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thetwilightroadtonightfall · 9 months

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I’ve always been fascinated with art timelapses, so I figured, why not post one of my own? Sorry there isn’t any music or anything, I just wanted to get this out there as-is

This is the piece I made early last year and I’ve always been pretty fond of it because it’s the first full scale digital illustration I ever made 😊 Maybe eventually I could share a timelapse from a more recent piece

#I’m still very tied to my traditional art roots; I almost always use a pencil brush for lineart #if you can even call my haphazard sketches that lol #and I’m sure you can see it in other aspects as well #I’ve changed things up a lot over the past year and have definitely improved but I like capturing this moment in my skill level #I still have a lot to learn with digital art but I’m having a lot of fun with it :)#my art #my posts #videos

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apothecareful · 2 years

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i thinkkkkkk i might get back into actually trying to do like. real art again like sketches and pieces of actual things and not just boredom pattern stuff like i’ve been filling my sketchbook with for the past like year. i’ve been feeling very inspired by disco elysium (the actual game art and fan art) and i saw someone in the tag that doesn’t like drawing people and so they painted a part of revachol and i thought that was a really good idea. been thinking about doing some scenery and nature paintings anyways lately so i think it’d be good practice for that too

#also just bought a new pen for my tablet as i can’t find mine #i have barely any experience at all with digital art and my best stuff has been physical work that i paint over in my pirated copy of ps lol #but i decided i would ask for a new drawing tablet with a screen (just a like basic one i’ve done research) from my parents for christmas #as i think having the screen will help me a lot because i’m so beholden to traditional drawing n painting #but i want to be able to at least make things look like i want them to digitally and id love to brush up on my editing and ps skills as well #anyways point of this post is i might maybe share some art on here for like the first time ever and it will probably be disco elysium relatd #cas posting

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pucksandpower · 2 months

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The Princess and the Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Princess of Denmark!Reader

Summary: in which you follow the time-honored tradition of Danish royalty falling in love with Australians

Note: dedicated to my favorite Dane, @struggling-with-drivers, who had to put up with me taking months to finally get the proper inspiration to write this

“And if you’ll just follow me, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses, I’ll take you to meet Kevin now,” the overly peppy Haas PR representative says as she gestures down the garage.

You force a smile, trying not to physically recoil as you take in the assault of garish Haas branding surrounding you. The white, red, and black color scheme is far too harsh on the eyes this early on a Saturday morning.

“Oh goody,” your younger sister Josephine says flatly, eliciting a snort from your younger brother Vincent.

Your mother, Queen Mary, shoots the two a reproachful look before turning back to the PR rep with a polished smile. “We’re very excited to meet Kevin and support Denmark’s driver.”

The PR rep beams and starts leading you further into the Haas garage, rattling on about Haas’ ambitious goals for the season as you pass mechanics in matching black Haas polos barely paying you any mind.

You internally groan, already dreading the interaction ahead. As the Crown Princess, you’ve long perfected the art of feigning interest, but this weekend has tested even your limits.

“And I know meeting the future queen will just make Kevin’s day!” The rep continues enthusiastically. “He was so honored when King Frederik reached out about you all coming this weekend to support him.”

You resist the urge to snort. More like the royal communications secretary reached out when they realized the Australian Grand Prix overlapped with your visit to your mother’s family in Australia. Nothing like conveniently timing a royal appearance to drum up positive press.

Your younger sister, Isabella, sidles up next to you, linking her arm through yours commiseratingly. At 16, she’s already mastered your family’s signature skill — conveying boredom through a pleasant facial expression.

“I have some fresh sets of Haas merch we would love for you to wear when you meet Kevin,” the rep says, holding out stacks of Haas emblazoned caps and shirts insistently. “It would mean so much to the team for you to showcase your support.”

You force a smile, already shaking your head. “Oh, I’m afraid we can’t wear anything with advertisements or sponsors per royal protocol.”

The PR rep’s face falls slightly before she plasters the smile back on. “Of course, Your Royal Highness, I understand. Shall we?”

She gestures further down the garage to where the Haas drivers are standing with team personnel. Kevin Magnussen spots your approach, nudging his teammate before they turn towards you.

As you reach them, Kevin steps forward first, offering a short bow. “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, it’s an honor to meet you.”

You offer your hand, which he takes, bowing again as he brushes his lips over your knuckles. “The honor is ours, Mr. Magnussen. Denmark is proud to have you representing us in Formula 1.”

Kevin smiles bashfully as you drop his hand. “Please, call me Kevin.”

You return his smile politely. “Very well, Kevin it is.”

The rest of your family exchanges pleasantries with Kevin before the PR rep guides you towards the pit wall to observe the action on track. Practice is getting underway, and you’re grateful for any chance to extract yourself from the oppressive Haas environment.

As you exit the garage into the sunlight, you breathe a sigh of relief. Two bodyguards fall smoothly in step behind you as you start down the paddock, taking in the buzz of activity.

You smile softly, the excitement infectious despite your general disinterest in motorsports. There’s something about the frenetic energy at a race that gets your blood pumping.

Your eyes light up as you spot the unmistakable papaya motorhome of McLaren up ahead. Now that’s a team you can get behind. Cool retro appeal and a driver line-up you’ve heard is full of young talent — what’s not to love?

You pick up your pace, eager to get a closer look at the iconic livery, when suddenly you collide headlong into a firm, muscular body.

You gasp as strong arms wrap around you, stopping your momentum abruptly. Your hands brace against a solid chest as you glance up, prepared to stammer out an apology.

But the words die on your lips as you find yourself staring into warm brown eyes set in an unfairly handsome face. The eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having expected the Crown Princess of Denmark to go careening into his arms.

His mouth opens, no doubt to ask if you’re okay, but you stand frozen as the hustle of the paddock fades into background noise.

In this moment, it’s just you and this beautiful stranger. A stranger who hasn’t let go of you yet, one hand still pressed gently against your back.

You know you should pull away, apologize for your clumsiness and be on your way. But something about his eyes makes you want to stay right here, wrapped safely in his arms.

You stand frozen, lost in the stranger’s mesmerizing brown eyes. You vaguely register your bodyguards stepping forward on either side of you.

“Your Royal Highness, are you alright?” Henrik, your lead bodyguard, asks urgently.

You blink, the spell broken as Henrik’s hand lands on your shoulder, gently tugging you back.

The stranger’s eyes widen further as understanding seems to dawn. His eyes flick over the royal crest on Henrik’s suit jacket before moving back to your face, a hint of panic in his gaze.

Before you can offer any reassurance, a voice calls out sharply from behind the man.

“Oscar! What are you doing, mate? We’ve got the strategy briefing in five!”

You watch as the man — Oscar, apparently — glances reluctantly over his shoulder to where a thin harried man bearing a McLaren team pass stands tapping his foot impatiently.

Oscar’s hands slip from your waist as he takes a small step back. “Sorry, I—”

But whatever he was going to say gets lost as the man strides forward, clapping a firm hand on Oscar’s shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go. No time for chatting up fans when we’ve got quali coming up.”

Oscar allows himself to be steered away, casting one last, almost wistful look back at you before the brisk man hustles him around the corner.

You stare after them for a long moment before Henrik’s voice breaks through your daze once more.

“Your Highness, are you injured at all? Shall I call for a medic?”

You blink, shaking your head quickly as heat floods your cheeks. Honestly, they must think you a simpleton, standing here gaping after a man you collided with.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him quickly. “Just a bit clumsy this morning it seems.”

You force out a breathy laugh, hoping your flaming cheeks can be explained away as embarrassment from your blunder.

Henrik eyes you skeptically for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But please be more careful, Your Highness. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

You nod contritely before allowing Henrik to usher you back towards the Haas garage, your other bodyguard falling smoothly back in step behind you.

As you near the garage, you spot your family gathered by the pit wall, watching as a group of track marshals examines a particularly suspicious drain cover. Your younger siblings all turn as one to look at you, eerily in sync.

The knowing looks on their faces make you shudder. Of the many curses of growing up in a big family, the inability to keep secrets ranks near the top. You’re sure they’ll have the truth out of you before long.

“Nice of you to join us, Y/N,” your younger brother Christian remarks wryly as you reach them. “Have a nice stroll?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. Barely.

“Lovely, thank you,” you reply breezily instead, moving to stand between your mother and Isabella.

You determinedly avoid meeting any of your siblings’ gazes, focusing on the timing sheets instead. But you can feel their curious stares boring into you.

“You look a bit flushed, darling. Are you feeling quite alright?” Your mother murmurs, pressing a hand to your forehead in concern.

“Just peachy!” You chirp in response, internally cringing at the unnatural brightness in your tone.

From your other side, Isabella leans in, voice sly. “You do seem rather … distracted. Anything you want to share with the class?”

You glance at her sharply, taking in her knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes in warning, but Isabella just smiles innocently.

“Oh leave your sister be,” your mother chides. “I’m sure Y/N is just overwhelmed by the excitement of experiencing her first Grand Prix.”

You make a noncommittal noise of agreement, turning your focus back to the timing sheets. Isabella elbows you subtly and you pointedly ignore her, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

You’re immensely thankful when the Haas PR rep appears again, ushering you towards the back to “give the team space to prepare for qualifying,” and drawing your family’s attention away from you.

You trail after your family to the cordoned off hospitality area, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from the proffered cooler.

As the mechanics spring into action around you, Isabella sidles up next to you again, playful smile still in place.

“Soooo,” she drawls, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Who’s got you all flustered then?”

You nearly choke on your water, whipping your head to face her. “What? No one! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Even to your own ears, the denial sounds feeble. Isabella merely arches one perfect brow, clearly not buying it.

You huff out a breath, scanning the room quickly to ensure none of your other family members are in earshot before hissing under your breath. “I may have accidentally careened into a McLaren crew member during my walk.”

Isabella’s grin turns positively feline. “Oh, do tell ...”

“There’s nothing to tell!” you insist, face flaming once more. “We collided and his reflexes were quick enough to catch me before I fell. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure that blush is just because you’re so very embarrassed by your clumsiness and nothing else.”

You scowl and take a long swig of your water.

Isabella chuckles. “So was this mystery McLaren man at least handsome?”

You nearly choke again. “Isabella!” You admonish under your breath.

She holds up both hands innocently, still grinning. “What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. No judgment here, promise.”

You narrow your eyes, considering her carefully. Before you can think better of it, you mutter reluctantly, “He … wasn’t entirely unfortunate looking.”

“Aha!” Isabella crows triumphantly. “I knew it!”

You shush her frantically, glancing around to make sure her outburst didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

“Do you know his name at least?” Isabella asks, slightly more quietly this time.

You hesitate before admitting, "... Oscar, I think. His colleague called him that.”

Isabella hums thoughtfully. “Very mysterious ...”

You roll your eyes, shoving her shoulder. “Oh stop it. Can we please just drop this?”

“Of course, of course,” Isabella relents, though the impish twinkle remains in her eye.

You’re prevented from further interrogation by the start of qualifying. You rejoin your family, studiously keeping your gaze away from your siblings’ knowing looks.

You determinedly put the morning’s events from your mind, focusing on Kevin’s qualifying efforts. Though you can’t help the occasional wish that the handsome stranger from McLaren — Oscar — was the one flying around the track instead.

The session proceeds fairly predictably, with the top teams claiming the top spots and the backmarkers bringing up the rear.

As Kevin pulls into the garage after qualifying 17th, you paste on an encouraging smile.

“Excellent job out there, Kevin! You and the team should be very proud.”

Kevin smiles wryly back at you. “You’re too kind, Your Highness. But I think we all know 17th is nothing to celebrate for a team with our aspirations.”

You nod sympathetically. “Of course, there’s always room for improvement. But you showed admirable pace given the circumstances.”

Kevin inclines his head gratefully at your measured response. “You have a bright future ahead as queen with such judicious words.”

You thank him sincerely for the compliment before your family takes their leave, the day’s obligations finally complete.

As you all pile into the waiting cars, Isabella leans over and whispers, “Do you think Kevin would’ve qualified higher if Haas wasn’t so slow?”

You have to smother your snort of laughter into your hand.

“Without question,” you whisper back. “I think a snail could qualify ahead of Haas at this point.”

Isabella dissolves into muffled giggles next to you as the cars pull away from the circuit, leaving the chaotic world of Formula 1 behind. At least until tomorrow.

***

You stare contemplatively out the car window as the city lights of Melbourne streak by in the darkness. Despite your family’s teasing, you can’t seem to remove a certain McLaren crew member from your thoughts.

Oscar. Even his name sends a flutter through your stomach.

You know it’s foolish to get caught up over a brief collision with a stranger. And yet … those eyes. You can’t shake the connection you felt in that moment, however fleeting.

The car slows to a stop outside your hotel and you make a split-second decision. Turning to your mother, you adopt your most winsome tone.

“Mor, I was hoping you might allow me to go out for the evening. To experience the Melbourne nightlife before we depart.”

Your mother’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Go out? Alone?”

You rush to reassure her. “Oh no, I’ll take Henrik and Simone with me of course. I would just love the chance to explore the city a bit, like a normal young woman.”

You see a flash of understanding on your mother’s face and press your advantage. “In fact, didn’t you and Far meet during a pub crawl?”

Pink stains your mother’s cheeks but her lips quirk up. “I suppose we did. But those were different times ...”

“Please Mor?” You plead. “When will I have a chance like this again?”

Your mother regards you shrewdly for a long moment before sighing. “Oh very well. But Henrik and Simone must accompany you at all times. And I want you back by midnight at the latest.”

You beam, leaning over to smack a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll stay safe.”

As you exit the car, your younger brother Christian pipes up from behind you. “Hey, can I come too?”

“Absolutely not,” your mother shuts him down swiftly, leveling a quelling look at his crestfallen face.

You hide a smile as you sweep into the hotel to change, giddiness rising in your chest. A night out is just what you need to clear your head from a certain handsome distraction.

An hour later you slide into the backseat of one of the discreet royal security vehicles, now wearing jeans, heels, and a silky camisole, your long hair spilling over your shoulders.

Henrik raises his eyebrows at your outfit but doesn’t comment as he pulls away from the hotel, heading for the club district.

When you arrive, the bouncer’s eyes widen at the royal crests adorning your bodyguards’ suits. But a few quick words from Henrik and you’re granted access without a fuss.

The heavy beat of the music washes over you as you enter the fashionable club. Bright lights flash hypnotically over the crowded dance floor. You glance back at Henrik and Simone stationed near the entrance, allowing the music to carry you further inside.

You weave your way to the bar, excitement simmering in your veins. Tonight you’re just Y/N, anonymous clubgoer. No titles, no expectations, no watching eyes judging your every move.

Well, except for your bodyguards of course. But they’re discreet enough to give you space.

You’re so lost in the heady freedom of anonymity that you don’t notice the nearby figure doing a double take. But as you step up to the bar, waiting to order, a now familiar voice sounds behind you.

“Y-Your Highness!” He stammers, nearly dropping the drinks he just received. “I mean, Princess, uh Crown Princess? Sorry, I’m not actually sure—”

You whirl around to see Oscar standing there, looking devastatingly handsome in a button-down and jeans.

“Oscar!” You gasp, a smile breaking across your face unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Pink stains Oscar’s tanned cheeks. “Ah, well my mates from the team wanted to go out and blow off some steam before the race tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But what brings Denmark’s future queen out to the clubs?”

You shrug lightly, grin turning impish. “Can’t a girl just want to dance and have some fun?”

Oscar’s eyes gleam with understanding. “Suppose she can. Well then, may I get you a drink … er ...”

He trails off, clearly unsure how to address you in this unusual context.

You take pity on him and lean in conspiratorially. “Tonight, I’m just Y/N. No need for fancy titles.”

Relief flashes across Oscar’s face and he smiles. “Y/N it is.”

Soon you’ve got drinks in hand and are chatting easily at a tall table beside the dance floor. Oscar is witty and charming, and laughs freely at your sarcastic commentary about Formula 1.

You’re amazed by how at ease you feel in his presence, the crown’s ever-present weight lifted from your shoulders. With Oscar, you’re not an heiress apparent, but just a girl talking to a boy she really really likes.

When he asks what you think of McLaren, you perk up eagerly. “Oh yes, what is it exactly that you do there? Are you an engineer or mechanic of some sort?”

Oscar’s eyes shutter briefly and he clears his throat. “Ah, something like that. Mostly just tinkering to try and make the car faster.”

He steers the conversation to safer waters before you can inquire further. You make a mental note to look up the full McLaren staff list later and figure out his specific role.

The night flies by in a blur of laughter and stolen glances. Oscar gamely joins you on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on your waist as you sway together.

When at last you note the time, disappointment sinks heavy in your gut. Oscar’s face mirrors your own regret as he insists on walking you to meet your bodyguards.

Outside the club, you turn to him reluctantly. “I wish this didn’t have to end. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

Oscar shuffles his feet, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “Would … would you want to meet up again tomorrow? Maybe outside the McLaren garage before the race?”

Your face lights up. “I’d love that.” Overcome by boldness, you lean in and brush a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Oscar’s hand drifts up to his cheek, eyes dazed. “Brilliant. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You bid him goodnight before allowing Henrik and Simone to usher you into the waiting car, unable to keep the giddy smile from your face the entire ride back.

***

The next morning, you awake with a smile stretching across your face. The memory of Oscar’s brown eyes gazing into yours as you swayed together in the club fills you with warmth.

As you dress and prepare to head to the circuit, an idea strikes. There’s no rule saying you have to spend the entire pre-race hours cooped up in the Haas garage after all.

You slip into the hotel dining room, grabbing a piece of toast. “I’m afraid the petrol fumes in the garage were giving me a dreadful headache yesterday. I think I’ll take a walk around the paddock this morning for some fresh air before the race.”

Your mother’s brows furrow in concern. “Oh dear, that won’t do at all! Yes, a nice walk sounds wise.”

You thank her profusely on your way out, hiding your triumphant smile until the door closes behind you. Phase one complete.

You hold yourself back from rushing through the paddock once at the circuit, maintaining a sedate royal pace. But inside, excitement bubbles through your veins at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

As you make your way to the McLaren garage, your steps falter at the larger-than-life image emblazoned on the wall. Oscar beams back at you, brown hair just barely poking out from under his McLaren cap. The block letters beside the photo proclaim OSCAR PIASTRI #81.

You press a hand to your mouth to smother your gasp. Oscar is a driver? Your Oscar?

Speak of the devil, you spot him emerging from the garage, already dressed in fireproofs with his race suit half hanging around his waist. His face lights up when he sees you, lips curving into that boyish grin that makes your knees weak.

“Good morning!” He chirps, moving in for a brief hug.

You return the hug distractedly, still grappling with this new discovery. As you pull back, you arch a questioning brow at him.

“So … you’re a driver. Funny, I don’t recall you mentioning that last night.”

Pink stains Oscar’s cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, right. I may have omitted certain details about my role here.” His eyes turn pleading. “I hope you can forgive me? I just liked talking to someone who didn’t already know everything about me for once.”

You regard him thoughtfully before allowing a teasing grin to emerge. “Well, I suppose I can understand the appeal of a fresh slate. And it’s not as if I was fully forthcoming either.”

Oscar’s shoulders sag in relief. “Too right. Quite the pair we make, Princess.” His eyes dance playfully.

You open your mouth to respond but are interrupted by a shout from the garage. “Oscar! Debrief in two minutes, let’s go!”

Oscar smiles apologetically. “Duty calls. But let’s continue this later?”

At your nod, he squeezes your hand briefly before jogging back inside. You make your way back to Haas, butterflies still fluttering wildly.

Once the race starts, you have to work to restrain your enthusiasm as Oscar quickly moves up the field. More than once, you catch your lips curving upward as he deftly overtakes a competitor, and have to rearrange them into careful neutrality.

A discreet glance sideways shows your family members focused intently on Kevin’s efforts in the Haas. You allow yourself a small smile. Watching Oscar race with no one the wiser feels like getting away with something deliciously secretive.

The checkered flag finally waves after 58 intense laps. Your heart leaps as the McLaren crew begins celebrating Oscar’s podium finish. You have to force yourself not to join the applause as he climbs from his car, settling for clasping your hands tightly to contain your glee.

Meanwhile, Kevin finishes in 18th position while his teammate Nico suffered a mechanical retirement. You paste on an encouraging smile, tamping down your excitement over Oscar’s podium.

“Nice recovery there at the end, Kevin. Surely the team can build on this result in the next race.”

Privately, you think Haas would be lucky to keep a wheel attached long enough to make it to the end of a full race, let alone fight for points. But you keep that thought to yourself for now.

As your family rises to congratulate a dejected Kevin on completing the race, Isabella leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Not a great showing, I dare say. Perhaps you are considering transferring allegiance to a certain papaya team instead?”

You press your lips together to contain your smile. Trust Isabella to have guessed your conflicted loyalties.

“Indeed,” you murmur back. “One must be open to supporting all teams in the spirit of global unity.”

Isabella’s eyes dance with mirth, but she simply links her arm through yours, giving a sage nod. “Spoken like a true diplomat.”

As the celebrations kick off for Oscar’s first home race podium, you sneak glances over your shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of him through the chaos.

Someday soon, perhaps you’ll be able to cheer for him openly. For now, you hold the image of his smiling face in your mind as you reluctantly follow your family back out of the disappointing Haas garage.

If nothing else, this surprise-filled weekend has shown you that your heart will not be so easily commanded. And it seems to have rather fixated itself on a certain charismatic McLaren driver.

***

You hover near the paddock exit, half hoping to catch one last glimpse of Oscar before your departure. Your family made their polite farewells to the Haas team and you seized the opportunity to slip away.

You’ve just resigned yourself to missing him when hurried footsteps sound behind you.

“Princess! Wait up!”

You whirl around to see Oscar jogging towards you, face freshly showered but still flushed with elation. He draws up before you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I’m so glad I caught you before I had to leave,” you smile brightly. “I had to come say a proper congratulations for your podium first!”

Oscar ducks his head bashfully even as his eyes shine. “And, well, I hoped maybe you were cheering me on out there today?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you let out an embarrassed laugh. “You know I can’t answer that. But I will say you drove brilliantly and I’m so pleased for your result.”

Oscar’s grin widens, clearly reading between the lines of your diplomatic answer.

“Well I’m glad I could end your weekend on a high note after the woeful introduction to Formula 1 from Haas.”

You groan good-naturedly. “Ugh yes, I think Kevin was grateful when I finally made myself scarce from that garage of doom.”

Oscar chuckles before his expression turns wistful. “I suppose this means you’ll be heading back to Denmark now though?”

You shake your head, curls spilling over your shoulders. “Oh no, we’re spending a few more weeks visiting my mother’s family in Tasmania first.”

At Oscar’s look of surprise, you elaborate, “My mother is originally Australian. Her family is from Tasmania.”

Understanding dawns on Oscar’s face. “Well how about that! Danish royalty certainly seems to have a taste for us Aussies.” He winks playfully.

Heat blooms in your cheeks but you rally to return his banter. “I suppose we do. Though from what I hear, McLaren seemed rather keen on Danes once upon a time as well.”

A rather in-depth Google search earlier that day taught you that Kevin Magnussen once raced for the papaya team. You rather wish he never left, if only so you did not have to suffer through the tedium of being in the Haas garage for the past two days.

Oscar barks out a laugh, eyes dancing with mirth. “Too right, you’ve got me there.” His laughter fades to a soft smile. “But I can’t say I blame my predecessors in the slightest.”

The tender look in his eyes makes your breath catch. Before you lose your nerve, you hurriedly dig out your phone.

“I should give you my number. So we can keep in touch.”

Oscar’s face lights up as he scrambles for his own phone. You quickly swap devices, inputting your contact info and trying not to notice how his name looks lighting up your screen.

Once you’ve traded phones again, an awkward silence descends. You clutch your phone tightly, unsure how to say goodbye when this thing between you feels so new and delicate.

Oscar clears his throat, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. “Well, I suppose I should let you get on your way ...”

“Right, yes ...” You trail off, searching for the right words. Because as silly as it sounds, the thought of not seeing Oscar’s smile for who knows how long makes your chest unexpectedly tight.

Acting on impulse, you step forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug. Oscar’s arms immediately curl around your back, clutching you close.

You breathe him in, imprinting this moment in your memory. The noise of the paddock fades away until it’s just this — the two of you suspended in time.

Far too soon, Oscar pulls back reluctantly. His eyes search your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Travel safely, Princess. I’ll see you soon.” His voice holds a promise.

You nod, not trusting your voice. With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk steadily towards the exit. Your bodyguards fall in step behind you.

You don’t look back, though you can feel Oscar’s gaze on you until you disappear from view. As your car pulls away, you finally chance a glance backwards, just in time to see Oscar still watching wistfully after you.

Your breath escapes in a shaky exhale and you clutch your phone like a lifeline. Everywhere else suddenly feels much too far away.

***

You collapse back onto your bed, phone already pressed to your ear before the first ring even finishes. Oscar picks up on the second, voice warm and teasing as always.

“Eager today, are we Princess?”

You roll your eyes even as your lips quirk up. “Oh hush, you know you wait just as anxiously for my calls.”

Oscar’s answering chuckle makes your heart skip a beat. “Guilty. I’ll gladly admit your voice is the highlight of my day.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as you get comfortable against the pillows. “Flatterer. Now distract me from the drudgery of royal life with some F1 gossip. How go things in the glamorous world of racing?”

“Oh where to even start!” Oscar launches eagerly into the latest paddock drama — teammate clashes, contract disputes, and salacious hookups. You listen eagerly, living vicariously through his tales.

“Meanwhile Lando has been his usual chaos gremlin self ...” Oscar continues, recounting his teammate’s latest antics.

You laugh until your sides ache, picturing the outrageous scenes. “Honestly, I don’t know how McLaren copes with you two!”

“We keep things lively, that’s for sure,” Oscar agrees, audibly grinning. “Although we’d love an even livelier paddock with a certain Danish princess around again ...”

He leaves the statement hanging tentatively. You chew your lip, heart racing as you gather your courage.

“Funny you should mention that … I’ve been thinking lately that it would be nice to attend a race again soon.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale crackles through the phone. “Really? You’d come to another race?” His voice turns playful. “Any particular reason for the sudden interest?”

You laugh, hoping he can’t hear the breathlessness in it. “Oh you know, miss the atmosphere, the excitement ...” You pause before adding softly, “Getting to see a certain Aussie driver again.”

Oscar makes a pleased little noise that sends butterflies swirling wildly. “Well I’m sure that driver would be absolutely thrilled to see your face in the paddock again.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, emboldening you further. “As it happens, my godmother is the Queen of Belgium. So it should be easy enough to arrange an appearance at the Belgian Grand Prix.”

“That’s perfect!” Oscar enthuses. “Spa is one of my favorite circuits too. Say you’ll be there?”

His boyish eagerness melts your heart. “I’ll speak to our communications secretary this week. I’m sure they can make it happen.”

“Brilliant.” The tender hope in Oscar’s voice finds its mirror in your own thudding heart. A new chapter is beginning.

You chat longer about lighter topics until Oscar reluctantly says he should get some rest before practice tomorrow.

“I suppose I should let you go then ...” He trails off reluctantly, neither wanting to be the one to end the call.

You clutch the phone tighter, casting wildly for an excuse to keep him on the line. “Wait, you haven’t told me what ridiculous outfit Lando is wearing today!”

Oscar huffs out a laugh. “Trust me, words don’t do justice to the monstrosity. I’ll send pictures so you can experience it fully.”

“It’s a deal.” You know you’re only delaying the inevitable, but the thought of hanging up is unbearable.

Just then, the bedroom door crashes open and your younger brother Christian strolls in.

“Hey Y/N, Mor wants to know if … is that Oscar you’re talking to?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

You frantically shoo him away but Christian swoops in and plucks the phone from your hand. “Sorry mate, gotta steal my sister back. Royal duties call and all that. But great chatting, bye now!”

Before you can wrestle the phone away, Christian ends the call with a cheeky grin.

You smack his shoulder indignantly. “You little brat! I was right in the middle of important diplomatic relations!”

Christian just cackles gleefully. “Oh yeah, I could tell. Your dopey romantic sighing was a big clue.” He laughs harder at your outraged stammers.

“Just you wait until you’re madly pining over someone, I’ll get my revenge,” you threaten.

But inside, not even Christian’s teasing can diminish your euphoria. The promise of seeing Oscar again soon eclipses all else.

***

Your heels click rapidly over the pavement as you sweep through the Spa paddock gates. Bodyguards trail discreetly behind but you barely notice them, eyes scanning the bustling crowd for one face.

And then you see him. Oscar stands just ahead, back turned as he bounces on his toes, head swiveling in search of you.

Joy bubbles up in your chest. You break into a run, calling his name. “Oscar!”

He whips around, eyes lighting up when they land on you. His arms open wide and you launch yourself into them with a breathless laugh.

Strong hands grip your waist, swinging you in an enthusiastic circle before setting you back on your feet. Neither of you make any move to step back, standing tangled together.

“You came,” Oscar murmurs, voice awed like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

You lean into him, his warmth chasing away the months spent missing him. “Of course. After all, I made a promise to a certain driver.”

Oscar’s answering smile outshines the sun. Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, keeping one hand entwined with yours.

“Well then, allow me to escort you inside properly.” He presses a quick kiss to your knuckles before leading you towards the paddock entrance.

After scanning your VIP guest pass, courtesy of Oscar, you pass through security hand-in-hand, giddy smiles fixed in place.

The paddock buzzes with activity but you only have eyes for Oscar as he guides you straight to the McLaren garage.

Mechanics glance up curiously as you enter behind Oscar. He squeezes your hand, leaning in close.

“Ready to meet the team, Princess?” At your answering nod, he steers you confidently through the organized chaos.

You run a suddenly nervous hand over your hair as Oscar approaches a genial looking man conversing with a slimmer bearded man.

“Zak, Andrea — there’s someone special I want you both to meet.”

The two men turn, eyebrows raising in polite expectation. Oscar gently tugs you forward.

“This is Crown Princess Y/N of Denmark. Y/N, meet Zak Brown, our CEO, and Andrea Stella, team principal.”

Zak’s eyebrows climb higher but he recovers smoothly, extending a hand. “Your Royal Highness, welcome. We’re honored to host you in our garage.”

You return his firm handshake. “The honor is mine, thank you. Your team has been so welcoming.”

After greeting Andrea as well, Oscar steers you further inside just as a mop of fluffy brown hair zooms by.

“Oscar, mate! There you are, I’ve been ...” The words die on his lips as he spots you, mouth falling open comically. His eyes dart between you and Oscar rapidly.

“Lando, come meet the princess!” Oscar calls out cheekily.

Lando snaps his jaw shut, looking utterly bewildered but offering you a hasty bow. “Your Highness! I mean, lovely to meet you, really.”

Amusement flickers through you at his gobsmacked expression. Oscar shoots you a playful wink over Lando’s shoulder as he scrambles to regain composure.

“But, wait.” Lando glances between you again in confusion. “You mean all those times you cooed ’good morning, Princess’ over the phone … you were talking to an actual princess!”

Oscar bursts out laughing while you press a hand to your mouth to smother your own giggles. Lando flushes but eventually joins in your laughter.

After extracting a promise to explain everything later, Oscar steers you away so they can focus on final prep.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of during the race before I have to suit up,” he promises, getting you settled with refreshments.

The anticipation builds until finally the cars are screaming away from the grid in a blur of color. Your nails dig into your palms as positions shuffle wildly on the first lap.

But soon Oscar settles into a rhythm, battling wheel to wheel with Lewis Hamilton. You’re on your feet with every overtake, yelling yourself hoarse.

The final laps loom with Oscar still fighting for a podium finish. But suddenly disaster strikes for the leaders. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc collide attempting to lap a backmarker on the Kemmel Straight.

You watch in disbelief as both the Red Bull and Ferrari limp to a stop off the track, clearing the path for Oscar to sweep through into the lead.

The McLaren garage roars in elation as Oscar maintains the gap and finally, finally crosses the line to claim his maiden Grand Prix win.

Chaos erupts as a stampede of papaya uniforms makes its way towards parc fermé but Oscar’s performance coach Kim grasps your arm urgently. “Quickly, he’ll want you there for this!”

Kim rushes you down towards the area where Oscar guides his car to a stop. He vaults out, pumping both fists and clambering atop the chassis in triumph.

Your breath catches at the sight of his windswept hair and exultant grin. As McLaren swarms Oscar, his gaze catches on you at the barrier, pressed close by Kim.

In two strides Oscar is right there, joy and adrenaline shining in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek … and then his lips find yours.

The roar around you fades away. For one perfect, suspended moment, your world narrows down to Oscar’s lips slanted over yours, his fingers tangled in your hair.

When you break apart, eyes flying open, the full reality crashes back in. But with Oscar’s breathless laugh warming your skin, the rest of the world no longer matters.

***

You pace the plush hotel carpet, nerves jangling as you await the imminent video call with your family. Since Oscar’s podium kiss yesterday, you’ve been hyper aware of your phone blowing up with notifications but too anxious to check them.

A brisk knock precedes your royal secretary poking his head in. “The call is ready whenever you are, Your Highness.”

Squaring your shoulders, you take a seat at the polished desk as the large monitor springs to life. Your family’s faces fill the screen, ranging from sympathetic (Isabella) to highly amused (Christian).

Before you can get a word in, the royal PR advisors elbow into view, expressions like thunderclouds.

“Your Royal Highness, might we have a word about this … incident from the race?” The chief advisor’s tone drips disapproval.

Ice trickles down your spine but you keep your face neutral. “Of course.”

“I trust you’ve seen the coverage?” At your hesitant nod, the advisor continues, “Then you understand what an embarrassment this is, how damaging to the dignity of the crown.”

You clench your jaw, anger rising. But he barrels on, “Such scandalous behavior, and broadcast globally! You must see how this recklessness reflects poorly on Denmark.”

The rest of the advisors murmur emphatic agreement. Your cheeks burn in humiliation even as you desperately blink back furious tears.

“The narrative has already spiraled out of control. Such associations cannot be tolerated from the future queen.”

The scorn in his tone ignites your temper. But before you can spit out a scathing retort, a commanding voice interrupts.

“Enough!” Your father’s stern face fills the screen, pinning the advisors with an icy glare. They recoil, mouths snapping shut.

Satisfied, your father turns to you, expression softening. “My dear, you’ve done nothing wrong. What matters most is that you’re happy.”

Hope flickers tentatively inside you as the advisors gape. But your father silences them with another quelling look.

“I know a thing or two about duty versus matters of the heart.” His eyes soften, finding your mother. “I’ll not see my daughter denied the same chance at love that brought me such joy.”

Your mother smiles gently, affection shining through the screen. On her other side, Isabella squeezes her shoulder in solidarity.

The fight drains from the advisors under your father’s resolute gaze. With a few grumbled concessions, they disconnect from the call.

Your muscles uncoil in relief as your attention returns fully to your family. Isabella waggles her eyebrows.

“Soooo … looks like someone had an eventful race!”

Heat floods your cheeks but you can’t suppress a giddy smile. “It just sort of happened in the heat of the moment.”

“This Oscar must be something special,” your mother remarks kindly.

Your insides turn to mush at the memory of Oscar’s kiss. “He really is. I can’t explain it, but it feels … right with him.”

Your normally stoic mother looks touched. “Then he has my blessing.”

On her other side, Christian smirks. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re in looooove.” He exaggerates a swoon, cackling when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hush dear, let your sister be happy,” your mother chides, swatting his shoulder before smiling indulgently. “Reminds me of another young prince long ago, besotted with an Australian girl ...”

Your father laughs, eyes crinkling. “Too right, darling. Clearly our Y/N takes after me.” He winks at you. “We Danes do seem to have a weakness for Aussies.”

You groan good-naturedly at the gentle teasing, buoyed by your family’s support. With their love behind you, the rest no longer matters.

You conclude the call with hugs blown through the screen and a heart full to bursting. No matter what the coming days hold, you won’t be facing them alone.

Later, a hesitant knock interrupts your contented musings. You open the door to find Oscar, eyebrows pinched anxiously.

But at the sight of your radiant smile, the tension melts from his frame. His hands settle comfortably on your waist like coming home.

“So ...” he begins, nose scrunching up adorably, “Think your family will let you keep me around?”

You answer by pulling him down into a long, sweet kiss. When you finally separate, foreheads pressed together, Oscar sighs out, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Your answering laugh fills the space between you as he lifts you effortlessly into a spinning embrace. The setting sun gilds the hotel room in amber, basking you both in warmth and promise.

Let the world say what they will. You’ve made your choice, the only one your heart would allow. And with Oscar’s arms encircling you now, you know you’re right where you belong.

***

“Come on, it’ll be great! When’s the next chance you’ll get to come down under?”

Oscar’s pleading face fills your laptop screen, bottom lip poking out beseechingly. You try to stand firm, but your resolve is crumbling.

“I don’t know … won’t I be imposing on your family time?”

Oscar waves a hand breezily. “Nah, Mum and Dad have been hassling me nonstop to bring you for a visit. Trust me, they’ll smother you with Aussie hospitality.”

You chew your lip thoughtfully. A trip together does sound tempting. And you’re endlessly curious to see where Oscar grew up.

Sensing your wavering, Oscar presses his advantage. “There’s so much I want to show you! The beach I learned to surf at, my favorite cafes and shops ...”

His voice turns coaxing. “And just think, falling asleep under the southern stars ...”

Your heart flutters traitorously. Oscar knows your weakness for astronomy. With a defeated huff, you nod.

“Oh alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll see if I can clear my schedule for next month.”

Oscar whoops, pumping a victorious fist. “Yes! You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The rest of the call passes in eager planning until Oscar reluctantly disconnects to start his day. As the screen goes dark, butterflies swell in your stomach. A whole trip together!

The weeks crawl by agonizingly until finally you’re boarding the royal jet bound for Melbourne, giddiness rising with each mile.

Oscar is waiting when you deplane, sweeping you up joyfully the second your feet hit the tarmac. You cling to him, breathing in the scent of home you’ve missed so much.

As the hug extends well past proper etiquette, your bodyguard Henrik pointedly clears his throat. You spring apart, blushing when you meet his knowing gaze.

Oscar just grins unrepentantly, grabbing your hand to lead you towards where his parents are waiting.

You spot them immediately — Oscar’s smile mirrored on his mother’s face and his kind eyes reflected in his father’s crinkled gaze. They hurry over, clasping your hands warmly.

“Your Royal Highness, we’re so honored to finally meet you!” His mother gushes. “Oscar’s told us so much, I feel as if we know you already.”

You smile, charmed by her easy manner. “The honor is mine, Mrs. Piastri. Please, call me Y/N.”

She pats your hand merrily. “Of course, dear! And you must call me Nicole. Now come, let’s get you home and settled.”

The ride to Oscar’s childhood home passes quickly, filled with lively conversation. His parents’ sweet banter reminds you so much of your own.

When you arrive, Nicole loops her arm through yours, bustling you inside. “We’ve freshened up Oscar’s old room for you, I do hope it’s comfortable.”

You take in the posters of racing legends and cricketers adorning the walls, the cluttered bookshelves full of well-loved texts. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Excellent!” Nicole claps her hands. “Now, you two get settled. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

She disappears down the hall with a parting wink that makes Oscar flush beet red. You stifle a laugh and let him tug you further inside.

Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and easy laughter. Chris’ eyes twinkle knowingly as he refills your wine.

“We’re just delighted to finally meet the girl who’s made our Oscar so happy.”

Oscar covers his face in exaggerated mortification, but his fingers squeeze yours under the table. You lift your joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles when his parents aren’t looking.

The peaceful mood continues as Nicole breaks out photo albums. You coo over baby pictures of Oscar, smothering laughter at his gap-toothed grin and wild hair.

Yawns eventually take over and everyone reluctantly shuffles off to bed. In Oscar’s room, you borrow his old karting club shirt to sleep in.

Oscar looks up from turning down the duvet, eyes darkening as he takes you in. “This was a terrible idea, you looking so cute in my clothes.”

You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose before climbing into bed and patting the space next to you. Oscar obliges, pulling you close and nuzzling into your hair.

Outside the window, the infinity of the southern skies beckons. But here in Oscar’s arms, you have everything you need.

Oscar hums contentedly, dropping a kiss to your hair as your eyes drift closed.

“Sweet dreams, my princess,” he whispers. You float off cradled in his warmth, perfectly at peace.

The rest of the trip passes in blissful domesticity — lazy beach days, intimate dinners, long talks under the stars. Meeting Oscar’s family feels like coming to a second home.

On your last night, you creep outside to sit curled against him on the back porch, committing every detail to memory.

“I don’t want this to end,” you whisper into the quiet night.

Oscar presses a lingering kiss below your ear. “It’s only the start for us.”

And basking in his touch, the infinite potential of the future unfolding before you, you know he’s right. This is just the beginning.

***

You smooth your hands over your dress, peering anxiously out the palace window overlooking the winding driveway. Any moment now, the car bringing Oscar should pull through the gates.

It’s his first time visiting the palace and meeting your family officially as your boyfriend. You know they’ll love him, but nerves still flutter in your chest.

The crunch of tires on gravel draws your gaze back outside. You watch Oscar emerge from the car, craning his head back to take in the towering palace facade.

Unable to wait any longer, you gather your skirts and hurry downstairs just as he steps inside the grand entryway.

Oscar turns at the click of your heels, face melting into a smile. In a few quick strides, he sweeps you into his arms, spinning you joyfully.

You cling to him, breathing in the soothing scent of home you’ve missed. When he sets you down, hands come up to frame your face tenderly, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“There’s my beautiful girl. I’ve missed you so much, Princess.”

Heart swelling, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss that conveys weeks of longing. Oscar responds urgently, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

A pointed cough interrupts your reunion. You pull back to see your brother Christian smirking knowingly.

“Well now I see why you were so eager for Oscar’s visit. Should I come back later?”

You stick your tongue out at him even as a blush stains your cheeks. Taking Oscar’s hand, you lead him towards the family wing.

“Come on, everyone’s excited to finally meet you properly.”

Voices carry from the dining room as you approach. Inside, your family looks up, faces alight with warmth and curiosity.

Your father strides forward first, clasping Oscar’s hand firmly. “Oscar, welcome. We’re delighted to have you here.”

Oscar returns the handshake graciously. “The honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.”

More greetings follow before your mother guides everyone to the table. Oscar pulls out your chair, pressing a discreet kiss to your temple as you sit. Happiness bubbles up inside at having him here with your family.

Dinner passes enjoyably, conversation flowing. Oscar charms them all effortlessly with his quick wit and humor. Laughter fills the room, the atmosphere light and intimate.

With dessert finished, your siblings seize their chance to grill Oscar playfully.

“Sooo tell us,” Isabella begins, propping her chin on her hands. “What exactly are your intentions with our dear sister?”

Oscar just grins, unfazed. “Why, to make her happy every single day, of course.”

You melt at his simple sincerity, grasping his hand under the table.

“Good answer!” Christian crows. “But know if you ever hurt her, you’ll have the entire Danish army to answer to.”

Despite his teasing tone, you know Christian means every word. Oscar inclines his head solemnly.

“You have my word such a day will never come. Her happiness means everything to me.”

Your siblings appear satisfied, moving on to pepper Oscar with questions about his career and interests. He takes their antics in stride, witty comebacks drawing fond laughter from your parents.

The relaxed family atmosphere reminds you so much of that first dinner at Oscar’s childhood home. Your heart swells with quiet joy at how seamlessly he fits here too.

Eventually Oscar politely extracts you both, citing early flights in the morning. Alone in the hall, he sags against the wall in exaggerated relief.

“Whew, your family is something else! I think that interrogation was more intense than any press conference.”

You laugh and swat his shoulder before lifting on your toes to kiss him sweetly. “You were wonderful. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Oscar’s eyes soften. “Me too, Princess. Being here with you feels like home.”

Heedless of any lingering eyes, you kiss him again under the twinkling chandelier.

A loud retching sound interrupts you. “Ugh, get a room you two!” Christian complains, dodging your swat.

Oscar just tugs you closer with a chuckle. “Don’t worry mate, I plan to.”

He silences Christian’s protests with another searing kiss. And surrounded by Oscar’s warmth, you can’t bring yourself to care who sees.

***

Moonlight filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. You lay curled against Oscar’s chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over his heart.

The steady rhythm soothes you, but your own heart feels anything but calm. There’s something you need to discuss, but nerves stall your tongue.

Sensing your tension, Oscar’s hand comes up to sift gently through your hair. “Penny for your thoughts, love?”

You lean into his touch, gathering courage. “I was just thinking about the future. Our future.” You twist to meet his gaze. “I know it’s still early days for us, but if this continues to get more serious ...”

You trail off uncertainly, but Oscar’s eyes are warm with encouragement. Bolstered, you continue.

“There are certain expectations that come with being attached to the heir to the throne. Traditions and duties to learn.”

You watch Oscar’s face closely, but he simply nods thoughtfully. “Of course, that makes sense. I’m happy to learn whatever I need to.”

Relief trickles through you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, smiling softly down at him.

“For example, even before my mother was engaged to my father, she decided to learn Danish. The protocol and duties, the public role … it was a massive life change.”

You take a bracing breath. “I don’t expect you to make such changes overnight. But someday, if this continues on the path we hope ...”

You trail off meaningfully. Oscar’s hand comes up to cradle your face. “Hey, if being with you means learning Danish, or attending stuffy banquets, or anything else, I’m in this 100%.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to build a life together.”

Emotion clogs your throat. You have to swallow thickly before responding. “Well, maybe we start small then. How about I teach you a few phrases?”

Oscar grins, pulling you back down against him. “Ja, det lyder perfekt.”

You jerk back in surprise, swatting his chest. “You brat, have you been practicing without telling me?”

Oscar’s eyes dance with laughter. “Maybe just a few key phrases. Wanted to surprise you.”

His smile turns tender. “I’d love nothing more than for you to teach me, sweetheart.”

Happiness bubbles up inside you. You snuggle closer, thinking. “Alright, let’s start simple. Like hej simply means hello.”

Oscar repeats the phrase dutifully, brow furrowing in concentration. You cover his hand with yours.

“Jeg elsker dig,” you murmur, gazing into his eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” Oscar echoes. “What does it mean?”

Sudden shyness has you ducking your head. “It means I love you.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale lifts your head. He grasps both of your hands, staring deeply into your eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” he repeats reverently.

Emotion clogs your throat. You lean in, whispering against his lips, “Jeg elsker dig, Oscar.”

The kiss starts soft and unhurried, a confirmation of feelings conveyed best without words. Oscar’s arms wrap securely around you as the kiss deepens, pouring every ounce of love and promise into it.

When you eventually break apart, Oscar keeps you cradled close, dropping kisses into your hair. “What else can you teach me?”

Happiness bubbles up at his tentative Danish endearment. You settle back against him, whispering translations as his steady heartbeat lulls you towards sleep.

But too soon, Oscar is reluctantly packing to leave, both clinging to these last private hours before he has to set off for the next race.

You wind yourself around him, unwilling to let go. Oscar holds you close, murmuring promises of next visits and calls into your hair.

As you finally part at the airport, his whispered “jeg elsker dig” warms you from the inside out. No matter the miles between you, your hearts remain entwined.

***

You adjust the diamond clips in your elegantly twisted updo, scanning your reflection critically. The deep blue gown hugs your frame perfectly, but nerves still flutter in your stomach.

Because tonight, Oscar will be attending his first official function as your partner — a lavish gala in honor of the new children’s hospital bearing your mother’s name.

A knock precedes Oscar peeking his head in, hands clapped over his eyes. “Safe to look?”

You smooth your skirt with a shaky exhale. “Yes, come in.”

Oscar drops his hands, mouth falling open. “Wow. You look absolutely stunning tonight, my love.”

He takes your hands, eyes roving appreciatively over you. “Going to have to beat all the envious blokes away with a stick.”

You laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Oh hush. You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Piastri.”

And he does in his impeccably tailored tuxedo, hair swept back neatly. You brush a piece of imaginary lint from his lapel, nerves melting away under his warm gaze.

“Shall we?” He offers his arm gallantly. You lay your hand atop it, spine straightening.

“We shall.”

The ballroom glitters under fairy lights as you make your entrance, immediately garnering interested looks and murmurs. On your arm, Oscar draws admiring glances of his own with his rakish good looks and easy confidence.

You greet various dignitaries and philanthropists, Oscar a steady, charming presence at your side. As you speak with the hospital’s key figures, his hand at the small of your back anchors you.

But as the speeches drag on, Oscar leans in subtly. “Is it terrible I’m already bored senseless? I’d rather actually meet these kids we’re meant to be helping.”

You hide a smile behind your wine glass. The same restlessness plagues you as schmoozing patrons preen and prattle.

As dessert wraps up, an idea strikes you. You catch Oscar’s eye, tilting your head meaningfully at a side exit before excusing yourself discretely.

Understanding dawns on his face and he trails casually after you. In the entry hall, you hurry to a secluded alcove, grabbing his hand.

“Quick, while we won’t be missed. Let’s actually go see the children.”

Excitement flashes across Oscar’s face. “Brilliant thinking. Lead the way, Princess.”

Adrenaline courses through you as you sneak out to the waiting car, bodyguards eyeing you curiously.

“Rigshospitalet, please. Quickly.”

At the children’s hospital, you sweep inside, Oscar at your heels. The receptionist gapes as you approach.

“So sorry to drop by unannounced. We were hoping there might be a chance for us to visit with some of the patients?”

The receptionist’s mouth opens and closes before she stutters, “O-of course, Your Highness, right away!” Clearly your boldness has paid off.

You exchange exhilarated looks with Oscar as she pages a nurse to escort you up. On the cheery pediatric ward, you peek into rooms, greeting curious families.

At one doorway, a gasp stops you short. A little girl sits up in bed, pointing.

“Mama, it’s the princess! And her boyfriend!”

You glance at Oscar to find him rubbing his neck bashfully. Clearly his fame extends beyond the F1 sphere here.

You laugh and enter slowly. “We were hoping we might visit you, if that’s alright?”

The girl — Else — nods eagerly, blond braids bouncing. Her mother rises to curtsy but you wave her off kindly as Oscar produces a small plush racecar from his pocket, to Else’s delight.

As you chat and play with Else, joy lights up her face. For a short time, she’s just a normal girl again. Your chest aches at her bright spirit despite her poor health.

All too soon, a nurse taps her watch. As you make your goodbyes, Else throws her thin arms around your waist.

“Thank you! This was like a fairytale.” Over her head, her mother mouths a tearful thank you of her own.

You hug Else gently before kneeling down. “It was our honor. You stay strong, little one.”

Her returning whisper warms your heart. “Don’t worry, I will!”

Similar scenes play out in room after room. Your cheeks ache from smiling but it’s a welcome ache. The children’s awed joy makes the real reason for tonight crystal clear.

Watching Oscar kneel patiently as a shy boy shows him a prized toy car, your heart clenches with love. Catching your gaze, Oscar’s eyes mirror the same emotion.

Far too soon, your bodyguards notify you it’s time to return before your absence draws notice. A chorus of disappointed groans follows you out.

Back at the gala, you slip in just in time for closing toasts. No one seems the wiser about your little detour.

Under the table, Oscar squeezes your hand. The contact says it all — this is what truly matters. Not accolades or commendations, but joy brought to hurting hearts.

You know you’ll be back. Both of you. Not for galas or acclaim, but for the chance to see young faces light up, if only for a moment.

Late that night, you slow dance alone in the empty ballroom, music and laughter faded. Oscar’s arms circle you from behind, chin tucking onto your shoulder.

“I think tonight was the most important royal function I’ve ever attended,” he murmurs.

You cover his hands with yours, leaning back into him with a contented sigh. No more words need be said.

The rest of the world may see events like tonight as social currency and networking. But you hold the truth in your heart — the only currency that counts can’t be bought, only given freely through love.

***

Two Years Later

You smooth your hands over your dress, pulse thrumming as you await the imminent news conference. Just hours ago, the palace formally announced your engagement to Oscar, sending the public into a frenzy.

Now, you’re about to face the media together for the first time as an engaged couple. Press stands crowd the palace gardens, cameras poised and ready.

At your side, Oscar seems calm and collected, fingers threaded loosely with yours. But you sense the storm brewing beneath his tranquil surface.

You reach up and gently adjust his suit collar, fingers lingering on the lapels as you meet his eyes. He gives you a small, grateful smile before you both turn to face the expectant crowd.

Because today also brings another announcement — one that will upend Oscar’s world irreversibly.

Your father steps forward first to formally confirm the engagement and expound on Oscar’s character. As he returns to your side, Oscar squeezes your hand and you nod in encouragement.

Oscar clears his throat, stepping closer to the microphones. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Y/N and I are over the moon at the chance to spend our lives together.”

He gazes at you softly before continuing. “I’m truly the luckiest man in the world to have won the heart of Denmark’s lovely princess.”

You have to resist the urge to kiss him senseless then and there. Cameras flash brightly as Oscar details your romantic (and heavily abridged) love story, punctuated with charming wit.

But gradually, his mirth fades. With another fortifying hand squeeze, he steels himself for the harder part.

“While I’m elated at this new chapter ahead, it also brings difficult changes. I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1 following this season’s conclusion.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Oscar’s grip tightens as he pushes forward.

“As a member of the royal family, I will no longer be able to continue racing competitively. I am grateful to have achieved my dream this year of winning the championship.”

His voice falters briefly and your heart clenches. Racing is Oscar’s passion — having to walk away is unimaginably hard.

Oscar visibly gathers himself. “But as difficult as this is, marrying Y/N is worth any sacrifice. She is my true dream now.”

He turns to you then, eyes glistening. “The honor of being your husband eclipses any trophy or medal. You are my greatest victory.”

Emotion clogs your throat and without thinking, you wrap him in a fierce embrace. The rules of propriety fade away, only your pride and love for Oscar remain.

His arms clutch you close as flashes erupt around you. But in this moment, you see only each other.

Eventually you separate and Oscar takes your hand once more, gracing you with a tender smile. He turns back to the microphones for one last address.

“Til Danmark og det danske folk. Jeg lover at tjene jer med ære, respekt og kærlighed.”

The Danish press reacts first, visibly surprised and impressed at Oscar’s speech in their native tongue.

You blink back a fresh wave of tears at his poignant promise — to serve Denmark with honor, respect, and love.

Overcome with emotion, you step forward to the microphones as well.

“Oscar’s love for me and Denmark is clear to all who meet him. I am truly blessed to have found such a selfless, caring partner.”

Your voice wavers with feeling. “Though it grieves me to see his racing career ended prematurely, I could not be more proud of the man he is.”

You reach for Oscar’s hand, gazing at him through tear-filled eyes. “He gives up much out of love for me. I only hope I can bring him a fraction of the joy in return.”

Oscar’s fingers tighten around yours, eyes shining with affection. Cameras flash furiously at your raw display of love and emotion.

But you remain lost in Oscar’s eyes, the rest of the world fading away. In this moment, all that matters is your shared devotion and the bright future stretching before you.

Questions start flying from the excited press corps but Oscar politely extracts you both, ceding the floor to the waiting palace officials.

Alone inside once more, Oscar sags against the wall in clear emotional exhaustion. You wrap him in your arms, heart aching for the pain this transition causes.

Oscar clings to you tightly, face pressed into your hair. “I meant every word,” he whispers fiercely. “You are my whole world now.”

You draw back just far enough to meet his eyes, hoping he can see the depths of your love reflected there.

“I know, min kæreste. We’ll face this new future together.”

The answering kiss speaks what words cannot. No matter what comes, your love remains constant.

A new path lies ahead now, one you will walk hand in hand, till the end of your days.

***

Five Years Later

The roar of engines draws nearer as your car nears the Copenhagen street circuit. In the seat beside you, Oscar bounces his leg restlessly, face alight with anticipation.

In the backseat, your three-year-old daughter, Margrethe (affectionately called Maise for short), mimics her father’s excitement, chattering cheerfully about anything and everything.

You reach over to still Oscar’s jostling knee, smiling indulgently. “Easy there, we’ve barely arrived and you’re already wound up.”

Oscar shoots you a boyish grin. “Can you blame me? It’s been so long since I was last in the paddock. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Your heart swells with quiet awe once more at the sacrifices Oscar has made for your future together. While racing still runs through his veins, his duties as Crown Prince of Denmark now take precedence.

But today offers a joyous reunion, with Oscar instrumental in bringing Formula 1 racing back to Danish soil for the first time since 1962.

As the car pulls through the paddock entrance, Oscar cranes his neck eagerly, drinking in the familiar organized chaos. Before the door even opens, you hear a familiar voice shouting.

“He lives! The prodigal prince returns!” A blur of McLaren papaya hurtles towards Oscar as he steps out.

Oscar just manages to brace himself before Lando Norris tackles him in an exuberant hug. Laughter bubbles out of Oscar as he returns the embrace.

“Good to see you too, mate. It’s been way too long.”

You round the car to find Oscar’s former team already swarming him, clapping his back and jostling each other good-naturedly to greet their long-lost driver.

Oscar’s eyes shine as he falls back into easy banter, trading inside jokes and reminiscing. With Maise balanced on your hip, you hang back contentedly, letting Oscar have this moment.

As the reunion finally winds down, Lando gestures to you and Maise. “And who do we have here? Don’t tell me this little beauty is your daughter?”

Oscar beams, waving you both over. “She is indeed! Lando, meet my little girl.”

Lando pretends to stagger back in shock. “No way, our little Oscar is all grown up and domesticated now!”

Oscar shoves him playfully before sweeping Maise into his arms. “What can I say, my fast living days are behind me now.” He kisses Maise’s wavy hair, eyes finding yours. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

Your insides turn mushy at the adoration in his voice. The years have only deepened your love further.

More drivers trickle over to greet Oscar, ribbing him good-naturedly about his new royal status. But the obvious affection underlying the teasing is clear.

Zak Brown claps Oscar on the back. “It’s so good to have you back, even just for a day. You and your family should stay, watch the race from the garage!”

For a fleeting moment, naked longing flashes across Oscar’s face at the thought of experiencing race day excitement again up close.

But reality settles back in quickly, his expression turning regretful. “That’s a lovely offer, truly. But I’m afraid we’ll have to make our way to the royal box.”

He bounces Maise gently, tone wry. “Some of us have a job to do handing out trophies later.” Maise giggles and tugs at his ear happily, blissfully unaware of the wistfulness simmering beneath her father’s smile.

You slip your arm through Oscar’s, offering a comforting squeeze. His answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After more fond farewells, you exit the nostalgic bubble of the garage. Oscar pauses, taking a moment to just breathe and gather himself.

You shift Maise to your other hip, wrapping your free arm around his waist. Oscar leans into you gratefully, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Can’t believe it’s been five years already,” he murmurs. “Feels like another lifetime.”

You smile up at him sadly. “I know, my love. But look at everything you’ve accomplished for Denmark in that time. This race wouldn’t even be happening without you.”

Oscar huffs a small laugh. “Too right. Who needs driving when I’ve got you two anyway?”

He tickles Maise playfully, eliciting delighted giggles. The melancholy edge has left his eyes now, replaced by contentment.

Hand in hand, with Maise toddling happily between you, the three of you set off together towards the royal box. The Danish Grand Prix awaits, along with the bright future you continue building as a family.

This may no longer be Oscar’s world, but he now shapes the path for future generations of drivers. After the race, as Oscar graciously awards the beaming winner while Maise excitedly cheers from the side of the podium, you know this is precisely where he’s meant to be.

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monimccoythings · 2 months

Text

Random headcanons of Alastor and his child!reader

This will mix headcanons from both the living and the afterliving times.

Tw: Controlling behavior, implied cannibalism, references to murder.

This is not proof read so I apologize for any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Your home is always filled with music. Be it the radio, a record player or him singing. There's always someone playing a tune. Even now at the hotel you can always find him in one of the common rooms humming a song or with his cathedral radio on.

Loves dancing with you, you'll be helping him cook and next thing you know he is swirling you around the room, music mixing with your combined laughter.

From a very young age, he will teach you to love the radio. He is immensely proud of his job (the legal one) and wants to share it with you.

Likes to treat your wounds and illness the traditional way, just like he used to when you were alive. You got a scratch? He is cleaning it for you and bandaging it up. You are down with something? He'll wrap you in blankets with a hot water bottle and feed you old family remedies and warm soup. If the wound or illness is way too severe to his liking, he will immediately make it go away with a snap of his fingers, otherwise he just likes to act like your caregiver and mother hen you.

Really loves to pull the 'single hardworking dad' act that makes the mothers and female teachers at your school swoon. He is not really interested in pursuing anything further with them, but boy, does he enjoy the attention.

He likes to check on you while you are sleeping. Sometimes he just stays there, quietly watching you sleep, his ever present smile growing bigger as a sense of pride fills his chest.

Lots of dad jokes, I think he's the only one who could pull it off and have everyone laugh. It goes with his radio host charisma and personality.

He does your hair. This man has singlehandledly researched and become well versed in the art of braiding hair. Braids, pigtails, or just brush it, you call it, you got it.

Alastor loves control and having power over people, he is the kind of dad that will subtly talk you out of doing something he doesn't approve of, just using his inmense charms and smooth talking skills to convince you into thinking this was your decision after doing some critical thinking. "Cher, I don't think you should do X, how about you do Y instead?" "I'm sure your friend is too busy to hang out today, why don't we go to the ice cream shop?" He won't ever put you down or make you feel bad about anything, but if you are deviating for the path that he has already set for you (the safe path) he will immediately persuade you to go back to the right way, his way. In Hell that aspect of him has become a million times worse, since he has already lost you once and has become someone with many dangerous enemies who wouldn't hesitate to use you to get back at him. His overprotectiveness and controlling behavior skyrocket when he becomes a demon, which eventually will come back to bite him in the ass.

Doesn't like having anyone question about your biological parents. He is your parent. You don't need anybody else.

Alastor is not fond of physical affection, unless he is the one initiating it. But, since he has had you since you were a baby, he has mostly grown used to your touch. He has become proficient enough in detecting your moods that he knows exactly when you are going to need a hug, a kiss or some other kind of physical comfort, so he can get ahead and start the contact first. He admits that one of his favorite ways nowadays to show affection to you is ruffling your fluffy hair, lightly tickling your ears, his eyes fill with joy when your ears get all twitchy.

Your room back at the hotel is a carbon copy of the one you had back when you were alive, but bigger, and with a private old timey bathroom. Alastor likes to come in whenever he pleases, he is the unliving embodiment of "I'm respecting your privacy by knocking but asserting my authority as your parent by coming in anyway". He even said so once. Word by word.

You can't stand Mimzy. Sorry, it's a fact, she always gets your name wrong and only comes by if she needs something from your dad. She seems to not be very fond of you either, can't understand why in Hell Alastor would waste his time so willingly just to take care of a snooty brat that ain't even his. But your father seems to like her enough, so you swallow up your critics.

When he was alive, and came back from a 'hunt', he always brought a little memorabilia for you, maybe some old watch, a fancy toy or trinket the victim had on them at that moment. Whatever little thing that wasn't too incriminating and pretty enough to be worthy of you. Now that you know the truth, you can't stop wondering with dread if every little thing he gifts you belonged once to a poor tormented soul that crossed in his path.

Might had fed you human remians in his stews. He utterly denies it, claiming that he would never do that to your delicate stomach. But the suspicious way his eyes quickly dart around the room, makes you think otherwise. It was the Great Depression after all, food was scarce. You'd rather not dwell too much on it or you will never eat anything ever again.

He is a monster, and it pained you to have been so blind all these years, but even after discovering his true nature, the only thing you could say about his parenting before that terrible night of the discovery, was that he was an excellent dad, a tad bit overbearing and overprotective, but a great parent nonetheless.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: controlling behavior #tw: cannibalism #tw: murder

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elioslover · 6 months

Text

Friday Nights - Harry Styles x reader. (Dadrry Oneshot).

[The polls revealed that you sweetpeas wanted more dadrry and my ovaries agreed. Hope you guys find it as cute as I do! 💞]

Premise: Harry can't wait to get home to see his favourite girls.

More dadrry / Other writing

Word count: 1.9k / Warnings

🧸

Harry has the entire weekend off- not just a lucky Saturday afternoon- the entire weekend. And he has spent the first 18 hours without empty hands, but the fullest of hearts.

His baby girl- who has long surpassed gaining the skill of walking- has been carried and coddled from the second Harry’s boots hit the hardwood of the entrance hall early Friday evening. The sun has yet to fully set and his whole body is whisked away with excitement at what awaits on the other side of the front door.

At the familiar sound of keys dangling from their slotting in the keyhole, his little petal has dismissed her activity of creating a colourful artwork, crayon still squished between her chubby fingers as her wobbly feet bound over to the front door in pursuit of the mysterious person attempting access.

With the patience she has surely learned from yourself- not Harry- his little 3-year-old is standing in wait, eyes wide with curiosity, her posture still shy and weary of who might enter in a moment.

And when the door becomes ajar, a familiar worn-down leather Gucci boot comes into vision, and then she can see the other boot too- her features prettily framing a painting of the unconditional love she has for her daddy. Those silly boots older than herself are the surest sign of one of her favourite humans stepping into the house.

Giddily, she beams up at him, her chubby ankles balancing her soft feet as she bounces up and down, her body swaying with enthusiasm, her eyes shining with pure excitement.

Harry isn't even halfway through the door when he is confronted by his cute, cheery, tiny toddler, and he feels his shoulders soothingly shrug at the mere sight- unaware of just how happy he is at the blessing of ending his stressful days in the comfort of a home life he never considered a possibility.

Taking a full step into the hallway, Harry is reminded of your existence whenever his babygirl wistfully looks at him. She is the combination of he and your love, and so much more.

Her hair is a little damp, presumably from just having had a bath and some supper. Harry thinks he must have caught her amid playtime, and he hopes tomorrow might offer the opportunity for him to partake in these activities.

And he will, sternly telling you that he hopes you'll take the opportunity to make the weekend your own; tending to tasks, catching up with both friends and binging series, even just using the time to extend your naps, meals, and self-care.

But right now, the bag slung across his shoulder is dropped to the floor, he brushes the edge of the door in an attempt to shut it but cares not if it shuts completely, because a three-year-old- dressed in a pale blue set of jammies decorated in her favourite dinosaurs- is exclaiming, "Daddy" through a burst of enthusiastic giggles.

He takes a step forward, but she is more than willing to meet him in the middle, her tiny toes coming into contact with his boots before he can blink and she tightly wraps her arms around his leg- she only measures up to below his knee- adorably squeezing as tight as she can.

Harry's heart swells so big, he fears he is a balloon filled with so much helium it's begging to burst- but if it bursts, he knows his entire body will become a firework exhibition centred around the theme of how much he unconditionally loves his baby girl.

He does his best to bow closer, wrapping his arms around her, and in true tradition, Harry then lifts her little-ness, helping her balance her feet on the tops of his boots- Harry would have thrown these scuffed, barely stylish boots away if it weren't for the undeniably heart-warming reaction he receives when arriving home.

She now stands atop his shoes, her arms extending up so her hands can be clasped by his, and they are swallowed like a small petal in his palm- so small, he has never seen something-someone- so dainty. Harry slowly takes dance-like steps around the hallway, enthused and cheered on by the cheeky giggles of his daughter enjoying their little 'dance' along the hardwood.

Still humouring and guiding her around, Harry calls out, "'M home, Lovie," seeking out the location of his gift-giver, yourself.

"Hi, Bubs!" You call, and by the distance in your voice, Harry knows you're probably in the kitchen- which is confirmed mere seconds later, "'m in the kitchen", you coo, "felt like making spring rolls…", you pause, "It's still undecided if I'm succeeding or not."

Harry chuckles softly, eager to enter the kitchen and see exactly what you're on about, and by now, the easily distracted toddler has released him, bumbling on about wanting to show her daddy the latest masterpiece she will soon add to her collection.

He certainly will, "How 'bout you show me, and then we can draw another one together?"

She sillily but seriously considers it, her hand stroking her chin as if the fate of the world is balancing atop her ten fingers. Harry thinks he sees himself in her, he thinks he sees himself in you, and loving you has surely rubbed off on him.

Eventually, his sassy three-year-old tells him- with humorously, adorable certainty- "Yes."

Harry's chest lulls with love as he tells her, "Need to say hi to mummy first, okay?"

She nods avidly, "I'll start without you." To which Harry laughs aloud and begins the task of removing his boots.

Harry trails down the hallway, his sock sliding along the hardwood, his eyes glancing over the array of framed photographs- ones of himself and you, of the baby, pets, family and friends.

As he rounds the corner, the aroma of freshly chopped cabbage and carrots invades his senses, and said senses go into overdrive as his eyes land on the loveliest of things; his partner, partially hidden as you stand behind the kitchen island, slicing an avocado, humming along to soft sound of 'Hand Me Downs'.

He finds himself behind you so fast, like a fugue of neediness had taken over and he had to tend to it. You hum in contentment, body sinking back into his chest, still chopping with nonchalance as his arms carefully, but desperately, wrap around your waist, his hands mindlessly shifting the material of your clothes to ensure skin-on-skin contact.

He wants to be near- just for a moment- softly peppering kisses along the nape of your neck, and when you shudder, he huffs out with an overload of admiration. His little pecks seem successful as you finally discard your dinner prep, placing the knife on the counter before twirling your body around to face Harry.

His smile is bright and matches his eyes, unintentionally encouraging your features to mirror his as you tilt up onto your toes in favour of giving him a good smooch,

"Hello, my Darling." You address, pressing your lips to the corner of his own.

"Missed you, Lovie." He says before going in for a proper kiss; pecking you one, two, three times before he is smiling so much that it becomes hard to call this kissing.

You giggle against his lips, giving him one last kiss before tilting back less than an inch to let him know, "Missed you more."

"Liar." He chuckles, tilting his neck to the ceiling, giving you the opportunity for a cheeky nip of his chin. Harry's body jolts with pleasant surprise, hand sliding down your lower back to give your denim-clad bum a good squeeze.

And then perhaps the sassiest and cutest demand comes echoing down from the room over, "Excuse me!" which only has the pair of you a soft chuckling mess.

You gently stroke the nape of Harry's neck, nails scraping the nearest tufts of his hair, "Y' better get going." a final kiss to both cheeks and his lips before you remind him, "Your Highness awaits."

Harry nods along with a swift tap to your bum cheek and a kiss to your forehead as he leaves the kitchen in pursuit of the art gallery that is guaranteed to be covering the walls of the games room.

She is already seated at her little yellow table, her collection of colourful markers, pencils, and glitter pens are all neatly lined up on the right, and she has a pile of complete artworks stacked on the left. In the centre is an A4 pink piece of cardboard already covered in streaks of black marker.

Continuing to scribble, she makes a small gesture for Harry to pull up a seat next to her. He does so, untucking the chair he knows will do a useless job at holding his height, nevertheless, he settles in easily- a product of this being a recurring event- turning his body to signal his attention is entirely hers.

For the next twenty minutes or so, Harry enthusiastically reacts and admires his little one's creations, and then he follows her to the puppy's bed, letting her show off the new toy she chose for their golden retriever to sleep with this evening, then Harry helps her up the stairs, gently hoisting her up, her legs wrapping around his hips, her head curling into his chest.

She instructs him to go to her bedroom, only loosening her grip as he slowly dips to place both her and himself upon her bed. Out of his hold, her little legs crossed, feet wiggling with excitement, patting the spot next to her for her daddy to occupy.

Harry could never say no to that- for starters, it was challenging enough saying it to you- his body shuffling closer, shifting to suit her wishes until she is happily cradled across his chest, his hip awkwardly pressed into the mattress, shoulder twisted unpleasantly, but he has no cares to give.

She wants him to tell her a story. Sometimes she wants to hear about him having fun with his friends, or how he and mommy met and fell in love, other days she wants him to make one up tonight, she wants to hear about his singing.

She asks simple, scattered questions, mostly unrelated to the one before and after. Slowly they delay and his answers add an extra drone, she is getting rather comfy, cuddling up into the crook of Harry, sharing this contentedness with such sleepiness that he knows he is sure to follow.

Downstairs, admiring your dinner, you are quite proud of the final results of your spring rolls. Patience and persistence certainly has its perks. If your phone were nearby, you would be tempted to take a picture, but you have something better; a handsome husband who will soon praise you in wonderment as he scarfs down your proud work.

After a brief stroll through the living room and the games room, you patter your way up the staircase and make a beeline for her bedroom. As expected, you find your favourite duo, but what wasn't expected was the sigh of Harry cradling a sleeping toddler.

She is sleeping soundly, her little wrists and ankles scrunched, her face with a naturally concentrated brow furrow- just like her father. Harry has one arm wrapped around her, his head tucked behind her own, laying obscurely but looking cosier than ever.

#im so stoned #need to edit #lmao #elioslover #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles #dadrry #dad!harry #harry styles fluff

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stararch4ngelqueen · 6 months

Note

heyyyyy sliding back in here lol

what about soft!jason who just knows when reader needs a hug? like not specific mental health issues but jason just notices a drained reader and decides to clear his aft to take care of his girl??

(this may or may not be completely self-indulgent...)

sending love <333

Heeeeelp not me relating too much to this for the rest of the weeeeekk 💀✨

A lot of scenarios came to mind but this was the most easiest to me

—

What’s an obvious talent with nearly every member of the so called “Batfamily,” was the detective skills. The ability to observe and take in details, noticing the slightest shift in demeanor. Just harnessing the unique gift until it’s second nature was a gift in itself.

Jason wasn’t one to flaunt those abilities of his, but right now, he feels his mind working overdrive trying to figure you out.

As in, figure out your slumped body taking up most of the couch after you collapse on it. Your face hidden away behind the comforter, hiding from the harsh society of the daily grind that always found a way to bug the hell out of you after you believe you’re finally starting to get the hang of it.

“Can I have some couch time, too?” Came Jason’s soft question, gently prodding what he assumed was your shoulder. Your shuffling body grants him permission to settle along the slim space beside you, leaving you undisturbed in your sensory deprivation cocoon.

“Bad day at work, Huh?”

“Mhm.” Came a bland little muffle.

“Want me to make some calls?” Jason offers in an ever so snarky tone. “Take care of some business?”

“Please.” You murmur, taking him by surprise.

By that, he always references using violence just to get a rise outta you, knowing you’d usually click your tongue, roll your eyes, or smack him on the shoulder for his idiocy. This time, you agreed to it, maybe even consider mentally encouraging it.

This wasn’t the first time you agreed, but whenever you did was usually on ‘not so good’ days. Today looked like a ‘not so good’ day.

“Aww, babygirl.” Jason’s arms reinforce around your body, cradling you to himself like a treasured doll.

“Show me what’s underneath this blanket city you got goin’ on.” Jason pinched the fabric with two fingers, giving gentle tugs. “Show me that gorgeous face, pretty girl.”

Your reluctance was to be expected, but you give in. Your flushed face is greeted with crisp air before Jason comes to view, smiling softly with all his handsome beauty.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers, brushing some stray hair tussled by the blanket off to the side.

“Got some soda earlier. Want an ice cream float to feel better?” He asks, watching your head shift as you gesture a no. So distressed, you’d turn away a childhood tradition? Ouch.

“Hmm,” Jason tilts his head back in thought, clicking his tongue. “Need me to kill your boss?”

You nod yes, per his amusement.

“Agh, damn. You should’ve asked me that about a year ago, babe. Fresh outta the ‘soul refund pool’ me woulda’ done so in a heartbeat.”

You groan, hiding your face further in the valley of his neck while his hands rub circles along different points of your back. “S’okay sweetheart. I know what it’s like to wanna kill your boss, but you’re not at work right now.”

He easily shuffles you around as he spoke, hoisting you into his lap in a seated position.

“You’re home with me, safe an’ sound,” he continues as he pulls off your shoes, running his hands along your lower legs to soothe the muscles. “An’ I’m here. Real world isn’t gonna getcha in here.”

Jason’s lips on your forehead settles the sting of bitterness you’ve carried in your chest for hours. He knew just what to say, how to act, and held enough patience for the both of you combined.

You adored him. Your giant red teddy bear.

“Wanna do something fun, babe? Wanna watch an old horror movie?”

The silliest of habits you had with Jason was judging the movies you used to find scary back in the day. While some lived up to their name on the gore filled horror scare, the SFX and editing left something to nearly choke on popcorn over.

After that, it was good habit to end movie night on a comedy. The early Y2K movie parodies seemed to always hit the spot.

You nod yes to this, craving that relief now more than ever.

“Bet that ice cream is starting to sound good now, huh?” Jason muses, his smirk growing as your head shuffles a yes again.

Thought so.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #we need mimis

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neteyamsyawntu · 3 months

Text

Good Little Boy

Teylan x Na'vi(Zeswa)Reader

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, smut, m/f, p in v, riding, sub Teylan, dom reader, vulgar language, dirty talk, praise kink, potential spoilers for Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora, semi proof read cause I eepy.

Na'vi Glossary: muntxatan = Husband(male spouse) txe’lan = Heart Yawne = beloved

Just a little something for my moon✨@pandoraslxna

You loved your mate dearly, with every fiber of your being. He was such a gentle soul; kind hearted, attentive, always incredibly eager to show you the new advancements he had made with whatever pieces of tech he had been fiddling around with. You learned quickly that Teylan wasn’t your typical Na’vi, at least by traditional standards. Of course you knew your upbringings were wildly different. Yourself having been brought up as a true Zeswa warrior, taught to be fierce and resilient, whilst in Teylan’s unfortunate case, he was forced to live among the sky people, torn away from Pandora and its wonders, to serve as a voice for their schemes. When you had first met him, you observed this strange allure he had to “human things” which at first, that facet of his personality spawned a sort of disapproval within you.

When you had made the decision to stay with the resistance at their hideout in the clouded forest, alongside a few other members of your clan, Teylan was nothing more than an annoyance, always choosing to seek you out to show off his gadgets. You’d often catch yourself thinking, why wouldn't he just show his Sarentu companions? Then at a certain point you began to catch on that maybe this soft handed male was trying to impress you with these odd pieces of tech. It was what he knew best after all, what he was confident in. The more you had thought about it, the more endearing the act became. In return you eventually showed him what you knew, teaching him things your clan specialized in, like how to hunt with a spear despite him not being very good at it. Yet even though it wasn't his strength, he always managed to try his best, looking back at you for approval, his expectant eyes wide and ears perked as he waited for your validation, having only just thrown the spear a couple feet forward, nowhere near his target, all whilst trying to contain the eager swatting of his tail.

He was always so eager to please, and where Teylan lacked in brute strength or survival skills he made up for in other departments. While the initial idea of making love wrecked him with anxiety, Teylan was a quick learner, taking mental notes on certain things he did or places he touched you roused a reaction from you. While he was adamant on doing his part to please you, you couldn’t deny that what brought you the most pleasure was teasing your mate. Bringing the poor thing nearly to the point of tears, watching him squirm beneath you as you straddled his lap, running your wet, puffy pussy lips across his increasingly darkening cock-head. His plum colored tip glistening with a mix of your arousal and his own precum.

Teylan’s ears were pinned tightly against the sides of his head, his hands squeezing your hips securely, fighting the urge to end your torture and selfishly sink his cock into your warmth. His soft whimpers were music to your ears, each glide of his cock sweeping through your folds earning you little helpless gasps and labored breaths, his grip on you growing tighter by the second. “Haah.. my love-.”, “Ma’ muntxatan?” You purr seemingly unbothered, watching as your mate slightly flinches when your tail brushes against his thigh. You’d been teasing the poor thing for so long, only giving him little tastes with just the slightest drop of your hips, only allowing his tip to push past your entrance. You were driving him utterly insane and you knew it, a cocky smirk playing on your lips.

“Puh-please… I cannot take this anymore- It is too much!” Teylan whines, his arms shifting to wrap around your waist, pulling your front flush against his own as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, the bill of his hat completely hiding his face from view. A soft hum sounds from your throat as you pull back just enough to direct his face to meet your gaze with the simple lift of your index finger under his chin, “Mmn, is it too much, ma’ Teylan? Should we stop?” You tease with a slight tilt of your head. Teylan’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as he mentally begins frantically back pedaling, “N-no, no! I don’t want to stop, it’s just…”, “Just…?”. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries his hardest to vocalize exactly what he wanted without sounding too demanding. “It’s just… if you are going to tease me, could you- at least sit on it? I-I want to feel you.” The shift in his gaze, going from worried and anxious, to heated and needy makes you clench around nothing. Even still, pushing a bit further wouldn’t hurt, would it? “But you are feeling me, ma’ txe’lan.” You sigh, rolling your hips ever so slightly, giving his already overstimulated tip another grind of your sopping cunt.

A muffled noise escapes your mate as he bites his lower lip, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, attempting to collect himself, “All of you.” Teylan clarifies. This draws a satisfied smile on your face, guiding your hand from his chin to caress the side of his face, “And do you think you’ve earned it?” You mused, gently brushing your nose against his own, your lips just out of his reach. His eyes are half lidded as he hangs off of your every word, nodding slowly before attempting to close the distance between you, only for you to gently tug at the roots of his hair with your free hand, pulling him back, “You will keep your eyes on me, won’t you ma’ txe’lan?”. Again he nods silently in response, lips parted, his eyes bouncing between your lustrous gaze and your own lips. “Hah.. you’re cute, but I need you to use your words, yawne.” You remind him, releasing your grip on his hair, to steady yourself on his lap, placing your hand just above his knee as you align your entrance with his throbbing cock, “Y-yes… I will.”, “That’s my good boy.” You purr, finally connecting your lips in a tender kiss.

Your praise sends a shiver down his spine, straight to his member, making it twitch in anticipation as you begin to lower yourself onto him. Both of your mouths hang open, eyes never leaving one another’s as the velvety slickness of your inner walls embrace his shaft. Teylan’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment, yet that is enough for you to keep up with your little game. They open again when the warmth of your cunt vanishes, only encompassing his abused tip. “Ah, ah, ah… eyes on me, remember?”. Teylan lets out a frustrated groan, mentally scolding himself before nodding with a bit more enthusiasm, “Yes- yes I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear.” He nearly pleads, his tone desperate as if frantically trying to prepare his mistake, “Shh… easy, yawne.” Your voice is soft as you are quick to soothe his anxious mind, planting gentle kisses all over his face. Once you feel his shoulders untense you know he’s ready to continue, leaving a final kiss on his lips to grab his attention, “That’s it… eyes on me.”

A choked out moan leaves your mate, paired with the gentle sting of his nails running down your back, lost in the feeling as he bottoms out inside you, leaving you sitting flush in his lap. Your labored breaths mix, shared in such close proximity, each of your eyes full with wonton desire, it’s almost too hard to contain yourselves, but you’ve let your game go on long enough, “Mm… so good for me.” You whisper into his ear, nuzzling against his cheek to allow your scent to waft into his nose, and with a subtle lift of your hips, you allow yourself to fall onto him once again… and again… and again, slowly building momentum each time. “Ohh… ‘feels so good.” Teylan moans, gently shifting his hips upward to meet your bouncing hips. You return his moan in acknowledgment, continuing to scent him while you roll your hips against his, “Ahh, such a good boy for me… taking this pussy so well.”. Again your praise sends a rush of excitement through him, while simultaneously granting him a boost of confidence, his hands find their way to your hips once more, pulling you down onto his thrusts, his ears flicking in satisfaction when he’s rewarded with a drawn out moan from you.

It felt all too good, you almost didn’t want him to stop, but you were already so close having teased yourself as well as him for so long, yet still you wanted to last longer. Easily fighting against the restraint of his hands you pull yourself up and off of his cock, ears flicking as it slaps against his lower abdomen, earning an immediate whine from your mate. “Is everything alright?” He asks, his worry all too quick to come to the forefront again, “I am fine, Teylan. I just need a moment… I’m too close.”. His ears perk at this, tongue peeking out from behind his lips to moisten them. Even passed the curtains of your lashes, you can see the gears in his mind already turning, yet before you can object to any plot he’s forming, a gasp breaks from your lips as Teylan anchors you down onto your back, ensuring you are laying comfortably before pushing your knees toward your chest. “Let me take care of you now, my love.” He hums in nearly a whisper to you and before you can even think about protesting, his pelvis is dropping against yours in a matter of seconds, sinking his cock deep into your cunt.

Your back arches and your hands immediately shift to grasp at his forearms, where his hands are keeping your knees in place. While it wasn’t often that Teylan took initiative, in the moments he did, he made sure to make every second count, sorting through the “save files” of his mind to remember exactly how you loved to be fucked. Your body bucked along with his as Teylan effortlessly hit exactly where you needed him to. The sounds of your sweet serenades fill the room, eyes rolling back when a familiar tightening in your core prods at your attention, body shuttering, walls milking Teylan’s shaft as you clench tightly around him. An intense wave of pleasure unleashes in the wake of your release, feeling yourself become light headed for a moment.

It’s only when you are stable enough to process through your high that you remember that Teylan is still going. Forcing your eyes to focus you note that his own are squeezed shut, mouth agape, and beads of perspiration decorating his forehead, releasing trembling breaths with each of his thrusts almost as if he were caught in the cold. He was incredibly pent up, that much was obvious, his increasingly sloppy movements becoming a strong indicator of that, and when his voice broke into hitched and broken gasps, you knew he was close, he just needed that extra push. Reaching a hand up, once again you cup the side of his face, “My mate, you look so good, rutting into me like this. So powerful.” You manage to praise between your own sounds of pleasure, “You must want to cum so bad.”. Swallowing hard Teylan hastily nods, his whimpers growing in pitch, “Y-yes… I do- so badly!”, “Then what are you waiting for, yawne? Cum.”

The simple word is like a jumpstart right to his internal motherboard or that of a former programming that he could not disobey, spilling himself into you with the motivation of a few more pumps. As his exhausted form collapses on top of you, catching his breath, you can’t help, but giggle beneath him. “You may not be a warrior, but Eywa has blessed you with the will to fuck like one.” You coo in a playful tone, pushing a loose strand of hair behind his pointed ear. “I… that is only because you do not play fair.”, “And yet you still rise to the challenge. Rest, ma’muntxatan… you did well.”.

Tag list:

@turtlezee1 @awiltedpeony @xylianasblog @pandoraslxna @blue-slxt @hotdsworld @itchaboi-itchyboy

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #avatarsmut #avatar frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #teylan #sarentu #afop #fop #sarentu prince #teylan smut #teylan avatar #teylan x reader #frontiers of pandora smut #avatar smut

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luvvixu · 7 months

Text

night skincare routine

content: fluff, husband!gojo, he's a thief little mf, minor kissing, umm so i had this thought where gojo's typa boy who eat straight lip moisturizer/flavored serum lmaoaoao

if there's one thing that couples do love the most, especially when you are married to a man like gojo satoru, is that a night skincare routine is a must.

you know, after a long day, you and satoru would be situated in your shared bedroom with lots of trusted brands in your hands. satoru especially loves it when you help him with his skincare.

just you spreading some night cream on his already smooth skin. oh he just loved the way how gentle your fingers were when you slightly massage his face. and his head resting on your lap while you apply some product on his face? hell, satoru could immediately fall asleep like a baby.

your fingers always work like magic, he is obsessed with that.

anyway, it was peaceful, you know, both of you are doing your night skincare routine when…

"satoru, we ran out of chapsticks." while scrambling through the neatly organized drawer, obviously done by you, you called out for your husband who's laying on your shared bed with his favorite facemask on his face.

satoru looks up to you while his hand is occupied with his phone. you took a moment of pause to admire your loving husband. his hair is being pushed back with some cute headband that you two came across while shopping for some stuff.

"oh yeah, i forgot to buy earlier." satoru scratches his chin while smiling sheepishly. "how about the lip serum? you still have those, right?" he asked.

you let out a hesitant chuckle. "now we're talking, the thing is…i think it's missing."

"missing? sweetheart, did you perhaps bring it to your work?" your husband get up as he approached you towards the dressing table where you're currently seated.

satoru took his time and gently removed the facemask on his face since it has been sitting there for a while, also giving his face a little massage to get the extract of the mask sink into his skin before disposing the mask into the trash can.

"i did. but i swear, i put it back in my pouch before going home and now, it's gone!" meanwhile, you fumbled as you looked through your pouch again, and yup, it was indeed missing.

"now that you don't have any lip care products…" your tone drops its enthusiasm. lip products are your best friends, it is one of your favorite things that you would bring inside your casket.

your husband knew how much you love that product, so he volunteered to let you borrow his. "here, you can use my chapstick."

but as you opened the cap, the chapstick was empty. "oops…i think i already used the last portion a while ago." satoru awkwardly trailed off.

"but worry not, darling! i am always willing to share anything with you." he smiled, giving you that kind of smile you already knew so well.

he was planning something. "satoru, don't tell me you—"

satoru grabbed your waist to inch you closer to him. "yes, we're doing the traditional way of moisturizing the lips." his lips pressed against yours, already deepening it into his skilled french kiss that always makes you feel weak.

his lips keep on brushing on your own, imitating the way you apply the lip products on your lips. but seriously, his actions implies more kissing than the actual sharing of chapsticks.

the way his tongue would explore every known piece of your lips is insane. satoru memorizes your taste, inches, and sweet spots by heart. that is his weapon for you.

as his hand crawls on the back of your head, tugging it and pulling it even further to the kiss. satoru also playfully bites your lower lip, sending electric shocks to your body as you surpass a moan.

your husband continues to take the lead by nibbling on your lips. he let out a small whimper when you finally decided to also tug his hair, a thing you absolutely love whenever you do it during a make out session.

he's satoru gojo, your loving husband, and he also has an undying obsession with you.

"there, both of us have lip moisturizer now." satoru playfully licked his lips. finding the taste of strawberry chapstick even better when your lips itself was involved.

you, a blushing mess, pushed him away weakly as you are still trying to recover from the intense kiss. your lips were indeed more smooth than a while ago, it's so plumpy and a little bit bruised.

"oh shut up. you just did that to make out. with me." you halfheartedly glared at your cheeky husband.

"you're half correct about that. i indeed intend to make out with you, but i also want to share my chapstick with you." he playfully winked before wrapping his arms around your body.

"can i have one more kiss?" satoru inched his lips towards yours.

you just gave him a peck, saying it's enough for the moment since you're still not done in your routine and it made satoru pout. he decided to retreat for now since he got a steamy make out for a splendid minute.

"after work tomorrow, let's go to the mall together. we need to buy some supplies, skincare supplies." you reminded him, still your cheeks are flushed.

"and also, i am going to purchase more than we usually do on lip products." you added. actually, you're still upset yet confused about your lost lip serum.

you swore to yourself that you came home with lip serum on your pouch. but how did it disappear? were you being haunted?

the answer is…

"sure, my darling. just pick whatever you like and i'll take care of the money." your husband innocently chuckles before continuing his business he left earlier.

unbeknownst to you, you are correct that you came home with your lip serum on your pouch but you're not haunted. the culprit for this is none other than your one and only husband, gojo satoru.

he planned this whole thing out and sneakily stole your lip serum just for a dumb (i think?) reason. satoru was getting annoyed that there is something other than his lips that is being attached to your lips!

although, he wouldn't admit that to himself and hell! of course not even to you.

satoru did not regret what he did. in fact, he was smiling widely as he watched you gramble about your missing lip product not knowing it was his fault.

guess he'll be wasting money on your lip products since he doesn't plan to stop himself from stealing your future lipsies. but it was hell sure worth it if that means he could kiss you the way he wants and get rid of the thing he hates when you put it to your lips instead of him.

nevertheless, just wait 'till you found out about it, he'll be sleeping outside for some good nights.

©luvvixu2023

#gojo satoru #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #luvvixu #fluff

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littlejuicebox · 3 months

Text

A growing brood.

Summary: Gale has just turned three years old and is adjusting to the idea of becoming a big brother. He and Astarion go out for a walk in the orchard, where the older man gets an opportunity to practice some of his stealth skills.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, Dadstarion, parenthood, babies, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of Astarion’s past and trauma, idk what else

Gale is holding a toy sword he received on his birthday as he and Astarion walk along the back grounds of the manor. The child is swinging the wooden object haphazardly as he sings a babbled song his father can’t identify.

Astarion surveys the small orchard as they meander along the dirt path. He’d been sent here with the little boy at the request of his pregnant wife, tasked with determining whether or not the trees were ready to harvest. She currently stood on the balcony of their home, waiting for her husband’s signal. She wouldn’t make the trek out until then; it had to be worth navigating uneven ground and overgrown brush in her condition.

Picking fruit in the orchard had become Tav and Gale’s yearly autumn tradition. The first year they’d spent quite a bit of time introducing the little one to new fruits he had not yet tried.

Pregnant or not, she refused to miss the orchard harvest.

Astarion is secretly relieved when he determines nothing is quite ripe. He felt Tav was pushing herself too hard, going above and beyond to make their first born feel valued as he adjusted to the idea of siblings. But carrying the twins was starting to exhaust her and she desperately needed rest. She’d already overworked herself for Gale’s third birthday party just a week ago, despite Astarion’s protests.

The elf lifts his hand and shoots a ray of frost up into the sky. He knows his little love will see the signal and retreat back into the house. He hopes she will take a much needed nap now that their son is preoccupied with his father.

“CHARGE!” Gale shouts, running forward on two stubby legs with his toy sword in the air.

“Gale, don’t run in the orchard you’ll—“ Astarion starts, but before he can finish his chastisement the little boy’s foot gets caught on a particularly large tree root. He stumbles and falls onto his knees with a soft thud and a grunt of surprise. The toy sword clatters to the ground as Gale’s small hands extend in front of him to break the fall.

Astarion thinks they really need to dedicate outdoor clothes for the child. Traipsing around the orchard in gold threaded finery simply wouldn’t do. The older man’s eyes flutter toward the back of his head in exasperation as he walks over to the three year old calling, “Are you alright, Gale?”

The toddler stands back up, dusting off his hands. His previously pristine trousers are now caked in dirt and grass. He turns and nods to Astarion before responding, “I okay, Papa!”

A brood of their free-range chickens is clustered nearby, bawking as they peck at the ground searching for insects. The noise captures Gale’s attention and he forgets his sword, running towards the small cluster of birds.

“Chickens, guess what! I free years old now!” He shouts, holding his middle three fingers up to show the fowl his new age.

But as he approaches the chickens, they scatter off, deterred by the loud babblings of the boy. Gale huffs in disappointment. And then he shouts, “CHICKENS! Get over here now!”

The chickens bawk and run further away from the little boy, much to his chagrin. His shoulders sag dramatically as he pouts.

“You’d do well to learn that you’ll catch more flys with honey than vinegar, little prince.” Astarion lectures, coming up behind his son after scooping the forgotten wooden sword from the earth.

Gale blinks at his father, eyebrows crinkling in confusion, “But daddy, chickens doesn’t fly does they? My book say they doesn’t.”

The little prince was particularly fascinated by birds. At the child’s party a week ago, Gale of Waterdeep had gifted his namesake a set of twenty six children’s books listed A through Z, each covering the specifics of one bird. Astarion had just been held hostage by the three year old and forced to read “C” for chickens twice a few nights ago.

The elf had rushed through the first reading in an attempt to finish quickly and join Tav for a much needed tryst between mommy and daddy. Gale had refused to let him leave until he read the book properly.

“It’s an expression, Gale, it means— nevermind, it’s not important.” Astarion sighs, flailing his hand in a dismissive gesture. He isn’t about to waste his time explaining idioms to a three year old, “But maybe if you approach the chickens more quietly, they’ll come up to you.”

Gale considers this and then nods, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He begins walking toward the brood, trying desperately to be quiet. He’s just a few feet away when the chickens scatter again, clucking anxiously to one another. The careful movements of a three year old are still too noisy and abrupt for the birds.

The silver-haired boy groans in frustration.

“Watch me, Gale.” Astarion whispers as he hands the toy sword back to his son.

The elf crouches lower to the ground, easily engaging the predatory behavior he hadn’t used since turning mortal roughly four years ago. But the muscle memory alone allows him to silently and efficiently make his way to the group of chickens. Long-fingered hands dart out and quickly retrieve a spotted hen from the periphery of the brood.

Gale cheers before dropping the sword once again as he runs up to his father, wanting to examine the animal more closely. The rest of the flock members instantly run away when the little boy approaches, but he pays them no mind. Tiny fingers come out to gently pet the back of the bird.

“Good job, daddy!” The child exclaims, causing the older man to chuckle.

Astarion finds it entertaining that he is being praised for catching a harmless domesticated chicken. Gale truly had no idea that, only a few years ago, his father easily downed wild boars and a few bears with nothing but his fangs.

They’d purposely bought this estate on the outer edge of Rivington as a way to meet the nutritional needs of the prior vampire. In fact, Astarion had used the wild boar infestation in this very orchard to justify a lower price point from the seller and then quickly turned around and solved the problem with his hunting in a matter of weeks.

One day, Gale will know more about his father’s past.

But not today.

Today, Astarion is just a daddy catching a chicken.

Perhaps that’s who he truly is. Perhaps he doesn’t have to cling so hard to who he thought he was.

A light drizzle abruptly ended the walk in the orchard. Astarion scooped Gale up and hurriedly returned to the manor; the last thing he and Tav needed was the little boy catching a cold.

They were wearing a set of matching drenched curls when Astarion plopped his son on the back porch.

“Papa…” Gale starts, looking down at the toy sword he’s fiddling with in his hand, lost in thought.

“What is it, little prince?” Astarion asks as he removes his mud-caked boots before crouching to help his child do the same.

“When my other babies born,” He continues while lifting a leg, trying to help his dad remove the dirty shoes. The little boy had always referred to the twins as “my babies” and his parents simply shrugged it off as one of those strange things kids do, “You gonna love me, still, right, Papa?”

Astarion pauses.

Shit.

This was the type of sensitive, vulnerable, soft stuff that Tav usually handled so smoothly and Astarion felt sure he always fumbled.

The older man slowly places the child’s shoes down and then peers into his son’s round, emerald eyes. Gale was growing to be a much more sensitive and empathetic boy than Astarion had anticipated. The child might be the spitting image of his father, but his disposition certainly leaned more toward his mother.

It was something Astarion simultaneously feared and wanted to fiercely protect.

“Yes, Gale. I will still love you when your little brothers or sisters are born,” Astarion murmurs, bringing his hand up to gently brush it through his child’s unruly, wet curls, “You’ll still love me, won’t you?”

Gale nods and grins at his father as the worry in his little body fades away, “I love you always, daddy.”

The older man pulls his son into a hug, mostly to avoid Gale catching a glimpse of his father blinking back tears, “I will always love you, too, Gale.”

The elf lifts the little boy back up and heads into the house, planning to get them both into a fresh change of clothes.

The child may now be three years old and have two other siblings on the way, but whether he is three, thirty three, or three hundred… Gale will always be Astarion’s first baby.

And Astarion will always love his little boy.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fluff #dadstarion fic #dadstarion #papastarion #soft astarion

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moonjxsung · 5 months

Note

Your opinion on who in StrayKids likes a bit more, Butt, Boobs or thighs and why. You can make it smutty as well 😉

If you have already can you link it? 😅

Have a good day! 🥰🧡

-🧡anon

Is this something anyone else thinks about as much as I do? I feel like I’m constantly going back and forth between my answers 🚶‍♀️ANYWAYS….

Chan: ass & boobs. Specifically likes when you ride him and he can either grip your thighs or grab your ass….. looooves when you wear short skirts he can just flip up for a quick fuck. And I KNOW I say it all the time….. but it’s like ten times more intensified with his daddy kink. Literally gripping your ass for dear life while you’re riding him and he’s forcing you to call him daddy. Also cums super fast if you wrap your legs around his crotch while you’re on top. Likes the idea of your cum dripping out of him onto your thighs and making a mess.

Minho: a little harder to read, but I want to say he’s an ass guy… he’s just not super obvious about it. He smacks everyone’s ass in a joking way but he won’t do it to you very much only because he doesn’t want you to think he’s being disrespectful. But when it comes to getting intimate, he loves taking you against a wall or a table and putting it in from behind. Loves intertwining his hands with yours and fucking you hard. And he’ll graze his hands along your ass and keep them there until he cums inside of you. Loves it to feel super primal but still respectful and gets turned on knowing you’re turned on.

Changbin: a traditional man… definitely boobs. He’s such a little shit constantly staring at your boobs while you’re talking and you have to remind him where your eyes are. But when it comes to intimacy he loves holding them while you’re riding him. Loves to watch them bounce and maybe take a video or two for his own personal use. Also very partial to lacy lingerie that’s practically see through so he can still get a good glimpse of your nipples & every curve. More casually he also won’t hesitate to get you in bed lying on top of him with your back faced to him and his hands on your boobs massaging them. Watches tv like that, uses his phone like that… just his favorite stress relievers.

Hyunjin: another tough one… gonna say boobs and thighs for him. Hyunjin gets super turned on any time you sit in his lap and literally winces at the feeling of your thighs grazing over his cock while you’re in just underwear or a short skirt. He really likes gripping your thighs and massaging them while you sit in his lap and then trailing up with his hands to where he can finger fuck you. But when you’re riding him, he gets veryyy subby and wants your nipples in his mouth like every waking second of it. Gets super whimpery and drools all over your boobs and sucks them like his life depends on it. Also very partial to leaving hickies on both your thighs and boobs. Just likes marking up his favorite places and making you all sore for him even if you’re just making out.

Jisung: thighs and ass!!!! Specifically when you ride his face! I feel like we’re all in mutual agreement that Jisung goes feral for you riding his face and just really loves to make you squirt on his pretty little face and clean you up like a starved animal. Loves the feeling of your thighs trembling over his tongue while he grips onto them for dear life. He also goes crazy to see you wearing long socks or hosiery and he wants your thighs on his face like instantly. And he’s crazy for your ass too in the most annoyingly cute way. Constantly squeezing, slapping, you name it and he’s doing it. Purposely passes by you and brushes his crotch against it and then likes to play all innocent like he wasn’t trying to cop a feel.

Felix: personality boobs. Someone submitted something yesterday about how Felix would looove having his face buried in your chest and I stand by this 10000%! He’s less sexual about it when he’s doing it regularly, just loves kissing them and massaging them with his skilled hands whenever he gets a chance. And he’s super polite about asking you to flash him or send a picture when he’s turned on. But when you guys are intimate, he’s allll over them with his tongue. I mean sucking, biting and licking them like they belong to him. Loves groaning with your nipples in his mouth while he fucks you and whispering about how much he loves them in his sexy deep voice. Of course after it’s done he’s back to gentle massages and randomly pulling up your shirt to kiss them. But he’s crazy for them either way.

Seungmin: ass guy for sure. But he’s not shy about it. Snacks your ass when you walk by, grips your ass when you bend over and won’t hesitate to ask to fuck you doggy style. He loves when you just wear one of his t-shirts and bend over and all he can see is your ass in your lacy panties. Will crack some joke about how you make it such easy access for him but you’re also not going to decline his proposal when he’s offering to fuck you roughly from behind. Also loves when you sit on his lap peppering his face in kisses and he can keep his hands on your ass. Such a sexy sight when he wears some expensive watch and gives you a little squeeze here and there, literally makes you horny all over again. Daddy Seungmin agenda perhaps…

Jeongin: hear me out on this one….. all 3. He’s just super into body worship and any one of the 3 get him turned on. You want to ride his face? He’s hard at the feeling of your thighs in his big hands. Doggy style? He loves to spank you with his big hands. Cowgirl?? Hands and tongue all over your boobs. Showers you in compliments about any one of the three because you guys have such high sex drives and every part of each other is a turn-on. And when you’re not intimate, he’s just the most loving boyfriend about it too because he’ll shower you with compliments anyway. Randomly tells you your thighs look good in a pair of old jeans, or that your boobs look particularly flattering in that shirt. Just worships every inch of you.

#skz smut #stray kids #skz #stray kids hard hours #🧡 anon #ask #skz scenarios

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heiayen · 5 months

Text

so, when i die, which i must do - neuvillette x gn!reader

summary: "how unfortunate it was, that the later you longed for… never came. not how you wished for it to do." of fate's cruel joke and tragedy

tags: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, braiding neuvie's hair!! fluff/angst. reader gets shot but it isn't described in details. not proofread

notes: i don't know how to write neuvillette. alsooo at first it was meant to just be a fluffy fic of braiding neuvie's hair but thanks to écrin network yall are getting angst <3 and yes. the title is mitski lyrics

Every morning, you would wake up early to braid Neuvillette's hair.

It started as something small at first, as hushed morning conversations in bed, with your fingers lazily braiding a strand of his hair. It was always sloppy, a little out of shape and you would always unbraid it before he would leave the bed— and you back to sleep, but… it was here. Always was here, a quiet declaration of your love for him.

Only with time did it evolve into actual braids. You remembered clearly this one time when you woke up in surprisingly good spirits and with the sudden urge to properly braid his hair.

He didn't refuse, because how could he? Seeing the shine in your eyes as you asked him, his only choice was to say yes.

He looked beautiful, you remembered.

The braid wasn't perfect, no, far from it even. One of the three strands was a little thicker than the other, the shape was a little off at the end but, really, you just woke up minutes ago and were running on nothing but pure will and adoration for this man. You'd make a perfect braid for him later, you said to yourself.

And as your hands moved to brush your fingers through the strands to free his hair from the plait, he stopped you.

He wanted to wear it for the rest of the day, you remembered him saying. That he didn't care about it not being perfect.

It was yours and it made you happy.

He looked so beautiful, smiling softly at you.

That day marked the beginning of your little tradition of braiding his hair every morning, and today was no different, accompanied by your rambling about the upcoming day.

"…wish I could sleep longer today, though. Right after I am done with the fighting, I will go to your office and take a nap there."

Today was an important day for you. You were one of the Champion Duelists, known for your elegant, but efficient swordplay, and today you had a duel to win. You were confident in your skills and, if anything, more worried for the man who challenged you. He didn't seem like someone adept at swords enough to win, but if he wished to fight for his honor, then it was his choice.

"You are welcome to do as you wish, love. But be careful during the duel." Came his reply in a low voice, with traces of morning sleepiness evident in his tone, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

You appreciated his concern despite your confidence. It made warmth bloom somewhere inside you, as you continued gently brushing his long hair.

"Only Clorinde surpasses my skills as a fighter, there's no reason for you to worry about me." You said softly, finally putting the brush away and starting to part his hair, "But no matter, I will be careful either way."

You leaned to peck his cheek before you went back to braiding. You and Neuvillette talked about mundane things for the rest of it. You shared your plans for the rest of the day, how you planned to meet up with Clorinde in the afternoon, feed her some good desserts or just food because, archons, you two finally managed to find a moment of free time to meet up and talk and you wouldn't pass on the occasion to share your favorite sweets and other dishes, no.

When you were finally finished, you tied it with his usual ribbon and moved from your place behind him to get up from bed. You stood in front of him, smiling.

"It's all done!" You clapped your hands and gestured at Neuvillette with your hands, "You can now go and do your important court duties, dove."

A small chuckle slipped past his lips and he reached out to hold your hands, tug you a little closer to him.

"Thank you, love." He got up and placed a gentle kiss on each of your hands, for your hard work, "I'll be waiting for you to come later."

You wished the later could come faster and that today wasn't so busy for you both. How you wished to spend the entire day with just him, his loving embrace, and the blooming warmth in your chest.

"Me too."

How unfortunate it was, that the later you longed for… never came. Not how you wished for it to do.

In all of your confidence you failed to notice the conspiracy, the tragedy brewing behind the shadows. You took your safety for granted, believing you wouldn't get hurt because why? You were so good at it, and the man who challenged you barely seemed to know how to hold his blade and–

Maybe that was your undoing. The damned self-confidence that prevented you from understanding what was really happening before it was too late.

Only when someone yelled in the crowd, the defeated man smiled wickedly at you from the ground, only when your eyes met the gun's barrel did you realize that your safety never was granted, and that being the Iudex's lover had its price one you didn't wish to pay any soon.

He was your beloved, your Neuvillette in the warm embrace of your arms and at home. Your lover, for whom you would do anything, even if it meant waking up early just to braid his hair and sleepily mumble into his shoulder, your fingers doing the job on their own but in people's eyes you were one of the Champion Duelists, someone important to the Iudex of Fontaine, a playing card in a greater scheme of revenge.

Right.

Before you could react, the bullet hit its goal and you fell to the ground, gasping in shock and scowling in pain. You stared at the man who shot you before someone came and dragged him away, another person trying to move you away, but you could already feel your consciousness slowly slipping away from you.

You weren't ready to pay with your life for simply loving, and yet the decision was made for you.

Your lips parted as you tried to say your lover's name before losing consciousness but you barely managed to utter it, light as a whisper and as lovely as a prayer.

Oh, no.

You didn't want to leave him. Not yet, not anytime soon, not at all, not before spending an eternity with him. Was it foolish to wish for it? To wish for something impossible, yet something your heart longed for?

You wanted to braid his hair again, get all the rainbow roses and other flowers, and ribbons, and weave it into the strands. You wanted to kiss him once more, share your favorite desserts, and talk about your day to him, sleep peacefully knowing he was next to you, knowing that you were–

To think about it, you never were safe, not with how fate loved cruel jokes and tragedy.

Someone's warm, gloved hand cupped your cheek and soon, you could feel the first drops of rain on your skin. You wanted to speak an apology into his palm, but you didn't have enough strength for it anymore.

It seemed the rain wouldn't stop for a long time.

#astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact x reader #heia's writin'#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #gender neutral reader

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komoboko · 5 months

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𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

ft: kokushibo Tsugikuni, douma hashibira, akaza soyama, demon!reader

I’ll probably make a pt 2 for the rest of the demons + the clones ! Banner by @mmadeinheavenn

# kokushibo ! ☆

KOKUSHIBO takes time to learn he adores you, he starts off with simple admiration. He attempts to convince himself he's just inspired by your talents, your strengths and your skills. He'll even attempt to train or spar with you as his body hopes to get close it you but his mind tries to deny it.

Surprisingly, Kokushibo can be the most self aware about his feelings, once he finally brushes off the denial stage he actually understand how he feels about you. He's been in love during his years as a human, he thinks he knows how to go about this.

Kokushibo is a very traditional man, his skills and knowledge of love are centuries old but he will still go about it the same way he does as a human. He'll watch from afar seeming to get to know you in silence before going after you face to face. He starts off as some sort of admirer of some sort, gifting you roses in secret seems to be his favorite tactic.

Once he's able to approach you face to face, he'll put up an act per say. Trying to get you to like his presence claiming Muzan wants him to train you, in reality he just wants to be close to you. Take in your presence until he finds the comfort into charming and courting you into adoring him as well.

# douma ! ☆

Poor people who are apart cult, because DOUMA is insufferable when he falls in love. While you can’t directly blame the demon as he never experienced such emotions. Even so, he annoys one to many people around him.

Douma ask one too many questions once he finally begins to feel something. His questions are oddly specific and he spits so many out like rapid fire. Some people may not even understand what he's trying to explain, as his descriptions are so abnormal. Don't be mad, he just has so many questions! He needs to know how he feels! He needs to know how he feels for you!!

"Is it normal to feel like the phrase where a certain insect is in your stomach?" or "What do i do when my cheeks rise above the 32 degrees Fahrenheit and become a shade of pink" once he saw a couple in his cult kiss and had bugged them with so many questions.. "what did you both just do with each other? Why do I yearn to do that with name as well?

he clings onto much more then he would originally. He complain once you have to go do missions and will try to accompany you no matter what. the only time you will get some peace is if muzan calls upon one of you. Even then he'll whine having to depart from each other even if its only for a couple of minutes. He's attached to you by the hip, at one point you're going to be annoyed by his antics. if the people in his cult are right about what he feels about you. Maybe being close to you will make you adore him?

# akaza ! ☆

At first AKAZA finds you as a nuisance. His mind tries to push you out of it but he can't help how you invade his thoughts and he can't get his mind off of you! It's not his fault your so intoxicating!

At first, he distances himself from you as he believes your the main problem. he's supposed to be focused on become the strongest and training himself to achieve his goal. he shouldn't be focused on the thought of being by your side and the chance to hold your hand! It's only then when he comes to his senses to realize he's fallen in love with you.

Once he realizes that distancing himself from you isn't the right way to go, he'll approach you.. slowly. It only starts from his commenting on your blood demon art, them commenting on your fighting skills. He even asks for inspiration or for guidance which is something he never say a word about around any other demon. It takes him a while to open up to you and actually begin to fluently have a conversation with you. Once he does get there, you've sure earned a place in his heart.

Douma bugs him about this, he never hears the end about it once the uppermoon knows. He'll pester Akaza about anything about you knowing it gets under his skin, he'll even go as far as to bother you about it. This only lands Douma a missing jaw and an embarrassed Akaza

#@.komoboko writes #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #upper moons #kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #douma #douma x reader #akaza #akaza x reader #x reader #fluff #kny fanfic #kny fluff #headcanon #hcs

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inkabelledesigns · 6 months

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Belladonna Nightshade - Halloween Dark Fairy

Base Doll: G3 Twyla from Monster High Clothing Pattern: Dollightful's Asymmetrical Dress (read to the end, I have notes about this)

Happy Halloween everyone! Since becoming a doll customizer, my Halloween dolls are usually related to my favorite indie horror game, Bendy and the Ink Machine. However, seeing as I've completed two Bendy dolls already this year, I felt it was time to give myself a break and try something a bit different. My friends over in DollyAnna's Discord server wanted to do a collaboration, so we decided to all make some Dark Fairies for Halloween!

Belladonna Nightshade is a mischievous fae that loves to play tricks and tempt mortals. That said, she's easily bribed with a sweet treat or two, and will usually let you be if you have a little candy or pastry to give her. I haven't decided what I want to do with her yet in terms of a story, but there is a part of me that would love to have her in my Equinox story.

When you consider the fact that most of my other Halloween dolls are black and yellow, it's no surprise she ended up super colorful. XD Would you believe this is my first doll with rainbow hair? Yeah neither did I, but she is! Part of my style is having really colorful and vibrant dolls, it surprises a lot of people that I've never done a rainbow before, but honestly? I'm glad to have finally tackled one! I'm also glad to have worked with another G3. Twyla is very near and dear to my heart, and I was so psyched to work with her mold! You can't see it in any of these photos, but I used glow in the dark varnish on her eyes and neon markings, so that her eyes still glow like the original. I will say, this doll has a lot more acrylic paint than my others, just by the nature of I don't have any pencils in neon colors. It was nice to get the practice in, I feel more confident than I did before in my brush skills. It was also nice to have a doll with dark scleras for a change! I haven't done that since I made Dreamer, it's surprisingly fun to draw on!

I was inspired by a LOT of different things with this one, and I went back and forth on my concepts a lot. Black light skeleton make-up, butterflies, fairies with non-traditional wings, candy, jesters, these were all sources of inspiration, and I think most obviously of all, Dollightful herself. This wasn't intentional, but I ended up using a doll of one of her favorite characters, with a lot of saturated colors which we know she loves, and even her dress pattern! I've been wanting to make this garment for ages, and finally I had a reason to try it!

So those of you who know how this pattern works are probably asking "Kat, how did you make this fit a G3? This dress is supposed to fit a G1 Monster High doll!" Believe it or not, Requiem Arts has a method for easily adjusting G1 patterns to fit G3 bodies. It's as simple as scaling a pattern up to 104% and printing it that way. It's meant for her garments, but I don't see any reason why it wouldn't work for other doll patterns. So I tried it with Katherine's dress, and I'm happy to say it worked out just fine! I think I probably should have adjusted a bit more on the skirt though. This outfit is essentially two pieces, and the skirt with all the ruffles is a little tight around the booty, it could have used a little more sizing up. So if you own this pattern and want to try this yourself, do keep that in mind!

Do let me know what you think! I had so much fun working on Belladonna, she's so vibrant and fun, I wanna try more fairies like her someday. I also need to try using props more. I got these pumpkins and hay bales on sale, and it was fun using them to craft a little temporary set for photos.

#dollblr #doll customization #doll repaint #ooak doll #halloween doll #doll custom #custom doll #monster high g3 #monster high g3 twyla #monster high custom #monster high g3 custom #monster high repaint #doll photos #doll photoshoot #doll photography #ooak #monster high ooak #longpost

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