#Windows Developers London

[suguann]

He has a feeling that the new girl running the front desk at the gym is going to be a problem—a distraction disguised in a gym uniform polo and khaki pants.

It starts with you smiling too brightly as he walks in one morning, all teeth and that little twinkle in your eye that feels like trouble when you scan his membership card.

“Good morning, Mr. Riley.” 

“It’s just Simon,” he tells you as he takes his card off the counter. 

The following day, it’s the same, except Johnny is there to make it worse.

He nudges Simon with his elbow. “She’s kinda pretty, huh?”

“Say it any louder, and she’ll hear you, mate,” he grumbles.

Simon’s not blind; of course, he knows you’re pretty, but he doesn’t have time to commit to anything outside of work—even if you smile at him like you’re happy to see him and how he’ll think about it later: on missions, at his desk, during morning runs. His head is nothing short of woven webs with thoughts of you stuck in the middle.

Honestly, it’s that you—

(You try to make small talk with him every morning, and Simon is starting to think it’s just for him because on the days he doesn’t come alone, you merely scan his card and go back to reading the open paperback book on the desk.)

It’s weird because it’s almost like you—

(He bumps into you at the supermarket and makes a dumb joke about carrots that makes you laugh. It makes him a little tongue-tied and awkward afterward because he realizes he hasn’t talked to a woman outside of only wanting a quick fuck in a really long time, but more importantly, he wants to hear it again. 

Instead, he tosses potatoes in his cart and walks away.)

He tells himself it means nothing, or not how Simon wants it to.

You’re just…he’s not even sure; acquaintances? Maybe more than that, but less than friends. Somewhere in that odd in-between phase where he only knows bits and pieces but not the whole picture.

Sometimes, he wishes—

(Simon doesn’t know what he’s doing the first time he invites you to meet the guys from work on a night out. He’s dated around a few times and had his fair share of hook-ups, but this isn’t like that. His palms are sweaty, more than usual, and no amount of wiping them on the thighs of his jeans keeps them dry.

Then you walk into the bar in a dress that’s probably too light for early spring in London—even though he stares appreciatively at the long expanse of your legs as you walk up to the table—and he wishes he wasn’t introducing you as his friend.)

But you—

(A new development happens after you slip him your phone number on one of the gym’s business cards—it’s weird that we don’t have each other’s numbers, so message me sometime or whatever—and he messages you ‘hey’ right before he leaves for a mission a few days later. 

It slowly shifts and changes over time.

You start sending him texts in the morning. Never an actual good morning text, but of the dogs you take on walks, the sunrise, the new flower box in your window. Somehow, it’s better.)

You really are—

(His house feels too hot, and he’s distracted from the movie by how close you are, how your leg drapes over his under the blanket, fingers fisting into his sweater at his stomach that clenches. An ache that grows, throbbing, spreading from his abdomen to his groin.

It feels monumental—something more than the gentle touch to the elbow to squeeze by each other in his entryway earlier or giving you his jacket that night at the bar—a tilt of the axis that makes the messy pieces fall neatly into place. 

He must be staring because you glance up at him, smiling, and the sound from the TV turns into white noise in the background.

“Can I…would you—fucking hell,” Simon runs a hand through his hair. “Can I kiss you?”

When your lips press against his, and his hands are pulling you onto his lap, where you settle hotly against his dick tenting in his jeans, he wonders why neither of you has done this before. Just kissing—him licking the seam of your mouth, and you panting his name.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” you mumble, lips brushing his.

“Me too,” and he fists his hand into the hair at your nape and pulls you back to his mouth.)

“I knew you’d be trouble,” he tells you one day, glaring at the bloke further down the bar who tried making a swipe at your ass before Simon showed up, towering over his shoulder with your fruity cocktail in hand.

“Oh, yeah?” you giggle, leaning into his side.

“Yeah,” the corners of his mouth quirk, though he hides it when he presses a kiss against your temple. “A real pain in my ass, love.”

“But yours.”

This time, he does smile. “Yes, but mine.”

Masterlist

[pucksandpower]

Princess Protection Program

Logan Sargeant x Princess of England!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Florida.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They turn back, concern etched on their faces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You never could,” your mother assures you.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too, Y/N,” he whispers. “Me too.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Logan?” You call down.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re going to be amazing.”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And really, what more could a guy ask for?

[finelinefae]

the other woman

synopsis: y/n is the other woman who just wants to be loved

word count: 5.5k

contains: angst, not a super happy ending maybe it is depending how u see it idk, harry is kind of a dick, mentions of medication, mentions of mental health (anxiety, allusions to depression), harry definitely listens to the 1975 in this, smoking, friends with benefits situation, toxic relationship

. . .

"That's the ugliest piece of shit I have ever seen."

"Yeah,"

"I love it."

"You do?"

"I adore it."

"Good."

Harry sat against the headboard of her bed which took up the majority of his tiny bedroom in his even tinier apartment an hour train ride from central London. He was shirtless, his trousers were unbuttoned and his hair was a dishevelled mess. He had a cigarette between his teeth, Y/N hated the way the smoke made the room smell but she would never tell him that.

She sat up against the wall, her legs on top of his. She wore cotton underwear and his shirt, the buttons weren't done up, his gaze switching between his sketchbook and her breasts. Her eyes were fixated on the picture in the center of the white A3 pages.

She didn't know what it was but it was black and white and looked like skin. She wondered whether it was his skin but she wouldn't have called it ugly. She had seen every inch of his skin and the last forty-five minutes was proof of that. Her lips had pressed against the most intimate of places, she would know if it was his skin.

"What is it?" She frowned, tilting it to one side to see if a change in perspective would enhance its features.

"It's an areola," He responded, releasing a sigh, almost as if he was frustrated she didn't know he had taken a picture of a woman's breast.

"A tit?" Her heart began to race as she thought about him taking pictures of her without asking.

He chuckles and puts out his cigarette on her bedside table, leaning forward to throw it out of the window. "It sounds less artistic when you say it." He leans back again and reaches for a strand of her hair to play with. "But yes it is a tit."

'Who's is it?' She wanted to ask 'When did you take it?' 'Is she pretty?' 'Why not me?'

She could feel herself slipping away, wanting to cover herself up the more she questioned him in her own head. She glanced down at her chest briefly.

"It's not you." His words stung more than they should.

"I know that." She pushed the sketchbook away, not wanting to look at the picture of another woman's areolas. "What for?"

"We're doing the human form." He answers,

"Right."

"You're upset."

"I'm fine." She argued but the truth was she was upset and she hated the fact he knew that immediately.

He was good at hiding his emotions, he always had that sense of mystery to him, her not so much. She was sensitive and wore her heart on her sleeve. She was desperate to fall in love and when she did, she felt it to her very core, her chest would ache at the thought of being isolated from human contact. Sometimes she felt he took advantage of that but if she were to admit that, she would have to leave him and she couldn't do that.

She would rather die than be alone, especially if it meant being away from the one person to who she had developed an unhealthy attachment since they had met.

Harry's phone went off and he quickly reached across her to grab it from his side table. She felt like someone was pinching her all over as he bit back a grin at whoever had sent him a text. Suddenly being naked around him felt wrong so she quickly reached for her clothing that had been discarded on the bedroom floor.

"You're leaving?" He asks.

"Who is it?"

"It's nobody." She knew him long enough to know when he was lying.

"How long have you been seeing her?" Y/N wasn't going to cry, she wasn't, she really really wasn't.

Harry rolled his eyes, "You're being dramatic," He always tried to make it seem as if her feelings were too big for the space around them.

"You're a fucking jerk you know that?" She pulled her trousers up her legs and didn't even bother to button them up as she went in search for her shoes. "You show me someone else's tits as soon as we finish having sex? And then you get a text message and don't even tell me who it is?"

"I don't know why you're getting so upset we agreed long ago this was just a temporary thing."

"Oh I know you remind me that every time, I like to remind myself every day I'm just someone to pass the time." Y/N was used to being someone made to be used by someone else. She could be bleeding on the floor in the middle of the street and she wouldn't be surprised if someone took a plastic bottle and started filling it up with her blood in hopes it could save someone else before they even thought about rescuing her.

The problem was, she didn't even try to stop them. People entered her life and took pieces of her and carried them away with them, just to discard them later. Before she even thought about healing herself, someone else would come along and snatch another piece of her away.

That was the problem with people who were afraid of living with no love in their life, they were prepared to do anything for it. Y/N put too much faith in people despite the number of times she had been let down by the people close to her.

Harry was no different to that it seemed.

"What are you talking about? Hey," He grabs her wrist and pulls her into him, his eyes were sharp and for a brief moment, she thought she saw a flicker of emotion in his eye. Her heart pounded at the touch of his fingertips grazing her pulse. "What do you mean? You don't really believe that do you?"

"What does it matter? I know nothing about you Harry."

"You know more about me than anyone else does."

Sometimes it didn't feel like it.

Harry liked to make her feel special. He was good at it. He sent her texts during the day and brushed his hand against hers when they passed in the hallways. They'd come back to his place after a few drinks with friends in the evening, fuck, and be done with it. He'd send her away and act as if what they did didn't matter to him.

It mattered to her though. No one thinks that about a rebound or a person you had casual sex with but it always matters. She had never slept around until she had met him and now she was intoxicated by him because it mattered, right from the very beginning.

She closes her eyes and nods, "Please tell me who it was." She almost pleads with him.

"It's the girl in the picture, she's in my photography class." He admits.

"Do you like her?" Y/N almost whispers, she braces herself for the answer. She had been dreading the day he was planning to end this, she thought she would have more time.

Harry's head falls back like it kills him inside to give an honest answer to her question, "I really like her."

Y/N pushes him back and finally cries in front of him, "Go to Hell."

"Y/N-" He tries.

"No," She moves away from him quickly and reaches for the door, "And for what it's worth I lied, that is the ugliest piece of shit I've ever seen and I hate it. It's ugly and you are an awful photographer."

She was glad she got that out as she slammed the door behind her on the way out.

An hour later she called him.

"Harry, I'm sorry," She whimpers and sobs into the phone. It was an ugly, heart wrenching sob as she cried to him on the phone, "I didn't mean to upset you. I don't think it's ugly at all. I'm sorry,"

"Hey love, it's okay, it's okay," He comforted her.

"I didn't mean it Harry please forgive me I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. Please, please, please, please." She said the words over and over again. Pleading for something that seemed like more than forgiveness.

"Y/N I forgive you, I promise. Please go to sleep." He asks her, he was worried for her but she had done this often enough he knew it wasn't anything serious.

"Promise?" She cries, sniffling.

"I promise,"

"Okay, I'm sorry Harry."

"I forgive you."

The call ended and Y/N lay back staring at the ceiling, her eyes burning from all the crying she had done since she got home from being with Harry. She turned over and took half a miligram of xanax and a sleeping pill, despite her doctor telling her not to, and fell asleep.

"Who was that?" Harry turned to look at the girl in the photo who was now lying on his bed. Her hair was flipped to one side, exposing her entire neck and collarbones.

"Nobody." He forced a smile on his face and walked over to her with his camera, the sounds of Y/N's pleading echoing in his head for the remainder of the night.

--

The next day, Y/N walked into the art room for her first class of the day. She took out her portfolio and sat at her table where she had been working on her next project. It was a painting she had been working on for the past few days and she wasn't near to being finished just yet.

Her eyes were swollen and red from having spent the majority of yesterday crying her eyes out. She skipped her therapy appointment and turned her phone off as she thought about how lonely she really was and how she had no one but herself to blame for putting herself in that situation.

Harry was also in this class but he hadn't turned up yet. The thought of him made her stomach twist. Picturing his smile as he told her about the girl he had been seeing, 'I really like her.' echoed in her head and she wondered what it would be like for him to say that about her.

"How's it going?" Ollie, a good friend of Y/N's, sat down at the easel and stool next to her and placed his backpack on the ground at his feet. He pulled out his pens and watercolor paints as he set up his station to paint.

"Fine." She muttered, reaching for her headphones in her pocket and putting one in her left ear.

"That doesn't sound good." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'm fine Ollie." She repeated, a little more hostile this time.

"Did you go to Harry's place yesterday? I tried to call you but it went straight to answerphone."

"What makes you think that?" She looked at him, tilting her head in curiosity.

"You have this look in your eye." He seems as if he doesn't want to go on but she waits for him to carry on speaking, "I don't know how to describe it... It's like someone's put light in your chest just to then suck the life out of you." He motions towards her painting, "Kind of like that."

She looked at her painting and stared at it. A woman sat in an empty room, a stream of light hitting her face from the window. Outside were people celebrating amongst vines and trees and flowers. The painting was a mixture of beiges and browns and green but the woman's eyes were black and lifeless... they were the saddest pair of eyes she had ever seen.

--

"Fuck," Harry groaned and fell on top of her, sweat beading his forehead as he left her and fell to her side. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind was blank and her chest was heavy.

Harry reached across her for his phone, "Shit." He muttered, shifting to the end of the bed and jumping to his feet.

"What?" Y/N asked, sitting up, the blanket falling to her waist.

"I didn't know what time it was, I'm late for my class." He pulled up his trousers and ran his fingers through his hair as he went in search for a shirt to wear on his bedroom floor.

"Hmm." She sighed and fell back, reaching for one of his cigarettes and fiddling with it between her fingers.

"Are you going to smoke that?" He nodded towards the cigarette.

"Would you like me more if I did?" She replied.

He frowned, "I'd like you just the same."

She stared at him, he was so pretty. He had just gotten out of bed and his hair was a mess, his shirt had a stain on and his trousers were undone but he was so beautiful. She wondered if he ever thought that about her, whether she was beautiful despite the ugliness and mess.

Y/N reached for a lighter, lit the end of the cigarette, and inhaled the smoke.

She didn't seem to mind the way it made the room smell this time because it was a reminder that he had actually been there in her presence even just for a brief few minutes. She stared at the empty room where he once stood.

--

Y/N remembered when she first saw them together. It was a Friday night and all the art students spent Friday night at a bar in Camden Town. Y/N and Harry weren't in the same friendship circle but they had friends that knew friends and that was really how they met.

She sat with Ollie on a couch as everyone else played pool. She had taken three shots of vodka and was on her first drink of the night. The door opened and they both walked in hand in hand. The girl was stunning, her legs were long and thin, her hair was thick and wavy, her eyes were innocent and shone underneath the lights of the bar and her hand was intertwined with Harry's.

They caught eyes for a brief second before Harry turned away from her and went over to the bar to order them a drink. Ollie was talking about something she wasn't paying much attention to as her eyes stayed fixated on them.

She noticed the way his hand pressed against her back at the bottom of her spine and how he brushed her hair behind her ear as they leaned against the bar waiting for their drinks. How she smiled as he whispered something to her and bit her lip as he traced the back of her hand with the tip of his finger.

Y/N realised the Harry standing in front of her was someone she had never met before. It was strange how we never really know the people we meet as they choose to present themselves as someone else depending on who they are with. It's only when you're with your person that you can truly be your authentic self. She wondered which version of himself was real. She even wondered which version of herself was real, who she was with him or who she was without.

"I'm going to go over there." Y/N slurred, moving off the couch but falling back again as the room began to spin.

"Oh no you don't." Ollie pulled her back. "I'm not going to let you embarrass yourself like that."

"Why would I be embarrassed?" He looked at her like she was supposed to understand what he was hinting to.

"You'll forgive me in the morning." He said like he had done her some kind of favour.

She did.

--

"When are you going to take pictures of me for your class?" She wondered, playing with the ends of her hair on his bed as Harry fiddled with the strings of his guitar.

"You want me to do that?" He asked.

"Why not? I think it would be fun." She thought for a moment, "What would you choose to take pictures of?"

Harry pondered on the idea, thinking really hard to come up with an answer to her question. She bit her lip to hold back a smile. She liked the idea of him scanning his memories for parts of her body he had seen. It made her happy knowing that pieces of her were ingrained into his mind like lyrics to a song or the colours of the rainbow.

"Your eyes." He answered after a while.

She frowned, not expecting the answer, "What?"

"Your eyes." He repeated.

"That's it?" Her eyes were the only part of her he thought worth photographing?

"Yeah."

"That's boring." She muttered, falling back against the mattress.

"What makes you say that?"

"You took a picture of that girls boob and you've probably taken a lot more pictures since you like her so much." He cringed and set his guitar down to look at her properly. Harry knew he had to be careful with what he was saying, he could tell by the tone of her voice she was getting upset.

"Those were the only pictures I took." He argued, "And besides, I like your eyes."

"You never look into them." She retorts.

"Of course I do."

"You don't."

A beat of silence rested between them until Harry spoke again, "Maybe when you're not looking."

"Why would you look at my eyes when I'm not looking?" She wasn't understanding anything he was saying.

"Because I love watching you watch the world." He replied. "If I don't know how I feel about something I look at your eyes and everything makes sense. Sometimes it feels as though I'm understanding the world through you."

Her face softened, her heart settled in her chest. She felt warmth spread through her like she had just received a warm hug. The corners of her lips tugged upwards and she crawled over to kiss his cheek. "That was possibly the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." She confessed, her heart expanding.

"Then you need to be surrounded by better people." He reached for his guitar. "Come sit here." He patted his thigh and she rolled off the bed to sit exactly where he asked.

He began to play a song on his guitar, gently singing the lyrics in a low voice. She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck.

It was one of those moments she wanted to freeze and stay in forever. Nothing else existed outside of this bubble. Her heart was happy.

--

Ollie's birthday was January 23rd and he was having a house party at his flat.

"How many people are coming?" Y/N asked as she applied mascara in front of his bathroom mirror. She was crouched down inside the sink so she could get as close as possible to the mirror.

"I don't know, I invited about twenty and said they could spread the word to whoever was available." OIlie applied aftershave as he spoke.

"So everyone?"

"Possibly."

Y/N was excited to see Harry. Although they didn't speak much outside of the confinements of his bedroom, she was still looking forward to being in his presence. Ever since their intimate moment, they shared a few days ago, she had been longing for him. Her heart sighed in bliss at the thought of being near him again.

She wanted to wear something extra special that she thought he would like. Her hair was curled, which she never normally did, she wore black, leather trousers and a black corset to go with it and black heels to make her slightly taller than she really was. She accessorised with gold jewellery and had done her makeup in a much more simple manner.

"You look like that girl." Ollie spoke as soon as she walked into his kitchen.

"What girl?" She blushed.

"The one Harry was with at the bar the other night. I mean, the outfit is hot but you never wear your makeup and hair like that."

"Geez would it kill you to just say I look 'good'?" She mumbled, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. She never normally wore her hair down as it irritated her.

Ollie's face softened, she hated the sympathy on his face, "You look fucking hot." He said, pulling her in for a hug, "Don't let anyone change that." He whispered.

People began to arrive around 10pm. Ollie's apartment filled up rather quickly and Y/N was already on her third drink of the night. She was stood talking to a few of her friends from one of her textile classes until her eyes caught sight of the curly-headed boy she had been waiting for.

She smiled, excusing herself from the conversation and shifting through the crowd to get to him. "Harry hey," She beamed but then immediately felt her happiness slip from her.

"Hey Y/N," His eyes were wide at the sight of her, he was so used to seeing her in her natural form.

Y/N didn't reply as her focus was fixated on the girl talking to some other people. The girl he had bought with her. The girl in the photo. "Are you okay?" Harry asked when she didn't say anything.

"I'm fine." She forced a smile on her face.

"We're not staying long. I just thought I'd stop by to see Ollie." Her heart deflated at the use of 'we', they were a 'we' now.

"Right, I'm sure he'll appreciate it." She nodded, reaching for another drink.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He checked with her.

"I'm fine. I just need to use the bathroom." Y/N pushed past him and made her way to Ollie's bathroom which was surprisingly empty.

"Are you okay?" Someone asked her from behind as she was about to step into the bathroom.

She turned around and came face to face with the girl from the photo. She looked even more beautiful up close if that were even possible.

"I'm fine." Y/N muttered, it seemed as though that was the only response she was giving anyone nowadays.

"Harry sent me to come and see if you were okay." She said, even her voice was soft and gentle, "He was worried about you."

Y/N scoffed, "What he couldn't come find me himself?"

"He was trying to find Ollie I think-" The girl sighed, "If you're okay, I'll go back and tell him."

"Before you go...Can I ask you something?" Y/N could hear the voice in her head screaming at her not to say anything but she had to know, she needed to know.

"Go ahead." The girl seemed irritated by Y/N, like she was wasting her time.

"Do you know who I am?" Y/N could feel her eyes burn as she asked the question.

The girl from the photo frowned, confused by her question, "What?"

"Do you know who I am?" Y/N repeated but this time more sternly.

The girl from the photo looked at her, really looked at her, narrowing her eyes as if to get a better look. "I have no idea."

Y/N's insides felt as though they were bleeding. It was almost like Harry was the only one who was keeping her stitched together but now everything inside of her had come loose from that one reply.

The girl from the photo hesitated before saying, "I'll go and tell my boyfriend you're okay."

Y/N looked at her as she walked away, completely crushed. She walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her, falling onto her knees and sobbing into her hands.

She hadn't realised how much power he had over her until this moment. How much she relied on him and how she couldn't picture her life without him. She trusted him too easily and that was nobody's fault but her own.

Her breathing began to pick up and she felt a strange sensation like pins and needles trickle along her skin. She pulled off her trousers and her corset until she was in nothing but her bra and underwear. She crawled into the bathtub and turned on the shower so cold water could reach her skin, all whilst hyperventilating and crying her eyes out.

This was unlike any pain she had ever felt. She wasn't sure why it had hurt so much but maybe it was because another person had used her, maybe this time it was because she gave every inch of herself to him and she had nothing but skin and bones left.

"Y/N are you in there?" His voice was muffled from behind the door.

"G-Go away." She whispered, rocking backward and forwards with her head tucked into her knees and cold water wetting her skin.

"I'm worried about you, love." His voice sounded so sad.

"Go away." She carried on chanting like this was a nightmare she wanted to wake up from.

She felt soft hands touching her shoulders and immediately looked up into green, sad eyes. For once Harry was easy to read as his eyes showed nothing but remorse.

He reached past her and turned the shower off, she was shivering and he reached for a towel to wrap around her shoulders in hopes it would provide some warmth.

They said nothing, Y/N didn't get out of the bath as it helped in providing a separation between them. "Why don't you love me like I love you?" She whispered. Her eyes looking into his, they were red and her face was stained with tears.

There was no point in denying things anymore, he was one of the only people who knew she was too clever for that, "I don't know," His head fell forward, he felt defeated.

"Why did you put me here?" She cried, "Why did you put me here if you were just going to leave me?"

"I-I thought you understood what this was. I thought-" He lied.

Harry knew Y/N better than anyone in her life. He knew better than to hurt her like this.

"Why does everyone leave me?" She whimpered, "Why can't I be loved?"

"Y/N-"

"Please tell me you love me. Please, please, please," She was begging him, crying into his shoulder.

"I-I can't Y/N." Never had her name sounded so disgusting coming from his lips.

"I don't know what to do anymore Harry. I-I would rather die than be alone," She sobbed.

"Y/N you're never alone."

"You're ending this." She cried, "I'm alone."

He couldn't stand having this conversation and not being able to hold her. He stepped into the bathtub fully clothed and sat in front of her, reaching for her hand and holding it gently in his. The feeling of his skin seemed to ease some of the pain she had been feeling, but the loneliness still echoed throughout her.

"I don't know why I can't love you, Y/N, but it doesn't mean I don't feel anything about you. You have become my best friend—"

"I don't want to be your best friend. No, no," she shook her head. "You've killed me once by admitting you don't love me. Please don't send me to Hell by calling me your friend. Do you know how painful that is? I just want to be loved by you. Is that too much to ask? I have given everything, I have given everything to you. I rooted for you in every way possible. I have killed myself trying to get you to love me, and I don't think I even know who I am anymore because of it."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was selfish and a coward and undeserving of her love, and he wished she could see that.

"Y/N—"

"Please just leave."

His eyes watered at the thought of going about his life without her. He could feel the air around them grow thick, his chest rising and falling as he tried to breathe in. He felt like he was drowning at the thought of her leaving his life. Despite not loving her in the way she desired, he realized he would also be alone without her.

Maybe that was it.

All along, they had just been two people dealing with loneliness and coping with it differently. One used the other to fill the gaps in the spaces where they felt most alone, and the other fell hopelessly in love in hopes it would change them. That was the true nature of it, and even if they were meant to be together at some point, now was not the time.

"Listen to me," Harry whispered, collecting her hands and holding them to his chest. "I'm going to leave."

She choked on a sob.

"I don't want to do that." She shook her head. "I just want to be with you." The thought of the loneliness seeped into her pores, and she didn't think it would be possible for her to stay afloat as she drowned in it.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said softly, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I-I don't know what I'm doing."

She was taken aback by his tears and was unsure of what to do. It was the first time she had seen him cry, the first time she realized he was equally as afraid as she was. She leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug, allowing him to cry into her shoulder.

This was the end.

"I love you, Harry. I really do," she whispered into his ear.

He couldn't reply, so he just sobbed even harder.

--

The days hadn't changed so much when Harry stepped out of Y/N's life.

They didn't talk much during the day when they were friends so Y/N went about carrying on her classes and speaking to Ollie who she appreciated more than ever as he comforted her when she was feeling at her worst. It was Ollie who made the days feel... a little less lonely.

She missed his touches and texting him on her phone but she tried to come up with ways to cope with that by watching youtube videos or drawing so she wasn't tempted to unblock him and forgive him again.

The nights were the hardest. Y/N hadn't realised that the only reason she'd been sleeping was because of Harry. She had tried to not take sleeping pills to help her get to sleep but sometimes she'd spend the entire night just painting in hopes it would made her tired.

Since they had some of the same friends now, Y/N knew of Harry's ventures through word of mouth. He had broke things off with the girl from the photo the day after Ollie's birthday party. Turns out they weren't really in an established relationship and the girl did know who Y/N was because Harry never stopped talking about Y/N when they were together.

That made her smile.

He was an assistant to a wedding photographer on the weekends so that he could save up some money for his own studio. She was happy to hear he was actually making the most of his talent instead of wasting it like she had considered doing multiple times.

Other than that, the days went by rather slowly and nothing out of the ordinary happened. She had been on dates here and there and was in her first real relationship in her third year of University but that only lasted a few months. Turns out he was cheating on her the entire time they were together which felt like one step forwards and two steps back.

Y/N moved into an apartment in central London after she graduated and did some freelancing as an illustrator whilst working weekends at a hotel and the evenings at a bar in Soho.

Her life was mundane but she was okay with that. She had spent so much time focusing on others that she forgot to focus on herself. She had started going to therapy, the gym, and even became vegetarian for a little while. She was no longer taking Xanax as often as she used to and spent less time thinking about Harry.

She wondered what he was up to from time to time but in the end, she just hoped he wasn't alone.

[rootedinrevisions]

Shattered and Rebuilt

SUMMARY: After a week of poor decisions drifts you and Tyler apart, a life-threatening tornado brings you and Tyler face to face with your deepest fears. Amidst the wreckage of the storm, you discover the vulnerability and love you've been hiding from each other. As you navigate jealousy, insecurity, and past mistakes, you must find a way to rebuild what was almost lost and redefine what it means to be truly vulnerable with each other.

A/N: Thank you so much to @imagine-all-the-fandoms for sending this request in! I know you sent it back in November, and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get it posted. I wrote this and then kept adding more and more to it because I kept coming up with new ideas or ways to develop the story even further. Hopefully you enjoy it! xx

WORD COUNT: 11.9k

TAGS: In Comments.

The hum of Tyler’s red Dodge pickup truck filled the air as the tires crunched over gravel, signaling your arrival at the roadside gast station. Out the window, Oklahoma stretched endlessly, a patchwork of flat fields and distant clouds that carried a whisper of the chaos you were chasing this week.

A “Once in a Lifetime Tornado Outbreak” they had called it. And as soon as Tyler got wind of it, you and the rest of the team were loading up the gear and making your way from Arkansas to Oklahoma.

“All right,” Tyler announced, his voice warm but laced with a slight hint of his usual no-nonsense drawl. “Gas stop. Grab whatever you need ‘cause after this, we’re not stoppin’.”

From your spot in the backseat, you stretched, bumping into Ben, the South London journalist currently occupying your personal space as you were squished between him and some of the gear Tyler kept in the backseat. He shifted awkwardly with an apologetic smile.

"Quite the operation you’ve got here," Ben said, his crisp accent standing out like a sore thumb in this dusty corner of America. "I imagine this stop isn’t just about petrol, though. Snacks are the real fuel, yeah?"

Boone, in the passenger seat, barked out a laugh and twisted around to face us. "Damn straight, mate. Tyler’s got a thing for gas station jerky. Won’t admit it, but he eats that stuff like it’s gourmet."

Tyler shot Boone a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, and you’re one to talk with your armful of chocolate donuts every time we stop. Besides,"—his gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror, locking with yours for just a second too long—"some people come outta these places with enough candy to stock a piñata."

You smirked, leaning forward between the seats so your chin rested on the back of Tyler's shoulder. "Are you saying you have a problem with my impeccable snack choices, Owens?"

He didn’t look at you, but you didn’t miss the twitch of his lips. "Didn’t say that. Just pointin’ out that your ‘impeccable choices’ mean sticky fingers all over my truck."

"Like jerky grease is any better?" You shot back, raising a brow.

Boone groaned, pulling a ball cap down over his face. "Here we go again."

Ben leaned over, amused. "This feels like foreplay, doesn’t it?"

"Ben!" I shot him a look, feeling heat crawl up my neck, but Tyler, ever unflappable, simply chuckled as he parked by the gas pump.

"Y’all are hopeless," Tyler said, pushing open his door. He turned to you, one boot on the pavement and an easy grin playing on his lips. "You comin’, or are you too busy defendin’ your snack habits to stretch your legs?"

"Depends," You said, hopping out of the truck and closing the door with a satisfying slam. "You gonna buy me a drink, or are you just here to trash talk my love of Skittles?"

His eyes glinted under the brim of his weathered Stetson. "That depends. You gonna keep makin’ me regret lettin’ you in my truck, or you finally gonna admit you’d be bored if you rode with Lily?"

You rolled your eyes, tossing Tyler a glance over your shoulder as you headed toward the gas station with Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani in tow. "If I admit it, you’ll never let me live it down. And we can’t have that."

Tyler’s laughter followed you as the glass doors of the gas station swung shut behind you, the cool air blasting away the lingering warmth of the Oklahoma sun. The gas station smelled like cheap coffee and cleaning supplies, the fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead. 

You stood in the candy aisle, staring at the two options of brightly colored Skittles packets as if your life depended on the choice between regular and sour.

"Regular or sour," You muttered under your breath, weighing the pros and cons as if this wasn’t a completely ridiculous debate. Regular was classic, reliable—always good. Sour was bold, unexpected, a little more fun. Your fingers hovered between the two when a glimpse of movement outside the window caught your attention.

You glanced over the top of the shelf, peering out into the midday sun, where Tyler’s familiar figure was strolling across the grassy lot. Your brow furrowed slightly as you followed his path to…her. 

She was standing just off to the side of the gas station, her light hair pulled up with a claw clip swaying in the breeze as she gazed out at the horizon. She was new. Or at least you assumed since you’d never seen her. She was apparently tagging along with Storm Par for the week, and while you didn’t know much about her, she seemed okay.

Tyler reached her, and you watched as she turned to him as he said something. He gestured out toward the horizon, his hands moving as he spoke, probably talking about something weather-related.

That was just Tyler—always the helpful one. Always looking out for everyone, wanting to make them feel welcome.

That’s all it was, you told myself. Just him being his usual kind, good-natured self. But then he gave her that smirk. The one that was all effortless charm and made you feel like you were the only person in the world he cared to talk to.

A strange pang stirred in your chest, sharp and sudden, and you quickly looked away.

It’s nothing. You grabbed the bag of regular Skittles off the shelf, hesitated, and grabbed the sour ones too. He’s allowed to talk to whoever he wants. He’s even allowed to flirt with whoever he wants.

Still, the pang lingered as you made your way toward the checkout. Passing the jerky section, you paused, scanning the shelves until you  found it—Tyler’s favorite brand and flavor. Without thinking, you grabbed two bags and tucked them under your arm.

At the drink cooler, you slid open the glass door and grabbed two bottles of his usual drink. It was an easy rhythm, something you’d done countless times without a second thought. He’d grumble and tease you about spoiling him, but you always noticed how he’d crack a smile and finish every bite and sip.

By the time you reached the register, your arms were full. Skittles for you, jerky and drinks for Tyler.

You dumped the lot onto the counter, pulling a crumpled twenty out of your pocket as the cashier scanned the items. You focused intently on the cashier’s polite small talk, anything to keep from glancing out the window again.

Because you didn’t care. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling myself.

* * *

The motel’s neon vacancy sign buzzed faintly in the warm night air later that day, casting a faint red glow across the gravel lot where the storm-chasing teams had gathered. Most of the trucks were parked in a line, their roof racks empty, and gear scattered across the lot as repairs and tune-ups were underway.

The hum of your laptop filled the air as you and Dani hunched over the screen. The numbers were staggering.

“Nearly fifty thousand people at one time,” Dani said, leaning closer to the screen. She looked at you with wide eyes and a grin. “This is huge. One of our biggest streams yet.”

“Yeah, we did it,” Boone said from the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame.

“Now we gotta figure out how to top it,” Dani smirked, nudging your shoulder. She glanced at you slyly. “Maybe we should give the viewers more of you and Tyler. That always gets people talking.”

You rolled your eyes, though your face heated at the comment. Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the chatter outside.

“City girl.”

The nickname made your head snap up. You turned toward the roof of the truck, seeing Tyler perched, his hands still fiddling with a piece of equipment as he looked up toward the staircase.

Your gaze followed his line of sight to see Kate— that was her name—standing on the landing of the second-floor staircase. She leaned casually against the railing, looking down at Tyler with a faint, curious smile.

“The cells to the west will choke each other out, she said. The one to the east will put on a show,” Tyler recited, his tone laced with amusement.

“Didn’t throw you off the scent,” Kate replied smoothly, her expression unreadable.

“Hey, that’s what makes Tyler famous,” Boone chimed in, grinning as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“You mean on YouTube?” Kate raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in a barely-there smirk.

Tyler froze for a second, glancing up from the equipment in his hands, and you could almost see the flash of slight irritation in his eyes. He hated when people reduced what he did to just being about clout.

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, we’re on the YouTube,” he said, trying to recover with his usual confidence. “We’ve got, what, about a million subscribers now?”

“Yes, sir!” Lily called from across the lot, her voice cheerful as the rest of the group laughed.

“Kate what?” Ben interrupted, scribbling furiously in his notepad. He glanced up at her, pen poised. “Your surname, just in case I include you in my piece.”

Kate hesitated, her posture shifting slightly as if the question made her uncomfortable. “Oh, um, just Kate’s fine,” she said finally.

“She’s a tricky one,” Tyler said, his voice light but teasing.

Boone pointed his finger toward Kate, grinning. “Actually, you made a good call earlier. That eastern cell? It looked stronger, but the cap never broke. You nailed it.”

“Where did you guys all meet?” Kate asked, quickly steering the conversation away from herself. “Did you, uh, study meteorology at the U of A?”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the group. Dani shook her head, Lily and Dexter chuckled, and you stifled a smile.

“No, no,” Boone said, raising a hand. “All right, Kate, me? I just flow with the wind, you know? Never went to, like, school or nothing.” He pointed toward Tyler. “Now, Tyler, though—he studied meteorology.”

“Him?” Kate asked, her tone incredulous as she looked at Tyler.

Tyler simply nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, he’s a cowboy scientist,” Boone continued. “He’s got this natural instinct. Taught me everything I know—”

“Boone,” Tyler interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut Boone off before he said too much. Boone just shrugged. “Our crew’s not like your crew, Kate. We don’t need PhDs and fancy gadgets to do what we do. I guarantee you these guys have seen more tornadoes than anyone else in this lot combined.”

“Is that right?” Kate said, her tone thick with skepticism.

Tyler leaned back against his truck, lifting a can of Budweiser to his lips. “But if you can keep up, we’ll put you in the episode,” he said with a smirk before taking a slow sip.

“Wow,” Kate replied dryly, her sarcasm thick.

“Where are you chasing tomorrow?” Lily asked, looking up at Kate.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Tyler said, cutting in before Kate could answer. “Not falling for that again. Kate’s from New York. Can’t trust a thing she says.”

Kate shot back without missing a beat. “Well, can always trust a guy who puts his face on a T-shirt.”

The group erupted into laughter, and you glanced over at Tyler, catching the way he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek in response to her quick jab.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he’s flustered, you thought, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe he was letting her get to him like this.

* * *

THE NEXT EVENING

The team returned to the motel just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The exhaustion from the day’s chaos was written all over everyone’s faces. After hours of chasing storms, and helping devastated families sift through the rubble of their lives, the weight of it hung heavy in the air. But there was a collective unspoken agreement—you needed to decompress before the next round.

Boone stretched his arms overhead as he leaned against the truck, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Alright, I don’t know about y’all, but I need a drink. There’s a bar down the road that looked promising. Who’s in?”

Dani perked up immediately. “Count me in. I could use a little fun after today.”

Dexter didn’t even hesitate. “I’m game.”

Ben nodded, brushing dust off his shirt. “Sounds nice.”

You glanced at Tyler, who stood off to the side, wiping his hands on a rag after finishing some last-minute adjustments to the equipment. “What about you, Ty? You coming?”

He paused, tossing the rag onto the tailgate before meeting your gaze. “Think I’m gonna sit this one out. Got some old friends from the rodeo circuit in town. Thought I’d swing by and catch up.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, crossing your arms. “You can’t leave me with these guys.” You gestured toward Boone, Dani, Lily, Ben and Dexter, who were already debating what drink to start with. “And besides who’s going to make sure I don’t get into trouble?”

Tyler chuckled, his smile easy but firm. “You’ll be fine. Besides,” he said, pointing a finger at Boone and Dani, “if anyone’s gonna get into trouble, it’s those two.”

You hesitated for a second, then ventured, “I could come with you instead. I don’t mind skipping the bar.”

He shook his head, a soft look in his eyes as he leaned against the truck. “Nah, you go have fun. You earned it.” He smirked. “Just don’t go using my credit card this time. Pay for your own drinks, sweetheart.”

Boone let out a loud laugh. “You hear that, sweetheart? Daddy Tyler says no spending his hard-earned YouTube money!”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as Tyler fought to hide his grin.

“Seriously, though,” Tyler said, his tone lighter but still genuine, “go unwind. You guys deserve it after today. I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

With that, he grabbed his hat off the dash and settled it onto his head, giving you one last nod before heading off in his truck. You watched him for a moment as he drove away, the familiar rumble of his engine fading into the night.

“Well,” Boone said, clapping his hands together, “guess it’s just us. Let’s go get a drink.”

You followed the others down the road, but your thoughts lingered on Tyler. Something about the way he’d brushed off your offer to join him left a strange feeling in your chest.

Shaking it off, you decided to focus on the night ahead—Tyler could handle himself, and so could you.

The bar was alive with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and a live band playing a familiar country tune in the corner. Boone and Dexter were deep into a game of darts while Dani and Ben sat at the bar debating their drink choices. You sipped your second drink of the night, enjoying the rare chance to unwind after the chaos of the day.

Just as you started to relax, your phone buzzed on the table. At first, you ignored it, assuming it was some random notification, but the persistent buzz caught your attention. Picking it up, you saw the words that sent a chill through your veins: Tornado Warning: Seek Shelter Immediately.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you quickly opened your weather app. Your fingers moved on autopilot, pulling up the radar. The ominous red box of the warning covered the area around the motel, and the storm cell you saw forming earlier had grown stronger—far stronger.

“Oh, my God,” you muttered, your eyes locking on the radar.

The tornado wasn’t just nearby. It was forming right over the motel and the rodeo.

The others noticed your sudden change in demeanor. “What’s up?” Boone asked, stepping closer as he wiped his hands on his shorts.

“There’s a tornado warning,” you said, your voice tight. “It’s right over the motel—where Tyler is.”

Boone’s face went pale. “Are you sure?”

You spun the screen around to show him. The rotating cell was unmistakable, its path heading straight for where Tyler and the equipment were. “We have to go. Now.”

Ben stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket. “Is it normal for one to form that fast like that?”

Dani shook her head and grabbed her phone, already calling Tyler, but the call went straight to voicemail.

“He’s not picking up,” she said, her voice edged with panic.

You grabbed your keys, adrenaline surging as you bolted toward the exit. “We can’t wait. We need to get to him and warn him before it touches down.”

The group rushed outside, the once-clear night now eerily still. The wind had picked up, and the air carried that unmistakable electric charge that came before a storm. Clouds swirled above, illuminated by flashes of lightning.

As you all piled into Boone’s van, your hands shook, not just from fear but from the overwhelming thought of Tyler being caught in the middle of it. You could only hope he’d noticed the signs in time to take cover, but with the storm forming so quickly, the chances felt slim.

Just minutes later the van screeched to a halt in front of the motel, and all you could do was stare at the scene before you. The motel looked like a warzone. The roof had caved in on one side, chunks of debris littering the parking lot. A power line was down, sparking dangerously near the edge of the lot. The neon motel sign flickered weakly, barely clinging to life.

Your breath caught when you saw Tyler’s truck. The hood and windshield were buried under a pile of rubble. But it was there.

He’s here.

Without waiting for the others, you threw the door open and bolted out into the night. Boone’s voice called after you, but it was muffled by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Tyler! Tyler!” you shouted, your voice cracking as you scanned the wreckage. You tripped over a piece of broken siding but barely noticed, your eyes darting frantically through the chaos. “Tyler!”

And then, through the haze of rain and debris, you saw movement by the pool. A figure emerged, soaked to the bone and covered in dirt, but unmistakably him.

Tyler.

Your feet moved on instinct, the world around you a blur as you sprinted toward him, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. Each step felt impossibly long, the distance between you and him stretching endlessly even as you pushed yourself harder. The rain soaked through your clothes, stinging your skin as debris crunched beneath your feet, but none of it mattered. All you could see was him, standing there, alive.

When you reached him, you didn’t slow down. Your body collided with his, and your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clinging to him with everything you had. It was as if letting go would make him vanish, as if the storm might take him from you after all.

“Tyler,” you choked out, your voice thick with relief and fear. Your fingers dug into his soaked shirt, gripping it like it was your lifeline.

His arms came around you immediately, strong and steady, pulling you against him with a quiet desperation. You could feel the warmth of his skin beneath the chill of his wet clothes, the solid reassurance of his chest rising and falling with each breath. His hands splayed across your back, holding you tightly, as though he needed the contact as much as you did.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the tremor in it. His breath was warm against your temple as he pressed his cheek to your head, his lips grazing your hair. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m fine. I promise.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face against his neck, the faint scent of rain and dirt clinging to him. “I thought—” Your words caught in your throat, a sob threatening to break free. “I thought I lost you.”

He pulled you even closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. “You didn’t,” he said softly, his voice firm and steady now, as if willing you to believe it. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

The strength in his embrace felt like a shield against everything—the storm, the fear, the chaos. In that moment, nothing else existed. It was just you and him, the rest of the world fading into a dull hum.

Finally, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands still clutching his arms. His green eyes met yours, and you saw a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and something deeper—something unspoken but unmistakable. Rain dripped from his hair, streaking down his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. His focus was entirely on you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. His hands stayed on you, one at your waist, the other brushing lightly against your shoulder. The air between you felt heavy, charged with emotions too raw to name.

Then a voice broke through the moment. “Kate! Are you okay?” Dani called out, her voice carrying across the rubble.

You turned your head, and your stomach dropped. There, climbing out of the pool behind Tyler, was Kate. She was just as soaked, her hair plastered to her face, and she looked shaken but unharmed. Behind her, a mother and her young daughter emerged as well, both clutching each other tightly.

Your chest tightened. Kate was with him?

You looked back at Tyler, and something flickered in his expression—relief, maybe, or concern. You couldn’t tell.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost afraid of the answer.

“I’ll explain later,” he said, his tone even but weary. His arms loosened around you, and he took a small step back, his gaze shifting briefly to Kate and the others.

You felt Boone’s hand on your shoulder as he and the others caught up. Dani and Lily rushed to check on Kate and the mother and daughter, their voices buzzing with questions.

But you couldn’t focus on them. Your eyes stayed on Tyler, searching his face for something—an answer, an explanation, anything to quiet the unease now gnawing at you.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, a pale glow stretching across the room and nudging you awake. The sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand pulled you the rest of the way from sleep. With a groggy groan, you rolled over and grabbed it, squinting against the brightness of the screen.

It was a text in the group chat, from Tyler.

“Not looking like an active day for storms. You guys take the day off, relax a little. I’ll be back later—gotta go do something.”

You stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times. There were no details, no clues about where he was going or what he needed to do. Just that vague statement—gotta go do something. It was so typically Tyler, giving just enough information to let you know he’d be fine, but not enough to satisfy your curiosity.

A faint pang of unease settled in your chest. After everything that had happened yesterday, you weren’t sure you liked the idea of him heading off on his own, even if the radar was clear. But Tyler wasn’t the type to sit still when something was on his mind.

The group chat pinged again. Boone was the first to respond. “Copy that. Holler if you need backup.”

Dani chimed in next. “What’s the plan for later? We still grilling? Going into town? Let us know!”

You stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of you wanted to ask Tyler where he was going, but you stopped yourself. If he wanted to tell you, he would have.

Instead, you sent a quick reply. “Okay. Be safe, Tyler.”

The unease didn’t fade as you set your phone back down and stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t help but wonder what it was he needed to do—and why he felt like he had to do it alone.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY

The next afternoon, you still hadn’t heard from Tyler. His silence gnawed at you more than you cared to admit. You told yourself he was fine—that if something had gone wrong, someone would have heard about it by now. But that didn’t stop your mind from replaying yesterday’s text or the way he’d disappeared without a word.

When your phone lit up with his name, your stomach did a little flip. For a second, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen. You wanted to answer. You wanted to hear his voice, to ask him where he’d been and what the hell he’d been doing for the past day and a half. But you didn’t.

With a frustrated sigh, you let the call go to voicemail and tossed your phone onto the bed.

Boone raised an eyebrow from where he was sitting across the room, scrolling through weather models. “Was that Tyler?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“Why didn’t you pick up?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “He disappeared for a day and a half without telling anyone. He can wait a little longer.”

Boone didn’t push it, but the look he gave you said he didn’t quite buy your indifference.

It wasn’t long after that when Lily’s phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen, then at you. “It’s Tyler.”

Your stomach twisted as she answered, putting him on speaker.

“Tyler?” she said.

“Hey, Lil,” came his familiar voice, sounding calm and easy, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “I need your help with something.”

“Where are you?” Lily asked, her tone more concerned than yours had been.

“I’m a few hours away. We’re headed to a trailer dealership outside of town. I’ll send you the address.”

There was a pause as Lily glanced at you, her eyebrows raised. Boone leaned forward, curious.

“What are you doing at a trailer dealership?” Lily asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

“I’ll explain when you get here,” Tyler said, his tone giving nothing away. “Can you come?”

Lily sighed and looked to you, Boone, and the others for input. When you didn’t say anything, Boone nodded. “We’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Tyler said, sounding genuinely relieved. “I’ll text you the address.”

When the call ended, Lily turned to you. “So, are we going?”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. As annoyed as you were with him, you couldn’t ignore the slight urgency in his voice—or the curiosity bubbling up inside you.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “Let’s go see what this is about.”

The team pulled into the dealership parking lot, the mid-afternoon sun glaring off the rows of shiny new trailers. Your stomach twisted with a mix of curiosity and apprehension as Boone parked the van.

“Is that… Kate?” Lily said, squinting toward the far side of the lot.

You followed her gaze, and sure enough, there she was—climbing out of Tyler’s truck. Your breath hitched. Tyler was already walking around to meet her, his familiar, easy smile plastered on his face as they exchanged a few words.

Boone let out a low whistle, smirking as he glanced over at you. “Well, well, well. Looks like Kate’s the new partner-in-crime.”

“Relax,” you said quickly, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, really?” Dani chimed in, her tone teasing as she leaned over the seat to get a better look. “Because it kinda seems like it is.”

“Guys, come on,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing despite your best efforts.

“You’re totally jealous,” Boone added with a grin.

“I’m not jealous,” you shot back, maybe a little too quickly. 

Boone and Dani exchanged knowing looks, but you ignored them, crossing your arms as you watched Tyler and Kate make their way over.

When Tyler reached you, his expression softened, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

“Hey,” you replied, your tone guarded as you shoved your hands into your pockets.

“I’m sorry for disappearing yesterday,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly. “I should’ve told you where I was going.”

You shrugged, forcing a small smile. “It’s fine. I wasn’t upset.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering like he didn’t quite believe you. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, looking away. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t. Not really. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly. It was the sting of realizing you didn’t mean as much to him as you thought you did. You’d always assumed the team was more than just a group of storm chasers to Tyler, that you were family. His silence, his absence, had left a hollow ache in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake.

Tyler didn’t press the issue, but the way his lips pressed into a thin line told you he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“So,” Boone said, breaking the tension as he stepped forward, clapping Tyler on the shoulder. “What’s with the trailer dealership?”

A grin spread across Tyler’s face, his previous seriousness melting away.

“Follow me,” he said, motioning for you all to follow him.

As the group trailed behind, you couldn’t help but glance back at Kate. She was chatting with Lily about the drone, her smile bright and easy, and you hated the way it made your chest tighten. Shaking your head, you focused on Tyler, determined not to let your insecurities get the best of you.

The energy in the group shifted after Tyler and Kate’s arrival at the dealership. While everyone seemed excited about the new trailer and the possibilities Kate’s glorified science experiment brought, you couldn’t shake the knot in your chest. The idea of Kate tagging along, so comfortable around Tyler, and his seeming indifference to the team yesterday had left you feeling off-kilter.

You stayed back, letting the others crowd around Tyler and pepper him with questions about Kate’s experiment. You only half-listened, nodding absently when someone directed a comment your way. 

Tyler glanced at you a few times, his eyes narrowing in quiet concern, but you avoided his gaze, pretending to be preoccupied with your phone or the horizon.

The drive back to regroup was tense in your own head. When Boone brought up seating arrangments now that Kate was traveling with the team, you quickly volunteered to ride with Lily in the van.

“Whoa, breaking tradition?” Boone teased as he slid into the driver’s seat. “You always ride with Tyler.”

“I figured she could use some company for once,” you said lightly, keeping your tone casual even as you avoided Dani’s raised brow.

Tyler didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you from across the parking lot as you climbed into the van.

The day unfolded like a blur. The forecast showed a massive storm system moving in, with conditions that could easily spawn tornadoes. There wasn’t much time for idle chatter as everyone scrambled to prep equipment and finalize routes. You busied yourself with anything that kept you moving, anything that didn’t involve standing still long enough for Tyler to corner you with questions.

He tried a couple of times, calling your name softly as you passed, but you brushed him off with hurried excuses. “Sorry, I need to grab this,” or “Let me double-check the radar first.”

Tyler wasn’t one to push, but the way his jaw tightened each time you slipped away told you he noticed.

By the time the team split into vehicles to chase the storm, the air was thick with tension—not just from the impending weather, but from whatever had shifted between you and Tyler.

“You sure you don’t want to switch back?” Boone asked as you climbed into the passenger seat of the van.

“I’m good,” you said, forcing a smile.

From the side mirror, you caught a glimpse of Tyler in his truck. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he turned his attention back to the road ahead.

The storm loomed dark on the horizon, a swirling mass of gray and green that promised chaos. You focused on the task at hand, pushing everything else to the back of your mind. Whatever conversation Tyler wanted to have would have to wait—assuming he still wanted to have it after today.

The storm had reached its peak intensity, and you were well aware of it. The air was thick with tension, but it wasn’t just from the storm—it was from everything that had been building between you and Tyler over the past days. But that was all drowned out by the noise of the wind, the clattering of debris, and the sound of the storm tearing through the world around you.

The team had done everything they could to guide people to shelter. You were now in the theater with the others, feeling the tremors of the wind pushing against the walls, the heavy sounds of destruction that seemed to grow louder by the second. It was chaos—people crying out, the wailing of the sirens, and the unrelenting storm closing in fast.

You’d just seen Tyler heading toward Kate, and the pang in your chest was sharper than before, but before you could even process it, the ceiling above you gave way. A deafening crash followed by an intense, blinding flash of debris. The next thing you knew, you were on the floor, trapped beneath the wreckage. The weight of it made it hard to breathe, and panic set in as you struggled to move, only to realize you were pinned down.

"Tyler!" you screamed out, his name being the first thing that came to your brain. But you barely heard your own voice over the wind outside was deafening, the sound of the tornado ripping apart everything in its path—closer now, just outside the building. You knew he probably wouldn't hear you.

The world around you felt like it was collapsing, and the reality of it hit hard. This wasn’t a close call. You were in the storm’s path, and you had no idea if you’d make it out. Your chest tightened as you cried, helpless.

You were terrified—scared out of your mind—and the thought that this was how your life would end, trapped here under rubble with nothing you could do, made you feel utterly alone.

Then you felt a hand. His hand. You knew it without having to look. His strong, warm hand took yours, and everything in you instantly calmed just a fraction. 

“Tyler, please—go find something to hold onto!” you managed to shout.

Tyler’s voice, loud but distant, called out to you through the noise, his words a lifeline. “I’m not leaving you.”

The wind howled, tearing through the air with force, and the walls of the theater groaned. But Tyler’s grip never wavered, his hand wrapping tighter around yours, holding you in place. His other hand reached out and wrapped around the metal chair leg next to you, anchoring himself as best as he could to something solid, something that could keep you both from being swept away.

You closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. The storm was closing in, its fury pressing down on the entire town, and you knew that at any moment it could sweep through the building and tear you apart.

It was a sickening feeling—waiting, knowing that every second might be your last. But as you lay there, thoughts of what could have been surged inside you. All the things you’d never get to do with Tyler, all the feelings you’d never be able to express if this was truly the end of your life. You saw flashes of what a life together might have looked like: a first date that you’d spent months fantasizing about, a wedding, a family. You’d never even gotten the chance to tell him how you felt.

And then, in the quietest moment, you turned your head toward him. His face was intense, focused, trying to keep you safe. You locked eyes, and you knew—this was your moment, even if it seemed impossible.

“I love you!” you screamed, your voice cracking with emotion.

But the wind was too loud, the storm too ferocious. He couldn’t hear you over the chaos. He glanced back at you, his brow furrowed. “What?” he yelled back, his face a mask of confusion.

You shook your head, frustrated, heart pounding, but there was no use in trying to say it again. The storm was too loud, and you could barely catch your breath.

But at least you said it. Even if it was in the middle of this madness, even if he couldn’t hear you. You said it. And that was enough.

You squeezed his hand harder, letting the feeling of it fill you. You were scared, yes, but you weren’t alone anymore. Tyler was there. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to get you through. Or at least let you die in peace knowing that the one person you loved most was with you when you took your last breath.

The storm passed as suddenly as it had come, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in its wake. The deafening roar of the wind disappeared, and for a moment, the world felt still—too still after everything. You blinked, disoriented, the faint ringing in your ears slowly fading, and then the reality of the situation set in. Boone and Dexter were kneeling beside you, their voices sounding distant at first, then clearer as they checked on you.

"Are you okay?" Boone's voice was sharp, urgent, but also full of concern.

You tried to speak, but your throat was raw. Instead, you muttered Tyler’s name, your breath coming in shallow gasps. His hand—his warmth—was gone. And that instant panic surged again. You reached for where his hand had been, but the space was empty. You looked around, your eyes darting, searching for him.

“T-Tyler. Is he—?” Your heart skipped, the thought barely finished before it threatened to break you. Were you alone again? Had you been abandoned in this moment of chaos?

Boone and Dexter exchanged a quick glance before assuring you, "He’s fine. He’s okay." They both turned their heads to glance at Tyler, who was standing at the front of the theater, his body tense, scanning the room as if looking for something—or someone.

You felt your pulse calm just slightly. He was alive, and that was something. But then, the silence between the men and you stretched long, and your chest tightened again. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the weight of the last few minutes of your life flashing before you.

But as they started to help remove the debris from you, trying to free you from the mess of broken wood and metal, you couldn’t help but watch Tyler.

For a second, you held on to the hope that he’d come over, that he would check on you. You had been through hell together in the last few minutes. You thought, maybe, just maybe, he’d come running to you now, just like he did during the storm. You waited, your body aching, heart racing, trying to ignore the pain as you glanced over at him, your chest tight with anticipation.

But that hope shattered as soon as you saw him climb onto the stage, his attention locked outside, and without a glance in your direction, he bolted for the exit. Your heart dropped like a stone in your chest. He didn’t even hesitate, not even for a second. He and Javi rushed out, their voices barely audible as they called for Kate, their shouts cutting through the stillness.

The silence in the theater felt deafening, and it echoed in your head as your world seemed to spin. In that moment, it hit you like a punch to the gut. Tyler hadn’t even looked back at you before running to her. All the things you thought you had between you, all the moments you’d shared that made you believe you were more than just a passing person in his life… none of it seemed to matter.

Tyler was gone, running after someone else.

Your vision blurred, your knees buckled, and your body felt weightless as everything you’d been holding back came crashing down. A sob broke free from your chest, a sound so raw and painful that it felt like it was tearing you apart. You couldn’t even catch your breath before your legs gave way entirely.

Before you hit the ground, Boone’s arms were there, catching you. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his grip strong around your shoulders. But his words were drowned out by the sound of your heart shattering.

It felt like the world had closed in around you, like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All you could do was fall, over and over again. You wished, for just a moment, that Tyler would have come to you. But it was too late now.

And as Boone gently helped you back up, you couldn’t shake the feeling that a piece of you had just been lost forever.

* * *

The paramedic’s voice was a soft hum in the background, but all you could focus on was the sharp ache in your chest. They had checked your vitals—pulse, blood pressure, everything. You had a slight concussion, they said, but nothing too serious. Some cuts, bruises, and a few scratches, nothing compared to what could have happened. You nodded along with the questions, but your mind was elsewhere, and your gaze kept flickering to the ambulance beside you.

Kate was on the stretcher. Her eyes were closed, and Tyler stood beside her, speaking in a calm tone to the paramedic who was tending to the cut on her head. He was focused on her—his attention so completely on her that it felt like the world around you shrank. Your heart fell, almost as if it were being dragged down into your stomach.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, the ache inside growing stronger with every passing second. The images from the past few days started to replay in your mind. Tyler, always by her side. The way he complimented her ideas, how he seemed to listen to her like he had no other cares in the world. How he just... dropped everything to help her, as if she were the only one who mattered.

And now, even after everything—after the storm, after the danger he’d been in right alongside you—here he was, tending to her. He hadn't even come to check on you.

It felt like the last little thread that had been holding you together snapped.

You looked down at your hands, fingers trembling as you tried to push the thoughts away. Why does it hurt so much? You had no right to feel jealous or upset. Kate was a part of the team now, and Tyler was always protective of everyone.

But something in you felt like it wasn’t just about the tornado. It was about the way he kept gravitating toward her in a way he never did with you.

It wasn’t just the storm anymore. It wasn’t just the crisis. It was... something more. Something you hadn’t wanted to admit. The realization settled like a stone in your chest. You had cared for him, and you still did. More than you’d let yourself believe, more than you could let go of. But he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He wasn’t thinking of you when things got complicated. He was looking at Kate, helping her, being there for her, even now.

A wave of bitterness washed over you, but you couldn’t make yourself leave. You didn’t know if you wanted to be near him or as far away as possible, but all you could do was sit there, watching him talk to her as if nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

Lily’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, her tone gentle but full of concern. “Hey, are you okay?” She’s standing nearby, her arms crossed, her eyes searching your face, sensing the distance in your gaze.

You force a small nod, but it’s not enough to convince anyone, not even yourself. You swallow, trying to push down the tightness in your chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little... tired, I guess.”

Dani, who’s standing with Lily, watches you for a beat before speaking up, her voice a little quieter now. “Are you sure? You’ve been through a lot, you don’t have to push yourself.”

You shake your head again, feeling the weight of everything pressing on you—everything you’d been ignoring. “I think... I think I need a break.” The words slip out before you can stop them. “Maybe it’s time I head home. Take a step back from everything. Sit the next few chases out, you know? Take a few weeks off...maybe longer even.”

Lily exchanges a look with Dani, but they both nod, understanding. It’s not like they hadn’t noticed how distant you’d been, how quiet you’d grown since the storm.

Dani gives your shoulder a light squeeze, trying to offer comfort without pushing too hard. “You do what you need to do,” she says softly. “We’ll hold down the fort here.”

Before you can respond, you hear Tyler’s voice from behind you. You don’t have to turn to know it’s him, the way his footsteps slow as he approaches, the weight of his presence so familiar it almost hurts. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?”

Your chest tightens. You want to look at him, to tell him everything that’s been swirling around inside you since the storm. But all you can do is shake your head. “I’m really tired, Tyler. I think I’m just going to head back to the motel. You should stay with Kate. Make sure she’s okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

His eyes lock onto you, the regret and confusion in them almost enough to make you change your mind. Almost. But you can’t do it. You can’t have that conversation with him now, not when it feels like everything is unraveling at once.

Tyler opens his mouth to say something, but then stops himself. He takes a breath, clearly fighting the urge to press, to make you listen to him. Instead, his shoulders slump slightly, and he nods, his voice quieter now. “Okay... I’ll... I’ll check in on you later.”

You force yourself to look at him, your heart aching as you meet his gaze. There’s so much you want to say, but all that comes out is a soft, “Thanks.”

You turn away before you can see his reaction, before you can see the disappointment or confusion written across his face. You walk toward the back of the ambulance, the air around you feeling heavier with each step. You know this is what you need, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Tyler doesn’t chase you this time. And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

Tyler watches you retreat into the distance, his heart heavy, something gnawing at him that he can’t quite put into words. He exhales sharply, his mind racing, but he tries to push it aside for the moment, turning toward Lily and Dani, who are still standing a few feet away.

“Is she okay?” Tyler asks, trying to mask the tension in his voice, but the question falls flat. His eyes shift between the two of them, but neither of them meet his gaze immediately.

Lily sighs, crossing her arms, her expression a little more intense than usual. "Are you really asking that, Tyler?" she says, her tone laced with a mix of frustration and concern. "You’ve been... oblivious, man. It's clear what’s going on. You’ve been hurting her.”

Dani steps forward, her brow furrowed. "You think she’s just fine? After everything she’s been through, and after all this time? She's been into you, Tyler. It’s obvious, and you’ve been... distant. All week."

Tyler’s chest tightens at her words. His stomach sinks with the realization, as if the weight of it all finally lands on him. He looks away, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts running in circles. Distant? Has he really been that blind? His gaze flickers back to where you’d disappeared, and a heavy sigh escapes him.

He thinks back to the past few days, the way he’d been caught up in whatever this thing with Kate had become—just... busy. He hadn’t meant to pull away from you. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how often he’d been preoccupied with her, how often his focus had shifted, and how often he’d ignored you in the process.

And then, his mind flashes back to the theater. To you, trapped and terrified, and how his heart had pounded in his chest just being by your side. He had held your hand, clung to it like his life depended on it. And in that moment, he felt like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. He could still feel the warmth of your touch, the way your hand had fit so perfectly in his, like it was always meant to be that way. He had been so focused on getting through the storm, keeping you safe, that he hadn’t heard you when you shouted, but there was something in the way you looked at him before the wind swallowed everything up. 

Something he didn’t catch then... but he swore he saw your lips move. I love you.

His heart stutters at the thought. He’d read your lips. He’d seen it, and yet... he never said anything, never gave you a chance to tell him in a way that could’ve mattered. The weight of it presses down on him now, his mind spinning with the missed opportunity, and the fear of losing you in ways that don’t have anything to do with storms.

The urgency to fix this suddenly takes over. He can’t let you leave like this. Not without trying, not without giving you something—anything to show that he sees you, that he gets it, that he doesn’t want to let you go without telling you what’s been building inside of him.

"I’ve gotta fix this," he mutters to himself, more to his own conscience than to anyone else. 

Lily nods, her expression softening just slightly. “You’d better. She deserves to know how you feel before you let her slip away.”

Tyler doesn’t need any more encouragement. He starts moving toward the ambulance where you’d gone, his heart beating harder now. He won’t let it end like this. He can’t.

You'd said you'd talk to him tomorrow. But tomorrow isn’t soon enough for Tyler.

* * *

BACK AT THE MOTEL

You stand frozen for a moment, the knock on your door taking you by surprise. You weren't expecting him—weren't sure you even wanted him to show up. But when you peer through the peephole and see Tyler standing there, looking almost apologetic, your chest tightens. The emotions from the past few days swirl around you—hurt, confusion, and a trace of something else you didn’t want to acknowledge: hope.

You stand there for a beat, considering what to do. Should you let him in? You feel a little too vulnerable, too exposed. But then you hear his voice through the door, low and sincere.

“Please, just give me a chance to explain, darlin’.”

Your heart stirs, but your frustration, the pain of feeling ignored, holds you back. You sigh and open the door, mentally preparing yourself to face him.

“Tyler—” you start, your voice tinged with everything you’ve been holding in, but he cuts you off before you can say anything more.

Without warning, he reaches up, his hand gentle but firm as it cups your face. Your breath catches in your throat as his lips meet yours in a kiss that catches you completely off guard. It’s soft at first, hesitant, as if he’s testing the waters, but then, as if something inside of him snaps when you don't pull away, it deepens, becoming urgent, almost desperate.

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s pulling you into the room, walking you backward as the door falls shut with a soft thud behind him. The kiss never breaks, and the moment is so intense, so full of emotion, that it takes every bit of your willpower not to melt into him entirely. His hands slide down your back, pressing you closer to him, while your own hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if you need to anchor yourself.

Tyler pulls away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is ragged, his eyes searching yours, full of regret and something more.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been so stupid, so blind to how much I’ve hurt you. But I need you to know... I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You mean more to me than anything else, and I can’t let you leave thinking otherwise.”

You feel his lips brush against your jaw, trailing soft, warm kisses down your neck. Your breath hitches at the sensation, your heart pounding in your chest. The intensity of it all swirls inside of you—the confusion, the hurt, the aching desire to believe him. But there’s a part of you still hesitant, still unsure.

“Tyler…” you breathe, trying to pull back just enough to make eye contact, but he kisses your neck, whispering apologies and promises against your skin. “You’ve hurt me. All week… you’ve been…. I thought—”

“I know,” he interrupts, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder. “I know I hurt you, and I never meant to. I’ve been an idiot, and I’m asking for a second chance. A real chance to prove to you how much you mean to me.”

The raw sincerity in his voice, the way his hands hold you as if he’s terrified you’ll slip away, makes your heart flutter despite the ache in your chest. He’s here. Right now, he’s here, trying to make things right.

“I’ve been a fool,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your skin once more. “But I can’t lose you. Please, forgive me. Let me make it right.”

You close your eyes for a moment, letting his words wash over you, feeling the weight of everything between you two in that single breath. You want to believe him. You want to feel what he’s offering, but the fear of getting hurt again lingers.

But in that moment, with him so close, his presence surrounding you, your heart softens just enough to let him in. Your hands slide to the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss—one that’s slow and full of unspoken understanding.

The moment Tyler pulls back just enough to speak, you catch your breath, eyes locked with his as your heart races. His arm slips around your back, pulling you in even closer, his touch possessive but gentle. You feel the heat of his body against yours, the tension between you palpable.

“Jump,” he says, his voice low, urgent.

You hesitate for a brief second, the heat of the moment overwhelming you, but you do as he asks. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hold on to him tightly. In one fluid motion, he lifts you effortlessly, his grip firm and confident, one hand on your back while the other moves down to your ass, helping to steady you. The way he holds you makes you feel small, protected, and undeniably wanted, and it makes your chest tighten with a mix of desire and something softer, something more vulnerable.

With ease, he carries you across the room, his steps steady as he approaches the bed. As he lays you down gently, you catch your breath again, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room. The weight of everything—the past few days, the uncertainty, the rawness of the moment—it all lingers in the air between you.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you don’t look away. “I’m still mad at you,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach.

Tyler’s gaze softens, and for a second, he doesn’t speak, just studies you with that same intensity that’s been there all along. “I know,” he says, his voice low, sincere.

Before you can respond, he leans back in, his lips capturing yours once again. This time, the kiss is different. It’s not just apologetic or desperate. It’s full of promises—unspoken words, a connection you’ve both been fighting to acknowledge. His lips are warm against yours, and you melt into it, losing yourself in the sensation, the depth of the emotion between you.

His hand moves to your face, brushing back a strand of hair as he deepens the kiss, each movement slow and deliberate. You can feel the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid pressing between you, but in this moment, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the now, the feeling of his body against yours, the way his hands move with intention, as if he’s trying to make up for everything he’s missed.

As the kiss deepens, Tyler’s hands begin to move with purpose, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers slide down your sides, brushing against the soft fabric of your t-shirt. You can feel the heat radiating off of him as his lips leave yours, trailing down to your jaw, then your neck, each kiss a quiet declaration.

His hands grip the bottom of your shirt, tugging it gently as his lips continue their descent, kissing along your collarbone, and then lower, just above your stomach. You can’t help but gasp softly at the sensation, your breath hitching as his lips move slowly, deliberately, pressing light kisses between the curve of your breasts.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, his voice a low murmur, the words vibrating against your body like a promise. “God, you’re perfect.”

He pushes the fabric higher, inch by inch, his lips following the trail as if memorizing every inch of you. Your skin tingles under the heat of his kisses, and you feel the overwhelming pull of desire tighten in your chest. He moves with a careful, almost reverent pace, as though he’s savoring this moment with you, drawing it out.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he breathes against your skin, his hands now lifting your shirt higher, his eyes drinking in every curve, every movement of your body as he works it over your head, leaving you bare under his touch.

His lips trail upward, kissing you again—softer this time, but with just as much intensity as before. You feel his warmth, his presence, his need in every touch, every whispered word. His hands move gently over your body, as if reminding you that you’re not just wanted, you’re wanted deeply.

“Every inch of you is perfect,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with the raw sincerity you’ve longed to hear.

You start to undo the buttons on Tyler’s flannel, your fingers brushing against his chest with each movement. His skin feels warm, a contrast to the cold air around you, but you’re too focused on him to notice anything else. His breath hitches slightly when you reach the last button, and he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes as you move your hands to tug it off his shoulders.

The moment the shirt falls to the floor, you reach for the white tank top underneath, eager to see more of him. Tyler leans back slightly, his lips curling into a smirk that melts away any hesitation you might have had. With a smooth motion, he lifts it over his head, revealing his bare torso to you. 

Your eyes immediately follow the muscles that line his chest and stomach, the way his abs ripple slightly with every breath, and the trail of dark hair leading downward.

You reach out without thinking, your fingers brushing over the dusting of hair on his chest. The connection feels electric, and you can’t help but marvel at the feel of him—his warmth, his strength, everything about him drawing you in. Your hands trail down, and you can feel the pulse in your fingertips as they brush the waistband of his jeans. Without hesitation, you reach for his belt, your fingers working quickly to undo it, your heart pounding louder with every moment.

Tyler’s eyes lock onto yours, and he watches you with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. “You’re killing me, you know that, sweetheart?” he mutters, voice rough with desire.

His hands are at his sides, waiting, the energy between you both crackling with anticipation. The space between you both feels charged, and you can sense he’s just as eager to see where this moment takes you as you are.

You continue your movements, unbuckling his belt, slowly but steadily, until it’s free. The moment is slow, deliberate—your body aching to feel his against yours.

Tyler’s hands are gentle as he reaches for you again, his fingers brushing against your skin with an almost reverent touch. There’s no rush in the way he moves, only a quiet assurance that makes your heart race. His eyes lock with yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, but you only find warmth and something deeper—something that has been growing between you for days, for weeks, maybe even longer.

He slowly unclasps your bra, his touch light but firm, as if he’s giving you space to decide, to feel comfortable in this moment. As it slides off, you feel exposed, but not in a way that makes you want to retreat. Instead, you feel seen, truly seen, for the first time in a long while. Tyler’s gaze never wavers from yours as he guides your jeans down, his hands steady, but there’s a softness in them that matches the way his eyes soften when they meet yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with something raw, something unspoken. His words hang in the air between you, and you find your breath catching in your throat. It’s not just the physicality of the moment that feels intimate, but the sincerity behind his words.

As he slides your jeans off, he pauses, his hands resting lightly on your bare skin. He lets out a soft sigh, not in impatience, but in awe of how everything feels so right.

When you’re left in nothing but your panties, Tyler takes a step back for a moment. He looks at you as though trying to commit every detail to memory, but there’s no judgment in his eyes, only admiration and something more—something tender that makes your heart flutter.

And when you look at him, really look at him, you see more than just the strong, muscular form in front of you. You see the man who’s been there for you, the one who makes you feel safe, cherished, and—maybe for the first time in a long while—truly desired.

Tyler’s fingers brush your cheek gently as he kneels in front of you. “You don’t have to rush this,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with understanding. “We take it one step at a time. Only if you’re ready.”

You take a breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. There’s no more hesitation, no more uncertainty—just a quiet, steady confidence that you feel in your bones. As you look into Tyler’s eyes, the connection between you feels stronger than ever, a bond forged through everything you’ve been through together.

“I want you, Tyler,” you say, your voice steady, even though your heart is pounding in your chest.

A smile spreads across his face, tender and genuine. His eyes soften, and for a split second, you see something vulnerable there—a rawness that only you’ve seen. Without a word, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a kiss that says everything you need to hear. He pulls back just slightly, his hand cupping your cheek.

Tyler takes a step back to finish undressing the rest of the way. His movements are deliberate but unhurried, as though savoring the moment. You watch him, your heart racing, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts, but in this moment, all that matters is him—his closeness, the way his presence fills the space between you.

He stands before you, bare and vulnerable, just like you, and there’s no shame, no fear. There’s just you and him, together in this quiet intimacy, and it feels like everything has finally clicked into place.

Tyler moves back to you, his hands gentle as he reaches for you once more. He pulls you closer, his body flush against yours, and the world outside seems to disappear, leaving only the two of you in this moment.

"I don't have a condom, sweetheart."

"I'm clean. And as long as you are, I don't mind. I'm on birth control."

"I'm clean, sweetheart."

As Tyler slowly moves closer, you feel the intensity between you, the emotions that are thick in the air. Everything about this moment feels different, more profound than anything you’ve experienced before.

When he finally slides inside of you, it’s not just physical—it’s as if everything aligns. The way his eyes never leave yours, the way he holds you with such tenderness, like he’s memorizing every curve of your body, every breath you take.

It feels like he’s giving you a piece of him—his vulnerability, his trust, his love. The connection between you two isn’t just about the act, but about something deeper, something you both crave. This is more than just sex. It’s making love, it’s the two of you sharing something raw, unspoken, and powerful.

The slow, deliberate rhythm between you two feels like it’s meant to last forever. His hands are gentle but firm, guiding you closer to him, pulling you into him with such care that it takes your breath away. Every movement, every soft kiss, every whisper in your ear—it’s all full of love. It’s like he’s telling you, without words, that he’s here, he’s not going anywhere, and that he wants you in every way possible.

You meet his gaze, your eyes locked, and you see everything in them. Desire. Affection. A deep, undeniable connection that’s been building between you for so long. When he looks at you like this, you feel seen. You feel cherished, loved, and completely accepted for who you are.

His lips brush against your forehead, soft and tender, as if to reassure you, and you lean into him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. You let yourself surrender to him, to the love he’s offering. It’s the most vulnerable, intimate thing you’ve ever done, and you can’t help but feel completely safe in his arms.

You know, in this moment, that nothing else matters but the two of you. And for once, you feel like you belong—fully, entirely—right here, with him.

As you and Tyler lay there in the aftermath, the room feels still, the air thick with the emotions that linger between you. You both lay in the warmth of each other’s arms, your bodies entwined under the sheets. He holds you close, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back, and you feel the rise and fall of his breath like a soothing rhythm, grounding you.

Tyler presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there as he wraps his arm around you more tightly. 

His voice is low, tender, almost like a whisper, as he speaks, “I love you.” 

The words feel like a promise, like they’ve been waiting to be spoken for so long, and now they’re finally free.

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze as you settle into the comfort of his embrace. His eyes are full of vulnerability, and you can feel the rawness of everything he’s just shared with you. 

He continues, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ve been so caught up in helping Kate and trying to figure out this theory and experiment with her... but I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wanting you.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his honesty settle in your chest. “I didn’t know where I stood with you.” You admit in a whisper. “The way you’ve been spending so much time with her... I just couldn’t help but feel like I was losing you.”

Tyler gently tilts your chin up with his finger, guiding your face toward his as he presses a tender kiss to your lips, slow and full of reassurance. “You haven’t lost me,” he says, his voice thick with sincerity. “I've always been yours. You’re the only one I want, the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

A rush of warmth floods through you at his words, and you close your eyes, letting the vulnerability between you both fill the space. You nestle into him, your head resting on his chest. His hand moves gently through your hair as he continues, “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry. I should have been more open with you. You mean everything to me. Do you think you could ever give me a chance?”

Tears well up in your eyes as you hear him speak so honestly. You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear those words, how much you needed him to understand how deeply you cared.

You bury your face in his chest, your hands clutching his arm as you whisper back, “Don't mess it up, Tyler. Because I love you, Tyler. I really do...and I don't think I'd survive if you broke my heart.”

He squeezes you tighter, his arms enveloping you with a warmth that makes everything else feel small. “I love you too,” he whispers back, his voice rough with emotion. "And believe me, I've got no intentions of breaking your heart...just maybe changing your last name."

As you begin to drift off, the quiet hum of the room and the steady beat of Tyler’s heart fill the space between you. But then, he breaks the silence, his voice soft and warm as he speaks. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. You look up, meeting his gaze, and he’s studying you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. “Would you… would you let me take you on a date?”

You smile at the thought, the idea of spending time with him in a peaceful setting, away from the chaos of the past few days, feeling comforting. 

“Somewhere nice and quiet,” he adds, as though reading your mind, his voice hopeful.

You nod, your heart fluttering at the thought of a simple, intimate evening with him. “I’d like that,” you reply, your voice soft but sure.

Tyler smiles in return, but then, his eyes fall to your face, his gaze focusing on the cut on your head that’s barely visible against your hair. His thumb gently brushes over it, a soft, tender motion. 

“What about this?” he asks quietly. “Are you okay?”

You meet his eyes again, and though the pain is there, it’s not overwhelming. You nod, brushing off the worry. “I’m a little sore, but I’ll be okay,” you assure him, reaching up to touch the place where he’d just brushed.

But Tyler doesn’t look convinced. He gently presses his hand against your cheek, his thumb still gently tracing the curve of your jaw. His voice drops a little, and you can hear the raw vulnerability in it. 

“I was so scared,” he admits, his words softer now, almost a confession. “I was so scared I was going to lose you. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

The weight of his words hits you like a wave, and your breath catches in your throat. You can see the fear in his eyes, the way he holds you like you’re something fragile, something he never wants to let go of.

“I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if something happened to you,” he continues, his voice cracking slightly.

Your heart swells at his vulnerability, and you reach up to cup his face, your thumb grazing his cheek. “I’m right here,” you whisper, your voice firm yet filled with tenderness. "I'm okay."

Tyler closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply, and you can feel the tension leave his body as he holds you a little tighter, like he’s trying to keep you as close as possible. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again,” he admits, his voice low, sincere. “I need you to know… you’re everything to me.”

You nod, your eyes welling up with emotion, and you lean up to press your lips to his, a soft kiss full of reassurance and affection. When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your breath mingling. “I love you, Tyler,” you say again, just to remind him, just to make sure he knows.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll keep reminding you every day for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes.”

You smile at that, feeling the sincerity in his words wash over you. The world outside may still be chaotic, but in this moment, with him holding you close, everything feels right. And spending the rest of your life with Tyler Owens doesn't sound too bad.

[roc-haze]

Best Part | Will Lenney

In which Will and Y/N are friends, but should be more.

Part two

——

New messages on WhatsApp

Ugly Stepsisters

George: @Y/N I’d finish up early if I were you… Will’s shouting the next round

Y/N: Aren’t you guys filming? He’s probably getting his shout in while it’s tax deductible 🤭

Becky: The cameras have been off for a while. He must be feeling charitable

George: Funny that. He was about to throw a tantrum before I told him wifey was tagging along 🧐

Becky: I thought wifey was working late tonight

George: Yeah she can’t say no to a free drink though

Y/N: Tell Will to get my pint ready. ETA 10 mins 🫡

There were perks to having a full time job. Financial stability, career development, a valid reason to say no to going on your mate’s podcasts. However, there were also disadvantages - one being having to sit in an office all day while said mates drink their way through London.

Y/N had been working with a corporate insurance company for a few years now, having moved to London for a secondment that developed into a full time role. She had been introduced to the wider UK YouTuber group through George, who was a prospective client when The Useless Hotline began to take on employees. They had clicked instantly, and she had found herself spending most of her free time with Clarkey and Becky. While the two friends brought a sense of adventure and excitement to her life, Y/N was a breath of fresh air - a reminder that there’s more to life than an upload schedule.

“Y/N!” Arthur Hill had spotted her as soon as she walked through the door, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy you’re here, Will thought you may’ve been working late”.

“I was planning on it, but I heard Will was shouting. I had to see it for myself.” She grinned as Arthur laughed, directing her to the table occupied by the group.

Y/N was met with a loud cheer, each of her friends taking turns to greet her.

“I was starting to think you’d never return from war,” Becky wrapped her arms around her friend. “I’ve been waiting for you to help me drink these fellas under the table.”

The two girls shared a giggle before being enveloped in a hug by their tall, brunette male counterpart.

“This is my second favourite kind of threesome” George sighed.

“I’m assuming the first involves Chris and Hill.” Y/N laughed lightheartedly.

“You know me so well.” George had grinned in response.

Y/N could feel a pair of eyes on her, cheeks heating up as she looked up to see Will making strides across the pub, glass of red in hand.

“We better let mummy go now Becky, can’t have daddy getting jealous.” George smirked at Y/N, both himself and Becky stifling a laugh as Y/N jabbed him in the side.

Her two friends disappeared behind her as Will approached, knowing looks on their faces.

“Hi gorgeous,” Will wrapped his free arm around her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I know we typically do pints but they finally restocked your favourite red.”

Y/N resisted the urge to coo at the grown man in front of her.

“Come tell me about your day.” He grabbed her hand, leading her through the crowd of friends.

Y/N had spent plenty of time with the extended group - even once had a bit of a secret summer romance with Lux.

They were sat in the car in his driveway when he had ended things.

“I think Will knows we’re seeing each other, Y/N. I can’t bear to see that look on his face anymore.”

“What look?” she had asked.

“The you’re-my-mate-and-dating-the-woman-I-like look.” Cal had sighed, the frustration spreading over his face.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks, Cal. Pretty sure he’s dating people too.”

“If you really didn’t care, our friends would know we’re dating,” he said, head resting against the window. “I would love for this to work out, but I just don’t see it happening.”

Cal had conceded, no longer wanting to fight for her attention. There was just something about Will.

Unlike George and Becky, it had taken some time for his friendship with Y/N to blossom. It had taken many Thursday trivia nights at their local, but they eventually became inseparable. The two had slowly pulled away from big nights out, preferring to spend their Saturday evenings watching films and playing board games. Having escaped a hangover, they would often stretch their hangouts into Sunday morning for a quiet coffee run and visit to the local market. But lately, tension had begun to build - and it seemed like everyone had noticed. Except for Y/N.

Though she would never really admit it, Y/N had felt the shift in their dynamic. She was hyper aware of the way Will kept his hand on her back as they walked through the crowded markets. She would try desperately to suppress the dull ache in her chest when he would suggest heading home after a film night. It’s too late to drive home, Will. She’d be scarily still when he’d sleepily throw his arm across her torso, terrified to wake him as he lie next to her. Okay Y/N, I’ll stay.

Will had noticed the tension. He was just waiting around for Y/N to catch up. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She stopped women on the street to compliment a smile, a hairdo, or the coat they were wearing. On the occasions she hung out with his production team, she had made a point to take an interest in their life outside of work. She would text Mikey various tiktoks, look through Ieuan’s film and help him choose the right stills. She was the missing piece of the puzzle… yet had no clue.

Y/N slid into the booth next to Will, the other half occupied by Chip and Sabina.

“I’ve been hanging out for a wine night,” Sabina reached across the table, gently squeezing her friend’s hand. “We’ve got so much shit to talk. I’ve been keeping notes for you.”

“Sab, give me a time and I’m there!” Y/N had opened her calendar, rattling off free days to the brunette across the table. Before long, the couple were off to the bar, leaving Y/N and Will sitting by themselves.

They settled into routine. She shared her day - her boss had copied her in on a million different emails, she spent the whole day in meetings and plastering on a smile - while Will listened attentively. That sounds shite. You should eat, you’ll feel better.

“I think my social battery is starting to go.” The thought of staying out late made her grimace.

“Let’s go home. Get a shitty takeaway and watch an even shittier film.” Will was stood, extending his hand for her to grab. They walk through the pub, embracing their friends goodbye and promising a late night over the weekend.

“She’s just tired, mate. Thought it’s time to head home.” Will stood talking to George, sympathetic smile spread across his features.

“And she needs you to tuck her in? Good friend you are, Lenney.” George smirked, watching a red flush make its way up to Will’s ears.

———

15 minutes later, they were stood outside her apartment fumbling with the keys.

She had entrusted Will to organise dinner, throwing herself onto the couch with no plans to leave it anytime soon. Will sat on her right, allowing her to rest her head against his shoulder.

“You know Y/N, this is my favourite part of these group events.” He looked down at her, tucking a stray stand of hair behind her ear.

She met his gaze. “I love catching up with everyone, but I feel like I wait around the whole day to come home to you.”

“You make it sound romantic.” She laughed, but with no real humour behind it. Just trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“It could be. If you want that.” Will’s eyes searched her face for any sort of requited feeling.

She swallowed hard, adjusting her position on the couch to face him.

Her phone fell into Will’s lap as she gently brushed her hand over the top of his. “I do. Want that, I mean.”

Will moved to intertwine their hands, a loud chime coming from Y/N’s phone. He looked down, seeing a familiar name adorn the screen.

Cal: Can we talk? I miss you.

—-

A/N: Thanks for reading guys!

You can find the series masterlist using the above link 🥰

[crazybiscuit]

Uptown Girl

Chapter 1

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you. Warnings: This is going to be a long fic and the reader will be a bit of a bitch at first. The story will definitely contain violence, excessive use of alcohol, smut and mentions of death. This chapter doesn't have any graphic content though. On side note, this is set in 1983 and sadly, Lily (my wife... 😔) and James are dead. So Sirius is in Azkaban and Peter is "dead". Word Count:  2313 Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider! A/N: Let's pretend I didn't mean to post this yesterday... London was an actual nightmare to map out in my brain and I'm fully aware the title doesn't make total sense considering uptown and downtown is a mostly American concept but I figured it fit the context of the story. So for our sake, Remus will live in East London, closer to the Thames, and you, my dear Readers will live in West London, more North of the city. On a side note, fuck JKR and her disgusting beliefs. Also, to anyone struggling, whether it be personal life or political climate, I hope you're doing alright. Writing is my current escapism and I hope I can help someone else in the process. On another note, chapter 2 should be posted on the 28th! Chapters: 2

 

“When is that damned exterminator going to get here?” your father’s gruff voice was muffled by his handkerchief he held to his nose as he walked into the parlour.

“We should’ve just called the ministry,” the woman sat next to you snapped, her head sticking out of the window taking advantage of the fresh air, “No one would’ve ever cared about our little problem. But no, you had the brilliant idea to hire some random man you found in some pub.”

You brushed your damp hair, trying your best to ignore the foul stench emitting from beneath the floor, “There’s nothing small about our problem, so I’d much rather keep this discreet myself.”

You should’ve known better than to oppose your poor, dear mother, as she grasped her chest as if she couldn’t breathe, “Discreet! I don’t care how discreet we are dealing with this! This man will fail to help us, screw up and we will have to call the ministry anyways. Hell! He’s probably a fraud and planning to rob us. Do you have any idea how much worse that will be! People will think we are fools who can’t maintain our estate.”

You didn’t bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes as you glanced back out to the cloudy sky, which caused mother to rant about disrespect to the old man, now sitting in his recliner.

The fall wind was a welcome guest as you began to carefully style your hair, turning your attention to your faint reflection in the window. The bundimun infestation might have stalled the redecorating efforts of this old dirty hole of townhouse, but it was certainly not going to stop you from looking your best.

“It’s lucky Josephine is still in France. I'm beginning to doubt any amount of magic can revive this place.”

“Enough complaining,” your father cut in, as he casted another scouring charm in an attempt to lessen the smell, “We all know this isn't ideal, but you should be grateful we even found this estate for you considering your situation.”

You felt slightly annoyed as you finished your hair, frowning at him through the glass reflection. Your hand dropped dejectedly as you glanced back with a sigh. He was right, despite every one of your arrangements falling through due to the war, your parents had still managed to find you a respectable match, “I know, I know. I'm sorry. This is all just… I really miss him and this is all so frustrating.”

Your parents shared a look but remained silent. However, this didn’t last long as your mother suddenly stood up, “I feel like I might faint.” 

Your father let out an exasperated sigh at her theatrics.

“I am sorry, dear, but I cannot do this anymore. You'll have to deal with the exterminator yourself, I'm going out for lunch with Y/N–”

Before your father could protest in annoyance, you interrupted, “Actually, I still need to finish my makeup, so you can go with Papa.”

They put very little effort into arguing and quickly vanished from the house. The silence would've been appreciated if it weren’t for the disturbing smell surrounding you and you found yourself tilting your head back as you leaned against the window sill. Even upside down, the townhouses that lined the street bored you, and you decided to stare at the sea of grey clouds slowly drifting across the sky instead.

You figured, much to your annoyance, that it would likely rain again today. Your attention snapped to the street when you heard the crunching of the colourful leaves beneath someone’s shoes. You flipped over to get a proper look of the man coming up the street and your interest peaked. He stood out against the pristine houses, his dark clothes seemingly worn from years of wear on his tall, though lanky figure, and he seemed handsome enough even from the second floor.

You quickly grabbed your wand and summoned your silk robe, slipping it over your nightgown. He must’ve been the man your father hired, and with that thought, you grabbed your perfume bottle to apply some.

By the time the doorbell rang, you had grabbed your lipstick and you carefully applied it as you looked at yourself in the mirror against the wall. The bell rang a second time and you sighed, quickly wiping off the colour that was out of place. You smoothen out your silk robe before heading to the front door, opening it and finding yourself faced with a man’s hand frozen midair, ready to knock.

“Oh, sorry,” your eyes snapped up to the face that spoke and you met the man’s slightly startled hazel eyes. He was taller than you expected when you saw him outside and his light brown hair was messy but still made him look rather charming. He seemed a few years older, likely in his mid or late 20s. But what truly caught your eyes were the scars scattered across his face, neck, hands. Any bit of skin you could see was littered with scars, “Hi, you hired pest control..?”

His deep voice snapped you out of your daze and you noted the faint Welsh accent as you stepped aside, opening the door wider for him, “Right… come in.”

The man took notice of your outfit and nonchalant demeanor, but remained professional as he followed you in. His expression remained steady despite the familiar pungent smell filling the house. He awkwardly adjusted his bag on his shoulder. Your father hadn’t told him the exact issue, only promising to pay him nicely, and Remus hadn’t exactly allowed himself the privilege of worrying about the oddity of the situation. However, you did notice his stance relaxed as he recognized the infestation he was handling, “Bundimuns?”

“Unfortunately, that is correct,” you sighed, looking back as you opened the door to the area where the test was the most prominent. You noted his slight hesitancy to walk in as he observed the half-decorated house, “Our house warming party is in a few days and we need this issue to be solved quickly so we can finish the renovations.”

“Right…,” Remus tried his best to hide his expression of confusion and disbelief as he stared at the loud rococo decor scattered around the room floor, “This seems like it would’ve been easier to report to the ministry.”

“Probably,” you agreed, making your way to the open balcony, “We’ll take our chances though. I’d rather only have one person know about this than deal with official records of the infestation.”

That dumbfounded the poor man, who had set his old messenger bag down on one of the uncovered powder blue sofas, but he wasn’t about to push for more answers. Rich purebloods were always preoccupied with reputation, he knew that very well.

You leaned against the cold, metal railing as you watched him dig through his bag for his notebook, “How long will it take you?”

His gaze met yours for a split second before going back to flipping through the yellowed pages, “It’ll take two or three hours. This is a pretty serious infestation and this building is a lot bigger than it seemed outside…”

It was clear he had questions but it didn’t seem like he was going to ask. You figured you’d explain the situation to prevent any rumours to spread (though you doubted his words would actually reach any important ears), “This house was built before the ban on extension charms for houses. We have ministry approval to keep it this way.”

Remus smiled a little apologetically, finding the page he was looking for, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. It really isn’t any of my business, so I wasn’t going to ask.”

His passiveness was mildly surprising but you brushed it off. It was nice not having to worry about him talking and clearly he needed the money, so you figured he'd stay quiet. You finally moved and sat at the table on the balcony as he began to read the most effective spells to get rid of the secretions and creatures.

It was fairly cold outside but you figured you should keep an eye on him, so to entertain yourself for the next few hours, you figured you’d write to your sister and friends back in France. You flicked your hawthorne wand, summoning your quill, paper and other supplies wordlessly.

The two of you worked on your separate tasks quietly, barely interacting for over an hour. You had lost interest in watching him as he cleaned the house out of the green menaces, using spells you had never heard off, and only headed back inside due to the charming British weather: Rain was always such a nuisance.

You carried your stack of letters with you as you walked back into the house. The smell, though still lingering, had mostly vanished from the house, which was a relief, “I'm going to be upstairs. I trust you won’t steal anything… Though I doubt he’d even be able to identify the actual valuable objects.”

The last part was mumbled in French under your breath but with the context, it was easy for the brunette to infer it was likely an insult. Remus watched you disappear to the third floor, “What?”

“Feel free to ask the house elves for help. They’re in the basement. They’ve been trying their best to deal with the acid,” with that, you shut your bedroom door, completely missing the man’s expression of disbelief and mild offense.

Another hour passed and Remus had done everything in his power to avoid you as he finished up the rest of the house. This would’ve worked wonders if he didn’t have to worry about getting rid of the last few bundimuns in the house, which conveniently were hidden behind the double doors leading to your room.

He sighed. He was never skilled in divination but something in his gut was telling that you were trouble, but he needed the money and he wasn’t about to half-ass his job because of some spoiled brat. So he knocked.

You opened the door and he immediately took note of your outfit change. You were no longer in your silk robe and nightgown, instead dressed in a simple but classy turtleneck and skirt, “I need to charm this room then I’m done…”

You hummed, letting him in as you walked back to your four poster bed, tying the stack of at least 15 letters together so that your owl could carry it. This gave Remus at least a few minutes of peace as he finished up, but it seemed you sensed he was about done as you spoke up, “You know, I know a potion maker in Saint-Brieuc, who is very skilled at Scar-Diminishing Serums.” 

“I beg your pardon?” his Welsh accent seemed deeper now that you’d upset him. The unprompted comment caught the man off guard and he scoffed, unable to believe anyone could be this insensitive.

“I’ve used them a few times and they work wonders. Great way to boost confidence and better your appearance,” you paused, sensing he was upset, much to your confusion, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re fairly handsome, but I think it would definitely hel–”

He suddenly got up after casting one last spell, “I’m done.”

His voice, though composed, made it obvious he was pissed. You hesitated slightly, trying to figure out what you did as you followed him down to the first floor, “No need to be so upset, I was just trying to give you advice. Whatever beasts gave you those scars did nasty work–”

He interrupts, surprisingly calm for someone getting insulted every other line, “Well, I kindly reject it, thank you.”

He stopped in front of the front door, almost considering leaving without payment, not wanting anything from you. Before you could protest, he opened the door and your mother let out a yelp, not expecting to see the stranger.

“Oh! Remy, was it?” your father smiled, glad to see the exterminator.

“Remus.”

It finally occurred to you that you had never even introduced yourself or asked for his name.

“Right, right! You must’ve finished! Y/N, did you pay him yet? I left the galleons on the table in the office,” he kept rambling, walking past Remus and you to get the money. Your mother smiled nervously, looking at the man, who she had already predetermined as creepy and untrustworthy, and tried her best to maintain a polite demeanor.

Unfortunately for her, she did a terrible job and her expression visibly relaxed when your father came back to save her from the conversation, “Here’s the 10 Galleons we originally agreed upon, and I figured you could get an extra 5 for–”

“Actually the 10 will suffice,” Remus forced a smile. He wasn’t stupid. It was clear you and your family were hoping to buy his favor to avoid any bad mouthing, and he wasn’t going to do that. Hell, he didn’t even want to talk about you to anyone (not that he really had anyone left), but it was a matter of principle.

You parents were stumped. They had rarely, if ever, met someone so quick to deny their money, “Sir, we insist–”

Remus had stepped out, taking the 10 Galleons, cutting off your mother with a thigh smile, “Honestly, I’m good.”

Your father, in a desperate attempt to get some sort of upperhand spoke words that made your  jaw drop, “Well then, please consider joining us for our Autumn Equinox party on the 22nd.”

Your mother’s expression mirrored yours and you knew they would argue about this later. Remus’s eyes met yours and something awoke in him, a slight sense of amusement he hadn’t felt since Hogwarts. He looked back at your father, adjusting his old bag on his shoulder, and smiled slightly, “I’ll think about it.”

[idlesuperstar]

Donald was the best partner in movies I ever had. We were brothers and we loved each other. We had such a deep, sublime chemistry. There was nothing intellectual about it, just this amazing natural harmony. I first met him in the commissary at 20th Century Fox when Robert Altman told us to have lunch together after I’d been cast in M*A*S*H. At first I thought: I don’t think this guy likes me. But it was just the opposite. The thing was: we were such opposites. I’m a Jew from Brooklyn and he was a Canadian from Nova Scotia. But it was perfection: never any conflict, just bread and butter – a relationship that felt like a miracle. Making M*A*S*H made us immediately close because while everyone else was working with Bob Altman, we worked for Bob Altman. He kept us a little segregated. We were both really unsure about the improvisation, the direction of the movie and Bob’s approach in general. Donald was hired well before me, but once I signed on we had the same deal: no less than second billing, and the same money. Later in production, Richard Zanuck, who was at that time running 20th Century Fox, said they wanted to give me first billing. I thought: “Oh that’s a nice honour. But Donald is my friend! I’m not going to be opportunistic – he was here first and should have first billing and I’ll stay in second place.” That’s what Donald meant to me. I never told him about that. A few years later, I turned down the screenplay for the movie that became S*P*Y*S, about two bumbling CIA agents. Then Donald called and said: “Would you do it with me?” And I said: “Oh that’s a different story. Of course!” On the first day of shooting in London, we drove to work together and he said: “What do you think of the script?” I rolled the window down, threw it out and said: “It’s a piece of junk. The only way this will work is if we swap parts.” But the producers could not digest that, so we just did the picture. Yet we did bring some of our own ideas to the table. There wasn’t an ending, for instance - so Donald and I agreed that we would just walk up the road with our backs to the camera and sing Side By Side. We worked together and we succeeded together, but we didn’t socialise very much – though having the opportunity to develop a relationship with some of his family was a total joy. Once, Donald was making a movie in the Bahamas and I came to visit because I had a week off from making The Long Goodbye and was interested in his leading lady, Jennifer O’Neill. Kiefer, his son, was five or six and Donald introduced us. Kiefer wanted me to stay, so when I said goodbye, I said: “Kiss me, Kiefer.” He had an ice cream cone in his hand and put it on my face – he kissed me with his cone. Donald was a true human being – and not all of us are. He could identify with any of us. His presence and his nature, his life and his mind are an asset for everyone. We all come and go physically, but as a being, he was really special and unique. I don’t put anything in the past. With me, it’s all in the present. My feeling is that for as long as I am living, Donald will be with me. I have no doubt about that, and I’m not being sentimental. I can see Donald now. I will see Donald for ever.

Elliot Gould - Donald Sutherland remembered by Keira Knightley, Elliott Gould, Ralph Fiennes and more in The Guardian

[starstrider-productions]

INTRODUCING... PATIENT R

NOTE: The artwork has been placed under a cut due to some disturbing imagery. Please be warned that the artwork contains bloody, dead animals, a large spider, psychiatric hospital imagery and signs of severe mental illness.

Patient R is a man in his fifties who has been involuntarily committed to a private psychiatric hospital called White Oak House in London. He has been diagnosed by Dr. Seward as having schizoaffective disorder and has recently developed a taste for sparrows. Before his life was ravaged by mental illness, Patient R was a gardener for a wealthy family whose estate pays for his treatment at White Oak House. Sometimes, he hears a bat flapping at his window. He would like to see the snowdrops bloom again one day.

Artwork by @vict-torn

Please consider donating to our crowdfunding campaign here: https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/dracula-2004/x/29532103#/

[sentient-stove]

“I grew up without parental supervision in a mansion filled with stolen magical artifacts right next to the mundane not magic ones. Of course I was gonna develop my own magical signature.” He popped the lock, and Elle watched as Tim spit into his hand, using it to smudge the charcoal wards on the window frame. “I want a Mr. Whippy.”

She’s starting to see why Mr. Constantine is supposed to be watching them. Tim was clearly hyper independent, and didn’t seem to be worried about falling to his death, clambering out of the window to perch delicately on the fire escape. Elle also considered herself to be decently hyper independent but Danny had said to ‘trust Constantine and lay low’. Heading out to find whatever a Mr. Whippy was seemed like the opposite of laying low.

“What’s a Mr. Whippy?”

“Cheap ice cream with a Cadbury Flake. Best London’s got to offer. Want to help me find a place that sells them?”

“Did you really use necromancy? More than once? And try to clone someone?”

“I’ll tell you about the first guy I brought back if you help me annoy Constantine by breaking out. Never cloned anyone though. Like, I mean,” Tim trailed off and pulled his hoodie sleeves over his fingers, nervously fidgeting. “I looked into the schematics of possibly doing so. But cloning him wouldn’t have brought my friend back. So I never followed through.”

…

Previous miscellaneous section here

[a-distantdreamer]

Behind Closed Doors • L.N.

summary: they can’t hide behind closed doors forever but they’ll be damned if they don’t try

pairing: lando norris x fewtrell!oc

warnings: a whole load of smut, 18+ only

see end of post for authors notes.

Fuck.

It wasn’t the fact that I’d fallen asleep in his arms that was the problem.

It was the fact the sun was now up.

Under the cover of darkness, it was much easier to sneak back to my room. It was much easier to avoid the judgemental comments from friends. They just wouldn’t understand.

I was so desperately in love with my brother’s best friend.

The sun was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the gauzy curtains doing little to stop it. A golden streak was falling across Lando’s face, highlighting the bronze of his skin, and the little mole on his cheek that I loved to kiss. His arm was heavy across my tummy where it was stretched out, and half his face was nestled into my hair.

God I loved watching him sleep. He looked so sweet, and without the sarcasm dripping from his lips and teasing glances I could almost fool myself into thinking he was innocent in some way.

That was the furthest from the truth. He was a beautiful dichotomy of innocence and sin; of confidence and crippling self-doubt. The more I got to know him, the more the layers of Lando became apparent and it only fuelled my affection for him.

I leant forward a little to press a feather soft kiss to his bicep, my lips lingering on his skin. He groaned softly and his lashes fluttered as I landed a second one and then a third.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, his grip tightening ever so slightly. He was still in the haze of sleep and definitely was not aware of the time.

“It’s morning,” I whispered, reaching across to push his unruly curls from his forehead, “unless you want my brother to find me in your bed I have to go.”

A pair of glimmering green-blue eyes were suddenly staring back at me, piercing and as gorgeous as ever. In the golden sun they seemed to shine even brighter.

“Would it be so bad?” He grumbled, fingers tugging at my bare waist and smoothing over the skin of my ass.

For a moment I contemplated it. Those eyes could make me believe almost anything.

Then I shook my head.

“He’d kill us both, and you know it.”

Lando nodded. He did know it. And that’s why we’d agreed to keep it a secret from Max for as long as possible. At the beginning, it was an act of convenience. I travelled alongside Lando as his photographer, and I was always there. I’d come out of a four year relationship, and truthfully just needed someone to warm my bed. Lando was equally as needy in the beginning.

Then things developed, as they often do. Before we knew it, we were almost a year deep, and the longer we kept it a secret, the harder we knew it would be to break it to Max and the rest of our friends that we’d been together for almost a whole year without them knowing. Things had moved beyond just sleeping together. He became my rock, and I was his. We were what each other needed.

“I know he would,” he whispered, leaning forward until his forehead bumped mine, “I just wish things were different sometimes.”

“Me too.”

Day to day, it wasn’t so hard. Max and Pietra only came to a few races a year and our relationship could be hidden under the guise of travelling with Lando for work. They lived in London, and myself and Lando were in Monaco.

Then we’d all arranged to spend summer break together at a villa in Ibiza, and Lando and I knew it would be our biggest challenge yet. Especially since we knew what was coming.

“Have you seen the ring?” I queried, letting Lando’s hands wander across my lower back as he nuzzled his nose against mine.

I felt him nod, “yeah. It’s fucking enormous.”

I rolled my eyes at his comment, “is it pretty?”

“Guys don’t really see rings that way, baby.” Lando replied, “it’s a nice ring though. Took him hours to choose. I got bored.”

He paused for a moment, a boyish smile crossing his face as he studied mine.

I huffed out an uncomfortable laugh, “what? Why are you staring?”

“Would you like that?” Lando murmured, his fingertips tracing swirling patterns across my skin, “a big shiny diamond on your finger?”

I hummed, my mouth going a little dry at the prospect, but I tried to play it cool, “mmm, one day I would.”

Lando nodded, his lips grazing across mine, “noted.”

I met his lips fully in a sultry kiss, our tongues meeting shortly after as his hands wandered further, hitching a leg up and over his waist, opening me up to him again.

He grunted as I let out a pitiful whimper, shaking my head. The rational part of my brain was well aware of the time, and the proximity of Max and Pietra’s room.

“I have to go,” I shuddered, as I felt him pressing eagerly against my thigh, millimetres from where I needed him most. I always needed him.

Lando shook his head, “don’t.”

“Later,” I whimpered, managing to wiggle away from him just enough to resist temptation. He groaned, rolling away from me as I got off the bed. I couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him, as naked as the day he was born, star-fished across the rumpled white sheets. By some miracle, my will power was just strong enough to not jump back on top of him.

I quickly pulled my underwear and bra back on from the night before, when Lando and I had tumbled into his suite after everyone else had gone to bed. My denim shorts were next, but my corset top was nowhere to be found.

“Shit,” I hissed, frantically turning on the spot, phone in hand. It was 5am, and Pietra and I were booked in for sunrise yoga at 6am.

I still had to shower and dress for the morning before then. I spotted Lando’s white button up draped over the chair and grabbed it, flinging it over my bra and shorts.

Lando was already half asleep again in the middle of the bed and I carefully tucked the sheets round his waist to give him some modesty in case my brother were to barge in unannounced. Lando reached for me sleepily, gripped my forearm and managed to tug me back across the mattress to him on my hands and knees.

“Love you, Nora,” he murmured, reaching up to cup my cheek in his large hand.

I smiled softly and tilted my head, smoothing his wild curls, “love you more. I’ll see you at breakfast. If you find my top from last night, just hide it in your case and I’ll get it later.”

Lando nodded, his eyes drifting shut just before I leant down to press a last kiss to his lips. I was sure he was asleep by the time I got to the door of his suite, taking one last glance back at him.

God, it was getting hard to leave him.

Max was planning to propose on Friday evening. He’d booked a sunset boat trip across the bay using a contact of Lando’s. In the meantime, Lando and I would be tasked with setting the villa up with engagement decorations, which were stashed underneath Lando’s bed.

On Thursday, we’d collectively decided to have a more relaxed day, after spending the earlier part of our week hopping between clubs and bars across the island. We’d drank far more than we should have, but it had been a blast. We were all ready to unwind a little.

The villa had its own pool and a stunning terrace overlooking the ocean which we’d barely made use of. Pietra and I planned to use it as an opportunity to perfect our tans in the tiniest bikinis we owned. Lando called in a catering team for the day to ensure we were taken care of, and a few more of his friends were due to join us in the evening for dinner.

“What can I get you ladies to drink?” Max asked, hopping up from his sun lounger beside Pietra’s.

“Lemonade please, honey,” P requested, reaching out to link hands with Max.

She pulled him in close by his hand, until he was close enough for her to kiss playfully. They were sickeningly cute but it was nice to see my brother so happy.

Lando rolled his eyes after a few moments and stood from his seat beside mine, adjusting his bright orange swim shorts, “we’ll never get a drink waiting for you lovebirds. What do you want Nora?”

His shorts were distractingly short, showing off the toned and bronzed muscles of his thighs. He caught me staring and gave me a subtle smirk while my brother and P weren’t looking.

I laughed as Max managed to let go of Pietra, flipping off Lando, “just the same as P, please.”

I watched the two of them walk away from us as Pietra turned her attention back to her phone. I looked just long enough to see Lando glance back over his shoulder at me, another smirk playing on his lips as he did. To avoid blushing, I looked back at Pietra, golden and glowing and completely unaware that the next night was going to be one of the best of her life.

“This has been the best trip,” she sighed, leaning back on the lounger and sliding her sunglasses back over her eyes.

I nodded, “it has. It’s been so nice to spend time all together.”

P glanced over at me, “then it’ll be back to normality. Back to rainy old London and you and Lan will be back in Monaco. Lucky things. How’s your apartment search going?”

I’d been living with Lando for the last two months, now my lease at my last apartment was up. I was still under the pretense of searching for a new apartment and temporarily staying with Lando in the meantime. The reality was that we were planning on it being more permanent.

“The search continues when I get back,” I huffed, feigning frustration.

Pietra gave me a soft smile, “you’ll work it out. Or you could just stay with Lan.”

I glanced at her, unable to read her expression properly due to her sunglasses. She was still smiling.

“He doesn’t want me hanging around, P,” I laughed awkwardly, “as soon as I find somewhere I’ll be out of his hair.”

Pietra let out a little hum, laying her head back down on the lounger, “I don’t think he’s as bothered by it as you think.”

As soon as Max and Pietra left the villa, the race was on. Lando hoped the decoration wouldn’t take long so we could spend some much needed time alone together.

His lingering touches on my waist as he hoisted me up to hang the banner and his glances whenever I leant over to sprinkle more rose petals across the tables gave away his intentions.

As soon as I was finished, my panties were round my ankles, head thrown back against the wall in the hallway as Lando buried his face between my legs. He used a finger to unhook my underwear from around my leg, tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans. I struggled against him pointlessly, until his firm hand around my ankle lifted my leg to open me up to him.

“Ah-ah. Don’t pretend you don’t want it baby. Like you don’t want my mouth on you like this,” he grumbled, two fingers spreading my folds open right before his eyes. He set my foot on his strong shoulder for support.

I whimpered, biting my bottom lip as a thin sheen of sweat covered my torso. My nipples peaked against my cropped tee, as I fought to hold my flowy skirt up and out of his way in one hand despite my fingers shaking.

His breath ghosted across my dampening flesh, sending a shiver through me, “I haven’t even touched you yet…you’re already shaking.”

My eyes rolled into my head as he pursed his lips and blew a stream of cool air across my clit, my hips bucking involuntarily as his persistent fingers held me open to him.

“Lando,” I warned as the tip of his pointer finger ghosted over my most sensitive point.

He smirked up at me with his teeth shining, looking impish and oh-so-handsome. I reached down and pulled his stupid backwards Quadrant cap from his head.

For a moment I considered frisbeeing it down the hallway, but instead I brought it to my own head, allowing access to his soft curls, a little damp with sweat. I twisted the cap on top of my own hair, turning it backwards just like he had, and the sight of it seemed to trigger him.

“Oh baby.” He groaned, and with one swift movement, his mouth was on me, and my body was in flames. I moaned out loud, comforted that there was nobody there to hear me. This was just for us and we didn’t have to hide.

His mouth worked me perfectly, alternating between a delicious firm suction around my clit that had me trembling and kitten licks so soft that it made me want to scream at him.

“More, more,” I chanted, fingers weaving into his crushed curls as my hips bucked towards his face. He pulled back a little to peer up at me, those shiny aquamarine eyes big and boyish.

“How much more?” He murmured, “more licking? More sucking? Hmmm? I don’t know how much more you can take.”

“Please. Sucking. Please,” I begged, my chest heaving as my hand practically crushed the linen fabric of my skirt between the fingers on my left hand. I shoved it behind my own back, trapping my skirt beneath my lower back and bottom so both hands were free.

I was desperate for him, my whole body tingling.

“Please just make me cum,” I whined, and that was all Lando needed to hear.

His gaze alone could have sent me spiralling in that moment as he maintained it the whole time, his eyes locked on mine, gauging my expression as his lips and tongue worked in tandem. Somehow I could feel them both simultaneously, creating swirling patterns and pressure I could only dream of.

“Feels…so…fucking…good…” I sobbed, feeling myself begin to drip down my own thighs, “please.”

He didn’t relent for a moment and after a minute or so the tightening coil snapped, sending me spinning. My head swam, my body convulsing in on itself towards my core. I gripped the sides of Lando’s head tightly, hunched over him as I quaked. His tongue continued to lap across me as I shook, tasting my release.

“Fucking hell baby,” he whispered as the shocks continued to have me shaking, his hands coming to rest on my thighs and rubbing softly as the tension in my muscles subsided.

I sobbed and panted, shaking my head as my legs gave way. He eased me gently onto my bottom on the marble floor, his eyes full of concern.

“Too much?” He whispered, his lips resting against my forehead as he brought me to straddle his lap. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, a little embarrassed by how hard he’d made me fall apart just with his mouth.

“Never,” I whispered, as his thumb wiped tears from my cheek, “I just need a minute.”

He nodded, reaching into his back pocket to check his phone. Max had told us he’d send a message once the proposal was complete and when they were heading back to the villa so we could bring out the champagne and prepare for the celebrations.

“Still nothing.”

He held me close, his hands smoothing over my back and thighs as I nestled into his lap. My body softened, and I focused on pressing feather light kisses to his neck and ear, particularly the little point at the top of his ear that made him shiver.

We knew each other too well.

The message came an hour later, when the two of us emerged from the shower. Pietra was beaming in the photograph, holding her hand in front of my brother, who was pressing a kiss to his new fiancée’s cheek.

I couldn’t help but shed a tear of excitement for them both. It was such a big step, and undeniably joyous. My big brother was getting married.

“We better get dressed before they get back,” Lando whispered, pressed against my back with his lips against my neck.

I nodded and peeled myself away from him, wandering over to the closet in my room. He dropped his towel, and my mouth almost watered at the sight of him in the mirror. His body was unbelievable. Toned and broad shoulders sculpted to perfection, a gorgeous belly rippling with taut muscles leading to a narrow waist and hips. He was perfect, and belonged to me, even if nobody else knew it.

Lando perched on the bed to put on his boxer briefs and I took my opportunity to cross the room to him before he had the chance. He glanced up at me, and I reached out to run my fingers through his damp curls. He’d been growing them lately, perfecting the routine to keep them looking gorgeous, which I appreciated.

“Hi,” he laughed, leaning forward to press a kiss to my tummy through my towel.

I didn’t say anything, simply dropping to my knees in front of him. Lando’s mouth fell open, and his hand dropped onto the mattress beside him, his fingers still clutching his underwear.

“Baby…” he gasped, his voice almost warning as I trailed my fingers along the crease between his thigh and pelvis. I watched closely as his cock twitched in response to each pass of my nails against his skin.

“They’ll be back soon,” he choked out, fingers tipping my chin up to avert my gaze back to his face.

I smirked softly, “we better be quick then, huh?”

He propped himself up on his hands and I saw his throat bob as he gulped. He opened his mouth as if to reply, but before he could I took hold of him, giving him a gentle squeeze between my fingers.

“You want me to use my hands or my mouth?” I whispered, tilting my head as I looked at him in my hand. My fingers barely reached around his thickness, and I could already feel him hardening under my touch.

“Fuck…” he groaned, bringing his hand up to cup my cheek, “whatever you want, baby.”

I smirked and lowered my mouth to him, darting my tongue out for a teasing lick to his shaft. I heard his breath hitch and continued a path upwards. When I reached his head I lifted my gaze, his green eyes piercing into mine as he watched me finally open my mouth to take him in.

The moan that came out of him was unlike anything I’d heard from him before - deep and lustful. I felt his fingers weave into my hair as I focused on the sensation of him in my mouth. He smelled so good and tasted salty and fresh against my tongue. I rolled my tongue against the underside of him, occasionally creating suction to mix up the rhythm as his hands guided me back and forth.

“Holy fucking shit, Nora. God,” he gasped.

His hips rutted suddenly, and I pulled back a little before he could hit the back of my throat. It still made me gag a little, which only seemed to spur him on more.

“You love having my cock down your throat, don’t you?” He growled, “you love that your best friend and your brother could walk in on us any fucking second and see you on your knees for me.”

I whimpered at his words, reaching up with one hand to grip his cock at the base while the other crept down between my legs. I moaned softly at the sensation, and I saw Lando’s abs tense as the vibration hit him too. He glanced down to see my fingers working and smirked.

“Such a dirty girl,” He groaned.

I doubled down on my efforts, sucking harder and faster and moving my fingers at twice the speed. I could feel wetness on my thighs. The sounds of my mouth and fingers echoed over the room and Lando heard them too, mumbling about how wet I was.

Suddenly, he yanked my head away from him, cupping my face sweetly. The words that followed were a complete contrast to how gently he held my face.

“You’re going to cum on your fingers, then I’m going to fuck you until you cum again,” he murmured, his face so close to mine I could feel his breath against my cheek.

My fingers stilled for a moment, my flushed chest heaving as he yanked the towel away from my body, leaving me bare for him.

“Do it,” he groaned, “rub yourself for me. Show me how you like it.”

I whimpered at his words as he continued to gently grip my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks ever so slightly. I bucked my hips against my own fingers as I rubbed frantic circles against my clit, desperately chasing my own orgasm so he could finally be inside of me.

“Lan, please…please,” I gasped, frustrated at the sensation. It felt good, but my fingers were too small, too soft and not nimble enough. I couldn’t get the right angle that he could. I couldn’t get there without him.

“I can’t,” I sobbed, rocking against my own hand desperately. Usually I’d be humiliated by it all, but it was only serving to turn me on even more.

He laughed darkly, his eyes drifting down to my hand, “I’ve ruined it for you, haven’t I, honey? Can’t even make yourself cum anymore now you’ve been with me.”

I let out a cry of frustration, slowing the circling of my fingers to ease the slight burning that was creeping up on me now.

“I need your fingers, Lan, please,” I whimpered as he gently lifted me up to sit on his thigh sideways.

He hooked my right leg up and over his thigh, opening me up to him. My hand trembled where it rested against my abdomen, mere inches away from the sparse hair he refused to let me shave away completely.

“You want them?” He asked teasingly, running his fingers along my thigh. I shivered, watching goosebumps rise on my skin.

I whimpered, my arm looping around his shoulders to hold onto him, “please. I need them. Please, I’m so close.”

He pressed a kiss to my jaw, “we need to be quick, baby. Can you do that for me?”

I nodded earnestly, almost certain that I’d fall apart as soon as he touched me. And I was right. The second his fingers were on me I fell apart, crying out loudly and bucking my hips into his hand. It was all too easy for his fingers to slip inside, curling frantically against my spongy walls.

I could barely form words anymore, let alone sentences. All that would come out were whimpers and fragments of desperate pleas for him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, hearing the wetness between my legs intensify, his gaze fixed on me as my whole body buckled for him for the second time that night. I glanced down to see the evidence all over the wooden floor, my face flushing for a moment before I pulled Lando’s face to give him a bruising kiss.

My thighs were still trembling as I turned in his lap to face him, kneeling either side of his narrow hips. I cupped his face and ran my fingers through his unruly curls.

“You’ve made a mess,” he tutted, smirking devilishly.

I shook my head, nipping at his bottom lip, “it’s your fault. I wasn’t going to.”

“You were begging for it,” he murmured, taking hold of my hips to guide me down towards him. I shivered when he grazed my sensitive folds, warm and hard and heavy. I reached down and gently took hold of him in my palm, satisfied when I felt him throb lightly at my touch.

“I should tease you really,” I pondered, “but we really don’t have the time.”

Lando opened his mouth to respond but was cut short by me sinking down onto his length in one swift movement of my hips. I gasped at the slight burn. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea after all, but damn did it feel good.

“Shit,” he groaned, one hand squeezing my hip while the other slipped round to hold the small of my back, guiding my hips in a bruising rhythm.

I whimpered, burying my face into the crook of his neck, focusing solely on the sensation of him inside me. I knew he preferred it when I circled my hips, so that’s exactly what I did, creating torturing patterns that made him gasp.

His hips began moving in tandem with mine, “fuck, lemme see you. Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

I moaned as I lifted my head from where it rested against his shoulder, my gaze meeting his piercing green-blue eyes immediately.

“You gonna cum for me?” I all but purred, trailing my nails down the side of his neck and round the back of his head to gently scratch at his scalp.

I watched as his pupils dilated, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he battled for composure, “I-I’m not gonna last.”

His admission brought me ever closer to my own orgasm, causing me to clench around him which certainly didn’t help matters at all. Suddenly, he’d flipped us over, pinning me onto the mattress with his full weight. I scrambled round onto my hands and knees before dropping my shoulders as he sat back on his knees on the mattress. He was sweaty and dishevelled and oh-so-wrecked in the best way.

I glanced back at him over my shoulder, wiggling my hips in the hope of tempting him, “c’mon Lan…”

He smirked and reached forward, his palm tenderly stroking the soft skin of my ass, “fucking hell, Nora. You’re going to ruin me.”

I giggled, flipping my long hair over my shoulder to expose the length of my back to him, arching it in what I hoped was an attractive way.

Lando knelt behind me, knees bracketed by mine as he braced himself on my hip. Suddenly he was inside me again and his pace was relentless. I felt him curl over my back, his strong arm looping round my front to take hold of my breast in his large hand. He used the leverage to pull us both upright, my back flush against his chest and my body entirely at his mercy and trapped beneath his hold as he rutted into me.

I gasped, as that was all I could manage, my hands desperately clawing at his arm. I could feel him everywhere and it still didn’t seem enough. In contrast to the bruising pace of his hips against my ass, his lips peppered feather-light kisses down my shoulder.

“Fuck. I fucking love you. I love you,” he said reverently, beginning to aim his thrusts with greater precision, “I need to feel you again, baby. One more.”

I shook my head, leaning it back against his shoulder as my whole body was racked by his thrusts, “I can’t…”

“Yes. You. Can,” he grunted, words punctuated by carefully placed thrusts. He was searching for the spot, and boy did he find it.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I gasped, gripping his arm like a lifeline as I felt the pressure building in my abdomen. The hand that was on my hip snuck round to press above my pubic bone, forcing my g-spot further inward to make it easier for me to fall apart.

Words were impossible, and I could barely move, let alone say anything more as I came. I was merely an instrument, and Lando knew how to play my body perfectly. When I came, everything seemed to slow. I vaguely heard Lando groaning my name, and had awareness of his warmth filling me before he gently guided me to lay down on the bed.

He stayed curled against my back, trailing his fingers against my skin as I shivered and sobbed continuously.

Lando pressed a kiss to the back of my head, “shhhhh. Jesus Christ, honey. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I-I’ve never,” I whimpered, my whole body still quaking, “I’ve never cum so hard.”

He huffed out a laugh into my hair, his fingers creeping down to stroke between my legs. He stroked through my wetness and my hips bucked against the stinging sensation, my thighs clamping shut over his hand before he could do anymore.

I hissed and shook my head.

“No…no more,” I insisted, rolling onto my back and reaching up to cup his cheek, “seriously.”

He nodded and leant over to give me a soft kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

His next words surprised me.

“We need to tell them.”

I blinked at him, my thumb rubbing over the strong line of his jaw, grazing one of the little moles on his skin, “I know.”

“Not tonight, but before we go home.”

“I’m scared.”

“Me too, but it’ll be okay.”

authors notes

My first fic post in a long while and my first ever time posting smut like this or anything about Lando, so please please please let me know your thoughts.

This is so far beyond my comfort zone but I’m hoping that others enjoy it.

Thanks to my loves @vetteltea and @vroomvroommbtch for being my biggest supports and giving me the confidence to post this. 🤍

[mysunshinetemptress]

You see me

Leah Williamson x McCabe!Reader

Warnings: angst, feeling invisible, Leah’s ACL. Also I decided to split it into two parts this is a little background in part one part two is more your relationship development and then the downfall.

Leah wasn’t a mean person, she had never been mean to anyone in her life, until she met you the Arsenal signing who hadn’t had the opportunity to play for them in her first few seasons sent out on loan instead, Katie’s little sister, she was so mean to you though all because of a stupid bet your sister had made. Leah was doing the meanest thing she could possibly think of to you, you the quite and shy defender who only seemed to speak on the pitch, you who shied away from every fight on the pitch brought your way, you who was currently standing in front of her with tear stained cheeks as your eyes pricked with more fresh tears threatening to spill over, you who’s hands shook as you held on desperately to her present your signed Thierry Henry Arsenal jersey you had gotten as a kid. You whose eyes broke from their stare to look at Katie as she laugh “i mean come on pal hardly you actually thought that.” You who as Katie began laughing again surrounded by the Arsenal girls shoved the framed jersey into her hand quietly saying happy birthday as you turned to race out of the room. Leah was mean so mean to you a girl who didn’t deserve any of this. Amanda came pushing through the Arsenal girls before reaching her daughter “where is she off to then we are about to do the cake.” Leah turned to look at her mum cheeks blotchy and tears in her eyes “mum….i.”

6 MONTHS EARLIER

You grew up one of the youngest of 11 kids, the younger sister of international footballer Katie McCabe and so the title of “Mini Mac.” Had been bestowed upon you when you first signed for Shelbourne FC. Only you where the complete opposite to your older sister quite, reserved and always ready to shy away from a fight on or off the pitch you could easily get lost in a crowd and often times that was the case. You knew growing up in a house with so many kids whether everyone was there or not you had to be loud to be seen but after so many years of trying as a little kid you got used to being quite and invisible and unsurprisingly that transferred into your football career and adult life.

You had made your senior debut for Ireland at 16 just three weeks before your 17th birthday and shortly after your older sister’s team Arsenal had come knocking looking to sign you in the summer transfer window. How could you pass on the opportunity to play for your childhood club, a top team in the WSL and better yet along side your ideal, your older sister.

But your career seemed to get stuck at Arsenal, getting loaned out after your first season of sitting on the bench wasn’t ideal and when you finally thought you would get to step out on to the pitch for your dream team you got loaned out again this time to Manchester United.

Manchester wasn’t always the best Marc Skinner ran a tight ship that often led to you feeling worse than before hiding away from his constant grief about the team not being good enough in your cubby became a norm, but at least you got to play a couple of games right ?. what you hadn’t expected was to be called back to your parent club. With news of Leah’s ACL tear hitting the media a few days later and her inevitable exit from the team so she can focus on recovery you some how still hadn’t expected to get a phone call from Jonas Eidevall informing you that Arsenal had requested your return to take Leah’s spot on the back line plus this time would be different you would get to play along side Katie for both club and country you would have someone who wouldn’t mind sitting with you just talking about random things.

Boy where you wrong, arriving at London Colony you where greeted with the medical staff who wanted to do a check before they let you in to train with the girls agreeing quickly as to get it over and done with you couldn’t help but tap your foot excitedly the thought of pairing up with your older sister in training and just laughing like you used to. Arriving into the changing room you turned looking for your sisters cubby spotting the shamrocks decor you smiled at the little sense of home no matter how cliche it was before setting your things into empty space beside her looking in at the photos that dawned the inside smiling at the family photo of all 11 of you before it waved as you spotted your face half cropped out of it only you knew it was you otherwise you wouldn’t have a clue who it was. You jumped slightly at the loud noise smiling at the familiar accent Turing to spot your older sister “Y/n.” You looked at all the other Arsenal girls smiling “hi.” Katie walked towards you eyebrows pinched together in confusion “wha ya doin here.” You looked at her confused this time “ I got called off loan I’m covering the centre back position.” The team looked at you confused “we don’t need another Centre Back Y/n we have Rafa, Lotte, Jen and Teyah.” You looked at Katie a little hurt at she brushed your position off of course you knew that Arsenal didn’t have a shortage of players that’s why you where sent on loan in the first place but now you where here to play for their senior squad for the first time at the age of 22 along side Katie and you couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t want you there “I know, but Jonas called me and he said that I would be taking over for Leah for the time being.” You were cut off by Jen “he said that to me and Lotte as well mate.” You felt delusional now of course you wouldn’t be the first choice not against Jens experience and Lottes longevity at Arsenal from being an academy player you where just Katie’s little sister the name on your back the reason you had gotten so far that’s what you had been told since your older brother Gary had you out playing in the road “oh yeah I’m probably just here to back up you guys then or maybe Steph I can play on the left.” Jen nodded moving to her cubby as the rest of the team dispersed “I’m really excited.” Katie looked at you eyebrows forward “why.” You smiled “I get to play along side you here, you know my dream club with my big sister I was actually wondering if you might want to….” Victoria made her way over jumping on to Katie’s back “partners for training.” You looked at the way Katie’s face lit up for the younger girl “who else would I be partners with.” Katie turned and began talking with the younger girl as you felt your heart sink you wanted to partner with Katie but just like at home when she would rather play with Lauryn or international duty and you could never drag her away from Rue or Louise.

You sighed walking back into the changing room taking off your boots before heading to the gym where you watched the girls separate into their groups as you headed over to the balance ball looking to start like you normally did at United. You couldn’t help look around at all the little cliques within the team and wonder if you would ever fit in, shaking your head you decided to try and stick with Katie you could at least count on her she was a built in buddy for crying out loud.

This happened for the first couple of weeks back at the Arsenal you following Katie and her friends around as you tried to fit into conversations or into training exercises but they never seemed to notice you often getting cut off or left to run a drill solo, match days were one of the worst getting dressed into your Arsenal shirt adrenaline kicking in as you hoped today would be the day you started or even got to come off the bench only to be met with a full 90 minutes of siting alone on the end of the bench freezing legs bouncing up and down.

Team nights weren’t any better often sitting alone just watching your teammates laugh trying to get in on the jokes and have a laugh but ultimately getting talked over again. You would often find yourself slipping out before food arrived.

Leah had been watching you over the past few weeks heartbreaking at the sight of your depleted emotions as you were either denied a conversation or training partner or the opportunity to represent Arsenal. Walking into the changing room Leah looked around smiling at you softly as you looked up catching her eyes as you tied your boots getting ready to head out for training “hey, we are having a team session at mine this weekend I was wondering what you eat from the Chinese to have it all ready.” You looked quite shocked at the older girl not once had someone approached you, you always had to put in the effort and asking what you wanted to eat at hers was even more shocking you knew you wouldn’t even last that long but the look on Leah’s face told you she wasn’t taking no for an answer “eh just some version of spicy noodles please.” Leah nodded smiling “cool it starts at 7 but come over whenever yeah.” You nodded smiling “thank you.” Leah squeezed your arm heading to the physio as you head out to train.

Arriving at Leah’s you texted Katie who you knew had already arrived telling her you were outside and asking her to get the door as the anxiety built at the thought of ringing the doorbell but after 20 minutes you decided you where just going to have to push it aside and knock. Instantly the door opened as Leah smiled at you happily “hey you made it.” You smiled sheepishly at her “yeah sorry I…. Is Katie here.” Leah looked at you worriedly as you picked at your hand “yeah over there.” You turned spotting your older sister before walking over “hi.” You felt stupid as no one not even your sister seemed to acknowledge you as you looked around for an empty seat before opting to stand in the doorway to the hall. Hours ticked by as you watched your teammates once again laugh and enjoy each others company as you stood awkwardly away moving whenever someone had to get past, sighing you set your drink on the table before heading to the door before you felt someone grab your hand “where you off to then.” You turned eyes landing on Leah as she smiled at you “me..oh..I…well I was going to head home.” Leah looked at you carefully “how about one drink with me and if you still want to leave after it then you can and I’ll see you on Sunday.” Looking at her quizzically “ok.” You were shocked at how quickly you agreed but followed the older girl as she laced her fingers with yours pulling you into the kitchen “right pretty girl what would you like to drink.” You looked at the drinks spread out in front of you before agreeing to a bottle of Heineken as Leah popped off the top handing it to you “you know for a McCabe you’re awfully quiet.” You smiled halfheartedly “I know, I….its just the way I am I guess” you paused “I tried to be..but when you get left out no matter how hard you try you sort of just I don’t know adapt to it ya know.” Leah smiled at you softly “well I think it’s rather refreshing I mean I know she’s your sister but Jesus Christ Katie’s worse then Tooney and that girls loud.” You let out a laugh as Leah’s eyes lit up she had never heard you laugh before and to make you laugh caused something to stir within her.

You both didn’t seem to notice the time as the girls crowded into the kitchen to say goodnight to their host as you looked at your phone looking back up you realised Leah had been swept away by your teammates as you put the empty bottle you had been nursing for the last four hours and slipped out the front door before heading home.

Team nights continued on like this, the girls sat laughing in each other’s sitting rooms while you and Leah talked about anything and everything in the kitchen laughing amongst yourselves. You couldn’t help but smile at the blonde the fluttering feeling in your stomach worsening the more you both did this at team bonding nights so much so it had spilled over to getting the fluttering feeling every time you saw the older girl.

Playing at Arsenal was improving too, you had been pushing your self harder than ever hoping for Jonas to notice and give you some minutes and finally it payed off.

You guys were set to play United and you couldn’t wait to see some of your old teammates especially Mary who had taken you under her wing when you joined on your loan.

Walking out for warm ups you began lightly running before being pulled into a rondo and then taking shots at Manu. You began to make your way inside when you heard your name being called before looking to the family and friend section seeing Leah smiling you waved sheepishly making your way back to the changing room. Jonas had barged in ten minutes before kick off stating a change to the line up “Y/n you’re starting on the left Steph is out she has a problem with her hamstring.” You looked at the older man surprised as you nodded standing to make your way to the tunnel.

After a tough match that ended in a draw you turned looking at your teammates breaking into groups as they began making their way to the away stand to thank the travelling fans before you felt someone jump on your back “Maca.” You laughed trying to shove her off “Maza get off me.” Laughing Mary jumped off your back pulling you into a bear hug. You sunk into her embrace as you squeezed her tight “I miss you.” You hummed “I miss you too.” Mary pulled away “you seem happy, definitely happier what’s going on your new team absolutely adore you then.” You smiled halfheartedly as Mary felt her smile drop “hey you can tell me.” You shrugged “I don’t know I just thought this time would be different, getting to play at my favourite club with Katie is a dream I mean it’s all I’ve ever wanted but I just can’t seem to click.” You dropped your head feeling disappointed “oh y/n they’ll come around your amazing, quiet and shy yes but amazing nonetheless.” You looked up “I think I made a friend though Mary.” Mary felt her heart swell at the hope in your eyes “oh yeah who.” You smiled thinking of Leah just as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder greeting Mary who seemed to immediately notice your red cheeks “ready to head to then.” Mary grabbed your arm pulling you towards her “did she not tell you Williamson she’s staying at mine tonight then heading back to London.” Leah looked at you eyebrows raised as she poked her tongue into her cheek trying to not get annoyed at the way Mary’s arm wrapped around your waist and you leaned into the older girl “but it’s Katie’s night for team bonding.” Mary shrugged “we have had this planned for weeks Williamson I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait.” You smiled sheepishly at the blonde “sorry Lee, I’ll see you tomorrow though.” Leah sighed pulling you into a hug “alright but you text me as soon as you hit London.” You smiled nodding “Will do.”

You spent the night talking about Leah to Mary and the older girl couldn’t help but smile you looked so in love just talking about her and so happy that you had made a friend on the Arsenal squad that not once did she try stop you from talking instead smiling and nodding along and asking questions when she thought of them.

Leah spent the night feeling miserable sat on the couch beside Lia and Beth, your kitchen chats had become her favourite part of team nights and with you still in Manchester Leah felt slightly lost, that was until Katie announced a game idea “let’s play truth or dare.” Sighing Leah joined the rest of the girls sat in a circle laughing every now and again as she watched her teammates take turns choosing truth or dare and carrying out each task that was until Katie decided to ask her “right then Williamson truth or dare.” Leah smiled never one to back out “Dare McCabe.” Katie smiled wide “I dare you to ask my sister out and see how long you can string her along for.” Leah felt her smile drop “what.” Lia piped up “Katie that’s a bit far.” Katie shook her head “nah it’s not, it’s just a joke she’ll understand come on I’ll even make it a bet.” Leah looked around at her teammates, before dropping her eyes to the ground. She liked you more than a friend but you had never given any indication that you liked her back, maybe she could use this to see and then if you did you guys would end up dating anyway right. Looking up Leah smiled slightly “how much.”

[jflemings]

— the first night

piper’s world masterlist

synopsis: you and piper settle in for your first night alone in london

warnings: angst, talks of regret, the horrors of being in ur early 20s and not having anything figured out x100, also not proofread SORRYYYYY

a/n: tell a friend to tell a friend, SHES BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK (and rusty. whoops 🙂)

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧺⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“i know, i know, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry” you whisper as piper continues to wail. you pace back and forth in your bedroom, the rain pelting your window not letting up.

you’d tried everything to get piper down but nothing had worked. not a bottle, a song, not pacing through the house or rocking her back and forth. it didn’t matter that your little girl was exhausted, she didn’t want to sleep. she’d been going down easier the first few days you were here but now it was as if nothing was going to soothe her.

your parents had helped you do the bulk of the moving but they’d flown back to australia in the morning, leaving you and piper alone for the first time in a week. it was the first time you’d been without your mum since you had piper and you were really starting to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders.

exhaustion began to settle into your bones and your eyes began prickling with the first warning of tears. you weren’t going to cry. you weren’t. you could do this. you had to do this. you do one final lap of the apartment before going into your room and sitting on the edge of your bed, your hushed whispers still being drowned out by the slowly dwindling cries of your baby.

you pull piper closer to your chest and breathe in deeply, trying to keep your emotions at bay. you weren’t an angry person and although you’d gotten frustrated over piper plenty of times before, you’d never let it get the best of you. the palm of your hand runs up and down her back repeatedly and you softly sing nursery rhymes into her ear, rocking back and forth slightly like your mum had shown you.

wails turn to tired sobs and babbling. piper finally calms down enough for you to place her in her crib, and you find yourself standing over her even after small puffs of breath escape her lips. for the first time since getting to london, you cry.

hot tears create tracks down your face, searing your skin and soothing your aching heart. it was hard. so fucking hard. and now you were truly doing it on your own. your parents were half a world away and you’re twenty one and feeling like you’re way in over your head. the move was a good move. the right move, is what you’ve been telling yourself. good for you and your little girl, an opportunity that you couldn’t pass up. a chance to not only play against some of the best in the world, but to make a promising life for you and piper.

that doesn’t do much to quell the sickness deep in your gut.

there was no turning back now, not with the three year contract you’ve just signed. not with what the media was saying about you being both a young mum and a promising young player. the future of the matildas they called you. a mistake that’ll cost her career they say.

powerful. trailblazer. strong.

you didn’t feel like any of those things.

you felt weak, and more like the kid that would sleep in your parent’s bed during heavy storms than a mother that was responsible for another living, breathing human.

but you are a kid, aren’t you? still not fully developed as a person or a player. still making mistakes that could cost you everything.

“you’re always going to make mistakes, that’s apart of life.” sam had said to you during your first camp back with australia. “it’s whether or not you let those mistakes define you” steph told you when you called her before signing the contract.

“mistakes make you human” is what polks assured you quietly in the dressing room.

you’ve never felt more human than in this very moment.

the mattress squeaks under your weight slightly as you sit back on your bed, shoving the heels of your palms into your eyes and practicing breathing exercises you’ve been doing since you first found out you were pregnant and steph had to talk you down from a panic attack over the phone. the ghost of the positive pregnancy test still sits heavy in your hand sometimes.

sometimes, during those fleeting moments, you wonder if you’ve done the wrong thing. if you really had made a mistake that was now something you wouldn’t fix, something you wouldn’t take back even if you had the chance.

because in front of you, now sleeping peacefully, is your little girl. the rain will continue to pour, a part of you will always need to crawl into the warmth and safety of your mother’s arms, and for now you’re still twenty one and overwhelmed and exhausted to your core, but you’re determined.

determined to get this right, determined to raise this little girl the best way you know how.

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Blind Love Chapter 23 + Letter

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The next morning, I got up earlier than usual to wait for Victor.

(Maybe it’s a bit too early…)

The last time Victor came to pick me up for something, I had still been asleep when he arrived. I didn’t want to embarrass myself any further in front of him, so I had resolved to wake up earlier. However…

(...I’m bored.)

To make use of the free time, I decided to work on my report of last night’s events. I sat down in front of my typewriter and started working. Keeping my eyes on the words flying across the paper, I detailed the evils of the council leader.

(The council leader’s beliefs are the exact opposite of Victor’s.)

Unlike Victor, who chose duty above himself, and to sacrifice himself for the sake of the nation, The council leader only cared about things that benefited him, and not about the people.

(He even said that they were meant to be used.)

A land in which everyone may live freely, enjoying happiness without fear of falling victim to injustice. That was what Victor, as ruler of England, wished to achieve. In contrast, the council leader wanted happiness only for a select group of people. Technology and power were used only to fulfill his own greed.

(Even though those were meant to develop Victor’s country to give people more prosperous lives.) (The council leader trying to abuse them for his own ends is unforgivable.)

I finished my report with the conclusion that this was evil that Crown needed to condemn, and that the council leader had in the end been overcome by guilt so that he committed suicide.

(That’s that for last night.) (And now…)

I unlocked the drawer in my desk, glancing over the report I stored within.

It was about Victor.

(I wonder if I can complete it now.)

As I reached for the report I had stopped writing halfway through… A knock sounded at the door, and I quickly shut and locked the drawer again.

Victor: Kate, are you up?

Kate: Yes, I’ll be right there!

I put away the report I had been writing, then grabbed my bag and opened the door. My attention was once again captured by the sight of the smile he made as our eyes met.

Victor: Good morning, Kate.

Kate: Good morning, Victor.

We greeted each other. Such a simple thing was enough to fill me with happiness to the point I thought I might burst. But…

(After this, how many more times will we be able to say ‘good morning’ to each other like this?)

To try and disguise the sudden loneliness I felt, I put on my brightest voice as I continued speaking.

Kate: Where are we going today?

A gentleness filled his eyes as he answered.

Victor: Somewhere quite far from London.

…

We took a carriage to the train station.

Victor: Kate, over here.

He still hadn’t revealed our exact destination. We made our way to a train car and sat down facing each other.  A young girl’s voice called out to us from outside the car.

Flower Seller: Hello, would you like a flower?

Victor was faster than me to respond to the girl, who carried a full basket of flowers.

Victor: I was just thinking I’d like some flowers. Could I have all of them?

Flower Seller: All of them!?

Victor: I’ll pay for them, of course.

His gaze was warm as he watched the girl frantically do calculations in her head. I watched them with a smile, knowing that she was one of the citizens Victor wanted to protect. After the girl finished calculating how much all the flowers would cost, she gave Victor all the flowers as he paid, and gave her a tip on top.

Flower Seller: Huh…?

She looked confused, but Victor just smiled at her.

Victor: I wouldn’t be able to have such wonderful flowers if not for you. Spend it as you like.

The train’s whistle pierced through the air. It was time to depart.

Flower Seller: Thank you, mister, miss!

As the train began moving, we continued to wave goodbye to the girl until she disappeared from view.

Kate: They really are wonderful flowers.

I shut the window as the train began to pick up speed, my gaze falling on the large bouquet of flowers.

Victor: They’ll be needed when we reach our destination. Victor: I thought about visiting a florist to buy some, but children like them tend to gather near stations as well. Victor: Since we’re going to be taking the train anyway, I figured it would be better to buy some from them.

These flowers were not perfectly selected the way they would be at a professional florist. They were more like wildflowers which grew on the sides of roads, like the ones I was more familiar with. Their familiarity made them lovely, and I picked one to smell it. Its pleasant scent made me smile, which in turn made Victor look pleased.

Kate: I just remembered that there were similar flowers that grew near the post office. Kate: I’m sure the flowers from a florist are wonderful, but these are amazing too. Kate: Maybe even more amazing, knowing how hard that girl must have worked to gather all of them.

Dirt had gotten under the girl’s nails, and her fingers had been stained by the flower stems. It must have taken so long to gather this many flowers.

Victor: I wish that I could work even one second faster, to create a world where children won’t have to work. Victor: But the world can’t change in the blink of an eye. I must start with only what I can do, first.

His profile as he gazed out the window was full of sorrow. I put the flower back and whispered.

Kate: …But I believe that someday, Her Majesty will make that world real.

Victor turned to me with his eyes widened in surprise, and I grinned at him.

Kate: Queen Victoria’s guidance helped develop the economy and made the country richer, right? Kate: I’m sure that will lead to better lifestyles and education for children like that girl, and that will bring the future closer to becoming reality. Kate: There isn’t anyone else who thinks more about the citizens of the country, after all.

He let out a breath.

Victor: Ahaha, you’re exactly right. Victor: That is why she took the throne. Victor: To make everyone in the country happy, the country must be developed enough so that every single citizen can be supported.

The sorrow in his face vanished, replaced by an excited cheerfulness.

Victor: You truly believe in Her Majesty.

Kate: Yes. I think she’s a wonderful person.

We spoke like we were sharing a private joke, and Victor sounded even more amused as he continued.

Victor: Then I’d like to ask, what exactly do you like about Her Majesty?

Kate: Uh…

You’re really making me say it?

Asking like that is cheating. (+4/+2)

Things like this.

Kate: Asking like that is cheating…

Victor: Really? I think Her Majesty would enjoy knowing, though. Victor: Because it’s the words that come directly from your mouth.

He was smiling teasingly as he waited for my response. I took a deep breath and sat up straighter.

Kate: …Like I said before, I admire that she cares so much for the citizens of her country, more than anyone else. Kate: She works so hard so that everyone can live freely, and I think that’s incredible. Kate: But…

Victor: Hm?

Kate: I’m worried that she doesn’t seem to consider herself to be one of those citizens. Kate: Just like she wishes for the happiness of her people, Kate: There are those who wish for our ruler to live a life full of happiness and freedom, too.

Victor blinked in surprise.

(He’s probably not going to agree…)

I let my expression relax, just a bit, and continued to look into his rounded, jewel-like eyes. No matter how much I wished for it, I knew it wasn’t something he could accept. …But that wouldn’t change anything about how I felt.

(I’ll never stop wishing for Victor’s happiness. Not for a single moment.)

Kate: Please make sure you tell Her Majesty what I said. Kate: It’s the will of her beloved people, after all.

Instead of responding, he just smiled, and closed his eyes. The train continued to speed to its destination.

…

Kate: This is…

We got off the train in a village some hours away from London. Just a few minutes after leaving the train, the view that spread before my eyes was full of lush greenery, unlike anything I’d ever seen in London. As I watched the rolling hills that seemed to go on and on beyond the horizon were sprinkled with verdant trees, holding the bundle of flowers, Victor began walking and I followed.

Victor: This village is a popular summer holiday location for aristocrats.

Kate: I think I’ve heard about this place before. There’s a really famous lake here, right?

The nobility of London would flee the heat and bustle of summer London, gathering at places like this. When I was working as a postal worker, every summer there was a noble family that left for this village, but one of them would stay behind in London. I remembered that there were always letters and postcards to deliver to the noble who stayed behind.

Victor: My uncle has a second residence here.

Victor had a nostalgic look on his face as he continued speaking while walking.

Victor: When I was a child, I’d be allowed to stay in my uncle’s villa during the summers. Victor: It was the one time each year that I would be able to escape the palace.

As the warm sunlight illuminated the path before us, the clear blue sky above seemed to stretch into infinity. As we walked, I spotted a lake near the foot of the hill we were on. The surface of the lake sparkled in the light, reflecting the world like a giant mirror. There was not a single bit of impurity in the water. I was entranced.

Standing next to me, Victor pointed to the lake and reminisced.

Victor: I would go fishing on that pier. Victor: Go running along the opposite bank. Victor: Ah, and I used to roll around in that grass over there.

I smiled as I imagined Victor as a child.

(Those sound like wonderful memories…)

Kate: Sounds like you were an overactive kid.

Victor: I have always put in all my effort into the things I enjoy, Kate. Victor: None of this was allowed at the palace, so I let out my energy here. Victor: I could feel like I was the freest person in the world when I was here. Only here, nowhere else.

Victor began to walk again. I followed after him, listening attentively as he spoke about his past.

Victor: I was always the closest to my uncle out of all my other family members. Victor: I saw him more as a brother, albeit one much older than I was. And he had always been kind to me, ever since I was very young.

(His uncle… was the one he had taken the life of…)

He noticed the shadow that fell over my expression, but laughed ruefully.

Victor: As you’ve realized, my uncle was the first person I had deliberately killed. Victor: Until the succession crisis became an inescapable part of my reality, I had continued to keep regular contact with my uncle. Victor: But once my father died, we were forced to stay apart from each other.

I couldn’t spot any sadness in his expression as he spoke. But I knew the sorrow I sensed wasn’t just my imagination.

Victor: I had no prominent position in the royal family, and rarely left the palace, so very few people knew of my existence. Victor: My uncle was well-known, and popular. Honestly it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference if I showed my face more back then.

Kate: Why?

I turned to fully face him as he held the flowers.

Victor: In my opinion, my uncle had always been the better candidate to become king.

He seemed like he was looking at something far in the distance.

Victor: He treated everyone equally and never stopped thinking about how he could help make the country better. Victor: Because I’d known him ever since my childhood, I’ve always known just how great a person he was.

Kate: But, your uncle is…

We stopped walking. I followed Victor’s gaze to a headstone. There was a row of unmarked gravestones.

Victor: He was an incredible person, but had just one weakness. Victor: And that was his weak will.

Victor knelt and began laying out the flowers on the graves, one after the other.

Victor: Knowing that, I asked him about his resolve that night.

The wind began to blow strongly. Victor’s long dark hair painted a waving line against the blue sky.

Victor: This is where my family rests eternally, their lives taken by my hand.

Kate: What?

Victor: …Or it would be, but there’s nothing buried here. Their actual bodies are interred in a cemetery in London. Victor: So I made these graves here on my own.

He replaced the flowers that had been blown aside by the wind.

Victor: So that I will remember the sin of killing them, for the rest of my life.

His eyes closed as if in prayer, and he let out a breath. Born into the royal family and wielding a curse, he caused the deaths of his entire family and now sat on the throne with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

(How much longer will he have to keep bearing it?)

If he hadn’t been born into the royal family, if he had never been cursed, maybe none of this would have happened.

(He’s probably thought the same thing.)

But because he was born into the royal family, and because he was cursed, he was here now.

(And I fell in love with the him who is here now.)

I closed my own eyes, lacing my fingers together in prayer. Even though the path I walked to get here was filled with so much pain and sorrow, I was glad, from the bottom of my heart, that I had met him.

(That too, won’t ever change.)

May the lives he took rest in peace. All I could do was pray.

Victor: Sorry to keep you waiting… Kate?

I heard the sound of his footsteps drawing near, but I continued praying. He stopped just next to me, and I didn’t know what expression was on his face at that moment.

Victor: …Thank you.

Those quiet words should have been swallowed up by the wind, but I heard them loud and clear.

Letter: I Want to Talk About Memories With You

Dear Kate,

When you told me about your childhood that one time, it reminded me of my own childhood memories.

What games did I use to play? What did I use to like? What did I find fun? What memories are unforgettable?

Almost all of my happiest memories are gathered here. I loved the time I could spend freely here more than anything else. I could forget all about the annoying obligations I had, even if for just a moment.

I never thought that it would be like this, but I am truly happy I can show this place to you.

What are you thinking as we walk around? I sneak glances at your profile to try and guess.

Your eyes shine so much more brilliantly than the scenery that surrounds us.

[perfectly-imperfect82]

Found

You were wandering the streets of Manchester with you group of runaways, looking for a place to set up for the day.

The next moment you felt your arm getting pulled on.

"It is you" Jill said in shock as she held your arm as you stared back with wide eyes at the Dutch football player.

"I can't believe it, everyone looked for you in London" Jill said as you continued to stare back not saying anything.

"Are you okay? Let's go get some food. We need to call Daan and Beth" Jill rambled, the mention of Daan and Beth getting you over your shock as you quickly pulled your arm out of her grasp and took a step back. Feeling guilty at the panic that now took over her face, realizing a second to late as you took off running, hearing her yell after you as you disappeared into the crowd, you group following close behind you.

~

You were hanging out in a park, planning out how your group was going to get money this week

"There's groups of people walking around showing a picture of you. Asking if anyone has see you" one of the older guys was saying

"What?" You thought confused. There is no way, after only a day that Jill had people looking for you.

"They'll give up soon" you said nonchalantly you said closing your eyes and hoping to get a quick nap in to fight the cold you developed over night.

"I don't think so" he said, "they are heading this way" causing you to open your eyes in a panic. I'm not going back into the system.

"I'll catch you guys later at the usual spot" you said getting up and trying to walk away without getting notice. Sparing glances their way to make sure they didn't see you.

"Fuck" you mumbled making eye contact with Millie, taking off at a run when she started for you

"Wait!" Millie yelled

"Come on kid, we aren't going to give up" Rachel yelled

You felt your body slowing down due to lack of food and illness that was wrecking you body, but you pushed yourself to continued running

"Gotcha" Rachel said grabbing you arm and yanking your body into hers as she wrapped your body in her arms to prevent you from running away again.

"Let go you" you stated as you fought in her arms

"Your coming with us for some food and a chat" Rachel said

"Not going"

"Fine, the hard way" Millie said as she threw you over her shoulder, a little concern with how light you were

"Let go of me" you hissed as Millie held you securely.

"Nothing to worry about here. Just returning a runway kid home" Rachel said calmly to by standards who were giving them suspicious looks.

"At least let me walk" you grumbled feeling fatigue starting.

"Don't trust you not to run" Millie said giving you a gentle squeeze. You give up and relaxing into her hold.

"Katie and Mary are the way to get us" Rachel said as Millie continued to hold you.

A few minutes later a car pulled up and Millie placed you in your feet.

"You said you wanted to walk" Rachel said, pointing for you to get in the car. With glare, you followed Millie into the car and took the middle seat as Rachel followed in right behind you

"So what have you been up to?" Mary asked turning to look at you but you only looked away

"They've missed you, you know." Katie said, only causing you to turn to glare out the window. All the women now understanding you didn't want to talk.

The ride to Jill as quick as they parked outside an apartment complex.

"Coming?" Rachel asked as everyone got out of the car but you remained seated.

"Looks like it's my turn to carry you" Mary said reaching into the car and gently pulling you out before throwing you over her shoulder and carrying you into an apartment building.

You heard them knock on the door before it was quickly opened. Mary walking in first and setting you down on couch.

You looked around to several of the lionesses, Manchester, and arsenal players around the apartment who all looked shocked to actually see you.

"You don't look too good" Leah said gently placing a hand to your forehead as she took a seat next to you.

"Minor cold, it will pass" you grumbled moving her hands away.

"Jill, you've got a thermometer?" Kim asked causing Jill to nod and run off to grab it before rushing back.

"Open your mouth" Jill said holding the thermometer in front of you as you just stared back.

"Don't make Millie and I hold you down, because we will" Rachel said causing you to open your mouth for the thermometer and wait for the beep.

"39" Jill said looking over at Leah and Kim

"Symptoms" Kim said looking at you for a straight answer "just answer her" Leah said looking sternly at you.

"Body ache, headache, and kinda a cough" you mumbled.

"I'll be back with medicine" Kim said as you went to protest.

"No" Rachel said causing you to roll your eyes.

"Here is some food" Jill said placing pasta in front of you, causing your mouth to water at the sight of it

"Who cooked it?" You asked causing Jill to give you the really look.

"What? I had to make sure it wasn't someone with no cooking skills, like Leah or you."

"Chole cooked it so your good."

"Thank you chole" you said giving her a genuine smile, "no problem."

You started to slowly eat your food.

"So, is there a reason you kidnapped me and brought me here?" You asked as you ate, causing everyone who was here to go quiet.

"Daan and Beth are coming, aren't they?"

And the looks around the room only confirmed it causing you to nod as you took another bite of food before setting the bowl down on the table.

"No, you'd don't" Millie said as you took off to run, having a good grip on your arm to pull you back to sit on the couch, causing you to glare at her.

"I'm doing this out of love" Millie said as she wrapped an arm around you as Leah placed a hand on your knee to keep you in place.

Everyone sitting in an uncomfortable silence until the door open, catching everyone attention. Beth and Daan rushing in and freezing in the door way when they saw you.

There was a beat of stillness as we looked at each other before they were rushing towards me, the others moving out of their way.  You froze at the feeling of happiness at the sight of them but also at the fear of what was to come with them seeing you. "It's you" and " Oh my God" repeated from both of them.  Beth reached you first, taking your face between her hands, a light touch that turned into a fierce grip once she seemed to accept that you were standing in front of her.

"It's really you" Beth said as Daan eyed your reaction as you bit you lips to hold in your emotions as you nodded back.

"You're burning up" Beth said concern as you took a step back from her as Daan took one forward, looking at you closely before looking back at the girls. 

"Kim is picking up medicine for her" Leah said causing Daan to look back at you as you gave her a challenging look back to not touch you. All your walls that you've built since they left you building back up.

"Why don't we give them some space" Leah said, ushering people out of Jill apartment.

"We will be back later" Jill said, "please don't run off before I kid back" she continued as she gave your hand a squeeze as she left

"If you do, Millie and I will find you and carry you back again" Rachel said before shutting the door, leaving you with Beth and Daan.

Once the girls left, you took a moment to really look at the two women in front of you. Not much has physical changed on both women, but you that in the past year that a lot has changed in both of their lives. The same could be said for you and the lifestyle you currently live.

"Why don't we have a seat?" Daan asked once you saw she had finished looking you over.

"How long are you guys going to keep me here?" You asked looking at them as they looked back at you confused.

"What do you mean?" Daan asked.

"I have places to be" you stated vaguely.

"You aren't going anywhere. You're sick and need to rest. Once your better, we will figure a plan for you" Beth said.

"We? I have a plan."

"We aren't letting you back on the streets. You are coming home with one of us" Daan stated.

"No, I'm not"

"Yes, you are" Daan replied sternly as you glared.

"It's been over a year since I've talked to either one of you! You don't get to tell me what to do anymore!"

"You ran away, and we couldn't find you!" Beth said.

"You went on vacations and won the euros, what was I supposed to think? I hung around the system for months and I didn't hear from either of you. I wasn't going to suffer in a crappy foster home forever while you lived you lives without me in it." you replied harshly, watching the hurt reflect on both of their faces.

"We were fighting for custody of you!" Daan exclaimed.

"It didn't feel that way!" You yelled before falling into a coughing fit causing Beth to steady you and gently pat you back and you shoved her hands away, not missing the hurt that flashed across Beth face.

"I'm fine" you said as you felt their concern and worried faces following your movements before sharing a look. Knowing they needed to tell you and the sooner the better, before you managed to run off again.

"What is it?" You demanded.

"What?" Daan asked confused.

"Your faces, I can tell you want to say something. So, what is?"

"We've adopted you" Beth said hesitantly as you stared at them with wide eyes, processing this information.

"You are officially a mead-van de donk" Daan said gently with a small smile.

Your eyes started burning with the tears you were holding back at the mix of emotions that started running though you.

"Seriously?" You whispered, fearing you missed heard them.

"Yes, it's time for you to come home" Beth said.

"You still want me after all of this time?" You asked confused.

"Like we told you before you left. We are never going to stop loving you, no matter what" Daan said holding her hand out for you. Allowing you to take the first step at your pace.

You looked at her hand then back at their faces, debating if you could trust them again. Last time didn't end well but you did miss them. This time would be different you; you are official theirs was repeating in your head as you watched Beth now also hold her hand out to you.

"Please come home" Beth begged, and that was when you let your walls down, rushing into their arms. Relief flooding both women at having you in their arms after what felt like forever.

"We love you so much" Daan said placing a kiss to your forehead, "Kim really needs to get back with that medicine" she continued, not liking how hot your head was.

"So, how'd you decide whose last name went first?" You asked with a smirk as you watched Daan roll her eyes as Beth grinned.

"Finish your food" Daan grumbled, handing you your bowl and directing you sit back on the coach, Beth and Daan sandwiching you in the middle of them.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" you asked, knowing that you were right as she jokingly glared at Beth who was still smiling, "The only way to handle a decision."

——————-

I’m planning on doing a part two, however I’m really struggling on what to write for it. I know I plan on putting who she lives with but any ideas are welcomed!

[leclercss]

Tainted Love, Part 7 (Charles Leclerc ft Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: drama.

word count: 3.1k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader @pinkangelavenue, @queenofshinigamis, @notleclerc, @paullinne, @bisexualbith, @tempo-rary-fix, @bbygrlllllll, @teenagedreams-cl, @lunamelona, @leclerc16s, @palomaxaxaxa @barelytolerabled, @miniemonie2001, @lightdragonrayne @tempo-rary-fix

Your hand is currently placed on Lewis’ lap, fingers laced with his. His thumb caressing the skin on the back of your hand. Your head resting against the window as the Uber took you through the busy streets of London. His touch is nice. It’s the closest you’ve felt to him in a really long time. It was impossible not to take notice of the affection that Lewis has been giving this evening, in fact he had been showering you with affection all day.

His first display of affection was waking you up on your birthday with him standing stark naked at the side of your bed, his modesty hiding behind a cooking apron which read something mildly offensive like “I fuck better than I cook”. Which proved to be true as Lewis had ordered in some breakfast from a fancy place. But he had gone more expensive on the champagne so that made up for his dire cooking skills in his words.

After a naked breakfast, he proved his fucking was better than his cooking by treating you to a morning full of sex and champagne.

This was followed by a naked shower together before Lewis sent you out for a girlie afternoon with Whitney, having booked you a trip to the salon for a hair and nail appointment for you both. All expenses covered by Lewis.

Someone’s finally getting his finger out at last, Whitney remarked. Which you followed with a playful eye roll.

Once you returned home, Lewis surprised you with a whole new outfit for the evening. From a stunning new little black dress and to a brand new pair of Louboutin heels with a new YSL handbag to top off the new outfit. All for your fancy dinner reservation with a couple of friends at Nusr Et.

But despite the extra effort that Lewis had put into your birthday and somewhat your relationship lately, you couldn’t help but feel that it all felt so materialistic and forced. And while your relationship had improved over the last couple of months, you were sure that Lewis was going the extra mile to compete with Charles. He didn’t know who Charles was, but he knew he had competition on his hands.

Throughout the birthday filled with sex, pampering and luxury, your mind always drifted back to Charles. You just couldn’t help but compare the contrast in how your birthday was celebrated.

After the incredible sex with Charles last weekend, he confessed that he was falling in love with you. He hadn't even realised it slipped out of his mouth until you lifted your exhausted body from his chest to look at him.

He instantly noticed the shock on your face. He’d really thrown himself under a bus, he thought to himself, telling a married woman that he was falling in love with her. What an idiot he was. He was ready for the world to swallow him whole until he felt your lips on his.

“Charles, I think I’m falling for you too”.

He had never been so relieved. You loved him, and now he was so sure of it. How could you not be after the months that you had spent together? The bond that you had developed was deep and this weekend was only confirmation of that.

After your declarations to each other, you continued your physical infatuation through more sex. Although this time more romantic and sensual. At some point the champagne and birthday cake became involved.

You weren’t sure what time either of you fell asleep at. After all, you’d spent hours talking about life in between love making, embracing one another. And when you did eventually fall asleep, you remained tangled in one another. Connected both physically and emotionally.

You could have never imagined how that one random girls night would change your entire life. But you were forever grateful for meeting Charles. The love he gave you, gave you the fulfilment you had yearned for so long.

“Baby, we’re here,” the sound of Lewis’ voice brought you back to reality.

“Huh?”

“We’re at the restaurant,” Lewis answered before he followed up with a light chuckle. “You okay, babe?”

You laughed it off. “All good, sorry. Think that last glass of champagne hit me a little”.

You let Lewis take the lead as he helped you out of the taxi, making sure your hand was in his.

“Or the two you had before that getting ready,” he teased as you made your way to the restaurant. You’d be joined by a couple of friends this evening. Well, they weren’t really friends. They were acquaintances. Yourself and Lewis didn’t have many friends in common. And if you did spend time with others as a couple, it was usually with another couple that you were friendly with. But never friends.

As you reach the front door of the restaurant, you feel Lewis stop in his tracks. A little confused, you turn to him. He’s staring at you, his eyes glistening, and you feel him take your other hand in his.

“Baby, you look so beautiful tonight,” he sounds so sincere, how can he not be when he’s looking at you like this. “And I’m so glad that we get to spend your birthday together”.

You smile at him.

“I love you, [Y/N]”.

You lean in to place a peck on his lips, “I love you too, Lewis”.

You both make your way inside and find that George and Carmen are waiting inside for you. After a quick exchange of greetings and the obligatory “happy birthdays” were thrown around, you all enjoyed a drink or two at the bar while you patiently waited for your table.

Lewis lead the way with the birthday cheers. “To the birthday girl”, he exclaimed before placing a soft kiss on your neck.

“Happy birthday, baby”.

“So, [Y/N], that YSL bag is looking pretty new,” Carmen giggled.

“Indeed. A special gift from the husband,” you laughed before stretching your foot out to wiggle your foot.

Carmen gasped. “Louboutins as well? Lewis, you really went above and beyond,” she cried out which led an already delighted with himself Lewis to take more pride in his purchases.

“George, take notice,” Carmen warned him before you both carried on with some girly chats while George and Lewis rambled on about some new car they were both thinking of buying.

Not long after, you were informed that your table was ready and Lewis led you to the table, hand in hand. You weren’t sure if it was the several glasses of champagne that was coursing through your veins but you were feeling positive about tonight.

“I’m really excited about tonight, baby,” Lewis whispered into your ear as if he was reading your mind.

You flashed him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand, “Me too”.

That reassurance was very short lived. For about five seconds to be precise. Just as you turned to find yourself at your dinner table, you made eye contact with someone who was the last person you expected to see tonight.

It was Joris.

He looked just as shocked as you did. And when his eyes moved lower to see your hand in Lewis', both wedding bands on display, his shock turned into a combination of horror and disgust.

Oh my Go- If Joris was here it often meant that Charles was in tow. In a subtle state of panic, you had a quick look at the table. Some momentarily relief hit you as there was no sign of Charles, just a couple of other guys but then you saw there was an empty seat beside Joris.

Your legs began to feel like jelly and you were pretty sure they were about to give way at any moment.

“[Y/N], our table,” Lewis’ voice once again pulling you back to reality again this evening. You noticed he’d pulled your chair out for you and you nodded, praying to God he hasn’t just seen you take the biggest gulp of your life and your sudden state of panic.

You spent the next few moments pretending to listen to the waiter who was beginning to explain the menu and specials of the evening, but all you could think about was who was about to fill that empty space in the chair on the table opposite you.

You barely even noticed that Lewis’ hand was on your thigh as he asked the waiter for a bottle of champagne. Champagne was the last thing you needed. Right now you needed a rocket ship to take you out of this planet because your worst fears have just been confirmed to you as the empty seat beside Joris is filled by none other than Charles. You can’t even bear to look at him, you’re trying to listen to what George is saying to distract yourself but your heart is thumping so loudly in your chest that you can’t hear anything else.

But you can’t miss that in the corner of your eye, Joris has whispered something into Charles’ ear. And Charles instantly looks in your direction. You’re not sure if the expression on his face of fear, horror or shock. Most likely all three. Because he’s sitting on the table directly opposite from you and your husband. And he can’t help but notice the hand that Lewis has on your upper thigh.

A wave of nausea hits him, but he’s pretty sure that you’re feeling a thousand times worse than he is.

He has no idea how he’s going to survive this evening, let alone get out of this restaurant in one piece.

-

“[Y/N], are you okay? You look a bit pale?” George asks you.

Fuck off, George, you think to yourself but he’s only being kind. You’ve not said a word since you sat down at the table and that was a whole … three minutes ago?

Jesus Christ. You were pretty sure a lifetime has passed since you realised you’d be having a double date with your husband while your secret lover was sitting two seats away from him.

You cough, realising you haven’t answered George.

“I’m not feeling the best. I think that last glass of champagne has hit me badly,” you mumble as you stare blankly at the menu in front of you. You haven’t been able to look at anything else for the past couple of minutes.

“Fuck, it’s been a long day. We probably drank a little too much,” Lewis assures Carmen and George as he soothes your back gently while his other hand moves a strand of hair that has fallen onto your cheek, tucking it behind your ear.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers in your ear but you shake your head. Too traumatised to speak.

You vaguely hear Carmen asking the waiter for some water as Lewis continues to console you. He’s confused at your sudden change of mood. Just five minutes ago you were laughing and giggling but something has affected you so badly.

He was pretty convinced it wasn’t drugs, that wasn’t your thing. But he didn’t have a clue what else could have happened. As he looks around to ask the waiter for some ice his eyes can’t help but fall on the scene at the table next to him.

There’s a brunette guy, staring at him angrily with his brown eyes. Lewis frowns, not sure why he’s on the receiving end of a filthy look.

Who the fuck is this guy? And what’s this guys problem?

That’s a question for another day as it’s the other brunette beside him who now has his attention.

His head is low but he’s looking at your table. No, he’s looking at you. It’s a strange look he’s giving you. Lewis doesn’t catch it at first but as his mind starts to wander it reminds him of the kind of look Roscoe gives the two of you when he’s eaten one of your shoes, or socks or your-

Wait, this guy looks… guilty?

Lewis feels a cold sensation run through his body. What the… And when he turns back towards you, to see how you were doing, he finally recognised the expression that’s been on your face the last few minutes.

You were guilty too.

It was … him.

-

It didn't take much convincing for you to know that Lewis knew that was Charles was… him. The other guy in your life who you never spoke about but who you spent every spare moment with. And to your surprise, Lewis didn’t let it faze him from the outside. After he got you some water and ice and gave you the opportunity to “sober up a little”, charming Lewis made an appearance and boy did he put on a show.

You practically winced every time he laughed a little too loudly at one of George’s dry jokes. Or when he pulled you in for a kiss on the lips, followed with a “that’s my beautiful wife”. You were pretty impressed with yourself that you didn’t throw up any time that his hands touched you in a loving and affectionate way. Sometimes pushing the boundary of inappropriate for the dinner table.

You accepted your fate of going to hell in the after life when Lewis not-so-quietly hinted at the sex you had this morning and his naked Chef bit. Even Carmen looked a little surprised at his revelation. She didn't know you guys well enough for Lewis to be revealing such information but you and Lewis both knew that this wasn't for Carmen and George.

It was for him.

And God it was so obvious to the three of you (you, Charles and Lewis) what Lewis’ intentions were. All he needed to do to complete the humiliation for Charles was for Lewis to piss on you like a dog marking his territory.

Through the chaos, you found yourself being impressed by Charles’ ability to sit through the rest of his dinner without storming out. Or for not throwing a punch in Lewis' direction. You wouldn't blame him if he did. But you didn’t miss the disheartened looks he threw you every now and again. Those looks were often followed by looks of disgust from Joris. Fuck, you’d spent so much time building trust with Charles’ friends only for it to all crumble within seconds at some stupid, overly priced celebrity restaurant.

You hated this place.

It was almost embarrassing how over the top Lewis’ orders were when it came to the food and drinks but he didn’t seem to care. “It was your birthday after all” and boy did he let it be known that he, as your husband, was pulling out all of the stops. He was going to take every single opportunity to silently lap it up in front of Charles that he was the one that was sitting beside you, with the wedding ring on his finger while he touched you all evening.

You had to refuse to go to the toilet with Carmen at one point out of fear of what would take place between Charles and Lewis if you dared leave the table.

When would this nightmare come to an end?

Thankfully, Charles, Joris and co quickly finished off the last of their drinks and practically ran out of the door as soon as he they had finished paying their bill.

Charles didn’t even look at you as he stood and walked by you. How could he when Lewis was being this obnoxious?

You could feel yourself slowly start to breathe again as the weight of Charles’ presence began to lift. That relief was soon replaced with guilt as you thought about how awful and embarrassed he must feel having sat through this ordeal tonight. Only one week after he had told you he had loved you for the very first time.

“You seem a little better now, [Y/N],” Carmen remarks as some natural colour returns to your face.

You smile at her, “I think it was a good idea to lay off the champagne to get me through dinner in the end”.

“I think you’ve got this man to blame for all that champagne,” George chuckles and flashes Lewis a cheeky grin.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you manage to look into Lewis’ eyes. You can’t make out the emotions in his eyes. They certainly don’t match the smile that’s spread across his face.

“Can’t believe I forgot how messy she gets when she’s champagne drunk. I’ve witnessed it far too many times when she’s come back from those bottomless brunches”.

His playful tone still doesn’t match up with the look he’s giving you.

You smile nervously, “I’ve forbidden myself from a bottomless brunch ever again after the last time”. You hope a funny drunken story can replace the ever growing tension between you and Lewis. Thankfully George and Carmen don’t seem to realise, they don’t spend enough time around you to pick up on such behaviour.

As dinner draws to a close and Lewis pays the bill for a meal he’ll surely be regretting for a very long time, you excuse yourself and head to the bathroom so you can catch your breath ahead of what will be the most dreaded Uber of your life so far.

As you take a deep breath, you look in the mirror at your reflection. You’ve somehow managed to look presentable on the outside as your walls begin to crumble internally.

How likely was it that you could lock yourself in this bathroom and stay here forever?

It was impossible. At some point you had to face reality with Lewis but you were more torn up about facing reality with Charles. After all that you had built over the past few months, surely this evening was going to end your relationship in glorious fashion.

You stare at the text that you’ve composed to him, thumb hovering over the send button. Contemplating if it was going to make it all worse. How could you salvage this situation? But you take the risk and press send on your message to Charles.

I’m so so so sorry Charles. I never imagined that this could ever happen and hate that you had to go through something like this. I have so much love for you and I hope that, when you’re ready, we can talk. Love, [Y/N] x

You lock your phone and make your way out of the bathroom to meet up with Lewis, George and Carmen before the three of you make your way out of the restaurant. Heading in different directions, you say your goodbyes and await your individual Ubers.

George and Carmen’s arrive before yours and you wave them off as you’re left to stand in silence with Lewis.

The tension was unbearable as you both refused to look at each other. You were almost shaking despite it being a warm summer evening. Lewis on the other hand seemed hot and bothered as he began to fidget with his shirt while pacing up and down the pavement. His gaze fixated on the concrete beneath you.

You’re not sure how much time passed by before you found the courage to speak to Lewis.

“Lewis, I’m so sorry,” you begin. The guilt and desperation is clear in your voice.

He stops in his tracks. “I don’t want to hear it,” he growls but you ignore his request.

You’ve got word vomit. “I didn’t know he was going to be here. I promise you”.

“Lewis, please”.

“I would never do this to you. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen”.

“I don’t know why he was there. We never hang out in the same places so for him to be here”.

'Why is this happening to me?"

“I love you, please say something”.

But he says nothing.

And as your Uber pulls up and you wait for him to join you inside, he finally looks at you.

“I’m not coming home tonight, [Y/N].”

You hadn’t noticed that you were crying until your breath catches in your throat.

“What?”

“I’m not coming home,” he says again. No emotion in his voice. “I’m done. Enjoy the rest of your birthday”.

[therealestgalthereis]

YANDERE RED LEADER TORD X READER

Warnings; Mentions of stalking, drugging, kidnapping "And I've got eyes to watch you sleep" - Stalker's Tango ---------------------- For weeks now, you had been on edge. Not only was your.. 'lovely' London being taken hold of by the Red army, but an odd feeling had developed. It was like you were being watched almost constantly, you could feel someone's eyes on you often, and it made your skin crawl. Everday you'd have your blinds closed, making the effort to stray far away from any windows whilst changing. It never helped. 'Paranoid. I'm just paranoid," you thought to yourself as you brushed your teeth. The feeling of being watched had only worsened today - to the point you had called in sick from work just to avoid going outside. Spitting out the toothpaste into your sink, you ran a hand through your hair, trying to calm down your nerves. You switched the bathroom light off, stepping into your dimly lit hallway. Standing at the end of it was a tall man. Your heart began racing and you blinked, narrowed your eyes, trying to get a better look at whoever was inside your apartment. Looking away for a moment, you tried to convince yourself you had gone delusional with fear - and you wished you had. Once you looked back, it.. was gone. A sigh of relief escaped you. Then, you felt a hand snake around your waist. "GET THE HELL OFF ME!" you screeched, eyes wide with fear. "Shh, don't thrash around so much," a voice with a Norwegian accent cooed in your ears. It was deep, and gruff, almost scratchy. It send shivers down your spine. You felt his other hand grab something in his pocket, before he slammed it over your mouth. It was a cloth, and it smelled funny. For a few more moments, you thrashed around, before slowly going limp. Tord easily supported your weight, a fond smile spreading across his scarred face 'Finally..' he thought to himsef, a content sigh escaping him. He had been stalking you for months, and couldn't help himself from finally getting what he so deeply wanted. You.