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sugar-petals · 3 years

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can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house.

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like.

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine.

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship.

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like.

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that.

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same.

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket.

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching.

#yoongi #yoongi hc #yoongi x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts hc #yoongi scenario

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grapecaseschoices · 2 years

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➹ and natalia castellar calvani

The fc rec game is strong in my inbox today. noice, noice.

send me a ➹ and a fc ;; i’ll create a character on the spot !!!

Name: Nayelis Anaiah Lebron (Her brothers take to calling her anything from Nala, Nani, and Nayan. Which. Ugh.)

Age: 17

Pronouns: She/her

Background: Her parents passed away in a hit and run “accident” -- the same “accident” that left her middle brother paralyzed. Her oldest brother transferred colleges and her sister dropped out of high school. They put a lot of effort in keeping the family together. They had their ups and downs; however, for the most part it ended up working out. (Not that Nana made it easy for them.) She was just an infant when it happened. So, more or less, her “parents” have been Roberto and Stella.

She has four older siblings -- three boys and Stella is the only other girl.

Job: She works part time at the local clothing store and the local dollar store. She also sells her knitwear. She’s pretty popular and people (sometimes*) pay well because her stuff is rare. (Yarn is expensive, especially for a high school student.)

*There’s always that one bitch who tries to haggle a price not considering her labor.

Personality: POS: (Charismatic, Practical, Receptive ) NEU: (Emotional, Energetic, Devoted) NEG: (Manipulative, Aggressive, Vindictive)

SO: Technically Brad. They’re just using each other for status and access. Brad is literally the meme: Diversity Win! That Rich White Bully Who Stuffed You In The Toilet Is Bisexual! He also has ~Notions~ and wants to Save Himself bc he grew up on stories of his parents’ love~ (Orphan Bonding For The Win!) but he’s also too chickenshit to tell his bros. So, Nana is his bad girl, hot “girlfriend”. And Brad is part of her elaborate revenge plan against Quintrell Tucker. (Brad’s cool with it, they’ve known each other since they were ten thanks to church. Plus you know, the part where he’s using her too.)

See, Quintrell has been on her ass since the eighth grade. That little four-eyes takes such joy in reporting her activities to the vice principal and getting her detention. She’s had it. Nana plans to ruin his life by stealing his girlfriend. Extreme but given that Mi-Suk is his first girlfriend, it’ll hurt more. Trust her. It all makes perfect sense and is not a plan to make Trell Quintrell OR Mi-Suk fall in love with her. Brad reads too many romance novels. And is a moron.

Fun Facts: 1. She is the cat and bird whisperer. No one knows what it is, but ever since she was a kid, cats and birds always loved her. And she loved them back. She’s not a big fan of dogs, especially the big ones -- but Nana’s heart melts for anything small ... for the most part. (She still tears up when she sees a mousetrap.) 2. For the longest time she used to be very fearful of cars. She still doesn’t have her driver’s license, but she’ll at least get in one. Roberto and Stella used to take the bus or walk her to school. Stella even got a bike. 3. She has the non-life threatening type of latex allergy. She is also allergic to penicillin ... in a life threatening way 4. She really likes milk. To the point that it’s sometimes the only thing she drinks.

#pearlsandsteel #grapes chars #me chuckling nervously about one new oc having neglectful parents and the other having dead parents #dont try to perceive me #it just what popped into my head #oc: nayelis anaiah lebron #the amount of times nana has given poor stella a heart attack #roberto is always 'done' with her shit but instantly forgives her because they're the fucking same #roberto: i dont know where she gets it! also roberto: thinking it's a great idea to tell his five year old sister the shit he got into in h #stella: *ripping her hair out*#not me already giving tehse siblings personalities qwera #character building #ask meme #also? brad is correct #diversity win! your local latinx bully is going to discover that she is very polyam and very bi #negl wanna write a ya about brad and nana going through it and having to grow as people #i wont tho #but i wanna #meet my ocs #thanks for the ask! <3

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formula365 · 3 years

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Champions in the making - Emilia Romagna GP review

The breakthrough kid

It is not always possible to pinpoint the exact moment in which a driver goes from young promise to champion in the making. There can be breakthrough performances, in which a driver lays down a marker and announces himself to the world, but more often than not the progression is so gradual over a number of seasons that the driver eventually makes it to the top in slow steps, a sink filling up drop by drop from a leaky faucet.

But every once in a while, we get to witness a breakthrough moment, one of those weekends that, when looking back into a career, will be seen as a pivotal moment in which the promise has come good, which removes the doubt of whether that potential will be fulfilled. Moments like Sebastian Vettel winning in a Toro Rosso, or Max Verstappen becoming a Grand Prix winner on his Red Bull debut; we knew, there and then, what they would become.

It wasn’t his maiden win, but this is what we witnessed this weekend from Lando Norris.

Coming into this season, the young Brit knew this could be a make or break year for him. He had done really well to match his more experienced teammate in his first two seasons, but the challenge with his new partner was at a different level. No disrespect to Carlos Sainz, who is definitely a talented driver, but Daniel Ricciardo is a proven race winner, someone who had driven for Red Bull and been considered by Mercedes and Ferrari. The Aussie had spent the last two seasons destroying Nico Hulkenberg and Esteban Ocon, no slouches themselves, which meant there was a risk for Norris to be swallowed up by the Honey Badger’s performances.

His first two seasons had shown glimpses of his talent, but also a certain on-track shyness, in contrast to his expansive personality off it. He himself admitted during pre-season that he needed to improve on his aggressiveness and push harder on wheel to wheel battles; he had to drive the car ever closer to its limits. After a couple of seasons maturing and honing his skills, now was the time to be a more imposing figure behind the wheel, including within his own team.

Bahrain had already shown glimpses of that. He started the race behind his teammate, but passed him early on and never looked back. Imola, though, was something else. McLaren didn’t have the right set-up throughout Friday and both drivers seemed to be struggling, but on Saturday Norris looked to be one with his car. Bar a small mistake on his last run, he would have not only out-qualified his teammate, but also Verstappen in a much faster Red Bull. The track limits infringement left him P7 on the grid, but on Sunday he would more than make up for the mistake.

He had blistering pace from the get-go, to the point that he radioed his engineer when stuck behind his teammate to ask to be let through. In a moment that could be defining for the season, Ricciardo did let him through and then saw the youngster disappear down the road in the chase for the Ferraris. On the restart, he made light work of Leclerc (with much faster tyres, to be fair) and then fought Hamilton hard for several laps until the lack of grip on his rubber forced him to concede.

Overall, Norris showed a wide array of his skills at Imola: blistering one-lap pace, attacking, defending, tyre management, determination to come back after the mistake on Saturday, even authority in the team when he asked to be let through his teammate. A complete performance that leaves no doubt about his talent: he has the skills to be a future champion, the only question remaining is whether he will have the consistency to deliver over a full season. Given his mental approach - he is very open to speak about mental health - it seems he is addressing that side of his driving as well.

Until now, Norris had been the fun kid with a turn of pace, the meme-generator and half of a McLaren bromance. The end of the partnership with Sainz might have been a liberating factor for him: in order to be taken more seriously, the banter has to take second place to his driving, and with Ricciardo also looking to leave his more goofy side in the background, this can be the perfect time for Lando to do the same and let his driving do the talking. He certainly did that this weekend.

Talking points

* My oh my, do we have a fight on our hands. Verstappen v. Hamilton is already becoming such a compelling story it is hard not to make it the subject of every race review and preview; the feeling is that this will be a fight for the ages, that we will have a season to be remembered for many years to come. This time around it was the Dutchman who had the upper hand, with a superb start to go from P3 to P1 into Tamburello. He gave no quarters to Hamilton on the outside and then managed the race beautifully, although he was left unchallenged in the second half after Hamilton’s crash. The game is most definitely on.

* The reigning champion may have given some small signs of the pressure getting to him. Mostly unchallenged in recent years, Lewis made an uncharacteristic mistake when lapping back markers and then seemed to have had a scrambled brain moment as he struggled to get out of the run-off area. He is human, after all, some might have thought. The red flag gave him the opportunity to reset and come back to re-claim P2 and a podium place he would have certainly lost otherwise. He showed his mental resilience then, but it will be interesting to see how he (and Verstappen as well) will manage the pressure of a title fight (hopefully) over 23 races.

* One of the big talking points post-race was the massive crash between Bottas and Russell. Approaching Tamburello, drivers hit speeds above 300 kph, so it’s no surprise it was a nasty one, and that both drivers felt the other should have done more to avoid it. Controversy aside, the big question has to be why was Bottas defending P9 from a Williams. Like Monza, Turkey and Sakhir last year, when the Finn gets caught up in the midfield he struggles to move forward, and even manages to fall further back. To make matters worse, in all these races his teammate was caught in similar situations and had no problem cutting through the field. When the dust settles, Bottas will certainly have some soul searching to do.

* How good is it to see McLaren and Ferrari fighting each other for top spots? The two historic teams collected all positions from P3 to P6 and seem to be a step above the rest of the midfield contenders. This is one of the biggest, if not the biggest, rivalry in F1’s history, and it’s great for the sport to see it reignited.

* The only midfield team that seems to have the pace to challenge them is AlphaTauri, but they are struggling to convert their pace into points. Tsunoda ruined his weekend with two (very rookie) mistakes, while Gasly’s race was ruined by the decision to start on full wets. He still made a great recovery drive to finish P7, but this felt like another missed opportunity for AlphaTauri, specially at a track they know so well. They have a genuine shot at finishing in the top half of the table, which is Franz Tost’s goal for the team, but in order to achieve that they have to start using their pace to score points.

* If AlphaTauri will be left ruing their weekend, Williams will be doubly so. With two drivers qualifying in the top 14, they had genuine hope to score points for the first time since the crazy rain-soaked German GP in 2019, but two crashes negated their shot. Latifi barely got going so we will never know what he could have achieved, but Russell was clearly in the mix and will be left pondering how high he could have finished if he had been a bit more cautious. With scoring opportunities so limited, that might have been the wiser approach.

* The second Red Bull continues the saga of the topsy-turvy weekends. One of the narratives for Albon in 2020 was that he was not able to have a clean, incident-free weekend, and that was limiting his results. Perez is going down the same path, and although he did manage to salvage a P5 in Bahrain, here he was left empty-handed. It’s still very early, and the signs from the first race were positive, but for Red Bull to challenge Mercedes he needs to be up there consistently.

* Ahead of the season, very few people would have betted for Stroll and Ocon to be beating their teammates, either in qualifying or in the race. The two youngsters are showing that world titles (a combined 6 after all) aren’t a guarantee of continued success.

* On that topic, it is worth noting that most drivers that are newcomers to their respective teams are struggling at the moment. Sainz at Ferrari is the exception; Perez, Ricciardo, Alonso and Vettel are all underperforming, some more than others. This quartet is uber-talented, though, so expect them to get closer to their teammates as the season progresses and they become more accustomed to their new cars.

* Curb your enthusiasm, Yuki. We love to see his on-track flamboyance: he is one of the most exciting drivers to hit F1 in the last few years, but it can work against him too. He needs to find a balance but two races in these growing pains were to be expected. Once he finds that balance, he will be one hell of a driver.

Driver of the day: Lando Norris

Moment of the day

The battle between Hamilton and Norris. The young Brit managed to hold off the 7-times champion for a handful of laps, with tyres well past their expiry date and no DRS; Leclerc, for comparison, was on mediums and was passed by Hamilton on the first lap he didn’t have DRS. Norris’ positioning was perfect and he was brave on the brakes. Eventually the lack of grip and Hamilton’s bravery led to the inevitable, but Norris put up an excellent fight.

#imola gp #lando norris #lewis hamilton #max verstappen #mclaren #ferrari #valtteri bottas #george russell #alpha tauri #williams f1 #sergio perez #yuki tsunoda #lance stroll #esteban ocon

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user-2-electric-boogaloo · 3 years

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A Comparison of RTD and Steven Moffat: Saving The Day

So for this analysis I’m going to compare when Moffat and RTD save the day well and when they save it poorly. There are a few bits of criteria I need to explain.

First I will only be including main series, no Torchwood, no spin-offs, and no mini episodes.

Second, I have to define what makes a good and a bad ending (my examples will come from episodes written by neither of them):

Bad endings include when the sonic saves the day (see The Power Of Three) (there are exceptions, see below), when a character spouts some useless technobabble that doesn’t make any scientific sense/when it doesn’t make logical sense in general, when the Doctor invents/presents a machine/equipment that miraculously stops the baddy and is never referred to again (see Journey To The Centre Of The TARDIS), and any other ending I deem to be bad (see The Vampires of Venice)

Good endings include when the sonice activates a device that has been well established to save the day, when technobabble is used that actually makes some scientific sense, and just generally when the baddy is destroyed in what I deem to be a creative manner that makes sense with all the things that had been set up in that episode (see The Unquiet Dead).

There will also be cases where there isn’t really a day to be saved, however this happens more often with Moffat.

Let us begin (obviously there will be spoilers but the last episode in the list aired nearly 4 years ago so what you doing with your life).

RTD:

Rose: Bad

What even is anti-plastic?! Like seriously, he’s faced the Autons loads of times and has never thought to use it any other time.

The End Of The World: Bad

The Doctor just goes up to the appearance of the repeated meme (ha meme) and rips its arm off. He then just summons Cassandra back by twisting a knob which apparently everyone can do if “you’re very clever like me”.

Aliens Of London/World War Three: Good

Just nuking them all was a bit dodgy but I’ll give it to him purely because it had been set up earlier in the episode and it is a genuine option that could have been taken.

The Long Game: Good

The heating issue was set up within 2 minutes of the episode starting. It’s always good to see the Doctor using his enemies weakness against them.

Boom Town: Good

Only just. It’s technology that hadn’t been showcased ever before and came out of nowhere, but I’m allowing purely because it was setting up The Parting Of The Ways.

Bad Wolf/The Parting Of The Ways: Good

See above. It was set up the story before so it works.

The Christmas Invasion: Bad

This was so close to being good. If RTD had just let the Sycorax leader be honourable then everything would have been fine. Instead he had to let him be dishonourable and then the Doctor through the Satsuma at a random button that for no apparent reason caused a bit of floor to fall away.

New Earth: Bad

It only makes sense if you think about it for less than 10 seconds as just pouring every cure to every disease ever into a giant tub and then spraying said supercure onto them all, then having them hug each other to pass it on. That is suspending my disbelief just a bit too far.

Tooth And Claw: Good

Everything is set up in the episode so I’ll allow it but I fail to see how Prince Albert had the time to ensure that the diamond was cut perfectly.

Love And Monsters: Bad

It’s Love And Monsters. Need I say more?

Army of Ghosts/Doomsday: Good

It was very clearly set up throughout the episode.

The Runaway Bride: Bad

I don’t like how a few bombs can supposedly drain the entire Thames.

Smith And Jones: Good

All the events were well established

Gridlock: Good

It’s a fairly bland way to save the day, just opening the surface to all the drivers. But how else could he have done it?

Utopia/The Sound Of Drums/Last Of The Time Lords: Bad

As much as I like the idea that he tuned himself into the archangel network, he basically turned into Jesus. It is arguably the least convincing ending in modern Doctor Who history.

Voyage Of The Damned: Bad

Why was he the next highest authority? If he’s the highest authority in the universe why didn’t they default to him in the first place? If not then why not default to Midshipman Frame? And if he’s somehow in between them then why? Also Astrid killed herself for no reason when she easily could have jumped out of the forklift.

Partners In Crime: Good

It works in the context of the episode, but I don’t see why they needed two of the necklace things.

Midnight: Good

It’s human nature, you can’t get more well set up than that.

Turn Left: Good

It works logically

The Stolen Earth/Journey’s End: Bad

Donna just spouts a load of technobabble whilst pressing buttons and then the Daleks are magically incapacitated.

The Next Doctor: Bad

Why do the infostamps sever Hartigan’s connection with the Cyberking? As far as I remember it ain’t explained.

Planet Of The Dead (co-written with noted transphobe Gareth Roberts): Good

A good couple scenes are dedicated on getting the anti-gravs set up.

The Waters Of Mars (co-written with Phil Ford): N/A

The day isn’t really saved cause everyone still dies anyway.

The End Of Time: Good

Using a gun to destroy a machine is much better than using the sonic to destroy it.

Summary for RTD:

Out of 24 stories written by him, I deem 10 to be bad endings with 1 abstaining. That’s 41.7% of his episodes (43.5% if we don’t count any abstaining).

Steven Moffat:

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances: Good

You’ll see this a lot with Moffat, he knows how to explain things without stupefying levels of technobabble. “Emailing the upgrade” is a perfect example of this.

The Girl In The Fireplace: Good

Some basic logic, the androids want to repair their ship, but they can’t return to it, they no longer have a function so they shut down.

Blink: Good

Always loved this one, getting the angels to look at each other, however they do look at each other sometimes earlier in the episode.

Silence In The Library/Forest Of The Dead: Bad

This is more of a problem with the setup of the episode, I don’t like that he can negotiate with the Vashta Nerada. I’d rather see them comprehensively beaten, but I guess it’s good for the scare factor that they can’t be escaped from.

The Eleventh Hour: Good

He convinced the best scientists all around the world to set every clock to 0 all in less than an hour. In the Doctor’s own words “Who da man!”

The Beast Below: Good

The crying child motif pretty much ended up saving the day (well for the star whale, life went on as normal for pretty much everyone else).

The Time Of Angels/Flesh And Stone: Good

The artificial gravity had briefly been set up earlier so I’ll allow it.

The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang: Good

Everything had been set up perfectly, the vortex manipulator, the Pandorica’s survival field thingy, the TARDIS exploding at every moment in history.

A Christmas Carol: Good

Literally the entire episode is the Doctor saving the day by convincing Kazran not to be a cock.

The Impossible Astronaut/Day Of The Moon: Good

The silence’s ability to influence people is their whole thing, so using it against them is a good Doctory thing to do.

A Good Man Goes To War: N/A

The day isn’t really saved, Melody is lost, but River shows up at the end so is all fine? I love the episode it’s just the day isn’t really truly saved (yes I know Amy was rescued but she still lost her baby).

Let’s Kill Hitler: N/A

There isn’t really a day to be saved. They all get out alive but no one is really saved other than maybe River but we all knew she was gonna live anyway.

The Wedding Of River Song: Good

Whilst opinion is divided on the episode, the ending still works. the Tesseracta was established in Let’s Kill Hitler, and the “touch River and time will move again” was established well in advance.

The Doctor, The Widow And The Wardrobe: Bad

I don’t like how the lifeboat travels through the time vortex for no reason but to rescue the dad. It don’t make no sense and I don’t think it’s explained

Asylum Of The Daleks: Good

Oswin had access to the Dalek hive mind so of course she should be able to link into the controls and blow everything up.

The Angels Take Manhattan: Good

Paradoxes really do be something powerful, and they even acknowledge how nobody knows if it’d work so I’ll let it slide.

The Snowmen: Bad

Lots of people cry at Christmas, why are the Latimers anything special?

The Bells of Saint John: Good

The whole episode is about hacking so why shouldn’t the Doctor be able to hack the spoonheads

The Name Of The Doctor: Good

It was the story arc for the season pretty much, so of course it was explained well in advance.

The Day Of The Doctor: Good

Both the storing Gallifrey like a painting and the making everyone forget if they’re Human or Zygon works in the context of the episode.

The Time Of The Doctor: Bad

Since when were the Time Lords so easily negotiated with?

Deep Breath: Good

I like the dilemma over whether the half-face man was pushed or jumped.

Into The Dalek: Good

It’s set up well with this new Doctor’s persona of actually not being too nice of a guy (at first).

Listen: N/A

There isn’t a day to be saved. It’s just 45 minutes of the Doctor testing a hypothesis and I low-key love it.

Time Heist (co-written with Steven Thompson): Good

It works logically so I’ll allow it however it isn’t very well set up at all.

The Caretaker (co-written with noted shithead Gareth Roberts): Good

The machine to tell the Blitzer what to do was set up well in advance so I’ll allow it.

Dark Water/Death In Heaven: Good

The fact that Danny still cares even as a cyberman is set up fairly early on after his transformation.

Last Christmas: Good

He does use the sonic to wake up Clara but he convinces the others to wake up through talking so I’ll allow it.

The Magician’s Apprentice/The Witch’s Familiar: Good

It’s set up well with that little scene from actually inside the sewers.

The Girl Who Died (co-written with Jamie Mathieson): Good

IDK why the vikings would randomly keep electric eels but they’re set up well so I’ll ignore it.

The Zygon Inversion (co-written with Peter Harness): N/A

Not including this one as it’s only the second part and I’d argue the ending is most likely Harness’.

Heaven Sent/Hell Bent: N/A

Again there isn’t really a day to be saved, yes Heaven Sent really is amazing but it’s only the first part and, being completely honest, he dies several billion times before finally getting through the wall.

The Husbands Of River Song: N/A

Again there isn’t really a day to be saved here.

The Return Of Doctor Mysterio: Good

He gets Grant to catch the bomb which is good. But he does just sonic the gun out of Dr Sim’s hand and says UNIT is on its way which just sort of wraps it up very quickly.

The Pilot: N/A

No day to be saved here.

Extremis: Good

You could technically call it the sonic saving the day, I consider it to be the Doctor emailing the Doctor to warn him of the future.

The Pyramid At The End Of The World: Good

The fire sanitising everything makes sense and it’s in character for Bill to love the Doctor enough to cure his blindness in return for the world

World Enough And Time/The Doctor Falls: Good

Yes it is the sonic just blowing the cybermen up, but it’s blowing them up with well established pipelines so I’ll allow it (also the story is amazing).

Twice Upon A Time: N/A

No day to be saved here. Just Doctors 1 and 12 getting angsty about regenerating.

Summary for Steven Moffat:

Out of 39 stories written by him, I deemed 4 to be bad with 7 abstaining. That’s 10.3% of his episodes (12.5% if we don’t count any abstaining).

Conclusions:

Moffat was much better at saving the day than RTD

Moffat liked telling stories where the day didn’t actually need to be saved

I’ve spent way too long on this and I need to sleep

If I spent as much time on this as my coursework I’d probably pass

If you’re still reading this, you probably need to get a life

#doctor who #steven moffat #rtd #in case you can't tell I really don't like RTD #Remember the Superwholock days when everyone ripped the shit out of Moffat #what am I doing with my life #tardis #rose tyler #martha jones #donna noble #amy pond #rory pond #rory williams #river song #clara oswald #Bill Potts

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girlboss-molina · 3 years

Text

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 5: Let’s go Lesbians

AO3 Link

Words: 9721

-----

Julie POV

...

Julie awoke with the sunrise barely peeking over the mountains into her window. The light didn’t hit her eyes, though, she woke of her own accord… wrapped in Luke’s arms, with her head on his chest.

She could’ve stayed there forever. He was warm, and smelled sweet, like roses, honey, and something else she couldn’t place, but it reminded her of the forest. She had her arms wrapped around his waist, securely holding them together. She wasn’t tired at all, but she did not want to move. She was too comfortable, and holding Luke close like this wasn’t something she might ever get to do again.

She tilted her head, watching as the sunrise painted bands of gold and pink throughout the lightening sky, watching shadows move with the trees and mountains, watching the silhouettes of birds flocking from tree to tree, soaring through the light like dandelion wisps on the wind. A few cotton ball clouds graced the sky, like bits of cotton candy hung from the heavens.

She shifted an inch more, freezing when she felt Luke jump. He blinked and looked around, finally catching her eyes.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s okay,” he replied, his cheeks pink in the sunlight. “Why are you up so early?” She shrugged.

“Just not tired, I guess.” He gave a sleepy smile that made Julie’s heart flutter. How dare he be so cute? She didn’t move again, still laying next to him, one arm around his waist. He didn’t move either, seemingly content to hold her. Then, he hugged her closer, bringing his face to her hair.

“Your hair smells nice,” he whispered. Julie giggled. Dork.

She laid there for a few minutes longer, finally wiggling out of Luke’s arms and standing upright, doing her best not to trip over a blanket. Luke pouted, and she had to stifle a laugh in order not to wake up anyone else; All eight of them had fallen asleep, and aside from her and Luke, everyone else was still curled up in restful oblivion.

“I’m gonna change,” she whispered, gesturing to her wrinkled dress. She’d forgotten to put on pajamas. “We’re still going to the mall later, right?” Luke nodded, and she smiled, stepping over Mira’s legs and Carrie and Flynn, who were snuggled up against each other, then silently padding to her huge walk-in closet and closing the door.

She shed her dress, walking to the shelf and rack where she kept her normal, not so… princessy clothes. She chose a pair of straight-leg plaid pants, bright yellow and black, and hooked a chain through the belt loops by her right hip. She also chose a white, slim-fitting crop top with a purple butterfly embroidered over her heart, paired with a distressed denim jacket that she left unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder. She chose a pair of black Vans with a white stripe on the side, as well.

Her signature necklaces still hung by her collar, and she left her normal earrings, as well as a faux helix.

Walking back out of her closet and to her bathroom, she sat in front of the vanity, fixing her hair and tying it into a thick braid over her shoulder. She carefully painted some eyeliner into a wing on each eye, brushed mascara onto her lashes, and even dabbed on a bit of lip gloss. Then, she stood in front of her mirror, deciding she looked cute.

She hopped back to her room, where Luke had sat up and was now looking at his phone. Julie caught his eye, smiling when he blushed. She was sure she was blushing as well, though, so she looked away, walking to the side of her bed where she’d left her phone, careful to dodge Erik’s arm, which was sprawled over Reggie. She grabbed her phone and sat down, scrolling through her notifications. She had a reminder from Duolingo to keep doing her French lessons (which, if she was being honest, she was not going to remember to do), a couple memes from Carlos, a few Instagram DMs, plus an email from the Dahlian Times, telling her that the combined story from them and the Tambor Times, with their photoshoots, had been a huge hit, and that if she wanted, they could hit up their connections with Vogue to get her a modeling job. She politely declined; Vogue wasn’t on her radar at the moment.

What was on her radar, however, was the fact that she would be going to the mall with her friends today. It was a thirty minute drive, and she didn’t want an escort. They could handle themselves; plus, it would make it a lot harder to avoid flocks of people. Julie knew that Alex wasn’t a great driver, nor was Flynn. She herself wasn’t bad, nor were Carrie or Mira. Reggie was probably the best driver out of all of them, which was surprising. And yet, every time she’d been in a car with him, he’d never missed a sign, never gone too fast, and always stayed in his lane. He wouldn’t want to be the one driving, though. And Julie didn’t know Erik’s driving skills very well, given that she didn’t know him as well as she wanted to. They were friends, sure, but not as close as she was with the others.

That left her, Luke, or Carrie; and there was no way she would let Luke drive. She didn’t care how good of a driver he might’ve turned out to be, his vibes were way too chaotic. And Carrie might not mind driving, but Flynn would protest. So, Julie supposed she would drive, if the rest were okay with it.

She heard Erik stir, followed by Carrie.

“Morning,” she whispered. Carrie gave a smile; contrary to popular belief, she was a morning person. Erik seemed to be as well, because his eyes were bright as he grinned at her.

“Hi, Julie,” he whispered back. “We’re still planning on going to the mall later, right?”

“As far as I know.” Luke nodded.

“I think it’ll be a lot of fun,” she remarked. “I haven’t been to the city in awhile.”

…

When they got to the mall, Julie pulled the large SUV into a parking space, very proud of how even she was. Everyone piled out of the car.

As they reached the lobby, they decided to split into two groups since there were multiple places they wanted to go, and they would draw less attention than they would as a group of eight. It took a few minutes to settle on the groups, but they eventually decided that Julie, Alex, Carrie, and Flynn would be one group, and Erik, Luke, Reggie, and Mira would be the other.

“Let’s meet at the food court for lunch at noon,” Julie said.

“Sounds good to me,” Reggie agreed.

Julie had to admit, she was a little disappointed that Luke hadn’t been put in her group. But, then again, she wasn’t sure she could handle it if he was; she’d be a blushing mess the entire time. However, when she saw the sad puppy eyes that Luke was giving her, she hoped they were because he wanted to be with her as well.

As they went their separate ways, Alex led Julie, Carrie, and Flynn to one of the long aisles.

“Where should we go first?” he asked, gesturing to all the different shops they could choose from. “Personally, I vote to go to Justice.” Julie couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but she laughed, and Carrie’s giggle-filled nodding, plus Flynn’s smiley eye-roll all convinced her.

…

“Okay,” Alex said. “Be honest.” As he strutted out of the changing room, a pink crop top in place of the tee he’d been wearing, he struck a pose. “How do I look?”

Julie laughed, clapping.

“Almost ready for your Vogue shoot, I see,” she quipped. Alex flipped his hair.

“Covington could never.”

“Amen to that, sister,” Carrie said, walking up to him and spinning her finger. He twirled, and Carrie clapped. “It’s perfect. Now you just need a skirt to go with it.” Alex turned bright red, and Julie stifled a laugh, as did Flynn. But his smile never receded.

After he’d changed back into his tee, and Carrie (lovingly) bullied him into buying it (“You didn’t need to bully me, Carrie, I was going to buy it anyways!”), Julie wandered through the racks of sparkly clothes, letting the glitter blur in her eyes. A calm wave washed over her, and she basked in the euphoria of being in the mall with her friends.

“Julie? Did you hear me?” Flynn asked. Julie snapped out of her daze, shaking her head.

“Sorry, I zoned out.”

“I said, we’re going to grab a snack at Cinnabon.” When Julie didn’t move, Flynn rolled her eyes and dragged her out of the store.

Julie followed along, a grin on her face. She’d always loved Cinnabon. Every year on her birthday, her Tía Victoria would take her there in the morning, and there was nothing not to like.

She noticed Alex slow, staring at someone walking away. From Julie’s view, she saw a top hat and a cloak, but they walked with a strange saunter, like they knew something nobody else did.

“Alex, you coming?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, jogging back to them. “Sorry.”

…

After they’d all eaten their cinnamon rolls, they walked into a women’s apparel store that Julie couldn’t pronounce the name of, and Carrie immediately went to the business casual section. Flynn protested, but not too hard, because Carrie had a sort of elegance to her that made even the most standard outfits seem ethereal. Julie and Alex wandered over there as well; Julie had been wanting a new suit. She only had one, and she was starting to outgrow it.

She browsed through the racks of carefully hung jackets and pants, soon, finding one that she loved and rushing to the changing room to try it on.

Underneath the jacket was a slim white dress shirt. The jacket was violet, and the sleeves reached perfectly to her wrists. The pants were white, slim cut but comfortable and professional. Julie left the top buttons of her shirt undone and didn’t fasten the jacket over her stomach, letting the casual in business casual shine through.

As she walked out of the changing room, Carrie gasped.

“Let’s go, lesbians!” Julie stifled a laugh.

“I’m glad you like it!” Carrie rolled her eyes.

“Like it? Jules, if you don’t buy that, I will, and it will end up in your closet no matter what.” Julie blushed.

“I think I'm going to buy it,” she agreed.

“Alex! There you are!” Luke’s voice made Julie’s head whip around.

“Yeah? Is everything okay? I thought we were meeting for lunch in”- he pulled out his phone and checked the time -”half an hour.”

“No, we are, but we needed to find you and tell you about this amazing prank we just pulled-” his voice trailed off as he looked at Julie. She looked back, her cheeks warm, but not as warm as he seemed to be. His blush stretched all the way down his neck.

“We, uh…” he cleared his throat and looked back at Alex. Julie’s face might’ve caught fire, especially as Flynn elbowed her and gave her The Look.

“-Luke, I could’ve sworn we told you no shenanigans before we separated!” Alex’s voice caught Julie’s attention.

“Oh come on, bro, it was one singular shenanigan,” Reggie interjected. “Just one!” Alex sighed.

“Do I even want to know?”

-----

Alex POV

…

When Alex woke up, Julie, Luke, Carrie, Erik, and Reggie were already awake. It wasn’t that late, though; the sun had risen, and the clock on his phone read 08:11. He stretched, giving a quick “good morning” to his friends, before wandering down the hall to change into more casual clothes, after Julie had confirmed that they were still going to the mall.

He chose a pair of black shorts, vans, and a pale pink t-shirt, plus a fanny pack that he strapped across his chest to hold his epi-pen, inhaler, and wallet.

As he walked back to Julie’s room, she was still laying on her bed, scrolling on her phone, and she and Luke kept shooting each other glances whenever the other looked away. It was adorable, to be honest. But they were both so oblivious, it was almost painful to watch. Alex was positive he was the only one with a brain cell.

Well, actually, that would be Flynn, Carrie, or Mira, but, he got fourth place, which wasn’t bad.

Alex gave Luke The Look, glancing at Julie, then back to Luke, raising his eyebrows. He held his tongue, however much he wanted to blurt out that they were both stupid.

…

As he got ready for breakfast, something inside of Alex clicked. He wanted to bring Willie to the mall today. It wouldn’t be like a date, of course, just a casual hangout with a friend whom he was mildly in love with, accompanied by seven other friends, one of whom he was supposed to be marrying, but didn’t want to.

The usual.

“Hey, Julie?” he asked, jogging up to her before they reached the great hall. “Would it be okay if I invite my friend to come to the mall with us?” He scratched the back of his neck, sure he was blushing. “I, well, I met him the first night I was here, and-”

“Of course,” Julie said, giving him a knowing smirk. “Let your friend”- she winked as she said it -”know that he’s welcome to hang out with us any time.” Alex grinned. That went… way better than he’d expected. Not that he’d expected it to go wrong, of course, but it was still comforting.

He barely ate any of his breakfast, just enough so he wouldn’t be hungry when they left. Then, as soon as he was done, he walked out the back door of the great hall, turning to the kitchen doors. He allowed himself a few minutes to settle his nerves, and then knocked, disappointed when the person opening the door was a tall (seriously! He was almost six feet tall, and this woman had at least three inches on him), severe looking young woman instead of Willie. She gave him a smile, though, softening her harsh appearance.

“Your highness, may I help you?”

“Hi, yeah. Sorry to disturb you, but I was looking for Willie?” The woman grinned.

“I’m afraid you just missed him. He left on break about five minutes ago. Not sure where he is now.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll tell him you were looking for him the next time I see him, though.”

“Thank you, miss, uh…”

“Lilian.”

“Awesome. Thank you, Lilian.”

“Of course.” She offered a kind smile and wave, though Alex definitely noted the quirk in her eyebrow. Was he really that obvious?

He gave a wave and walked away. He didn’t know where Willie would be, although he had a hunch. So, he followed his instincts and walked out the back door, breathing in the mild air as he turned and headed to the park where Willie had brought him for their not-date.

Hey, maybe this would count for Luke’s trade-off thing about it being Alex’s turn to ask out Willie? Even though it hadn’t technically been a date, it had kinda felt like one, which made Alex’s heart soar. And it only soared higher when he saw a familiar, brown-eyed baker skateboarding around one of the roundabouts.

Alex considered calling out, but he didn’t have to. Willie saw him as he came around the bend. He grinned, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Had Alex done something wrong? What if he’d freaked out Willie? What if he was annoying? What if-

“Hey there, your royal pancakeness!” Willie called, skating to a stop as Alex shoved down those anxieties. He had to be brave.

“Hey, Willie,” he said. “So, um, I was wondering…” he took a breath, gathering his words and trying not to gay panic. “We’re going to the mall today, and I was wondering if you would want to come?” Willie’s smile did reach his eyes that time, and it eased Alex’s nerves. But then, his face fell.

“I wish I could, man,” he said, “but I’m going to be working all day today. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Alex assured him, despite the low feeling in his heart. He caught Willie’s gaze again, beautiful and deep, with flecks of gold in his warm eyes, and the emotions tangled in their depths were unreadable, but strong. Then again, Alex couldn’t piece together his own emotions warring inside his heart either, so he supposed it was normal.

“Well,” he said awkwardly, “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah!” Willie said, a genuine grin on his face. They stood there for another moment, just comfortable in each others’ presence, before Willie’s phone beeped a timer. The baker sighed.

“That’s my cue. See you, Alex,” he said, sounding disappointed. Alex offered a weak smile and a wave as the baker walked away, staring at the grass, each individual blade flicking in the wind and making his eyes blur.

…

Julie was the one driving to the mall, and Alex beat Reggie to the passenger’s seat.

“Uh uh, cretins sit in the back,” he told him. Reggie pouted, but they all knew it was a joke. Besides, Alex wanted what little space he could get.

He knew Willie wouldn’t lie about that. Even if he hadn’t wanted to go, he was too polite. So it didn’t make sense for Alex to be as upset as he was; it wasn’t even a big thing, for God’s sake! It was the mall! And it wouldn’t have even been a date, since there were seven other people there.

He just wanted to spend time with Willie, didn’t he? He was such an idiot. Willie didn’t like Alex the way Alex liked him. And besides, it was quite literally treason. Willie had to know that. So, even on the off chance that he did feel the same way, there was no way he would ever make a move, lest he have the desire to be exiled.

Alex sighed, but it was more of a groan. He was right back to considering his ingenious run-away-into-the-woods plan.

…

As he walked with Julie, Flynn, and Carrie, deciding to go into Justice, it was 99% because they all wanted to make fun of the store that they’d all loved when they were little (despite how much Flynn denied ever liking it). But, if he was being honest, Alex did kinda want to go. Even though it was mostly for elementary or middle-school-aged girls, the excess of sparkles and pink always made him smile. And if he’d once bought a small tube of lip gloss that tasted like strawberries, that was nobody’s business but his own.

They were all bouncing around the circular racks, brushing the mesmerizing flippy sequin pillows back and forth, letting the glitter and bling spot their eyes, when Alex found a really cute pink crop top, in his size. It wasn’t something he would wear regularly, of course, but as he put it on in the changing room and sauntered out, he felt confident and comfortable with his friends.

Of course, he was already planning on buying it and tucking it in the back of his closet, before a certain Carrie Wilson bullied him into doing it. He wasn’t sure what he expected from a mean lesbian with fashion sense, though.

“Now you just need a skirt to go with it,” she informed him. Alex laughed, sure his face was bright red. He’d never worn a skirt before, and while he wasn’t opposed to the idea, it wasn’t something anyone else could see.

Ever.

They started making their way to Cinnabon, when Alex bumped shoulders with a tall man.

“Hey-” he started, before being overwhelmed by confusion. He looked so familiar, with his piercing blue eyes, but his outfit was… strange, to say the least. He wore a black three-piece paired with a dark purple shirt, and a black cloak that sparkled violet on the inside. His head was adorned with a top hat, and the cold smirk he gave Alex sent chills down his spine.

“Alex, you coming?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, jogging back towards Julie, Carrie, and Flynn. “Sorry.”

“You’re good,” they assured him, though they did seem confused and concerned.

…

As Julie tried on a purple and white suit, Alex was well aware of the fierce blush on Luke’s face when he walked in, hoping to inform him of some dumbass shenanigan, but instead being flustered by one Julie Molina in a suit. It was understandable, though; If you were into girls, you automatically had a crush on Julie Molina. Especially if she was wearing a suit. Carrie agreed; as soon as she walked out, she’d excitedly thrown up her hands and said “let’s go, lesbians!”

Alex shot Luke a smirk, before remembering his friends’ dumbassery.

“Oh my God, Luke, I could’ve sworn we told you no shenanigans before we separated!” Alex rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to comprehend the amount of chaos that Luke, Reggie, Erik, and Mira could cause.

“Oh come on, bro, it was one singular shenanigan,” Reggie interjected. “Just one!” Alex groaned.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Of course you do!” Mira told him. So, Alex endured multiple minutes of her’s and Erik’s intertwining retellings of their infamous prank, which was something along the lines of them hiding in one of the giant store entrances at the front of the mall, then jumping out, pretending to be time travellers.

“Whose idea was it to leave you four alone?”

“Yours.”

-----

Luke POV

...

Luke never remembered his dreams when he awoke, only tiny snippets and feelings that tied with them, but when he awoke that morning, he didn’t even remember that. He wasn’t sure if he even dreamed at all, though he was well-rested.

He woke up suddenly, when he felt something move on his chest. He inhaled, looking around, before realizing that it was Julie’s head shifting to look out her window and see the sunrise. He smiled sleepily.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Julie whispered softly. He grinned.

“No, it’s okay,” he replied, caught up in the golden glow cast across her dark skin.. “Why are you up so early?”

“Just not tired, I guess.” He smiled, letting her lay her head back down on his chest, then taking a risk and hugging her closer. She didn’t protest, which made Luke’s heart soar. He loved the feeling of floating when he held her, loved how her head fit perfectly in the crook of his shoulder, loved how well her body fit next to his as they cuddled.

He leaned down, his nose in her curly hair.

“Your hair smells nice,” he whispered. Julie giggled.

They laid there for a few more minutes before Julie wiggled out from his arms. Luke let out a protestant groan, holding her tighter, and she giggled again.

“I’m gonna change,” she whispered, gesturing to her wrinkled dress. Luke pouted, which only made Julie smile. “We’re still going to the mall later, right?” He nodded, letting himself smile. He wasn’t actually upset, though it was a crime that he was being deprived of Julie Cuddles.

Luke grabbed his phone from under his pillow where he’d left it, being careful not to disturb Alex, whose back was pressed against his. Alex’s parents were never very touchy, and paired with Alex’s anxiety, he was very touch starved, so there was no way Luke was going to interrupt any cuddles with his best friend.

He scrolled through his feed, and found an article about the alleged budding romance between Princess Julie and Prince Alexander. He snorted. Did the Tambor Times have no gaydar? It was kind of pathetic.

As he scrolled through his news and the occasional meme, he caught a glimpse of a butterfly fluttering past Julie’s floor-to-ceiling windows. He smiled to himself as it flew against the wind. It reminded him of Julie, graceful but stubborn.

When Julie walked back out, dressed in a slim white crop top and plaid pants, complete with a chain over her hip, he blushed. In his defense, she had a very different vibe in regular citizen clothes, though he supposed that was the point. Either way, though, she was still ethereally beautiful.

He glanced away, hoping he wasn’t as red as he felt. Julie grinned - great, so she had noticed his blush - and flopped above him on her bed, leaving the faint aroma of peaches and vanilla.

…

Luke felt much more comfortable in his normal clothes - a sleeveless shirt, pants, and a chain - than he did in his regular, formal attire. He loved feeling fancy, sure, but dressing casually was a luxury in and of itself.

He spent the entire car ride watching Julie from the right back seat, the way she furrowed her brow in traffic, how the light played off of her collarbone. She was breathtaking.

When they got to the mall, they’d decided to split up into two separate groups to draw less attention; needless to say, Luke pouted when he wasn’t in Julie’s group. But, he got to hang with Reggie, and get to know Erik and Mira better. He’d already gotten a chaotic vibe from Mira, but he did not expect Erik to be just as down for causing a little trouble. He’d seemed so chill and outspoken, but he had a ton of fun with their little time-travelling prank.

But, as he was trying to explain their shenanigans - or, as Reggie decided, one singular shenanigan - to Alex, he got distracted by a certain Julie Molina, who was checking out how she looked in a purple and white suit, which she’d left partially unbuttoned, showing her collarbone. Luke had never seen Julie wear a suit, and holy shit. It should’ve been illegal for someone to look that good.

Julie caught his eye, and every instinct in his head told him LOOK AWAY BEFORE SHE NOTICES YOU WERE STARING, but he just couldn’t. Julie’s cheeks flushed a bit, and Luke scratched the back of his neck, trying to remember what he was saying, finally saved by Alex ranting about how he’d thought he’d told them no shenanigans.

“Okay,” Mira said when Luke finally tore his eyes away from Julie, “but consider: it was really funny.” Alex rolled his eyes so hard he might’ve seen his own brain, and Luke laughed.

“Relax, bro, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah!” Erik agreed. “All we did was jump out and pretend we’d just time travelled from 1995!”

…

They ate their lunch in the food court afterwards, and Luke helped himself to a taco from Cafe Rio.

“Dude,” Reggie said, “did you seriously get a taco rather than pizza?”

“I’m always a slut for Mexican food.” He’d said it with a straight face, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than the entire table erupted into laughter, including Julie, her cheeks flushed from laughing. Luke grinned and looked back to his food, suddenly very interested in the avocado on his tortilla.

He finally looked up, tuning out Reggie and Erik’s intense conversation about Star Wars, when he saw a strange man staring at them from a few tables away. He looked vaguely familiar, but was so… creepy that Luke couldn’t place him. He wore a top hat, dark three-piece, and a cloak that glittered violet on the inside, his eyes colder than ice. Luke held his stare, allowing his face to fall into a glare. The man stood, and Luke elbowed Alex, muttering “uh, guys,” as he walked towards them.

Luke’s hand reached to his pocket, where he kept a pocket knife concealed. He didn’t pull it out, but kept his hands near the handle should worst come to worst.

Julie looked at him, her brow furrowed before raising in… nervousness?

“Well, well,” the man said with a sly smile, “if it isn’t Princess Molina.” Julie stood, smoothing the front of her pants, and Luke noticed she squared her shoulders, not quavering as she stood her ground.

“King Covington,” she said, and Luke’s stomach dropped. “To what do we owe the occasion?” She spoke the words sharply, bitingly, and it sent a shiver down Luke’s spine.

“Well, I couldn’t pass up a chance to see my favorite princess and her… friends, now could I?” he asked, and Luke didn’t like the way he lingered on the word friends, especially when he caught his eye and furrowed his brow.

“Nonetheless,” he continued, “I’m coming for this diplomacy meeting tonight! So exciting,” he said, readjusting his cloak. “Though I must say”- his voice became like poison -”I’m not sure what a diplomacy meeting has to do with impeding on Kryptonian sovereignty for over two centuries.”

“Yes, well, I’d argue that certain friendships aren’t what they seem, hm?” he said, his eyes flickering to Alex, then Luke, before he looked back to Julie. “Nevertheless, we needn’t discuss this right now. You’re just teenagers! Go enjoy yourselves,” he told them. Luke’s fists curled.

“Have you informed my father that you’re here so soon? We only decided on a diplomacy meeting last night.”

“Yes, he contacted me to tell me your idea last night. I decided to come as soon as I could, so we could get this over with and move on to your surrender,” he said, far too cheerily for the situation. “Ah,” he continued, “I’m afraid we’re drawing attention.” He pointed to multiple people staring and pointing confusedly. “As you were, your highness.”

Luke glanced back to Julie, who practically radiated stress.

“Jules?” Flynn asked. “Are you okay?”

“Wonderful,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

…

After lunch, they’d decided to stick together, but despite that, the anxiety never quite left.

Julie didn’t speak to anyone much until they left for the car, and when she sat in the driver’s seat but didn’t turn the key, Reggie offered to drive. She didn’t say anything as she nodded, trading seats with him.

“Julie?” Erik asked, but she didn’t respond, just tucking her knees to her chest in the seat. Luke pulled out his phone, locking eyes with Flynn, who nodded concernedly. He opened up his messaging app and clicked on Julie’s contact.

Me: julie? i know you’re really stressed now but i wanted you to know that i’m here for you

Me: and the rest of us are too

Julie shifted, pulling out her phone, and Luke looked out the window, half-surprised when his phone buzzed.

Julie: Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m just scared. I already texted my dad to ask if he knew Covington was coming today, but he hasn’t responded. I get why he wouldn’t have told us if he knew, but still.

Me: i know what you mean. but i’m sure it’ll be fine

Julie: Thanks for understanding. And yeah. I’m sure everything will be okay.

They didn’t text anymore through the drive. Luke stared out his window as Reggie steered them towards the palace, and none of them said a word as they went inside, passing by palace staff and giving cordial waves and bows. They all went to Julie’s room, and Luke sat in the same place he’d slept the night before. Julie immediately went back to her closet, and Luke barely registered the minute she must’ve taken to change out of her civilian clothes and touch up her hair and makeup.

She didn’t smile as she walked out, dressed in her suit that she’d bought.

“Covington isn’t going to get what he wants,” she announced to the group, all of whom were sitting silently around her room. “My dad texted me back. He said he was going to wait to tell us until we got back, because he only heard the news after we’d left.” That made sense to Luke. Ray was a kind man, and wouldn’t want to ruin their fun.

“Is there any other news?” Alex asked worriedly.

“Yes,” Julie said, her voice cold, confident, and smooth. “There will be an impromptu ball tonight. Covington is an extravagant man, so this will appeal to him. It will be us, my father, Carlos, the council, as well as Covington and representatives from Krypto, plus any members of the Dahlian Nobility who choose to attend. Mira, Erik, rather than being a lady-in-waiting or butler, you’ll be counted as Nobility. Not much of a change, since you’re both relatively used to just hanging with us. If anyone needs assistance, you can call for someone, but tonight, we’re all going to be united, none of us better than the other.

“Covington doesn’t get to show up this abruptly and claim we’ve impeded on Kryptonian sovereignty. So, we’re going to prove that he doesn’t own us.” A grin spread on Luke’s face. That was the confidence he liked to see.

“So,” she continued, a smirk on her face. “Take the afternoon to prepare. Instructions will be sent to your rooms, probably with my dad to check up on all of us. So get ready,” she said. “We have a ball to attend. And,” she added as everyone got up, “put on your dancing shoes.”

-----

Reggie POV

...

When Reggie fell asleep, his head on Alex’s lap and torso curled around Erik, he didn’t dream, which was odd. He was a very imaginative person, and couldn’t remember the last night he hadn’t dreamed. He would’ve expected to have been horribly exhausted, but it was the best night’s sleep he’d gotten in awhile, despite the stressful situation.

When he awoke, Erik had moved, having woken up an hour ago. Luke and Julie were also awake.

Reggie stretched, rolling over. He didn’t try to go back to sleep, but he didn’t actually get up, either.

This was alright.

…

As Reggie got dressed for the mall, he considered a few outfit variations, finally settling on a white tee, black leather jacket, distressed skinny jeans, and some nice shoes for a bit of flair. He gave himself finger guns in the mirror (his right as a dramatic bisexual) and sauntered back to Julie’s room before heading to the car.

He scrambled for the passenger’s seat, but Alex beat him to it.

“Cretins sit in the back,” he said. Reggie pouted, but also smiled. The backseat was always more fun in a crowded car.

He hopped between Luke and Flynn, settling in and grabbing his phone, scrolling through an email from the Dahlian Times asking if he (and Julie) wanted to be put in line for a Vogue photoshoot. Julie had already declined, though, so he politely declined as well.

The car ride wasn’t as chaotic as he’d expected, but it was still fun. He, Luke, and Flynn showed each other memes, whilst Mira, Erik, and Carrie chatted in the row behind them.

…

“Alright, we should probably split into two groups,” Alex said. “That way we’ll draw less attention.” They all nodded, and Reggie tried to grab Alex, but he’d already gone with Julie, Flynn, and Carrie. So, Reggie got to hang with Luke, Erik, and Mira.

“We’re gonna cause some chaos, right?” Luke asked.

“100%.”

“Definitely.”

“Was that even a question?”

Reggie grinned, ideas already forming in his mind. He could just imagine the fun they would have if they… ooh, if they played hide and seek? In the mall? The chaos would be incredible. And then they could get pizza at the food court for lunch, and-

“Brooooo,” Luke said, “follow us.” Reggie did, letting Luke lead him into a warehouse store. A huge grin spread on his face. These kinds of stores were always the best for causing chaos. If he released a herd of puppies? Iconic.

Reggie tugged on Erik’s sleeve, and they all followed him behind a large tower of containers and baskets. As a few employees turned around the corner of their aisle, Reggie hissed instructions to Luke, Mira, and Erik, who all nodded enthusiastically.

…

“Whoa,” Luke said as he popped out from behind the tower, right as the employees walked by. “How did we get here?” Reggie had to give him credit; he was a better actor than he’d thought.

“Where is here?” Mira asked. “Weren’t we just at the Blockbuster?” She turned to the employees, who were staring at them like they’d just grown horns. “Hi, uh, where is this?”

“It’s the Container Store,” one of them said warily.

“Whoa,” Reggie said excitedly. “What is that?” He pointed to a television screen that showed the cameras. “It looks like my TV at home but after getting squashed!”

“And the picture is so clear,” Erik pointed out.

“Rad,” Luke breathed. “It’s like the future.”

“Not the future,” the other employee countered amusedly. “It’s still 2021. It is the newest model, though.”

“Wh- 2021?” Mira asked, dumbfounded. “Has it been… 26 years? Have we been in those baskets for 26 years? HOW is that possible?”

“I don’t know, bro,” Erik started, “but-”

“Ha, ha,” the first employee interjected, “very funny. The good ol’ time travel prank.”

“Bro, this isn’t a prank,” Reggie lied. “I literally have my blockbuster card right here!” He whipped it out of the pocket of his leather jacket, meriting an impressed look from Luke, and respective how the fuck??? looks from Mira and Erik.

Reggie always came prepared, and that sometimes included the random Blockbuster card he’d found a few months back.

…

They pulled their schtick a few more times around the store, and one time, the employee had believed them to the very end. She freaked out because, in her words, holy fuck time travelers, but she asked a lot of questions like “wait so how old are you?” and “did you enjoy neon being a thing?” Reggie wanted to be friends with her, but she had to leave.

As they wandered the mall in search of Julie’s group to inform them of their single shenanigan, Reggie resisted the urge to get a bunch of gumballs and shove them in his mouth. He needed his mouth for talking. And eating pizza.

When they finally found them, Julie was trying to figure out whether she was going to purchase the suit she was wearing, which was absolutely gorgeous. And Reggie noticed Luke immediately trail off when he saw her. Reggie elbowed him and quirked his eyebrow, offering a smirk that Luke didn’t even register.

Simp.

“-No, bro, it was awesome,” Erik insisted as Alex reminded them that they weren’t supposed to do any shenanigans.

“But it was one singular shenanigan,” Reggie informed him. “One.”

“Still.”

“Okay, but consider,” Mira suggested, “it was really funny.” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“Whose idea was it to leave you four alone?”

“Yours,” Reggie added helpfully.

“It wasn’t… okay.”

As they made their way to the food court, Reggie didn’t hesitate to order pizza, with thin slices of pepperoni dotted on top. He loved pizza.

“Okay,” Erik said over his sub. “Star Wars. Thoughts?” Reggie nodded excitedly.

“Yes!!! The Millenium falcon has such a cool design, and even though it wasn’t the best for spatial usage and storage, it had a badass vibe, so it gets rights. Plus, it looks like a frisbee.”

“Right?” Erik agreed. “I just want to skip it over a giant lake like a rock.”

“You. You get it.”

“I know, I’m awesome. Favorite character?”

“Oooh, Han Solo for sure. He’s the best, I do not take criticism.” Erik snorted, and Reggie gasped in mock offense, but also not mock offense.

“How does it feel to be wrong?” he asked. “Leia.” Reggie sighed.

“Leia is a badass, I agree, but Han Solo is just the best character.”

“Okay. You’re wrong, but okay.”

“Hey, don’t diss Solo!”

“I’m not dissing him! But Leia is just better!” Erik took another bite of his sub, and Reggie huffed.

“I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.”

“You guys are both wrong,” Flynn informed them. “The best character, hands down, is Rey.”

“New movies don’t get rights,” Reggie and Erik said in unison. They looked at each other, grinned, and Reggie reached across the table to give him a high five.

“Solidarity.”

Reggie was about to reply, when he noticed a man walking towards them, a man in a top hat, three-piece, and cloak.

Reggie recognized him immediately.

And he was walking to Julie.

“Well, well,” the man said with a sly smile, “if it isn’t Princess Molina.” Julie stood confidently, and Reggie resisted the urge to stand and guard his sister.

“King Covington. To what do we owe the occasion?” Julie’s words were cold, sharp, and sent a shiver down Reggie’s spine. He’d never heard her speak so coldly.

“Well, I couldn’t pass up a chance to see my favorite princess and her… friends, now could I?” Covington lingered on the word ‘friends,’ glancing around the table, his eyes settling on Luke before he continued, each word making Reggie’s hands curl into fists.

“Nonetheless, I’m coming for this diplomacy meeting tonight! So exciting. Though I must say”- his voice became like poison -”I’m not sure what a diplomacy meeting has to do with impeding on Kryptonian sovereignty for over two centuries.”

“With all due respect,” Julie said, in a way that implied that the amount of ‘due respect’ was, in fact, none, “the kingdom of Dahlia has in no way impeded on the sovereignty of yours. We’ve been peaceful allies for a century.” Reggie fought a grin. That was his sister, that badass woman standing up to another royal was his sister.

“Have you informed my father that you’re here so soon?” Julie shot back. “We only decided on a diplomacy meeting last night.”

…

Reggie took Julie’s shoulder and helped her out of the driver’s seat when she froze, leading her around the front to the passenger’s seat. Wordlessly, he helped her down as she rubbed her temples, stressed and deep in thought and worry.

He pulled out of the parking lot once everyone was buckled in, and nobody talked much. He noticed Julie on her phone, texting someone. Who, he wasn’t sure, he just hoped she was okay. She might’ve been in shock, but she wasn’t pale. She was just scared. And confused. Reggie understood; he was extremely confused as to why Caleb had come so soon. They were supposed to have tonight to contact him again and work out the details, weren’t they?

Reggie dragged a hand down his face as they waited at a red light, but the ride to the palace was quick after that. As he pulled into the huge garage, Julie seemed more alert, and she walked steadily back inside. He smiled to himself.

As he made his way to Julie’s room, his hands clasped with MIra’s and Erik’s, Reggie offered his signature smile to anyone they passed, hoping he was convincing enough.

As he sat, he wrapped an arm around Luke, hoping the touch was comforting. It seemed to be; Luke’s shoulders softened, and as Reggie reached across to give the same contact to Alex, the prince sighed and wrapped them in a hug as Julie went to her closet. Then, they sat, waiting. Julie was the boss. Even if she was one of the youngest, she was also the most qualified.

When she walked out, her face was stone cold, confident, but not a trace of a smile.

She didn’t smile as she walked out, dressed in her suit that she’d bought.

“Covington isn’t going to get what he wants,” she decided. “My dad texted me back. He said he was going to wait to tell us until we got back, because he only heard the news after we’d left.” Ah. Reggie understood; Ray never wanted people to be worried.

“Is there any other news?” Alex asked worriedly.

“Yes. There will be an impromptu ball tonight.” She smoothed her jacket around her waist. “Covington is an extravagant man, so this will appeal to him. It will be us, my father, Carlos, the council, as well as Covington and representatives from Krypto, plus any members of the Dahlian Nobility who choose to attend.”

Reggie planned for a crowded night. Not that it would be a problem; the ballroom was huge. Everyone would fit with room to spare.

“Mira, Erik,” Julie added, “rather than being a lady-in-waiting or butler, you’ll be counted as Nobility. Not much of a change, since you’re both relatively used to just hanging with us. If anyone needs assistance, you can call for someone, but tonight, we’re all going to be united, none of us better than the other.

“Covington doesn’t get to show up this abruptly and claim we’ve impeded on Kryptonian sovereignty. So, we’re going to prove that he doesn’t own us.” Reggie nodded, smiling, proud of his sister’s confidence.

“So,” she continued, a smirk on her face, “take the afternoon to prepare. Instructions will be sent to your rooms, probably with my dad to check up on all of us. So get ready,” she said. “We have a ball to attend. And,” she added as everyone got up, flashing her most confident smirk yet, “put on your dancing shoes.”

-----

Willie POV

...

Willie had finally gone back inside in the middle of the night, after his tears were dry and the stars left spots in his eyes.

He snuck back into his quarters, falling on his bed and staring at the wall until his eyes glazed over, finally falling asleep, but the day came all too soon. He was exhausted; not the kind of exhausted where you yawn and doze off, but exhausted emotionally. He didn’t speak much throughout the day, and only felt better when Lilian gave him a break and he went skating.

Then, when he turned around the bend, he saw Alex, and he couldn’t help but let his heart flutter and his face break out into a grin. But it wasn’t as full as it could be. Still, though, he was happy to see him.

“Hey there, your royal pancakeness!” he called, skating towards him.

“Hey, Willie! So, um, I was wondering…” he took a breath, and Willie wondered if he was okay. “We’re going to the mall today,” Alex explained, “and I was wondering if you would want to come?” He grinned. He would love to; and, this kinda sounded like Alex asking him out.

“I wish I could, man,” he said, “but I’m going to be working all day today. I’m really sorry.” Lilian had said that there was another meeting happening tonight, but they weren’t allowed to know what about. Only that King Ray had seemed stressed.

“No, no, that’s okay,” Alex assured him, and Willie’s emotions warred in his heart. Confliction toyed with anger, anxiety fought with love, happiness danced with melancholy. His eyes met Alex’s, blue in the light but with a silvery tint.

“Well,” he said awkwardly, “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah!” Willie agreed. Neither of them moved, and Willie was okay with that. Alex seemed nervous but comfortable, which lifted his spirits. At least Alex didn’t dislike him. If he had, why would he invite him to hang out with him and his friends? Willie might never get to act on his feelings for the prince, but they could be friends.

And that was enough.

Willie inhaled to speak, but then his phone beeped, sounding the end of his half-hour break. He sighed.

“That’s my cue. See you, Alex,” he said. Alex offered a weak smile, and Willie tried to return it. Then, he kicked up his skateboard, jogging back towards the palace, stealing one last glance at Alex, who was still facing away, staring at the grass. But he did eventually look back, and Willie’s instincts told him to act as if nothing had happened.

So, that’s exactly what he did.

He hated himself for it, but he really did have to get back, and he didn’t want to waste Alex’s time.

…

“Hey, Willie,” Lilian called as he kneaded the dough he’d just finished making. “Prince Alexander came looking for you while you were on break, just thought I should let you know. Everything okay?” she asked, the subtle quirk of her eyebrow making Willie laugh.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” Willie assured her. “Alex just had a question.” Lilian’s eyebrows shot up.

“Well, it’s nice that you and Alex are such good friends,” she prodded, a shit-eating grin on her face. Willie’s face flamed at his mistake; he’d referred to Alex as Alex rather than Prince Alexander. Sometimes he cursed Lilian for being so perceptive.

“You know,” she continued, “I’ve always hated the idea of an arranged marriage.” Willie’s stomach dropped, but a laugh bubbled in his throat. He wasn’t at all surprised that Lilian was pulling this move.

“I have as well,” he agreed. “But we can’t get in the way,” he said pointedly. “It’s literally treason.” Lilian snorted.

“As if you’ve ever cared about rules.” Willie stammered before she laughed. “Relax, child. I’m happy for you. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” Willie blushed.

“Uh huh, thanks,” he told her sarcastically. She clapped him on the back.

“I’m here to help.”

“Yeah, sure. Hey, have you actually confessed to your crush yet?” he asked, and it was his turn to grin as Lilian stammered indignantly.

“Ah,” he continued. “Still at the pining lesbians stage, I see. Hypocrisy at its finest.” Lilian couldn’t get on him for crushing on Alex if she refused to woman up and ask out the girl she liked, one of the palace blacksmiths. Willie had met her once, and while Lilian might’ve been intimidating and tough and a million other things, but he knew her weakness: any time he mentioned the blacksmith, a petite woman with dark skin and short, curly hair, she got all blushy and told him to shut it.

“Shut it, Wilbert,” she said. Willie burst out laughing. They all knew his full name was William, but whenever Lilian wanted to be mean, she would call him Wilbert.

“Oh, so mean,” he said jokingly.

“I’m a lesbian, I get to be mean when I want to be.”

“Fair enough.” She playfully swatted his shoulder as he kneaded the dough, putting it in a bowl to rise. Note to self, Willie thought, the mean lesbian is, in fact, a simp.

While the dough rose, Willie stretched and started stirring together the ingredients for the cake he was making, adding his signature pinch of cinnamon to bring out the depth of the cocoa, but never tasting the batter. He never tasted batter or dough that had raw flour or eggs in it; he’d learned his lesson after getting salmonella from it when he was nine. Truth be told, salmonella could get fucked. But he still didn’t want to risk it, because it sucked.

At some point, Lilian had stalked away and was preparing the roast, her sleeves rolled up. Willie grinned. She knew how to get her mind off of her crush when she needed to work. Willie, on the other hand, preferred to get lost in thought about something - or someone - as he baked. If he could get so lost in thought that he was almost dissociating, it would be like no time had passed, and everything would be done perfectly. So, he let his mind wander as he preheated the oven.

He wondered what was happening tonight. There had already been a royal meeting last night, what could be so urgent to call another the day after?

“Willie?” Lilian called. “I just got word from the king. Better make that a double batch of cake, at least. The king of Krypto is coming for an impromptu ball.”

“Whoa,” he said, grabbing another bowl to make more batter. “Why?”

“He couldn’t say, but he seemed tense. Time to put those cake decorating skills to work.” Willie nodded, turning back to his bowl.

A ball? Willie remembered the last - and only - ball he’d ever attended. He’d attended as a chef, of course, but it was huge. Two and a half years ago, for Princess Julie’s sixteenth birthday. There had been people galore, dancing around the massive ballroom, eating treats he’d made (and complimenting him, allowing him to ride off of that serotonin for weeks), and chatting amongst themselves.

He poured the cake batter into tins, different shapes for tiers, then shoved them in the oven, washed his hands, and put the risen dough in a loaf pan, sticking it in the other oven, which had already beeped to temperature.

He wondered if he would get to go to the ball; it was impromptu, but still. He was one of the main bakers, so maybe he’d be allowed to serve some of the desserts and see the fancy lights and outfits.

He’d never been a very fancy person himself, usually opting for shorts and a t-shirt or crop top, plus some funky socks and vans. But he wasn’t opposed to wearing a suit, he actually quite enjoyed these rare occasions in which he was able to dress up so fancy.

Of course, he might’ve just wanted to use the ball as an excuse to see Alex. He wondered if Alex was at the mall at that very moment. Did he know about the ball? Was he excited, or nervous? And why was the king of Krypto coming for it? Was something happening?

And, most importantly: what was Covington’s opinion on red velvet mini cupcakes?

Better safe than sorry, Willie decided as he started making the batter. It was, admittedly, very similar to chocolate. However, a few ingredients gave it some extra flair, plus the deep maroon color that he enhanced with red dye. He shoved those into the oven as well, setting another timer and getting started on the cream cheese frosting.

He remembered making this exact recipe of frosting when he was little, teaching his little sister, Eva, how to measure the ingredients. He remembered picking her up in his gangly twelve-year-old arms so she could reach the counter, laughing when she spilled powdered sugar all over the place. She would be twelve now; he couldn’t wait to visit her again. She and their mom lived near the eastern straits. It was a long drive, they lived at the southern end of them, but the palace, while slightly east, was also far north. But he had plans to visit them for a few days next month, and he was ecstatic.

Memories of baking with his mom and Eva floated through his mind as he pulled the cakes out of the oven. Eva was always partial to anything strawberry flavored, while Willie had an affinity for key lime. His mom, though, loved chocolate. Willie did too, of course, but his mom’s smile any time he made chocolate cake was infectious. Her enthusiasm and excitement whenever he and Eva experimented with recipes, her laugh whenever they made a mess, even the long braid down her back, all of those memories flooded back to him.

His family was always important to him. His mom and Eva, yes, but also the people he’d grown to love as his own. People like Lilian, or his childhood best friend who he still pestered over text, or his eighth grade science teacher who’d helped him when he came out.

But one face floated through his head that confused and delighted him at the same time.

Alex.

He didn’t know if Alex even knew how to bake, much less why his face was appearing when Willie was thinking about his family, the people he cared most about-

Oh.

Well. He’d known he’d liked Alex, but… it was truly something that, even in their limited interactions, he’d made his way far enough into Willie’s heart that he fit in so naturally with the people he loved, the people who were his home.

He thought he would be surprised, but as he thought more and more about it, the more it made sense. Alex, with his endearing laugh. Alex, with his anxious smiles and bursts of courage. Alex, with his eyes that shifted from icy blue to spring green to steely grey, Alex, with his freckles like the constellations in the night sky but still somehow bright as day.��

Although, the current situation was decidedly Not Great. Alex was a prince, and in an arranged marriage. Plus, he didn’t even know if he felt the same way. To confess his feelings would be treason, and would possibly get Willie (and maybe even Alex) exiled. He knew exile was only used for the most severe punishments, but still. He’d met one of the council members (Councilman Richard, if he recalled correctly), and got absolutely rancid vibes from him.

So. Confessing his feelings was out. Alex might not even like him back. Alex was also already set to be married, and a literal prince.

A prince with whom Willie was in love.

This was a problem.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #bwya tag #bwya #be who you are (no compromise)#blue writes

37 notes · View notes

fullsunalicia · 4 years

Note

i really loved the jaemin prince au 💗💗 if you have time, could you possibly write a princess diaries au with jeno?? thank you for sharing your work with us ! have a great day 🤗

prince charming — LJN

in a matter of mere days, your whole life is flipped upside down. the only constant in your life are your best friends, yeeun and jeno. but while you’re being charmed with a crown and the family connection you’ve been craving for a long time, jeno is desperately trying to figure out how to tell you that you’ve charmed him.

of course i can, my love! thank you for your request and your kind words 🤍 have a great day and stay hydrated! eat if you haven’t yet. and as promised, here the princess diaries au~

For as long as you can remember, it has always just been you, your mom, and Chairman Meow. It’s a silly name for a cat, but it’s what you’ve decided on when you first got him at ten years old, and your mother found it too funny to resist. Now this poor cat is stuck with that name forever.

The life your mother built for you is far away from the family you have still left. When you were born, your father had already succumbed to an illness, leaving nothing behind but nineteen birthday letters, some presents, and the gaping hole he had ripped into every future family picture. At your first father-daughter dance, your best friends’ father had danced with you because Yeeun and Jeno couldn’t bare leaving you alone at home to cry about the fact that you had a missing parent. Everytime father’s day comes around, they pile up in your room with you and the day is spent watching rom-coms. Every year on the same day, your mom lights up a candle to honor the father who had abandoned you before birth.

Your mother told you he had his reasons. That they loved each other, but it just wasn’t meant to be. You had believed her and promised to honor the memory of a father that wanted you, but ultimately couldn’t have you. Because his own family didn’t accept it.

The letters are the only thing you have of him. You were told that when he realized he was nearing death, he decided to write them as birthday presents, one for every year. Some are longer than others. Some cheesier. Some seem like diary entries, where he regrets not being able to see you for the first and last time before he goes, since he’s sure your mother and him made the perfect daughter. The only reason you don’t resent the father that left the mother to raise their child alone is because you can feel the love in these letters, his true feelings, the somber sorrow of someone who’s being played like a puppet. His letters arive every year alongside the presents your grandmother sends you, but hers are left untouched while you cling to these letters as if they are your lifeline.

It’s almost like he’s here for you. Gone, but still felt. His love is with you when your mother kisses your forehead before school and you can see it in her smile. Your parents loved each other a lot - you wish to have a romance like theirs. You wonder why your grandmother thought it was a good idea to tear them apart.

The answer comes weeks before your last and nineteenth letter can arrive.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Will you wake up already? Damn! You’re worse than Jeno!”

“First of all,” you drawl out, sleep still heavy on your tongue. Your mind barely registers that you’re awake, and you blink several times to regain your sight after your comatose state. “I don’ t take nearly as long as Jeno in the morning to get ready. That’s why I’m able to sleep longer. And who the hell let you in?”

“Your mother,” your best friend of ten years deadpans. “Duh.” Yeeun clicks her tongue and reaches out for your body beneath the warm blankets. She doesn’t even care about the fact that you scream when you’re forcefully removed from your own paradise.

“Yeeun! I’m barely awake!”

“You want me to get a bucket of water, then?”

Yeeun is the oldest of your little group. After her comes Jeno, her younger brother, and lastly you. They baby you all the time, even though they’re barely older than you are. The first time you guys met was in first grade, where the siblings had bickered over what snack they should buy because they didn’t take enough money with them to buy one for each sibling. Without hesitation, you had approached them and lent them yours, and since then, Yeeun and Jeno basically adopted you. They’ve both already moved out and share an apartment near the university you three attend, and you know there’s a room for you waiting there.

Something just keeps you home. You can’t bring yourself to part from your mother and leave her, because then, she’ll be really alone. After all, your father’s side of your family doesn’t really like her. And her own parents live far away.

“Please don’t tell me you stayed up watching k-dramas again.” Yeeun groans and pinches your nose, the same annoying habit she tended to do to Jeno when he got on her nerves. No one else is more like a sister to you than she is, and you’re very grateful for her. It’s a different story for her brother, though.

Lee Jeno is as beautiful as his older sister, but he was the one who first drew you in with it. Your very first childhood crush in fourth grade. He even stole a first kiss from you when his lips had first touched a bottle of soju, and even though you’ve always dreamt of a fairy tale first kiss, you somehow were still thankful it was him. The boy with the crescent moon eye smile. The lingering taste of sweet alcohol and chewing gum. Careful hands who cradled your face as if you were the most expensive thing in the entire world, despite his intoxicating state.

He doesn’t remember that, though. And he doesn’t need to. You’ve buried your embarrassing crush for the younger sibling a very long time ago, and it’s never going to be dug out. Not if you can hinder it.

“I’m so tired, Yeeun,” you hiss at her and slap away the hands who are trying to pinch you awake. She laughs and wraps her arms around your waist. “Did you really have to wake me up so early?”

“Class starts in, like, twenty minutes. The longer we take here, the more Jeno is going to panic.”

“I hate you both. You’re a plague. I should’ve just let you brawl for that stupid tteokbokki cup.”

Yeeun forms her lips to a pout, lips puckered as if she was going to give you a kiss. “Aw, man. What am I supposed to do with engagement ring now? I spent so much money on it...”

Carefully, as to not hurt her, you push your best friend off your sleep-ridden body. Standing up has never taken so long, and you groan as your back cracks when you stretch it. “Don’t fool yourself,” you mumble. “The only thing you’d get me would be a ring pop.”

“Touché.”

It takes you a little longer to get ready, but Yeeun doesn’t mind as she scrolls away on her phone, liking a meme here and there. Jeno honks in impatience from outside the house and Yeeun grins, waving him off on instinct, even though he can’t actually see her. When you finally step out of your room, your mom already’s put on a cup of coffee for you on the table. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she says, grinning, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. You furrow your brows. “Finally awake?”

“After I basically assaulted her, yeah.” Yeeun snatches up the cup meant for you and nips at the dark mixture. Outside, Jeno honks again. “Though we better get going before your neighbours file a complaint. That kid doesn’t have any manners, I swear. And to think that we’re related!”

“You’re only two years older, Yeeun,” you shoot back, yawn tumbling from your lips. She’s right, though, you don’t want to keep him waiting any longer. The neighbor next door is rather weird, and you swear you’ve caught him several times sitting down infront of his window to watch the people pass by. He claims it’s inspiration for his books. You don’t bother with finding out if that’s actually considered stalking. Your mother turns her head so you can kiss her cheek, fingers twirling the cup she’s holding. She’s nervous. For what? “I’ll get going, mom, see you later.”

“Don’t forget to come straight back home after your lecture, (y/n).” She finally looks up to meet your eyes, showing you her evident worry. Your mom had pulled you aside the evening before, saying that you had important matters to discuss at lunch because someone was coming for a visit. She didn’t tell you who, though. “Text me if you need anything.”

With that, Yeeun tugs you out the front door, the familiar click of the lock accompanying your descent down the stairs to the street. Jeno looks especially annoyed, but he still leans over from the driver’s seat to open the door for you. “I’m going to kill you both,” he threatens the second you’re in earshot, hissing at his sister like a cat as she flicks his forehead and slides into the backseat. Despite being upset that you’re late, he lets you pull him into a tight hug, and you basically disappear in his embrace. Since he’s started going to the fitness center with his friends, he’s been building up muscles like crazy. Yeeun bet you ten dollars he’s on steroids.

He’s always been this athletic, though. Now, it shines through, and it makes your knees kinda weak of how strong Jeno is becoming.

“Is that coffee?”, he asks, fingers already reaching for the cup that was stolen out of your kitchen. Yeeun slaps his fingers, pretty features pulled into a grimace. “Not for you!” she answers. “Hands on the wheel.”

“So you let me wait for an hour, but I don’t even get coffee? Got it. Should’ve just left you on the curb this morning.”

“And who would’ve woken up (y/n), huh? It takes you years to wake the girl up!”

“Because she looks so peaceful in her sleep! Unlike you, I actually care about how much sleep (y/n)’s getting!”

“I hope this car crashes,” you mumble. With that, you swipe your coffee out of Yeeun’s hands, force Jeno back into the driver’s seat and lean back to finally sip at the coffeinated drink. It’ll be a miracle to survive this car ride.

❀ ❀ ❀

You like sociology. It’s the only course you share with Jeno, and despite claiming it’s his favorite class, he keeps napping in it. Because the professor likes him and his essays are seemingly “amazing”, Jeno ends up getting out of trouble scot-free, while you have to pass your notes to said troublemaker at the end of every lecture.

Maybe you should have given him some coffee after all. His head is resting on your shoulder, shamelessly using it as a pillow, his fingers are intertwined even in his sleep. As if he’s praying. Maybe he’s praying for this lecture to end quickly. The dark circles under his eyes worry you, and you wonder if he’s even getting enough sleep.

When Jeno and you first met each other, his features had still been soft, a true baby-face. He had winced every time you pinched his cheeks and often complained when you and Yeeun determined that he could be a prettier girl than you guys were. A decade later, Jeno is still breathtakingly beautiful, but where earlier had been fat to pinch was now sharp cheekbones, and a jawline that could cut diamonds. What had been pretty turned into attractive.

He looks like a prince. It’s no wonder his family calls him that jokingly. He owns the title.

“Stop staring at me, creep,” Jeno murmurs, voice drowsy. He still reaches out for you, though. Strong arms envelop your body and press you against a firm side, and you don’t even put up a fight when he uses you as his personal body pillow. His strong perfume wafts over your senses, and it’s hard to resist the urge to cuddle against him. You claim you’ve gotten over him, but it’s so easy to fall back into old habits when they go by the name Lee Jeno.

“Start paying attention to the lesson, then.” He doesn’t even budge when you try to push him away. Sighing, you resort to taking notes instead. You can feel him grin against your shoulder.

Asshole. He knows he’s stronger.

“It’s not like the lesson’s interesting. Can’t you just stop nagging me?”

“Can you stop bothering me while I pay attention?”

“No,” he shoots back immediately, arms locking tighter around your smaller frame. Jeno ignores the squeak you let out at that (as if you were a dog chewing toy...) and instead presses his face against your throat, lips dangerously close to your skin. Damn those siblings and their irresistible charm. “This is the price you pay for my friendship. If you weren’t ready to pay it, you should’ve thought about that ten years ago. No use fighting it now. Sorry.”

Friendship. The word stings and you wish it would hit you in the face once and for all, so that you could stop looking at Jeno in that light. He hums when you mess up his hair, recently dyed with the help of his sister. Both siblings had already bleached it once, but this color was darker, more evident. Soft as always. He hums in content at your touch, the sound elicting goosebumps on your skin.

“What’s gotten into you?” The accusation in your voice is only spoken in a joking manner, but it still makes Jeno raise his head and loosen his hold around your waist. This time, you’re the one tugging him back. (You hope your professor isn’t looking. The soft spot he has for Jeno isn’t reserved for you.) “You’re never this affectionate.”

“Is that a crime?” He furrows his eyes and glares at you. He looks a little like his cat when he does this, when she’s scolded for knocking a glass of the coffee table. You pinch his cheek. He hits your fingers.

“No. I’m only curious.”

“I’m just in the mood.” Jeno turns you around so you’re facing your notes again, and you roll your eyes. Are you his slave or what? Nonetheless, you pick up your pen and resume writing. Your best friend rests his head on your shoulder, chest pressed to your back.

Jesus Christ, he’s a muscle pig.

His fingers toy with the ends of your hair, and it almost distracts you from the loud, annoying voice of the lecturer. The room is stuffed with tired, disinterested people. Someone in fifth row is playing PacMan on their laptop. You almost wish you had remembered to take your own.

Your thoughts wander to that talk your mom wanted to have with you after school. Usually, she’s very honest and upfront with you. There are no secrets. If there’s anything that should be addressed, she does it right away. What could be so important that she’s waiting for the suprise visit to explain?

Maybe it’s a new boyfriend. But your mom knew you didn’t have anything against her looking elsewhere for love; you actually welcomed it, deeming her a “helpless single” in spite of her protest. If she had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t feel so guilty about moving out. The siblings have been begging you for a while now, and you three spend lots of nights huddled on their couch, anyways.

It doesn’t work that way, though. Your mother is all you have. You just want to be assured that she’s going to be okay without you, happy. Chairman Meow isn’t that good of a company. And if you move out, you can’t visit her all the time. Exams are coming up.

Jeno pinches your waist, a snicker tumbling from his lips when you jump. “Wanna grab a bite after this?”

“Can’t.” You abandon your pen momentarily to guide his hands away from your waist, pulling at his arms so they lock around you tighter. This hug is basically a death trap, but at least it’s enjoyable. “Mom’s planned something.”

“Like what?”

“Didn’t tell me.”

“Your mom tells you everything.”

“Gee, really?” you scoff. The remark was meant to be sarcastic, but the hurt and confusion still seeps through. Jeno soothes it with a kiss to your temple, but you wish he wouldn’t. It’s so hard to stop your heart from acting up. Convicing it that Jeno’s only being platonic is like talking to a wall. “I don’t know what’s up with her. She’s been acting weird since yesterday. It’s not like my dad’s anniversary coming up.”

“Maybe she’s finally throwing you out of the damn house. You know, it kind of sucks paying for a roommate who isn’t even there.”

Jeno recoils when you turn at that, moving faster than he can register. “I told you guys to let me pay!” you complain. To your horror, it comes out a little bit louder than intended, and if looks could kill, your professor would be charged with second degree murder. The boy beside you laughs at your suffering, but he shuts up quickly when you pinch his nose. “You seriously need to stop hanging out with Yeeun,” he hisses at you, and pins your wrists against his chest. “I was joking, you fool. No matter how many times you tell us, we’ll be paying for that room until you move in.”

The rest of the lesson is spent with Jeno and you squabbling, which is why you pack up in a hurry and leave before your professor can scold the living hell out of you. Yeeun’s already managed to snag some food from someone in her own lecture, and she shares it with you guys on the way home. When the duo drives off, they’re already arguing again, and you shake your head as you walk inside.

The apartment is strangely tidy. Not that you and your mom like to live in chaos, but it’s never this neat. “Mom?” you call out.

It’s not your mother who walks out of the kitchen. You’ve seen this face on pictures often, never face to face. It would be a disgrace for her to be seen with someone of your side of the family.

“Welcome home, (y/n),” your grandmother greets you.

❀ ❀ ❀

Jeno and Yeeun are traitors. None of them answer your distress calls, or the many panicked text messages you send them. This is treason. You’re never going to let them eat off your snack stash again.

When you had recognized your grandmother, you had promptly run to your room like a freshman in highschool and locked the elderly woman out. You did not appreciate that your mother had failed to mention that the suprise visit was the grandmother that had been resenting you for the past nineteen years.

You want nothing to do with her. She’s the reason your parents could never be together.

“(y/n),” the woman sighs, exasparated. The knocks to your door are quickly deemed useless, and she resorts to talking to you through the door. “I am aware that this must be quite the shock, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d react like this. I was told you were quite the mature woman.”

You are. Still, you angrily tell her: “You would’ve known better if you had made it your duty to see your own grandchild at least once a year!”

Silence. She doesn’t have an answer for that, and you’re glad she has atleast the brains to recognize. Still, after mulling over your words for a few minutes, she continues. “My child, this is why I came. To explain why your father didn’t stay with your mother. Why no one came to see you. Don’t you wish to know the truth?”

“You’re a little late.”

“Better late than never.”

You don’t have a clever argument for that. Sulking, you stand up and rip the door open, scaring the poor woman behind it to death. A hand placed over her heart, she reprimands you with a stern look. “Tell me, then.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Up close, she reminds you of the many pictures your mom had shown you from your father. “Tell me what was such a good reason to destroy an entire marriage with a flick of your wrist. Why I’m suddenly so important, nineteen years later.”

Your grandmother pleads you with her eyes to come out of your room, so you stroll into the living room and sit down. Your mother is waiting there for you, and you clench your fists when she mouths an “I’m sorry”.

The atmosphere is, lightly put, very uncomfortable. Your grandmother takes the liberty of pouring you and her a cup of tea, but neither of you touch it. “(y/n),” she says then. “What do you know about your father?”

“That he was ill.” You clench and unclench your hands. They’re trembling. In moments like these, you wish Yeeun or Jeno were here, but that’s silly. You should be able to master your challenges alone. So, you clear your throat and go on, voice firm, even if you feel nothing like it. “That he loved my mother dearly and you didn’t accept it.”

“I did accept it.”

“Liar,” tumbles out of your lips before you can stop it, and your mother claps a hand over her mouth. “(y/n)!” she speaks up, in disbelief that you’d talk to a family member like that. Your grandmother waves her off, but you can see the hurt in her eyes.

You hate admitting it, but it satisfies you a little.

“Your father..” The elderly woman traces the rim of her tea cup with a perfectly manicured nail. “Your father was a good man, with a sense for duty. I liked your mother a lot, but just because I liked her didn’t mean I was able to accept it. There are some things that are better left unchanged. Your parents knew that. I knew that. And that is why I wished for the engagement to be nullified.”

The words set something in you ablaze; an anger you can’t name, the protectiveness over your mother. “What in god’s name could be more important than your son marrying the woman he loves?”

Your grandmother blinks. “The throne, of course.”

You raise a brow. Behind her hands, your mother peeks to grasp your reaction. For a very long time, you wait for someone to laugh and tell you this is just a prank. When it doesn’t come, you ask: “Excuse me, what?”

“(l/n) (y/n), that is the name you were given by your mother.” Your grandmother raises the cup to her lips, unfazed by your confusion. “Though that’s not the royal name given to you. You are a direct descendant of Empress Sunmyeong, member of the Yeoheung Min clan.” She sets the cup down with a loud clatter. If you hadn’t seen her eyes, you would be very angry with her joking right now.

She’s deadly serious.

“You are Min (y/n), heir to the throne.” Your grandmother looks you right in the eyes, gaze determined, honest. “Just like your father, you are expected to ascend the throne and marry someone of blue blood.”

❀ ❀ ❀

“You didn’t confess to her?”

Jeno pouts and stuffs his mouth with marshmallows. “I didn’t get to.”

The room is dark, dimly illuminated by the light that tries to reach it through the curtains. The siblings wanted to do a movie marathon since it was the weekend and there was nothing to study for, and it isn’t fun to go out drinking without you. An hour into their first one, they’ve already abandoned it and resorted to do something else.

Talking about Jeno’s giant crush on you.

“I thought you were going to tell her in Sociology.” His sister reaches for the popcorn, disappointed to find the bowl empty. Jeno offers her the bag of marshmallows, but she shakes her head; too sweet.

“That was the plan,” he mumbles. But how is he supposed to look you in the face and tell you about his feelings, when you’re so goddamn cute? Nobody has ever made butterflies erupt in Jeno’s stomach, yet one look from you and he’s absolutely weak. The memory of you kissing him back still haunts him to this day. What if you just did it because you were under the influence? “I chickened out.”

“Shocker.”

“I hope you choke.”

Yeeun snorts. But no matter how much fun they make of each other, at the end of the day, nobody cares about Jeno like Yeeun does. She’s a really great big sister, even if she gets annoying sometimes. So when the girl reaches for the remote to turn down the volume and face him properly, he doesn’t mock her or say something provoking. He holds out his arms and pouts.

When they had been children, Jeno had fallen down the stairs once and promptly fainted. He doesn’t remember much about it, but what stuck with him was the sight of little Yeeun looming over him, crying in worry. She hisses and hits Jeno often, but the second someone else does it, he has to physically hold her back. (She’s tiny, but she packs quite the punch.)

The day Yeeun had found out about his crush on her best friend, he had been drunk off his ass and crying. That’s why she told him that it was going to be alright, because she has his back. So when Jeno inches closer in the wish to be held, she only rolls his eyes and throws her arms around his shoulders. “You’re so annoying. Why’d I get the annoying younger brother?”

“Shut up and comfort me. I was really going to tell her today.” Jeno sniffs. He’s not going to cry, though, he’s only being dramatic. He wishes you were here. “I was so close.”

“I know. Next time.” His sister messes up his hair and grins at him. He laughs at that, reaching out to dishevel her own, and it soon escalates into them wrestling on the couch, fighting for the last bag of Dorito’s.

Their fight is cut short by several quick knocks to the door.

Jeno looks at Yeeun. “Are you expecting somebody?”

She can’t answer; a key is turned in the lock and as they look up alarmed, they’re greeted with the sight of you walking in, your eyes red from all the crying, the apartment’s spare key in your hand.

You hiccup. A tell-tale sign that you’ve been sobbing and are currently trying to stop yourself. “Hi,” you mumble. That’s the magic word for both siblings to jump up and run to you, familiar hands wiping over your wet face and your shoulders. “I just had the worst day ever and I just want to collapse into someone’s bed and die. Thank you.”

“Go rest in my room,” Jeno offers. “Come on.” You don’t need to be told twice, feet carrying you to the room you’ve been so many times before. Your followed by your best friends, who even go as far as tucking you in, and Yeeun leaves a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t go,” you whisper.

So they don’t. They take you into their middle, Yeeun on your left, Jeno on your right, both brother and sister hugging you tightly. You’re lucky you all fit on Jeno’s bed, and for a while, you just keep laying there, staring at Jeno’s ceiling that’s been freshly painted. As they hold you, you start explaining your weird, nonsense circumstances. They don’t interrupt you once.

You want to stay like this always. Some things in life come and go, but the friendship to these two stays forever. The many nights you spent stargazing. The different occassions of someone crying and the other two cheering them up. Long hugs, adoration that is spoken out loud, silent support. You want to cling to these memories, to their hands, stay in this bed for the rest of your life.

But you’re a princess. You have your loyalties towards the crown, towards your father. Accepting the duty your grandmother laid in your hands feels like treason towards yourself, but you also can’t turn your back on what your father is giving to you.

Family honor. Blood is thicker than water.

That’s why weeks after this, Yeeun and Jeno see you less and less. They knock and spam your phone with several messages, but all they get is half-hearted apologies hours later. Sometimes, there is no response at all. It hurts them a lot, to the point where they spend several days of the week skipping uni to stay home and stuff themselves with ice cream. There’s a (y/n)-shaped hole in their daily lifes, and in Jeno’s heart.

You miss them terribly, just like they miss you. Time is running out until your official coronation, and your grandmother has been preparing you and getting closer to you at the same time. One afternoon, you both cried as you looked over pictures of your father’s coronation.

“I’m so sorry you weren’t able to see him,” she had told you, voice shaky, hands trembling as they gripped yours. For the better part of your life, this woman had been an unknown evil. Now, you’re able to see the love and regret in her eyes. You see it in the way she treats your mother like a proper daughter-in-law, even though she never got to be. The fond smile the queen gifts you with when you show her your photo album with dad’s letters. The pride that’s swelling up in her chest when you behave just like your father. “He loved you long before you were born, just like I did.”

There’s no use denying your feelings for Jeno when the dooming reality is that you’re not allowed to have him, anyways. You don’t tell anyone about your feelings, especially not the queen. But there are nights where you sob yourself to sleep, listening to a particular sad voicemail where Jeno whispers into his phone how badly he wishes you were here. You’re aware your mother knows, because to her, you’re an open book. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything either. When you mourn your childhood crush, she puts your favorite cookies on the nightstand, leaves a kiss on the crown of your head and closes the door to your room.

Being alone is the only gift she can give you right now. In the whirlwind that is an official introduction to the public, getting some peace and quiet was like heaven.

Your coronation is on the day of your nineteenth birthday.

For the first time, you’re really scared about opening your father’s letter. It’s the last one you’re ever going to receive, and the dread sits heavy in the pit of your stomach. It’s such an umcomfortable feeling. Usually, those letters were a chance to look into your father’s heart. The words that convey his love wrap around you like an embrace, and there are many letters you know word for word. Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. Your sixteenth letter. You didn’t understand then, but you understand now. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all.

You open the letter.

Tears swim in your eyes before you can even realize what is written. You feel so overwhelmed by everything; the need to make your father proud, the love growing steadily in your chest for a man you can’t have. The fear of abandoning your mother. The heavy weight of a crown you never actually wanted. It smothers you, and you need several attempts to catch your breath.

A warm hand wipes your tears away. You didn’t even notice your mother sliding into the seat beside you, but you’re glad she did. She lets you rest your head on her shoulder, and familiar fingers that you’ve known all your life loosen up any knots in your hair. With her help, you’re finally able to read your father’s last words for you.

My dearest (y/n),

What a woman you must have become. If there’s any chance you’ve gotten your mother’s stubbornness, I can rest assured that you know how to get everything you want in your life and what you want. After all, that’s how she charmed me.

Today is the day you turn into an adult. By now, I’m sure you’ve been confronted with the throne you’re about to inherit. When I was your age, there was nothing more exciting than that. Other than you, I was raised to be king, taught what was needed to be known and fed with the love to our people. There is no physical impact you can do as royalty in the 21st century, but we represent the tradition of our country. The voice of those who cannot talk for themselves. We have no power in parliament, but we have the power to get loud enough for it to hear us. What others cannot, we must do for them. To help those who cannot help themselves, we must do everything.

But that is only if you want your crown.

(y/n), the crown was not a family heirloom I intended to give you if you didn’t want it. I love your mother, and I love you. I will continue to do that always, whether you decide to claim your birth right or reject it. I love you even if you abandon the family’s traditions to become the person you’ve always dreamt of, and I will still do that when you ascend the throne and make it yours. We are not our ancestors. The future doesn’t lie in our hands. But we can shape it, just like any other person. We can take each other by the hand and change the world together. My father taught me that long before he taught me how to love the crown.

What he didn’t teach me is the love to another person. It’s the only tradition everyone is too proud to change, or get rid of. Arranged marriages are a given, even though our monarchy has changed to accomadate to modern times. But nothing in this world could have stopped me from giving your mother my heart. After all, she blessed me with the most perfect child and love I ever received. To love is to be blessed. I want you to choose whoever you love. Fight for what you believe in, for I couldn’t do it. It is the only thing I regret in my life. I wanted to give your mother the world, and all I’ve given her is suffering. I hope you can give her that for me.

My mother is very proud. It’s what I got from her. It’s not something I want for you. Pride is nothing but silly. Love without being afraid, (y/n). If the person you give your heart to ends up to be royal or not, does not matter. If you choose to not marry at all is up to you.

All I wish for you is to be happy.

I wish for you to be healthy and satisfied. I wish that you accomplish anything you set your mind to and that you can be proud of your hard work. I wish for you to be supported unconditionally and I wish for you to always have the warmth of your mother in your life, for I can’t be there to do it. I love you, my dearest daughter. You are the greatest gift God has given me.

Happy birthday, little (y/n). May you be in good spirits always. Thank you for making your father beyond happy, even though it was only for a short period of time.

With love,

Dad

You can’t stop sobbing. You set the letter down so your tears don’t ruin it, and your hands move to cover your wet face. The crying doesn’t stop, no matter how much your mother kisses you all over and hugs you close. “I wish I could’ve met him,” you bawl.

Your mother fixes your hair and smiles at you, both happy and sad. “I wish that, too.” Another kiss to your forehead. You hiccup. “He would’ve been the best father.”

The words are imprinted into your mind, haunting you while you get ready. Your grandmother is going to introduce you to the public as the princess for the first time, but thankfully, you don’t have to be queen yet. This press conference is only for you to officially claim the throne. Ascending it wouldn’t happen before you finish university and spent the many years learning how to be a queen with your grandmother. You recite the letter in your head while your face is painted by make-up, and you mouth the words while the last finishing touches are done to your dress. The crown set on your head is light, but it feels like the heaviest thing you ever had to carry in your life.

Someone knocks at the door. Your mother sticks her head through, big smile on your face. You give her one back, even though your heart aches.

You wish Yeeun and Jeno were here.

“You’ve got company,” your mom declares and disappears again. The person stepping inside is not your grandmother, as you expected, but Lee Jeno.

His eyes grow wide when he sees you. And the way he looks at you! As if you were the only star in his universe. Your chest swells with love when you see the awe in his eyes, and you don’t even think about reaching out for him. It happens on instinct. Two big steps, and Jeno carefully wraps his arms around your figure. The people who helped you dress up quietly leave the room.

“You look so, so beautiful,” Jeno whispers into your ear. “So gorgeous. I thought I was looking at an angel.”

“Kiss-up,” you mumble, yet you still turn your head to grin at him. Unbeknownst to you, the sight almost makes Jeno’s heart stop. The things you do to him... “How’d you know I was here?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” He nudges the tiara on your head. You giggle. “And even if it weren’t apparent, I still would have found a way to meet you. Because I’ve been dying to tell you something.”

That he was disappointed with you? That it’s all your fault the friendship is going downhill right now? You bite the inside of your cheek. Well, it’s not like you don’t deserve to be told off. So you brace yourself for the reprimanding.

“I love you,” is all you’re getting.

It’s your turn to gape at him. Did you imagine him saying that? Is your brain starting to mess with your perception because you’ve been obsessing over your father’s letter? But no, you’re not dreaming - Jeno is looking you in the eyes, soul laid bare. Waiting for you to reject him and send him off forever.

Your hands cup his face. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” Jeno inches closer. He smells like his perfume and a little bit of Yeeun’s deodorant. You know he always ends up using it accidentally, and it makes his sister laugh without end. You know everything about the man in front of you. Your heart spent years gathering information on the only person who’s ever lived there. “When you first gave me the money for that stupid snack in elementary school, I adored you. I didn’t know shit about love then. But I know that I missed you terribly when you didn’t go to school and I know that I loved having you fall asleep on mine and Yeeun’s lap after hours of studying. I loved twirling you around at prom. I love being the one to wake you up in the morning because you get all doe-eyed and clingy when you‘re barely awake. I love listening to things you’re excited about because you end up rambling and your voice is the nicest thing to listen to. (y/n), I may not have known back then what I was dealing with. But I got it bad, and I still do. If you asked me right now, I’d go on my knees just for a slither of affection. I love you. I love you so much, and yet my heart will make more space tomorrow to love you even more. I don’t think I’ll ever stop and at this point, I don’t want to.”

“Jeno,” you whisper. You want to cry again. “Jeno, I’m going to be queen someday.”

“You already are,” he tells you. His voice is soft, just like how he’s holding you close to him. When you lay your hands on his chest, you can hear his heart racing, pounding heavily against his ribs. As if it’s trying to jump into your hands. “You’re my queen. After all, you rule over my heart and my mind. There’s not a second I don’t think about you. Is that so bad?”

“No.” Jeno lets you tug him closer, accepts the kiss you deliver to his lips and the countless ones after that. Every single one is an unspoken confirmation. I’m yours. “Jeno, I love you, but I can’t... I can’t marry someone...” Who’s not blue-blooded, you want to say. You don’t finish your sentence. He doesn’t let you.

“Choose me,” he begs you, heart on his tongue, delivered to you on a silver platter. It’s all he can offer you as Lee Jeno, your childhood prince, the one your heart and soul craves. “Please, choose me.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Time is a flimsy thing.

It flies by when you’re not paying attention, not even for the coronation of a new queen. It doesn’t halt for the freshly crowned, neither does it for anyone else. Compared to claiming your birth right, finishing university was way easier.

But the easiest thing was getting rid of this stupid tradition. It does not survive a day of your regency, despite many in your family bashing you for it. They were silenced the second your grandmother backs you up on it, and you’re eternally grateful for that.

She’s not going to do the same mistake again. Never again is she going to rip apart two lovers who aren’t meant to be seperated.

Lee Jeno is nothing but a regular boy, but it doesn’t stop him from falling to his knees the second the rule is disabled, never to be abided by again. There are crowns adorning your head that are more expensive than the ring he holds in his hands for you, but you’d toss them all away to keep him forever. There is nothing more precious to you in this world than your childhood prince.

You marry out of love, not out of duty. For the rest of your life, you’re going to wake up to Jeno and his sweet smile, crescent eyes and all. You’ll spend eternity reminding your soon-to-be husband how much you adore him, and someday, you’ll watch your children do that, too. You’re absolutely sure your father would be proud of you.

(And to make one thing clear - Yeeun makes a killer maid of honor. Both Jeno and you can vouch for that.)

You may not have ended up with a royal partner, but you sure as hell found your own Prince Charming.

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jedivszombie · 3 years

Note

HI! For f1 asks - 5 (+9 if you could give me some recs), 12, 13, 23, 28, 32, 33 sorry if its kinda a lot you dont have to answer all of them!!!

HI ANONYMOOSE! Thank you for the ask, I hope you see my answers and I apologise for replying a few days late! I once again ended up writing essays so you will find my answers under the cut! I hope you enjoy them!

it’s hump day: let’s talk about F1 baybee

5. Are there any movies or documentaries you would recommend to understand F1 better?

So I actually have not watched loads of F1 films or documentaries but I have watched a few that I think give an interesting and varied perspective on some things.

Grand Prix (1966), this is a film and a very good film at that! It has a lot of drivers from that era who make cameos and comprise the background drivers - so it’s really cool to see them. The story is interesting and the direction and cinematography is top notch! It gives you a really good idea of what older cars and circuits and safety used to be like, albeit in a dramatised way. There are also a lot of nods to how teams like Ferrari etc used to be at the time.

Race to Perfection (2020), this is a recent documentary mini series that is made up of a bunch of different episodes that cover different aspects of F1 and its history. There’s stuff about how the cars have developed since the 50s, there’s episodes about Schumi and Ayrton and all sorts. Also a lot of ex drivers and people who were involved with teams are interviewed so it’s interesting to hear from them about how situations unfolded or to reflect on some of their glory days. It is worth mentioning though that some of the people being interviewed have a vested interest in coming across a certain way (I’m looking at you Ron), or are choosing to remember things in a certain way. BUT it’s a great starting point for a good overview of different aspects of the sport and how it has evolved.

Grand Prix Driver (2018), is a really good insight to McLaren starting to rebuild under Zak Brown. It follows Fernando and Stoffel during the 2017 season and gives some interesting insight to how one of the most successful and well known teams in the sport started to change their image and rebuild to how we know them now.

I would also recommend trying to watch as many Ted’s Notebooks and Weekend Debriefs as you can find - Ted Kravitz hosts both of these shows and they cover a lot of interesting aspects from races that have happened and explain a lot of technical and complex concepts in a really accessible way. They talk about the drivers abilities, the way the cars are developing, the politics of the sport and other very interesting and key aspects of F1 to be aware of if you would like a broader understanding of the sport outside of just the racing and drivers personalities.

There are definitely loads more documentaries and things you can watch but these are the ones I have personally watched and enjoyed. I have a few more on my list that I would like to watch, such as Grand Prix: The Killer Years and the McLaren doc about Bruce McLaren.

9. Could you recommend anyone?

I think this is related to F1 YouTubers? I pretty much only follow Chainbear on YouTube in terms of F1 YouTubers. Out of Context F1 has a lot of good little clips and snippets of older footage from drivers - a lot of it is more on the meme side/funnier side but there are sometimes interesting clips from interviews there as well.

The other F1 YouTube content I look at is the team’s socials or the stuff from F1 itself and older interviews/features with drivers etc that I can find.

12. Which was the first driver you supported?

The first driver I supported was Schumi - my Dad is a MASSIVE Schumi fan and I have been watching since I was very very small and Schumi was very much involved and on a climb upwards.

The first driver I actually chose to support myself was Fernando Alonso, it was my minor act of rebellion when I was a child. I still loved Schumi of course but for some reason I latched onto my man Flonso. I also absolutely loved Jenson too, but again so did my entire family. But those are the first three that I supported and remember supporting.

13. Which was the first team you supported?

Ferrari baybee! Once you’re in, you can never leave!

The first team I chose to support was BAR Honda though - thank u Jenson.

23. Is there a driver that you think is underrated?

I have written a very long answer to this question here.

28. Do you have a least favourite team? Which one and why?

Yes I do have a least favourite team. Red Bull is my least favourite team. I mean no shade to the engineers and mechanics and people working for the team because they are doing their jobs and doing their best. BUT I do not like their management in the slightest my god. I could rant about Red Bull for days but my main issue is the extremely toxic duo of Christian Horner and Helmut Marko. A lot of people talk extensively about the long list of Red Bull Juniors they have fucked over or passed over for the next big thing or not given proper chances to or actively fucked over (e.g. Buemi, Hartley, Sainz Jr, Gasly, Albon). But really you only have to look at the insane treatment that Jean-Eric Vergne and Daniil Kvyat endured during their time there. JEV was hospitalised trying to keep his weight down. Marko actively trashed him in the press and said he was lazy. There were jokes and comments about Daniil being on ‘shoelace watch’ after his demotion from Red Bull. Sure, if they drop you from the F1 team they will usually still sponsor you in your other series or help you find somewhere to land or even keep you on as a development/test/sim driver but at what cost?

I know it’s F1 and I know the sport is brutal and to an extent there is always someone getting fucked over in teams or by the sport. I don’t expect drivers to be coddled but I do think more should be discussed about drivers mental health and the ways in which teams either help or do not help with that. Personally I would rather the guys behind the wheels of the super fast cars are actually feeling comfortable in their position in the sport and not super desperate because that’s hella dangerous for them and everyone else on track. BUT with Red Bull it’s more than a worrying pattern, it speaks to an entire culture and is downright neglectful at best and abusive at worst.

Also fuck Haas, they fall under a similar toxic culture from management in my opinion.

32. Which one is your favourite team principle and why?

I wrote my answer out in a previous ask here.

But I also just wanna do an honourable shout out to my man Franz Tost, he’s been putting in the work with the Red Bull Juniors and managing to nurture quite a few of them to success over the past decade and keeping a rather chaotic ship running - sure he’s not perfect but he’s been doing a pretty dope job, their treatment of Daniil aside.

33. Do you have a favourite team principle duo or ship?

I also answered this question here.

#maisie loves f1 #yes i went off about red bull no i won't apologise #i can be more coherent if you need me to be #i'm not naive and i know how the sport works but there are issues and things we should not accept #just because that's how it has always been #Anonymoose #Maisie answers

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studentville-struggles · 5 years

Text

For the Love of Cars // Lando Norris

So I’ve been struggling with A Double Life // part 3 because of #writersblock so in the last 2 hours threw this trash together so I could just write something. Anyone else?

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Words: 2093

Proofread? It’s barely written let alone proofread. It might not even be coherent.

Masterlist

Summary: A girls holiday Grand Prix trip leads to a series of incredible friendships, but could there be more?

Girls trips are the stuff of movies. Dutch braids, glitter, bottles of Prosecco and wine made days of sightseeing and sunbathing hilarious story-filled memories. These three girls had been your confidants and party partners since you arrived at university two years ago. This mini-break was your final getaway before you all headed back for your final year, a last hurrah of the summer.

You’d gone shopping, sunbathing, done a wine tour and even hired a little sailboat for a day, something for each of you as well as the things for all of you. Today was your day, the day you got to pick something to do. You were all nerds in your own way and they’d just have to get on your level now.

It wasn’t all bad the girls decided, there was an element of getting ready, finding that perfect outfit. The girls could cope with outfit critiquing and celeb spotting as you wandered around fangirling at everything little thing you could. You loved cars, always had. You had a little banger you worked on when you were 16, not that you’d have been able to drive it even if you could fix it. The only thing was, you’d never managed to get tickets for a Grand Prix before, so when the opportunity arose for this holiday, you had to.

You were just wandering around various exhibits and chatting about the cars and what you were looking forward to – the girls didn’t really watch formula 1 or care about the cars but were gracious enough to listen along to your ramblings – when another girl, she looked to be in similar age to you, started joining in with some of your chat when you were looking at an exhibit.

“This is really random” she began, following on from your chit chat about engine providers, “but you wouldn’t happen to be at a lot of these would you?”

“Grand Prix? No this is my first, never managed to get tickets before.”

“No fair, it’s always fun to mix cars and girl talk. I don’t usually get that.”

“Oh no, how come?”

“I come with my boyfriends family, it’s alright when his mum or sister is here but sometimes it’s a little male if you get what I mean?”

“Oh no I’m with you 100%, I’m usually the same.”

Dilara and yourself exchanged numbers, with you suddenly realising why she travelled to a lot of Grand Prix with her boyfriends family. Given she was the girlfriend of one of the best drivers on the grid. You had promised to keep in touch and message if you were early to the track tomorrow.

Your friends always joked that you could make friends anywhere given half a chance but it appeared to be true this time. Dilara became a good friend very quickly, having found you had a very similar sense of humour and managed to keep in touch with her after the Grand Prix. Some of your messages to each other were hilarious, and it turned out that she loved a fair few of the go memes that had properly tickled you as well.

Noticing the random laughs at texts, Max had apparently gotten a little jealous and had asked who she’s been laughing at. After explaining your bizarre meeting and how you had been keeping in touch, Dilara started telling Max about you, the jokes and memes she’d passed on. Then an idea formed.

“Do you know who she reminds me of?”

“Yes and I’m already trying to plan so don’t do anything stupid.”

——

Only a few weeks later and you had some VIP paddock passes arriving in the post. You were informed, not asked or invited, that you were going to the next Grand Prix with Dilara and Max, ‘Lara apparently deciding she needed more female company and you needed more time with the cars.

“Oh wow look at this we’re bumping into drivers so randomly, hi Lando how are you?” You raised your eyebrows at her but introduced yourself to the McLaren driver.

Lando became someone very important very quickly. You were both total fangirls over motorsport, and total nerds in your ‘thing’. The fact you could sit and chat and never feel bad for getting too excited about a project, or his races, new setups they were trying, was refreshing. You loved the girls, you loved your time with Dilara, but the friendship with Lando was, in a way, different.

Whenever you quizzed Dilara on her weird introduction of Lando, she would merely shrug say that she was weird and that she knew how well you’d get on.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself spending more and more time at his house. You’d sit in the next room as he played on twitch, finalising papers and essays and cover letters for Masters programmes. Once you were ready you’d have him proofread them. It didn’t matter that he barely understood the topic of your essay, in fact, it made him better at proofreading, always highlighting the bits he thought didn’t make sense. You would usually wait until he finished on twitch, not that you had to wait long given the time you would spend working.

Tonight, however, Lando knew you didn’t have much to do, merely formatting. So 20 minutes into his twitch stream, he shouted for you, earning a ‘Jesus Christ’ from Max who had to deal with that through a microphone.. Sticking your head around the corner, Lando was asking if you were done and if he could read your paper yet.

“Yeah, I was just waiting till you finished streaming.”

“Nah I’m only racing Max, you take over and I can read.”

“Hey!” Max chimed in, indignantly.

You handed a print out of your paper to Lando and pulled on the headset. Comments came in on Lando's stream almost immediately asking who you were and if you were Lando's girlfriend. Unfortunately, your familiarity with Max only added to the dating comments and they couldn’t quite work out how else you could know both of them.

That twitch experience was the first of many. It became a fairly frequent occurrence, you taking over and driving for Lando as he read your work, you chatting to Max and generally bantering about. Once or twice Dilara was with Max and managed to steal the headset allowing the two of you to chat holidays and mini-break ideas, something that was never shown on media other than that. The fans were obsessed with your friendship, and also obsessed with the idea of you and Lando together.

You never brought up their speculation, you couldn’t without admitting how much you had come to care for Lando and how much his approval on the little things meant to you. Every time he let you on his twitch streams, your heart would flutter. Every time he would take you along to a Grand Prix, you had a little celebration, feeling like he might just care like you did.

But he never said anything, he never did anything other than what friends could do. You tried dropping hints, you made him dinner more often than not at one point, always brought him a cuppa when you had him proofread your work. Nothing. You were starting to think your friends were right when they said that boys were oblivious to everything. That or he was ignoring your little hints in the hope you’d give up. He was a formula one driver after all; he could have any girl he wanted, why would he settle for little old you, student, nerd, nothing special. You weren’t a model or a driver or anyone really.

You very rarely spoke about boys with Dilara beyond the old “oh he’s cute” when you went shopping and the two of you “window shopped” boys. You’d try and pick out each other’s type. Though you always joked there was no one for you to pick for her, claiming “sorry no Dutch f1 drivers here” much to her dismay. She’s once asked about you and Lando, at which point you’d already given up on him and didn’t want her to feel bad for you, leaving you responding about how close your friendship was.

What you didn’t know, however, was that you weren’t the only one waiting for the two of you to make a move on the other.

“They aren’t making any moves, why aren’t they doing something??”

“Friends is great, but not what we were aiming for.”

That conversation was put on hold as Lando's call ID appeared on Max’s phone.

“I screwed up and I need a friend to tell me to get over myself.”

“What? What’s happened.”

“I may or may not have realised I fancy the actual pants off of Y/N”

“She’s great, I can see why you like her.” Dilara was leaning in to try and hear what was being said. “I’m not seeing why that means you screwed up?”

“She’s going on a date.”

“She’s what?”

“Going on a date, someone set her up on a blind date and she’s going. I didn’t realise how I felt about her till a date was mentioned and then I felt hard done on by the fact she’s going on it. Like why would she just be sitting around for me?”

Dilara was scribbling little notes out,

“Mate I’m so sorry. You can’t blame yourself though and it’s only one date, it’s not the end of the world.”

“I just never realised how much I took her being around for granted. I just got used to her being here, having dinner with her, her stealing my McLaren jumpers when we’re at a race because they’re the softest there and her cheering for me. Like, fuck me when did I get so stuck up and dumb.”

“Can’t comment on the dumb but girls will do that to you man.” Dilara elbowed him for that comment.

In an attempt to distract Lando from his little feelings meltdown on the phone, Max had suggested an impromptu twitch stream, knowing Lando would shut off a bit if he was driving and that he’d put on a bit of a show for people. However not even 20 minutes later Oliver had popped his head into the room to get his attention.

“What Oliver?”

“Door went”

“Did you get it?”

You knew something was wrong by the tone of his voice, Lando was upset and a little angry at being disturbed. Or so you thought. You didn’t want to be more of a pain, you had just turned up without an invitation.

“Maybe I should come back another time..” you squeaked out. Tears still drying on your face, voice cracking from the crying you’d done in the taxi on the way over.

You might have been quiet but Lando heard you. He practically launched himself out of his sim, repeatedly muttering “no”, his heartbreaking at the weakness in your voice.

Not much could be seen from the setup Lando had from his twitch stream but they could see him rush towards you, dressed in a red cowl necked dress. You looked stunning, more beautiful than Lando could process given the hurt he saw.

“I'm here, it’s okay, you’re okay” Lando was comforting you, the words barely audible through his mic, having shoved it off his head and round his neck. He had no idea what had happened but given you were here and not on your date, tear marks clear on your face, he could tell it wasn’t good.

“Cmon let’s get you in some comfy stuff, can’t have you looking like a Ferrari fan now can we?” The small joke hit the mark, bringing a smile to your face.

“You’re right, got any Red Bull merch?”

“Wow, right in the heart.”

The twitch stream was long forgotten, Oliver apparently ruining Lando's score and pushing all of Max’s buttons. Lando had you in some sweatpants and somehow magicked up an extra-large McLaren jumper, knowing you love the extra snuggle of a huge jumper. His team might’ve looked at him weirdly when he asked for one but seeing you wrapped up in his team apparel made him realise he’d do anything to make you happy and comfortable. He couldn’t fathom how it had taken him this long to realise how he felt. No wonder people teased him for getting extra team kit so she could steal it.

Now he only had to figure out a way to tell you all this.

#studentville-struggles #rachel tries to write #f1 fic #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshots #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #lando norris oneshot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen oneshot #speed writing #writers block

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lizzybeth1986 · 5 years

Text

Quick Thoughts on TRFTP Book 1 Chapter 17

• I'm...not even sure what's happening anymore or whether this team is trolling us for expecting better from them. This chapter was shit. As has been this book.

• If you don't want to see these posts, here are the tags to block: #trh quick thoughts, #trh qts, #trh qt reblogs, #long post.

• I spent three days doing literally anything else but replaying it coz the writing for this one was so poor from the get-go, focuses on anything but the important stuff when we're two chapters away from the finale and uses Maxwell to retcon two moments from last book that they'd already bungled up in the grossest way possible.

• Ngl they also made Maxwell sound like a self-centered jerk this chapter. The one time they actually made him the focus, they make him into a narcissistic individual who thinks that just because he's friends with all these influential people he gets creative liberty over personal stuff that happened to them, without even fucking consulting them on it. I'm sure the book reading was meant to be funny but there was so much cringe going on that I wound up thoroughly disliking him this chapter (sorry Maxwell stans). Like this was me the entire time:

• Screenshots:

Hana: The Abhirio YouTube channel

Drake: @thefirstcourtesan and the HIMEME YouTube channel

Maxwell: The rash rec YouTube channel

• Title: Hot Off the Press

Alternative Title: High on All Existing Levels of Cringe.

• The first few dialogues obviously change slightly if you're married to Maxwell. He's a little more contrite about not telling the MC earlier about the book tour:

• My MC is as surprised as I am that we didn't go to Castelserraillian instead, since that place is a hotbed of art and culture (I'm also noticing that the writers have been avoiding mentioning Kiara's estate by name since this book began. It's always called "Kiara's estate" now). But no apparently it's because the Lythikos people have no taste, as we're soon about to find out.

• The MC can't stay too long, since the Last Apple Ball, which is supposed to be the final appearance a mother of the royal heir makes before they deliver, is coming soon.

• Maxwell promised the bookstore...that his friends - who are actual people he has written about in this book and who haven't read it yet - will do a live-reading alongside him...again, without consulting them. O boy. This is going to be fun.

•

I have three points to make about this one:

1. If this book wouldn't exist without any of us then why the hell is YOUR face on the cover of MY goddamned story?

2. LMAO @ Maxwell acting like Liam's only strength is his title when:

a. He's the only one among you all who has a job (not applicable for Hana since she doesn't have a paying job but still works her butt off more than the other two do)

b. Liam threw an entire human being over his fucking shoulder. Like if that's not "actual strength" I don't know what is.

• It's more fun to make Olivia guess when you reach her estate. She either guesses that you're having your baby, that Liam is declaring Lythikos the capital of Cordonia, Drake fell into a vat of whiskey or Hana wants her to lead a self-defence seminar for the noblewomen. Maxwell for some reason isn't even mentioned.

• In any case, we arrive at Olivia's keep/lodge, where she's busy fussing over us.

• I liked the fact that you could do a callback to our first Lythikos Ball in Book 1, mentioning "cold lobsterless bisque". And Olivia doesn't pretend to forget it either, reiterating that she enjoyed besting the MC at her first visit there.

• First Kiara, now Hana. Both ladies make sure Olivia doesn't go ahead with giving us gifts related to "self-defense" 😅

• She does, however, have a special gift in store, this time for our nursery. Paintings for the walls. The royal options mostly showcase golden crowns and a castle, while the rustic options display forest animals. You don't get a free option here, pretty much like you don't get one for the crib mobiles. I think there's one element left in the nursery - the soft toy (one of which is a lion).

• Maxwell then offers to have Olivia there for the reading as well, considering the book's popularity in Lythikos and the fact that she is their Duchess. Olivia tries to get out of it, telling us that she has "duchess things" to do.

• I love whatever little we get of Liam and Olivia's friendship in this series. When the writing actually bothers to acknowledge them as childhood pals it shines. Like the bit where Olivia tries to get out of the reading by citing "duchess things" and Liam grins and tells her that he "can always tell when [she's] lying". Or this little bit right here:

• The MC gets to ask about Liam's investigation on what happened to his mother, which he cites as 'ongoing'. Yknow, we would have had more time to investigate that if the writers didn't shoehorn so many chapters into the Texas section. I can understand a mystery spilling over to the next book, but the reason for that spillover being the writers spending too much time on irrelevant bullshit? Can't relate.

• Following this, Olivia agrees to come for the reading, tells the group which rooms are allowed to them and leaves, and the LI tells the MC about their plans to take her out on a final-date-before-childbirth to a resort in the mountains. This is supposed to be our last LI scene for this book.

• It's a short and fairly meh scene, mostly rehashing the LI parenting issues they currently have and filled with some of the same imbalances we spotted way back in Chapter 4 (the LI scene where the couple sneaked off from the ball where we were hosting Auvernal and Monterisso). It's on a smaller scale here, but the imbalances still exist.

• The scene has two sections, the helicopter scene and the resort scene. The helicopter sequence deals with (except in Drake's case) the LI and their worries over how good a spouse and parent they will be, and the resort sequence is mostly a sex scene with no lingerie of the MC's in sight because they felt too lazy to code a pregnant MC minus clothes. In Drake's case, the serious issues revolving around family get spoken about at the resort rather than the helicopter.

Liam: Is extremely protective, maybe even obsessively so. Discovering his mother was pregnant when she died plays a huge part in his worries about the MC and his child now, as does the fact that growing up without her was hard on him, and that's an experience he doesn't want their child to go through.

Hana: Comes with a sweet story about her mother. The helicopter sequence begins with their child having a "kick party" in the womb, and Hana singing a lullaby that her mother used to sing while they spent time on the piano. Hana speaks of this as being a bedtime routine that her mother made, and how nighttime was the only time of day when Lorelai would pay any attention to Hana. Hana wants to be more involved, more present for her child, essentially the mother Lorelai never truly was to her - while still maintaining that there were moments she was happy with Lorelai.

Maxwell: I honestly expected this scene to have Maxwell speak about Bartie Sr or his mother in some capacity...but they didn't even bother to go that route. Instead they show Maxwell initially overthinking and fretting in his care for the MC, before the MC calms him down by quizzing him over his childcare knowledge so he can see for himself just how prepared he is. Like the pregnancy announcement before it, this scene seems to have been the perfect place to come up with something poignant for Maxwell, except they didn't even bother.

Drake: The helicopter sequence is shorter, but features Drake suggesting to the MC that they could "camp in the mountains". However, his resort scene post sex is the more detailed one, and tackles two issues: his need to be constantly tough and protective, and his memories of his father. In the first the MC tells him it's okay if he's not tough all the time, and he reiterates that especially with the MC and their child he feels like he needs to be...and he speaks about how his father - amazing though he was - often had to toe a thin line between his job (guarding the royal family) and his family (he mentions Jackson guarding Constantine, Liam and Regina...which means that he was around when Constantine had his third marriage as well??).

It's not AS bad as the Chapter 4 "sneaking away" scene during the ball in Valtoria...but as you can see, the same problem still exists. They're trying not to be too obvious about it, but the problem still exists.

• Okay so now it's time for this book reading...and Bastien is our driver and our security detail today. O boy.

• Maxwell is nervous, but the group (specifically Hana) reassure him that the crowd can't be too large considering the venue is a bookstore. Turns out...they're wrong. There's hundreds.

• Everyone except Olivia got nicknames (Liam the Benevolent, Hana the Just, Maxwell the Glorious, Drake the Bold). We get to choose ours (Unstoppable, Magnificent, Sexy). In addition, Drake has become a meme, considering people are holding up "THINGS ARE GREAT" signs close to 8-9 months after he was quoted on that (the ultimate irony, that this quote gains popularity among the actual commoners who have to face tax problems, so very unlike Drake who lives griping and moaning in a fucking palace).

• (also didn't Drake read the book earlier. I recall he mentioned as much in Chapter 5. Why didn't he warn his other friends or mention how terribly written this story was?)

• The rest of it...is ridiculous. I mean sure this can be read as a joke, as funny, as entertaining, but even that is a bit of a stretch and sounds more like we're making excuses for Maxwell's writing of his own friends.

• So the reading itself is divided into sections where the group takes turns to read the bits they were a part of, and where Maxwell aggressively rewrote what they said and did without once bothering to consult them. This includes very personal stuff, and he had no way of knowing if they would like the revisions he made. Like this is something I would expect of a trashy, money-grabbing biographer, not someone who is supposed to be a close friend of these people.

• Olivia hasn't read this book yet and she has no qualms saying that to people, which is kinda cool. I'm guessing Lythikos people normally don't like reading.

• Maxwell begins with the masquerade ball:

Yeah dude you knew I was in over my head yet didn't bother to guide me properly all of the social season. Hana Lee had to save your ass a couple times. The other LIs were running around doing your goddamn job. That you will not mention in this fancy-schmancy book of yours!

• In this revised version of the Masque, Drake thirsts over the MC immediately (damn, Lady MC cleans up good) and Hana is made to sound like a pompous ass (at last, someone who can match my beauty) and Liam is, well, ridiculous. Revised Liam name-drops House Beaumont and Maxwell when complimenting the MC. None of the LIs are very happy with this book as they proceed reading, and the MC can choose to either agree and they plan to have some words with him later (which will never happen) or pretend it's okay.

I don't mind the revision in this particular scene really. Like the masque itself and Liam's turning down of Madeleine later are not that serious, so exploring it lightheartedly is okay. It's when he gives the same treatment to serious shit that happened to his friends that bothers me.

• The next section to be read is Liam dumping "Madeleine the Mean" (LMAO). Nothing much really.

• The best part is of course the LIs repeating their marriage proposals from memory:

This right here is probably the reason why that book sold at all. Or possibly because Cordonians don't have a lot of good taste in books. Who knows.

• The other best part is the MC refusing to give the assassins proper "assassin noises" during her reading.

• So...up until now you've gotten only tiny glimpses of how self-centered Maxwell's book is. It has his goddamn face on the cover. This guy gave the actual protagonist's origin story nothing more than a page while dedicating an entire chapter to a "playlist" for saving the kingdom. But this...this is on another level. He has Liam name-drop House Beaumont and himself during the Masque. In Drake's playthrough he has Drake worry only about him. During Drake's duel he has both Drake and Liam say this shit:

...did Barthelemy Beaumont ghostwrite this book. Coz he sounds more like Bartie Sr here than he does the old Maxwell. The old Maxwell was often clueless but not really THIS obnoxiously self-centered!

• Like first of all, Drake was doing that duel for himself? He did it because Neville was constantly insulting him? This had very little to do with the MC (unless she was marrying Drake) and definitely nothing to do with Maxwell yet somehow his book is written as if he is the be-all and end-all of this group?

• Also, bringing the MC to Cordonia as a suitor because Liam had feelings for her was perhaps the only thing that indicates Maxwell even considers Liam a good friend? (and even then his House needing to sponsor someone was a big factor too) Liam barely features as a "BFF" otherwise, Maxwell keeps placing Drake in that role more?? I heard Liam speak more about Maxwell (and in terms that acknowledge his unique gifts too, like the hotel room scene in Shanghai and the scene where he talks about his friends before the proposal - both are in Book 2).

Like Maxwell doesn't even once worry or ask after Liam once the MC turns him down for Maxwell in his playthrough (not even when he overhears Madeleine baiting Liam in his playthrough. Even then there's no reaction) and just in this chapter he apparently found no other strength in Liam besides the man's title...and somehow I'm supposed to suddenly believe that Maxwell had trouble choosing between the two of them as BFFs, which got resolved over fake dialogues??

• Then of course comes the worst part of this whole trainwreck:

I'm pretty certain a lot of people will excuse this as Maxwell rewriting these events out of kindness...but the truth is, both of these things are extremely personal, in some ways painful experiences for both Liam and Hana, and Maxwell shouldn't have been assuming what they would be comfortable with without even speaking to them first. He's lucky the two took it as positively as they did, but they shouldn't have been required to.

• What really stings about the use of these two sequences is that these were exactly both things the writers themselves never bothered to explore properly. The Lorelai confrontational was the weakest possible end to her arc...and having Maxwell shoehorn Drake and Liam into this moment in his book doesn't exactly make that any better, PB. And then...to have Maxwell put words in Constantine's mouth when he probably knows jackshit about the man? For something the writers never allowed Liam himself to talk much about? Fuck off.

• Also, I notice that Drake's duel is a default passage for the reading, but you're made to choose between Liam's and Hana's important crisis points. And Maxwell doesn't even have one obviously because TRR Book 3 spent too much time on BertVannah. Plus he doesn't deserve his own passage if he's so busy inserting himself in everyone else's story.

• Olivia's passage about defeating Anton is also a default passage, and perhaps the only thing written accurately in that entire trashfire.

• I will happily never want to hear about this book again, and I would rather Maxwell never wrote another book again either.

• There is a diamond option that features a Q&A, which Maxwell didn't prepare for (obviously). If we convince him, these are the questions the public will ask:

- Is the MC comfortable being Olivia's sidekick. The MC has options ranging from gushing about her, to dubbing them both equals, to calling Olivia her sidekick - and in all three cases she cuts off your mic 😂

- For Olivia, little Valerie asks what she should do to become like our resident Scarlet Duchess. Suffice to say Olivia's answers are...concerning to the girl's mother 😅

- For the MC, Cordonian Woman asks how she got to courage to escape Anton. The MC can either mention she had Olivia with her, mention the LI or take all the credit.

- The next question is to Maxwell, about a possible sequel for the book. This is when the writers of TRH have to admit how full of shit their book is: uh, let's see. There was a honeymoon. We went to a ranch for a long time. Er...baby shower?

- For the MC, if there is anything she would change about her wedding. (they didn't include "I deserved better lingerie earlier" as an option and that's a travesty).

- Peter Graves is now a Cordonian dude who is curious about how Olivia fell for Anton's trap, and she mentions his guard baiting her by mentioning that Liam was in trouble, so the book still wants Olivia to have her lingering feelings towards Liam. I can't imagine why the writers would keep drilling this point in if they're not going to do a damn thing about it.

- All in all, not exactly worth the money.

• Once we finish signing a few books, we're on our way back when we're nearly-trampled by the paparazzi.

• Samir of Them Magazine esp outs himself as an asshole and so does the dude in sunglasses.

• Ana de Luca is nowhere to be found here, and Donnie seems to be the only respectable journalist, asking the rest to give the MC some space. I'm guessing they're mostly making the distinction between "respectable, trustworthy press" (CBC and Trend), and tabloid press like Them and the other paps.

• Dude in sunglasses mentions that his source is paying triple rates for any photos of the MC...which is another in a huuuge pile of really suspicious paparazzi stuff that's been happening this chapter that EVERYONE has been too stupid to explore further so far.

• I can see why the ensuing car chase reminds people so much of Diana. The paparazzi don't give up chasing the MC, there's an overall sense of panic about this sequence and the crash does hark back a little to that devastating news. Except in this case, it's going to be a temporary scare, seeing as we are still in our pregnant sprite for the finale Apple Ball gown which I think means we won't be going into labour until that is over.

• @thefirstcourtesan also mentioned to me that the crash reminded her of an episode from Gossip Girl.

• What I think might happen is that the baby, MC and LIs may make it out of this fairly okay, but there will be widespread condemnation of the tabloid press and possibly laws implemented to limit this scale and level of access. Orrr everyone will simply glower and do nothing since the writers don't allow any of these people to possess any common sense anymore 🙄

• So possibly, there may be some focus on the safety of the mother and child, and on the fallout the press has to face as a result of this incident. We still have one last item (the toy) to feature in our nursery so I think that might happen this chapter too.

• 2 chapters until the finale, and Hana still hasn't gotten her own scenes. Neither flashback nor individual. Somehow they deemed it appropriate to give Olivia those by midpoint!

• Also, interesting how the one time Maxwell gets much attention in this book, they decide to do him badly. First they don't put any effort into his diamond scene, then they write him so. damn. badly. Does Maxwell have his flaws? Sure he does. But they did him so dirty this chapter and made him so ridiculously self-centered that it stopped becoming funny after a point, at least for me.

• This book has been such a load of nothing I can't even tell you. Like at least in the previous books threads would either begin to be tied up or they would give you a clear idea of what would be up next. TRH 1 is getting over in two weeks and the most important thing was dealt with only once and spoken of in an offhand manner only twice. At this rate there are all these threads that haven't even begun to be tied up. And sure, this stuff could get more in the forefront in Book 2...but it's been poorly written and poorly paced so far. That's what you get for forcing us all to play some version or other of the Drake route, unfortunately.

• I'll be off to Kerala until November, guys, so the last two chapters may not get a QT anytime soon (range is pretty awful there), and the same goes for TRM, unfortunately. If I'm able to, I'll try doing chapter reviews for TRM, but I'm not sure how that will pan out, or if I'll be able to catch up enough. I'll try.

• As for TRH...I honestly don't know. Writing for this one hasn't been a very pleasant experience, and I don't have high hopes at all for the next book in the series.

Perhaps by the time the second book or the holiday feature is out I might change my mind but for now...I don't know.

• Until November (or hopefully before that, if a miracle happens and I get good range in my parents' place) then, guys!

#long post #trh quick thoughts #trh qts #king liam #hana lee #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis

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unicyclehippo · 5 years

Note

If you continued that modern bodyguard au into something I would be eternally grateful🙌🏼 If so wish I mean

‘do i have to do this?’

‘do you have to promote your new CD by going to a three minute interview? yes, contractually.’ joel nudges her foot with his. ‘it’ll be fine.’

ellie hums quietly, clutches at her guitar case.

‘what are you worried about?’

the question comes from dina hayes, bodyguard of a week and three days. there hasn’t been too much of an opportunity to use her so she’s come along today more as a learning opportunity than anything. she is to shadow joel and accompany ellie in the studio where joel might not be able to, when he’s off doing managerial work, or if the make-up team bans him from the room again. the question comes as a surprise—not because dina hayes hasn’t been conversational or pleasant to be around, but because ellie’s previous bodyguards hadn’t been and she’s still adjusting to the change.

‘i’m not great with talking,’ ellie tells her, and returns her attention to the window and the slow crawl of the city outside of it.

‘why not?’

ellie shrugs. ‘i’m not here to talk about me, i just want people to hear the music.’

‘because the music is important.’

ellie nods.

‘what if you’re important to someone out there? you’re gay, right?’ the question draws a sharp glance from joel, but ellie just nods again. ‘what if hearing you talk about yourself is really important for a kid who is confused or worried, or just really happy to see that you’ve,’ out of the corner of her eye, ellie can see dina hayes waves a hand in a way that includes ellie and the car and the driver and the guitar and the everything that comes with being a semi-famous artist. ‘made it.’

ellie doesn’t look away from the window. they pass a bank of taxis, orange and black, and the sounds of the city are loud even in the car. the beeping of the walk signal, the chatter of a thousand commuters walking into the skyscrapers that shoot up on all sides. ellie pretends she’s back home among the silverbark gums and that these are just massive, massive tree trunks, but the game doesn’t work so well today. because of the nerves, she thinks.

‘thanks for the suggestion,’ joel says finally into what registers to ellie now as an uncomfortable silence.

ellie blinks, looks over at the other woman who is staring out the opposite window. ‘it was a good point,’ she agrees, and when dina hayes looks over, it is with an expression ellie knows well. confusion, mostly, and a whole slew of complicated stuff ellie can’t divine. ‘thank you.’

dina hayes nods. it’s a little disappointing, because ellie likes to hear her voice, but it’s fine.

there’s a small crowd gathered outside the studio that has to be shuffled away so the car can dip down into the private car park. tires squeal on painted concrete as they follow the parking attendant to their place.

stepping out of the car, even a floor down and many tonnes of concrete between them, ellie can hear the faint screams.

‘ell! ell! ell!’

ellie hoists her guitar case into her arms, flicks her fingers over the catches so they click and stick and click and stick and click and-

‘i hope they have signs,’ joel says mildly, following the attendant to the elevator. ‘i like the meme ones.’

ellie grins.‘you’re too meme literate for an old man. it’s weird.’

‘i’m not old.’

‘ancient.’

‘this grey is all thanks to you, y’know,’ he grumbles. he watches surreptitiously as dina hayes sweeps the parking lot and the elevator and leads them in before taking her protective stance next to ellie. he gives ellie a short nod; he likes her, but ellie already knew that.

‘middle-aged.’

‘distinguished,’ dina hayes chimes in, and joel’s brows shoot up and he breaks into a grin.

‘ha! distinguished, yeah! i like that.’

the studio lights are hot and too-bright in her eyes and the couch is way too soft. ellie scoots to the edge of it and gets a glare from one of the studio hands but no one wants to interrupt the anchors introduction of her to correct her position so she pretends that’s the same as permission and stays where she is.

‘—so please welcome to our studio with me, eleanor knight, or as the world knows you now—ELL.’

the sharp-edged sound of clapping pulls her attention from the side of the set where joel is standing, arms crossed, frowning. he’s a solid stable source of what is real and important in those fake-ass room and ellie pulls in a deep breathe, focusing on him. seeming to sense it, joel’s black eyes slide from the anchor over to her and he gives her a short nod.

‘hello, christine gunnarsen.’ ellie says.

‘good morning! and just chris is fine,’ the woman says with a wide smile of perfect white teeth.

ellie wonders if she’d had braces, and how long for, and whether they’d hurt, and how it is that teeth whitening actually works because there’s no way her teeth are white like that just from toothpaste.

‘ok,’ ellie agrees. nods.

if there is one good thing about news hosts, it’s that they’re usually very good at smoothing over awkwardness. christine “just chris” gunnarsen is a perfect example of this. she sits on the couch opposite ellie and turns so that if ellie managed to ignore the massive cameras and the lights and the dozens of people walking outside of the set, it would feel like just the two of them talking.

‘so, ellie—can i call you ellie?’

‘yes.’

‘ellie, you’re here today because as of yesterday morning, you have released your second album—hopeland. now, this is following your debut album a little over a year ago, the last of us, which was received very well by critics and by the public as well. you had two number one hits from the album—winter, and quarantine zone. that’s a lot of success early on, how are you feeling about this new album?’

ellie drums her fingers on the body of her guitar, cocks her head to the side. ‘joel, my dad manager, says i should tell you that i feel very positive because it’s good music and my fans will enjoy it.’ joel, still exactly where he was, shakes his head, grinning.

chris is smiling too. ‘and what about you?’

‘i had a little more fun with these pieces,’ ellie tells her, and she feels her cheeks turn a little hot and shyness shivers up her back. she tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and shifts the guitar closer. ‘i tried out some new techniques and so the sound is a bit different in places. maybe the fans will still like it, maybe it’ll draw a new crowd. i’m—excited to find out.’

‘a little nervous too?’ chris asks, and crinkles her nose like this is a joke just between the two of them. ellie knows it isn’t, but she doesn’t mind. she knows the woman is being kind.

‘yeah. very. music is, it’s really important to me. it’s, it’s probably the foremost way i communicate with people. i’m autistic so music is, it’s always been a way of talking to people and understanding them and helping them understand me and i think the first album did that well and this one will show a little more.’

chris looks surprised by the comparative flood of information but rolls with it, nodding. ‘like what? what can we expect from it? this is the CD,’ she says, and picks up the slim box from the table. ‘but it’s available on spotify and iTunes and anywhere else to listen to music, is that right?’

ellie nods. ‘i think my favourite one—i mean, it’s hard to pick,’ she says, and laughs quietly. ‘i wrote all of them, with a little help from some of my friends—‘

‘your co-writer on the CD is listed as howie garzia?’

‘yeah, howie is brilliant,’ ellie agrees and smiles genuinely, properly genuinely, for the first time since she was sat on this couch. she can’t help but pluck out a quick line on the guitar as she says, ‘they’re probably the most musically intelligent person i know. howie has years of classical training in, like, voice and a billion instruments and i was really lucky that they were partnered with me. we had a really great time making this album together and i got to meet my best friend.’

‘i’ve heard so many similar stories of either artists making great friends with other artists or great enemies. what is it about the process of making an album, or this album, that brings people together like that?’

‘it’s a lot of work,’ ellie says with a shrug. ‘more than people might thing. more than i thought when - when i started a few years ago. but when you’re, you’re - when you’re putting your thoughts and feelings and heart down on paper and playing it for someone else to hear it can be a really vulnerable experience, especially that first time or first hundred times, so it’s gonna be with the right person. howie listened and made it better and pushed me to challenge myself to, to not bring it back in? to keep it out there where people can hear it all. they make my music better and me braver so,’ ellie shrugs, cheeks fully warm now, and she ducks her head as her fingers nervously play over the guitar.

‘well, that sounds like a beautiful segue into asking you to please play something for us off your album. we have a stage over there,’

‘what a coincidence,’ ellie says, unthinkingly, teasingly, and is rewarded with a bright laugh from the host and a few others scattered in the crowd. she lets herself be led to the stage and sets about making sure the microphone is at the right height, though this is all stuff they did before ellie went onto the show. she clears her throat, searches the room for joel—there, square and solid—and, without really knowing why, she searches for dina too and finds the other woman staring back at her—bright eyed and proud.

‘i think i stated to say before but i got sidetracked,’ ellie says with a grin, more confident behind her guitar, the microphone, the persona of ELL. ‘this is one of my favourite songs i wrote. it’s called fun and games, and it’s a love song, i guess, to first loves.’

#prompt fill #ellie x dina #video games #bodyguard au

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mosylufanfic · 5 years

Text

Some Rules Are Meant to be Broken

Killervibe Week Day 4: Free Day

So . . . a little background on this. A long time ago (looooooooooooong time ago) some lovely nonny sent me a request for a matchmaker AU. I went OOOOOO. My brain started popping and fizzing with thoughts and before I knew it I had a whole multi-chapter story in my head. Which was where it stayed, because I think I was working on other multi-parters at the time and there are only so many hours in the day. I maybe wrote one scene, and then it sank into the depths of my Gdocs like a dinosaur succumbing to the tar pits.

This happens way more often than I care to admit.

Then I was whining on Discord about how I was suffering from choice paralysis for Free Day. Too many ideas, not enough words. And I realized I had a whole bunch of partial fics just sitting around, waiting for me to actually finish them up. So what did I do? Went back to the matchmaker AU and wrote the end. From scratch. In about a day and a half. In my defense it was all in the primordial ooze of my brain-meats, I just had to find the words and put them in the right order.

Anyway I hope if that very patient and long-denied nonny is reading this, you like it.

Some Rules Are Meant to be Broken

The offices of Connections were dim and shadowed as Cisco unlocked the door. He didn't bother hitting any lights, so familiar with the layout that he could navigate the waiting room by the dim light of the Central City skyline outside the windows.

He walked down the hall, past a wall of framed pictures that gleamed faintly in the low light. Happy couples, wedding invites, birth announcements, even the occasional letter or printed email thanking Connections for matching the client with the love of their life.

There were more inside his office, some of his personal triumphs. He turned away from them and felt around until he released the catch on two doors set into the wall. He pulled them open to reveal a small but well-stocked bar.

He ignored the glasses and the minifridge full of ice and chilled drinks, and grabbed a bottle of Scotch right off the shelf. A couple of steps took him to a small sitting area arranged by the window, and he dropped into one of the comfy chairs. Scowling, he worked the cork out. It released with a pop, and he tossed it aside and drank right from the bottle.

He didn't normally drink at work unless he was entertaining a client, but this was a special occasion.

Twenty minutes later, the lights in the waiting room flicked on, and then his door opened and his overhead lights blazed. He squinted and said, "Hey."

His business partner, Iris West-Allen, leaned in the doorway. "Well, don’t you look pitiful."

He slouched in his chair, looking up at her.

"You gonna share?" she asked.

He swung the bottle in her general direction. "Have a snort."

She looked at it, shook her head, and got up to grab a glass from the bar, as comfortable in his office as she was in her own. She poured herself a couple of fingers of scotch and sipped. "You're chugging this?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "What’s the problem?"

"Nothing, if it was flavored vodka from Safeway. But this is a Lagavulin that's old enough to drive."

"Time it got drank, then," he said, and took another slug straight from the bottle, while she shook her head. "Great party," he said when the silence threatened to drown him.

"One of our best," she replied. "I saw at least five couples pairing off."

He stared at the label on the bottle. "Uh-huh."

"Even Caitlin Snow seemed to find someone she liked."

This time, the answer was much slower in coming. "Uh-huh."

"I don't know why we didn't think of introducing her and Ronnie before."

He shut his eyes and saw again the way that Caitlin had smiled and laughed with Ronnie Raymond. One of Iris's clients, not his, but Cisco knew him anyway because they matched up each others' clients all the time. Tall, good-looking, nice, smart, a go-getter, and on top of all that a genuinely good guy. Perfect for Caitlin. One of his better matches, honestly.

Shit.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "They were perfect together."

Iris stared at him, then shook her head. "You ding-dong," she said.

He rubbed his eyes and didn't offer a defense. He had none.

"What's the first rule?"

"Don't talk about Fight Club?" When she glared, he sighed. "Figure out what the client wants, and give it to them."

"And the second rule?"

"Don't fall in love with a client."

"I told myself you were fine," she said. "I told myself you were a pro and have been for years. I thought, hey, Cisco really likes this client. She's a challenge, and he likes a challenge. You're meeting her week after week, talking over her dates, texting with her, but that's no big deal. We've all had clients we just clicked with."

"Yeah." Some of his best friends were former clients.

"And then Caitlin and Ronnie hit it off at the party, and I look over expecting to see you doing a goddamn happy dance. Instead you look like someone ran over your dog."

He remembered that moment. Not that he'd noticed Iris looking at him. But the moment he'd seen Caitlin laugh at something Ronnie said, touching his arm, smiling up at him, he hadn't had the bright zing! of a match successfully made.

Instead, it had been like cement pouring into his gut, as he realized that he was watching the woman he loved fall in love with someone else.

Iris swirled her Scotch and stared him down. "Did you sabotage her intros?"

He sat up straight. "No!"

"Are you sure?"

"I - " He stopped.

What if he had? Maybe, subconsciously, he'd been in love with her since the moment she'd come into his office, grumpy and uncooperative because her mother had bought her a package of five introductions through a matchmaking service. What if he'd been finding matches that he could tell himself were the right guys for her, but in reality, were just wrong enough for her to keep coming back?

Keep seeing him.

Keep talking to him.

Keep smiling at him with those big beautiful brown eyes.

"I don't know," he muttered finally.

Iris held out her hand. "Her file. Now."

Cisco slumped down into his chair and drank again. "Top drawer."

She went and got it, and refrained from pointing out that Caitlin's file was the only one in the top drawer. She flipped it open to study his notes for a moment. "She's got one more intro."

He took another drink. "From the looks of it, she won't be using it."

She shrugged. "We deposited the check for the full package. Until she uses it all, she's still a client."

"Right." Caitlin could come back years from now, asking for her last intro, and she would be entitled to it.

What would he do if she did? Would he smile at her fondly, remembering that long-ago time when he'd fallen in love with her, the feelings soft and faded like old flower petals?

Or would they still be simmering away? Rising up in him like a volcano?

He didn't know which to hope for.

Iris tucked Caitlin's file under her arm and came back to the sitting area to give him a hug. "I'm sorry," she said in his ear, her voice gentle.

He leaned against her. "My fault," he muttered back. "I should have known what was going on sooner."

"Love catches us all unawares." She ruffled his hair and he ducked away from her, scowling and finger-combing it back into place.

"You want to come over and watch terrible horror movies with my husband?" she asked. "I'll supply the ice cream and the tissues."

Tempting, but he knew that the whole time, he'd be remembering an evening he'd spent with Caitlin in much the same way. She'd been down because she'd gotten stood up for a third date, and Cisco had been the one supplying the ice cream. They'd ended up snuggled together on the couch - that exact couch right here, across from the chair he sat on - giggling helplessly over a cheesy sci-fi movie cued up on his laptop.

(He'd also taken great pleasure in calling Julian and ripping him a new one the next day. No spark or not, Connections clients did not stand up other clients without so much as a text.)

"I think I'll go home and wallow on my own for a day or two," he said, re-corking the Scotch and setting it on the coffee table. "Maybe crack open some Safeway vodka. I got a bottle of caramel flavor that's calling my name."

Iris eyed the level of the liquor. "Want me to drive you?"

He got to his feet and gulped when the floor tipped under his feet. "Maybe you'd better," he said.

He felt a little steadier when she dropped him off at his building. Steady enough to get up to his loft, anyway. She leaned over from the driver's seat, eyes compassionate. "Call me if you need me. Don't drink yourself to death."

"No promises," he said.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked.

"I've fallen in love before," he said. "This is just one heartbreak. I'll survive, and I'll fall in love again someday."

But none of them would be her.

A week later, Cisco had clocked several hangovers, lots of empty Kleenex boxes, and about a million calories in ice cream. The sharp slice of pain had dulled to an ache in his chest.

Three or four hundred times a day, he picked up his phone to text Caitlin. Sometimes it was an absent-minded, Oh hey, she'd enjoy this meme and sometimes it was what would it hurt to say hi?

Sometimes, when he was being honest with himself, he was about to declare his love and beg her to be with him.

She hadn't contacted him. Obviously, too busy being wildly in love with Ronnie Raymond.

In his weaker moments, he pictured them holding hands as they walked by the river, dining by candlelight, kissing on a balcony before slipping inside to a darkened bedroom.

That was usually followed by more drinking, more tears, and more ice cream.

He managed, somehow, to keep the messier moments out of the office, if only because he was intensely aware of Iris's compassionate and piercing eye. It helped that he'd given their office assistant the key to his liquor cabinet, with strict instructions not to give it back unless he was with a client, and threats of death and dismemberment if he caught Ralph with liquor on his breath at work.

So Cisco was unfortunately sober as he sat at his desk, riffling through index cards with client names and brief notes on them, trying to figure out who would be enough of a match for each other to set up intros.

Usually it felt like a jigsaw puzzle, moving people next to each other, making guesses at who would click into place. This guy would love that girl's quirky sense of humor. That guy would gel nicely with this guy's freewheeling lifestyle. That girl would be impressed by this girl's high-powered job.

But for the past week, it had felt like shoving paper dolls around. The client cards sat on his desk, click-less. Not buzzing or fizzing in the way that meant this could be true love. Just . . . two people standing next to each other.

He shoved his hands through his hair and let out a deep groan.

This is what you do. You're good at it, and you love it.

"Not right now, I don't," he said to his empty office.

His phone dinged with a text. He picked it up. Iris had written, Running late. Not going to be back for my 2:30. It’s an intake. Can you do it for me?

No prob, he wrote back. Here?

She'd prefer to meet at Jitters

Sometimes people asked for that. They didn't want to feel so much like they were contracting a service. More like they were chatting with a friend, asking for a casual setup. Cisco was happy to let them feel that way, even as they were John Hancock'ing the contract and promising to pay their more than healthy fee.

And it would be good to get out of here. Stretch his legs, get some air and caffeine. Who knew - maybe a new client would kickstart his mojo.

He tapped out, Has this new girl got a file?

On my desk

You're the best

Damn right I am

He glanced at the time and realized he was going to need to book it in order to get downstairs to the coffee shop on time. Damn, Iris had cut it close. He dashed across the hall to his partner's office and grabbed the manila envelope that sat on her otherwise pristine desk. "Client meet at Jitters," he called out on his way through the waiting room. "Text if you need me."

"Got it, boss," Ralph said cheerily, scrolling through Facebook as he did a basic background check on a prospective client.

"And don't call me boss."

"You betcha, boss."

Cisco rolled his eyes and yanked the door shut behind him.

He'd planned to have a quick look at their new client's file on the elevator, but it was occupied by a guy from the next floor up, someone he'd successfully set up last year. Cisco smiled and glad handed and made appreciative noises over the pictures of the house the couple had just bought together, but he stepped out of the elevator with the envelope still sealed.

Jitters was on the street-level floor of their building. When he walked in, a barista waved to him and started making his usual without asking. He waved back and looked around. Nobody was obviously waiting, so he grabbed a quiet corner booth and settled down to open up the client file.

Instead of the usual intake form with attached picture, there was just a sheet of blank printer paper with Iris's scrawl dashed across it.

Remember rule one.

He gaped at it.

Then the heaviness of the envelope registered. He put his hand in and pulled out the sparkling starburst pin that they issued to all their clients, so they could identify each other at an intro. Worlds away from a chrysanthemum and a copy of Wuthering Heights.

"What?" he whispered.

The bell over the door jingled, and he looked up. "Caitlin," he said numbly.

It felt like a year, not a week, since he'd seen her. He drank her in. God, she was so beautiful. But pale. She looked pale. And there were shadows under her eyes, even though she'd tried to hide them with makeup.

Had she been lying awake like him? Or . . . maybe she'd been awake for a better reason, with Ronnie.

She smiled. Was it his imagination or was it a nervous smile? "Hi, Cisco. Can I sit down?"

"Hey. I actually - uh - I'm meeting a client here -" He saw the starburst pin on her blouse, identical to the one he held, and stopped.

"You're meeting me," Caitlin said, taking a seat across from him.

"I don't - " Maybe he wasn't caffeinated enough, even though he'd downed three or four cups since this morning. "Did Iris talk to you?"

"Yes," she said, twisting her hands together on the tabletop. "You didn't text."

He avoided her eyes. "No, sorry, we've been busy - "

"You usually text the day after a date to see how it went, but you didn't, after the party. And you left that night kind of quickly, without saying goodbye. So I - I waited a day and then I called the office, just in case you weren't feeling well. And Iris told me that she was going to be my matchmaker now."

"We do that sometimes," he said. "Shuffle things around. To redistribute the workload."

Lie and a half. They never, ever did that. They matched clients with matchmakers as carefully as they matched clients with each other.

"Yes," Caitlin said. "That's what Iris said."

"So - um. What's this all about? You just wanted to talk?"

Was this Iris's idea of closure? Did she somehow think this would be good for him?

This was very much not good for him. He was already mentally selecting which flavor of vodka was going to destroy his liver tonight.

"I met with Iris here yesterday," Caitlin said. "We talked for awhile and then she asked me what I want. And I told her." She bit her lip and held his gaze. "I want you."

"Me," he said.

She nodded. Her hands twisted around themselves like a nest of anxious worms. "Not as my matchmaker. As - as my match."

He felt his mouth fall open. "But . . . " he said numbly. "But Ronnie. You were totally into Ronnie at the party."

"Ronnie was very nice," Caitlin said. "He asked for my number and we had dinner the next day. And if things were different, I could see us becoming something. But there was already you."

He swallowed hard. Him.

Him over Ronnie. Tall, hot, good-guy Ronnie.

She twisted her hands again. "And I know I'm a client and you're a professional and there are rules about this kind of thing. But the best part of this whole experience has been you. Every date I went on, I was just thinking the whole time how to tell you about it. Every time your name pops up on my phone, my heart skips a beat. Every day I just want to come by the office here and see you, talk to you, and the days I could were just . . . better, Cisco, they were better."

She gulped air, as if the cascade of feelings had drained her lungs to the bottom.

"Maybe this is like therapy where transference is a risk, and maybe you're just like that with everyone, but I -"

"I'm not, though," he said, reaching out across the table for her hand.

She stopped dead, her eyes going big. "You're not?"

He shook his head. "Only with you."

"Oh," she breathed.

"And I am a professional and we do have rules, but I was just - I was in the middle of it before I even knew what was happening."

"The middle of what?"

"Love," he said. "I'm all the way in the middle of love with you, and I've been a complete wreck trying to find my way out."

Her hand tightened on his. "Don't," she said. "Don't try to get out. Just stay here. With me."

She was too far away, a continent of table in between them. He scooted around the booth and took her face in his hands, asking a silent question.

She answered it by leaning forward and kissing him.

Joy bubbled up, floating him away until his only anchors to earth were her lips on his, her arms around his neck, the curves of her body pressed up against his.

Something thumped, and someone coughed.

They broke apart and found the red-faced barista setting two coffees down in front of them. "Both on the Connections tab?" she asked.

Cisco dug in his pocket. "No, this is personal." He wiggled his brows at Cailtin. "I know how you feel about the first date, but seriously, let me get this."

She leaned into him. "Fine but I'm buying the ice cream later on."

The barista took his credit card away, still blushing, and Cisco took a sip of his latte. It was the same thing he always got, but it tasted like ambrosia. "So, ice cream?" he asked, taking Caitlin's hand.

"Well, or dinner, or . . ." She trailed off. "You're not going to get in trouble for this or anything, are you?"

"Considering Iris set this whole thing up like the scheming schemer she is, I'm gonna go with no."

"But what if you get your license revoked, or something?"

"Just how organized do you think we are?" He kissed her knuckles. "No, I'm not gonna lose my license. No license to lose. There are a couple of rules in the matchmaking biz, but they're kinda like the pirate code."

"Guidelines," Caitlin said, and he grinned hugely at her.

"Exactly. There is a rule about never falling in love with a client, and that's a grey area for us, but technically you're Iris's client now, not mine."

"Mmmm. Seems like splitting hairs."

"I'll gladly split a few hairs for us," he said. "But the very first, most important rule is, get the client what they want." He squeezed her hand. "And you already told me what you want. Which is coincidentally what I want, which . . ." He paused. "Hang on, does that make me my own client now?" How much did he owe himself? Hmmm.

"Oh! Iris asked me to give you this," Caitlin said. She dug around in her purse and handed over an envelope with the logo of Connections in the return address corner.

Somehow knowing what he would find, Cisco opened it anyway. Inside was an invoice. Iris's name was neatly typed in the Matchmaker line, and on the line where they would put the client's name, he saw his own.

One introduction, the invoice read. And down where the price would be, Iris had written I totally expect to be your best man.

Cisco grinned at it and tucked it away. "Hey," he said, reaching out to touch the starburst on Caitlin's shirt. "You can take that off. You're not going to need it anymore."

Caitlin peered down to undo the pin. "No, I most certainly won't."

FINIS

#Cisco Ramon #Caitlin Snow #killervibe #killervibeweek #killervibeweek19 #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #matchmaker AU #free day #the flash

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swanandapirate · 5 years

Text

A Muted Hue of Grey (11/14) -- CSBB

Summary: Emma Swan liked being a PI in Boston. It was a fun job, she had an okay income and she was a good one at that, so there was no logical reason to try and leave. Except for the fact that she wanted to, so badly. And, when she received a job offer for what seemed to be the opportunity of a lifetime, she did exactly that. Leave. Run. All the way to London. The job was simple: trailing a man called Killian Jones. Easy enough.

Well, until things get complicated, that is.

Rating: M (mentions of violence, previous mentions of alcohol abuse,and sex)

Wordcount: 4000

Links: ao3 // ff.net // spotify chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 // chapter 8 // chapter 9 // chapter 10

A/N: Would you look at that another week has passed and we're back! Thanks to my betas @acourtoftruelove and @ofshipsandswans and my lovely artist Sophie @shady-swan-jones for making this art (ch 1 // ch 2 // ch 5 // ch 7 )

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“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Killian’s sleeping form. “I have to do this even though you’re probably going to hate me afterward. There’s no other way.”

She crouched in front of the bed, leveling her eyes with his closed ones. She yearned to touch his face but didn’t dare to; he could not wake up. It would ruin everything. Her head dropped, her forehead burrowing into the grey sheets adorned with small blue anchors. He’d apologized for them as they lay catching their breath, slowly getting down from the high they experienced. The sheets had been another incentive. He was innocent. Gold was the bad guy in this situation.

Which is why he needed to be eliminated.

So that they at least had a chance of a peaceful life. They stood a chance in life. The world would be a better place without him; Killian would still have a brother if he’d never encountered Gold. He would’ve had a different life, one without so much heartbreak and sorrow. She couldn’t fix that but at least she could make sure Gold’s reign of terror ended.

Her eyes fell on Killian’s sleeping form one last time, attempting to print the image of him into her mind, looking at every detail, every aspect of him in the darkened room. She was doing this for the greater good. Maybe she was ruining everything that they had, but how else would it stop? How else could she live with herself knowing all that she’d done wrong. It didn’t matter if she was putting herself in a dangerous situation, all that mattered was keeping him from harm. She was finally fighting instead of running away, finally facing the issue instead of sweeping it under the rug and ignoring its presence there.

She felt a demanding presence of tears in her eyes and willed them to go away, to not make this even harder than it already was. To not make this as much as a goodbye as it was. She should get going, they were getting closer and closer to sunrise and she was losing precious time. Not to mention that Killian had said he was an early riser, the last thing she needed was him waking up to her fully-dressed, sitting next to his bed with tears in her eyes. That would only lead to questions she did not want to answer. This was her only shot, her only chance to make a clean cut. So she had to go.

She got off of her knees, her bare feet slowly tiptoeing backward while she kept looking at him, his chest still steadily rising and falling, his expression without a care in the world. He’d thought they were able to solve it. They hadn’t talked a lot but she knew that Killian was planning to do so in the morning, attempting to clear the air to see if they could move forward, move past this. Emma knew they couldn’t. She had to be realistic and if there was one thing Emma Swan was good at, it was being realistic. And running.

The door was still half open before her hand pushed, changing the crack to a wide opening.

“I love you,” she said in the faintest of whispers, almost not loud enough for herself to hear.

The door closed again and so her view of Killian was obstructed. One stubborn tear fell in spite of her efforts to keep the tears at bay. Quickly, she used her thumb to flick the droplet away, letting out a big breath as she went in search of her shoes.

It had been some time since she last uttered those words, a long time even. Since Neal. Killian deserved more, deserved someone who would tell him they loved him every day with so much ease and actually mean it. Not her, who already struggled with saying it in the dark and in the middle of the night while he was asleep.

She just had to say it once. Finally voice the sentence that had popped up every time he smiled at her and crinkles formed around his eyes, every time he’d sent her soccer memes, every time he seemed to know exactly what she needed to a point where she wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t a telepath.

She loved him.

It was different from when she was with Neal. She was younger then, more innocent and carefree and Neal had seemed like the perfect guy for her. Even though they didn’t truly know each other. They had lived in their own secluded world, a bubble filled with running and hiding, never really being able to catch their breath to talk about more than where they were going next.

It was different from when she was with Killian, drastically so.

It was real with Killian. So real. Which was why this hurt so much.

The lock of the front door clicked behind her. Emma stood still, glancing over her shoulder one last time, pretending she somehow had X-ray vision and could see him a final time. But in reality, all she could see was a dark, wooden door, a separation between the both of them.

She took the hood of her sweater and put it over her head before running down the stairs. She pushed the entrance door open and her skin was hit with the cold night air. There was not a soul in sight, it was the ghost hour. Slightly too late for people to still be awake, slightly too early for people to have woken already.

Emma began to walk. She’d only been in his office once; it was now months since Gold had made her sign the contract, that damned contract. After that one meeting, it had been dark corners and shady alleys, anything but highly frequented public spaces, anywhere but places where they could be seen, could be connected to one another. She didn’t expect Gold to be there right now, it was the middle of the night after all, but perhaps she could find a clue, some sort of indication where she could find him. An address, a phone number, something that would lead her to him. That was what she was focusing on right now, the rest could come later.

The street lit up with the lights of an oncoming bus and she turned her head, inspecting the line number before rushing towards the bus stop a few yards ahead, extending her hand while running to signal the driver to stop. The vehicle came to a halt and she hopped up, managing a tight-lipped smile in gratitude towards the woman. The bus was completely empty save from one man in the complete back of the bus, lost to the world as a soft snore blended with the roar of the engine. Emma picked the middle ground, the precise spot between the driver and sleeping beauty in the back, to sit down.

She let her head rest against the window, her eyes trying to register the fast-moving scene outside. The flashing lights were bright, too bright for her two-hour-of-sleep brain to handle, so she shut them. Her heart began to speed up in fear. Of how it all would end, whether it ever would. A shaking breath left her lips. Her hand went up to pinch the bridge of her nose, fingers brushing along what Emma would assume were some award-winning dark bags under her eyes.

It was too late to back down now.

Her eyes opened again, the fear dwindling as determination prospered.

She was doing this.

It took the bus a few additional minutes before they arrived at the stop closest to Gold’s office and when she more or less saw the familiar surroundings, distorted by the dark but still recognizable enough, a ding alerted the bus driver of her desire to get off. The woman complied, slowly braked and eventually stopped the bus, allowing Emma to leave.

If she remembered correctly, the office should be about a ten-minute walk from the bus stop. The lack of sunlight was not helping, however, and was only contributing to disorienting her even more. Time for the return of Google Maps, it was.

Due to one wrong turn, it took her slightly longer to reach the building than the navigation system had predicted, but she didn’t particularly mind. Reaching her destination was all that mattered.

The building wasn’t impressive as such, just your typical two-story building with a storefront on the ground floor and a side entrance that led to apartments—or an office in this case—upstairs. She knew, however, that this was a deliberate choice. It looked easy and simple enough to break in but, knowing Gold, it would not be. There would be some hidden trap. He used this tactic when it came to his contracts—make them seem agreeable enough only have some hidden clause—and Emma knew he’d do it here as well. She needed to be cautious.

It had been a while since she’d last done this, since she’d lived off of petty crime and had no qualms with it. She was now on the right side of the law, barely, but at least she hadn’t done anything downright illegal in the last ten years.

Making sure the hoodie over her head truly covered her features, Emma went inside. She immediately spied a camera pointed at the entrance and she bowed her head, avoiding a flash of her skin to be recorded on the tape.

Out of her pocket, she fished two bobby pins, using her teeth to straighten them out and turn them into tumblers. She crouched in front of the door, eyes close to the lock to inspect it, to try and figure it out while she shone the pocket light of her phone on it. She softly inserted one of the pins, her ears searching for any sound that was out of place. If she got caught like this, it was over. No one would believe she was just coincidentally trying to pick a lock. The second pin joined its companion in an intricate dance, one where every step had to be precise and correct. Shutting her eyes, she let her ears take over. After a couple of seconds of wriggling, a satisfying click brought movement to the door.

She was in.

The door creaked open, granting her passage to her single greatest enemy’s lair, giving her access to his treasures and secrets.

Emma had to be realistic, however. The chances that she’d be able to find some incriminating proof against Gold in here would be minimal. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack and she had no idea what a needle looked like. She also knew that that wyrm of a man would find a way to escape the accusations, to put the blame on her instead and walk away freely. Killian had spent years attempting to prove his guilt and he’d only come up empty-handed.

She walked over to the main office, extremely cautious about everything she saw and everything she touched. She pulled on the left sleeve of her sweater and hid her hand inside to grab the handle and open the door. There lay a large carpet covering the floor and Emma hesitantly stepped on it, only letting her feet touch the places that seemed worn enough, ratty enough to have been stepped on every single day. Following the path Gold always took, she ended up at the massive desk standing in the middle of the room.

She carefully checked the sheets of paper on the desk. Nothing. Softly opened the left drawer and took out an address book that contained about a hundred addresses but his own. Nothing. In the right drawer, she could only find a collection of gold fountain pens and fancy looking paper. For his contracts, Emma thought before moving on.

There had to be something that tied back to his home or his life outside of this disreputable business he was running. What was a place she could find something that had been carelessly left? She searched around the office peering before her eyes fell on a metal paper bin which was glimmering in the bright light that her phone was emitting.

Gotcha.

Most of the paper she found in the trash was just scribbles, half printed pages of some forms, empty package boxes and Emma was about to give up, deem her only last resort useless when she came across a tiny paper. Once she picked it up she could see it was folded and as she slowly peeled back the layers, the small square became larger and larger. Her eyes scanned the paper once it was fully unfolded and came to the conclusion that it was a bill. The light on her phone got brightened until she could properly read the document. It seemed to be an order and while the delivering address was stated as this office, the billing address said something else. A sinister smile appeared on her face. She knew where to find him.

The valuable piece of paper got folded back to its original size and got stored into her back pocket as she attempted to not leave a trace of her presence there. Books were put back in their original place, papers got stacked again, drawers were closed.

Emma followed the exact steps she took back, head held low and steps quiet. The door locked behind her again and she started running. Until her breath got out of control and she felt that she truly was far enough away from the office that if some silent alarm had gone off, no one would suspect her of being the instigator.

She retrieved the paper from her back pocket and unfolded it again, this time properly reading the address in the illumination of a lonely street light. It felt completely foreign to her, so she tapped the airplane mode of her phone off and let the map guide her again.

The sky at the horizon shifted from midnight blue to azure, an indication of what was to come. There wasn’t a lot of time left.

It took her over an hour to get to the place which gave her a lot of time to think. All the while she kept repeating the mantra in her head. She had to do this. She had to do this. This was not the time to get cold feet. Not when she was so close to him. The urbanization had slowly vanished, filtered out and was infiltrated with green, a vast surface of trees and bushes, decorating the brown soil.

The sun began to rise, the previously dark woodland now dusted in the gold of dawn. The warm yellow rays hit her skin, lighting it up and while the rain dew still drifted through the air and covered the ground, she embraced the tiny fragment of heat she’d been gifted wholeheartedly.

It had to be one of the cabins that were scattered around the forest.

Having no idea which direction she was supposed to go, she could only explore. She walked around, an odd branch snapping under her shoes. The grass was long, brushing against her boots as she walked with a steady step. She was a woman on a mission.

The first cabin she came across was not even close to the cabin number she was heading for, Emma sighing at the longer search before returning to the main road, a path of worn, flat grass, and continuing her quest of finding the number that corresponded with the one typed on the bill.

She was expecting to find a locked door but still grabbed the handle with her sleeve to test it, more out of reflex than anything else. Emma frowned and surprise hit her as the handle didn’t get stuck halfway but went all the way down, granting her access to the building.

Was Gold that careless? That seemed unlike him. But who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth?

With the utmost stealth, she pushed the door open, her eyes racing to take in everything there was, to be able to prepare herself for any threat that might present itself.

It was still early enough to catch him asleep, the light still faint enough for Emma to be somewhat hidden, to be somewhat able to take advantage of the trace of darkness that still tainted the sky.

She breathed in and a musty air hit her nostrils, a stark contrast with the crisp, outside air. That air had been young, rejuvenating and the one she was currently breathing was old. It symbolized stagnance and immobility. Obsolescence.

Her nose scrunched as the scent now took complete control, but she attempted to ignore that sense and focus on the other, her eyes and ears specifically were vital here. Emma continued her venture inside, now actually stepping into the room the front door led to. Trepidation roiled in her gut, how was she supposed to react? What was she going to find inside?

Emma looked around the cabin and...

It was empty.

Not only empty but deserted. A thick layer of dust covered the table and cabinets, delicate cobwebs were spun in the corners, decorating the room like garlands. There was not a single sign someone had been here recently, not one clean surface or filled cupboard. Emma checked the other rooms but they more or less bore the same story. Filthy, empty, abandoned.

She went back to the piece of paper and the map on her phone. The blue dot on her screen glowed, telling her she was right, this was the place.

But how could it? How on earth could this neglected cabin in the woods be important to Gold?

Emma’s brow furrowed, eyes scanning the room over and over again, trying to find some clue, some passage that magically appeared after pulling a secret lever. But there was no magic to be found, no hidden treasure.

She didn't understand. He should be here. He was supposed to be here and then she could… take him out. Protect Killian. This was why she was doing this, to protect him. If she couldn’t, what was there left to do? If she couldn’t, it meant that this whole escapade had been for nothing. That she’d left him for nothing.

Fuck, what had she done?

She had to get back to Killian.

Before he woke, before he realized she’d left, before it was too late to turn back the clock. She had to run, had to rush back home.

Home.

She stopped moving, froze with her feet nailed to the dusty wooden floor, her hands limp next to her body and her eyes wide as she realized what she just thought.

Home.

She’d thought about home.

The place that gave you a warm feeling, the place you could be yourself, one hundred percent. The place where Emma was comfortable, with walls that dampened the need to run, with things that made her feel like she was a part of something, with people that made her feel loved.

And now, after a mere four months, Killian had somehow become synonymous to home?

She loved him, had admitted it earlier that morning but this meant more than that. She’d loved before. She’d never truly felt at home. An eternal orphan at heart; she was never completely at ease. Mary Margaret and David’s apartment had felt like a safe haven for some time but one she couldn’t stay at forever and had to leave after a couple of hours at most. They could tell her she was welcome anytime as much as they liked but Emma didn’t even want to come close to overstaying her welcome. So she left, ignoring the offer of another drink or dessert with some half-baked truth of having to start work early or just a plain lie like that she wasn’t that much of a Rocky Road fan anyways.

But being with Killian felt like home.

And she wasn’t about to risk that.

Emma spun around and bolted out of the cabin, the door slamming shut in her wake.

Her feet moved on instinct, taking her to the gravel road uphill, the fastest way to return the way she came. Time was of the essence here.

The sun’s rays suddenly felt too warm as she ran down the road, her jacket too impeding as she tried to run faster and faster. That gym membership she was thinking of getting would’ve come in handy right about now.

In the distance, against the backlight of the rising sun, a blurry figure emerged. The closer Emma got, the more details became visible. She still had to narrow her eyes to fight against the bright light. It was a man. A man stood in the middle of the road, blocking her way. She knew that face, recognized the long, greasy locks and grey stubble, angry sneer furling his lips.

“You.” She came to a halt. Her brow furrowed as she blinked in confusion. Gold’s minion had resurfaced. His presence here meant she was right about this being Gold’s cabin. And she hadn’t been careful enough earlier.

Or maybe this was all part of an elaborate plan and she’d done exactly what Gold had wanted her to do.

Lost in thought, Emma hadn’t noticed the man coming closer to her, his heavy steps crunching on the road as the distance between them became threateningly narrow.

“This is for last time, you bitch,” he spat at her, an odd accent coloring his words and a fist following promptly.

Emma ducked, more out of instinct than strategy, but both would do the trick here.

The seriousness of the situation hit her as if the man’s fist hadn’t missed its target. He wasn’t aiming to miss. She needed to leave and try and outrun him. In the blink of an eye, she went from immobile to moving but the man was fast too, his hand snatching her arm and harshly pulling her back. She flinched as the pain radiated through her body.

Before the sensation could leave, another wave of pain smashed into her cheek.

“Aren’t you sick of playing his little minion?”

She spit before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her chest heaved vehemently as she tried to catch her breath and regain her stamina.

“That’s who you think I am?” he replied in an irritating sneer.

She frowned at the amusement in his voice. She pushed him off, losing her balance and falling on the ground, her face ending up in the grey gravel. The small stones painfully dug into her skin. Emma scrambled back up as he towered over her.

“My name is Malcolm Gold.” And the way he said it wasn't completely unlike the way Draco Malfoy had introduced himself to Harry Potter, a self-righteous importance that hung in the air.

He seemed too old to be a son, too young to be his father, so that only left the possibility of a brother.

“And my brother sends his regards.”

He kicked her down again and for a second everything went blurry, unfocused. Her attacker turned his head to something she couldn’t see from her uncomfortable spot on the ground but it seemed to spook him enough that he cast one last glance at her, an unsatisfied look on his face, and ran away again.

What a little imp. It was clearly a family trait.

Emma coughed, clutching her ribs as breathing hurt, clutching her ribs as trying to get up hurt.

There was a crunching sound coming from somewhere close and it took Emma a while to realize it had to be some kind of car.

Was it Killian? Did he find her?

But the crunching sound left as fast as it had emerged and she was still hurting, struggling to get up from the ground.

It wasn’t him, he couldn’t find her.

She was all alone.

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You're used to it by now so I won't even comment on the cliffhanger. Please like, reblog, leave a kudos if you're enjoying this story and if you want me to love you even more, you can always leave a comment. Only seven more days until the next chapter!

#csbb #cs ff #captain swan #captain swan big bang #cs au #cs mc #AMHoG #my words and sentences

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