#the king his queen shirts

[thepastisalreadywritten]

This Saturday, at St James's Palace in London, the man most of us have known all our lives as Prince Charles will be officially proclaimed King following the death of his mother, Queen Elizabeth II.

The fact he will be the oldest man in history to accede to the throne has been much remarked upon; the fact he will also be the most stylish, less so.

Those of us who care about such things can play an easy game. What is your favourite King Charles III style moment?

Maybe it’s the time he wore a western suit (in a jazzy shade of millennial pink) with a check shirt, a bolo tie and a quartz-hued ten-gallon hat on an official tour of Canada in the late 1970s.

Or perhaps it’s the time he wore a short-sleeved baby-blue safari shirt with a pair of chinos and some riding boots to the polo.

Our personal favourite? The time he brandished his considerable wealth with no shortage of rakishness by pairing a yolk-yellow Hermès sweater (complete with cartoonish “Happy Hermès” logo) with a chambray shirt and a pair of skintight white jeans to, you guessed it, a polo match at the Guards Polo Club in Windsor.

What people tend to forget about Charles is that he was a bit of a style icon back in the day.

But it's something that will be brought back to our collective consciousness as the outpouring of grief and tributes from around the world slowly give way to looking at the future of the monarchy, which Charles now leads after the longest wait in royal history.

Take the forest-green and cherry-red shirt Charles wore to play in a charity polo match in the late Seventies.

Imbued with a prepped-up, Eton-boy-gone-bad vibe (not least because Charles chose to wear it quite so close-cut), it wouldn’t be difficult to imagine Frank Ocean – or even the fash pack’s favourite skater Blondey McCoy – wearing the same thing today and looking every bit the wavy young disruptor doing it.

Then there’s that full-on, Yves Saint Laurent-inspired taupe safari suit he wore on a state visit to Australia in 1985.

Both of those looks exemplify Charles’s acute understanding of the soft power demonstrated by an excellent cut.

The King so often opted – and still opts – for muted shades over showier ones and tends to pick garments that focus on function over form.

This attention to detail is something those studying the King have often remarked on.

The man who played him in the The Crown, Josh O'Connor, said:

“Whenever he gets out of a car, he checks his cufflink, checks his pocket and then waves. [It’s] the same movement every time.”

It’s this sense of consistency that defines Charles' unique personal flair.

“In every photo you see, he has great style. The shirt, tie and pocket square combinations are put together so well, with a great eye for detail,” says Steven Quin, retail director at Turnbull & Asser.

“He’s not afraid of colour and he clearly wears what he feels comfortable in and does not follow trends. HRH has always worn a double-breasted jacket.

I remember reading a quote from him where he stated that his style 'comes back into fashion every 25 years’. That still rings true. His elegance is timeless.”

The other important thing to note about Charles’ very specific mode of dressing is that he’s loyal to the brands he likes and, perhaps most importantly, he invests in quality.

He has his shirts made at the aforementioned Jermyn Street shirtmaker Turnbull & Asser.

He wears handmade shoes from Northampton shoemaker Crockett & Jones.

He gets his ceremonial gear from Ede & Ravenscroft.

He alternates having his suits made at Gieves & Hawkes and Anderson & Sheppard. It’s a roster of loyalty many British men will probably relate to.

“[King] Charles is a total inspiration. His taste is impeccable, almost always in double-breasted jackets, looking resplendent but totally at ease with a tie and pocket square,” says John Harrison, creative director at Gieves & Hawkes.

”He’s also done more than anyone in the public eye to promote the idea of bespoke garments and handmade shoes being investments, to last forever with proper care and the odd repair or patch-up. He makes us all want to dress like a better man.”

Ultimately, though, it’s the confidence King Charles displays with his wardrobe decisions – a certain ruffled indifference – that makes his style so covetable.

Though today he’s best known for wearing a double-breasted suit better than any man on earth (fact), once upon a time his collars were curled, his shirts were French tucked, his jumpers were oversized.

Such flourishes are beyond him now, and not just because he's a man of 73.

After Saturday's official proclamation will come much more pomp and ceremony to sit him on the throne: a second meeting of the Accession Council in which he must swear an oath to preserve the Church of Scotland (a tradition dating back to the early 18th century).

A fanfare of trumpets from the balcony above St James's Palace, gun salutes in Hyde Park and from naval ships at sea, and the national anthem sung with the words “God Save the King.”

All of these before the coronation itself, at which Charles will have the crown placed on his head before a global audience of millions.

He will dress according to tradition throughout, in suits of impeccable shape and cut.

But as he goes forward in the role he has waited a lifetime to play, something of the King's fastidious but playful character will come back into what he wears and how he wears it.

It will be part of his legacy, wherever that may lead us.

[jrueships]

avon 'EXCUSE ME!! he ASK for no

P I C K L E S . '

barksdale

[rjavenuru]

Loot

[meaningtotellyou]

do the fiance and the wife know about each other?

the wife doesn’t know about the fiancé and the fiancé thinks the wife is strictly his baby mama

[noughticalcrossings]

Put thee not on Silent

[ID: A 4 panel comic made of digital paintings of a zoom meeting between the knights of the Round Table.

Sir Galahad, Queen Guinevere, Sir Gawain, Sir Lancelot, Sir Bedivere, have their own individual screens, and one screen shows a conference room with King Arthur, Sir Mordred, and others who are not named.

Both Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere have their cameras turned off, and microphones muted, the entire time.

Panel 1 shows King Arthur with a few of his knights, with Sir Mordred brooding beside him in shadows, and a hand reaching from offscreen to steal snacks from a bowl.

Sir Galahad has his microphone muted, and is in a forest, looking up and to the side. He has brown hair up above his head and very pale skin.

King Arthur asks, "Sir Gawain, canst thou see the PowerPoint slides?"

Panel 2 shows Sir Gawain, who has brown skin, black hair, green clothes, and heterochromia, with one green eye and one dark, replies, "Verily I cannot, I think it be a miasma of the sight."

Behind him for the background is a section from the Green Knight manuscript, showing faded lettering and a green knight on a green horse standing in front of someone with a large axe while a crowd of spectators watch from the sides.

Sir Galahad's screen is now slightly motion-blurred, showing a reddragon's open mouth in front of Sir Galahad's face.

Panel 3 shows Sir Bedivere, labeled Tech Support, who wears a blue shirt and a plumed knight's helm, looking exhaustedly into the camera, pushing his helmet visor up with one hand. He is lit by blue light and has bags under his eyes, asking: "Hast thou sharest the screen?"

His background is of a library. Sir Galahad's screen is now taken up by the motion-blurred side of the dragon that is attacking him.

Panel 4 shows Sir Gawain turned slightly to the side, looking derisively at the camera, saying: "Yea, but I cannot hear Sir Galahad."

The only thing left in Sir Galahad's screen is the motion-blurred, spade shaped tail tip of the dragon chasing him.

End ID.]

Description very kindly added by @describe-things

[etfrin]

⤷❝Can't be Shared | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | somnophilia, mentions of prostitution (Snow was going to 'share' you) cunnilingus, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), possessive af Snow, impact play (he slaps your thigh once), ruined orgasm (you do cum in the end) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow was going to share you with the elite of the Capitol but changed his mind halfway through only to have his way with you and make you the First Lady of Panem

⇢☾A/N: hehe, the longest fic I have writing so far, hope y'all enjoy this and reblog ;)

<masterlist> < bc: @cafekitsune >

He thought he would be okay with it. He was sure he would be okay with it. But he wasn't. Snow's blood boiled when the rich elitist of the capitol had begun to touch you, whisper you praises, and whatnot. The only thing that was going in his mind was his, his, his.

When had he gotten so attached, he wasn't supposed to be. Letting them touch you, and play with you was a strategic decision to get them hooked and you weren't meant to be his Queen but something had changed. Something snapping in him when the Capitols’ richest eyed you like a meal.

His jaw was clenched and he cleared his throat, “I changed my mind.” He said, “I am not sharing after all.”

You are his. His property. His bird locked in his cage and now his Queen. He pulled you closer, away from prying hands. He glared, memorizing the face of any and everyone displeased, thinking of plans of how to dispose of them quickly because even if briefly they had touched you that was a sin. No one taints the Queen but a King.

He cordially finishes dinner, keeping in mind he was a president, a newly appointed one at that even if he wanted to he couldn't drag you into his room and have his way with you. But he wanted to. His free hand is on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a small bruise. His hold gets tighter the more he has to smile pretty and act polite.

You hadn't said a word, you weren't sure what to say. You were ready to be shared, used, and then discarded. Snow had told you of this beforehand, but he had changed his mind and you were grateful.

Even as he marked you, made you whimper with his grip, giving your thigh a warning squeeze to be quiet. You were relieved that he decided not to share. You were his, you liked that you were his.

Dinner took longer than you would have preferred, but when it finally came to an end, Snow leaned into you and whispered, “Be on my bed wearing my shirt and nothing else, my bird.”

You didn't reply. You get up, walking into his room, heat choking your veins and making your pussy ache and wet. You close the door as you reach the master bedroom of the manor.

Going into his closet you picked on a red shirt, knowing that it would match your skin tone well. You had taken everything else off, your panties and previous clothes on the floor. You were in full display as you didn't even button up the shirt. Your breasts are exposed to the cold air making your nipples harden.

You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come. One minute bleeds into ten and you laid down on the bed. One hour turns to several and your eyes close up. Sleep catches up with you.

You woke up with a gasp. Sleep at the edge of your mind but your mouth lets out a moan wantonly as several things hit you at once.

One. Snow was here.

Two. Snow was between your thighs, his hands keeping your thighs wide and spread for him.

Three. His lips were on your clit, sucking it vigorously making you arch your back and wanting to flinch away from the intensity.

And you tried to move away, your bud sensitive more with pain than in pleasure. How long was Snow like this, sucking at your clit. Your pussy was now impossibly slick and throbbing, wanting to be filled.

A slap was delivered onto your thigh, a hitched moan leaving your lips because of the delicious pain. “Behave,” Snow sneers at you, his blue eyes looking ravenous, his face smeared with your arousal. This was Snow? You thought for a brief second. For once he felt like a man brought down to his knees by a woman instead of something untouched.

“Sorry,” you gasp out as he dives into your cunt. His tongue drew circles onto your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing. You never thought Snow would be sloppy at anything, you thought wrong because his breathing was loud, warn air of his pants grazing your sex. His stubble brushed against your sex as all of his attention was overstimulating your clit.

He finally lost interest as you cried out that you were close just by him playing with your clit for who knows how long. It hurt. It felt good. Perfect, delicious pleasure and pain. You were dizzy, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts of your cunt untouched by his mouth. He was licking every drop of your juices, all the while he made you wetter.

Your hands were fisted into the sheets, your hips subtly moving for friction. A notion that was stopped with a squeeze of his hand on your thigh. You were brought to your high, so close to the edge you would fall in a second as moans spilled from your lips.

Only for that to be snatched away as Snow moved away. You cry out, “No! Please!” But Snow merely raised an unamused eyebrow while his hand wiped his mouth. “Snow, please,” you whispered, feeling the heat and the high of your lost orgasm.

He lets out a scoff as he sees your desperate state. “My meal is finished,” he merely said. His hand takes off the red suit, the same color as your (his) shirt. His fingers unbutton his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. Those same hands now unzipped his pants, his boxer down to the floor revealing a hard cock. The well-rounded tip leaking pre-cum.

“But I am not done with you yet,” he muses, as he moves in closer. You were sitting up now and his hand was on your nape.

“I don't think I'll ever be done with you,” he whispers, the words sealing a promise of forever. “Don't be,” you whispered back, leaning to catch his lips. Your arms around his shoulders to pull him on top of you, to feel his weight, his skin against yours.

Primal instincts take over you both as you kiss. Desperate whimpers and deep groans could be heard and his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Making it bleed and making him suck your blood into his mouth. He pulls back with a gasp, his eyes wide, his lips swollen. His taste was of a dessert you couldn't name. Addictive and delicious.

His left hand was on your cheek, another still on your nape. His thumb brushes your cheek in a manner of caring. “You're the Queen of Panem now,” he announces, making your heart jump in surprise. “The First Lady of Panem.”

With that, he seals his words with a kiss. Soft and ravishing, his tongue explores your mouth. Your hand is in his hair, the blonde locks between your fingers as you kiss back with everything you have.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing with yours, “My bird in a cage. My property.”

“I'll make sure everyone at Capitol knows it,” he said, his eyes looking at you with the ferality of an animal stripped to his bare instincts. “Is that understood, my bird?” He asked.

The answer couldn't be anything but yes. So you replied exactly that and he grins. He looked beautiful in that moment, his charms coming out making you even more needy.

You pulled him in for another kiss, his lips smiling against yours as both of your tongues tangled. His hand lowered itself and cupped your cunt. His fingers trace your entrance and you whimper into his mouth but he doesn't breach in.

He gathers your arousal on his digits, and he pulls back from the kiss to take the digits into his mouth. After sucking his fingers clean, he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.

His hands pushed you down on the bed, your legs on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, taking you in, his bird being such a pretty mess.

He placed a kiss on your thigh that was unbelievably soft that for a moment you didn't believe it was action done by Snow's lip but the harsh bite of his mouth marking the skin of your inner thigh proved otherwise.

He leaned down, his hand in your hand above your head. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, forming crescent marks that made him groan, a choked-off desperate sound that you wanted more of.

All the while he placed his cockhead right at your entrance. You gasp as you feel the tip slip inch by inch into your velvety warmth. You wondered if he was going so slow because he wanted you to adjust to his length. However, one look at his face told you were wrong. His blonde strands clinging to his forehead, his lips parted and letting out hot breaths all the while his eyes closed shut, his eyebrows furrowed as he buried his dick into your cunt with the slow pace.

The reason he was going slow was because he wasn't sure if he could last and fuck, that got into your head. Birds are little teasers and you were no different so you clenched around him. His length half pushed in and felt your pulsing cunt wrapping itself tighter around him.

His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His icy eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.

“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Snow. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.

“Gentlemen make their women cum but you're not a woman. You're my property but I am merciful so cum. Cum on my cock untouched, my bird.” He groans into your ear as his pace gets faster, a tad bit of desperation creeping in as his hips slam into you without a care. You could only moan in reply, truth is you didn't need to be touched to cum. His cock, his skin against yours, his mouth sucking your neck, and placing love bites were enough. More than so.

The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Snow shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.

You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, my bird,” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.

His hand ran through his hair, pushing the sweaty strands up. “First lady of Panem,” he stated, looking at you and then your body, his cum falling out of your cunt.

“First Lady…” you whispered, in disbelief and for whatever may come in the future.

[rafey-baby]

trinket

rafe thinks his maid is just the sweetest little thing...  

prince!rafe x maid!reader 

c/w: rafe being a menace, him flirting (?) w her, some royal cameron family angst ig, brief descriptions of him having sex w another woman, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

also this is by no means historically accurate which is why i’m not gonna name any specific era for this xx

moodboard & introduction

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

Every mid-December, the palace comes alive in an entirely novel way with the bustling preparations for the annual winter ball that the king and queen host to celebrate ‘another wonderful year’.

The once quiet and calm castle transforms into something colorful and vivid with the mouthwatering smell of cakes and pastries cooking in the ovens of the royal kitchen, along with maids and other servants whirling around the long hallways as they place intricate decorations and shiny ribbons all over the broad staircases and windows. 

She’s grateful she doesn’t have to partake in the hustle and bustle all that much since her primary duties include taking care of the prince and ensuring he has everything and anything he could possibly need.  

Although right now, she sort of wishes she could be stringing up polished ornaments or garnishing elegant baked goods because apparently, being the prince’s personal maid sometimes means sitting quietly in his bedchambers (as per his request to keep him company while he’s reading) with her own thoughts and the sounds outside the door her only source of entertainment.  

Therefore, she’s elated when he suddenly turns to face her in his armchair— flitting his eyes over to her from the hefty book that seems to have made him exasperated rather than enthralled.  

“Will you join me for a walk? All this noise is makin’ m’head hurt.”

There’s enthusiasm in the nod of her head; a yearning to see the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and painting the entire kingdom with its powdery whiteness— the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. She doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the crystalline snowfall glittering under the touch of the afternoon sun— or maybe a certain pair of aquamarine eyes, but that’s beside the point.  

“That would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” she easily agrees. 

“How many times do I have to tell you how much I despise that name? There’s no need to use it when s’just me,” he scolds her before he’s straightening up and stretching out his arms over his head. 

“My apologies, it’s a habit,” she rises to her feet as well; trying her hardest not to let her eyes linger on the sliver of his stomach peeking out from underneath the silky fabric of his shirt. 

“I don’t want your apologies, want you to use my name,” he says before stepping closer— standing tall before her and forcing her to blink up at him in order to meet his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart, say it,” he practically orders; eager eyes fixed on her face.  

She hesitates under the sudden attention. He’s always seemed so fascinated by her and she doesn’t know why.  

“Um…Rafe.”  

He lets out a hum of approval. “That’s good. You ready to leave?” 

“Y— yes, uh, Rafe.”  

“Good job. Not so difficult, is it?” he coos at her almost mockingly— fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek when he tucks a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear. 

She merely shakes her head— a warmth dusting over the apples of her cheeks when his touch lingers on the side of her face afterwards. And for a moment, she thinks she’s going to drown in the lagoons of his eyes, but then he clears his throat and offers the palm of his hand for her to take.  

And it’s rather unusual for someone of his status to do; a prince who’s bound to wear the crown one day holding his maid’s hand isn’t exactly something that’s written in any book regarding the royal etiquette. However, he’s never been one to allow for dreadful rules and traditions to dictate his behavior, especially not towards her.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

“Are you looking forward to the winter ball?” she asks when they stop by the stables to check up on his horse, Jupiter.  

“You know I hate dancin’,” he mutters out as he watches its teeth grind on the carrot he brought with him.  

She smiles because she does know, before letting out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could attend.”

“You do? Why?” he’s perplexed by her enthusiasm towards something he considers as more tedious than anything— having to plaster on a smile for an entire night and socialize with people he doesn’t necessarily care for in order to humor his father never being something he’s particularly taken delight in.  

Especially when Sarah is going to be the one receiving all of their father’s attention anyway. Not that he cares (he does) but he would appreciate it, if for once in his life, his old man would show him even an ounce of the care he seems to so easily shower his sisters in.  

“Well, I’d love to wear a ball gown, but mostly for the food,” her feather-light voice brings him back to the moment.  

“I’ll make sure to bring you a plate ‘n you can eat it in my room then, yeah?” he promises as he runs his fingers through Jupiter’s black main.  

“You would do that?”  

“If you promise not to tell the other maids or they’re gonna accuse you of gettin’ special treatment,” his tone is playful. 

“They already do that,” she points out. “They think we spend too much time together.” 

“And what do you think?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy your company,” she answers truthfully. After all, she has grown quite fond of Rafe throughout the years. Sometimes she just wishes he wasn’t so overwhelming, in every sense of the word. 

“Yeah?” a smirk pulls at the side of his mouth, seemingly pleased with her answer. 

She’s certain he’s well aware of the effect he has on her— the effect he has on everyone. And she thinks that he enjoys it; relishes in toying with her for his own amusement simply because he can. He can practically do anything he wants since his father is oftentimes gone for long periods of time; fulfilling his duties for the kingdom and whatnot.  

And she knows Rafe doesn’t particularly mind the fact that his father is rarely home because he’s always been hard on him, much harder than on his sisters because whether he likes it or not, he’s set off to be the new king one day. And his reputation of having female guests over more often than not whenever his father is away doesn’t necessarily help with gaining his approval.

After all, rumor travels fast around the palace.  

Rafe once admitted to her that he often felt like a disappointment, and that the pressure of everyone’s expectations sometimes made him wish he was nothing more than a stableman. After all, he does get along with horses better than he ever has with his family— it’s not exactly a secret amongst the royal court.  

“Would you wanna go for a ride with me? Think Jupiter’s gettin’ bored,” he suddenly asks.  

“Oh, I would love to but I’ve never, um, ridden a horse before,” she timidly admits. 

“No? You wanna know how it feels? You could jus’ sit behind me, don’t need to do anythin’, yeah?” he coaxes her to say yes with a seemingly sincere smile; already walking Jupiter out of its stable and leaving her no choice but to follow them outside.   

“Really?” the frosty air causes a shiver to crawl up her spine when she eyes him, hesitant.  

“Mhm. Promise nothing’s gonna happen, I’ll take care of you. ‘N I know you’ll like it, s’very freeing,” he assures her as he’s already saddling up the horse, seemingly aware that she could never refuse him of anything.  

“Okay...if you insist,” she tentatively agrees with a nod that he rewards with a beaming grin; the icy snowflakes sticking to his hair making him look like something straight out of a fairy tale.  

Then, he’s lifting her up to straddle the entirely too big of an animal that sort of still scares her— strong hands gripping onto her hips and leaving her momentarily starstruck at how effortlessly he does it; as if she weighs nothing more than the carrot Jupiter was just chewing on.  

He follows soon after, settling down in front of her with ease before looking at her over his shoulder. “Need you to hold onto me unless you wanna fall,” he instructs, seemingly reveling in the fact that he gets to be the one teaching her something new.  

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says, gingerly setting her hands on his waist, movements uncertain.  

“Gonna need you to hold on tighter, promise I won’t bite,” he huffs out a laugh before he’s grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his middle more firmly— forcing her to fully lean against his back when the sudden clip-clopping of Jupiter’s hooves against the snow-covered cobblestone causes her to let out a surprised shriek.   

“Good?” he asks, seemingly amused at the way she’s practically clutching onto him as the cottony snow prances around them. 

She manages out a hum, wondering if he can hear her poor heart loudly thumping in her ribcage when he decides to pick up the speed some more, as if she wasn’t already terrified.  

“Rafe! Can you slow down?” she squeaks out when Jupiter seems to only accelerate further underneath them.  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he lets out a hearty chuckle in response, apparently finding amusement in her utterly frightened state while she wonders why she let herself think for even one second that he had pure intentions.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Y/N? Will you go look for my son? I fear he’s once again escaped his responsibilities to God knows where,” the king requests with an exasperated sigh while she’s crouching down and helping a servant clean up the sharp pieces of a shattered wine glass— the sound of laughter and dancing flourishing around them. 

And she could swear she saw Rafe conversing with a guest only a few short moments ago. However, as she looks around in an attempt to locate the missing prince, he’s nowhere to be found.  

“Right away, Your Majesty,” she’s quick to answer with a polite smile.  

“Thank you,” he nods gratefully, seemingly fed up with his son already.  

She ensures that the poor girl who accidentally cut her finger on the broken shards is not going to faint before tiptoeing up the broad flight of stairs in order to reach the higher levels of the palace— the loud music and blooming celebrations echoing around the halls. 

“Your Highness? Are you in there?” she knocks softly on the mahogany door leading to his bedroom.  

However, she isn’t granted a response. 

“Rafe?” she tries once more before pressing her ear against the wood separating her from the muffled sounds she can now hear from the other side— brows furrowing when something akin to a whimper reaches her ears.

It sounds nothing like Rafe; it has a higher pitch, something more feminine than his usual drawl. And as she stands there, contemplating whether something is wrong or if she should just leave, the volume only amplifies.

And in a moment of cloudy judgement, she finds herself pushing down on the handle.

However, she curses her curiosity the moment the door cracks open and she’s faced with the view of some woman’s naked back. Her long, beautiful hair reminds her of lady Lydia (a daughter of one of the dukes invited to the ball) with none other than the prince himself underneath her sweaty form.  

The sheets that she changed this morning are crumpled and creased around them and without the barrier of the door, she can now hear Rafe’s low grunts as well— can see how his big hands guide her movements. And they’re both panting heavily, seemingly lost in some haze— maybe the same one that forces her to stay rooted to her spot in the doorway.  

With her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth parted, she’s not entirely sure how long she stands there for. Until out of the blue, she notices Rafe’s eyes flickering over to her— a smirk tugging at his mouth when he catches her staring. 

She tries to move her legs but they won’t listen; making his lazy grin only grow in tandem with his strained groans that seem to only increase in volume as he locks his eyes with her.  

And she can’t breathe; the air clogging her lungs instead of flowing through as her dazed mind tries to get her to do something, anything to get her to leave the room but his heady gaze seems to have hypnotized her— compelled her to stay right where she is.  

All at once, a gravelly noise rumbles from his chest— his head dropping against the cushion of his fluffy pillows, seemingly reaching some sort of a peak in his search for pleasure as the woman above him begins to slow down her movements. And that’s when she’s finally able to step away; shutting the door behind her before scurrying down the stairs with bated breaths and heart pounding in her ears.

When she reaches the bottom, she accidentally stumbles into someone holding a golden serving tray— causing it to topple over to the floor with a loud clatter. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes before her wobbly legs are scrambling off in an attempt to locate the nearest escape route to the garden.  

And once she’s managed to make it outdoors, she feels like she can finally breathe— the crisp December wind granting her heated skin an opportunity to cool down as she sits down on one of the wooden benches with a sigh.

[the-darklings]

FOR YOUR ARCANE PROMPTS LIST POOKIE: "hands under your lover's clothes" w/Silco??? perhaps?? perchance?? PLS PLS POOKIE, MY GLORIOUS QUEEN, MY EVERYTHING <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ silco x gn!reader, complicated relationship, a little angst, no spoilers for s2, cat & mouse dynamic but who is who? wc: 768

“It’s dangerous playing games with a patient man.”

“Are you? Patient?”

Silco’s mouth flutters into what could pass for a fleeting smile. It’s a rare expression on him, an ease that is seldom seen in the years since he left Vander’s side. Nowadays, he is nothing like the fresh-faced youth so desperate to fix the world you first met.

“More so than many, I’d reckon,” he replies placidly, watching you with idle interest. You lean on his oak wood desk, the rough grain of the wood warm beneath your fingers as you skim over his notes and ledgers. His meticulous nature is evident in the way he organised everything about the Shimmer trade. It’s almost irritating. “You are here for a reason.”

The gentle accusation falls on deaf ears.

“I was just saying hello,” you drawl, your voice low, swinging your attention his way. Silco’s scoff is a low, throaty sound, barely audible, but filled with disdain. 

You’re not sure when it started, you and him. If it was survival or a desire for a better life that drove you both from the start. You wanted freedom and independence and then he took the Undercity, and, in a way, you too. Since then, you’ve existed in his sphere, enjoying his favour. Flaunt it without making it obvious, slipping past the cracks of his rules. 

He appears so collected on his chair, a king on his throne in truth, but his immaculate clothes are wrinkled, buttons undone, and his Adam’s apple bobs when you touch his tie. You know better than to go near his throat. The last time you did, fingers eager and teeth nipping at the taut flesh there, he jerked back as if shocked. Terror and rage had overcome him, twisting you on his bed, still tangled in each other, before you could turn back your instincts. When his hands closed around your throat in response, you didn’t fight him off, and maybe it was that above all else that made Silco snap out of his spell.

No, instead, you slip your hand past the unbuttoned shirt, tracing over his sharp collarbone. Silco rests his cheek lightly on his hand, watching you through a narrowed eyed stare. Daring you, yes, but also curious. The heavy scarring on his face never bothered you. You didn’t lack scars of your own, but this… 

You slip forward, knee resting on the chair between his parted legs, hand slipping lower, to rest over his thudding heart. 

“Hello.” Your lips shape the word before you breathe them against his lips again. Your free hand cups his face and the hard beat of his heart echoes against your palm. 

The kiss is gentle, more civilised than either of you are used to, a sweetness that lingers even though it’s not what either of you normally craves, but when he doesn’t pull away, a secret thrill shoots up your spine. His deep inhale fills your ears, the heat of his lips imprinting on yours. A deep, rumbling sound vibrates through his chest when you deepen the kiss, your fingers moving in gentle circles over his skin. 

With a viper’s swiftness, Silco snaps his hand behind your head when you break the kiss, keeping you close. Nose to nose, your breaths mingle. You can’t quite tell what lingers in his burning gaze, one icy blue, another molten gold. 

“Are you hoping to endear yourself to me?” he asks, knowing and throaty. “A foolish play.”

“I won’t say that,” you say, breathless. “And if I was… well, I think you’re holding up just fine.”

Licking your lips, you pull back, grinning at him. He hasn’t moved, his knuckles returning to his cheek. Nonchalant, except for the heavy weight with which he still examines you. Silco won’t indulge you in admitting you do this because you’re the only one he can rely on in this shitty, twisted world of yours. You support his vision, you’ve always believed it, even when you were younger. 

Adjusting your dishevelled clothes, you look over at him once more. Not so crisp and orderly for once. Satisfaction nestles in your gut at the observation that the usually perfectly groomed and dressed man—this infamous crime lord—is a mess in the dim light of his office. Undone. Caught. Even if predatory hunger reflects in that golden hue. 

You wag your fingers in a playful wave. “It’s dangerous playing games with patient people, love, haven’t you heard?”

[pucksandpower]

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.

[cockkette]

meet the piastris

oscar piastri x reader

warnings - pregnancy, children (is this a warning idk maybe), this is disgustingly fluffy, insinuation of smut, mention of death (as a joke), i think that's it xoxo

face claim - girls on pinterest

oscarpiastri

liked by y/n.l/n, mclaren and 378,728 others

tagged: y/n.l/n

oscarpiastri: so excited to see what the future holds for our family and i'm incredibly lucky to share this with the love of my life

comments

y/n.l/n: how could you do this to me

oscarpiastri: ?

y/n.l/n: this is so sweet but now i'm crying and covered in snot

y/n.l/n: i love you (we have run out of tissues)

oscarpiastri: i love you too (i'll buy them on my way back home and some hot chocolate)

user1: i need someone that is as down bad for me as oscar is for y/n

user2: ikr man is whipped

oscarpiastri: have you seen her shes gorgeous?!?

user3: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI THE LAST PICTURE!!!

user4: the gasp i gusped

landonorris: my honest reaction 😋🥰😍

y/n.l/n: 🤔 please stop thirsting over my husband

landonorris: i'm so sorry queen it won't happen again 😔🙏

user5: what just happened

landonorris: she's scary pregnant ☹️

mclaren: we can't wait to meet the baby papayas! (zac does need to have a chat with you about what is appropriate to post on social media)

oscarpiastri: why?

user6: unbothered king

user7: served

mclaren: i give up

landonorris: warming up for my uncle duties

oscarpiastri: who told you, you can be their uncle?

landonorris: 😨😰😫🤢🤮😵

y/n.l/n: wait i feel bad

y/n.l/n: you can be their uncle ig 🙄

landonorris: yes! i'm going to buy them go karts

user8: y/n are you sure this is wise?

y/n.l/n: his emotional vulnerability got to me (also please don't buy my babies go karts)

logansargeant: i'll be their favorite uncle though right?

y/n.l/n: ofc 🩷

oscarpiastri: oh definitely

user9: uncle logiebear!!

landonorris: uncle lan*

logansargeant: you guys are going to be the best parents, i can't wait to meet the little ones

oscarpiastri: no please i've just stocked up on tissues

y/n.l/n: THANK YOU THIS IS SO SWEET I'M SOBBING I BET THEY CAN'T WAIT TO MEET YOU TOO

user10: i can't wait for dad oscar content

y/n.l/n: neither can i

user11: he's going to look so hot

y/n.l/n: HEY! he's mine

oscarpiastri: what she said!

user12: i love them

yourbestfriend: i hope they take after y/n looks wise xx

oscarpiastri: me too

y/n.l/n: they better do i've been the one carrying them around for nine months

y/n.l/n: but also osc is hella cute so its a win win

yourbestfriend: you two are disgustingly cute

y/n.l/n

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend and 604,921 others

y/n.l/n: welcome to the world freya and ruby piastri you are already so loved

comments

user13: they are adorable

oscarpiastri: the most adorable ever actually

y/n.l/n: agreed

landonorris: wait they are so tiny are they meant to be that small?

oscarpiastri: mate.. they are babies but are you meant to be that small?

landonorris: 😔

user14: gagged

danielricciardo: congrats

liked by y/n.l/n and oscarpiastri

lilymhe: their names are so cute

lilymhe: and so are they

y/n.l/n: thank you bby

user15: i have such bad baby fever and you are not helping

y/n.l/n: you may want to avert your eyes because they are literally going to be my entire feed from now on soz

user16: i don't blame you queen they are too precious

liked by y/n.l/n and oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: we make cute babies

y/n.l/n: we really do

oscarpiastri: we should have some more

user17: sir it has been 2 days

liked by y/n.l/n

mclaren: our future driver lineup

liked by oscarpiastri

y/n.l/n: oscar! unlike this i don't think my heart could take watching them race

lewishamilton: congratulations guys

liked by y/n.l/n and oscarpiastri

landonorris: have you got the clothes i sent them yet?

y/n.l/n: yes thank you it was so... thoughtful of you to buy them shirts with your face on

landonorris: they have to know who their favorite uncle is

oscarpiastri: and the best way to do this was through a shirt?

landonorris: correct

yourbestfriend: sending mine now

logansargeant: me too

user18: the whole grid is all so excited for them!!

user19: it's so sweet

oscarpiastri: i think they just want to see who will be the favorite

yourbestfriend: i’m going to spoil them so much

y/n.l/n: you already have

yourbestfriend: well i'm gonna spoil them even more

charles_leclerc: future ferrari fans

maxverstappen1: future redbull fans*

georgerussell63: future mercedes fans**

oscarpiastri: no 🧡

liked by mclaren

logansargeant: can't wait to meet them!!

y/n.l/n: they can't wait to meet you either!!

user20: they can't talk

y/n.l/n: a mother knows x

mclaren posted a story

liked by y/n.l/n, oscarpiastri and 24,218 others

caption- we send our congratulations to oscar and y/n as they welcome freya and ruby piastri to their family and as we welcome them to the papaya family

replies

y/n.l/n: papaya girls! 🧡

mclaren: the mclaren merch is on the way

y/n.l/n: only if it's 81 merch

user21: freya and ruby mclaren takeover when?

user22: looking forward the dad oscar content

y/n.l/n posted two stories

liked by mclaren, yourbestfriend and 14,801 others

caption- race day !!

replies

user23: manifesting an oscar win 🏆

y/n.l/n: vroom vroom

yourbestfriend: i'm coming over again (to see the girls)

y/n.l/n: aww i've missed you (so have the girls)

francisca.cgomes: missing you in the paddock

y/n.l/n: miss you too

liked by mclaren, lilymhe and 23,014 others

caption- i don't think the girls are as invested as me yet 🤔

replies

yourbestfriend: i'm speeding to get there they are so cute

y/n.l/n: omg be safe please

user24: i wish i was freya or ruby

mclaren: living their best life

oscarpiastri

liked by y/n.l/n, yourbestfriend and 418,329 others

tagged: y/n.l/n

oscarpiastri: babies day out

comments

user25: they are 6 months old and are literally living my dream life

liked by oscarpiastri and y/n.l/n

user26: don't mind me i'm just going to find a cliff to jump off x

y/n.l/n: the best type of days

oscarpiastri: especially with you

user27: he's so disgustingly in love

user28: y/n could make anyone act like that

user29: osc is his girl's personal photographer

user30: we love him for that though

user31: we need our y/n, ruby and freya content

yourbestfriend: all three of my girls are looking adorable 🥰

oscarpiastri: my girls

yourbestfriend: know your place x

liked by y/n.l/n

oscarpiastri: Y/N!?

landonorris: when are you letting me babysit 😠😠

oscarpiastri: ...soon

landonorris: YOU HAVE BEEN SAYING THIS FOR 2 MONTHS

landonorris: its never going to happen is it

user32: poor lando

lilymhe: hot mama 😘

y/n.l/n: stop i'm blushing and giggling rn

oscarpiastri: damn everyone is trying to steal my girl today 😔

user33: she is hot tho

liked by oscarpiastri

y/n.l/n

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 438,623 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/n.l/n: the dad oscar content you have all been waiting for xx

comments

y/n.l/n: my husband is so so hot 🥵🥵🥵

user34: no need to rub it in

user35: how does it feel to live my dream

y/n.l/n: it feels amazing 😘

user36: thank you y/n we all say in unison

user37: thank you y/n

user38: thank you y/n

landonorris: thank you y/n

y/n.l/n: get out of here 🤨

user39: never beating the twinkclaren accusations

user40: foaming at the mouth

user41: oscar with his babies i'm going to combust

oscarpiastri: i'm putting the second picture in my wallet

y/n.l/n: you're so cute i'm sobbing 🩷

user42: he's so girl dad

liked by y/n.l/n

user43: he's so daddy

y/n.l/n: well yes actually

oscarpiastri: oh-

landonorris: my eyes!!

oscarpiastri

liked by yourbestfriend, mclaren and 346,717 others

tagged: y/n.l/n

oscarpiastri: date night (thank you to logan for looking after the girls)

comments

user44: waiting patiently for lando's breakdown

y/n.l/n: my date is so fit 😍😍

liked by oscarpiastri

landonorris: WHAT

landonorris: HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

landonorris: do you want me to cry

y/n.l/n: we texted you...

oscarpiastri: yeah we wanted 2 people to look after them since it was the first time leaving them without family

landonorris: what!?!??

user45: i can feel his devastation through the screen

georgerussell63: he's been bitching about this for so long and he didn't see the message 😂😂

landonorris: leave me alone 🖕

user46: my favs

logansargeant: the girls had so much fun with their favorite uncle

landonorris: 😢😢

carmenmmundt: you better have bought her the flowers

alexandrasaintmleux: you better have treated her like a princess

oscarpiastri: ofc only the best for my girl

oscarpiastri posted a story

liked by y/n.l/n, mclaren and 34,521 others

caption: one year of loving you two 🧡

replies

user47: i think i can finally tell who is who

user48: wait no

y/n.l/n: our babies are growing up

oscarpiastri: maybe we should have another then

y/n.l/n: when the girls turn 2 we can talk about it

oscarpiastri: i guess we will just have to practice until then

y/n.l/n: when do you get home?🤭

y/n.l/n

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 567,308 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/n.l/n: happy 1st birthday to my babies STOP GROWING THEY ARE GETTING SO BIG I CAN'T HANDLE THIS 😫😫

comments

user49: i'm so invested in the piastri twins i'm crying at their birthday post 🥲🥲

user50: we are witnessing piastri world domination 💪

yourbestfriend: where has the time gone

y/n.l/n: i swear they were born last week

oscarpiastri: they are growing up so fast 🩷

y/n.l/n: i've been crying about this all week

user51: she is all of us

user52: i just know their birthday party was banging

landonorris: the cake was amazing

mclaren: are ruby and freya enjoying their presents?

y/n.l/n: they love them!! thank you mclaren 🧡

a/n - thank you for reading i hope you enjoyed and as always any feedback is apppreciated <3

[saltywritings]

Unsworn Protector ( Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen Niece! Reader )

Summary: The reader is sent to Old Town with Daeron, however, is left in an uncomfortable situation when her uncle finds her with a pillow.

Warnings: explicit smut under the cut minors do not interact, incest, age gap, reader has a pillow princess moment, oral (female receiving), penetration, Gwayne is giving sub vibes.

Word count: 3,728

The journey to Old Town was arduous and slow, a monotonous trek that seemed designed to drain one's spirit. Few things could be more disheartening than being sent to Old Town, a place that felt like exile. Your mother, the queen, insisted that sending you and your younger brother Daeron there was for the best, claiming it would build character—whatever that meant. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that she simply preferred not to deal with you. Sending you and Daeron away made it easier for her to focus on Aegon. Despite her intentions, you were frustrated by being uprooted from your home, all in the name of this so-called character building.

When the carriage finally arrived in Old Town, your eyes took in the sights as you traveled swiftly through the city. Having spent your entire life in King's Landing, Old Town seemed exceptionally small. You noticed the tall walls surrounding the castle, some sections near the gate clad in ivy.

"Finally, we're here," Daeron exclaimed as he rushed to the carriage door, eager to free himself from its confines.

With a mix of frustration and disgust, you pushed at your brother’s back as he deliberately blocked the carriage door, trapping you inside. "Daeron!" you shouted, your hands shoving at the coarse fabric of his shirt. "Let me out, you fool!" You struggled against him as he laughed, his mirth only heightening your irritation.

Suddenly, another voice cut through the commotion. "Come now, my prince. Let your sister out," it urged. Reluctantly, Daeron relented and stepped down the few stairs, finally freeing you from the confined space of the carriage.

As you finally freed yourself from the carriage, you realized the voice belonged to your uncle, Gwayne Hightower. Though many years had passed since you last saw him, you recognized him instantly. Stepping forward, your feet now firmly planted on the ground, you shot a sharp glare at Daeron, resisting the urge to shove him, before turning back to your uncle.

"Thank you, Uncle," you said with a small nod.

Daeron, looking bewildered, finally noticed Gwayne. "Oh—Uncle Gwayne. I didn’t recognize you," he replied, prompting you to narrow your eyes.

"I’m not surprised," you said. "You were but a babe the last time he visited."

"Indeed you were," Gwayne said with a warm smile. "I'm surprised you recognize me, Princess. You've grown as much as your brother."

He stepped forward, extending his hand toward you. You raised yours to meet his, and he took it gently, bringing it to his lips with a delicate kiss that conveyed a soft, caring warmth. Your eyes fluttered slightly as you looked at him, appreciating the affectionate gesture.

"You've grown so much," he remarked, turning his attention to Daeron.

"I'm certain I haven't grown that much," you insisted with a modest smile.

Daeron glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and snorted. "Oh, trust me, you’ve grown—just not in height, sister," he mocked. Unable to restrain yourself, you gave him a small shove in response.

Your uncle watched the exchange, a faint smile playing on his lips, and shook his head with a soft chuckle at your sibling rivalry.

Gwayne shook his head with a gentle sigh, his gaze shifting to Daeron. "Now, nephew, I understand why your mother insisted on sending you here. One day, you'll realize the value of your sister's presence. Treat her with the respect she deserves," he urged, his tone firm yet compassionate. You cast a sidelong glance at your brother, a small smile playing on your lips now that your uncle had come to your defense.

Daeron responded with an eye roll, his demeanor defiant. Gwayne cleared his throat, his expression turning more serious. "I'll have your cousin show you to your room, Daeron," he declared, nodding towards him. "As for you, Princess," Gwayne continued, extending his arm toward you. "I will personally escort you to your chambers." You took his arm promptly, grateful for his support and guidance in this unfamiliar place.

Gwayne escorted you up the stairs and down a hallway to your assigned room. As the door swung open, you couldn't shake the feeling of entering a stranger's room. Though the space was well-appointed and fair, it lacked the personal touch of home. Sensing your unease, Gwayne spoke up as the two of you entered.

"This will be your chambers. My quarters are just next door," he explained, his voice reassuring. "Consider me your protector, close at hand." His words were accompanied by a small, comforting smile.

In that moment, you realized Gwayne's striking presence: his piercing blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and eloquent speech. His demeanor offered a sense of security that eased your nerves, prompting you to return his smile warmly.

"You are to be your sworn protector then?" you questioned, eyebrows knitting together as you stood somewhat puzzled. Gwayne couldn't help but chuckle softly as he shook his head.

"No, sweet niece. There's no need for that here," he reassured you gently, "but I promise to watch over you." His words carried a comforting assurance.

You nodded in understanding, your hand still linked with his arm. "Did my mother explain why she sent me here?" you asked, recalling her vague answers and insistence that leaving the Red Keep was in your best interest. Gwayne sensed your unease and took your hands in his with tender care.

"Niece," he spoke softly, "Your mother didn't want to send you away, but you're soon to be married—or at least betrothed. She thought it would be easier for you not to be uprooted from your home like many maidens are." His explanation caused you to look away, a mixture of emotions stirring within you.

"I don't want to be betrothed to a stranger," you confessed to your uncle, your hands still held in his. "The thought of belonging to a man I don't know, who doesn't know me—it frightens me."

Gwayne's expression softened at your confession. He released one of your hands and gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. His blue eyes held a depth of understanding as he listened intently to your words.

"Your feelings are valid, my dear. Many women share your apprehensions—I know your mother did," Gwayne said soothingly, hoping to bring you comfort. "Besides, not every lady finds herself betrothed to a stranger. Try not to let fear cloud your judgment until you've had the chance to know your intended," he urged gently, sensing he had eased your nerves.

"I'll leave you to rest now," Gwayne added, seeing your nod of approval. With that, he quietly exited your chambers.

As night descended upon Old Town, you tossed and turned in your sleep, consumed by an unrelenting yearning. The unfamiliar blankets and sheets, devoid of your scent, offered no comfort. Frustrated, you reached for a plush pillow, sitting up and clutching it tightly between your thighs. Slowly, you would rock your hips back and forth, pushing down your core with some friction to alleviate this frustration that burned between your thighs. Your eyes fluttered closed, your night gown slipping from your shoulder as your hips desperately humped the pillow beneath you. You thought of your uncle, you knew you shouldn't, and yet- you could not help but to think of how kissed your hand, the blue of his eyes, how he smelled of sage.

On the other side of the door, Gwayne awoke to a plaintive sound that he initially mistook for a cry. Even through the stone walls, the soft echo of his niece's distress reached him. With concern driving him, Gwayne rose from his bed, the urgency of his duty as her uncle compelling him. He slipped into a pair of pants and quietly left his room.

It was his responsibility to care for and protect her in this unfamiliar place, in the absence of their family. Moving with cautious steps, Gwayne approached her door. Normally, he would have knocked, but in his haste and concern, he bypassed this customary courtesy. He gently pushed the door open, making as little noise as possible.

What Gwayne had come face to face with made him freeze, his entire body tensing up as he looked to the figure of you, the princess, feverously humping a pillow. Your shoulder exposed and hard nipples showing through the sheer of the night gown. Your eyes were still closed as your hips rocked against the pillow. Eyebrows pushed together as soft cries left your lips. Gwayne was more than aware that he should not be there, that he should not be witnessing this, and yet he could not tear his eyes away.

Then you said it, "Gwayne." His name left your lips like a melody and it took one hush of his name to make him impossibly hard. To the point in stung and bulged from his trousers. It was then your eyes fluttered open, and in a few blinks they widened realizing that your uncle stood in the doorway. In a panic your hands grasped the pillow and brought it up to cover yourself.

"Oh, Gods. Princess, I'm -I'm sorry -" Gwayne barely managed to gush an apology as he had went fleeing the room, closing the door behind him as he went rushing back to his room. In the midst of his embarrassment he had been sweating, his heart racing as he stayed in the confides of his room.

He was still hard. Gwayne tried not to think about you. He tried not to think about how you cried as you humped your pillow or how sweetly you spoke his name but he could not.

Gwayne would wrestle with himself for nearly an hour, but at the agony of his own groin he could not contain himself. Gwayne would still be standing as he pulled his pants down, freeing his length as he took it in one hand.

This was wrong, this was so wrong.

And still, he began to pump himself to the thought of you pleasing yourself with a pillow.

I shouldn't be doing this.

He wondered how it would feel to be between your soft thighs, to have you be humping him.

He was almost there.

To have you scream his name instead of whisper it.

Gwayne would soon spill his seed onto the ground as his hand feverishly pumped himself to the thought of you. Gwayne would attempt to find sleep that night but had been unable to do so.

When the next day dawned, you anticipated a conversation with your uncle about the events of the previous night. However, it soon became apparent that Gwayne was actively avoiding you. He didn't join you for breakfast or supper, and your cousin took it upon themselves to entertain you with a tour of Old Town, while another cousin kept you occupied with needlepoint throughout the day. Despite your efforts, the entire day passed without a glimpse of him.

Returning to your chambers in the evening, a growing discomfort settled within you. You couldn't shake the feeling that Gwayne's absence was deliberate. Did he feel embarrassed for having found you in distress? Was he ashamed of you? These thoughts churned in your mind as you lay on your bed, staring up at the canopy for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer, you threw off the blankets and stormed out of your chambers. Determined, you strode purposefully to his door, bypassing the courtesy of knocking—after all, he hadn't extended the same courtesy to you last night. You entered his chambers with your face flushed with agitation.

Inside, Gwayne was not asleep. He sat up in bed, bare-chested with the blankets draped over his hips, revealing that he wore nothing underneath either.

"Princess, what are you doing?" Gwayne asked abruptly, his gaze flickering to the sheerness of your nightgown, which left little to the imagination. It was evident that your attire was not quite appropriate for a princess, but after what Gwayne had witnessed the previous night, your choice of clothing was the least of your concerns.

"You walked in on me last night and now you avoid me all day?" you questioned boldly, lifting your chin as you approached his bedside. Gwayne's hands tightened on the blanket, his discomfort palpable as you drew nearer.

"You should go," he insisted, attempting to avert his eyes from you.

"Why?" You questioned sharply as he approached. "Are you ashamed of me now?"

Gwayne shook his head, you had not yet noticed, and he had hoped you hadn't as he looked away.

"It's not that." he insisted quietly.

Your eyes looked down the look of anger seeming to melt from your face as your eyes noticed the bulge beneath the blankets. He was hard, trying to hide it, but failing to do so.

"Please leave." He was begging with all restraint he had. Gwayne could not even look you in the eye as he kept the blankets around him.

You stood there for a moment unsure how to approach but desire beginning to burn between your legs as you looked to him.

"Do you desire me, uncle?" You questioned moving closer to him as a hand gently touched his thigh grabbing a handful of the sheets he was using to cover himself.

"It is wrong- I should not." He said, answering your question without actually answering your question. It was enough for you, his grip tightening to hold the sheets in place as you carefully slid one leg up on the bed, allowing it to rest on one side of him. Gwayne showed restraint, but only little.

"Who says?" you questioned, eyes staring into his as he finally had enough gull to look at you.

"The Gods." he declared. "Common law-" he tried to say with some reason, the one thread of restraint still holding on within him.

"Fuck the Gods," You declared as your hand gave a gentle pull at the sheets. "Fuck Common Law-" He continued to hold on as you pulled. "And fuck me." you said nearly pleading.

Gwayne held the blankets for a moment longer as his eyes looked to you. "You are a maiden, are you not?" He questioned unsure in this moment based on your behavior.

"I am." you declared honestly as you looked to him.

"I can not deflower my own niece." He said allowing a moment of pride to shield him.

"I do not want my first time to be with some lord that I am married off to as a bargaining chip." You insisted nearly pleading. "I desire you, uncle and you desire me." You declared, his grip on the sheet loosening.

Gwayne battled with himself for a moment, but only for a moment, for his strong hands would reach for your face, pulling you gently to meet his lips. Your body pulled onto him as your lips met his. Gwayne kissed your lips with the hunger of a starved man, his hands moved to your night gown and pulled it up, parting his lips to discard it from your body leaving you exposed to him.

He wasted little time in pushing you down onto the mattress, allowing himself to rest above you. In the moon light he took in your bare figure, soon peppering kisses between the valley of your breast and down your body to your cunt. His lips would kiss down to your bud before he grabbed onto your hips. Pulling your thighs to rest on his shoulders as his face pushed into your cunt in a way a pillow never could. It was by this that you were already squirming, back arching at his touch.

Gwayne would not hesitate to allow his tongue to lay flat against your flushed sensitive bud, your hips pushing down slightly as he tried to keep you in place with his grip. Gwayne would lick slowly, tasting your virgin cunt as if it was a delicacy, something he was determine to savor.

Soft moans left your lips as his tongue continued to work against your dripping cunt. Gwayne was carefully when he inserted a finger inside of you. He did not dare to put more than one for with just one finger he could feel how incredibly tight you were. a realization that caused his cock to ache.

Gwayne would slowly pump his finger in and out of you as you moaned loudly, your hands becoming entangled in his long locks, and your thighs pushing shut against him. Gwayne wanted to question you, to ask how you were so sensitive, why you tasted so sweet- but he could not bring himself to remove his tongue if the king himself demanded it.

There would be a hot coil inside of you that would form, growing tighter, as your wet cunt clenched around his finger, and within a moment the coil snapped. A warm orgasm flushing over you as your thighs squeezed his head without mercy, soft tears fell from your eyes as you came down from your high. You were panting as your thighs loosened, Gwayne would pull his finger from you before sticking it in his mouth to suck in clean of your sweet juices.

The two of you locked eyes as you stared at one another for a moment. His hard cock pushed against the inside of your thigh as he debated if he should go through with this.

"We shouldn't." Gwayne gave a small fight once more for the sake of his honor and your own.

"Who would know?" You offered a simple excuse, hoping he would not declare the gods again.

"Who would know . . ." he repeated before he nodded. "You're right. Who would know." Gwayne reasoned as he grabbed his cock as he had carefully begun to move it against the wet folds of your cunt.

"You could drink moon tea after." he suggested again as you nodded in response.

"You're sure?" he asked again his blue eyes looking to you with tender concern but also the last bit of restraint he had in him.

"I am." You said as you pushed yourself down on him slightly causing him to groan.

Gwayne could wait no longer and therefore he lined himself up at your entrance and gently he begun to penetrate you, sliding into your wet cunt slowly.

Your back arched at the feeling of him filling you, he stilled, with only part of himself in you.

"More." You whined out in a demand as you waited for him to fill you completely.

"Patient, princess. Please- I do not wish to be spent so soon." Gwayne insisted, he had slowly begun to push into you. Your legs would soon tighten around his waist, forcing him to put the rest of himself in. A moan came from the both of you as he would soon begin to move slowly.

"Gods, you're so tight." He groaned as he slowly thrusted in and out of you at a slow rate, doing his best not to spill himself inside of you this early.

Gwayne would allow his thumb to return to your swollen bulb, rubbing it softly as he continued to fuck you at a slow and passionate rate. Despite the slow thrust he pushed deep into your warm velvet walls each time, enjoying the feeling of you squeezing his entire length.

Gwayne would continue at this slow rate as you cried out, soon lewd sounds of your wetness would fill the room mixed with your moans.

"I want to be on top." You pleaded, his hips stilled with hesitation. "Please." you begged.

Gwayne hesitated, but even he could not resist. He pulled out of you slowly before allowing his body to fall onto the bed. You wasted no time climbing on top of him and taking his length in your hand. Carefully you lowered your hips onto him.

"Fuck." Gwayne would groan at the sight of you above him. The vision of a Targaryen princess nude above him, as your hips begun to feverishly bounce on his cock. It took everything in him to not spill himself in you at this very moment.

"Princess, please." He pleaded his hands grabbing on your waist to try and slow you down but it was no use, you used him. Moving your hips quickly as you looked to him.

"Hold on, uncle. I'm almost there." You would insisted in a moan as you continued, the feeling of him throbbing inside of you as you fucked yourself on him was enough to let out a cry of pleasure.

"Please get off . . . "He begged, "I shouldn't . . . not inside of you." He insisted more as he tried to steady your hips, though as you moved he relented.

Gwayne could not hold himself back any longer, his fingers dug into your flesh as he came deep inside you. You continued as he filled you with his warm seed. Allowing yourself to fuck every last drop inside of you, peeking your own orgasm that caused Gwayne to grit his teeth. You would roll your hips over him, riding out your high before falling helplessly on the bed next to him. His seed spilling onto your plush thighs.

Gwayne panted as he had looked over to you with soft affection. "I'll have the maester make you moon tea in the morning." he insisted as you looked over to him with a small smile.

"Perhaps if you seed me with your child mother would be forced to marry me to you." You offered looking to him next to you in the bed.

"Or she would have my head." he offered back.

When morning came you were nearly limping as you joined Daeron at the breakfast table, he seemed somewhat restless as he picked at the eggs on his plate.

"There you are." He declared looking to you with dark shadows surrounding his eyes.

"You look like shit." You declared to him with no one else around, he looked to you with somewhat of a resenting look.

"Yeah, well if you're going to fuck our uncle again could you at least keep it down." Daeron declared.

You froze at his comment, you were going to muster up some kind of denial but Daeron spoke again.

"My chambers are on the other side of Uncle Gwaynes." He informed you.

[hauntingblue]

Dancing while my mother is dying to distract my gigantic baby sister or she will destroy the island

[bunny-jpeg]

drive-away phone call

lewis hamilton

request: 107 + 7 with Lewis Hamilton as a rival. Reader took his phone and ran/drove off. Boomshakala yes gawd 107. “your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.” + 7. “you want me to give you your book/phone/item back? make me.”

tags: smut/pwp, rivals au, driver!reader, brattiness, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, cough sex & doggy style, hate sex, unprotected sex, pull out method

eros (the valentine's day collection)

ferrari were idiots. they wanted a king and a queen for their team. champions to secure them wins. hefty contracts were signed by you and lewis hamilton.

plucked from mclaren and mercedes, shedding the orange and the black then fitted in the fiery reds. it was a bright idea to the team. celebration was in order when the two of you happily signed the contracts. the issue was you and lewis had been bitter rivals for close to seven years.

the famous rumor was that mercedes retracted their contract they had for you because you and lewis verbally chewed each other out behind their headquarters when you were both there at the same time. you and lewis butted heads.

and very few things smoothed over with time in the world of f1.

lewis had been looking for his phone all morning, after first day of the pre-season testing he had been looking for it. he even went to mercedes side of the track to see if it grew legs and walked over there.

but of course, you had seen it.

"looking for this hamilton?" your voice was like a siren's song and when he looked over he saw you standing there in your team kit with one hand on your hip and the other dangling his phone like a toy, "you have to be careful with this, if someone managed to figure out the password. you'd be in a world of trouble."

he sharply exhaled and said, "and who would be able to guess the password." his attempt hold some confidence.

you made a smug face and said, "zero-six, forty-four...surprised you put nico's number first." and grew into a bright grin when the realization dawned on lewis, "don't worry, teammates are meant to keep secrets. but, if you want me to give you your phone back? make me." and then like a rabbit you sped off before lewis could process what you said.

and soon he was chasing after you.

laughter through the back hallways, it was teasing and embarrassing. but lewis had to admit, it turned him on. this brat of a driver who had been under his skin for nearly ten years! you both pushed and pulled each other.

when lewis finally caught you, he slammed you up against the door. the phone tumbled from your hand and onto the carpeted floor. he leaned in close, his dark eyes on yours. there was a fire in your gaze as you held onto his wrist while his fingers held your throat.

"you're a pain in my fucking side." he said.

"oh yeah, and you're saint lewis, patron saint of victory. you stole my twenty-nineteen victory." you said lowly.

"you're still holding onto that." he leaned in, "you said to not go easy on you. you didn't want weakness." he lips were dangerously close to yours, "you can't say one thing and want another. you wanted aggressive, i gave you aggressive."

you swallowed, he felt the muscles of your neck under his palm. you tried to hold your own as you said, "i was happy when verstappen whipped your ass the year after."

lewis chuckled and said, "maybe. but, your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.” and pulled you in for a tight kiss. seven years of back and forth crashed into each other. and the two of you were making out in a back hallway.

the kisses grew hotter and eventually you both tumbled into the room behind you. little time for much of anything, other than the door could lock. sneakers kicked off, lewis' expensive shirt was toss over the to the far corner of the room. the lights onto turned on because it was motion activated.

your hands roamed his chest, "hate to admit it, you look good with tattoos." you looked into his dark eyes, "congrats, i gave you a compliment."

he chuckled and his hand went to your ass for a moment. he gave it a squeeze, "i guess their fitting, just like my handprints on your ass." then went in for another heated kiss.

clothes shed and once your ass was bare, lewis slapped the skin. he pushed you over the couch, your breasts hit the back of it as you tumbled over it.

"hey!" you chirped, then moaned when lewis laid another slap across the soft skin.

he watched it bounce and chuckled, "i said i was going to leave it red. shouldn't have taken my phone. should have stopped acting like a brat. this all could've been solved easily, if i knew that deep down you just wanted me." he got up on the couch behind you and laid more slaps.

"i don't want you."

"your soaked pussy tells me something else." he rubbed his hard cock up against your slit, "you hate that you'll never be as good as me." his voice hot in your ear, "and that's alright, you look better under me anyway." his words pulled something in you and you arched your back a little bit. your behind grew bruised and hot with his attention. and when he sank into your pussy, you bit back any noises.

but lewis knew, he had a feeling for years now that this was some game of chicken. see who could edge the other off the track followed by who could break under the sexual tension between you two. a hand on your hip as he got himself inside of you. he swore under his breath.

he should have done this years ago.

the two of you fucked, it wasn't passionate love making like in the movies. it was hot and both of you had to fight off the urge to be too loud. last thing you wanted was to start of the season in a flurry of speculation and rumors.

you told yourself this would be a one time deal, but you had little faith in that notion. you were going to be in each other's space more often, not separated by team divides. you were both ferrari now, and your passion would be as red hot as the colour of your uniform.

lewis laid more slaps across you ass, it made you tense up around his cock which only fueled him to do it more. it was erotic, hot in a way that made left a fire in his core. he moved against you. he could feel the heat under his touch. everything felt like an inferno. like a wildfire that had been gaining momentum over a long period of time. he'd call it a slow burn, but it was more like a bomb with a long fuse.

"fuck you, hamilton." you groaned as you held onto the back of the couch tightly. you bit your tongue to keep from being too loud. you feared that you'd draw blood.

"already am. already am." he said, his tone a little softer, "now that i've got you all figured out, there's no need for such harsh words. you want me. and you're in luck, because i want you." the couch inched a little across the carpeted floor from the sheer force that he was fucking you with.

if anyone tried to get the door unlocked, it would be game over. your panties were off in some corner and neither of you had any intentions of slowing down the feverish sex until you both felt satisfied.

"you feel good." he said, "look good too."

"no need to soften me up, hamilton. you're already inside of me." you whined as the movements quickened, the pleasure continued to mount between the both of you. it was heavy, it was erotic. it was nasty.

two bitter rivals. either you were wheel to wheel or at each other's throat. every victory over the other was a tally mark added to a long list of grievances. lewis kissed the back of your neck, his hands groped at your breasts.

"are you sorry yet?"

"sorry?"

"yeah, for all the trouble you caused me. seven years is a long time." his pace quickened and it made you see stars. you let out a small gasp from the momentum of his movements.

you looked over your shoulder at him and spat, "in your dreams, hamilton." before you cheek was shoved into the back of the couch.

lewis chuckled, "maybe it'll come true when i win my eighth championship." you cursed under your breath, but lewis couldn't make out what you said. regardless he continued to fuck you.

you knew you wouldn't last much longer, you were moaning a little louder. the pleasure was a heated mess in your core. your back arched and you let out a sweet moan. your tone was a little louder than you hoped.

"fuck." he groaned.

you whined, "that's it, that's fucking it." your cunt clenched around his cock as you climaxed. you felt the heat across your skin as the two of you continued to move together. you hated that the sex between you two are magnetic and it left your mind numb from the intensity.

"you feel good. i think we're going to have a pretty good season. we should've done this years ago." he kissed at the side of your neck, "should've stole my phone sooner."

you moaned and felt the flutter in your chest. lewis continued his thrusts, his pace was punishing before he pulled out and finished across your back. you whine from the feeling of hot cum across your back.

"not taking any risks." he said, "can't have you retiring on me yet." he chuckled. the heat in the air was heavy and the smell of sex was noticeable.

you collected your thoughts and said with exhaustion in your tone, "going to help me clean up, hamilton. or stare at it until it dries?"

lewis could only laugh.

-

the next afternoon, you sat on top of some tires because sitting in a chair wasn't helping at that moment. pain still radiated from your back.

you noticed your older teammate walk by. there was a slight prep in lando's step as he approached you. he was whistling casually, which meant horrible news.

you sighed, "what do you want?" when he got close enough. he leaned against the stack of tires you were seated on. he leaned in close and beamed at you.

"heard someone is finally getting along their teammate."

your eyes went wide. you fake coughed into your hand and tried to play it off, "what the fuck, no! hate lewis' guts, it probably was max and charles, or you and carlos for all i know." you tried to point it back to him.

"aw c'mon, don't play stupid. the whole track heard you two." <3

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: VI | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 11,321

—  warnings: mention of morning sickness, strong language, sexual tension, teasing, a lot of making out, dry sex, implied masturbation, swearing, mention of sex, mention of abortion, mention of death, mention of murder, oc is scared, nervousness, and some crying

—  author’s note: hiii angels ✨ it feels like it’s been ages since i haven’t updated this week when it’s only been a week 😅 Things are getting hot between jungkook and oc, and you finally get to know if Felix knew about the werewolf universe or not 👀 Hope you enjoy this chapter & let me know what you think ���🏼

Chapter VI: like supernatural

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

You study your reflection in the mirror, trying to look for a pregnancy sign. There is barely a stomach appearing which you guess is normal. The insemination only happened nine weeks ago; it might be too soon to have a bump.

However, you’ve been having terrible morning sickness. It’s honestly horrible, and thankfully, it only happens in the morning. It wouldn’t have been easy if you had to leave the classroom to throw up.  

You put on the first grey shirt you find, and a pair of jeans. Since you’re going to grab some stuff at the grocery store, you don’t feel the need to put on your best outfit for that. Something very simple is quite enough.

Before leaving the apartment, you put on your headphones with music blasting in your ears. You also grab your coat with your purse and a bag for your groceries and then leave your apartment.

As you’re walking on the streets, a woman suddenly appears in front of you, a very pretty one. She’s wearing a fancy pink dress underneath a white coat. She exudes so much confidence and power. You’re very much caught off guard, especially since she looks you up and down with disdain. Who the hell is this woman?

One thing you’re sure, she’s a werewolf. She has a strong bestial scent; one different than Jungkook, but she has it. Outside your father’s child and Mister Song, she’s the first werewolf you’ve seen. Do they all have this strong aura?

“So you’re the one carrying Jungkook’s child?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, and you remove your headphones to hear her.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you politely say, trying to make sure you hear it right. However, she totally dismisses your question. “Who are you?” you ask with evident confusion.

She ignores you again, her eyes focused on your body. She might definitely hear your child’s heartbeat or smell their scent.

“Are you a surrogate or his new toy?”

You’re almost offended by her question, and it definitely irritates you that she doesn’t even bother to introduce herself. What kind of person is she? And who the hell does she think she is?

“I asked you a question,” your tone is firm, and her eyes finally look up at you.

A smirk appears on her face as if she’s happy you talked like that to her. “Yuna,” she holds out her hand to you. “Jungkook’s future queen.”

You tilt your head and frown before you shake her hand. Jungkook never mentioned any girlfriend, and to be honest, it hurts a bit to find this out like this. Was he cheating on her when he kissed you and gave you pleasure? 

“Nice to meet you,” you play along.

She clearly doesn’t know who you are, and if he didn’t say anything about you to her, there must be a reason. He should be the one revealing your existence to her.

“How do you know I’m carrying his child?” you ask.

Now, you’re quite curious about that.

“Let’s just say that I know,” she says.

A little smile appears on your face as she carefully chooses her words. She definitely seems to ignore what you truly are and since she can’t reveal her world to a human, she remains vague. However, you don’t want to make it look like you know about the werewolves.

“Well, if you really knew, you’d know if I’m a surrogate or his new toy,” you use her words against her. “And if you’re his future queen as you said, this is something you’d definitely know.”

She’s taken aback by your words. She seems like she wasn’t expecting you to stand up against her. She doesn’t know what to say, and you look at her, expecting her to say something.

Jungkook appears out of the blue, his body standing tall next to you. His eyes quickly roam your face and body, making sure Yuna didn’t do anything to you. A smile appears on your face when you see him. For a brief moment, you let your eyes wander on this handsome man.

As you’re starting to notice, he’s most of the time wearing a suit, today not being an exemption. It’s a completely black outfit, even the classic shirt under his jacket. He pushes his hair back, clearly trying to rearrange it, and making you understand that he came under his wolf form.

“What are you doing here, Yuna?” his tone is rigid, his jaw clenched.

“Meeting the woman carrying your child and checking up on those rumors.”

You frown, not understanding what she’s making reference to.

“Now, I’m trying to understand if she’s a surrogate or…” Jungkook doesn’t let her finish her sentence.

“She’s my girlfriend if that’s what you want to know,” his tone is as sharp as a knife.

Your face turns to Jungkook while you try to remain composed. This is incredibly surprising, especially since you haven’t put into words what is going on between you. There’s only been a few kisses and his fingers in your pants three days ago. Based on that, you wouldn’t especially call him your boyfriend.

“Oh,” she says.

It’s clear as day that she’s hurt to find out about that. You don’t know this woman, but it’s written all over her face, and you kind of feel sorry for her.

“I didn’t know that,” she continues.

“Now, please leave her alone,” he says. “Leave us alone.”

You’ve never seen Jungkook speaking like that, and it sends shivers down your spine. He’s quite harsh, and it might come from the fact that he’s a king. However, you’re also convinced that this woman did something to him. This isn’t just about him as a king; it’s also personal.

When the woman disappears, you turn fully to Jungkook. For a moment, his eyes don’t leave Yuna, making sure she doesn’t come back. Then, once she’s out of sight, his eyes finally meet yours, and they instantly soften. He gives you a little smile.

“Who’s that woman?” you finally ask.

This man’s beauty is truly breathtaking. How can someone be this good-looking? You hope that your kid will inherit his beauty.

“Yuna,” he says. “My ex.”

Well, that would explain everything, and you kind of sense that she hasn’t moved on just yet. She might definitely still love him a lot. Or maybe she might love the crown he wears.

“She presented herself as your girlfriend,” you inform him.

“I’m not even surprised,” he rolls his eyes. “She has reappeared in my life as if she’s expecting me to welcome her back with open arms.”

Does it surprise you? No, because as a king, you expect him to have many women drooling over him, and trying to get his attention. On top of that, he’s extremely handsome. His beauty is mesmerizing, and you feel lucky to have the opportunity to see him this close regularly.

“But why did you tell her I’m your girlfriend?” you curiously ask.  

For a moment, he seems to hesitate, and his eyes look behind you. You also note the way his cheeks redden, which makes him look absolutely adorable.

“That’s the only way she’ll leave you alone,” he answers, his eyes finally meeting yours again.

“I hope so,” you say. “She’s impressive,” you admit.

A smile appears on his face at your words.

“Yep,” he says. “She’s from a powerful family too so she feels like the world is at her feet.”

“I’m only meeting important people from your world,” you smile at him. “I’m starting to think that I’m privileged.”  

A chuckle leaves his lips while he shakes his head.

“Technically, you’re more important and powerful than all her family combined,” he admits.

Your eyes widen with surprise. It seems impossible that you have some kind of privilege in this werewolf world. You’re a hybrid, a forbidden being.  

“How’s that possible?” you ask. “Nobody knows about me, and I’m…” you lower your voice. “You know what.”

Jungkook nods as he understands you’re referring to your hybrid nature.

“You’re the heir’s mother,” he answers.

“Oh,” you say. “Didn’t know it was a privilege too.”

“It is,” he tells you. “Everybody deeply respects the woman carrying the heir.”

It’s good to know. However, you’re pretty much confident that the privilege will disappear the second, people will find out about who you truly are.

“If you don’t mind, I need to do some grocery shopping,” you show him your little bag. “Want to join?” you ask.

His eyes quickly look around as if he’s making sure nobody sees him here.

“Yes, I’d like that,” he answers once his eyes are on you again. “I’ve actually never done that, so it’ll be a first time for me.”

“What?” you ask with surprise. “You never did this?”

This man won’t even stop surprising you, but it sort of warms your heart that he’ll experience it for the first time with you. You feel honored to introduce him to grocery shopping. It’s nothing glamorous, but it’s still so normal for you. The two of you start walking in the store’s direction.

“As you might have seen, I’ve many people working for me and they take care of that.”

You’re still impressed by how huge his mansion is, and how many people you saw working there.  

“It makes sense, but still,” you say. “It’s something so normal to do.”

“My normal is very different than yours,” his eyes quickly glance at you.

It’s for sure very different, but you thought that was something he would have at least done once in his life.

“Speaking of different,” you begin. “How did this ex of yours find me?”

Jungkook nervously bites his lower lip, hesitating to reveal the truth.

“The baby’s scent,” he answers.

Your eyebrows furrow because you don’t really understand. The baby doesn’t really have any particular scent, and on top of that, it’s mixed with yours.

“As a king and son of a king, I have a particular scent. It’s different than any other wolf,” he explains. “So all my kids will also have a particular one. She only had to follow that scent.”

Everything seems so peculiar with Jungkook—and with you too. But it’s strange to have been brought to this world by the king himself. It could have been anyone else, but you had to end up with him.

Once inside the store, it seems like Jungkook has entered a completely new world. He looks like a five-year-old who’s discovering something new, making him look extremely cute. He helps you gather what you need and even buys some stuff for himself. He’s so proud of himself, and it leaves you wondering what other ‘normal’ things he doesn’t do.

Jungkook accompanies you to your place to ensure his ex-girlfriend isn’t waiting at your door. This thoughtful gesture fills your heart with warmth. Inside your apartment, you invite him to stay a little while and offer him something to drink and eat to thank him.

The two of you are sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a piece of apple cake. As you look at him innocently drinking and eating, you lose yourself in your own thoughts. Even if he’s powerful in his world, he can’t protect you from your truth. He can’t protect you from the fact that you’re afraid of everything. He can’t protect you from who you are.

There is so much more to unveil about yourself, your family, and your parents, and hurt and pain might come along. On top of that, you’re a hybrid, something so deeply forbidden. You shouldn’t exist, and you’re not even sure he will be able to protect you from how the others react. Because, in all honestly, you strongly believe that nobody will accept you. Nobody will even acknowledge your child as the next ruler.

In the middle of all this chaos, there is that tiny little life growing inside you. One that units you to Jungkook, and it will be a forever bond. No matter how your relationship might evolve, there will always be this baby, and all you hope is for you to remain on good terms.  

“Yn,” his voice in your head brings you back to the real world.

“Yes,” you say out loud.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern.

You simply nod. Even though you want to share all your concerns with him, you’ve already discussed them with him more than enough times. You don’t want to bother him anymore.

“You’re sure?” his voice still echoes in your mind.

“I am,” you answer this time through your thoughts. “Just thinking about all the recent events.”

“We can talk about it if you need to,” he gently suggests.

“It’s okay,” you answer. “I just need time to process it all.”

Honestly, it’s been too much in such a short period of time. In nine weeks, you’ve been through a lot, and you definitely need time and space to digest it all. You’d also like to take your time with everything. You’re about to become a mother, and you’d like to focus a bit more on it.

“Soo,” you then say out loud. “Do you already have any name preference for the baby?”

For a brief moment, his eyes stare into yours to make sure you’re truly okay. He’s been quite concerned about you because of all the events. He hadn’t dealt with so many things in so long.

“I haven’t really thought about it, honestly,” he admits. “Although I’ve always desired to name my kid after my father if it’s a boy.”

You quickly disappear into the living room to pick up your phone before coming back. You open the notes app to write down the ideas you might both have.

“What’s your father’s name?” you ask.

“Taemoo,” he says, and you write it down.

“Oh, it’s a pretty name,” you offer him a smile. “For a boy, I already had the name Hwan in mind,” you tell him. “And for a girl, Arya.”

You add those two names to the list. Those were the names you had already chosen for your child before Jungkook came into the picture. It should have been one of those, but now, you can’t decide alone. This baby has a father.  

“Queen Arya,” Jungkook mumbles. “Sounds definitely compelling.”

The brightest smile appears on his handsome face.

“I really like it,” he says.

“And you didn’t have any girl’s name in mind?” you ask with curiosity.

“Well, with Yuna, we had talked about it, and there’s a name that I like,” he confesses. “But I’d never given that name to our girl, I don’t want to be reminded of my ex.”

It’s logical; exes are always better left in the past even if this Yuna seems to want Jungkook back. Thankfully, you don’t have an ex doing the same.

“And Hwan,” he begins. “That’s the name of one of my nephews, and honestly, I wouldn’t want two people to have the same name in my family.”

As he mentions his nephew, you realize that you barely know anything about his family while he already knows so much about yours.

“Then, I guess we’ll erase that one from the list,” you say.

It breaks your heart as it’s a name you really love, but you’re not alone anymore. The baby’s name has to be chosen with Jungkook.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry,” you smile at him. “We have to decide together, and if you don’t want to, then I can’t force you to agree.”

“Thanks,” he whispers.

“And how many nephews do you have?”

Jungkook proceeds to talk about his close relatives. He has currently two nieces and a nephew, but a second nephew is on the way. The four of them are the children of his only sister, Dohee. She’s three years younger than him, and he definitely seems to love her with all his heart. He has also two brothers, Hyunjin and Mingi, two little monsters based on his description. Growing up, he was jealous of them because they never had to worry about this whole becoming a king thing.

His parents’ names are Taemoo and Jisoo, the two people he loves the most. It’s clear as day that he deeply loves his family, but his father’s death broke something in him, you can see it when he mentions his father. He had so much admiration for him, and he had to navigate this king role without him. He knew it from the start, but experiencing it firsthand is completely different.

“My mom would like to meet you,” he says.

Jungkook purposely avoids mentioning the terrible conversation he had with his family. He doesn’t want to worry you about that. What matters for now is the fact that his mother wants to meet you.

“She knows about me?” you surprisingly ask.

“Of course,” he says as it was the most obvious thing. “You’re carrying my child,” he pauses for a little moment. “She also knows that you’re a hybrid.”

Oh.

It surprises you that he already mentioned that to her, and you guess she didn’t react well when he told her. At least, she already knows it, but you’re not sure this first meeting will go well. She’ll for sure have preconceptions about you. She’ll probably hate you.

“I can meet her if that’s what you want,” you tell him.

“I’d very much like that.”

“Okay then,” you smile.

Family seems important to him, and you’d meet his mother if he wants to. She’s also your child’s grandmother, and you’d like your child to have a strong bond with the people Jungkook deeply loves.

“And I also would like you to meet Felix and Lexi,” you tell him.

His phone suddenly rings, his eyes looking down at the person calling him.

“Give me 2 minutes,” he grabs his phone and goes to the living room.

Even though he moves a bit further, you still can hear the conversation. Due to your very curious nature, your ears pay attention to him.

“Hoseok,” he says. “I can’t today, I’m already busy with something.”

The person on the other side, a man, responds. “What is more important than that?”

“Listen, I can’t right now, but I’ll take care of that tomorrow,” Jungkook promises.

“Please, help us as soon as you can,” the other man adds. “We can’t handle this by ourselves anymore.”

At the man’s words, you truly realize the extent of what it means to be a king. People rely on him, people need him when things get messy and complicated. And in the middle of that, he finds the time to help you and be present for you.

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook responds. “It’ll be settled tomorrow.”  

The phone call ends, and seconds later, Jungkook comes back into the room, his presence appealing as always. Earlier, when you came back from the store, he removed his suit jacket, leaving him in just his black dress shirt. Now, with the soft lighting accentuating every line of his figure, your attention is utterly captivated.

The fabric clings to his broad shoulders and tapers down his torso, perfectly tailored to highlight the strength he carries so effortlessly. His rolled-up sleeves expose his forearms—strong, veined, and so distractingly masculine—and his tattoos. You try to focus on something else, but your eyes betray you, tracing the curve of his arms and the way his shirt stretches across his chest with every step.

As he moves toward you, the faintest smile appears on his lips, and it makes your heart race. There’s something about him, a mix of elegance and raw strength, that leaves you spellbound. He settles into the chair across from you, his movements unhurried, and leans slightly forward, his gaze meeting yours. You blink, trying to pull yourself together.

“It’s just a shirt, yn,” you scold yourself silently, but even you don’t believe that.

The heat crawling up your cheeks betrays your thoughts, and the way his presence fills the room doesn’t help. Jungkook quirks a brow, a playful glint in his eyes as if he’s caught you staring.

“Is something on your mind?” he asks, his deep voice cutting through your flustered thoughts.

You quickly look down at your lap, feeling your cheeks burn. “No... nothing,” you mumble.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, just watches you intently, the air between you charged with something unspoken. It’s maddening how effortlessly he affects you, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to look away for long.

“Actually,” you correct your answer. “If there’s something important you need to take care of, you can go,” you tell him.

Based on the conversation he just had, he might have more important matters to deal with. You don’t want to be the reason holding him up. However, his rapid answer leaves no room for doubt.

“Nothing matters more than your safety, yn,” he admits without blinking.

“But…” you start arguing but he doesn’t let you speak.

“There’s no ‘but’, whatever I have to deal with can wait tomorrow,” his tone is very firm and takes you off guard.

Before you can respond, Jungkook leans forward slightly, his gaze locking with yours. There’s an intensity in his eyes that leaves you momentarily breathless.

“Listen to me,” he says softly but with an unmistakable seriousness in his voice. “Your safety and well-being come first, always. Whatever is waiting for me out there will still be there tomorrow. You, on the other hand…” his voice trails off, and for a moment, he seems to struggle to find the right words. He exhales deeply, his tone softening. “You’ve been through so much already. The last thing I want is for you to feel like you’re not my priority. Because you are, yn. More than anything else.”

His confession leaves you speechless. The vulnerability in his voice is unexpected, and it warms your heart. Jungkook leans back in his chair, giving you the slightest smile as if he’s trying to ease the tension he just created.

“So no more arguments, okay?” he adds, his tone lighter now. “I’m staying right here, whether you like it or not.”

“Okay,” you admit in defeat.

Nobody has ever treated you like this. Nobody has ever made you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. Yet, this man who appeared out of the blue in your life nine weeks ago has made you feel like the most precious pearl. He’s been by your side, never letting you face this chaos alone. For the first time in a long time, he’s actually the first man you’ll allow yourself to fall for.

His smile grows bigger at your answer before you move to the living room. You choose to watch Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as you’re both fans of the Spider-Man universe. During the movie, you end up falling asleep as you’re quite exhausted from everything. Growing a human—or a werewolf—isn’t really easy. It consumes your entire energy.

“Yn,” you hear Jungkook’s voice in your dreams. “Yn,” he repeats. “It’s time to eat.”

Suddenly, you feel fingers delicately brushing against your cheeks. You shake your head, trying to push away the fingers on your face.

“Mmm,” you groan while you try to hide your face on the couch.

“Yn, you have to eat,” Jungkook talks in your mind again.

“Leave my head, Jungkook,” you mumble. “And let me sleep.”   

“If you don’t wake up now, I’ll keep talking in your head,” he threatens.

“Noo,” you groan once more and hide your ears with your hands. “Leave me.”

Jungkook chuckles as he watches you cover your ears. Doing that won’t make him go away, he’s still able to have a mind-to-mind conversation with you.

“C’mon, yn,” he says. “The dinner will get cold.”

“You cooked?” you instantly ask while opening just one eye.

“Yep,” he answers, this time the words don’t echo in your head.

“What did you do?” you now open your eyes.

“Bibimbap,” he proudly says.

“You should have started by saying that,” you sit on the couch, more hungry than ever.

Jungkook rolls his eyes in front of you with the biggest smile on his face.

“Did you just roll your eyes?” you ask with obvious surprise.

“Maybe,” he teases you.

“Mister,” you pause for a split second. “You’re extremely lucky to be the father of my child. Otherwise, I would have already kicked you in the ass for that attitude,” you tease him back.

Jungkook is trying to remain serious, but he simply can’t. So his strong arms lift you up to place you on his shoulder. Your head almost reaches his plump, squishy, and hot ass, and in your teasing attitude, you decide to smack his ass repeatedly.

“Let me go, Jungkook,” you joyfully scream.

“Didn’t know you were into asses,” he chuckles. “Lucky for you, I have the best ass in the world.”

Instantly, you stop hitting his butt cheeks, heat radiating in your cheeks. Jungkook seems to be in such a teasing mode today, and honestly, you won’t complain. You’re enjoying this very much, you don’t want this to stop.

But he puts you down a few seconds later, your bodies extremely close now, and his face barely a breath away from yours. This teasing mood shifts completely into an intense one. For a moment, your eyes devour his lips as you desire nothing more than to kiss him like you’re starving. Then, you glance up at him, his eyes locking with yours.

His huge hands brush against your arms, and the feeling is comforting. Everything about this man and his presence is comforting. Having him with you here and now feels wonderful. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

This time around, you don’t hesitate twice and press your lips on his. At first, the kiss is soft. His lips are warm and firm against yours, and your heart feels like it might burst from your chest. You can feel his hands tighten slightly on your arms as if he’s trying to anchor himself to this moment, to you.

Then, something shifts. The kiss deepens, growing more fervent as if both of you have been holding back for far too long. His hands slide up to cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks as he pulls you closer, leaving no space between you.

The world around you disappears. There’s only the feeling of him, the heat of his touch, and the way his lips seem to convey everything he’s been holding back: desire, affection, and an unspoken promise of something deeper.

When the kiss finally breaks, both of you are breathless, your foreheads pressed together. You don’t open your eyes right away, savoring the moment. His hands remain on your face, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw as if memorizing you.

“We should eat before it gets cold,” he whispers before pressing a peck on your lips.

You nod before sitting on a chair. A smile grows on your face as you notice the two plates carefully prepared by Jungkook. It warms your heart that he prepared dinner while you were peacefully sleeping.

“Thanks for the dinner,” you say as you start eating.

Jungkook simply offers you a smile before you both eat in silence. It seems like you’re starving because you eat so rapidly, but damn, this is so good! This man has many talents.

“Can you stay tonight?” you ask once you finish eating.

His big doe eyes move from his plate to you, he looks absolutely adorable. This vision melts your heart.

“Yes,” a sincere smile grows on his face.

 “Great,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

You stand up to gather the plates and bring them to the sink. Jungkook, ever the gentleman, stands to help you, but you wave him off.

“I’ve got it,” you tell him. “You cooked, so let me clean.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t argue. However, you notice him keeping a watchful eye on you as you move around the kitchen. It’s a little unsettling but also comforting, knowing he’s so attentive. When you’re done, you turn to him, a mix of nervousness and determination fluttering in your chest.

“Mm, do you want to… go to the bedroom? I mean, to sleep?” you ask, your voice soft, almost shy.

Jungkook arches a brow, his lips twitching into a subtle smirk. “Are you asking me to share your bed?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks heat up. “Don’t make it weird, Jungkook.”

“I can sleep on the couch, yn,” he then says.

You take a step closer to him. “I just… I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

His teasing expression softens instantly, replaced by something far gentler. He closes the distance between you, his towering frame making you feel small in comparison.

“You’re never alone,” he says, his voice low and reassuring. “I’m here, I’ll literally be on the couch.”

“But if something happens, you’ll be too far,” you pout.

For a moment, he hesitates, his gaze flickering toward the hallway leading to your bedroom. You can see the internal debate playing out in his head, making your chest tighten. However, he can’t resist those pleading eyes.

“You can stay on top of the covers if that makes you feel better,” you suggest.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he answers in defeat.  

“Thanks,” you press a soft kiss on his cheek, but he’s smarter than you and turns his head so your lips meet his. “Desperate for a kiss?” you then mumble.  

“Maybe,” he answers with a smirk on his face.

“All you have to do is ask,” your eyes look deep into his.

“Can I kiss you, yn?” he immediately asks, and you nod.

In no time, his lips are on yours, passionately kissing you. His lips are honestly addictive; you’d be able to kiss him nonstop, and the funny thing is that he hasn’t kissed you many times. But he kisses like a god.

“You’re happy now?” you ask when you break the kiss.

“Not really,” he teasingly says while shaking his head.

Jungkook presses a peck on your lips before pressing a thousand others more, causing you to giggle.

“Better now?” you ask once he stops.

“Mmm,” he pretends to be thinking. “No,” he shakes his head before pressing a couple of other kisses on your lips.

The man in front of you loves to hear you giggle and doesn’t want it to stop. It is his new favorite sound in the whole world. Secretly, he hopes he’ll never be deprived of it.  

Then, slowly, the kisses move to your cheeks, forehead, jaw, the corner of your lips, and finally they start to descend to your neck. You can feel his round nose pressed against your neck as his lips kiss your skin. By pure reflex, you tilt your head to give him more room, and your hands move to his hair to play with it. A very soft and barely audible moan escapes your lips. 

This jovial and playful moment has turned into a very heated one. 

“Wait,” you carefully push him with your hands on his chest.

His doe eyes look at yours with concern.

“This isn’t really the most appropriate place for this…” you whisper, the heat under your cheeks growing as his eyes are deep into yours.  

“Why so?” his right eyebrow raises up.

“I mean, we’re in the hallway,” you tell him.

His eyes look around. “But there’s nobody except us, yn.”

“I know, but…” you seem to hesitate.

Jungkook finally understands that you’re not really comfortable taking this any further in the hallway.

“Okay, let’s go to the room,” he says with a smile before gently kissing your cheek.

The man grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours while guiding you to your bedroom. Once inside, he doesn’t waste a second and presses his hungry lips on yours. Slowly, he removes his fingers from your hand to remove your grey shirt. He throws it on the floor, and his eyes instantly look down at your stomach, looking for a sign of your pregnancy.

“The bump isn’t showing yet,” you say.

“Can’t wait to see it,” he mumbles, his eyes looking up at you now.

“Me too,” you admit with the brightest smile on earth.

The past few weeks have been hard and chaotic, but amidst all of that, the idea of your belly growing brings you some comfort. It will mean that your little wolfy is thriving, a reassurance that despite everything, life is forming inside you. This is what you’ve wanted since the beginning. You’ve desired to watch your body change since the second you began this journey.  

Jungkook’s warm hand comes to rest gently on your stomach, his eyes locked deep onto yours. This moment is so intimate, so profound, and the rest of the world fades away. A soft breath escapes your lips as the realization settles in: no matter what happens the tiny heartbeat beneath his touch will forever link the two of you. You are bound not only by fate but by the life you created together.

“Now lay down on your back for me,” he whispers.

You simply nod before obeying him and lying on the bed. His eyes hungrily devour you as he hovers over you, his body settling in between your legs. His lips meet yours for a tender but fervent kiss. Then, slowly, the kisses move to your cheeks, jaw, the corner of your lips, and finally, they start to descend to your neck, his cute nose pressing against your skin.

Your fingers find their way to his hair, playing with it while he gives you pleasure. Jungkook’s lips keep going down, dangerously getting closer to your cleavage. Your breath is getting heavier, your heart beating faster, and your eyes fluttering shut. As he gets closer and closer, soft moans leave your lips, indicating to him that he’s doing everything just well.  

Before he even reaches your breasts, he retreats to take a look at your pretty face. When you feel the cold air brushing against your skin, you open your eyes to watch him.

“Do we keep going?” 

“Don’t stop,” you manage to say.

A smile appears on your face. Before you can even comprehend, his hands move down to your waist, and they are pushing your pants down your legs. Once they are at your ankle, his lips hungrily kiss you. You’re definitely desperate for this man. You want more. And it seems that it’s a shared feeling.  

Your baby’s father presses his hips against yours, his growing bulge now against your wet core. That sensation alone makes you moan. Teasingly, he slowly rolls his hips against yours, but he doesn’t stop kissing you as a desperate man. You hold his black classic shirt firmly as you moan against his lips. Without any doubt, your panties are getting soaked. Jungkook is fucking you when you’re still fully clothed. 

His lips finally set free from yours so he can rest his forehead against yours. His lusty eyes stare deep into yours which causes you to moan. Your walls clench around emptiness, but you’re slowly getting desperate to feel something inside you. 

However, slowly, you realize the extent of the situation. You’re about to have sex. You close your eyes once more. His hips never stop rolling against yours, torturing you just the way you need. The grip on his shirt tightens, and moans keep falling from your mouth.

“Jungkook,” you blissfully whisper.

His eyes roam your face contorting with pleasure, a vision he never thought he needed. The man crashes his lips once more against yours; he definitely got addicted to your lips and never wants to let go of you.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips, his bulge growing inside his pants.

You both know that if you take this any further, there’s no way back. The second you’ll make love, it’ll seal forever your ever-growing bond. And is it what you want? Do you even feel ready? This is something you can’t quite answer yet, but it scares you. Jungkook wouldn’t simply be your baby’s father or your king—let’s be honest as a hybrid, he’s still your king. He’d become your lover.

“Jungkook,” you whisper again against his lips before you open your eyes.

“Mmm,” he says while he puts some distance between your faces to have a better look at you.

“Maybe we should think a bit better about this,” you tell him. “Aren’t we going too fast?”

Jungkook tilts his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“Going too fast? Hmm…” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch from yours. “Let’s see. You’re having my baby, I’ve seen you at your worst and best, and I’ve already committed to protecting you with my life. But sure, let’s take it slow.”

The teasing spark in his eyes makes your stomach flutter, and you playfully hit his chest.

“Jungkook!”

This man is unbelievable, but he isn’t quite wrong. So much has already happened since you’ve met him, and he’s been there all along. He could have given up on you the second he found out about your true nature, but yet, it seems not to bother him at all.

Jungkook laughs before pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“I’m just saying at this point, I think the universe is pushing us together,” he places a strand of hair behind your ear. “But if this is too fast for you, we can slow down.”

The man now lays down next to you, his eyes looking up at the ceiling before they look at you again.

“Thanks,” you smile at him.

“I’ll do anything for you, yn,” he smiles at you. “Would you mind showing me where the bathroom is? Something down there needs some relief.”

Your eyes look down at his crotch that definitely looks compressed in his pants. So you stand up rapidly to guide him to the bathroom. It pains you a bit for him that he didn’t get his release, but hopefully, his hands will do great work.

“Sorry about that,” you tell him once you’re in the bathroom.

“Don’t worry, yn,” he says before kissing your cheek.

You leave him alone, your cheeks burning at the mere thought of what he’s doing in the bathroom. Obviously, you desire nothing more than suck him off, but you can’t. Things are going way too fast between you, and it’s better to simply slow down for the time being.

The doorbell sounds in your apartment, pushing you out of your sleep. As far as you know, you weren’t expecting any guests today. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked Jungkook to sleep at your place.

You stand up, put some clothes on, and look at the man peacefully sleeping in your bed. He looks like an angel, a beautiful angel. Then, your eyes move to the clock you have in your room. It’s almost 10 am. You leave the room as fast as possible to see who the hell is disturbing your sleep.

To your surprise, it is Felix and Lexi. Your heart starts hammering like crazy in your chest as you realize they’re going to meet Jungkook. There’s no way Jungkook is leaving this apartment without meeting them, and it honestly makes you a bit nervous.

“Hi,” you say when you open the door to them.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Felix pushes you into his arms for a hug.

Felix’s arms will forever be the most comfortable place on earth. These arms have consoled you so many times, and they’ve brought peace when times were harder. You take a step back before pressing a kiss on his cheek.  

“Hello, yn,” Lexi kisses your cheek.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with obvious confusion.

You weren’t expecting them to come today. It’s a pleasant surprise, but you wish they had warned you earlier.

“We came to see how you’re doing,” Lexi answers. “And we’ve brought breakfast.”

She shakes in front of your face the little bag that carries the breakfast. They instantly notice something’s wrong, and they frown.

“Are you okay?” Lexi asks

“Yn,” you hear a voice behind you, causing you to look over your shoulder.

Suddenly, Jungkook appears, and your entire world seems to pause for a second. Your mouth parts slightly as your brain struggles to process the sight in front of you. Standing in nothing but his underwear, his messy hair falling over his forehead in the most effortlessly and attractive way. He looks like a fucking dream.

As he walks in the hallway, his hand on his hair to adjust it, you can’t help but be hypnotized by how the toned muscles on his body move. Everything from his sharp-cut abs to the powerful lines of his chest, and to his tattoos is mesmerizing. The intricate ink covering his arm only makes him look more dangerously irresistible, like some kind of dark temptation you should absolutely not be staring at this intently. Yet, you can’t help it.

A wave of heat rushes through your face, and you internally scold yourself. ‘For the love of everything, stop drooling’. Especially with Felix and Lexi standing right next to you.

You quickly tear your gaze away, but it’s already too late. Lexi is smirking and Felix seems to be absolutely astonished. Jungkook stops when he sees them with evident surprise, but instead of feeling awkward, he offers his brightest smile to the three of you.

“Hello,” he says when he stands in front of you. “My name is Jungkook,” he reaches out his hand to Felix.

You glance between the two of them, and something instantly feels off. Felix’s gaze lingers on Jungkook. There’s something in his expression, something unreadable yet undeniably curious. Your stomach tightens as you take in the way Felix studies Jungkook. Does he know him?

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook,” Felix shakes his hand. “I’m Felix, yn’s father.”

A smile grows on Jungkook’s face, and he then looks at Lexi. He reaches out his hand to her, and without any hesitation, she shakes it. The smirk on her face doesn’t fade away at all.

“And I’m Lexi, her sister.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Jungkook smiles at them.

It is almost unreal to see the three of them together; you didn’t expect them to meet so early on. And you hadn’t in mind for them to meet a barely dressed Jungkook.

“Jungkook is the father of my child,” you inform Lexi and Felix.

Lexi looks at you with a gaze that says it all. The smirk on her face is almost annoying because you perfectly know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking that you slept with him and that he’s hot as fuck.

But then, as you look at Felix, you can see that he doesn’t seem happy to learn that Jungkook is the father. Is he aware of something about him that you don’t? Felix’s reaction is very confusing.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll get dressed,” he tells you before disappearing again.

“Dad,” you look at Felix. “Do you know him?”

You can’t go any longer without raising the question. There’s definitely something off and you need to know why. You want to know how on earth Felix knows him.

“Not him,” he answers. “But his father.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you notice Lexi has the exact same reaction.

“How?” you ask.

Felix takes a very deep breath; you can tell that it’s a painful memory.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he simply answers. “But you can’t be with him, yn,” he warns you. “You can’t have this child with him.”

You take a step back, surprised by his words. Your eyes scan his face, trying to understand why he’s saying that. There’s something very deep. Is he aware of Jungkook’s werewolf nature?

“Dad,” Lexi says. “What are saying?”

“You heard me well,” his tone is firm, and it sends shivers down your spine. Felix has only been like that when you both were making mistakes at a younger age.

“I’m not going to abort,” you answer. “It’s out of the question, and nobody can tell me what to do. This child has been desired for a long time. Things didn’t happen the way I intended, but I’ve decided to keep the baby.”

“Yn,” he whispers.

Suddenly, Jungkook reappears all dressed. He looks majestic with his full black suit which is a contrast to how he was minutes ago.

“Mister Kang,” Jungkook looks at Felix. “I guess you knew who truly my father was. I guess you knew he was the werewolf king.”

Lexi’s eyes widen at his words, but she’s the only one reacting like that. Felix doesn’t even blink. He’s fully aware of the werewolf world. It leaves you wondering if he knew that your mother was also a werewolf.  

“Indeed,” he nods. “I’ve known very well your father, and I’m very sorry for your loss.”

This is getting weirder and weirder. How could Felix know personally Jungkook’s father and never say anything to you?

“Thanks,” Jungkook nods.

“Werewolves?” Lexi says with confusion. “And you both knew?” she’s pointing to you and Felix. “How I’m just learning this now?”

Felix looks at his daughter, his gaze softening instantly. Then, pain shows up in his eyes, and it breaks your heart.

“I wanted to protect you both from all of it,” he admits. “I needed to protect you.”

Now, you have many many questions because this is the most unexpected event of the day. Never would you have thought this man would be aware of this world, but it would maybe make some sense because he was super close to your parents. He knew it; you don’t even doubt it.

“Why?” Lexi asks.

“Maybe, I could explain while we have breakfast,” he proposes.

All of you nod and you head to the kitchen. While you prepare coffee, Felix and Lexi put all the things they bought on top of the table, and Jungkook grabs the plates.

“I’m very curious to know how he met my father,” Jungkook speaks to you through your thoughts.

“Me too,” you answer. “This is so weird.”

“My father never mentioned a human friend.”

When all is ready, you take a seat at the table. You, Lexi, and Jungkook look at Felix, waiting for him to finally explain everything.

“Well,” Felix takes a deep breath. “My wife, Olivia passed away when Lexi was only three years old. It’s been the biggest tragedy of my life, and the worst day of my life,” he begins. “One night, we decided to go on a date, just the two of us, and my parents were taking care of our daughter. It was supposed to be a great night; we had a reservation at a very fancy restaurant. But once we left the restaurant, on our way back home, Olivia was savagely attacked by what seemed like a wolf.”

You don’t really remember Olivia, you were very young when she passed away, but you’ve grown up with pictures of her everywhere at your house. She was a very pretty woman, Lexi definitely looks a lot like her.  

“Together with some other people, we tried to push away the wolf, and we succeeded. Unfortunately, he had injured her in her left thigh. There was nothing that we could do. In a matter of seconds, she bled to death. When the ambulance arrived, she was already gone.”

So Lexi’s mother was murdered by a wolf, a bit like your parents. The stories are different, but the murderer’s nature is still the same.

“At the hospital, a man, your father, came to me,” he looks at Jungkook. “He told me everything about the werewolves. It was a werewolf that killed my wife, and it was his first full moon, his first transformation. Your father offered to pay for the entirety of the funeral and to give us financial support,” he looks now at his daughter. “He’s the one that paid for your studies; he insisted on doing that. He has also protected us since then,” now he looks at you. “He has protected you too and also paid for your studies.”

So in the end, Jungkook’s father helped the Shadows to find your parents, but he also protected you afterward from this world. It seems so unrealistic, but he probably didn’t know you were a hybrid. Although you strongly doubt it.

“It was a very difficult time, but he stood by our side and helped us. I had so much respect for him, and we would meet sometimes.”

Jungkook frowns. “Did he know about yn?”

“Know what?” Felix seems confused by Jungkook’s question.

Fuck, he doesn’t know about you. Felix clearly doesn’t know you’re a hybrid and that your mother was a werewolf.

“Shit,” Jungkook whispers.

“My mom was a werewolf,” you answer.

“Oh my god,” Lexi says. “I never imagined one second Mrs. y/l/n to be a wolf.”

“So you’re one too?” he says with evident shock.

You nod, saddened that he has to learn this way that you carry werewolf blood. Things would have for sure been different if he knew. Most probably, you wouldn’t have grown up ignoring this side of you.

But one thing seems to be sure: Jungkook’s father knew about you. How could the king not ever realize that in so many years? Maybe he didn’t know, but you strongly doubt that.

“I’m not fully a werewolf,” you confess. “I’m half human.”

Jungkook then remembers a line he read in his father's journal; one that he got to read after his passing. It was comforting to read those words when the grief was too painful to deal with. The line said: ‘I broke the rules, and I’d be doomed if somebody ever found out. But how could I do otherwise? An innocent life would be taken, and I couldn’t live with myself if I’d respect the rules.’

Jungkook never understood what he meant as he was deeply convinced his father always followed and applied the rules. However, today, this sentence seems to make perfect sense. Taemoo knew about your true nature but decided to spare you. He decided to let you live, knowing the consequences. His father protected you all these years. And now, it’s his turn to protect you.

“Which makes me a forbidden species,” you add.

Now that Felix and Lexi are aware of this, it will make things easier. It’s been so so hard to hide this from them because you’ve been used to sharing everything with them. And this motherhood journey is supposed to be theirs as well, but you had to hide a big part of it because humans can’t be told about the werewolf world.

“So,” Lexi says. “You’re the king now, I guess?” she asks the father of your child and he nods. “It then makes yn’s child the heir?”

“That’s right,” Jungkook says.

Felix closes his eyes. This clearly doesn’t make him happy, and it most probably comforts the idea that you shouldn’t have this baby. His grandchild will carry the same blood as the person who killed his wife. His daughter actually carries that blood. It’s hard to accept that.

“Sorry,” he says before leaving.

A tear runs down your face, and Jungkook squeezes your hand when he notices it. This is devastating, and you can only understand your father’s reaction. In his shoes, you would feel the same.

After a couple of hours, you decide to show up at Felix’s house to have a one-to-one conversation with him. There’s a lot to discuss with him about who you and your parents are. It’s not going to be easy, but you really need to talk with him.

Once you’re inside the house, you follow the sound of his heartbeat. You easily find him in the living room watching tv with a beer in his hand. Seeing him like this, it’s as if nothing ever happened.

“Hi,” you take a seat next to him on the couch.

His face turns to look at you with a little smile appearing on his face. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Hearing the nickname warms your heart. It would have broken your heart if he had called you by your name.

“How are you feeling?” you ask with concern.

“Better,” he answers. “Sorry, I left like that.”

“It’s okay,” you offer him a smile.

Felix puts down the beer bottle on the coffee table before grabbing your hands. His eyes are filled with softness, and it’s comforting.

“Did you spend the last twenty years hiding yourself?” he questions.

You shake your head. “No, I only found this a couple of weeks after I got inseminated.”

“Great,” he answers. “I would have felt terrible if you had kept that a secret from me all these years.”

Even if it’s scary to reveal something this big to someone so dear to your heart, you’re sure that a younger version of yourself would have struggled to hide this from him. He was your anchor. Navigating this by yourself would have terrified you.

“I’m not sure I would have managed,” you admit with a smile growing on your face.

“I think so too,” he says. “And how have you been feeling?”

You proceed to explain how these past few weeks have been nothing but an emotional roller coaster. You explain how it felt to learn that your parents hid something this big from you. How you hated them for a while. How you felt after finding out why they were killed. How you felt while going through your first transformation. You tell him everything.

Felix listens to you and raises questions from time to time. It’s obvious that he’s sad your parents didn’t tell him anything. They were his best friends, and knowing that all these years they hid this broke his heart. But he also understands why they didn’t. If he hadn’t seen with his own eyes a werewolf, he would have never believed them.

“I guess now you’re dating your child’s father,” he remarks, his tone light but laced with curiosity. The memory of seeing Jungkook half-naked clearly lingers in his mind.

“No,” your cheeks are invaded by a strong heat wave. “We’re just friends. He’s been guiding me through all of this, that’s all.”   

Felix tilts his head. “Friends?” he scoffs. “You two don’t look like two friends. There’s definitely something going on between you. I can sense it.”

Your gaze drops down at your hands, suddenly finding your fingers fascinating. There’s no way you can lie to him, you perfectly know it. Felix can see right through you; he always could.

“There is something,” you hesitate before adding. “But it scares me.”

“Why sweetie?” there is obvious concern in his voice.

For a minute, you close your eyes, inhaling deeply as you try to untangle the knot of emotions in your chest. How do you even put this into words? When you finally look at him again, your voice is quieter.

“I’ve never felt like this before. Being around him is different. He makes me feel safe,” you swallow hard, barely above a whisper as you finish. “Like I can finally breathe.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, yn,” Felix watches you closely, his expression softening.

You bite your lip, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. “It’s not, but it also is.”

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. You sigh, trying to find the right words.

“Everything is happening so fast. My entire world has changed overnight. And Jungkook… he’s overwhelming in ways I can’t explain,” your voice drops to a whisper. “He makes me feel safe, but at the same time, I feel like I’m losing myself to something I don’t fully understand.”

Felix tilts his head slightly, observing you as if he’s piecing together a puzzle.

“And that scares you?”

You nod, exhaling shakily.

“More than I’d like to admit. It’s like…” you try to find your words. “Being around him is both calming and chaotic. I crave his presence, but I’m also scared of what it means. If I let myself fall completely, what happens when he realizes I’m not enough? What if all of this is just a product of our circumstances? What if it’s not real?”

Felix leans forward, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. His hand grabs yours in an attempt to reassure you.

“Yn, love isn’t something you measure with logic,” he starts saying. “It’s not a list of pros and cons, and it surely isn’t something you can control,” he squeezes your hand gently. “Whatever this is between you and Jungkook, it’s real. I saw it the second you looked at him.”

“But I don’t know if I can handle it,” your chest tightens. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Maybe that’s the beauty of it,” Felix gives you a knowing smile. “Maybe you’re not supposed to figure it all out alone. Maybe Jungkook isn’t just someone who came into your life—maybe he’s part of your journey to finding yourself.”

His words settle deep within you, stirring something you’ve tried so hard to suppress. You’ve been so focused on resisting, on fearing the unknown, that you never considered the possibility that Jungkook isn’t here to take something from you but to show you a part of yourself you never knew existed.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head.

“Don’t overthink, yn,” he gives you a little smile. “Just follow your heart.”

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop fighting what you feel for Jungkook.

As you’re standing in front of the impressive gates of Jungkook’s mansion, your heart beats immensely fast. You’re about to meet his mother. A mother that apparently has expressed her desire to meet you. The mother of her grandchild—or should you say—the hybrid. It’s making you nervous because 1) she’s Jungkook’s mother, 2) she’s the queen dowager, and 3) she knows you’re a hybrid.

To your surprise, he didn’t hide from her what you truly are. You’re not sure if he should have done that, but she’s also going to be part of your family. Your baby is also forever going to link you to her. She deserves to know who you are. In the end, you believe it’s best she learns it from her son.

The gates finally open, and you drive to the mansion. Jinwoo, Jungkook’s valet is waiting for you, and as last time, he shows you where to park your car.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n,” he smiles at you while opening the door.

You’re still not used to someone opening your door, but you guess you’ll have to adjust to it.

“Thanks, Jinwoo,” you offer him a bright smile. “Is Mrs. Jeon already here?”

“Yes, she is,” he nods. “She’s discussing with Mister Jeon in the living room. They are waiting for you.”

Now, your heart pounds even faster as the realization hits you: They are waiting for you. When can you die? Probably now. This is making you way too nervous, but you don’t have much of a choice. She’s the grandma of your child. The only living one. Well, that’s not totally right. Even though Felix isn’t your biological father, he’ll also be your child’s grandparent.

“Follow me,” Jinwoo informs you.

You both walk in the direction of the first floor's living room. This mansion is still extremely impressive, and you still wonder how Jungkook can live by himself here. As you get closer to the living room, his presence grows stronger. It feels like you’ll never get used to this feeling, but you like it because it’s quite reassuring.

Jinwoo stops in front of a massive door—and you do the same. The man knocks at the door and only opens it once he hears Jungkook’s approval.

“Miss y/l/n is here, Mrs. and Mr. Jeon,” he informs them.

With a beating heart and shaky legs, you step inside the surprisingly small room. Although still spacious compared to your living room, it feels almost intimate within the vastness of the mansion. The soft glow of warm lighting bathes the space, casting gentle shadows that dance along the walls.

Plush furniture is arranged thoughtfully, creating an inviting atmosphere that feels more personal than the grand halls you’ve passed through. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of something musky—perhaps cologne or the lingering essence of past visitors—lingers in the air.

It’s cozy in a way that surprises you, the kind of room that feels lived-in despite the house’s regal stature. You take a slow breath, allowing yourself to settle into the unfamiliar yet oddly comforting space. You definitely like the vibe of this room.

Jungkook and his mother are standing in the middle of the room, their eyes glued on you. The young man offers you a sincere and bright smile. His mother, on the other hand, is kind of analyzing you, but you’re not sure. She’s just looking at you with an unreadable face, the same one her son always has. Mrs. Jeon is a strikingly beautiful woman, exuding an undeniable aura of power and confidence.  

“Do I need to bow?” the words don’t leave your lips, they are only addressed to Jungkook.

“Yes,” he answers through thoughts. “She’ll appreciate it.”

Standing before her, you lower your head in a respectful bow, the weight of the moment settling heavily on your shoulders. The woman before you exudes an effortless grace. A grace only someone with high stature would carry. Dressed in an elegant yet understated outfit, everything about her radiates authority.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her after you bowed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, miss y/l/n,” she offers you a little smile.

Your eyes quickly look at the man standing next to her, he looks beyond hot. He’s wearing a casual outfit which you honestly prefer on him. The suits look really good on him, but baggy pants and a large shirt look way better.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” Jungkook asks.

“I’d like a glass of water if you don’t mind,” you answer.

The werewolf king nods before heading toward the door, instructing Jinwoo to bring water and some biscuits. You swallow hard as the three of you sit down on the couch. Jungkook takes a seat next to you, offering silent reassurance with his presence, while his mother sits across from you, her posture impossibly straight, radiating authority.

The air is thick with an unnameable tension, and you can’t quite tell whether it’s just the nerves of meeting someone as powerful as Mrs. Jeon.

“How are you feeling?” she politely asks.

For a moment you hesitate, wondering if she’s asking how you feel in general or referring to the pregnancy.

“I’m feeling good,” you cautiously say, trying to keep your tone neutral. “But the morning sickness has been hitting hard.”

To your surprise, a smile grows on her face.

“I understand,” her eyes now move to her firstborn. “I still remember how hard it was when I was pregnant with Jungkook.”

Her voice is so soft, melodic even, and it’s a bit of a contrast compared to the aura she exudes. For a moment, you take a proper look at Jungkook’s mother. Her son has inherited so much from her: the deep, thoughtful doe eyes, the perfectly sculpted round nose, and even the way they hold themselves with quiet confidence. You wouldn’t say he’s a copy of his mother, but he takes a lot after her. And he certainly is as good-looking as her.

“I think up until the sixth month, I wouldn’t go a day without throwing up,” she adds with a small chuckle as if the memory is distant but still vivid.

“Oh wow,” your fingers unconsciously rest on your stomach. “I hope that in my case, it will be over by then.”

Her gaze moves down to where your fingers are resting. She’s looking at your stomach—the undeniable proof of your connection to her son. The moment is brief, but it carries weight. She’s acknowledging the child, but perhaps also the unspoken implications of what it means for her family.

“Every pregnancy is different,” she finally says.

The air slightly changes, still filled with uncertainty, but not entirely unwelcoming. Maybe she’s just as uncertain about you as you are about her, but one thing is clear for you—she’s making an effort.

“And in your case, very unpredictable,” she adds.

There’s absolutely no doubt that she’s referring to your hybrid nature. It doesn’t surprise you; you knew she’d bring that up. The other way around would have surprised you.

“I know,” you answer, your eyes looking down at your hands. “And to be honest, I just have as many questions as you do, but I want to believe that, like any other mother, I’ll find my way.”

“I’m sure you will,” she gently says. “And you’re not alone.”

Your eyes now look up at her with obvious surprise. She notices your expression, a little smile subtly appearing on her face.

“I’m sure this is not easy for you,” she begins. “Discovering being a hybrid while being pregnant must be scary. But it’s also scary for us because you’re the very first hybrid. Nobody knows how to react. I personally don’t,” she admits. “You aren’t supposed to exist, neither the life growing inside you.”

Your heart resumes to beat rapidly in your chest.

“But if you’re still here, I guess it’s because the universe protected you, and fate chose you to be the mother of my grandchild.”

Her eyes very quickly gaze at her son; it’s very subtle but you notice it. You notice something briefly appearing in her gaze. Like some sort of heavy secret between her and her son. Something that you definitely want to know now.

“Jungkook made it very clear that he’ll protect you,” she continues. “And as a member of our family now, we will protect you.”

Tears start forming in your eyes while your heart swells with an emotion you can’t quite explain. Hearing her say that you’re a part of her family is honestly something you didn’t expect to hear today. Especially from her.

“I will for sure need some time to adjust to this new reality, but Jungkook deeply cares about you. As a mother and a wife, I can only understand what he feels.”

Jungkook’s hand meets your thigh to squeeze it gently. This gesture is a very comforting and reassuring one. Instinctively, you place your hand on top of his. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the Jeon’s matriarch. To her, there’s absolutely no doubt that you’re her son’s soulmate. It’s just so obvious.

She then asks you many questions about your past, how you found out about your hybrid nature, how you’ve been dealing with the news, and how it has been for you to discover suddenly this entire werewolf universe. Even though it’s clear that she’s not entirely comfortable with you, she’s making an effort. One that you deeply appreciate.

You’ve also got to know more about her. She’s a very honorable woman, and you can only admire her for her strength. She’s been a queen and she lost her husband two years ago. The mention of her husband seems to still be painful to her, but she liked to speak about him, to remember the man he was.

Although you were extremely nervous to meet her, the mood slowly softened, and the nervousness slowly faded away. It definitely was a pleasure to meet her. To meet the grandmother of your child. To meet Jungkook’s mother. But it was beyond anything else a pleasure to see Jungkook interact with his mother.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPRADA FW25 * MATT STURNIOLO * INSTAGRAM

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N goes to the Prada FW25 show with the triplets and enjoy Milan with her boyfriend, Matt.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x prada model!reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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people Supermodel Y/N L/N spotted today in Milan!

view all 3,065 comments

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liked by lilamoss, matthew.sturniolo, sturniolo.triplets and 11,628 others

ynsinstagram milano, your queen is here 🇮🇹🤌🏻

tagged: matthew.sturniolo

view all 3,065 comments

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→ username I don't think they're (?)

→ username probably... this week is gonna happen the prada FW25 show, maybe she's in Milan to go there? her being the face of prada and all

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matthew.sturniolo this is what happens when you date a supermodel, they make you look cool by association

tagged: ynsinstagram

view all 3,925 comments

username damn god really out here choosing favorites

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gettyimages MILAN, ITALY - 19TH JANUARY. The Sturniolo's arrive at the Prada fashion show during Milan Menswear Fall/Winter 2025.

tagged: sturniolo.triplets

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username WHAT THE FUCK

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ynsinstagram MILANO IS PRADA @/prada

tagged: prada

view all 8,624 comments

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prada Y/N L/N and the Sturniolo Triplets attend the Prada FW25 Menswear Show in Milan, at the Fondazione Prada's Deposito.

tagged: ynsinstagram, sturniolo.triplets

view all 665 comments

username nick, chris, and matt are living every fan's dream rn just casually at PRADA with Y/N

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ynsinstagram cause i love to love, to love, to love you 🤍

tagged: matthew.sturniolo

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username the way she's casually flexing that matt does her cartier for her like we're not all crying rn 😭

username he's so boyfriend material fuck 😭

nicolassturniolo cool pics and all, but where's my invite to the pasta tho?

→ ynsinstagram as if you didn't obligated us to bring some for you

⤷ username LMAO 😭😭 this is so nick coded

username EVERYONE PAUSE

username I want what these bitches have ;(

username she's truly one of the most beautiful women i've ever seen 😭

username omg he was taking pics of her??

→ ynsinstagram yes 😁

→ matthew.sturniolo always!

⤷ username WTF- HIIIII

⤷ username YOU'RE BOTH SO CUTE STOP

username why am I crying in the club rn

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

liked by ynsinstagram, nathandoe8, tarayummyy and 12,588 others

matthew.sturniolo pizza in italy just hits different

tagged: ynsinstagram

view all 3,745 comments

username are yall breathing ok??

→ username no, actually going to the hospital rn

username bro went from youtube videos in sweatshirts to prada boy real quick

→ username AND I'M SO HERE FOR ITTTT

→ username don't you dare insult his sweatshirts 😔😔

nicolassturniolo matt driving in italy? 😱😱😱

→ matthew.sturniolo I can actually drive everywhere when I have a license, yk?

⤷ username clocked out 😭

username Y/N give me a chance pls pls pls

username fourth pic is peak boyfriendism 😭

username sooooooo dreamy omg I need this

username luckiest boy on the planet

→ ynsinstagram luckiest girl*

⤷ matthew.sturniolo nah, I win on that note, no one is luckier than me

⤷ username whipped

ynsinstagram 🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕

→ matthew.sturniolo 🍕🍕🍕🍕

⤷ username best conversation ever

username I NEED IT I NEED IT

username matt's prada era AND his soft boyfriend era at the same time???

→ username and we all say THANK YOU Y/N 🙌🏻🙌🏻

tarayummyy every time you post her, my heart grows three sizes ;((( stop being so perfect

→ username we love a supportive bestie 😔

ynsinstagram italy has my heart and so do you, mio amato 🤍

→ matthew.sturniolo I promise I'm keeping it safe here 🖤

⤷ username I'm gonna throw up- THIS IS SO CUTE SHUT THE FUCK UP

username Y/N taking a picture of matt taking a picture of her 🙏🏻🙏🏻

© vanteguccir

[lanabuckybarnes]

BABYGIRL, Challenge for you:

Slutty little Drabble, kinky and the first character you think about.🤭🤭

| CottageCore | 18+ MINORS DNI

Everyone Knows to steer clear of the small cottage in the woods. Everyone except the Princess. Now she must deal with the consequences of her own actions — not that she’s complaining.

[More from Beast!Ari]

✧ Pairing ✧ Beast!Ari Levinson x Princess!Reader

✧ Warnings ✧ Size Kink, Dom!Ari, Rough PinV sex, Unprotected Sex, Dacryphilia, Breeding, Dirty talk, Squirting, Dumbification, Overstimulation, Belly bulge, Cum swelling, Knotting, A little Aftercare but definitely not enough for what you’ve been through - Any more lemme know!!

✧ Author Note ✧ Ohhh bbg thank you for the request, I’ve got a lil something for ya ~ ALSO my first time writing for someone that isn’t a Sebby character but @buckys-wintersoldier will tell you I have been OBSESSED with this man, I’ve written so many little drabbles about him and annoyed her with them 🤭🤭

✧ Word Count ✧ 799

Skirting about the palace halls unseen is virtually impossible when you’re 7ft tall. Yet Ari does it effortlessly. Each night since you invaded his cottage some time ago, professing your name and title he’s come for a piece of you. And every time he’s left you writhing underneath him.

You slipped on the silk sleep gown, sighing satisfyingly at the feeling of it draping down over your bare ass before slipping under your heavy sheets. Your eyes tugged downwards with sleep when the soft nocking has them snapping open again.

You should’ve been more embarrassed at the feeling of your slick arousal coating the tiny gusset of your thin panties. Behind the door, in all his glory was The Beast. Or as you’d come to find he preferred, Ari.

You’d heard stories of Ari from when you were a wee one “Don’t go into the cottage in the woods” this and “there is a hideous creature who calls that place home, people who have gone seeking it have not returned” that. You didn’t think the man eyeing you like prized venison was ugly at all, he was huge; his thin shirt ripped and ragged, barely covering his corded muscles each time he moved a little, the coarse hair over his chest and arms making your mouth dry.

Then there was that thing between his legs. You didn’t think you could ever go back to another man after Ari had plunged himself into you the first time, almost splitting your hungry snatch in two. That definitely wasn’t ugly.

✧ ✧

“Ari! Ari Ari” you moaned like a madman, hips pushing back to meet every one of the beast’s delightfully hard thrusts, tears flowing down your cheeks. His huge hand clapped over your mouth, thumb running up and down the bridge of your nose soothingly.

“Gotta be quiet little queen, don’t want the king to hear you” he snarled, sharp canines nicking the stretched skin of your neck as he pulled your face back.

For someone so concerned about your father hearing you both he certainly didn’t care about the loud squeaking of your thick mahogany bed, the headboard thumping dents into the wall it rested on. No, it was his beastly nature to have full control over you, that meant subduing your noises when he saw it fit.

Every time his thick, heavy cock pulled out a stream of your juices squirted onto the steadily soaking sheets, your walls singing at the small reprieve before squealing again when he speared it back in. Your cervix was most definitely bruised, the pain was almost too much for you to bear each time his plush tip kissed it.

“Aughh little queen, nothing but a village whore for your beast’s cock. What would your kingdom say when I pumped that belly full of cum, giving you my cubs…mmm shit squeezing me, you want your belly swollen because of me?” He groaned animalistically, his free hand pressing down into your tummy. His pace slowed for a second, a whimpering sound falling from his lips before he pulled you up into his chest, his paw for a hand grabbing your clenched one and pressing it to where he just had.

When you felt it you came undone, his head poking against your belly each time he sunk in; it was too much, far too much to hold back.

“Mmm flower you’re milking me, you like the feeling of me in there? So deep in that little body…fuck…oh little Queen beg for my come, beg for it inside that little womb” Ari’s voice wavered, his thrusts increasing to an almost impossibly fast pace and leaving you almost completely dumb with overstimulation.

“Want you cum Ari…fuckfuckfuck! Please Ari need you to swell me up please please ahhhh” you screamed, uncaring of volume as you came again with Ari, your vision going white as he held your body still, strumming your little clit as he filled you.

His hand moved with yours, running it over your now swollen tummy. His knot sitting thick and heavy at your entrance stopping any of his thick cream from slipping out.

He lay you on your side, his heavy body plastered on your back, his lips kissing up your neck before licking at your ear.

“Good little queen, all swollen with beast’s essence, make adorable babies…keep you to myself and make sure my queen is happy for the rest of her life” Ari mumbled, his settling finally and his arms holding you tighter.

You weren’t sure how much of it Ari meant, was it just talk from his high or was he planning on giving you everything he proclaimed? You weren’t sure and you were too dumb to think right now, but the thought of living in his small cottage away from the limelight, having his babies. It made you safe.

✧ ✧

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