Let The Sky Fall

Vice

you have a few favorites? They don't have to be brand new or anything. Just some that you love?

I have some new and some old! Also some Jeddy cuz I’ve been reading a whole lot of Jeddy lately, but I’ll put those in the end! Also, this is gonna be mostly smut because that's what I mostly read unless I’m in a very wholesome mood. This is gonna be long, like very long, I’m bad at picking favorites there are just too many (34 to be exact, apparently and this is the most I could narrow it down). (I also ran out of things to say because I remember loving those fics SO MUCH but I dont remember enough to give a “review”)

The Magic Cat by dot_the_writer

When Harry sees Draco Malfoy with painted nails and wearing an oversized jumper covered in cat fur, his obsession from school comes back in full force. Featuring supportive friends, cute cats and lots of Harry figuring out what he wants.

This one I read just this morning when my best friend asked me to rec her some hurt/comfort (hi Jess) and it’s my most recent favorite. Sooo cute!

A New Page by bixgirl1

Draco just wanted to find out what was up with Potter’s new attitude. Some light stalking, the discovery of a hidden diary, and a lot of wanking later, and he has some answers.

They’re just not the ones he expected.

(Things have changed since sixth year, folks. …Mostly.)

This one also, I read fairly recently and I mean @bixgirl1 fics, do I even need to say more?

The Tapestry of Kinship by khalulu 

Harry is at loose ends, Draco is good with needles, and Draco’s young daughter wants to see a certain tapestry repaired. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will never be the same.

Helix by Saras_Girl

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again. [2014 advent fic]

Sanguis Vita Est by Shiguresan

Whilst Voldemort’s prisoner, Draco is made a vampire and forced to take Harry as his first meal. With Draco managing to resist the temptation to drain him, just barely, in a moment of blind rage at what he has been forced to become, he aids Harry in the destruction of Voldemort. But even with that threat vanquished, once back at Hogwarts, Draco finds himself disturbingly addicted to Harry’s blood. And amongst all this, a dark shadow looms ominously on the outline of the forest, watching them closely. A vampire!Draco story and also an ‘Eighth year’ story.

I read this ages ago but I remember hesitating before I started to read this because it’s 312k+ and I didn’t really read super long fics back then, but I loved this so much, also vampire!Draco is a good

Turn by Saras_Girl

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

My favorite execution of the “character’s life kinda sucks so character magically gets sent to an alternate universe” trope. Oh also, it’s part of a series

dirtynumbangelboy by magpie_fngrl

After Harry’s unfortunate encounter with his ex, Draco Malfoy makes him a proposition. Draco wants his parents to stop matchmaking him and Harry wants to make his ex jealous. All they need to do is simply pretend they’re in love. Problem is… Draco already is.

Again another amazing fake relationship fic!

Give Me Sweet Oblivion by tryslora 

Italy seems like a long way to go to keep a fetish secret. But the club is exclusive, and the far away location, and Muggle nature, promises anonymity from Wizarding Britain. The only problem is that sometimes, great minds think alike.

One of the actual hottest smut fics that I’ve read, recced to me by my friend @the-cellar-spiral Fun fact, we planned and failed to write a kind of sequel to this, we had @tryslora ‘s permission and everything, we just never really had time, but who knows maybe in the future.

Every Me and Every You by bixgirl1

Harry liked his life just fine, thankyouverymuch — so it was bad enough when a sly fairy cursed him to leap into alternate realities. But seeing Malfoy in all of them? Definitely way too much. And worse yet: needing the bastard’s help to figure out how to get out of of it.

It was a disaster waiting to happen, really.

Well… probably.

Another AMAZING alternate universe fic, using @magpiefngrl ‘s tumblr prompt AU’s as said alternate universes that Harry keeps going in and out of, which makes it 974957839 times better! Also Unspeakable!Draco, also the alternate realities are almost always sexual and it’s great

Dating for Dads in Denial by aibidil

In which one wizard designs and another reluctantly patronises a magical matchmaking service, amidst the chaos of children and parenting.

Since You Asked by Magnolia822

Newly retired Draco Malfoy writes an anonymous agony column for the Quibbler, for which he quickly gains a reputation for offering pithy, practical advice. His life is comfortably predictable until he receives a letter from a reader seeking a divorce from his wife of thirty years. The situation seems far too familiar … could the writer be the Savior himself?

Salty Sweet by Aelys_Althea

Draco was a Master. He’d always been one, but having a town of Muggles consider him as close to God’s gift as they would ever receive was certainly validating. Except it wasn’t enough. After years of settling, of conjuring masterpieces with his fingers and his prowess, Draco realised he needed a change.

How hard could it be to find an apprentice pâtissier that did what they were told? As it happened, doing ‘what was told’ was about the last thing on his inevitable prospect’s mind. Trust Harry Potter to be the one to turn Draco’s life upside down.

Moldova’s Magical Tea by aibidil

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and—to everyone’s surprise—Draco Malfoy are opening a magical tea shop to revive wizarding tea culture and, hopefully, to bring the community together after the war. Harry, who is unemployed and trying to find his way in post-war society, wants to help his friends with their new business—but that means spending a lot of time around Malfoy. Featuring Muggle music from summer 2001, trips to the Muggle cinema, herbology and magical herbal infusions, and Draco trying to convince Harry that, while he’s still a snarky git, he’s no longer a bigot.

The Critiquer by dysonrules

When Harry submits his cock photo to a renowned Cock Critiquer and gets a terrible review, he decides to take a photography class to hopefully improve his skills.

Career Choices: Harry: Shiftless layabout; Draco: Cock Critiquer

But, In Dreams by kedavranox

Harry is a Seer, with a particular affinity for speaking to the dead, but this comes at a price he’s slowly killing himself to pay.

My Name Was Safest in Your Mouth by alpha_exodus

Harry didn’t ask for Malfoy to walk into his shop after so many years. But one event leads to another, and soon they’re scrambling to help Hermione find the solution to one of the most insidious viruses the wizarding world has ever seen. To make matters worse, Malfoy’s hiding something, and Harry really wants to kiss him—except Malfoy doesn’t date. Ever.

I Can’t Take It! by XxTheDarkLordxX

After the war, Draco Malfoy became an author. A best selling author whose books move the hearts of those who read them. Which wouldn’t be a problem for Ron if all of them weren’t about Harry! It was obvious to him that Malfoy was in love with his best friend but why was it that no one else seemed to think so? He was going to get to the bottom of this and get Harry to stop mooning over the blonde idiot at the same time. Perhaps, they just needed someone to come along and get them to fess up. For the safety of his own sanity, Ron was going to help Malfoy ensnare Harry. That is, if they can get along long enough not to kill each other.

The Full Monty by magpie_fngrl

Harry poses for a naked Auror calendar and Draco goes batshit crazy with lust.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop

It’s Potter’s fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It’s been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco’s getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he’s falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Moon-Eyed by loveglowsinthedark 

Draco Malfoy, Head of Veela Affairs at the Department of Magical Beings, does not do people favours.

Harry Potter, recently turned werewolf, is not “people” – not to Draco anyway.

Does Draco plan to fall in love with Harry when he decides to help him? No. Does he end up falling in love with him anyway? Pft, what do you think?

Adventures in Solitude (Are You There, Sirius? It’s Me, Draco) by oceaxe 

Draco is grateful to have had Sirius’ portrait to confide in all those years ago, about his sexuality and unwanted feelings for a classmate named Harry. But when he gets the portrait out of storage after twenty years, the secrets he has kept from Sirius all along come out. Secrets about Draco’s role in the war… and secrets about Harry Potter.

Proof of the Pudding by gracie137 

When Greg’s bakery opens on Diagon Alley, Draco doesn’t expect it to the place he ends up finding love, but then again Harry Potter had always ended up defying Draco’s expectations.

AKA: The One Where Gregory Goyle somehow ends up running both a bakery and a match making service.

The Rules of Matchbreaking by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)

For Prompt #51:When Draco gets fired, he reluctantly agrees to break up a girl’s relationship for her disapproving mother. Through word of mouth, the one-time gig turns him into a professional Matchbreaker, however he winds up falling for one of his clients and must somehow balance his secret job and love life.[excerpt]:“So who is it? The Curse-breaker and the Veela? The head of the Department of Magical Transportation?” Draco’s eyes lit up. “The Dragon-tamer?” Now that particular Weasley could be fun.

“No. It’s Harry,” Hermione said, the name exploding out of her in a rush.

Draco blinked, stunned into silence.

“Harry,” he said, after he recovered his faculties. “You want me to break up Harry and the Weaselette?!“

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.

This is the very first Drarry fic I read, while trying to research dares for a seungchuchu fic I was writing at the time and it is the fic that made me ship Drarry and it will always hold a special place in my heart.

Ligabus Filium by Tessa Crowley (tessacrowley)

It should be careful, deliberate, but it isn’t. Like every other part of their relationship, it happens gradually and then all at once, before they even realize it. And when the little blue threads bind them together, there’s no going back.

The Printed Press by Soupy_George

Draco Malfoy was still slightly amazed that he was standing on the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He never would have thought that Harry Potter’s very public and very … sweary, emotional explosion would have led to him offering Draco, of all people, a job.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl

Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl

Reparations by Saras_Girl

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

Foundations by Saras_Girl

When one door closes, another one opens – with a bit of a push. Life, love, and complications. [sequel to Reparations]

So this was included in my healer!Harry rec list but this series is just so good also it has way too many fics in the series for me to link to all of them but once you read the two main fics there’s no way you’re not gonna wanna read the one-shots that come with the series as well.

Are You Mine? by gracerene

A trilogy of fics set in an Epilogue-Compliant Harry Potter ‘Verse, with various accompanying time-stamps and one-shots. Fics are in chronological order.

Not Just When You Want to Be by gracerene

A little over a year after the end of the war, fate seems intent on pushing Harry and Draco together. Staying together is a different matter entirely.

What I’m Waiting to Find by gracerene

James has devoted the past two years to being the best damn Chaser that Puddlemere United has ever seen…and to getting over his teenage crush on Teddy. But when Teddy comes back to England after a long stint abroad, James’s resolve to move on is put to the test.

All of the Time by gracerene

Twenty-five years later, Harry and Draco find their way back to one another.

I read this one fairly recently as well and this is definitely one of my all-time favorite series, the first and third fics are Drarry and the second is Jeddy. I honestly love this so much that I lowkey want to go find @gracerene09 down and thank her for writing such an amazing series. Oh fair warning though, the first fic made me ugly cry and opened a wound that only the third fic could heal so you know, prepare yourself. There are also accompanying oneshots that are also v amazing!

This Must Be the Place by aibidil

When your dad is Harry Potter, your face shows up in Teen Witch, your social media videos go viral, and sometimes your life depends on pretending to date your metamorph godbrother, whom you’ve been over for years, thank you very much. Or, the one where James and Teddy do animal yoga and risqué karaoke and their families could do with seeing fewer videos of them snogging.

I’m a sucker of the fake relationship trope and @aibidil wrote this sooo beautifully

The Hidden Side by gracerene

Twenty years ago today, James Sirius Potter was born into this world. Four years, two months, and six days later, somebody took him.

Oh god this, THIS Auror!Teddy is one of my favorite Teddy’s. Also super intriguing plot and still quite a few unexpected twists even though the biggest revelation you guess/know pretty early on. Oh and background drarry!

Coincidence? Let’s Hope It Is

When you get inspiration to make a smau–

First smau, let’s hope this works. I’m making an Ukai Keishin x reader smau!

The way it all started was by stealing a bunch of tomatoes, everything down spiraled from there.

PROFILES | INTRO |

Grocery Shopping

Running with a Bag of Tomatoes

Who Was That?

Who Was That II

Daichi’s Sister

After the Match

Taking the Chance

Look Over Your Shoulder

Pause

Make Your Choice

Who Is In Control?

Quis Sum Ego?

I Need To Talk To You

See You Again

Never

Things We Can Never Have.

Another

Liar

And So It Goes

Victorious

Epilogue

I can’t wait to get to the epilogue, lowkey.

Hi! Whenever you get time can I request hcs for what makes albedo, kazuha and diluc crazy flustered? Like, what makes them go char.exe has stopped working, and their whole face has flushed red.

Also, may I marry the how to fluster the chief alchemist fic pls?

<3

how to fluster them.

▸ includes . . . albedo. diluc ragnvindr. kaedehara kazuha.

▸ synopsis . . . you've managed to make ___ so incredibly flustered that he seems at a loss for words, a vibrant blush on his cheeks!

▸ warnings . . . gn! reader. mentions of marriage and children (kazuha's).

▸ ve's note . . . !! you may absolutely marry 'how to fluster the chief alchemist' hehe i hope i get invited to the wedding though! also thank u for the request it has my entire heart just flustering these cutie pies!! please enjoy!

♡ ៸៸ albedo ⸻

genuine affectionate words.

"i'm so in love with you," you mumble, eyes scanning over him as he simply eats some dinner- although now he's choking and you're much more alert than lovesick, sitting up and making sure he's okay after he stops choking and instead intakes some air. "a-are you okay?"

"i'm... i'm alright," he clears his throat, not meeting your gaze, an intense blush taking over his cheeks. "i just wasn't expecting your words, that's all." he eats some more food, not wanting to talk more on the matter however it's piqued your interest now.

"well, i mean it! i don't know how i managed to get so lucky- meeting you was hands down one of the best days of my life. i love you, albedo." albedo really can't process why and how you're managing to make his heart flutter so quickly, but he can't handle much more of it!

"i... i love you, too." he says in a quiet voice, glancing at you from the corner of his eye to see you smiling brightly. he hopes you know how much he means it, even if he can't express it as outwardly as you do.

staring lovingly at him whilst he works.

he could feel your eyes on him as he worked, so an intense gaze that he could barely focus. he glances at you before looking back at his work, before frowning as he stares at the painting. "is everything alright?" he finally asks, setting down the paintbrush and looking over at you fully- just why were you staring so intensely at him?

it isn't until he turns to look at you that he notices the loving look in your eyes. "sorry!" you chuckle and look away, "you just look really pretty when you're focused, i didn't realize i was staring." albedo's eyes widened a fraction, a shaky breath leaving him.

"ah, i see..." he quickly faces his canvas again, hoping you think the redness on his ears and cheeks is from the cold of dragonspine rather than the bashfulness he sudden feels. your staring at him again, in such a loving, intense way that he can't focus anymore.

it seems this painting is going to take a little while longer, for your stares are too much for poor albedo's heart.

sudden acts of dominance (kabedonning).

"hey," your arms suddenly cage albedo against the wall, catching him off guard completely. "you free this saturday?" you ask, tilting your head to the side with a small grin. albedo blinks, trying to grasp what just happened but his mind is running to fast for him to understand anything.

"u-uhm, i-... what?" he looks up at you, face warming to a beautiful pink. your chuckle makes his stomach grow butterflies and he wonders if you can hear how hard his heart is beating.

"i was wondering if you're free this saturday?" your eyes look over albedo, finding it adorable how flustered he grew from simply kabedonning him. "albedo, pay attention to me~" you tease him, enjoying how for once the composed alchemist was a flustered mess. "so, saturday, yes or no?"

"oh! yes. yes, i'm free." you hum, pulling away from him and giving him a little wink that once again sends his mind in a frenzy.

"see you saturday, then."

♡ ៸៸ diluc ragnvindr ⸻

calling his name oh-so-sweetly.

you frown, diluc could be so stubborn, but you knew a way to get him to pay attention to you. you sigh, lingering around him and clasping your hands together, batting your lashes. "oh, diluc~" you coo, "diluc, i'm sorry, please forgive me. won't you, diluc?" his face flushes and he covers his face with his hand.

"w-what do you need?" he manages to get out, and if you peek around his shoulder you can see a blush dusting across his cheeks and ears. when you stay silent, he glances over at you and his breath hitches- why, why do you have to be like this when he's trying to be mad.

"diluc," you call, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into him. "please don't be mad at me anymore," in all honesty, from the way you're calling his name, so saccharine, his mind grows fuzzy and the little argument from earlier fades away.

"fine, i forgive you." he huffs, looking off to the side, but glancing at you from the corner of his eye- your victorious small making his heart skip a beat as well.

sudden physical contact/affection.

"ah! there you are!" you rush the rest of the way over to him, nearly sliding thanks to your socks on the hardwood floor of his home office. "how dare you leave me without a kiss," you scoff, remembering the time he get upset due to you not giving him a kiss. so, wrapping your arms around his neck, you pepper a few kisses to his cheek.

diluc is too stunned to speak, your sudden affection welcomed but very much a shock. he can't help the way he blushes, your touch always affects him as such. "can't even say good morning?" you pout, peering at his face and noticing the blush that adorns his face. you can't help but coo and poke his warm cheeks.

"aw, did my kisses fluster you, oh mighty diluc ragnvindr?" he catches your wrist and stops you from poking him, looking at you with furrowed brows and blushy cheeks. you chuckle, pressing one last swift kiss to his lips. "alright, i'll stop messing with you."

"thank you." he sighs, placing a hand over his heart and watching you walk away to attend to your own work. he relaxes in his seat, closing his eyes and the places you kisses him feeling warm. "the things you do to my heart," he mumbles, before continuing his work.

fixing his clothes/hair.

"i know you just got back from your nightly duties, but at least try and look presentable here." you grumble, "you are the host of this party after all." sure he was being the darknight hero, which you admired, but he was the one to throw this party so he could get better connections, the least he could do was make sure his tie was straight.

you straighten out his tie, and brush off the dirt on his jacket, tsking and tugging, making him look more presentable. "why are you so quiet? no excuse, no exclamation of how important your duties are?" you tease, looking up at him and noticing for the first time how red he was in the face.

"s... sorry," he mumbles, looking up at the ceiling. you quirk a brow, what's got him so flustered? all you were doing was fixing his clothes and scolding him! you sigh, grabbing his face and making him look at you. "y/n?" he looked like he was expecting a kiss. too bad.

"even your hair!" you chide, quickly running your fingers through his hair and trying to make it look less of a mess. diluc sighs dejectedly, upset he didn't get a kiss after you made his heart race like that.

♡ ៸៸ kaedehara kazuha ⸻

complimenting him.

kazuha isn't a stranger when it comes to compliments, so you didn't think it would affect him so greatly yet there he was, a vibrant red blush on his cheeks and tongue tied all due to your sweet and genuine compliment!

"kazuha, you're amazing." it was that simple, just your words complimenting his instrumental skills and quickness with words. why was he so stunned? he can't even manage out a 'thank you' despite desperately wanting to. he just likes you so much, and he can't help but feel this way every time you compliment him— although his composure is much less sturdy than usual.

"are you alright? should i get you some water?" you ask when he still hasn't responded. kazuha, perhaps a little too into the dramatics, looks up at you with a lovestruck look, grasping your hand and finally managing to speak.

"i'm alright," he smiles gently, "your words just seem to have quite the affect on me, please allow me some time to recuperate." with that kazuha stands, and excuses himself to his dorm, because if he's with you for one more second he might start composing love songs that instant!

picking him up/carrying him around.

kazuha was growing tired, you could tell by the way he swayed and stumbled over his steps every now and then. you, on the other hand, felt quite lively, and so, to help out, you swiftly and easily pick up kazuha, carrying him bridal style.

"i'll carry you the rest of the way, okay?" kazuha can't breath, whether from being in such close proximity to you, or realizing just how strong you are, he can't tell. were you always able to pick him up with such ease? it makes his entire face flush and mind race- could you hear his heart?

"are you comfortable, kazu?" he looks up at you, blush growing darker- he's thankful that it's night time and you can't see how red his cheeks are. he just nods, resting his head against your shoulder and closing his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. oh, the things you do to his heart and mind.

seeing you with children.

"roar!" you chased after the children, pretending to be a monster, whilst they pretend to be fearless pirates. kazuha watched from afar, a smile on his lips at the lovely sight before him- you playing with children was always a sight to see, it would set anybody's heart aglow.

however, unlike most, kazuha's ever restless began to come up with scenarios similar to this in the future- where perhaps you two would be married with your own kids to chase after. after thinking thoughts like that, kazuha's face always grew a lovely shade of pink and he'd grow unusually quiet.

you notice his intensive face, staring out at the sea whilst lost in thought. you wonder what he's thinking, and after the kids leave, you approach him, noticing the blush the closer you get to him. "kazuha?" he jumps a bit, looking down at you. kazuha not noticing your presence was definitely something unusual. "what's got you so lost in thought you didn't even notice me?"

"ah, it's nothing!" he waves his hand dismissively, looking anywhere but your eyes. you swear his blush grew down his neck and likely to his chest from how flustered he grew- it was quite the sight to see!

yuki gasly | PG10

PAIRING: pierre gasly x wife!reader

platonic yuki tsunoda x gasly!reader + yuki tsunoda x pierre gasly

REQUESTED: [] yes [X] no

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SYNOPSIS: having recently gotten married to the love of your life, it wasn’t surprising that your parents were asking for grandchildren. and while pierre and yourself were open to the idea of having a baby, neither of you was expecting to have one so soon. much less in the form of a 5’2 japanese driver. OR the four times you and pierre baby the hell out of yuki and call him your son, and the one time yuki caves and calls you his parents.

WARNINGS: absolute fluff, soooo yuki centric and i am not sorry at all, yuki being the babiest baby that ever babied, pierre and reader being the best parents ever, i literally cried writing the end of this so uh be prepared for tears?

six months ago, if asked, you would have said that you and pierre were happy to roll with life’s punches and that if a baby was one of those punches, you would gladly accept it. now, you’d argue that you and pierre were already parents, and your baby was none other than pierre’s teammate, yuki tsunoda.

in the year working up to your wedding with the frenchman, you had heard pierre gush about his teammate and how cute he was every time they were in the same vicinity. 

it was always, “mon amour, today, yuki was eating a fruit cup for a snack and he looked like a little baby. his cheeks were all puffed up with the fruits. it was adorable, i will send you the picture i took,” or, “y/n, you will not believe what yuki said today! we were filming for youtube, and one of the questions was how do dogs bark in both french and japanese, right? oh, it was so funny, you have to watch it when it comes out. you will see what i mean.” 

and as much as your fiance had talked about the young japanese boy, it wasn’t until your wedding that you properly met him, having only said a quick hi, or waved, as you saw him around the paddock. you had been a busy woman, having been left to deal with most of the wedding preparations while pierre drove his little racecar around the track. 

pierre had been absolutely ecstatic to properly acquaint the two of you together. just as yuki had been the subject of your conversations with pierre, you had been the subject of theirs. pierre would ramble for hours about some date night the two of you shared years ago, or how he knew he wanted to marry you when you wiped his face with your napkin after your second date.

yeah, you had always been a nurturing person. being the oldest in your family, you were used to looking after people. it was as if second nature to you. in friend groups, you were always the mom friend, and if anyone ever needed something, it was more than likely you were carrying it in your bag.

so when you finally got to properly meet yuki at your wedding and interact with him, it wasn’t a surprise that, much like your husband, you had immediately taken to the boy, finding his every action plain adorable.

the days of pierre calling you to talk about yuki were now replaced with you calling pierre to ask him to give the phone to yuki because he wasn’t replying to the texts you sent him. instead of cuddling up to pierre and refusing to let go on the mornings he would need to go to work, you were now asking to join pierre on his trips to alpha tauri’s headquarters, hoping to make a pitstop at yuki’s place to spend some time with the boy.

anyone and everyone on the grid could tell that the gasly couple had basically adopted yuki. your love for the boy had reached as far as yuki’s own family, who had reached out to the two of you, sending well wishes and gratitude for caring for their boy. to pierre, that meant that yuki’s parents had passed on the torch to himself and his wife, dubbing the two of you as yuki’s grid parents.

— one

the first time you joined pierre for a grand prix as his wife had been the first race of the season, your wedding having occurred during the off-season. 

the moment you stepped foot onto the paddock, you tugged pierre towards the alpha tauri motorhome, on the hunt for a certain japanese boy. your husband had laughed at your excitement but didn’t say anything, happy to help you reunite with the younger driver.

“yuki!” the second you saw him, you were running as fast as you could. the driver’s eyes widened at the sight of your figure rushing at him at an alarming pace, pushing off from where he had been leaning against the motorhome.

you wrapped your arms around yuki’s neck, squeezing him as tight as you possibly could. you had not seen yuki since the pre-testing in spain, which hadn’t been too long ago, but you had missed the shy boy greatly. 

from a few feet away, pierre couldn’t help but smile as he watched yuki’s expression of shock turn into one of embarrassment. their eyes met and pierre let out a loud laugh at the slight fear in yuki’s eyes. having just barely gotten used to pierre’s blatant and obvious affection towards himself, yuki had struggled to not shy away from the new addition of yours.

“touch is her main love language,” pierre had explained to him at his wedding, watching the dark-haired boy blush a bright red after you gave him a hug and a soft smile, “and hugs are her favourite way to express it.”

in a way, yuki was, of course, honoured to have been on the receiving end of your love. but with your love language being touch, and his being, well, he had no idea what his love language was, he couldn’t help but dread when your arms reached out for him.

or at least, that’s what he told himself when his heart fluttered, and warmth spread in his chest.

“my son, oh how i’ve missed you these past few weeks.” you pulled away from yuki with a small pout. your eyes wandered to his hair, your hand automatically moving to fix the hair that had moved during your one-sided hug.

yuki gave you a small smile, taking a step back when your hands dropped, “hello, y/n, it’s nice to see you again!”

pierre joined the two of you, hand slapping down lightly on his teammate’s shoulder before pulling him into a side hug, “salut, mon fils.” hello, my son.

a cheeky smile was plastered on your husband’s face when he noticed the cameras that were turned your way. he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you to the other side of his body, “it’s a family reunion!” he yelled out to the photographers, waving with the hand resting on top of yuki’s shoulder.

the colour of yuki’s face could rival that of charles’ ferrari. in fact, you and pierre would argue that maybe yuki’s cheeks were even redder than the monégasque’s car. 

he brought his hands up to cover his red face, “i am not your son.”

— two

yuki simultaneously loved and hated when you came to race weekends. he loved your presence, don’t get him wrong, and pierre always performed a little better with his wife watching him from the garage, which was great for the team, but, he hated–despised, even–when the two gaslys would pair up to shower him with both attention and affection.

if it wasn’t you nagging at him to eat before he began his media duties on thursday morning, then it was pierre, constantly ruffling his hair and squishing his face, wedding band always ice cold against his cheek.

if your love language was touch, then pierre’s was touch but in the most annoying way possible. the media always ate it up, though.

currently, yuki had been sitting at a table in the alpha tauri motorhome, one hand scrolling through his instagram’s explorer page, the other stabbing blindly at the salad he was having for lunch.

it all happened so fast. one second, he was holding his phone. the next, his phone had been replaced with a water bottle. and there you are, making yourself comfy in the seat across from him, his phone sat snug in your hand.

“you need to stay hydrated, kiki,” you frowned at the boy across from you, “especially in this weather, i don’t want you dehydrated while you’re driving.”

kiki. you had started calling him that not long after the first grand prix of the season. you’d been testing out nicknames for him, and for some reason, of all the nicknames possible, kiki had been the one to stick.

“i won’t be dehydrated, y/n,” yuki put the bottle onto the table, only for it to be placed in his hand again, this time by pierre.

“i’ve already had this argument with her,” pierre sat down next to yuki, “and lost.” 

in his own hands were two bottles of water, one of which he slid towards you across the table. you smiled, “you can’t win against me, mon coeur.”

 yuki sighed, ultimately deciding not to argue on this. he twisted the bottle cap, faltering slightly when it wouldn’t open. his eyes flitted up to you, looking to see if you noticed. you hadn’t.

when he confirmed that your eyes were focused on pierre, his returning the favour, he turned back to the bottle in his hand. he gripped it a bit harder this time, twisting a bit more aggressively this time. still, the cap did not budge.

before he could try again, a hand reached out–pierre’s–and grabbed the bottle out of his hands. in one swift motion, the bottle was uncapped. yuki stared at the bottle for a second, then pierre, who looked like he hadn’t even batted an eye, still looking at you and listening to whatever you had been talking about. 

realizing the bottle hadn’t been taken back, pierre looked at yuki, who was now staring back at the bottle in disbelief. pierre gestured the bottle forward, breaking yuki’s glare. 

the younger boy reached for the bottle, “i loosened it for you.”

“sure, you did.” pierre patted yuki on the back, the smile wide on his face.

“i swear i did!” yuki straightened up in his seat.

“i don’t see a lot of drinking, kiki.” your eyes narrowed at yuki who instantly slouched in his seat, finally taking a sip of his water.

later, yuki found himself standing next to pierre at the back of the garage, balaclava in his hand, “...thanks,” he looked at pierre, “...for the water bottle earlier.”

pierre placed his helmet on his head, sliding the visor up. with a slap on the back, pierre was off, “anything for my son.”

— three

okay, so maybe pierre wasn’t the only one who drove better whenever you visited the paddock. so far, every race you had been to had lead to both alpha tauri drivers finishing in the points. 

this weekend felt different, though. better than all of the other race weekends. you had been extra excited for this race, and extremely confident that both drivers would get good results, maybe even a win.

“you’ve got quite the pep in your step, mon coeur,” pierre wrapped his arm around your waist, lips pressing against your temple in a quick kiss, “what did our lovely yuki do now?”

yuki, who had been standing not too far from the two of you, looked up at the sound of his name, “did you call for me?”

you gave him a smile, “no, you’re good, ki.” 

he nodded, going back to scrolling his phone. 

pierre looked down at you, squeezing your waist lightly, “well, if it’s not yuki, what is it?”

you smiled at him, hands overlapping his, “call it a mother’s intuition.”

pierre felt like he was back in his ice bath. he turned to face you, “you’re serious?”

your eyes watered slightly, and you nodded, “i went to the doctor’s office before i flew out and they confirmed it there.”

pierre’s eyes shined with unshed tears, the expression on his face so vulnerable and sweet, “we’re going to have a baby?”

a tear slipped down your face, “yes, mon amour,” you moved his hand from your waist and to your belly, “they’re right here.”

pierre rested his forehead against yours, tears slipping from behind his closed eyes. when he opened them again, he smiled widely, “thank you, ange. i’ll win this race for you. both of you.”

after a sweet kiss, pierre was whisked away, helmet over his head, as he settled into his car. he was going to be a father.

the lights went out in paul richard, and the checkered flag was pulled out in what felt like a blink of an eye. the alpha tauri garage was cheering the loudest they had in the entire season.

he had done it. they had both done it.

pierre had won the france grand prix, just like he said he would. and yuki came in third, first podium of his formula one career.

you watched your two boys from the crowd below, throwing a small nod to pierre when he looked down at you with a questioning look.

and there, on that podium that the two shared, pierre looked at yuki and smiled, “you’re gonna be a big brother, yuki.”

— four

it’s safe to say that after pierre’s reveal, yuki was much more lenient and willing to take part in your little family act. although he would never reveal it to either of you. he didn’t need to, anyway. the two of you had noticed the second yuki smiled instead of refusing that he was their child.

it was now summer vacation, and your bump had only just started showing. something that pierre could not stop gushing about to both yuki and charles, who had joined the two of you on your trip to greece.

both men had shrugged it off, alas, no one knew your body as well as pierre, and if he said you were showing, then good for you. but yuki was a lot more attentive to you, like you had been to him ever since your wedding with his teammate.

thirsty? yuki was there with a water bottle, reminiscent of all those months ago when you had gotten one for him. 

hungry? yuki was more than happy to go get you something from that french bakery across the street, knowing full well that he could not pronounce a single word on their menu.

you’d been eternally grateful for yuki, constantly telling him such when he would help you out. his cheeks would redden but the smile on his face would never slip. he was more than happy to return the kindness you had shown him.

currently, the five of you–charles, his girlfriend, yuki, pierre and yourself–were sitting in a dimly lit restaurant, waiting for your food to arrive.

you sat in between the two alpha tauri drivers, smiling and laughing at the banter between your husband and yuki.

when the whole grid parents situation had started, charles had found it absolutely hilarious that pierre was treating a man younger than him by only four years like his adopted son. but as the months went by, and as charles watched the three of you interact from across the table, he couldn’t help but notice the way yuki’s eyes shined with awe and admiration, and most of all, respect, as he stared at the two of you.

“they look like a real family, don’t they?” charles’ attention was drawn by his girlfriend.

he hummed, “yuki might not admit it, but i can see how much he looks up to pierre. to y/n, too.” 

and it was true. over the last few years, yuki had seen pierre go from just another driver, to a man in love, to one who was married, and now, a man who was ready to be a father. 

although not much younger than you or  pierre, yuki had a lot to learn, and he couldn’t have been more grateful to have both pierre gasly and y/n gasly as his role models and safety net.

that night, as he watched pierre fuss over whether or not you were eating enough red meat for the baby, yuki was sure that you and pierre would be the best parents in the world. 

— + one

the atmosphere was tense, the garage silent as they watched the alpha tauri car lead the race.

“he’s gonna do it,” your fingers messed with the pendant around your neck, “he’s really gonna do it.”

two arms found their way around you, hands flat against your visible bump, “he is.”

you dropped your necklace, opting to grip your husband’s hands as you listened to the radio. 

“okay, yuki. this pace is really, really good. you’ve got three more laps. push, push.”

“okay.” his response was short. understandable, he couldn’t afford to lose focus. not now.

“two laps left.”

the pit board lit up in response, indicating that he heard them. 

another lap. this was it, the final lap. you squeezed pierre’s hands tightly. all of this stress couldn’t be good for the baby but in this moment, you couldn’t keep yourself from watching.

it felt like hours, watching his car turn the final corner. the team running to congratulate yuki’s position. the cheers filled the garage once more, just as loud as the ones in france.

“that is p1, yuki. p1. congratulations, kid, you won the race.”

you didn’t realize you were crying until pierre wiped the tears streaming down your face. you looked at your husband with blurry eyes, “he did it, pierre.”

“we always knew he could.”

as you listened to yuki’s excited cheers, you couldn’t help but cry some more.

he had done it. 

his first win in formula one. 

after what had felt like the longest race of his life, the celebrations couldn’t have come faster. as he stood on the top step, japanese anthem playing in the background, his eyes found you and pierre standing a bit away from the crowd, staring up at him proudly. 

he had done it.

he had made them proud.

the reporter moved on to the next question, “and do you think your relationship with your team and teammate has played a role in where you are today?”

“yeah, of course.” yuki smiled, “the alpha tauri has been supporting me for such a long time and it feels really good to win today. kind of like a sign to show that their effort has paid off. i only wish that i could have had pierre finish the race with me.”

“and how is your relationship with pierre?”

yuki chuckled, lightly shaking his head, “pierre has been the best teammate a driver could ask for. he and his wife call themselves my grid parents, and you know what? they really are. they’ve been supporting me the most this year, right up there with my actual parents.”

“i couldn’t have done this without them. my grid family.”

La Regina

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Summary: a girl raised at her father’s knee goes from rising star to princess to queen (or in which becoming a legend runs in the Schumacher family)

You bounce excitedly in the passenger seat of your papa’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the karting track. At 5-years-old, you’re too young to race officially, but he promised to let you drive some practice laps after the scheduled competition today.

“Remember, Maus, listen closely to the instructors and stay safe out there,” Michael says, ruffling your hair affectionately before getting out.

You scramble out after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot. You reach to take his hand, but freeze when a small crowd starts converging around your papa. Men in bright vests are rushing over, cameras flashing rapidly.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” You ask, startled by the commotion.

Before Michael can respond, a curly-haired woman thrusts a baby into his arms. “Oh my god, can you just hold her for one second? I need a picture!”

Your papa looks bewildered but graciously cradles the infant, giving an awkward smile as more and more people start shoving pieces of paper and pens in front of him.

“Excuse me, please, I have my daughter with me today,” he tries saying over the chaos, but no one is listening.

You shrink back, overwhelmed by the pushing crowd and flurry of voices pleading for autographs and photos. Where did all these people come from? This has never happened before when you’ve gone karting with your papa.

Sensing your unease, Michael gently passes the baby back to its mother and kneels down in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay, Maus. Why don’t you wait for me over there?” He gestures to a bench off to the side.

Part of you wants to cling to him, scared of all the strangers crowding around so aggressively. But you also don’t want him to have to worry about you on top of everything else. You nod bravely and make your way through the throng to the little bench, watching apprehensively as your papa tries politely handling the requests.

After what feels like forever, the crowd finally starts dispersing, though a few linger behind like stubborn cats begging for scraps. Michael shakes the last few hands and accepts some papers to sign before gratefully escaping over to you.

“I’m so sorry about that, Maus,” he says, looking apologetic as he plops down on the bench. “I didn’t expect such a scene on what’s supposed to be our fun day.”

“It’s okay, Papa.” You lean against his side, still a bit rattled but comforted by his familiar warmth. “Who were all those people? Why did they want your … uhh …“ You can’t quite remember the word for the scribbles people ask famous people for.

“Autographs,” Michael supplies with an amused chuckle, wrapping an arm around you. “And they wanted photos too, I suppose. I’m … well, I’m quite a famous racecar driver.”

You cock your head, trying to process this concept of your papa being some kind of celebrity. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just your goofy, loving dad who takes you karting and makes the silliest voices for all your stuffed animals at home.

“Really? Like the famous famous people on TV?” You’ve seen the paparazzi swarming the actors and musicians during awards shows, but you’d never imagined that could happen to your own papa.

Michael nods, drawing you closer with a squeeze. “Yes, somewhat like that, though it’s a bit excessive at a small karting event.” He laughs again and brushes some of your wayward hair from your face. “But you’re right, to you I’m just Papa. I don’t expect anything more from my favorite Maus.”

You beam at the affectionate nickname, all the earlier stress melting away. Who cares if strangers want your papa’s autograph or photos? All that matters is you two spending the day together like always.

“Can we go get our karts now?” You ask eagerly, bouncing a little on the bench. “I want to show you how fast I can go!”

“Of course!” Michael jumps up and scoops you into his arms with a playful growl, making you shriek giddily. “My little speed demon is going to leave me in the dust.”

He swings you up onto his shoulders and you cling on tightly as he strides toward the pit area. A few more people spot him and make a move closer with cameras and sharpies extended, but seem to think better of it when they see you perched up high.

The two of you spend the next couple hours karting together, trading places taking warm up laps and cheering each other on. At one point, a young attendant working the pit area approaches Michael somewhat nervously.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Schumacher?” He’s clutching a crumpled baseball cap in one hand, ducking his head shyly. “I’m just such a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo and signing this for me after your session?”

Your papa smiles kindly at the young man and takes the cap. “Not at all, no problem.” As the attendant walks away, looking elated, Michael turns to you with a wink. “See? That’s how you politely ask for an autograph.”

You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Don’t worry, Papa, I won’t let the fame go to my head when I’m a famous racecar driver too someday.”

Scooping you up once more, Michael presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl. Now, last few laps — let’s see who can go the fastest without ending up in the grass!”

As evening starts falling, the two of you make your way back through the now nearly deserted lot after returning the rental karts. Most of the other karters have cleared out, leaving just you two strolling unhurriedly back to the car.

“Well Maus, despite the, uh, overexcited fans, I’d call this day a success,” Michael says, swinging your joined hands idly. “We both had our fun on the track, and I think you handled that crowd back there like a champ.”

You smile up at him, still so proud just to be his daughter. “I don’t care about all those other people, papa. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”

Stopping beside the car, Michael crouches down and cups your face in his calloused racing palms, looking at you with such fierce adoration.

“Maus, you have me, always. No matter what happens out there,” he gestures vaguely at the empty track, “When I’m with you, I’m just Papa. My greatest accomplishment, my biggest award, is being your father. Verstanden?”

You launch yourself into his arms, hugging as tightly as you can. “Verstanden, Papa. I love you.”

“Ich liebe dich mehr, Maus,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your hair. “Now, what do you say we go get some victory ice cream?”

As the two of you climb into the car, you can’t keep the smile off your face, practically glowing with contentment. Sure, maybe your papa is some big famous racecar driver that everybody wants a piece of. But really, he’s just your papa — and you’re his whole world.

***

The ringing of the house phone cuts through the tense silence like a knife. You shrink further into the couch cushions as your mother rushes to answer it, shoulders visibly taut.

“Hello? No, I cannot make any comment at this time. Yes, I understand there is interest but-” Corinna breaks off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Please respect our privacy as a family right now. Thank you.”

She hangs up and leans against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. Before she can even draw a full breath, the phone rings again, shrill and insistent. With a muffled curse, your mother snatches it up.

“What? I told you, I cannot give any statements! This is a private matter. How did you even get this number?”

You watch apprehensively as she responds again, her voice rising in distress. In the days since your papa’s skiing accident, it seems like the entire world has been hounding your family, desperate for any scrap of information.

On the TV across the room, the endless cycle of news reports drones on lowly. Images of your papa’s broken, still body being rushed from the slopes into a helicopter. Flashing advancer texts speculating on his chances of recovery from the traumatic head injury.

It makes you feel ill.

Beside you on the couch, Mick sits blank-faced, looking nearly as pale and worn as your mother. At 14, he understands the gravity of the situation all too well. Your big brother has always idolized your papa, hoping to follow in his racing footsteps one day as well. The thought of him not being there to see the realization of that dream is devastating.

Gina is curled up in the armchair, her shoulders shaking every so often with muffled sobs. At 16, she’s arguably been taking this the hardest of all you kids. She keeps her face stoically dry in front of your mother, but you can see how red and puffy her eyes are from constant crying.

As for you, at 11-years-old, you’re somehow both numb and feeling everything all at once. Part of you still can’t fully process that this nightmare is real. That your hero, your papa, could be lying comatose in a hospital, hovering between life and death. The other part of you is overwhelmed in a tsunami of terror, panic, anger, sadness — any and every emotion crashing through you at all hours.

“Kids, I’m so sorry about this,” your mother says, defeated, as she rejoins you in the living room after ending her latest call. The bags under her eyes seem to have deepened further overnight. “I know this is incredibly difficult and intrusive. But your papa is … he’s a public figure. People are concerned.”

“Incredibly insensitive is what they’re being,” Gina spits, uncurling herself from the chair enough to shoot your mother a resentful look. “We’re going through actual hell and all these people care about is getting a sound bite for the evening news!”

Corinna looks pained but doesn’t rebuke her. “I know, liebling, I know. But your papa has millions of fans all over the world who have followed his career for decades. Whether we like it or not, they care about him … and about us by extension.”

You think back to that day at the karting track all those years ago when you first realized your papa was what people called “famous”. How all those strangers clamored around him so aggressively just for a photo or an autograph. That level of fandom seemed exciting and novel at the time, when you were just a naïve 5-year-old. Now you see it for how intrusive and violating it is, this sense of entitlement people have to the private life of a public figure.

The phone starts ringing again, shattering the fragile quiet. Your mother squeezes her eyes shut and makes no move to get it this time. After four rings, the call goes to voicemail. A moment later, the tinny sound of an Italian voicemail being left blares through the speaker.

“Scusi, scusi, please, if there is any update on the condition of the great Michael Schumacher, any information at all! We are all holding vigils and saying prayers, but we must know how he fares! The world is watching and waiting!”

The words, pleading and demanding all at once, are like a slap across your face. The man’s voice is laced with such desperation, as if your papa’s life is mere entertainment to be consumedby the masses. You feel abruptly furious, incensed that a stranger’s morbid curiosity is given the same weight as your family’s anguish.

“Turn it off,” Mick mutters through clenched teeth, hunching over on the couch. “Just turn it off, Mama.”

Corinna nods numbly and reaches to end the voicemail, her mouth set in a grim line. Buzzing fills the room again as the TV drones on, the reporters’ voices a dull roar that you can no longer discern actual words from as your ears ring with white noise.

The shrill ringing of the phone cuts through once more, like a record scratching in your brain. Your mother flinches violently, hands coming up to clamp over her ears as she squeezes her eyes shut, finally at her breaking point.

Unable to watch this torture anymore, you surge to your feet and storm across the living room. You rip the phone from its cradle and hurl it against the far wall, the plastic casing shattering loudly. The ringing blessedly ends, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

Mick and Gina stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. Your mother simply deflates, sliding down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline drains from her body. For several beats, no one dares breathe too loudly. Then, Gina starts to shake her head slowly, tears slipping free.

“Brava,” she murmurs, the barest hint of approval in her voice.

Your mother doesn’t scold you for the outburst. She merely reaches out a hand, silently beckoning you closer until you slowly cross the room again and sink to your knees in front of her. She cups your face in her palms, her own cheeks glistening with fresh tears.

“You’re right, liebling, you’re right,” she whispers brokenly. “This is about our family, not … not the world thinking they’re owed something.”

She pulls your head against her shoulder and you cling to her tightly as she begins to weep in earnest, great shuddering sobs wracking her whole frame. Gina scrambles over and tucks herself against your mother’s other side, and soon all three of you are tangled in each other’s arms, letting the tidal wave of grief crest over you.

Mick stays frozen on the couch, watching over your huddle with dark, haunted eyes. For the first time since this ordeal began, the four of you are united in simply feeling, truly letting yourselves shatter. No more putting on brave faces or pretending to be okay — from this moment, you can finally grieve as a family behind closed doors, blockading out the rest of the cruel, prying world.

Later that evening, after crying yourselves into an exhausted stupor, you drift up the stairs and sequester yourself in your bedroom. You bypass the framed photos of your papa on your nightstand, the sight of his bright smile and twinkling eyes too searing at the moment. Instead, you sink to your knees in the middle of the floor and clasp your hands tightly, bowing your head to murmur desperate pleas.

“Please, please let my papa be okay. I don’t care about all his fame or the stupid reporters. I just want him to get better and come home to us. He’s not just the famous Michael Schumacher to me. He’s Papa. He’s my whole world.”

The words spill out in a torrent, all the fear and longing you’ve been bottling up for the better part of a week erupting forth. You plead to any higher power that may be listening, bargaining away your future, your dreams, anything — as long as your papa pulls through this nightmare.

How many times had you taken for granted those moments of him just being your dad — making you pancakes on Saturday mornings, dozing on the couch during family movie nights, playfully tossing you into the pool when you grew too whiny in the summer heat? You’d give anything to have those simple, precious daddy-daughter moments back.

“The world can have his trophies and titles,” you whisper fiercely, tears slipping free to patter on the carpet. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want my papa. Please, please bring him back to us.”

You curl in on yourself, forehead pressing into the floor as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. All the adoring fans, the fawning media, the hangers-on clamoring for a piece of his glory — they only know the manufactured public persona of Michael Schumacher, legendary racer and famous celebrity. But to you, he’s always just been the quiet hero tucking you into bed at night, the gentle presence reading stories in funny voices, the mighty protector pulling you in for all-encompassing bear hugs.

You miss that wonderful, silly, tender father more than anything in the world. You don’t give a damn about his racing accolades or his fame. You just desperately need your papa back home where he belongs — with his family, the people who loved and treasured him most as simply Michael.

Just Michael. Your one and only papa.

The raw ache of that longing consumes you utterly. You lay there amid the fading light from your bedroom windows, dreams and memories of your papa flickering behind your eyelids as you plead to any benevolent force that may be listening. All you want is the chance to make more joyful memories with him, to hear his rich laugh, to keep basking in his unconditional love for years and years to come.

Please, you beg the universe silently, one last time. Please let this nightmare end. Don’t let the brightest light in my world be extinguished before its time.

Let me have my papa back.

***

A tense hush has fallen over the dining room table, the clinking of utensils against plates the only sound cutting through the thick silence. Gina avoids everyone’s eyes, pushing food around her plate listlessly. Mick stares down at his half-eaten dinner, jaw working like he’s chewing over something weighty. You pick at a bread roll, too knotted with anxiety to muster much appetite.

Your mother is the one to finally break the stifling quiet, clearing her throat. “Kids, I know these last few weeks have been … incredibly difficult for us all.”

You risk a glance up at Corinna. Her eyes are tight at the corners, her mouth a taut line. Just like all of you, the constant vigil at your papa’s bedside, combined with the relentless badgering from the media, has clearly taken its toll.

“But we have to keep trying to be a family, yes?” She reaches across the table to grip your hand. “We’re all Michael has right now. We have to … to stick together for him.”

You nod numbly, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat at the reminder of your papa’s unchanged condition. The waiting, the not knowing if or when he’ll wake up, is a special kind of torment you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Mick abruptly shoves his plate away, the porcelain scraping loudly across the wood. You all flinch a little at the harsh sound.

“I’ve been thinking ...” he starts, then seems to reconsider his words, shoulders tightening fractionally. “Well, Y/N, you know how I … how I race under Mama’s last name?”

You frown slightly, uncertain where he’s going with this. “Betsch, yes. Because you wanted to make your own name without the expectation and pressure of being Michael Schumacher’s son.”

He dips his chin once, looking almost pained. “Exactly. And I think … I think maybe you should consider doing the same.”

The words sit heavy and convolulenting between you all like a sack of wet cement. You blink dumbly, hardly comprehending what he’s suggesting at first. When the implication hits you, you actually recoil as if he’d slapped you across the face.

“What? No. No, absolutely not, Mick. How can you even say that?”

“Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleads, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “With Papa … with what happened, the paparazzi and the fans, they’re going to be watching our every move even more than before. Especially you since you’re planning to continue competing-”

“Don’t you dare make this about his condition,” you spit, fury thrumming through your veins like struck lightning. “And of course I plan to keep racing — it’s what Papa would want! I’m not going to hide from his name like it’s some shameful thing!”

Gina is watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her food forgotten. Mick runs an agitated hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.

“It’s not about hiding or shame, it’s about protecting yourself! Don’t you see how crazy things have gotten? All the reporters harassing us, the fans leaving awful messages online hoping for updates ...”

He leans forward, expression almost desperate. “If you race as Betsch, you can compete without having that extra spotlight. You can just be a normal kid on the track without people peering in.”

Heat rushes up the back of your neck in waves of humiliation and rage. How dare he insinuate that inheriting your papa’s legacy is some kind of burden to be shrugged off? That the name Schumacher is a burden to bear rather than a badge of honor?

“I’m not you, Mick,” you bite out, fists clenching beneath the table. “Maybe racing under Mama’s name helped you deal with the pressure better and that’s fine. But I’m proud to be Michael Schumacher’s daughter! And if people can’t respect that, if they think it means they own a piece of me, then they can go to hell!”

“Language!” Your mother gasps, both appalled and slightly impressed. But you ignore her admonishment, too fired up to rein it in now.

“What, you think pretending to be someone else is going to spare me from living in Papa’s shadow anyway?” You shake your head adamantly, leaning across the table towards Mick. “It’s not, and you know it. Even if I raced under a fake name, everyone is still going to know exactly who I am and make comparisons.”

Slamming your palms on the table, you surge to your feet, chair screeching harshly against the floor. All the pain and uncertainty of these past few weeks is bubbling over into bitter, biting words.

“So why should I hide it? Why can’t I take pride in my name and my heritage? Maybe it’ll mean more scrutiny, but it’s a million times better than feeling like I have to be ashamed! Like I can’t fully honor Papa and make him proud!”

Chest heaving, you stare down a wide-eyed Mick, almost daring him to challenge you further. He seems to read the conviction blazing in your eyes, features softening into chagrin.

“You’re right ...” he murmurs with a wince. “You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

You hold his repentant gaze for a long moment before deflating back into your chair with a muted thud. In the ringing silence, you can hear your mother’s soft sniffles from the far end of the table. When you look over, she has her head bowed, hands pressed to her eyes as she cries quietly.

“M-Mama?” Gina ventures in a small voice, reaching across to grasp her mother’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”

Corinna lowers her hands, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. When she meets your bewildered gaze, her expression is a complicated brew of pride and heart-wrenching sadness.

“Nothing is wrong, liebling,” she assures Gina with a watery smile, before turning back to you. “Y/N, you’re so much like your papa, do you know that? So brave and determined … so full of that same fighting spirit.”

She dips her chin, lips trembling faintly. “He would be so proud to hear you defend his name like that. To see you ready to take on the weight of wearing it, regardless of what the world throws at you.”

More tears spill forth, but she brushes them away impatiently with the backs of her hands.

“But liebchen, you have to understand … Michael spent decades bearing that scrutiny and expectation. People analyzing his every move, always under a spotlight so harsh it burned. I never wanted that for any of you.”

Sliding her chair back, your mother crosses to kneel before you, cradling your face gently between her palms. Her eyes are shining but intensely serious, almost pleading with you.

“The Schumacher name casts such a long shadow, one so great that your own light can be eclipsed before you ever have a chance to properly shine. I don’t want you smothered by that burden, mein schatz. I want you free to make your own amazing mark on this world, completely unchained.”

You feel your throat grow tight at her words, the weight of them ringing so true and terribly sad. You reach up to circle your fingers around her wrists, holding her hands to your cheeks like vices.

“I know, Mama, I know,” you whisper roughly. “But that light you want me to shine? Papa is the one who sparked it inside me in the first place.”

You meet her watery gaze steadily, willing her to understand the conviction taking root inside you.

“The joy and passion I have for racing doesn’t come from some anonymous dream. It comes from him — from the nights he spent giving me a play-by-play of his biggest victories, from the days we spent at the karting tracks making memories, from everything I want so desperately to honor.”

Leaning forward until your brows nearly touch, you let the pleasing words spill out directly from your heart.

“So please, please don’t ask me to race as anyone other than your daughter, yes, but also proudly as Michael Schumacher’s daughter. That name isn’t a burden or a shadow to me. It’s something I want to carry forward and make blaze even brighter.”

Your mother’s eyes slip shut as she draws in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, she simply holds your face cradled in her palms, seeming to bask in your impassioned words. When her eyes finally open again, they are overflowing with a fierce tenderness.

“Oh liebchen,” she murmurs, voice thick with an odd mix of grief and wonder. “You are your father’s daughter through and through. So determined, so unafraid to face the world head on ...”

She strokes her thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, swiping away the dampness there. “I only hope he knows just how brightly his fire still burns in you. How it is living on in the most brilliant way.”

Surging up onto her knees, your mother pulls you into a fierce embrace, tucking your head beneath her chin. You cling to her tightly, drawing strength from her warmth, her tireless support and love. Over her shoulder, you can see Mick and Gina watching silently, their own eyes overly bright.

When your mother finally leans back, cupping your face once more, her expression has regained some of its usual firmness and resolution.

“Very well, then,” she nods, offering you a watery but determined smile. “If you truly feel ready to take on the world, to claim that name and legacy as yours, then we will face it together. As a family.”

She rises lithely to her feet, drawing you up along with her. Gathering Mick and Gina in with the sweep of her arms, she folds you all in her protective embrace, holding your foreheads together in the center.

“You may be Schumachers, but that name does not define or limit you,” she declares, quiet but firm. “It is simply one part of your identity, one piece of the incredible legacy you inherited. What you choose to make of it, how brightly you make that legacy burn, is up to you alone.”

She pulls back just enough to meet each of your eyes in turn, her own gleaming with resolute pride.

“So let them watch, let them scrutinize and sneer and make their judgments. You will simply keep chasing your passions and living your truths. Yes, the world may know you as Schumachers, but you alone will define what that name represents, now and for generations to come.”

***

The roar of the engines fades as you cross the finish line, taking the chequered flag. The broadcast team erupts in excitement.

“Unbelievable! Y/N Schumacher has done it — the daughter of the legendary Michael Schumacher wins the Formula 2 championship in her rookie year!”

You can hardly believe it yourself as you start your cooldown lap, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The pit crew is cheering wildly, holding up the #1 sign. Your race engineer is on the radio, his voice cracking with joy. “You’re a champion, Y/N! A first-year champion!”

“What an incredible drive from the young German. Shades of her father with that relentless determination and racecraft. She’s carried on the Schumacher name proudly.”

As you return to the pit lane, you spot Mick getting out of his own car. He has a huge smile on his face, eyes shining with pride. You take a moment to drink it all in as you bring your car to a stop and he’s the first one there, ripping off your helmet so he can hug you tightly.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” He’s beaming as he pulls back to look at you.

“Aww, Mick ...” You blink back happy tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished. “I couldn’t have done it without you pushing me every single race.”

Mick shakes his head dismissively. “This was all you. You were the faster driver this season, plain and simple.” His face falls a little. “I really thought I had you there at the end, but you just wouldn’t give up.”

You grin cheekily. “Of course not! I’m a Schumacher — we never give up.”

“What a beautiful moment between the siblings. You can see the immense pride Mick has for his sister, despite coming up just short of winning the championship himself.”

The rest of the team surrounds the two of you, lifting you both up onto their shoulders as the celebrations kick into full gear. You lock eyes with Mick over the sea of smiling faces and he winks at you contentedly.

Later, after you’ve returned to the garage, you find a quiet moment alone with Mick. He pulls you into another hug, this one more lingering.

“I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You’ve worked so incredibly hard for this.” Mick’s voice is thick with emotion.

You squeeze him tightly. “Thank you, Mick. That means everything coming from you.”

He pulls back, cupping your face fondly. “I remember when we were kids, dreaming of following in Papa’s footsteps. And now look at us!”

You laugh, a few happy tears spilling over. “I know, it’s crazy! I couldn’t have done this without your help, you know. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

“A storybook ending for the Schumacher siblings. Y/N cementing herself as a future star, with her older brother not far behind.”

Mick shakes his head adamantly. “No, Y/N, this was all your talent and determination. I just got a front row seat to watching greatness in the making.” His eyes are shining with sincerity.

You throw your arms around his neck, struck by how lucky you are to have such an amazing brother. “I love you, Mick. Thank you for always believing in me.”

He hugs you fiercely. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re a champion now, but I know this is just the beginning for you.”

The team arrives then, champagne bottles in hand and ready to continue the celebration. You pull back and grin at Mick mischievously, cracking open the first bottle with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you … for now.”

The bubbly liquid sprays everywhere as you both dissolve into laughter, reveling in this perfect moment of sibling bonding and love. Mick pulls you into a wet hug, so proud and grateful to share this with you.

“And an iconic image — the Schumacher children celebrating a Formula 2 title just like their father did in the upper series so many times before. A changing of the guard, with the name Schumacher set to dazzle racing fans once more for years to come.”

Later that night, after you’ve showered off the champagne and slipped into comfy clothes, there’s a soft knock at your hotel room door. You open it to find Mick standing there, shifting awkwardly.

“Hey, you’ve got a second?” His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.

“Of course, what’s up?” You gesture him inside, concerned by his demeanor.

Mick enters slowly, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He seems to be struggling to find the words.

You rest a hand on his arm. “Mick, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He nods jerkily, finally meeting your eyes. “I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You have no idea how much it means to me to see you accomplishing your dreams.” His voice catches with emotion.

“But?” You prod gently.

Mick’s eyes water again. “But … it’s also really hard for me. This was my dream first, you know? To become a champion like Papa.” He swipes at the tears angrily. “And now you’ve beaten me to it. I’m just … I’m struggling with that a bit.”

Your heart clenches at his quiet admission. You pull Mick into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “Oh, Mick … I’m so sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you.”

He shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. You earned this, fair and square. I’m just … dealing with some complicated emotions, I guess.”

You push him back by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes intently. “Mick, listen to me. You are one of the most naturally gifted drivers I’ve ever seen. This is not the end for you, not even close. You’re going to be a champion too, I know it.”

Mick seems to deflate slightly at your words, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you state firmly. “We’re going to take this to the top level together. And we’re going to make Papa even more proud than he already is.”

A slow smile spreads across Mick’s face. “Together,” he repeats, reaching out to take your hand and give it a squeeze.

You squeeze back reassuringly. “Always together. You and me, just like when we were kids. We’re a team, remember?”

Mick nods, the brightness returning to his eyes. He seems lighter now, the melancholy cloud lifted by your words of encouragement.

On impulse, you throw your arms around him again, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Mick laughs delightedly, squeezing you just as tightly.

“Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that from you,” he murmurs shakily into your hair.

You pull back just enough to grin at him cheekily. “What are little sisters for?”

Mick lets out a surprised bark of laughter, warmth and affection shining from every part of his expression as he gazes at you fondly. “You’ll always be my little sis, champion or not.”

It’s your turn to laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “Well this little sis just kicked your ass this season, so show some respect!”

Mick’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I’ll remember that for next year, believe me.”

***

It’s a crisp autumn evening at the Schumacher family home in the Swiss Alps. You’re curled up on the plush couch in the living room, flipping through a magazine while your brother paces back and forth anxiously.

“Will you please sit down?” You ask, eyeing him over the top of the pages. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Mick runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Sorry, I’m just … worked up, I guess.”

You set the magazine aside. “About what? We haven’t had a race in weeks.”

He stops his pacing to face you. “You know the season’s almost over, right? And Haas still hasn’t said anything about re-signing me for next year.”

“Oh, Mick.” You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. You’ve had a solid season.”

Mick flops down next to you, deflating a little. “I don’t know. There are so many other options on the table. What if Haas decides to go a different direction?”

“Then you’ll find another seat,” you say firmly. “Any team would be lucky to have you behind the wheel.”

He manages a half-smile. “Thanks. I just wish I had your confidence sometimes.”

“What can I say?” You flash him a cheeky grin. “It’s a gift.”

The peaceful moment is shattered as both of your phones start ringing in unison. You exchange a puzzled look before digging them out.

“My manager,” Mick says, furrowing his brow as he answers. “Hello?”

You do the same, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nicolas, what’s up?”

For the next few minutes, you and Mick are silent, listening intently with rapidly changing expressions — yours elated, his crestfallen. When you finally hang up, Mick is staring at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Well?” He asks, voice tight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

You take a deep breath, trying to tamp down your surging excitement. “Ferrari wants me for next season.”

Mick’s face falls even further, if possible. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this!” You can’t keep the grin from overtaking your features. “Can you believe it? Driving for the Scuderia! It’s a dream come true!”

“Yeah, for you maybe,” Mick mutters darkly.

You blink at his tone, smile fading slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He drags a hand down his face wearily. “Haas declined to re-sign me for next year.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? No, that can’t be right!”

“Afraid so.” Mick’s voice is flat, resigned. “They said something about … needing to bring in fresh blood or some bullshit excuse.”

You scoot closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Mick, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be.” He tries for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off as dejected. “At least one of us is moving up in the world.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” You protest. “We’re teammates! We were supposed to take on Formula 1 together!”

Mick snorts humorlessly. “Looks like that’s not going to happen after all.”

An uncomfortable silence stretches between you. You open your mouth, searching for the right words of reassurance, but come up empty. How can you comfort him when your own dream has come true at his expense?

“Hey.” Mick’s somber tone breaks the quiet. “I’m happy for you, you know. Really, I am.”

You meet his sincere gaze, feeling your eyes start to well up. “I know. But that doesn’t make this any less shitty for you.”

He manages a rueful smile. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”

“So what are you going to do now?” You ask quietly.

Mick lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Keep grinding, I guess. Look for another seat, any seat, even if it’s not in F1 next season.”

“You can’t give up on F1!” You protest instantly. “You’re too good for that, Mick.”

“Am I, though?” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Face it, Y/N, you’ve always been the better driver. This just proves it.”

You shake your head adamantly. “That’s not true at all! You’re every bit as talented as me.”

“Then why did Ferrari pick you instead of me?” There’s no accusation in his words, just weariness.

You falter, mind churning as you search for an answer that won’t come. “I … don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Mick closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least this way, one of us still gets to live out the Schumacher legacy and race for Ferrari. Carry on the family name, you know?”

“But you’re a Schumacher too,” you say, feeling your throat start to tighten with unshed tears. “It should be both of us out there, not just me.”

Mick reaches over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey, don’t cry about it. I’ll be okay, really.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” You swipe angrily at the moisture gathering in your eyes. “It’s not fair, Mick. It’s just not fair at all.”

He levels you with a look that’s decades older than his years. “Life rarely is. You know that as well as I do.”

You fall silent, unable to formulate a response. He’s right, you realize with a pang. The two of you, of all people, should understand that success and failure often go hand-in-hand, even for the most talented competitors.

Pursing your lips, you lean forward and pull Mick into a fierce hug. He tenses for a split second before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m still so proud of you,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my incredible big brother.”

Mick lets out a shaky exhale against your hair. “And you’re the most badass little sister a guy could ask for. Ferrari has no idea what they’re in for.”

You pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, emboldened by the warm affection shining in them.

“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.

He arches an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s that?”

A mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “That you’re not going to take it easy on me whenever you’re back on the grid.”

***

You take a deep breath as you pull your sleek new Ferrari up to the iconic factory in Maranello. This place holds so many memories — some joyful, others bittersweet. Your father cemented himself as a legend here, and you can’t help but feel the weight of that legacy on your shoulders now more than ever.

The door swings open and there stands Fred Vasseur offering you a warm smile. “Y/N, welcome home.”

You return the smile, unable to mask the flood of emotions. “It’s good to be back, Fred.”

He gestures for you to follow him inside. “I’m sure this place brings back quite a few memories.”

“You have no idea,” you murmur, taking in the familiar sights and smells. The rosso corsa that coats every surface, the scent of machinery and high-octane fuel … it’s intoxicating.

A tiny you runs through the hallways, giggling madly as your frantic mother tries to catch up. “Mick! Y/N! Get back here this instant!”

Mick peeks out from behind a workbench, sticking his tongue out at Gina, who playfully swats at him. You spot the perfect hiding spot — a massive green recycling bin tucked in the corner ...

“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Fred’s voice breaks you from your reverie.

You shake your head. “Sorry, got a bit lost in thought there. This place just … feels like stepping into the past.”

Fred nods knowingly. “I can only imagine. But today is about your future with the team.” He leads you through the winding corridors, pointing out various departments. “Over here is aerodynamics, that hallway takes you to the design labs ...”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Your father’s voice echoes down the corridor, his tone playful but tinged with desperation. You stifle a giggle from your hiding spot as his footsteps draw closer.

“Michael, any luck?” That’s Paolo, one of the mechanics. You chance a peek and see half the team has been enlisted to search for you.

Your dad scrubs a hand over his face. “She’s too good at this game. Should’ve known better than to play hide-and-seek in a place this size.”

You chuckle softly at the memory, prompting a curious look from Fred. “Sorry, just … reminiscing again.”

He gives you an easy grin. “By all means, feel free to share. I’d love to hear some of those old stories.”

You take a breath, composing yourself before launching into the tale. “Well, there was this one time when I was maybe … four or five? Mick and I were causing an unholy ruckus as usual, and Papa suggested a game of hide-and-seek to wear us out. Big mistake on his part.”

Fred’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Let me guess, you proved to be a master hider?”

“You could say that.” You grin mischievously. “I found this big recycling bin, crawled inside, and stayed completely silent while the whole team tore the place apart looking for me. Papa was just about to call in the overalls for backup when Paolo finally peeked in the bin.”

Fred throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I can just picture your poor father’s face when they found you! He must’ve been both relieved and completely exasperated.”

You nod. “Oh, he wore that particular blend of emotions often when we were young terrors around here.”

The two of you continue chatting amicably as Fred shows you around the various facilities — the simulator room, the engine workshop, even the gym and physiotherapy center. With each new area unveiled, another flood of nostalgia washes over you.

You and Mick sprint into the wide-open workshop, engines and miscellaneous car pieces scattered all around. Gina is closing in, her longer legs giving her an advantage.

“Got you now, you little gremlins!” She scoops Mick up with one arm, then turns her sights on you.

You let out a shriek of laughter, dodging around a massive piece of equipment as your mother joins the chase. “Come here, Maus! It’s time for your nap!”

You shake your head furiously. “No nap! No nap!”

Corinna’s hand finally snags the back of your shirt, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as she pulls you into a hug ...

“That’s some smile you’ve got going there,” Fred notes with a wry grin. “I take it another happy memory?”

You give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just … remembering how this place used to be our personal jungle gym. Mick, Gina, and I would run absolute loops around Mama while she tried to wrangle us for nap time.”

Fred chuckles fondly. “I can picture three tiny terrors leaving chaos in their wake.” His expression softens. “It must be incredibly special to be back here after all these years. To follow in your father’s footsteps like this.”

You swallow hard against the swell of emotions. “It’s … overwhelming, if I’m being honest. But in the best possible way.” You glance around at the familiar setting with new eyes. “These halls practically raised me. And now … now I get to write my own chapter here.”

Fred gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve got a long road ahead, but I have complete faith you’ll make us all proud, Y/N.”

You straighten your shoulders, giving him a determined nod. “I’m ready.”

As you follow him further into the factory, you can’t help but revel in the rush of coming full circle. Yes, this team, this place, is indelibly woven into your childhood. But now … now it’s time to create new memories.

To race.

To win.

To become a legend.

***

The crowd outside the Ferrari headquarters swells as you emerge from the famous red doors for the first time as an official Scuderia Ferrari driver. Shouts and cheers erupt from every direction, fans pressing forward eagerly with pens and photos clutched in their hands.

“Over here, Y/N!”

“Un selfie, per favore!”

“Can you sign this for my daughter?”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to graciously oblige as many autograph and photo requests as possible. But the throngs only grow more insistent, hands grabbing at you from all angles as the crowd closes in. Your heart races and you feel yourself starting to panic at the lack of personal space.

“Per favore, let her breathe!” An insistent voice cuts through the commotion in lightly accented Italian.

The crowd parts slightly as a familiar, lean figure pushes through — your new teammate. His green eyes meet yours with a reassuring look as he plants himself firmly by your side.

“Give her some space!” Charles barks out in English this time. “She can’t breathe!”

You shoot him a grateful glance as the fans reluctantly take a step back. Charles gently takes your arm and pulls you out of the scrum.

“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I know how intense they can be around here.”

“No, thank you,” you reply earnestly. “I was about two seconds away from an anxiety attack.”

Charles chuckles. “Well, we can’t have the new driver cracking under pressure on day one.”

You make a face at his teasing remark. “Watch it, pretty boy.”

Laughing, Charles puts his arm around your shoulders in a friendly gesture. “Come on, I know just the place to escape the madness for a bit. Dinner’s on me.”

He guides you across the plaza and down a side street to a cozy trattoria — Ristorante Montana, known as the unofficial “Ferrari restaurant” frequented by team members. As you enter, a stout woman with a warm, welcoming smile emerges from the back.

“Ah, Charles! Welcome back. And this must be ...” Her eyes widen as they land on you. “Oh, la piccola principessa is all grown up!”

Flustered, you open your mouth to respond, but the woman has already swept you up in a tight embrace.

“Rossella, you’re smothering the poor girl!” A elderly man’s voice calls out in amused rebuke.

“Hush, Maurizio, and pour us some wine!” Rossella releases you and holds you at arm’s length, beaming. “Michael’s little girl, all woman now. I’ll never forget the first time your father brought you in here as a bambina.”

She gestures to a framed photo hanging on the wall of a much younger Rossella standing next to Michael, who is holding a grinning toddler — unmistakably you.

“He was so proud,” Rossella continues misty-eyed. “Just like I know he would be of you today, following in your father’s footsteps.”

You swallow hard, touched by the warm welcome and memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Charles watching you with a soft smile.

Rossella shifts gears abruptly, all business. “Now, what will you two have? The usual for you, Charles? And for you, la principessa, I insist you try the gnocchi al ragú. Just like my nonna used to make it.”

As Rossella whisks off to the kitchen, Maurizio appears with a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses.

“To new beginnings,” he toasts with a wink, pouring for you and Charles.

You raise your glass to clink against Charles’ with a smile. “New beginnings.”

Over pasta and wine, you and Charles fall into an easy rapport, bantering back and forth as the weight of the evening’s earlier stress dissipates. You find yourself repeatedly distracted by the dimpled grin that lights up his face whenever he laughs at one of your quips.

“So is this a regular hazing ritual you put all the rookies through?” You ask innocently. “Get them away from the crowds and ply them with wine so they’re too drunk to be nervous on day one?”

Charles barks out a laugh. “You’ve found me out! Although I do seem to recall my own initiation being a lot harder. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

“Old age? You’re what …12?” You retort, eyes dancing with mirth.

The waiter arrives with the dessert menu, but Rossella shoos him away.

“No, no menu. I’m bringing you the tiramisu to share. My secret recipe.”

Charles groans in delight. “You’re a legend, Rossella.”

She pats his cheek affectionately before disappearing again. A comfortable silence falls between you and Charles as you each take a bite of the rich, velvety tiramisu.

“Mmmm, this is literally heaven,” you murmur happily.

Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.

Your eyes catch movement out of the corner and you turn to see Rossella returning, carrying a large framed photo under her arm. She sets it down on the empty chair next to you with a proud grin.

It’s a glamor shot of you from a recent photoshoot for Vogue Italia — hair and makeup impeccable, lips parted in a secret smile as you gaze directly at the camera.

Rossella rests a hand on your shoulder. “For me, bellissima? So we can hang la principessa right next to il padre.”

Touched, you take the proffered sharpie and scribble out a quick inscription before signing your name with a flourish at the bottom.

“Grazie mille,” Rossella breathes, throwing an arm around you to squeeze you against her ample frame. “You’ve made this old heart very happy tonight.”

When she finally releases you, you see Charles watching you both with a soft, almost wistful expression. You raise your eyebrows at him in question, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

As you and Charles prepare to depart, Rossella calls out once more. “You come back soon, eh principessa? I have more pictures to collect.”

You throw her a wink over your shoulder. “D’accordo, d’accordo. We’ll be back soon!”

Out on the street, you pause, conscious of the evening rapidly drawing to a close. You turn to Charles, studying him properly for the first time. His deep green eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t swooped in to rescue me back there.”

Charles shrugs nonchalantly, but his expression is kind. “We look out for our own in Ferrari. That’s what teammates are for, no?”

A beat passes, the momentary tension thickening between you. Then Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat.

“Anyway, I should let you get going before your handlers send out a search party. Need me to call you a car?”

“No, no I’m good,” you reply quickly, trying to mask your disappointment at the night ending. “My performance coach has the car around front.”

You start to turn away, then impulsively pivot back. Rising up on your toes, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a brief, platonic hug.

“Seriously, thank you,” you murmur in his ear. “For everything.”

As you pull back, your faces are just inches apart. Charles’ eyes are warm, his gaze intense. For a dizzying moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you. Then just as suddenly, the moment passes and he steps back with a friendly smile.

“Anytime, princesse. I’ll see you bright and early next week for our first time running the SF-23 on the simulator.”

With a wink, he turns and saunters off down the street, hands shoved in his pockets in that effortlessly cool way of his. You let out a long breath, flustered and exhilarated all at once.

Your performance coach has indeed been waiting with the car, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright?”

You flash her a bright smile, practically skipping to the car. “It is now, Mara. It absolutely is.”

Your first day as a Ferrari driver was certainly more than you bargained for. But as you settle into the plush leather seats, you can’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Something tells you this new chapter with the Scuderia is going to be an adventure — in more ways than one.

As Mara pulls away from the curb, you catch a final glimpse of Charles striding confidently down the street. Even from a distance, you can make out the dimpled smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Leaning back against the headrest, you think back to the memory of his arm slung casually around your shoulders and sigh contentedly. Yes, you have a feeling this is just the beginning of what’s shaping up to be a very interesting partnership with Charles Leclerc.

***

Sebastian looks over the wine list, pretending to be engrossed in selecting the perfect vintage as he peers over the top of the menu. His eyes are fixated on the entrance to the upscale Italian restaurant, waiting for Charles and you to arrive.

This had better work, he thinks to himself. The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but are both too stubborn to make a move.

Finally, the hostess leads Charles and you into the dining room. Sebastian ducks down, pulling the brim of his fedora lower over his face and adjusting the fake mustache he’s wearing as a disguise. He watches as the hostess shows Charles and you to an intimate table for two by the window, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your faces.

“There must be some mistake,” Charles says, looking around in confusion. “I was under the impression we were meeting Sebastian here for dinner?”

You look equally perplexed. “That’s what he told me too. He said to meet at 8 o’clock sharp.”

“Well this is just awkward,” Charles runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Should we wait for him or ...”

Before you can respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and butter. “Good evening, my name is Gerardo and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Actually, we’re still waiting on-” Charles begins, but the waiter cuts him off.

“Ah yes, Mr. Vettel asked me to inform you that he will be unable to join this evening after all. A last minute obligation came up. He insisted I take excellent care of you both and that the evening is on his treat.” Gerardo smiles broadly. “So what will you have to drink?”

Sebastian smirks to himself at his cleverly orchestrated ruse from his secluded table in the back corner. He watches with bated breath as a flustered Charles and you exchange an awkward look.

“I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” you say finally, breaking the tension.

“Make that two,” Charles adds with a resigned sigh.

As Gerardo heads off to grab your drinks, an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. “You know, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Charles says, ever the gentleman. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”

“Don’t be silly,” you reply, offering him a warm smile that makes Sebastian’s heart melt a little. “It would be rude to ruin the evening Sebastian so carefully planned, even if he’s not actually here to enjoy it.”

Charles visibly relaxes at your acceptance of the situation. “You’re right, of course. If it’s a free dinner, we would be fools to turn that down!”

You both share a laugh, finally breaking the ice. Sebastian feels a swell of pride watching the two of you start to let your guards down around each other.

Over the next hour or so, Sebastian is delighted to see Charles and you become more at ease, trading jokes and stories over several delectable courses of pasta, veal, and freshly baked focaccia. He’s never seen either of you look so lighthearted and carefree, nor has he witnessed two people connect on such an organic, genuine level before. It’s positively magical to behold.

Gerardo arrives once more, this time bearing a decadent slice of torta della nonna for you to share for dessert. “Compliments of the house,” he announces with a wink before departing.

You immediately dig into the lemony confection with gusto. “Oh my god, this is dangerously good,” you moan through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky crust.

Charles tries and fails to stifle a laugh at your unabashed enthusiasm. “You’ve got a little ...” he gestures vaguely at the corners of your mouth.

“What? Where?” You ask, attempting to wipe the stray crumbs and smears of powdered sugar from your cheeks.

“Here, let me,” Charles says softly, reaching across the table with his cloth napkin.

Sebastian watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest, as Charles tenderly swipes the napkin along your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek in the process. The moment seems to last an eternity, the two of you locked in each other’s smoldering gaze.

Then, ever so slowly, Charles leans across the table towards you. Sebastian can scarcely breathe as he witnesses the magnetic pull drawing the two of you together. This is it, this is finally happening, he marvels silently.

Sebastian lets out an inadvertent yelp of glee and instantly slaps his hands over his mouth. A table of nearby diners turns to gawk at the strange mustached man.

“Ahem, sorry! Hairball,” Sebastian rasps out in a terrible Italian accent. He slinks down in the booth, burning with embarrassment as the other patrons slowly turn away with disgusted looks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles and you also turn towards the commotion, the heated moment effectively ruined. Damn it, he was so close!

You and Charles eventually turn back towards each other, the awkwardness having returned. “We should, uh, probably ask for the check soon,” Charles mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early training session in the morning anyway,” you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stare down at the table.

Inwardly cursing his rotten luck, Sebastian motions for the bill and slips his black credit card into the folder when Gerardo brings it. He knows the only way to redeem this night is to insist you and Charles stay for one more drink. Maybe add a little more wine confidence to help reignite that spark you both nearly combusted over just moments ago.

As Gerardo whisks away to process Sebastian’s payment, the older German steels his nerves. He removes his ridiculous disguise, straightens his tie, and makes his way over to your table with purpose.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sebastian asks with an exaggerated wink as he reaches you. “It appears Mr. Leclerc and Miss Schumacher were stood up this evening. For shame!”

“Ah, Seb!” Charles laughs in surprise at seeing his friend and former teammate. “We should have known you were behind this madness.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re a menace! I can’t believe you tricked us like that.”

Sebastian claps his hands together and flashes you both a devilish grin. “What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic who cannot abide two clearly smitten people tiptoeing around each other any longer. Now, Gerardo is going to bring you the finest Barolo they have, on my dime, and you are going to remedy this sexual tension situation once and for all over another bottle or three!”

Charles opens his mouth to protest, but you laugh delightedly and nod towards Sebastian. “You know what, I could go for another drink. What do you say, Charles?”

The older Ferrari driver seems to wilt under the weight of your brilliant smile, Sebastian can’t fault the man for that. “Ah, what the hell,” Charles shrugs, throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Let’s see where this night takes us!”

Sebastian settles in, pouring you all generous glasses of the deep ruby wine when Gerardo delivers it. He may be getting on in years, but his matchmaking job has only just begun. One way or another, he’s determined to ensure his two protégés quit stumbling over each other and finally discover the romance that’s been blossoming under their noses all along.

Sipping his wine, Sebastian gazes at you and Charles, sees the tenderness flickering in both your eyes as you lean in closer together over the candlelight. He smiles contentedly to himself.

Mission accomplished.

***

The paddock is mostly deserted at this late hour, the muffled sounds of the teams packing up drifting in from the garages. You linger near the Ferrari motorhome, watching Charles sitting alone on a stack of tires, shoulders slumped. He’s been increasingly withdrawn these past few days leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix.

You approach slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Charles? You okay?”

He looks up, managing a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, mon amour.”

There’s a weariness to his voice that tugs at your heart. You take a seat beside him, letting your arm brush against his in a subtle show of support. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Charles is silent for a long moment, pulling his helmet off and turning it over in his hands. “It’s Suzuka,” he finally says, so softly you have to lean in to hear him. “Being back here … it’s difficult.”

Your brow furrows. Right, this is where Jules Bianchi crashed, his accident eventually proving fatal. Charles had been incredibly close with his mentor and godfather. “I can’t even imagine how painful this must be.” You cover his hand with yours. “Having to race on the same track ...”

“I relive that day over and over.” Charles’s accented voice is thick with emotion. “I can still see the footage of his car slamming into the crane, like it’s burned into my mind. He was my friend, my godfather, like a brother to me. And now every year, I have to come back to this place that took him from us far too soon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a stray tear escaping.

“Oh, Charles ...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is rigid at first before melting against you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly as his breath hitches with suppressed sobs, your own eyes stinging. How many times has he bottled up this grief, putting on a brave face for the world?

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his back. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried all these years. But Jules wouldn’t want you torturing yourself like this.” You pull away enough to frame his face with your hands, meeting his reddened eyes. “He’d want you to keep living, to keep pursuing your dream that he helped nurture. He’d be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

Charles manages a watery smile, covering one of your hands with his. “You’re right. Thank you, chérie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours with a shuddering sigh. “I just miss him so much some days. Like an ache I can’t shake.”

“I know.” You brush away the dampness on his cheeks with your thumbs. “Believe me, I understand that ache all too well.”

A crease forms between Charles’s brows as he regards you intently. “Your papa.”

You give a solemn nod. “Everyone talks about him like he’s gone. But he’s not, he’s still here, still breathing. It’s just … he’s not the same man I grew up with anymore.” You blink back tears of your own. “Sometimes I’ll see flashes that remind me so much of how Papa used to be. And then that illusion is shattered and I’m grieving all over again for the person he was.”

Charles’ arms wrap around you fully, tucking your head under his chin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Seeing those glimpses of the man he was, only to have that hope ripped away.” He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t feel like it most days.” Pulling away, you try for a smile. “But we Schumachers are fighters. We don’t stay down for long.”

“That’s my girl.” Charles grins, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have you by my side through all of this craziness. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, especially this weekend.”

“Are you kidding?” You turn to fully face him, clasping his hands in yours. “Charles, you’ve been my rock too, you know that? Signing with Ferrari this year, following in my father’s footsteps … the pressure has been immense. But you’ve never let me crumble under it. You’re always there with a laugh or a hug or some silly joke to make me smile even on the hardest days.”

Charles’s grin turns lopsided, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes your heart flutter. “Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours from inflating too much, future champion.” He leans in until his lips are a mere breath from yours. “But in all seriousness, we’re in this together, okay? No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have your back.”

“I know,” you murmur, feeling his words like a soothing balm over the parts of your heart still aching for your father as you once knew him. “And I’ll always have yours. We’re a team, on and off the track.” You close the distance between you, kissing him deeply.

Charles returns the kiss with fervor, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you close. The worries plaguing you both seem to temporarily fade into the background amid the warmth and solidity of his embrace. When you finally break apart, breathless, his emerald gaze holds an intensity that steals the air from your lungs in the best way.

“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, the endearment like a vow falling from his lips. “No matter what happens out there tomorrow, or any other race day, that will never change. You and me against the world, princesse.”

You flash him a coy smile, feeling desire begin to simmer low in your belly. “Is that a promise, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Mmm, I can make it one if you’d like.” Charles waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as his hands roam freely over your back and sides, pulling you flush against him. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Maybe I can find more convincing ways to pledge my devotion once we’re back at the hotel.”

“I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you say breathily, leaning in to nip at his lower lip in a way that makes him groan. “Though if memory serves, I seem to recall you saying something about honoring the team’s curfew tonight?” You trail openmouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. “Wouldn’t want to be … sleep deprived before the race.”

Charles’s fingers flex against your hips as he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re really testing my willpower here.”

“Payback for all those times you’ve tortured me.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp nip to the sensitive skin below his ear, making him jerk against you with a strangled sound. Pulling back, you smirk at the glazed look in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He blinks slowly, then his gaze narrows in a way that makes heat flare across your skin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.” His voice is low, almost a growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“I look forward to it.” You lean in until your lips are nearly brushing his again.

“Tease,” Charles accuses, though his kiss quickly swallows any further retort.

You lose yourself in the press of his mouth, the exploring glide of his hands over your body, the undeniable chemistry that still sometimes takes your breath away. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads resting together.

“Thank you,” Charles murmurs after a long beat of comfortable silence. “For always knowing how to pull me out of my own head. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“That’s what partners are for,” you say simply, brushing back the silken strands of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are so warm, so full of love and adoration, you feel it envelop you like a cozy blanket. “I’ll always be here to lean on, just like you are for me.”

Charles catches your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “And I’m grateful for that every single day. Facing the good times and bad, together.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “I know Suzuka will never be easy, not with the weight of the memories here. But you make the burden feel lighter. Like no matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you by my side.”

You lean in, brushing a featherlight kiss across his lips. “Always. No matter what the future holds, you’re stuck with me, Leclerc.”

A slow, utterly content smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He steals another lingering kiss before glancing toward the pit area, where the last few stragglers are packing up for the night. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I suppose we should try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

Sliding off the tire stack, he offers you his hand, that warm gleam still dancing in his forest-colored eyes. “Though maybe we could indulge in a long, hot shower first? You know, to … unwind after such an emotionally draining evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at his transparent attempt at nonchalance, but can’t help a smirk from tugging at your lips. “Why, Mr. Leclerc, are you propositioning me?”

“Would that be so terrible?” He tugs you into his arms, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along your jaw. “After all, we did have quite the … charged conversation just now. I’d hate for all that pent-up tension to distract us on track tomorrow.”

You let out a breathless giggle as his wandering hands and lips leave tingles across your skin. “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose a nice, relaxing shower could be just what we need to clear our heads.” Looping your arms around his neck, you meet his heated gaze through lowered lashes. “Lead the way, liebling.”

Charles’ responding grin is nothing short of wolfish. “With pleasure.” Scooping you up in his arms, he heads for the parking lot at a swift pace, leaving the weight of Suzuka and its ghosts behind for the night.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you bring your Ferrari across the finish line, tires smoking from the incredible pace. Your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio, congratulating you, but the words are drowned out by the thunderous cheers echoing around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.

You can hardly believe it. Your first season with the Scuderia and you’ve just won the Italian Grand Prix — on the hallowed ground that your father once ruled. The sea of fans decked out in red is a sight to behold, celebrating wildly as you complete the cool-down lap.

Pulling into parc fermé, you kill the engine, the high-pitched whine slowly dying away. Undoing the straps, you clamber out, still trying to process what just happened. This is really real.

“You!”

The familiar voice makes you turn. It’s Charles, beaming from ear-to-ear despite settling for second place today. He pulls you into a massive hug, squeezing you tightly.

“I can’t believe you just did that! Amazing drive!”

You laugh, giddy with joy and adrenaline. “I still can’t believe it either! Everything just … clicked.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles chuckles, ruffling your sweat-damp hair. “You were incredible out there. Absolutely brilliant.”

Hearing the praise from your boyfriend means everything. You know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get this far. And he’s still your biggest supporter.

The two of you finally pull apart as the rest of the team makes their presence known, congratulating you with bearhugs and massive pats on the back. You did it — you brought the victory home for Ferrari at the Temple of Speed.

After the chaos of the post-race celebrations dies down a little, it’s time for the podium ceremony. You can’t wait to stand up there, basking in the adulation of the wildly passionate Tifosi. As you make your way out with Charles and the third place finisher, the crowd’s cheers swell to a new eardrum-bursting level.

Climbing the steps, you take your spot on the top level, heart racing as you look out over the endless sea of fans. The air is filled with brilliant red smoke, passionate flag-wavers creating mesmerizing patterns. You’ve seen Grands Prix in Italy before, but being up here, having actually won — it’s on another level entirely.

Speeches are made, anthems are played, and then it’s time to crack open the podium champagne. As the bottles are picked up, a rolling chant starts building in the grandstands:

“La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

The sound shakes you to your core. Tears instantly spring to your eyes.

Charles, beside you on the second step, grins and nudges you. “Listen to them! You’ve done it — you’ve made them fall in love with you just like they did with your father.”

Looking down at him with misty eyes, you mouth, “Thank you,” so overwhelmed that you can’t speak. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The two of you share a soft kiss as the chanting grows louder and louder.

As you pull back, gazing out over the surging tide of humanity, faces beaming up at you in adoration, it finally sinks in. This moment — winning at Monza for Ferrari, with Charles by your side, the Tifosi embracing you wholeheartedly — is beyond anything you ever could have dreamed.

The emotions pour out in waves of joy and pride and disbelief. You raise your bottle high, echoing the chants and cheering your heart out to the crowd. They roar back even louder, feeding off your energy in the way that only this group of diehard fans can.

Once the champagne showers subside, giddy fans whistling at you and Charles canoodling on the podium, it’s time to head back down. But the celebrations are just getting started. The team wants to keep the party going.

On the drive over to Maranello, you find yourself sandwiched in the backseat between Charles and your race engineer, Ricky. Everyone is grinning like maniacs, high on the thrill of victory, singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs.

“Solo per lei! Principessa di Monza!” Ricky bellows, gently elbowing you. The rest join in, filling the car with the chant of “Only for her! Princess of Monza!” You can’t stop giggling, leaning into Charles, deliriously happy.

Once you finally roll up to the factory, the party spills out of the car and into the streets. The entire workforce has turned out, waving huge Ferrari flags, beating drums and sounding air horns in celebration. You’re immediately swarmed, being passed from hug to hug as champagne is sprayed in joyful arcs.

They finally manage to sweep you, Charles, and most of your garages inside the factory, where long banquet tables have been set up in the main hall. An enormous cheer goes up as you enter, sparkling wine sloshing from hastily poured glasses all around you.

The meal that follows is a total blur — amazing food, flowing alcohol, raucous toasts, and the happiest pandemonium you’ve ever witnessed. You keep getting tugged from conversation to conversation, everyone wanting to hear how the race played out from your lips. Charles sticks by your side the whole time, looking on with sheer pride.

At one point, you end up going shot for shot with Fred Vasseur, the team principal pouring vodka like his job depends on it. “La mia principessa!” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. “You’ve made us all so proud today!”

He hoists his glass. “To our Princess! The Princess of Monza!”

The chant starts up again all around you. “La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

You beam at them all, squeezing Fred’s hand. No words can describe this feeling, being embraced so completely by your team — your family. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Following in your father’s footsteps, bringing glory to Ferrari, carrying on the legend.

The party rages on long into the night. At some point, you lose track of time completely, delirious with exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotion.

You come around for a moment, blinking in the dim glow of the factory lights. There’s quiet rumbles of laughter around you, echoing off the walls. Looking around blearily, you realize you’ve been tucked into a makeshift bed fashioned from a pile of Ferrari t-shirts, nestled in one of the car assembly spaces.

Charles is there too, cradled against your side, one arm wrapped protectively around you. The rest of the team — your PR officers, engineers, mechanics, everyone — is strewn about in similar nests, all of them totally conked out.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into Charles’ embrace, feeling his lips brush the top of your head. This bizarre, wonderful scene seems to encapsulate everything about being part of the Ferrari family. It’s chaotic and overwhelming and unlike anything else in the world.

But most of all, it’s home.

As you start to drift back to sleep, savoring the lingering scent of champagne and motor oil, one final chant echoes in your head:

La principessa di Monza.

La principessa di Ferrari.

***

11 Months Later

The last few laps feel like they’re happening in slow motion. Every turn, every gear shift, every tiny input to the steering wheel is magnified tenfold as the circuits count down. The pressure is immense, but you’ve been here before. You can do this.

“Stay calm, stay focused,” your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “The calculations look good. Just bring it home steady.”

Nodding to yourself, you downshift entering the stadium section, the roar of the massive crowd surrounding the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez swelling in your ears. This is it — your chance to join the likes of motorsport’s greatest heroes by winning the Formula 1 World Championship.

Your first victory at Monza, being crowned the “Principessa di Ferrari” by the adoring Tifosi, was a dream come true. But this … this is what you’ve worked towards since you were old enough to understand what your father achieved. To etch your name into the history books forever.

The laps tick by agonizingly. Every time the pitboard comes into view, your heart rate spikes. But you’ve got a comfortable gap to second place, managing the race perfectly. Just a few more corners now.

“Final lap, final lap,” your engineer calls out. “Looking brilliant. Stay comfortable and you’ve got this!”

You suck in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Out of the sweeping Curve 3 and onto the pit straight, the crowd’s thunderous cheers are reaching fever pitch. You can see the seas of red-clad fans absolutely losing their minds, knowing the woman they idolize is about to achieve immortality.

Crossing the finish line, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding for what feels like ages. The emotion is overwhelming — a combination of pure elation, disbelief, and total exhaustion.

You did it.

World Champion at last!

You cruise around, yelling unintelligibly into the radio as the celebrations kick off around the circuit. There’s confetti in the air, smoke flares going off in brilliant shades of red, and a full-throated roar that could probably be heard all the way back in Europe.

Pulling into parc fermé, you switch off the car, letting the weight of the moment sink in. Tears of joy prick at your eyes as the magnitude of your achievement hits home. Ever since you were a little girl, running around watching your papa, this has been the ultimate dream for you.

And now, it’s finally happened. You’re a World Champion. Just like him.

The first person to reach you is Charles. He comes sprinting over from his own car, bounding past the marshals without a second look. One glimpse of the huge smile plastered across his face is all it takes for you to dissolve into giggles and delirious tears.

“You did it! You brilliant, brilliant woman, you did it!” He shouts, grabbing you up in his arms and spinning you around in a whirlwind hug.

“I can’t believe it, Charles! It felt like a dream … like it wasn’t really happening!”

You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, drunk on the euphoria of the moment. Clutching each other tightly, you press your foreheads together, trying in vain to compose yourselves.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles murmurs, gazing at you with adoring eyes. “You worked so incredibly hard for this. You deserve everything.”

Surging forward, you capture his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. For a few brief moments, the two of you are alone, lost in the depth of your emotions and your all-encompassing love for each other. Nothing else in the world matters but this perfect second frozen in time.

You finally break apart, breathless, when the rest of the team sweeps in to congratulate you. They swarm around in a laughing, whooping mass, jumping up and down, hugging, chanting your name over and over.

“To our champion! The Queen!”

The cry comes from Antonio, one of the veteran mechanics who’s been with the team since your papa’s days. He clasps your hands tightly, gazing at you with pride.

“Sei la regina! The Queen of Ferrari!” He hollers over the raucous din, tears shining in his eyes. “Just like your father, you’ll reign forever!”

Your eyes start brimming over again, overwhelmed. The tears roll down your cheeks, smearing streaks of sweat and grime from the race. But you can’t stop beaming.

All at once, the rest of the crew picks up on Antonio’s declaration. Their cheers and chants coalesce into one booming refrain:

“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”

The sheer adulation washes over you in waves, every face beaming up at you in utter reverence. You find yourself struggling to take it all in. In a few incredible seasons, you’ve elevated yourself into the realm of legend in their eyes.

Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, steadying you as your knees start to go weak. You can feel his smile radiant against your neck as he cheers and whoops right along with the rest of them.

“You hear them?” He chuckles, kissing your temple. “It’s all for you, mia regina! My Queen.”

Hearing your love, your partner, your other half call you that sets off a fresh round of giggles and sobs. Turning in his embrace, you loop your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply.

When you finally part, you look out over the still-roaring crowd, many of them carrying elaborate signs with intricate drawings depicting you as a regal sovereign. Some have fashioned ornate crowns out of random merch and foam, holding them high. Others set off flares and smoke bombs in Ferrari red.

For a moment, their euphoric cheers fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Closing your eyes, you let the enormity of the moment wash over you, embracing the pride and humility and disbelieving joy.

This is your coronation. The new ruler of the Scuderia — la regina di Ferrari.

“La Regina di Ferrari! La Regina del Mondo!”

You can only chuckle in disbelief, Antonio and Ricky carefully taking your hands to hoist you up onto their shoulders in throne-like celebration. Charles is right by your side, standing vigil as your King Consort.

As the party spreads out around you, confetti and smoke filling the air, you look out across the ecstatic crowd. All you see are fervent faces, worshiping you as their new Queen of the World.

It’s a delirious scene that you never, ever could’ve imagined. And yet it feels so natural, so right. Like you were born to be in the center of this storm of jubilation. This is your true home.

And now, you’ve taken your rightful place as its ruler.

Mexico City burns long into the night in tribute to the newly-coronated Queen. Tomorrow, the party will likely continue all the way back to Maranello. But in this moment, you’re lost in the swirl of ecstasy, allowing yourself to be swept up in the currents of adoration.

La Regina di Ferrari.

La Regina del Mondo.

***

Eight Years Later

Jules can barely contain his excitement as you and Charles help him into the little red race suit. He’s practically vibrating with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Easy there, petit coureur,” Charles chuckles, ruffling Jules’ hair affectionately. “We’ll get you suited up and on the track soon enough.”

“I’m gonna beat everyone!” Jules declares confidently. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“That’s my boy,” you say with a wink. “Just like your Papa and me.”

Charles grins and pulls Jules into a hug. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Today’s just for fun though, remember? No official points or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Jules says impatiently. “But I’m still gonna win!”

You laugh and swing him up into your arms, peppering his face with kisses until he squeals with delight. “Whatever you say, liebling. Now let’s get you out on that track!”

The three of you make your way out to the karting circuit, hand-in-hand. You can already see a small crowd starting to form along the fences, phones and cameras at the ready. A familiar scenario, even at such a low-key local event.

“Mama, Papa, look!” Jules points excitedly. “Those people want to take pictures!”

“That’s right, schatzi,” you say gently. “Your Papa and I are pretty well known in motorsports.”

“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.

Charles laughs. “Something like that, I suppose. More like … really famous racecar drivers.”

“Whoa ...” Jules seems to be processing this new realization. “You’re the best ever, right? The bestest?”

You share an amused look with Charles. “Well, we’ve had our fair share of success,” you hedge.

“Your mother is a multi-time World Champion,” Charles says proudly. “As am I. We did pretty okay, I think.”

“Woooaahh!” Jules looks absolutely awestruck, like his little mind has been blown. It’s both adorable and bittersweet — your own child, only just now grasping the level of your accomplishments and fame.

The crowd has grown considerably by the time you reach the pit area, people pressing against the barriers in hopes of getting a glimpse of the royal family of Maranello. A small team of event staff try valiantly to keep order, but it’s a losing battle.

“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”

“Charles! Over here, please!”

“Oh my god, is that little Jules? He’s so cute!”

Jules clings a bit closer to you and Charles, startled by the commotion. You pull him protectively against your side.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just some fans who are excited to see us.”

Charles gives the crowd a regretful smile and a small wave before ushering you both past the security team and into the pit area. The calmer, more controlled setting seems to ease Jules’ nerves.

“Why were all those people yelling and taking pictures?” He asks with a small frown.

“Like I said, we’re pretty famous racers,” Charles explains patiently. “A lot of people know who we are and want our autographs or photos with us.”

“Like celebrities!” Jules says, the admiring light returning to his eyes.

You laugh and ruffle his hair again. “Something like that, yeah. Your Papa and I have had a very successful racing career over the years.”

“The best careers,” Charles amends with a wink at you. “Multiple world titles each.”

“World titles?” Jules looks utterly baffled by the concept. “Like … the best in the whole world?”

“Exactly,” you confirm, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “We were the fastest drivers in the world, for a few years at least.”

“Whooaa ...” Jules seems torn between awe and disbelief. “You’re like … superheroes!”

You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Charles laughs, “but I suppose to some we come pretty close, eh?”

He scoops Jules up and swings him around, making him shriek with laughter. You watch them with a content smile, suddenly aware of how blessed you are to have this life — your incredible husband, your precious son, the career successes you both achieved. It’s more than you ever could have dreamed.

“Alright,” Papa says, setting Jules back down. “Why don’t you go grab your kart and we’ll get you out on the track? Think you can take on the world champions?”

Jules gives a determined nod, that familiar fire blazing in his eyes — the same look you’ve seen in your husband’s familiar green ones a thousand times over the years. “You bet! I’ll show you how it’s done!”

With one last hair ruffle, you send him scampering off excitedly. Charles slides an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” He murmurs against your temple. “So much like us at that age. I can already tell he’s going to be a hell of a driver someday.”

You lean into his embrace with a contented sigh. “He is … and just look at how the crowd reacted to him. He’s barely grasped that we’re famous, and now he’s already getting mobbed himself. Our little star in the making.”

Charles makes a rueful sound. “We’re going to have to get used to that, I suppose.”

“Oh, I think we can handle it,” you say lightly. “We’ve had plenty of practice being in the spotlight, after all.”

He laughs and drops a kiss to your hair. “That’s true enough. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”

“Exactly.” You turn in his arms to face him properly, cupping his jaw tenderly. “You, me, Jules … nothing else matters as long as we have each other.”

Charles’ eyes are warm with devotion as he gazes down at you. “My soulmate. My family. How did I ever get so lucky?”

He leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet, the rest of the world temporarily fading away. You lose yourself in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the love you share-

“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”

You break apart with a laugh to find Jules making over-exaggerated gagging noises nearby.

“And the moment’s ruined,” Charles teases, keeping an arm looped around your waist.

You bend down to Jules’ eye level with a mock stern look. “You just wait until you’re all grown up with a sweetheart of your own. Then you’ll understand.”

He scrunches up his nose theatrically. “Never! Girls are gross!”

You and Charles share an amused look.

“If you say so,” Charles chuckles. “Now let’s get that kart fired up.”

Jules’ entire demeanor shifts in an instant, that fierce competitiveness surfacing once again. He scrambles into the cockpit of his little kart and takes firm hold of the wheel, looking suddenly years beyond his age.

“You’re going down!” He declares brazenly. “I’ll leave you both in the dust!”

And just like that, the proud parents are replaced by your familiar racing mentalities — the thrill of competition, the desire to win. You share a conspiratorial grin with Charles.

“Is that so?” He taunts playfully. “In that case, no more taking it easy on you two.”

You bend down to kiss Jules’ forehead, unable to resist a parting quip. “Promise you won’t be sad … because Mama always wins.”

With that, Charles heads off to grab his own kart, leaving you and Jules alone for a brief moment. He looks up at you with shining eyes.

“You’re my hero, Mama,” he says simply. “And Papa too. I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

You feel your heart swell fit to burst, filled with more love than you could possibly put into words. Bending down, you pull your beautiful little boy into a fierce hug, eyes shining with unshed happy tears.

“Oh liebling … you already are. You’re everything we could have dreamed of and more.”

You press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection. When you finally pull back, there are indeed tears shining in your eyes.

“Now go show your parents what you’ve got, baby,” you say with a watery smile. “I can’t wait to see you out there.”

Jules gives you a determined nod, eyes blazing with that trademark fire. “You got it, Mama! Get ready to lose!”

With that, he slams down the visor on his helmet and revs the little engine. You step back with a laugh, watching him peel out onto the track with all the confidence and flair of a seasoned pro. Like parents, like son indeed.

By the time Charles rejoins you, his own kart idling beside yours, Jules has already completed a couple of warm up laps. You can’t resist shooting Charles a smug grin.

“Well, well … looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He drives just like you.”

Charles snorts, clearly trying to downplay his obvious pride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s all your genes coming through.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a sudden commotion from the fences draws your attention. The crowd has grown even larger, people pressing against the barriers with raised phones and voices calling out excitedly.

“Oh my god, it’s them!”

“They’re so cute together!!”

“Over here, please! This way!”

You share a resigned look with Charles as event staff rush to try and control the growing swarm.

“This is what it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Our little family, constantly in the spotlight.”

Charles shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he watches Jules blaze by. “What else is new? We’ve been there our whole careers. At least this time, we get to share the fame together … as a family.”

You lean into his side with a contented smile. Out on the track, Jules whips past in a blur of determination, completely unbothered by the fawning crowd. Just a little boy living out his dream, regardless of who his parents might be.

“You know what?” You say softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Charles drops a kiss to your hair as the roar of the crowd and engines swells around you. “Me neither, mon amour. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

aaitl : [a story for the ages]

summary; it was a very big surprise to xiao and ganyu that they would be meeting the next adeptus in line. especially when the next adeptus is a child.

genre; fluff, this is just family, i need emotional support from liyue god family, dad! zhongli, child! reader, ALL PLATONIC, zhongli is a doting dad and i will die on that hill, dragon hybrid! reader, xiao is just a grumpy older brother, angst (if you squint,,, like really hard), i swear to god if someone comments peepaw zhongli i will cry /j

word count; 1.05k

masterlist | < previous | next >

[gender neutral]

warnings: none

the child is still 1 year old :)

a/n; slight filler with some more lore on little spirit reader before they became a dragon <3 it took me a while to pick back up on this series, please forgive me and i hope you enjoy

you never understood the concept of family. you were but a mere spirit who only watched over a whole village once upon a time, so how much did you really know? even zhongli had called you very young for your age as a spirit. he had mentioned that this was expected to be your form since your spirit years translated to human years. you really knew nothing. it was a scary realization as you thought about it for a little too long. you nearly bursted out in tears of fear, upon the revelation, knowing that you knew nothing about the world you were put into because of some selfish wish of yours.

zhongli seemed to pick up on your lack of excitement today as you had been held by him the whole day without complaint or whines from you. heck, you even tolerated childe as you rested in zhongli’s arms. it was very concerning for him, especially when it was hard to communicate to you in your current baby state.

“my dear y/n, what’s wrong?” it only took those words from your parental figure to make you start sobbing. hands smacking against your eyes in a weak attempt to wipe any tears and snot that was dripping down your face as you could only speak in warbled unintelligible words. “oh my poor baby..” before you even knew it, he was holding you ever so gently, speaking so softly and drying your tears the best he could. he finally understood the pain of being a parent to such young children. he couldn’t stand to see you be so sad and have him be unable to fix it. he wished he knew what to do, he could only comfort you until you would settle down. “i’m sorry i cannot help you..” he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours as if your thoughts would move over to his.

your body was fuzzy with warmth, it felt… familiar. where have you felt this warmth?

your formless self floating with the wind and checking every mine in the bustling village. the warmth.. it was so nice.. the chattering of villagers wanting either riches for themselves or family, you remember it all.

you miss it so much. but then you remember the families.. family.. you wanted that so badly. but you had that with zhongli now. right? that’s his warmth. you could feel it. you always have. why did it feel so different yet so familiar now? you can feel yourself settle down with every calm word he speaks. “you are not the spirit you were before. you are not alone.” you can feel his fingers gently tap against your horns and rub your hair. “this world is not just yours alone to experience. i am here with you.” you relax in his arms as he brushes his fingers through your little flecks of growing hair.

“are you feeling better now?” he asked, watching as you look up at him with teary eyes. “my poor dragon, i’m here.” he muttered, “would you like your blanket?” you manage to blubber out something akin to a yes, letting zhongli rest you against his chest. he's gentle with you, scared that you might break like glass, wrapping your soft f/c blanket around your tiny little body. somehow the cocoon-like feeling makes you feel better, you start to settle into the fluff of the blanket as you let out something close to a purr. "would you like to take a nap, dear? or do you want to take a walk with me? oh, but i'm not really sure if you would be okay with going out after so much crying.." you can only blink at him slowly, barely mustering something close to a sound of agreement.

"i think you would be better off with a nap." he decided, walking over to the small library corner his home had and sitting in the large comfy chair. he grabbed a quilt blanket, laying it over his lap before he carefully grabbed a book. "i hope you don't mind me reading to you." and read he did, reading the modern day books he had brought as you rest in his arms. but one particular story rung clear to you.

"this is the story of a spirit living with humans. though maybe not in the way that you would expect." you can feel zhongli's beating heart and the rumbles of his chest while he speaks as you rest on his chest. it nearly lulls you to a deep sleep but something tells you to stay up just a little longer to hear his story. "back in an old village, one that bustled with children and adults, families lived and mined many ores for the sake of mora. however, with the mineshafts came some concerning dangers, whether it be collapsing rocks or lethal injuries. but there was a spirit."

he paused to look at you, your eyes glossy with curiosity and wonder as you wait for his next words. a gentle smile paints his face, his hand moving to rub your cheek just for a moment before he continues to read.

"there was a spirit that protected the village. this spirit would keep the monsters at bay and the dangers of cave mining away from the peaceful village. no one could hear the spirit but everyone could feel the love and care it had put into protecting the village." you can feel the scales on your cheeks puff out, not in frustration this time, but in sheepish pride.

did people really feel your presence protecting them? did they really feel the love you wished to give to the families for giving you a chance to be the spirit you wanted to be?

“while their legacy was not for long, many souls rested happily knowing that even when they left the village, there would be a spirit protecting them in their lives to keep them safe. hm.. sounds familiar, am i correct, my little one?” his eyes glint with mischief and smugness as he watches you squirm in your blanket cocoon, knowing that this was indeed your story he had just told to you.

“i think that’s enough story for you, dear. do rest my child. i will be here for you when you wake up once again.”

I'm The One

prince!hongjoong x reader

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive

word count: ~24k

synopsis: In the Kingdom of Wonderland, Prince Hongjoong is holding a Selection: 30 eligible candidates from the kingdom competing against each other, one of which would be his wife and the future princess. You, however, aren't one of the candidates, you're only translator to your best friend Arin, which means you get to talk to the prince directly. In an effort to remain in the shadows and pass unseen, Hongjoong only seems to notice you, and he can't help but think you're the one.

You never imagined that you'd one day get to step inside the Palace itself, let alone live in there and get to interact with the Prince, the King and the Queen.

As your friend Arin shook you back and forth with disbelief and excitement in her eyes, it took you a moment to comprehend the situation, and soon you were responding with equal enthusiasm, jumping up and down in circles as Arin yelled loudly about how if this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

You laughed, finally hugging her, so happy for your friend. "It's not a dream. Want me to slap you and confirm it?"

"Hell yes!" Arin grinned, her mother shushing her, telling her to act 'ladylike' because she'd be needing that now that she was one of the candidates for the future Princess and Queen of Wonderland.

The Kingdom of Wonderland was in dire need of a distraction- with the unison of two kingdoms into one- Wonderland and Utopia- just a decade ago, the initial happiness and celebrations had long since died down, the people beginning to question the wisdom of the decision, the previous residents of Utopia feeling less favoured since the kingdom was still called Wonderland, rebels growing because there was still discrimination between the Utopians and Wonderers.

Though the King and Queen had long struggled for equality among the residents of the two kingdoms, there had of course been discrimination from both the sides- bound to happen at one point, but the people were now frustrated and rebelling against the royals, because who better to blame?

So the King and Queen had decided to distract the people- to give them something to look forward to, a possible strengthening of the residents of the previously divided kingdoms- the distraction being holding a Selection- an opportunity for random girls to be selected if they met the requirements, which were basic enough (mostly age and specialties)- through which they would stay at the palace and compete for the heart of Prince Hongjoong.

And you were happy for Arin- she was selected to be one of those candidates for Prince Hongjoong along with 29 other girls, which meant that she had a good chance at becoming the future Princess of Wonderland. The only reason you were going to be tagging along was because Arin was bad at Korean- having been raised in an English household, so you were going to be her translator as she learned Korean. This was a drawback, and when Arin finally let you go to hug her parents, you wondered why she was selected- the King and Queen or the Prince, or whoever it was that sorted through the thousands of the girls to select 30 must have seen something special in Arin despite this very large language barrier.

Which meant Arin was special, and you, as her translator and teacher, were going to make sure she would have no problem and would learn Korean soon, for her sake and the Prince's.

Arin's parents told you to stay for dinner to celebrate, and you could barely hold in your smile through the hour, the phone ringing nonstop as Arin's relatives and friends congratulated the lucky girl and her parents, the neighbours stopping by to join the celebration as well, and you kindly excused yourself, saying you needed to prepare everything since you'd be leaving for the capital soon.

"I'm glad you'll be with me- I can trust you with anything," Arin told you as she hugged you.

"Thank you, Arin. I'm just glad for you, truly," you smiled earnestly at her.

Arin and you had met a few months ago when they had moved from Mist Island to the countryside. You were her neighbour, and when Arin realized you spoke fluent English, she immediately announced you her friend, and you had no objection to it- Arin was as sweet as one could be. She looked and felt like literal sunshine, her light blonde hair just adding to her bright personality. You smiled to yourself- she would truly make a great Princess, and you hoped it would happen.

Arin called you as soon as you stepped inside your house, informing you that the people from the Palace would come in two days time to inform Arin about all the rules and regulations that followed this process, as well as process your own application as Arin's personal translator who would be accompanying her basically everywhere she went along with the Prince- unless she wouldn't need you anymore or the Prince dismissed you.

You supposed that would happen sometime too, but you couldn't help but feel awkward about all of this- you would have to tread very, very carefully. You were going to appear nothing more than a shadow, only stepping in when you were needed, and pretending to be the walls or the trees whenever you were following Arin. No one could notice you.

As you picked the books out of the shelf, a picture slipped in from one of your books, and you bent down to pick it up, smiling when you saw that it was the only photo of the Prince that you had, in which he must have been around 10, where your parents had made you stand with the Prince as they clicked the photo, both of you with scowls on your faces.

Prince Hongjoong... He was an interesting character. He had great leadership skills, was great with speeches, didn't seem stiff. He was a natural, and people admired him for that. Girls swooned over his charisma and boys wished they were him. The fact that you would be seeing the Prince in a week... it meant so much to you, since the fact that your parents had served in the castle and had been on good terms with the Queen and the Prince, and had always wanted you to meet the Prince- properly. Not when you two were sticking out tongues at each other from afar.

You wished your parents were alive to witness this- you, finally meeting the Prince, though you laughed at the thought that if your mother was alive, she would have made you enter the Selection itself, just like any other mother of a daughter in this kingdom. You looked at the side, at the frame that contained the family picture, and picked it, slipping it inside the bag, then hesitating before slipping the photo of Hongjoong inside too.

One week. Your life would change.

You fell asleep wondering what the Palace was like and what the Prince was like.

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

"Do I look horrible?" Arin asked you for the 15th time.

"If you ask me again, I'm going to say yes, and then you can start crying," you were pinching the bridge of your nose now, "For the hundredth time, Arin, you look beautiful. Happy?"

Arin grinned, making you grin back- you couldn't help it. She really did look beautiful in her cream coloured gown, diamantes at the neckline, her blue eyes brighter than ever. She had never looked better- the ladies at the parlour had polished and enhanced her natural beauty, not overdoing the makeup and keeping everything simple and elegant, just like Arin wanted.

"Alright, get your sleep- you look like you're gonna faint."

"I will," you pouted, closing your eyes shut.

It had been one hell of a week- two days from when Arin was selected, an official had visited, explaining the guidelines- you, as the translator, had explained everything- the guidelines being a set of rules she had to follow.

"You are now considered the property of Wonderland. You must take care of your body. You have to fill the several forms explaining the guidelines- any failure to comply on your part will result in your immediate removal from the Selection"

It started with you explaining the long list of rules, the official translator present making sure you were doing a good job, rules that informed her that the Selection could stretch as much as years but considering that it was Prince Hongjoong, it would last a few months only, that Arin could not leave the palace of her own accord once she arrives, that she would have to be dismissed by the Prince herself, not even the king or queen could force her out, though they could tell the prince that they did not approve of you, that the prince himself would arrange for her meetings and not her, that she could not stress or steal from other candidates, that romantic relationship with anyone else from now until the end of the Selection would be considered treason and would be punishable by death.

Though you were feeling weirded out by the set of strict rules, it looked like it made absolute sense to Arin seeing how her eyes were set and gleaming as she fiercely nodded along. You contained the urge to squeeze her cheeks at that. You just hoped she understood that it wouldn't be too easy.

You had three hours session with Arin each day- but they weren't very fruitful, especially when Arin was as excited as you'd ever seen someone ever, and you both couldn't help but forget all about teaching and learning Korean and instead memorizing the names of all the other participants and guessing who'd be nice, who'd had a chance, who'd get eliminated first, and having a good giggle over it. You supposed Arin needed these giggling sessions more, considering how stressed she must be because the weight of this was huge as well.

Today, the two of you had been accompanied to the airport after a teary goodbye to Arin's parents and annoying little brother who was just glad he had 'one more room to himself'. After reaching the capital where Arin greeted the crowd and even stopped to sign some autographs and take photos, you both were taken to the parlour first where even you were scrubbed and polished- literally. You told them it made no sense that you had to go through this torture as well, but the ladies just hushed you, saying that you had to look 'refined' since you would be making appearances literally everywhere too, and you realized it did make sense.

You were dressed in a comfortable deep blue suit, thanking heavens because they told you no dresses for you (unless the occasion called for it) to differentiate between the candidates and you, and you couldn't be happier. You wanted to feel sorry for Arin who would be wearing dresses and heels from now, but she looked so beautiful and happy that you realized she didn't need your pity at all- she was living her best life.

"You're smiling," Arin whispered in your ear and you opened one eye to glare at her.

"I'm smiling because I'm not the one in a dress and high heels right now," you told her.

The other two girls that were in your limo on your way to the palace were watching you both interact in English silently- not many in this kingdom spoke the language. But you had, in the beginning when you all sat inside the car, introduced Arin to them, and they had asked you if it would be tough for Arin to communicate with the Prince and if you though that could cause the elimination sooner, and you assured them that Arin was a quick learner and would be able to communicate without your help soon, which wiped the growing smirks on their faces.

You supposed it was going to be competitive- very, in fact. Some fought for the crown, and some fought for the Prince. Arin would be one of the few who genuinely liked the Prince. You hoped the Prince wasn't foolish enough to not notice that.

When you arrived inside the palace, you couldn't help but wow, the surprise echoed from the other girls in the car. The palace was a beautiful structure of coloured glass windows and deep brown rock, a vintage vibe to it even if it was built to be modern. The gardens with the greenest grass you'd ever seen was adorned with flowers of various colours and fountains every few feet.

As you got off the car, you were accompanied inside to the waiting room, the other girls already there, and Arin nervously fidgeted with her hands, biting her lips.

"You'll ruin your lipstick," you patted her shoulders, "You're probably not meeting the Prince right away, so relax."

"Doesn't make me less nervous," Arin laughed a bit, and you smiled hoping it would assure her.

The doors opened and an aged woman entered, glancing at each one of the candidates, and you stepped a bit behind Arin, the woman nodding at you and acknowledging you.

"My name is Sophie, and I will be your guide, watching over your progress and your lessons as you spend time in the palace. Please accompany me to the dining hall- I'm sure you all are famished. We can have a chat over tea, after dinner."

The girls erupted in satisfied sighs, you quickly summing up what Sophie had just said to Arin, and she smiled, the two of you moving along with the rest of the selected to the hall.

The dining hall was one generous hall, with food of every kind and desserts of every shape, making your stomach swoop. You had to remind yourself that you were only here because of Arin, smiling to yourself because you had to thank Arin. After all, when could you have had this opportunity to have so much food to select from!

"I know we're thinking the same thing," Arin laughed as she told you to sit beside her, and you did, figuring it would be easier to keep up with the conversation and translating it for Arin.

The girl next to Arin- Byeol, you recalled from the list of selected you had memorized- said hello, and Arin said hello back, asking how she was. The girl peeked forward to say hello to you too.

"Where are you from?" She asked Arin.

"From Mist Island. My mother... English. My Korean not good right now."

You patted Arin's back in encouragement- she had done well.

"Isn't it hard to be here? How will you even interact with the Prince?"

"It won't be too hard," you butted in with a polite smile, "Arin is able to understand better than she can speak, and I'm sure she'll catch up in no time. She's a quick learner."

"I hope so," Byeol let out a nervous laugh, "I mean, the competition's tough as it is. Wouldn't want her out because of language barrier."

"There are worst reasons to be kicked out," you smiled, hoping she'd get your point. You quickly summed what happened to Arin, who nodded in agreement, and Byeol only shook her head and smiled, as if she had the upper hand here.

Though Arin, being the epitome of kindness, didn't mind anyone's attitude one bit, you wanted to smear the chocolate pastry Byeol was eating all over her face. How dare she think she had the upper hand just because she was a native speaker!

You decided to do the observing as well as you ate, taking in the girls. It was so easy to figure them out, except the few that looked mysterious. You knew that as soon as they would get the first look at the prince, you'd realize if they were here for the prince or the crown.

After the dinner where you definitely did not hold back, Sophie got up from the main seat, clearing her throat and going in a speech of why the girls who were selected all possessed a worthy quality that had the king and queen vouching for them, and that they were to prove themselves in more ways now that they were here, and learn the ways of a lady who one day might bear the crown.

After the very long speech which you translated as she spoke, the girls clicked their glasses and had a drink, after which they left for the night. One guard stationed to accompany each girl stood and you bowed to your guard in greeting. He escorted you two to Arin's room, where three maids waited to attend to Arin, and the guard told you that your room was right next to Arin's, so she could call you whenever she needed. You thanked him, going into Arin's room first.

You helped her settle in with the maids- Sana, Momo and Mina, all very cute young girls, gushing about how they were so happy that they were assigned to Arin since she seemed like she was the sweetest of them all, and you assured them that Arin definitely was. They told you that language wouldn't be much barrier here since Mina knew basic English thanks to her lineage, and you sighed in relief, excusing yourself when Arin threatened to kick you out because 'I have this under control, go rest! We have a big day tomorrow!'

You took a deep breath as you entered your room- as big as Arin's but pretty much empty. Your bag was already placed at the edge of the bed and as you walked to it, you realized you didn't even have the energy to change anymore. You washed your face after taking off your coat, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

Your parents had spent most of their life in the palace, you raised by your grandmother who lived in the town near. You'd visited the palace as a kid quite a few times, playing with the other children, but you'd never seen the Prince close enough. You, as a kid, wondered just why he couldn't simply play with kids his age.

As you sat on the bed, you suddenly missed your parents immensely. If they were alive, you would have been in their room in the palace right now. Feeling an ache in your chest that was only growing, you got up, drinking a glass of water, but when that ache didn't settle, you decided to get some air.

There was a guard stationed between the distance of your and Arin's room, closer to Arin's, and you informed him that you were going to the gardens to get some air. Since you weren't one of the selected, you had the freedom to roam around the castle (as much as a visitor could) and go outside whenever you wanted, as long as the guards allowed it.

You almost rushed outside, sighing in relief when you breathed in the fresh air- the air truly was different here. You walked around, recognizing the familiar fountains from your childhood, recalling that you used to mark the fountains as a kid as a 'proof' that you had been here.

Smiling to yourself, you bent down and looked under the basin, spotting the scratches- an eight pointed star. You went to the next fountain, and the next, your smile growing bigger as you found all those stars.

"Looking for something?"

You were glad your reflex action wasn't a scream like Arin's, just a jerk, and you immediately straightened to look at the source of the sound-

You struggled to keep your scream in.

It was none other than the Prince standing in front of you.

"Your Highness," you immediately bowed, cursing internally at your state- one too many buttons undone casually, sleeves rolled up, your feet in pink slippers.

"And you are? I'm sorry, I can't recall all the names of the girls right now-"

"Oh no, I'm not one of the Selected," you said and the prince raised his brow, "I'm one of the girls' translator- if you recall."

"Oh," Prince Hongjoong nodded, smiling, "I hope you find the palace comfortable."

"Of course," you smiled, standing awkwardly, not knowing what to do, taking a moment to scan him- his silver hair shining with a slight pink tint, his posture good and straight and you mirrored it automatically, and it looked like he was still in his uniform.

"So, what were you looking for?" Prince Hongjoong smiled.

"Nothing- it's... embarrassing," you laughed a bit.

"I once lost my father's ring in the garden and spent the whole night looking for it myself, telling the guards to warn me if he came. Nothing could be worse than that."

You couldn't help but laugh at that- the Prince wasn't as uptight as he had seemed to you- he was joking around so freely. You supposed he had a similar nature as Arin's.

"I used to visit the palace when I was young, my parents served here," you admitted, "The kids and I played around here, so I'd leave some marks on the fountains every time I visited."

"Oh," Prince Hongjoong's eyes flashed for a brief moment, "And where are your parents now? I'm sure I've met them."

"You have," you nodded, smiling sadly as you looked at the moon- a half-moon, "They passed away in the rebel attack 2 years ago."

The Prince's face fell, and he took a deep breath, "We lost many loyal subjects that night. I'm sure they're in a better place now, and are watching over you and are proud."

"Thank you for your kind words," you smiled.

"So what's the mark?"

"The mark? Oh-" you realized, bending down again and pointing, "Eight-pointed star."

"Eight-pointed star?" Prince Hongjoong bent down as well, examining the scratch, "And you marked most of the fountains?"

"Uh, I may just be realizing that I damaged the king's property..."

Prince Hongjoong threw his head back and laughed, "Kids do most of that, though we'd have to look into it if we catch you scratching another star on one of the fountains," he winked at you.

Once again, silence fell as the two of you stood side by side, watching the water in the fountain. It was you who decided to break the silence.

"If you don't mind me asking... how do you feel about meeting 30 potential candidates tomorrow?"

"I'm very stressed, actually, which is why I came here to take a breather," Hongjoong admitted.

"Oh, I should leave then-"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm glad to talk to someone who is not my mother or father right now," he laughed awkwardly, "Actually, it's pretty intimidating. The girls will be expecting something from me during their course of stay, but I'm not sure I can give them anything."

"You realize you are not required to, right?"

"I know," he nodded, "I would just feel bad if they leave broken hearted. I'd feel like an ass."

You let out a short laugh, the Prince joining. "Well, the girls... they're new to this too. They're all pretty excited. You don't have to figure them all out right away. Take your time, roll along... you'll find yourself used to it soon, I hope."

"Thank you," Prince Hongjoong smiled at you, "And what about the girl you'll be translating for?"

"I'm probably biased when I say this but Arin is the sweetest of them all," you smiled, "I've known her for long now. She's the kindest soul, wouldn't hurt an ant if she could manage it, but she's also very strong. She knows where she stands. I'll do my best with the language barrier, but... I feel like you'll click with her well."

"You look like you admire her," he said, and you nodded, "I guess if I click with her, language wouldn't feel like a barrier anymore."

"Exactly what I mean," you grinned at him, forgetting for a moment that he was the Prince and not your friend, until you found him scanning your face.

"I should go," you said, "I just needed some air, and the guards were kind enough to allow it."

"You can come here whenever you like, I'll let the guards know," the Prince said, and your heart swelled in gratitude.

"Good luck for tomorrow," you smiled, "Whatever your decision, I hope you'll end up being happy."

"Thank you, truly," the Prince nodded in acknowledgement when you bowed before beginning to leave.

"I never got your name!"

You turned, laughing a bit at how he'd shouted this after you were a good few feet gone. You told him your name, waving at him before leaving with a smile plastered on your face.

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

You told Arin all about how you accidentally met Prince Hongjoong before any of the girls, and Arin was all squeals and laughter, the maids struggling to make her stay in place as they did her hair.

"How is he like? Is he as handsome as he looks in the pictures? Does the new hair suit him?"

You rolled your eyes- Arin was literally the Prince's fangirl. It truly was a dream come true for her to even be in the proximity of the Prince, let alone be a candidate for his future wife. "I guess the hair suits him- it sort of looks pink with the light."

"Every hair colour suits him," Mina sighed happily, "But I'd personally love it if he goes back to his natural hair colour."

You nodded- the Prince was blessed in that department.

"So? Is he more handsome or more pretty?"

"I don't know," you shifted, looking in the mirror as you fixed your tie, "He seems to be both? I don't know how he manages that. But Arin, please remember what I told you before we came here, okay?"

Arin saluted, smiling. You'd had a nice talk with Arin the night before you'd arrive here, where you'd make sure that Arin understood that being a fan of the Prince was a separate matter, that she had to be completely unbiased now that she was here. Her responsibility would be that of a crown and a princess, and she had to keep in mind that.

"But what if I don't... like him like that?" Arin had asked you.

"I think not everyone is gonna like him like that in the first place," you had assured her, "And I'm sure the Prince would know that. I think you should tell the Prince if you think you won't be happy with him."

"All done!" Mina announced, and Arin got up from her chair, twirling in the deep blue gown that made her eyes look the brightest blue, her curls pinned with pearls and falling like a waterfall down her back.

The guard knocked on the door, announcing that it was time to go, and Arin squeezed your hand once before the two of you went outside, waving goodbye and thanking the maids, who wished Arin best luck. You were led to the Women's Room, where one by one the girls entered, all dressed in beautiful gowns that they couldn't stop touching nervously, and as you stood back and watched them, you realized that though they knew they were each other's competition, they also felt a kind of sisterhood, especially when they tucked someone's stray hair behind or wiped smudged makeup off each other-

"Ugh, why am I the only one wearing pink here?" One of the girls- Nara, who had to be the visually most attractive one present here, huffed as she looked at the other girls' dresses.

Of course there were girls like her too here. You smiled inside- she would get used to it soon, you hoped.

The room immediately quietened when Prince Hongjoong entered, all regal with his slicked back hair and navy blue suit, the girls all curtsying while he smiled, Sophie standing right beside him.

"Good morning, ladies."

The air immediately felt different, the girls now straightening and arranging themselves. The Prince smiled, "I'd like to introduce myself to you all, so if you don't mind, one at a time I will be calling you. I won't take much of your time- do forgive me if I'm a little slow with names."

As he said that, he surveyed the room once, his eyes landing on you and his smile getting wider- you weren't expecting that so you just smiled back, hoping no one else had noticed.

The girls giggled and grinned, waiting by the couch on Sophie's instructions, one by one moving to the Prince who stood by the window with a drink, what seemed like casual conversation flowing between them. It only lasted for a few minutes each with the girls returning with nervous smiles.

"I wonder what he's asking," Arin fidgeted.

"Maybe he's just wondering what's your favourite food," you scoffed, making her laugh a bit.

Before you knew it, it was Arin's turn, and she squeezed your hand before the two of you went to where he stood, Arin saying hello with a smile, you doing the same and standing beside Arin.

"Arin? You look lovely today."

You knew Arin understood that, and she bowed a bit, replying with a thanks. Prince Hongjoong smiled, "I heard you're English. I know a bit of it."

You translated that to Arin, and she replied in Korean, "Really?"

The Prince nodded, "Where are you from?"

"Mist Island, my parents had an English lineage, we moved to this kingdom before I was born."

The Prince looked at you and you translated that for him as he nodded, "Mist Island is beautiful. I've only been there once when I was little, but I hope to visit again. Maybe you could show me around."

Arin noticed the flirtatious smile on his lips as you translated that, and she beamed, "It would be an honour to show you around my home town."

"But you live in the countryside now, right?"

As you translated that for Arin and she nodded, you realized the Prince had done his own research as well- probably on every girl.

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Arin. I hope we can get along well despite this obstacle."

Arin got that, bowing to the Prince and you did the same, finding his eyes beaming as he looked at you. "You're doing a good job. I hope you find the palace comfortable."

"I do," you assured him with a thanks.

"I didn't get to say this last night, but," Hongjoong sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, "If you wish to visit your parents' room or anything like that, you can talk to Sophie. I've already talked to her."

You were surprised- was the Prince this generous or was this an exception? You shook the thoughts off, thanking him for his kindness and he told you both to join the girls in the dining hall after he announces what's next.

As you both went back, you told Arin what he had just said, who only sighed happily, saying something about how generous he was and how he was a born Prince. You shook your head, smiling as you reached the others, Arin immediately surrounded by the girls who asked what they talked about, and Arin told them in broken Korean, the girls laughing and correcting her mistakes.

Prince Hongjoong walked to the center of the room, clearing his throat, "If I have asked you to move to the dining hall, please follow Sophie out, the rest of you can stay here."

The girls looked at each other in nervousness, most of them following Sophie out, you and Arin along with them, and as you entered the hall, the King and Queen greeted the girls, everyone including you curtsying before taking their seats and digging into the food.

"I wonder why he asked some of them to stay," the girl beside you, Nayoung, said, "Did they do something good? Maybe he wants extra time with them."

"No idea," you muttered, "He wouldn't eliminate someone so soon, would he?"

Nayoung looked at you, "I doubt he would."

But he did. Just like that, 22 girls remained out of 30. And you wondered if Arin really had caught his attention or if he was just giving her a second chance because of the language barrier.

The next morning at breakfast table, everyone thought so as well. Why Arin was kept, why girls like Nora or Nayeon were eliminated, who clearly looked like they had potential. The girls ate nervously, all except Arin, and you had to keep yourself from laughing as Arin moaned after each bite of chicken. Prince Hongjoong sat at the end of the table, watching Arin with amusement in his eyes.

"Lady Arin? Enjoying the food?"

Arin almost dropped her fork, looking at you and you translated.

"Food delicious, but cake-" Arin waved at the dozens of pastries and sweets, "I make better."

The table erupted into laughter and Prince Hongjoong straightened. "Really? Is that a challenge?"

You laughed as you translated, and Arin nodded enthusiastically, the Prince looking at you as if to ask you if Arin was joking or not.

"Arin is an exceptional baker," you were beaming proudly as you announced, "And she accepts the challenge."

"Well," Prince Hongjoong, "I guess I'll have to arrange for a date in the kitchens- mother would be the most happy to learn I'll be stepping in there!"

Everyone looked at Arin in awe for securing her first date with the Prince, and as you conveyed that, Arin smiled and bowed her head a bit in acknowledgement. You felt proud at that moment- a very sisterly pride as you grinned at Arin. She had done it!

The Prince told you both after the breakfast that he would arrange for a suitable time and let you know, and by the time he left, you and Arin were practically jumping up and down, in a very unladylike manner- for Arin. Sophie let you both have your moment before she cleared her throat and told all the girls to write letters home and let them know how you were holding up. The girls sighed collectively in relief, rushing back to their rooms and while Arin went back, you decided to take that moment and ask Sophie about your parents.

"Ah, so it's you," Sophie's face changed as she smiled, "I remember the lot of you. It was always troublesome when the kids gather. Hongjoong would always be at one of these windows watching you all play enviously."

Now that was news. You always thought as a kid that the Prince was a stuck up snob who wouldn't bother to play with kids like you- but apparently all this time he wanted to join?

"You remember me?"

"Not much, but just the few kids playing in the gardens- it has been a memory I look back to sometimes. I was the one who'd always tell you all to keep your voices down, if you remember."

You gasped- it was her! Sophie laughed as you put a hand over your mouth in disbelief, bowing once in recognition as Sophie waved you off. "I remember you!"

"Of course you do," Sophie smiled, "I'll let one of the guards accompany you to your parent's room-"

"Not today," you hesitated, and Sophie looked confused, "I... I need some time. Can I visit once I'm ready?"

Sophie seemed like she understood, "Of course, dear. If you need anything, do let me know. Your mother was the most kind to me. The Queen misses her dearly."

"The Queen does?" You frowned.

"Don't you know? She was one of the queen's personal maids."

"Oh... They kept their work very private," you smiled. Of course she was. There was a reason she sometimes looked guilty when she slipped something about work- or the Queen- in front of you.

"Good to hear that," Sophie said.

"I'll take my leave now," you thanked her and left the room, feeling overwhelmed by the information and the weight of all this.

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

The next morning, all the girls including you were having breakfast with the royal family, casual conversation flowing between everyone, the girls around Arin asking her if she had her date yet, Arin shaking her head no repeatedly with a smile.

You were just on your third chocolate cookie when you were interrupted by the sudden opening of the doors, the guards shouting 'rebels!' and the room erupted in chaos.

"To the back of the room, ladies, now!" Prince Hongjoong got up, all except two guards leaving while the two shut and bolted the door from inside, the King putting a protective arm on his wife leading her to a corner, a few girls following them on instinct, and you immediately grabbed Arin's hand, telling her that rebels were inside the palace.

Arin was positively scared and you shushed her, telling her that now was the time to maintain her calm if she wanted to get Prince Hongjoong's attention, and she straightened her back a bit as she followed the girls to the back of the hall. Some of them were quietly sobbing, while some were shaking. It looked like not many had experienced such a situation.

You saw Prince Hongjoong pull down the shutters of the windows one by one and instead of following the girls, you decided to do the same, going to the other end of the room and drawing the shutters down, until there were two windows between you and the Prince, and at that moment you caught a flying object in your direction-

"Prince Hongjoong, duck, now!"

You only had time to say that as you drew your arms in front of you and crouched down, a sigh of relief escaping you when you saw the Prince follow your lead, the sound of a crash following soon after, the shards of broken glass spraying around you.

You heard Arin's scream, glad when you saw one of the girls hold her back protectively, and you got up, waving to her to indicate you were alright. The Prince got up, shutting the remaining two shutters- the window right next to you was broken.

"Are you hurt?" Prince Hongjoong grabbed you by the shoulders as he scanned you.

"Are you hurt?" You scanned him, and he shook his head, looking at the broken shards of glass.

"You're hurt," he noticed a shard of glass buried in your palm, blood trickling down your hand. He took out his handkerchief, and before he could pull the shard out, you stopped him, taking it out yourself and wincing slightly- it was a few inches big. You let the prince tie the handkerchief.

"You should have been careful, I thought I told all of you to get back to the room."

"The girls did," you replied, "I had to do something."

"I clearly addressed 'ladies'," Prince Hongjoong smiled at you, "You fall there too."

"Sorry," you held back a grin but the Prince noticed.

"Get there, please. I need to make sure the situation is okay before I get to the girls," he looked back once at the huddled girls, beckoning you to join them before going to the guards and speaking to them.

You joined Arin who hugged you, "I thought you were hurt badly!"

"Nothing much," you shook her off, "You know my instincts are good- I saw it coming, literally."

Arin rolled her eyes and you smiled- good. She was relaxed now. "You holding up okay?"

"Yeah, I just never expected something like this, I guess," Arin bit her lips, looking at the girl next to her, "Should we comfort them?"

"You should," you smiled, "I'll... see. I should too, I guess."

Arin looked at you knowingly and you gave in- she knew exactly what was going through your head, that some of the girls were sobbing more than they needed so maybe the Prince could come and console them.

And he did, patting every girl's back, telling them it was okay, that they were safe. Some girls even dared put their heads on his chest as they sobbed, and you noticed that the Prince was clearly nervous as he comforted the girls. When he reached Arin, you were proud that she didn't cry and he smiled at you both.

"You should go to the hospital wing after all of this is over," the Prince said, "You might be needing stitches."

"It's just a small cut," you said, but Prince Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you.

"It's an order."

You couldn't resist rolling your eyes this time and he laughed at that, you internally slapping yourself because how dare you roll your eyes at the Prince? But he didn't mind, telling you both to take care of yourselves as he went to the next girl and the next.

You did go to the hospital wing after everything settled, the nurses cleaning the wound and bandaging it saying it wouldn't need stitches, and you went to Arin's room after that. The girls were going to have dinners in their room since they were a bit shaken after the events of today, and you decided to have dinner with Arin.

"Do you think the rebels come here often?" Arin asked.

"I remember dad told me that they came at least three times a year on average," you said, "Some people aren't happy with the Selection, thinking the royals are neglecting the problems of the people, so I guess this was bound to happen."

"I hope it doesn't happen again," Arin shivered, "I'd hate anyone to get hurt."

"I hope so too," you suddenly weren't hungry anymore.

You decided to go for a walk before sleeping, just to clear your head, dressed in your deep purple silk pyjamas. The guard were now recognizing you and let you out without question, and you walked along the rows of flowers, your head blank, until you noticed a figure strolling casually as well.

"I guess you needed to clear your head too?"

It was the Prince.

You nodded, bowing once, "Are you... alright?"

"I am, thank you for asking," he said, and now that he was closer, you noticed that he was still in the same clothes, the coat off now and sleeves rolled, hair a beautiful mess. "How's your wound?"

"Oh, it's okay," you showed your bandaged palm, "It was a small cut after all."

"I've been meaning to ask you," he shifted, "How did you know to click the shutters close? Not everyone gets that on first try."

"Ah," you nodded, "It's my dad- he taught me how to when I visited the palace once, in case rebels came when I was present."

The Prince nodded, "When I told Sophie about you, she told me who your parents were- I was trained by your dad, in fact."

"You were?" Your jaw fell open- now that was news.

"I was, I knew your dad well," he smiled, "And your mother too. They were very close to us. I'm surprised you didn't tell me earlier."

"I... I didn't know," you admitted, "They always kept their work a secret from everyone, just said they served in the palace. I guess they didn't want anyone asking for favours or something, not even their own daughter."

The Prince noticed how confused you looked, "There must have been a good reason for that. They always talked about you. They were immensely proud of you- your dad was always comparing me to you as well."

"And how exactly? I don't think I can compete with you, Prince."

"Call me Hongjoong," he said, putting his hands in his pockets, "He said you were a better learner than I was. He said, and I quote, 'my daughter could flip you as if you weighed nothing but a sack of potatoes- an empty one at that'."

You couldn't help it, you laughed out loud at that. "I cannot! I mean, I could, but I'm not that good. I'm sure he only said that to get you to learn quicker."

"It worked," Hongjoong laughed, "So he trained you too?"

"Just a bit, mostly defense," you told him.

"Have you visited their room yet? Did Sophie update you?"

"She did, but I... I can't go visit their room right away."

Hongjoong paused a bit before continuing to walk. "Is there a reason?"

"I... I just need some time. Now that I'm here, it feels like they're still running around, mom nowhere in sight like always, dad with the guards while I wait for them to finish their work so we can go home. Plus, with all the new information about their jobs..."

"I understand," Hongjoong assured you, "Take your time. It must be hard for you."

"Thank you," you passed a smile, "Will the rebels be back anytime soon?"

Hongjoong realized you must know a great deal about rebels, "They might come back sooner than we expect. They're not happy with what's going on these days. It'll take some time to calm them down."

You nodded, suddenly aware of the time you'd taken. "I'm sorry- I'm always interrupting your alone time-"

"No, it's perfectly fine, I appreciate this," Hongjoong said, and you narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh.

"I truly do. I like it when I have someone to talk to, to sort my thoughts out, but there's not many I can talk to. If you'd like... can we be... friends? Can we talk like this sometimes? No pressure though, don't feel obliged to accept just because I'm, well, the Prince."

You shut your mouth before your jaw could drop- did he really ask you to be his friend?

"You don't have many friends, do you?"

Hongjoong put his hands up in surrender, and you pretended to consider. "I guess we can. If you were friends with my dad... you should know I'm very much like him."

"Bad humour and no regard for authority? Can I take my offer back?"

"Too late, Prince," you grinned.

Hongjoong sighed dramatically, asking you if you wanted to take a seat with him and you nodded, sitting on the bench and watching the sky. "Can I ask you why you're holding this Selection in the first place?"

Hongjoong looked at you once before sighing and looking back, "I didn't want to, actually. The thought of 30 girls with their futures depending on my decision is more intimidating than I thought. But it was a tough time for everyone, and the Selection was killing two birds with one stone- providing a distraction and hope to the kingdom, while hoping I find someone who can stand me here."

You looked at him, "You think those girls can't stand you?"

"I know most of them will be changing their minds once they get to know me and this lifestyle more. It's more appealing from a far, as you must know."

"You do have a point," you nodded, "It must be tough. I'm..."

"Don't say you're sorry, I know that if you're like your dad, you're enjoying my misery."

You passed him a guilty look as you both laughed, and you shook your head, "I really hope you find someone you'll like in there. Someone who can actually stand you, the Prince and... Hongjoong. Both."

Hongjoong nodded at that, a little surprised, "Not many people know how I am really like."

"If you want, I can tell the girls you're the type to become jealous really quick."

Hongjoong frowned, and you grinned, "Sophie might have told me how you used to watch us kids play outside with a little scowl on your face-"

"I was a kid!" Hongjoong laughed out loud, "Of course I wanted to join you all!"

"You didn't tell me this the night I told you I was one of those kids," you looked at him pointedly.

"Should I really have told you that I was the one you called 'stuck-up brat'?"

You gasped at that, Hongjoong silly dancing victoriously while you looked away, ashamed. "It's okay, we were kids. I was envious, and you thought I was, well, a stuck-up brat."

"You're not denying it."

"You think I'm a stuck-up brat?"

"I don't know, are you?" You raised a brow, and Hongjoong grinned mischievously.

"I guess you'll find out soon."

The two of you stared at each other, not even realizing until you heard one of the guards walk past, the two of you suddenly drawing out of your trance, and you both got up, suddenly feeling aware.

"I should go," Hongjoong laughed awkwardly, "It's been nice talking to you."

"Same," you told him, brushing your clothes, saying bye and beginning to go back, pausing when you felt a hand stop you by the arm.

"Sorry, I just wanted to say... don't tell about our... interactions, to anyone- not even Arin. I don't want the other girls to give you a hard time because they'll think you're competition or something like that."

"Of course," you said, "I'm only a shadow here, don't worry."

You thought there was something sad about Hongjoong's smile as he said bye and went back.

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

Hongjoong remained busy handling kingdom affairs while you were busy with Arin as you gave her language lessons, kept her up to date with everything, sat with her through the etiquettes lesson and guided her along. Everyone was getting used to conversing through you, and you were glad that no one could hate Arin- she was always so bright, always smiling and happy and clearly meant no harm, but you also understood that part of the reason was because the girls clearly thought Hongjoong would let go of Arin sooner or later.

But everyone sure was envious of Arin's date, scheduled in the evening before dinner. Arin sat in her room in pants and a blouse, wondering which recipes she should try.

"Tell me you'll help me too," Arin narrowed her eyes at you.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to interfere in your date," you grinned slyly.

"You witch!" Arin laughed, "You know we work better together."

It was true- Arin had taught you quite a few recipes and she was usually instructing you to do the menial tasks while she worked on the main ones to save time.

"Will you bring some for us?" Sana sighed dreamily, "It's been forever since I tried food that was not from the palace."

"I know right," Momo slumped in the couch, "I really want to go out and taste something new."

"Maybe you all should come and help us too," Arin said nervously.

"No, never," Mina scolded Arin, "Stop being nervous! The Prince will be here any second."

As if on cue, a knock sounded, and the maids immediately got up in a flurry, gushing over how Arin looked one last time before opening the door, letting Hongjoong in while they left, grinning.

"Ah, so you're prepared," Hongjoong scanned Arin- it was his first time seeing Arin so casual, yet she still looked elegant enough.

"Prince Hongjoong," Arin curtsied.

"Please skip the formalities and call me Hongjoong when we're alone," he smiled at the two of you.

"You're going in the kitchen in that?" Arin asked, and you kept in your laughter as you told Hongjoong what she had said.

"Now what's wrong with this-" Hongjoong looked down at his very polished black jacket, his prince attire- his usual attire.

"Do you think you're just going to be sitting back and watching her cook?" You asked Hongjoong, "You're helping."

Hongjoong's jaw dropped and as you told Arin what you'd said, she grinned, giving you a thumbs up, and Arin went ahead, snaking her arm in his and saying, "Lead the way."

"If I had known I was going to be the one doing the work," Hongjoong looked at you, "I would have maybe changed the location of the date and accepted Arin as a better chef."

"Which is why this was a surprise, but you should have figured it out," Arin said with a wink, making him laugh.

He led you both to the kitchens, where the staff greeted the Prince, Arin and you, saying this was a first time someone would have a date in the kitchen.

Arin asked for aprons, helping tie Hongjoong's and you smiled at how comfortable they looked with each other. Arin asked for the chef and looked at you as she said, "We're making brownies and scones. Should I leave the brownie batter to you?"

"Of course," you nodded, "I'll stay close by- you and Hongjoong can work on the scones."

You translated that to everyone and the chefs went to get the ingredients, Arin following them as she picked some of her own while you rolled your sleeves.

"You should roll your sleeves too," you said to Hongjoong who was watching you, "And do keep your arms tucked in as you work."

"Alright, ma'am," Hongjoong saluted, following your lead.

"So have you never baked before?"

"I have never cooked or baked," Hongjoong said, "I was always too busy."

"Well, first time for everything," you smiled, "Don't worry, Arin is a sweetheart. Even if you do something wrong, she'll tell you you did excellent with a smile."

And sure enough- Hongjoong was supposed to be following Arin but he was way too clumsy, which earned a good laugh from everyone, but Arin kept encouraging him- in Korean, thanks to the last lesson you'd given her where she'd specifically worked on phrases she'd probably need. It was cute to watch Hongjoong struggle with English while Arin struggled with Korean.

You were standing beside Hongjoong, not too far so you could help if they mistranslated anything, and the few cooks were following your lead, asking you about how Arin knew so much about baking- which you told them was thanks to her aunts being professional bakers.

"That looks way better than mine," Hongjoong looked at your batter as you dropped the chocolate chunks in the bowl, "can I have the chocolate?"

"No," you continued pouring the rest of the chocolate in, but Hongjoong slipped a hand in and picked a chunk, grinning in victory.

"Focus on your batter, Prince," you scoffed, "You don't wanna embarrass yourself on your first date, do you?"

"I'm afraid it's too late to worry," Hongjoong sulked as he fiddled with the spoon.

"Now we bake," Arin announced, smiling at you two and wriggling her brows at you, and you told her you just needed 5 more minutes to be done. Arin helped Hongjoong with the rest of his batter, and Hongjoong finally sat and watched as she set the tray and put it in the oven.

"Good riddance," Hongjoong muttered, and you kicked his leg from under the table before going to pour your own batter and tossing it in the ovens.

There were enough scones and brownies for everyone in the kitchen- a few people only, which meant you could take some back to the maids too. The three of you sat side by side as you watched the scones and brownies rise dreamily.

"I love this smell," Hongjoong muttered, "Maybe I should come in the kitchen when I want to relax."

You were sitting beside Arin so you quickly told her what he'd just said, and she smiled, "I used to do that. The smell alone made half my worries disappear."

"I can see that," Hongjoong smiled.

"The kitchens are open to you lot whenever you want to come," the head chef announced, "Especially you, Arin. I already know these are going to taste amazing. We could learn a thing or two from you."

Arin grinned, "Maybe I could learn from you all too- the food is amazing here. Thank you."

Hongjoong noticed how everyone was looking at Arin with admiration- she truly was humble and kind.

One by one the bells started to ding and Arin and the chefs picked out the trays from the oven, setting it on the tables to cool down, Arin swatting Hongjoong's hand away when he tried to pick one, scolding him because it was hot and 'a Prince should be patient' at which Hongjoong rolled his eyes and slumped down as he glared at the scones and brownies.

"Come on," you teased, "you're sulking way too much."

"Just because I'm a prince doesn't mean I can't," his sulk went deeper, making everyone around laugh.

Arin fanned one of the trays, making Hongjoong's face lift in hope, and when she finally touched the food to make sure it wasn't burning hot, she picked a scone and a brownie, setting it on a plate and adding a few toppings before handing it to Hongjoong.

"Go ahead and try," she smiled.

Hongjoong looked at you for confirmation and you nodded, and he finally picked the fork and took a bite of the scone, then a bite of the brownie, Arin eagerly waiting for him to react.

Hongjoong looked at the chef first, who raised his brows, then at Arin, then at you, and then slid his plate away.

"This is too good to eat."

Arin's face fell but you laughed, telling her what he had just said, and she almost cried, scolding Hongjoong for making it look like he hated it, at which he laughed, digging into his sweets again, everyone else passing scones and brownies too, compliments flowing for Arin and you didn't need to translate any of that- their faces said enough.

"For the maids," Arin picked some scones and brownies and asked for a box, and Hongjoong smiled.

"Maybe we should make these again for dinner one day. I'm sure the king and queen would love these too."

Arin gasped in surprise, but when Hongjoong nodded to assure her, she smiled, "Maybe."

"I should compliment you too, after all, you made the brownies," Hongjoong looked at you.

"This was Arin's recipe, I only followed the instructions," you told him.

"You know, my mother says that nothing tastes the same when made by different people even when the instructions followed remain perfectly same- the taste of one's hand- or heart," Hongjoong smiled, "you got that too."

You rolled your eyes but you were clearly pleased, "Thanks. I guess I do."

After eating until you all felt like you would throw up if you ate any more, Hongjoong thanked Arin for this experience, saying he'd never forget it and he promised to come to the kitchen more. Arin told him he didn't need to, but he could come if he wanted to relax. He walked her to the room, leaving with a kiss to her cheek that had her jumping up and down after he left, and you laughed at how she was going on about her 'fantasies fulfilled'. Entering, the maids waiting, you waved the boxes in front of them and they thanked Arin graciously before eating and moaning because these were too good.

The news of Arin's date got to the girls too, and you heard them talk about it the next morning, asking Arin how the Prince was like, if he was too uptight or if he was funny, etc. Arin truly felt like a star.

You sat through the history lesson, learning things yourself as you conveyed everything to Arin. It was the history about how the kingdoms of Wonderland and Utopia had united, how they always used to be at war for one reason or another, until about 49 years ago when the two had been united by the king, peace settling for a few decades, but the people growing restless with every passing year as discrimination grew.

Sophie asked how the rebels could be handled, and the girls had interesting answers to give- ranging from getting rid of the rebels altogether to actually finding a solution, such as a hearing from the rebels where they talk about the problems with the royal family and figure something out together.

Two days passed by, Hongjoong spending time with all the girls whenever he could, the girls who hadn't had a date yet getting insecure and nervous about it, until it was finally the day for the report- the first time the girls would have a live talk and reveal themselves to the public after getting in the palace.

Sophie had done you a favour and let you in on the script for Arin's questions, so she could prepare her English accordingly, and you were glad for it. Though you would be present and guiding her along, it would really help if Arin already knew what could be asked.

The maids insisted on getting you in a dress, but you strongly rejected- you really did not want to steal Arin's spotlight. You would only distract the public if you appeared the same as Arin. And even though Arin pouted and asked you (something you couldn't usually refuse), you had to shake your head no this time.

"Just dress me in the best suit," you winked at the maids, "I'll be good with that."

So while Arin had dressed in a deep red gown with lots of frill and pearls, her hair half tied with curls framing her face, you had dressed to match in a deep red three-piece suit. You absolutely loved it and thanked the maids for coming up with this- the pearls near the neckline were cherry on top. Your hair was slicked back, pearl earring in your ears the only jewellery you had along with a watch. You had matching heels to finish your outfit.

"We look more like a couple than I could ever look with Hongjoong," Arin grinned.

It was true. You grinned back, "We'll get Hongjoong to match with you one day and see who makes the better couple."

Arin slapped your arm playfully, and then you were escorted by the guards to the room where the broadcast would be conducted, and you had to blink your eyes a few time to adjust to the lights and the colours of the selected girls seated in the front. You both went inside, sitting side by side in the second row, Byeol next to you.

"Arin looks gorgeous, but you? Holy hell, woman."

"Is it too much?" You frowned- you hadn't expected to grab attention.

"I'm just saying you look great- if you weren't in a different dress, you could easily pass as one of the selected," she smiled, focusing her attention back on the crowd.

You thought about it- would people think the same after seeing you on television? Probably not. You were only a translator, you'd be sitting in the shadows as you translated everything to Arin- and you hoped she wouldn't need you.

The girls were pretty nervous, one even having to rush to the toilet because she felt like she was going to throw up. You looked at Arin- she seemed excited but the way she was unconsciously cracking her knuckles gave her away.

"If you crack your knuckles while you sit there I'll break your fingers," you warned.

Arin laughed, "You're such a mother. But if I do, feel free to poke me. I'll do the breaking myself."

You chuckled, the lights getting dimmer, and the host Kang Yeosang entered, his hair in a blonde mullet, and looking as beautiful as ever.

If there was one man you thought looked perfect, it was Yeosang. He looked too perfect to be real, and you were probably more nervous about getting to meet your favourite celebrity and host of variety shows or talk shows than the interview itself.

"I think I'm gonna have to shake you one or two times during the interview," Arin said as she closed your mouth shut with a finger, laughing at how star-struck you were after seeing Yeosang, and as you glared at her, you pointed to the girls- you weren't the only one with a hanging jaw.

"Good evening, Wonderland!" Yeosang announced, looking as much a prince as the Prince himself in his deep purple suit, "Tonight, we'll be getting an inside scoop from these young ladies I know you're all dying to meet. We'll learn how things are going with Prince Hongjoong, we're just going to ask! Let's welcome... Miss Kim Kahi from Utopia City!"

Kahi moved elegantly from the first row to the stage, greeting Yeosang with a curtsy before settling down. She was composed and did well, so did the others, but it was pretty predictable. Some girls were acting shy on purpose- you'd never seen them like this and you knew because you were usually the one sitting back and watching everyone objectively. Some were clearly nervous but Yeosang joked a bit, which helped them calm down.

Arin was called when there were two girls remaining- the two of you got up, you immediately rushing to the backstage from where you would seat yourself as Arin would walk to the stage and greet Yeosang. You stood waiting until Arin was ready to sit, which was when Yeosang shook your hand too, and you prayed your hand wasn't sweaty as you smiled.

"Miss Arin from Mist Island, a unique case here because of the language barrier- I hope you're holding up well?"

Arin looked at you in confirmation and you nodded, and she smiled as she looked at Yeosang, "I'm doing well, thank you for asking."

"Ah, you sound good! Do we have your translator to thank for that, Miss...?"

You told him your name, "Arin is a quick and eager learner, I'm sure she'll get the hang of this is no time."

"Definitely! So, Arin, tell us, have you had a date with the Prince yet?"

"I have, we made cake in the kitchen," Arin was gleaming, making Yeosang chuckle.

"Now that's something unheard of! So tell us- is our Prince as good at baking as he is at running the kingdom or does he need practice?"

Arin looked at you with confusion this time, and you quickly told her what he'd said, "He's very good! Pro!"

As she said that, she looked at Hongjoong sitting in the front row who was laughing and shaking his head, making the crowd laugh as well as the cameras panned back and forth.

"I think the Prince disagrees, now which one of you is lying?" Yeosang narrowed his eyes dramatically, and you told Arin, Arin instead asking you to explain.

"She says she would never lie about this," you tried to stop the grin appearing on your face.

"Let's hear from the Prince," Yeosang looked at Hongjoong, who picked up his mic.

"Arin refuses to admit I'm a bad chef, but I did exceptionally well thanks to Arin's instructions. She's an excellent guide and baker!"

"Ah, that's great to hear," Yeosang smiled, "So Miss Arin, how do you feel about the Selection?"

Now Arin got the question, and she spoke confidently, "I'm honoured to be a part of it, no matter the outcome. Whoever he marries will be a lucky person. And..."

Arin turned to you as she spoke, and you cleared your throat, "Arin says that Prince Hongjoong is an amazing person, and she hopes he finds a good partner through this process, no matter who that is."

Yeosang smiled warmly at the two of you, "Thank you, Miss Arin. We hope to see you again in the next report, good luck!"

With that, you and Arin took off, you going backstage while Arin stood for a few pictures before leaving the stage. As you made your way back, the girls grinned at you. "You two were amazing. Arin did such a good job, I feel happy for her."

"Thank you Byeol, Nayoung," you smiled.

After the interviews, you all were led to have dinner in the hall, where Hongjoong joined, applauding everyone for doing a good job with the interviews. He was going from one girl to the other to have small talk after dinner, and then he finally reached the two of you.

"Good job, Arin!" Hongjoong smiled and Arin thanked him, "You did better than I expected."

"You should thank her," Arin said, but the two of you shook your head.

"It was all you, Arin," you said, and Hongjoong nodded.

"A little bit of her too, but all you," he laughed.

Arin smiled, and Hongjoong looked at you, "Are we walking in the garden tonight?"

"Are we?" You cocked your head- was that an invitation? Hongjoong only smiled.

"I'm not supposed to tell you already, but there's an assignment coming up where Arin would have to present something verbally. Just dropping a hint- foreign visit taking place soon."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," you zipped your lips, squeezing Arin's hand as in 'wait'.

"I'll be taking my leave then, have a good night, Arin."

"Good night," Arin smiled and Hongjoong took her hand and kissed it before taking his leave, leaving Arin watching him dreamily.

"Snap out of it, woman, we have work to do," you clicked your fingers in front of her, "Assignment. Foreign visitors, you'll have to present something. Don't tell anyone- he only told us."

"Why did he only tell us though?" Arin frowned.

"He probably wants you to do a good job," you put a hand on your hip, "Which means you might be one of his favourites right now."

"Wow... that's good to hear," she let out a breathy laugh.

"Also... I should tell you this, but Hongjoong knows me from our childhood too- not much," you sighed, "Remember how I told you I used to visit the palace often? He's seen me around."

"Ah, that's so cool!" Arin gushed, "I wish he'd known me too."

"That's not cool in any way," you muttered, flashbacks of your dark past- especially the fact that he knew you used to call him a stuck-up brat flowing in your head, and you shook the thoughts away.

"I'll tell you more later- I found out that my mother was the queen's maid and father was Hongjoong's personal trainer- tell no one, okay?"

"Who would I tell, you're my only friend," Arin rolled her eyes, "But how come you did not know this? They didn't tell you?"

"That's what I keep asking," you bit your lips, "Why am I the last person who knows this?"

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

You tried to ignore the excitement you felt simply because Hongjoong had very casually invited you for a walk. You supposed that now that you were 'friends', you'd be hanging out more. Plus, it really looked like he needed someone like you right now- someone who could understand Hongjoong but understand the selected girls too, help him sort his thoughts out.

What you did not know was the thoughts that ran through Hongjoong's mind when he saw you at the broadcast room.

Hongjoong knew it was somewhat wrong, seeing how there were literally 22 girls who all dressed up for him, in absolutely beautiful gowns- and they did look beautiful. However, when you had walked in with your slicked back hair dressed in a suit... he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

He would never say it out loud- there was a goddamned Selection going on just for him. But you were stunning, you were funny, you knew more about how the palace and this country ran than any of the girls here, and Hongjoong had one question in his mind that he wanted to ask you tonight.

Now that part was tricky. He would have to remain as casual as possible, and he knew you were very clever and would realize if something was off too.

Hongjoong thought it was crazy- you two hadn't known each other for two long, but the way you clicked... he supposed you were just one of those people who he'd felt like he'd known forever. And even if you were going to be just friends, he really appreciated that.

He arrived in the garden first- or so he thought, until he saw you playing with a flower in a corner and he took in your appearance- you were still in your dress, only your heels changed.

Hongjoong had to shake his head- this was downright cruel. He was sure you didn't realize the effect you had on him tonight but maybe the deities did and they were punishing him for having these thoughts when 22 girls were waiting for him.

As if you'd notice him watching you, you turned to him, smiling and waving at him, unknown to the fact that he had been here and thinking about you. Hongjoong neared, taking a deep breath.

"Long night," he sighed, "You didn't change."

"Neither did you," you pointed out, and he looked down as if he hadn't realized.

"I was busy," he laughed, and you raised a brow.

"I was busy too."

"With what?"

"Just this and that," you sighed, "Helping Arin calm down after all the excitement, playing a game of cards with the maids. I didn't realize it was so late until I went to my room, and I wouldn't want to keep our busy prince waiting now, would I?"

"I love how you always find a way to mock me with my title," Hongjoong shook his head.

"So," you turned to him, beckoning him to walk and he did alongside you, "Is there a reason you called me for a walk?"

"Can't friends do that?" Hongjoong pouted.

"True," you shrugged, "How was tonight then? Like anyone?

"Well," Hongjoong took a long time to think, "Arin certainly did a great job. Kahi was a natural. The people love Nayoung. Byeol is well educated."

"I asked about who you liked," you gave him a pointed look, and laughed at how torn he looked, "Too early to ask?"

"Yes," Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I don't know if I like any of them like that. I don't feel a spark with anyone- maybe there's no such thing as a spark."

"There is," you assured him, and he raised a brow.

"Have you felt it?"

"I felt it, tonight," you smirked, watching his expressions change into confusion.

"Who, exactly, are you talking about?"

"Well, who do you think? Come on, it's easy. Who looked like a Prince tonight?"

"Me?" Hongjoong pointed at himself, and you laughed.

"I said looked like a Prince. It was Yeosang, of course. I can't believe how handsome he is! The camera really doesn't do justice to his beauty, and that's crazy because he looks so beautiful even on tv."

Hongjoong groaned, "Come on! Yeosang?"

"And why not?" You put your hands on your hips, "Can't a girl dream?"

"Sure. Dream along, I won't stop you," Hongjoong waved a hand in dismissal, "For a moment I thought there was a special someone back home."

"Nah," you smiled, shaking your head, "Never has been, and at this rate, never will be."

"Why? I think you're pretty fun to be around."

"You think that because you have no one to talk to and I'm your best option."

"Not at all," Hongjoong shook his head, "I know a lot of people. I'm not lying."

"Okay, let's accept that I'm fun and likable. I never liked anyone. Well, maybe if Yeosang would give me a chance..."

"I'll banish him if he looks at you funny," Hongjoong mumbled, making you snort in a very unladylike manner, "But I was wondering... did you enter the Selection?"

"Me?" You looked at him, and he nodded, "No, I didn't."

"Why?" Hongjoong asked, and you scanned his face.

"A number of reasons, but the main one being the lack of self confidence I have. The probability of getting picked, and then getting picked after the Selection... it's too little and too stressful. Why would I do that to myself? Also, I don't think I'm princess material."

"Well," Hongjoong began, "I can understand that you thought you didn't stand a chance, but I think... I think you would have done well."

"Oh, come on," you slapped his arm lightly, "Stop making fun of me."

Hongjoong grinned, and you shook your head. You'd just never fantasized about Hongjoong or being a princess. You were glad for Arin though, who had. Hongjoong was staring at you and you caught him.

"Would you have liked me to enter?" You wriggled your brows, and Hongjoong pretended to throw up, making you mutter a few curse words under your breath.

"Anyways," Hongjoong exhaled, "I'm thinking of announcing an elimination tomorrow. I've talked to every one of the girls. I don't want to keep hanging this matter."

"Ah, do take your time. It's your future, after all."

"Of course," he sighed, "Wife. Friend. Partner. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I hope to find it soon."

"Don't worry about the sparks, by the way," you said, "you should really get to know the girls. Sparks will come if you click with them and begin to like them."

"I suppose so," Hongjoong said.

"Can I ask you something?" You said after a moment, and he nodded, "Will I be going home tomorrow, with Arin?"

"Isn't this cheating?" Hongjoong asked, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm not telling Arin. Come on, as a friend, I should know if I should sleep after packing my bags or not."

"Well, you're not going. I like Arin more than most of the girls there- she's easy to be with. Plus, I think I'll keep her anyway if it means I get to eat those scones and brownies anytime-"

"Prince Hongjoong, are you out of your mind-"

"I'm kidding!" Hongjoong laughed, "About the brownie part. Though I certainly wouldn't mind- I'm just saying that I'll keep Arin for now. And don't worry, if I decide to send her home, I'll let you know beforehand."

"Can you promise me one thing?" You said, and Hongjoong stopped as he looked at you. "Promise me that if you don't like Arin, you won't keep her hanging in here. You'll let her go. She's my best friend, and I don't want her to live here longer if she would be living in false hope."

"Does she really like me?" Hongjoong asked, and you shrugged.

"I'm still trying to figure that out- if she's still in her fantasy phase or if she genuinely likes you. But can you please consider her, despite the language barrier?"

"Of course, I am already," Hongjoong assured you.

"Thank you," you gave him a nod, "I know I shouldn't be asking this of you- you're the Prince, for heck's sake-"

"I'm just Hongjoong when I'm with you, so... you can ask anything."

You looked at him in gratitude, trying to ignore the way your heart flipped when you heard that. "Thank you. Should we go now? It's pretty late."

"We should," Hongjoong said, and his face twisted into surprise when you tucked the little flower you had been playing with in his hair over his ear.

"You look pretty," you laughed, beginning to walk back.

"Hey," Hongjoong said, and you turned, "I don't think I told you... but you looked really beautiful tonight."

"Me?" You pointed at yourself, making him laugh a bit as he nodded.

"Yes, you. I like this look on you. I mean it."

You made an impressed face as you playfully ran your hands over your hair as if to slick them back, making him laugh before saying bye and taking off.

As you lay in bed, you tried to ignore the fact that he'd call everyone pretty in the hall just a few hours ago, but-

He'd called you beautiful. And he had said that he meant it.

You wondered what life would have been like if you had entered the Selection, and wondered if you were better off like this.

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

The next few days were the busiest days you'd all seen so far- with the royal family of Halaland visiting Wonderland, it was all hustle and bustle in the palace, and you'd think the palace had months to prepare as they set the tents, as decoration was done and champagne of the highest quality was brought out from the cellars.

You'd all learn that the royals of Halaland were easy to offend, so the selected girls especially had to be super careful with their etiquettes and manners, but they were no boomers as well and loved to enjoy so you had to charm them. Natural charmers like Kahi and a few other girls were pretty relaxed compared to girls like Sohee and Wonyoung who were naturally shy and reserved.

As for Arin... she was both nervous but also confident now that everyone including Hongjoong had praised her for her natural charms, and you were glad she finally understood that she just needed to be herself.

This time, you had to give up wearing the suit, since it was a very formal event, and your maids came up with the brilliant idea combining the elegance of a suit with a dress- a sheath surplice neck asymmetrical dress with sleeves that reached a bit below your elbows, the length of it just above your knees. You felt strangely exposed after wearing suits and pants for so long, but you couldn't deny you felt good- the pale mauve colour of it seeming more purple when you shifted in the light- you couldn't help but admire the dress.

"You guys always outdo yourselves," you breathed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, paired with heels of the same colour, "How did you even come up with this colour? It's so nice!"

"Wait till you see Arin," Momo smiled, "She'll look different tonight- we've had enough of her innocent looks."

"Ooh," you raised a brow, "I'm looking forward to that."

"Come on, let me do your hair," Mina made you sit, tying your hair in a loose bun with messy curls falling, pearls in your hair, a pearl bracelet the only accessory you would be wearing tonight apart from your usual diamond studs.

"Dressing you up feels like you're one of the Selected too," Sana smiled as she patted your arm.

"Even I start to feel like it- you guys do too much to me, it's really unnecessary."

"Please, where's the fun if you hang beside Arin looking as plain as a mouse? Everyone deserves to look stylish."

You shook your head, the maids taking you to Arin's room who was already done getting ready before you, and you audibly gasped when you saw her in the midnight black off-shoulder dress with a silver belt on the waist, shimmery stars growing more as you looked down, her hair left straight and open, pinned at one side, her eyes bold and smokey.

"Now, now," you scanned her up and down, "Who is this? I don't think I recognize this sexy lady."

"Shut up," Arin laughed, "Is it too much?"

"I think it's perfect. Hongjoong won't be able to look away from you after this. And if he does, I'll assume he's blind."

Arin smiled half-heartedly, and you assumed she was nervous, asking her if she was feeling okay.

"Let's just go, I need to go over the things with the girls too," Arin said.

You reached the great hall where some of the girls were already there, and the way they gasped when Arin came, hugging her and complimenting her, you felt a little teary eyed. After every elimination, the remaining girls seemed to get closer too despite the growing competition, and now that Hongjoong had eliminated 6 more girls, they were down to 16.

"You look wonderful too, I'm glad I'm seeing you in something that is not a suit," Nayoung scoffed, and you scoffed back playfully.

"Ladies!" Sophie came hurriedly, dragging all the girls to the entrance so they could receive the guests, "Remember- chins up, backs straight, and don't forget to smile."

The girls stood in two rows, in front of each other. The sounds of laughter and chatter grew stronger with every passing minute, and you stood on your tiptoes to peek at the guests, noticing Arin doing the same, and you poked her from the back.

"Stand straight, miss," you ordered, and she gave you a guilty smile.

The ladies and the gents started to enter, all in the most elegant dresses you'd ever seen, mostly shades of blue and blacks, the girls all greeting with hugs and kisses, getting compliments with a smile. It seemed that the royal family of Halaland was very interested in the Selection.

As the guests dispersed, greeting the queen who looked regal in her own black gown, the king and Hongjoong were at the farthest corner of the hall, and the girls all dispersed around him, hoping to catch Hongjoong's eye.

You and Arin stood by the table, you sipping on the champagne which tasted as expensive as it must be, while Arin was looking around nervously.

"Go ahead," you told her, "I think you're good enough in Korean to have a basic conversation. Or should I tag along?"

"You should, just in case. I don't wanna embarrass myself," Arin pouted.

"Arin, honey, you're adorably sexy today and if you fumble a bit with words, that would only add to your charm tonight. I'll tag along, lead the way, wherever you wanna go."

Arin grinned as she led the way, the two of you walking around until one of the younger guests, who you assumed was the Princess of Halaland approached Arin.

"It's so good to see you in person," she said in English and took Arin's hand, "You're my pick, just so you know."

Arin gasped, "Really? Thank you!"

"You're cute," she grinned, looking at you, "And you're definitely doing a great job since she's still here."

"Thank you, your Highness," you bowed.

"Call me Miyeon," she said to the two of you, "Should I put in a good word for you with Hongjoong?"

"Thank you, but I think Hongjoong should like me without anyone telling him to," Arin smiled.

"That's wise," Miyeon grinned, "Do you like Hongjoong?"

"I was more of a fan before the Selection, but I'm trying to really get to know him and how the palace works."

"See?" Miyeon looked at you, "I had a reason I picked her."

You gleamed at Arin, "See? You're doing great, Arin."

Arin laughed, and Miyeon told you she could take it from here, that she wanted to get to know Arin and would introduce her to the royal family. You thanked her, and though Arin looked nervous, you told her it was a great opportunity to interact with everyone with you not by her side, and Arin reluctantly but happily went with Miyeon.

You watched the two of them go away like a proud mother, going back to sipping your champagne, watching the girls interact with Hongjoong one by one too, Hongjoong all polite smiles.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A deep voice sounded, and you looked at the source- a tall boy around your age with a sharp face and even sharper eyes.

"Just observing," you said, "And you are?"

"Prince San of Halaland," he bowed, and you gasped, curtsying and apologizing for not recognizing him.

"I'm not one of the Selected girls, by the way, in case you want to interact with them."

"Oh no, why would I want to interact with the ladies who are only interested in Prince Hongjoong?" Prince San grinned, making you shrug as you smiled, "I saw you on the TV, you know. With Miss Arin. My sister Miyeon is crazy about her, and with the amount of times she watched her clips in front of me..."

"Ah, is that so?" You couldn't help but grin at that as you looked at Miyeon and Arin talking like long lost best friends, "They do look like they have been apart for too long now."

"Indeed," San huffed as he put his pockets and shook his head at the way his sister was chatting with Arin, all laughs and giggles, "How's job as a translator?"

"I'm actually Arin's best friend before translator, so I'm good," you told him, offering him a glass which he took, "And what brings the Prince to a measly translator?"

"Well," Prince San looked at you as he drank, "This mere old Prince wanted a break from girls in frills."

You scoffed, "I could have been in frills tonight too."

"And I still would have approached you," his gaze was... flirty. You raised a brow, and he laughed.

"I'm saying I could use good company," Prince San said as he scanned you up and down, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable-

"Prince San," a familiar voice sounded and you almost sighed in relief when you saw Hongjoong, "Long time."

"Long time," Prince San hugged him, "How's the Selection treating you?"

"I don't even know how it's treating me," Hongjoong said, finally looking at you and smiling, "You're alone."

"Arin was snatched by my sister," Prince San put a hand up as in surrender, "She's a bit of a fan of hers."

"Ah, I forgot you both were fluent in English. It's good for her to hang out without a translator for once," Hongjoong looked at you.

"Definitely, I had to push her, but she really needed this," you smiled.

"Well, you've got eyes, Prince San," Hongjoong pointed to a group of older ladies calling him over, and he rolled his eyes, muttering a bye before taking off.

"What did he want?" Hongjoong asked you, and you raised a brow at his tone.

"Nothing, he was just talking."

"Be careful of him- he loves to talk to people and then use them for 'distraction'," Hongjoong sighed, and you nodded- you'd got that vibe from him too, "Anyways, I never thought I'd see you in a dress."

You rolled your eyes, "It had to happen one day."

"I'm not complaining, you look as beautiful as always," Hongjoong said.

"Well, thanks, I guess. It's definitely a change I needed tonight- I think it would have been odd wearing a suit tonight, no one's wearing one."

"Exactly," Hongjoong nodded, "Can we see you in a skirt next time?"

"Stop teasing me," you almost slapped his arm, remembering you were very much in public, "Don't you have other girls to go to and tell them they look beautiful or something?"

"No," Hongjoong smiled distantly, and you frowned.

"Hello, you're still in the Selection. Go. The girls are literally waiting for you to notice them, and do compliment everyone at least. They all probably spent the whole day dressing up for you."

"Ugh, it's so pressurizing!" Hongjoong waved dramatically, and this time, you did push him forward, sending him laughing as he walked away to the nearest girl, who eagerly snaked her arm in his.

The rest of the event was mostly boring for you, making small talk with anyone who came to greet you, trying to avoid Prince San, and running into Hongjoong again, who said he needed to charge himself for at least two days after this event. Food was served and you finally sat with Arin and Miyeon as you ate, mostly listening to their conversation, adding a joke or two in between.

The night was still young, and you needed to take a breather. Telling Arin you'd be back, you went to freshen up a bit, deciding to go outside and take a breath of that chilly fresh air. You took a turn and nearly bumped into someone-

That someone being Hongjoong, your faces incredibly close as you both took ahold of your footing, finally breathing when you stepped away.

"Careful when you walk, we could have crashed rather painfully."

"What's got you in a rush?" You asked as you tried to calm your beating heart.

"Nothing, just coming back after taking a breather," he ran a hand through his hair, "I guess you're in need of one too."

"Absolutely," you said, "See you around, Prince."

With that, you took off into the night, leaving Hongjoong staring at your back for a good minute before he shook his head and walked back inside.

The rest of the night was as uneventful as it could be, Arin and Miyeon engaged in a heated conversation and you couldn't help but smile at the two- good for Arin. She had little to no conversation with the selected girls and you really liked that she was talking to someone finally.

As for Prince San, he kept coming back to you after every half an hour, apologizing for making you feel uncomfortable, saying he just wanted good company since he would be here for three days. So you accepted, the two of you finding yourself talking about anything and everything, from childhood stories to habits.

"Don't tell anyone, but I really adore cats," he smiled.

"That's surprising, but nothing to be ashamed of. You should tell everyone this, in fact. Don't you have pet cats? If I were you I would have opened my palace gates for all cats."

"Miyeon's allergic, so I can't do that," he sighed, looking at Miyeon and smiling warmly.

"You two seem close."

"We're practically best friends. We tell each other everything."

"That's sweet," you smiled, "What do you do other than performing your princely duties though?"

"Well, I like working out. I like to play with my cats- stray cats, in the garden. I also like to sing in the shower."

"You should hold a shower concert sometime, your cats could be your audience," you said, and he laughed out loud, putting his hand over his face- a habit of his. "Also, I have a question- I'm curious about something."

"Ask away."

"Do you and Miyeon have as much responsibility as Hongjoong, or is it less of a burden to you?"

"It's definitely less, my elder sister is in line for the throne. In fact, don't tell anyone, but we were considering their marriage before the Selection."

You gasped, "Really? Did they know each other or like each other?"

"They know each other, but not really- they've only met twice or thrice. But considering how things are in this kingdom, we decided against the unison of our kingdoms."

"Ah, so it just happened."

"I think it's sad," San shook his head, "I can't imagine marrying someone I don't know or like. I can't imagine having a Selection either- I don't know how he's handling it."

"I know. I think it's sad that he doesn't have the freedom to date and explore. What if he doesn't like any one of them?"

"Let's pray he does," San said.

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

The next day was chaotic, to put it lightly.

Kahi had basically announced that she and Hongjoong had kissed last night. Nayoung admitted that she had kissed him a few days ago too.

The reactions ranged from jealousy to anger to curiosity- what was it like? Who kissed first? How did it feel?

You supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later, though you were a bit disappointed in the obvious choices- Nayoung being the palace star and Kahi being people's favourite.

However, you were more surprised when you conveyed all of this to Arin and she showed little reaction.

"Did you already know?" You asked.

"I didn't," she admitted, saying nothing, but you didn't spot disappointment on her face either, so you shrugged it off.

Arin told you that she would be spending more time with Miyeon since she was here for only two more days, offering you to join but you turned it down. You didn't want to be the third-wheel and you really wanted her to talk to someone else as well. You were glad that she had a friend now.

You went to Arin's room, chatting with Momo, Mina and Sana, catching up with palace gossip such as what the selected were up to, who was whose favourite, etc. After a game of cards, you went to your room and slumped on your bed, wondering if it was time to finally visit your parent's room.

You were still conflicted, but you decided to go to the kitchen and steal something while you would decide.

However, you were surprised with the sight of Hongjoong sitting by himself in a corner, watching the brownies in the oven bake, the rest of the kitchen busy with their own work, paying no heed to the Prince.

"How long has he been coming over?" You asked a woman you knew was the assistant chef.

"Every other day, basically. Sometimes he eats, sometimes he just watches us, poor thing," she waved her hand in a motherly nature.

As if Hongjoong had felt your stare, he turned, his face lighting at the sight of you as he patted the spot next to him.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a kingdom to run or girls to kiss?"

You cringed a bit, wondering if you sounded jealous, but he just put his face in his hands, clearly ashamed. "I guess everyone knows now."

"Well, it was bound to happen," you shrugged.

"I didn't mean to. With Nayoung... she kissed me at our date. And Kahi... I was really frustrated and- ugh, I feel ashamed."

You grinned, "No need to. You can kiss whoever you like."

Hongjoong clapped when the oven went off, and you got up to take the brownies out, placing them on the table you sat.

"Enough about that, why are you here?"

You sighed, "I was wondering if I had grown the balls to visit my parent's room."

Hongjoong choked on his brownie, muttering 'language'. "Do you want me to come with you?"

You looked at him, wondering if that was what you needed. Someone to be with you. Someone who knew.

"I don't know... I don't know if I am ready."

"Well, if you're here, you're ready," he told you, "Let's go after eating."

You watched him eat his brownie as he gazed at the rest dreamily. You wondered how you two had become so comfortable with each other- to the point you'd forget he was the Prince. Hongjoong caught you staring.

"What are you looking at?"

"You, obviously," you scoffed, shrugging awkwardly as you took a bite, "Just wondering how we got... here."

"I know," Hongjoong smiled, "I didn't expect a friend out of the Selection."

After eating another brownie, Hongjoong told you to wait while he got the keys from Sophie, and you sat trying to muster up your courage.

You were finally going to go to their room and not find them there, only their belongings left. You didn't know what to expect.

Hongjoong led you to the other side of the palace, stopping in front of a room you assumed was your parents. "If you really feel like not going in, I understand."

You shook your head, "Rather go in then turn around from here."

He smiled, putting in the key and turning, opening the door.

The first thing you noticed was the sunlight illuminating the white sheets on the bed, and it looked like someone had packed their belongings. You stepped in, Hongjoong behind you, turning once.

"This doesn't feel like their room anymore- everything's packed."

"Your mom's friend packed the stuff. Do you want me to leave while you look at it?"

"No- you can stay," you told him, and he took a seat, you bringing a box to the seat next to his, opening it to find your dad's clothes.

One by one, you opened the boxes- clothes, personal belongings, a few of their favourite books, and then you found a few pictures- pictures of you, pictures you had never seen. You didn't even remember half of the moments.

"You were cuter when you were little," Hongjoong laughed as he saw one of your pre-teen years.

"I admit that I was," you smiled, finding a photo album and flipping through it, Hongjoong bringing his seat closer.

You didn't realize you were crying until your tears fell on the album, and you hastily wiped your eyes, holding back a sob but failing when Hongjoong put a comforting hand on your back.

"It just... feels real, now that I'm in their room alone without them. They'd never let me come here alone," you smiled sadly.

"It's okay, let it out," Hongjoong rubbed your back as you sniffed, bursting in a sob and holding your face in your hands, Hongjoong's arm wrapping around you as he held you.

You really felt their absence now. You'd grown up away from your parents, but this was the one place you'd always be with your parents, with your dad's funny face as he cracked jokes while your mom would scold you both for being too loud.

Hongjoong handed you his handkerchief and you wiped your eyes and nose, apologizing for being a mess.

"It's okay, really," he said, "I know it's hitting now that you're here."

You nodded, another stream of tear escaping your eyes, and Hongjoong's heart ached- he had always seen you with a smile or a smirk on your face. He couldn't bear to see your eyes full of tears, pain evident on your face. He didn't realize what he was doing- he brought his hand to your face, cupping it as he wiped your tears, kissing your cheek once, drawing back rather slowly and you looked at him.

It was as if time stilled- his hand remained on your face, fingers unmoving, while the two of you stared at each other. You were the first to draw away from your trance, muttering a sorry, looking away awkwardly, staring at the distance as you wiped your face.

"Do you want to take some of these to your room?" He asked, getting up, "We can make a box and you can take that."

"That's actually a good idea," you got up, putting all the pictures and photo albums in a separate box, some of your mom's jewellery, your dad's favourite books, and then you were done. You noticed Hongjoong smiling at a picture.

"What are you looking at?"

"I think this is the most recent one," he waved it at you- he was right. It was from the time they visited your home, a candid picture of you where you were out in the sun with a hand in front of your face to block the light. Your mom was always clicking such random pictures of you. "I'm keeping this."

"You are not," you glared at him, coming forward to snatch it away from him but he only stepped back, holding it in the air, smirking playfully.

"I'm gonna frame it and keep it in my room, caption it, 'the only time she looked normal'- hey!"

Hongjoong was startled when you jumped, holding on his shoulder for support, but he took another step back, which was a mistake, and he ended up loosing his footing, his free arm automatically going around your waist for support, but he ended up falling back- thankfully on the bed-

And you on top of him.

You groaned loudly, getting up a bit and laughing loudly when you snatched the picture from him, waving it in front of his face in victory.

But he wasn't having any of that- and he really wanted to wipe the smirk off your face. He brought you closer- dangerously close- and you realized only then the position that you were in, your eyes going wide.

"You're giving me that photo back," his voice was hoarse, expressions smug.

You shook your head, putting your hand behind you, only one hand holding you up for support.

Hongjoong shook his head, muttering 'you're gonna make me regret this' as he pushed himself up and caught your lips in his, kissing you rather furiously, swallowing your surprised moan, his hand tightening around your waist as one hand snaked up your face.

He wasn't even giving you time to think or breathe as he moved his lips along yours, and you didn't realize you were responding to the kiss until you heard his own satisfied moan, your hand on his shoulder now squeezing it unconsciously, because this was wrong, this shouldn't be happening, but you didn't care in that moment, those thoughts being pushed out and out-

Hongjoong snatched the photo from you, and you thought he'd stop, but his hand went to the back of your head, guiding you along better, pushing into you until you both had switched position, your back arched very low.

You had to break apart for breath, your foreheads still joined as you both tried to catch your breath and you couldn't help but sigh at how out of breath you both were. His arms stayed around you as he drew apart, out of words as you stared at each other.

You shook your head, "All this for one photo?"

"I'm definitely framing it," he muttered.

You exhaled, licking your lips as your gaze fell on his, and you finally came to your senses, getting up and away from his warm embrace, suddenly feeling cold.

Hongjoong cleared his throat as he straightened himself, and you picked the box, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"This was definitely only because you wanted to distract me and snatch the photo, right? Because you're in a goddamn Selection, Prince Hongjoong, and Arin is my best friend and I could never do this to her."

He felt his heart twist, but he nodded, "Definitely."

The two of you knew you weren't being honest. But you decided to ignore it for now. "Let's go then. I'll be taking this to my room."

"Alright," he said, motioning you to go forward, locking the room back. As he walked you to the chamber where the girls and you were staying, he told you he was gonna go to his room.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"That was... just how many girls have you kissed?"

Hongjoong realized you basically meant he was a pro, and he threw his head back as he laughed, making you laugh as well, the ice breaking for now. "I'm not that experienced!"

You made a face that said that you were not having any of it. "Liar."

"Believe it or not, before the Selection, I've only kissed twice," he admitted, and you gasped.

"I guess you're a natural. Let's forget about this, okay? Stay focused, Prince! 16 girls waiting for your response, and I'm not one of them."

Hongjoong saluted, going back to his room- once he was inside, he slumped down with his face in his hands.

He was glad you were cool and things hadn't messed up indefinitely, but...

One thing he was sure of was that he'd never felt anything like this in his life before- and he wanted more. He wasn't sure if he could forget this.

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

You knew you were never going to look at Hongjoong the same way again.

Something had inevitably changed between the two of you, and though you were trying not to think of it, you were now aware of him, more than ever. And though Hongjoong was an excellent actor, you could see that he was a bit awkward too.

But maybe you two only needed time to forget that.

What you did not know was that Hongjoong was trying to forget about it, he really was. And he was busying himself in more work than usual, trying to interact with the Selected girls more, another broadcast taking place as well.

With Arin hanging out with Miyeon, you didn't have anyone to talk to- but you were scared to face Arin after that. If Arin really liked Hongjoong and was serious about it (of course she did, there were no ifs!), you had messed up. Your friendship with Arin was worth so much to you and you couldn't ruin it.

With Hongjoong busy, you spent most of the time in your room or with San- who was surprisingly very easy to talk to. You two had a lot in common, in fact, which created a very comfortable bond between you two.

You sat with San near the pond, the two of you glum as you tossed pebbles in the pond. If anyone would see you two, they'd think you'd lost a war- the amount of sighs you two were breathing were too much.

"What's got you so down?" You finally asked, "I thought you were enjoying your stay."

"I was, and I'm not ready to go back to my normal life. I need a break so bad," San sighed, looking up at the sky wistfully.

"Ah... I can't imagine going back to my normal life either now," you could relate to him- even though it had been only three days for him, he must have been needing this breather.

"I'm sure Miyeon must be crying right now, in Arin's arms," he grinned.

"You wanna cry too? I'll join," you laughed, and San shook his head.

"Why do you wanna cry?" San looked at you, and you pursed your lips.

"You ever do something that you regret?" You asked, and he scoffed.

"If there was one thing-"

"No, like," you turned to him, "It wasn't your fault. But somehow... you got involved. And it was a bad decision- there is too much at stake. And you regret that- nothing's damaged yet, but you can't forget it either."

San narrowed his eyes at you, "Is this what I think it is?"

"I don't know what you think it is, but it's not that, and no, I don't even want to hear what you think it is-"

San burst out laughing, shaking his head as he looked at you, clicking his tongue at you. "Does this involve Hongjoong?"

You opened your mouth to say no, but his eyes said he had you, and you shut your mouth. "Why do you think this involves Hongjoong?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you- and don't tell me I'm wrong. I know a man's gaze and what it means."

You bit your lip, turning your face away from him. What was going on? Was San right about this?

"Something happened between you two?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," you muttered, and San patted your back.

"There are some things in life we cannot change. But... I think we should be able to make our decisions without caring about someone else. You know what I mean? Sometimes we should put ourselves first, if the risk is worth it."

"I really don't understand what you're saying, and this... sober talking doesn't suit you at all, San."

San slapped your arm, "One day my words are gonna make sense to you. 'til then... Let's forget about this, eh?"

You glared at him, nodding as he smiled, pinching your cheek. "You're cute. I'm gonna miss you when I go back. You should visit Halaland with Arin soon- promise me."

"No promises," you huffed, and San started whining, making you cringe away and laugh as you promised.

"I don't understand what's so Princely about you. If anyone saw you whining like a little- can I curse?" San nodded and you did, "They'd strip you of your title."

"Come on, just because I'm a Prince doesn't mean I can be a little brat- and yes, I'm censoring it. You're too harsh."

"I'm stating facts-"

You heard a rustle, and the two of you frowned as you looked at the source of the sound.

It was Miyeon and Arin, hand in hand as they giggled in low voices, walking along the footpath. You almost got up to say hi, but San held you by your arm, putting a finger to his mouth as he shook his head, and you frowned, not understanding why-

You looked at Arin and Miyeon- they were too close. Miyeon was rubbing Arin's hand almost lovingly, but-

"They like each other- or so Miyeon says."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at San, then at the disappearing figure of the two, then back at San.

"Like each other? As in?"

"You know what I'm saying," San looked grim, "They like each other... and they kissed. I told her to be careful- if Arin gets caught now... she'd have to face a serious punishment."

You felt as if you were drowning as the words from the set of rules rang in your head: if any of the Selected are caught in a romantic relationship with someone else during that period, it would be considered treason and be punishable by death.

"But... they only met 3 days ago!" You frowned- it didn't make sense.

"3 days is enough to fall in love," San's tone was serious, "And you know how they clicked right away. Don't tell me you didn't know about Arin's preferences."

"She never talked to me about that," you put a hand on your head, trying to make sense of everything, "I don't know why, but... San, she was serious about this Selection. She was practically in love with Hongjoong."

"She only knew Hongjoong from afar, she was a fan. Her heart could have changed with or without Miyeon being here."

"But... this doesn't make sense, I need a minute to think," you stared at the pond as you thought about it- how Arin hadn't been too excited these days. How she hadn't seem disappointed when she had discovered that Hongjoong had kissed the other girls. How she wasn't even waiting for a date anymore, too busy since Miyeon came.

"I know it must be hard to digest- I was surprised too. This is a first for Miyeon too."

"Really?" You looked at him and he nodded, "I guess... whatever makes them happy. That means Arin would have to get dismissed from the Selection without anyone knowing what was going on. Shouldn't they be more careful?"

"It's not like they're doing anything right now," San chuckled, "It's just them finding themselves right now. They decided to wait- Arin is gonna go on with the Selection and see what she really wants. Miyeon would spend time away from her- maybe everything will change. Maybe it's just the heat of the moment. We should give them time and space to think."

"I'm kinda hurt that Arin hasn't told me anything yet," you admitted, "Miyeon told you everything?"

"She really wanted to think this through. So much could go wrong, even for her. She's a Princess. There's much to consider."

You shook your head, "Everything is so messed up."

"But it's beautifully messed up," San smiled.

And two days later, it was time for an elimination.

You wondered if Hongjoong would dismiss Arin- he had gone on another date with her last night, but not much had happened- the two had walked, you following beside, and he'd just asked Arin about her hobbies, her life before Selection, getting to know her.

If Arin was dismissed today, you'd be going home along with her. There were more girls who were confident that they'd stay today than girls who weren't.

Hongjoong entered after breakfast, scanning the girls once, his eyes falling on you for a second longer before he drew away. "Ladies, I hoped you slept well last night. Today is the inevitable elimination- only 8 of you will be staying."

The girls gasped- they hadn't expected it to cut to half already. "I'll be announcing those who are staying now."

He started calling the names- and Arin squeezed your hand out of nervousness, you squeezing back as you heard the satisfied gasps and the sobs that rang through the room.

The last name he called was Arin's- and you looked at him in surprise, finding him looking at you instead of Arin. Arin only sighed, slumping in her seat.

"I'm sorry to all those who were dismissed- I hope you live a happier, healthier life from this point on. If you have anything you want to say or ask, you can meet me in the Men's Room."

With that, he took off, leaving the 8 eliminated girls sobbing, and you couldn't help but sigh in relief- wondering what your sigh meant. Were you happy for Arin or relieved that you weren't going home?

That night, you went to the garden, not surprised when Hongjoong arrived an hour later, sighing when he saw you, sitting down with you on the bench.

"You've been busy," you smiled.

"I really wanted to talk to all of them once more before the elimination, just to be sure," he said.

"And? Feeling any sparks yet?"

"Not really," he looked down, the silver tendrils of his hair falling down on his forehead, and you admired his side profile- he really had the most unique nose you'd seen on a person- "I don't know what to do anymore."

"What do you mean?" You frowned as he looked at you, his eyes full of worry.

"In the next elimination I'm supposed to cut this down to 3. I don't think I like anyone more than the others- I really don't feel anything for them. This Selection was a bad idea- the rebels won't calm down just because I get married. They've tried attacking again, two days ago, but they couldn't enter. I don't want to end up choosing someone because she's someone's favourite- the king's, or the queen's, or the people's. I don't want to live with someone I don't love."

"I understand, Hongjoong," you put a hand on his back, "It's hard, I get it. But... I don't think you can back out of this now. You're a Prince, Hongjoong. There are so many people looking forward to this, waiting for your decision-"

"I didn't expect you to say that- you really don't understand," Hongjoong shook his head in frustration, "I think... I don't think I like any of the Selected. I like you. I want you, not them. They don't know me like you do- and I don't feel comfortable with them like I do with you."

You almost sobbed- your heart absolutely ached at his words. "Hongjoong, this isn't about us, please. I shouldn't even have been here. If I wasn't here, you would have proceeded normally with the Selection and found someone you actually liked- you probably only like me because I'm not one of them-"

"No. I like you because you're you. If you were in the Selection, I would have chosen you. If you were one of the Selected... I would have ended it today."

"Hongjoong, think again- you're the Prince. You can't be selfish-"

"Just tell me- tell me you like me too. If you do, nothing else matters," he locked his eyes with you, pain evident in them as he waited expectantly for an answer, his hand on top of yours squeezing it unconsciously.

You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in the moment, but you had to be rational, "Hongjoong, this really isn't about you and me. This is about the future Princess, who one day will be Queen. Who'll share the burden of your kingdom. I can only be your friend- I don't think I can be more."

Hongjoong's face fell, and he sighed as he looked at the sky, his hand still on yours. "Would it have been different if you had entered the Selection? Or if... if I wasn't the Prince?"

"I don't know. But Hongjoong... we've only kissed once. Please forget about that and focus on what's important. It was just in the heat of the moment, okay? You're confused- all this pressure with the Selection is making you look at me. Maybe we shouldn't even hang out anymore-"

"No- that would make it worse, I know that," he finally took his hand off yours, "Just tell me one thing. Promise me you won't lie."

You narrowed your eyes at him but his eyes were firm- he was serious. "Okay."

"No lies. Just a plain answer. A yes or no. I promise to go back to the Selection, I'll properly think this through, I promise, just don't lie."

"Okay," you laughed nervously, "What is it?"

"When we kissed... you felt something, didn't you? You still do, and you did before we kissed. Is that right?"

You scanned his face- his eyes were holding your gaze as if he could tell if you would lie. You pursed your lips, wondering how you should say it-

"Your silence says enough," a slow smile creeped up his face, "You don't need to say it. It's plain as day on your face."

"You could be imagining it, you know. You could be wrong."

Hongjoong looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear as he patted your cheek. "I don't think I'm wrong about this, dear."

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

As promised, Hongjoong spent more time with the girls, going on dates and actually talking to them and getting to know the 8. Arin had another date where the two played table tennis, and you only sat back and watched, because god, you sucked at table tennis and you'd only make a scene if you tried.

After that date, Arin told you she wanted to sleep in your room tonight, and you internally smirked, wondering if she was finally going to tell you everything.

"I really don't like Hongjoong that way," she finally admitted, "And I'm sure Hongjoong doesn't like me either."

You pursed your lips, and she narrowed her eyes, "Did you suspect that already?"

"Of course I did, I'm your best friend, Arin. I saw how your interest in him kept going downfall."

"I don't even know why he decided to keep me. Perhaps he wanted to give me a chance because of the language barrier. Anyways, I'm not wife material- I can't do this. I'll just wait for the next elimination."

"Is your heart somewhere else, Miss?" You tested the waters, watching Arin's cheeks go red- it always gave her away.

"Actually, it is," she admitted, and you gasped dramatically, putting a hand over your mouth, "I'll tell you once I'm out- I want to properly introduce her to you."

"Her?" You wriggled your brows, and it was her turn to gasp, "You know?"

"San may have told me."

"San?" Arin wriggled her brows, but you laughed and shook it off, "Nothing as juicy as your story, Arin. It's best we don't talk about it here. Let's just wait to go home."

"Should I, I don't know, disappoint Hongjoong and speed it up?"

"No!" You slapped Arin's arm, "Poor guy already has it tough!"

The two of you burst into giggles, but almost screamed when the door opened loudly and a guard stepped inside.

"Rebels are inside- please follow me," he went to the right corner of the room, clicking behind a frame and opening a doorway, "Inside, now. Follow the tunnel and you'll find yourself in the room with the King and Queen and the rest of the girls."

You felt your heart sink, wondering if Hongjoong was safe, and you and Arin made your way down the dark tunnel, you leading the way, one hand in Arin's and the other feeling the tunnel out, following the dim light until it grew and you were in the large hall with the Queen huddled beside the King, only 3 girls inside so far, trembling with fear, and Arin joined them, comforting them as best as she could.

You asked one of the guards about the Prince's whereabouts and he told you he was making sure the girls were coming here before he would join, and you felt your heart fill with pride- he was really out there making sure everyone of them was safe.

It took another very long 15 minutes until one by one the girls came, Hongjoong coming in last. Some of the girls were shaken so bad that they seemed numb. Hongjoong stood beside you, staring at them as he caught his breath.

"It was an ugly fight out there- these girls witnessed it. They want to go home as soon as this is over."

"Oh," you bit your lip, "What do the rebels want, Hongjoong?"

"They probably want to overthrow us, like every other rebel in every other country. They are not ready to accept that Wonderers and Utopians could be one."

The Queen called Hongjoong over, and Hongjoong looked at you, "Come over- I should introduce you to mom and dad."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Now is the time they miss them the most."

He took you to them, and you awkwardly stood and bowed as Hongjoong told them whose daughter you were. The King smiled, saying the resemblance was uncanny, and the Queen smiled warmly at you as well, "I miss Mira the most these days. She would have had so much fun with the Selection."

"It's an honour to me that you remember my parents," you said, and they laughed as they shook a hand in dismissal.

"Your father was a fine man," the King smiled, "His sacrifice means a lot to us. We miss the two dearly, and you... You are welcome in this Palace anytime. I heard how you and my son are friends now."

You looked at Hongjoong and he grinned, "Mom was making fun of me, saying I finally made the friend that I should have made some 20 years ago."

You laughed, shaking your head as you went back to where Arin was sitting, and she put her hands on her hips.

"You, miss, have something going on with Hongjoong."

"I have nothing," you said, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Have you seen the way he looks at you? He's never looked at one of us this way," she said, referring to the Selected, "I say you've won his heart."

"Shut up, Arin, he's the Prince. I'm no one. I'm only his friend, that's it."

"Whatever you say, I can't hear this bullshit. You're both either blind as hell or stupid as fuck."

"Arin!" You widened your eyes at her language, "Etiquettes!"

She only grinned, silly dancing and you wished you could wipe that smug look off her face. But she had caught you red-handed. and you couldn't deny it now, it was too late.

You watched Hongjoong comfort the girls one by one. He really was better off with one of them, not you. You weren't princess material. You were only... you. Simple you who was only good at translating and being a friend. You couldn't allow yourself to hope, you couldn't mess everything- the whole kingdom was hanging on the Selection and who the future princess would be. You didn't want to create a mess.

You couldn't allow yourself the luxury of thinking that you could be Hongjoong's, because really, before anything else... He was too good for you. You didn't deserve him.

By the next night, 4 girls had gone home, leaving only 4- Arin, Kahi, Nayoung and Sohee. Sophie had announced that Hongjoong would make his decision and propose his choice on the live broadcast in a week from now, and now that the end was real, you found yourself more anxious than ever, and as you were making your way back to your room, you almost bumped into Hongjoong.

"Whoa, careful there," he looked at you, frowning when he saw your face etched with worry, "Something wrong?"

"No, just tired," you shrugged it off, and Hongjoong scanned your face.

"You wanna hang out tonight? Help the poor Prince relieve some stress?"

"Sure, poor Prince," you grinned, going to your room.

Before you could go down to the garden though, you heard a knock. You were still in your navy blue suit, your tie a bit loose, and you thought it was Arin coming to ask you something, but when you opened the door-

It was Hongjoong.

He scanned your figure rather slowly, taking in the loose messy hair and tie, and god, he would never get tired of seeing you in suits.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your heart sinking at the way he was looking at you.

"I just thought I'd come by and surprise you," he laughed, "and you're very surprised."

"I am," you laughed a little, allowing him to enter, "What's up?"

"I just had a meeting with everyone regarding the Selection, he slumped on your couch and you sat beside him, shifting so you faced him, "They think Kahi might be the better choice."

"Thought so," you muttered, and he laughed at the annoyance in your tone, "She's the obvious choice. Do you like her?"

"Honestly? She's okay. Tolerable. She just goes along with whatever I say. She doesn't fight back, just accepts whatever I say or give. I think she just wants to end up with me because of her strong family connection and because she could be a 'Princess'."

"Ah, here for the title, and to please you while she bathes in the royal treasure," you giggled, "Somehow, I can picture that."

"Right! I can too," he scoffed.

"But that's what everyone thinks- what do you think?"

Hongjoong bit his lips, folding his hands, "I... I don't know. Not Kahi. Not Nayooung. Not Sohee and not Arin either. I mean, I could pick anyone, but I don't think I'll ever truly be myself with them."

"That's... maybe you will, Hongjoong. It might take some time, but eventually, you'll be comfortable with them. You'll find the happiness you deserve, Hongjoong."

"I think I don't deserve happiness," he sighed, turning to look at you, "Maybe I'm damned. I don't know why I'm going through this- mom and dad had a chance and they fell in love. They didn't need a damned Selection. Why am I going through this?"

You frowned, "What's really bothering you, Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong gazed at you for a few seconds before turning as if he was in pain, "It's useless to say it out loud."

You sighed, figuring you'd give him some time to sort his thoughts out, getting up and opening your drawer, smiling at the photo before you sat back down. "You might wanna see this."

Hongjoong scooted nearer, taking the photo and frowning before bursting out in a fit of laughter, "I look like a wimp, and you look worse!"

You laughed, "I definitely look better than you. This might be the most un-princely photo of you that exists- we should frame it and hang it in the Great Hall."

"I remember this," Hongjoong smiled at the photo, "Your dad actually slapped my head and told me to act like a Prince because he wanted me to impress you- but we both ended up like this. You got an earful from your mom too, didn't you?"

"She made me do this, I didn't want to," you scoffed.

"I miss being little," Hongjoong sighed, "When I had nothing to worry about. My only worry was not being caught staring at you kids from the windows."

"You should have joined," your smile was sad as you two looked at each other.

"Don't you think we were meant to meet each other and be friends, sit here together like this?" Hongjoong's voice was low as he scanned your face, "When I'm here, with you, I feel... like Hongjoong. Not the Prince that has to put up and act."

"Should I be honoured?" You teased, but he only smiled, holding your hand.

"I'm only myself when I'm with you," he caressed your hand and you felt your stomach swoop, "I really wish I could call you mine."

You wanted to take your hand away- that was what had to be the rational thing to do, but the way he was gazing at your joined hands with his eyes full of sadness... it made you pause. He looked at you, "Have you ever wanted something or someone so much that you felt like you were nothing without it? That if you didn't get it, you'd just be an empty shell for the rest of your life?"

"Chocolate?" You shrugged, Hongjoong almost wheezing as he laughed, shaking his head, mumbling something about how you ruined the moment, but you squeezed his hand.

"I don't know, Hongjoong, but I... I think it'll be too late before I realize that I let go of the thing I wanted."

His eyes flickered with hope, "It doesn't have to be that way. If you have a chance, don't you think you should take it?"

"You know... I thought about it, Hongjoong. I wondered what it would be like to be with you," you said, making his heart sink as you looked at your joined hands, caressing his hand, "I wondered if I could really do this. If I could call you mine and sit with you like this every night," you looked at him, taking your hand away only to caress his face, "If we could talk like friends yet... be more. But Hongjoong, I'm not one of the Selected, and you can only select one of them. It's for the better."

"How is it better for me," he leaned in to your touch, "if I won't ever have something like this with someone else?"

Your smile was sad and unconvincing, and Hongjoong leaned closer, already out of breath by you words, "I'd break the rules for you. I'd accept any sort of punishment. I'd lose my title if it meant that I'd get to be with you- with you, who I love with all of my heart, because you're the one that I want."

You cupped Hongjoong's face in your hands, "I know. I know you'd do that for me. I know you love me, Hongjoong, and I... I love you too." You gave yourself a moment to scan Hongjoong's face who couldn't have looked more relieved, "But you're a Prince. You have a whole kingdom to look after. Every subject of yours is waiting for an opportunity for you to slip, to make a mistake, so they can use that excuse and destroy your kingdom. You understand that, don't you?"

Hongjoong hesitated before nodding, taking your hands away from his face, holding them as he looked down and thought about it. "It's cruel that you told me you love me only to let me go."

"I'm sorry for that," your eyes teared, "We're not meant to be."

When Hongjoong leaned in to kiss you, you didn't stop him, tears rolling down your cheeks as he kissed you softly, his hands holding your face as if it was fragile, and when he drew back, his own eyes were glazed as he wiped your eyes.

"I only have one week," he began, "please don't let me be alone for this week. I don't want to let go of you without knowing what it could be like if you were mine."

You shook your head but he squeezed your hand as if telling you that it was alright, "One week, that's all I ask. Forget about everything else, forget about the stupid Selection and the fact that I'm a Prince. Just be mine for this week, please."

"And you'll let me go? After one week?" You looked at him, and he nodded.

"If that's what you want."

You leaned in to hug him- your answer. You sat in his arms for a few minutes, holding him as if someone would snatch him away from you if you let him go. "One condition."

"What?" He was caressing your hair.

"Please don't contact me after the Selection is over. I won't want you to be unfaithful to your wife because of me. And... I'd need time but I'll move on too. But please... don't contact me, Hongjoong."

He held you tighter, his heart screaming against this but he nodded, and you sighed.

Tonight was all about sweet lies anyway.

He held you for a few minutes longer, then kissed your forehead and told you that he'd be back tomorrow, that he'd be wasting no moment from now on and that he'd like it if the two of you weren't so sad every time you met, and you laughed, promising him and yourself that you'd make the most of this one week.

But tonight, you'd cry. You didn't know how long you sat on your couch and cried silently until Arin slipped inside your room, gasping in surprise and sitting beside you asking what was wrong and you cried your heart out for the first time in Arin's arms, and she shushed you as she held you and comforted you.

"You should tell me what happened before I pass away out of worry," she frowned.

You told her then. You told her that you hadn't meant for this to happen, that you two were just friends- until you two were so comfortable with each other and realized it must be love. Though Arin was listening somberly at first, she was nearly laughing by the end of this.

"I fucking knew it!" She clapped, and you resisted the urge to choke her, "I knew the way Hongjoong looked at you was different! He's smitten by you, and you were blind!"

"Arin, I'm trying hard not to cry again, you're making this worse," you said but ended up laughing because she was too excited.

"I say fuck the Selection! Fuck this kingdom! He should choose you-" Arin was interrupted by you putting a hand over her mouth and telling her to tone it down before anyone heard and got you two kicked out.

"I'm serious, though," Arin insisted, "Hongjoong like you, you like him. Simple. Who cares about the Selection? He should marry you. He should put himself first. What has this Kingdom given him anyway? A damned burden! If the people really cared about their Prince, they'd let him marry whoever he wants."

"It's too complicated, Arin, you don't understand," you said, shaking your head, "If it was as easy, I wouldn't have been sitting here crying."

Arin bit her lip, thinking. She really wanted to lift your spirits, which was why she kept joking around, knowing you always gave in after a while of wanting to kill her. "Well, at least I'm able to joke because I'm not involved in this. Can't you see? It was meant to be. Me meeting Miyeon, deciding Hongjoong wasn't for me- I know if that hadn't happened, you wouldn't have even looked at Hongjoong that way- or allowed this."

"Maybe Miyeon shouldn't have come. You would be getting selected next week then."

"Come on, that's not the point," Arin waved a hand, "Just... forget about everything else and make most of this week. We'll figure something out."

"There's no figuring this out," you sighed, "I've just prepared myself for the biggest heartbreak of my life."

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

It was both painful and lovely to be with Hongjoong- a brush of your hands as you bumped into each other in the hallway, stolen kisses in secret, winks sent across the room- really, you two were making it obvious. But since Arin was with you most of the times, the remaining girls thought it was Arin who was getting this special treatment, and they were upset because of that.

But you couldn't care less. You had one week, and you wouldn't let anyone come in between that.

In the days, Hongjoong was mostly busy, making sure he spent some time with the girls too so that no one would suspect. Each night, Hongjoong and you would walk in the gardens, hands brushing playfully as you talked just like usual. And two nights later, Hongjoong led you to a secret room in the palace through the tunnels.

"I'm pretty sure no one knows of this room," he told you as he lit the candles, "I used to explore the secret passages, leave a string of thread along."

"Hongjoong!" You gasped, "You could have gotten lost! How careless could you be? Imagine if someone found your bones here after years of searching-"

"Well, I'm here," he blew the matchstick away, turning to you, "And I need you to shut up for a bit."

You rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you in for a lazy kiss, your arms automatically going to his chest.

"I could never get tired of this," Hongjoong mumbled, tracing his nose along your cheeks as he breathed, "I could do this all day and all night."

"Shut up," you slapped his chest lightly, suddenly feeling shy and Hongjoong grinned at that, kissing your cheek and trailing his lips down to your neck, and you gladly let him take control. He was taking his sweet time, rocking you back and forth as he played with your neck. When he drew up, he smiled as he scanned your face. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," you shrugged, but he brought you closer, tucking your hair behind your ears as he whined, making you roll your eyes, "Thinking about how it started."

"Hmm," Hongjoong brought you to the couch, making you sit in his lap as he played with your hair, "Totally unexpected?"

"Totally," you laughed, "I was... so happy for Arin. She really, really was in love with you, Hongjoong- or so she thought."

"I think her situation is more surprising than ours," Hongjoong shook his head, "But I have to thank her for not being in love with me."

You laughed at that, "It would have been a mess if she was still in the game." You had told Hongjoong about Arin's situation, and he had suggested that she wait until the Selection was over and lay low for a good few months before going to Miyeon or anyone else for that matter since all eyes would be on the last few candidates for a good while. "But you know what? I think I would have fallen for you anyway. I think it wasn't because of Arin being involved or not."

"Ah," Hongjoong grinned, "Is that so?"

"I really wanted to meet you, you know. And when you caught me the first night in the gardens- I think that's how everything changed, no?"

Hongjoong's smile was sad this time, and you kissed him, "We promised not to be sad anymore."

"I can't help it," he cupped your face, "How will I be able to let you go after this? How will I ever be okay after knowing what it feels like to be in love and letting it go? What kind of a prince I am if I can't even choose my princess?"

You ran your hand through his hair lovingly, caressing his cheekbone, "I feel like this is enough- if I ask for more, I'll be selfish. The fact that we are here now... that's a blessing in itself. I can't be selfish with you, Hongjoong."

The two of you stared at each other for the longest time as if memorizing each other, tracing each other's face, and you spent hours just talking about this or that or kissing each other or teasing- it was just so natural. And throughout the night, Hongjoong held you close, making you lose your mind as he kissed you like it was his last time- and it very well might have been. Each passing night of this short week had you two getting more desperate to be with each other and feel each other, skin on skin had nothing on you.

And each passing day made you weaker inside- you really had grown used to the palace and everyday life here and most importantly, Hongjoong. You promised not to be sad in front of Hongjoong but whenever you were alone (mostly Arin there to hold you), you were crying. Sometimes it was silent tears rolling down your face, sometimes hysteric crying- even Momo, Mina and Sana were worried for you, though they were kind enough not to intrude on your privacy and ask.

It was your last night here- the last time you'd be in Hongjoong's arms. Everything was going to change tomorrow.

You sat waiting for Hongjoong in your room, staring at the moon through the window, barely holding it all in. You were afraid you were gonna break down when you saw Hongjoong.

But when the knock sounded, you immediately knew it was not Hongjoong. And when you opened the door, your jaw almost dropped as you bowed.

"Your Majesty- you could have called for me."

The Queen patted your cheek- she was in a very casual attire, as if she had just decided to come to your room. You had a billion thoughts in your head but only one question- what the hell was going on?

"Please, do sit and be comfortable," the Queen said, "I wanted to see you and have a little talk."

You scanned her face- she was smiling as if she knew something. She laughed at your expressions and began, "I know you must be confused. But I had to see the reason why my son was waking up with puffy eyes these days."

She knew.

"Your Majesty- I... I'm sorry-"

"Oh no," the Queen waved a hand in dismissal, "I'm not here to scold you, dear. Hongjoong doesn't know of this, neither did he say anything, but he's my dear son, and I could see something was weighing him down. It looked like he had lost a war."

You bit your lips, "How did you know then?"

The Queen laughed, "I knew you were friends, dear. But I also saw the way he looked at you- and the way you looked at him. Now what kind of a mother would I be if I couldn't recognize the look in my son's eyes? Your King looks at me the same."

You smiled at that, "So... I don't know what to do, I... I told Hongjoong to go on with the Selection. I told him that his kingdom is more important and that he has to consider his subjects before he makes a hasty decision. And he'll go on with this decision. I'll be here no more tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, dear," the Queen's face was sad, "if it were anyone else, maybe I wouldn't have understood. But since it's you... I can see why Hongjoong loves you, dear. Your mother and father were great people. They've taken our secrets to the graves. But they were also our friends, and me and my husband had love for them as a friend would. They cherished you, their only child. I'm sure they would be so proud of you if they were alive today."

You wiped your eyes and the Queen got up, putting a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "Sometimes, the future has things stored for us that we do not expect. Do not be sad. You are my pick, honey. And tomorrow... stay, until the announcement. I have to give you something."

You nodded, surprised at her words but also confused at how cryptic she was being. She patted your cheek and left the room, and only a few minutes had passed, you still thinking about the Queen when Hongjoong knocked and entered, and you instantly knew that he had no knowledge of the Queen's visit.

You got up, going to his arms and silently hugging him. There were no tears left to cry now. It was only silence- comfortable sad silence surrounding you two as you hugged for the longest time.

"Can I hold you tonight?" Hongjoong drew back a bit, caressing your face, and you saw it then- his eyes, as puffy and red as yours. Anyone would have known, really.

You nodded and he led you to the bed, taking his jacket off and sliding inside the covers, spreading them over you both as you lay half seated in each other's arms, your head on his chest hearing his heart in sync with yours, his arm around you as he played with your hair- a habit of his.

"You're quiet today," you muttered, looking up at him- laughing a bit when you saw him pouting.

"I don't feel like talking tonight," he pouted again, "I'll listen tonight if you want to do the talking."

"Hmm," you shifted, "not even silly retorts or dad jokes?"

"I'll try to hold them back," he finally laughed, and you kissed him slowly, smiling into it.

"Let's not be sad tonight, Hongjoong," you kissed his cheek, "I don't want the last thing I remember of you to be your swollen eyes."

"I think that's quite a pretty sight to remember," he grinned and you shook your head, kissing him when he nodded, his hand going behind your neck as the kisses got more desperate and picked speed, losing all composure and calm because really, you were kissing like this because it was your last time.

You let Hongjoong cry as he kissed you, and you only realized your face was wet with your own tears when he wiped them away, never breaking apart. You both were smiling into the kiss anyway. And when Hongjoong and you lay in each other's arms, Hongjoong muttered something in your ear repeatedly that had you smiling like a kid.

"Can you stop calling me your princess?" You cringed back, his breath making you tickle and laugh way too hard, "It's getting annoying!"

"But you are the queen of my heart," Hongjoong mumbled it in your ear on purpose, making you giggle and slap his bare shoulders. "Ah, you're getting naughty."

"I'm not! You're making me- hey!" You were interrupted as he turned so he was on top of you, his eyes now dark and changed, making your stomach flutter dangerously.

"You wanna do that again?" He challenged, smirking.

"Do what- this?" You slapped his arm, acting innocent, and he laughed out loud at your antics, pinching your cheek because you were being way too cute, and then kissing you.

"You don't let me breathe, woman," he muttered, falling back on bed and bringing you closer.

You trailed your finger down his chest suggestively, "Don't you like this? Should I let you breathe once in a while?"

He shook his head- he'd had enough of you. He held your face as he muttered something in your ear that made you go red and your knees go weak. And then he acted upon it, making love to you, the two of you trying to push the thought that this was your last night together but it leaked in to your actions as he kissed you desperately, as you ran your hands all over his body like you were deprived of his touch, as you held each other throughout the night.

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

The two of you slept in each other's arms, though when you woke up, his absence hit you so hard that you were screaming into your pillow. You had never felt so alone.

Gathering yourself for an act for the last time, you washed your face and let the girls do your makeup, Arin watching you sadly. You put on the deep red suit that Hongjoong loved so much, wondering if you would ever be able to wear suits again since it would be a constant reminder of your short time here.

You only drank coffee to keep you going, waiting in the Women's Room for the staff to call you to the broadcasting room where Hongjoong would announce his wife- the future princess of Wonderland. You suddenly felt nauseous- you couldn't watch that.

You wouldn't be able to.

You told Arin, and she understood, hugging you once, nice and good, but when she drew back, she was smiling.

"I am so proud of you," she patted your cheeks, "You'll get through this."

The ladies were escorted to the broadcast room, and you stayed behind, surprised beyond anything again when the Queen arrived, this time with Hongjoong.

"I told you I'd be back with something," the Queen smiled, and you looked at Hongjoong- even he was confused. She took off her wedding ring and handed it to Hongjoong- "Your decision, my son. It's time you think for yourself, as Hongjoong. Leave the kingdom to us."

You gaped at them, Hongjoong equally surprised, "But- father-"

"Your father is okay with this and he would have been here with me but he's handling the broadcast right now," she patted his back, "Go on, we don't have all day. If she is your happiness, then choose her. I don't want you to have regrets, son, and I don't want you to hate your parents who made you go with this Selection when they themselves didn't."

Hongjoong looked at you, then back at his mother, then finally smiled the most happy smile you'd seen on him so far, "You know, I had a ring of my own today. You beat me to it, mother."

You had to look away as you laughed and pinched your nose because Hongjoong pulled out his own ring, "I was going to go on with this anyway- I was going to tell you before you dragged me here, mother, you nearly gave me a heart attack! You should have warned me!"

"You should have warned me!" The Queen laughed, "Can you imagine the chaos if I hadn't made the connection and taken care of everything beforehand!"

"Unbelievable," you muttered, laughing through your tears, "Your Majesty... are you sure I deserve this?"

"My dear, you deserve to be Hongjoong's wife. The Princess thing- anyone can learn that, but I think the only person who could ever truly make him happy is you. Look at him smiling like an idiot- I have never seen him smile like that, and I am his mother!"

You nearly fell with relief, shaking your head in disbelief as Hongjoong stood in front of you, the Queen leaving you two. "So... can we stop crying and start being happy now?"

You laughed, shaking your head again as Hongjoong hugged you, sighing into it, "I told you last night. That you are meant to be my princess."

"Did you already have this planned out?" You looked at him, and he shook his head.

"All I did the whole week during my spare time was research over the past Selection laws, find a loophole, anything. But then mother came today and said that some laws needed to change anyway, so I better not disappoint her with my choice- you know you are her pick after all."

"I suddenly feel like I was one of the Selected all along," you groaned, "What about the girls?"

"Mom will break it to them. But enough about them-" Hongjoong drew back, taking out the two rings, "Which one are you gonna choose, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes, pretending to consider before putting both hands in the air, and Hongjoong slid his mother's ring on your right hand and his own in your left hand, kissing your knuckles before looking at you, and holding your face, kissing your lips so gently it felt like it was your first kiss, not quite able to draw back right away.

You only had a moment to yourself before Arin, not so ceremoniously, ran inside, squealing excitedly and hugging you and Hongjoong altogether, crying from happiness, saying she had 'too much of your sad ass' and scolding Hongjoong for not coming up with this earlier, which, even though you did not translate, he understood very well, apologizing as he laughed.

The staff called Hongjoong for the official announcement and he squeezed your hand, nudging you to come along. Arin took off her diamond studded hairpin, clipping it to your hair.

"Go show them who's the real queen."

You put your arm in Hongjoong's, walking proudly for the first time in your life.

wednesday as anime 🖤🕷️🕸️

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

a cursed mortal, a lonesome Dream Lord, and a story spanning one thousand years.

content warnings: angst, slowburn/slowbuild, mutual pining, dream being dream.

⏳ playlist | corinthian & wanderer playlist | pinterest board | inspo tag & asks | ao3 |

🌙  CHAPTER INDEX

YEAR 0-200

YEAR 200-300

YEAR 304

YEAR 304-521

YEAR 522

YEAR 522-619

YEAR 619-850

YEAR 916-994

YEAR 1021 I

YEAR 1021 II

BEYOND.

➥ BONUS CONTENT:

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ONE SHOTS:

inside of you, in spite of you ⋅⋆ ── [the corinthian-centric one shot, coming soon]

midas touch ⋅⋆ ── [dream & wanderer smut, coming soon]

dreamfalling into nightmares ⋅⋆ ── [corinthian & wanderer, dreamfall]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ DRABBLES/BLURBS:

"I wonder what I look like in your eyes."

"I broke my rules for you."

“My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.”

“You were worth the wait.”

"If I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop."

“I don’t think you understand the… effect you have on me.”

when wanderer met destruction

goodbye, stardust.

s t a y.

"lady dream."

currently accepting headcanon/drabble requests and discussions for this series, feel free to send something in!

P.S. I do not do tag lists, if you want to keep up with this fic, please bookmark this post or follow me directly, thank you.