesn't really enjoy mentioning stories from his time at war to them. He's afraid it'll corrupt their world view and he want them to live a peaceful life :(

For readers who imagine pregancy:

-Ivar reads up on all those mom-blogs and pregnancy books. Puts headphones on your belly so your baby can listen to Mozart. Does it actually do anything? Idk the mom blog says it stimulates baby growth or something like that.

-You have a strong craving at 1 in the morning? He's on the case to get it for you. If he can't find it any stores, then he'll drive over to the next few towns to get it. He's so determined to find it.

-loves decorating the baby's nursery. He'll put up decorations and different decals for the baby. Also enjoys building things for it such as dresser and the crib.

-Also doesn't let you by yourself. You want to talk a walk around the neighborhood by yourself? Nope. He's right there holding your hand or pushing you in a wheelchair.

-loves to initiate sexy time with you. During his mom blog reading, he read that it was a great past time while pregnant. Plus, he loves you no matter what you look like even if you're insecure about your changing body.

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equallyshaw · 10 months ago

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call your mom | q. hughes. ↠ based off the song by noah kahan! ↠ best friend duo! sunny is her nickname! ↠ warnings: talks of anxiety, depression and an attempt. (not shown) also, some grammatical errors ! ↠ word count: 2k

quinn knew it all, and had known about it since their first frat party they attended when she ended up drunk which resulted in an anxiety attack; during their freshman year at michigan. yet, he never let that get in the way of their budding friendship and hadn't let it over the past almost 7 years of knowing one another. the longest friendship, she'd had outside her other best friend sadie. he would pick up at every 3 am call she'd make to him, he would call her when the ghosting she did began or would figure out where she was when he'd come home during the summer & she wouldn't come to the lake house while not letting him know. or most importantly he wanted to say everything he felt too, when all the times he would catch her telling her true feelings for him, but then she would make a sarcastic and dark-humored joke about it, before changing the subject.

she was his best friend, throughout all of his shit too. she'd go above and beyond for him, and quinn felt less than at times about it. how much compensation she'd do for him when she was hurting and in need of a hug or a pep talk. when she needed warmth and safety. so when she proposed staying in detroit after four years at michigan, for a business degree, he jumped at the prospect. selfishly, at least a little part for quinn, was that he'd know that she was safe at all times- albeit his brothers, their shared groups of friends from michigan, or his parents. to which she'd made a joke of it, "how do its feel to be behind mama hughes on my emergency contact list?"

❂

Oh, you're spiralin' again The moment right before it ends, you're most afraid of But, don't you cancel any plans 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them

❂

it was a rainy, torrential downpour, july friday evening in the detroit - ann arbor area. it was around 9 pm when she'd just gotten out work due to a project that blew up in her and her colleague's faces- so the five of them were stuck there until it was done. she knew that this was her breaking point, and it seemed like once a quarter she'd simply lose it. start ghosting everybody she loved, canceling plans or not even bothering to show up to them without a word. so now here she was, sitting in her townhouse garage and sobbing. she'd been denying each and every call that quinn had been making, the duration of the drive home. she'd promised to call him after she got out to discuss her flight in the morning, to toronto where he was with his brothers and a few friends and girlfriends. she couldn't pull herself to bring herself inside after shutting her car off. she couldn't pull herself together to shower, to eat or to even finish packing for her flight. she couldn't even pull herself to wipe her cheeks that were molten red and drenched with salty tears.

all the way in toronto, quinn was panicking. freaking out outside of the restaurant they were all at. why wasn't she picking up? his mind ran with soulless ideas and thoughts, one's that made him think the worst and on the verge of throwing up. after the 20th call (i know) he called his mom, who said she hadn't heard from her since the previous sunday when they went to brunch, despite her telling his mom that she'd text her something that week. and then once ellen had said that it had been pouring the whole day and hadn't let up, his anxiety surged. what if she slid into a ditch? what if she skidded into another car? lost her vision through the windshield? a million thoughts echoed throughout his mind, as he tried to calm himself down. "if you cannot get ahold of her before 12, i will go over there to make sure she is ok." ellen offered, and that made quinn breathe a bit. that was the first thing he thought of when she said she'd be staying in detroit, that his mom would be nearby at all times. as selfishly as that was, quinn thought.

❂

Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom

❂

she pushed her garage door open into the mud room, sliding her purse and shoes off. she slowly made her way towards the kitchen, grabbing the water canister from the fridge and pouring herself a tall glass. her phone continued to buzz with messages from quinn, and now luke and jack, who were overly concerned for the one person they saw as an older sister. she peered down at it, and saw a text from quinn stating: please text, call, anything please. im gonna drive home tonight - rn. she sighed, pulling her phone into her hands and typing, "don't." and quinn pressed his head down on the restaurant table, he had just sat back down at. she pressed the button to call him and he picked up on the second ring, "don't do that quinn, im fine." she lied through gritted teeth. he shook his head, heading back outside. "sunny...please." he begged, as his voice broke. a thick crack with emotion bubbling underneath. "i promise, im ok." she lied again, and now her body was betraying her. "sunny?" he asked softly, and then he heard her sobs. "sunny?" he questioned again, as her sobs got heavier. "im sorry. im sorry quinine.....god, i wish-" she paused as she realized what she was gonna say, something she'd wanted to say for years when he'd be there to comfort her. "i wish i'd never met you quinnie, you have never deserved any of this and do not deserve it." she sobbed, breaking quinn's heart in the process. "no! you don't get to say that, or believe that. because i sure as hell don't." he argued and she shook her head. "no, you don't deserve a friend that doesn't see the good in the world. who doesn't look towards tomorrow with a mindset of, that things are gonna be better. tomorrow's a new day. you don't deserve that, your family, my family- nobody deserves it." she croaked, wiping her tears roughly off of her cheeks.

quinn's heart broke, "i promise sunny- this time its gonna be different. we will get you better help, ill take you wherever we need to go to get you the help you need. were not giving up, ok? im not nor ever going to give up. you're my best friend sunny, we will work through this. there's so much good about you and the way you treat everybody around you. everything is gonna be ok sunny, ok?" he pleaded, and she heard her sniffles. "i promise that everything will be made new, sunny. let me - let me drive home right now, ill call your mom- ill call my mom, everything will be ok!" he said more so to trick himself into thinking it, but he was terrified. she shook her head, "no its quinnie, im just gonna go to sleep." she said before hanging up.

❂

Waiting room, no place to stand His greatest fears and wringing hands and the loudest silence If you could see yourself like this If you could see yourself like this, you'd have never tried it

❂

as quinn was just getting his bags together from the hotel room, and waiting on the delivery of a rental car - he got the call from his mom. he was with his brothers when he got it. he called her after sunny had hung up, asking her to go be with her until he could get there. about 2 hours later because of flooding and how bad the vision was that evening, ellen had made it to her townhouse right outside of detroit. and the moment she got off the phone with 911, she called quinn. whose world was rightfully, broken in half.

quinn stood in the waiting room after driving back with his brothers, and so the three of them stood there silently. ellen was the only one with sunny at that moment, now - 6 am. ellen had been with sunny since 1 am, that morning after her and jim drove to check on her. jack called sunny's mom, who lived in Indianapolis with her step father, who instantly got in the car and drove up to detroit. who were nearing their arrival any minute. all three of the boy's minds ran wild with thoughts and feelings, but quinns. his were lethal at this point, and filled with guilt, more than anything. quinn's head whipped up when he saw jim walking from the elevator and nodded towards quinn, and then his two other sons. "come with me." jim said before he took them with him upstairs. she'd been taken to the psych floor after she had arrived.

"she is ok quinn." jim said placing a hand on his shoulder to try to comfort him. quinn nodded softly, the look on his face of somebody who was mentally gone. jim and the three boys, stepped out and towards her room. ellen turned her head when the door opened, "your dad and i are gonna head downstairs to wait for her parents, we will be downstairs." ellen said standing up and quinn nodded, "we'll go with you." jack said referring to him and luke, who nodded as well. "let us know if you need anything q." ellen said comfortingly and he nodded, still looking towards sunny. the family walked out, leaving quinn who sat down next to the girl. she was sleeping peacefully and soundly, not flinching or stirring the dark haired girl after he grabbed her hands softly. his hands eclipsed hers, as he did so. he brought their hands to his lips, as he sat forward with his elbows on knees. "fucking a sunny." he mumbled to himself, "i thought i'd lost you for good this time." he added as silent tears poured out thinking about the last time, this almost happened.

Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you told me that you had to go

"i dont want to do it anymore quinnie." she sobbed. her final semester of senior year was getting to her, and she was stressed beyond the max with work, her internship and life in general. and what made it harder, was that quinn was in vancouver while she was in ann arbor.

"what can i do for you, sunny? please tell me what i can do."

"you can't do anything q, there's nothing stopping me or in my way anymore." she cried.

quinn shook his head, "dont say that. you know that isn't true. you've got your mom, sister, brother, sadie, my family and, and me. and you're whole future ahead of you." he said through a scratchy voice.

"sunny, please stay on the line with me until you fall asleep. i don't care how late it is." he said - no pleaded.

"i gotta go quinnie. ill call you tomorrow morning." she said before hanging up, before heading over to the hughes' residence.

❂

Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are

❂

sure, quinn could not totally relate to sunny. but he had had his moments. when his first season ended, the off season between the 2022-2023 season and 2023-2024. where the team had been god awful. he'd had moments of unclarity, throughout their friendship. but certainly, never on the level of her's. but there were moments where the two could bond on a different level, and where the two could feel exactly how the other felt.

he'd come out on the other side every single time, and did not let it discourage him. he knew it was a part of life, and the career that he chose. he hoped at some point, before it was too late, that she'd come out on top on the other side.

that she'd finally be able to get some peace in life.

she woke up around 7:30 am, with her parents in the hallway with ellen and jim, talking quietly over everything. quinn sat next to her, while his brothers went to go get coffee and small breakfast items for everybody. when the girl awoke, she did not expect to be there in the hospital. she didn't expect to see quinn beside her, looking past her out the window. she didn't expect to be alive, to be quite honest. she shifted a little bit as tears formed in her eyes, as she felt guilt wash over her. and a bit of frustration, that it hadn't worked.

"sunny.." quinn began trailing off, as he felt her hand pull from his and saw her shift in the bed. she looked at him with the biggest puppy eyes he'd ever seen, and then her lips began to quiver. he quickly hopped into the hospital bed, pulling her into him as she began to sob. her throat dry and scratchy as she began to speak, "why?" she begged. "why me?" she added, as quinn kissed her head. "why am i so broken?" she sobbed into the warmth of his chest, as he began to cry with her. "i don't deserve you quinnie, i don't. i never have and never will." she croaked, and he frowned. he pulled back a bit and brought his hands to her cheeks, to make her look at him. he shook his head, "i don't deserve you my sunny." he began, before swallowing. "from the moment i met you, in that god awful english course, you showed me that a person can be relentlessly kind, incredibly unselfish, and even if you don't realize it - you find the good in everything and everyone." he paused, "and now you need to find that goodness in yourself. because it is there." he finished, his brown eyes pouring into hers.

both of their eyes filled with tears, and their bodies full of nerves.

she nodded softly, "and if you couldn't tell through that thick skull of yours- that's my way of telling you i love you." he quickly diffused the situation, "and how much love i have for you." he added quickly. she smiled softly, "i love you too, quinnie. thankyou for pointing out my thick skull." she hummed, before leaning into his left hand.

❂

Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile wonderin' if you're breathin' So, won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me?

❂

it was now early august, and between therapy and time away from work- the girl was finally beginning to understand what quinn had meant when the two spoke that early morning at the hospital. he'd been there every day with her since then, making sure she got the appropriate help alongside her mom. he'd made sure he kept her schedule in order, making sure she went to her in-person therapy sessions, made sure that she was eating enough, drinking enough water, and made sure to take her mind off of it all. this was one of their final full weeks together, and quinn wanted to make the most of it.

he drove the two from ann arbor down to new buffalo michigan, on lake michigan about two in a half hours outside of chicago. he rented the two a small beach house on a private beach for the getaway. this morning the girl rose around 5:04 am, right before sunrise. she quickly got out of the shared bed (which wasn't a shared bed in the beginning, but after a night staying up to talk it naturally became one.) and headed out towards the beach that was a foot off of the back deck. she made her way down the beach, after slipping on a one piece and submerged herself quickly into the lukewarm water.

she dunked herself underneath the water, before swimming back to the surface. she hadn't realized that quinn had followed her out, after feeling the bed shift and then a cold spot in her wake. she turned behind her after quinn had snapped a pic, and she smiled. "morning q." she smiled, now swimming on her back. he smiled, sitting down on the deck and putting his legs in the water.

"will I be subject to a pep talk today?" she teased with a grin, as quinn chuckled. he shrugged, "maybe." he mused. "let me guess its gonna include punching somebody, giving myself a reason to do things and possible falling in love? two topics of which haven't been talked about?" she quipped, pulling herself up the deck to sit next to him on it. she leaned her head that was soaked on his shoulder, and he smiled softly resting his on hers.

"why dont you come back to vancouver with me?" he questioned out loudly, a few minutes later. she felt her breathe hitch in her throat, before removing her head from his. "you don't have to say yes right now but...i don't know if i can go without seeing you. i don't think i can handle you ghosting me and shutting the world out. after that night, i don't want to wake up and fear that you arent breathing anymore. but ofcourse, if you won't come with me- ill stay here. ill take some time off, and we can work on things." he offered and she shook her head. "you you cant do that for me." she pleaded and he now shook his head, "id do anything for you sunny, don't you understand that?" he paused to gauge her reaction, "id do everything in my power and simply - my existence for you. you have been such a light in my life despite everything, since the moment you walked into it. and i frankly, am never letting you walk out of it." he said as she began to feel overwhelmed. she'd never thought about how quinn felt about her, through everything. especially through the short term girlfriend he'd had and the talking stages that went nowhere with girls.

"dont say what it is i think you're going to say." she begged, as she began to cry. more so, happy tears. he wiped them quickly, looking into her eyes. "i love you, and have always loved you. even from the sidelines and through my own shit i have loved you from that first damn and god-awful frat party, and from the moment you said hi." he said rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks. she clasped her eyes shut and shook her head, "look at me pretty girl." he whispered and she reopened them. "back in the hospital room, you said it then, why did you try to run it back? why did you try to neutralize it?" she questioned, "because you didn't deserve it in that moment. you deserved better." he answered. she nodded, "i would have said it back quinnie. i would have said it if you hadn't shut up." she said with a small grin. his head cocked to the side just a bit. "i love you quinn, and i have always. i've loved you through everything. your dedication to never giving up on me, has shown me some of the greatest love in life. and in turn, has made me fall so deeply in love with you." she confessed and quinn smiled. he smiled widely before leaning in slowly, but it was too slow for the girl. she connected the two's lips and melted into his body.

she pulled away, "oh and before we move on for the day, id love to come to come to van with you. i miss brock." she teased before he pulled the girl up and towards the lake house.

and now here we are !!!! i hope you enjoyed, especially if you made it to this point🫶🏻

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #luke hughes #jack hughes #new jersey devils #nhl #hockey #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey blurb

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whxre-bxby · 2 years ago

Text

“This Is What You Came For”

Based on the scene where Tuk, Lo’ak and Tsireya are being held at gunpoint by Quaritch and his squad. Miles tells Jake to hand himself in otherwise he’ll shoot Lo’ak. Imagine you are Jake.

Recom soldiers (Quaritch/Lyle/Mansk/Prager/Ja/Lopez/Brown/Fike) x recom-Y/N

WARNINGS: SMUT, Angst, Hurt/comfort, non-con (sorry i love it), gangbang, voyeurism

Masterlist

9117 words

I have a big story to tell. My past is long and changed significantly once I arrived on Pandora as a marine soldier.

I was originally meant to work under the command of Colonel Quaritch but when Jake Sully arrived, I was given the task to help him get used to Pandora. I had my own Avatar already. Before Jake came, I would provide protection for Grace and her team every time we went into the forest to get samples of new botanical species. Lyle would often join us, but he didn’t have an Avatar.

The day Jake got lost was the same day I left at night to go find him. He was my assignment and I would be screwed if I didn’t find him alive. So while wandering the forest alone, obviously fully armed with guns and knives, I encountered real Na’vi. They were on horseback and brought me to Hometree, to decide whether to execute me. It surprised me because I expected to be dead on the spot but then luckily Jake said he knew me and persuaded Neytiri to persuade her parents not to have me executed.

I was young at that point in life. But time went by quickly.

Once problems started to rise I had to make a decision and I chose to turn on my own kind and help Jake save Pandora.

I fought by his side and we won the battle. But at the time, we didn’t know it would only be the first of many.

Just like Jake, the clan and Eywa transferred my consciousness from my human body to my Na’vi Avatar.

Now, Jake and I were close friends. I was the aunt to his and Neytiri’s kids and we recently left the forest because the Sky People were back. We travelled to the coastlines and were accepted into a new clan.

Now, the fight had been going on for a while and Jake was badly injured. Neytiri had retrieved him on her Ikran and flown him to safety because she knew that Quaritch was going after him. Quaritch was hunting Jake Sully, and me, Y/N L/N.

I rode next to Ronal and Tonowari on my ilu to free Lo’ak, Tuk, and Tsireya. We stopped and I raised my sniper gun, checking to see whether it was safe to shoot one of the other recom’s from here. Suddenly, I heard Quaritch.

“Y/N, tell your friends to stand down.” he says with a pause. I gasp and I feel my heart sink. He has the kids cuffed and at gunpoint. Half of me wants to go there with the warriors behind me and kill every single soldier, but I know better than to act on emotions. I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t listen…

“You want your kids back?” he asks, knowing the damn answer. “Come out alone.” Quaritch orders. I tense, my ears tipped back. Of course, just like I remembered him. Nothing seemed to change about the Colonel other than his body. I noticed Z-Dog and Lyle on either side of him. I knew they all despised me. But I used to have quite a close relationship with Zdinarsk and Lyle and I were friendly. I guess that gave them more of a reason to hate me. That I chose this planet over everything I had with them.

“You know better than to test my result.” the Colonel warns, pointing his gun at the back of Lo’ak’s head. My heart is racing.

I snarl, cursing myself and putting my sniper gun down, knowing it won’t help me now. He kept on talking.

“I took you under my wing, Y/N. You betrayed me. You killed your own good men, good women. I will not hesitate to execute your kid.” the Colonel snarls.

I lean my hand in front of me, taking deep breaths to think about my next move. I know I need to listen to him.

I glanced at Ronal and Tonorwari who were both furious about the recoms taking Tsireya. Then I looked behind me and scanned all the warriors who had joined us. We were enough people to take down the ship, but we couldn’t endanger the kids’ lives.

My ears droop to the sides and I let my head hang before telling Ronal and Tonowari to stay here and keep the clan away.

Tonwori warns me that they are killers of Tulkun and that they need to die here and today. I nod, agreeing with him.

“They came here for me… for me and Jake. That’s what this whole thing is about…” I tell them and Ronal snarls in general anger and frustration.

“You brought this upon us! You!” she says in a harsh tone and I flinch a little, but I completely understand her anger.

“Then it’s me who has to do this…” I say and Tonowari gives me a firm nod before signalling to his warriors to stand down. I take a deep breath, looking back at the ship.

“Offer’s fixin’ to expire…” Quaritch warns me. “What’s it gonna be?”

My worried gaze turns into a glare. “Check your fire. I’m coming out.” I say, moving my gun back around my shoulder and moving forwards on my ilu.

Neytiri is circling the sky on her Ikran, watching the scene play out. She presses her neck and asks me what’s happening.

I sigh, feeling my gut wrench and stomach drop. Honestly, I feel a little sick. But I can’t tell her what I’m doing. I don’t have the heart to tell Neytiri. She helped me so much in the past years, I owed it to her to give my life for her children.

My ilu and I leave the warriors behind us and we dive under the water's surface.

I see one of the Tulkun nearby and it seems to acknowledge me. It was the outsider. The one that Lo’ak had befriended. I believed his story and he showed me the bond they had. I disconnected my queue from my beloved ilu, patting its neck as a goodbye before swimming towards the Tulkun.

If they want me to come to them I might as well make my entrance impressive.

The Tulkun lets me close to it and I hold on to its fin as he pulls me through the water. I look behind me to see the bottom of the clan’s animals and my loyal ilu waiting for me to return. It breaks my heart, leaving it behind, but it was the right thing to do.

We neared the ship and I moved on to the Tulkun’s back, and hold on to one of the horn-like shapes it has on its head. It swims up to the water's surface and soon, we slowly glide out of the water and in front of the ship.

Immediately everyone onboard shuffles around and all weapons are pointed at me. I stay, kneeling on its back as it brings me to the side so I can comfortably step on board. I glide my hand over its skin and thank the Tulkun before standing upright and for the first time, I set foot onto the ship.

I locked eyes with the Colonel, examining him and his team. Their guns remained pointed at me and followed my steps. I stopped, standing in front of them with nothing in my hands. The water was dripping from my body and hair, creating small puddles beneath my feet.

I shifted my gaze to the kids. They all looked worried but Tsireya and Tuk seemed a little relieved that an adult on their side was with them. On the other hand, Lo’ak looked upset. I saw him shaking his head at me before, he must not want me to give up my life. But I owe it to all of them. I owe it to Jake for helping me escape, I owe it to Neytiri for taking care of me, to the kids who have always been so lovely over the years and to Eywa. I saved Ewya once, but I also brought this upon her. I needed to make it right.

Quaritch firmly nodded, pressing his lips into a straight line and turning to face me while still pointing his gun at Lo’ak. That angered me.

“Slowly remove your weapon.” he ordered me and my ears tipped back, showing him clear signs of discomfort. I was about to rid my protection.

I listened, slowly pulling the strap over my head and arm, holding my gun in my hand before gently throwing it to the side.

A recom soldier kicked it out of my reach and I glared at him before looking back at Miles.

“Let them go.” I snarled and he glared back. With some hesitation, he lowered his weapon and signalled something to his soldiers. To my relief, they started opening the handcuffs of the children but still held them by the arms.

I stood firmly on the ground, my tail flicking around in irritation. I felt protective over them. They needed to return to Neytiri safe and unharmed.

“Let ‘em go.” The Colonel ordered, harshly pushing Lo’ak away from himself and towards me. Lo’ak glanced around and grabbed Tsireya’s hand before warily walking to me. Tuk couldn’t wait anymore. She was terrified of the soldiers so she sprinted to me and hugged my lower waist, hiding her face in my hip. I leaned down, cradling her body and holding her close to me. My hand stroked her head to try and comfort her in any way possible.

“Shh Tuk. It’s all okay now. You can go home.” I say in a soft voice, forgetting about all the danger around us for a second. Lo’ak comes around my other side and hugs me too. I hold them all for a few seconds as if we were one family and when Tuk lifts her head, I wipe her tears.

“Don’t cry Tuk. You are safe now.” I force a smile and press her forehead to mine. That was something that always helped calm her down when she was a baby. It seemed to still work.

In the next few seconds, I heard the cry of an Ikran and the flap of its wings behind me. I looked up and all soldiers had changed their aim from me to something behind me.

I just smiled in relief, knowing who it was.

I turned around and Neytiri had gotten off her Ikran and stood behind me, but luckily she wasn’t pointing weapons at the enemy.

“Don’t shoot.” I shout, wanting them to know she was here for her children.

Tuk gasped and ran to her mother and Lo’ak quickly joined her. Tsireya followed Lo’ak.

I want to walk to Neytiri too but I hear a shout behind me.

“You take one more step Y/L/N and I open fire.” The Colonel warns. “You’re stayin’ here.”

I freeze in my step and look over my shoulder to let him know I heard him before turning back to Neytiri. She had put Tuk on her Ikran already and Lo’ak and Tsireya got onto the Tulkun that brought me here.

Neytiri and I exchanged eye contact and as much as she hated that I was part of the reason this was happening, her gaze softened. She knew what I was doing and it saddened her. She also took to heart that I put her children's lives over my own and gave me a sad smile.

“I thank you Y/N…” she said in Na’vi.

I nod, smiling and bowing my head a little.

“You proved yourself to the Great Mother. It will not be forgotten.”

Her words make me feel proud and I thank her. She walks over to me, in slow strides, her eyes not leaving mine. Now I could see how saddened she was.

Her eyes are just as teared up as mine are.

She pressed her own forehead against mine and thanked me again, for helping her children. Then, she returned to her Ikran, looking at me one last time before taking off. Lo’ak and Tsierya were ordered by her to go, and I waved at Lo’ak slowly. He returned the gesture, also visibly sad and they dived under the water.

I stared at the open ocean for a few moments before taking a deep breath and turning back to face the Colonel.

I couldn’t read his expression but it had changed. Maybe seeing me with children had some kind of impact on him. After all, I knew he more or less thought of himself as Spider’s dad.

Then he signalled something and most weapons were put down. I heard a few chuckles from the soldiers around me who had now encircled me and blocked my exit. They were recoms. The humans didn’t dare get so close. I hiss at one that’s too close for my liking but he just smirks, not moving back.

“This is going to be fun.” the Colonel says, evilly smirking at me before turning around and leading the way. Almost instantly, a gun is pointed at my head and I am pushed forward, being told to follow him.

I let out a shaky breath but oblige. At least I wasn’t being held down.

We entered a large hall which looked like an empty car storage area inside the ship. There was a light in the middle of the ceiling that didn’t reach the dark corners. I sigh. This was probably the last room I was going to see in my life.

I knew whatever they had planned wasn’t going to go well for me. Then again, I was surprised I was still alive now. Maybe they wanted me for questioning first.

I heard a few footsteps behind me stop walking and then I heard a voice sternly say, “No humans allowed.”.

There was complaining coming from the humans on board and then the large doors started automatically closing.

All daylight was now gone and everything seemed dimmer. I was urged to walk to the centre of the room so that I more or less stood beneath the light.

The soldiers stopped around me, creating a type of wide circle to make sure I couldn’t escape. I assumed the doors were all locked anyway, so I wouldn’t test my luck.

“Zdinarsk, Warren, go to the deck and help Walker and Zhang.” the Colonel said and they nodded before walking off. I watched Zdinarsk and our eyes met but she left anyway without saying a word. I wasn’t surprised.

I slowly turn around, scanning everyone. Just to see what I was dealing with. Most of them looked the same, everyone wearing similar attire but something small would always differentiate them.

Surrounding Y/N stood Prager, Mansk, Fike, Ja(Alexander), Brown, Lopez, Wainfleet, and the Colonel. Their weapons were no longer pointed at her but they still held them firmly, in case she were to try something.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions and you will answer them.” the Colonel says, stepping forward a little and resting his hands on his vest. I turn to face him and glare again.

What makes him think I’m going to willingly snitch on my family?

“If you refuse, then you won’t look as pretty by the time we’re done.” Quaritch adds, and a bald soldier and a soldier wearing his cap backwards flash metal rods and another soldier cracks his knuckles behind me. I’ve seen them use those on other clans. They shock and electrocute them.

I recognize Lyle and Brown.

I frown at his words. He would always somehow manage to catch me off guard.

When I look back at him, he takes it as an answer to my understanding of the terms and conditions.

“How does it feel to betray your own kind, Y/N? Your own people.” he snarls and I scoff. As long as I answer I should be fine. What I say is up to me.

“Great.” I reply, staring him dead in the eye. He raises an eyebrow before nodding at Lyle. He steps forward and I feel a cold metal come in contact with my thigh before my whole body is tensed and I flinch at the shock waves running through me.

I yelp and quickly step away from him, my hand covering where he electrocuted me. I stared at him in shock. He didn’t even hesitate. After years of us knowing each other and that man mindlessly hurt me.

“Ah! Fuck- ‘in hell…You idiot- I answered the question!” I swear, not understanding why he did that.

My reaction amused the soldiers.

“Doesn’t seem to be going that well for you.” Quaritch teases and I look back at him, my eyes furious. God, I hated him. A few men chuckle and I twirl my tail around my leg. Being in the spotlight like this made me uncomfortable.

“Who’s here with you that we know?” the Colonel asks and my ears flick away a drop of water that fell from my hair.

I hesitate, not wanting to expose them. But then again, it wasn’t such a secret since they were watching the others leave Pandora after we had won. I hear the shock rod go off close to me as a warning and I jumped before opening my mouth to say something.

“Most of the science team…” I say, a bit quieter now. He doesn’t say anything and just keeps looking at me. I take it as a hint to elaborate.

“Dr. Norm Spellman, Max Patel, John, Lily, …”

“What about Augustine?” Quaritch asks and my frown turns into a blank expression. I stare at him in slight disbelief, trying to find out whether he was serious or not.

My silence seems to make him uncomfortable. So he signals his soldier to shock me but I answer before he can.

“You killed Grace…” I snarl at him, the memory paining me. He doesn’t seem upset but he definitely wasn’t expecting to hear that.

“You shot her… in her stomach.”

He looked away, not saying anything.

“But the Great Mother accepted her. Her soul is with Eywa now.” I softly say. He looks back. I can tell not a single person in this room still fully understood the power of Eywa.

“Grace helped Pandora, unlike you. Eywa will have no mercy on you.”

After what was probably a minute of silence, he continued questioning me.

“Where’s Sully?” he asks. I decide to irritate him just a little more.

“Which one?” I reply, smirking. I knew I wouldn’t get shocked because I answered and played it off as an innocent question.

His ears tipped back and he caught on to my attitude.

“Answer.” Quaritch demanded.

“I don’t know.” I say and suddenly I feel the same pain and shock shoot through my body. But this time, it comes from my hip.

I whine, bending forward and resting one arm on my knee while I regain my breath. I throw Brown a dirty look before returning my gaze to Quaritch.

“He’s injured. I don’t know where they took him. He could be anywhere.”

“I feel like you would know where.” the Colonel replies, taking an intimidating step forward. I stand my ground.

“No.” I simply say and suddenly I feel both rods on my ribs and shock waves hit me again. My knees give out and I’m kneeling on the floor, one arm hugging my waist while the other holds me up.

Quaritch stares me down before sighing and shaking his head.

“You know Y/N, I used to think of you as my best soldier.” he says and my ears perk up.

“You were everything you needed to be. I was hoping you’d become Colonel one day too.”

He was playing mind games with me. I wasn’t going to fall for it. I got off my knees and stood in front of him again.

“I don’t know why you decided to run off with Sully. But I can see it changed you.” he locks eyes with me again and he looks angry.

“I didn’t think it would be possible, but turns out you really did become Na’vi, huh?” he continues, almost mocking me.

“You live with them, talk like them…Hell, look at you. Ya even dress like ‘em.” he growls and I look down at my body. I wore typical female Na’vi clothing. A top which I used to think barely covered my chest and a loincloth.

I heard some shuffling around me and then Quaritch smirked.

“Definitely not complainin’.”

The soldiers around me chuckle darkly. I used to be one of them and now they think they can treat me like a minority.

That’s it. He crossed the line. I know exactly what that meant and it was completely unnecessary.

“Asshole.” I snarl and his eyes widen at my comment.

“I see you kept your spirit at least.” he grins. “Guess it won’t be as easy to break ya.”

I huff and he watches me for a while before asking away again.

“Who do you have the kids with? Sully?” he asks and I look at him confused. Did he not know they were Jake’s and Neytiri’s?

“What kids?” I ask and Lyle takes a step forward but I move out of his way when he tries to touch me with the metal stick again.

“They aren’t mine.”

“I’m meant to believe that?” he asks me and scoffs. I’m getting really frustrated here.

“They’re Neytiri’s… and Jake’s.” I say, knowing they are safe so it won’t matter if I tell them.

“You don’t have kids? Ya didn’t settle down like Sully?” he asks and I glare at him again. But I know I have to answer so I shake my head ‘no’.

“Why’d ya give yourself up for them then?” he asks, genuinely.

“Because they don’t deserve to die. They saw me as one of them.” I coldly replied, still angry about how they were treated. “I on the other hand came here with the intention to kill for our kind. People like that don’t deserve a good life.”

A few moments of silence.

Quaritch claps his hands together and smirks. “Well then, that’ll just make this even better.”

I stare at him trying to figure out what he means but I snap out of it when I see Lyle move out of the corner of my eye and I move away again. He huffs out in annoyance.

“Cut it out, I swear to god.” I say, having enough of this bullshit. But Lyle and Brown both attempt to shock me again this time. I turn around, facing them now and hiss. It just seems to annoy Lyle even more and the next time he tries to hit me with the rod I lose it.

“That’s it, you fuckin-” I start swearing, grabbing the rod where he’s holding it and kneeing him in the stomach. He lets go, groaning and bending forwards. I immediately upper-punch him in the face and he stumbles back. Behind me, Brown attempts to restrain my arms but I elbow him in the chest, knocking the air out of him and he lets go, taking a few steps back.

I want to turn around to face Quaritch but now Prager and Ja have dropped their weapons and run forward to try to contain me.

They seemed to forget that I used to be a marine too.

Prager wraps his arms around my waist, holding my arms down. I kick myself off the ground in a launch-mode position and then kick Ja in the face, sending him to the ground. When I land on my feet, I lean down, keeping the motion and Prager is more or less thrown over me.

He lets go and then I see Lyle standing and coming for me again. I just throw myself on him and tackle him to the ground. Lyle manages to hit me in the face but it doesn’t phase me. He rolls us over and tries pinning my arms down but I knee him between the legs and he gives out much easier than expected.

I roll him around and am now straddling his waist, delivering punch after punch to his face.

Before I know it, someone grabs both my arms and my braid, pulling me off of Lyle and hurling me to my feet. I struggle and try to set myself free from their grip but I can’t. I’m held tightly in place and pulled against this soldier's body, with my back pressing against his chest. The tight grip on my braid pains me.

I look up and notice it's Mansk. He removed his glasses and looked pissed off. That was unlike him. Rarely things got to him, he would usually have a neutral stern face with occasional smiles.

This was new. But maybe, I was the problem. Not like I cared if I annoyed him. Nothing could compare to the hell these meathead idiots put me through.

Lyle and Brown are helped up and all eyes are back on me. My chest is heaving slightly more than before and I feel the blood running down from my nose.

Quaritch doesn’t even seem angry. He actually looks impressed. The soldiers that didn’t join like Fike and Lopez are waiting for orders and seem to be expecting a horrible reaction from the Colonel. The soldiers that I did hit on the other hand… those fuckers are out for blood. I mean every single one of them looks at me like they want to kill me. Lyle included. The once goofy dumbass I would work with has his eyes filled with fury.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if this is how I go down. This could very well be how I die.

“What? Did you forget I used to be like you?” I snicker, not being able to hold back a small grin. I took down most of them. I was impressed with myself. Damn. Jake would be impressed too.

Quaritch smirked. I amused him. “Don’t think you’re gettin’ the princess treatment now.” he said. I wasn’t expecting it. Usually, fighting others in combat would earn someone more respect. That didn’t work in this case.

“Anyway…” Quaritch started again, starting to slowly walk around Mansk and me while the other soldiers watched him. As if they were waiting for permission to kill me and finish me off. “Since you’re ours now and we can do with you as we please…”

My eyes shoot to him and my ears perk up. His words confuse me but they have caught my attention.

“And you’re Na’vi now so you understand your body… you can help us out.” Quaritch states, stopping and facing me again. His hands are still holding onto the top of his vest.

My ears tip back when I hear him ask for my help. The last thing I would do is willingly help them. He scoffs at my reaction and Mansk rearranges his grip on my body, making sure to keep it tight.

“We noticed we get, frustrated, more easily…” Quaritch spoke, pretending as if it were nothing. “And you just happened to trigger that reaction again.”

I huff, glaring at him again. My body tenses and I try to push myself away from Mansk who just tugs me back into him.

“How do we contain or… solve that problem, Y/N?” Quaritch asks, taking a step towards me. His tall and built form is almost towering over my slightly smaller frame. I was never small but I never reached their height either.

My eyes widen and I gulp. Surely he doesn’t mean what I think he does. If they are going through their heat, or rut actually, then only finding a mate and forming tsaheylu can solve that as far as I know. And if that is the case here, I need to leave right now. The last thing I need is to be spiritually connected to these monsters through Eywa. She would probably banish me along with them.

He takes note of my reaction. “I can tell that you know the answer. Why don’t you open your pretty lil’ mouth and share it with us?” Quaritch mocks me and I notice how it spikes everyone's interest. It makes me feel more nervous than angry, to be honest. Nervous and even a little frightened because I don’t know what is to come.

I myself was nearing my heat cycle, so my pheromones could be stronger but I shouldn’t be due for the next week or two at least. I wasn’t feeling the symptoms either so I should be fine.

“No? You want to keep it to yourself? Alright then. Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance, sweetheart.” He says, turning away and walking to a chair. He picks it up, bringing it to the circle and sitting on it the wrong way.

“There’s one rule, squad. You listen to everything I say. If you don’t, you’re out and I’ll deal with you personally.” Quaritch threatened, scanning over his unit. A few soldiers nod while others just look between him and me.

I notice Mansk has tightened his grip on me and is almost hugging me from behind. If you could call his tight, bruising grip a hug.

“Understood?” Quaritch asks, wanting to make himself clear. Everyone responds with ‘yes sir.’ and the Colonel nods.

“Alright then. Deal with her.” he snarls and I hear a few dark chuckles and growls around the room. They seemed to know what to do while I was confused.

Mansk grins behind me and harshly pushes me forwards, almost making me stumble. I yelp and stop before I can get closer to the other soldiers but some of them are already making their way to me, their grins and smirks making me feel small. Almost instantly, multiple hands are on me and suddenly, my knee is kicked in. I whine as my legs give out and I fall to my knees while being pushed down. I feel two hands wrap around my queue and some push down my back, so I’m struggling to keep myself up on all fours. My hands are pulled from beneath me and arranged in front of me and I feel someone lift my waist.

I protest, curses and swear words spilling from my lips but they don’t faze anyone. I also continue to fight against their grip, hoping to make this as difficult for them as possible.

Quickly looking around me I notice some soldiers stood standing and watching. Around me, I recognize Mansk, Lyle, Lopez, and Fike.

“Come back here, hot stuff.” Mansk was behind me, pulling me back by my waist and hips when I tried to crawl away. Lyle was on my side and I assumed his hands were around my queue. Lopez and Fike were holding me down by pushing my back and grabbing my arms. Mansk had wrapped his arm around my tail, holding me in place.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’.” I heard Mansk growl and my eyes widened in shock when I felt my stomach erupt in excitement and realised my body was positively reacting to their handling.

Within the next few seconds, someone delivered a harsh slap to my ass and I cried out, arching my back in pain before dropping my head and trying to hide my embarrassed face.

Lyle chuckled at my reaction, moving to sit in front of me now. He picked up my face into his hand, forcing me to look up at him. I closed my eyes, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Look at you turning all red, buttercup.” he cooed, and it felt like he was making fun of me. “This ain’t how I remember you.”

I open my eyes and glare up at him while he just grins.

Fike’s hands are on the waistband of my loincloth and he looks back to the Colonel for permission.

“Take it off.” Quaritch orders and the soldier's snicker in response. My eyes shoot wide open when I hear the words and I struggle again.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I will-” I start threatening but within seconds I feel someone quite literally rip the cloth from my waist. I scream in shock and in pain because the fingers that removed it scratched my skin. I pull my head away from Lyle’s grip.

His focus seems to have been distracted from my face and shifted to my bare waist. He could only watch his colleague's reactions to imagine what you looked like. Based on their groans and curses, he couldn’t wait to have his turn.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Mansk groaned, resting his hand on my bare hip and Lopez laughed.

“Christmas came early.” Fike jokes and I hide my face in my arm again.

Some soldiers standing around came behind Mansk to see and I tried blocking their laughs and jokes out.

“Show me.” Lyle ordered, becoming visibly impatient. His hand still held my braid while the other pulled me around by my waist. He leaned over to see what I looked like and when he cursed too I wanted to cry. The embarrassment was overwhelming. I’d never had this much unwanted attention and I didn’t know how to deal with it.

“You better hurry the fuck up. I’m next.” Lyle grinned, looking at Mansk who pulled my hips back to him. I closed my legs and managed to cover myself with my now free tail but it earned me another harsh slap to my other ass cheek.

“Don’t hide baby. It won’t help you.” I heard Quaritch say and my cheeks heated up even more. I forgot he was still there and he was probably watching the whole thing. The superior I used to look up to was watching and commanding his men to use me.

My tail was snatched away by Mansk again and Lopez untied the knot I made on my back, holding my chest piece in place. It fell open and I clenched my jaw together, tensing all my muscles. It was pulled over my head and I watched as someone threw it to the side. I was completely naked now. In front of 8 men.

Hands were feeling up and down my body, squeezing and caressing my bare, burning skin.

Lyle was back in front of me now, hand holding my face. I didn’t even fight his grip anymore, I just let him hold my head up.

My teary eyes and flushed face seemed to turn him on even more.

“You look so pretty, baby. Don’t worry, you’re gonna get what you want.” He cooed and I managed to gather the strength and snarl at him. He knew damn well this is not what I asked for.

I heard someone unbuckle their belt and shuffle behind me. Before long, my hips were pulled flush against someone else’s bare abdomen. I gasped, looking behind me and whining. I hated how the excitement in my stomach turned into the wetness that was gathering by my core. It wasn’t fair. I needed to stay strong. I wanted to prove to them that I was still strong and could resist as long as I wanted to. But the truth was, my opposing and rebellious thoughts were fading and being replaced with feelings I was denying for way too long.

Mansk grinded himself against me, feeling my slick on himself.

“Shit- looks like you’re enjoying this.” he snarled and I shook my head no, my ears strained back. But I was lying to myself at this point.

“Not yet.” Quaritch said and Mansk stopped. “Prep her first.”

Mansk pulled away and suddenly, someone pushed two fingers into me and I bit down on my lip.

Lyle was watching my reactions, falling silent and looking almost mesmerised. His ears were pointed forwards, trying to pick up all and any noises I made. Even just your heavy breathing had him feeling fired up.

The fingers inside me started moving and I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip, fighting the urge to just submit and let them use me. I whine again through clenched teeth and hear how Lyle sighs.

Luckily it stops before I can fall apart and the fingers which belong to Lopez are removed.

“Fuck, look at how wet she is.” he says, spreading the slick over my hot skin.

That’s when I know that I can’t hide it anymore. Hot tears start spilling down my face in embarrassment and I become aware of the fact that I am screwed. My pride is gone.

“Aw, don’t cry, buttercup. We’ll make you feel good.” Lyle teases me, running a thumb over my cheek and wiping away a few tears.

“No.” I whimper, trying in one last attempt to keep up my rebellious act but then I feel Mansk line himself up with me and then it’s all over.

One of his hands is on my tail while the other then tightly grips my waist and with one strong thrust, he’s inside me. I gasp at the stretch and the foreign feeling of intrusion. He mutters a curse under his breath, stilling for a moment.

“Shit- so tight. I’m only half in.” he says, his tone a little quieter now and a few soldiers laugh. My wide eyes meet Lyle’s when he says only half and Lyle laughs too.

“Don’t worry, baby. You can take it.” he says, and surprisingly his now softer voice comforts me. He rubs his thumb over my cheek again while Mansk pulls out and with his next thrusts, he pushes even deeper into me. A whimper and a sob leave my lips, but the noises seem to spur him on. He’s getting a reaction from me and that’s what he needs.

Soon, he’s thrusting in and out of me and it starts feeling good. His heavy breathing and grunting have my stomach erupting in sick butterflies and then he hits a spot inside me that shoots pleasure through me. My tensed figure suddenly relaxes and I involuntarily arch my back and moan.

The soldier’s heads shoot to me and Lyle looks surprised but the filthy noise makes his grin return.

“Look at you, taking it like a good slut.” he says and lightly slaps my cheek. It doesn’t even hurt, it just stings a little and manages to keep my head in reality.

Mansk speeds up his pace, pulling me back against him every time he thrusts forward. I feel another pair of hands move up and down my arched back while the others grope my breasts and play with my nipples.

Lyle grips my jaw again and takes advantage of my parted lips. He pushes his thumb past them and into my hot mouth. My jaw drops open a bit more and our eyes meet. My half-lidded eyes find his intrigued gaze and I watch his eyes widen as I swirl my tongue around his finger.

“Shit.” he whispers, unable to stop watching me suck his thumb. Mansk speeds up even more and I moan around Lyle’s finger.

Hastily, he removes it from my mouth and his hands fly to his belt. I watch as he opens everything, pulling his cammies down his waist swiftly. His toned abdomen, his v-line, toned thighs and huge dick make me moan again.

Lyle can’t wait any longer and pulls my head to his length, wrapping his fingers around my braid again.

Without any fucking hesitation, I stick my tongue out and sloppily lick a long stripe from his base to his tip. I keep my eyes trained on his face and watch how his lips are white from how hard he’s biting down on them.

Next, I open my mouth and wrap my lips around his head. He moans and I notice his body shudder.

Mansk is relentlessly fucking into me and I feel myself get close too. He keeps hitting the same spot inside me and I moan around Lyle.

In the next few seconds, my legs shake and I clench around Mansk who curses again and rides out my orgasm. My eyes roll to the back of my head and then his hips still with his cock deep inside me. Mansk releases his load, leaning forward and hugging my waist to keep me close to him. My quivering legs slowly slide out from beneath me but Mansk gets up and pulls me back up by my waist. He pulls out with a sigh and Lyle removes himself from my lips.

“My fucking turn.” Lyle announces, getting up and taking Mansk’s position. Mansk moves to the side, regaining his breath before getting dressed.

Fike had been jerking off to my sounds and watched how I was being fucked. He finished just before I did and was now getting dressed with Mansk. They both got up, grinning at each other before taking their previous spots and holding their weapons.

Lyle doesn’t need to wait, he just immediately pushes himself deep into me and starts to fuck me. I moan, trying to crawl away because I’m still so sensitive but he just tugs me back and tightens his grip. Lopez is now in front of me and his pants open too. My vision is a little blurry now, but maybe it’s just my clouded mind. I can’t properly comprehend what’s happening but I sure can’t fight it. I just let it happen now.

Lyle grabs my thighs, spreading them further apart so that my legs are resting around his. One of his hands is wrapped around my tail while the other is groping my ass.

I want to moan but then my mouth is filled with Lopez’s dick. I open my mouth as he makes me almost choke and let my tongue trace his veins. Lopez groans, his ears tipped back and fangs bared. Their primal side turns me on.

"Watch it with those." Lopez growls out, his thumb tracing over my fangs. I don't even get the chance to nod before I'm urged to take more.

I wrap my lips around him, taking him as far into my mouth as possible before hollowing my cheeks. He snarls, responding to the pleasure and slowly moves in and out of me.

Compared to him, Lyle is fucking the life out of me. The area where the skin of his thighs and abdomen slaps mine has turned red and no longer stings, it's becoming numb.

I moan around Lopez again and because I’m already so fucked out, time passes quicker. Lyle finishes by plunging himself as deep as Mansk into me and cumming. He makes me come a second time because he paid attention to how my body responded to him and applied pressure on my clit to get me over the edge. Seeing my eyes roll back again sent Lopez into euphoria and after they both pulled away and my quivering self was laying on the floor regaining my breath, their positions were taken.

Strong hands pull me from the ground and back onto all fours. My knees and palms became red and sore. I open my eyes and see Prager, Ja, and Brown kneeling around me.

Brown lines himself up behind me while Ja cups my face, smiling. Prager is keeping me stable and holding me in place so I don’t fall over.

“I can’t- anymore.” I sob, feeling like a mess. My skin has beads of sweat covering it, my face is flushed and my hips are bruised. The blood from my nose ran down my lips and I can taste the blood.

Tears are wiped away by Ja and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Prager and Brown look over at Quaritch.

“She can take it.” Quaritch assures. His voice reminds me of how angry I felt before. Like he would know whether I can or can’t.

I feel Brown push into me and moan. My slick mixed with Lyle’s and Mansk’s cum is dripping down my legs now. I protest with a whimper, spreading my arms and legs so that I really don’t collapse.

“Someone’s been fucked dumb.” Ja coo’s but it no longer makes me feel embarrassed. It makes me enjoy it that much more.

Brown tugs my hips towards him, his tail caressing my thigh as he ruts into me with no mercy. Prager and Ja switch places and Prager is opening his belt in front of me again. I started feeling like I was about to lose consciousness from everything happening around me.

Once Prager rid himself of his pants, I instinctively opened my mouth and he chuckled. His former colleague who beat him in combat was now waiting for him to push his cock into her mouth.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get to see you like this, Y/N.” he teases but his words just went in one ear and out the other. The other men laughed.

“Hurry up before she passes out on you.” A voice from one of the soldiers standing called and more snickers followed.

“Take it easy on her. I’m surprised she’s still standin’.” Quaritch says and I can tell by the way he says it that he’s grinning.

Prager nods and Brown slows down a little. Then Prager places his tip on my lips, gripping the back of my head and pushing about halfway in. I’m more used to the intrusion so I can take more of him. He bites his lip, pulling out before back slowly advancing a little further in. He’s almost bottomed out and I choke a little, squeezing my eyes shut. Another tear runs down my cheek and Prager moans, his head falling back.

I hear a few voices around me exchanging words and in synch with Brown’s thrusts, Prager pushes all the way down my throat so that my nose is pressed against his abdomen. My eyes are wide because I can’t believe I’m able to take him so far down my throat. Especially because he and all the other soldiers are so big.

I hold back a choke and cough a little, swallowing around him which drives Prager feral. He and Brown both still their hips and the soldiers standing around cheer at him and whistle.

“Shit, she can take it all. Makes me want to have another turn.” Someone says but I’m too distracted to figure out who it is.

“Not today, otherwise, we’ll lose her.” Quaritch chuckles.

Prager and Brown both pull out while Ja holds me up now. Brown finishes quickly and then Prager follows. I swallow Prager’s load out of reflex because he is so far down my throat.

When Prager pulls out I gasp for air and cough, which has a few soldiers snickering darkly. He high-fives Brown as he gets up, but Prager stays kneeling by me to hold me up for Ja.

“You okay, baby?” Ja asks but I can’t respond. I feel so weak and tired. He lets go of my waist and I slowly sink to the ground. My limbs are almost useless at this point.

Prager is grinning while Ja takes a bit of pity on me. He carefully turns me around so that I’m laying on my back before climbing on top of me, his arms caging me in. I feel a little less exposed like this at least. He smirks when my eyes meet his.

“I’ll try to be gentle.” he whispers, taking into consideration how sore I am and how watery my eyes are.

“Oh god.” someone laughs. “Lover-boy’s fallin’ in love again.”

Ja’s ears tip back and he glares at the soldier that commented that.

“Hey. Cut it out and let the man handle things. Someone has to be last.” Lyle stepped in.

My ears have drooped, and I just watch him. I’m too tired to even turn my head.

Ja looks at me before undoing his pants. When he slips them down, he checks on me again to make sure I’m still awake. He seems very caring. Unlike the others. It makes me feel safer. It also makes me regret kicking him in the face before.

Ja takes one of my legs, wrapping it around his waist and then he takes both my hands and pins them above my head with one of his. I don’t even lift a finger in protest.

Then, he moves his hips forward and slowly enters me. He manages to push all the way in because I’m stretched out from all the others but it doesn’t feel any less good.

They’ve all been deprived of sexual relief for a long time and now they could finally let it all out.

He’s about to pull out again when someone comments on something. Ja was about to punch his colleague and take you away so he could have you to himself but the comment stopped his violent thoughts.

“Damn, look.” Lopez nudges Brown and Mansk, but their eyes are already fixed on your abdomen. Lyle chuckles and even Quaritch now stands up to look.

Ja is confused and looks down only to be met with one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen. He examines the belly bulge, letting go of your thigh and pressing down lightly on your abdomen.

I whine, closing my eyes and it makes Ja want to claim me as his right then and there.

“Fuck, you don’t know how good you look right now, babygirl.” Mansk says, feeling needy all over again.

I whimper, letting my head fall to the side so that I’m not looking at them.

“Poor girl’s embarrassed. Leave her alone.” Prager jokes and they chuckle knowing you’ve been embarrassed from the second your knees hit the ground.

“You’re okay, baby. Let me take care of you.” Ja whispered, leaning down to my ear. I look up at him and nod a little in response which makes him smile.

Slowly and steadily, he pulls out of me. Ja starts gently thrusting into me, his one hand returning to keep my thigh around his lower waist. He rubs his hand along the skin, keeping it in place while he makes sure I feel good too. Every reaction I give him he takes into account and once I arch my back off the ground and into him, he grins, seeing it as a positive response. He speeds up just a little, but not enough to have our skin slapping.

I whimper and occasionally moan, my eyes fluttering closed.

He drops his head and licks the skin around my nipples before biting and kissing my neck.

The kisses surprise me but they piss Quaritch off.

“Not her mouth. Don’t you dare.” Quaritch orders, sternly. Ja looks up, not seeming happy with the order but still listening. He doesn’t nod, he just returns to kissing my neck which makes the butterflies in my tummy come to life again.

My mouth drops open as I feel another orgasm start to build up.

Ja’s thrusts become a little sloppy and he grinds down against my clit every time he bottoms out.

“You can let go, baby.” he whispers in my ear and I nod again. With the next few thrusts, I’m in heaven. My pussy clenches around him which pushes him over the edge but he rides out both our orgasms.

His head is dropped in the crook of my neck while we both regain our breath. I can’t even open my eyes, I just go limp. Ja gives my cheek a small kiss before carefully letting go of me and pulling out. Quaritch glares at him before Ja starts getting dressed.

I just lay on the floor, my legs resting on top of each other with one arm slightly covering my chest.

Quaritch walks over to me and squats down. He turns my head to look up at him and I notice the shit-eating grin on his face. He watches how my ears tip back and my little rebellion against him amuses the Colonel.

“You and I aren’t done yet.” he whispers before standing up.

“Prager, get the towel. Lyle, help the poor lady up.” he orders and Lyle walks over to me, sinking to his knees and pulling me up into a sitting position. Prager comes over and wipes away the mixture of body fluids than ran down my inner thighs. I flinch when he touches my pussy but Lyle comforts me by holding my cheek and rubbing my belly.

“You did well, buttercup.” he says and I would have scoffed at the pet name which I was now able to comprehend again, but I was mentally absent.

The towel is wrapped around me and Lyle pulls me to my feet. He’s about to pick me up but to his surprise, I push him away.

“I can fucking walk by myself, I don’t need your help.” I say. My previous attitude returning amuses the squad.

Lyle grins. “Go ahead.”

He removes his arms from under my arms and I take a step forward. Almost immediately my quivering legs give out but before I can sink to the ground, Lyle catches me again.

“Fuck.” I swear and he chuckles.

“Pick her up.” Quaritch orders and Lyle scoops me into his arms. I cover my face with the towel and don’t protest.

“What were you saying, baby?” Lyle teased and Mansk chuckled.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I mumble. Lyle grins and starts walking behind the Colonel. The squad pick up their things and make their way to the exit.

“I want to go back.” I say, only loud enough for Lyle and Miles to hear.

I wanted to go back to my family, but I knew that there was no chance of that happening.

Quaritch scoffed, stopping in front of the exit doors and tucking in my towel so that nothing was exposed.

“Not happening. This is what you came for Y/N.” he teased, making sure I was covered before pressing the button and the large automatic doors opened. The daylight hit me and I shielded myself with the towel.

Mansk and Ja walked beside Lyle to keep the people and other soldiers who weren’t recoms away. They felt protective over you. You were their Y/N after all.

No one needed to know about their business. All they saw was them carrying out a limp, not moving Na’vi. Whether she was dead or alive, they didn’t know.

What the recoms knew was that they were not finished with you and you knew Quaritch still had plans.

The team knew you from before. They wouldn’t shoot you and dump your body in the water. You were being taken back to their base, where they would take care of you.

(probably won't be able to post for the next 2 weeks, so sorry. I'm learning for finals and have so many assignments due.)

Let me know how you liked it <3 i appreciate all feedback. This took me way too long💞💀

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