#habits that increase stress

[10bmnews]

High cortisol: How to know if we have 'high cortisol levels': 5 common habits that are linked to increased stress and result in mental weakness

High standards lead to success and self-discipline. The constant self-pressure to do everything perfectly signals the brain that nothing is ever safe or “done.” Cortisol keeps flowing, mistaking perfectionism for a survival task. ​Psychologists now see perfectionism as one of the strongest triggers for chronic stress. It slowly chips away at mental stability, leading to inner criticism, guilt,…

[quietdeparturesarchive]

10 tips for a 10x better life

0 complaining

Complaining focuses your mind on problems instead of finding solutions. By shifting your energy to action and gratitude, you become more positive, productive, and resilient.

1 (cold) shower/day

Cold showers boost circulation, improve recovery, and increase mental toughness. Even warm showers help refresh your body and mind, setting the tone for a productive day.

2 liters of water/day

Proper hydration improves energy levels, brain function, and digestion. Dehydration can lead to fatigue, headaches, and poor concentration—so keep your water intake in check. Tipp: Use a large cup or bottle with 500ml or 1l. It'll help with building the habit if you don't have to get up after every glass

3 hours max screen-time

Excessive screen time can drain your mental clarity, disrupt sleep, and make you less present in real life. Setting limits helps you focus on meaningful activities and personal growth. If setting limits doesn't work: Delete the App that's distracting you the most completely off your phone. For me it was character.ai -> damn this app had me in a chokehold for some while...

4 day resistance training/workout

Regular strength training boosts metabolism, enhances physical and mental health, and increases longevity. Even a few sessions a week can improve confidence and energy. Doesn't mean you have to get a gym-membership -> just go on youtube and find a home-workout that works for you <3

5 mins daily meditation

Meditation reduces stress, enhances focus, and strengthens emotional resilience. Just five minutes a day can help you feel more present, clear-headed, and in control of your thoughts.

6 home-cooked dinners/week

Cooking at home allows you to control ingredients, save money, and eat healthier. It also builds discipline and strengthens your connection to the food you consume.

7 strangers spoken to per week

Engaging with new people improves social skills, confidence, and networking opportunities. You never know what connection, insight, or opportunity a simple conversation might bring.

8 hrs sleep/night

Quality sleep is essential for brain function, recovery, and emotional well-being. Lack of sleep leads to irritability, poor focus, and decreased productivity—prioritize a good rest at night!

9 thousand steps

Walking keeps your body active, improves cardiovascular health, and boosts creativity. It’s an easy, low-impact way to stay fit and clear your mind daily. Put on some headphones, open your favorite playlist and spend some quality time outside.

10 pages reading/day

Reading expands your knowledge, improves focus, and fuels personal growth. Just 10 pages a day can introduce you to new ideas, perspectives, and skills that elevate your life.

xoxo, sally

pic1 | pic2 | pic3

[gf2bellamy]

I know that this is a common trope in the Spencer Reid fandom but a cliche is popular for a reason and I'd love to see your take on it please:

The BAU finding out Spencer has a girlfriend because he left something/his lunch at home whilst he was getting ready so she comes to his office to deliver it back to him ♡

file — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think a/n: hi hi thank you for your request !! also omg i rewrote this like 3 times

You set your coffee cup down. The ceramic making a sound against the kitchen counter as your breath hitched, Your gaze locked onto the object in front of you.

There it was.

Spencer’s case file.

He never shared too much about his cases—partly because of protocol, but mostly because he wanted to shield you from the horrors he faced daily.

But this one? He had mentioned this one. Briefly. Just enough for you to know it was important.

And now, he had left it here.

You exhaled through your nose, rubbing your temple as you stared at the file.

Well, this was a problem.

Your mind raced through the inevitable sequence of events: Spencer, halfway through his workday, reaching for the file. The sharp inhale as realization struck. The way his fingers would twitch slightly before running through his hair in frustration. He’d mutter something about cognitive failure rates, probably cite a study about memory lapses under stress, and then—inevitably—blame himself. He was hard on himself like that.

But, in all fairness… this was totally your fault.

Oops.

He had barely made it out the door this morning because of you.

Not that you regretted it.

You smiled to yourself, warmth flooding your chest as you remembered.

Spencer hated leaving you in bed alone. You hated being in bed alone. It was a whole thing. A silent agreement, an unspoken rule between the two of you—when morning came, you stretched those precious minutes as long as you could. And today, you had stretched them a little too long.

He had sighed against your hair, murmured something about needing to get up, but his arms hadn’t moved from around you. His body was warm and you had curled closer, pressing a lazy kiss against his collarbone.

“Five more minutes,” you had whispered, voice still thick with sleep. Spencer hummed in response, fingers tracing mindless patterns along your arm. Five minutes had turned into ten, then fifteen…

And, well. Here you were.

Thirty minutes passed. Still no text back from Spencer.

Not that it was unusual.

You had once asked him about his habit of completely ignoring his phone for hours on end, and in true Spencer fashion, he had launched into a full-blown explanation—something about the overuse of mobile devices leading to dependency, the correlation between constant notifications and increased anxiety, and the statistical probability of missing something actually important when bombarded with mundane messages throughout the day.

Point was—Spencer wasn’t glued to his phone. Which meant he likely hadn't even seen your text yet.

You chewed your lip for a moment, the decision hanging in the air.

Well, if Spencer wouldn’t come to you, then you’d go to him.

It seemed like a trip to the BAU was in order.

And if, in the process, you just happened to pick out your favorite outfit before heading out? Well, that was purely coincidental.

It wasn’t like you were nervous or anything.

Okay. Maybe just a little.

Because, despite how long you and Spencer had been together, you’d somehow never officially met his team. You had heard plenty about them—stories from Spencer scattered between sips of coffee, casual mentions of their names, the occasional anecdote about Morgan's pranks or Garcia's teasing. But meeting them in person?

That had never happened.

And if you were about to walk into the BAU for the first time, to meet all of them in one go, all while hand-delivering a file Spencer had forgotten because you’d been too busy keeping him in bed this morning…

Well. You wanted to look nice, at the very least.

So, you’d taken a little extra time to pick out an outfit. Something that felt casual but still put-together.

After a final glance in the mirror, adjusting the hem of your shirt, you grabbed the case file and headed out the door.

By the time you reached the FBI building, you were… okay. Not totally at ease, but you weren’t quite spiraling, either. A small victory, considering the nerves that had been building inside you since you’d left the house.

You checked in at the front desk, received your visitor’s pass, and found yourself standing in front of the elevator. You couldn’t help but tap your foot nervously against the tiled floor, your mind racing with the possibility of meeting everyone.

As you waited, a tall man stepped up beside you. He had dark hair, a sharp jawline, and an air of professionalism.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. The man stepped forward, and you followed.

“What floor?” he asked, his voice calm, his eyes already on the button panel.

“The sixth,” you said.

He nodded, pressing the button. Notably, he didn’t press any other buttons, which meant he was heading to the same place.

The elevator hummed upward. You tried to stay still, but the nerves in your stomach had made their way to your foot, which began tapping again—slightly faster this time, almost involuntarily.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance down at your foot’s restless rhythm before looking ahead again, his expression still unreadable.

When the elevator doors finally slid open, you both stepped out. As you moved into the hallway, you hesitated, glancing around the space, trying to figure out where Spencer’s desk could be.

Before you could overthink it too much, you turned back toward the man, suddenly realizing you had no idea how to address him.

“Uh—excuse me, sir?” You winced inwardly at your own awkwardness. Sir? Really?

To your relief, he didn’t seem offended. He stopped and turned just slightly, offering you a neutral look, like he was patiently waiting for you to continue.

“Do you, um… know where Spencer Reid works?” you asked quickly, holding up the case file in your hand. “He forgot this at home, and I just—”

You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. Oh my god, you were turning into your boyfriend.

The man studied you for a moment, and you felt a wave of heat creep up your neck, suddenly worried that you’d just embarrassed yourself in front of someone important. But then, with a small nod, he answered.

“He’s in the conference room. I’ll take you.”

“Oh. Thank you!” you said, managing to sound more confident than you felt.

Without another word, he turned and began walking. You quickly fell into step behind him, eager to keep up.

As you followed him down the hallway, his words replayed in your mind. Conference room.

Wait. Didn’t that mean—

Oh. Oh no.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks just as the man ahead of you pushed open a door. He stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter, and you barely had time to collect yourself before walking into the room.

And suddenly, all eyes were on you.

Your stomach dropped.

Around the large conference table sat several people, each of them pausing whatever they were doing to look at you. Some were curious, others confused, but most were simply… staring. And then there was one person who seemed to be completely frozen in shock.

That one, of course, was your wonderful boyfriend.

Spencer Reid sat there, motionless, eyes wide, as though you’d just appeared out of nowhere. His pen was hovering mid-air and his mouth hung slightly open.

You felt your face heat up.

“Uh—hi?” you offered weakly, holding up the file like it was some sort of lifeline.

The man who had led you here—who, at this point, you were very sure was someone important—cleared his throat. His voice was as flat as ever.

“Reid,” he said, his tone unreadable. “Your file.”

Spencer blinked rapidly, snapping out of his trance.

“Right! Right, yes—um, thank you,” he stammered, his voice flustered. He stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor, nearly knocking over his coffee , causing you to wince in sympathy.

You stepped forward to hand him the file. The second your fingers brushed against his, you swore you saw the tips of his ears turn the faintest shade of red.

From across the room, a dark-haired woman—who you guessed had to be Emily Prentiss, judging by the barely suppressed smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth—glanced between you and Spencer, her head tilting slightly as she observed the scene.

“So,” she said casually, her voice full of mischief, “you’re the reason he was almost late this morning?”

Your face went hot, and Spencer made a noise somewhere between a cough and a strangled gasp.

Emily’s smirk deepened, and you could practically feel the attention of every single person in the room zeroing in on you and Spencer. The room was so still, you could hear a pin drop.

Even Penelope—who had been in the middle of explaining a case, hands gesturing wildly—had completely abandoned her train of thought. Her mouth dropped open in delighted shock, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.

“Oh my god, is this real?” she squealed, her voice way louder than it probably needed to be. “Reid, my little geeky nerd has a girlfriend?!” Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement. “A very cute girlfriend, I might add!” She made a big show of squinting at you through her oversized glasses. “How did we not know about this?!”

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but Derek—well, Derek looked like it was Christmas morning.

He leaned forward with an expression of pure glee. “Hold up,” he said, grinning ear-to-ear, “Reid, you got yourself a lady and didn’t tell us?”

“I-” Spencer stuttered under his breath, looking like he was actively trying to will himself invisible.

Penelope was practically bouncing on her heels now. “Not just a lady,” she chimed in again, adjusting her glasses dramatically as she looked you over with wide, sparkling eyes. “A very cute lady. Like, ‘I need to know everything about you’ cute! How did you two keep this a secret? You’ve been holding out on us!”

Rossi, who had been sitting back and watching the chaos unfold , leaned back in his chair with a half-smile. “Seems like , Dr. Reid has been keeping secrets,” he said dryly, giving Spencer a knowing look.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at the scene around you. It was hard to stay composed when everyone was so… extra. You shifted awkwardly on your feet but it didn’t stop you from noticing how Spencer scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly wishing he could vanish into thin air.

Spencer, still very much red-faced, finally turned toward you, his expression caught between mortification and fondness. His voice was soft.

“Thank you,” he said, with a small awkward smile. “For, um… bringing me the file.”

You smiled, tilting your head, trying to suppress a grin at how adorable he looked when flustered. “Of course,” you said, your voice warm, matching his tone. “Anytime.”

Before Spencer could muster a response, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek. The moment your lips brushed his skin, Spencer froze, his eyes going wide for a split second like he couldn’t quite comprehend what just happened.

The entire room went silent, save for the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as Penelope’s excited squeal filled the air.

Spencer remained absolutely still for a moment, blinking as if he were trying to reboot his brain. You couldn’t help but feel a tiny rush of satisfaction at how flustered he looked.

“I’ll see you at home,” you murmured, your smile widening as you pulled back. “Love you.”

You watched as Spencer’s mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was about to say something, but his words failed him completely. It wasn’t surprising—he’d never been the best at handling public displays of affection, especially when they caught him off guard like this.

"Bye everyone." Without giving him—or the rest of the team—a chance to respond, you turned on your heel and made your way toward the door.

“Did you see that?” you heard Penelope say as you left the room, her voice barely containing her excitement. “Reid, my little shy genius has a girlfriend and she just kissed him in front of us!”

JJ chuckled from across the room, her voice full of amusement. “I think Spence might need a minute,” she said dryly, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

The sound of their teasing faded as the door closed behind you, and you allowed yourself a little breath of relief, knowing that Spencer’s team was kind but very curious.

As the elevator doors closed, you found yourself grinning, already imagining how the rest of the day would unfold.

[theambitiouswoman]

How to heal your nervous system after a lifetime of abandonment

If you’ve only ever experienced abandonment—whether emotional or physical—your nervous system has likely been in survival mode for most of your life. This means your body and mind have adapted to expect instability, making safety feel unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Healing isn’t just about “thinking positively” or “moving on” but about rewiring your nervous system to feel safe in connection, in stillness & within yourself

When abandonment becomes a pattern, your body learns to stay hyper vigilant, always scanning for signs that people will leave. It will emotionally shut down to avoid further pain. You will attach yourself quickly to people because you are scared that if you don't, you will lose them. You will feel unsafe in healthy relationships and sabotage them

This isn’t a mindset issue—it’s a nervous system issue. Your body is conditioned to see abandonment as inevitable, which is why true healing must happen on a physiological level

So to take control, you have to teach your body that safety exists (even if you don't believe it). And since you probably don't know why that is, you have to start small

I have spoken about these things before, but I am going to explain what they actually do, so that you see that even though they seem silly and pointless, they are very important. You thinking everything has to be a struggle and difficult is just you thinking from a place of survival

Grounding exercises - Grounding actually engages your sense to bring you back to the present moment and help reduce anxiety. Walking barefoot, holding something warm, or pressing your feet into the floor sends signals to your brain that you are physically here and safe. It activates the prefrontal cortex (the rational part of your brain) and quiets the amygdala (the fear center) helping you feel more in control

Weighted blankets- Trigger the release of serotonin (the "feel-good" neurotransmitter) and reduces cortisol (the stress hormone). Deep pressure mimics the calming effect of a hug, which lowers heart rate and blood pressure. It helps regulate the autonomic nervous system, shifting you from fight or flight mode to a state of rest and relaxation

Breathing exercises - They activate the parasympathetic nervous system (PNS), which counteracts stress and signals safety to the brain. Inhaling for 4 seconds, holding for 4 and exhaling for 6 stimulates the vagus nerve, which lowers cortisol and increases feelings of calm. Longer exhales specifically slow your heart rate, reinforcing a sense of control and relaxation

These small habits may feel insignificant at first, but over time, they help retrain your brain and body to recognize safety—not as something foreign, but as your new normal

Abandonment leaves deep emotional wounds, often from childhood. If no one ever soothed you, you must learn to soothe yourself

Affirmations for safety: Instead of just saying “I am worthy”, try “I am safe in this moment” or “I do not have to earn love”

Inner child work: Imagine speaking to your younger self. What would they need to hear? Start telling yourself those things daily

If you’ve only known unpredictable or inconsistent love, you may chase people or push them away before they can leave. Start practicing security within yourself first by keeping small promises to yourself. Surrounding yourself with emotionally safe people, even if it's just online or even books at first. Something that feels SAFE to you

Your nervous system might be wired to assume people will leave, so you either cling or detach first. Instead, start training yourself to trust in small ways by watching for people who are consistent, emotionally available and respect your boundaries. You are taking back control by paying attention to their actions and deciding if you want them in your life. When something feels safe, let it last as long as it should, don't sabotage it just because you are expecting the worst. You are worthy of good connections

Teach your nervous system that love doesn’t have to be earned. That you don’t have to fight for people who are meant to stay. You are not broken—you are healing

[teliphone]

Shush

Summary: Lee Seung-joo, a psychiatrist who treats you. Your words don’t scare her; in fact, she’s more intrigued. She wants to help you unravel your deepest, darkest secrets to heal…and even more than that. 

Warning(s): Smut, Manipulate, Fingering, Oral, Bondage, Praise Kink, Overstimulation, Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.2k 

-

You’ve seen your psychiatrist for two months now. Your feelings for her have increased over time. You blame yourself for being too easy. Falling for someone who listens to you for the first time?… Please, it's her job! It’s not right, yet something about her demeanor draws you. She’s quite a mystery. Her eyes are so dull, but her mouth tells of hope and advice. 

Seungjoo sits with her legs crossed in front of you. A small coffee table in between chairs to create distance. She tilts her chin down to examine the clipboard on her lap. She lifts her finger and nudges the rim of her glasses up. You play with the tip of your fingers nervously. You didn’t know what to expect. She turns her head up to give you a small smile. You nibble the inside of your cheeks as an attempt to keep calm. The sound of the clock clicks each second.

“How are you today?” She asks. Her voice is warm and deep, like a warm blanket that could suffocate you if you stay too long underneath. 

“I’m okay,” You quickly respond, straightening your back. She breathes out a small chuckle and lightly taps her papers with the tip of her fingers. 

“You sound a little tense,” She teases, “Try to relax.” 

You nervously nod your head and try to calm down by leaning back into the chair. The cushion underneath is surprisingly comfortable. Your anxiety slightly decreases. Her finger taps stop and she smiles. 

“Good,” She says before looking back at her papers. She calmly drags her finger against the paper on which she had written this morning. 

“Do you still seek any types of thrills? We briefly discussed this last time,” 

“Kinda,” You respond. She pauses and tilts her head. 

“How about we ask more personal and deeper questions today?” She begins, wanting to hear more from you. You quietly nod your head yes. 

“For me to further understand your behavior and struggle,” She explains, looking deep into your eyes, “Are you in any form of romantic relationships?”

You self-consciously dart your eyes to the side and shift in your seat. You should have known this was going to come up sooner or later. Sexuality has been something you had to discover for yourself. 

“No,” You respond. 

“Please elaborate,” She softly urges. You feel your heart beginning to race again. Your eyes lower to stare at your pants. 

“This is a safe place… I’m here for you,” She reminds you. She could read you like a book. You lift your head to look at her again. She gives you a reassuring smile. 

“I don’t like to date because everyone expects me to date someone I don’t find… attractive,” You explain while leaving out important information. She slowly nods her head in acknowledgment. Her lips turn into a small frown. 

“Why don’t you find this person attractive?” She asks, hoping to seek more. You swallow a dry gulp. You take a moment to pause as thoughts swirl into your head. You didn’t want to tell her at first, but after some thinking, you’ve realized you’ve grown to truly trust her. 

“Because this person is a man,” You softly confess. Her face remains emotionless before she simply nods her head. She brushes her lips with her pointer finger. A habit that you’ve seen her do many times before. 

“Many individuals face stress related to sexual orientation due to discrimination, concealment, internalized stigma…” She points out. She continues to explain how your view on sexuality is one of the reasons that impacted your mental health. You listen to her quietly, slightly zoning out. Analyzing how she would tilt her head when an insightful thought comes to mind. Or how her eyes slightly squint when she tries to find the appropriate word to use. Regardless of how much older she is, you were attracted. A small blush begins to form on your face, causing her to furrow her eyebrows. 

“…Have you been with a woman?” She asks, snapping you back to life. You quickly blink and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet your lips. 

“I haven’t,” You dryly cough. She begins to fidget again by rubbing her lower chin with her pointer finger. She starts to move and places her clipboard onto the coffee table. She leans back into her chair comfortably. One of her arms rests on the chair arm. Expressing her body language as confident and open. Her middle and ring fingers rub slow circles against the armchair. 

“What do you want in a woman?” She asks. Your heart begins to race again. She softly chuckles and gets up from her seat. Her shoes click against the wooden floors of her office. Your eyes shamefully examine her body. Her long and slim figure was exposed underneath her beige and white outfit. Her slightly long black hair falls past her shoulder blades. She slowly makes her way to walk behind you. 

You sit perfectly still, not knowing what to do. You hear your blood pumping in your ears. Suddenly, you feel a hand gently grip your shoulders. She bends down til her lips are the same level as your ears. 

“Do you like them…nice? Or demanding? Or maybe even a little older?” She hums. Her deep voice sends shivers down your spine. She catches the way your breathing hicks. She smiles and leans up, removing her hands from your shoulders. She walks over to her desk and sits on the edge. Her hands rest on the desk next to her hips. She stares down at you. 

“What do you think about when you please yourself?” She pushes her questions further. She wants to dig deep into your brain. She wants to know every little dirty secret you imagine. An aching craving is building in your lower stomach. You refuse to let her know you fantasize about her during dark hours. Imagining her fingers pushing and stretching you open. And how you imagine her voice telling you what to do. You squeeze your thighs together. She lifts her eyebrows in slight surprise. You don’t speak or get up from your seat, and she slowly rolls her eyes. The act alone almost made you wet. She parts her lips a little before making up her mind. 

“Come here,” She says. You stumble on your footing as you walk over to her. Her eyelids lower as she peers underneath her lashes. You stop one foot away from her. She slides off the desk and grabs onto your wrists.

She tugs and pushes you against the desk. She traps your body by placing her hands beside your waist. Her body towers over you in authority. She leans her face down close to yours. You nervously look down. 

“Do you trust me?” She whispers. You lift your head immediately. 

“Yes,” You respond. The corner of her lips curls into a smile. 

“Let me help you then,” She explains before leaning in. Her soft, plump lips touch yours. She kisses delicately and passionately. You let out a soft grunt of surprise. You forget how to breathe properly. She deepens the kiss, causing you to clench your eyes shut. Her kisses feel so good. You get lost in it. Her hands start to sneak up your shirt. She drags her finger against your spine. You arch your back, rubbing your front into her. She darkly chuckles and bites your bottom lip before pulling away. Your eyelids are heavy and your cheeks are flushed red. She drags her thumb against the button of your pants. She pauses and looks up. 

“Can I touch you?” She hums. Her eyes are dilated, almost black. Her glasses slightly fell down her nose bridge during the kiss. You lift your hands to gently push the glasses back up. Her breathing hicks a little. 

“Yes… Please touch me,” You whisper. With a swift movement, she unbuttons your pants. She shoves her hands in and pushes her hips into you, spreading your thighs apart. Her fingers nudge against the middle of your panties. You softly moan into her neck. She clenches her jaw in arousal. 

She pushes your panties to the side and slides her fingers along your core. She touches your sensitive bud, circling it in a slow rhythm. 

“You think of me, don’t you?” She darkly chuckles. She found your dirty little secret. Your silky juices leak out from your core. You tilt your head back and answer yes, mix in with moans. She collects your wetness with her middle finger. She continues playing with your nub. Rubbing your silkiness around it, making her fingers slide quicker. You begin to buckle your hips into her. 

Once she finds you wet enough, she slowly shoves her middle finger into you. You feel her fingers go deeper. You gasp and clench onto her shoulders. She hums delightfully into your ears. 

“Shush,” She warns before shoving another finger in. You cry out in pleasure. Your pants limit her movement, reducing her to only curling her finger against your soft walls. She flickers her fingers over and over. You moan loudly, thrashing your body. She presses her face against your hair. She parts her lips and shushes you again. 

“Shhhh. You don’t want to get caught so quickly, right?” She whispers. Her fingers never stop moving. Your stomach tenses. Tears start to build up in your eyes. Her pace increases and you nearly fall backwards onto her desk. Her brutal thrust into your sensitive wall is too much. You choke on your moans. She lowers her face to bite your neck. She feels your walls clenching around her finger. 

At that moment, your lower stomach snaps and you roll your eyes back. Your body trembles and jerks. Juices roll down and dampen your pants. Soft curse words escape from your mouth. She pulls her hand out of your pants. Wetness glistens on her hand and she examines it. 

She walks over to her desk and grabs a napkin. Leaving you breathless on the other side. Your chest moves up and down quickly. You close your eyes to catch your breath. She quietly cleans her hands. Once she is done, she tosses the tissue into the garbage. Then she opens her drawers and pulls out a silk scarf. She walks over to you and lifts the scarf. 

“Turn around,” She smiles. You weakly turn around and feel her pull your hands behind your back. She ties the scarf around your wrists. You try pulling them apart, but it’s tight. You turn around to look at her in confusion. She ignores you and begins to unbuckle her pants. She slides them down along with her underwear. They drop, revealing her smooth, bare skin. 

She places her hands on top of your head and pushes you down to the floor. You kneel before her with your hands tied behind your back. She stands before you, her core near your face. You now understand why she tied you. You desperately wanted to grab her thighs and shove your face into her pussy. 

She nudges her glasses up her nose bridge. She peers down at you with a small smile. You wait patiently for her orders. She laces her fingers between your hair and tugs your head closer to her core. She spreads her thighs. The smell of her arousal numbs your mind. You stick out your tongue. Once her pussy touches your mouth, you lose all self control. You drag your tongue against her hole. Her juice coats your whole mouth. You moan as you continue licking her. 

“Good girl… you’re doing so good,” She grunts, pushing her core deeper into her mouth. Your tongue slides up to play with her clit. You flick and suck against the nub. Her grip on your head tightens. Her eyebrows furrow in pleasure. Soft moans slip out of her mouth. You tilt your head up to look at her. Her stomach tenses. Her hips roll over and over in your mouth. Sweat begins to form on her forehead. Due to her movement, her glasses start to slide down again. She pushes them up and returns her hands to your head. She grips hard, but you didn’t care.

“Your mouth is so good,” She praises. You feel your core throb. You unconsciously lift your hands to spread her thighs, but the scarf limits you. You groan into her pussy, causing her to bite her lip. She continues to ride you til her legs begin to shake. 

“Don’t fucken stop,” She cusses, cheeks red. You shut your eyes and suck onto her nub hard. She jerks her hips and comes into your mouth. Her juices run down your chin. Her body twitches as she catches her breath. Her hand still clenches on your head, not letting you catch your breath. Finally, she tugs your head away. You gasp and catch your breath. You feel her wetness run down your neck. She lazily chuckles before grabbing your head again. She shoves your face back into her pussy. She grinds against your tongue with her head tilted back. She wants you to make her come over and over til she can't handle it anymore. 

[sirfluffletin]

praying that you write something twotime related (this is a sign)

Random Forsaken Drabbled/HC

They're so down bad, it's threatening

Noli- has no-filter who tells you that he’d straight up murder you and bury you in his backyard if you ever dared leave him, who doesn’t give two shits whether it’s cliché or not—if he can’t have you, no one can. You laughed it off when he first said it... But something tells you that wasn't an attempt at dark humor.

Two Time- They're always asking if you’ve eaten today, if you’ve drunk enough water, if you’re wearing enough layers. Typical lover stuff. Only it’s not. No, far from it. They're so eerie and creepy, putting you on edge like noticing a spider in the corner of your room. They'll just appear, and they ask you a mundane, simple question. It feels as if you're being judged before spawn itself. They make you feel like they know you better than you know yourself. Whispering what you're thinking into your ear. Touching you in those exact places that have you weak.

John Doe- He's jealous, needy, and obsessive, what makes it all the more worse is how rough he is. He kisses you like he's trying to eat you, you've corrected the behavior before and he tries you can tell he's trying—but, no matter how gentle he tries to be, can never truly mask just how brutishly strong he actually is. You can always feel the burden hiding in the pressure of his fingertips lingering on your skin, doing everything in his power to hold back.

Low-key obsessed with breeding

007n7- He's the type to stroke your stomach while completely enchanted by the thought of there growing a little product of your love inside you and rattle off obsessively on how cOOLkidd has always wanted a sibling.

Shedletsky- Let's get this straight, Shedletsky had a 'breeding kink', he has no desire to actually get you pregnant, infact he actively avoids it to the best of his abilities. A breeding kink is where you're extremely attracted to the idea of making someone pregnant, he just can't get enough of always dumping his load into the deepest parts of you his cock can reach, making sure he's completely balls-deep while holding your legs to your stomach in the tightest mating-press.

Azure- he's the type to get theurglogical with it, he'd be charting your cycle in moon phases, preparing your meals with ingredients that are purposed to increase fertility and fucking you almost relentlessly in those windows where you're most fertile.

Snugglebug

Noob- They're so soft spoken and so very clingy – resting atop you, not sure where to put their hands so the recline to wringing them nervously with their head cuddling your chest, your soft lips kissing their soft cheeks mouthing soft murmurs against them– giggling airyly when they snuggle against you, their hands finally finding their place in yours.

Taph- They'd be that type of boyfriend who can’t stop furiously blushing and excusing themselves, always asking for permission despite you granting it for the 30th time. Always stressing about if they’ve made a downright fool of themselves. They instead burry their burning face into the crevice of your neck. If they could make a home there and never leave...

1x1x1x1- Hot take- I know, but I'm a firm believer that they're a very 'chill' lover. They have their own goals and intrest and as do you, and as you become their lover it's expected that you support and aid them in achieving their desires and they exchange the same courtesy. Do you have to take up a sword and bathe in Shedletsky's blood with them- No, they don't expect you too. But you are required as their lover to ease the pain and discomfort they feel ever-waking in the Spectre's hellscape. In conclusion, although they don't hold much stock in physical intimacy they do enjoy the occasional cuddling, especially when both their physical and mental health begin to decline due to their habits. They've been through a lot.

Guest 1337- Similarly to 1x1x1x1, he's also been through much. He doesn’t bat an eye over anything because he has to be strong. Any pain he feels pales in comparison to all the suffering everyone else will feel if he fails. All the weights and pressure he puts on himself would break down even the strongest and some days it all comes crashing down as he sobs into your chest, he’s a strong man, and the hold he has on you is crushing—like he’s trying to fuse your body to his permanently. He does not shed tears easily, but Guest falls to tearful pieces, choking, hiccupping out incomprehensible words as they're muffled up by your skin.

Rich, owns everything you have and low-key a control freak

Builderman- Super handy and helpful lover who’s just a pinch condescending snarky about it. He fixes your kitchen sink on his few days off with a lazy grin—tools and gloved hands—asking smugly, “How would you ever survive without me?” And even though it’s a bit belittling, it’s just silly enough that you find it charming—smiling as you wrap both your arms around him while you pepper his face in your appreciative kisses. A sweet “Thank you~” on your lips as he lifts you up to sit on the kitchen counter as easily as lifting a toy.

Chance- he owns every single part of your life by frivolously buying everything for you. Of course, it’s a nice gesture—his love language is gifting you things—there’s nothing wrong with that. But then you’re in too deep, and you realize you have nothing in your own name. All your clothes, jewelry, and shoes are bought by him and belong to him. Even things like your cell phone, laptop, and car are all bought by and belong to him. The house you live in is his. All your credit cards are his... Must I go on?

iTrapped - The first time he said you were made for him, you thought it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you. He’d said it with such unbothered air – so matter-of-factly – as if it were the most obvious thing, as though he was almost exasperated even to have to spell it out for you. And you’d smiled, feeling warm and giddy. Lovey-dovey heart-eyes looking back at him with not a single second guess. You should have asked him what he meant, though…

[ms-demeanor]

Hello,Do you have any tips for recovering from internet brain rot? It's like my patience has dried up and if there's a huge amount of text (even about topics I'm very interested in) that I have to read, I get annoyed and just don't interact with the material at all.

I have multiple tips!

TL;DR (Because of course I generated a wall of text): Take a break from the internet, create a schedule for getting yourself used to reading longer texts, take breaks while reading, and perhaps reconsider how you interact with The Internet and the world in general.

Here are the basic "to reduce the brain rot just don't interact" tips:

Take a break. Give yourself time off from The Internet (for these purposes The Internet is the social media industrial complex; clickbait news, recommended videos, social media sites, etc. You don't have to totally check out of email or your local news site, just get away from the huge time sucks). I'd say to take at least one day a week where you're online for less than an hour a day, and to maybe work up to doing a week-long break from whatever the main agents of rot are.

Once you've identified the main agents of rot, give yourself a time limit or set up rules for yourself. I don't let myself look at social media in bed, for instance; no staying up late on my phone, no scrolling before I get up and start my day. I don't give myself a strict time limit anymore, but for a while there I was very firm about "you only get to go online 4 hours a day" with myself.

Don't comment (or at least only share the things you really want to share). If you feel the need to argue, or if you feel pressured into sharing something, don't. Step back, maybe even open the post in a new tab or send it to yourself, and come back later. If you've been thinking about it and have decided it IS something you care enough to talk about, share it. If you look at the tab and feel stressed out or still feel reactive, close the tab and walk away.

Go out and interact with the real world in a non-work capacity for a few hours a week; take walks or go shopping or go out and take pictures of insects. Touch grass so that The Internet is not the only thing you're doing with your downtime.

Here are the "work on reading longer texts specifically" tips:

Set a reading goal for yourself. Maybe you want to read one New Yorker article a week, maybe you want to read all the way through news articles, maybe you want to read novels like you used to in high school. Figure out what your actual goal is and articulate that goal to yourself.

Set up a practice schedule and gradually increase the amount of time you're reading. Don't go from short tumblr posts to a novella, go from short tumblr posts to slightly longer news articles, then to slightly longer essays, then to a novella. You can do this in literal paragraphs if you want to - maybe your goal for your first day is to read five paragraphs in a row, and the second day is seven, and the third day is ten, etc, until you are comfortably reading for longer amounts of time without counting paragraphs. (Try this with books from gutenberg.org; read a classic you haven't read a few paragraphs at a time and if you find yourself going over your paragraph count, let yourself run with it. If you finish a book, good for you, find another one and start again.)

Set up a maintenance schedule. If your goal is to read longer news pieces, try to read a longer piece every week and try to read to the end of every news article you open. If your goal is to read novels or longer nonfiction, try to read a book a month (maybe setting aside dedicated time each week to read, maybe Thursday evenings are book time now). If you find yourself falling back into old habits, take a break from The Internet and do some more rigorous practice for a while.

If you find yourself getting frustrated while you are reading you can also take a break! Read until you get frustrated and then *instead of switching to a different page or closing the article* close your eyes or look out the window or away from the screen for thirty seconds (count 'em! count out the time in your head) and then continue reading. You can also take a longer pause and sit and think about why you're getting frustrated. Is it the subject matter? Is it just looking at this text for longer than a couple minutes (if you are experiencing FOMO because you're reading for another few minutes instead of scrolling, the harder tips at the bottom are going to be important to you)? Are you comfortable? Are you reading this text to procrastinate from something and the procrastination is making you nervous? Are you trying to read to the bottom of your dash and reading a long post is taking up more time than you want while scrolling? Are you bored? Genuinely and very seriously: are your eyes straining and does your head hurt (if this is the case when is the last time you had your eyes checked or your glasses prescription updated)?

Here are the much harder "examine yourself and reassess your reactions to things" tips:

Work on re-training your attention span.

Identify something that you enjoy and find deeply engaging, and schedule some dedicated time for that thing. Set a literal timer (it can be a short amount of time at first) and sit down and do the thing without switching to a different website or opening up an app on your phone. This can be re-reading or watching a couple episodes of a show you like or listening to your favorite album while you sit down and draw. What's important is to spend a longer time focusing on doing something you DO like before attempting to spend a longer time focusing on something you DON'T like.

When you're starting on things you DON'T like, start with things you mildly don't like, or that feel tedious but aren't actually unpleasant. One way I do this is by transcribing poetry; I look up poems that I connect to and I transcribe them into a notebook that I have for that purpose. I enjoy having the finished product, but I don't enjoy the process, so it takes some effort to stick with it. Maybe there is a boring book you have been trying to get through, maybe you need to detail your car, maybe you've been trying to take up embroidery - these are good things to make yourself pay attention to (having music or a podcast on can help, but avoid watching videos or opening social apps)

When you're okay at that kind of thing (doing something not actively unpleasant) work on your attention span for things you ACTIVELY don't like. I don't think you should be a masochist about this, but you should work on being okay with doing unpleasant things for a sustained period of time. All of us have to do unpleasant stuff sometimes, and it's better to be able to pay attention to it for an hour at a time than it is to put it off forever.

This leads into the next Big Tip which is:

Work on being less reactive

Find something that you dislike; I'm going to use conservative talk radio as my example.

Expose yourself to the disliked thing for short periods of time (under ten minutes, maybe under five minutes).

Work on moderating your emotions during the time spent exposed to the disliked thing. If it makes you angry, work on intellectualizing the anger without becoming agitated by it. If it makes you sad, work on accepting that sadness without letting it drag down your mood. This isn't precisely about becoming numb to stimuli, but it is about being more in control of how your emotional reactions impact you.

Analyze the disliked thing. Why does it make you angry? Is that on purpose by the creator of the thing? Would it make someone else angry in the same way? How would you explain the anger to a neutral third party?

Consider responding instead of reacting. Let's say you're seeing a lot of very sad and upsetting things online and it's making you sad and upsetting you. You re-share these things because you don't feel like there's anything else you can do or you get angry when you see people sharing incorrect information, perhaps you argue with people about this. Now try looking at the upsetting things through the lens of point number four. This has upset you; how has it upset you? And once you've thought about how it upset you and have articulated that to yourself, find out what you can DO. I cannot make conservative talk radio go off the air, but I can support the groups harmed by conservative talk radio; thus there is no point in me getting upset and angry about conservative talk radio when I could be helping the people they target instead.

And that gets us to the last big tip which is:

Ask yourself if you are spending your time in a way that is enjoyable and edifying.

We all have limited time in our days and limited time in our lives. If you are finding yourself frequently frustrated online, it's a good time to consider whether you want to be spending so much time online.

If you feel like The Internet has become a rat race in which you can't read more than a few paragraphs without getting frustrated, there's a good chance that not only are you spending too much time on The Internet, but you're also spending it on doing things that you don't particularly like.

A realization like yours, Anon, that you are getting frustrated with any longer texts, can actually be really helpful because it provides a good opportunity to look at what you're engaging with and consider the questions:

Is this something I enjoy?

Do I feel good when I do this thing?

And that's a great way to figure out how to get rid of things that are leading to your background frustration. Maybe that looks like paring down the list of blogs you follow, maybe that looks like unsubscribing from some youtubers and podcasts, maybe that looks like uninstalling apps, maybe that looks like blocking a whole bunch of people and terms on your socials.

I don't think that everything we do has to help us grow as a person or expand our consciousness or anything like that, but I do think it's important to prioritize doing things that you like and doing things that you feel good about.

Like, I'm not doing something *wrong* if I spend an afternoon on Youtube watching drama channels every once in a while, but if I come out of a few afternoons of watching youtube drama channels feeling restless and anxious and like I wasted my time - even if I enjoyed myself while I was watching - it's probably a good idea for me to take a break from drama channels and see if there's something I can do instead that will make me feel better.

ALSO, A NOTE:

You are an animal that requires significant enrichment in your enclosure.

Think about tigers. Tigers in captivity are going to be excited to get high-value treats for any reason. They will eat and enjoy the treats. But if a tiger in captivity is only given the treats and never given any other form of activity to engage with, it is not going to be a happy tiger. If you start putting their treats in a pumpkin or a puzzle feeder or giving them toys to play with, that is going to be a much happier tiger.

Please give your brain things to play with that are more than just treats (though it does need some treats!). Make yourself a happy tiger. Your brain need a puzzle feeder, not a treat button.

[pucksandpower]

Princess Protection Program

Logan Sargeant x Princess of England!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Florida.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They turn back, concern etched on their faces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You never could,” your mother assures you.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too, Y/N,” he whispers. “Me too.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Logan?” You call down.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re going to be amazing.”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And really, what more could a guy ask for?

[astrosamara]

Jupiter Transits Through the Houses

Jupiter expands and blesses the house it transits through. Be cautious of overindulgence in these areas though, since too much of a good thing can have negative consequences as well. As always, these observations are very general and for greater accuracy in interpretation, the full birth chart must be involved.

🩷Jupiter transiting the 1st house: Life just seems to flow smoothly and work out for you with little hassle. You might feel as if the universe is truly on your side during this time with blessings appearing as if from nowhere. People notice an aura of positivity and abundance surrounding you. You might even appear glowing physically. There's a strong drive and desire to live large and abundantly. You might experience many moments of feeling vibrationally high. I interpret this time as one where you fully blossom and grow into your individuality.

🩷Jupiter transiting the 2nd house: The most obvious interpretation of this transit is receiving a lot of luck with money. You can earn a lot more money as well as making more money than you ever have before. This can also be a time where you develop a stronger sense of self-worth and security. You can feel very comfortable in life. Also, with an increase in money can also come an increase in spending. Be careful not too spend too recklessly during this transit, especially on material comforts.

🩷Jupiter transiting the 3rd house: If you have siblings, this can be a time where you notice your siblings receiving a lot of blessings. This is also a great time to embrace learning new skills and trying new things. Speaking, writing, and communication specifically will be great skills to expand on and you can receive a lot of opportunities in these areas. You can feel especially positive while going on short trips and spending time in your community. A stronger desire to socialize and connect with people.

🩷Jupiter transiting the 4th house: Moving, expanding, and positivity within your home and family life is all prevalent here. A stronger desire to go inward and spend more time at home as well. You could receive blessings and opportunities from your family. You might just feel a stronger desire to renovate or redecorate your home. I've noticed that this is a time where perhaps your external world quiets down a bit, and a lot of your positivity comes from your inner world. You can discover a lot about yourself and what provides you true comfort and peace.

🩷Jupiter transiting the 5th house: This is a fantastic time for romance, love, and dating. Time and time again I've noticed so many people in my life benefit positively in their love life during this transit. A huge boost in creativity as well. There's a lot of joy and happiness during this period overall. You feel a boost in confidence and ability to take on new and exciting opportunities. There's also an emphasis on children during this transit. Perhaps you can have children or children can play a significant and positive role in your life. If you're interested in trying new hobbies, this is a great time to do it.

🩷Jupiter transiting the 6th house: Daily life and health become abundant in this period. You can have positive daily habits and a routine that is beneficial for your overall health and wellbeing. You can also start a new job that you enjoy. Perhaps you get along nicely with your coworkers, the pay is great, the working conditions are positive, etc. There's a strong possibility that you just feel less daily stress than usual during this time. Getting a new pet is also likely.

🩷Jupiter transiting the 7th house: Similar to the 5th house transit, this is a great time for love and romance, although this house is more symbolic of committed love and long term partnerships. This is a very common marriage transit. This is also a great time to start a new business venture or partnership if it's something you're interested in, as it's likely to be received well during this time. Other people become significant in some way. Life in general felt very busy, active, and social in my experience. Meeting new and important people in my life as well. 🩷Jupiter transiting the 8th house: A very transformative period. There's an increase in desire for deep growth and personal development. This is a transit where you end it as a brand new person. I have an 8th house stellium, so it's likely this transit affected me greater for this reason. If you're someone who shies away from the darker aspects of life or your shadow self, this is likely to be a rough period for you. Although, it's a blessing in disguise when you realize how important it was to allow yourself to go deep and shed away all that was holding you back from stepping into a better and more powerful version of yourself. It's also common to experience an increase in sexuality during this time. 🩷Jupiter transiting the 9th house: A very busy, busy time. I was moving and traveling constantly the year I experienced this transit. I also started university and began my interest in spirituality. I met many different unique people and expanded my knowledge in many subjects. You may notice yourself tackling life's obstacles with optimism and an open mind. Wherever you travel during this period can be a very spiritual and optimistic experience for you. I visited a new city during this time that I fell in love with and developed a strong connection to. Pursuing a more spiritual life is very common.

🩷Jupiter transiting the 10th house: This was an interesting transit for me. I began a job that I absolutely hated before eventually leaving soon after, just for a better opportunity to be waiting for me around the corner. I moved into my first apartment and life became more peaceful and aligned with what I wanted and needed. It made me realize that Jupiter can often bless these different areas of your life by first removing what isn't meant for you and allowing new and greater opportunities to enter your life afterwards. This was a time I really craved and valued freedom and abundance in my career and life overall. 🩷Jupiter transiting the 11th house: Similar to the 10th house transit, I left a lot of toxic people in my life, including a long-term friendship that hadn't been working out for years. I also abandoned previous dreams and developed new ones that felt more fitting to me. My dreams and desires were very strong during this time. This was more of a quiet period in my life where I was really building a vision for what I wanted my life to look and feel like. I experienced a lot of positivity through online communities and groups, specifically when it came to astrology and spirituality. Meeting new people, joining new social groups, and focusing on long-term goals are all likely to occur during this transit. 🩷Jupiter transiting the 12th house: Such an incredible and unique time. My dreams became very rich, vivid, and intuitive. I was quite isolated during this time, but the isolation was something I needed. My inner world became very abundant and dreamlike. Life just felt like a dream this entire time. Pay attention to your intuition and your subconscious strongly during this time, because it can reveal a lot. I began therapy as well and began to notice very positive changes in my life the more I took care of my mental health. I spent a lot of time working on myself and clearing out mental garbage, which I noticed benefiting me positively by the time my 1st house Jupiter transit started.

[missdollcouture]

NEW YEAR, NEW ME

this is a collab w the it girl @prettieinpink !!

HABITS TO IMPLEMENT 

Movement (yoga, running, Pilates, walking, gym, etc. Anything that allows you to move your body 

Reflection- make a note of things you would like to improve on. This could be self-love, relationships, 

STAY CONSISTENT

Consistency is key. Make sure to stick to your plan and keep working towards your goals every day. Even small steps are progress. Try to make your goal part of your daily routine. 

HOW TO STAY CONSISTENT 

SCHEDULE- Setting schedules helps really well with consistency. Make a schedule for the tasks you need to do daily or weekly to achieve your goals. This can help you make your goals a part of your routine, making it easier to stay consistent.

STAY ORGANIZED- Keep track of your tasks and goals. Use tools like calendars, to-do lists, or apps to help you stay organized and remember what you need to do.

DISCIPLINE YOURSELF- Sometimes, you won't feel like working towards your goals, and that's okay. The key is to maintain discipline and do the task anyway. Remember, consistency is about doing the task regularly, not just when you feel like it.

START SMALL- Don't overwhelm yourself with huge tasks. Start small and gradually increase your workload as you build consistency.

DON’T BE TOO HARD ON YOURSELF- If you miss a day, don't beat yourself up. Instead, acknowledge that it happened, understand why, and move on. Consistency is about long-term progress, not perfection.

CREATE A PLAN

Once you know what your goals are, create a step-by-step plan on how to achieve them. Break down each goal into smaller, manageable tasks. This might involve creating a timeline, setting deadlines, or identifying resources or tools you might need.

LEAVE THINGS IN THE PAST 

In 2023, I’m sure everyone has had ups and downs, but not letting them define you as a person is something that has to be done in order for you to become a new person.

HOW TO LEAVE THINGS IN THE PAST

ACCEPTANCE-  Acknowledge the past and accept it as part of your life story. Understand that it's something that has shaped you but doesn't define you.

FORGIVENESS- Forgive yourself and others. Holding onto resentment only harms you. Letting go of grudges can bring a sense of peace and open up space for healthier relationships.

LEARN FROM IT- Every experience, good or bad, is an opportunity to learn. Reflect on these experiences and use them as stepping stones to better decisions in the future.

FOCUS ON THE PRESENT- The past is unchangeable, but the present is in your control. Concentrate on what you can do now to create a positive future.

SET NEW GOALS- Create new objectives for yourself. This gives you something to work towards and helps shift your focus from the past to the future.

PRACTISE MINDFULNESS- Mindfulness is about staying focused on the present moment. Practices like meditation can help you stay grounded and prevent you from dwelling on the past.

ADJUST YOUR PLAN AS NEEDED

It's okay if your initial plan doesn't work out exactly as you thought. Life happens, and it's important to be flexible and adapt your plan as needed. If you find that a certain approach isn't working, don't be afraid to try something different.

PRACTICE SELF CARE

Remember to take care of yourself physically, emotionally, and mentally. This can include things like getting enough sleep, eating healthy, exercising regularly, and taking time to relax and do things you enjoy. Don't forget that self-care is an important part of reaching your goals.

WAYS TO PRACTICE SELF CARE-

BALANCED DIET-  There is no need to restrict yourself from foods but eating a healthy, balanced diet is crucial for maintaining physical health. Try to include plenty of fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, and whole grains in your diet.

EXERCISE REGULARLY- Regular physical activity can help reduce stress, improve mood, and boost overall health. This doesn't necessarily mean going to the gym - it could be anything from a brisk walk to a yoga class

GET ENOUGH SLEEP-  Aim for 7-9 hours of sleep per night. Establish a regular sleep schedule and create a relaxing bedtime routine to improve sleep quality.

STAY HYDRATED-  Drinking enough water each day is important for overall health. Try to aim for at least 8 glasses per day.

TAKE BREAKS- Make sure to take regular breaks throughout the day, especially if you're working or studying. This can help prevent burnout and improve productivity.

DO THINGS YOU ENJOY- Make time for hobbies or activities you enjoy. This could be anything from reading a book to playing a sport to painting. 

  CELEBRATE SMALL THINGS

Don't wait until you've reached your big goal to celebrate. Celebrate small wins along the way to keep your motivation high. This could be treating yourself to something you enjoy, or simply taking a moment to acknowledge your achievement.

REFLECTING ON THE PAST YEAR

Think about how the past year went. Did you learn anything? Did you reach new goals? If you don't the answers to these questions, I recommend further examining your year!!

[margecouture]

resetting and restoring yourself 🎧

hitting the reset button is essential to your life, allowing you to recharge, reflect, and realign with your goals and values. life can be hectic, stressful, and demanding leading to a wave of overwhelming emotions and an increased chance of a burnout. luckily, having the right tools can help you to keep going and maintain a healthy balance between self and life, so here’s how to properly reset and restore:

take an “everything” shower. engaging in this beloved self care ritual is a good way to hit the reset button and restore you back to normal. everything showers can include washing and conditioning your hair, shaving, exfoliating, double cleansing. when you do each of these tasks, it’s helpful to visualize all your burdens being washed away as you cleanse your body. you’ll feel fresh, clean, and comfortable. an everything shower is a wonderful way to refresh both your body and mind in a physical yet healthy way.

create a short list of good habits. to reset and restore, aim to create a list of habits that will leave you feeling good. this can include engaging in daily yoga, having a brewed cup of coffee or herbal tea daily, reading for 30 mins each day, creating art, and these are just the basics. these habits can create a positive shift in your energy and lead you to full restoration and recovery.

exercise, exercise, exercise. physical activity is a great form of self care and a great way to avoid frequent stress. while resting is essential for recharging, it’s not good to just lay around and constantly soak up any misery. get up and take a walk, get fresh air and feel the sun, go for a 15 min jog or run, do yoga poses, at home pilates, or even attend your local gym. getting up and getting active is a healthy and enjoyable way to clear your mind and reset your body.

disconnect and digital detox. scrolling, scrolling, and more scrolling can cause your brain to feel too heavy for your head. social media and our phones are filled with so much information, memories, words, opinions, and much more. it’s almost impossible to not become overwhelmed. digital detoxing has always been my favorite ritual when resetting. instead of mindlessly being on your phone, disconnect from the world & do activities like, stargaze or watch the clouds pass, read books, rearrange your environment, cook a new recipe, create journal entries. these are all very simple things that can restore you greatly.

connect with those who mean the most to you. spending time with family, friends, pets, lovers can provide emotional support and strengthen your relationships with more love. open up to those you love and care about. be a listening ear for them as well. engage in meaningful conversations or even just sit in comfortable silence. doing this brings you back to your essence and provides a healthy restoration.

get enough sleep. quality sleep is crucial for your overall health in all life’s areas. establish a regular sleep schedule and create a relaxing bedtime routine to help you get enough sleep each night. lack of sleep can lead to mood swings and increased stress which may cause a burnout. prioritize your sleep and aim for 7-9 hours a night for a beautiful mind, body and spirit.

resetting and restoring is not just a luxury, it’s a necessity for living a balanced and fulfilling lifestyle. take care of yourself because it is the foundation for achieving your dreams and becoming the best version of yourself! 😊

[girlsworldillusion]

Game Over 🎮

Gamer!Aemond - Fem!Reader

Summary: After putting in the effort to create the perfect romantic night, your plan comes crashing down like a house of cards when your boyfriend dumps you for games.

How far will a girl go before she takes matters into her own hands?

Rated: Explicit (+18)

(Bjob, semi-public sex, praise kink and others)

Word count: 6k

Dividers: @cafekitsune

Enjoy!

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

You snort for the tenth time as hear a bored laugh coming from down the hall.

Fingers drum impatiently on the edge of the bed, a fat pout projecting on your lower lip. Having long since given up on the purposefully suggestive pose on top of the soft silk sheets, you now find yourself sitting upright and very sullen amidst the romantic decor of the room.

With each muffled word coming from your boyfriend's office you feel your mood sour further, the irritation in your nerves increasing to worrying levels.

Aemond wasn't the kind of guy who played games regularly; God knows he's too selfish and perfectionist to be a decent team player. And he barely had any free time to indulge in hobbies and vices anyway. Despite having a complete setup in his personal office with everything a gamer could dream of, he spent very little time cultivating such a habit. Usually only indulging when he was feeling too stressed about work or his family, or when he was absolutely bored.

He didn’t usually care for games. And that’s why you feel even more frustrated by the second. Of all the nights he could have had the unexpected urge to play, did it have to be the night you had planned something special for the both of you?

The soft, delicate lace of your new pastel pink lingerie set teases your skin almost mockingly at this point, the long stockings on your thighs rubbing against each other as you swing one leg over the other in exasperation. The high heels were thrown haphazardly into the corner of the room during the little bout of impatience you had a few minutes ago.

The scented candles you had chosen for the night still burn softly in your peripheral vision, illuminating the room with warmth and romance, the delicate scent of vanilla permeating the air like a seductive invitation. On the bedside table was a bottle of his favorite wine, two glasses neatly arranged next to it.

This was supposed to be a romantic night.

As soon as you saw him casually enter the office a few hours ago, presumably to privately answer some video call from a work client, you ran and locked the bedroom door, preparing everything as quickly as you could to surprise him. Excitement ran freely through your veins, heating your skin to moisten the valley between your legs with anticipation. When you finished arranging everything as best you could, you opened the door invitingly and threw yourself on the bed, acting out what you hoped was a sensual and innocent pose at the same time.

But time passed and Aemond didn't show up.

It was only when you heard the first muffled murmurs of 'all right, I'll cover your left' and 'are you stupid or what? How hard can it be to hit that damn target?' that you realized what he was really doing in the office. But despite the small wave of disappointment, you tried to be level-headed about it. Playing games wasn't something that bothered you at all, but tonight you felt a specific need that only Aemond could fulfill.

You decide to be patient, though, after all he wasn't in the habit of playing games - maybe he just needed a single round to de-stress from the day.

But the minutes passed and what was a single round became two, three; each lasting an average of 30-40 minutes. And here you were, almost two hours later, still waiting.

You had enough!

This was absolutely ridiculous. No one in an adult relationship should spend that much time waiting for some attention - especially when they were losing attention to a damn game.

With a frustrated sigh, you rise from your position on the bed and march towards his office, determined to give him a piece of your mind. Your steps are deliberately heavy as you walk through the living room and into the hallway until you reach his door, where you listen for a few seconds, breathing enough to control the worst of your nerves, but after hearing the same regular tapping on the controller and grumpy responses, you slowly push the door open.

Peeking your head into the room, you see him in front of his setup, playing what looks like some kind of first-person shooter.

The room, as always, smells of cigarette smoke and clean leather, the soft hum of the air conditioning welcoming you - the familiarity enveloping your body in a blissful way that you didn't want at the moment. Your eyes try to focus on surroundings, as the only illumination comes from the purple and blue hues emanating from the sophisticated setup. With his back to you, in his big, comfortable chair, your boyfriend was sitting as if nothing else in the world mattered, with the joystick in his hand and his eye glued to the monitor, mumbling lazily here and there to the chaotic chat of the server.

And seeing him there, carefree and oblivious to all the effort and expectation you had put into this night - into him - made you rethink your course of action for a minute. A thought suddenly crossed your mind.

You were still hurt and frustrated, but maybe giving him a piece of your mind wasn't your only option at the moment.

You walked across the room slowly, but stopped before did what you were thinking.

You mean, were you really about to do that? What, were you really going to act like a hormonal teenager now?

Your body suddenly started moving on its own, mind screaming at you to stop.

Your irritation eases slightly as you admire the outline of his toned, bare back (why the hell is he shirtless anyway?) looming in your line of vision, the way his muscles flex as he leans forward in his black gaming chair, pale, smooth skin illuminated by the purple and blue lights of the setup. He’s wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants and black socks on his feet, and the sight of his broad shoulders and long, muscular arms completely exposed makes your mind wander in a sinful direction.

Maybe your night wasn’t wasted.

Your steps are almost catlike as you advance slowly, silent and focused, taking in his furrowed brows, his devastatingly handsome face with that serious, focused expression, silver hair pulled back into a half-bun — smoke curling up from the cigarette resting in the ashtray on the table.

Aemond hums a vague acknowledgement as you enter his line of sight, his bored gaze flicking from the monitor to you for just a second before returning to the game - but quickly returning to you when he actually notices what you’re wearing.

It’s hard not to get a little carried away when that turquoise blue eye slides across the planes of your body like melted butter; greedy over the thin, nearly sheer bralette on your breasts, the curve of your waist, your cute panties and the lace stockings that come up to your mid-thighs.

“Baby, what the—” he breathes hoarsely, lips parted and brows heavy over his gaze - even his thumbs stop twirling over the buttons on his controller. But you’re both interrupted by a sudden stream of complaints and curses coming from his headset, the volume clear and loud enough for you to hear clearly. Aemond growls. “Fuck, shut your mouth - I’m still here.” And just like that his attention slips from you to the game again, his expression returning to those same disinterested, serious lines from before - but you notice a stiffening in his shoulders that wasn't there before, as if he's on alert now.

You hold on tight to it so his lack of attention doesn’t shake you, trying to solidify your plan as you move. Your hands grip the sides of his chair, using the wheels to help you push it back a few inches. He sends you a sharp, narrow look, shifting between you and the screen, as if he knows exactly what’s on your mind. With a mischievous smile and more determination now, you ignore his warning, slipping innocently into the space between the chair and the table, kneeling between his legs.

“No, the shooter’s on your right.” He mumbles into the mic, sounding more sullen now that his attention has been compromised, but still stubbornly trying to stay focused on the game. You lean forward with a naughty smile, gently sniffing the bulge of his cock trapped in his sweatpants, a whimper rising in your throat when you realize he’s already hard — no doubt an instinctive reaction to understanding your intentions. God, how did this man make you so heated with so little effort?

Your teeth tug playfully at the drawstring of his pants. The muscles in his stomach contract beautifully in response and you sigh, turning your head to rub your cheek against his cock, like a kitten begging for attention.

He’s fully hard now and there’s a thrill in your belly, warm and dark, knowing he’s this way for you — just by you being there, breathing near him, barely touching him properly.

Your lashes flutter heavy over your eyes as you stare without qualms; the soft seam of his sweatpants over a bulge that makes your body tremble with anticipation, burn so much that you’re not sure if you’re breathing anymore.

His cock is thick and hard beneath the gray fabric, big and — stupidly big — so big — over his hip.

“Don’t do that,” he warns in a low tone.

You smile innocently. “Do what, love?”

He growls in his throat, your attitude clearly coiling inside him, making his cock throb beneath your touch. “You won’t be able to walk properly for a week, girl.”

You hum softly, pretending you didn’t hear his threat as untie the laces of his sweatpants to pull the waistband down. Aemond makes no move to help you, stubborn as he's, but you don’t need it. Your grin deepens, glad to be able to lower the elastic enough to free his cock.

“Does it look like I spoke to any of you idiots?” He’s actually more impatient now, dishing out rudeness in the server chat when they question his latest suspicious statement.

You sigh, salivating for him more every time you see his cock — all long and thick, outlined with prominent veins and a shiny flushed head, dripping with precum. Your eyes meet for a moment of distraction from the game, you sugary and full of malicious intent and he suspicious and grumpy - but the anxious twitch in his cock deflates any possible claim that this isn't turning him on in some way.

Let him pretend all he wants, you think with an innocent smile and a slow bat of your eyelashes, sliding your fingers down the hard, pulsing length, slick with the arousal dripping from the tip; a small fist clenched, down and then up, twisting over the head - and then your mouth comes close, spitting a glob of saliva right over it. Pre-come, sweet, warm, sticky saliva as you drag your fist down the tip to the base before repeating. More pre-come.

He shifts in his chair, teeth biting into his lower lip, large, beautiful hands gripping the controller so tightly that the stupid thing squeaks between his fingers. And then you come close; the heated puff of your breath against the base of his cock, your eyes watery and lazy, face flushed and teasing.

And the first swipe of your tongue over him has his abs clenching like a vise, a sharp growl from his chest as you suck him, a little unsteady from the position but so fucking eager that he’s physically incapable of not noticing your effort.

You chase the head of his cock with your mouth as he tries to tilt his hips, your knees shaking as you sink a little to reach him, to close your mouth around him and suck him. One hand instinctively relinquishes its grip to tangle in a fistful of your hair, hips bucking upward as he huffs a ‘fuck baby’; your eyes fluttering and your chest shuddering with a little groan of own, like it’s as good for you as it is for him.

And it is.

'Shit, what's going on man?! I can't believe you missed that one!' Someone complains loudly in the chat.

He just grunts in response, realizing he can't play with just one hand, so he reluctantly puts it back in control. You let out a small chuckle at the length between your lips, happy to see him struggle so much, your right hand resuming the slide of his shaft that your mouth can't reach.

You pull out until only the head of his cock is in your mouth, tongue sliding over it; hand sliding your fist over the spit sheen on his shaft, slick and slow, pushing your lips back until he's nudging the back of your throat and you're breathing hard as keep thrusting and swallowing, keep trying so hard to relax more.

You've never particularly enjoyed giving blowjobs in your previous relationships, but Aemond has elevated the act to something almost sacred; you loved having this kind of power over him, feeling him get harder and harder on your tongue, making him go crazy with desire until he couldn’t control himself anymore. Your pussy clenches in response, the cute panties absolutely ruined by now.

“Can you guys just shut the fuck up for a second? Like I haven’t been carrying this team on my back since the beginning anyway. Fuck all of you.” He growls into the chat, breathing hard between words, undulating his hips discreetly into your mouth - pushing his cock an inch deeper and deeper into your mouth. His gaze is icy and electric as he looks down at you, a dangerous warning shining there, an implicit threat that you’ll regret pushing him this way.

The server chat erupts with denial and curses, but you barely listen, too focused on continuing teasing him; especially now, feeling how his restraint begins to crack and tremble. You pull away with a sticky strand of saliva still connecting you to the head of his cock, using his knees as support to stand up and sneakily settle yourself on top of his legs.

"You're acting like a spoiled brat." He breathes at the corner of your lips as you bring your face closer, anxious and trembling body falling into his lap.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You mumble back, heart racing at the darkness in his turquoise gaze, the other half of his face torn and eternally marked by the jagged scar only adding danger to that warning bite in his expression. With almost too eager fingers you smooth the muscles in his abdomen, moving up to feel the hard ridge of each one until you reach his shoulders.

He breathes heavily, but keeps his eye on the monitor as he violently presses the poor buttons on the joystick, waging a proud war to keep himself away - but you are nothing if not determined.

It takes just a second to admire the milky, soft expanse of his neck, the Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and then your warm, wet lips are there; covering his skin with soft kisses and bites, sucking slowly between your teeth and licking it afterwards, making him gasp softly and bite his lip, reluctantly tilting his head to offer you more of him. 

You breathe out a smile before leaning back on his knees, letting his gaze slide greedily down your body. To the soft peaks of your breasts half-visible in that thin bralette, the valley of your belly to the dip of your little belly button, and finally to your hips beginning to undulate sensually over his. His cock, as hard and wet as it is, leaves a trail of arousal and sticky saliva on his lower belly and you blush at the sight of the mess he’s making.

You shiver as you feel that same thick wetness of his cock drag against your pussy through your lacy panties, pushing and pushing the swollen tip against your clit until you let out a series of short, sharp gasps. With eyelashes flutter and your eyebrows furrow at the sensation, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you continue to grind your clit against his throbbing cock.

'Wait, wait, what’s that?' you hear someone ask through his headset, but your mind is too far gone to stop now. Little fingers hook into the soft crotch of your pantie for just a moment before you pulls it aside, letting your scalding, drooling pussy rub directly against his hard shaft. Your moan is louder this time, more brazen too. 'What the fuck—are you watching porn while you play, your fucking pervert?' A player in the chat asks with a mocking, mischievous laugh, and in the middle of pushing your needy folds onto his cock, you watch Aemond smile back - sharp, icy, dangerous.

“Much better than that, fucker.” His voice changes to something rougher, something demanding and wicked, and you push yourself against him a little harder, your temperature rising, and you moan. “My girl is needy tonight.”

The chat becomes chaotic again, bursting with dirty laughter and snide comments that would offend you any other time — and maybe Aemond thinks the same, because you see his jaw clench once, his eye cold and his lips pressed together in that way he does when he’s not satisfied with something.

But something keeps him going, keeps him pushing harder.

Quietly he drops the controller to the table, relinquishing his participation in the game, sliding his headset down to hang loosely around his neck. And you can’t breathe. Your heart is pounding, so hard you’re surprised you can’t see it when look down at your chest.

“You wanted my attention, baby. Well, now you have it. And theirs too.” He smiles teasingly at you, his gaze dark and intent on yours, even though the game is still going on the monitor right behind you. "How about we put on a little show for these fucking losers?"

The chat seems to fall into a deliberate silence as he speaks, as if everyone is waiting to hear the outcome of this bizarre and absolutely wild situation.

"I can smell your pussy," he continues when you don't respond, his voice a growl. "I can smell how wet you are." He leans down to nibble on your earlobe, sucking on the lobe before nuzzling into the soft hollow just below it. You think he's exaggerating, he couldn't really smell you, could he? But the room is filled with colored lights, smelling of cigarette smoke and leather, and his cock is brushing against your clit and you really don't know what to think. "Hm, what do you say...want to give these horny nerds something interesting to jerk off to, princess?"

You shouldn’t agree, but you’re moaning before you know it, nodding as your cheeks explode with heat.

“That’s my babygirl - take this cock then,” he whispers to you, filthy and shameless, picking up the cigarette resting on the ashtray to draw slowly. Aemond slides his other hand up your thigh, stroking the soft lace of your stockings. “Fuck yourself on it until you cum,” he tells you, and only the sharp gaze locked on yours keeps you from rolling your eyes back in, not even the acrid puff of smoke near your face distracting you at this point. “Make me open you up, brat. Make my cock all sticky and heated with your pussy.”

He sounds so honest when he says it and yet so rough around the edges, like he’s punishing you somehow — though you don’t quite understand how yet.

Your fingers are shaking as you grip him by the base, lifting your hips to start thrusting him inside.

You keep it slow and steady, the first few inches aching and too tight as always; staring down between your bodies, his thick, glistening cock stretching you open as you suck him inside. He continues to smoke his cigarette leisurely, watching you from beneath one half-lidded eyelid, leaning back in the chair like a king as you work your pussy into him, inch by tight inch. Feeling the tremble of your thighs, the shiver in your body; those first few inches that always feel like he don’t fit, like you’re stretched too much, like you’re too small—

He runs his other hand down your side, down over the tightness of your stomach, hearing you gasp, moan at the stretch, the ache, the way he sinks deeper and deeper. Watching the heave of your breasts, the exasperated, rising intake of breath that turns into something else when your hips finally press against his. Buried so deep and thick inside your walls that he can’t hold back his own noise; hoarse and broken, escaping his lips along with a swirling hiss of cigarette smoke.

You exhale his name, the softest, shakiest Aemond — as your body inevitably begins to relax, as if it doesn’t matter the stretch, the pain, the depth…because just having him inside you, embedded so deeply, is exactly what it needs.

Your delicate palms rest on the broad planes of his chest and he sighs — his hips pulse inside you, just a small push upward, a small movement and you tense, a sharper noise falling from your lips. He tilts his head to the side with lazy interest, grinding his hips against yours again, enjoying the sounds that come from your mouth, the way it opens to suck in a garbled breath.

“You know, I never knew you had it in you, baby…an exhibitionist streak like that,” his heated murmur is dark and full of depraved promise. “I’ll give you that, though, you really know how to get a man’s attention.”

Your breathing is rapid despite your best efforts. He presses his palm to your throat, curling his fingers slowly, squeezing just enough to hear a small hiccup of inspiration, your toes curling against the sides of his thighs...

“Where’s that smart mouth now? My pretty baby girl’s gone so quiet all of a sudden.” He murmurs with a mischievous grin, clamping the cigarette between his teeth to grip your hips, pulling your body to his in obnoxiously slow undulations.

Even though it’s draped around his neck, the voices coming from the headset are still loud enough for both of you to hear; a cacophony of whistles and disbelieving laughter.

“Come on,” he says, picking up the cigarette again to toss it into the ashtray. He pulls you closer and wraps both hands around your hips, staring into your glassy eyes. “Go ahead and ride me.”

You bite your bottom lip, leaning more firmly against his chest as you begin to grind against his cock, little mewls escaping your lips, ass slapping rhythmically against his hips.

'Holy shit, are they really doing this?' Someone ask shrilly in the chat, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment — your movements stuttering for a moment. This — this wasn’t right, was it? You couldn’t just fuck while these strangers listened. This wasn’t right.

“Don’t stop,” Aemond growled, pulling your chin up so you could look him in the eye and see that he meant business. “Keep riding my cock like a good girl. Let them hear you. Let them fuck their own pathetic dicks while they listen to me fuck your pussy until you cry. Let them be so fucking envy of me, because I have the cutest and naughty girl in the world. Can you do this?”

You look up at him with beautiful doe eyes, lashes fluttering as you nod yes, leaning in to kiss him. Aemond takes you in immediately; soft, warm lips on yours, wet tongue sliding across yours and you taste cigarettes and mint gum. You moan louder as he plants his feet on the floor, thrusting up into you roughly, tangling his hand in your hair to keep you pressed against him even as the impact makes you bounce on his lap. It’s so damn hot in the room, the two of you electric and heated. Your whimpers and sobs grow louder and louder, matching the rhythm of your hips undulating more and more into his.

‘Oh shit, she sounds so fucking good…’ you barely hear the comment through his headset, eyes rolling back in pleasure with each deep thrust of his thick cock into your pussy.

"Yes, she does." Aemond hums, gripping your hips tighter, guiding you easily, and you feel yourself getting closer, but there’s something missing — an incentive to push you over the edge.

You rest a hand on his thigh, fisting the soft sweats of his pants, tilting your body and head back as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle. He watches you hungrily, leaning back in his chair — though he looks like he wants to jump on top of you. The purple and blue lights illuminate you both in a flattering, almost artistic way; highlighting his silver hair in that messy half-bun, the soft planes of your breasts, the definition of the muscles in his arms and abs — your pussy swallowing his cock with wet, greedy sounds…

Your hips roll at a feverish pace, the head of his cock slamming perfectly into your soft walls and you moan as the hand on your left hip moves slightly until he’s flicking his thumb over your clit.

Fuck yes. He knows you so well. 

“Oh f— fuck. You feel so good, you feel so good...” You mumble, hips moving faster, the chair audibly creaking with the force of your thrusts.

“Yeah? It must be really fucking good if you can barely wait a few hours before acting like a brat for that cock, huh?” Aemond runs his tongue over his teeth, taking his time to tease your clit as you bounce up and down, sending you a hooded, hungry look as he continues, “But I can’t deny that you look so cute when act like a little slut for me, when you let me use you however I want, drunk on my cock and hungry for cum like the good whore you are. I fucking love it. Come on, take me, fuck me, show me how much you want this.”

Moaning loudly, your widened knees nipping at his hips, you nearly come at those words alone — eyes rolling back with an open mouth.

“Greedy brat…”

“Y-your greedy brat—” 

“My brat.” He growls approvingly, thrusting his hips deep into yours, steadily building that tension in you again, knotting your belly.

Your head falls forward and you watch him smile and bite his lip as thrusts into you again and again and again. Your own hips struggle to keep up with his punishing pace, even though you’re the one on top. His thumb moves as ruthlessly as his cock — a quick, easy rhythm at times, a drastic shift into a languid thrust at others; a torturous pace that somehow wipes all thought from your eternally thoughtful brain.

By now, your mind is so clouded and focused on the pleasure he’s giving you that you no longer understand anything the other players are saying over the server chat. But you know they’re still there. A staticky blur of what sounds like compliments to you, declarations of envy to Aemond, and even a few muffled sounds of pleasure. None of it matters, though. Nothing but the man beneath you.

“That’s it, beautiful. Are you going to cum on my cock, baby?” He whispers, his voice thick with lust as you grind against him relentlessly, head thrown to the side and mouth open, letting sweet sounds fall from your lips.

You can feel the heat emanating from him, the intensity growing by the second.

“Aemond…so close…” You gasp, body shaking uncontrollably.

“Cum for me, baby…scream my name, let them know who’s fucking you, who’s the only one who can fuck you.” He demands, his cock and thumb never stopping their relentless assault on your most sensitive spots. Every inch up drags his cock against those nerves inside your walls. Every inch down keeps you full and exploding with him, there’s no release, no edge to be found, it’s just pleasure, cigarette smoke and the heat of his body.

"Aemond!"

You build so stellarly, so intensely, it almost feels like you’re building up in your mouth, that sticky, warm sweetness. The sensation burns behind your belly button, sinks between your hips, tingles in your pussy, pulses in your clit against your stomach, until your fingers are shaking, white and slick on his shoulders and his mouth is on your neck as you fall forward, writhing and moaning.

And still, he keeps working you, well past that limit, keeping you so full of him, so focused on him, that there’s nothing else in the world but his skin, his cock, his voice in your ear.

“That’s it, that’s it. Come on, pretty girl.”

And you do. Choked sobs into his skin. A toe-curling, thigh-trembling release, clenching around the thickness of his cock.

As he promised, tears flash in your eyes at the sheer intensity of this orgasm, and you sniff pathetically into his neck.

“Mmm, such a crybaby…” he scoffs, but still wraps his arms around your body, hugging you tightly as he pounds his hips into yours, panting wetly into your shoulder and neck. “You’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard with that cute little cry and that pussy squeezing my cock over and over…”

A strangled moan escapes your throat.

“Y-yes, please—inside Aem, cum inside me, please, I need it!” You can feel him shudder in response, his tip buried against your cervix.

“That’s my greedy girl.” There’s a ghost of a kiss on your neck. “I fucking love this, baby. I fucking love you.”

You sob and he thrusts into you again, his hips slamming into your thighs with so much impact you’re sure you’ll bruise. He grips you flush against his body, stopping inside you with one deep thrust, slowly spilling hot streams of thick cum into your pussy as he pants harshly in your ear. Your body feels like it’s vibrating, wracked and claimed.

You’re panting, chest rising and falling against his, bites and hickeys beginning to bloom across your exposed skin. You’re pleasantly gorged on his seed, high on the rush of endorphins and satisfaction that washes over you.

“Hey losers,” Aemond mumbles into the mic after a while, a ghost of a smile on his lips and a wicked glint in his eye, “try not to jerk off too much to the memory of this in the next few days.”

And before the chat can explode into a flurry of dirty comments and sharp retorts, he reaches over to end the call and close the game window.

You sigh wearily, distantly aware that he’s rising from his chair with you in his arms. You hold him tighter, face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent, and he nuzzles you back. And for a moment, you think he’s taking you to the bed or the bathroom, to clean you up. Your face scrunches up in sleepy confusion when he sets you down on his desk instead.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your swollen lips, smirking at you before he lowers himself. His tongue suddenly slides into your mouth and you accept it obediently, one of his hands running through your hair, pulling your head back, changing the angle of the kiss. Your mind is confused by the smell of him suffocating you in the best way, but before you can get too deep into it you feel him pulling away a few inches, enough to slide his cock out of your pussy.

You grunt a sound at this, but Aemond ignores, positioning himself better in front of you with a suspiciously amused glint in his eye - even though his other, mutilated and missing, lends him a look of constant danger.

“Spread your legs wide for me, baby.”

Even though you were suspicious about the meaning of that look, you did as he said, parting your legs slowly for his view.

“Why do you want to — oh ,” you close your mouth the moment you understand why he asked for it. Your cheeks burn as feel his hot cum slowly spurt from your pussy, dripping down between your thighs and onto his desk.

His gaze darkens until there’s nothing blue left in him, just that animalistic darkness and desire that makes your core throb with anticipation once more. You blink down at his hard cock - even after so much time together you’re still genuinely surprised at how long he could last.

You could have sworn he growled when you tried to close your legs, sending you a sharp, narrowed look before reaching his fingers down to your pussy, gathering the cum that was already on your thighs and pushing it back into your quivering entrance.

“A-Aemond, I don’t know if I can...if I can keep going with this—”

“Hmm...really?” He hums, lewdly watching his fingers sink into your pussy with an absolutely embarrassing squirting sound, his other hand casually stimulating his hardening cock with languid pumps. “But you tried so hard to get my attention before — a needy little slut on a mission...”

His voice is dangerously low, purring as he closes the distance between the two of you, a few strands of ice-blonde hair slick with sweat around his face.

“I really hope this bratty behavior of yours was worth it. Because you’re only leaving this fuckin room when I’m completely satisfied.”

And with that he pushes himself lazily to the hilt inside you once more, so slowly that you feel every veiny inch of his thick cock stretching you — pushing his cum into you again until your eyes roll back in your head.

Smooth and easy and relentless as he draws back to the tip and thrusts to the root, and then again, and then one broad hand is smoothing down your side and curling under one thigh to flick you up and open and the angle is so much better.

Aemond shivers with a guttural groan, nuzzling into the shell of your ear, and you sob again, so heated and so turned on by how completely your boyfriend has you wrapped around his fingers.

And oh yes. That was a phenomenal idea that certainly worth for you. And you can’t be humble about it — the credit is all yours.

Heat blooms in the center between your legs. You turn your head to the side, resting your sweaty temple against his. Your breath is shared between you, slow pumps of his cock into your sticky pussy.

“You bet it was worth.” You murmur, with a sugary little smile that is equal parts mischievous and shy.

Aemond snorts in amusement, though his brows are heavily slanted over his gaze, and he’s blinking at you hungrily, the way he weaves just a trace of fear into the lust that curls inside you, heavy as smoke.

“Greedy brat.”

And as you stand there; panting wetly against his lips, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, his thick cock inside your walls, his hands on your skin like an amalgam of possessiveness — welcoming his dark hunger like it’s your sole mission in life…

Yes, as you can already feel the slow burn of your orgasm building, tingling and warming you from the inside out, you think he might be right. You are a greedy brat.

But only for him.

Always for him.

[gf2bellamy]

hi loveee i have a new request for uuuu

another rlly simple and cute one where spencer just loves head scratches (no this is totally not based on me……) and he somehow exposes that to the whole team and it’s just some rlly cute thing (bonus points if they’re on the jet and at the end after all the teasing he just lays his head on reader’s lap and gets head scratches)

you can decide whether it’s pre or secret relationship :D

danke schön

- 🐚

headscratches — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of a case, just a tiny bit ( very tiny bit ) of angst, secret relationship a/n: hiiiiii 🐚 ! i totally get u i love head scratches too - thank you for ur request i hope you like this <3<3<3

Your feet barely carried you up the steps of the jet, every muscle in your body aching from the case.

It had been a grueling few days, little sleep, too much stress, and way too many hours spent chasing down leads. But at least it was over now. The case was closed, and you could finally breathe. Thankfully, your wonderful boyfriend had taken it upon himself to carry your bag, saving you from having to drag it up the stairs yourself. You barely managed to collapse into one of the seats by the window before Spencer stowed your things away and settled in beside you. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning your head to look at him. 

Spencer gave you a small smile, his eyes softening as he nodded. “Of course.” 

The two of you were alone on the jet, at least for now. The rest of the team was still wrapping things up , which meant you had a few rare, stolen moments of privacy. It was a relief, because no one on the team knew about your relationship. Keeping things under wraps was tricky, especially when you worked together every day, but moments like this made it worth it. Spencer leaned into you slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours. He always did that when you were alone, like some part of him just naturally gravitated toward you. Without thinking, you turned to your side reaching up and gently brushing a few strands of hair from his face.

His hair was always a little chaotic after a long case, messy curls falling into his eyes, and you had developed a habit of fixing it for him. He let out a quiet breath at your touch, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he relaxed against you. 

“You okay?” you asked, your voice softer now.

Spencer gave a small nod, offering you a gentle smile. “I’m okay,” he murmured. Then, tilting his head slightly, he asked, “Are you?” You nodded, and before you could say anything else, his hand found your knee, his touch light as his fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns.

But the moment didn’t last long.

The voices of your team filled the jet, breaking the moment, and as soon as Spencer heard them, his hand slipped away. Like it had never been there at all.Spencer immediately reached for his satchel, pulling out a book as if he had been reading the entire time. You turned your gaze toward the window, pretending to be lost in thought.

It wasn’t long before Emily and Derek flopped into the seats across from you. “I can’t wait to get home to Sergio,” Emily sighed, stretching out in her seat. 

Derek chuckled. “That cat’s got you wrapped around his little paw.” 

You turned toward her, curiosity piqued. “How is he?” 

Emily waved a hand. “Same as always. Demanding, dramatic, and somehow convinced he’s royalty.” She rolled her eyes fondly before adding, “Lately, he’s been obsessed with head scratches. I swear, if I even walk past the couch, he flops over immediately demanding them." 

You laughed. “Sounds about right for a cat.” 

Emily shook her head. “I don’t get it. What’s so great about them? He acts like it’s the greatest thing in the world.” 

Before you could reply, Spencer, who had been silent up until now, lowered his book to his lap and spoke. “Head scratches are scientifically proven to reduce stress and increase oxytocin levels,” he stated matter-of-factly. “The repetitive motion stimulates nerve endings in the scalp, which can trigger a relaxation response. It’s also associated with bonding, which is why many social animals, including humans, find it soothing. It's quite comforting.” 

It took a second for the weight of his words to register. Then, as if on cue, all three of you turned to look at him. 

Spencer blinked, his lips parting slightly as he realized his mistake. His book was still open in his lap, but he suddenly seemed much more interested in the stitching of the pages than the words on them. 

Derek’s grin spread slow and wide. “Wait a minute…” 

Emily gasped. “Oh my god.” 

You barely held back a smile, eyes locked on Spencer as the tips of his ears turned a shade of pink. He opened his mouth, probably to backpedal, but it was already too late. 

Derek leaned forward, resting his arms on the table infront of him as he grinned. “Are you telling me you like head scratches ? ” 

Spencer quickly looked down, flipping a page in his book despite very clearly not reading it. “I was simply stating a scientific fact.” 

Emily wasn’t letting it go. “Oh no, no, no. That was way too specific.” 

Derek laughed loudly, leaning forward with a wicked grin as he reached out and ruffled Spencer’s curls. Spencer immediately jerked back, his entire body tensing as he shot Derek a horrified glare. He hastily smoothed down his hair, his blush deepening. 

Derek, of course, looked way too pleased with himself. “Oh, come on, I had to test the theory,” he teased, shaking his head. “And judging by that reaction, I’d say someone is pretty damn picky about where his head scratches come from.” 

Emily laughed, clearly entertained by the discovery. “Seems like he doesn’t like it when you do it,” she pointed out, eyes flicking between the two of them with amusement. 

Derek leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Yeah, I noticed. Interesting.” 

Spencer huffed, flipping a page in his book with a little too much force. “It’s not that interesting,” he muttered, keeping his gaze stubbornly locked on the text. 

You smiled to yourself at Spencer’s embarrassed form, watching the way he kept his head down, pretending to be deeply engrossed in the book in his lap. You knew better, of course. You knew Spencer liked head scratches, most of your evenings together looked exactly like that. Him stretched across the couch, head resting in your lap, curls slipping through your fingers as he read.

Emily, still watching you, narrowed her eyes slightly before shifting her gaze to Derek. The two of them exchanged a look, one of those silent conversations that meant absolutely nothing good. 

“Reid,” Emily drawled, her grin widening, “do you only like head scratches coming from certain people?” 

Spencer slowly looked up from his book, suspicion evident in the way he narrowed his eyes. “What?” 

Derek smirked. “You heard Prentiss.” He leaned forward. “Do you only like head scratches when they’re from her?” 

You turned toward them, blinking. Wait, what? It was a known fact that the two of you were close. If someone was looking for Spencer, they usually found him with you. If you were missing from the bullpen, Spencer always knew exactly where you were. And everyone on the team knew he wasn’t a particularly touchy person, except with you. What they didn’t know was why. What they didn’t know was that this wasn’t just friendship.  

And now, you were all sitting on the jet, the team watching way too closely, Spencer’s ears burning bright red as Derek and Emily smirked. Spencer cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “That’s—” He hesitated, eyes flickering to you for just a second before looking back at his book. “That’s not relevant.” 

Emily gasped. “Oh my god,” she whispered, turning to Derek, “that was not a denial.” 

Derek grinned. “Nope, not at all.” 

Spencer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is ridiculous.” 

You pressed your lips together, trying so hard not to laugh. 

Emily tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So, hypothetically, if someone else did it…” 

Spencer shot her a sharp glare. “Hypothetically, they wouldn’t.” 

Derek laughed, pointing at him. “Oh yeah. That’s so an exclusive privilege.” He turned to you, grinning. “Man, you must be special.” 

You shrugged, playing it cool despite the warmth creeping up your neck. “I guess I just have the magic touch.” 

Spencer exhaled sharply, closing his book. He turned to you, eyes soft but exasperated. “Are you enjoying this?” 

"Maybe." You shrugged your shoulders as you gave him a teasing smile.

Spencer shook his head, feigning disappointment, but you knew better. He was never disappointed in you.You smiled softly, and out of habit, reached up to brush his hair out of his face. His eyes flickered shut for a moment, just barely, before reopening with a look that was almost a warning. A silent, don’t push your luck. But you were in the mood to tease. 

To your luck, Derek was already slipping his headphones on, and Emily had her eyes closed, arms crossed as she settled into her seat. The sound of the jet covered the small shuffle of movement as you let your fingers slip back into Spencer’s curls. 

His breath hitched, and you felt him tense, just for a second, before melting like he always did. You bit back a grin as your nails gently scratched against his scalp, moving in slow, soothing circles. Spencer exhaled, the tension in his shoulders draining as his eyes fluttered shut again. His grip on his book loosened slightly. 

You loved how easy it was, how little effort it took to make him relax. 

His head dipped slightly, unconsciously leaning into your touch, and you took the opportunity to gently guide him down. Your hand pressed lightly to the back of his head, tilting him so that his cheek brushed against your shoulder. For a moment, he resisted,before giving in entirely. You kept scratching lightly, feeling the way his body settled beside you. Your fingers threaded through his curls as he let out the softest sigh. You smiled, pressing your cheek lightly against the top of his head. 

Spencer Reid, the most brilliant mind you had ever known, was undone by something as simple as your fingers in his hair. And you loved it. Your eyes drifted shut, fingers still moving in slow, rhythmic motions through Spencer’s hair. His soft curls tickled your cheek as you rested your head against his.

But you didn't notice the way Derek and Emily were now watching the two of you like hawks.  Derek, one side of the headphone pushed back , slowly raised an eyebrow as he exchanged a look with Emily. She barely suppressed a grin, tilting her head slightly, as if to say, Are you seeing this? Oh, he was definitely seeing this. 

They had their theories, of course. The team had always suspected there was more to you and Spencer than just friendship. It was the little things, the way he only let you touch him so easily, the way you always knew how to get him out of his head when no one else could, the way he looked at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky. 

Now, with Spencer completely nestled against you, his head tucked against your shoulder, your fingers threading through his curls that could only come from familiarity?  Yeah. Their theories had just been confirmed. 

Derek smirked, leaning closer to Emily. “Told you.” 

Emily scoffed, but the amusement in her eyes was unmistakable. “You didn’t tell me anything, Morgan. We both knew.” 

Derek chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Man, they really thought they were being sneaky.” 

Emily grinned. “Should we say something?” 

Derek considered it for a moment, watching as your fingers absentmindedly combed through Spencer’s hair, his entire body visibly at ease. He let out a small laugh. “No. Let them have their moment.”  For now, at least. Because later? 

Oh, they were absolutely going to tease the hell out of you both. 

[theambitiouswoman]

How To Become A Brand New Person ✨✨

Self Reflect:

Journal daily.

Think about past decisions and how they impacted your life.

Meditate regularly.

Create a vision board to visualize your goals.

Review your strengths and weaknesses.

Identify your core values and beliefs.

Figure out your passions and interests.

Think about your childhood dreams and aspirations.

Evaluate your current state of happiness and fulfillment.

Set Clear Goals:

Define specific career goals, like "Get promoted within two years."

Set health goals, like "Lose 20 pounds in six months."

Create financial goals such as "Save $10,000 for a vacation."

Establish personal development goals, like "Read 24 books in a year."

Set relationship goals, such as "Improve communication with my partner."

Define education goals, like "Complete a master's degree in three years."

Set travel goals, like "Visit five new countries in the next two years."

Create hobbies and interests goals, such as "Learn to play a musical instrument."

Set community or volunteer goals, like "Volunteer 100 hours this year."

Establish mindfulness or self-care goals, such as "Practice meditation daily."

Self Care:

Exercise for at least 30 minutes a day.

Follow a balanced diet with plenty of fruits and vegetables.

Prioritize getting 7-9 hours of quality sleep each night.

Practice in relaxation techniques like deep breathing or yoga.

Take regular breaks at work to avoid burnout.

Schedule "me time" for activities you enjoy.

Limit exposure to stressors and toxic people.

Practice regular skincare and grooming routines.

Seek regular medical check-ups and screenings.

Stay hydrated by drinking enough water daily.

Personal Development:

Read a book every month from various genres.

Attend workshops or seminars on topics of interest.

Learn a new language or musical instrument.

Take online courses to acquire new skills.

Set aside time for daily reflection and self improvement.

Seek a mentor in your field for guidance.

Attend conferences and networking events.

Start a side project or hobby to expand your abilities.

Practice public speaking or communication skills.

Do creative activities like painting, writing, or photography.

Create a Support System:

Build a close knit group of friends who uplift and inspire you.

Join clubs or organizations aligned with your interests.

Connect with a mentor or life coach.

Attend family gatherings to maintain bonds.

Be open and honest in your communication with loved ones.

Seek advice from trusted colleagues or supervisors.

Attend support groups for specific challenges (e.g., addiction recovery).

Cultivate online connections through social media.

Find a therapist or counselor for emotional support.

Participate in community or volunteer activities to meet like minded people.

Change Habits:

Cut back on sugary or processed foods.

Reduce screen time and increase physical activity.

Practice gratitude by keeping a daily journal.

Manage stress through mindfulness meditation.

Limit procrastination by setting specific deadlines.

Reduce negative self-talk by practicing self-compassion.

Establish a regular exercise routine.

Create a budget and stick to it.

Develop a morning and evening routine for consistency.

Overcome Fear and Self Doubt:

Face a specific fear head-on (example: public speaking).

Challenge your negative thoughts with positive affirmations.

Seek therapy to address underlying fears or traumas.

Take small, calculated risks to build confidence.

Visualize success in challenging situations.

Surround yourself with supportive and encouraging people.

Journal about your fears and doubts to gain clarity.

Celebrate your accomplishments, no matter how small.

Focus on your strengths and accomplishments.

Embrace failure as a valuable learning experience.

Embrace Change:

Relocate to a new city or country.

Switch careers or industries to pursue your passion.

Take on leadership roles in your workplace.

Volunteer for projects outside your comfort zone.

Embrace new technologies and digital tools.

Travel to unfamiliar destinations.

Start a new hobby or creative endeavor.

Change your daily routine to add variety.

Adjust your mindset to see change as an opportunity.

Seek out diverse perspectives and viewpoints.

Practice Gratitude:

Write down three things you're grateful for each day.

Express gratitude to loved ones regularly.

Create a gratitude jar and add notes of appreciation.

Reflect on the positive aspects of challenging situations.

Show gratitude by volunteering or helping others in need.

Send thank-you notes or messages to people who've helped you.

Keep a gratitude journal and review it regularly.

Share your gratitude openly during family meals or gatherings.

Focus on the present moment and appreciate the little things.

Practice gratitude even in times of adversity.

Be Patient:

Set realistic expectations for your progress.

Accept that personal growth takes time.

Focus on the journey rather than the destination.

Learn from setbacks and view them as opportunities to improve.

Celebrate small milestones along the way.

Practice self-compassion during challenging times.

Stay committed to your goals, even when progress is slow.

Keep a journal to track your personal growth.

Recognize that patience is a valuable skill in personal transformation.

Celebrate Small Wins:

Treat yourself to your favorite meal or dessert.

Reward yourself with a spa day or self-care activity.

Share your achievements with friends and loved ones.

Create a vision board to visualize your successes.

Acknowledge and congratulate yourself in a journal.

Give yourself permission to take a break and relax.

Display reminders of your accomplishments in your workspace.

Take a day off to celebrate a major milestone.

Host a small gathering to mark your achievements.

Set aside time to reflect on how far you've come.

Maintain Balance:

Set clear boundaries in your personal and work life.

Prioritize self care activities in your daily routine.

Schedule regular breaks and downtime.

Learn to say "no" when necessary to avoid overcommitment.

Evaluate your work life balance regularly.

Seek support from friends and family to avoid burnout.

Be kind to yourself and accept imperfections.

Practice mindfulness to stay present and grounded.

Revisit your priorities and adjust them as needed.

Embrace self love and self acceptance as part of your daily life.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I saw your answer to the person going to college soon and really appreciated what you wrote. But I wanted to propose a counterpoint to what you said about credit cards. Unfortunately, the US is based on credit and if you ever need to get a loan for a house or a car, having an established history of good credit means you will be able to get better rates or even get a loan at all. One way to have good credit is to have a credit limit available and paying any charges off in full every month. So if you can, get a credit card with no fees (usually you can get one through your bank) and treat it like a debit card. Only spend money you actually have in your account and pay it off at least once a month. You can even set up auto pay if you’re worried about forgetting. But the important thing is to only ever spend the money you currently have. Not money you will have tomorrow or next week or later today. Right now. Paying off your credit card in full each time shows lenders that you can be trusted. Even if you put just one small charge a month on the credit card, having a credit limit and paying off the monthly bill is important.

This makes sense logically, but one has to be brutally honest with their spending tendencies, and the "just once won't hurt" slippery slope. Throw in all the other stresses of college and it's a recipe for disaster for most people.

For a first card, you can build credit with a secured card or one with a very small limit, until you work out what kind of credit card user you actually are. But even then, tread with extreme caution and the full humility that you will not be as financially clever/responsible as you think you will be. Don't fear credit, but be aware of the dangers that come with poor budgeting.

A college student does not need a card with a big limit and very often not a card at all. A college student going in with a fixed income such as a financial aid stipend and no paychecks should pass on a card until they have some sort of regular inflow of money. Credit card companies are inherently predatory, no matter how enticing their cashback/points programs seem.

I am speaking from very brutal experience, both in myself and others. Too many people in hindsight admit they didn't have the financial literacy in college to understand the ramifications of their student loans, and credit cards are just an extension of that. Most Americans carry pretty bad unsecured debt.

When in doubt, just wait to get a card. Err on the side of caution because those 4 years of credit history are not worth it if you don't have experience budgeting or don't have the backup income to treat cards like debit. As for budgeting, learning a "zero/every dollar" or "envelope" system is a great way to see where your money goes and builds good habits.

Your credit report doesn't track payments per se -- it tracks if a payment was *missed* and how late it was (30/60/90 days). That is a very important distinction. You need to use a card less than you think for a good credit score.

You do not need to regularly use the card or carry a balance to build credit -- you need an active account with a good debt-to-income ratio. Yes, to be an active account, the card will need some semi-regular use.

If you want to start an early credit history (you expect to rent a home/apartment right out of college), again, get that $100 low-limit card, stick your Netflix sub on it, then lock it away. Don't put bigger expenses on a card and don't apply for limit increases until you figure out your budget and habits. Get in the habit of requesting and reviewing your annual credit report from the Big 3 credit bureaus - Equifax, Experian, and TransUnion.

Also, as long as you have 100% on-time payments, low inquires, no derogatory remarks, no new credit lines in the past year, and a good debt-to-income ratio, the age of your credit is not that big a factor for loan worthiness - I got a home loan at age 46 with a rebooted credit age of less than 4 years. (I destroyed my credit when younger and lived debit/cash-only from 2008-2019 and got approved for a $350k house in 2023 with the 800 credit score I managed to build in a short time.)

Tldr; I feel it necessary to be honest with a typical 18 year old's financial literacy. Good credit habits begin with good budgeting and that credit card company with their little booth of swag in the student union does not have your future homeownership worthiness in mind. I obviously have a nuanced opinion, but my gut advice is going to continue to be "it's rarely a good idea to get a credit card right out of the gate".

[monster-effer]

Could I request head canon where the LADS guys find out reader/mc smokes? It’s a bad habit but she’s trying to stop 🙈🙈

Absolutely! Here you go <3

Sylus

You are taking a smoke break on your balcony after a very stressful mission. And Mephisto is doing his daily surveillance of you and your apartment building. When he gets enough footage of your new smoking habit, he reports back to Sylus.

After he’s informed, Sylus gives you a call “You know, smoking is a very unhealthy habit kitten.”

“How do you know that I smoke?”

“A little birdie told me.”

From then on, when you buy a carton of cigarettes they mysteriously go missing from your balcony, living room table and even from your purse?!?

Sylus arranges the periodic delivery of nicotine gum to your apartment for 2 months straight.

He also makes more of an effort to reach out to you. Both you and Sylus have busy schedules, but he always will make room in his schedule for you.

After a few months of these shenanigans you realize that you haven’t smoked in a while. Your craving for cigarettes has diminished to almost nothing. And even when you do feel that urge, you don’t hesitate to call Sylus. Because you know he will always be there for you.

Caleb

After the explosion where you assumed both Caleb and granny passed away you were emotionally in shambles. But you are a hunter now and it is your responsibility to protect the public from wanderers and wrong doers alike. In effort to suppress your emotions you picked up a bad habit, which happened to be smoking. It began with you trying out a cigarette one day, then it evolved into you going through one carton per week.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over losing Caleb and your grandma in one fell swoop. But when he makes his way back into your life you are shook to say the least. You really want to kick your smoking habit mainly because you don’t want Caleb to find out about it. But it has a hold on you now.

Since you’ve been spending time at Caleb’s Skyhaven apartment you tend to leave things behind. One time, you leave behind a lone cigarette which leads to Caleb discovering your new habit.

Caleb does not hesitate to confront you about it “Princess is this really a habit conducive to being a hunter? And…what if something happens to you? I don’t know what I’d do if you developed cancer from this.”

Once you two have a heart to heart about why you started smoking, Caleb starts to take advantage of the amount of leave afforded to him from the from the DAA. He is spending more quality time with you after work and on the weekends to make sure you don’t have to resort to smoking when you’re feeling down.

He purchases out an old gaming system so you two can play co-op games together like you did in your childhood. He cooks you whatever meal you request to keep you happy and well fed.

You start to spend more time at his Skyhaven apartment than your own. One day while you lounge in the living room and Caleb cooks in the kitchen, the sudden realization that you haven’t even thought about smoking in weeks pops into your mind. You don’t know how to thank Caleb for helping you break this habit. But what you do know is from today forward, you no longer need to fill the void in your heart with cigarettes because you have him.

Zayne

He majorly disapproves of your smoking habit. He goes straight into doctor mode and lectures you on the multiple risks that come with smoking including:

Slowed wound healing Cancer risk Increased risks of heart disease and stroke Osteoporosis COPD

He gives you tips on quitting like sucking on hard candy, chewing gum or eating fruit when you feel that urge. He frequently goes on walks with you to reduce your stress because you started smoking due to your heavy work schedule as a hunter.

He helps keep you accountable by checking the ash tray at your home for any evidence of smoking and offering to test you for smoking when you come in for annual doctor visits.

Although his approach may seem strict, your health and wellbeing means the world to him. You are the love of his life and he wants you to be healthy.

Xavier

Since he lives a floor above you he is on his balcony one evening and looks down to see you smoking a cigarette. Xavier is surprised because he’s never noticed this habit of yours.

To confirm that this wasn’t his tired mind playing tricks on him he decides to spy on you some more. Over the next 3 weeks Xavier makes it a habit to peak down towards your balcony. And so far he’s seen witnessed you smoking 3 times a week, at minimum.

He softly brings it up to you as you two laze around on your couch after a session of stuffing your faces together.

“So…when did you become a smoker?”

You feel a bit ashamed because you’ve been trying hard to break this habit. But you won’t lie to him.

“Honestly, I picked up the habit one day after a stressful mission. And I’ve been smoking ever since.”

Xavier tilts his head to the side as he listens to your explanation. “If I can help you relieve stress in a different way, will you give up cigarettes?”

You look towards Xavier in confusion. His beautiful cerulean eyes have darkened like they do when he is feeling lustful. Your breath hitches in your throat at what he’s suggesting.

“Hmm I’m not sure. Why don’t we try it out a few times to see if it helps,” you reply cheekily.

By the time Xavier is done with you, you are worn out and noticeably less stressed. This just may work, and if it doesn’t, you’re going to enjoy trying.

Rafayel

When Rafayel finds out that you smoke cigarettes he is surprised about it. But that surprise morphs into concerns for your health. He broaches the topic by saying “Ms. Bodyguard, how can I expect you to protect me if you start wheezing during cardio because you smoke cigarettes?”

When that teasing remark doesn’t seem to get through to you, he brings out the big guns. He begins to pout and gives you puppy dog eyes. “What would Reddie think?”

After you two talked about why you started smoking and what it does for you, Rafayel makes it his mission to pester you (with love) more than usual.

text: [pic] Here’s a pic of Reddie, he says he hopes you’ve been smoke free today.

“Hey, I was in the neighborhood and I decided to drop off some nicotine gum.”

“Why am I here? You texted me about how stressed you are. So I will be your personal masseuse for the evening.”

text: EMERGENCY, COME ASAP. You arrive at his home just to find out that Rafayel wanted your opinion on his most recent painting and wanted to get seafood together.

You’re enjoying the increased quality time with Rafayel and although it pains you to admit it, it has been helping. You have not had the time nor energy to think of let alone go out to buy cigarettes since you confided in him about your smoking habit. Both him and Reddie are your little family and you wouldn’t change it for the world.