#she’s so queen of genovia

[rotnread]

anne hathaway at the 2003 golden globes

[gguk-n]

Daddy Dearest (Oscar Piastri Dad fic)

Summary- Oscar is a girl dad.

There weren't many people who had Oscar wrapped around their little finger, except Amelia Piastri. Almost 2 years old and she could make Oscar dance like a chicken on the drop of a hat.

Oscar had met Amelia's mother and the love of his life, Y/N when they were in high-school. They started dating soon after. The year Oscar was a reserve driver for Alpine; he might not have been busy racing but he was busy with his girlfriend. The whole Alpine-Mclaren fiasco brought us baby Mia. It was a usual Thursday, Y/N had been stressing out about missing her period for the second time this month when she had regular periods since she could remember. A thought passed through her; it had been floating around in her head since last month. What if she was pregnant? Oscar and her had always been safe; but not a single contraceptive was a hundred percent perfect. So, without informing Oscar, she went to the store and bought a few tests. When the first one said positive, she did another and then another. By now Oscar had become aware of his missing girlfriend who was coup-ed up in their bathroom for the past half hour. He was knocking on the door; "babe, is everything okay? You've been in there since you returned" But when no reply came; the knocking became more rapid and worried. "Y/N, are you ok? Please answer. You're stressing me out" he begged. Then the door opened slightly. A tear stained Y/N was peaking her head out. Oscar pushed the door open and hugged her. He was scanning the room as his girlfriend's body shook slightly; that's when he saw it; pregnancy tests. He pulled away to look at her; "Have you been busy taking those pregnancy test?" he asked. "How do you know what they are?" she hiccuped. "I've watched TV growing up" he smiled. She nodded and handed the 3 tests to him. They all read pregnant in bold letters. Oscar was over joyed; "Are we gonna be parents?" he shouted. "You're not angry?" she asked. "Why would I be? I get to have kids with the love of my life. Best thing that could ever happen to me" he stated. For the first time since she got the tests, she smiled. "Aren't we too young though?" she asked. "Yes, but I could take on the world with you by my side" he said kissing her. "You'll be the best dad ever" she told him. "You'll be the best mum ever" he said. The pair stayed in each other's embrace for a long time. Oscar will never admit it but he cried and then went on reddit to research what to do as a first time dad.

Amelia was born the next year when Oscar was busy racing. He wasn't able to be there for the birth of his daughter; he might have called his mother and cried about being a shitty dad from the get-go. But his father later consoled him and told him it would be fine. Oscar flew out the first chance he got to be with his girlfriend who was being taken care of by both their parents. The first time he held Amelia, he had started crying as soon as she opened her big brown eyes and looked at him. She was an exact copy of him when he was a baby, at least that's what his mother said. Y/N had to console him instead of the baby. He was sat there with his arms wrapped around Y/N who held their daughter for a really long time. Y/N had fallen in love with the name Amelia after watching the Princess Diaries growing up and Oscar wasn't about to argue with Y/N about naming their daughter after the Queen of Genovia. That's how she was named "Amelia Opal Piastri"

Oscar kept them hidden from the world after they had mutually decided not to tell anyone except their close friends and family which some how, had now included Lando Norris, much to Oscar's dismay since his daughter from the moment she could speak called Lando her twin; Oscar hated it, he was just dad or daddy when she wanted something but Lando was her best friend and twin. Lando took great joy in having to be able to steal Amelia away. Lando was helping Oscar move since he'd been staying in Monaco longer and moving with a kid wasn't easy. Mia was being very difficult today until she saw her Uncle Lando and jumped out of Oscar's arms running to Lando. "Lan, I mwiss you" she pouted raising her hands as if to signal him to carry her. Lando quickly scooped her in his arms, kissing her cheeks which elicited giggles. She wrapped her arms around Lando's neck and turned to her dad sticking her tongue out making Oscar pout. "Come here, you're my princess" he whined. "NO. I wan Lan" she said and hugged him tighter as Oscar tried to pull her away. "Oscar, behave. We have a lot of work to do. If Lando can watch over her while we unpack, that'll be great." Y/N said kissing her daughter's cheek and giving Lando a hug. Reluctantly Oscar agreed to let Lando play with her while he got the house unpacked.

While the two unpacked, Lando kept their little princess entertained. "Lan, do you vroom vroom fast?" she asked playing with the race cars she had. "Yeah" he nodded. "my daddy, vroom vroom" she paused for a moment to think, "fast more, win, wohooo" she said jumping up when the Oscar car she was playing with won and Lando's car came in second. Obviously, Mia was growing up watching racing; her dad was a F1 racer. Lando laughed when she jumped up; "Uncle Lando won many races too" he said. "My daddy win 2 races" she said looking at her fingers, counting them and holding up 2. She looked proud of herself for holding the correct number of fingers, Lando was proud too.

All that playing had tired her out; she was now laying on Lando's chest mumbling gibberish about how Leo could fly while he patted her to sleep. Oscar came back to find his daughter peacefully asleep. "I hate that she likes you more than me" Oscar stated watching the two. "Who said that?" Lando tried to control his laugh. "You can see right now" Oscar pointed out. "Mate, she loves you so much. All we talked about was how her daddy is so fast and has won 2 races." he added. Oscar smiled, "I'll put her in her room, we just got done with that" he said slowly taking her to her bed.

The house would take a few more months before they would be able to be done completely. Mia was already enjoying her play dates with Leo and Roscoe. Alex and Leo would be over a few times a week since Mia would pester Alex to come over with Leo. Leo loved Mia so much, the two would always be seen rolling around on the floor or running after each other. They never seem to tire out until they did and then they would be cuddling each other in their sleep on the couch. Roscoe was an older dog and he had seen quite a few children, he kept Mia more tame if that was possible. He would look out for her and protect her from harms way. He was very protective of her; it was very adorable to watch.

During the break, Oscar was spending the 3 weeks with his family. Y/N had been taking the bulk of parenting their 2 year old which did make Oscar feel guilty and he would try to give her as much me time when he was around as possible. "It's time for a daddy-daughter date" Oscar cooed at Mia as he carried her to get dressed. "What does my princess wanna eat today?" he asked plopping her on the changing table. "I want dino and fries and juice and white icey and tuddles" she cheered. She couldn't say Vanilla ice cream yet so it was white icey and cuddles were tuddles which Oscar hoped she wouldn't out grow. Oscar changed her into a pink tutu on her request. The two of them sat on the sofa watching Bluey with their dino nuggets, fries and a juice. Once she was done eating, half the fries were in Oscar's mouth but who was counting; he got out the ice cream and this was the one food item she would not share with anyone. The latest episode they were watching finished up and Mia was cuddling her dad. Oscar rubbed circles on her back to help her fall asleep; "I love you my angel" Oscar whispered kissing her head. "I wuv you my daddy" she whispered kissing his chest. She had seen her mum do this a few times and Oscar's heart swelled up watching her imitate her mum.

Oscar and Y/N were busy setting up another room in their house when Mia found Oscar's phone unlocked. No one knew how she got onto Instagram but she did and ended up taking a picture of her face and posting it as a story. Within minutes Oscar and Y/N's phones were blowing up. Y/N saw messages from her friends and family to check Oscar's story; Oscar had already seen what his daughter did. The next race was gonna be so fun trying to explain who that was.

The driver's group chat was going crazy, they couldn't stop laughing about how Mia posted herself. The other drivers joked that she was sick of not being able to attend races so she decided to hard launch herself. McLaren's PR team was making a story up which Oscar shut down quickly. He had been dating Y/N for a long time and had a family with her, he wasn't about spin some shitty tale about it being someone else's daughter. This was the final push that Oscar needed to strike the iron when it was hot. Oscar would propose now; the ring he had bought was burning a hole in his pants for a while now.

oscarpiastri

Liked by landonorris, mclaren and 2,367,458 others tagged y/n.y/l/n

oscarpiastri To a lifetime of forever with the loves of my life💍🧑‍🧑‍🧒

landonorris Mia is so cute in all the pictures, I'm stealing her👀👀 oscarpiastri landonorris NO YOU CAN'T HAVE HER😤😤 alexandrasaintmleux next Leo-Mia playdate when??🥹❤️ y/n.y/l/n alexandrasaintmleux Mia says tomorrow❤️❤️ logansargeant my fav Piastri is growing up so fast😭 Liked by the author mclaren such a beautiful family🧡 y/n.y/l/n mclaren I remember you trying to break it up 😐😐 mclaren y/n.y/l/n I was following orders, I didn't wanna do it🥲🥲 user1 too many things, I can't process it🤯 user2 he has a girlfriend, a daughter and got engaged all in one post🤯😭 user3🤯🤯🤯🤯 user4 Congratulations Oscar!!🧡🧡🧡 lewishamilton Congratulations you two!! ❤️❤️Mia said Roscoe is the ring bearer Liked by y/n.y/l/n charles_leclerc my beautiful granddaughter😭 user5 the Leclerc family is expanding at an alarming rate😱😱 user6 user5 does that make Leo her uncle??🤔 user7 What's her name?? user8 Mia is the cutest name for the cutest baby😍😍 user9 can't wait to watch her become a formula one driver😪 user10 only known her 2 days but if anything happens to her, I’ll kill everyone and then myself user11 the last picture🤤🤤 we might be getting baby no. 2🤭🤣

[musingmage]

@hotvintagepoll more muppet propaganda because I CANT BELIEVE SHES LOSING

Muppet Mainstage, November 18th, 2023

Julie Andrews and Hal Shaper wrote “Song for Kermit,” also known as “When You Were a Tadpole” in 1975. The song was originally written for and performed on Julie Andrews’ TV special, My Favorite Things. 

The song was performed again by Julie Andrews and Kermit (Jim Henson) on the 1978 Julie Andrews episode of The Muppet Show (season 2, episode 17). Julie Andrews sings about how she’s loved Kermit since he was a tadpole and she was a fish.

[pucksandpower]

Daniel Ricciardo x Queen of Genovia!Reader - Social Media AU

voguemagazine posted a story

danielricciardo

Liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 842,153 others

danielricciardo life update

View all 2,196 comments

f1wagupdates he really just said “life update” as if this isn’t the most chaotic thing to happen since abu dhabi in 2021

maxverstappen1 finally! i was constantly worried that lando would accidentally say something while streaming

landonorris that was uncalled for

maxverstappen1 mate, you literally leaked your own launch date once

metgalaofficial why do we feel like proud parents?

genovianroyalfamily

Liked by danielricciardo, genovianroyalupdates, and 1,853,746 others

genovianroyalfamily Thank you for all the birthday wishes! To mark the occasion, Her Majesty Queen Y/N has shared a collection of photos taken by Mr. Daniel Ricciardo at the royal residence

View all 3,251 comments

lightsoutric daniel3.jpg 🤝 genovianroyalfamily

dr3lvr the fact that daniel took these photos and they’re the ones queen y/n chose to post for the world to see is making me emotional

f1wagupdates she really is the most gorgeous woman on earth 😍

genovianroyalupdates and the kindest and an amazing leader ❤️

danielricciardo posted a story

genovianroyalfamily

Liked by ricciardoupdates, f1, and 1,794,625 others

genovianroyalfamily Her Majesty Queen Y/N would like to wish her partner, Mr. Daniel Ricciardo, a very happy birthday. In honor of the celebration, Queen Y/N has released a series of photos taken by her during the couple’s visit to Australia earlier this year

View all 3,182 comments

ricciardoupdates we are getting fed 🙏

f1wagupdates imagine daniel passing on his love for photography to queen y/n

f1wagupdates wait this means they probably visited his family in australia together 🥹

queeny/nfan their relationship is so pure

f1 happy birthday, danny ric 🦡

genovianroyalfamily

Liked by metgalaofficial, redbullracing, and 3,187,564 others

genovianroyalfamily Her Majesty Queen Y/N and His Royal Highness Prince Daniel, Duke of Pyrus are overwhelmed by the love shown for their marriage. They are so incredibly grateful for the warm wishes and support they have received from everyone around the world throughout their relationship and during their wedding. Each of you made this joyful day even more meaningful

View all 6,329 comments

metgalaofficial just call us the royal matchmaker

royalfashion the tiara, the veil, the dress … absolutely magnificent

formulastyle do you know why daniel is wearing an uniform?

royalfashion as prince consort, he has an honorary standing in the genovian military

dreamdriver i just realized that daniel is one of the hosts of the genovian grand prix now and he’s definitely going to be at the race as a full on prince which means that zak brown will have to bow to him 😈

ricciardoupdates karma is wonderful thing

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

three | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Julianna is a real princess. As a granddaughter of the Queen, step-daughter of a prince, her title is official. She’s been a princess nearly all her life, and it’s a detail you can’t miss. 

James’ hand is hot but amicable against your shoulder blade. He hasn’t stepped away from you since Julianna arrived, though what threat she poses has yet to be seen. She doesn’t seem particularly volatile. You can’t imagine her in all her dewy skin and fine clothing lifting a finger, let alone her fist. 

“Mama says you’re an artist,” she drawls. 

“Not really.” How her mother knows anything about you is a mystery. “It’s a hobby, is all.” 

“And you didn’t finish university?”

“No.” You don’t owe her anything. You know you don’t. But it’s not just her you want to defend yourself to, not when Remus is sitting by the window of the parlour and James is close enough to hear your heartbeat. “I tried to, obviously, but I couldn’t, uh, afford to not work.”

“Ah.”

You don’t expect her to understand it. You know most people don't. Studying and working, the majority can handle both. You’d been ashamed of yourself for failing, but you’d come to the realisation that it was sink or swim. You could sink —resent yourself for needing more time, more space, more accommodation— or you could swim. Accept your ‘shortcomings’. Make the most of what you have. 

Find yourself in a foreign country surrounded by the highly educated and the ridiculously wealthy. People who might never comprehend why you’ve struggled, or how. 

In that moment, you decide to treat this heart-wrenching trip as nothing more than a holiday. James is nice to you. The food is free and apparently plentiful. The grounds… 

Fuck, the grounds. The scenery. The royals aren’t currently living in their most famous residence, Loswell Castle, but are instead mourning the Prince at the more private and more subtle Bellaverden House. Subtle, yet gorgeous. The grass is green and stretches as far as the eye can see in all directions, broken up only by the silhouette of the alps to the east and the shimmering Lake Orlo to the west. The palace itself is nothing like you’d expected, and so far from the capital city of Genovia it is no surprise to find that the royals let their personal tastes bleed into every corner. It’s tasteful, silent wealth, no crystal chandeliers hanging from the eaves but instead a Rembrandt in the hallway. No solid gold cutlery, but instead Noritake porcelain tea cups and their matching exorbitant saucers.

“Loswell is the gaudier of the two houses,” James had said, evidently pleased by your wide-eyed surprise.

A nice boy who’s being paid to spend time with you and his funny friends. All you have to do is survive the paparazzi (check!) and your suspicious possible relatives (less so).

Any hour now, the paternity test will come up negative and they’ll be shepherding you home in search of the actual princess, wherever she may be. 

If she exists at all. 

“You haven’t eaten anything today,” James says softly, for your ears only. “Should we go down to the kitchens?”

It’s hard to describe the true and daunting scale of Bellaverden House, but James’ use of ‘kitchens’ rather than ‘kitchen’ sums it up nicely. 

Julianna rolls her shoulders, reaching for a black telephone on the side table. “No need. We’ll have it brought up. What do you like? They have yards of fresh pasta prepared by now. Doesn’t matter, I’ll ask for some of everything.”

“Oh, no,” you say, stepping out of James' reach. “I don’t want to be an imposition while I’m here.”

“That ship has sailed,” she says neatly. 

Ouch. You look back to James without intending to, an automatic movement. He’s become your safety net too quickly. His job is to protect you from harm, not your catty maybe-cousin’s mild disdain. 

“Sit,” Julianna says. “James, you can take up station in the hallway. Go on.”

Her voice possesses all the snobbish airiness you’d expect it to. She’s regal, elegant, and rude. James’ hand stretches toward yours, your fingers not quite touching. You think it might be his silent way of saying he won’t be far.

He gives you a reassuring half-smile. “If you need me,” he says. 

“Tutor,” Julianna adds once James is at the door, “you can leave us.”

“Remus, please.” You smile at Julianna appealingly, piping up before she can steal your last lifeline. “I need him to tell me what silverware to use. If I have any hope of catching up, I’ll have to start learning about proper etiquette straight away.”

You look to your tutor to make sure he’s on board. Remus gestures for you to sit and crosses the hardwood floors between you, his footsteps soundless. Julianna sniffs, your suggestion agreeable but tiresome for her, and pulls the telephone receiver to her ear. 

Remus settles into the chair next to yours at the table. 

“Don’t worry. We won’t leave you for wolves,” he says.

You’re grateful. You nod to the book in his hands. “What are you reading?”

He turns the book around. A Comprehensive History of Contemporary Genovia. 

“I’ve never had to educate someone who didn’t already know a very specific, very intricate history of our country,” he says in his melding voice, the barest hints of his accent peaking through. He says our country like you already belong as he does, not native but citizen anyhow. “I provide supplementary education for the well-educated, I… I’m like a second chance for rich slackers. You’re neither, and so I’m not sure how I can make this easy on you.”

You admire his thinking. You’ve been lucky to find yourself in the care of people who put your comfort first. Remus, James, Sirius, even the ambassadors of the country, and the matron you’d been introduced to upon your arrival here, they’ve all been so conscientious. 

But it won’t matter. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says. 

“You do?”

“You’ve made it clear how much faith you have in the current situation. I believe…” that you’re who we suspect you are, you think he might say, but he parts his legs to bump his knee into yours. “I believe we’re going to be good friends.”

That is��� “Thank you,” you say softly.

The telephone jingles as Julianna slams it down. “So, what’s with the bruise?” she asks. “And the bad makeup. Mean boyfriend back home?”

Her cavalier attitude chafes. “I was a little too close to the door when someone opened it,” you say.

“Ah.”

Again with the Ah. Extra syllables must be at cost. 

Positivity, you remind yourself. This is a vacation. This inane and insane need to constantly prove yourself to the people around you is going to make you crazy, especially when all of this is temporary. Who cares what princess Julianna thinks of you now when, in a day or two, she’ll remember you as nothing more than the girl who they brought by mistake? And wouldn’t it be nice to just… not care? Who cares what Julianna thinks?

You stand and walk to the door where James is standing, because calling for him would make you feel like an entitled dick. He turns his head to you obligingly. 

“Would you come back inside? The painting is giving me the jeebies.”

“That’s a portrait of your great great grandmother.”

“She’s scary.”

He claps your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “If the test comes out negative, I’ll happily commit royal espionage for you and fix the results.”

“That is not a joke you should make,” Remus calls mildly. 

“Probably not. I’ve made it now. Sit down, Princess, the food’s arriving.”

The food they bring up to you is Genovian specialty cuisine, recipes borrowed from the Italians hundreds of years ago, and how fortunate you are for that. You have no clue where to start, surrounded by rich smells of broth and stewed vegetables, the spritely aroma of white wine and tomatoes so fresh their roasted skins split under the gentle bottom of your spoon. 

James refuses to eat with you, as he’s on the clock, but Remus sits down at the table as promised to guide you through the fascinatingly intricate etiquette it takes to be a new royal. 

“That’s Cioppino,” Remus says, pointing to a dark red stew bragging large pieces of crab, smaller chunks of a white meat you’re unsure of, and the distinct dark brackets of mussel shells. “It’s actually an Italian-American dish. It’s served with sourdough or French bread, but in our case, where you can’t necessarily use your hands, we’ll go without.”

“There’s nobody here I need to impress, right?” you ask quietly. 

You swear you can hear Julianna twitching. 

Remus doesn’t respond to your comment, though his voice is riddled with amusement when he continues. “It’s more common for the crab to be served in its shell, but I don’t suppose they want the royals using crab forks and crackers." He points to a second bowl. “This, from the looks of it, is a variation of stufato di capra e fagioli, Italian for ‘stew of goat meat and beans’. Self explanatory. It’s very popular here in the winter, it’s,” —his voice drops to a lower register— “Sirius’ favourite. Shoulder meat, onions, carrots, celery, white wine and white beans. I don’t suppose I have to tell you what that is.” He nods to a heaping bowl of gnocchi coated in a green, buttery sauce, and its familiar wingman — fettuccine alfredo. 

“Now there’s one I know,” you say with a smile. 

“I think they’ve gone easy on you,” Remus says. “Given you something they knew would be familiar. The head cooks, Marlene and Marsha, hardly ever serve fettuccine without ragù di pollo. Chicken ragù. It’s a sacrament in Marlene’s eyes to separate the two.”

He moves so easily from English to Italian. You wonder if he speaks Genovian. Is there a Genovian language? You’re too embarrassed to ask, instead piling a mound of unadventurous fettuccine into your bowl. 

Julianna picks up the telephone again and you let yourself relax as her conversation begins. She pokes at her food and talks in Italian down the line, staring straight at you as she says the word, ‘principessa’. You don’t have to be a linguistics expert to know she’s talking about you. Eventually, her attention fades. Remus loosens at your side. 

“This spoon,” he corrects, before opening his book and sagging into his seat.

You're famished, yet all the rich food makes you nauseous. You toy with your fettuccine and a little of the cioppino. Weirdly, you miss the ordinary smells of your kitchen.

A figure moves behind you, James’ shadow shifting to cover your hands. “Unladylike as it might be,” he says, “you’ll regret it if you don’t try the bread, Princess. Freshly baked, soaked in pesto, it’s what us peasant folk fight over at the end of a shift.”

You hold your hand to a beautiful sliced baguette, “This one?”

“That’s the one.”

You pull the bread apart and enter a stodgy, olive oily sort of heaven. The only thing better than how it tastes is James' happy sound when you set aside a huge slice in a napkin and usher it behind your back, as inconspicuous as you can possibly be. He has no choice but to take it. A telltale crunch comes quickly and poorly smothered. 

Julianna excuses herself, and a maid comes to take her plates and dirtied cutlery on a silver cart.

You lean toward Remus with a hand over your mouth. “What do you call them? The ladies in uniform?”

“Princess, you can call them whatever you want to,” James butts in, returning to your side now Julianna is absent. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and sits in one of the chairs facing the door.

“But what’s nicest?”

“You’ll learn their names in time,” Remus says easily. “You’ll be fine. Officially, they’re ‘attendants’. Maids, cleaners. Oh, you’ll have a lady in waiting–”

“A what?” 

“A personal assistant,” James says. 

Your face heats up like an instant flush, all hot pinpricks and embarrassment, “No,” you beg, standing up, “please, that would be entirely unnecessary, it’s not like I’m some sort of–”

“Princess!” A familiar voice shouts. Sirius has weaselled inside the door and closed it tight, his back pressed against it for a moment like he’s keeping someone out. He wears an exuberant smile and a brilliant dark ensemble with fine pinstripes that mess with your eyes as he approaches. He’s practically running. “I’ve spoken to Delilah who’s spoken to Beau who’s spoken to Lily who’s been in contact with the legal team in charge of your care here in Genovia, and they’ve heard from the medical team who have been fighting tooth and nail to be put in talks with you,” —he looks at you emphatically now, and there’s something about his expression, part wide-eyed awe, part sympathy, that freezes you to the spot— “because it’s technically your care, and–”

“Sirius, get to the point, please,” James says. He’s looking at you in a different way. Like he’s waiting for you to fall over. 

“Your father,” Sirius says, promptly deciding to start again. “The paternity test is positive. Your DNA is a conclusive match for the Prince, may he rest in peace. You’re a princess. You’re the Princess, by blood. You are a Renaldi.”

There’s a stretching silence. You wrap your hand around the back of your chair and stare at the velvet upholstery of the seat. 

“Terrible last name,” he adds sympathetically. 

You don’t want to be the girl who faints. That would be ridiculous, to fall over and crack your head. So, though you hate to ask for anything, you mumble, “James?”

He wraps a shapely arm behind your shoulders and under your armpit before you lose the feeling in your legs. 

“I think I need to sit down again,” you say. 

“Reckon you do," he agrees, as he pulls the chair around with his foot and arranges you in it efficiently, the tip of his thumb pushed into the pulse point on your neck. “We’ll get you something cold, Princess. You can breathe.” He gives you a little shake, hand spreading wider as it drags down your collar. The pressure is like the safety release of a suction cup. You take in a huge breath. “Breathe, lovely.”

“I’m fine," you say meekly. 

“It’s alright,” he says, with his impossible softness. He’s unafraid to be kind even when there are people watching. 

“I’m fine. I–” You can’t finish your sentence. You’d wanted to say you’ll be okay. That this is just some melodramatic episode, but it isn’t. This is a human reaction to unbelievable news. Because you’re a– you’re a princess. 

You cover your face with both hands and curl in toward your thighs. Silence pervades, your ears abuzz with white noise. You aren’t sure how long you sit there paralysed, but soon James’ gentle murmuring and shushing cuts through the ringing. “It’s alright,” he’s saying, his hand at your elbow, “I swear, it’s alright. You take as long as you need.”

“Mickey’s at the door,” Sirius says. 

“Good. Tell him to radio in a level two security detail and stay there for now. Who else knows, Sirius?”

“By now? Everybody in the castle. Including government officials.”

“And you’re sure?” Sure said severely. 

“Of course I am.”

You’re trying very hard to keep your pasta down. This can’t be happening. It can’t be right. Their test is wrong. They swabbed the inside of your mouth wrong, or got it mixed up with some other person test, or the doctors are lying. Not once in your whole life has there ever been any indication that you are more than the nothing you’ve always been. All your worst insecurities rip to the surface. Not me. Not me.

“Level two isn’t as bad as it sounds,” James says, still so gentle. He’s been talking to you again. “All it means is that I’m not at full attention, and I need someone else to watch the room. That’s all it is.”

“I’m not,” you say. 

“You’re okay.”

“I’m not a princess,” you say, peeking at him through your parted fingers. 

His hand curves around your arm. He pulls it toward him. Encouraging rather than demanding. You let him. 

“Whatever it is that you are,” he says, meeting your eyes, “I’m here to take care of you. Okay? Try to calm down for me.” He nods, hoping you’ll nod back no doubt. You worry at your lip, your teeth scratching delicate skin. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No one’s expecting you to feel a certain way right now,” Sirius says.

The urgency in his expression has departed completely. He has an air of regret about him now, an uncomfortable set to his jaw. 

It’s not just James in the room witnessing your wobble. You cover your face again and try to become one with the furniture. 

James stands off of his knees, having seemingly decided that you aren’t in any mental peril. He stays hovering behind your chair. You think you might’ve found them all at a loss for what to do. 

The door opens. You imagine a nightmare, Julianna coming to play nice, but it’s the British ambassador Lily once again. She looks as perfect as she did when you saw her last with an immaculately straightened sheet of hair fluttering behind her, her steps hurried. Despite her speed, she doesn’t look unhappy. She’s smiling. The Genovian ambassador Emmeline follows behind her. 

You try to straighten up. 

“We have wonderful news,” Lily says.

“You’re the Princess!” Emmeline squeaks, her tiny stature no bounds for her excitement. “Welcome home!”

She begins clapping. It slows when nobody joins in. 

“What?” she asks cluelessly. “Has something bad happened?”

That’s what you’re trying to work out.

—

James can hear you sniffling.

He rests his shoulders against the wall by your bedroom door and sighs. You'd held in tears for hours after the announcement. Sirius' last announcement has toppled you over. You have to meet your grandmother tomorrow to begin preparing for your father's funeral. James thinks you might have reached your breaking point. He can't imagine the grief of losing a father you didn't know you had, and the stress of being pulled out of your life so suddenly, carted across Europe and left under the judgemental eyes of royals and officials with little direction. Now that the paternity test has been found positive and checked by many, many professionals, your confirmed identity should provide a more stable schedule. From James’ perspective, the days ahead will be easy. For you, they are going to be very, very hard. 

You'll meet the Queen tomorrow at breakfast. The plans for your permanent residency in Genovia will be decided. Your entire life is about to change, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. 

Well… James doesn't really want you to stop it, but it's not entirely true that you can't. You could reject your heritage and go home to your flat, your art, your degree equivalent classes. Maybe you're crying because you're scared you don't have options. 

James thinks about knocking on the door to talk to you. He meant it when he said he has a duty to all aspects of your health, the mental as well as the physical, but it's difficult to define the line between professionalism and being friendly. He's already crossed it. 

He sighs and rubs his weary head. He's tired. Today has been the longest day ever. You'd slept for an hour in the car from the airport to Bellaverden Castle, and James had watched you half jealous and half enraptured. He won't mind looking after you no matter how you look, but your being easy on the eyes is a brilliant plus. Well, when ignoring the huge bruise staining your cheek. 

"Fuck," he says. 

He hasn't been doing very well. Honestly, his failure to keep you from harm in your flat (even if the harm had been him) and then his screw up with the paparazzi has left him off kilter.

James pulls out his pager. He should swap with one of the night guards, and he trusts them all, having picked them himself, but he won’t feel right walking away while you're crying. 

He clicks in Remus' code and waits until he hears it back. It's shorthand between them: if Remus wasn't awake or didn't want to see James, he could've ignored James' page and there'd be no hard feelings. But he answered. Tonight, once James has made sure you're okay, he'll crawl into Remus' bed like when they were kids in a cold dormitory and missing home to sleep for a glorious eight hours. He might even tell Remus how stressed he is. He knows his friend will listen. 

He'd invite Sirius, of course, (and that's assuming he isn't already there) if it weren’t well past ten. Sirius is definitely asleep. 

James hasn't had a proper night's sleep in a week. He feels poorly. He misses his mum. He's hungry. This job is great, he loves what he does; he gets paid to take care of people. It's also too much. It eats at him. 

"Fuck," he says again. 

"James?" 

He flinches hard. 

There it is, his third mistake. He's very lucky that the chief of royal security is busy making funeral arrangements, because if Mary were here she'd gut him. 

You've crept up on him in his distraction. How could he not notice your footsteps across the floor, or your door handle's heavy metallic thunk?

"Princess," he says, biting his tongue when you wince. He'll have to call you something else. "I'm sorry, I–" James squints at your sore eyes. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to ask… are you alright?" 

"Am I alright?" 

“I just heard you and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You sounded… stressy." 

"You don't have to worry about me. That's my job." He frowns at the remnants of your tear stains, dampness shining at the corners of your eyes and your lashes sticking together in darkened triangles. "I was just about to come and see you, actually. I know today's been hard, and I know I haven't helped. I'm so sorry, again, for hurting you. And at the airport, I know the scuffle with the photographers didn't help your nerves. I know," he stresses, "this is hard. I swear things will be smoother from now on. You have my word." 

You rub your elbow wordlessly. He's about to backtrack, perhaps dig himself a bigger hole, but then you give him one of the softest smiles anyone's ever given him in all his years. 

"It's forgiven. Believe me, James, this is the least of my worries," you say, gesturing to your cheek. It only takes a second for shame to stick its hooks in you, yanking your gaze to the floor. You're wearing an expression he's seen a thousand times on the people closest to him. 

He flicks you under the chin gently. 

"Things are gonna get easier. I swear it," he says.

You plaster a smile on. James figures he can push it some more and wipes the smudgy shine of old tears off of your cheeks. 

"There. Looking good, angel. Why don’t you try and get some rest now, yeah?" 

He keeps getting this odd feeling like you're an old friend and not his charge. It's fleeting and it's making him stupid. This and the sleep deprivation. He swears to himself he'll be better tomorrow. 

You bid him goodnight. James listens to your night time motions until another guard comes to release him from duty, rushing to his room for a shower and a cereal bar, giving his teeth a half-hearted brush before he sets off for Remus' room halfway across the castle. Remus and the other scarcely employed scholars don't have to sleep in the servant quarters like he and Sirius do. Schmucks.

He finds the door unlatched. Mercifully, James decides to spare them both the safety-related lecture. He tries to be as quiet as he can, a head of sandy brown hair turning his way just two steps into the room.

"James?" Remus asks, his voice thick with fatigue. 

"Sorry. You can go back to sleep." 

"I was waiting for you. Drifted off." 

James scrubs a hand through his damp hair and closes the door. He can find his way in the dark. 

"Sirius isn't here?" 

"James…"

"What, are we still pretending?"

"James."

"I'm sorry. Forgive me, Moony." 

"Yeah. Don't lean on my left side. I'll move over." 

"What's wrong with your left side?" 

"I don't know. Maybe from carrying the bags. Maybe not." 

James slides into the warm space Remus has made for him and tries not to feel overprotective. Loving someone who's constantly in pain can be confusing. You don't know how much love you're allowed to give before it starts to be patronising. Remus can take care of himself, but he doesn't need to. 

"Anything I can do?" James whispers. 

"Tell me what's bothering you." 

"Oh, you know… Everything. Nothing. I'm so happy we're all together again, I mean, what are the fucking odds? How long has it been since I could come and see you guys after work without making an appointment? … I didn't love the Prince, but I hate that he's dead, and I…" 

Remus turns his head to James. They're a pillow apart. When James looks at him, he can't remember what Remus looked like when they were young, but he can feel the years of knowing one another stretching out between them. A straining cast of light from under the door catches the edges of Remus' features. James can see the corner of an uneven smile. 

"Go on," Remus says quietly. 

"She's nice. She's really nice. I don't want her to get hurt, but I don’t know that I’m up to this, Moony."

"James, you're up for everything. Always have been." 

"I thought this was a demotion." 

"Isn't it?" 

"If it is, it's one I deserve. I deserve another one. Once Mary sees the mess I've made…" 

Remus reaches across the sheets to pinch James' bicep. "Nobody is good at their new job. Sirius didn't touch up the princess' bruise when we got off the plane, and while they're paid off for now, someone who needs the better payout is going to publish those photos, and soon. Sirius should've been doing his job, but he was too busy looking after me." 

"I tried to cover it–" 

"I know. You did a good job and I'm not blaming you. My point is that he made a mistake. Does he deserve a demotion?" 

James wrinkles his nose. Hate you.

"And I should've better prepared her for meeting Princess Julianna. It was my fault that she felt embarrassed. I tried my best to fit in some coaching for breakfast tomorrow but the poor girl doesn't know a butter knife from a paring knife." 

"That's not true." 

"No," Remus agrees. "I'm making her seem less educated than she is to prove my own point… James, she isn't a princess. She has the blood, and soon she'll get the official title, the land and the money and the education and maybe some of the bad bits, as well. But right now, she's new to being a princess, and she's not very good at it." 

"I get it." 

"Yeah, I know." 

Remus readjusts in bed. James almost misses the pain in his friend's exhale under the sound of crunching fresh sheets. 

"Are you sure I can't do something for you?" 

"I wish," Remus says. He isn't depressed. The opposite, he sounds way too spritely for the time. "You could stop hogging the blankets, for starters." 

James feeds Remus some more blanket and sighs. The mattress is heavenly. The quilts and sheets and pillowcases are soft and thick. By all means, James should've fallen asleep the second his head touched Remus’ pillow.

"You've asked Mickey to look after her tomorrow, right?" Remus asks. 

James had radio'd Mikkelson after his shower to put the early morning shift and protocols in his jurisdiction temporarily. That means James will hopefully be able to sleep until his body feels like it can hold itself together again. He doesn't like leaving you to face the Queen by yourself but it's not as though she'll hurt you, and Sirius will see you bright and early to help you get dressed. James isn't worried. 

"I have. How did you know that?" 

"You're the only one of us who knows how to properly take care of themselves," Remus explains easily. "Good. I'm glad you did. You haven't been sleeping."

"How do you know that?" 

"I love you. I know everything about you." 

James smiles at the ceiling. There is nothing quite as valuable to him than his family. He would do more to keep them all safe and healthy than he should admit on the record, so he keeps it tucked inside and out of view. It's terrifying and freeing at once to look at someone you love and know you're going to do something awful one day if it means they'll come out on the other side of it alive. 

"Not everything," he murmurs. 

"Everything, James."

"Yeah? How many fingers am I holding up right now." 

"One." 

"Which?" 

"Middle."

"Lucky guess." James laughs at their childish squabbling. "I love you, too. I'm really glad we're in the same place again."

"What did you say? What are the fucking odds?" Remus quotes, so tired now that his words are running together. "I'm not sod enough to do the maths, I think it's gotta be deep in the decimals. Lily's and Mary's involvement definitely helped, but to have someone come along who needs security detail, special education, and a lady in waiting is unfathomable." 

James laughs and feels his abdomen shaking. "I'm telling Sirius you called him a lady in waiting." 

"Sorry," Remus says, and James knows his friend is genuinely repentant, though Sirius would've laughed himself if he'd heard the joke. "I'm not trying to put him down. He's worked so hard, he– He's working so hard. He thinks it's easy work because he's good at it. He doesn't realise it's easy because he worked hard to be good at it." 

James has to chew it over for a moment to understand what Remus is saying. Once he understands, he vehemently agrees. Sirius is skilled in many areas. He's a media liaison, a sleuth, a sweet talker. He understands the inner workings of Western media — Sirius can deduce the honesty of a smile from a precursory glance. He may not always trust what he's seeing, but he sees it undeniably. And he can dress well.

"He's the best of us," James sighs agreeably, stretching down the length of the bed until his spine pops and his calves burn. "Shit. I need to start working out properly again now we're here." 

"Tomorrow. We'll figure it all out tomorrow, James. Go to sleep." 

James is obedient. He falls asleep, and doesn’t wake until the sun is warming his cheeks. His hair is still damp at the back and he feels awful in a new way. Better for having slept with someone close by, and catching up on the hours he’s been missing. But his back is stiff. 

He goes back to his room. His neck aches as he brushes his teeth. He does a workout and stretches his rigid limbs until he feels human again. 

The black telephone on his nightstand starts to ring.

“Hello, sir,” Lily says cheerfully down the line. James can picture her sweet smile. “I couldn’t help but notice your absence this morning.”

“How did it go?” he asks, trying to tug on a new pair of socks one handed. 

Lily hums. “It wasn’t awful. It wasn’t good, but it could’ve been worse. Her majesty liked her. Y/N was quiet, she was awkward, but we all know they prefer quiet to mouthy. The last thing they wanted was another Julianna. I felt kind of bad, really. Like I was handing her over.”

“She…” James sighs. “She didn’t seem upset, did she, Lils?”

“No, I actually think she was feeling good. Your boys took good care of her.”

“Brilliant. Oh, and to answer your unasked question, I’m being slovenly. I’ll be back on duty by noon.”

“Slovenly,” she repeats. “I’ve never known you to be any sort of lazy.” She laughs. James is happy that the sound doesn’t break his heart anymore. “Alright, James. I’ll see you later.”

He appreciates what she’s doing, letting him know you’re okay while he’s away. It’s uncanny how fast the people in charge of your care can band together, and Lily has always been kind.

James gives himself a minute to wipe away yesterday and prepare for today. He closes his eyes and shakes his head ferociously, his hair flying every which way. He sorts through all his worries one by one, letting that anxiety eat at him methodically —he’s a bad bodyguard, he’s a bad friend, he doesn’t call his mum enough, he’s chicken shit scared of dying alone, the works— and then pushing it away. Today is a new day with new opportunities. He can prove to you and to himself that he’s good at his job, he can make sure his friends are doing alright, he can call his mum tonight before dinner, and dying alone? He isn’t dying today. That one’s on the back burner. 

He makes his way from his room in the quarter and into the main building, wary that he might come upon a duke or duchess. His radio, clipped as it always is against his left shoulder, chirps with chatter. He bites back a scolding about keeping the line clear and looks out of a Goliath glass window at the grounds below. A marble water fountain spurts proudly at the foot of the stairs, and an elaborate hedgework stands at pruned attention. It’s a nice day. He wonders if you’ll be up for walking. 

He looks for you in the secondary parlour, the den, the library, the dining room. He swings by your room, and when you aren’t there he admits defeat and unclamps his radio, cutting through an inappropriate joke unapologetically. 

“Afternoon. Location on Princess Y/N?”

He imagines his subordinates scrambling to answer, embarrassed by their unprofessionalism, but it’s likely they just don’t know where you are. 

“If I don’t get an answer in the next five seconds, you can all expect to be running laps tonight. That includes you, Mikkelson, I don’t care how much overtime–”

“Sir, this is Daniels. Me and Roma are with the princess in the south wing.”

“Why?”

“She wanted a pencil sharpener.”

James grins to himself. The south wing (or, as James might put it, the guest wing), houses the scholars, the ambassadors, and whatever government official the royals are trying to butter up at the time. He’s feeling positively joyful when he finds you sketching, your face pressed to the window. The Genovian mountainscapes take shape on your page one confident stroke of graphite at a time, a small leather bound sketchbook pressed flat to your knee.

“Settling in?” he asks. 

You raise your head but not your eyes. “You could say that.”

“How was meeting Her Majesty?”

You frown. 

“That bad?” he asks. 

“No, I mean. You know. She’s a queen. It was terrifying.”

Despite your unhappy mouth, you look as relaxed as you have since the moment he met you, dressed in a casual Genovian dress with subtle but remarkable stitching a shade darker than the dress itself and a squared neckline. Your calves are out and glossy in the daylight. They’re rather distracting. 

“You look good,” James says carefully. 

“I’ll miss the fancy lotions,” you say. Your pencil scratches away. 

James’ hands falter where they’re clasped behind his back. “What?”

You meet his eyes properly. He hadn’t realised you’d been avoiding his gaze until you weren’t, your face ringed with guilt, an explanation slow to come. 

“I’m not staying. I can’t be a princess, James.” You shake your head mildly. “I’m going home.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thanks so much for reading! oh no, you want to go home!! rest assured, james and co aren’t letting you go too easily. i hope you enjoyed, reblogs are always appreciated, a thousand kisses for all of you either way <3<3

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three (you're here!)

I am once again posting the modern royalty au hfjsdk

The next one is gonna have the beginnings of Steddie, but take some happy Steve fluff for now lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

-----

Steve wakes up on the morning of his twelfth birthday to Dart burrowing between his cheek and the pillow, drenching both in excited slobber. He wrinkles his nose, rolling over and wiping slobber off with a corner of his sheets. When Dart begins to burrow under his neck, he accepts that he's not going back to sleep, and sits up.

He picks Dart up, huffing slightly under her increased weight, and places her in his lap. She wiggles around, nearly vibrating off of him. "Good morning," Steve says, scratching behind her ear and earning a bark in return. He takes it as her wishing him a happy birthday and nods. "Thanks, Dart."

With a deep breath, he throws off the covers and slides out of bed. He opens the door of his room to find Clarisse already there, her hand raised as thought ready to knock. She blinks, holding Steve's gaze for a few seconds before lowering her hand and clearing her throat. "Good morning, Steve."

"Good morning, Grandmother."

She smiles at him, her shoulders relaxing some. "Happy birthday."

"You...know it's my birthday?"

"Of course," she says, nodding once as she gestures inside the room. Steve steps out of the way, allowing Clarisse into the room. A man in a suit follows after her, placing a long box on the desk and bowing to them both before quickly leaving. "Your twelfth birthday marks a very important milestone for Genovian royalty."

Steve blinks, quietly shutting the door as Clarisse sits at the desk the box has been placed on. "How so?" Steve asks, sitting on the bed and pulling his legs under him. Dart jumps up after him, rolling around in the sheets by his knee.

"Well, to be perfectly honest, the tenth birthday is the important one," Clarisse admits, "That marks your capability of taking on increased responsibilities as royalty. However, you weren't here then. So, the twelfth will be important, instead."

That only sort of answers his question, but Steve nods anyway, deciding he doesn't want to risk annoying Clarisse.

"Genovian princes begin learning swordsmanship after their tenth birthday. It's not a requirement anymore, of course, but I wanted to offer you the opportunity," Clarisse explains, picking up the box as she stands and sitting on the other side of Steve. "Consider this a birthday gift from me as Queen of Genovia."

"What does that mean?" Steve asks, carefully taking the box.

"It means you're still getting a gift from me as your grandmother."

Steve nods once, trying to process this as he looks back down at the box. "Can I open it?"

"Of course."

Carefully, he pulls the lid off the box. He was expecting the sword inside, but he's still surprised by the sight of it. The blade gleams in the light, and the hilt is encrusted with a line of colorful jewels. When he looks closer, he realizes the hilt is also engraved with names, and Steve soon finds his own among them. "What are the names for?" he asks.

"Every owner of this sword has their name engraved on the hilt," Clarisse says, smiling gently. "This sword is yours, Steve. It will always be yours, and your name there is proof of that."

"Oh," Steve breathes, slowly wrapping his hand around the hilt and lifting the sword from the box. He keeps the blade aimed away from himself, Dart, and Clarisse, unwilling to risk harming them. "Will I be fighting anyone?" he asks.

"No, no, of course not," Clarisse says, waving away the concern. "Swordsmanship is a way to keep active and connect to Genovian culture. It is also a rather handy skill to show off for visiting dignitaries."

Steve smiles slightly, lifting the sword some and noting that it's heavier than is comfortable. It'll be easier to carry and swing as he gets stronger, though. "Thank you, Grandmother," he says, his voice soft as he carefully places the sword back in the box.

"I do hope you'll wear it to your birthday party next week."

Steve blinks, looking up at Clarisse with a confused frown. "Birthday party?" he asks. He doesn't like parties; he especially doesn't like parties where he's supposed to be the center of them. All that happens is shoes that pinch his feet, subtle but sharp glares from his parents when he doesn't behave exactly as they want, and his stomach growling because he's not allowed to eat anything to avoid getting his clothes messy.

"Yes," Clarisse says, smiling warmly at Steve. "I intend to officially introduce you as Crown Prince of Genovia at your birthday. Of course, you'll be free to play with the other children once I have."

"Do...do I have to have a birthday party?" Steve asks, avoiding Clarisse's eyes so he doesn't have to see the anger or disappointment that follows his question.

A gentle hand rests on his shoulder, the palm warm and reassuring. "No, you don't," Clarisse says, "I want you to be comfortable, Steve. If you would be more comfortable not having a party, then we simply won't have one."

"You wouldn't get in trouble?"

"With who? I am the queen, you know. There are very few people who can scold me, and even fewer I would take seriously."

Steve nods, looking back down at the sword in its box. He doesn't want to disappoint Clarisse, and this party sounds like it's important. Maybe he can just grin and bear it like he usually does. Getting to play with Robin and Jonathan after being introduced will make that easier. Yeah. He can handle it for a few minutes, especially if it will make Clarisse smile.

"It's okay," Steve says, glancing up at his grandmother. "We should have the party."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Clarisse smiles, her expression soft and warm, and Steve feels grounded and happy with his decision. "Okay, then. Just tell me if you change your mind, Steve. I won't be angry."

"I know, Grandmother."

"Now," Clarisse says, clapping her hands together as she easily changes the subject, "Let's move along. You've got a birthday breakfast waiting for you."

-----------

"Ugh, all the girls keep staring at you," Robin says, her nose crinkled with annoyance when Steve glances at her. Her arms are crossed, her hip jutting out slightly so the hilt of her sword gently bumps against the hilt of Steve's. "Don't they know you're a dingus?"

"They're enamored by his hair," Jonathan says, his words quickly followed by a flash as he takes a photo. Steve looks at him now, watching as he lowers the camera. "It defies gravity."

"Is that all I am? A dingus with good hair?" Steve asks, unable to help an amused smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, you're not bad with a sword, either," Robin admits, nudging him with her elbow.

"Your Mandarin is passable, I guess," Jonathan adds.

"My Mandarin is flawless, thanks," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he looks back out at the crowd. Guests in formal dress are mingling around the ballroom and completely ignoring Steve, Robin, and Jonathan. The only exception is one group of young women across the way that keep glancing at the trio before furtively whispering to each other.

Compared to some of his past birthday parties, his seventeenth is relatively tame. It doesn't have the bounce-house maze of his thirteenth (Robin's idea) or the full-fledged film studio complete with hair, makeup, and a director for guests to pretend they're movie stars of his fourteenth (Erica's idea) or the literal forest of photo shoot locations of his fifteenth (Jonathan's idea) or the battle bot creation station and ring of his sixteenth (Dustin's idea).

This year, he just requested a normal ball. No gimmicks. No special events or entertainers. It had resulted in whining and complaining from Robin, Dustin, and Erica, but Steve figured they'd calm down after stuffing themselves with cake.

As he's smiling politely at a girl whose eyes he happened to meet, the opening notes of a Genovian Waltz flow through the ballroom. Steve glances to his grandmother, watching as she takes Joe's hand to be led onto the dance floor. He then looks at Robin, offering a hand to her and grinning when she scowls at it. "Only if I get to lead this time," she says.

"Sure," Steve says, turning his hand over to place it in Robin's. He waves at Jonathan as she walks him onto the dance floor, turns around, and places a hand on his waist. As she leads him through the first steps of the waltz, Steve glances at the crowd around them before quietly saying, "I need to tell you something."

"Oh, are you finally sharing what you and Her Majesty have been having your little meetings about?"

Steve rolls his eyes, smiling a bit as he squeezes Robin's hand. "You're the first person I'm telling, if that helps."

She sniffs, glancing away and apparently meeting a cute girl's gaze since she winks before looking at Steve again. "Barely," she says, guiding Steve to duck under her arm in a spin. "Go ahead, though."

"Grandmother has given me permission to attend school in America for my senior year."

Robin blinks, nearly tripping over her own feet. Luckily, Steve catches her, briefly taking the lead so the mistake isn't noticed until she's stable again. "Seriously?" she asks, lowering her voice a little more. "So, what, California? New York? Please say we're going somewhere with a beach."

Steve's smile becomes apologetic as he says, "No, actually...Hawkins. I wanted to attend school in Hawkins."

The only thing that keeps him from faltering when Robin purposefully steps on his foot as hard as she can is all the practice he has from her accidentally stepping on his foot as hard as she can. He sighs as she glares at him and hisses, "Are you stupid? Seriously?! This is dumber than the time you kissed Jonathan."

"Rude. It's not dumber than the time you and I tried kissing?"

"No, because at least you being attracted to how awesome I am made sense."

"I suddenly feel sorry for Jonathan."

Robin rolls her eyes and pinches Steve's waist. "Seriously, why are you going back to Hawkins? That place sucks. You hate it."

"No, I hate my parents. I don't hate Hawkins. I just...want to see if it's changed, I guess. I want to see what the town is like now that I'm, you know, happy," Steve explains, watching Robin closely for her reaction. When she doesn't agree after a few seconds, he sighs and adds, "You don't have to come, Robin."

"Of course, I'm coming, Dingus. You can't get rid of me that easily. Besides, I'm your personal guard. I literally get paid to personally guard you."

"Good," Steve says, "It wouldn't be fun without you. Everyone else is coming, too. Well, except for Grandmother, but she promised to visit when she could."

"Wait, does this mean I have to go to school, too? Like, seriously?"

"Yeah. And Jonathan. And the kids. We have to at least try to blend in," Steve says, grinning at the devastated expression of Robin's face. If he'd gone to a private school, she probably could've gotten away with just being his personal guard, but a public school means actually blending in.

"The things I do for you," she mutters as the song comes to an end. She and Steve take a step back from each other and bow as the guests politely clap around them.

Before Steve can say anything, a warm hand rests on his shoulder. He looks over to see Clarisse, smiles brightly, and offers his hand to her. "Can I have your next dance, Grandmother?" he asks.

A now-familiar happiness settles in his stomach when she agrees, placing her hand in his. Steve basks in it, absolutely certain he'll have no problems in Hawkins so long as he remembers this feeling.

-------------------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord, @lublix, @little-birch-boy, @eriquin, @whenindoubtb72

[marsprincess889]

THE PRINCESS DIARIES - coming into your power.

Astrological analysis with nakshatras

The princess diaries, 1 and 2, are forever on the list of my favorite movies. Girls all over the world feel for Mia and I'm no exception, I almost always cry during certain scenes and I'm amazed again and again by how relatable and real she is, by how those movies speak to young girls.

I've decided to break down the main themes in the two movies by analyzing nakshatras of the people involved.

A quick recap of what the story is about: Mia is a 15 year old teenager living in San Francisco with her mother. She's clumsy, awkward and has no self esteem. One day, her estranged grandmother comes to visit her from Europe to tell her that she's the only legitimate heir to rule a small country- Genovia.

Director of the movies, Garry Marshall has Ketu in Magha. Magha is about ancestors, bloodlines and it's also associated with royalty (Magha begins the signs of Leo). Ketu in a chart represents a person's primal creative energy. This explains why he was drawn to a story about royalty. One interesting fact to note is that Gary Marshall made two very iconic movies (Pretty Woman and Runaway Bride) starring Julia Roberts who has been a kind of muse to him and who has Magha moon. This is also a pattern with directors and actors, one example I can think of is Kirsten Dunst (Ashlesha moon, Purva Ashadha Ketu) being a muse to Sofia Coppola (Purva Ashadha moon, Ashlesha Ketu).

Anyways, let's get back to The Princess Diaries and analyze the heart of the two movies- the relationship between Mia and her grandmother, queen Clarisse.

Anne Hathaway - Hasta moon, Vishakha sun, Jyeshta rising

Julie Andrews - Vishakha moon, Hasta sun, Uttara Phalguni rising

SPOILER ALERT

Part 1

Hasta- strong females

The second movie's main theme is about female empowerment and independence. When the parliament refuses to let Mia rule without a husband, she has 30 days to arrange a marriage and she's willing to do it, just because she wants to rule so much that's she's ready to make such a sacrifice. At the last second she breaks down at her wedding, unable to be betray herself and finds courage inside her to make the parliament change their minds. She succeds and becomes queen without a husband.

Hasta is all about female empowerment but unlike Bharani, it's in a non-sexual, celibate way. Hasta, as a woman, completely rejects almost all male influence and is capable of being self-reliant, only opening up to rare men who she deems worthy. Hasta is the female that does not need a man and in that way, is a safe and empowering place for women.

There's a scene in the second movie where Mia stops the parade to defend a small girl from boys who were bullying her. She tells her how to be a princess and empowers her, letting her and the other kids join the parade. During the monologue at the end, when Mia is talking to the parliament at her wedding, we see women accross the country intently listening to her on the television, shushing the men . 😆

Part 2

Vishakha - joining opposites

Like Hasta, both Anne Hathaway and Julie Andrews have Vishakha in their luminaries. Vishakha nakshatra is about joining opposites. It begins in the sign of Libra (partnerships, agreements, relationships, compromise) with its last quarter being in Scorpio (death, transformation, occult). Vishakha is ruled by the gods Indra and Agni- the lightning and fire gods. It's about energized ebthuasiasm, cultivating something over time, about using the pent up energy or anger. It's another name is Radha ("the gift", hence the next nakshatra being Anuradha- "after the gift".)

"The gift" is not just good, it can also be unwelcome, like in Mia's case, when she was angered by the revelation that she's a princess. Queen Clarisse and Mia are very different from each other, but neither had a choice but to compromise and agree to a bargain. They learn to appreciate their differences and embrace their similarities, thus, joining opposite forces.

They do have misunderstandings, but that's part of all relationships and eventually they bond deeply as they realize they have the same goal. Vishakha is also connected to anger and the little outbursts they both have definitely show that. One great example is when Mia ruins Lana's (her bully's) outfit and calls her a jerk in front of everyone after always just silently ignoring her remarks.

Joining opposites in this movie is not just about Mia and the Queen, it's also about the two cultures, also about the first movie being a high school drama as well as a fairytale for young girls.

Part 3

Jyeshta - from underdog to the ruler

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."

-Mia's father to her in a letter

To me, Jyeshta is connected to the underdog who succeeds despite all odds. Jyeshta 's power is to "rise, conquer and gain courage in battle". It's the stage of intense competition. Its deity is Indra- lightning god and the king of the gods, like Vishakha. We see other kids bully Mia in the first film but she slowly places herself above it, making her point (by taking her little revenge on Lana) and then not engaging with them anymore, as she realizes her own self- worth.

A major point in the movie is when she decides not to run away despite being scared to speak to the public, showing her true courage.

Besides Indra- the king of the gods, another deity associated with Jyeshta is Dhumavati- the hag goddess who is eternally hungry. Because of this, I think Jyeshta is associated with grandmothers and our relationship to them. I personally have exalted Ketu in Jyeshta and I was practically raised by my father's late mother (unlike my sibling, mind you. I'm the eldest) and I still have a close relationship with my mother's mother. Mia, played by Jyeshta ascendant Anne Hathaway, also has a very special relationship with her grandmother.

So, in the end, the bullied underdog became a princess and eventually- a queen.

Some bonuses:

Uttara Phalguni is associated with gaining wealth and privileges from partnerships. Uttara Phalguni ascendant Julie Andrews playing queen Clarisse, who became a royal by marriage, confirms that.

Heather Mattarazo (Lily) and Anne Hathaway were born only a few days apart, hence their charts being similar and them playing best friends.

So, this is it. If you found this interesting, please, interact with me, like, comment, reblog. Take care 🤍

[quintessencewrites]

Save Her ShuRiri x Wakandan!reader

“Griot,” she started slowly. “Who is piloting Fighter 009?”

“Y/n, Your Majesty.”

Warnings: Angst!! Happy ending though <3, explicit language as always, mention of character death, Shuri's kinda mean at the beginning...

Word Count: 1.4k+

Tag List: @percsane @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thv @fetchyourlife @mbakuetshurisprincess @sinsikoxo @honey-teaaaaaaaa @rxcently @pinkcorns @takeyaki @yamsthoughts @thethickerside @0hshoot1tsl4ni @shurisbathwater @shurismainbxtch @luvrzhearts @sadfreakx @shuri-my-love @justariellove @heartsforjojo @blackgirlfariy @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @taiiunknown @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson @verachii @taiiunknown @beautybyfire @soearthquakequeen @remwritess @pinkwright @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir

Requested by anonymous

A/N: My heart ached writing this!!! I just wanna give my girls the happy endings they deserve but yall are asking for angst, so you'll get angst. Speaking of which, this one is the happy ending version (believe it or not). There'll be one coming soon with a not-so-happy ending... Flashbacks in bold. Enjoy, my loves!

“Your Majesty-”

“Not now, Griot.” Shuri paced the room, still fuming. Your argument was at the forefront of her mind and she couldn’t stop the scene from replaying in her head. 

“You have two wives! Why do you feel the need to dance with another woman?” Shuri approached you, finger pointed in your face accusingly. 

“That other woman was the Queen of Genovia! A country that you wish for Wakanda to have as an ally. She asked for a dance, so I danced, Shuri. Would you rather I be rude and dismiss her?”

“Yes, I would.” 

“Lies! You would have been in here, still fussing at me like a child, had I rejected her invitation.”

Shuri stepped slowly towards your small, angry figure.“I don’t like seeing your arms around anyone else. I don’t like seeing theirs around you.” She tried reaching for your hands, extending hers to you meticulously. “These hands are only supposed to drape around my neck.” When you jerked away from her touch, the young royal scoffed, fury flowing through her veins.

“Oh, so you’re leaving Riri out of this too?” It was such a petty response, and you knew it.

“Please, Shuri-” the AI tried again.

“Do I need to power you down? I said not now.”

“I am not leaving Riri out of anything. Did you catch Riri dancing with anyone else last night? Hm? Because, if I recall correctly, Ri stayed at my hip the entire night.”

“So that’s what you want? Me on a leash?”

Shuri was towering over you, anger emitting a burning heat from her figure. “Is that what it will take for you to start showing some respect? A leash? Like you’re some bitch?”

Your mouth fell agape; disbelief at her words brought stinging tears to your dark-hued eyes. 

“Get the hell out, y/n.” Shuri’s venomous tongue continued. 

“Fuck you, Shuri,” your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you retreated from the throne room.

“We’ve lost communication with Talon Fighter 009. I suspect the Captain no longer has control of the aircraft.” 

Griot’s fast-paced words halted Shuri’s stride, pulling her from those flooding thoughts. “We did not give any Fighters authorization to take off today.” 

The AI’s silence ran ice through the Queen’s veins. There was one person who did not need the authorization to take off. The very person who helped Shuri build the Talon Fighters.

“Griot,” she started slowly. “Who is piloting Fighter 009?”

“Y/n, Your Majesty.”

Her Majesty stalked toward the floor-length windows adorning every wall in the throne room. Out in the distance, several miles away, she could make out a slight speck slowly falling from the sky.

The ice in her veins defrosted at the sight. Her y/n, falling from the sky. A quick double tap to the kimoyo beads dangling around her neck sent the panther suit clinging to her lanky figure. 

The Black Panther mask swallowed her face. “Griot, update Riri and page her into me. And send me the coordinates for Fighter 009, now!” She boarded the Royal Talon Fighter and seated herself behind the controls. Her breathing hitched, thinking of you doing the same, not predicting what was to come.

“At once, Your Majesty.”

Not even a second later, Shuri’s beads vibrated, alerting her of Riri’s presence. “Ri-” Shuri’s husked voice cracked with fright. 

“I heard, ma. I’m suited up and on my way. Aye, Griot, let me get those coordinates too.”

“I’ve just sent them over, Princess,” The AI informed.

“What the hell happened, Shuri?”

What the hell had happened? You were more skilled with every Wakandan aircraft than Shuri herself. 

“I-I don’t know. Griot?”

“An intensive safety check was failed to be done before takeoff, Your Majesty.”

“An intensive safety check was what?” Riri parroted. “Y/n wouldn’t forget that. She knows that. She does it everytime.”

You were anal about performing a safety check everytime you took off, regardless of the circumstances. Why would you choose now to not do one?

“She wouldn’t if she weren’t in the right head space…” 

Shuri’s words went by unheard by the girl in the iron suit. 

“Griot, how long we got before the Fighter makes contact with land?”

“About 30 more seconds, Princess Riri.”

“Shuri, baby, what’s your ETA?”

She glanced down at her controls, the display showing she wasn’t as close to you as she wanted to be. “I-I’m going as fast as I can.”

“I got her then, baby.” Mach 5 suddenly didn’t feel fast enough to Riri. She willed her suit to go just a bit faster.

“Ri, what if we don’t get there in time?” The Queen voiced her fears aloud. 

“Ain’t no what if, cuz we will. Where she landing, Griot?”

“Over the hillside, in the Border Tribe.”

“Ight, I’m making my way. Imma get our girl, Shuri.”

“Riri, I said some things-”

“It don’t matter right now.”

“I-I called her a bitch-”

“Shuri-”

“I told her to get the hell out-”

The panic Riri was trying so hard to keep down rose suddenly and unexpectedly. She stumbled in her suit, slowing down dramatically. A frustrated sigh came from her parted lips. The effort to get back up to Mach 5 was going to waste precious seconds.

“Griot, disconnect me from Shuri.”

“Wait, Riri! What?”

“I’m sorry, ma. I’m trying to save her. I’m going to save her, but I can’t do it with you in my ear like this.”

Once Shuri’s voice no longer surrounded Riri, she took a deep breath in the silence. ”Griot, can you connect me to y/n?”

“All communication to Fighter 009 is dead, however, I will attempt to get you through via her kimoyo beads.”

Griot cut out and static filled Riri’s suit, engulfing her in fuzzy nothingness. 

“Y/n? Y/n, baby, can you hear me?”

Your whispered whimpers were faint. “R-Riri?”

It broke Riri’s heart to hear her name spoken so weakly. 

“I’m here. I’m here, baby. I’m coming to get you.” 

“I’m coming too, sithandwa sam.”

“Shuri? I thought I hung up on you.” Riri prepared herself to do so again.

“Griot is my AI. He does what I tell him.”

“Y-you seem to expect e-everyone to do w-what you tell t-them,” you retorted with tearful gasps.

“Not now, my love. Better yet, not ever. It was a petty argument and I apologize from the depths of my heart-”

The very AI she created cuts her off. “Your Majesties, Y/n’s oxygen levels have dropped to 86%. I estimate fifteen seconds before impact.”

“Shit,” Riri cursed under her breath, though it doesn’t go unheard by either girl. Your sobs grow, the uncontrollable sound hiccuping from deep within your belly. 

“M-my oxygen l-levels? W-why are m-my oxygen l-levels d-dropping?”

“You’re falling too fast…” Shuri was unable to hide the fear behind her words.

“I’m coming, baby.” Riri steadied her voice, feigning a confidence she didn’t currently have. “Thirteen seconds until I get to you. Can you count it with me?”

“Y-you want m-me to count d-down my d-death?”

“You not dying. I promise, I got you. Count with me.”

“Twelve,” You and Riri’s voices mix in unison, the cracking teariness in your vocal cords and hysteric rush in Riri’s drowning each other out.

“80%,” Griot calls out through the noise.

“I love you, y/n,” Shuri whispers, full of regret, begging Bast to save you himself.

“Eleven”

“71%”

“We got you, baby.”

“Ten”

“68%”

“Hold on, my love.”

“Nine” Your voice grows weaker, your steady words becoming broken gasps.

“55%”

“We won’t let you down.”

“Eight” Go faster, Riri begs herself. Just a bit faster.

“51%”

Shuri grows silent, focusing intently on reaching you.

“Seven”

“45%”

“Six” 

“39%”

“Five” Riri was now counting alone.

“30%”

“Four”

“25%”

“Three”

“17%”

“Two”

“0%”

Shuri’s dark figure drops onto the falling Fighter, hard. A claw-clad hand reaches out to rip the door off the well-built aircraft and a flash of red shoots past, in and out right before the Vibranium tech hits the ground, crushing and crumbling at impact.

“We got her! Shuri, we got her!” Riri’s cries were full of relief. Your unconscious body felt like nothing in her arms. 

“Y/n’s oxygen levels are 70% and climbing steadily.” Even Griot sounded at ease.

Shuri fell to the ground of the Royal Talon Fighter, exhaustion overtaking her in place of the stress that evaporated. Tears poured down her face and she held her head in her hands. “We got her.”

[zipadeea]

If I were writing the Princess Diaries 3, Mia would be queen (obviously) and Nicholas would be prince consort or whatever, and the main character would be their fifteen-year-old daughter. And instead of a movie it’s a mini-series, and their daughter, Clarisse (obviously), is kind of a spoiled brat, and there’s some incident at the beginning of the show, and Mia’s like shit, this girl needs an attitude adjustment. So, she sends Little Clarisse to San Fransico on the DL to live in the firehouse with Grandma Helen and Grandpa Mr. O’Connell and Uncle Trevor (who is like, twenty, so he’s basically her older brother), and slowly Clarisse learns how to be a Normal Kid. 

And then after a month or two, Mia comes to visit from Genovia, and Little Clarisse takes her out to the bay and the arcade, and they eat corndogs and ride trolleys, and Mia along with the viewers are getting emotional bc look at what she gave up! Was it worth it? 

Because the side plot in Genovia meanwhile is Mia’s approval ratings are down, people across Genovia are questioning the need for a monarchy in the modern world while Mia is trying to reconcile the same feelings within herself. Does Mia abolish the monarchy to give her daughter a normal life? Does she saddle her daughter with the same problems she’s grown to deal with? Does Mia bring democracy to Genovia???? Or does she decide the tradition she’s part of and the legacy her daughter will continue matters more? 

Tune into The Princess Diaries: Escape to SF and see how it all ends!

[this-is-moony-lovegood]

OK, genuine question. Has anyone read a fic where it’s a buddie x princess diaries AU? If so, please reply to this so I can read it. If not, I need you to hear me out, because I need someone to write this ASAP and I don’t have time for it.

I’m thinking that Eddie has to be our Mia. The reason for that is I need Isabel to be our queen Clarice Rinaldi. This Ramon went to college in the United States and met Helena. While he was there, they fell in love and he decided that he didn’t want to be king anymore. If it meant he got to be with her. He graduates college he Genovia and goes to the states. When Isabel sends someone after him, they find that Helena is pregnant with Eddie. This would imply that Eddie is the oldest child, even if we don’t actually know if that’s the case for this to work. Eddie is going to need to be the heir to the throne.

So the story picks up where Ramon has died relatively recently, maybe within the last year? And Isabel and her security team, which consist of Bobby, Hen, Chimney, and Buck arrive on Eddie’s doorstep. at this point, let’s say that Christopher is six, and that Shannon has either died or has left them. When Isabel and the team show up there essentially saying that it is time for Isabel to step down and that she needs Eddie to take the throne of Genovia because he is the rightful heir. This is also assuming that Ramon is the oldest child, even if Pepa is most likely the oldest child in Cannon. Ramona is the oldest it would mean because Eddie exists in the first place, he would have claim to the throne before her. Kind of like the only reason that Prince Harry would have the throne is if all of Prince William children were to die. Does that make sense?

I’m kind of fuzzy on whether or not you tell the full story of the first Princess diaries, because I don’t feel like this would work very well. I think that this only functions if Eddy is a little bit older like 24 to 26. So we can go with the whole high school plot. So instead, I feel like we introduce the fact that this is how Eddie becomes the crown prince of Genovia and then we do a skip. So with the story, I think we jump up to essentially where we are in the second Princess diaries movie. So essentially Parliament is telling Mia, or in this case Eddie the only way that Eddie can take the throne is if he is married. However, instead of having Eddie fall for someone who could potentially take the throne, we had to do with the fact that he’s already head over heels for buck. I don’t think that Buck or Eddie are aware of each others feelings at this point, so they have been dancing around it. Essentially since Eddie came to Genovia Buck and Eddy have been really close because Buck is part of Eddy personal security team. So we have to go through the business of Eddie trying to find a wife with the help of the team? I’d like to think that maybe we can put Athena as Isabel‘s chief of staff, while Bobby is the head of security. Anyway, they do the whole slideshow presentation and the team end up picking Marisol. So Eddy is having to go through with this engagement/potential marriage, while simultaneously in love with Buck.

My whole reasoning for this is I would love to see a scene where they end up, kissing in the garden and falling into the fountain, and then dealing with Athena‘s wrath after that. And then I really want to see an archery scene where Buck is helping Eddie learn archery, because he still pretty new to this whole princely thing and does not know, how to shoot a bow and arrow properly. Bonus points if we have Christopher laughing in the background at Eddie’s miserable archery skills. And then I really want the scene where you would have Buck throwing rocks at his window and then they sneak out and have their date under the tree and wake up into their arms, and then it’s spoiled by paparazzi. And of course you have to have the big wedding where Eddie has to say Marisol I’m “sorry I’m not gonna marry you because I don’t need a queen at my side to rule a country I love.” But then Eddie and Buck afterwards regardless.

Do we see the vision? Because I need someone to write this if it has not already been written. And if it has, like I said before, send it to me!

[lindszeppelin]

Oof that pic with Camila is really…wow

KG seems more comfortable interlocking her fingers with CM than in many of the pics we’ve seen with A. It’s hilarious that AB is walking so far ahead from them too, like he can’t get out of there fast enough.

I remember a long time ago I read somewhere that Kaia was hinting that her and A had a lot of threesomes, and someone said something mentioning Camila too. I think it was because of the pink book he was reading in Cabo.

I didn’t believe it at first but now I wonder at least about CM’s relationship with KG.

And listen, I don’t kink shame and he is a whole grown man, he can enjoy himself however he wants, it’s just tacky that KG hinted at it, like that’s private stuff.

kaia has always looked more comfortable being intimate around women than men. bearding relationships are another branch of PR relationships, for the purpose of one partner who is LGBTQ+ to appear as straight with their hetero partner. seeing as she said she is queer (whether you believe that to be true or not) she always felt in her energy way more relaxed and intimate around a woman. she has so many photos of her kissing and making out with women than she ever had with her boyfriends. that right there should tell you something.

kaia didn't hint at the threesome shit, the shippers made that up. i was there for it i remember. that pink book, whatever it was called, she had read and i think it was on one of her bookclub things. austin was seen pictured with it in cabo (where he looked directly at the pap cameras whilst doing so...) and she said something like "everyone in my life i've given a copy of this book to". so i think she gave the book to camilla also. the subject matter of the book i do remember. it was a girl that became entangled in a poly relationship with this couple, a guy and a girl. it's a young adult smut type book. nothing crazy. but the shippers tried to make that a thing. like bro...austin in a poly/open relationship or a threesome?? yeah, and im the Queen of Genovia.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

A Recipe for Disaster

The Princess Diaries 2 steddie AU no one asked for but that i couldn’t get out of my head!!

On AO3 here

It had taken a lot for Steve to get to where he is.

As a person, not like, “in life”-wise

He was most definitely better off than most, he was about to be King of a whole ass country for fucks sake, but the internal shitstorm he had gone through to become the person he is today...was a lot.

He was 16 going on 17 when his long lost aunt showed back up in his life. News of his birthright hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Queen Joyce Renaldi was his father (Stephan Artur Renaldi II)’s older sister, and became Genovia’s ruler when her father passed away shortly after Steve’s.

She had sat down with him and patiently explained everything to him, that since he was the sole male heir to the throne, the crown’d be his when he turned 18. If he wanted it. That she’d train him in everything he needed to know to get him ready and if she had anything to do with it, he wouldn’t be alone in this. He’d have her to guide him as long as he needed her.

At that point in his life, he had already: lost his dad, learned how much of an ass his father really was (and how much people were glad he was gone), and completely shut down. He used to be the King of his school (ironically) but after his dad died, he dropped the façade and became friends with Robin Buckley, local freak.

It didn’t take long before they were the literal best of friends, joined at the hip and at the braincell, platonic soulmates. She became everything to Steve and even after one bad drug trip, finding out he was a royal (for real), their first fight, and his stupid brain thinking that his old best friend Tommy Hagen wasn’t just flirting with him to capitalize on Steve’s newfound status, but because he actually did like him back only to be caught by paparazzi making out in a boathouse at his school’s beach party…Robin was still there. She was always there for him.

She even decided to pursue her degree in languages at the same college; and not just her own degree, but also took another major in international and public affairs, same as him. Fully intending to stay by his side in Genovia.

Steve loves her so damn much (a fact she says he reminds her of all too often).

Which brings him to today. Graduation day.

Finally, finally, he’d be returning to Genovia. With Robin and their co-parented orange cat named Concrete by his side, he’d finally be returning to the country he loved. That he had loved since first landing there the summer after junior year.

He was looking forward to his 21st birthday coming up in a few weeks, nervous about being completely ‘of age’, and the upcoming coronation, but Aunt Joyce had assured him that he would rule at her side before officially taking over.

“Your highness, Lady Robin, look out the window,” Jim Hopper: head of security, local badass, and great friend and father (to his own kids, and a welcome father-figure to Steve these last 4/5 years), interrupted Steve’s tired thoughts and worries, “Welcome back to Genovia.”

Steve looked up at Hopper, grinning, and turned to the window closest to their seats where Robin was already holding Concrete up by his armpits to look out the window too. Steve loved seeing the palace as they flew over, but now all he saw was two-day old, travel-mussed, blonde hair and the bottom half of a very fat orange cat.

—--

The few weeks leading up to his 21st birthday went by in a flash.

The first couple days were appointments with the Palace’s medical team, introductions to the newer members of the staff that Steve would be seeing around daily, official introductions of Robin (and her official titling as Steve’s Royal Advisor) to the staff, fittings for his attire for the ball (a maroon tuxedo, subtly patterned with branches of the Genovian Pear tree in a slightly darker shade, a golden sunflower yellow bow tie and matching waistcoat, Genovia’s royal sash and medals, and a smaller crown of his grandfathers who, like Steve, was partial to warm tones than to cool ones. This crown looked like if the circular backsplash pattern of a drop of  water was cast in gold. The peaks of the crown were each adorned with a ruby, which just barely poked out above Steve’s hair like a halo), and multiple small family dinners, just Steve and his two favorite ladies (Aunt Joyce and Robin) plus Lord Concrete and Joyce’s beloved mutt Maurice. The latter of the two being sworn enemies.

Soon (too soon), it was the night of his ball. Joyce was to enter first with Hopper, and after her speech, would lead the attendees in a toast to Steve as he entered the ballroom. Steve could hear Joyce making her speech though the heavy oak doors, her voice carrying easily though the hall as if the palace itself wanted to send her voice as far as it could.

To top off the pile of anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach, Robin wasn’t with him at the moment. She wasn’t allowed to make the entrance with him, but knowing she’d be just on the other side of the door and down the stairs, gave him little reprieve.

He was pacing between the two doormen on his side of the door, twisting his grandfather’s signet ring worriedly on his left middle finger. The ring was a gift from Joyce for his birthday, said she wanted Steve to have it because “He would have absolutely adored you, Steve. He’d be so proud to see such a handsome, well-rounded young man wear it.” She had his face cupped in her small hands and wiped away his tears with her thumbs when they made their appearance. The ring was too big, big enough for Steve to be constantly worried about losing it right off his finger at the slightest movement. He is already planning on sending it off to be resized, but wanted to have it with him tonight.

Again, too soon, there was no more time to panic as he could hear the announcement of his name coming from the ballroom.

“Presenting, His Royal Highness, Stephan Artur Harrington-Renaldi, Prince of Genovia.”

At the bangs of the announcer’s staff, Steve stepped forward on shaky legs, the double doors opening before him by the ballroom’s doormen just as rehearsed. He dusts off his old “King Steve” mask and smile from his time in high school, puts them on, and walks through the threshold and out to the short balcony created by the twin staircases, beaming at the gathered dignitaries.

“To Prince Steve.” Joyce calls and lifts her glass of champagne.

“To Prince Steve!” The crowd parrots.

Steve lifts his right hand and gives them all a wave, then switches it out for his left, waving a little bit too vigorously toward where he’s spotted Robin who’s grinning at him, looking stunning in the sparkly golden yellow gown she had to almost be wrestled into. He must’ve waved too hard because he feels his grandfather’s ring fly directly off his sweaty hand.

He turns, eyeline chasing the flight path of the ring only to see it land safely in one of the doorman’s grasp.

The elderly man approaches Steve “It happens all the time.” he drops the ring into Steve’s palm and smiles. “And Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you very much.” Steve returns the smile

The titter and giggles from the crowd subdue back into easy chatter as Steve comes down the stairs to his left, and grasps Robin’s hand on his arm as soon as she weaves her arm with his.

“You must be the clumsiest royal to ever grace these halls, Your Royal Dingus.”

“You’re absolutely right, now every important person in the literal world knows it.”

"You are incorrect, Lady Robin,” Joyce calls from behind the two, who turn to face her. “My father was just as clumsy as our Steve, perhaps even more so.” Her smile is polite and loving, but the teasing smile on Hopper’s face betrays exactly what she is thinking.

‘Those two are just as symbiotic as Robin and I, I swear.’ Steve thinks to himself.

“Gee thanks,” Steve rolls his eyes but detaches himself from Robin “Care to be my first dance, Aunt Joyce?”

“I thought you’d never ask, my dear.” She similarly unweaves her arm from Hopper’s and places her palm atop the back of Steve’s downturned one.

Steve leads her to the middle of the ballroom, their guests parting like the red sea in front of them to give an open area to dance. As if they could read their minds, the band starts a classic waltz and Steve leads his Aunt around the outer edge of the circle.

Hopper soon joins them with Robin, and slowly, more and more folks spin themselves into the dance. Steve smiles at Prime Minister Wayne Henderson and his wife Claudia as he and Joyce spin past them, and when the song ends, it’s like the ice has been broken and the party can actually start.

People approach him from all angles to wish him a happy birthday, and make their introductions, including quite a few members of parliament, recognizable by the Genovian Crests pinned to their suits. Robin latches back to his side, they fend off the “Oh, how cute of a couple!” comments as usual, and Robin gets to flex her dignitary muscles. He catches a few excerpts sometimes when she is speaking to foreign dignitaries in their native languages. Steve feels very lucky to have her.

--

He’s whisked away soon after to start the part(s) of the evening he’s dreading the most. Prince Stephan is expected to dance with all the eligible persons of Royal descent. He starts with Robin first, just to get his nerves out of the way.. Then it’s off to the races.

It’s really like they all just expect him to be only a Prince Charming, He asks many of them questions about their own countries/principalities or their interests and they look at him like they'd rather he just tell them how nice they look.

The only one that doesn’t fit this mold so far, is a woman about his age named Nancy. Her small and petite frame is definitely in that mold of most of the attendees he’s expected to dance with, but she tells Steve immediately about how she’d love to be a journalist if it weren’t for her royal expectations.

“I just love to get down to the bottom of things, you know? I like digging in and finding out anything and everything about a story.”

“That sounds fantastic, I’d love to read some of your work sometime.” Steve smiles at her and is rewarded with a small smile and blush. “Actually,” he continues “Our head of security’s oldest son is a photographer, I’d love to introduce you. His work is really good; I feel like your writing and his photo skills could be a great combination.”

He wasn’t lying either, from the few minutes he’s spent with Nancy, he can tell without a doubt that anything she wrote would be fantastic, and though Jonathan and he have always been kinda weird, his photography is plastered all over the Palace’s media releases and he definitely has talent.

“Really? I would love to meet him.”

“Come on, I need a break from dancing anyhow.” They step apart and he offers his arm to her, which she takes. Steve can easily spot Hopper from across the room, easily a head taller than most.

Hopper greets them as they approach, “Good evening your highness, your highness.” directing their titles to each of them.

“Hi Hop, is Jonathan around today? Nancy here is an aspiring reporter and I’d love to introduce them.”

Hopper smiles warmly down at Nancy, “Ah, is that so! Well it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Madam Nancy, let me radio Jon.”

“Thank you Mr. Hopper.” Nancy beams at him

“Please, your highness, Hopper or Jim is just fine with me.

“Just don’t call him Jimmy.” Steve stage whispers to Nancy, loud enough for Hopper to hear and shake his head at him. “Are Will and Ellie around tonight?”

“Ah yes, they are around here somewhere. I think they and Mr. Henderson have met the young Lord Sinclair, so I’m sure I will have to respond to one of their messes here sooner than later.”

“Your other children?” Nancy asks, genuinely curious.

“Yes ma’am, the wonder twins themselves.” His close-lipped smile makes his mustache scrunch on his face along with causing his well-worn crows feet to make their appearance.

“Whadja need…dad?” Steve hears Jonathan call out then trail off when he catches sight of Steve. “Good evening your highness, happy birthday.” He quickly catches himself and greets Steve with a short bow, “Is there something wrong?”

“Not at all Jonathan, I just wanted to introduce you to Princess Nancy here.” He gestures at Nancy, who’d mostly been hidden from sight behind Steve from where Jonathan had approached. She releases her hold on Steve’s arm and extends her hand for Jonathan to take.

“Many apologies your highness, I didn’t see you there. How do you do?” He takes Nancy’s extended hand and bows with a light kiss to her knuckles. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Steve watches this exchange and immediately the arrow on his brand new internal ‘Nancy’ dial flops from where it was in the “Interested in Nancy” section, to the complete opposite “Get Nancy and Jonathan together at all costs” section.

Nancy’s whole face and neck are blushing a wonderful shade of pink (Steve can even see some dripping down onto her collarbones since the navy blue dress she wears is sleeveless). Steve smirks and is about to cut in to tell Jon all about her, but she gets to it before he can, still eloquent and in command of her words despite her obvious flustered mood.

“I was telling Steve about my wishes to become a journalist and he said your photography work was very good. I am assuming you are on the palace’s public relations team?”

Jonathan still hasn’t let go of Nancy’s hand, and it doesn’t look like he’d like to anytime soon. “Y_yes, I am the lead photographer.. Steve said that?” Jonathan glaces at Steve disbelievingly.

Nancy nods, “He did. I would love to see what you’ve been able to capture so far.” She gestures to the heavy-looking camera around his neck.

“Uhh..” Jonathan looks to Steve worriedly, who quickly mimes standing up straight and offering his arm. “O_of course, I’d love to show you, your highness.” He offers his arm to her and she takes it excitedly.

“Please, just call me Nancy.” she smiles at Jon and his face flushes red.

About an hour later, Steve is starving and starting to get hangry from lack of food. He really doesn’t want to accidentally snap at someone important, so he sneaks over to the corner where his towering birthday cake has been mocking him, picks up one of the tiny serving spoons, and spoons out a mouthful of the cake from behind one of the fondant flowers.

Someone taps him on the shoulder “I saw that.”

Steve looks over, ready to apologize, and has to look down a bit more than he thought. “Uh, it’s my cake.” He tells the younger man. He must be at least 18, he’s definitely not a young kid. Curly light brown hair, slicked backward on the sides, like a fake mullet. “I like your hair dude, very 80s.”

The kid looked embarrassed, “Yeah my mom did it, it’s not what I would have done but I’m not the best at maintaining my curls myself. Our deal is if my mom does my hair, she does all of it. Style and all.”

“It looks really good, I promise, you should tell her thanks.” Steve says, taking another bite of cake.

“Dude.” the kid says incredulously, “Save some for the rest of us.”

“Dude.” Steve parrots back in the same tone “It’s my cake, I can eat as much as I want.” He pauses for a second, and thinks ‘Reel it back in Steve, you don’t even know who this kid is or who this kid’s parents are. Don’t be rude and start a war accidentally.’

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten anything all night and I can feel myself getting hangry. I’m Steve.” Steve switches the small spoon into his left hand and extends his right to the kid

“Yeah, I know who you are, you did make a pretty grand entrance earlier; don’t know if you noticed.” He takes Steve’s hand and gives it a strong (but somewhat clammy) shake. “I’m Dustin Henderson.”

“Ah, so you’re Wayne’s kid.” Steve drops Dustin’s hand.

“No, Claudia’s kid. Wayne is my Step-dad.”

“Oh, sorry...Wait, is that a bad thing?”

“God no, Wayne is the best. Quiet, contemplative, you know he loves you no matter what. And he’s been around as long as I can remember.”

Steve nods along to what Dustin is saying, picking up a second spoon and pulling out another spoonful of cake for Dustin, handing it to him while he’s still talking.

“He even took my Mom’s last name when they got married. He said that he’s the one joining our family, not the other way ‘round.”

Steve has that much more respect for the already well-respected Prime Minister.

“Plus I heard him tell my mom once that his family are a bunch of sleezebags so he’s happy to be rid of his own name anyhow.”

“Wow really? Who’s his family I wonder?”

“Dunno, never asked him and I don’t really want to bring it up if he hates them all, you know?”

“True, true.” Steve agrees. “I like you kid, (“Kid?? I’m only 3 years younger than you!”) I hope to see you around again if I don’t die of boredom talking to all these parliament geezers.”

Dustin grins a big squinty grin at him and extends his hand to Steve again. Steve smiles and shakes his hand, then Dustin puts on a fake, very haughty voice and says “I’ll have my people contact your people.”

Steve throws his head back and bellows out a laugh, “Sounds good man. C’mon, I wanna introduce you to my best friend, Robin. She’s the coolest, I think you guys will like each other.” He pats Dustin on the shoulder, stepping out around the table to lead him across the room where Robin is chatting with Murray and Hopper.

“Oooh, best friend only?” Dustin asks suggestively

“Nuh-uh don’t even go there little man, Steve looks back at the teen, “I am SO not her type and___oh shoot, your..foot” Steve looks up at the person whose foot he just crushed, and his hazel eyes meet chocolate brown. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll survive, your highness.” the man says, standing to his full height, Steve also rises to keep his gaze. “The fault was entirely my own. I apologize.”

The man is just slightly taller than Steve, and has dark brown, almost black, curls. They cascade onto his shoulders, and Steve has the overwhelming urge to reach out and see if they are as soft as they look. Only half of this hair is down, the top half pulled back away from his face.

He is drop-dead gorgeous.

“Are you sure you don’t want to exchange licenses and proof of insurance?”

“No, no, these shoes were a little big anyway, the swelling should help them fit a bit better.” he grins and Steve feels his heart palpitate at the sight.

“Please, excuse me..” He says, stepping back and to the side to squeeze through the crowd.

“Sure.” Steve says, whisper quiet, but dreamboat is already walking away.

As usual, Steve just knows exactly where Robin is, and he turns to meet her gaze (she had already been watching the interaction from her spot across the room).

The two of them mouth “What the fuck?” to each other before Steve’s attention is pulled back to Dustin quietly saying "Holy shit.."

"You saw nothing, that was nothing." Steve points at Dustin accusingly.

Dustin puts his hands up in mock surrender "Okay, okay, that was nothing..."

--

A couple dances later, Steve finds himself dancing with one little girl that honestly, he’d dance with all night if he could. She’s a sassy little thing, a princess from a neighboring country, who calls herself “Lady Applejack” with all the conviction in the world (Steve thinks her name is really Erica though). She stands on his toes while he spins them in dance like she is trying with all her might to crush the digits below her own into the floor for offending her personally.

When he asks about her interests, she tells him almost reluctantly about her love for Dungeons and Dragons, but insists that she’s NOT a nerd. He’s not sure what Dungeons and Dragons even is, but he has an overwhelming feeling that Dustin actually might. Steve tells her as much, and she looks excited that there may be someone else here to talk to about her game.

Steve feels a tap on his shoulder and when he turns, dreamboat is smiling down at Erica.

“Pardon me, Lady Applejack, may I cut in?”

“I’d be mad if you didn’t.” And with that, Erica nearly wrenched herself from Steve’s grasp, and strutted off, looking for Dustin.

“I would say thank you for saving me, but she’s the best dance partner I’ve had so far.” Steve tells the dreamboat, sliding into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I believe you wholeheartedly, Your Highness.” He chuckles

“Steve. I prefer to be called Steve. And you are…?”

“Eddie. Just.. Eddie.”

Steve laughs “Well, Just Eddie, I’m glad to see that my clumsiness hasn't affected your dancing.” Eddie spins them in a lazy circle, “I’m sorry I stepped on your foot.” he whispers

“You can step on my foot anytime.” Eddie says, a promise.

They had stopped twirling, more or less just swaying back and forth in one spot. Steve was suddenly hyper-aware of how close they had gotten to each other, and how much closer Eddie’s forehead was to his own.

Suddenly, Eddie’s head spun to look at something. It was Dustin.

“It’s Sir Dustin’s turn.” He says to Eddie in that same fake-haughty tone he’d used before.

“You’re quite right, Sir Dustin.” Eddie says, stepping away from Steve and giving Dustin a quick bow.

Steve finds himself missing his closeness when his whole front goes cold in his absence.

“Your highness,” Eddie smolders at him through his lashes with his own bow to Steve, which he returns. And then. He’s gone.

Steve automatically takes Dustin’s hands and starts up the waltz once again, mood soured completely and vaguely aware that Dustin is trying to get his attention.

"Dude. Steve!”

Steve looks down at Dustin, hoping his calm face portrays how pissed he is.

Dustin rolls his eyes, “Look, I know we just met but please just play along here, pretend like you and I both know this is a joke. Laugh or something.”

Now Steve’s just confused.

“With all respect your highness, really and truthfully, love who you love, but the old guys that will end up making decisions for you are not all as cool as Wayne, and would probably have an aneurysm if they think you’re actually making googly eyes at the eligible bachelors here.”

Steve laughs uncomfortably, “Uh, I’m not_”

“You and I both know you were. C’mon man, you know I’m right.”

Steve actually starts laughing at the absurdity of it all. He’s grateful for Dustin, Steve knows he’s right, but he also wants to cry and bury himself in the garden out of embarrassment.

“You’re right, you’re right! Damn it… He was a total dreamboat though, wasn’t he?” Steve waggles his eyebrows at Dustin and laughs again at his disgusted expression.

“Want me to save you, little man?” This time, it’s Robin who cuts in, moving to take her turn as Steve’s dance partner.

“Ugh. Please.” Steve lets Dustin go. “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.” he says as he walks away, waving at Steve and Robin over his shoulder.

“Tell me everything right now or I swear to god I will throw your shoes into the fountain.” Robin demands as soon as they start spinning.

“You saw how hot he was! And literally so smooth..”

“What was with the kid?”

“I was mooning over Eddie.”

“Oh, his name is Eddie huh?” She grins at him slyly “And what about it?”

“Dustin, rightfully, pointed out that the peanut gallery wouldn’t be too keen on me dancing with all the hotties in the room, not just the lady-type ones. He cut in to cover for me.”

Robin winced in understanding “Oof.. yeah I should’ve caught that too, honestly.”

"Yeah, me too.”

--

After this leg of the Prince Stephan World Waltzing Tour, Prime Minister Henderson tells Steve once again that “There’s a member of Parliament you should meet.” and heads off to go grab said member’s attention before Steve follows. Murray, Joyce’s #1 and palace scheduling wizard, passes by and Steve stops him with an uncomfortable “Murray, how many more members of parliament are there?”

“Only six left, sir. You’ve got it this.” He claps his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

‘Oh. That’s not too bad,’ Steve shrugs to himself as he and Murray part ways. Someone calls his name from behind him and when he turns toward the voice, he feels a tug at his hair and a weight sliding from his head at the same time.

Whirling around, Steve’s hand flies to his head to try and catch the crown before it falls completely off, but is met with the faces of a very apologetic waiter and a very cold-looking member of parliament who had already saved the priceless item from hitting the floor. The waiter whose tray had knocked the crown off his head is apologizing profusely, and the other man is making what Steve thinks is a very rude shoo-ing motion towards them.

He focuses his attention on the gangly looking waiter. “I am so sorry, It was only an accident!”

“No, No, it’s perfectly fine I promise. I am all good, no harm no foul.” Steve smiles genuinely at them.

The waiter clasps his hands together and smiles gratefully before turning and rushing from the room. ‘I’ll have to make sure he’s not fired for this, that’d be shitty.’ Steve thinks to himself.

“Thank you for catching that.” Steve tells the cold-mannered man, crouching down a bit so he can place the crown back on his head.

“You should be more careful, your Royal Highness.” He tells Steve, fixing the headpiece into position, “someone may try to take that from you.”

“I sure hope not,” Steve says with an awkward laugh, lightly touching his head “thank you for all your help!” and turns back to Prime Minister Henderson, intending on asking who the cold-mannered man was.

Pt. 2 here!

Tagging the couple folks that showed interest on my original post, hope you don’t mind! @totallybitchin, @potentialheartofdarkness, @steddieasitgoes, @princessstevemunson

[fubureaders]

he was a nerd, she did ballet, what more can i say? | joshua bassett au imagine

summary: it's a university AU in nyc, cuz what better place is there for a rom-com moment? lucky for you there's a really cute guy standing up at the podium in the latest student government meeting... who seems to like learning more about pirouettes and lifts. or maybe he just likes the way you look in pink. 🩰🩰🩰

wc: 1.7k

note: happy belated golden (22nd) birthday joshua!!

masterlist

it's your second year of university, and your dance classes are getting more intense than what you've ever done before... and you're loving every minute, even if your feet are killing you. but you're studying your passion in the most beautiful city in the world. even if new york was recently named the most expensive in the world... your grandma's got a rent controlled apartment in harlem that has in unit laundry, a dishwasher, and rooms for both you and your childhood friend to sleep in. plus central air. there's no way in hell you're ever passing it up, regardless of whether or not your downstairs neighbors hate it when you stay up late practicing.

for their luck though, your friend and now roommate is looking to work in diplomacy and international relations, after having seen that queen amelia mignonette thermopolis renaldi of genovia went to the woodrow wilson school in princess diaries 2: royal engagement. she said, and these were her exact words, "it's either i become mia thermopolis and marry a chris pine type, or become an elle woods type and marry a luke-wilson-as-emmett-forest type." she's a sweetheart though, and you both have a love for pink. so when she has these movie-based ambitions, you go with it because this girl will probably end up taking over the political world while you're taking over the dance world.

so anyway, because this girl's plotting pink-filled world domination, she's been getting her start in the university student government, and she's doing a great job. she lost the election for sophomore class president, but she says the guy who won is really nice and working with him as sophomore vice president hasn't made her sick yet, which is high praise from her so you're not entirely annoyed at the idea of attending the next meeting with her. besides, you've been meaning to branch out more and make friends who aren't in the dance program, because let's be real... most of the girls taking ballet are thin, white, wealthy and it can be difficult to have a variety of discussions with them, no matter how much you love talking about the professors with them. hopefully there are a couple more people of color (besides you and your friend) that you can talk to, and befriend.

after a long train ride down to campus and grabbing some food at one of the trucks outside from your favorite vendor who always serves you extra for the same price, you and your friend head inside and rush to catch the elevator. thankfully, a (really cute) guy holds the elevator open for you both, and as the doors close your friend seems to recognize him and so she begins talking to him about some school issue being brought up in tonight's event. while you're looking at your email to check if any professors are suddenly assigning work due at 11:59, you feel the guy's curious and intrigued eyes glancing towards you. in such a short elevator ride, you've never felt so flattered.

so when the cute elevator guy asks for your name, you can't help but feel sad when the elevator doors choose that exact moment to open up. of course the cute elevator continues to be a gentleman and once more holds the doors open for you and your friend, so you tell him your name in a quiet tone as you walk past. not accounting for the chatter going on, you don't realize that he couldn't hear your reply.

the room begins to quiet down as your friend makes her way to the front of the room, so you quickly find a seat near the wall and set your bag to rest on your chair. and as you look up to focus on the meeting that your friend was so excited about, you're happy to see some members of the black student union, and make a mental note to talk to some of them after the meeting. but then your eyes focus on the podium at the front of the room, and are surprised to see "cute elevator guy" standing there, talking about starting off the student government meeting as sophomore class president. so this is the guy who won. does it make you a bad friend to say you would've voted for him too, based on that smile alone? wow, you could get used to these meetings -- and now you feel put on the spot, because all of a sudden he's making eye contact with you.

he's making eye contact with those glittering brown eyes of his (how in the hell are they glittering, bro? that's some magic right there)... and he's talking all pretty and passionate about mental health initiatives he wants to propose for students. and wouldn't you know it, not only is the guy cute but he seems to know what he's talking about. he's got a whole slideshow talking about mental health issues that students are facing, unprecedented issues that this university and many others have never faced before, and how he plans to aid students through his term. he's talking animatedly with his hands, talking about some of his own experiences, and even talking about how he knows that he can't speak on how it impacts each individual because he recognizes his privilege. you're finally understanding why vulnerability and honesty can be so damn attractive in a man.

he then brings up a group of students with whom he's been working on a plan to present to the university, and this group is comprised of majority students of color and those with disabilities. it's a necessary meeting, and you even see some people from the school paper writing down their responses, giving these students a platform to discuss what mental health means to them at a PWI. it's beautiful, and you feel grateful that your friend pushed you to come out tonight.

so when the meeting ends, you're a little sad because the discussion was getting good. only reason why it ended was because "cute elevator guy," or as you've now found out it's joshua, ordered pizzas for everybody. the man is considerate, kind, intellectual, and has money to buy all that pizza for a bunch of broke & hungry college kids? yeah, he's definitely got your vote in more ways than one.

you and your friend regroup, and are talking with some of the students from before about classes and fun things around the city, when you get that same feeling from the elevator that the class president is still checking you out. you feel your cheeks warm, and you start to play with your jewellery, getting your friend's attention as they know it's a telltale sign of you being nervous.

"what's up? you've been weird since the elevator... with josh... ooooh, you finally have a crush!" they exclaim, and you give them your best 'i will cut you if you raise your voice by one more decibel' stare. they grin mischievously as they glance over to joshua, who was looking at you until getting caught by your friend, causing him to blush and go on his phone as a distraction from you. as your friend turns back, you begin to explain to them, "listen, i would totally approach him because, i mean... look at him," you say as they nod along in understanding, "but i'm just so tired of always having to approach guys. especially at this school, not one of them has ever approached me first, i'm always starting the conversation. so if mr. president wants to talk to me, he can talk and i will gladly listen."

you had hoped that was the last of it, and for a minute there it truly seemed like your friend had just let the whole thing go, left it in the past and moved on. until they so innocently said they were throwing away trash, took your plate along with theirs, and quickly walked over to joshua. the other students you've been talking with see this go down and try not to laugh, otherwise they'd give it all away. but you turn around anyway, to find yourself being pointed at by your friend, who's looking all too happy while talking with the lanky student advocate... who's now holding eye contact with you once again. you try to play it off cool, hoping you weren't outwardly drooling and praying your melanin is enough to hide your blushing.

then, a hand gently touches your arm. that same hand that was waving around animatedly while the cute elevator guy was talking at the podium, with the amateur black-polished manicure and a couple rings in addition. your friend reappears on your other side, still wearing that mischievous grin and watching you over the brim of their cup. you turn, and lo and behold, there's mr president now, smiling at you again like he wants you to have a crush on him.

author's note: finishing this off with bullet points, will probably come back to this and rewrite the whole thing so it's fully fleshed out

you guys talk, and people are trying to talk to him about more campus issues, but he's asking you about your favorite restaurants and ballet-related memories

you mention your favorite pizza shop to him, and your friend just so happens to have an exam early tomorrow morning (you're so buying them coffee as a thank you for saying that)

so you take him to your favorite place, while you talk about seeing performances of the dance theatre of harlem and the american ballet theatre growing up, and being too scared to audition for the production with solange's music attached being put on recently

he talks about wanting to go into advocacy for the queer community and in general those who deal with mental health issues (maybe you mentally think "great another broken white boy" like black panther... maybe you even say it, and he actually gets the joke/reference?? either way it's a funny thought and a fun time)

anyway at some point, your friend texts you asking how your "date with mr president" is going, but you don't even notice your phone buzz, because you're just talking about everything with each other. after a little while he sees how few people are left in the restaurant, and you guys see how much time passed. so he pays and walks you home, giving you guys the chance to talk more, and you're loving every minute of it

you get to the doorway of your apartment, and tell him that next time he can show you his favorite music shops around the city that he'd mentioned, and you'll even let him talk your ear off more about advocacy. he laughs, and ends up successfully getting your number

the next day, you wake up and see that he sent a message telling you how much he had last night. you guys end up talking as you make your way to class, but you're not paying too much attention to your professor. only because as you were walking into the room, he sent you a text asking you out for a real date

bonus: real date where he takes you to see the solange ballet, and once you guys get outside by the lincoln center fountain, he tries to recreate some of the moves with you. then you guys go back to the pizza place and talk some more

okay so i don't know how to end these but i hope you like it, and that it makes sense. sorry i couldn't fully finish it out, it's currently 4 am (merry christmas eve by the way, and happy holidays otherwise). but i really liked this idea, and i hope you do too. happy belated birthday joshua (if he ever sees this i want him to say in an interview what his thoughts are on solange)

ok love you bye, happy holidays, drink some water, get some rest (very hypocritical i know)

[hrhmiat]

The Royal Breakup: Mia Thermopolis and J.P Reynolds Abernathy IV Split After 2 Years

(An sneak peak excerpt from The Princess Diaries: KEEP OUT! Chapter 10) By Nicki Cox Published May 12, 2007

New York, NY — Love and the limelight often share a stage in New York City, and the city's young power couple, Mia Thermopolis, Princess of Genovia, and J.P. Reynolds Abernathy IV, was no exception. Their high school romance had all the makings of a fairy-tale love story, but it seems that the script took an unexpected turn with rumors of them getting engaged at Princess Mia’s 18th birthday party on Monday, May 1.  

At the tender age of 18, Mia and J.P., the son of New York's renowned theater producer John Paul Reynolds Abernathy III, embarked on a whirlwind two-year journey through high school. Their recent appearance at Albert Einstein High School prom, with Princess Mia sporting a diamond ring, were crowned king and queen solidifying their status as the 'it' couple of their high school graduating class.

However, the storybook ending everyone anticipated took an unforeseen twist. Recent reports around J.P. and Mia’s engagement have slowly dissipated with sources clarifying it to have just been a promposal. Moreover a week after prom and graduation, Mia and J.P. have decided to call it quits. The reason behind this sudden breakup remains a closely guarded secret, but it is not uncommon to see high school sweethearts split from the pressures of transitioning into adulthood. 

Although, as one love story ends, another intriguing chapter unfolds with the return of a familiar face. Michael Moscovitz, 21, the former flame of Princess Mia Thermopolis preceding her romance with J.P., has resurfaced in the city after two years in Japan. But he's not just here for the skyline views and New York pizza; he's back with a bang.

In an astonishing turn of events, Michael has founded his own company, Pavlov Surgical, and unveiled an innovative medical marvel known as the CardioArm, donating one to his alma mater, Columbia University, last week, gaining an honorary master’s degree along with it. This revolutionary technology is so in-demand that it boasts a waitlist stretching longer than a Broadway line and a price tag that reads a whopping million dollars.

The city can't help but wonder whether Michael's return will reignite his past romance with Princess Mia. Their previous love story had ended abruptly, same as any couple trying to navigate a long distance relationship, but with Michael's resurgence into the spotlight, could the spark be rekindled?

In the world of gossip and speculation, one can't help but wonder whether Princess Mia Thermopolis has been captivated by Michael's newfound success and wealth and if this had anything to do with her recent split. After all, there’s been whispers that the Princess of Genovia is now on a fixed income, when she unearthed an age-old document over a year ago, bringing democracy to her country. Will this momentous turn of events serve as the ultimate test for the true motives of these once-adoring partners? Until then, the cream of New York City society will be avidly watching as this new chapter in their tale continues to unravel.

Stay tuned for all the exclusive updates, only in the New York Post!

[twsted-princess]

Uh Oh.......

So I've been meaning to write this for a while now and this is kinda a new ship..........so yeah. @fumikomiyasaki I wuv you.

Covering up a yawn Leroy's eyes scrunched up as the evening was setting up. His hood was up, hiding his violet locks while he looked around the crowded room. First years were mumbling to themselves, talking about this and that as he leaned against the wall. He saw Henry look down at his watch before letting out a sigh and he couldn't blame him. The headmaster was gone for a while now, something about a new student waking up and it's been about an hour now since the old crow left. The ceremony was just about over too but they were all told to stay put. The chameleon grumbled. The newest episode of Iron Driver KingGunner was gonna be on and he didn't wanna miss it, as he listened in on the other dorm leaders talk among themselves he shuffled around. Maybe he could turn invisible and just leave? No, then Henry would chew him out for it. He could watch it on his phone but the signal in the room was mediocre at best. As his mind wandered off the door suddenly flew open as the headmaster addressed that no, he didn't leave due to a stomach problem. The crowd watched as the tall man walked into the room with a cloaked figure and a weird cat weasel creature. Leroy never saw that kind of beast before, it's mouth was gagged and it was struggling to swipe at Crowley.

The new student's head was down, their ceremonial robes practically dragging on the floor with their hands clasped together. They were scared, Leroy rolled his eyes. Probably a new Ignihyde student from the looks of it as the figure walked slowly towards the mirror. It's face shifting with the smoke as it calls for the new one's name. "M- Maxwell." Maxwell, great so they're two of them now as the taller one stared, aimlessly with the kid perched on his shoulders. The mirror pondered before it spoke. "The color of thy soul is........unknown." Murmurs flooded the crowd, eyes widening as the figure hid into themselves. Now Leroy was curious. This newbie had no magic, their soul is shapeless and grey so there was not a single dorm they belonged to. It's just like a isekai....no that's not possible. But as the commotion bubbled over the cat got out of the metaphorical bag to snatch up the student's spot. And then the fire came, Leroy quickly changed to avoid the blast as the Scarabia leader ran around with his ass on fire as students huddled together, soon enough it was a goose chase trying to get the furball but he noticed the student was trying to get away. To run somewhere and hide but the chaos was too large to escape. Soon the beast decided to take a leap, trying to avoid being captured by the Heartslabyul leader as he smacked the student in the head.

Causing them to let out a rather girlish squeak before the two tumbled to the floor, knocking the hood off as a gasp stopped the panic. Leroy's green eyes widen as he spotted well.......her. Long light brunette hair, the inside locks a rose to almost daisy yellow, one soft blue eye opened and pale pink lips winching in pain as her robe opened to reveal a white nightgown with pink roses scattering the fabric and her feet were bare. The girl then quickly wrapped her black cloak around her, now scared at the eyes on her. She was.......beautiful. Like his favorite magical girl, Strawberry Princess Sugar. It wasn't until a high pitched voice shot him out of his desire to take her hand and guide her away like a prince. "BACK! BACK I SAY!!" A mouse. A talking mouse with a little sewing needle in front of her, swinging it around wildly. "As the royal guard of her Majesty, Queen Melanie Charment of the kingdom of Genovia you will stay back!!!!" The girl quickly grabbed him, bringing him close to her chest and he could hear her call the little rascal Louise. Well.........this is kinda awkward.

[writersandreaders6]

So I’m watching Princess Diaries 2...

I’m currently doing a rewatch of one of my favorite movies ever, Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement, which if you haven’t seen, was a very influencial movie for young Gen Zs growing up in the early 2000s. But in my rewatch I realized the sequel that I’d love to see made.

Basically it would act as both a Sequel and a Prequel, telling the story of Mia’s daughter, the new Princess of Genovia, in tandum with the story of Clarisse and how she became Queen of Genovia all those years ago. I want to see her arranged marriage with King Rupert, with her early relationship with Joe, and then later into the life of Mia’s father and the death of both him and her husband. It would parallel a lot of parts of both the women’s lives, and of course, we’d bet Julie Andrews back in her iconic role to tell her story. 

I don’t know about y’all, but I’d pay good money to see something like this