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#Poise design
jessamine-rose · 28 days
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*lovingly tackles Aine*
Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽`)
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Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—
*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3
#feedback#fan art#ainescribe#AIIINE ;-; once again. thank you so much!! it rlly means a lot to me that you enjoyed my writing and felt inspired to draw this :'>#and as someone who loves fashion and character design. it's so so interesting to analyze your version of savior#there's so much symbolism and visual storytelling in each sketch/ outfit and i shall now proceed to pick apart each detail as best as i can#her snezhnayan fit.....god i love it. it's regal. distinctively snezhnayan. and draws attention to her--and you just know that was pierro's#intention when he dressed her in those garments. IT'S JUST SO...!! savior's wardrobe scrubbed clean of her original culture and preferences#replaced with the foreign garments of her captor's nations.....in line with this. i love how her kokoshnik and khaenri'ahn earrings are big#and attention-grabbing. you can't look at her without taking note of those accessories. it begs the question:: how many times has savior#looked at the mirror after being dressed up in snezhnaya and was unable to recognize her own reflection?? :'>#also shoutout to some details aine shared with me: 1) the face marks are inspired by weeping angels 2) the kokoshnik was traditionally worn#by married noblewomen BUT the veil was normally for unmarried women so savior's outfit can be seen as a form of compliance + rebellion#(though later on in history it became accepted for married women to also wear that veil. also my apologies if what i said is inaccurate)#lastly shoutout to savior's expression!! very poised and mysterious....due to her emotional state or pierro's rules on how to act as his#spouse in public?? we'll never know~ the first drawing hits even harder when you compare it to the next one!! such an interesting contrast~#savior in her plain attire. casual and domestic with a smile on her face....i'm guessing this is her pre-fatui version?? she looks so warm#and friendly. and i can definitely understand why pierro fell for her smile <3#also i fucking love the caption. sorry pierro but you are cursed to be a loser/ simp/ pathetic man in all of my fics and AUs xD#NOW ONTO GODDESS! SAVIOR AAAHHHH!! i love the greek goddess motifs. she looks so regal and awe-inspiring but in a different way from her#snezhnayan attire--archaic. divine. and more suited to her personal style.....yet both versions of her look so painfully isolated :'>#her blank eyes. emotionless face. and veil give me the vibes of a spooky victorian ghost...or would a statue/ portrait be more fitting??#the lack of a necklace is also an interesting design choice given what happens in the fic. and now i realized i forgot to comment on your#version of her snezhnayan necklace oops. similar to the kokoshnik and earrings. the size + grandeur makes it impossible to ignore#that and big jewels = expensive af. ohhh and i love the sparkles on her veil!! pierro rlly spared no expense in dressing up his wifey <3#it's also funny how all of these outfits are similar to my own version in terms of 'savior wore grand clothing during her glory days as a#goddess -> wore simple attire after her decline for practicality and to blend in with humans/ disassociate from her old identity -> is now#dressed in even grander clothing as the harbinger's spouse. but it's used to reinforce her new identity and pierro's control over her'#tldr:: your design is so creative and i can see the effort you put in analyzing her character and depicting her based on your interpretatio#thank you for being my mutual + reader and i hope we can share even more harbinger/darling brainrot in the future :>
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portalmonsterrr · 2 years
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Your family au Kaveh has a kind of “I am an amazing business mom on the outside but on the inside I wish I was at home in sweats drinking wine with my husband” energy. I don’t know why though.
wdym this is spot on
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kakusboyfriend · 11 months
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Every time you draw frieza traditionally masculine with a defined square jawline an angel dies btw
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penguino713 · 1 year
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We have sufficient strenght to support the misfortunes of others.
I’ve had a vision for this in my head for so long, and finally, right as my Pathology studies are reaching their peak, I managed to put this vision down. I think it’s time to pay Pathologic a visit once again (playing a doctor is much nicer than studying to become one)
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the-punforgiven · 1 year
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Man why do I keep seeing people shitting on the Great Mace that weapon fucks severely
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arx-aru · 2 months
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i play ds3 again for just a few hours and my ability to dodge in elden ring is dead. dead faster than the crestfallen character. faster than lautrec on his little cliff. faster than the bkh knight. tarnation
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craftystampin · 3 months
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You Can Create It - International Challenge & Inspiration - June 2024
You Can Create It I’m so excited to be part of the international “You Can Create It!” group of Stampin’ Up! demonstrators.  The group was started by German demonstrators Anja Luft and Heike Fallwickl as a challenge to see what different and beautiful projects can be created from the same list of just a few materials. Every trimester there are 4 monthly envelopes plus an extras envelope.  Each…
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arminsumi · 1 year
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ADULT STORE
↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader
"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense."
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1.5k words
Pt. 2
Summary : product testing with the helpful employee at the adult store!
Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content : using toys, stranger/hookup sex, softdom!Geto, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, sex fantasy trope (sex with the adult store employee)
Note : i haven't made a trip to the adult store in ages bc... everything i want is so expensive lol (the struggle) 😭 i have some rlly funny adult store stories i could ramble about but i will refrain ✋ anyways, indulge yourselves in this fantasy, angels! 😈
Playme : wanna know what it's like?
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The gate of the store buzzes, the employee watches you open it with a clink and enter the adult store. Your eyes flood with the overwhelming sight of wall-to-wall toys.
The smooth voice of the employee comes from behind the cash register.
"Yo."
Long hair. Dark, brooding look — almost gothic. Attractive hands with pronounced veins running over the back of them, poised on the countertop which he's lazing over.
He sees you and slowly straightens out his back out to impress you with his height.
"Ah, h-hello..."
He hears you stutter, and assumes it must be your first time in an adult store.
"First time? I mean, in an adult store, that is." he breaks the ice.
"Haha, y-yeah... yeah, it's my first time."
Yeah, that's what I thought.
He holds hard and deep eye contact with you. Yes, he's aware of how intensely he stares. He's doing it on purpose.
"Would you like some assistance, or do you just want to leisurely browse by yourself?"
His tone is so friendly, it doesn't let on to how heated his abdomen is getting at the sight of you.
"Yes, please, I'd appreciate your assistance."
Aw, of course.
"M'kay... then let me assist you."
He smoothly comes out from behind the counter and the two of you stand in front of a wall of toys.
"Overwhelmed?" he chuckles, noting how your eyes widen while looking at all the products. "I know there's a lot to choose from. But just focus on your needs. What do you need?"
"What do I need? Honestly, I have no idea what I need." you laugh nervously.
I know exactly what she needs...
"Well, why don't we carefully go through the products together? I'm sure I can figure out what you need. Promise I know my stuff. I've been working here for three years."
His nonchalance and professionalism puts you at ease. It's something he prides himself on: making customers feel relaxed.
Your eye catches on a pink dildo, so he takes it off the rack to show you up close.
"This one's good, it's got a ribbed design." he shows it off. "Are you looking for just penetration or clitoral stimulation?"
Aw, she's flustered.
"Uh, both I guess? Yeah. I'd love both."
Of course you'd love both. That's what you need, pretty girl.
"Both? Come over here. Let me show you something you might like."
There's a flirty tension between the two of you that just keeps getting more and more... intense.
He plucks a curvy vibrator. It looks expensive. Because it is expensive.
"This one's got ten functions—"
"—ten?! Sounds a bit extra."
"Nothing's too extra when it comes to your personal pleasure."
The two of you share a long look, then laugh.
"But it really is an excellent product."
"Are you advertising?" you joke teasingly.
"Absolutely." he jokes, "Kidding. I'm not trying to come across as a preachy marketer or something. I've used it with partners in the past, that's why I'm recommending it; I know it's good. It's a pretty intense toy. Helps girls squirt even if they think they can't."
I could make her squirt.
He's running his eyes up and down your body.
"Is that so...?" you mumble flirtatiously, eyeing out the product in his veiny, manly hands.
"Hm, still a skeptic? Because I'm sure I could please you."
He hopes that you note his deliberate use of 'I' and not 'it' there.
"Yeah. I'm sure you could please me, too." you flirt.
A heat erupts in his abdomen and stomach.
Oh wow... now she's really flirting, huh? Why'd I wear tight pants today of all days...
He has an unwavering gaze on you. You've captivated him. Put him in some kinda horny trance.
"Did I say me? Sorry. Slip of the tongue." he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "I meant the vibrator." he obviously lies.
You and him exchange a suggestive, longing look. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to get stuffed up and pleasured.
He hesitates before speaking again, as if he's scared of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable.
"If you want to... we could test it out together?" he suggests. His nonchalance is an act, really he's so nervous when he asks this.
"I'd love to..." you consent, and he doesn't miss the erotic excitement in your tone.
He nods towards the backdoor, eyes keeping on you and your cute little body that he just wants to feel and squeeze like a toy itself.
"Promise to keep your lips sealed about this? I don't wanna get fired for uh... you know... demonstrating products... to my pretty customer."
"Only if you promise to help me squirt for the first time."
Oh wow. Fuck. I'm hard.
His lips widen into a devilish grin. "Sure thing."
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After a sloppy, desperate make out with this stranger, you find yourself sat on the couch in the breakroom. Door locked. Blinds shuttered closed. Legs spread wide to his liking, as he cushions the vibrator into your plush slit.
He's rubbing it slowly up and down your folds. He watches your reactions intently, breathing heavier at the sight of your pussy squishing under the pink dildo. The buzzing sound fills the room, but your moans are louder.
He clutches the toy gently, massaging the bulbous head into your clit with sweeping circular motions.
"F-fuck... that pretty clit feels good, doesn't it? Yeah? Let's get it feeling even better."
He turns it up a notch. It buzzes harder against your sensitive nub.
"How's that? Haha, yeah, intense, isn't it?
"Yeahhh — Fuck! Ohhh that's so good, that's so — oh my goddd fuckkk. S-sorry I think... I'm gonna cummm — !!"
"It's okay. Cum as hard as you can, yeah? I want you to get a good idea of how well this toy can pleasure you before you buy it, after all. Oh there we go... just let go and... f-fuck... wow... j-just cum like that. Fuck... that pretty clit feels so good now, huh? Gonna cum? Gonna cum for me, with a vibrator on your cunt?"
He takes note of your reaction to his dirty talk and smirks. Then he slyly turns the toy's setting higher and it buzzes more intensely, and in one... two... three... seconds, you're squirting like crazy all over the pink vibrator and his hand.
Holy shit, look at that pretty pussy gushing... she could drench my dick. I wanna be inside her so fucking baddd...
"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense." he regains his professional tone after you cum.
He turns the toy off and watches you come down from your shaking orgasm, smug look on his face. He keeps it clutched in his veiny hand, and brings it up to his lips to suck and lick up all your juices from it.
She tastes so fucking good... I feel dizzy.
You watch him with wide eyes as he tastes your slick off the toy.
"F-fuck... wh-what did you s-s-say your name was again?" you stutter, starstruck by this stranger.
You're so fucking dizzy, your pussy is buzzing like it still feels the intensity of the toy against it.
"Hm, wanna know my name?" he smiles teasingly, "How about you cum on my face and then I'll tell you."
"Fuck, okay."
And then as soon as you give him permission, he's hungrily diving between your thighs.
"Oh my god..." he loves how you gasp and writhe under the influence of his mouth.
Let's see how fucked-out I can get her. Wanna see her lose her mind 'cause of me.
His lips latch onto your labia and suckle, then onto your clit. He points his tongue at your clit, then oh my god flattens it and laps at your bud while suckling. His softness shows a hint to tenderness in his personality; he really knows how to treat a woman well.
This stranger spoils your pussy with his tongue and lips. He seems to be in his own little world while nosing between your thighs. He carelessly gets your juices smeared across his cheek and lets the rest dribble down his chin.
"Fuck fuck fuck — like that, like that. Don't stop don't stop — !! 'm gonna cum! G-gonna — fffffffucking cummmm ahhhhh — !!"
He flicks the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, eager to make your pussy freak out on his mouth. Just before you cum he slips two fingers into your hole, middle and ring, and pumps them into a sweet spot hard. He just wants to get an idea of the feeling of your pussy when it cums.
Suckling at your clit, fingering you with nice hard rough strokes, closing his eyes like he's the one enjoying it meanwhile he's silent and you're moaning like you're going insane. He can tell you're close and speeds it up.
"Cum cum cum, cum for me. Just let go and cum." he sounds so desperate, and that professional tone of his is finally cracking. "Cum on my fucking face, please."
And he dives his tongue right back into your hole, wriggling his tongue around, resulting in the nastiest wet squelching sound. His lips press flat against your pussy, he draws in a deep breath and your heat is all he smells.
Please cum on my face. Please please please.
"Ah! Fuck! Fuckkkk!"
You gush right on his lips, which are plump and swollen and red and glistening with your slick.
He pulls away and licks his lips and tells you his name.
"Suguru, by the way. My name's Suguru. Hey... can I give you my number?"
Oh he's so smooth. But he's even smoother at the checkout, when he asks if you're free this Friday for a date. At his apartment. With the company of some of his favorite toys.
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© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
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pioneerdevs · 1 year
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A minimalistic lotus flower wallpaper with a monochromatic color scheme, emphasizing the purity and simplicity of the lotus against a dark background.
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willqraharn · 1 year
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Dining Room New York Example of a mid-sized cottage marble floor great room design with white walls and no fireplace
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electronalytics · 1 year
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Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer Market Analysis Key Trends, Outlook, Research to 2032
Overview of the Market:
Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer Market Overview: The solar microinverter and power optimizer market is an important segment within the solar energy industry. These technologies play a vital role in optimizing the performance and efficiency of solar photovoltaic (PV) systems by managing the power output of individual solar panels. They enable higher energy yields, improved system monitoring, and increased flexibility in solar system design and installation.
The solar microinverter and power optimizer market size crossed USD 4.3 billion in 2022 and is poised to witness 13.5% CAGR from 2023 to 2032.
Promising Growth and Demand: The solar microinverter and power optimizer market has experienced significant growth in recent years, driven by several factors. The increasing adoption of solar energy as a renewable and sustainable power source, along with declining costs of solar PV systems, has boosted the demand for technologies that enhance system efficiency and maximize energy production. Additionally, the growing focus on grid stability, improved safety, and system-level monitoring has further contributed to the market's growth.
Platform Type: The solar microinverter and power optimizer market can be categorized into two main platform types:
Solar Microinverter: A solar microinverter is a device that converts the direct current (DC) generated by an individual solar panel into alternating current (AC) for immediate use or grid connection. Each solar panel is equipped with its own microinverter, allowing for independent power optimization and monitoring.
Power Optimizer: A power optimizer is a module that connects to each solar panel in a PV system, optimizing the power output at the panel level. Power optimizers maximize energy harvest by performing maximum power point tracking (MPPT) for each individual panel and mitigating the effects of shading, mismatch, and panel aging.
Technology: Solar microinverters and power optimizers leverage various technologies to enhance solar system performance:
Maximum Power Point Tracking (MPPT): MPPT technology ensures that each solar panel operates at its maximum power output by continuously tracking and adjusting the voltage and current levels.
DC-AC Conversion: Both microinverters and power optimizers perform the conversion of DC power generated by solar panels into AC power suitable for consumption or grid connection.
Communication and Monitoring: These technologies often incorporate communication and monitoring capabilities, allowing real-time performance monitoring, data collection, and system diagnostics.
End User Industry: The solar microinverter and power optimizer market caters to various end user industries, including:
Residential Sector: Residential solar PV installations are a significant market segment for microinverters and power optimizers. These technologies enable individual panel-level optimization, making them suitable for residential rooftops with space constraints or shading issues.
Commercial and Industrial Sector: Commercial and industrial buildings utilize larger-scale solar PV systems. Microinverters and power optimizers help optimize energy production, increase system reliability, and provide real-time monitoring, making them attractive options for commercial and industrial applications.
Utility-Scale Projects: Utility-scale solar PV installations, such as solar farms or solar power plants, can benefit from the use of power optimizers. These technologies allow for precise power optimization and fault detection at the panel level, enhancing overall system performance.
Scope:
The solar microinverter and power optimizer market has a global scope, with growing adoption in various regions. The market encompasses manufacturers, suppliers, installers, and system integrators. Market statistics, growth projections, and demand may vary across regions due to factors such as solar energy policies, regulatory frameworks, and market maturity.
The market's scope extends to various aspects, including product development, technological advancements, installation practices, and system performance optimization. With the increasing demand for solar energy and the need for enhanced system efficiency, the market is expected to witness continued growth and innovation.
In conclusion, the solar microinverter and power optimizer market is experiencing promising growth worldwide. The adoption of these technologies in solar PV systems has gained momentum due to their ability to improve energy production, enhance system monitoring, and optimize system performance. The market serves the residential, commercial, industrial, and utility-scale sectors, and its scope encompasses various stakeholders. As solar energy continues to gain prominence, the demand for solar microinverters and power optimizers is expected to increase, presenting significant opportunities for industry players in the renewable energy sector.
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Market Segmentations:
Global Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer Market: By Company • SolarEdge Technologies • Enphase Energy • Tigo Energy • Altenergy Power System • SunPower Corporation • Ampt • Delta Energy Systems • KACO New Energy • Array Power • Solantro Global Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer Market: By Type • Solar Microinverter • Power Optimizer Global Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer Market: By Application • Residential • Commercial • Utility • Others Global Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer Market: Regional Analysis The regional analysis of the global Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer market provides insights into the market's performance across different regions of the world. The analysis is based on recent and future trends and includes market forecast for the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer market report are as follows: North America: The North America region includes the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. The U.S. is the largest market for Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer in this region, followed by Canada and Mexico. The market growth in this region is primarily driven by the presence of key market players and the increasing demand for the product. Europe: The Europe region includes Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe. Germany is the largest market for Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer in this region, followed by the U.K. and France. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing demand for the product in the automotive and aerospace sectors. Asia-Pacific: The Asia-Pacific region includes Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, and Rest of Asia-Pacific. China is the largest market for Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer in this region, followed by Japan and India. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing adoption of the product in various end-use industries, such as automotive, aerospace, and construction. Middle East and Africa: The Middle East and Africa region includes Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, and Rest of Middle East and Africa. The market growth in this region is driven by the increasing demand for the product in the aerospace and defense sectors. South America: The South America region includes Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America. Brazil is the largest market for Solar Microinverter and Power Optimizer in this region, followed by Argentina. The market growth in this region is primarily driven by the increasing demand for the product in the automotive sector.
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merlinsbed · 1 year
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jamespoeartistry · 1 year
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styckywycket · 1 year
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Modern Dining Room - Great Room Ideas for a mid-sized, modern great room renovation with a marble floor, a gray floor, white walls, a traditional fireplace, and a concrete fireplace
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pucksandpower · 29 days
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Princess Protection Program
Logan Sargeant x Princess of England!Reader
Summary: when your safety is compromised due to escalating threats, the decision is made to send you overseas for your own protection, with one caveat: no one can know about your true identity (aka the fix-it fic we desperately need right now)
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The sun streams through the ornate windows of Buckingham Palace as you pace anxiously in your private chambers. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your designer blouse, a habit you’ve developed when stress creeps in. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air, thicker than the plush carpet beneath your feet.
A sharp knock at the door makes you jump. “Come in,” you call, trying to keep your voice steady.
Your father, King Edward, enters with a grim expression etched on his face. Behind him, your mother, Queen Charlotte, follows closely, her usual poise wavering slightly.
“Darling,” your mother begins, her voice soft but strained. “We need to talk.”
You sink into a nearby armchair, bracing yourself. “Is this about the threats?”
Your father nods, his jaw tightening. “I’m afraid so. The situation has ... escalated.”
“How bad is it?” You ask, dreading the answer.
The King exchanges a look with your mother before responding. “Bad enough that we can no longer ignore it. The security team believes your life is in genuine danger.”
Your heart races, but you force yourself to remain composed. “What does that mean for me?”
Your mother moves closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We think it’s best if you leave London for a while, sweetheart. Just until we can neutralize the threat.”
You stand abruptly, shaking your head. “Leave? But I can’t! I have responsibilities here, engagements planned for the entire summer!”
“Your safety is our top priority,” your father interjects firmly. “Everything else can wait.”
“Where would I even go?” You ask, exasperation creeping into your voice.
Your mother hesitates before answering. “We’ve been discussing options with the security team. We think it’s best if you go somewhere ... unexpected.”
You raise an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding your anxiety. “Unexpected how?”
“Florida.”
You blink, certain you’ve misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Florida?”
Your mother nods, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the gravity of the situation. “Your Aunt Maggie and Uncle George have that lovely beach house in Fort Lauderdale, remember? We visited when you were younger.”
“But ... Florida?” You repeat, still struggling to process the idea. “It’s so ... American.”
Your father chuckles softly. “Exactly. No one would think to look for you there. It’s the perfect cover.”
You begin pacing again, your mind racing. “For how long?”
“We’re not sure yet,” your mother admits. “But we promise to bring you home as soon as it’s safe.”
You pause, turning to face your parents. The concern in their eyes is palpable, and it hits you just how serious this situation must be for them to suggest such a drastic measure.
“Can’t I just stay here? Increase security or something?” you plead, making one last attempt.
Your father shakes his head firmly. “The palace is too exposed. There are too many variables, too many potential weak points. We need you somewhere more ... inconspicuous.”
You sigh heavily, knowing deep down that they’re right. “When do I leave?”
“Tonight,” your mother says softly. “We’ve already begun making arrangements.”
Your eyes widen. “Tonight? But I haven’t packed, I haven’t said goodbye to anyone-”
“I know it’s sudden,” your father interrupts gently, “but the quicker we move, the safer you’ll be.”
You nod slowly, reality sinking in. “I understand.”
Your mother pulls you into a tight embrace. “Oh, darling. I know this is difficult, but please try to think of it as an adventure. A chance to experience a different kind of life for a while.”
You lean into her hug, drawing comfort from her familiar perfume. “I’ll try, Mum.”
As she pulls away, your father clears his throat. “There’s one more thing. While you’re there, you’ll need to ... blend in.”
You furrow your brow. “What do you mean?”
“We think it’s best if you adopt a different identity,” he explains. “Just temporarily, of course. To throw off anyone who might be looking for you.”
“A different identity?” You repeat, the concept both thrilling and terrifying. “Like ... a commoner?”
Your mother nods encouragingly. “Exactly. You’ll be staying with Maggie and George, of course, but to the rest of the world, you’ll just be their niece visiting for the summer.”
You take a deep breath, trying to wrap your head around it all. “I suppose I could use a break from royal duties,” you admit with a small smile.
Your father’s face softens with relief. “That’s my girl. Always looking on the bright side.”
A knock at the door interrupts the moment. “Your Majesties,” a voice calls from outside. “The security team is ready for the briefing.”
Your father sighs. “We’d better go. Darling, start packing what you can. Someone will be up shortly to help you with the rest.”
As your parents move towards the door, you call out, “Wait!”
They turn back, concern etched on their faces.
“I just ... I love you both,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “And I know you’re just trying to protect me.”
Your mother’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as she rushes back to embrace you once more. “We love you too, sweetheart. More than anything in this world.”
Your father joins the hug, his strong arms encircling both of you. For a moment, you’re not a princess facing a crisis, but simply a daughter cherishing her parents’ love.
As they reluctantly pull away, your father says, “Remember, this is only temporary. Before you know it, you’ll be back home, safe and sound.”
You nod, forcing a brave smile. “I know. I’ll make the best of it, I promise.”
With one last loving look, your parents exit the room, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and a suitcase to pack.
You move to your closet, running your hands along the rows of designer gowns and tailored suits. How do normal people dress in Florida? You wonder, realizing just how much you’ll need to adapt.
As you begin selecting clothes, a bittersweet excitement begins to bubble up alongside your anxiety. It’s terrifying, leaving everything you know behind, but there’s a tiny part of you that can’t help but wonder what adventures await in this unexpected journey.
You’re lost in thought when another knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” you call, expecting to see one of the staff sent to help you pack.
Instead, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, Olivia, bursts into the room. “Is it true?” She demands without preamble. “Are they really shipping you off to America?”
You sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Florida, to be exact.”
Olivia’s eyes widen. “Florida? Land of alligators and questionable fashion choices? Oh, darling, no.”
Despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “It’s not that bad. I hope.”
Olivia moves to your side, helping you fold a blouse. “How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know,” you admit. “Until they catch whoever’s behind the threats, I suppose.”
Olivia’s face softens with concern. “Are you scared?”
You pause, considering the question. “A little,” you confess. “But also ... I don’t know. Maybe a tiny bit excited? Is that weird?”
Olivia shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not at all. It’s like your own personal Princess Protection Program, but with better weather and beach access.”
You snort, grateful for her ability to find humor even in the darkest situations. “I’m going to miss you so much, Liv.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs, though her eyes are suspiciously shiny. “You’ll be having so much fun living your secret Florida life, you’ll forget all about little old me.”
“Never,” you promise, pulling her into a fierce hug.
As you embrace, Olivia whispers, “Just promise me one thing?”
“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.
“If you meet some devastatingly handsome American and fall madly in love, you have to tell me every single detail.”
You pull back, laughing. “Liv, I’m going there to hide, not find romance!”
Olivia winks mischievously. “The best love stories always happen when you least expect them, darling. Trust me on this.”
As you continue packing, chatting and joking with Olivia, the weight on your shoulders begins to lift slightly. Yes, you’re leaving behind everything you know. Yes, there’s danger lurking in the shadows. But with the love of your family and friends behind you, you feel a flicker of hope.
Whatever awaits you in Fort Lauderdale, you’ll face it head-on. After all, you’re not just any ordinary girl — you’re a princess. And princesses, as you’ve always been taught, are made of stronger stuff.
As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across your room, you zip up the last of your suitcases. Olivia helps you change into a simple outfit — jeans and a t-shirt, clothes that won’t draw attention during your journey.
A soft knock at the door signals the arrival of your security detail. “Your Highness,” a voice calls. “It’s time.”
You take a deep breath, looking around your room one last time. “Well,” you say to Olivia, your voice barely above a whisper, “I guess this is it.”
Olivia pulls you into one last fierce hug. “Go show those Floridians what British royalty is made of,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “And don’t you dare come back with an American accent.”
You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. “I’ll do my best. Take care of everything while I’m gone, okay?”
“Of course,” Olivia promises. “Now go, before I change my mind and hide you in my closet instead.”
With one last smile, you open the door. Your security team waits outside, their faces a mask of professional calm. As you follow them through the winding corridors of the palace, each step feels both like an ending and a beginning.
At the private exit, your parents wait. Your mother pulls you into a tight embrace, whispering words of love and encouragement. Your father, ever the king, maintains his composure, but you can see the emotion swimming in his eyes as he kisses your forehead.
“Remember,” he says softly, “no matter where you are, you carry the strength of your ancestors with you. You are a princess of the realm, even if you’re pretending not to be for a while.”
You nod, standing a little straighter. “I won’t let you down.”
“You never could,” your mother assures you.
With one last look at your family, at the only home you’ve ever known, you step into the waiting car. As it pulls away from the palace, you don’t look back. Instead, you fix your gaze forward, towards the unknown adventure that awaits.
Florida, you think with a mix of trepidation and excitement, I hope you’re ready for me.
***
The Florida sun beats down mercilessly as you step out of the air-conditioned car, squinting against the bright light. The humid air immediately wraps around you like a warm, damp blanket, a stark contrast to London’s typically cool climate.
“Welcome to Fort Lauderdale, sweetheart!” Your Aunt Maggie’s voice rings out, full of warmth and excitement.
You turn to see her hurrying down the driveway of an impressive Mediterranean-style villa, arms outstretched. Behind her, your Uncle George follows at a more leisurely pace, a wide grin on his face.
“Aunt Maggie, Uncle George,” you greet them, trying to infuse your voice with enthusiasm despite your jet lag and lingering anxiety. “Thank you so much for having me.”
Aunt Maggie pulls you into a tight hug, her floral perfume momentarily overwhelming your senses. “Oh, darling, we’re thrilled to have you. Aren’t we, George?”
Uncle George nods, giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Absolutely. Our home is your home, princess. Er, I mean-”
“Just Y/N,” you remind him quietly, glancing around to ensure no one overheard. “Remember, I’m just your normal, everyday niece visiting for the summer.”
“Right, right,” Uncle George says, lowering his voice. “Sorry about that. Old habits, you know.”
Aunt Maggie loops her arm through yours, leading you towards the house. “Don’t you worry, dear. We’ve briefed all the neighbors. As far as they know, you’re our lovely niece from England, taking some time to experience life across the pond.”
You nod, grateful for their thoughtfulness. As you enter the house, the cool air conditioning washes over you, providing instant relief from the oppressive heat outside.
“Now,” Aunt Maggie continues, “I know this must all be very overwhelming for you. Why don’t you freshen up, and then we’ll give you the grand tour?”
“That sounds lovely,” you agree, realizing just how grimy you feel after the long journey.
Uncle George appears with your suitcases. “I’ll show you to your room. It’s got a great view of the pool.”
As you follow him up the stairs, you can’t help but marvel at the casual opulence of the house. It’s certainly luxurious, but in a relaxed, lived-in way that feels worlds apart from the formal grandeur of the palace.
Your room, as promised, is beautiful. Large windows overlook a sparkling pool surrounded by swaying palm trees. For a moment, you feel like you’ve stepped into a holiday brochure.
“I’ll let you get settled,” Uncle George says, setting down your bags. “Take your time, we’re on Florida time now. No rush.”
As the door closes behind him, you sink onto the plush bed, finally allowing yourself a moment to process everything. You’re here, in Florida, thousands of miles from home and everything familiar. The reality of your situation hits you anew, and you feel a lump forming in your throat.
A soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. “Y/N, dear?” Aunt Maggie calls. “I’ve brought you some iced tea. May I come in?”
“Of course,” you reply, quickly composing yourself.
Aunt Maggie enters, carrying a tall glass of tea so cold that condensation is already forming on the outside. She hands it to you with a warm smile. “I thought you might need this. The Florida heat can be quite a shock to the system.”
You take a sip, the sweet, refreshing liquid instantly soothing your parched throat. “Thank you, Aunt Maggie. This is delicious.”
She sits beside you on the bed, her face softening with concern. “How are you really doing, sweetheart? I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.”
For a moment, you consider maintaining your composed facade. But something about Aunt Maggie’s gentle demeanor breaks through your defenses. “I’m ... scared,” you admit quietly. “And I miss home already. But I’m trying to be brave.”
Aunt Maggie wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Oh, my dear. It’s okay to be scared. What you’re going through, it’s not easy. But you are brave, just by being here.”
You lean into her embrace, allowing yourself this moment of vulnerability. “I just feel so ... out of place. I don’t know how to be a normal person.”
Aunt Maggie chuckles softly. “Well, I’ve got news for you. None of us really know how to be normal. We’re all just figuring it out as we go along.”
Her words bring a small smile to your face. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Tell you what,” she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “Why don’t you get changed into something cool and comfortable, and then we’ll show you around the neighborhood? It might help you feel more settled.”
You nod, feeling a flicker of curiosity despite your apprehension. “I’d like that.”
After Aunt Maggie leaves, you dig through your suitcase, realizing with a start that you have no idea what constitutes “cool and comfortable” in Florida. You eventually settle on a light sundress and sandals, hoping it’s appropriate.
Downstairs, Aunt Maggie and Uncle George are waiting. “Oh, don’t you look lovely,” Aunt Maggie coos. “Very Floridian chic.”
Uncle George grabs a set of keys from a hook by the door. “Shall we take the golf cart? It’s the preferred mode of transportation around here.”
You blink in surprise. “We’re allowed to drive golf carts on the streets?”
“Welcome to Florida, kiddo,” Uncle George laughs. “Different rules apply here.”
The next hour is a whirlwind tour of the neighborhood. You zip along palm-lined streets in the golf cart, waving at neighbors who call out cheerful greetings. Aunt Maggie provides a running commentary.
“That’s the Johnsons’ place — lovely people, but their dog is a menace to squirrels everywhere. Oh, and over there is the community pool, although everyone just uses their own pools, really. And that’s where we have our neighborhood barbecues ...”
As if on cue, a man watering his impeccably manicured lawn calls out, “Hey, Maggie! George! Don’t forget the barbecue tonight!”
Aunt Maggie turns to you with a bright smile. “Oh, that’s perfect timing! What do you say, Y/N? Feel up to a little neighborhood gathering?”
You hesitate, anxiety bubbling up at the thought of meeting so many new people. But you remind yourself that this is part of your cover, part of being normal. “Sure,” you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Why not?”
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of unpacking and preparation. Before you know it, you’re walking down the street with your aunt and uncle, a dish of something called “ambrosia salad” in your hands.
The barbecue is in full swing when you arrive. The air is filled with the smell of grilling meat and the sound of laughter and cheerful conversation. Children splash in a nearby pool while adults mingle, cold drinks in hand.
“George! Maggie!” A jovial man with a impressive mustache approaches, clapping Uncle George on the back. “Glad you could make it. And this must be your niece!”
You smile politely, remembering your cover story. “Yes, hello. I’m Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood, Y/N,” the man says warmly. “I’m Bill, by the way. Now, let me introduce you to some folks. Can’t have you standing around like a wallflower, can we?”
Before you can protest, Bill is leading you through the crowd, making introductions left and right. You smile and nod, trying desperately to remember names and keep your story straight.
“And this here is Logan,” Bill says, stopping in front of a young man about your age. “Logan’s our local celebrity, drives race cars for a living.”
You look up, meeting a pair of startlingly green eyes. The young man — Logan — smiles, and you feel your heart skip a beat.
“Hi there,” Logan says, his voice a pleasant drawl. “Logan Sargeant. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”
“Hello,” you manage, suddenly very aware of your accent. “You’re a race car driver?”
Logan nods, a hint of pride in his smile. “Formula 1, yeah. I drive for Williams Racing.”
Your eyes widen in recognition. You’ve attended a few F1 events in your official capacity, though you’ve never paid much attention to the drivers themselves. “That’s impressive,” you say genuinely.
“Ah, it’s just a job,” Logan says with a self-deprecating shrug, though his eyes sparkle with obvious passion. “What brings you to our little slice of paradise?”
You launch into your prepared story about traveling abroad, surprised at how easily the words flow. Logan listens attentively, asking questions that show genuine interest.
Just as you’re starting to relax into the conversation, Aunt Maggie appears at your elbow. “Y/N, dear, come meet the Hendersons. They’ve got a daughter about your age.”
You turn back to Logan with an apologetic smile. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”
“Likewise,” he replies, that charming grin still in place. “Hope to see you around, Y/N.”
As Aunt Maggie leads you away, you can’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Logan is still watching you, and when your eyes meet, he gives a little wave.
For the rest of the evening, you find yourself scanning the crowd, hoping for another glimpse of those green eyes. But between meeting what feels like the entire neighborhood and helping Aunt Maggie with hostess duties, you don’t get another chance to talk to Logan.
As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the gathering, you feel a mix of emotions washing over you. There’s still a lingering sadness, a homesickness that sits heavy in your chest. But there’s also a tiny spark of excitement, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, this unexpected adventure might not be so bad after all.
Uncle George finds you as the party begins to wind down. “How you holding up, kiddo?” He asks gently.
You consider the question for a moment. “I’m okay,” you say, surprising yourself with how true it feels. “It’s all very different, but ... I think I might be able to get used to it.”
Uncle George smiles, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That’s my girl. Now, what do you say we head home? I don’t know about you, but all this socializing has worn me out.”
You nod gratefully, suddenly aware of how tired you are. As you walk home with your aunt and uncle, the warm night air filled with the sound of cicadas, you feel a sense of calm settling over you.
This isn’t home, not really. But maybe, for now, it can be enough. And as you climb into bed that night, your mind drifts to a pair of green eyes and a charming smile, wondering what other surprises Florida might have in store for you.
***
The Florida sun has barely crested the horizon when you step out of your aunt and uncle’s house, running shoes laced tight. You’ve taken to early morning jogs as a way to clear your head and adjust to the new time zone. The neighborhood is quiet, save for the occasional chirp of exotic birds and the distant hum of sprinklers.
As you round the corner, lost in thought, you nearly collide with another runner coming from the opposite direction.
“Whoa there!” A familiar voice calls out, hands reaching out to steady you.
You look up, startled, into the green eyes of Logan Sargeant. He’s dressed in running gear, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.
“Oh! Logan, I’m so sorry,” you stammer, feeling heat rise to your cheeks that has nothing to do with the morning warmth.
Logan grins, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before dropping away. “No harm done. I didn’t know you were a runner.”
You shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not really. Just trying to ... acclimate, I suppose.”
“To the heat or to Florida in general?” Logan asks, falling into step beside you as you both slow to a walk.
“Both, I think,” you admit with a small laugh. “It’s quite different from home.”
Logan nods understandingly. “I bet. I’ve been to England quite a bit since Williams is based there. Beautiful country, but yeah, not exactly known for its tropical climate.”
You’re about to respond when your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. Logan’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement.
“Sounds like someone worked up an appetite,” he chuckles. “Have you tried the coffee shop down on Atlantic Boulevard yet? They make a mean breakfast burrito.”
You shake your head, realizing you haven’t ventured much beyond the immediate neighborhood.
Logan’s face lights up. “Well, we can’t have that. What do you say we grab some breakfast? My treat, to make up for almost running you over.”
You hesitate for a moment, your ingrained caution warring with the genuine warmth in Logan’s smile. “I wouldn’t want to impose ...”
“Not at all,” Logan insists. “Besides, I could use a coffee after this run. What do you say?”
Against your better judgment, you find yourself nodding. “Alright, that sounds lovely. Thank you.”
The walk to the coffee shop is filled with easy conversation. Logan asks about your impressions of Florida so far, and you find yourself relaxing as you share some of your culture shock moments.
“Wait, you’ve never had a key lime pie before?” Logan asks incredulously as you approach the quaint storefront of the coffee shop.
You shake your head, laughing. “I had never even heard of it! Aunt Maggie was scandalized.”
Logan holds the door open for you, the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods washing over you as you enter. “Well, we’ll have to remedy that. They make a pretty decent one here, actually.”
As you settle into a cozy booth by the window, you can’t help but marvel at how ... normal this feels. Sitting in a cafe with a handsome boy, discussing pastries and local cuisine. It’s a far cry from formal state dinners and carefully orchestrated public appearances.
“So,” Logan says after you’ve placed your orders, “what brings you to Fort Lauderdale? Your aunt mentioned something about you taking some time off?”
You nod, reciting the cover story you’ve practiced. “Yes, I wanted to experience life outside of England for a bit before graduate school. My aunt and uncle were kind enough to let me stay with them.”
Logan leans forward, genuinely interested. “That’s cool. Any specific plans while you’re here?”
You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Not really. Just ... experiencing life, I suppose. What about you? Shouldn’t you be off racing cars somewhere exotic?”
Logan grins, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes. “Usually, yeah. But it’s the summer shutdown right now. All the teams take a break for a few weeks. I always try to come home when I can.”
“That must be nice,” you say softly, a pang of homesickness hitting you unexpectedly.
Logan’s expression softens. “You miss home?”
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak for a moment. Logan reaches across the table, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.
“Hey, it’s okay. Homesickness is rough. But you know what helps?”
You look up, meeting his eyes. “What’s that?”
“Making some good memories in your new place,” Logan says with a warm smile. “And I happen to be an expert in South Florida fun.”
You can’t help but smile back. “Is that so?”
Logan nods solemnly. “Oh yeah. In fact, I’d be happy to be your official tour guide. If you’re interested, that is.”
Before you can respond, your food arrives. The conversation flows easily as you eat, Logan regaling you with tales of his racing adventures and you sharing carefully edited stories of life in England.
As you finish your meal, Logan glances at his watch. “I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got a training session in an hour. But hey, if you’re free later, maybe we could meet up at the beach? I could show you some of the best spots.”
You hesitate, knowing you should probably decline. But the thought of spending more time with Logan, of experiencing a slice of normal life, is too tempting to resist.
“That sounds wonderful,” you find yourself saying. “What time were you thinking?”
Logan’s face lights up. “How about three? I can meet you at the public access point near your aunt and uncle’s place.”
You nod, already looking forward to it. “Three it is.”
As you part ways outside the cafe, Logan gives you another heart-melting smile. “See you later, Y/N. And welcome to Fort Lauderdale.”
The rest of the morning passes in a blur. You help Aunt Maggie with some gardening, your mind constantly drifting to thoughts of green eyes and easy smiles. By the time 3 o’clock rolls around, you’re a bundle of nervous energy.
You spot Logan waiting by the beach access, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He waves as you approach, that now-familiar grin spreading across his face.
“Ready for Beach Life 101?” He asks as you fall into step beside him.
You nod, breathing in the salty air. “Lead the way, Professor Sargeant.”
Logan laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Oh, I like that. Maybe I’ve found my post-racing career.”
As you walk along the shoreline, Logan points out various landmarks and shares local trivia. You find yourself captivated, not just by the information, but by the passion with which he speaks about his hometown.
“And over there,” Logan says, pointing to a stretch of beach dotted with volleyball nets, “is where I learned that I am absolutely terrible at beach volleyball.”
You giggle, the sound surprising even yourself. “Oh? Do tell.”
Logan dramatically recounts a particularly disastrous game from his teenage days, complete with exaggerated gestures. You’re laughing so hard you barely notice when you stumble over a piece of driftwood.
Logan’s arm shoots out, steadying you. “Whoa there. You okay?”
You nod, suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing. “Yes, thank you. I’m not usually this clumsy.”
“Must be my sparkling wit distracting you,” Logan teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before dropping away.
As the afternoon wears on, you find yourself relaxing more and more in Logan’s company. He’s easy to talk to, genuinely interested in your thoughts and experiences. For a few blissful hours, you almost forget about the circumstances that brought you here.
As the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, Logan leads you to a quiet spot away from the main beach.
“This,” he says with a flourish, “is the best place to watch the sunset in all of Fort Lauderdale.”
You settle onto the sand, marveling at the view. “It’s beautiful,” you breathe.
Logan sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his sun-kissed skin. “Yeah, it really is.”
For a moment, you sit in comfortable silence, watching as the sun slowly sinks into the ocean. Then Logan turns to you, his expression suddenly serious.
“Can I ask you something?”
You nod, a flicker of nervousness igniting in your chest. “Of course.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to your story than you’re letting on?”
Your heart races, panic threatening to overwhelm you. “What do you mean?”
Logan shrugs, his eyes searching your face. “I don’t know. There’s just something about you. The way you carry yourself, the things you say ... or don’t say. It’s like you’re holding part of yourself back.”
You look away, focusing on the horizon. “I’m just ... adjusting. To being here, I mean.”
Logan nods slowly. “I get that. And hey, if there are things you don’t want to share, that’s cool. I just want you to know that you can trust me. If you want to, that is.”
You turn back to him, struck by the sincerity in his eyes. For a wild moment, you consider telling him everything — who you really are, why you’re here. But the weight of your family’s expectations, the very real danger that drove you here, holds you back.
Instead, you offer him a small smile. “Thank you, Logan. That means a lot.”
He returns your smile, reaching out to squeeze your hand gently. “Anytime. Whatever brought you here, I’m glad it did. It’s been really nice getting to know you.”
As the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the waves, you find yourself wishing you could freeze this moment. Here, with the sound of the ocean in your ears and Logan’s hand warm in yours, you feel more like yourself than you have in years.
But as the sky darkens and the first stars begin to appear, reality starts to creep back in. You know you can’t stay in this bubble forever.
“We should probably head back,” you say reluctantly, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between you.
Logan nods, standing and offering you a hand up. “Yeah, I guess so. But this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing. Maybe we could do this again sometime?”
You smile, surprising yourself with how much you want that. “I’d like that very much.”
As you walk back along the beach, Logan’s hand brushes against yours. After a moment’s hesitation, you let your fingers intertwine with his. It’s a small gesture, but it feels monumental.
At the edge of your aunt and uncle’s property, you pause. “Thank you for today, Logan. It was ... wonderful.”
Logan’s smile is soft in the dim light. “I’m glad. And if you ever need a break from acclimating, you know where to find me.”
Before you can overthink it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Logan.”
As you hurry inside, your heart pounding, you catch a glimpse of Logan touching his cheek, a dazed smile on his face.
In your room, you sink onto the bed, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through you. You know you’re treading dangerous waters. Logan is everything you shouldn’t want — a distraction, a complication, a risk to your cover.
But as you drift off to sleep, your dreams are filled with green eyes and the sound of waves crashing on the shore. And for the first time since arriving in Florida, you find yourself looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.
***
The gentle lapping of waves against the hull of the boat fills the comfortable silence between you and Logan. You’re sprawled on the deck, basking in the warm afternoon sun, while Logan sits nearby, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Logan’s voice breaks through your reverie.
You turn your head to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Just thinking about how surreal this all feels. A few weeks ago, I never could have imagined ... this.”
Logan’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement. “What, lying on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic? Or spending time with an incredibly charming race car driver?”
You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. “Both, I suppose. Though I’m not sure about the ‘incredibly charming’ part.”
“Ouch,” Logan clutches his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me.”
Sitting up, you lean against the boat’s railing, taking in the endless expanse of blue around you. “It’s just ... I’ve never felt this free before. This ... unburdened.”
Logan’s expression softens as he moves to sit beside you. “What do you mean?”
You bite your lip, choosing your words carefully. “Back home, there’s always ... expectations. Responsibilities. Here, with you, I feel like I can just be myself.”
Logan nods thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s kind of like how I feel when I’m racing. When I’m in the car, nothing else matters. It’s just me, the track, and the speed.”
“That sounds exhilarating,” you say, genuinely curious. “Is that why you love it so much?”
Logan’s eyes light up with passion. “Partly, yeah. But it’s more than that. It’s the challenge, you know? Pushing yourself to the absolute limit, always striving to be better, faster.”
You listen intently as Logan delves into the intricacies of Formula 1 racing, marveling at the depth of his knowledge and the intensity of his enthusiasm.
“Sorry,” he says suddenly, looking a bit sheepish. “I tend to ramble when it comes to racing. I’m probably boring you.”
You shake your head emphatically. “Not at all! I love hearing you talk about it. Your passion is ... inspiring.”
Logan’s smile is warm as he takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Thanks. You know, it’s nice to be able to talk about this stuff with someone who actually listens. Most people just hear ‘Formula 1 driver’ and make assumptions.”
“What kind of assumptions?” you ask, curious.
Logan shrugs. “Oh, you know. That I’m some adrenaline junkie who doesn’t take anything seriously. Or that I’m living some glamorous, carefree life.”
You squeeze his hand gently. “But it’s not like that at all, is it?”
“Not even close,” Logan admits. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. But the pressure ... it can be overwhelming sometimes.”
“How so?” You prompt, recognizing the weight in his voice.
Logan leans back, his gaze distant. “It’s not just about driving fast, you know? There’s the physical training, the technical knowledge, the media obligations. And then there’s the constant pressure to perform. Everyone always questioning whether you deserve your seat.”
You nod, understanding all too well the burden of constant scrutiny. “That sounds incredibly stressful.”
“It can be,” Logan agrees. “But then I remember how lucky I am to be living my dream, and it puts things in perspective.”
You smile, admiring his positive outlook. “That’s a wonderful way of looking at it.”
Logan turns to you, his green eyes intense. “What about you? What’s your dream?”
The question catches you off guard. For so long, your life has been dictated by duty and expectation. The concept of a personal dream feels almost foreign.
“I ... I’m not sure,” you admit quietly. “I’ve never really thought about it in those terms.”
Logan’s brow furrows in concern. “Really? There must be something you’re passionate about, something you’d love to do if you could do anything in the world.”
You ponder the question, thinking back to the interests and passions you’ve had to set aside for your royal duties. “I’ve always loved art,” you say finally. “Painting, specifically. But it’s always been more of a hobby than a serious pursuit.”
Logan’s face lights up. “That’s awesome! Have you painted anything since you’ve been here?”
You shake your head, a twinge of regret in your chest. “No, I ... I didn’t bring any supplies with me.”
“Well, we’ll have to fix that,” Logan says decisively. “I’m sure there’s an art supply store in town. We could go tomorrow if you want?”
The thought of picking up a paintbrush again sends a thrill of excitement through you. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”
Logan laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Mind? Y/N, I’d love to see this side of you. Maybe you could even paint me sometime,” he adds with a wink.
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “I’m not sure you’d want that. I’m terribly out of practice.”
“I’m sure you’re amazing,” Logan says with such conviction that you can’t help but believe him a little.
A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the sound of the waves and the occasional cry of a seagull. You find yourself studying Logan’s profile, admiring the way the sunlight catches in his hair and highlights the strong line of his jaw.
As if sensing your gaze, Logan turns to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What?”
“Nothing,” you say, returning his smile. “I’m just ... happy.”
Logan’s expression becomes tender as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah? Me too.”
The moment stretches between you, charged with unspoken emotion. Logan leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you want to. But you don’t want to. Instead, you meet him halfway, your lips brushing together in a soft, sweet kiss.
When you part, Logan rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” he admits.
You laugh softly, your heart feeling lighter than it has in years. “Me too.”
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of conversation, laughter, and stolen kisses. As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, Logan steers the boat back towards the docks.
“So,” he says as you dock, “what do you say we go on a proper date tomorrow? Dinner, maybe? After our art supply shopping trip, of course.”
You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. “That sounds wonderful.”
As Logan walks you back to your aunt and uncle’s house, his hand warm in yours, you can’t help but marvel at how much your life has changed in just a few short weeks. The weight of your royal responsibilities, the constant fear from the threats that drove you here — it all feels distant, like a half-remembered dream.
At your doorstep, Logan pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, Logan,” you reply, reluctant to let go of his hand.
Inside, you lean against the closed door, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and an emotion you’re not quite ready to name. For the first time in your life, you’re experiencing something that’s wholly yours — not dictated by duty or protocol, but born from genuine connection and shared moments.
The next few weeks pass in a whirlwind of stolen moments and shared adventures. True to his word, Logan takes you to the art supply store, insisting on buying you the best paints and brushes despite your protests.
You find yourself rediscovering your passion for art, spending hours capturing the vibrant colors and energy of Fort Lauderdale on canvas. Logan is always eager to see your latest creations, his genuine enthusiasm bolstering your confidence.
One evening, as you sit on the beach watching the sunset, Logan turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you say we go for a swim?”
You laugh, gesturing at your sundress. “Now? We’re not exactly dressed for it.”
Logan shrugs, his grin widening. “So? Live a little, Y/N. When was the last time you went swimming in your clothes?”
You think back, realizing with a start that you’ve never done anything so spontaneous. “I ... never, actually.”
“Well then,” Logan says, standing and offering you his hand, “there’s no time like the present.”
Before you can overthink it, you take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Together, you run towards the water, laughing as the cool waves crash around your ankles.
Logan pulls you deeper, until you’re both waist-deep in the ocean. The water is refreshing against your sun-warmed skin, and you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all.
“See?” Logan says, pulling you close. “Isn’t this fun?”
You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It’s perfect.”
As you float together in the gentle waves, the last rays of sunlight painting the sky in brilliant hues, you’re struck by a sudden, overwhelming realization. You’re falling in love with Logan Sargeant.
The thought should terrify you. After all, you know this can’t last forever. Your real life, your responsibilities, they’re all waiting for you back in England. But in this moment, with Logan’s arms around you and the vast ocean stretching out before you, you can’t bring yourself to care about the future.
“What are you thinking about?” Logan asks softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.
You look up at him, taking in the warmth in his green eyes, the gentle curve of his smile. “Just ... how happy I am right now. How I wish this moment could last forever.”
Logan’s expression softens as he leans in to kiss you. It’s a kiss full of unspoken emotion, of shared dreams and secret hopes. When you part, Logan rests his forehead against yours.
“Me too, Y/N,” he whispers. “Me too.”
As you float in the warm Florida waters, the stars beginning to twinkle overhead, you allow yourself to fully embrace the moment. You know that reality will intrude eventually, that the carefree days of this Florida summer can’t last forever. But for now, in Logan’s arms, you feel truly, completely free.
And for the first time in your life, you dare to dream of a future shaped by your own desires rather than the expectations of others. It’s a dangerous thought, a seed of hope that you know might lead to heartbreak. But as Logan pulls you in for another kiss, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.
For now, you’re just a girl falling in love under the Florida stars. And for now, that’s enough.
***
The sun is setting over Fort Lauderdale as you and Logan stroll hand in hand along Las Olas Boulevard. The street is alive with the buzz of restaurants and boutiques, but you’re barely aware of your surroundings, lost in thought about the conversation you know you need to have.
Logan’s voice breaks through your reverie. “Earth to Y/N,” he says, gently nudging your shoulder. “You okay? You’ve been pretty quiet tonight.”
You force a smile, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “I’m fine. Just ... thinking.”
Logan’s brow furrows with concern. “Anything you want to talk about?”
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Actually, yes. Logan, there’s something I need to tell you-”
But before you can continue, a flash goes off nearby, startling you both. You turn to see a man with a camera, his lens pointed directly at you.
“Princess Y/N?” The photographer calls out, his voice a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Is that you?”
Your blood runs cold as more flashes go off. Suddenly, it seems like cameras are appearing from every direction, voices calling out your name and title.
Logan’s hand tightens around yours. “Princess?” He repeats, confusion evident in his voice. “Y/N, what’s going on?”
You feel panic rising in your throat. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out. “Logan, I can explain-”
But Logan’s already pulling you away from the growing crowd, his jaw set in a hard line. He leads you down a side street, away from the main thoroughfare, until you reach a quiet park.
As soon as you’re alone, Logan drops your hand, turning to face you with a mixture of hurt and bewilderment in his eyes. “Princess Y/N? That’s who you are?”
You nod, your heart racing. “Yes. Logan, I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you-”
“When?” Logan interrupts, his voice sharp. “When were you planning on telling me that everything about you has been a lie?”
“Not everything,” you protest, reaching for his hand, but he pulls away. “My feelings for you are real, Logan. That’s not a lie.”
Logan runs a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think this was funny? Playing at being a normal girl, slumming it with the commoner?”
His words sting, and you feel tears pricking at your eyes. “No! Of course not. It wasn’t like that at all.”
“Then what was it like?” Logan demands. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been playing me for a fool this entire time.”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “I came here because my life was in danger. There were threats, serious ones. My family thought it would be safer if I disappeared for a while, if I lived like a normal person.”
Logan’s expression softens slightly, but the hurt is still evident in his eyes. “Okay, I can understand that. But why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me the truth?”
“I wanted to,” you say softly. “So many times. But I was scared. Scared of how you’d react, scared of ruining what we had.”
“What we had,” Logan repeats, his voice bitter. “And what exactly was that, Y/N? Or should I call you ‘Your Highness’ now?”
You flinch at his tone. “Logan, please. What we have is real. My feelings for you are real.”
“Are they?” Logan challenges. “Because the Y/N I thought I knew wouldn’t have lied to me for weeks. The Y/N I was falling in love with wouldn’t have let me make a fool of myself, talking about my problems like they were anything compared to being actual royalty.”
His words hit you like a physical blow. “Falling in love with?” You repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.
Logan’s expression crumples for a moment before he schools it back into anger. “Yeah, well. I guess that just shows how stupid I’ve been.”
“You’re not stupid,” you insist, taking a step towards him. “Logan, I love you too. That’s why I was so scared to tell you the truth. I didn’t want to lose you.”
Logan laughs humorlessly. “Well, great job there. Because finding out like this? With paparazzi swarming us? That’s so much better.”
You feel tears starting to fall, but you make no move to wipe them away. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“What did you think was going to happen?” Logan asks, his voice softer now but still laced with hurt. “Did you think we could just keep playing pretend forever? That your real life wouldn’t come crashing back in eventually?”
You shake your head, feeling the weight of your reality pressing down on you. “No, I ... I don’t know what I thought. I just knew that when I was with you, I felt free. I felt like myself for the first time in my life.”
Logan’s expression wavers between anger and sympathy. “And who is that, Y/N? Because I’m not sure I know anymore.”
“I’m still me,” you insist. “The girl who loves art and quiet moments on the beach. The girl who laughs at your terrible jokes and feels safest when she’s in your arms. That’s all real, Logan. The only thing that’s different is my title.”
Logan scoffs. “Only your title? Y/N, you’re a princess. Do you have any idea what this means? The media frenzy, the scrutiny, the expectations ... it’s not just your title that’s different. It’s your entire world.”
You feel a flicker of frustration ignite in your chest. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t lived with that pressure every day of my life? That’s why being here, being with you, has meant so much to me. For once, I got to just be myself.”
“But it wasn’t really yourself, was it?” Logan counters. “It was a version of you. A version without the weight of a crown.”
His words hit too close to home, and you feel your own anger rising. “And what about you? You talk about pressure and expectations like I couldn’t possibly understand. But I do understand, Logan. More than you know.”
Logan shakes his head, his voice rising. “It’s not the same thing, Y/N! I chose this life. I worked for it. You ... you were born into it. And you lied about it. To me, to everyone here.”
“I didn’t have a choice!” You shout, surprising yourself with the intensity of your emotion. “Do you think I wanted to lie? Do you think I enjoyed keeping this secret? I was trying to stay alive, Logan. I was trying to protect myself and the people I care about. Including you!”
Logan takes a step back, his eyes wide. For a moment, silence hangs heavy between you.
“Protect me?” He finally says, his voice low. “How does lying to me protect me?”
You take a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. “The less you knew, the safer you were. And ... the more I fell for you, the more I wanted to keep you separate from that part of my life. To keep this — us — untainted by all of that.”
Logan’s expression softens slightly, but the hurt is still evident in his eyes. “Y/N ... I get that you were in a difficult position. I do. But relationships are built on trust. How can I trust you now?”
His words cut deep, and you feel fresh tears welling up. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But I want to try. Logan, please. What we have ... it’s worth fighting for, isn’t it?”
Logan runs a hand over his face, looking suddenly tired. “I don’t know, Y/N. This is ... it’s a lot to process. I need time to think.”
You nod, your heart sinking. “I understand. I just ... I hope you can forgive me. Eventually.”
Logan looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I hope so too. But right now I think we both need some space.”
As he turns to walk away, you feel a piece of your heart go with him. “Logan,” you call out, your voice breaking.
He pauses but doesn’t turn back. “Yeah?”
“I really do love you,” you say softly. “That was never a lie.”
Logan’s shoulders slump slightly. “I know,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. And then he’s gone, disappearing into the growing darkness of the park.
You stand there for a long moment, tears streaming down your face, feeling more alone than you ever have before. The sound of distant camera shutters reminds you that your private world has well and truly shattered.
With a heavy heart, you pull out your phone to call your aunt and uncle. It’s time to face the music, to deal with the fallout of your exposed identity. But as you dial, all you can think about is the look of betrayal in Logan’s eyes, wondering if you’ve lost him for good.
As you wait for your aunt to pick up, you gaze out at the Florida skyline, the twinkling lights now seeming cold and distant. For a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to imagine a different life — one where you’re just Y/N, an ordinary girl in love with a boy who races cars. But reality crashes back in as your aunt’s worried voice comes through the phone.
“It’s time to come home,” she says, and you know she doesn’t just mean back to the house.
Your summer of freedom, of love and normalcy, is coming to an end. As you give your aunt your location for pickup, you can’t help but wonder … was it worth it? The joy, the love, the heartbreak — would you do it all again, knowing how it would end?
As you spot your uncle’s car approaching, you realize with a start that yes, you would. Because for a brief, shining moment, you knew what it was like to be truly, completely yourself. And no crown, no duty, no threat could ever take that away from you.
***
The Florida sun beats down mercilessly as you sit on the porch swing of your aunt and uncle’s house, listlessly flipping through a magazine. It’s been a week since the paparazzi incident, a week since your world turned upside down. The threats back home have been neutralized, your security team assures you, but it feels like a hollow victory.
Your aunt’s voice drifts from inside the house. “Y/N, darling, are you sure you don’t want to come to the beach with us?”
“I’m sure, Aunt Maggie,” you call back, forcing a cheerfulness you don’t feel into your voice. “You and Uncle George go ahead. I’m fine here.”
As the sound of their car fades away, you let out a heavy sigh. Fine is the last thing you are. With only a week left before your scheduled return to England, you feel like you’re in limbo, caught between two worlds and belonging to neither.
The sudden roar of an engine pulls you from your melancholy thoughts. A sleek sports car you recognize all too well pulls up in front of the house. Your heart leaps into your throat as Logan steps out, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever in jeans and a simple t-shirt.
For a moment, you both freeze, eyes locked on each other. Then Logan takes a hesitant step forward. “Hi,” he says, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and determination.
“Hi,” you reply, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
Logan runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as a sign of his anxiety. “I ... I needed to see you. To talk to you. Can we ...” He gestures vaguely towards the porch.
You nod, moving over on the swing to make room for him. Logan sits, careful to leave space between you, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.
Finally, Logan breaks the silence. “I owe you an apology,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way I reacted when I found out ... it wasn’t fair to you.”
You shake your head, feeling a lump form in your throat. “No, Logan. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I lied to you, kept this huge part of my life secret. You had every right to be angry.”
Logan turns to face you, his green eyes intense. “Maybe. But I’ve had time to think. To really process everything. And I realized something important.”
“What’s that?” You ask, hardly daring to breathe.
“That it doesn’t matter,” Logan says simply. “Princess, commoner, whatever — it doesn’t change how I feel about you. Because the girl I fell in love with? She’s real. Royal title or not.”
You feel tears welling up in your eyes. “Logan ...”
He reaches out, taking your hand in his. “Let me finish, please. I talked to my family, tried to sort out my feelings. And I kept coming back to one thing — how I feel when I’m with you. How you make me laugh, how you challenge me, how you see me for who I am, not just what I do.”
“I feel the same way,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Being with you ... it’s the freest I’ve ever felt.”
Logan’s thumb traces circles on your palm, sending shivers up your arm. “I know we have a lot to figure out. The distance, the media attention, our careers ... it won’t be easy. But Y/N, I think what we have is worth fighting for. If you’ll have me, that is.”
You can’t hold back your tears any longer. They fall freely as you launch yourself into Logan’s arms, burying your face in his neck. “Of course I’ll have you, you idiot,” you mumble against his skin.
Logan’s arms tighten around you, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank God,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I could bear losing you again.”
You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. “I’m so sorry. For lying, for putting you in this position. I never meant to hurt you.”
Logan cups your face gently, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m sorry too, for not giving you a chance to explain. For letting my hurt and pride get in the way of what really matters.”
“And what’s that?” You ask, though you think you already know the answer.
“Us,” Logan says simply. “You and me. Everything else ... we’ll figure it out together.”
You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. “Together,” you repeat, loving the sound of it. “I like that.”
Logan’s lips curve into a smile. “Me too. Now, can I please kiss you? Because I’ve been dying to do that since the moment I saw you on this porch.”
You laugh, a sound of pure joy and relief. “I thought you’d never ask.”
As Logan’s lips meet yours, you feel like you’re coming home. The kiss is tender and passionate all at once, an apology and a promise wrapped into one. When you finally part, you’re both breathless.
“So,” Logan says, his arms still wrapped around you. “What now, Princess? Because I have to say, I’m a little out of my depth here. Is there some royal protocol for dating I should know about?”
You can’t help but giggle at the mix of humor and genuine concern in his voice. “Well, traditionally, you’d have to ask my father for permission to court me. Preferably while wearing a powdered wig and breeches.”
Logan’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
You pat his cheek affectionately. “About the wig and breeches, yes. About talking to my father ... that might actually have to happen at some point.”
Logan gulps audibly. “Right. Talking to the King of England. No pressure or anything.”
You snuggle closer to him on the swing. “He’ll love you. How could he not?”
“I hope you’re right,” Logan says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Because I’m not giving you up without a fight, royal decree or not.”
You sit in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the simple pleasure of being in each other’s arms again. But reality begins to creep in, and you feel Logan tense slightly.
“Y/N,” he says softly. “What about ... I mean, you’re leaving in a week, right?”
You nod, feeling a pang in your chest. “Yes. The jet is being sent to pick me up next Saturday.”
Logan takes a deep breath. “And then what? I mean, for us?”
You sit up, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I want to make this work, Logan. More than anything. But I won’t lie to you — it won’t be easy.”
Logan nods, his expression serious. “I know. The distance, our schedules ... not to mention the media circus that’s bound to happen when word gets out.”
“Are you sure you want to deal with all that?” You ask, voicing the fear that’s been nagging at you. “It’s not too late to back out, to go back to your normal life.”
Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Y/N, look at me.” When you meet his gaze, he continues, “My life stopped being normal the moment I met you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Whatever challenges we face, we’ll face them together. Okay?”
You lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Okay,” you agree softly.
“Besides,” Logan adds with a mischievous grin, “dating a princess might actually be good for my image. Think of all the sponsorship deals I could get.”
You gasp in mock outrage, swatting his arm. “Logan Sargeant! Is that all I am to you? A ticket to better endorsements?”
Logan laughs, pulling you back into his arms. “Busted. It was all an elaborate scheme to get my face on a tea towel.”
You can’t help but join in his laughter, marveling at how easily he can lift your spirits. As your giggles subside, a thought occurs to you.
“You know,” you say slowly, “there might be a way to make the distance a little more manageable, at least for a while.”
Logan raises an eyebrow. “I’m all ears, Princess.”
You take a deep breath, hoping you’re not overstepping. “Well, the F1 season isn’t over yet, right? There are still races in Europe ...”
Logan’s eyes light up as he catches on. “Races where a certain princess might be able to make an appearance?”
You nod, feeling a flutter of excitement. “It would be a good opportunity to show support for British motorsport. Purely diplomatic reasons, of course.”
Logan’s grin widens. “Of course. Very diplomatic. I’m sure the press won’t read anything into the Princess of Wales suddenly becoming a racing enthusiast.”
You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Let them talk. As long as I get to see you, I don’t care what they say.”
Logan’s expression softens. “You really mean that, don’t you? You’re willing to face all the scrutiny, the gossip, just to be with me?”
You nod, your voice firm. “You’re worth it. We’re worth it.”
Logan pulls you close, burying his face in your hair. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion. “More than I ever thought possible.”
As you sit there on the porch swing, wrapped in each other’s arms, you know that the road ahead won’t be easy. There will be challenges, obstacles, moments of doubt. But looking into Logan’s eyes, seeing the love and determination there, you know you can face anything as long as you’re together.
The sound of a car approaching breaks the moment. You recognize your aunt and uncle’s vehicle coming up the driveway.
Logan tenses slightly. “Should I ... do you want me to leave?”
You shake your head firmly. “No. Stay. It’s time they met the real you, not just the boy next door.”
As your aunt and uncle pull up, looking surprised to see Logan there, you stand up, hand-in-hand with the man you love. You’re ready to face whatever comes next, be it nosy relatives, prying media, or the complexities of a long-distance relationship between a princess and an F1 driver.
Because now you know — home isn’t a place. It’s not a palace in England or a beach house in Florida. Home is wherever you and Logan are together. And that’s a feeling worth fighting for.
***
The Florida sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon as Logan’s car pulls up to the private airstrip. The sleek private jet waiting on the tarmac is a reminder of the reality you’re about to step back into. Logan cuts the engine, but neither of you move to get out, both reluctant to face the inevitable goodbye.
“So,” Logan says, his voice barely above a whisper, “I guess this is it, huh?”
You turn to him, taking in every detail of his face as if trying to memorize it. “Not it,” you insist. “Just ... see you later.”
Logan manages a small smile, reaching out to take your hand. “Right. See you later. In England. Where you’ll be a princess again.”
You squeeze his hand. “I’ll always be me, Logan. Title or no title.”
“I know,” he says softly. “It’s just ... it’s going to be different, isn’t it? You’ll have responsibilities, obligations. And I’ll be ...”
“The man I love,” you interrupt firmly. “No matter what.”
Logan’s eyes soften at your words. “I love you too. I’m going to miss you so much.”
You lean across the center console, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m going to miss you too. But we’ve got a plan, remember?”
Logan nods, his breath warm against your skin. “Right. The plan. Want to run through it one more time? You know, just to make sure we’ve got it down.”
You can’t help but smile at his attempt to prolong the moment. “Okay, let’s see. You’ve got ten more races this season, right?”
“Yep,” Logan confirms. “Zandvoort, Monza, Baku, Singapore, COTA, Mexico, Brazil, Vegas, Qatar, and Abu Dhabi.”
“And I,” you say, sitting back slightly to meet his gaze, “will be making surprise appearances to as many as I can. To support British motorsport, of course.”
Logan grins. “Of course. Very diplomatic of you.”
“Then,” you continue, “once the season’s over, you’ll be spending more time at the Williams headquarters in Grove.”
“Which, coincidentally, is just a short drive from London,” Logan adds with a wink.
You nod, feeling a flutter of excitement despite the impending separation. “And I’ll make sure to have plenty of reasons to visit Grove. Lots of ... local businesses to support.”
Logan laughs, the sound warming your heart. “I’m sure the people of Grove will greatly appreciate the royal attention.”
“Then there’s Christmas,” you say softly. “I talked to my parents, and ... they want to meet you. Properly.”
Logan’s eyes widen slightly. “Christmas with the royal family. No pressure or anything.”
You cup his cheek gently. “They’ll love you, Logan. How could they not?”
He leans into your touch. “I hope you’re right. Because I plan on sticking around for a long time, Princess.”
“Good,” you say firmly. “Because I’m not letting you go that easily.”
Logan’s smile fades slightly as his gaze drifts to the waiting plane. “We should probably ...”
You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah. We should.”
With a deep breath, you both step out of the car. Logan moves to the trunk to retrieve your luggage while you take a moment to compose yourself. As he joins you, bags in hand, you’re struck by how domestic this feels — and how much you wish this was just a normal trip, not a return to a life an ocean away.
“Your chariot awaits, Your Highness,” Logan says with an exaggerated bow, trying to lighten the mood.
You roll your eyes fondly, but play along. “Why thank you, kind sir. Your service to the Crown is most appreciated.”
As you walk towards the plane, Logan’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers. “You know,” he says casually, “I’ve been thinking about taking some flying lessons. Might come in handy for, oh, I don’t know ... surprise visits to England?”
You laugh, squeezing his hand. “Logan Sargeant, are you planning on becoming my personal pilot?”
He grins, that mischievous sparkle you love so much dancing in his eyes. “Well, I figure if I can handle an F1 car at 200 miles per hour, a plane can’t be that much harder, right?”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” you say, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.
“Details, details,” Logan waves his free hand dismissively. “The point is, I’m going to find ways to see you. Even if I have to learn to fly, sail, or ... I don’t know, teleport.”
You stop walking, tugging on his hand to make him face you. “You know you don’t have to do all that, right? I mean, I love that you want to, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to change your whole life for me.”
Logan sets down your bags, taking both your hands in his. “Y/N, listen to me. You are worth changing my whole life for. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about finding ways to make our lives fit together. Because that’s what I want — a life with you in it.”
You feel tears pricking at your eyes. “I want that too. So much.”
Logan reaches up to brush away a tear that’s escaped. “Then we’ll make it work. Whatever it takes.”
You nod, leaning into his touch. “Whatever it takes,” you repeat softly.
The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks the moment. You turn to see the pilot standing a respectful distance away.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Highness,” he says, “but we need to begin boarding if we’re to make our departure time.”
You nod, straightening your shoulders. “Of course. Thank you, Captain. I’ll be right there.”
As the pilot retreats, you turn back to Logan. “I guess this is really goodbye.”
Logan pulls you close, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “Not goodbye. Never goodbye. Just ... until next time.”
You bury your face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. “Next time,” you murmur. “The Netherlands, right?”
“The Netherlands,” Logan confirms, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be the one in the Williams car, trying not to crash while looking for you in the stands.”
You can’t help but laugh, even as tears threaten to fall again. “Please don’t crash. I quite like you in one piece.”
Logan pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “No promises. You’re pretty distracting, Princess.”
Before you can retort, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that takes your breath away. It’s tender and passionate, a promise and a farewell all at once. When you finally part, you’re both breathless.
“I love you,” you whisper, your foreheads still pressed together.
“I love you too,” Logan replies. “Now go, before I decide to jump in the cockpit of that plane and fly us both to some remote island where we can just be us.”
You laugh, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace. “Don’t tempt me. That sounds pretty perfect right now.”
Logan picks up your bags again, walking with you the last few steps to the plane’s stairs. “Your royal carriage, m’lady,” he says with another exaggerated bow.
You shake your head fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it,” he counters with a grin.
“I do,” you admit softly. “I really do.”
With one last lingering look, you start up the stairs. At the top, you turn back. Logan is still there, watching you with a mix of love and longing that makes your heart ache.
“Hey, Logan?” You call down.
“Yeah?”
You smile, feeling a sudden surge of certainty despite the impending separation. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”
Logan’s answering smile is like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Yeah, Princess. We’re going to be more than okay. We’re going to be amazing.”
With those words echoing in your heart, you finally step into the plane. As you settle into your seat, you watch through the window as Logan returns to his car. He stands there, hand raised in farewell, until the plane begins to taxi.
As the ground falls away beneath you, you close your eyes, already counting the days until the Dutch Grand Prix. The path ahead won’t be easy — you know there will be challenges, misunderstandings, moments of doubt. But you also know that what you and Logan have is worth fighting for.
You’re leaving behind the carefree summer days of Florida, returning to the responsibilities and expectations of your royal life. But you’re taking with you something precious — the knowledge that you are loved for who you are, not what you are. And that, you realize, is the greatest gift of all.
As the plane soars over the Atlantic, you allow yourself to dream of the future — of stolen moments at race tracks, of quiet evenings in London, of a love that bridges oceans and transcends titles. It won’t be easy, but then again, the best things in life rarely are.
You’re a princess and he’s a race car driver. On paper, it shouldn’t work. But as you drift off to sleep, Logan’s last words replay in your mind.
“We’re going to be amazing.”
And you believe him. Because with Logan by your side, how could you be anything else?
***
The Texas sun beats down mercilessly on the Circuit of the Americas as Logan adjusts his fireproofs, preparing for another round of interviews. It’s his home race and the pressure is palpable. He’s been struggling all season, the weight of expectations and the constant comparisons to his teammate wearing him down.
As he walks towards the waiting journalists, Logan can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. You had told him you couldn’t make it to this race, citing royal obligations back in England. He understands, of course, but the thought of racing on home soil without you in the stands feels hollow somehow.
“Logan! Over here!” A reporter waves him over, microphone at the ready. “How are you feeling about today’s race?”
Logan pastes on his media-ready smile, falling into the familiar rhythm of pre-race interviews. “I’m feeling good, you know? It’s always special racing at home, and the energy here at COTA is incredible.”
“There’s been a lot of talk about your future with Williams,” another journalist chimes in. “Any comments on the rumors that your seat might be in jeopardy for next season?”
Logan’s smile falters slightly, but he recovers quickly. “I’m focused on doing my best in every race, including today’s. The future will take care of itself.”
As he continues answering questions, Logan’s gaze drifts over the bustling pit lane. Mechanics scurry about, making last-minute adjustments to the cars. Team personnel hurry back and forth, clipboards and tablets in hand. It’s a familiar scene, one he’s witnessed countless times before.
But then, something catches his eye. A flash of familiar hair, a silhouette he’d recognize anywhere. Logan blinks, sure he must be seeing things. But no — there you are, walking down the pit lane as if you belong there (which, he supposes, you do in a way).
“Logan?” The interviewer’s voice seems distant. “Logan, can you tell us about your strategy for today’s-”
But Logan isn’t listening anymore. His jaw goes slack, eyes wide with disbelief as he watches you approach. You’re dressed casually in a flowing maxi dress, your hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. To Logan, you’ve never looked more beautiful.
“I ... uh ...” Logan stammers, completely losing his train of thought. The interviewer follows his gaze, her own eyes widening as she recognizes you.
A hush falls over the pit lane as heads turn to watch your progress. You seem oblivious to the attention, your eyes locked on Logan. A brilliant smile lights up your face as you break into a run.
Logan barely has time to brace himself before you’re launching yourself into his arms. He catches you instinctively, spinning you around as laughter bubbles up from his chest.
“Surprise!” You exclaim, pulling back just enough to see his face. “Did you really think I’d miss your home race?”
Logan shakes his head in amazement, still not quite believing you’re here. “But you said ... how did you ...”
You grin mischievously. “I may have told a tiny white lie. Royal prerogative and all that.”
Logan laughs, setting you down but keeping his arms wrapped firmly around your waist. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink.
It’s only then that Logan becomes aware of your surroundings again. The entire pit lane has gone silent, all eyes on the two of you. Cameras flash incessantly, capturing what must be the most undignified public display the Princess of England has ever made.
Logan feels a moment of panic. “Y/N,” he whispers, “everyone’s watching.”
You shrug, seemingly unconcerned. “Let them watch. I’m just a girl supporting her boyfriend at his home race.”
The casual use of the word ‘boyfriend’ sends a thrill through Logan. Despite the months you’ve been together, sometimes he still can’t quite believe this is real.
A throat clearing nearby breaks the moment. Logan turns to see James Vowles approaching with a bemused expression.
“Your Highness,” James says with a slight bow. “This is ... an unexpected honor.”
You turn to face him, your arm still wrapped around Logan’s waist. “Mr. Vowles,” you greet him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced. I was just so eager to see how our British team is faring.”
James nods, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Of course, we’re always delighted to host you. Perhaps you’d like a tour of the garage?”
“That would be lovely,” you reply, your voice sweet but with an undercurrent of steel that makes Logan’s eyebrows raise. “I’m particularly interested in discussing team strategy. And driver management.”
Logan feels you tense slightly beside him, and he suddenly realizes what you’re doing. His heart swells with a mixture of love and awe.
James seems to pick up on the shift in atmosphere as well. “I see,” he says carefully. “Well, I’m sure we can arrange a meeting after the race-”
“Oh, I think now would be perfect,” you interrupt, your smile never wavering. “After all, I’m quite invested in the success of this team. Particularly when it comes to nurturing young talent.”
Logan watches in fascination as James visibly squirms under your gaze. He’s never seen his usually unflappable team principal so wrong-footed.
“Of course, Your Highness,” James finally manages. “Shall we step into the hospitality area for some privacy?”
You nod graciously, but before following James, you turn back to Logan. “For luck,” you murmur, pulling him down for a quick kiss that leaves him breathless and the watching crowd buzzing with excitement.
As you walk away with James, Logan overhears snippets of your conversation.
“I do hope, Mr. Vowles,” you’re saying, your voice light but with a clear edge, “that Williams is committed to giving all its drivers equal opportunities to succeed. It would be such a shame if rumors of ... unequal treatment were to reach certain ears.”
Logan watches in awe as James nods frantically, clearly understanding the implied threat behind your words.
“And these whispers about potentially dropping Logan,” you continue, your smile never faltering. “I’m sure they’re just baseless rumors. After all, it would be terribly short-sighted to let go of such promising talent, don’t you think?”
As your voice fades into the distance, Logan stands rooted to the spot, a goofy grin spreading across his face. He’s vaguely aware of the chaos around him — journalists clamoring for comments, team members and rivals alike shooting him curious glances — but all he can think about is you.
You, who flew across an ocean to surprise him. You, who jumped into his arms without a care for protocol or propriety. You, who’s currently backing his team principal into a corner with a smile and a veiled royal threat.
In that moment, Logan Sargeant knows without a doubt that he has never been more in love.
A hand on his shoulder startles him out of his reverie. He turns to see Alex grinning at him.
“Mate,” Alex says, shaking his head in disbelief, “when you said you were dating a princess, I thought you were having us on. But that? That was ...”
“Yeah,” Logan agrees, still a bit dazed. “She’s something else.”
Alex laughs. “Understatement of the century. You better hold onto that one, Sargeant. And maybe put in a good word for the rest of us with her royal highness? I wouldn’t mind having that kind of backing in contract negotiations.”
Logan chuckles, finally snapping out of his stupor. “Sorry, Albon. This princess is spoken for.”
As Alex walks away, still shaking his head and laughing, Logan takes a deep breath. The pre-race nerves that had been plaguing him all morning have vanished, replaced by a surge of confidence and determination.
He may not know what the future holds — for his career or for his relationship with you — but in this moment, he feels invincible. Because no matter what challenges lie ahead, he knows he has you in his corner.
With renewed purpose, Logan heads towards the garage. He has a race to prepare for, after all. And now, more than ever, he’s determined to prove himself worthy of the faith you’ve placed in him.
As he reaches the garage entrance, he catches sight of you emerging from the hospitality area, James trailing behind you looking slightly shell-shocked. You spot Logan and wink, giving him a thumbs up.
Logan grins, blowing you a kiss before disappearing into the garage. He has a feeling this is going to be his best race yet. And win or lose, he knows he’ll have you waiting for him at the finish line.
And really, what more could a guy ask for?
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nedgis · 1 year
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Jeu concours : originalité et modernité avec la lampe à poser Poise de chez KDLN !
En collaboration avec la talentueuse @_jessicavenancio, nous vous proposons un nouveau jeu concours qui va vous permettre de gagner la fameuse lampe à poser Poise, de chez KDLN ! Avant de vous parler davantage de cette superbe création, découvrons la marque KDLN ! « Faisons la différence. Laissons une empreinte. Faisons le bien. Créons une expérience » Anciennement connue sous le nom de…
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