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raekensluver · 2 months

Text

a guarded romance (1)

part two

description: you are a famous billionaire's daughter and your father has hired you a new bodyguard. his name is spencer reid and he used to be a part of the fbi's behavior analysis unit.

pairing: bodyguard!spencer reid x famous!reader

contains: age gap (everyone is 18+), fake relationship, mentions of a stalker, talk of parental death, overprotective father, lmk if i missed anything!

song rec: you don't own me by SAYGRACE ft. g-eazy- "don't tell me what to do, and don't tell me what to say."

w.c: 2.4k

an: i hope you all enjoy!! i feel like there aren't many bodyguard!spencer fics on tumblr. please give me feedback! good or bad, i appreciate it!

in the grandiose study, the scent of aged leather and mahogany filled the air, a silent testament to the wealth and power that had been cultivated within its walls. the room was dimly lit, the setting sun casting a warm glow through the stained glass windows, creating a mosaic of colors on the polished floor. your father's office was a sanctuary, a place where he made decisions that shifted the course of empires, but today, it was where your world was about to be upended once again.

"honey," your father's firm voice called out as you stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving the paperwork scattered across his desk. he looked up, the stern lines on his face softening slightly as he took in your appearance. "this is spencer reid, your new bodyguard."

spencer stood by the door, his posture ramrod straight, and his eyes met yours. there was a flicker of something in them, an intensity that made you pause. he was tall, with a lean build and a sharp jawline that spoke of discipline and experience. his suit was impeccable, but there was a hint of something else beneath the surface, a wildness that the tailored fabric couldn't quite conceal. he looked older than you, maybe thirty-five, if you had to guess.

"daddy, i don't need another babysitter," you protested, crossing your arms over your chest. "i'm twenty-five, not five. i can handle myself."

your father sighed heavily, setting down his pen and folding his hands together. "sweetheart, it's not about that. it's about keeping you safe. with everything that's been happening, i just want to make sure you're protected."

you rolled your eyes, feeling the familiar ache of frustration in your chest. "what's been happening? i've had one stalker in the last year, and that was just some lovesick fan. i can handle myself."

spencer cleared his throat, his gaze shifting between you and your father. "miss carter, if i may, i understand your concerns. i've studied the case files and the potential threats are minimal. but in the line of work i've been in, it's always better to be safe than sorry."

his words hung in the air, and you felt a spark of curiosity. there was something about the way he spoke, a calm confidence that was hard to ignore. maybe he wasn't just another incompetent bodyguard your father had hired.

"fine," you relented, unable to argue with his logic. "but i don't need you following me around like a shadow."

spencer nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "i understand, miss. i'll do my best to respect your privacy while ensuring your safety."

the week flew by in a whirlwind of meetings and social engagements, with spencer a constant presence at your side. your father had informed you of the annual gala in a week's time, a grand affair where the crème de la crème of society mingled and networked. "you need to make an appearance," he'd said, his tone brooking no argument. "and i expect you to look the part."

"spencer," your father announced, his voice carrying a hint of finality, "you will accompany my daughter to select a suitable gown for the gala. it's an important event, and i want her to be dressed to the nines."

you felt a pang of annoyance at the thought of being dragged around by a bodyguard to pick out a dress, but the idea of escaping your father's scrutiny was tempting. "fine," you said with a resigned sigh, "but i can't believe you're making me go to this thing."

spencer's eyes met yours for a brief moment before he nodded. "i'll be there to ensure nothing goes wrong, miss."

the shopping trip was a delicate dance of wills. you wove through the racks of haute couture, your mind racing with thoughts of the gala and the dreaded encounter with the man your father insisted on setting you up with. spencer remained a silent sentinel, his eyes scanning the room, his presence both comforting and stifling.

you slid a sleek, black dress from its hanger, the fabric whispering against the others as it glided through the air. it was perfect for the gala, elegant yet understated, a stark contrast to the flashy outfits you knew the other attendees would be wearing. you held it up to your body, the soft fabric brushing against your fingertips. "what do you think?" you asked, not bothering to hide the challenge in your voice.

spencer's gaze flicked over the dress and then back to your face, his expression unreadable. "it's… appropriate," he said, his voice measured. "but i suspect you're looking for something more than just appropriate."

you couldn't argue with that. you wanted to make a statement, to show the world that you weren't just a billionaire's daughter to be bartered off to the highest bidder. you wanted to be seen as a woman of substance, not just a pretty face in a sea of designer labels. "i need something that says 'hands off'," you murmured, your eyes searching the racks for the perfect dress.

spencer's gaze sharpened. "you worried about someone in particular?"

you nodded, your thoughts drifting to the smug grin of the man your father was so keen on setting you up with. "his name is alexander. he's… persistent."

spencer's eyebrows shot up, the first real sign of emotion you'd seen from him. "oh, i know the type," he said, his voice tight. "well, let's make sure you're dressed to make him understand that you're not interested."

you felt a strange thrill at his sudden protectiveness, and you found yourself smiling slightly. "okay, let's do this."

as the gala night approached, the tension in the air grew thick. your father had been dropping hints about alexander, reminding you of his wealth and status, and his potential as a suitable match. you, on the other hand, had been preparing your speech, rehearsing the perfect way to tell alexander that you had no interest in him without causing a scene.

the evening of the gala arrived, and you found yourself in a whirlwind of hair and makeup artists, turning you into the picture of sophistication. the dress spencer had helped you choose was a stunning blood red that made your eyes pop and your skin glow. it hugged your curves in all the right places and had just the right amount of flair to make you feel powerful.

as you descended the grand staircase, your father's eyes widened with approval. "you look… incredible," he said, his voice filled with pride. "exactly what a future lady of the house should look like."

you bit back a retort, choosing instead to smile sweetly. "thank you, daddy. i'm sure reid will make sure i'm well protected tonight."

your father nodded, his gaze flicking to your bodyguard, who was standing a respectful distance away, watching the exchange. "he better," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

the gala was a dizzying array of lights and sounds, the chatter of the elite echoing through the opulent ballroom. spencer was a silent shadow at your side, his eyes never still as they swept the room, looking for any sign of trouble. you felt a strange comfort in his vigilance, his presence a buffer between you and the world that so often felt suffocating.

as the evening progressed, you spotted alexander cutting through the crowd, his eyes locked on you like a hawk on its prey. your heart sank, but spencer was there, his hand lightly on your elbow, guiding you through the throng of people with an ease that belied his size. "just keep walking," he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "ignore him."

but alexander was not so easily deterred. he reached you before you could escape, his smile as plastic as the flowers adorning the tables around you. "so, the elusive miss carter," he said, his voice oozing with false charm. "how are you enjoying the gala?"

you felt your heart race, his presence setting your nerves on edge. "i'm enjoying it," you replied, your voice cool and even. "thank you for asking."

alexander's gaze slid to spencer, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "and who is this charming man at your side?"

your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing for a way to shake alexander off. without missing a beat, you reached for spencer's hand, squeezing it tightly. "this is my fiancé, spencer reid," you blurted out, the words surprising even you.

spencer's eyes widened slightly, but he recovered quickly, his hand closing around yours. "hello, alexander," he said smoothly, a polite smile playing on his lips. "i've heard so much about you."

alexander's gaze darted between the two of you, his confusion clear. "fiancé?" he repeated, his voice skeptical. "i had no idea, your father said nothing about this."

you felt your cheeks heat up, but you held your ground, flashing spencer a desperate look. "it's a recent development," you said, your voice surprisingly steady. "we wanted to keep it private for a bit."

alexander's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "recent?" he echoed, his grip on his champagne flute tightening. "how recent?"

you swallowed hard, your mind racing. "very recent," you said, the lie slipping off your tongue with surprising ease. "we just got engaged."

spencer squeezed your hand in reassurance, his eyes never leaving alexander's. "yes, it was quite a whirlwind," he said, playing along flawlessly. "we didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

alexander's expression shifted from skepticism to something darker, his grip on his drink tightening. "well, congratulations," he said, his voice tight. "i wish you both the best."

you felt a wave of relief wash over you as he turned and disappeared into the crowd. you looked up at spencer, your heart still racing. "thank you," you murmured, your voice shaky. "i can't believe that worked."

spencer's smile was tight, his eyes still scanning the room. "it's not over yet," he said, his grip on your hand still firm. "let's get you somewhere quieter, away from prying eyes."

you allowed him to lead you to a secluded corner of the mansion, the music and chatter of the gala fading into a distant buzz. the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, the moon casting a soft silver light over the manicured gardens outside. it was a stark contrast to the bright, flashy lights of the ballroom, and the calmness of the night seeped into your bones.

spencer's hand was still wrapped around yours, his eyes never leaving the partygoers as he scanned for any sign of danger or unwanted attention. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

you nodded, trying to compose yourself. "yeah, i just… i didn't expect to lie like that." the words felt heavy on your tongue, but the truth was, you had no intention of letting alexander near you again.

spencer's gaze softened, his grip on your hand loosening slightly. "it's alright," he said gently. "i've seen worse at these types of events."

you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for dragging him into your personal drama. "i'm sorry," you whispered. "i didn't mean to get you involved."

spencer's gaze finally left the crowd, his eyes meeting yours. "it's part of the job," he said, his voice gentle. "and i'd rather be involved than see you miserable."

you looked down at your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin. "thank you," you said again, the words feeling inadequate. "i just… i don't know why my father can't see that i'm not a little girl anymore."

spencer's eyes searched yours, filled with understanding. "he's just trying to protect you," he said. "it's hard for parents to let go, especially when they've lost someone as important as your mother."

his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. your mother's death had left a void in your life that no one had ever truly filled, not even your father's overbearing attention. "i know," you said softly, "but it's like he doesn't trust me to make my own decisions."

spencer's expression grew serious. "it's his way of dealing with his fear," he said. "but you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, and i'm here to support you in any way i can."

his words resonated with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt seen. "really?" you asked, hope flickering in your eyes.

spencer nodded. "really," he said, his voice firm. "you're a strong, independent woman. and if your father won't give you the space you need, i'll do my best to make sure you have it."

his words echoed in the quiet corner of the mansion, and you felt a sudden urge to get out of the suffocating atmosphere of the gala. "can we leave?" you asked, your voice small. "i don't think i can handle much more of this."

spencer's eyes searched yours for a moment before he nodded. "of course," he said, his voice calm. "let's go."

you felt a wave of relief as he led you through the throng of people, his hand at the small of your back a reassuring presence. the cool night air hit you like a slap in the face after the stifling heat of the gala, sending a shiver down your spine. the stars twinkled overhead, a stark contrast to the artificial lights of the mansion.

spencer opened the door to the sleek black sedan waiting outside, his hand on the small of your back as you slid into the passenger seat. you felt his eyes on you as he took his place beside you, the leather seats sighing beneath your weight. "are you okay?" he asked again, his voice low and concerned.

you took a deep breath, the cool leather calming your frazzled nerves. "i'm fine," you said, your voice shaky. "i just… i hate those kinds of events."

spencer's eyes searched yours, and without a word, he reached over and gently took your hand that was resting on your lap. "i promise," he said, his voice filled with a quiet resolve, "i will talk to your father. you're an adult, and you deserve to make your own choices."

his hand was warm and comforting, and you felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards him. "thank you," you whispered, your eyes welling up with unshed tears. "i just want to live my life without feeling like i'm under a microscope."

spencer squeezed your hand gently before releasing it to start the car. the engine purred to life, the smooth vibrations of the vehicle a stark contrast to the chaos of the evening. as you pulled away from the mansion, the lights of the gala grew smaller in the rearview mirror, and you felt a weight lift from your shoulders.

edited 8.21.24

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captainreecejames · 3 months

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fired by a thirst trap || my ex is a footballer LH44 Edition

summary you date footballer kylian mbappe, that is until a lewis hamilton thirst trap hits the timeline

pairing ex!kylian mbappe x reader, lewis hamilton x reader

faceclaim bruna marquezine

warnings mbappe slander

notes first, please pretend that mbappe to real madrid was announced in april of this year, second please pretend that the golden doodle on the yacht is actually roscoe. thank you for the suspension of disbelief (or however the phrase goes).

part 2

twitter ----------

ynusername posted--------

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and others

ynusername before, during, and after the miami gp

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yourmanager that's right she's hot and she knows it ↳ ynusername 😘😘

mercedesamgf1 loved having you yn, come again soon ↳ ynusername thank you so much for having me!!

yourstylist from Miami to the met gala! ↳ ynusername light work 💪🏼

username12 she's so pretty it makes me want to die og

username13 that post break up glowup really is hitting

username1 how childish to break up with someone over what they wore to a date, yn your a bitch ↳ ynusername *you're 😉 ↳ username2 LOL SUCKS TO SUCK username1

lewishamilton you're gonna kill it on the carpet later ↳ ynusername you + me = slaying the met gala carpet ↳ lewishamilton you 🤝me = killing it on the dancefloor

username14 yn what have you done with my weird ass uncle?? you're making him cool

username15 I'm crying yn is really making lewis enter his active era again ↳ username16 if a woman as beautiful as yn was talking to me you bet your ass I'm refreshing my phone to see if she said something ↳ username15 you 🤝 lewis simping after yn

twitter --------

ynusername posted ----------

liked by lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco and others

ynusername but it's the monaco grand prix

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lewishamilton is it? Who's playing? ↳ ynusername no one's playing. its the grand prix, I never miss the Monaco grand prix ↳ lewishamilton 😂😉

roscoelovescoco we loves yous ❤️❤️ ↳ ynusername Roscoe 🫶🏼😭 ↳ username26 not Roscoe using a red heart ↳ username6 next thing we know roscoe's account is locked by merc 😭

username27 forget the red heart yn's got lewis participating in memes. merc admin is screaming crying throwing up rn ↳ username28 mercedes social media team has been begging lewis to do content, meanwhile he's over here giggling kicking his feet with yn

username29 fuck all y'all, who got yn the roses ↳ username30 idk probably the man who's yacht she's on ↳ ynusername 🤐🤐

username35 when her and lewis treat the paddock as their own personal fashion show, you won't catch me complaining ↳ username36 I know the French man is crying right now, she upgraded so fucking hard ↳ username37 she's just a gold digging whore, glad he left her ↳ username36 idk, maybe if he made an effort SHE wouldn't have left him

charles_leclerc was lovely meeting you yn! ↳ ynusername HEY get off your phone and go enjoy your win!!! 😠 ↳ charles_leclerc okay mom ↳ username31 someone update the f1 family tree, yn is now Charles mom via her relationship with lewis ↳ ynusername I'm too young to be a mom, let alone a grandma. 😂😂

twitter ----------

post note: also, in my head this was going all the way past the canadian grand prix and going to feature some of the mercedes social media admin debacles, but it got too long and i really don't want to pile on to them when I think they got fired.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis Hamilton smau #formula 1 imagine #read #formula 1 smau #kylian mbappe x reader #my ex is a footballer series #danielle writes

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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the people's princess | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x princess!reader (selin yagcioglu faceclaim)

everyone thought charles was the princess of monaco but when the real one comes out hiding and slowly inserts herself into the world of f1, suddenly 2 princesses don't seem so bad i know very little about royalty and monarchs so uhh dont come for me

princessyn.updates

liked by dailyceleb, monaco.daily and 25,91 others

princessyn.updates meet the 22-year-old Princess, who is set to be Monaco's first female monarch since the 17th century. Y/N has kept out of the spotlight for much of her youth as she focused on academics until recently where it is announced she attended Collège Alpin Beau Soleil in Switzerland and Kings College of London

view all 612 comments

genzprincesses where the hell has she been hiding

userjanessa this is now a y/n fan account

perceval_lordsharl this is a lie, charles leclerc is the TRUE princess of monaco

monacomonarchynews

liked by monaco.daily, princessyn.updates and 18,103 others

monacomonarchynews The 23-year-old Princess, Y/N is the only child of Albert II, Prince of Monaco. Y/N has studied abroad in the United States, Sweden and in Dubai up until recently. She has now returned to Monaco and has shifted her studies to the Monarchy.

view all 412 comments

userjanessa this is conflicting information

ynismommy hello didn't another account say shes 22 and studied in switzerland and london?? what is the truth

allthefandoms so no one knows anything about her is what it seems like

fantasy_leagues_lewis kinda sus...charles would never

driverupdates

liked by carlossleclerc, paddocklewis and 17,204 others

driverupdates charles leclerc seen back in monaco following the australian grand prix!

view all 723 comments

hunnyseb he's calling fred and putting in his 2 weeks after the chaos that was sunday

sharls16 hes angry but he's pretty

pole.positions he needs this break more than any other driver lmaaao

yn.ofmonaco

liked by daily.celeb, ynfanclub and 19,182 others

yn.ofmonaco happy to be home

view all 2,104 comments

ynfanclub she is the moment

userjanessa i've been WAITING for her first post and the princess did not dissapoint

sharls16 maybe charles will be in a better mood once he meets the literal princess of monaco

happyhamilton ??? are they. .. supposed to meet? sharls16 i mean, why wouldn't they? he's f1 royalty and she's ROYALTY royalty both from monaco lestappen i would pay so much money to see them together r u kidding

princessyn.updates

liked by ynismommy, monaco.daily and 24,192 others

princessyn.updates Y/N has just arrived at the Fondation Prince Albert II de Monaco Gala ! This is the first public event she has attended but we hope to see more of her as she settles into life as a Royal in Monaco

view all 1,927 comments

ynismommy okay i luv her

yellowferrari wait didn't charles go to this thing last year?? what if he's here this year too 👀👀

charschumick ARE WE GONNA GET A ROYAL ON ROYAL MEET UP FINALLY

yn.ofmonaco

liked by lewishamilton, princessyn.updates and 46,102 others

yn.ofmonaco so happy to have been able to attend the Fondation Prince Albert II de Monaco gala tonight, as a girl i was always so inspired by my father and what he has given back to this country. I can't wait to have a bigger role in this organisation moving forward ♡

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ynismommy oh shes smart kind AND charitable

user.schumacher if charles doesn't date her i will

ferrarisandmclarens lewis hamilton what are you doing here in her likes

gussellreorge im sorry but the fact that she doesnt even follow 8 time world champion lewis hamilton but he's still out here liking her pictures...like the drivers know shes a catch leclercswatch idc about her and lewis i care about the non-existent her and charles

princessyn.updates

liked by charles_leclerc, monaco.daily and 28,216 others

princessyn.updates Princess Y/N is back in Boston this week as she has been invited to be a keynote speaker at Massachusetts Institute of Technology

view all 1,793 comments

usermclaren ok so we all heard that charles liked this post and came here to see if it was true right

sharl16 he's making moves usermclaren is he?

bottasspls so is she a business bitch or a princess

ynismommy both

charles_leclerc added to their story

yn.ofmonaco

liked by lewishamilton, princessyn.updates and 59,827 others

yn.ofmonaco What a whirlwind couple of days! I will never take anything in life for granted, thank you mitsloan for inviting me back to speak to future graduates and thank you to the kind stranger at the train station who helped me figure out where I was going (also I just learned what a photo dumb was...did I do it right?)

view all 6,209 comments

ynismommy sweetheart its a photo DUMP

mclarenstractors my favorite thing about Y/N is that she understands social media about as much as my 45 year old mother does

pierregasly 8/10 on the boston dump

yn.ofmonaco That's a passing grade, I will take it!

francisca.cgomes

liked by pierregasly, joris__trouche and 32,765 othes

francisca.cgomes what's better than a last minute trip to nyc

view all 4,122 comments

pierregasly you almost said no

francisca.cgomes but i made it

camii_18 her and pierre are so cute 🥺🥺

bottastappen am i insane or is that the princess of monaco herself in that last picture

ynismommy Y/N was hanging out with kika AND pierre?? i need a 2000 word essay on how this came to be with citations

sharlandsainz but where is charles why isn't he in any photos or did he leave before the princess showed up 🥲

inthepits.podcast added to their story

yn.ofmonaco

liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc and 53,102 others

yn.ofmonaco Art has always been a passion of mind and to be able to accompany Establishment Preschool Des Carmes during their trip to the art gallery was so inspiring and I hope to do it again soon with other schools

view all 3,2100

ynfanclub she is quite literally an angel

formulafirstpls i have it in my head that she is genuinely the sweetest person to ever exist and honestly, i think i'm right

francisca.cgomes 🥹🥹

charles_leclerc Quelle expérience amusante! What a fun experience!

yn.ofmonaco Tu devrais nous rejoindre la prochaine fois! You should join us next time! liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc

liked by yn.ofmonaco, pierregasly and 412,103 others

charles_leclerc miamiiiii 🌴☀️🏎 ready for the weekend

view all 16,192 comments

scuderiaferrari game face on

f1mia we're ready for the ferrari boys 🏎❤️

yn.ofmonaco Make Monaco proud!

charles_leclerc i will do my best 😊

yn.ofmonaco

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 78,102 others

yn.ofmonaco It only makes sense that my first Grand Prix is Monaco❤️ While I'm thankful for the experiences I had as a child that led me to studying around the world, I must say it's an incredible feeling to be home and cheering on charles_leclerc and scuderaferrari 🏁

view all 5,300 comments

scuderiaferrari and we're so happy to have you here ❤️

ynismommy SHES CHEERING ON CHARLES

ynfanclub WHY WOULDN'T SHE BE HE'S LITERALLY FROM MONACO

sharl16 one princess cheering on another princess

charles_leclerc 😊😊😊😊

scuderiaferrari

liked by yn.ofmonaco, carlossainz55 and 513,443 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari And for the first time Charles Leclerc is a RACE WINNER at his home race, the pinnacle of Motorsport, THE MONACO GRAND PRIX🏁🏎😎 Well deserved win for our Monegasque driver❤️

view all 25,183 comments

charles_leclerc thank you thank you❤️

yn.ofmonaco Well deserved indeed! Well done charles_leclerc!

charles_leclerc thank you y/n😊 means even more that you and your family were there to watch today liked by yn.ofmonaco yellowferraris this is not a drill, the princess of monaco has FINALLY followed charles back and now they are being all cute and friendly in the comments hannah_notmontana she was waiting for him to actually make monaco proud before tossing the follow 💀💀

yn.ofmonaco

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 155,283 others

yn.ofmonaco Had to go through the archives to find this one, but congratulations to my longtime friend charles_leclerc for his Monaco win today! Sundays are officially my new favourite day of the week❤️

view all 6,833 comments

charles_leclerc so much love for you, merci y/n

ynfanclub YA'LL THEY HAVE BEEN FRIENDS THIS WHOLE TIME ARE YOU KIDDING

ynismommy oh my good god we've been bamboozled

pierregasly now that the princess is out of hiding you have to give the crown back charles_leclerc

yn.ofmonaco What does this mean? pierregasly charles has been deemed monaco's princess since you have been gone🤣 charles_leclerc 😐😐😐 yn.ofmonaco Ohh, it's okay charles_leclerc you can keep the crown as long as I get the title haha charles_leclerc i am not a princess scuderiaferrari not with that attitude liked by yn.ofmonaco and pierregasly

aaaand im back with another long smau hehe this was fun, if you made it this far thank you and ily and check out my masterlist here

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc #f1 social media au #social media au #f1 #f1 one shot #f1 instagram au #f1 requests #holllandtrash #cl16 x reader #cl16

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hyperactively-me · 4 months

Text

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 1)

oops my fingers slipped oh nooo. I just watched Pride and Prejudice (2005 of course) and finished the first half of Bridgerton season 3, and this just fell out of my head sooo here ya go

In the heart of debutante season, the grand halls of the manor glittered with an optimistic opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung in every room, and the laughter of the ton mingled with the notes of lively waltzes and invigorating English country dances. Simon Riley, the newly titled Duke, stood at the edge of the ballroom, a stern figure amidst the merrymaking. His eyes scanned the room, but they held no warmth; they were as cold and unyielding as the battles he had once fought in wars.

Duke Simon Riley had gained his title through his distinguished military service, a feat that made him both revered and feared. His demeanor was hardened, his interactions brusque, and he regarded social gathering and balls with a thinly veiled disdain. He considered balls and galas a different kind of battle, one he navigated with nearly the same stoic resolve as he had the warfront.

Across the room, you move with effortless grace, the hem of your gown bustling around your feet. You are the embodiment of elegance and propriety, your every movement reflecting your strict upbringing. You were popular amongst the ton, your dance card nearly always full. You didn’t really mind, to a certain extent; yet, you’ve never had a dance partner who went past superficial conversation. It was something that irked you, but you had resigned yourself to it a long time ago.

Your father, a Lord, had made it a point earlier in the night to introduce you to the Duke. You glide through the sea of silk and satin, approaching your father’s proud smile in the corner of the ballroom. Next to him was the Duke; a tall, broad man. Quite handsome, you thought to yourself.

“Ah, here she is,” your father said warmly, taking your hand and leading you towards the Duke. “Allow me to introduce Duke Simon Riley. Your Grace, may I present my daughter.”

You curtsy deeply as your father announces your title and name, your eyes fluttering open to meet the Duke as you offer a polite smile.

Simon turns his steely gaze upon you, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement. “My lady,” he said, his voice as cold and formal as his expression.

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have heard much about your service.”

“Indeed,” Simon replies, his tone clipped. “I hope the reality does not disappoint.”

You tilt your head slightly, maintaining your composure at his bluntness. “On the contrary, Your Grace, I find the tales of your exploits quite fascinating. It must have required immense strength and courage.”

“It required duty,” he said forthrightly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And an ability to see through distractions.”

Something in his tone struck you, a subtle but clear implication that left you momentarily speechless. You clear your throat, smoothing out of the front of your dress. “Well, we are all very fortunate that you were not distracted, Your Grace. Otherwise, who knows where we might be?”

Simon’s lips twitched, standing straighter than ever, but his eyes remained hard. “Yes, distractions can be dangerous. Such as a ballroom, where idle chatter and trivial pursuits often mask the true nature of one’s character.”

He eyed you up and down as he spoke, and you feel as though the wind has been knocked out of your lungs. You feel your cheeks heat up with anger at his veiled insult.

“Your Grace, I must respectfully disagree. A ballroom is where one’s true character is often revealed; most often through grace, kindness, and the ability to navigate society with dignity.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, his expression unmoved. “It is easy to speak of ‘grace and kindness’ when one has never faced true adversity, my Lady. Perhaps your perspective would be different if you had seen the world as it truly is.”

Your temper flares at his condescension, your grip tightening on the skirts of your dress as you step closer. “And perhaps, Your Grace,” you hiss, “if you had ever taken the time to understand the world beyond the battlefield, you might see that strength and bravery comes in many forms. It doesn’t give you the right to belittle the lives and joys of others.”

Your father steps forward, sensing the need to intervene. “Now, now,” he says, his tone conciliator. “Let not a misunderstanding spoil the evening.”

But the damage had already been done. Simon’s eyes remained fixed on you, eyebrows pinched and eyes cold. He had offended you greatly, swiping at your character even though he knows nothing of you.

With a final cursory glance at him, you excuse yourself with as much dignity as you could muster, your heart pounding with anger and hurt.

As you walk away, you could feel Simon’s gaze boring into your back. You do your best to shake off your emotions, trying to regain your composure. An evening that had started with hope and lightness had turned bitter. And while the Duke might have won many wars, he would find that you were not one to back down easily. You were determined to show him that in the realm of society, you were just as formidable an opponent as he was in war.

> part 2

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme #*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley

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onlyangel4 · 1 month

Text

miss americana & the heartbreak prince. lh44. smau.

lewis hamilton x wife!reader

reader and lewis have always been fashion icons. so when the news about lewis moving to ferrari leaks reader decides to add some colour to her wardrobe

faceclaim: megan fox

author's note: we visit the future in this one first post comes from the announcement earlier this year and everything following is end of 2024 season to the 2025 season.

taylor swift series masterlist.

scuderiaferrari

liked by lewishamilton, y/nhamilton, user1 and 2,300,231 others

scuderiaferrari: team Statement: scuderia ferrari is pleased to announce that lewis hamilton will be joining the team in 2025, on a multi-year contract.

view all 150,922 comments

user1: holy shit i bet toto is so mad

user2: oh my god, the y/n fits are going to go insane

user3: i'm new to the fandom what is the significance with y/n's outfits

user2: ever since her and lewis got married, three years ago, she only attends races and events in mercedes colours, grey, black, white, silver and green

user4: i was not expecting this announcement so early

user5: this makes me so sad for carlos

y/nhamiltonlover

liked by user10, user11, user12 and 32,483 others

y/nhamiltonlover: as it is the end of lewis' merecedes era i wanted to look back at my fav of y/n's mercedes outfits.

the first ever mercedes outfit at the first grand prix after their wedding back in 2021

y/n on the red carpet for a film premiere this is when she confirmed that all her outfits were taking inspiration from her husband's racing team

last year's met gala look, my all time fav y/n outfit

y/n on the cover of vogue, this suit is so gorgeous i love it so much

view all 1,202 comments

user10: i forgot about that met gala look omg

user11: i'm looking forward to all the red and maybe some yellow

user12: fingers crossed for a blue look for miami again

y/nlh44updates

liked by user6, user7, user8 and 23,418 others

y/nlh44updates: guys lewis' contract with mercedes finished last week and we have just gotten our first matching ferrari coded outfit, the red is small but knowing y/n it has to be purposeful.

view all 561 comments

user6: power couple fr

user7: they look so fucking good

user8: i can't wait to see the paddock fits etc

user9: red at the met gala this year?

metgalaupdates

liked by user13, user14, user15 and 230,117 others

metgalaupdates: racing power couple lewis and y/n hamilton have arrived at the met and they are our top vote for the hottest couple on the carpet. y/n is wearing ferrari red signifying her husband's move to the italian team and lewis is in a stunning all black number, both husband and wife are wearing matching gold jewelry pieces.

view all 2,178 comments

user13: oh this is my fav look of the night so far, that red dress is so gorgeous

user14: i called it, red at the met is such a good statement

user15: i don't really know much about either of them but i do know that they are both fucking gorgeous

y/nupdates posted a story

written: holy shit everyone thought y/n was going to arrive to australia qualifying in red, turns out she dyed her hair red instead. she is insane i love it

thehamiltonsfashion

liked by user17, user18, user19 and 27,511 others

thehamiltonsfashion: it is race day in australia and once again the hamiltons are the best dressed y/n is showing off the red hair in a two piece suit and skirt combo and lewis was spotted in a jacket that matches y/n's hair perfectly.

view all 1,721 comments

user17: i know that the red hair will be gone next week but it looks so good

user18: him matching his jacket perfectly to her hair is such husband material

user19: ugh i love them

y/nhamilton posted a story

written: today's outfit

lewishamilton posted a story

written: matching my wife again

thehamiltonsfashion posted a story

written: it finally happened! y/n has arrived to the miami grand prix wearing the exact same shade of blue as what the drivers are in this week. i am so obsessed with her ability to match her husband every single week.

y/nhamiltonlover

liked by y/nhamilton, user20, user21, user23 and 340,226 others

y/nhamiltonlover: it is the end of the 2025 season and i just wanted to celebrate all of the red looks that mother hs given us this year. i just love her so much she is the most fashionable wag for sure, i can't wait for another year of red.

view all 16,444 comments

y/nhamilton: aww thank you darling, i am so glad you enjoyed the looks from this year

y/nhamiltonlover: omg today is the best day ever i love you so much, this means so much to me

user20: i loved the week where she decided to just wear team merch, like relatable queen sometimes you just want to be comfy

user21: the red suits always hit different

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

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turn3tifosi · 2 months

Text

VI. the winner takes it all

lewis hamilton x ferrari engineer!reader

lewis and you are no strangers, but the hurt that followed knowing him, makes his announcement for 2025 nothing but dreadful for you

series masterlist | main masterlist

You remember how it all started. The excitement, the passion, the shared dreams, and the relentless ambition. You and Lewis had it all. Or so it seemed. As a top engineer at Ferrari, you lived and breathed motorsport, but it was your relationship with Lewis that made the moments off the track truly special.

It was Monaco 2016, the night before the big race. The sky was clear, and the stars shimmered over the Mediterranean. You met Lewis at a gala, the kind of event where the air buzzed with champagne bubbles and the murmur of high society. Lewis, with his charming smile and magnetic presence, was the center of attention, but when he looked at you, it was as if the world stopped. You talked about cars, strategies, and everything in between. There was an instant connection.

Over time, your relationship blossomed. The thrill of sneaking away for secret dates, the late-night conversations about life beyond racing, and the quiet moments where you could just be yourselves. Those were the times you cherished the most.

One night, as you both lay on the balcony of his apartment overlooking the city, Lewis rested his head on your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability from the world champion. “You know, sometimes I really wish I could run away from all the fame and people, and live a quiet life with you,” he whispered, his eyes closed in contentment.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the weight of his words. “No Lewis, you love this. You love the fame and the cameras, it’s me who wishes you could run away from it all. I’m the selfish one.”

But love is never simple, especially when it’s tangled with the relentless pressure of professional success. Lewis's career skyrocketed, and with every victory, every championship, the distance between you grew. You were proud of him, of course, but the endless races, the media frenzy, and the never-ending demands on his time left little room for you.

It all came to a head after his fourth world championship win. The victory party was grand, a glittering affair that went on till dawn. But amid the celebration, you felt like a ghost, invisible and alone. You tried to talk to him, but he was swept away by adoring fans, sponsors, and the endless parade of well-wishers. When he finally found a moment, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and for a moment, you believed he meant it. But apologies couldn't bridge the growing chasm between you.

You tried to hold on, but the nights grew colder, and the days lonelier. Eventually, the strain became too much. One evening, after a particularly brutal argument, you packed your bags and walked out of his life, leaving behind the man you loved and the dreams you had built together.

Fast forward to 2024. Your career at Ferrari flourished, and you buried yourself in work to forget the heartache. But fate, or maybe Lewis has a cruel sense of humor. The announcement came out of the blue: Lewis Hamilton was joining Ferrari for the 2025 season.

The paddock buzzed with the news, but for you, it was a gut punch. The thought of working with him again, seeing him every day, was almost unbearable. But you were a professional, and you wouldn't let personal history affect your work.

The first meeting was awkward, to say the least. You avoided eye contact, focusing on the technical briefing, the strategies for the upcoming season. But you could feel his eyes on you, a silent plea for acknowledgment.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension simmered. It all came to a head one evening after a particularly long day at the track. You were in the garage, going over some data, when Lewis walked in.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and strained.

You didn’t look up. “There’s nothing to talk about, Lewis. Let’s just do our jobs.”

He stepped closer, his presence impossible to ignore. “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but-”

You finally met his gaze, the familiar pain and longing in his eyes. “You might have won the races and championships, but you don't get my heart back.”

He flinched as if struck. “I know I can’t change the past, but I want to make things right. I miss you.”

The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, but the wounds were too deep. “It’s too late, Lewis. We had our chance.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but you turned away, focusing back on your work. The silence was heavy, laden with unspoken words and lingering regrets.

Working together was a constant reminder of what was and what could have been. Yet, slowly, a new dynamic formed. Professional respect replaced personal tension, and while the past remained a painful shadow, you both found a way to coexist.

Lewis never stopped trying to mend the rift. Little gestures, a coffee waiting at your desk, a supportive word during a tough day. But you held firm, guarding your heart against further hurt.

As the season progressed, Ferrari thrived. The collaboration between the engineers and drivers was seamless, and the team’s performance improved dramatically. There were moments, brief and fleeting, where you saw a glimpse of the man you had once loved, not the racing superstar, but the man who had shared his dreams and fears with you.

And in those moments, you wondered if, maybe someday, you could find it in your heart to forgive. But for now, you were content to focus on the present, the thrill of the race, and the drive to win.

Because in the world of motorsport, as in life, the winner takes it all. And you were determined to be a winner, with or without him.

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aph-mable · 1 year

Text

dpxdc; My Uncle is Nuts.

My Uncle Is A Nut

Written by:

Aph-mable

@thegatorsgoose

Having been announced the heir and Co ceo of D.A.L.V co, Danny has gotten used to being dragged to formal events with Vlad against his will. Getting caught up in saving one of the many galas he’s forced to attend, Danny catches the eye of one Lex Luther.

Chapter 1

Danny tries hard not to sigh for the umpteenth time as Vlad drags him towards another group of rich folks and reporters.

When his Godfather had publicly announced Danny as his heir during one of his mayoral speeches he thought he was going to die all over again from sheer embarrassment and frustration, especially when he started calling Danny out of class to work on ‘special’ projects or drag him to Gala’s like this one.

Usually at least one member of team Phantom would come along, usually Sam since her parents often forced her to attend anyway, unfortunately this time everyone was busy.

Sure Danny could have asked, but he didn’t want to take away what little free time they had during spring break, so for now he was going to face this party on his own. After all nothing really interesting happens at these and he’s not going to end up socializing much anyways.

At the moment Vlad had rolled him over to a group of men who were chatting away about their latest technology, a nerdy looking yet buff reporter taking notes on everything.

Danny was only half listening to what was being said when the frootloop budged in, something about wanting to partner up with Wayne tech since DALV co was already partnered with Lex co.

He could only roll his eyes and cringe as his crazy arch nemesis wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the bald ceo who looked just as done as he felt.

Seeing Vlad finally to distracted with his deals Danny took his chance and snuck away, moving his wheelchair as fast as possible to make a break for it, away from the party and to explore the building. maybe even escape if he was lucky.

Unfortunately as he reached one of the doors the pesky security stopped him, saying he needed to stay within the building, so he pulled out the oldest trick in his book.

“I have to go to the bathroom, can you at least point me to it?” He even pulled out his pleading eyes to look as innocent as possible to make the security guards feel uncomfortable.

“It’s through those doors over there, just across from the kitchen… do you want-” before the guard could finish Danny was already zooming to the door and shouting, “No thanks, byye!”

Once out of sight he at least made an effort to head towards where the bathroom was but stopped in front of the kitchen.

First double checking all sides of the hallway, he pushed himself into the kitchen in search of something to tinker with. Danny swears he will drop dead if he doesn't get some kind of technology in his hands.

When he entered the place was completely empty of any staff. makes sense as they had set up a huge buffet in the main hall and had all the kitchen staff stand against the wall to show who cooked what, like it was some kind of grand show.

This left Danny to ‘borrow’ a few appliances, they’re rich they can afford it!

He ends up taking a toaster, a blender, and some kind of cylinder air fryer, stuffing them all into his magic bigger-than-it-looks bag and bolting out of there as fast as his wheels could take him so as to not get caught.

Once he re enters the gala he parks himself in the furthest corner near a window. He starts pulling out his mini tool kit and the items he took, trying his best to hide them by making them semi invisible so it just looked like he was messing with his tools as he gets to building an ecto gun.

Danny tried to stay alert and scan the room on occasion but nothing much was happening, Vlad was still bragging to the group of men, and there were only three other kids around his age hanging out on the opposite side of the room. One looked ready to pass out while the other two stood next to the door arguing over who’s dog was best.

Danny pulled his goggles down over his eyes and rolled up his sleeves so his specialized gloves could start putting power into the ecto gun. He quickly starts to hyper focus as he tinkered with the homemade gun, his mind drifting off to play among stars that were just out of reach.

Even with everyone talking around him it all faded to white noise, finally quiet enough he now focused his power to flow through the machinery as he twisted the screws into the right place.

His very core sang with how peaceful it was as he finished making the home made ecto gun and set it down in his lap.

Just as Danny turns it invisible to put it away, his chair is suddenly jerked as he’s dragged towards the now frightened guests, a group of men dressed in green and purple question marked suits threaten everyone into a corner as they start setting up strange equipment.

Clutching his invisible weapon tightly in his lap one of the goons tries threatening him with a gun, but before Danny could react Vlad steps in front of Danny, letting out an instinctual growl to make them back off.

The goon rolls his eyes before directing them to where he wants them to go, trying hard to not let his hands shake too badly as he thrust more people into the now overcrowded corner, keeping watchful eyes on Vlad who is seconds away from losing his temper and ripping someone's throat out.

Now most people in this situation would just listen to their captors, sit still, be quiet, all that jazz, especially with how many of the goons were now bringing in strange green canisters of gas that gave off the scent of pure fear.

Yet as Danny rams Vlad’s ankles with the wheels of his chair it's pretty clear he wasn’t like most scared civilians. For once he was siding with his godfather as he was very, very angry. Angry that they were targeting innocent people, angry that Vlad was treating him like he was helpless, angry that he had to show up to this stupid gala in the first place… He had noticed some of the other kids giving them the slip earlier, at least there’s that.

Just as they bring in the last canister one of the goons trips and nearly brakes open the container, which got the already annoyed second incharge to yell at them.

“For fucks sake! Be careful with those things, we don’t even know what they’ll do yet!”

The younger looking goon, who looks barely out of their teens, shrinks away as they whimper out an apology. He sets the items down as others around them either stare in frustration or sympathy.

Yeah, no.

“Wow you people are pathetic.”

The second in command turns at Danny’s outburst, taking a step forward and clenching his fists. “What the fuck did you just say?” Danny rolls his eyes before glaring at the goon “I said you’re pathetic, did you get that or do you need me to repeat myself again?”

The crowd looks on in half horror, half shock as the leader walks up to Danny, resting his hands on his arm rests and leaning down to stare at Danny threateningly. Danny leans back in his wheelchair and looks up at him with a bored expression, unphased. Vlad tries to shove his way to Danny, but is held back by several goons. Danny spares a quick glare at his godfather, he has everything under control.

“I may be a criminal, but even I don’t like kicking a kid when they’re already down.” The goon says, moving his eyes down to glance at Danny’s wheelchair and back up again, glaring into his eyes. “So I’m going to give you one last chance to take that back.”

Danny narrows his eyes at the goon as he clutchs the invisible ecto gun in his lap, it’s now or never. With near inhuman speed he quickly reaches for his bag and pretends to pull the weapon out, aiming it right at the goons temple. There’s audible gasps from the crowd as the goon stumbles away with wide eyes before gaining his footing and going right back to glaring.

“And I’m going to give you one last chance to reconsider what you’re doing with your life” Danny smirks at the goon, already reading up the lecture in his head.

“It’s 30 minutes past start time, what is taking you so-“ Danny’s smirk evolves into a full shit eating grin as the Riddler walks in to scold the goons, what perfect timing.

With the crowd distracted Danny uses his other hand to unlock his phone. With a few simple swipes, Danny has the gala on lockdown. With the main asshole inside.

Perfect.

_____________________________________________________________

Damian puts on his Robin suit with trained proficiency once they make it to the cave. Unfortunately he and Jon were the only ones able to leave on time, the rest of the family having been dragged away. Truly, this proved that he had good reason to not mingle with the crowd. It had nothing to do with the noise. Or the lights. Or the small talk.

Truly.

“Who do you think it is this time?” Jon asks, an excited smile on his face. But even while being carried, Damian could see the tension in his frame, the nervous tick in his brow. His friend was worried. “I mean, they have the question mark thing going on, but they also had the gas canisters which I don't think the Riddler does that? And the gas itself kinda smelled like lavender and hazelnuts like fear gas but it was also kinda minty? And not like candy cane minty but like straight mint leaf minty? I don’t know, I only know there’s a difference cus ma tried to make mint tea that one time cus she was super sleep deprived and she read online that mint tea could improve memory or something, that stuff reeked!” Another indication of Jon’s nervousness, rambling. By the time Jon had finished his rant, they had already made it to the gala.

Once he’s put down Damian dusts himself off and turns to Jon. “It is most likely a team up, then.” He pulls out his katanas and readys himself for the fight ahead. “Once you break down the door our job is to stall long enough for the others to get out. We don’t know what the gas can do, so keeping the containers safe is our top priority.” As much as it pains him to admit, just him and Jon won’t be enough to handle it themselves. There’s too many people, and they need some of the bats to disperse around Gotham in case the riddler has set up a larger plan.

Jon smiles at him and nods, hopping from foot to foot in excitement (which he doesn’t find adorable at all). “You ready?” Damian gives a sharp nod before Jon kicks in the door.

“-I mean COME ON, people would PAY you to have a chance at your game show! You could even do your whole “riddle me this!” Thing as it’s own segment! But noOOOOooo, you wanna risk the lives of countless civilians so you can get a fucking furry to answer your stupid riddles, most of which aren’t even original! And NOW you wanna partner up with a fear junky cus why?”

“I-“ a clearly startled Riddler tries to answer before being interrupted.

“Oh yeah, cus your BUDDY, your PAL scarecrow, thought it would be so FUNNY to release an UNTESTED gas in a gala for a fucking THRILL HIGH.”

But instead of a fight they walk into.. this.

A wheelchair bound boy with black hair and blue eyes (who he’s sure his siblings would call “adoption bait”) holding a strange silver and green gun that looked straight out of one of Damian’s sci-fi mangas, at a confused and startled Riddler. It seems the crowd used this as an opportunity, as the rest of the goons were restrained near the walls by a mix of his family, Kent, and various gala attendees, while the middle of the room was occupied by the armed boy.

“Huh?” Jon let his arms rest at his sides as his head tilted to the side in confusion (it does NOT remind him of a confused puppy, absolutely not). However before Damian could say anything, it seems the boy has finally noticed them.

“Oh, you’re here. Took you long enough.” The boy finally puts the gun down and into a bag at his side. “Have fun.” He says in a bored tone as he turns and starts pushing himself in the direction of a man with silver hair, Vlad Masters, who met him in the middle only to start fussing over him, seemingly much to the boy’s annoyance.

Finally shaking off their shock both Damian and Jon rush to detain the Riddler until the police show up, yet Damian’s curiosity keeps bringing his eyes back to Master’s and his ward. outwardly, the concern seemed genuine, but with how the boy was reacting to just being touched by Master’s… made him think otherwise.

Even Lex Luthor was side eyeing the man instead of resuming his chatter with father or Mr. Kent, meaning something was happening and Damain was determined to find it out one way or another.

For now though, they have their hands full because of Riddler and Scarecrow.

Domain knew he should have stayed back with Ace.

____________________________________________________________________________

End of chapter 1

#dyslexia #long reads #batfamily #bruce wayne #clark kent #disabled danny #wheelchair au #jon kent #damian wayne #the riddler #scarecrow #patrol partners event 2023 #mild violence #swearing #dpxdc #autistic writers

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thepastisalreadywritten · 6 months

Text

Inside William’s Next Act: Tatler’s May issue goes behind the scenes as the Prince of Wales is rising above the noise — and playing the long game

The burden of leadership is falling upon Prince William, but as former BBC Royal Correspondent, Wesley Kerr OBE, explains in Tatler’s May cover story, the future king is taking charge

By Wesley Kerr OBE

21 March 2024

When I first met Prince William in 2009, he asked me if I could tell him how he could win the National Lottery.

It was a jokey quip from someone who has since become the Prince of Wales, the holder of three dukedoms, three earldoms, two baronies and two knighthoods, and heir to the most prestigious throne on earth.

He was, of course, being relatable; I was representing the organisation that had allocated Lottery funding towards the Whitechapel Gallery and he wanted to put me at ease.

William is grand but different, royal but real.

At 6ft 3in, he has the bearing and looks great in uniform after a distinguished, gallant military career.

He will be one of the tallest of Britain’s kings since Edward Longshanks in the 14th century and should one day be crowned sitting above the Stone of Scone that Edward ‘borrowed.’

William, by contrast, has a deep affinity with Scotland and Wales, having lived in both nations and gained solace from the Scottish landscape after his mother died.

He’s popular in America and understands that the Crown’s relationship to the Commonwealth must evolve.

The Prince of Wales has long believed that ‘the Royal Family has to modernise and develop as it goes along, and it has to stay relevant’, as he once said in an interview.

He seeks his own way of being relatable, of benefitting everybody, in the context of an ancient institution undergoing significant challenge and upheaval, as the head of a nation divided by hard times, conflicts abroad, and social and political uncertainty.

We might recognise Shakespeare’s powerful line spoken by Claudius in Hamlet: ‘When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.’

With the triple announcement in January and February of the Princess of Wales’s abdominal surgery and long convalescence, of King Charles’s prostate procedure and then of his cancer diagnosis, the burden of leadership has fallen on 76-year-old Queen Camilla and, crucially, on William.

The Prince of Wales’s time has come to step up; and so he has deftly done.

In recent months, we have seen a fully-fledged deputy head of state putting into practice his long-held ideas, speaking out on the most contentious issue of the day and taking direct action on homelessness.

Last June, he unveiled the multi-agency Homewards initiative with the huge aspiration of ending homelessness, backed with £3 million from his Foundation to spearhead action across the UK.

He is consolidating Heads Together, the long-standing campaign on mental health, and fundraises for charities like London’s Air Ambulance Charity.

He was, of course, once a pilot for the East Anglian Air Ambulance services – a profession that had its downside: seeing people in extremis or at death’s door, he found himself ‘taking home people’s trauma, people’s sadness.’

Tom Cruise was a guest at the recent London’s Air Ambulance Charity fundraiser, William’s first gala event after Kate’s operation.

And more stardust followed when William showed that, even without his wife by his side, he could outclass any movie star at the Baftas.

There’s also his immense aim of helping to ‘repair the planet’ itself with his Earthshot Prize: five annual awards of £1 million for transformative environmental projects with worldwide application.

This project has a laser focus on biodiversity, better air quality, cleaner seas, reducing waste and combating climate change. Similar aims to his father; different means to achieve the goal.

On the issue which has caused huge convulsions – the Middle East conflict – William’s 20 February statement from Kensington Palace grabbed attention.

He said he was ‘deeply concerned about the terrible human cost of the conflict since the Hamas terrorist attack on 7 October. Too many have been killed.’

There were criticisms – along the lines of ‘the late Queen would have never spoken out like this’ or ‘what right does he have to meddle in politics?’ – but it was hard to disagree with his carefully calibrated words.

His call for peace, the ‘desperate need’ for humanitarian aid, the return of the hostages.

The statement was approved by His Majesty’s Government, likely cleared with the King himself at Sandringham the previous weekend and also backed by the chief rabbi of Great Britain, Sir Ephraim Mirvis.

Indeed, William and Catherine had immediately spoken out on the horrors of 7 October.

William followed up the week after his Kensington Palace statement by visiting a synagogue and sending a ‘powerful message’, according to the chief rabbi, by meeting a Holocaust survivor and condemning anti-Semitism.

This is rooted in deep personal conviction following William’s 2018 visit to Israel and the West Bank, says Valentine Low, the distinguished author of Courtiers and The Times’s royal correspondent of 15 years, who was on that 2018 trip.

‘William was so moved by his visit to Israel and the West Bank, he found it very affecting, and he was not going to drop this issue – he was going to pay attention to it for the rest of his life,’ says Low.

‘He must feel that… not to say something on the most important issue in the world [at that moment] would be a bit odd if you feel so strongly about it.’

There was concern from some commentators about politicising the monarchy, but this rose above the particulars of party politics.

As Prince of Wales, like his father before him, there is perhaps space to speak out sparingly on carefully chosen issues.

On this occasion, his views were in line with majority public opinion.

On homelessness, news came that same week that William was planning to build 24 homes for the homeless on his Duchy of Cornwall estate.

‘William’s impact is very personal,’ says Mick Clarke, chief executive of The Passage, a charity providing emergency accommodation for London’s homeless.

‘Two weeks before Christmas, the prince came to our Resource Centre in Victoria for a Christmas lunch for 150 people.

He was scheduled to stay for an hour, to help serve, wash up, and talk to people.

He ended up staying for two and a quarter hours, during which time he went from table to table and spoke to every single person.’

Clarke continues:

‘William has an ability to listen, talk and to put people at ease. During the November 2020 lockdown, he came on three separate occasions to help.

It gave the team a boost that he took the time; it was his way of saying: “I support you; you’re doing a great job.”’

Seyi Obakin, chief executive of Centrepoint, one of the prince’s best-known causes, adds:

‘People associate his patronage with the big moments like the time he and I slept under Blackfriars Bridge.

The things that stick with me are smaller in scale and the more profound for it – in quieter moments, away from the cameras, where he has volunteered his time.’

It is a different approach from the King’s.

As Prince of Wales, he was involved in the minutiae of dozens of issues at any one time, working into the night to follow up on emails, crafting his speeches, writing or dictating notes.

Add to that much nationwide touring over 40 years (after he left active military service in 1976), fitting in multiple engagements, often being greeted formally by lord lieutenants.

This is not William’s style. He has commended his father’s model, but he does things his own way.

Although patronages are under review, William has up till now far fewer than either his father or his grandparents.

Charles is sympathetic to William’s approach and his desire to make time with his young family sacrosanct.

They are confidantes, attested by the night of Queen Elizabeth’s death.

They were both at Birkhall with Camilla, reviewing funeral arrangements while the rest of the grieving family were nearby at Balmoral, hosted by the Princess Royal.

Charles has had almost six decades in public life and is the senior statesman of our time, with even longer in the spotlight than Joe Biden.

After Eton and St Andrew’s University, where he met Catherine, William served in three branches of the military between 2006 and 2013, finishing as a seasoned and skilled helicopter rescue pilot.

His later employment as an air ambulance pilot stopped in 2017, when he became a full-time working royal.

At that time, not so long ago – with Harry unmarried, Andrew undisgraced, and Philip and Elizabeth still active – William shared the spotlight.

Now, after the King, he’s the key man.

He can look back on the success of his first big campaign initially launched with his wife and brother in 2016: Heads Together.

‘We are delighted that Prince William should have become such a positive and sympathetic advocate for mental health through his Heads Together initiative and now well-established text service, Shout, among other projects,’ says the longtime CEO and founder of Sane, the remarkable Marjorie Wallace CBE.

‘It is not always known that he follows in the footsteps of his father, the King, whose inspiration and vision were vital in the creation of our mental health charity Sane.

As founding patron, he was instrumental in establishing our 365-days-a-year helpline and was a remarkable and selfless support to me in setting up the Prince of Wales International Centre for Sane Research.’

'Indeed,' says Wallace, 'this is where Prince William echoes the work of his father, showing the same ‘understanding and compassion for people struggling through dark and difficult times of their lives and has done much to raise awareness and encourage those affected to speak out and seek help.

We owe a huge debt to His Majesty and the Prince of Wales for their involvement in this still-neglected area.’

Just as I saw all those years ago at that early solo engagement in Whitechapel, William still approaches his public duties with humour and fun.

‘He defuses the formality with jocularity,’ says Valentine Low, citing two public events in 2023 that he witnessed.

In April last year, while on a visit to Birmingham, William randomly answered the phone in an Indian restaurant he was being shown around and took a table booking from a customer – an endearing act of spontaneity.

On his arrival later that day, the unsuspecting diner was surprised to be told exactly whom he had been talking to.

In October, Low reported, William ‘unleashed his inner flirt as he hugged his way through a visit with Caribbean elders [in Cardiff] to mark Black History Month.

As he gave one woman a hug – for longer than she expected – he joked: “I draw the line at kissing.”

And while posing for a group photograph, he prompted gales of laughter when he quipped: “Who is pinching my bottom?”’

Low believes that when William eventually becomes king, he will be more ‘radical’ than his father but wonders if people will respond to ‘call me William’ when ‘the whole point of the Royal Family is mystique and being different.’

However, William has thought deeply about his current role and is prepared for whatever his future holds.

For now, there is a decision to be made on Prince George’s secondary schooling. It’s said that five public schools are being considered, all fee-paying.

Eton is single-sex and boarding but close to home. Marlborough (Catherine’s alma mater) is co-ed and full boarding. And Oundle, St Edward’s Oxford and Bradfield College (close to Kate’s parents) are co-ed with a mix of boarding and day.

As parents, William and Catherine aspire to raise their children ‘as good people with the idea of service and duty to others as very important’, William said in an interview with the BBC in 2016.

‘Within our family unit, we are a normal family.’ Which may be one reason why he is so resistant to their privacy being compromised either by the media or close family members.

The 19th-century author Walter Bagehot wrote:

‘A family on the throne is an interesting idea also. It brings down the pride of sovereignty to the level of petty life… a princely marriage is the brilliant edition of a universal fact, and, as such, it rivets mankind.’

If hereditary monarchy is to survive, it must beguile us but also demonstrate its utility, that it is a force for good.

William said in that 2016 interview, ‘I’m going to get plenty of criticism over my lifetime,’ echoing Queen Elizabeth II’s famous Guildhall speech in 1992 ‘that criticism is good for people and institutions that are part of public life. No institution – city, monarchy, whatever – should expect to be free from the scrutiny of those who give it their loyalty and support, not to mention those who don’t.’

William saw close up his mother’s ability to bring public focus and her own personal magnetism to any subject or cause she focused on.

He admires his father’s work ethic, the way he ‘really digs down,’ sometimes literally (I understand that gardening is giving the King solace during his cancer treatment).

But the biggest influence for William was Her late Majesty, as he said on her 90th birthday.

As an Eton schoolboy, William made weekend visits to the big house on the hill, being mentored by Granny rather as she had been tutored in the Second World War by the then vice-provost of Eton, Sir Henry Marten.

William said in 2016:

‘In the Queen, I have an extraordinary example of somebody who’s done an enormous amount of good and she’s probably the best role model I could have.’

That said, his aim was ‘finding your own path but with very good examples and guidance around you to support you.'

Queen Elizabeth II had a brilliant way of rising above the fray and usually being either a step ahead of public opinion or in tune with it.

If you are at the helm of affairs in a privileged hereditary position, your duty is to serve and use your pulpit for the benefit of others.

In a democracy, monarchy is accountable.

The scrutiny is intense, with an army of commentators paid for wisdom and hot air about each no-show, parsing each announcement, interpreting each image.

William takes the long view. He has ‘wide horizons,’ says Mick Clarke.

‘There are so many causes that are more palatable and easier to achieve than ending homelessness, but his commitment and drive are 100 per cent.’

The prince seeks a different way of being royal in an ancient institution that must move with the times. His task? To develop something modern in an ever-changing world.

He faces all sorts of new issues – or old issues in new guises.

Noises off from within the family don’t help – Andrew’s difficulties, or the suggestions of prejudice from Montecito a couple of years ago (now seemingly withdrawn), which prompted William’s most vehement soundbite: ‘We’re very much not a racist family.’

William is maybe a new kind of leader who can keep the monarchy relevant and resonant in the coming decades.

Queen Elizabeth II is a powerful exemplar and memory, but she was of her time. William is his own man.

He must overcome and think beyond ‘the unforgiving minute.’

Indeed, he could seek inspiration in Rudyard Kipling’s poem, If.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch[…]

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

This article was first published in the May 2024 issue, on sale Thursday, 28 March.

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cnnmairoll · 3 months

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Night of Victory Pairing: Kozume Kenma x Reader Genre: Fluff, 1.8k words a/n: originally, this is an idea of my persona with Kenma, but I wanted to share it ! so hope you enjoy this :) PLS NOTE THEYRE DATING IN HERE!! IM SORRY IF ITS NOT OBVIOUS ENOUGH 💔

The Corporate Champions Gala was in full swing, the air buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The grand ballroom was adorned with sparkling chandeliers, opulent floral arrangements, and an array of finely dressed attendees. The evening was a dazzling display of Japan's business elite, each eager to see who would take home the coveted awards.

You stood near the entrance, soaking in the grandeur. Your company, known for its innovative solutions and rapid growth, had been a formidable contender against Bouncing Ball Corp. Tonight, the spotlight was shared between you and Kozume Kenma, Tokyo's youngest and one of the most enigmatic CEOs.

As you made your way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and polite nods, you spotted him. Kenma stood by a tall window, his gaze fixed on the Tokyo skyline. He looked striking, his hair now a blend of his natural dark color and remnants of blonde, falling slightly over his eyes. His reserved demeanor only added to his mystique.

You approached him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Well, if it isn't Kozume Kenma, the gaming prodigy turned corporate mastermind," you teased lightly, your tone laced with friendly rivalry.

Kenma turned to you, a small smile forming on his lips. "And if it isn't the youngest female CEO in Japan, here to steal the show," he replied, his voice soft yet carrying a hint of amusement.

You chuckled, stepping closer. "I see you've been keeping tabs on me. Afraid I'll beat you tonight?"

Kenma's eyes sparkled with a mix of challenge and admiration. "Maybe. But don't get too cocky. The night is still young."

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. "Oh, come on. Admit it, Kozume. You know I'm going to win that best CEO award. You might as well start planning how you'll fulfill your end of our bet."

Kenma's smile widened, a rare sight for most but something you had grown fond of. "Don't be so sure, [Y/N]. I might surprise you."

You crossed your arms, enjoying the playful banter. "Surprise me? The only surprise would be if you actually enjoyed the spotlight for once."

Kenma opened his mouth to retort, but the sound of the emcee tapping the microphone interrupted him. The room gradually hushed, and all eyes turned towards the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the emcee's voice boomed through the speakers, "we will soon begin the announcements for tonight's nominations. Please take your seats."

Kenma glanced at you, his playful smirk shifting to a more serious expression. "Looks like it's showtime," he said quietly, his eyes flickering with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

You nodded, feeling a similar swirl of emotions. "Yeah, time to see who takes home the prize."

You both made your way to the reserved seating area, your steps synchronized as you navigated through the crowd. As you sat down, you couldn't help but notice the palpable tension in the room, a testament to the importance of the awards being handed out tonight.

Kenma settled into the seat next to you, his presence a comforting contrast to the competitive atmosphere. "Good luck, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the murmurs of the crowd.

"Good luck to you too, Kenma," you replied, offering him a genuine smile. Despite the rivalry, there was a mutual respect and admiration that had grown between you, making this moment even more significant.

The lights dimmed slightly, and the emcee began listing the categories and nominees. Your heart raced as the moment drew closer, the anticipation almost tangible. Kenma sat beside you, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the nervous energy around you.

The emcee's voice echoed through the ballroom, "And now, for the category of Best CEO. The nominees are: Kozume Kenma of Bouncing Ball Corp, [Y/N] [L/N] of [Your Company Name], and…"

As the emcee continued to list the nominees, you glanced at Kenma. His eyes were fixed on the stage, but you noticed his fingers tapping lightly on his knee, a subtle sign of his own anticipation.

You leaned in slightly, whispering, "May the best CEO win."

Kenma turned to you, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips. "May the best CEO win," he echoed softly.

"And the winner for the Best CEO of the year is…" the emcee paused for dramatic effect, his eyes scanning the room. The silence was almost deafening, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"[Y/N] [L/N] of [Your Company Name]!"

The room erupted in applause, and you felt a surge of adrenaline and disbelief. You turned to Kenma, who was already looking at you with a mix of pride and something else that made your heart skip a beat.

"Congratulations," he said sincerely, his eyes reflecting genuine admiration.

You managed a smile, your mind still processing the announcement. "Thank you, Kenma."

As you stood up and made your way to the stage, the applause grew louder. The spotlight was on you now, and you felt a wave of emotions—pride, joy, and a touch of nervousness. You accepted the award, the weight of it a tangible reminder of your hard work and dedication.

After a brief speech thanking your team, your mentors, and the industry for the recognition, you made your way back to your seat. The applause gradually died down, and the emcee continued with the rest of the ceremony.

Kenma was waiting for you, his expression softening as you approached. "Looks like you won the bet," he said, his tone light and teasing.

The rest of the gala passed in a blur of congratulations and farewells. Before you knew it, you and Kenma were driving through the quiet streets of Tokyo, the city lights casting a warm glow on the car's interior. You couldn't help but keep glancing at the plaque resting on your lap, a proud smile playing on your lips.

Kenma noticed and smirked. "Enjoying your victory a bit too much, aren't you?" he teased, his eyes flicking towards you briefly before returning to the road.

You laughed, unable to hide your glee. "Can you blame me? It feels good to win. And to beat you, no less."

He shook his head, his smile widening. "You're really gloating over that plaque, huh? Don't get too comfortable."

You gave him a curious look. "What do you mean by that?"

Kenma didn't answer right away. Instead, he made an unexpected turn and soon pulled up to a small park, its pathways lit by soft, ambient lights. You looked around, confused. "Why are we stopping here?"

He turned off the engine and looked at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I have a trick up my sleeve," he said cryptically. "Come on, let's take a walk."

Intrigued, you followed him out of the car. The night air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the gala. Kenma led you down a winding path, the sounds of the city fading into the background as you walked further into the park.

After a few minutes, you arrived at a small pond. The water was calm, reflecting the soft moonlight beautifully. The scene was serene, almost magical, and you couldn't help but pause to take it all in.

Kenma stood beside you, his gaze also fixed on the pond. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said softly, his voice blending with the quiet sounds of the night.

You nodded, a content smile on your face. "It really is. I didn't know you knew about this place."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I like to keep a few secrets."

You turned to look at him, curiosity evident in your eyes. "So, what's this all about? Why did you bring me here?"

Kenma's expression turned serious, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. "You know, you might have won the best CEO award tonight, but I still have my own ways of being the winner."

You stared at him, confused. "The awards have already ended, Kenma. What are you talking about?"

He smiled mysteriously. "Just trust me on this. Close your eyes."

Though perplexed, you obliged, closing your eyes and waiting, the anticipation building. You could hear Kenma moving slightly, the faint rustle of his clothes and the soft crunch of the grass beneath his feet.

"Okay, you can open them now," he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you opened your eyes, you noticed that Kenma had dropped down onto one knee, looking up at you with a mixture of nervousness and determination in his eyes.

In his hand was a small velvet box, opened to reveal a simple yet beautiful ring. He took a deep breath and looked up at you, his voice slightly trembling as he spoke.

"I may have lost the award tonight, but I still feel like the winner. Because I have something far more valuable right here in front of me."

You felt a rush of emotions, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't help but chuckle through the tears, shaking your head slightly. "You're such a jerk, you know that?"

Kenma chuckled softly, a wave of relief washing over him as he saw your teary smile. "Yeah, I know I am. But you love this jerk regardless, don't you?"

You laughed, wiping the tears from your eyes, and nodded. "Yes, I do. I love you, Kenma." His face lit up with joy, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out to take your hand. "You've been my partner, my rival, and my inspiration. And now, I want you to be my everything. [Y/N], will you marry me?" Your heart soared with happiness as you answered, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. "Yes, Kenma. A thousand times yes."

Kenma's expression softened further, and he gently slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch tender and loving. He stood up, pulling you into a warm embrace. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, a comforting rhythm that echoed your own emotions.

"Looks like you were right," you whispered, your voice filled with love. "You really are the winner tonight."

Kenma chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind it. "I love you, you nerd."

You smiled through your tears, teasing back softly, "I love you too, jerk."

He laughed, the sound a symphony of joy and amusement. "You always know how to cut me down to size, don't you? Even when I steal your award and propose to you, I'm still a jerk."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling completely at peace in his arms. "But you're my jerk now," you whispered playfully.

Kenma tugged you closer, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you're stuck with this jerk now, love. No take-backs."

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kenma #kenma kozume x reader #kozume kenma x reader #haikyuu kenma #hq kenma #kenma x reader #kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma fluff #kenma x you

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 11 hours

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Hiii I’ve never really requested before BUT I had a dream and I just needed more !!! so could you do fem idol reader and hyunjin are both Versace biggest ambassadors both of them extremely close with dontella and she and soo many fans calls them both lthe Versace prince and princess so they both announce there relationship at the Versace event and they model together please add or change whatever you want I just needed someone to hear this ❤️❤️❤️

I adore this. So here you go Sunshine I hope you enjoy <3

Hyunjin x Female!Reader

The atmosphere inside the lavish venue felt alive with glittering lights, the hum of excited conversation, and the scent of luxury that permeated the air. Every corner of the ballroom reflected opulence, from the velvet curtains embroidered with gold to the grand chandelier illuminating the faces of the most influential names in fashion. Tonight wasn’t just any fashion event—it was the event. Versace’s exclusive gala.

And it was the night that everything would change.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror in your hotel suite, adjusting the final touches on your gown- a custom-made Versace piece crafted just for you. It was a masterpiece, designed with intricate lacework, sharp tailoring, and accents that hugged your frame like it was painted onto you. The colors shimmered, catching the soft lights in the room, making your skin glow as if the dress itself was made of moonlight. Your reflection smiled back at you. This wasn’t just any gown. It was a statement.

There was a knock on your door, followed by your manager’s voice. "You ready?"

You took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing down your dress. “As I’ll ever be.”

As you stepped out into the hallway, the hum of anticipation vibrated in your chest. This night would be special. Not just because you were about to walk the red carpet for one of the biggest events of the year but because he would be there.

Hwang Hyunjin.

It was impossible to think of Versace without thinking of Hyunjin- just as it was impossible to think of Hyunjin without thinking of you. The two of you were like magnets, drawn together by fate and fashion. From the first time you met during a Versace campaign shoot, your chemistry was undeniable. Donatella Versace herself had coined the term "Versace Prince and Princess" after that fateful shoot, and the media had run with it.

But tonight, you would reveal a truth that had been bubbling beneath the surface for months. The Versace Prince and Princess were now more than just friends, more than just ambassadors of the brand. They were in love.

Donatella had noticed long before you had even figured your feelings out. It was in fact her who had pushed Hyunjin so hard to confess after she forced a slip up from you confirming your feelings about Hyunjin.

Not only was she was a fashion icon, but a matchmaking genius. She had so easily spotted the potential for you and Hyunjin in the fashion world and in the romantic world. And tonight, under the flash of cameras and beneath the eyes of the fashion world, you and Hyunjin would finally the relationship that had come to be.

When you arrived, the red carpet was buzzing with energy. You could hear the camera shutters clicking at a rapid pace as soon as you stepped out of the car, the soft fabric of your gown trailing behind you like waves. The flashes blinded you for a moment, but you’d grown used to it over the years. You posed gracefully, giving the photographers what they came for- sultry looks over your shoulder, that perfectly practiced smile, the occasional wink.

But your eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for him.

And then, you saw him.

Hyunjin was standing at the other end of the carpet, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever in a tailored Versace suit that looked like it had been made with him in mind. His long hair was styled effortlessly, giving him that ethereal yet dangerous look that had the fashion world obsessed. He turned, his eyes catching yours across the carpet, and for a moment, it felt like time had slowed. The world faded away, and it was just the two of you, connected by the same invisible thread that had always drawn you together.

He smiled, that small, knowing smile that made your heart flutter. With that soft look in his eyes that assured you he too wanted to spend the rest of his life together with you.

The two of you had planned this moment for weeks. The way you would walk down the carpet separately, letting the anticipation build, before meeting in the middle in front of the world's cameras. Hyunjin had always been a showman, and tonight, he wanted the world to see just how much he adored you.

As you took a step forward, your heart pounded in your chest. The crowd seemed to hold its breath as you walked towards him, your movements deliberate, graceful. Hyunjin mirrored your actions, his long strides bringing him closer to you.

When you finally met in the middle of the carpet, the world exploded into flashes. You could feel the weight of the crowd's gaze, the media's eyes glued to the two of you, but none of it mattered. Hyunjin was all you could see. He reached for your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours, and together.

You expected for him to turn to the cameras, maybe say something. But instead, he leaned in and brushed the most delicate and tender kiss you had ever experienced to your lips.

The reaction was instantaneous. The crowd roared with excitement, the photographers calling out your names, trying to get the perfect shot. You could hear faint whispers- “Are they...?” “Is this real?” -but you and Hyunjin remained calm, your hands clasped tightly together.

Then, Hyunjin turned towards the door, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Ready?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with excitement.

Hyunjin turned back to the crowd, nodding and giving a slight wave as you two walked into the event.

There was a collective gasp from the audience, and you couldn’t help but smile. The cameras clicked furiously as you stood there, hand in hand with Hyunjin, the Versace Prince and Princess revealing their long-hidden secret.

You squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, glancing up at him, and he smiled down at you, his eyes soft with affection. This was your moment, and nothing could take it away from you.

But the night wasn’t over yet.

Inside the gala, the atmosphere was electric. Fashion icons, celebrities, and designers mingled, sipping champagne and marveling at the opulent displays of Versace’s latest collection. But all eyes were on you and Hyunjin.

Donatella Versace herself had insisted that the two of you model the final looks of the evening. It was a last-minute decision, but one that felt right. After all, you were Versace’s biggest ambassadors, and now, the world knew you were together. What better way to celebrate than by walking the runway together?

Backstage, you could feel the excitement buzzing through the air. Hyunjin stood next to you, his presence grounding you in the midst of the chaos. He was calm, collected, as always, but you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

“You ready for this, princess?” he asked, his voice teasing as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You laughed softly, adjusting the gold crown that adorned your head- a perfect accessory for your final look. “I was born ready.”

The music started, a deep, pulsing beat that reverberated through the room. The lights dimmed, casting a golden glow over the runway, and one by one, the models began to walk. You could feel the energy building as the final looks were unveiled, each one more extravagant than the last.

And then it was your turn.

Hyunjin offered you his arm, and together, you stepped onto the runway, the crowd gasping as you appeared. You walked in perfect sync, your heads held high, exuding confidence and power. The cameras flashed, capturing every moment, every step, but all you could think about was Hyunjin next to you.

This was your kingdom. The two of you ruled the fashion world as the Versace Prince and Princess, and tonight, you were untouchable.

As you reached the end of the runway, Hyunjin turned to you, his hand slipping around your waist. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "I love you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you." You planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

And as the crowd rose to their feet in applause, you knew that whatever came next, you and Hyunjin would face it together. Although it seemed like you already had the support.

Later that night, as the gala began to wind down and the guests mingled, you and Hyunjin found yourselves tucked away in a quiet corner of the venue, away from the cameras and the noise. The two of you sat side by side, your hands intertwined, enjoying the peace that came with the end of such a monumental evening. With his free hand Hyunjin played with your fingers, the flute of champagne he had long forgotten about as he was more focused on you.

“I still can’t believe we did it,” you murmured, resting your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “We really told the whole world.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m glad we did. I was tired of pretending and hiding. Do you know how hard it is not to look at you for long periods of time? You're so pretty and I love you so much that if I looked at you any longer than two seconds the world would have guessed in -3 seconds.”

You smiled, lifting your head to look at him. “Your dramatic Jinnie...”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the weight of the evening settling around you. There was so much that had changed tonight, but in a way, it felt like nothing had changed at all. You were still you. And Hyunjin was still Hyunjin. The only difference was that now, the world knew what you had known for a long time- that you were meant to be together.

Hyunjin’s hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “I love you,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your heart full.

And in that moment, under the soft glow of the lights and the quiet hum of the after-party, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Hyunjin would face it together.

Your love was more than just a story for the cameras. It was real, it was true, and it was forever.

The Versace Prince and Princess- together, always.

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moonshine-nightlight · 1 year

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Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Six

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 26

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine][Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] Part Twenty-Six [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You’re grateful this gala does not require a grand entrance despite it being the last of the parties at the Governor’s house and in Connton. Instead, you're on a dais to one side of the room in a sort of receiving area. Everyone who's come to Connton but will not be going to the wedding itself on the Northridge estate has come. They all want a chance to speak to the Northridges and express their well-wishes before you leave town. You've had no moment to yourself since arriving.

It's a real test of your memory. You've met so many new people over the course of these galas and now you must see if you can match the faces to their owners. Dale is surprisingly good at doing so, thank the light. Your notes help you to remember specific details with the names, so you end up working well with each other to ensure no one thinks you’ve forgotten them.

You fall into an easy back and forth rhythm and you can't help how satisfied your partnership makes you feel, even if you begin to grow tired with the constant social interaction. It's been over an hour without a pause in conversation you're expected to be attentive and contributing to. Dale appears ready to continue into perpetuity, but you hope when the next round of food is announced, the unofficial line of those you need to speak with will have dwindled enough that you can stop for a time. You’ve never been so eager to join the typical press and crowd of a typical gala.

Of course, after you've spoken to those who sought you out to, there will likely be a number requesting dances with yourself or Dale. You can only hope that's after the food as you've once more reached the part of the evening where your anxiety has been quelled by weariness.

Something bumps your hand and you turn to see Dale offering you a goblet of wine, light and cool. You smile gratefully at him, murmuring your thanks and unsure why the kind gesture brings heat to your face. You sip on the drink, your throat thankful and your mind appreciating the reprieve from talking as Dale brings your current discussion away from the intricacies of divining new mineral deposits and onto the wine. You're able to hum appreciatively in all the right places and the couple moves on with a polite smile.

Dale presses close to you, leaning over to peer into your nearly empty wine glass. "Another?"

You shake your head, resisting the urge to lean into him. The evening's just begun, you remind yourself, it's too early to be tired. "I am fine for now."

"I'll be fine once it is time for the main course," Dale grumbles good-naturedly. "Grandmother ushered us up here so quickly I could snatch nothing more than a single roll."

"I think the crowd around us is thinning," you attempt to console him. Dale is nearly always hungry, or so it seems to you, but he isn't wrong. Between the meeting this afternoon to discuss the assassins, the preparations for this final gala, and then being whisked away to hosting duties as soon as you arrived, you two haven't had a meal since breakfast a little before noon. "The later crowd should not gather until after supper."

"Thank the stars for that," Dale mutters as he takes your goblets to leave them on a side table. "This day has been nothing but talks and discussions."

"I agree," you say. "I do believe the musicians Grandmother hired for the wedding arrived in town tonight and shall be playing at this gala."

"Oh? Good, good.” Dale looks cheered by the prospect of some physical activity as you’d hoped. “I know some of our guests are already filling our dance cards, but the first few I intend not to give away."

You know he's probably only looking forward to not having to make conversation, but you like to imagine he also simply would appreciate your company. "I agree." You share a smile with him.

You look away only so as to locate the next guest and finish, itching even more for this first round of focused socializing to end. Instead you hear a familiar voice greeting Grandmother. You stiffen, but at the same time, you're grateful that this final shoe has dropped. You've spent all evening anticipating your family's arrival. At the same time, you're still surprised to see your mother speaking with Grandmother, your father at her side and your brother on the other.

You can feel Dale turn with you, but you can't look away. Has it truly only been a couple months since you were last living with them in your home fief? It feels like so much longer.

Your father meets your eyes first and you can see he also needs a second to take you in. He looks the same as always, the crisp lines of his naval uniform that he prefers to wear for any event is as neat as always, the buttons shined to perfection. It's you who has changed. Still, he smiles, tilting his head for you to join them.

You start toward them automatically and glance up at Dale when you sense him following. His eyes are fixed on them and from the way his bearing and attention have sharpened, you know you don't need to tell them who they are.

"...cannot be helped, of course," your mother is saying to Grandmother.

"Of course," Grandmother says sympathetically. "We are pleased you were able to make this gala if that is what you have been dealing with."

You only hesitate when you get closer, habit telling you to stand behind your father, but you take your correct place at Grandmother's left. You’re surprised to see your oldest brother is here as well. As the inheriting lord, he had every reason to stay at home given your parents’ presence. Your mother's eyes land on you immediately, you can feel her looking you over, but it's your father who speaks first.

“You look lovely, my child." His smile is minimal, but his voice is quiet and warm. He’s where you get your desire to avoid the spotlight from. He’s more than happy to stand in your mother’s shadow at events and he was the one who often employed your ill health to excuse himself from events he couldn't get out of with other obligations when in the country. When you were feeling up for it, he would read to you. On the other hand, if you were too ill, he could never bring himself to stay long.

“Thank you, Father.” You try to push down the return of feeling like a child play acting an adult, something you haven't felt in weeks. Your hand still can't help but smooth your skirts before you meet your mother's eyes.

"You do," your mother confirms, her expression schooled politeness as it always is at public events. It makes it hard for even you to read her. "Even if it surprises my mother's heart to see you in your betrotheds' colors rather than our own. They suit you well."

"Thank you, Mother,” you reply, more focused on your role as a host than fully absorbing her comment, though it echoes one of your own thoughts when you first donned your Northridge dress. Since Father and Grandmother Northridge were the ones who arranged this marriage contract while Dale was away, none of your family has actually met him. You gesture to Dale. “Please allow me to introduce Lord Dale of Northridge, my fiancé.” Dale bows as you continue. “Lord Dale, allow me to introduce my parents, Lord Henry and Lady Fiore of Portsmith, and my brother Lord Asher."

Everyone murmurs pleasantries and greetings while you wait for your nerves to relax. It looks like Asher left his wife home to manage the fief, but did bring at least some of his children, who you can see behind him. You spot your older sister as well, with her husband and heir, all the way from Khinat, but they’re speaking with a few other guests nearby.

Grandmother, and Grandfather move to greet them with Asher acting as the spokesperson for your family, allowing you a moment with your parents. Your mother clasps your arms, making a bit of a show of looking you up and down, before she pulls you into a quick embrace that ends nearly as soon as it started. “I’m pleased you're doing well,” she says quietly enough only you can hear. “I’d been worried about you, away from us.”

You flush. “Mother, I’ve been away longer for school.”

“It is not the same,” she insists, but refuses to elaborate. She steps back and frowns at your dress. “While the colors are lovely, your sleeves are too short,” your mother tuts. “You must be having chills with these.” She gives one of your short sleeves a small tug. “I know they are the fashion now, but you mustn’t neglect your health. Do you have a shawl? Obviously not, or you’d have worn it. I shall have one over to you tomorrow. We’ll ensure the rest of your clothing is sent to Northridge once we return.”

You resist the urge to sigh, to say anything about her own fashionable dress. You merely wait for her to finish speaking her piece. “Thank you, Mother.”

“This gala looks lovely,” Mother continues, looking around with sharp but pleased eyes. “Most befitting such an occasion for Northridge,” she nods graciously at Dale, but continues before he can reply. “I’ve never been to Connton, but it's a charming city. We had some difficulties with the weather and some troublemakers on the river, so it is relieving to have arrived. Although I suppose we have yet to make the final ride tomorrow.”

‘Troublemakers’ likely means folks upset about a tax raise who tried to hold up the boat when they saw the family flags flying, saying those who levied said taxes were aboard. Mother had all sorts of euphemisms for various spots of danger or attacks that might occur. ‘Troublemakers’ meant no one was injured or else they would have been ‘ruffians’. As far as you know, they are not common codewords and exist primarily to keep up appearances.

Dale sees his opportunity and says, “The ride is an easy one, only a day or two depending primarily on how quickly the traffic in and out of the city is moving.”

“Very good,” Mother says. “Are there proper wayhouses betwixt your estate and this city? Given all of our travels, we are likely to leave later and I’ve no desire to ride much in a day or overnight.” Mother gets sick to her stomach if she spends too much time in a carriage, you remember. She’s likely bothered that they can’t continue to sail.

“Yes,” Dale answers before you can. “I can provide the name of where we stay if we stop for the night. We’ll be leaving early enough tomorrow that we won’t be stopping. My understanding from speaking with other guests is that many will arrive gradually throughout the week so it should not be overcrowded.” There will be dinners each night on the estate, but no more formal galas until the wedding. You cannot wait for the lull of social activity before you must be put on a stage.

“Wonderful,” Mother says with a smile up at Dale. She glances around for her secretary who starts to make her way over once Mother makes eye contact with her. “We had meant to inquire sooner, but had never anticipated being so delayed.”

Dale dutifully relates the necessary travel information to her, without you needing to say a thing. Once she has the information not only about the wayhouse, but also regarding what wing of the estate your family will be staying, Mother bustles away with her secretary to ensure your siblings and their families receive the same details, Nevermind waiting to do so in the morning or trusting her secretary to speak with theirs. Nevermind if any of them had planned to leave earlier or stay in Connton an additional day or so. She’ll want the family to all stay together.She leaves, but not before saying, “And I shall check to see if we’ve brought along a spare shawl for you.”

You give your father a look and he nods before following her, so there’s hope she won’t actually return with one to give you. You stay where you are, needing a moment to recollect yourself after seeing them again.

Dale’s quiet voice, leaned close for just you to hear, interrupts your thoughts, “It is not cold and her sleeves…” You wave off his logical points about the fact that it is nearly halfway through Hectary and Mother’s own sleeves were short before he can make them. “Do not try to make sense of it. I’m receiving a shawl now and there would have been no persuading her otherwise.”

“As you say.” Dale sounds confused and skeptical, but he doesn’t argue with you. It is too much to try to explain that Mother often thought your fits were motivated by cold since they at times resembled shivers. She often tried to dress you far more warmly than the occasion called for and had only mildly backed off after you had heat exhaustion once while home on holiday a couple years ago.

A tug on your hand draws your attention to your niece, who you’re guessing is allowed to attend this gala for a couple hours and only on her best behavior. Naturally, she’s snuck away from Asher’s side already. Ten year old Rose had followed you around the family house when you returned from schooling a year ago, suddenly fascinated by you. She’d actually been upset when you left for Northridge and refused to say goodbye.

Instead of greeting you or introducing herself, she narrows her eyes, looking suspiciously from you to Dale. "This is who you are marrying?"

"Hello to you as well, Rose,” you say, but she just crosses her arms with a huff. Deciding that it is not your job to teach her manners—especially not when you feel she is only choosing to ignore them, not ignorant of them—you simply answer her question. “Yes, this is Lord Dale.” Turning to Dale, you explain, “Rose is my niece, Asher’s youngest."

"Pleased to meet you Lady Rose," Dale says with a short bow.

Rose blinks before executing a perfunctory curtsy, though it does nothing to diminish her frown. "You're not what I expected," she says bluntly.

"Rose," you admonish. This is pushing it, even for a child at one of her first events such as this. You have seen her deal politely with guests at the house before and have no idea what could be compelling her to be so rude. Not to mention you've not seen Dale interact with any children and have no idea how he will take her attitude. After all, he didn't grow up with siblings underfoot nor their children.

"In what way?" Dale asks instead, only sounding curious.

Rose hums, tapping her chin in an exaggerated mimic of Asher that you feel some of your frustration melting. If Dale's not put off, and your Mother is out of earshot, then you don’t mind indulging her to an extent. It’s curious to see her almost suspicious on your behalf. Whether or not you usher her back to her father’s side will depend on her answer to Dale’s question. "You're too tall," she proclaims as if that contained all her criticism distilled to one comment.

You blink in surprise, but Dale laughs. "My apologies, but I've no way to change that."

"I suppose," Rose replies grudgingly. She bites her lip, looking between you two, a question clearly on her mind. "Can I visit? Even after you're married?"

"Of course," you say with a frown. While you’d not been allowed to travel out of your home fief when you were young, most noble children often visited cousins and extended family members before formal schooling at an institution. "Why wouldn't you be able to?"

Rose shrugs. "Father said that things change after a person marries. That you might be too busy."

"I would never be too busy for you.”

"He said, it would be his," she points at Dale, "house and so he might not want me to."

You suppose you could see your brother's point. He likely said that more out of an abundance of caution and knowing couples prefer some time to themselves to settle in. Perhaps he was even trying to give you an excuse ahead of time if you’d didn’t want a nosy niece underfoot. However, you do not like the implication you would need Dale's permission for your family to visit. You open your mouth to say so, but you're not the one who answers her.

"Nonsense," Dale says, clearly confused. "With our marriage, it will be our house. Any family of my spouse would my family as well. You are welcome to visit as you please, though I'd caution you to send word ahead of time. We'll be touring the fief in our first year."

"Truly?" Rose asks before grinning, not waiting for confirmation. "Thank you!"

"You also need your parent's permission," you add, knowing exactly how her mind works. Predictably, she pouts. "But we would love to have you. Tell me what you have been up to since we last spoke. You never answered my last letter."

"I'm sorry," Rose says dutifully, but she isn’t truly bothered. "I always forget. It's half finished. Everything was boring until Aunt Callalily came. Come on, you have to meet Sara and Kanti.”

“I’ve already met them,” you point out, but take her hand anyway. “So have you.”

“But they were just babies then,” Rose says dismissively as she pulls you over. “Now they’re almost real people.” Dale laughs and Rose grins, always pleased to entertain an adult. Your heart warms at Dale’s indulgence of her, grateful you do not have the original Dale who likely would have dismissed her outright.

You follow her over to your siblings and find that your other sister and her husband are here as well. Introductions fly around as you all fulfill etiquette’s demands. Your nieces and nephews end up sneaking away before you can see how much any of them have grown. Dale ends up talking to your father and brother, but you are able to talk with your sisters.

“Douglas is coming?” you ask, unable to keep your surprise to yourself when you learn from them that your remaining brother is going to be at the wedding too. All four of your siblings will come, you’d never thought… “I thought he was stationed on the northern border for the rest of the year. Fort Rhimer.”

“He is,” your oldest sister, Callalily, confirms. “However, knights are allowed leave,” she says, as if your surprise is what’s odd. “A family wedding is more than an acceptable reason to take such. We are not at war. He is more than capable of leaving his command for a fortnight or two.”

“Of course, I simply did not think…” You just didn’t think he’d bother to come. Douglas is the sibling you saw and knew the least, with him having been off in the capital for training or on active military duty for most of your life. Perhaps he wants to take leave for other reasons and saw this as a convenient opportunity. Or maybe he wants to see the rest of the family. “Well, I’ll be happy to see him.”

“Yes, it's been too long,” Marigold, the sister closest in age to you, but who is closer still to Douglas. She’s nearly a decade older than you are. “Douglas is too focused on his career and would do well to take more time to enjoy the rest of what life has to offer. And to see us, of course. He neglects his family.”

“Hush,” Callalily rolls her eyes and makes a show of looking around. “Don’t let Mother hear you or you’ll be treated to another lecture on the importance of a noble’s getting married, even though we are already married.”

Your mother is still off somewhere else, but everyone’s making their way down from the dais to join the gala proper. You’re still a little nervous with your family around, that you’re not sure how much you’ll actually end up eating, but you’d like to get away from even this minor stage. Callalily must agree as she leads the two of you over to one of the buffet tables. “No doubt she shall be searching this gala for eligible matches the entire night, especially since he is the only one of her children left who is not even betrothed.”

Marigold laughs. You used to be envious of how effortless she makes everything look. If you tried to wear that bright red scarf with its foreign patterns, even if it matched your dress like hers does, you’d only look out of place and awkward. She has the ability to keep abreast with current trends and styles and play them to her advantage. She has an eye for fashion even if, as a sculptor, she primarily uses no color in her work.

Even Callalily who should look out of place in her Khinat dress manages to only look elegant and interesting as a diplomat should. Your plainer clothes, especially growing up as you only had a few nice dresses given your shyness and often inability to attend more important events, had always left you feeling more than a step behind your worldly older sisters. “Oh, I wonder if he’s realized that now, given the wedding we’re attending.” Marigold leans over and gives you a hug around the shoulders. “Our youngest, all grown up. He’s going to regret coming, isn’t he?”

You’ve often felt cut off from your siblings, being so much younger than them. Now, this gala is for you, for your wedding that you’re helping to host in your lovely Northridge dress. It's fun to be included in the joke with your sisters. To feel like you’re within reach of the same plateau of ‘proper adult’ as they are. “Perhaps.” You smile back at her. “Maybe Mother will succeed in her matchmaking.”

Marigold stifles a snort. “Oh, yes, and then perhaps he will fly back to the fort on the wings of such a mystical love.”

Callalily swats gently at Marigold’s arm, but she’s smiling. “We didn’t think he’d holdout long enough to be the last one, did we?” She looks over the hors d'oeuvres laid out as she decides what to eat. You find you’re not ready to have anything after all. “Who knows what will happen?”

She turns to you and you’re surprised to have her attention at such an event. Callalily always tries to have at least one longer conversation with you when she visits, but she doesn’t often seek out your opinion in a group, or even at dinner. “How are you faring?” Her eyebrows tilt down in sympathy, a common look she’s given you—one that always makes you feel like a child, though you know she means nothing by it. “I hope these preparations have not been too much for you. Or did the Northridges’ take care of everything?” She doesn’t give you a chance to answer, before she looks at Marigold with a smirk. “I must admit, it would be novel to think of a wedding for one of us that Mother did not try to manage all of.”

You know she sees you as someone still ill, someone who tires easily and is overwhelmed easily, but you thought she could see you’ve moved past that. She’s the one who encouraged you to pick your own school, your own courses of study. Did she think you were still so moldable to even the family you were marrying? Or did she think the Northridges were overbearing? You’d not thought she had any particular thoughts or opinions on them.

“Your fault for getting married first,” Marigold says to Callalily. “My fault for getting married to someone without their own mother to fight her off. And Asher’s fault for being the heir. Only you have been so lucky.” She winks at you. You wonder if that’s truly the reason because you remember the arguments and control Mother had sought to exercise over your other siblings' weddings. It was why you’d been almost expecting her to come with you to Northridge, even though it was uncommon for a parent of a betrothed to come with them to stay with the family they are marrying into. Mother hadn’t pushed to be involved, besides ensuring you had all you needed, shawls aside.

You think she’s more committed to acting as though everything is typical, to show too much of her traditional concern over your health. She’d been extremely concerned regarding your health reports and how they might taint a prospective marriage. You hope she’ll continue to act as if she isn’t worried about your health or a relapse, but you don’t know how you feel about it once more resulting in treatment other than what your siblings received. Even if you don’t want her to interfere with the wedding.

“That luck is likely to be running out,” Callalily cautions. “Now that she’s arrived.”

“Everything’s already settled,” you protest, hoping you weren’t wrong about her overstepping to manage what you and the Northridges have well in hand.

“Not sure that will stop Mother if she sees something she feels is missing,” Marigold teases. “You know how she is when she sees a problem she feels she knows how to solve.”

She’s not wrong and you anxiously peer around to see if Mother’s returned. Callalily’s hand on your arm brings your focus back to her. “We shall keep her busy as best as we are able,” Callalily reassures you. “I’m certain you’ve enough to worry about without Mother’s particular style of assistance. She truly hasn’t said anything about the wedding preparations. I believe she is merely delighted to see you wed. I’m not sure she’d thought…” Callalily trails off but you hear the words regardless. Thought to see you marry at all. All your family had thought you’d not live past thirteen, the age at which your aunt had died. “Well, the wedding itself is not her worry. Discussing your health, in private, is likely on the table.”

Mother was the one who managed your doctors and treatments while you grew up. She would go through different phases of how involved she was and what she left to the individual doctors, but she always pushed for new techniques and options to be tested. She’ll likely have some new compound she wants you to take to ensure your condition doesn’t resurge or simply to enhance overall health. “Of course,” you acknowledge ruefully. “I only hope I do not have to talk her out of substances that are actually poisonous once more.” Half of what you’re learned about medicine was defensive, not mere curiosity on your part, due to Mother’s willingness to experiment.

“To her credit,” Marigold says with a grin, obviously remembering the incident a few years ago since she had been visiting them at the time. “I knew a number of people who were using belladonna as well. They were all very convinced of the therapeutic benefits if one did not use too much.”

“Your people—artists—are always so ready to believe beauty is pain,” Callalily says with a smirk before helping herself to a stuffed mushroom.

“Oh yes, only us artists could be so vain.” Marigold rolls her eyes. “And how long did it take your maid to do your hair up in this manner?”

You eye the beautiful and elaborate braids Callalily has her hair in, she even has a few strands of jewelry in that make her chestnut hair look particularly lustrous. It must have taken hours. “The usual amount,” Callalily says with a sniff.

“Of course,” Marigold replies. She never takes anything too seriously nor does she hold Callalily’s, or anyone’s, teases or criticisms against her. “I did want to compliment the work. It truly is lovely.”

“Thank you.” Callalily smiles and then reaches out to touch one of your curls. “Yours are sweet, I hope you do not follow Marigold’s example.” You feel younger in your basic hairstyle, but at least you know you won’t need to respond.

“My hair is fine,” Marigold says quickly enough. “Covered, as propriety dictates.”

“It’s still down,” Callalily tuts.

“And no one has fainted from the sight, since it is covered,” Marigold reiterates. “I have to have my hair pinned up so precisely and tightly to my head when I work that I cannot abide having it done so when it can be helped.”

“Why not cover it while you work?”

“It does not work as well,” Marigold insists around a piece of bread and some cheese, a hand to cover her mouth while she rebuts Callalily. “All my scarves get covered in clay and I overheat.”

“It’s hot enough in this ballroom.” Callalily reaches for a fresh glass to drink, passing one to Marigold and to you.

Your pleasure at the lack of hesitation in her inclusion of you is overshadowed by the reminder of your mother’s intentions. “Mother hasn’t returned with a shawl for me, has she?”

“No…” Marigold frowns, looking baffled. “Why would she? It’s a week into Hectary with nary a sea breeze to cool us.”

“You know how she feels about our sibling and chills,” Callalily reminds Marigold before looking back at you. “No, I believe she’s returned and is speaking with the Governor. If she had found a shawl to foist upon you, she would have done so before joining that conversation.”

“Thank the light,” you mutter and take a sip of the wine she’d handed you.

“You poor thing,” Marigold coos. “She’d have stifled you. I’ve no notion how you put up with her fussing.”

“Yes, truly. I managed to have her stop by the time I left for schooling.” Callalily doesn’t mean to sound scolding but you can’t help feeling like she is. “You should assert yourself more clearly with her.”

Callalily’s never understood how differently Mother treats you than she does your other siblings. She doesn’t see that you could behave identically to how Callalily did when she was your age and not be permitted the same leeway. “She does not listen.”

“You must make her,” Callalily says, as if it is that easy. As if you have not tried. “She’ll never see you as grown if you do not.” You know that too, but you can’t seem to get through to Mother. You’re not sure you ever will be able to. And you’re tired of attempting so.

“Well, it will cease to be much of a problem going forward, will it not?” Marigold asks. “Fussing during Solstices is easy enough to manage.”

You miss what Callalily says in reply because your eyes catch sight of an unnatural shadow. A long tail cuts across the ballroom floor and you follow it back to where Dale stands with Grandfather and your brother. You reverse, looking to see where it leads and spot the end on the buffet. It’s reared up onto the table and you swear there is a mouth on the end of it, trying to steal some cheese.

Your heart pounds at this blatant display. Someone’s going to notice sooner rather than later. How can you get Dale to be more subtle? He’s going to worry you to an early grave, illness be damned.

You need a reason to squash it or cover it up. Your eyes land on a familiar figure at a nearby table and you blurt out without thinking, “Lady Breighton!” She somehow hears you over the noisy crowd and looks over at you. In too deep, you link your arm with Marigold’s. Your sisters look startled and confused by your outburst, but you simply smile at them. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to Dale’s aunt. She’s an avid admirer of sculpture, Marigold, and I’m certain she would enjoy conversing with you.”

“Oh, of course, ” Marigold still seems surprised that you’re the one trying to bring more people into a conversation, but she can’t resist talking about her art. She grins. “I’d be happy to.”

You head over to Breighton, keeping Marigold on one side and the buffet on the other side. Callalily slides her arm into Marigold’s other arm, which helpfully puts both of them further from the more obvious end of Dale’s most recent slip up. You can see that everyone seems to step over the shadow without thought, as if they instinctively know they shouldn’t touch it.

You deliberately step on the shadow tendril while simultaneously disposing of your napkin directly on top of the little mouth at the end. The texture of the shadow under your foot is somewhere between what you imagine a snake would feel like and pudding. It is profoundly unsettling. You're grateful you haven’t had anything to eat after all. You don’t look at Dale, but you’re relieved you don’t hear any sort of sound to signify what you did hurt him over much.

You concentrate so much on not looking at Dale that you introduce your sisters to Breighton without much thought, relying on the etiquette lessons drilled into you to get through it. Breighton does appear to pay greater attention when you mention Marigold’s passion, so you’re glad you didn’t guess wrong about her interest.

Only once the conversation has started, do you dare chance a look back over to Dale. He’s standing just where he had been, but there’s no longer a shadow connected to the buffet. He looks perfectly ordinary once more and you breathe a sigh of relief. Taking a grateful drink of the water glass Breighton has handed you, you can’t help but hope this gala is done sooner rather than later.

[Part Twenty-Seven]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #nothing's wrong with dale #dale #story part #terato #exophilia #monster romance #monster bf #reader #male monster #osha compliant #slow burn #arranged marriage #migraines kept me unable to write when i usually did so this chapters late #but i had some additional time off work so its all good #also this chapter was challenging to write #but hopefully you like it!#let me know what you think!

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thescarletnargacuga · 1 month

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THIS IS PROBABLY VERY SELFISH OF ME...

BUT I WANNA SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO

ARE YOU ABLE TO WRITE A LITTLE FIC OF MY KINGDOM AU SHOWTIME? MAYBE LIKE A CONFESSION?

IF YOU DON'T WANNA THAT'S OK 🩷

A/N: I like writing the characters in different universes and environments. It keeps things fresh :3

THE ROYAL GALA

A KINGDOM AU ONESHOT

AU credit: @allisonraeyt @tadk-ask-blog

WARNING: none

~~~

The Royal Gala is a formal annual event hosted by the different royal families around the world. This year was Prince Caine's turn to host. The castle was cleaned extra spotless and decorated to the nines to impress the visiting royals.

The Gala would be a night of music, dancing and live entertainment. All Royals were expected to attend and dance. This was a gesture of good faith and communion between the kingdoms.

The grand ballroom was vibrantly polished. The marble floor reflected the painted ceiling. Banners displayed the royal seals of every kingdom, but the main color scheme was that of Caine's royal colors. Thousands of mystical lights softly lit the room.

As evening fell over the castle, dozens of carriages filed through the castle gates. Prince Caine was ready to welcome his guests, dressed in his full formal Prince attire. He was rather dashing, if he said so himself. As each guest was announced and welcomed, he couldn't help but look to the grand staircase. Princess Pomni should be down any moment. He couldn't miss her arrival.

Pomni was still in her room getting ready with the help of her handmaidens, Gangle and Ragatha. Pomni fussed with her dress as Gangle secured a tiara to Pomni's hair. Ragatha finished Pomni's makeup, "There! You look amazing." Ragatha smiled at Pomni in the mirror.

Pomni smiled back. "Thanks. You did such a good job." Pomni moved her head side to side to inspect how well the makeup was done.

Gangle sis her best to move with Pomni but was having a hard time finishing securing the tiara. "Um...Princess-"

Pomni stood, excited to get downstairs. "Thank you so much! I can't wait to show Caine!" She picked up the front of her dress and quickly went out the door.

Gangle frowned. "...I couldn't finish putting the tiara in place."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Royal ballroom dancing isn't that strenuous." Ragatha reassured.

"Announcing Kinger and Queenie of the Chess Kingdom!" The Royal barker proclaimed, standing at attention.

Kinger and Queenie followed the red carpet to Prince Caine, who welcomed them with a respectful bow. "Good to see you, Kinger. Lovely as always, Queenie." Prince Caine kissed Queenie's hand.

"Charmed, my liege." Queenie graciously accepted Caine's gesture. "You've outdone yourself. The castle looks stunning."

"The staff worked tirelessly to bring out it's beauty. I'm glad it paid off to impress you." Caine chuckled.

"Announcing Princess Pomni of the Digital Kingdom!"

Caine almost cracked his neck turning so fast. His heart skipped a beat. His eyes dilated to the size of dinner plates. There at the top of the stairs in a beautiful pastel pink dress was Pomni. He didn't take his eyes off of her as he walked towards the stairs, shouldering several people that didn't get out of his way.

He met her half way on the stairs, offering her his arm. All eyes were on them, so he kept his voice low. "You're so beautiful."

Pomni took his arm and went the rest of the way down the stairs with him. She blushes lightly from his comment. "Thank you, you look amazing too."

The dancefloor was alive with music and patrons waltzing around the room. Caine escorted Pomni through the crowd to the very center. To prevent dancing from being an awkward experience due to their significant height difference, Caine used his magic to make Pomni float. Pink sparkles fluttered under her feet and dress as she flew at eye height.

Pomni hadn't been expecting it and held tight to Caine's hand. "Woah!" She giggled. "This is cool! I'm not going to get tired anytime soon if I don't actually have to dance."

"And I won't have to break my back bending over." Caine held Pomni's waist and pulled her close, but kept a socially acceptable distance between them. He smiled, his heart overflowing with soft feelings for her. "Guess that means we can dance the night away."

Pomni held his shoulder, so tempted to touch his face. "Yeah....we could." Caine was incredibly handsome on any given day, but under the mood lighting and music, he was striking. She was transfixed as Caine led her in a waltz in time with the other dancers.

Caine moved a bit stiffly at first, finding it hard to focus on getting the timing right as he was distracted by the gorgeous woman in his arms, but relaxed as the song went on. Soon, he didn't pay any mind to the others. He swung and twirled Pomni around just to make her smile and laugh. It didn't matter to him if it matched the music at all.

At the end of a song, Caine leaned Pomni back in a shallow dip. His heart raced, not just from the exercise, but how close he had to hold her. His throat felt dry when he tried to speak. "Princess-" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Pomni, would you....uh, that is....could I-"

He couldn't get his sentence out fast enough. A new song started and they were separated by new dance partners. He watched Pomni get swept away in the crowd of dancers. While he danced politely with his new partner, he kept his head on a swivel for Pomni.

The spell Caine cast on Pomni kept her afloat as she moved with her new partner. He was some Duke from somewhere she didn't care about. She made eyes with Caine from across the room. She knew she had to do this, but she desperately wanted to get back to Caine.

Caine strategically moved his partner so they wouldn't notice him moving his finger, pointing it at Pomni's partner. The man's shoe came undone and he tripped. Unfortunately, before Caine could dance his way to her, she was taken by a new partner. He huffed with frustration.

Pomni's second partner was less cordial. He danced way too close, making eyes at her that made her uncomfortable. They danced along the outer edge of the dancefloor, and she saw Bubble floating by. "Pixie stick!" She said out loud and Bubble went berserk.

"WHERE!?"

Pomni nodded her head to her dance partner and Bubble swooped in for a bite. The man ran off with Bubble chasing him for a taste. Pomni tries to move on her own, swimming awkwardly through the air in her poofy dress. She got another new partner, but this one she recognized.

Kinger took Pomni's hand with an amused look in his eyes. "Now isn't this convenient. It's not everyday I see you at eye level."

Pomni's small 4'8 stature compared to Kinger's towering 6'10 often made it hard for them to even have a conversation. "Heh, yeah. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Absolutely. Prince Caine knows how to host a proper gala." Kinger danced with Pomni through the remainder of the song. He bowed to her when it was over. "Thank you for the dance, Princess."

Pomni curtsied. "Thank you, your highness." She looked around, but didn't see Caine in the crowd. She didn't want to be taken away by another partner. "Would you help me get a drink? I'm rather parched and it turns out moving around while under a hover spell is rather challenging." She laughed awkwardly.

Kinger held Pomni's hand and guided her to the refreshment table, happy to help. He stayed to have a drink with her and keep anyone from taking her away.

Caine frantically searched for Pomni from the dancefloor, all but ignoring his current dance partner. He spun around quickly, his partner getting terribly dizzy but too polite to say anything. He stopped when he saw Pomni having a drink and smiling with Kinger. It was bad enough that Pomni kept getting taken away by other dance partners but now she's off with KINGER!?

Another dancing couple crashed into Caine and his partner, toppling them to the floor. The other dancing couples went around, trying to ignore the fiasco but many people saw.

Embarrassed, Caine stood quickly and straightened his uniform. The other couple that crashed into him was helping his partner off the floor so he walked away from the situation as quickly as possible. Reputation be damned, he was tired of sharing Pomni all evening.

Pomni laughed at one of Kinger's stories and was about to sip her drink when the magic holding her alot shifted her backwards. "Woah!" She hit Caine back first with a thump. She felt his arm hold around her waist. "Caine??" Her tiara fell forward and she tried to hold it in place.

Caine held eyes with Kinger. "So sorry to interrupt, but Pomni and I have business elsewhere. Good evening." He turned sharply, swinging Pomni around with him and briskly making for a door out on to the veranda.

The outside air was cool and crisp. The veranda overlooked a large lake that reflected the pale moonlight. Cricket and frogs filled the night air with song. Fireflies and moths danced around the mystic lights. No one was outside but Caine and Pomni.

Caine took a deep breath of fresh air. "It's nice to escape the hustle and bustle of society. No drama. No judgement. Just quiet." He didn't let go of Pomni but his grip on her waist relaxed.

"And you dragged me with you because...?" She looked at him with a shy smirk. She could guess, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Caine cleared his voice, knowing he'd been caught. "I apologize for assuming, Princess. I only wished to share the same peace with you. These events can be overwhelming."

"Indeed." Pomni paused for a moment to listen to the night and tried to replace her tiara again. Darn thing kept sliding.

"Allow me." Caine gently took her tiara and placed it on her head, sliding the ends into her hair where it would hold. His hands lingered, brushing down her hair and caressing her cheeks as he slowly pulled away. "There..."

Pomni was flustered by the Prince's attention. "Th-thank...you." she said quietly.

"A princess shouldn't be without her tiara." He stumbled through his sentence, entranced by Pomni's eyes.

"...or her Prince." She said without thinking. "EEP!" She squeaked and tried to hide behind her hands. "I'm SO sorry, I don't know what came over me! I- uh! Um!"

Caine blushed but smiled. He took her hands from her face. "I agree." He said lowly. "Would you honor me with another dance, Princess Pomni?"

Pomni's heart was going mad. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears. "Yes..."

They held close, chests touching as they placed their hands in position to dance Caine led her in a slow and steady waltz across the veranda. Fireflies flew around them as their movements disturbed the insects. They moved to their own music, smiling and giggling as the dance gradually crescendoed.

The dance ended with Caine twirling Pomni out away from him and pulling her back in the closest she's ever been. Both of his arms around her middle, her arms around his neck. Their faces were inches apart, both breathing heavily and flushed from their fun.

The hearts in Caine's eyes told all. He couldn't keep it a secret from her anymore. "Princess-....Pomni. There is something I must confess..."

Pomni's heart leapt. "Yes, Caine?"

"Your beauty and grace has captured my heart and refuses to let it go. I find myself drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame, and you are a blaze I could never control. The day you fell from the sky was the first day of the rest of my life. You are truly a gift from the heavens." Caine poured out his heart and bared his soul. Once it was all out in the open, he subtly held his breath awaiting her response.

Pomni's eyes grew wide and teared a little finally hearing the confession she had hoped for for so long. "Caine, you have no idea how happy you've made me. I've been charmed by you since day one. I could only ever hope to one day have your attention the way you've taken mine."

Caine brushed a loose strand of hair out of Pomni's face and tucked it behind her ear. "You have my full and rapt attention. I wish to court you, Pomni. That perhaps one day...we can rule together."

Pomni smile widened. "I would be honored, but I'm afraid you're already ahead of the curve."

Caine arched a brow. "Oh? How so?"

"I'm already compelled to kiss you. No courting necessary."

Caine's heart skipped a beat. His eyes drifted to her lips, but came back to meet her gaze. He smirked. "Far be it from me to deny a Princess what she desires."

They pulled in together, closing eyes and locking lips to teeth. A sliver of pink magic came from Caine's chest, swirled around the two of them and flew off over the lake to explode into a finale of fireworks.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc caine #tadc fanfiction #tadc pomni #tadc showtime #showtime shipping #showtime fanfic #The Amazing Digital Kingdom #tadc au

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jbaileyfansite · 2 months

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Interview with Evan Ross Katz (2024)

Whether he’s carrying Kylie Minogue to the Hyde Park Festival stage with his pal Andrew Scott, making the Internet go collectively feral for merely running a half marathon, chasing dinosaurs (in the upcoming Jurassic World reboot), romancing Matt Bomer (in Fellow Travelers) or Simone Ashley (in Bridgerton) or Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo (in Wicked) or, with his most recent venture, launching an LGBTQ+-focused charity, it seems Jonathan Bailey is always up to something. And yet, he still makes time, from his hotel room in Thailand (where he’s shooting Jurassic World 4), to hop on a Zoom with me to catch up.

We discuss everything from chafed nipples to queer shame to who he’d like to see in the “Drink Your Milk” T-shirt to if we’ll see him on Broadway any time soon, which is to say it’s a brief but wide-ranging chat.

I haven't seen you since the Met Gala! When we last spoke, you were prepping for your first half marathon. I obviously saw the viral photos that went around of you at the finish line, but how did it go?

You know, I should have put those nipple stickers on. That's my main takeaway.

[Laughs] Did you bleed?

I did a bit, yeah. Did you? I know you've done a couple of marathons.

I did bleed, and I didn't know about the bleeding beforehand. It's not something you really hear about but it's painful and uncomfortable.

Totally! And not even just beforehand: It took ‘til 4 hours later when my best friend told me there was evidence [of the bleeding]. But anyways… it was euphoric!

At least there was no photo evidence of that element!

Exactly! So thankfully, it's done. But it's just the most amazing thing, isn't it? And the community as well. Hackney Moves is amazing and they raised loads of money. It was the Bridgerton [Season 3 release] week so I feel like you could sort of harness that.

I do have to ask you a pressing question: Days ago, it was announced that Wicked had moved up its release date and will now be released the same day as Ridley Scott's Gladiator 2. Many online were affectionately calling this Barbenheimer 2.0, which led many to try and speculate about a proper portmanteau. Jon Chu wrote on Instagram that the consensus seems to be “Glicked,” which you reposted on Instagram, signaling a cosign. But I have to ask you, Johnny: Are you not considering“Wickediator”?

I love it. Whatever Jon Chu has ever said to me, I’ve taken as gospel, so I actually hadn't explored all the other options. The one that I've now heard since then which is making me reconsider everything is “Gladicked.” [Laughs] It's quite good, isn’t it?

Yes! To me, “Glicked” feels too Wicked-skewed and then “Wickediator” is just clunky AF, so I like where you're at.

We want it to be equal footing for sure. Another thing that I love that went viral is someone going: “Oh, brilliant. A film for the ladies and a film for the ladies.” [Laughs]

I am both ladies!

Oh, yes. Me too!

Let’s talk The Shameless Fund, the charity you founded to raise money for LGBTQ+ nonprofit organizations. Can you tell me about the formation of this project?

It's been a labor of love over the last three or four years. It's been quite an organic experience, mainly inspired by Fellow Travelers, hence why I started with a collaboration which references a very specific scene and a performance by Matt Bomer.

I think through Covid and Bridgerton coming out, I found that there’s a real sense in the queer community about awareness of people who came before you and other experiences. And then obviously in Fellow Travelers, which explicitly explores that, the character I played was sort of on the front all the way through a very complicated experience for gay men at that time.

He experienced real moments of blooming liberation and quite insane amounts of oppression as well, and he was always fighting. He ends up becoming an activist, essentially, and I think it was in playing that part — which was kind of spiritual for me and for everyone who's involved in it — that I was like: Right, okay. I know that I've got this idea in my head and having experienced how much love there is for things like Bridgerton and how much money there is in collaboration, I felt that there's so many things I had said “no” to because it didn't feel quite right for me but if there was a world in which I could marry all of it in a creative sort of cocktail, then why not? And to give back to the community that I so love, and also, I'm a massive beneficiary of the work that the people that came before us did, so that's where it came to fruition from.

You collaborated with our dear friend Jonathan Anderson, the creative director of Loewe, on a T-shirt with a memorable quote from Fellow Travelers to promote the launch of The Shameless Fund. How did this collaboration come to be?

During the strikes during the filming of Wicked, I went on a run one day and this idea of a T-shirt came into my head in full form. Then I sat next to Jonathan [at a Studio Voltaire fundraiser], and he’s lovely and brilliant and naughty and has a foundation, so it was all kind of organic.

Then I went over to DC to present Matt Bomer with an award for the Human Rights Campaign and it was really galvanizing to experience the American fervor. It was a gala, and the energy in the room was absolutely wild and there were amazing stories on stage. I texted Jonathan and I said: “Look, I have an idea and it involves milk and a T-shirt. What do you think?” and he said: “Call me tomorrow,” and then he said yes within the same phone call. I just felt tentative because it’s the sort of thing where you ask and you don't know, but then it went from there.

I do recall first seeing a photo of you in the shirt several months ago during a night out with the Loewe team in China…

I went to the Loewe exhibition in Shanghai, which was incredible, and that night, we had quite a big night out and I wore the T-shirt because I’d been given the first prototype.

I was having a little boogie and [Anderson] uploaded it whilst I had no access to the Western World — my phone was off the whole time. So by the time I came home, you could see that people were gonna go wild for the T-shirt. Now, it's sold out and we're gonna get some more and it'll be a first step for The Shameless Fund to raise some money.

Jonathan Anderson did my and my husband's wedding looks and I had to send him that same initial text to be like: “Can one even ask this?”

That's what's so brilliant in life: People who have the ability to collaborate, and that's just what Jonathan does.

One thing that you said just now that struck me is: “Why not?” I interview a lot of people in your profession and they're not asking that question all the time. A lot of people say:

“Oh, there's lots of money I can make. I can have more money. I can have more things for myself.”

Why are you a “why not?” person rather than a “why”? Is that something that was imbued in you by your family and your upbringing or is it how you've always been?

I don't know. I just feel quite strongly emotionally. I sense injustice in certain places, and I think what comes with success — especially being a gay actor — is that you think: “Hang on a minute. Are there limitations? Are there glass ceilings?”

When you experience success that you never thought you would and you grew up thinking that you're limited because of your identity and who you are, I think about the people that have supported me and the people that were really pioneering, but also, the actual heroes who do the real work; the people who work for these nonprofits and these charities where the majority of their energy is spent trying to raise money. When Bridgerton came out, I was inundated with requests to help draw attention to [these organizations] or raise money or donate things that they could sell, so that's where the kernel of this idea came from. All my life, I’ve been thinking about how I can give back.

It's not for nothing that you call this The Shameless Fund. We grew up at a time when, and I don't know if this is the same for you, but I didn't know that gay people existed. I thought I was the only one because I didn't have access to the kind of media kids do today where you can go on Instagram and see that gay is not only acceptable; it's cool. There's this very significant paradigm shift. I feel like a lot of gay men of our generation felt this shame as young people and often spend a lot of our adult lives working to rid ourselves of it. What is it for you about this idea of shame?

I totally agree in terms of generations. I think the queer experience changes every five years. Even with some of my friends who are 10 years older than me — it's just so specific to cultural moments and representation as well, as you're saying. But I think my understanding of shame, especially having experienced Fellow Travelers, is that it permeates. It's not just a community that experiences the shame; it's the people around them. It's the parents who don't understand it and kick their kids out of their house. It's the sisters, it’s the cousins, it's the nephews, it's the children that are in broken families because of it. It's actually so toxic, that sense of self-hatred. That’s why The Shameless Fund is actually something that I hope is going to benefit everyone, even beyond the community itself.

Also, the older we get and because of the world we live in now, you can read The Velvet Rage and you can read Matthew Todd’s Straight Jacket and you can explore and have conversations with your friends that are really enlightening and you can have therapy, if you're lucky enough that you can afford to do that. As a 36-year-old now, I look back and I just go: “My God, I had such a loving family and yet I was still so isolated and so crippled.”

Shame can stop people from having a proper education and from being able to structure proper emotional relationships, like fundamental relationships with their family, which is the one place you're supposed to feel safe. It's flawed if the family is not aware of what you're going through.

How did you come up with the name?

I did have other names [in mind for The Shameless Fund], but we won't go into them. One was so aggressive! [Laughs] But “The Shameless Fund” felt punk enough and fundamental enough. To me, I think that to be without shame is to be able to be joyful and to be able to thrive and to be able to learn and have a bloody good time whilst doing all those things, so it just felt right that it should be targeting shame because then hopefully it benefits the whole community in every color on the pride flag and, in turn, will also help so many people around them.

So what can people expect next?

There's going to be some really fun things coming with The Shameless Fund and there's different ways in which it can grow, but I have people who really know what they're doing who are helping lead it. By the end of the year, we'll hopefully have worked with three different charities, starting small and helping people understand the work they're doing because that's the most important thing. If you think about Instagram, other than chatting with Evan Ross Katz [laughs], that's the platform through which you can really draw attention to things. Literally anyone in our community who's thriving at the moment — in a community that's obviously under threat going forward — knows what it's like to receive support. We know what we missed growing up.

I, too, grew up with an accepting family, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t still feel ostracized. I appreciate you recognizing that nuance, one I think many of us experience in some form but don’t always discuss.

Now, on The Shameless Fund’s website, it does say that more collaborations are coming. As you said, there’s going to be a restock of the Loewe shirts, but are there other brands in the mix?

There are other brands, and it'll be really exciting because the scope is endless, but I definitely had a couple of other ideas. After Fellow Travelers, the next thing will be a Wicked garment, so you might have to keep your eyes out for that. Maybe jumpers and sexy boots?

That’s perfect for my fantasy! So we've seen Kylie Minogue wearing the shirt — who I was lucky enough to be introduced to by you on the dance floor at the Met Gala after-party, thanks again — and we've seen Kit Connor, Scarlett Johansson and your Bridgerton co-star Luke Newton sporting it as well. I'm wondering who else is on your wishlist of celebrities that you'd like to see in the Drink Your Milk T-shirt?

Oh, God. What a question! Great shout. I would love to see Jerrod Carmichael in it right now. Very specifically Jerrod Carmichael.

I feel that.

I would also love to see Hanson in it. Their three-part harmonies are a knockout at the moment.

At the moment?

[Laughs] We were just talking about this today. I’ve literally just come away from a field where I was running towards or away from dinosaurs, and we were talking about Hanson for about four hours today and listening to their three-part harmonies.

That is not what I was expecting.

Who else? I can only think of people who are going to be wearing it over the next few weeks, which is quite exciting. Is there anyone you want to see in it?

I have quite a few people. First of all, Jamie Dornan. I would love to see him in it. Paul Mescal, for obvious reasons. And the fans are waiting for Matt Bomer!

Don’t you worry. They’ll be satiated! They’ll be quenched. And Andrew Scott had a good time at Glastonbury is what I’ll say. [Laughs]

I bet he did! Last but not least: Richard II is bringing you back to the stage. Wicked is giving us the musical theater moment we've been craving. Is there a musical theater moment that’ll be live on stage in Jonathan Bailey's future?

Potentially, actually. Maybe in 2026.

On Broadway?

I would! I had the best time recently in New York and I watched as many things as I could. I saw Stereophonic, which, to me, was like a religious experience. That, and Oh, Mary! And Cole Escola.

That is what it's about. I would come back to watch that; I was so inspired by it. Obviously, I'd love to [be on Broadway] at some point and you just have to wait and see what pops up.

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#jonathan bailey #jonny bailey #evan ross katz #interviews #interviews:2024 #substack interview #richard II #theatre #wicked #jurassic world rebirth #fellow travelers #the shameless fund #charity #NEW!

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

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My Favorite Part

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

A/N: thank you to @sp00kymulderr for inspiring me for this idea! I’m getting more comfortable writing Dieter and he is so pookie in this little slice of fluff. Seriously, he is so bf material I am foaming at the mouth. The title is based off of Mac Millers (RIP) “My Favorite Part” featuring Ariana Grande. It is one of my favorite Mac Miller songs and it fits so well with this.

Enjoy ♡

~word count: 1.7k~

Summary: Dieter Bravo wins his first Oscar as a supporting actor. He ditches the after party with you just so he can have you all to himself. His favorite part of the evening is doing skincare with you, sharing a joint, and of course lots and lots of kissing.

Warnings: fluff on fluff on fluff. Dieter is so pookie in this. bf material to a T. Pet names, like a lot of them. His favorite is calling you sugar tits, lots of soft feels, kissing, cuddles, dancing in their underwear, more kissing, skincare, mentions of getting high, vulgar language because c’mon, this is Dieter Bravo we’re talking about here. (+18) minors dni!

Your boyfriend Dieter Bravo never failed to show you off to the world as his, his girl. Award shows, premieres, galas, you name it. Dieter always loved having you on his arm. He’d make sure that the paparazzi on the red carpet would get all of your good angles. He was your biggest fucking cheerleader, and you were his. Anytime he was interviewed, (he fucking hated everything about interviews) he would make a point to bring you up. My girlfriend this, my girlfriend that, every single time. Who’s my biggest supporter? My girl. She’s amazing and I'm so lucky to have her by my side. Of course, all of Hollywood was convinced that Dieter would never settle down. He would forever be the diva party boy, until he met you.

His favorite part after an award show, or fancy event, was going home with you, of course. The after party for him was helping you out of your dress, taking your heels off, and pulling you into his lap, in nothing but his shirt so that he can take your makeup off.

He loves it. He loves having that level of intimacy with you. That’s often why you and him skip all the fancy after parties. You’ve been to so many of them, and Dieter has no problem skipping all of them just so he can have you all to himself.

Tonight however is the biggest night in Dieter’s career as an actor. The Oscars. An event he had dreamed about being invited to. Not only was he invited, he was nominated too. You still remember just how sticky the two of you had gotten after he sprayed an expensive bottle of champagne all over when the news dropped. His first major motion picture role, and he was nominated for a fucking Oscar.

Time seemed to stop for both you, and Dieter when his name was announced for best supporting actor. Dieter had practically launched himself into your arms, lifting you up and spinning you around excitedly. You had nearly hit Leonardo Dicaprio in the face with one of your sparkly heels. Dieter wishes you had just for the fact that Leo had the audacity to hit on you at a party, and Dieter had no problem calling him a creep to his face. The damage control after that? Oh, it was a fun time. Dieter was shocked that he still had a publicist after all that.

None of that mattered now as he practically ran up to the stage. He had the biggest beaming smile as he accepted the Oscar graciously. He swore a lot in his speech. So much so, that almost every word was bleeped out. You could already picture his publicist downing another bottle of wine. Other than Dieter’s vulgar language, he thanked you at least 100 times in his speech. In his eyes, you were the real star.

At the extravagant after party, there were photos of you and Dieter kissing either side of his Oscar, and you of course. He was required to stay at least an hour at the party. However, in true Dieter Bravo fashion, he was pulling you and him out of there 30 minutes in. “C’mon, sugar tits, let's blow this popsicle joint.” He whispered cheekily against your ear. Dieter had a plethora of pet names for you, and sugar tits was his favorite. “Lead the way, my movie star.” You whispered back as he grabbed your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

You’re back at the hotel finally, and Dieter is carrying you bridal style up to your shared room. He wastes no time to playfully toss you upon the soft comforter. He steals a few kisses, before he’s on his knees in front of you. His palm is warm against your ankle as he’s helping you take your heels off. “These are the ones I picked out for you, right baby? They’re so pretty.” He presses a light kiss to your calf as he slips your other heel off.

“Mhm. They’re the pair you picked out for me baby. You have such good taste.” You lightly giggled as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your knee.

“Well, duh. Course I have good taste, baby doll. I think I might have to borrow them sometime.” He flashes you a grin as his stubble gently scrapes against the skin on your thigh. His puppy dog brown eyes are twinkling under the soft hotel lighting. He looks so pretty.

“I would pay some serious money to see you rock those Dee.” You brush your fingers through his soft curls with a soft smile.

“You’re cute. You can pay me in kisses. How’s that sound?” He presses another light kiss to your warm skin before he stands up. He steals a few more kisses as he helps you up, twirling you around so your back is pressed to his chest. He ghosts his lips across your shoulder blades, and down your spine as he gently pulls the zipper of your dress down.

“I think I can pay you in more than just kisses.” You grin to yourself.

“Ah ah ah. Don’t go getting any dirty ideas, my pretty girl. We got all night for that, baby cakes. Right now? I just wanna love on ya a little. So you better suck it up and enjoy it.” He says teasingly.

You let out a faux sigh of disappointment as you lean back in his warm embrace. “Oh, alright. I’ll play nice.”

“That’s my girl.” He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek before helping you out of your dress.

Soon enough you’re just in his T-shirt and sitting comfortably in his lap. Your legs are loosely wrapped around his waist as he gently wipes your makeup away. “Close your eyes, honey.” He whispers as he gently swipes the makeup wipe across the sparkly eyeshadow on your eyelids. His tongue pokes out as he concentrates on the task at hand. He hums softly. The combination has your heart swelling out of your chest.

This is by far your favorite part too. Dieter always insists on helping you take your makeup off, and who are you to tell him no? He’s always so sweet, so gentle with you. Once your makeup is wiped from your face, Dieter is already ordering room service. Burger, fries, onion rings, dessert too of course. He’s in nothing but his boxers on the bed. You're wrapped around his body like a koala. Your cheek nuzzled against his back, arms wrapped around his middle as he rolls a joint for you to share.

You find yourself pressing warm kisses to his shoulder blades, humming into his skin. “My Favorite Part” by Mac Miller featuring Ariana Grande is the song playing on his phone. It’s one of yours and Dieter’s favorite. He’s humming with you now as he finishes rolling the joint, tucking it behind his ear before he’s turning around and pulling you up from the bed. “Can I have this dance, m’lady?” He asks in a playful tone.

“Why of course you may, kind sir. I never thought you’d ask.” You giggle.

Dieter lightly twirls you a couple times, watching the pure beauty radiating from your face. The warm glow of the hotel lighting is soft on your skin. He loves the way your eyes sparkle, how they hold so much adoration whenever you look at him. Your smile is so contagious that he can’t stop himself from grinning. He pulls you back against his chest, swaying you in his arms gently as he whispers the words he knows by heart against your ear. His chin resting on your shoulder, arms draped around your waist.

Said, you just don't know how beautiful you are

And baby that's my favorite part

You walk around so clueless to it all

Like nobody gonna break your heart

It'll be alright babe, see, me, I got you covered

I'm gon' be your lover, you might be the one

Your room service arrives by the time the song is over. Dieter kisses you sweetly before he’s laying the silver trays of food out on the bed while you disappear into the bathroom to grab two packaged face masks, and a couple serums and a face roller.

Dieter is comfortably laying amongst the fluffy pillows on the bed spread, waiting for you. He taps his thighs lightly, signaling you to go and join him. You straddle his hips with ease as you gently tear open the face mask package and lay the mask across his skin. His eyes flutter close, a light hum slipping past his lips as you smooth down the edges of the mask. “Love you so much, pretty girl. My pretty girl. Angel baby, sugar–” You cut him off by gently placing your index finger against his pouty lips. “Shhh..I love you too baby. I’m so proud of you Dee.”

“My cheerleader.” He says with a toothy grin. You steal a quick kiss, or two before Dieter gently lays you on your back next to him. He applies your face mask just as gently as you did with his. He kisses your lips, then the tip of your nose. He chuckles when you scrunch your nose up as he nibbles lightly on it.

“You’re such a biter, you know that?” You whisper as you thread your fingers through his soft curls.

“Mhm. You love it though sweetcheeks.” He lightly nudges his nose against yours, eliciting a giggle to slip past your lips.

“You got me there, Bravo. You got me there.”

Face masks on, joint lit, french fries on deck. It’s absolutely the perfect way to end Dieter’s big night. You pass the joint between each other, turning into two giggling fools when the sweet high from the herb begins to hit your systems. Dieter has a lazy grin on his face as he rests his weight on his elbow, feeding you a french fry.

Dieter Bravo may have won an Oscar, but a gold trophy meant fuck all to him if he didn’t get to share the moment with you. So, maybe he had more than one favorite part. He had a lot, and they all began, and ended with you. His girl. His star.

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