#i love vincent with his cap on!

[aurorangen]

That morning's conversation replayed in Vincent's head. All 3 people sitting in front of him work at the police station, the very same station that led the disappearance case 20 years ago. Even though he felt guilty concealing information, he'll wait a bit longer and forget about it for the time being. But he kept on wondering - why was Isaac so tentative about detectives anyway?

[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.

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[issdisgrace]

Getting giddy over here for some slasher content.

So I had an idea of a gn or male reader who had really strong or sharp teeth? Like for example if a bottle cap isnt coming off theyll just unscrew it with their teeth or even pop it off! Like headcannons

Open for any slasher content your pick because i’m in for it regardless‼️ (Stu definitely. I think he a cutie.) (ALSO sfw or nsfw stuff i’ll take it.) LOVE YOUR WRITTINGS!

SLASHERS WITH AN S/O THAT HAS SHARP TEETH

WARNINGS: SFW and NSFW content below the cut so read at your own risk

BO

Bo didn’t initially notice your teeth. But boy when he does they are his new favorite thing about you. He’s all over you. Making out constantly and adding in tongue so he can feel up your teeth a little less blatantly than sticking his fingers in your mouth and feeling them up.

Wants to do everything and anything that involves your teeth. Nip him with your teeth, bite him till the point he bleeds, drag out his pleasure with your teeth. Nothing, absolutely nothing is off the table with him.

MICHAEL

When Michael first saw your teeth and how sharp they were he did his signature held tilt. Then after this he quite literally shoved his fingers in your mouth and felt all up on your teeth. To say that he’s now OBSESSED with them is an understatement.

Has always had a thing for teeth but you have amplified it by 1000 percent. He likes to shove his hand into your mouth and feel your teeth while jerking himself off.

OTIS

Otis has seen some crazy stuff so your teeth don’t bother him and he doesn’t really think about them. However time to time he does hyper fixates on them and will shove his hands into you mouth so he can touch them and admire them.

Please please bite every inch of his body to the point that he’s covered head to toe in his own blood. And straight up if you do this he will ask you to marry him right on the spot.

PATRICK

Patrick loves your teeth. He always has and always will but he specially loves when you grin. It’s like a wolf who’s cornered its prey or like a cat with a canary in its mouth. And let me tell when he sees you grin it causes his heart skip a beat and gets him all hot and flushed.

He likes when you tease him with your teeth. Drag you teeth down his body. Bite him.

THOMAS

Thomas noticed your teeth when you first smiled at him. Your smile looked off to him and he was confused at first why at first. Sensing his confusion you quickly realized why and told him your teeth were sharp. He was like ok and went on with his day but he was curious about them.

Thomas WANTS to desperately know how your teeth would feel grazing his cock as you go down on him. But he’s too shy to ask you to blow him.

VINCENT

Vincent is utterly fascinated by your teeth. He wants to know when they got so sharp and how they got so scarp. This fascination blends into him drawing your so expect for your jaw to be sore from having it open so he can draw each and every one.

Vincent loves when you bite him to the point he bleeds because then he knows that he’s yours but also he loves the way your bite marks look on his skin.

[mynnthia]

compiling my headcanons for what video games dungeon meshi characters would like, if they were gamers in modern day

some taken from this post and my reblog additions there. added more characters, with some suggestions by friends/mutuals (marked by *asterisk ).

this can also be a games recommendation list based on your fav/most relatable characters too, if you want

characters that are not are included are bc i dont have ideas for them. if i only list the genre name but not any specific titles, its bc im not familiar enough with the character/genre to pick a specific game.

this list is, of course, biased towards games im more familiar with. feel free to ask me to elaborate on my choices or make suggestions in the comments

Laios' party:

Laios: plays lots of Monster Hunter. loves Spore but he doesnt often play past the tribal stage. likes Pokemon but he's more focused on catching the pokemon than following the story. played WolfQuest and DragonFable back in the day. enjoyed the concept of Bugsnax but wasn't interested in dealing with the NPCs

Marcille: mainly Dwarf Fortress, RTS games, some colony sims. but also sometimes The Sims, and dollmaker dress-up games. i could see her also enjoying Rollercoaster Tycoon and making elaborately-themed parks. might also occasionally indulge in some visual novels if she's in the mood for narrative she has Stardew Valley so she can have something to play co-op with falin, but its not a game she plays a lot of otherwise. when playing with falin, marcille micromanages the farm to maximize productivity, and does the decorations

Chilchuck: puzzle games and hidden object/escape room games as a video game-equivalent to finding/dismantling traps and lockpicking. i think he'd also enjoy Bejeweled.

Senshi: mainly Wii games and Cooking Mama. occasionally plays Snake on his 15-year-old nokia phone. i dont think he would enjoy games like Overcooked or restaurant manager games, because he likes to take his time making food, not stressing about customer service

Falin: some *Legend of Zelda games – she likes the exploration aspect in Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, maybe also some of the toon zelda games like Minish Cap or Wind Waker she also plays Pokemon (*Pokemon Go when she's traveling), and i think she would enjoy some indie games, like Penko Park or Chicory: A Colorful Tale. plays Stardew Valley co-op with marcille – falin mainly takes care of the animals, mining, and picking the crops. occasionally makes improvement suggestions that marcille didnt think of

Izutsumi: i could see her enjoying games with parkour mechanics, like *Assassin's Creed, or Mirror's Edge. or maybe something simple but requiring cat-like swipes, like Fruit Ninja. despite her impatience, i think she could also enjoy action games with interesting longer narratives, as evidenced by [this omake] (relevant portion pictured below), so maybe *Final Fantasy 7 – my friend who's familiar with the game said "she’d find Cloud and Vincent relatable"

[ID: a dungeon meshi omake, where laios' party watches a nightmare monster manifest marcille's dream. there are snippets of dramatic soap opera-like dialogue. the rest of the party are initially enthusiastic but get bored over time, meanwhile izutsumi remains enthralled]

Kabru's party

Kabru: definitely Crusader Kings. maybe also some rpgs with relationship/faction mechanics, such as *Fire Emblem (one of the older ones or FE:3H) or Fallout: New Vegas (hes maxing out the speech stat asap) i think he would also enjoy mystery games like Pentiment and Return of the Obra Dinn – he would love the process of getting familiar with the many characters and deducing "who did what" in both games.

Rin: she takes pride in being an indie gamer (translating her disdain for upper class magic academy mages -> disdain for AAA games). given her chain-lightning magic in canon, i think she'd enjoy games with AOE-type magic, so maybe games such as Vampire Survivors. my mutual also suggested she might enjoy indie mystery visual novels like *Paranormasight, and that her AAA guilty-pleasure would be *Final Fantasy 14 – that rin is "a hardcore ff14 raider. would join PUGs and shot-call every week. #holm and diya might also play ff14 casually with rin but holm would be fishing mainly"

Mickbell: mainly Bethesda games like Fallout and Skyrim– enjoys the bootstrapper power fantasy in them. the type to go out of his way to pick up all the loot he can, to later sell

Kuro: enjoys the same games as Mickbell, but for the open-world exploration and investigation factors

Toshiro and Tansu's party:

Namari: her interest in fighting and weapons could translate to brawler/fighting games and action games with a focus on weapon stats – so maybe *Street Fighter, *God of War, and/or *Dark Souls. might play *Monster Hunter with laios but for the weapons. i could also see her occasionally enjoying truck simulators

Toshiro (Shuro): has the perseverance for soulslikes and other high-difficulty action and/or metroidvania games, but would take his time overthinking item/weapon synergies sometimes. given [his fondness for bugs], i could also see him enjoying Hollow Knight

Tade: would enjoy the cute aesthetics and lighthearted gameplay of Animal Crossing and Katamari. would also like idol anime rhythm games

Kiki: i think she would enjoy horror games such as Resident Evil, but would play it while super chill. i dont have much reasoning for this aside from vibes

Canaries:

Mithrun: plays Doom. got into Hollow Knight but still hasn't finished it because he keeps getting lost. senshi introduces him to Cooking Mama later on, which he finds surprisingly therapeutic

Cithis: plays Hitman and enjoys staging elaborate accident kills. i think she'd also enjoy The Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood, with her background as a devious fortune-teller

Fleki: surreal indie games like Hylics. also plays Team Fortress 2, and is a scout main. occasionally joins lycion in Animal Jam

Lycion: active WolfQuest and Animal Jam player. occasionally joins fleki in tf2

Pattadol: plays Stardew Valley – shes comparatively a normie, but on the meticulous side. she would enjoy perfecting her in-game farm

Otta: plays Genshin Impact. the serious reasoning is because of her (earth) elemental magic and how genshin has an elemental magic system (from my understanding. ive never played it). the joke reasoning is how some genshin players play to collect "waifus", and how otta goes through a lot of women in her dating life

Other:

Leed: runs her own guild in World of Warcraft

Winged Lion: god-games like WorldBox or Simmiland. and Darkest Dungeon (this ones mostly a joke)

Thistle: plays the original Plants VS. Zombies. also plays Minecraft and is very serious about it, but hasn't updated his game in years (translating the fact hes a 1000-year-old kid frozen in time -> playing "slightly old" games popular in the early 2010s)

[ID: tweet reply by twitter user ranchuppi – "thistle calls it lord delgal's server but he is the only mod. whole royal family is locked in spectator mode. Hell. living hell on earth."]

[charliedawn]

Can you do one with the slashers (including Five) where she's very talkative and is always happy, like she loves to cook for others, always has a smile, basically a golden retriever and how they would react to her?

🤞- anon

Michael Myers :

Michael didn’t know how to react at first. He kept staring at you and you thought he was even irritated by your cheerful behaviour.

You were sad to see that no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t find a way to speak with him.

But one day, he entered the kitchen and wordlessly started watching you. You asked if he needed anything, but he didn’t seem to want anything else than to watch you.

You indulged and soon, you found out that Michael seemed to be learning. He kept watching the movements of your hands when you cut and cooked. And when you had your back turned, he would pick up where you left off and try to help you.

Michael is not exactly talkative, but once he warms up to you ? He’ll try his best to help you.

Bo Sinclair :

Bo wasn’t used to having a sunshine in his life. He barely talked to you at first and preferred to keep his distance.

He worked on his car. He ignored you most of the time, but you were persistent.

You would come into the garage and bring him cookies almost every week. And you kept him company whenever you could.

You were a talker, but he didn’t mind. He likes talkers.

You *sitting down on a table nearby and pushes a plate with a sandwich on it towards him* : "You should eat something."

Him *smiles and chuckles before tilting his cap at you and taking a bite of the sandwich* : "Thanks, lovely. Ya too good with me, sun cake."

"And one day all that kindness is gonna come to bite ya in the ass." He thinks, but doesn’t say. He simply looks at your beaming smile and winning attitude and shakes his head.

He will keep his mouth shut—for now.

Vincent Sinclair :

Vincent didn’t really know what to make of you at first. He kept himself busy in his room and rarely got out for anything else than mandatory community meals.

And when he did, he didn’t speak.

He just stared at you. And whenever you would talk to him, he would either ignore you or look away.

Vincent is not very social, but he would ask his brother to handle the talking part when he needs something…

Bo *approaches you* : "Hum…Vincent asked me to give you this ?" *gives you a wax figurine*

You *smile before looking at Vincent—hidden behind Bo—with a bright smile* : "Thank you, Vincent !"

Him *blushes profusely*

He would eventually get used to you, but it would take a lot of time and patience for the both of you to end up close enough for him to actually trust you.

Jason Voorhees :

Jason stayed away at first, but he did observe you. His eyes would follow you wherever you went, and specifically when interacting with the other slashers.

He would also never make the first step to properly introduce himself. But, he’d be happy to see you try to come towards him.

You *smile* : "Hey there, Jason. What are you carving today ?"

Jason *smiles shyly before showing you a small wooden frog figurine*

Once you gained his trust, he’d protect you from the other slashers—especially from Freddy.

If you’re the golden retriever ? He’ll be the German Shepherd. One word from you and he’ll kill whoever you want.

Freddy Krueger :

Unlike the rest of the slashers, Freddy has no boundaries or shyness. He’ll be up in your face from the start with the biggest sh*t-eating grin ever and introduce himself to you.

Freddy *extends his hand forward* : "Helllllo there, gorgeous. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes ?! Name’s Freddy. What’s yours ?"

Creep alert.

Freddy is NOT a decent person. And he doesn’t know how to react when it comes to sunshine people. He’d be all flirty jokes and dirty talk.

Freddy *clearly staring at your behind* : "Hey there, peach. How are you doing this morning ?"

You *turn around with a smile* : "Very good. Thank you, Freddy. How about you ?"

Him *seems confused* : "Huh ? I was talking to your sweet a—!"

Jason *mighty punches him in the face*

As I said, Freddy is the master of discomfort.

Yeah…Don’t meet Freddy first.

Norman Bates :

Norman loved your enthusiasm and your want to help. He asked you to help him multiple times and you always did with a smile on your face.

You took care of the residents in his motel and never complained. You knew who he was, but you never let that stop you from caring about him.

He grew soft on you, and even though he was meant to kill you at first…He couldn’t.

Instead, he kept you around and found a worthy companion in you. He brought you on his daily walks and even opened up on his most secret thoughts.

Even his mother grew fond of you as she learned to respect you and the effort you put in the motel and in taking care of her son.

Norman *smiles as he gives you a cup of you favourite drink* : "Here you go, darling."

You *smile and thank him*

Jack Torrance :

Him : "Well well…Aren’t you simply delightful, sugar pie ?"

Jack found the situation funny. They had had many nurses come and go, but none of them as sweet and positive as you.

When you entered the kitchen, he comically pulled out sunglasses from his breast pocket and put them on his nose while watching you prepare breakfast.

Jack is usually the first one up. He likes to have his morning coffee before anyone else because he doesn’t like loud noises in the morning.

He usually never eats breakfast, but you actually forced him to after you noticed how he seemed to never eat.

Him : "I don’t need that much food, sunshine. I can survive a day with just coffee in my tank. But, thanks for the concern."

To which you simply made him breakfast everyday until he finally decided to eat. Just because he was tired of seeing your sad face when you had to throw away the food.

Brahms Heelshire :

Brahms got attached to you from the start.

He saw you as a chance to get attached to someone, the occasion to replace Greta.

And even better, you weren’t scared of him and helped him take care of his doll. You fixed him meals and brought them to his room when he didn’t feel like eating with the others. You willingly spent time with him. And he was grateful for it.

Him *grabs you from behind and hugs you tightly*

You *smiles and kisses his forehead* : Good morning, Brahms."

Brahms *hugs you tighter*

He is a physical affection kinda boy. He loves hugs, kisses and scratches on his scalp.

And once he knows you are safe ? He’ll follow you around like a lost puppy and carry you around if you’d let him.

Pennywise/Penny :

Pennywise *gives you the side eye* : "…Don’t smile so much."

You *puzzled* : "What ?"

Pennywise *growls* : "Your smile. It’s annoying. Why do you always smile so much ?"

You waited a few seconds before answering him.

"The slashers deserve someone who can smile with them—even you."

It left Pennywise stunned. And you left him with his thoughts. Pennywise normally didn’t mind people smiling because it usually meant dinner for him. But, you didn’t smile at them the same way his old victims did. You knew perfectly well who he was and what he had done. And yet, you still smiled at him without a care in the world. It made him upset because Pennywise doesn’t like things he doesn’t understand.

Unlike Penny who actually loved you from the start. Penny was excited to see someone so fun and outgoing. He quickly got used to you and your cheerful personality.

Five Hargreaves :

Five was actually an old friend of yours. He was the reason you had heard about St Louis in the first place.

He was relieved when you got the job, but he noticed you seemed a little worried.

When he pulled you apart, you confessed that not a lot of the slashers had actually approached you and that most of them seemed to be ignoring you. So, you asked if maybe they didn’t like you for a reason.

But, Five was quick to reassure you.

Him : "The slashers aren’t used to affection. Be patient and they’ll eventually get used to you."

You : "I just hope they’ll like me."

Five *smiles* : "Don’t worry. They’ll like you. I’m sure of it."

Five cheered you up as he bit his lower lip in order to restrain himself from telling you that he was glad that the slashers seemed to leave you alone…because he wanted you safe.

And because you were the only ray of sunshine this hospital had and he didn’t want you to change.

[slasherstories123]

Think you can write where The female S/O dates Bo Sinclair, while being aware that Vincent was mesmerized by his twin brother's S/O girlfriend? She was sweet and kind to Vincent, but when she saw how cruel and heartless Bo was with his brother, and calling him a freak. When she stood up to Bo, he breaks up with her. Then near the end that Vincent actually gets a chance with the S/O that he loved. The S/O would be very complementive of his artwork

New beginning

Word count: 1.1k

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @mrs-heelshire @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @beel-mcburger @slasherscrybaby @sadskies @bunnysenpai31 @emychan @pink-apollo @misscaller06 @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @charliedawn

You and Bo have been dating only for a few months, but you paid attention to his twin's eyes in the back. Always watching, practically mesmerized by you. He wanted you, but Bo got to you instead, even then, you still treated Vincent the same. Always tending to his wounds during a bad fight with a victim and just caring for him in general. You always thought they were the complete opposite on many levels. You didn’t mind, until Bo would become more cold hearted towards his own brother. Always calling him names and makes him feel more bad than he already does. It pained you to see him like this, but you never said anything,not feeling like getting yelled at, secretly comforting Vincent when you had the chance. You never wanted him to feel bad, even apologizing for Bo’s actions to the man.

Vincent forgave you, always telling you it’s not your fault, that’s just how he is, and he’ll always be like that. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. How can he be so flirty towards you but turn around and treat his brother like trash. His family. You hated it, even if you did try to talk about it he’d blow a fuse thinking you’re just taking his side. Which is half true. Vincent always works hard in taking care of victims, always cooped up in the basement and getting hurt when victims come, he deserves to be treated fairly, just like Bo.

One night, you’ve had enough. Bo's loud voice nearly shook the house as he yelled at his brother for coming back home late.It was bad enough he was in a bad mood due to a victim hurting his arm. You rubbed your temple to try and calm yourself down, hating it when he yelled, wondering how he doesn’t get sore throats. Each word that came out of his mouth was painful, even you could feel it, seeing Vincent sulk his head in shame.

The next words that came out of his mouth made you freeze. “You’re nothing but a freak! Get the hell out of my sight!” You stood up from your chair and slapped Bo dead in his face, causing his baseball cap to fall off. The slap caught the attention of both men. He looked at you in shock, but it quickly turned into anger. “The hell you do that for?” He yelled.

Even Vincent was shocked himself, but still stayed in the near corner. “Are you fucking serious Bo? That’s your brother! Your TWIN brother! Besides Lester and I, he’s all you have! You can’t treat him like dirt!” The angry man turned to you, yelling at you now. Vincent wanted to stay, but he decided not to, slowly sliding away and going down to his basement. You kept going at each other's throats, almost like a yelling contest, seeing who could be louder. You stood up for Vincent until the end, cursing at bo, saying how horrible of a brother he is to Vincent.

“He’s your BROTHER Bo!”

“Yeah? So what if the freaks my brother?”

“Your words can affect him! Don’t you realize that?!”

“Well if you like the freak so bad then go be with him then! This stupid relationship is over!”

He yelled in your face before storming off, door slamming behind him. You leaned against the table. Sitting down in the chair, body shaking due to too many emotions now coming at you: Anger, sadness, guilt, remorse. You had your face in your arms, tears of frustration built up in your eyes. Bo’s words cut deep, even to you, and he barely said anything to you, but it still hurt, hurts to know that he broke up with you because you decided to stick up for Vincent, it meant nothing,just wanting him to treat his brother fairley, like he’s a human being.

You never questioned why Vincent wears his mask, but you know it’s something personal and that Bo of all people should respect that, but he didn’t, and now you’re caught in this mess. You don’t regret sticking up for him though. It was worth it. But now you’d slowly have to put yourself back together. Despite Bo being a jerk to his brother.. He was still somewhat charming, but you still chose him, Vincent always watched you from afar, admired you, sometimes you think he was sad that you chose Bo over him. Sometimes, you even wonder what you see in him to make you fall in love with him. A soft tap of a shoulder caused you to flinch, picking your head up, it was just Vincent. He had a sketchbook in his hands. Sitting by you, he saw a tear escape your eyes. Slowly raising his hand to wipe it away, you smiled at the gesture.

“I’m.. so sorry you had to hear that..” The man shook his head in response, gently taking your hand with his soft ones. Guiding you to his basement, you didn’t have the strength to even say no. Letting him guide you to his area. It was clean, everything organized. The smell of vanilla candles filled the air, it was comforting. You sat in a chair next to an empty one where he sits by his desk. Vincent eventually sat down. Fiddling with a few pages with the sketchbook. He turned to a certain one, you leaned by his shoulder to look. It was you.

You knew Vincent was good with art, but you never knew how good he can look at your features in his drawings. Even showing little dates of when the art was completed. You were mesmerized yourself, it probably took him hours to make them, realizing that he had thoughts of you. He always had. Despite you being with Bo he stood around. He let you look, there were times you were completely doing nothing, he still drew you like you were the most perfect woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Not missing any sort of detail in your features.

It made you feel a certain way, despite you crying your eyes out a few minutes ago. “Thank you..Vincent. I love it. I love them all. You’re always so talented..” He loved it when you complimented his work, since he works so hard on them. You can’t help but admire his work, the time and effort he puts into each drawing, each sculpture, each painting, but he drew you, his sketchbook was filled with you. You felt at peace down in the basement with him, you always did, but this time it was different.

You felt comforted. Safe. Resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his hand hold yours, rubbing the back of it. Maybe being with Vincent was the best choice from the beginning. You’ll be happier with the man. A new beginning.

[kiss-theggoat]

Ok okay okay- I’m back and I just have to pitch this idea to you. Don’t feel like you need to write anything for it but I just need to slide this over to you. House of Wax setting again lol- okay so the clothes and outfits- the boys have a lot already from their previous victims. But sometimes they want something a bit different for an exhibit. Enter the S/O. Who’s sitting in the garage with Bo, sowing outfits together for Vincent’s new figures. She can’t be in the basement with Vincent since she needs proper light- but can’t be completely alone since the boys are still, even after years, unsure if she’ll try to leave.

So She’s just there, tongue sticking out as she thoughtfully sows glass beads onto a dress. And if any victims walk through the garage, and ask why she’s sowing in here or what she sowing- she’ll say;

“Oh its clothing for the museum”

“Oh I’m working on one of the girls prom dresses.”

“Oh, one of the old men in town ripped his pants again.”

“I just enjoy the company and music.”

She’s also always repairing the boy's clothes when stuff… happens (cough cough knife and chasing)

Angrily sitting there, sowing up Bo’s shirt and lecturing him. “I just re-did this Bo! Now I have to pause my work on the gown for Vincent.”

-🪴🖤

A/N: Hi hi hi 🪴🖤!! Thanks so much for the request and I love the idea! It’s so cute to think of one of the boys coming up with some clothes that need mending. Anyways, on with the one shot!

The Sinclair Seamstress

Sinclair Brothers One Shot

Summary: You find yourself as the personal seamstress for the Sinclair brothers.

TW: none 🖤

The radio was quiet, filling the kitchen with a soft melody which you hummed along to. You were hard at work at breakfast for the Sinclair brothers, whom you’d become very close to in your year in Ambrose. The toaster popped up beside you, and you held the pan that contained almost nine eggs worth of cheese covered scramble. You’d filled the house with an amazing aroma, mixing cheese and eggs and bacon, and onions in half because Bo and Lester liked onions and Vincent and you didn’t. You smiled as you grabbed the toast, now having two pieces for each of you. You placed the carefully on the plate and then buttered them all before putting the egg scramble between the two pieces, along with three pieces of fresh, crispy bacon.

“Somethin’ smells good.” You heard Bo’s raspy morning voice and it filled your chest with warm honey, making you turn around with his plate in your hands like a little kid presenting a handmade gift.

“Breakfast!” You said happily, setting his plate down where he usually sat, at the head of the table. “Sit.” You said, walking towards the fridge. You wanted to grab out the gallon of orange juice you’d gone so far to buy, but you knew that he’d hound you for a beer, so you skipped the hassle and grabbed one for him. You popped the cap off and set it besides his breakfast. Bo looked up at you with a quaint lopsided smile, which you knew meant he was pleased.

Before you could ask what he had planned for the day, you heard the creaking of the steps and whipped around to see Lester, sliding his loose old button up over one arm. As he moved, you noticed the huge hole near the armpit seam of the shirt.

“Lester, you can’t wear that. It’s falling apart.” You scolded and walked towards him, fingers finding the tear and tracing it.

Lester sighed, “Well I ain’t got another shirt today. It’s fine.”

“I can fix it for you before you leave. Do you have a sewing kit?”

Lester gave you a look with one eyebrow up. “You can sew?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I used to make my own clothes and stuff. It’s a really easy fix, no time at all.”

“…Well alright. I’m sure we got some sewin’ stuff somewhere.”

And this conversation was how you became a personal seamstress for the Sinclair brothers. You never thought you’d be in this position, living with three men in a town of wax and making clothes for their sculptures. But, here you sat, red fabric draping over your legs as you moved closer to the seams you were sewing. The only downside to this was that they didn’t own a sewing machine, so everything you made had to be by hand. This definitely simplified yours and Vincent’s designs, but you made it work.

The dress you were working on now was for a pretty blonde girl in a classy red cocktail dress. You were excited about the fitted bodice and the slight flare of the knee length skirt. Vincent was particular about this dress, and the girl that was about to become wax didn’t have anything that fit that vision.

You hummed to yourself as you sewed, enjoying the pace of the activity and the feeling of the fabric under your fingers. You were sequestered to your room in the house, locked, because the boys were dealing with a new group in town. But it was already close to two in the morning, so you decided that you’d stay in your room until sunrise and then you’d go out and look for them.

That concern and worry was quickly flushed away by the sound of the front door slamming shut and familiar big boots stomping up the stairs. You ran up to the door and unlocked it, seeing a sweaty but thankfully not injured Bo.

“Oh thank god.” You said, practically tackling him with your arms around his neck. “You scared the shit out of me, Bo.” You whispered. “Where are Lester and Vincent?”

“They’re alright. They’re in the workshop.”

You pulled away from him and nodded, sighing a breath of relief. As you stared at him, subconsciously scanning for injuries and blood like you were used to, you noticed a giant hole through your perfect sewing.

You reached forward and touched the edges of the tear. “Dammit Bo, I just fixed this! You guys can never keep your clothes in shape.”

“Not exactly my fault, darlin’.”

“Take it off. I already have my stuff out.” You grumbled, moving back towards your chair and moving the dress onto your bed.

“We’re gonna have to tell Vincent that this dress is gonna take longer now because I have to fix your shirt for the ninth time. And he also wants me to make a pair of pants for another sculpture, but-“

“You don’t have to fix it, doll.”

“Take your shirt off, Bo.”

Bo slid his button up off and handed it over to you with a sly smile on his face, chuckling a bit at the fact you were so perturbed at the hole in his shirt. You grabbed his shirt and finally your supplies, sitting back down in your chair to begin sewing.

Just then, you heard more footsteps clunk up the stairs. You looked up from your needle to see Vincent and Lester. And even though you were relieved that they were okay, the stack of drawings in Vincent’s hand, surely new clothes for his new sculptures, made you anything but happy.

[slasher-male-wife]

Updated s/o who gives slashers "crow gifts"

So I've done updated versions of other fics I've done and I'm doing it again because as I've said so many times before I'm struggling with writing. But I thought that this was a cute idea and an excuse to write more about Will because I just finished Hannibal.

Includes: Will Grahm, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair and Jason Voorhees

Warnings: None I can think of

Will Grahm

He's going to be a little confused at first. Why are you giving him a pop tab? Why did you want to give him a shiny Euro?

He's going to ask you why you give him such random things. He's not mad at you for giving them to him he's just a little confused about why such random things.

Once you explain it to him he's going to look forward to you giving him random little things. Oh today it's a rock in the shape of a heart? That's so cool honey. A little charm from a necklace? That's so nice of you.

He's going to start giving you little gifts too. Most likely something small that he bought like a ring from an antique store or a book you've been meaning to read from a thrift store.

Thomas Hewitt

His initial thought is why did such a random thing make you think of him. Why did you think of him when you saw a cool rock or a random bottle cap.

After understanding why you give him these little gifts he finds it pretty romantic actually. He can't really explain why he finds it romantic but it's sweet knowing that you're always thinking of him in a way.

He keeps a lot of the things you give him in his pocket and just on him in general.

He's going to make you things in return. Most likely carving some art into left over bones or stealing something from a victim to give to you.

Vincent Sinclair

He really appreciates the gifts. Doesn't matter what it is he really likes it because it's from you.

He keeps some of them and uses others in his art in some way. If you give him a random button he'll use it on a wax figure. If it's something easy to break up or melt he might put in into his paint or wax.

Whatever he does make from your gifts he gives it back to you as a gift of your own. He's going to make you keep it. He made it for you so he's going to insist that you keep it.

If either of his brothers makes rude comments about your gifts or makes you feel bad for giving them to him he's going to defend you. He loves your gifts so they should back off.

Jason Voorhees

Like Vincent he enjoys the gifts right off the bat. Oh you're giving him a random rubber ball you found at camp? He loves it. You gave him a bottle cap? That's so cool he's keeping it forever.

Speaking of keeping it forever he is keeping it forever. He's keeping everything that you give him forever.

He's also going to make things to keep them in. I feel like he knows wood working so he's going to make a little chest or a box to keep it in.

I feel like he has a little memorial to his mother. Like a picture of her with candles and other stuff around it too. If you give him something he thinks his mother would like he'll put in on her little memorial.

[rzyraffek]

Hi again!

So, how would the Sinclair brothers, Brahms, and Billy Lenz react to s/o giving crow gifts like bottle caps and cool looking rocks? (they/them pronouns, please)

You can also use other slashers for this, too!

Hi again! Thanks for another request!!

They/them pronouns, sfw and Request open!

Slashers reacting to s/o giving them random gifts

Vincent! Sinclair

So precious🥺🥺

Will have special box to put all this stuff in!

Every time they bring something new, he studies is and tries to remember every detail

Also then hes upset or yall argue (every relationship has bad moments) he will go to this box and look at stuff to remember the good mokents and that they love him very much

Bo Sinclair

Tbh Sinclair is fucking badass surname

He will act like perent who just got the ugliest drawing from their kid and has to pretend he lieks it 'aw honey that's.. thats really nice of you thanks'

Man will put it in pocket to later store it on his night table but he forgors and it stays inside there. But its a good thing cuz then later when he works in garage or deals with some dumbasses(next wax figures) he puts hands in pocket and reminds himself how much they love him😊 and vice versa

Lester Sinclair

I once again forgor about his exsitence and I write him the last right before posting

He will hung those gifts up on his car!

Will show them off to any people that happen to be in his car, even his siblings!

Will fidget with it when stressed

Gets way too attached to it

Will give them huge bouquet of flowers in exchange

Brahms Heelshire

This litte guy

This dude

Has no clue what to do with all this stuff

Like yeah rocks are zamn pretty but bottle caps? Really? Bestie what I am suppose to do with this?

I mean he will collect it and keep it in some hyper secure place and he would protect it with his life prolly but??? Bottle caps really? That's your love language??

Brahms judges for no reason >:(

Billy Lenz

He will do the same thing???

Like he will give them the most random things ever??? Alive rats? Random peace of glass? Plushie he stole from some kid? Handfull of rocks in funny shapes? He got them all

So yall just sit on floor and exchange what yall found

Also when they sleep he puts rocks in them/ under their pillow. Imagine waking up with neck pain and realising that they have been sleeping on rocks (litteraly)

Billy dont bite bottle caps you might break ya teeth

Micheal myers

Side eye

Why?

No, dont take it back its his now

He gonna put it in his pocket and fidget with it when he's bored. Also when he stalks people too

Also he never takes the rocks out of his pockets so if they give him like 10rocks he will litteraly carry all of them and pls remember to take them out before washing his clothes. We dont like broken washingmachines

Pls Micheal but some on shelf or cabinet pls-

Love yall requests😊😊 it is 1am, have nice rest of day!

[small-sinclair]

Could you write Bo x insecure S/O (but like super duper extra fluffy). Idk why but Soft Bo is legit the best and not enough ppl write him like that.

Headcanons or dabbles - anything would be great, I trust that you know best. Anyways, thank you xoxo

Hewos! Hope you like vampires🩵

Bo x plus size fem!y/n

Contains: blood, biting, killing, she/her pronouns used, body shaming (not from Bo), not sure if I like the ending

Welcomed readers: @fluffy-little-demon, @sketchy-rosewitch, @lovely-cryptid

Bo POV:

Bo watched carefully as the new group in town moved through the streets. They were calling out for someone, but wax doesn’t talk back… it never has talked back unless you listen carefully. Still, Bo watched from the shadows in his black suit and tie, his fingers fidgeting with his father’s sun ring. He was busy thinking who was dead, who was art, and who was food.

Then Bo saw her in knee-high jean shorts, bright yellow t-shirt with cute butterflies on it, and a ball cap over her hair. The breeze carried her scent, and it sent shivers down his spine; he found her.

He found his wife.

Reader POV:

As soon as you and your friends entered the House of Wax, a smile crossed formed. Not was the air conditioner running at high to beat the heat, but there was a stair case made out of wax. The art was beautiful and bright, and it was paused in the 70s style.

“Y/n, wait!” You turned your head at Liza. “Look! It’s you!” She and her boyfriend started snickering as she pointed at a pig’s head on the table. “They knew you were coming!”

You hugged yourself as you shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, funny, Liza.” You move farther into the museum and looked at the waxed bookcase. “All of this is made with wax,” you whispered to yourself.

“Bet you wished it was made outta chocolate!” Marty, Liza’s boyfriend, laughed, his friends joining you.

You bit back your tongue and kept looking at the art and pieces. Under you, the floor creaked and cracked.

“Hear that?” One of his friends whispered, making you pause. “Oh, it’s not an earthquake— it’s just y/n walking around!”

Guess we know what broke the camel’s back.

You spun on your heels and hurried towards the door to find that mechanic—

When you opened the door, you bumped into a strong chest and stumbled back. You looked up to see a man dressed all in black with smoothed back from grease, and you could smell smoke and oil over his clothing, but it had a old country boy feeling to it.

He was startled that you were running out as soon as he was about to lay out his words for you in sugar, that was until Liza shouted, “Look out for Rhino!” Then they laughed you out, pushing past him and took off to the car shop.

He looks between your run and at the group. As much as he wanted to rip out all of their throats with his teeth, he decided against it. Instead, he put his fingers in his mouth. His whistle echoed throughout the building, and it silenced the laughter. Their eyes looked at him as he loosened his tie and pulled down his cuffs. His ocean blue eyes shimmered as they faded to a burning fire red, eyes twitching in anger. How dare they say that about you…

His boots echoed as he walked into the room. He turns, closes the door, and locks it. “Vincent!” Bo snapped, jolting the group’s shoulders. He takes off his jacket and throws his tie. His red eyes burned brighter, a snarl leaving him as he watched the group coward away.

As soon as he saw Vincent, he felt his fangs showing. “Now, we don’ take kindly t’folks like yourself.” As he talked, his boots echoed as he walked towards the group. They looked like cowardly sheep by the way the moved closer together. Bo could’ve laughed at the way the bigger one was trying to protect Liza. “Be a shame, though. To waste good food lik’ yer-selfs.”

“You’re-you’re a—“

“Aw, sweetheart,” Bo hummed, his drawl heavy as he and his brother corner the group. “Vampires lik’ us are rare. So… consider you lucky to see us.”

Vincent placed a hand over the mouth of one three men and lifted his mask. Long, pearly fangs showed before his bit down hard on his neck. Bo smiled as their screams echoed.

Let the games begin.

***************

You were crying in the church next to the waxed statues in the pews. You found out that they were bodies real fast, but you didn’t seem to care much as your cries echoed around the church. You didn’t know how long were you crying in a ball behind the casket. You heard the whispers and murmurs on the tape reply twice already.

Then you hear the door open and boots clicking towards the casket. “Darlin’?” The man called. “Darlin’? Ya in here?” He didn’t wait for you to answer as he rounds the coffin and finds you curled into your lap crying. He frowns and sits next to you. “Now, why is a beautiful creature like you cryin’?”

“I’m-I’m not beautiful,” you cried. “I’m fat and ugly and-and—“

“An’ t’right size to show some lovin’,” he interrupted, saying those words like it’s a fact.

“You’re just saying that to-to be nice,” you sniffled. “You don’t mean it.”

He chuckles and leans back on his mother’s coffin. “Nah, honey. Can’t lie in front of my mama.” You glanced at him, and your eyes grow wide as you saw his hands and neck covered in dried blood. “Mama didn’t raise a liar,” he drawls. “I swear to ya, honeybee,” he glanced at you and flashed you a smile. His white canine s longer than normal… but you weren’t afraid. “I think ya t’prettiest thin’ I’ve ever seen. Shit, ya put ol’ Ms. Ambrose to shame.”

You laughed at his comment and shook your head. “Bet you charm all the ladies.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answers, “but I reckon I found myself an angel righ’ here.”

You look at him up and down. “Are you… flirting?”

“Am I doin’ good?” He leans forward and looks up at the altar. “I hope ‘m doin’ good.” He looks around and sighs softly. “I bet you saw the people…”

“The waxed graves?” You wiped your eyes. “Yeah. But it doesn’t scare me. I just… just needed to cry. Besides,” you lowered your eyes, “I’m a rhino.” Then you rolled your eyes. “And a southern vampire is going to kill me.”

Bo shook his head and moved to be kneeling in front of you. He took both your hands and said, “Darlin’, what do you want?”

“What—?”

“What do I need to give ya?” Bo asked again. “The stars? Moon? Shit, ‘ll give ya my dead-beating heart! Anythin’ just to see ya smile.”

“How about your name?” You asked, feeling how sticky his hands were from blood.

“Bo,” he said, bringing up your hand and kissed it. “Bo Sinclair.”

“Y/n,” you said, smiling. “I’m y/n.” Then your smile fell. “You going to kill me now?”

He shakes his head. “Be a shame if I did.” He stands and offered you help. “Wanna take you home, sugar. Wanna show you off to every person an’ my brothers. You’re just so damn cute an’ beautiful.”

You looked at him and the blood on his chin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” he whispered. You didn’t hesitate as you took his hand. “I’ll treat you so right everyday.”

“Everyday?”

Your hopeful eyes, your voice… Bo is falling apart for you so fast. “I swear to ya, y/n. Now, come on— Vince’s wanna t’meet ya.”

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Dirty Laundry

Vincent never saw this coming

"Oh, hey Vincent! "

The masked man in lurched foreword, hitting his abdomen on the washing machine in front of him. You clicked your tongue at him "Wow, Vincent. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you might have a guilty conscience. "

You leaned back onto the washer next to him, smiling innocently "Do you have a guilty conscience, Vincent? "

Vincent looked away from you, refusing to meet your eyes. His hands were shaking as he attacked to pour the detergent into the machine. He was nervous, you could see that much.

You huffed, turning to face him completely "There's no reason to be shy now, Vincent. I already know the answer."

The small cup full of liquid fell to the floor, spilling. Vincent stood deathly still, his breath heavy. You almost felt bad "Do your brothers know how much of a degenerate you are? "

You pushed back a piece of his dark hair, grazing your fingers against his neck "Do they know that you fuck yourself silly to my dirty laundry? That you cum in my panties? "

You were delighted to feel the tiny shiver that run down his body. You took a step back, bending down to pick up the cap. Vincent's eye flicked down, and he about came in his pants.

You weren't wearing a bra, not even one of those thin cotton ones he's seen in the baskets. And your nipples, those beautiful peaks that he was obsessed with, they were hard.

You grinned, knowing full well of the affect you had on him. After all, you were facing his crotch. As you wiped up the mess he made, you sneakily stole a glance at his hardening cock hidden away in his pants.

Throwing the washcloth you had grabbed over your shoulder, you leaned back on your legs, kneeling in front of him "Who would have guessed that there was such a nasty mind in the that beautiful head of yours."

Vincent was taken off guard by your statement. Beautiful? Did you just call him Beautiful? Surely, this was some cruel joke, but you had never been a cruel woman.

He jumped when your hands brushed his legs "You aren't the only one who knows about the holes in the walls. "

He shuddered when you lightly touched his aching cock "I like watching you fuck yourself. And I like that you watch me fuck myself. And do you know whose cock I imagine is fucking me?"

All was Vincent could do was watch as you unbuttoned his pants "It was always you, Vincent. "

You nearly came just from the sight of his cock bobbing against your cheek when you finally pulled it free “I love how your body loses control when you cum. Your back arching, cum just exploding out of your head. "

Vincent's hands shakily signed “Please. I need you. Now.”

You rubbed your face against his tip, smiling at the whimper he made. Gently you began stroking his cock "Vincent~ Fuck you feel amazing in my hand."

You kissed the tip of his now weeping cock, your hand increasing speed "Do you like the feeling of my hands on it? Is this what you thought about when you jerked off? "

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK

The both of you froze, hoping whoever was at the door would move on. But it proved to be all in vain as Bo's loud voice rang out "Hey, Y/n? You've seen Vincent anywhere? "

Your flicked up to meet Vincent's, before a grin formed on your lips "No, I haven't. What'd ya need him for? "

You collected some pre-cum and started pistoning your hand faster, making Vincent's hips buck.. Bo scoffed "Not that it's any of your fucking business, but I got a job for him!"

"Oh, really? What kind of job?" Your licked a stripe against the underside of his shaft "Anything I can help with? "

You moved your mouth down on the cock, following the veins along the shaft. Vincent's hands gripped the washing hard, so hard his hands turned red. Bo scoffed again "Not likely. Ya barely do laundry right. "

You rolled your eyes, hand squeezing Vincent's base "Shut up, Bo. Maybe Vincent went outside with Lester, go ask him!"

Bo sneered, you just knew he did "Fine! Stupid...Don't see why Vincent likes you. "

You could hear his heavy footsteps getting quieter, until it was silent. You looked back up at Vincent, leaning to nibble on his thigh "Good boy, being nice and quiet. I bet your brother would be grossed out if he knew. "

Vincent signed more confidently “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

His boldness sent a shock of pleasure straight to your aching clit "O-oh, fuck Vincent!"

You didn't have it in your body to tease him anymore. You had to have his cock in his mouth. You lowered head on his cock, until your nose was smashed against his belly.

Vincent let out a broken sob, hands darting down to your head. He kept your head in place and you didn't fight him. This was all you wanted, Vincent to fuck your throat like a fleshlight.

You squeezed your throat around his dick, feeling the tears threatening to spill. But you weren't giving up. Bobbing your head as much as Vincent's death grip would let you, you stared up him through your eyelashes.

Vincent couldn't believe the pleasure that he was experiencing. He didn't believe it existed. That he was worthy of it. But he was in fucking heaven right now, and he knew nothing was going to ever be better than this.

Vincent could feel the need to cum already. The pressure was building and the coil threatened to snap. He wished he could talk right now. He'd praise you, worship you and the gift you had given him.

He wanted to call you his fucktoy. His lover.bHis slut. His muse. His own personal whore.

Knowing that he was finishing down your throat made him cum even harder. You felt hot spurts of his cum erupting from the hard cock. Like a good girl, you swallowed every tiny drop of precious cum Vincent was giving you.

There was so much of it. Like he'd been saving it all for you. All of it, every single last drop.

You stayed there for a moment longer, tongue swirling around the head. Vincent hands brushed against your cheek, his fingers shaking. He let out garbled sounds, you interpreted them as praise.

You pulled of his softening cock, placing kisses against the tip. Standing up, you placed your hands on his mask "Vincent, can I please kiss you? "

Vincent looked unsure for a moment. Why? Why did you want to kiss him? Why did you just give him a life altering blow job? The more Vincent thought about this whole situation, the more he became frantic.

What if this was just a ploy? A way to win more favor within the house? To plot your escape? Were you just using him, his attraction to you, his love for you?

Your fingers against his neck shook him out of his thoughts "Vincent? You want to share with the class? "

Vincent pushed you away, as gently as he could, pulling his pants up. He walked towards the door, stopping to look at your face. He tried to ignore the hurt in your eyes and in his heart. Momentarily, his hand reached out to touch you, but he pulled away.

As the laundry room door swung close, the tears fell from your eyes. You thought everything was okay, you thought he understood how much you craved him.

Where did you go wrong?

[whiskygoldwings]

Put four characters who make you yell "MY MAN!! MY MAN!! MY MAN!!" Tagged by @batsutousai who sensibly decided to go gender-neutral, so I shall do the same!

I will uh... Start with the most obvious of men though!

If you haven't realised I'm completely fucking feral over Marshal Commander Fox, then I'm not sure where you've been, but it clearly wasn't on my blog! We don't even get to see his face, and he has all of about 5 minutes of screen time, but damn has fanon given him a life of his own. Love it. Write much fanfiction about it. Will lavish love and adoration on every artist/writer who gives us more.

NUMBER TWO!

... I genuinely had to think hard about the next three because turns out I'm a complete Fox-simp... Oops...

BUT!

Yeah, I love me some Vincent Valentine. Dirge of Cerberus was an underrated gem. The fics on this man are amazing, and I STILL want to get him tattooed. Need to find someone I'm happy to do it!

NUMBER THREE

When I was twelve, I begged my mum to buy me a black cap for christmas and let me grow my hair out and do it as a braid all the time. I'm not kidding. Every day was a Duo Maxwell casual cosplay day. I'm still stupid fond of him, and my GOD the angst back on fanfiction.net and some of the old Gundam fanfic sites was just... Divine. This man woke me up to angst and he has stayed with me ever since.

NUMBER FOUR!!!

I DO have Sailor Jupiter tattooed! And honestly I'm pretty sure she was my bi awakening! I LOVE her. I will go absolutely fucking feral about her and smoosh my worship of her in your face. She was strong, kicked arse, while also being gentle, loving and a great supportive friend.

I throw tags at you!!! @mamuzzy, @ithillia, @brokenphoenix99 aaand @wantonlywindswept

These are all super no pressure! <3

[saturn-c]

I just rewatched the Godfather movies and I decided that the only good scene in the third one was when Michael had that stroke. I don't know why, but I like how the scene is and how it caps off with him calling out for Fredo. I also believe that the movie shouldn't have introduced a character like Vincent, but I have a soft spot for him so yeah. What do you think about the third movie? (Or I'm I the only one who kinda likes the third one despite it being a little bit boring?)

I've thought about it since my initial take and I say it's OKAY!! I like that we get a softer Michael instead of Pacino repeating himself a third time. And it's good that the Corleones have become just another unscrupulous corporation, even if it makes for a less entertaining story. Michael shed his humanity and this is where it got him. He remarks, "The higher I go, the crookeder it becomes." It's what you deserve, Mike! (But also, the business was never going to survive under the beloved 'Godfather', so Mike had no choice to become what he did, chicken vs egg, blah blah) The incest plot is still bad. And the long-lost bastard son thing tastes like cheap sequel gimmick… I wanted the script to really lean into that cheese. Like, make Vincent actually Fredo's kid and keep the audience in suspense about his intent. Is he loyal to Michael or is he conspiring to avenge his father?? LOL And I know this is blasphemy but I LOVE Mike's short hair, I think it suits him. He's not vain enough to dye it/keep it long c'mon

[violettduchess]

Could I please request some unrequited love headcanons for Comte, Theo, Arthur, and Leonardo?

A/N: Hello anon! I've left Leonardo out because he just got a very long fic and the others don't have quite as many requests so I wanted to let them have their time to shine. I hope that's ok!

Word Count: 964

Comte de St. Germain

Pushing aside the heavy velvet curtain, Comte has a perfect view down into the sunlit garden and a perfect view of you. Of both of you. Leonardo has set up his easel and is watching you attempt to paint the wooden gazebo with its clinging vines and flowering bushes. He leans over your shoulder, reaching around you and covers your hand with his, guiding your brush strokes. Comte’s sharp golden eyes zero in on the way his long fingers curl around your delicate wrist, the flirtatious, downward cast of your eyelashes, the sensual smile playing over Leonardo’s lips.

You turn to look at Leonardo, your faces so very close, and Comte’s breath is held prisoner in his lungs. Your eyes, even at this distance, are bright as stars, your cheeks rival the pink petals of the roses you’re trying to capture. His chest begins to burn. There is undeniable longing in the tilt of your head, the inviting pout of your lips. What would he give to have that perfect expression of admiration and yearning aimed at him?

Leonardo leans forward, as unable to resist you as the tide could the enthralling pull of the moon. The paintbrush falls from your fingers, abandoned, as you wrap your arms around him, your body melting into his impassioned embrace.

Leo deserves happiness. This is the mantra that gallops through Comte’s mind, over and over, even as he tries to ignore the agonizing ache in his chest. He closes the curtain once more with a trembling hand. Now he stands, slumped in darkness, his heart a flower without sunlight, without water, slowly withering away.

Theodorus van Gogh

One of the best things about walking through Paris on a clear afternoon, just before evening breaks and spills its lavender and orange and pink across the sky, is using the fading light that is left to admire the street artists and their work.

Vincent’s fingers are laced through yours, strong and protective as you move across the Pont des Arts, taking in the different paintings, all sizes and subject matters, that the different street artists are displaying, trying to make a sale. You pause in front of a painting of tiny calico kittens in a basket. “Oh look!” Vincent smiles, soft and affectionate as he nods, immediately engaging the artist in a conversation about brush types and which paint they used. You are content to listen, unable to hide the sunshine of open admiration you have for him. Your smile is radiant with it. Your eyes sparkle with it.

Theo pretends to be deeply interested in a smaller painting of a doomed ship out at sea during a violent storm. Normally he would spend time studying the black, thrashing waves with their white caps, noting the way the artist created movement, how they captured the chaos of nature gone feral with their brushstrokes. But he is distracted. Because rather than stare at the painting and study it, he is staring at something he considers a perfect piece of aesthetics: you. He has long since memorized the line of your cheekbones, the curve of your jaw, the perfect symmetry of your lips. Your eyes are a color that has never existed for him until he saw them. They are the bright window to the part of you he admires most: your kind and gentle heart, that luminous part of you that shines resplendent as a harvest moon.

And now those eyes are fixed on his brother as if he were the one who hung all stars in the sky. Your fingers are locked tight with his, laced together, a perfect pairing. His jaw clenches as he turns back to the painting of the wild, roiling sea. He has that same turbulent ocean inside of him every time he sees you look at Vincent that way. It floods his heart, dragging it down into the black depths of despair, leaving him as windswept and lost as the small, broken ship in the painting.

Arthur Conan Doyle

Of all people, why Newt? Newt with his wide, cherry-blossom eyes and slight frame, his dislike of people and a good time. His mind which so easily winds its way through impossible equations but cannot small-talk its way out of a paper bag. That Newt is who you have chosen to love. The one you have decided is allowed to receive all of your warm smiles, your tender touches, the melody of your laughter.

He caught you one night. Strolling back from a tryst with one of his regulars, the sweet taste of blood stilling lingering on his lips. He entered the mansion through the garden gates at the back. As he made his way quietly as a shadow around towards the front, a certain sound caught his attention.

He stops, ducking behind the gazebo when he spots you and Isaac. Evidently you had come out into the garden at night to do a bit of stargazing. Isaac’s telescope is set up, pointed toward the sky. But it is abandoned, left to gaze on its own. You and Isaac seem to have gotten distracted, laying on an oversized picnic blanket, wrapped in each other’s arms. Gripping the wooden railing of the gazebo, Arthur’s sharp blue eyes note the details: the way your fingers are white, curled so tightly against Isaac’s shoulders; the way his leg is pressed between yours, the tilt of your head, baring your sensitive throat to him. And that sound, the one that caught his attention, the sharp gasping of your breath as his lips feast on the bare skin of your shoulder, the slope of your neck.

Green-eyed jealousy roars inside of Arthur’s heart. His fingers are bloodless as they grip the railing. The lingering taste of another woman’s blood suddenly turns sour, curdling like rancid milk on his tongue. He doesn’t want her, or anyone else. The woman he wants, the one he dreams of, is currently in the arms of another man. And all he sees now is red.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bubblexly

[fan-a-tink]

Young Royals S3 thoughts

EP3

The queen saying it’s all exaggerated and she’s fine, and then immediately breaking down again… not a good sign. Willeeeeeeeee

Wille holding his knees in the fountain with the credits over it in light purple - poetic cinema. But also, aaaaahhhhhh!!!

„Why did you think I didn’t tell you anything?“ - Yes, Simon, please tell her. I really really want you guys to work this out

Those graduation caps look ridiculous

I’m sorry but every time Vincent opens his mouth I want to tell him to shut up. This man annoys me so so much.

Simon looks so rough, like he hardly slept. I fucking hate everyone who makes him feel that way.

@bjarsta.andreas who the fuck are you and what is you fucking problem. 

I hate it when they both don’t listen to each other, when they’re so wrapped up in their own problems they don’t see that the other one needs them right now. 

It feels a little bit as if Simon realizes for the first time what Wille is going through every day and what he is taking on now. 

„All I want is to be with you.“ Phew… 

Those girls mock singing Simon’s song can fuck right off. YOU are embarrassing!

Boris & August wheheeee :) I’m glad they’re getting a kind of reconciliation 

Simon turns down Pabellón. This is wrong, this is all wrong. Someone give my boy a hug and help him!!!

Is it bad that I think August is handling the situation really well? Like, he’s really trying…!

„Are you involved? … Of course you’re involved.“ - Wille, please, you don’t know what happened. You’re being unfair right now. But then again, if I were him, I’d probably think the same about August. 

Siiiimooooooooon….! I’m so so sorry, you don’t deserve this… aaahhhhhhh I can’t handle seeing you crying like this…

Cheeky make out session in the music room :))) they’re trying to trick me into thinking it’s all fine and then they’ll fight in there again. I don’t trust you! 

But also love them smacking their lips and acting all innocent when they’ve been caught :) „You two keep rehearsing…“ hahahahaaa

VINCENT HONESTLY YOU NEED TO JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE SIMON ALONE! Why is Wille not standing up for Simon here? 

I feel like Felice is not getting enough screen time. And something tells me she will not just hush everything up but speak her mind! You go, girl!

I feel like Wille could check in on Felice a little bit more. And she on him. He shouldn’t lean only on Simon, he needs his friends too!

Sara laughing and smiling with her dad in the car. Healing. This makes my heart happy. 

I bet August thinks he’ll go and sweep Sara off her feet like Prince Charming. Even taking the bus, wow wow… I can already tell you it’s not going to work…

The way her face falls as soon as she sees him…. 

„August Horn of Årnäs“ - „Micke Eriksson of Bjärstadt“ hahahaaaaaa this will never not be funny 

„Better to have a dad with bad episodes than no dad at all“. Ouch, that hurt. 

Surprise, surprise, it didn’t work. But also, it’s good that you’re apologizing and showing that you want to make amends, but you’re only talking about yourself! Have you ever thought about asking Sara how she is, or what she thinks and wants? 

Sad August is making me sad. What is the world coming to?

The. Baking. Scene. fljkh esPOUFRHQasd mknöwejfnb lhbsdyxkjvcnpq wjbfeasdyx

Not Sara zooming in on the first picture in weeks in which Felice is smiling. They need to taaaaalk!

I feel like Micke deserves some credit for his parenting this season. He is actually doing a decent job at supporting Sara. Just really hope it doesn’t go downhill.

Wille singing is hilarious :)) 

That song they play when the torch procession comes is a vibe though :)

„You can just stand there and feel things and be open and vulnerable.“ - „Yeah but I wasn’t this time. It’s getting harder to stay relaxed when I sing. It’s not as much fun anymore.“ - I am broken. Simon losing the joy in singing. That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. 

Sara is so brave for going there. I would have run away before anyone could have seen me. 

That kiss by the window in the candlelight is gorgeous. 

I love the music over that whole sequence. And the ‚I love you’s at the end. Can we please just pause this here? I don’t need any of the drama, I just want them to be able to stay happy forever. 

Ohhhh nooo, Micke! I don’t know if I believe him or not. Please don’t let Sara down again. 

„Erik could never have done that to me.“ Oh Wille, you don’t know. You don’t know what he did. And part of me hopes you’ll never find out. 

„So how can I ever trust anyone?“ - „You can trust me.“ - This is going to go wrong, I can feel it.

Simon wrapping himself in his purple hoodie. And a woman with purple hair coming up to him with her son. Alt er love. 

I really really want Simon to take that picture so that he can feel that people appreciate him. But also, don’t post it on instagram!!! This will only lead to problems. Pleeeeaasseee.

Maybe it would be better if Farima talked to Simon…? Then Wille wouldn’t have to constantly police his boyfriend like that. 

Oh no. Oh no. Oh noooooooooooo!!!! Siiiimmoooooooon!!!! 

Uuuughhh, whenever this show gives you like a crumb of happiness, it takes it away just as fast. Like Simon was just starting to feel a little better about the online hate and their position in the world, and then - snap - someone throws a stone at his house. He just wants to be safe and be with his boyfriend. Why does the world have to be so cruel?