#BUT OLIVIA WILL DRAG EVERY ONE OF HERS- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 5 months ago

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Unfinished Business

Ghost!Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you arrive in Monaco expecting a once-in-a-lifetime vacation and you certainly get one — a fairytale romance with a Monegasque Prince … from the late 19th century

The gentle hum of a luxury sedan fades as you and your three best friends step out onto the sun-drenched streets of Monaco. The air is thick with anticipation and the salty tang of the Mediterranean. Your eyes widen as they trace the elegant facade of the Palais Grimaldi, its pale stone walls gleaming in the afternoon light.

“I still can’t believe we’re actually here,” Mia breathes, her voice tinged with awe. “An all-expenses-paid trip to Monaco? It feels like a dream.”

You nod, unable to tear your gaze from the intricate architecture. “It’s even more beautiful than the pictures,” you murmur.

Zoe hefts her designer luggage. “Well, ladies, shall we see if the inside is as impressive as the outside?”

As your group approaches the grand entrance, a smartly dressed concierge greets you with a warm smile. “Welcome to the Palais Grimaldi. You must be our contest winners. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“That’s us!” Olivia chirps, practically bouncing with excitement. “I’m Olivia, and these are Mia, Zoe, and Y/N.”

The concierge, whose name tag reads ‘Philippe,’ bows slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your suite.”

As you trail behind Philippe through opulent hallways adorned with priceless art and glittering chandeliers, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve stepped into another world — or perhaps another time. The weight of history presses in around you, whispering secrets from centuries past.

“The Palais Grimaldi has quite a storied past,” Philippe explains as he leads you up a sweeping marble staircase. “It’s been home to Monaco’s ruling family for over 700 years.”

“700 years?” You echo, your mind reeling at the concept. “That’s incredible. Has it been a hotel for long?”

Philippe chuckles. “Oh no, mademoiselle. The palace only opened its doors to the public a few years ago. It’s still used for official state functions, but the family decided to share its beauty with the world.”

Mia leans in close, her voice low. “I bet these walls have seen some scandalous things over the centuries.”

“More than you can imagine,” Philippe says with a wink. “If these walls could talk ...”

As you reach the top of the stairs, a long corridor stretches before you, lined with ornate doors. Philippe stops before one and produces an old-fashioned key with a flourish. “Your suite, ladies.”

The door swings open, revealing a space that takes your breath away. Soaring ceilings, silk wallpaper, and antique furnishings create an atmosphere of timeless luxury.

“Holy. Crap.” Zoe’s usual composure cracks as she takes in the opulence. “This is insane.”

Olivia immediately flops onto one of the plush sofas. “I’m never leaving. You’ll have to drag me out kicking and screaming when the week is up.”

You wander to one of the tall windows, mesmerized by the view of the sparkling Mediterranean. “I can’t believe we get to stay here for a whole week.”

Philippe clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to settle in. Your luggage will be brought up shortly. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all.”

As the door closes behind him, your friends erupt into excited chatter.

“Did you see the size of that bathroom?” Mia gushes. “The tub is practically a swimming pool!”

Zoe is already examining the ornate writing desk. “Look at this. It’s probably worth more than my entire apartment.”

You run your hand along the silk-covered walls, feeling a strange thrill as your fingers trace the intricate patterns. “It’s like stepping back in time,” you murmur.

Olivia bounces on the bed, giggling. “Well, I for one plan to enjoy every modern amenity this place has to offer. Who’s up for raiding the mini bar?”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a whirlwind of unpacking, exploring every nook and cranny of your suite, and planning your itinerary for the week ahead.

As evening falls, you find yourself drawn back to the window. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of pink and gold. The principality below comes alive with twinkling lights, promising endless possibilities.

“Earth to Y/N!” Mia’s voice breaks through your reverie. “We’re thinking of heading down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. You in?”

You turn from the window, smiling at your friends. “Absolutely. Just let me freshen up a bit.”

In the bathroom, you splash some water on your face and reapply your lipstick. As you study your reflection in the ornate mirror, a strange sensation washes over you — almost as if someone is watching. You shake your head, dismissing the feeling as jetlag-induced imagination.

Rejoining your friends, you make your way down to the restaurant. The maître d’ leads you to a table with a stunning view of the moonlit gardens.

“I propose a toast,” Zoe says, raising her glass of champagne. “To friendship, adventure, and a week we’ll never forget!”

You clink glasses, the bubbles tickling your nose as you sip. As your friends chatter excitedly about their plans for tomorrow, your gaze drifts to the gardens below. For a moment, you could swear you see a figure in old-fashioned dress moving among the hedges. You blink, and the apparition vanishes.

“Y/N? Hello? Anyone home?” Olivia waves her hand in front of your face.

You snap back to attention. “Sorry, what?”

“I was asking what you wanted to do first tomorrow. Beach or shopping?”

You consider for a moment. “Actually, I was thinking about taking a tour of the palace. I’d love to learn more about its history.”

Mia grins. “Ooh, good call. Maybe we’ll run into a handsome prince.”

You laugh, but something in your chest flutters at the thought. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”

As the evening wears on and the wine flows freely, you find your thoughts continually drifting back to the palace and its centuries of secrets. By the time you return to your suite, a pleasant exhaustion has settled over you.

You bid your friends goodnight and curl up in your luxurious bed, the Egyptian cotton sheets cool against your skin. As you drift off to sleep, the last thing you see is the moonlight streaming through the window, casting ethereal shadows on the walls.

In your dreams, you wander the halls of the palace. Everything is hazy, like looking through frosted glass. You turn a corner and come face to face with a young man dressed in 19th-century finery. His eyes, a startling shade of green, seem to pierce right through you.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out. A profound sadness radiates from him, tugging at your heart. You reach out, wanting to comfort him, but your hand passes through him like smoke.

You jolt awake, heart racing. The room is bathed in the soft glow of pre-dawn light. You sit up, running a hand through your tousled hair.

“What was that?” You whisper to the empty room.

As the sun begins to peek over the horizon, you can’t shake the feeling that your dream was more than just a product of your imagination. Something about this place, about that mysterious figure, calls to you in a way you can’t explain.

You slip out of bed and pad to the window, watching as Monaco comes to life below. Whatever secrets the Palais Grimaldi holds, you’re determined to uncover them. Little do you know, this is just the beginning of an adventure that will change your life forever.

***

The Monégasque sun beats down relentlessly as you and your friends lounge by the hotel’s exclusive rooftop pool. The glittering Mediterranean stretches out before you, a canvas of blue punctuated by gleaming white yachts.

“Now this is what I call a vacation,” Mia sighs contentedly, adjusting her oversized sunglasses.

Zoe nods in agreement, not looking up from her book. “I could get used to this kind of luxury.”

You smile and close your eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of the sun and the gentle lapping of the pool water. But there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake off.

Olivia notices your furrowed brow. “Y/N, what’s up? You look like you’re solving world hunger over there.”

You hesitate, unsure how to explain the strange occurrences of the past few days. “It’s nothing, really. I just ... have you guys noticed anything weird happening in the palace?”

Mia perks up, always ready for gossip. “Weird how?”

“Well ...” you start, then falter. How can you describe the way your hairbrush moved across the dresser on its own? Or the whispers you heard in the empty library? “It’s going to sound crazy, but I think there might be something ... supernatural going on.”

There’s a moment of silence before Olivia bursts out laughing. “Supernatural? Come on, Y/N. I know you’ve always been into that ghost hunter stuff, but this is a five-star hotel, not a haunted house.”

Zoe looks up from her book, her expression skeptical. “Are you sure you’re not just jet-lagged? Or maybe it’s all that rich food we’ve been eating.”

You feel a flush creeping up your neck. “I know how it sounds, but I swear, strange things keep happening. Last night, I saw a man’s reflection in the mirror, but when I turned around, no one was there.”

Mia sits up, suddenly interested. “Ooh, was he hot?”

“Mia!” Zoe admonishes, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.

You sigh, realizing how ridiculous you must sound. “Never mind. You’re probably right, it’s just my imagination running wild.”

But as the day wears on, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Every shadow seems to hold a secret, every creaking floorboard a whispered message.

That night, as your friends snore softly in their beds, you find yourself wide awake, staring at the ornate ceiling. The moonlight filtering through the curtains casts eerie shadows on the walls, and the silence of the night seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

Unable to bear it any longer, you slip out of bed and into a robe. Your bare feet are silent on the plush carpet as you make your way to the door. You pause, hand on the doorknob, heart racing. Are you really going to do this?

Taking a deep breath, you step out into the dimly lit hallway. The palace is different at night, the opulence muted, shadows deepening the corners. You walk aimlessly, letting your instincts guide you through the maze-like corridors.

As you round a corner, a chill runs down your spine. At the end of the hallway, you see a figure. It’s only for a split second before it vanishes around the next bend, but you’re certain it was the same man you saw in the mirror.

“Wait!” You call out, breaking into a run. You turn the corner, but the hallway is empty.

Breathing heavily, you lean against the wall. “I’m losing my mind,” you mutter to yourself.

“I can assure you, mademoiselle, that your mind is quite intact.”

You whirl around, heart leaping into your throat. There, standing before you, is the man from your dreams and glimpses.

He’s of average height, with wavy dark hair and piercing green eyes. His clothes are old-fashioned — a tailored suit that wouldn’t look out of place in the late 19th century. But the most shocking thing is that you can see right through him to the painting on the wall behind.

You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The ghost — because what else could he be — holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Please, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

His voice is gentle, with a slight accent you can’t quite place. Despite your terror, you find yourself oddly calmed by his presence.

“Who ... what are you?” You manage to whisper.

The ghost bows slightly. “I am Prince Charles of Monaco, at your service. Or at least, I was Prince Charles. Now, I’m not entirely sure what I am.”

You blink, trying to process this information. “Prince Charles? But that’s impossible. The current Prince of Monaco is Albert.”

Charles smiles sadly. “You are correct. I’m afraid my time as prince was cut rather short. I died in 1894.”

“1894,” you repeat, feeling light-headed. “So you’re ... a ghost?”

“It would appear so, yes.” Charles looks down at his translucent hands. “Though I prefer to think of myself as ... temporarily disembodied.”

Despite the absurdity of the situation, you feel a laugh bubbling up in your chest. “Temporarily disembodied? That’s one way to put it.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with amusement. “I find a touch of humor helps in most situations, even death.”

You shake your head, still struggling to believe what’s happening. “Why can I see you? Why now?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Charles admits. “I’ve been bound to this palace since my death, unable to move on. Most of the time, I’m invisible to the living. But occasionally, someone comes along who can perceive me. You, mon chérie, seem to be one of those rare individuals.”

You take a step closer, fascinated despite your lingering fear. “So all those strange things that have been happening ...”

“My apologies,” Charles says, looking sheepish. “I’m afraid I got a bit ... overeager when I realized you could sense me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Well, mission not accomplished,” you say dryly. “I’ve been terrified for days.”

Charles’ expression turns contrite. “I am truly sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to interact with anyone. I forgot how alarming it might be.”

You study him closely. Now that the initial shock has worn off, you’re struck by how young he looks — no older than his mid-twenties. And there’s a sadness in his eyes that tugs at your heart.

“How did you die?” You ask softly.

Charles’ face clouds over. “That, I’m afraid, is a rather long and complicated story. One that I’m not entirely sure I understand myself.”

You’re about to press further when a noise down the hallway makes you jump. Charles holds a finger to his lips and gestures for you to follow him. He leads you to a hidden door behind a tapestry, revealing a narrow servants’ staircase.

“Quick, in here,” he whispers.

You hesitate for a moment before ducking into the passageway. Charles follows, closing the door behind you. In the dim light filtering through cracks in the wall, you can barely make out his ghostly form.

“Why are we hiding?” You whisper.

“The night guards,” Charles explains. “They wouldn’t take kindly to a guest wandering the halls at this hour. And I’d rather not have to explain why you’re talking to thin air.”

You nod, seeing the logic. “So ... what now?”

Charles gives you a mischievous smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Well, since you’re already up and about, how would you like a private tour of the palace? I can show you things no living guide knows about.”

The sensible part of your brain is screaming that this is insane. You should go back to your room, crawl into bed, and pretend this was all a vivid dream. But the adventurous part of you, the part that’s always longed for magic and mystery, is practically buzzing with excitement.

“Lead the way, Your Highness,” you say with a grin.

Charles’ smile widens. “Please, call me Charles. I think we’re a bit beyond titles at this point.”

He starts up the narrow staircase, and you follow close behind. As you climb, Charles begins to speak in a low, melodious voice.

“This palace has been the heart of Monaco for centuries. Every stone, every timber holds a piece of history. There are secret passages like this one crisscrossing the entire building — escape routes, trysting spots for illicit lovers, hiding places for treasures.”

You emerge from the staircase into a small, circular room at the top of one of the palace towers. The view of Monaco at night is breathtaking, the city a glittering jewel box beneath a canopy of stars.

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, moving to the window.

Charles stands beside you, his presence cool but not unpleasant. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Even after all these years, it still takes my breath away. Well, metaphorically speaking.”

You turn to look at him, struck by the wistfulness in his voice. “It must be hard, watching the world change around you while you stay the same.”

Charles nods slowly. “It is ... challenging. But it has its compensations. I’ve witnessed history unfold, seen my beloved Monaco grow and flourish. And occasionally, I get to meet fascinating people like yourself.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and are grateful for the darkness. “I’m hardly fascinating compared to a ghost prince.”

“I beg to differ,” Charles says softly. “You saw me when no one else could. You followed me up here without hesitation. That takes a special kind of courage and openness to the extraordinary.”

For a moment, you’re lost in his intense gaze. Then you remember that he’s, well, dead, and clear your throat awkwardly. “So, um, what else can you show me?”

Charles seems to shake himself out of a reverie. “Ah, yes. Follow me. There’s so much to see.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur of hidden rooms, secret passages, and Charles’ stories. He tells you about the palace’s construction, about the triumphs and tragedies of the Grimaldi family, about the small, everyday moments that history books never record.

As the sky begins to lighten with the first hints of dawn, you find yourself back in the hallway near your suite. You’re exhausted but exhilarated, your mind whirling with everything you’ve seen and learned.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Charles says, a note of reluctance in his voice.

You stifle a yawn. “I suppose so. My friends will be wondering where I am if I’m not there when they wake up.”

Charles nods, then hesitates. “I ... I hope this won’t be our last conversation. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk to.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart. “Of course not. I still have so many questions. Like how you ended up ... you know.”

“Another time,” Charles promises. “For now, sleep well, Y/N.”

As you watch, his form begins to fade. Just before he disappears completely, you could swear you see him wink.

You slip back into your room, your mind racing. As you crawl into bed, you wonder how on earth you’re going to explain any of this to your friends. But one thing’s for certain — your vacation in Monaco just got a whole lot more interesting.

***

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. You stand on the balcony of your suite, outwardly admiring the view, but your mind is elsewhere. Your friends’ voices drift out from the room behind you.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Mia calls. “Are you coming to dinner or what?”

You turn, plastering on a smile. “Actually, I think I’ll skip it tonight. I’m not feeling very hungry.”

Zoe frowns, concern etching her features. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all week.”

“I’m fine,” you assure her quickly. “Just ... taking in all the history of this place, you know?”

Olivia rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Only you would come to Monaco and spend all your time geeking out over old buildings instead of hitting the beach.”

You laugh, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

As your friends file out of the room, Mia lingers behind. “Seriously, Y/N, is everything alright? You know you can talk to us about anything, right?”

For a moment, you’re tempted to spill everything. But how could you possibly explain Charles? “I’m fine, really,” you insist. “Go enjoy dinner. I’ll see you later.”

Once they’re gone, you wait a few minutes to ensure the coast is clear. Then you slip out into the hallway, your heart racing with anticipation.

You make your way to the library, which has become your usual meeting spot. As you enter, you see Charles materializing near the fireplace, a warm smile lighting up his translucent features.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he greets you, his voice as smooth and rich as aged whiskey. “I trust you’re well?”

You can’t help but smile back. “Better now,” you admit, then immediately feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “I mean, you know, because ... history and stuff.”

Charles chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah yes, the fascinating history and stuff. Shall we delve into more of it tonight?”

You nod eagerly. “What do you have in store for me this time?”

“I thought we might explore the east wing tonight,” Charles says, moving towards one of the bookshelves. “There’s a passage behind this Voltaire that leads to some rather interesting places.”

As he speaks, Charles reaches for the book, his hand passing right through it. A flicker of frustration crosses his face.

“Allow me,” you say softly, stepping forward to pull the book. The shelf swings open, revealing a narrow passageway.

Charles bows slightly. “After you, mademoiselle.”

You enter the passage, Charles’ cool presence right behind you. As you walk, he begins to speak, his voice low and melodious in the confined space.

“This passage was built during the reign of Prince Charles III — my grandfather,” he explains. “It was meant as an escape route in case of invasion. Monaco’s sovereignty was often threatened in those days.”

“But not anymore?” You ask, ducking under a low-hanging beam.

Charles sighs. “Monaco’s position is more secure now, but it wasn’t always so. In my time, we were constantly navigating a delicate balance between France and Italy, trying to maintain our independence.”

You emerge into a small, octagonal room with windows overlooking the sea. Moonlight streams in, casting everything in a silvery glow.

“This was my private study,” Charles says, a note of wistfulness in his voice. “I spent many hours here, dreaming of what Monaco could become.”

You turn to him, curious. “What kind of dreams?”

Charles’ eyes light up with passion. “I wanted to modernize Monaco, to bring it into the new century. We were so dependent on the casino for revenue — I wanted to diversify our economy, improve education, and implement new technologies.”

“That sounds incredibly progressive for the time,” you say, impressed.

Charles nods. “Some thought too progressive. There were those who resisted change, who wanted to cling to the old ways. But I believed — I still believe — that progress is essential for survival.”

As he speaks, you find yourself drawn in by his enthusiasm, his intelligence. This isn’t just some stuffy old royal — this is a man with vision, with dreams that were cut short far too soon.

“What stopped you?” You ask softly.

Charles’ expression clouds over. “Ah, well, dying tends to put a damper on one’s plans.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no,” Charles interrupts gently. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

An awkward silence falls. You move to the window, looking out at the moonlit sea. “It must be hard,” you say eventually. “Watching the world change around you, unable to participate.”

You feel Charles move closer, his presence cool at your side. “It has its challenges,” he admits. “But it also has its joys. I’ve seen Monaco grow and flourish in ways I never could have imagined. And now ...” He trails off.

You turn to look at him. “And now?”

Charles’ gaze is intense, making your heart race. “And now I have the pleasure of sharing it all with you.”

You swallow hard, acutely aware of how close he is, ghost or not. “I ... I’m glad,” you manage to say. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Charles.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “Nor I you, Y/N. In life or in death.”

The moment stretches between you, charged with unspoken emotions. Then Charles clears his throat (do ghosts need to clear their throats?) and steps back.

“Come,” he says, his tone lighter. “There’s much more to see.”

The rest of the night passes in a whirlwind of secret rooms and hidden treasures. Charles shows you a concealed vault where the crown jewels were once kept, a forgotten ballroom with faded frescoes on the ceiling, even the old dungeons deep beneath the palace.

Throughout it all, Charles regales you with stories — some historical, some personal. You learn about the political intrigues of 19th century Monaco, about Charles’ childhood pranks, about the hopes and fears he had for his country’s future.

As dawn begins to break, you find yourself back in the library, reluctant for the night to end.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Charles says, echoing his words from your first meeting.

You stifle a yawn. “I suppose so. But I don’t want to go.”

Charles’ expression softens. “Nor do I want you to. But your friends will worry if you’re not there when they wake.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right. “Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be here,” Charles promises. “I’m not going anywhere, after all.”

As you watch him fade away, you’re struck by a realization that both thrills and terrifies you. You’re falling in love with a ghost.

The next few days pass in a blur. During the day, you go through the motions with your friends, trying to show enthusiasm for the beaches, the shops, the nightlife. But your mind is always elsewhere, counting down the hours until you can see Charles again.

Your friends notice, of course. How could they not?

“Okay, spill,” Mia demands one afternoon as you all lounge by the pool. “Who is he?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What? Who’s who?”

Olivia rolls her eyes. “The guy you’re obviously sneaking out to meet every night. Don’t think we haven’t noticed you coming back to the room at dawn.”

“I ... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammer.

Zoe puts a hand on your arm. “Y/N, we’re your friends. You can tell us anything. We’re just worried about you.”

You look at their concerned faces and feel a pang of guilt. You hate lying to them, but how can you possibly explain the truth?

“It’s not ... it’s not what you think,” you say finally. “I’ve just been exploring the palace at night. It’s quieter then, easier to imagine what it was like in the past.”

Your friends exchange skeptical looks.

“Right,” Mia says slowly. “And this has nothing to do with the ‘supernatural occurrences’ you were going on about earlier?”

You force a laugh. “Of course not. That was just my imagination running wild. I’ve just been ... really into the history of this place, that’s all.”

Olivia shakes her head. “If you say so. But Y/N, this is supposed to be a fun vacation. Don’t spend the whole time with your nose in a history book, okay?”

You nod, grateful they’re not pushing further. “You’re right. I’ll try to be more present.”

But that night, as your friends sleep, you find yourself slipping out once again, drawn to Charles like a moth to a flame.

He’s waiting for you in the library, a book hovering open in front of him. As you enter, he looks up with a smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Ah, Y/N,” he says warmly. “I was just refreshing my memory on some of Monaco’s more obscure laws. Did you know it’s technically illegal to wear stiletto heels in the palace?”

You laugh, some of the tension from earlier melting away. “Seriously? Why?”

Charles grins. “Apparently, they damage the floors. It was enacted in 1898, four years after my ... departure. I always wonder about the story behind laws like that. What outrageous incident prompted such a specific prohibition?”

You settle into a nearby armchair, tucking your legs underneath you. “Maybe a scorned lover stabbed someone with a stiletto?”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “My, what a violent imagination you have. I was thinking more along the lines of a clumsy debutante wreaking havoc on the ballroom floor.”

“Boring,” you tease. “My version is much more exciting.”

Charles chuckles, the sound warming you from the inside out. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. Your mind is a constant source of fascination to me.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh? How so?”

Charles moves closer, his form shimmering slightly in the moonlight streaming through the windows. “You see the world in such a unique way. You’re not bound by the conventions and expectations of my time. It’s ... refreshing.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply softly. “You’re nothing like I would have expected a 19th-century prince to be.”

Charles’ smile turns wry. “Ah, but I’ve had over a century to adapt and learn. Though I must admit, much of modern life still baffles me. Perhaps you could explain to me the appeal of this ‘Instagram’ your friends keep mentioning?”

You laugh, launching into an explanation of social media that leaves Charles looking both intrigued and mildly horrified. The conversation flows easily from there, jumping from topic to topic with the effortless rhythm you’ve come to cherish in your nightly meetings.

As the hours pass, you find yourself moving closer to Charles, drawn in by his warmth (metaphorical, of course — he’s actually quite cool to be near) and charm. You’re acutely aware of every movement, every fleeting expression that crosses his face.

At one point, Charles reaches out as if to touch your hand, then seems to catch himself, pulling back with a flicker of frustration crossing his features.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Sometimes I forget ...”

You swallow hard, your heart aching. “It’s okay. I ... I wish you could too.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken longing. Charles’ eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the impossibility of your situation crashes over you like a wave.

“Y/N,” Charles begins, his voice rough with emotion. “I-”

But before he can finish, a noise in the hallway makes you both freeze. Footsteps are approaching the library.

“Quick,” Charles whispers urgently. “Hide behind the curtain.”

You scramble to conceal yourself just as the door opens. Through a gap in the heavy fabric, you see a security guard sweep his flashlight around the room.

Your heart pounds in your chest as the beam of light passes inches from your hiding spot. After what feels like an eternity, the guard seems satisfied and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You wait a few more moments before emerging, your legs shaky with leftover adrenaline.

“That was close,” you breathe.

Charles nods, his form flickering with agitation. “Too close. Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting you in these situations. If you were caught ...”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, don’t say that. I don’t care about the risk. Being with you, learning about you and your time — it’s worth it.”

Charles’ expression softens, a mix of affection and sorrow in his eyes. “You’re extraordinary, do you know that? But I fear ... I fear I’m being selfish, keeping you to myself like this.”

You take a step closer to him, wishing more than anything that you could take his hand. “You’re not keeping me anywhere I don’t want to be.”

The words hang between you, charged with meaning. Charles opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it again, conflict clear on his face.

Finally, he says, “It’s nearly dawn. You should go, before your friends wake.”

You nod reluctantly, knowing he’s right but hating to leave. As you reach the door, you turn back to look at him one last time.

“Charles,” you say softly. “I ... I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

He smiles, but there’s a sadness in it that tugs at your heart. “I’ll be here. I’m always here.”

As you make your way back to your room, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. You’re falling hard and fast for a man who’s been dead for over a century.

It’s impossible, it’s insane, and yet ... you wouldn’t trade these moments with Charles for anything in the world.

But as you slip back into bed, the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains, a nagging doubt creeps in. How long can this go on? What happens when your vacation ends? And most troublingly of all — what aren’t you seeing in your infatuation with this charming ghost prince?

***

The musty scent of old books fills your nostrils as you hunch over a stack of historical tomes in the palace library. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. You’ve been here for hours, your friends long since departed for a day of sunbathing and shopping.

“Find anything interesting?” Charles’ voice makes you jump. You look up to see him materializing near the bookshelf, a curious expression on his translucent face.

You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes. “Nothing concrete yet. There’s frustratingly little information about your death in these official histories. It’s always just ‘Prince Charles died tragically young’ with no details.”

Charles moves closer, peering at the book you’re reading. “Ah, Gustave Saige’s ‘Monaco: Ses Origines et Son Histoire’. A rather dry read, if I recall correctly.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’re not wrong. But I thought it might have some clues.” You hesitate, then ask, “Charles, why don’t you just tell me what happened? How you ... died?”

A shadow passes over Charles’ face. “I wish I could. But the truth is, my memories of that time are ... fragmented. I remember tensions rising, arguments with the council, and then ... nothing. Just waking up like this, bound to the palace.”

You reach out instinctively to comfort him, your hand passing through his arm with a chill. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.”

Charles gives you a sad smile. “It’s been my reality for over a century now. But I must admit, your determination to uncover the truth has given me hope I haven’t felt in a very long time.”

Your heart swells at his words, even as a pang of guilt hits you. Are you really doing this for Charles, or for yourself? The thought of him finding peace and moving on fills you with a complicated mix of emotions you’re not ready to examine too closely.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you turn back to your research. “Well, if these books aren’t giving us answers, maybe we need to look elsewhere. You mentioned arguments with the council. Were there records kept of those meetings?”

Charles’ brow furrows in concentration. “Yes, there would have been. Minutes were always taken. But they would have been considered sensitive documents. Not something you’d find in the public library.”

You lean forward, excitement building. “So where would they be kept?”

“There’s an archive room,” Charles says slowly. “Hidden behind the throne room. It’s where the most confidential state papers were stored.”

You’re already on your feet, shoving books back onto shelves. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Charles holds up a ghostly hand. “Not so fast, Y/N. That room has been sealed for decades. It’s not somewhere a tourist can just wander into.”

You deflate slightly, but your determination doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll have to find a way in after hours. You can get me there, right?”

Charles looks conflicted. “I could, but Y/N, if you were caught ...”

“I won’t be,” you insist. “Please, Charles. This might be our only chance to find out what really happened to you.”

For a long moment, Charles studies your face. Then he sighs, a sound tinged with both resignation and admiration. “Very well. Meet me here at midnight. I’ll show you the way.”

The hours crawl by as you wait for night to fall. You make a show of going to bed early, claiming a headache to avoid your friends’ plans for a night out. As the clock strikes twelve, you slip out of your room and make your way to the library.

Charles is waiting for you, his form glowing faintly in the moonlight. “Are you sure about this?” He asks one last time.

You nod firmly. “Let’s do it.”

Charles leads you through a maze of corridors and hidden passages. Your heart races with every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that might be a security guard. Finally, you arrive at an ornate door hidden behind a tapestry.

“This is it,” Charles whispers. “The archive room.”

You reach for the handle, but it’s locked. “Damn,” you mutter. “Any ideas?”

Charles frowns, concentrating. “There used to be a spare key ... ah!” He points to a small crevice in the intricate woodwork. “Try there.”

You feel around and, to your amazement, your fingers close around a small key. With trembling hands, you insert it into the lock. It turns with a satisfying click.

The door swings open, revealing a room packed floor to ceiling with shelves of documents. The air is thick with dust and the smell of old paper.

“Where do we even start?” You whisper, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information.

Charles moves to a section near the back. “The council records from my time should be here. Look for anything dated 1894.”

You begin sifting through stacks of yellowed papers, careful not to damage the fragile documents. Minutes pass in tense silence as you search.

Suddenly, Charles’ voice cuts through the quiet. “Y/N, over here. I think I’ve found something.”

You hurry to his side. He’s pointing at a leather-bound ledger. You carefully open it, coughing slightly at the dust it raises.

As you scan the pages, your eyes widen. “Charles, this ... this is incredible. It’s a record of council meetings leading up to your death. Look at this entry from two weeks before: ‘Prince Charles continues to push for radical reforms. Concerns raised about stability of the principality if plans proceed.’”

Charles leans in, his face a mix of emotions. “I remember that meeting. It was ... heated. Keep reading.”

You flip through more pages, your heart pounding as the story unfolds. “There’s more. ‘Prince’s proposed changes to casino regulations deemed unacceptable. Alternative measures must be considered.’ Charles, this sounds like ...”

“A conspiracy,” Charles finishes, his voice hollow. “They were plotting against me.”

You reach the final entry, dated the day before Charles’ death. Your blood runs cold as you read it aloud. “Situation untenable. Drastic action required to preserve Monaco’s interests. God forgive us.”

A heavy silence falls over the room as the implications sink in. Charles turns away, his form flickering with agitation.

“They killed me,” he says softly. “My own council ... they murdered me to stop my reforms.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes. “Charles, I’m so sorry. This is ... it’s unthinkable.”

Charles is quiet for a long moment, then turns back to you with a determined expression. “We need to take this ledger. The truth needs to come out, even after all this time.”

You nod, carefully closing the book and tucking it into your bag. As you do, something catches your eye. “Wait, there’s something else here.”

Behind where the ledger was sitting, you spot a small leather pouch. You open it carefully, gasping as several folded papers and a small object fall out.

“What is it?” Charles asks, moving closer.

You unfold one of the papers with trembling hands. “It’s ... it’s a letter. From you.” You begin to read aloud:

“To whoever finds this, I fear my time may be short. I write this in haste, knowing that forces within Monaco seek to silence me. My efforts to modernize our beloved principality and free us from our dependence on gambling have made me enemies in powerful places. If anything should happen to me, know that it was not an accident. The proof of their treachery is contained within these documents and the vial of poison they intend to use. I pray this never sees the light of day, but if it does, may it bring justice and push Monaco towards the future I envisioned.”

You look up at Charles, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. “You knew. You tried to protect yourself.”

Charles nods slowly, his own eyes shimmering with ghostly tears. “I ... I remember now. I wrote this the night before ... before it happened. I must have hidden it here, hoping someone would find it.”

You carefully gather up the documents and the small vial, adding them to your bag with the ledger. “We have to make this public, Charles. Your murder, the cover-up ... people need to know the truth.”

Charles looks at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You’re right, of course. But Y/N, you must understand what this means. If the truth comes out, if justice is served ...”

“You might be able to move on,” you finish, your voice barely a whisper. The thought sends a dagger through your heart, but you force yourself to continue. “That’s ... that’s a good thing, right? It’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time.”

Charles moves closer, his hand hovering near your cheek as if he could wipe away your tears. “It is. But I find myself reluctant to leave, now that I’ve found something — someone — worth staying for.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Charles, I ...”

Before you can finish, a noise in the hallway makes you both freeze. Footsteps are approaching.

“Quick,” Charles whispers urgently. “Behind that cabinet.”

You scramble to hide, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure it must be audible. The door to the archive room creaks open, and a beam of light sweeps across the space.

“Hello?” A gruff voice calls out. “Is someone in here?”

You hold your breath, pressing yourself further into the shadows. After what feels like an eternity, the guard seems satisfied and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You wait a few more moments before emerging from your hiding spot, legs shaky with adrenaline.

“That was too close,” Charles says, his form flickering with agitation. “We need to get you out of here.”

You nod, clutching your bag with its precious cargo close to your chest. “How do we get back?”

Charles leads you to a hidden panel in the wall. “This passage will take you directly to the guest wing. Hurry, before the guard comes back.”

As you step into the secret corridor, you turn back to look at Charles. “What happens now?” You ask softly.

Charles’ expression is a complex mix of emotions — hope, fear, sadness, and something that looks a lot like love. “Now, mon chérie, we bring the truth to light. Whatever comes after ... we’ll face it together.”

You nod, your throat tight with unshed tears. As you make your way back to your room, your mind races with the implications of what you’ve discovered. You’ve found the key to setting Charles free, to bringing him the peace he’s been denied for over a century.

But as you clutch the bag containing the proof of his murder, you can’t help but wonder: at what cost? The thought of losing Charles, of never seeing his smile or hearing his laugh again, fills you with a grief so profound it takes your breath away.

As you slip back into your bed, the first rays of dawn peeking through the curtains, you know that the hardest part of your journey is yet to come. You’ve uncovered the truth, but now you face an impossible choice: keep Charles with you in this half-life or set him free and lose him forever.

***

The golden light of a Monaco sunset streams through the windows of your hotel suite, casting long shadows across the room. You stand before the mirror, adjusting the elaborate 19th-century gown you’ve rented for the evening’s ball. Your fingers tremble slightly as you fasten a delicate necklace, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Charles’ voice comes from behind you. You turn to see him materializing near the balcony, his eyes wide with admiration.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your heart aching at the sight of him. “I wish you could really be there tonight, dancing with me.”

Charles moves closer, his form shimmering in the fading sunlight. “As do I, ma chérie. But I’ll be with you in spirit, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as tears prick at your eyes. “Always with the jokes, even now.”

“Well, one must maintain one’s sense of humor, even in the face of ... impending departure,” Charles says, his light tone belied by the sadness in his eyes.

The word hangs heavy between you. Departure. In just two days, you’ll be leaving Monaco, returning to your life back home. The thought fills you with a grief so profound it’s almost physical.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” you blurt out, the words escaping before you can stop them. “I could stay. I could find a job here, an apartment. We could-”

“Y/N,” Charles interrupts gently, “we’ve discussed this. You can’t put your life on hold for a ghost.”

You turn away, blinking back tears. “But what if I want to? What if being here, with you, is the life I want?”

Charles is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “My dearest Y/N, you cannot imagine how much I wish things could be different. But I am tied to this place, to this half-existence. You have a whole life ahead of you, full of possibilities and adventures. I won’t let you sacrifice that for me.”

You whirl back to face him, frustration bubbling up. “Shouldn’t that be my choice to make?”

“Perhaps,” Charles concedes. “But it is also my choice to refuse to be the anchor that holds you back. You deserve so much more than stolen moments with a specter.”

The truth of his words cuts deep, even as you want to rail against them. You slump onto the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling the weight of your elaborate costume.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whisper.

Charles moves to sit beside you, the mattress not even dipping under his non-existent weight. “Nor I you. But perhaps ... perhaps this is why we found each other. Not for a lifetime, but for this moment. To bring truth to light, to right an old wrong, and to experience a love that transcends time itself.”

You look up at him, struck by the depth of emotion in his ghostly eyes. “When did you get so wise?”

Charles grins, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Well, I have had over a century to work on my philosophical musings.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as a tear escapes down your cheek. Charles reaches out, his hand hovering just above your skin in a gesture of comfort.

“Come now,” he says gently. “Let’s not waste our last evening together in sorrow. You have a ball to attend, and I, for one, am eager to see how the modern world interprets the grandeur of my era.”

You nod, standing and giving yourself one last look in the mirror. “You’re right. Let’s make tonight a night to remember.”

As you make your way down to the grand ballroom, you can feel Charles’ presence beside you, a comforting coolness in the warm evening air. The sounds of music and laughter grow louder as you approach.

You pause at the entrance, taking in the transformed space. The ballroom has been decorated to recreate its 19th-century splendor, with crystal chandeliers, elaborate floral arrangements, and guests in period costumes whirling across the dance floor.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“Indeed,” Charles agrees, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Though I must say, some of these costumes are rather ... creative interpretations of the fashion of my time.”

You stifle a giggle as you spot a guest in what appears to be a mash-up of Victorian and Edwardian styles. “Well, not everyone can have a ghostly fashion consultant.”

You make your way into the crowd, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Your friends spot you and wave enthusiastically.

“Y/N! Over here!” Mia calls out. “You look amazing!”

You join them, smiling as you take in their costumes. “You all look great too. Are you enjoying the ball?”

Zoe nods enthusiastically. “It’s like stepping back in time. Can you imagine living in an era like this?”

You feel Charles’ amusement radiating beside you. “Oh, I don’t know,” you say airily. “I think it might have its charms.”

As the evening progresses, you find yourself swept up in the festivities. You dance with several partners, all the while acutely aware of Charles’ presence, watching from the sidelines.

During a lull in the music, you manage to slip away from the crowd, finding a secluded alcove near one of the large windows.

“Having fun?” Charles asks, materializing beside you.

You nod, a bit breathless from dancing. “It’s wonderful. But I wish ...”

“You wish I could truly be here,” Charles finishes for you. He holds out his hand in an old-fashioned gesture. “Well, my lady, may I have this dance?”

You glance around, making sure no one is watching, then place your hand over his incorporeal one. As the music starts up again, a slow, romantic waltz, you begin to move together.

It’s a strange sensation, dancing with a ghost. You can’t feel Charles’ hand on your waist or his fingers intertwined with yours, but somehow, you move in perfect synchronization. For a few precious moments, it’s as if the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you, swaying to the music.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Charles’ eyes widen, then soften with an emotion so deep it takes your breath away. “And I love you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible.”

As you gaze into each other’s eyes, lost in the moment, a sudden chill sweeps through the room. The lights flicker, and a murmur of confusion ripples through the crowd.

Charles stiffens, his form becoming more translucent. “Something’s wrong,” he mutters, looking around warily.

Before you can ask what he means, a commotion breaks out near the center of the ballroom. Guests are backing away from a spot on the dance floor, pointing and gasping in shock.

You push your way through the crowd, Charles right behind you. As you reach the cleared space, your blood runs cold. Three ghostly figures have appeared, dressed in outdated formal wear, their faces contorted with rage and fear.

“Impossible,” Charles breathes beside you. “It’s them. The council members who ... who murdered me.”

As if hearing his words, the three ghosts turn towards you. Their eyes widen in recognition as they spot Charles.

“You!” One of them snarls, his voice echoing unnaturally in the stunned silence of the ballroom. “How are you here?”

Charles steps forward, his own form becoming more visible to the shocked onlookers. “I could ask you the same question, Lord Beaumont. Or should I say, murderer?”

A collective gasp runs through the crowd. Hotel staff are rushing about, trying to maintain order, but everyone’s attention is fixed on the supernatural drama unfolding before them.

“We did what was necessary,” another ghost, a portly man with a walrus mustache, blusters. “You would have ruined Monaco with your radical ideas!”

“Ruined?” Charles’ voice rises in indignation. “I was trying to save our principality, to secure its future beyond the whims of fortune and gambling!”

The third ghost, a thin man with a pinched face, sneers. “And in doing so, you would have destroyed the very thing that made Monaco unique. We couldn’t allow it.”

You find your voice, anger overcoming your fear. “So you murdered him? Your own prince?”

The ghosts turn their baleful gazes on you. “And who are you to question the affairs of state from a century past?” Lord Beaumont demands.

“She,” Charles says, moving to stand beside you, “is the one who uncovered your treachery. The proof of your crimes has been found.”

A murmur runs through the crowd. You see hotel management huddled in a corner, speaking urgently into phones. In the distance, you can hear police sirens approaching.

“It doesn’t matter now,” the portly ghost says dismissively. “We’re long dead, beyond the reach of earthly justice.”

“Perhaps,” you counter, your voice stronger than you feel. “But the truth will be known. History will remember Prince Charles as the visionary he was, and you as the small-minded murderers who cut his life short.”

As you speak, a strange energy begins to build in the room. The three ghosts start to flicker, their forms becoming less substantial.

“What’s happening?” The thin ghost cries out, panic in his voice.

Charles steps forward, his expression a mix of pity and righteousness. “You’re facing judgment at last, gentlemen. Your unfinished business is complete. The truth is out.”

With a howl of despair, the three ghosts begin to fade away. In moments, they’ve vanished completely, leaving behind a stunned silence.

As the implications of what’s just happened sink in, chaos erupts in the ballroom. People are shouting, phones are out recording, and security is trying desperately to maintain order.

But you only have eyes for Charles. His form is starting to shimmer, becoming more translucent by the second.

“Charles,” you gasp, reaching for him. “What’s happening? Are you ...”

He looks down at his fading hands, then back up at you with a sad smile. “It seems my unfinished business is complete as well. The truth is out, justice, in some form, has been served.”

“No,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Please, not yet. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Charles moves closer, his hand hovering just above your cheek. “My dearest Y/N, meeting you has been the greatest gift. You’ve brought light to my long darkness, and given me peace I never thought I’d find.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you sob, your heart breaking.

“Nor do I wish to leave you,” Charles says softly. “But perhaps this isn’t truly goodbye. I don’t know what lies beyond, but I do know this — a love like ours transcends time and death itself. Somehow, someway, I believe we’ll find each other again.”

You manage a watery smile. “You promise?”

“I swear it,” Charles vows. He leans in, and for the briefest moment, you swear you can feel the ghost of a kiss on your lips. “Until we meet again, mon amour.”

And with that, Charles fades away completely, leaving behind nothing but a lingering chill in the air and the memory of a love that defied all boundaries.

As the commotion swirls around you, police and hotel management trying to make sense of what’s happened, you stand still in the center of it all. Your heart is breaking, but there’s also a sense of peace, of completion.

You touch your lips, still feeling the echo of that impossible kiss, and whisper to the empty air, “Until we meet again, Charles.”

In that moment, surrounded by the trappings of a bygone era and the chaos of the present, you know that your life has been forever changed. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it with the strength and love Charles gave you, carrying his memory in your heart until, somehow, someway, you find each other once more.

***

The Mediterranean sun bathes Monaco in a warm glow as you climb the steps to the Palais Grimaldi. Five years have passed since that fateful summer, but your heart still quickens as you approach the familiar facade. You adjust the strap of your messenger bag, filled with research materials for your graduate thesis on 19th-century Monégasque politics.

As you enter the palace, now partly converted into a museum, you’re struck by how much has changed. Plaques and displays line the halls, detailing the history of the Grimaldi family. But your eyes are drawn to a new addition: a whole wing dedicated to Prince Charles and his progressive vision for Monaco.

You pause before a large portrait of Charles, your breath catching in your throat. The artist has captured his piercing green eyes perfectly, that hint of mischief in his smile that you remember so well.

“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” A voice beside you says, startling you from your reverie. “How much history these walls have seen.”

You turn, a polite response on your lips, but the words die in your throat. Standing next to you is a young man who could be Charles’ twin. The same wavy dark hair, the same chiseled jawline, and most strikingly, those same intense green eyes.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. “Charles?” You whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

The young man looks at you curiously, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, yes, but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Have we met before?”

You blink rapidly, reality reasserting itself. Of course this isn’t your Charles. It can’t be. You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, you just ... you look remarkably like someone I used to know. I’m Y/N.”

The young man’s smile widens, and he holds out his hand. “Charles Leclerc. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that runs through you at his touch. “Leclerc? As in the Formula 1 driver?”

Charles nods, looking slightly sheepish. “The very same. Though today I’m just a tourist like anyone else, enjoying a bit of home between races.”

“Home?” You ask, intrigued despite yourself.

“Born and raised in Monaco,” Charles explains. “Though I admit, I haven’t spent as much time in the palace as I perhaps should have. It’s quite fascinating, especially this new exhibit.”

You nod, turning back to the portrait of Prince Charles. “It really is. The prince was quite a remarkable figure. His ideas were so ahead of their time.”

Charles steps closer, studying the portrait. “You seem to know a lot about him. Are you a historian?”

“A graduate student,” you explain. “I’m here on a research grant, studying 19th-century Monégasque politics at the International University of Monaco.”

Charles’ eyes light up with interest. “Really? That sounds fascinating. I’ve always been interested in history, especially the history of Monaco. It’s a small place, but it’s played such an outsized role in European affairs.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “It really has. Prince Charles, in particular, had some revolutionary ideas about diversifying Monaco’s economy beyond just gambling. If he hadn’t died so young, who knows how things might have turned out?”

A shadow passes over Charles’ face. “Yes, his death was quite tragic. And mysterious, from what I understand. Wasn’t there some recent discovery about the circumstances?”

You nod, your heart racing as you remember that night five years ago. “Yes, documents were found that suggested he was actually assassinated by members of his own council who opposed his reforms.”

Charles shakes his head, looking troubled. “How terrible. To be betrayed by those closest to you, all for wanting to make positive changes.”

“It was a different time,” you say softly. “Change is always frightening to those in power.”

Charles nods thoughtfully. “True, but it’s also necessary for growth. Monaco has come a long way since then, but I sometimes wonder if we couldn’t be doing more to realize Prince Charles’ vision.”

You look at him in surprise. “That’s ... that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking in my research. The prince had ideas about sustainable development and diversifying the economy that are still relevant today.”

Charles grins, and for a moment, the resemblance to your Charles is so strong it takes your breath away. “Great minds think alike, it seems. You know, I’ve been looking for ways to use my platform as an athlete to promote positive change in Monaco. Perhaps we could compare notes sometime?”

Your heart skips a beat. “I’d like that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m always happy to discuss history with someone who’s genuinely interested.”

“Excellent,” Charles says, pulling out his phone. “Why don’t we exchange numbers? We could meet for coffee and continue this conversation.”

As you input your number into his phone, you can’t help but notice a small charm dangling from it — a miniature racing helmet. “That’s cute,” you comment.

Charles looks at it and chuckles. “Ah, yes. It was a gift from my mother. She says it’s for luck, but I think she just worries about me on the track.”

The casual mention of his mother sends a pang through your heart. This Charles is very much alive, with a family and a life of his own. You have to remind yourself that he’s not the same person you knew, no matter how similar he might seem.

“Well, it seems to be working,” you say lightly. “You’ve had quite a successful season so far. Won your home race, if I’m not mistaken.”

Charles looks pleased. “You follow Formula 1?”

You shake your head. “Not really, but it’s hard to miss the news when you’re living in Monaco. The Grand Prix is quite an event.”

“That it is,” Charles agrees. “You know, if you’re interested, I could give you a behind-the-scenes tour of the circuit sometime. It’s quite fascinating from a historical perspective as well. The race has been run on essentially the same streets since 1929.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Are you always this charming with strangers you meet in museums?”

Charles grins, a mischievous glint in his eye that’s achingly familiar. “Only the ones who can discuss 19th-century political reform with such passion.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well, in that case, how can I refuse? A tour sounds lovely.”

As you continue to chat, moving through the exhibit, you’re struck by how easy it is to talk to Charles. He’s knowledgeable and curious, asking insightful questions about your research and offering his own perspectives on Monaco’s history and future.

At one point, you pause before a display showcasing some of Prince Charles’ personal effects. Among them is a small, ornate pocket watch.

“Beautiful craftsmanship,” Charles comments, leaning in for a closer look.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you remember your Charles checking a similar watch during your midnight explorations. “It’s a shame it’s not working anymore.”

Charles tilts his head, studying the watch intently. “Actually, I think it is. Look closely at the second hand.”

You peer into the display case, and to your amazement, you see the tiny hand ticking away steadily. “You’re right! How did you notice that?”

Charles shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’ve always had a thing for timepieces. Comes with the racing territory, I suppose. Hundreths of a second are everything on the track.”

You shake your head in wonder. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try to keep things interesting,” Charles says with a wink. Then his expression turns more serious. “You know, it’s strange. Being here, learning about Prince Charles ... I feel an odd connection to him. Almost as if I knew him somehow.”

Your heart races at his words. Could it be possible? You push the thought away, reminding yourself that such things only happen in fairy tales. “Well, he is your ancestor, in a way. All Monégasques are connected to the Grimaldi family, aren’t they?”

Charles nods slowly. “True, but this feels different. When I look at his portrait, it’s almost like looking in a mirror. And his ideas, his passion for progress ... it resonates with me in a way I can’t quite explain.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Maybe some things are just meant to be. Some connections transcend time.”

Charles looks at you intently, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. It’s a comforting thought, isn’t it? That the past isn’t really gone, just ... waiting to be rediscovered.”

You’re saved from having to respond by the chiming of the palace clock, signaling the approach of closing time.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late,” you say, glancing at your watch. “I should probably get going. I have a meeting with my advisor in the morning.”

Charles nods, looking slightly disappointed. “Of course. But we’re still on for that coffee and circuit tour, right?”

You smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest. “Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Charles touches your arm lightly. “Y/N, I know this might sound strange, but ... I feel like we were meant to meet today. Like some force in the universe brought us together.”

You look into his eyes, so familiar and yet new, and feel a spark of hope ignite in your heart. “I know exactly what you mean.”

He smiles, and in that moment, you see not just the Charles of the present, but echoes of the Charles you knew and loved. “Until we meet again, then?”

The phrase, so similar to your Charles’ last words, sends a shiver down your spine. “Until then,” you agree softly.

As you walk out of the palace and into the warm Monaco evening, your mind is whirling. You can’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary has happened, that a promise made long ago is somehow being fulfilled.

You pause at the top of the steps, looking back at the palace that has played such a pivotal role in your life. As the setting sun gilds the stone facade, you allow yourself to imagine, just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, some loves really are strong enough to transcend time and death itself.

With a smile on your face and hope in your heart, you descend the steps, ready to embrace whatever new adventure awaits. After all, in a world where ghosts can fall in love and centuries-old mysteries can be solved, anything seems possible.

And, as the promise of a new beginning beckons, you can’t help but feel that the best chapters of your story are yet to be written.

***

The sun-drenched streets of Monaco buzz with excitement as Sofia, a die-hard Scuderia Ferrari fan, makes her way towards the Palais Grimaldi. Her red Ferrari cap and matching team shirt make her stand out among the tourists, but she doesn’t mind. She’s here on a mission: to soak up every bit of Monaco’s rich racing history.

As Sofia enters the palace-turned-museum, her eyes widen in awe at the opulent surroundings. “Wow,” she breathes, spinning slowly to take it all in. “Talk about living like royalty.”

She wanders through the exhibits, pausing occasionally to read plaques or admire artifacts. But her mind keeps drifting to thoughts of sleek racing cars and the roar of engines. That is, until she rounds a corner and comes face to face with a large portrait that stops her in her tracks.

“No way,” Sofia mutters, stepping closer to the painting. Her brow furrows as she studies the face of the young prince depicted. “That’s ... that’s impossible.”

Just then, a tour group passes by, led by an enthusiastic guide. Sofia catches snippets of the commentary.

“... Prince Charles, one of Monaco’s most progressive rulers ...”

“... tragically died young under mysterious circumstances ...”

“... recent discoveries suggest he may have been assassinated ...”

Sofia’s head is spinning. She pulls out her phone, quickly pulling up a photo of Charles Leclerc, her favorite driver. She holds it up next to the portrait, her jaw dropping at the uncanny resemblance.

“Excuse me,” she says, tapping the tour guide on the shoulder. “This Prince Charles, when exactly did he live?”

The guide smiles, always happy to share historical tidbits. “Prince Charles ruled briefly in the late 19th century. He died in 1894 at the young age of 26.”

Sofia’s mind races. “And has anyone ever noticed how much he looks like Charles Leclerc? The F1 driver?”

The guide’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Ah, you’re not the first to notice that similarity. It’s become quite a popular topic of discussion lately. Some even joke that Leclerc is the prince reincarnated.”

Sofia laughs nervously. “Right, of course. Just a coincidence, I’m sure.”

As the tour moves on, Sofia remains rooted to the spot, her eyes darting between her phone and the portrait. It’s more than just a passing resemblance. The shape of the eyes, the curve of the jaw, even the hint of a mischievous smile — it’s all pure Leclerc.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice someone approaching until a voice beside her says, “Fascinating portrait, isn’t it?”

Sofia jumps, turning to see a young woman standing next to her. The newcomer is dressed casually in a flowing sundress, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

“Oh, um, yes,” Sofia stammers. “It’s quite ... striking.”

The woman smiles knowingly. “Let me guess. You couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to a certain Formula 1 driver?”

Sofia’s eyes widen. “You see it too? I thought I was going crazy!”

The woman laughs, a warm, genuine sound. “Trust me, you’re not crazy. I’m Y/N, by the way. I’m doing some research here for my graduate thesis.”

“Sofia,” she replies, shaking your hand. “So, what’s the deal? Is Leclerc secretly a time-traveling prince or something?”

You chuckle, but there’s a strange look in your eyes that Sofia can’t quite decipher. “I’m afraid the explanation is probably much more mundane. Many Monégasques have some connection to the Grimaldi family. It’s likely just a case of strong genes persisting through the generations.”

Sofia nods, but she’s not entirely convinced. There’s something about the way you’re looking at the portrait, a mix of fondness and melancholy, that piques her curiosity.

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Sofia probes gently. “Are you a big history buff?”

You smile, turning away from the portrait. “You could say that. I’ve been studying Prince Charles and his era for my thesis. It’s a fascinating period in Monaco’s history.”

Sofia’s about to ask more when she notices someone approaching over your shoulder. Her eyes go wide, and she has to stifle a gasp.

You turn to see what’s caught her attention, and your face lights up. “Charles! I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Sofia’s jaw drops as Charles Leclerc himself joins you, greeting you with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. He’s dressed casually in jeans and an oversized hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, but there’s no mistaking that face — especially not when it’s right next to the portrait of his doppelganger.

“I had some free time between meetings and thought I’d stop by,” Charles explains. “How’s the research going?”

You launch into an explanation of your latest findings, and Sofia watches in fascination as Charles listens intently, asking insightful questions and offering his own thoughts. It’s clear this is far from the first time they’ve discussed the topic.

Finally, Charles seems to notice Sofia’s presence. “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Sofia manages to close her mouth, which had been hanging open in shock. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m Sofia. I’m a huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.”

Charles grins, shaking her hand. “Please, call me Charles. Always nice to meet a tifosa.”

Sofia gestures weakly to the portrait. “I was just ... I mean ... has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like ...”

Charles and you exchange a look that Sofia can’t quite interpret. Then Charles turns back to her with a wry smile. “Once or twice, yes. It’s quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

Sofia nods, still feeling like she’s stepped into some kind of twilight zone. “Coincidence. Right.”

You clear your throat, seemingly eager to change the subject. “So, Sofia, are you here on vacation?”

Grateful for the change of topic, Sofia launches into an enthusiastic description of her plans for the next week. As they chat, she can’t help but notice the way Charles and you interact — the casual touches, the inside jokes, the way your eyes continually find each other. There’s clearly a deep connection there.

At one point, Charles excuses himself to take a phone call. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Sofia turns to you with wide eyes. “Okay, you have to tell me. What’s the real story here? How long have you two been together?”

You laugh, a slight blush coloring your cheeks. “Is it that obvious? We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now. We met right here, actually, in front of this very portrait.”

Sofia’s romantic heart melts a little at that. “That’s so sweet! But come on, you have to admit, the resemblance is freaky. And the way you two were talking about history ... it’s like he lived it or something.”

You get that strange look in your eyes again, a mix of secrecy and wonder. “Charles has always had a deep connection to Monaco’s past. It’s one of the things that drew us together.”

Sofia’s about to press for more details when Charles returns, slipping his arm around your waist with casual familiarity.

“I hate to cut this short,” he says apologetically, “but I’ve got to run to a sponsor meeting. Y/N, we’re still on for dinner tonight?”

You nod, smiling up at him. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll see you at eight.”

As Charles says his goodbyes and leaves, Sofia watches him go with a mix of admiration and lingering confusion. She turns back to you, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

“Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy,” Sofia starts, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “but is there any chance ... I mean, has anyone ever considered the possibility that Charles might be, I don’t know, the reincarnation of Prince Charles or something?”

You pause for a long moment, and Sofia holds her breath, half-expecting you to laugh in her face. But instead, you give her a small, enigmatic smile.

“The universe works in mysterious ways,” you say softly. “Sometimes, the past has a way of coming back to us in forms we least expect. Who’s to say what’s possible and what isn’t?”

Sofia’s mind reels at the implications. “So you’re saying ...”

You hold up a hand, your expression turning more serious. “I’m not saying anything definitively. But I will say this: getting to know Charles — the Charles of today — has been like rediscovering a part of history I thought was lost forever. Whether that’s due to reincarnation, cosmic coincidence, or just the magic of human connection, I can’t say for sure. But I do know that it feels like a second chance at something extraordinary.”

Sofia listens, enthralled. It’s like something out of a movie or a romance novel. “That’s ... wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

You laugh, the sound tinged with wonder. “Trust me, I know the feeling. Life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.”

As you chat a bit more, Sofia can’t help but feel like she’s been let in on some grand secret. The way you talk about Charles, about history, about the strange twists of fate — it’s all so fantastical and yet, standing here in the shadow of that eerily familiar portrait, she can’t quite bring herself to disbelieve it entirely.

Finally, you glance at your watch and sigh. “I should get going. I’ve got to prepare for dinner soon. It was lovely meeting you, Sofia.”

Sofia nods, still feeling slightly dazed. “You too. And ... thanks. For sharing all of that. It’s given me a lot to think about.”

You smile warmly. “Just keep an open mind. You never know what kind of magic you might encounter, especially in a place like Monaco.”

As you leave, Sofia turns back to the portrait of Prince Charles. She studies it intently, trying to reconcile the historical figure with the modern-day race driver she admires so much.

“Second chances,” she murmurs to herself. “Who’d have thought?”

With one last look at the portrait, Sofia continues her tour of the museum. But now, every artifact seems to pulse with new significance. The weight of history feels more present than ever, intertwining with the present in ways she never could have imagined.

As she steps out of the museum and into the bright Monaco sunshine, Sofia finds herself looking at the city with new eyes. The sleek modern buildings and ancient narrow streets no longer seem at odds, but part of a continuous, living history.

She thinks of Charles Leclerc, of the mysterious Y/N, of a long-dead prince whose legacy seems to echo through time. And as she makes her way towards the harbor, where she knows the Monaco circuit snakes through the city streets, Sofia can’t help but feel that she’s stumbled upon a story far greater and more magical than any single victory.

With a smile on her face and a newfound appreciation for the mysteries of the universe, Sofia sets off to explore more of Monaco. After all, in a place where princes can become race drivers and love can transcend time itself, who knows what other wonders she might discover?

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storiesofsvu · 3 months ago

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Captain's Office

*NOT MY GIF* I wanted a very particular vibe for this fic and tumblr's function sucks! Found of google, credit goes to @fourteenthofaugust !*

Olivia Benson x fem!reader

2.3k Warnings: language, smut, slight teasing, minor Captain kink, somewhat public sex but not really?

Your morning was spent working from home, your afternoon spent in the courtroom followed by a few hours working through the case with the ADA. This mean you’d forgone your usual look of detective, one ready to race through the streets of New York tackling perps and opted for a softer more approachable and friendly one of credible witness to the case who understood everything at stake. Your hair curled around your shoulders, loosened as the day passed, your regular blazer over top, now at the end of the day finding its home in the back of your car. Dress exposed, professionally enough, but hugging your body, fitted enough to accent the curve of your ass perfectly.

Which is exactly why you thought you’d have a slight upper hand when you showed back up to the precinct, the only light coming from Olivia’s office.

Her text had pinged your phone roughly an hour ago, telling you to meet her back there rather than home. At first you thought maybe she’d had dinner delivered to work instead, choosing to finish up the paperwork rather than bring it with her but the silence of the bull pen told you otherwise, there was no one else left in the building.

“You… wanted to see me?” You asked softly, perching in her doorway, a soft smile on your cheeks.

Olivia tore her gaze away from the file folder in front of her, flipping it shut as her eyes dragged up your body, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. She shoved her work off to the side, removing her glasses to place on top of the pile before she leant back in her chair and your breath caught in your throat. She was still in her uniform blues, her black nail polish catching in the low light as a piece of her bangs swung loose from her now somewhat messy updo.

“Close the door.” She instructed, her voice low and you did as she asked, waiting for her next order, “c’mere…”

Two of her fingers crooked and you nearly stumbled over your high heeled feet as your heart began to thud in your chest, heading in the direction of a chair in front of her desk. The corner of her lips flicked up into a grin, her eyes darkening as your fingers wrapped around the chair arm.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, fingers tapping the side of the desk she was sitting behind, “come here, pretty girl.”

Gulping, you rounded the desk, propping yourself up against the edge while she leaned even further back in her chair. Her head tilted for a moment, smirk evident on her lips while her eyes traced every curve of your body, lingering where your skirt rode up your thighs, the way your chest strained against the neckline. Reaching out her hand grasped your leg, sliding up until it met the hem of your skirt and she nearly chuckled at the way your breathing picked up while she played with the fabric.

“I was right.”

“Sorry?” You managed out, your fingers gripping at the wood behind you.

“You.” Her eyes twinkled, her hand beginning to ghost up your body, sliding up your stomach, delicately making its way between your breasts, avoiding where you really wanted her touch before gently wrapping around your throat as she rose to her feet in front of you, “liking me in uniform.”

“I…”

“Ah!” Her hand tightened around your throat ever so, “don’t lie to me sweetheart. I can feel the way your pulse is racing already.”

You gulped again, noticing the way your throat bobbed under her hand and the way her eyes darkened at the sensation. You couldn’t help the way your lips parted, whether an invitation for hers or an attempt to get more oxygen to your suddenly heaving lungs you weren’t sure.

“Yes…” you breathed out, “I like it.”

“Yes what?” Her chin tilted down as her fingers squeezed your throat.

“I like it Captain.”

“Good girl.” She smiled softly, her hand letting go of your neck, sliding down it and her fingers began to trace across your collarbone before dipping to the curve of your chest, swirling around until she was circling your nipple, one then the other.

Your gulped, taking a shuddering breath, doing your best to maintain eye contact, Olivia’s gaze burning into yours, her eyes darkening the more she toyed with your body. A cocky smirk remained plastered on her lips as her fingers repeated their patterns on the other side of your chest before finding your sternum, trailing lower and lower until she thought she would find the hem of your underwear. When her fingertips found only smoothness her brow cocked, her head tilting as she clicked her tongue.

“No panties?” She questioned, “dirty girl.” Her fingers slipped under your dress, tracing up your inner thigh until you let out a little whimper.

“Please…”

She chuckled, the tip of her middle finger trailing through your folds, collecting just enough wetness to circle around your clit, “shame I don’t have the strap.” Her finger tapped your clit and you shivered, “could have bent you over my desk, fucked you nice and hard…” she leant down, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, “nice and deep” she repeated the action on the other side while her palm caressed at your cunt. “my cock buried in that pretty pussy of yours.” The tips of her fingers slid between your pussy lips, just far enough from where you wanted them, “over… and over… again….” Each time she paused she pulled her hand away from the heat of your cunt before gently hitting it, your whines getting louder with each touch. “I can just imagine the way you’d sound.” Her teeth nipped at your neck as her hand disappeared from under your skirt. You let out a frustrated huff, your hands coming to clutch at her uniform, “you’re practically ready to beg right now, aren’t you?”

She raised a brow but you knew better than to respond and because of that you were rewarded instantly, her leg surged forward, knee bracing against the desk between your thighs and a gasp left your lips when your bare pussy met the muscle.

“Oh god…”

Her hands found your waist, grinding you down onto her thigh, guiding you to roll your hips as you bit your lip in an attempt to stifle any noises. Olivia’s fingers squeezed into your waist, moving you faster, the fabric of her pants brushing against your clit each time you moved on her leg, sending pleasure soaring through your entire body. The slow build up of fluttering in your stomach became fire prickling your skin, breaking it out in goosebumps as your pussy began to pulse around nothing.

“You’re always such a good girl for your Captain.” Olivia purred, a hand briefly leaving your waist to tug down the neckline of your dress, your breasts spilling out, nipples hardening in the cool air of her office.

“Mmhmm…” you nodded feverishly; eyes wide as you looked up at her with need splayed across your face.

“Don’t worry.” Chuckling, she leant down, her lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking it into her mouth and your mouth fell open with a quiet moan, “I’m going to let you come sweet girl.” Her breath was hot against your sensitive skin, “I just want to hear you first.” The tip of her tongue shot out, flicking your nipple before blowing a cool stream of air against it and you whimpered, your hand coming to tangle into her hair, further mussing the updo. “That’s it…” she urged, her mouth sucking at your skin again, teeth gently sinking in right as she flexed her thigh against your bare cunt. “You like it when I touch you like this?” Her hand came up, pinching at one nipple while she sucked the other into her mouth.

“Yes…” You breathed out, your hips grinding down harder onto her.

“You like the way it feels when that pretty pussy drags over my thigh?” Her voice was husky, breath hot on your skin as she spoke, the hand she had on your waist tilted your hips back while her thigh pressed up. A loud gasp escaped your lips as your clit directly hit the muscle of her leg.

“Fuck.” Your eyes fluttered shut, your hands desperately gripping the fabric on her shoulders, “yes, oh god yes.”

“I already know you like being bitten.” She confirmed it when her teeth sunk into the underside of your breast and you groaned, arching into the touch, “but what else?”

“Please….” You whined and she chuckled.

“You’re practically shaking sweet girl.” Her tongue swiped over your nipple again, “what would you like?”

“Fingers…” your lips parted, your breath coming out in quick pants as your hips began to roll even faster over her thigh, “need you inside me. Wanna feel you.”

“Hmm?” Her mouth left your chest, her hands wrapping around your waist as she stilled your movement, shifting you off her leg so you were perched on the edge of her desk and your eyes flew open. Her hands flicked up the skirt of your dress and her tongue darted out to wet her lips at the sight of your cunt glistening in the low light of the office, your juices smeared across her pant leg. “You’re dripping already,” she reached out, her fingers dipping into your pussy, “you want to come around my fingers? Make a mess all over my desk?”

“Yes!” You replied, probably too eagerly and a blush crept onto your cheeks, “please. Need to.”

“Alright sweet girl.” Leaning in, Olivia pressed her lips to yours just as her fingers sunk into your cunt and she swallowed down the deep moan that left your throat. “Good girls do get rewarded after all.”

Her mouth quickly returned to your chest, sucking a nipple in between her lips, scraping at it with her teeth as her fingers began to pump in and out of your drenched pussy. Your head dropped back, a muffled cry from behind your closed lips as you dropped back onto your elbows for support. Fire was racing under your skin, your pussy already clenching down around her fingers and you both knew it wasn’t going to take very long before Olivia had your entire body shaking. With each thrust of her fingers the noises coming from your pussy got louder, wet and messy like the kisses she was leaving on your chest. Her teeth sunk into the sensitive skin around your nipple right as her fingers crooked and you cried out.

“Fuck!” Your voice was hoarse, your thighs quaking around her as she continued her movements, each time pressing harder and longer against the extra sensitive spot inside you.

“What do you say?” She nearly growled, her free hand moving to rub your clit and your hips nearly shot off the desk.

“Please Captain!” The coil deep in your stomach was winding tighter and tighter, the need for your release driving you wild enough that tears were beginning to form in the corners of your eyes.

“Please what?” She asked with a particularly hard pinch on your clit and you couldn’t help but moan.

“Please can I come?” You whimpered, “oh god, m’so close, please Captain.”

“You may.”

Olivia sucked your breast back into her mouth, her fingers working you perfectly, knowing just how to fuck you, just when she needed to crook her fingers again, just how hard to press and just how fast to rub your clit. She could feel your juices trickling down her wrist, your pussy clenching tighter and tighter.

“That’s it baby. Squeeze my fingers, let me feel you come.” She pressed her fingers even harder, her entire body rocking into the thrusts and with one final push of her hand you were crying out.

Your legs instantly wrapped around her, pulling her impossibly close to you as your body began to quake, whimpers and breathless moans leaving your lips. Your hand shot out, tugging her to you by the tie, ruining the perfect lines of her captain’s uniform as you gasped against her lips. A sturdy arm wrapped around your waist, hugging you to her while she peppered your face with gentle kisses and she slowly fucked you through your orgasm. When you finally let out a heavy breath, your head dropping onto her shoulder and your body nearly limp in her arms she slipped her fingers out of your pussy.

You let out a small whine, lifting your head and she couldn’t help but smile at the way you obediently opened your mouth for her to slide her fingers into so you could suck them clean.

“Good girl.” She cooed, her free hand stroking the side of your face, smoothing back your mussed up hair.

Her fingers slipped out of your mouth and she leant forward to press a gentle kiss to it while her hands readjusted your dress, neatly tucking your tits back under the fabric. Olivia took a moment to survey you, fixing the twisted strap of your dress, neatly combing her fingers through your hair, twisting the strands back into place and sliding a couple of bobby pins in properly. Her hands gently tapped your knees as she stepped back and you closed your legs so she could smooth the bottom of your dress back down. Her eyes slowly drifted back up your body, aside from your tinged cheeks and the way your lips were still parted in a final attempt to catch your breath, you looked completely normal, like you’d only stopped in the office to pick her up from work.

“Now, how about we get you home?” She held her hand out for you to take and helped you hop of the desk, a smile on her cheeks as you instantly nuzzled into her side.

“Yes please.”

“You better not be getting all tired on me,” she chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I wasn’t kidding about bending you over and fucking you hard enough to make you scream.”

_______________

Before people start flooding the ask box/comments, NO! There WILL NOT be a part two. If you come asking for it, that will not help the situation, it will just make it worse.

_________

@red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl rl @svushots @lesbianspacecowboy @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @venablemayfairgoode @alexusonfire @mysticfalls01 @beccabarba @littlegaybabe @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @enduringalexblake @wosoimagines @solemnnova @infernumlilith @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @wandas-wife @emskisworld @lawandorderuswnt @wandasbrat @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @sia2raw @ladysc @narvaldetierra @dxtery @poisonedcrowns @momlifebehard @holycrapraewth @alexxavicry @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @temp0rary-bliss @gamma-rae-bursts

#olivia benson #olivia benson x reader #law and order svu #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit

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rosenclaws · 4 months ago

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obsessed with your ex || Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: In his world you were his wife and he loved you and then you died. In this world you're his girlfriend and he loves you. At least you think he does. Still you can't help the voice in the back of your head telling you that you're nothing but a sad replacement.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY. insecure + jealous!reader, a very very toxic mindset, the reader's mind is very mean to her, reader is a mutant that can make objects disappear, angst, happy ending, rough sex, riding, french kissing, oral (f!receiving), a slight breakdown, soft sex, missionary, Logan is kinda a softie, cockwarming, fingering.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: Okay so it's here!! I need to make this clear that the readers mindset is NOT healthy and that relationships need good communication. That being said here's my fic idea that I've been thinking about for a bit. I love Olivia Rodrigo sm (I even saw her in concert!!) and this song was just begging to be written into a fic. Anyways I really hope you like it and that it's not too insane lmao. Also i made the graphic but i kinda hate it but i dont wanna change it so here we are I know it's ugly but its FINE

How long have you been here? Staring. Observing every little thing about you. Your nose, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your chin. The way your arms fall by your sides. Every. Little. Detail.

Did she have the same colored eyes? Did she talk like you? Was she smart? Was she powerful? Did he look at her the same way? Did he fuck her like he fucks you?

You clench your fists as you stare angrily at the mirror. He loves you. He says he loves you and yet it feels like you can never compare to her. She was the love of his life. She was an X-Men. She died. She was you. You're his dead fucking wife in his universe while you were nothing to the Logan in this one.

He looked at you like a kicked puppy that first day you met. A lost little pet that had been searching for its owner. Dragged through hell and back just to get to you. It was easy to fall for him. Handsome, a little rough around the edges. You hadn’t even been dating for that long but it didn’t matter right? He worshiped you. He loved you. He promised he loved you.

But sometimes in the back of your head you wonder if when he's kissing you, does he imagine her? Does he close his eyes while he's pounding into you and imagine it's her? How could you ever compete? She was perfect, she was kind, she was everything to him. Spiraling deeper and deeper into a whirlpool of doubt and envy. There's a heavy pounding on the door but you choose to ignore it. Too wrapped up in your twisted mind to care.

"Sweetheart, let me in." Logan's gruff voice was slightly muffled by the door.

You clench your jaw as you finally tear your eyes away from the mirror. You slam open the door taking Logan by surprise. His eyes scan yours for injury, a worried look in his face as he steps into the bathroom.

"I got worried, you were in here a long time." His arms wrap around your waist.

He's looking at you with pity. At least that's what your brain tells you. Was he worried that you were hurt because he loves you or because he was thinking of her death again? You know he still dreams of her. He can hide it when he's awake but the nightmares don't lie. It hurts so bad. Love me. Love me. You're jealous you know. She's dead, she's gone. So why can't he love you. You push him off and storm out the bathroom. Nothing makes sense anymore in your head.

"What the fuck?" Logan follows you and you feel yourself tensing up.

It's a miracle your powers haven't started to go haywire yet. So many different emotions swirl around in your head until it mixes together to form one single feeling.

Need.

You grab Logan's shirt and pull him into you. Smashing your lips onto his with a hunger that you've never felt before. Logan hisses as you bite his bottom lip harshly but you don't give him time to say anything as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He groans as he starts to take some control back. Hands slipping up your shirt and ripping to shreds with ease.

You pull back from his lips, chest heaving for air as you paw at his shirt. Silently demanding he take it off which he happily does. Your lips are back onto his in an instant. He slowly walks you back until you fall onto the bed. You fall onto the bed and lick your lips. The bugle in his pants is evident as you flick your hand and the belt disappears.

"I liked that belt." You pay no mind to his comment as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down, leaving him in his boxers.

"Easy there sweetheart," Logan pushes you back gently and crawls on top of you. Logan kisses down your chest, teasing each nipple with his tongue.

"Let me take my time." He purrs.

His hands touch and squeeze your breasts roughly making you whine. You watch his arms move, god he's so hot. He's close to making you forget. He kisses down, down, all the way down. He sneaks out the tip of his claws to pop open the button of your pants and he yanks them down until they're all the way off.

"There she is, my perfect girl." His girl. That's right your his girl. No one else's.

Logan pulls your panties to the side as he situates himself between your legs. He stuffs his face without shame, licking hungrily and practically moaning at the taste. You arch your back as Logan devours you. Watching his back muscles move are mesmerizing. He's yours. He loves you. He promises he does.

You can't stop the thoughts that begin to invade you. Overwhelmed by pleasure from Logan and pain from the horrible ideas that pop into your head. Did he do this with her too? Did he worship her? Do you taste like her? Is that why he can't get enough?

"Fuck!" You hiss as you sit up and tell Logan to stop. He does immediately, wondering what the hell is going on.

"Can't fucking wait." You scratch down his chest with your nails. He groans and tries to crawl on top of you but you shake your head.

"I'm going to ride you until you can't come anymore." You growl.

You bite his shoulder harshly making him hiss. It heals right up much to your dismay. How badly you wish you could mark him. You make his boxers disappear but before he can make a smart comment you sink down on him all the way. You whimper as you start to bounce on his cock. Loving how much he fills you.

You need to be fucked stupid. You're desperate for Logan to fuck every bad thought out of your head. To promise that he loves you so that you can believe him. You want to believe him. Please, you have to believe him.

"Sweetheart." Logan's breath is labored as you relentlessly fuck yourself on his cock. You feel so damn good but fuck he can tell something is on your mind.

"What do you need, let me help you." He sits up on his hands, placing one on your back as he tries to get you to slow down. His words make you want to scream. What do you need? You look at him and the only thing your rotten brain can tell you is that he is thinking of her.

"I need you to fucking love me!" You yell.

The dam of built up feelings breaks down as tears pour out of your eyes. Ugly, horrible sobs that make your body shake. Logan watches with horror in his eyes as he stills your hips, using his strength to lift you off of him as you continue to cry.

"I do love you." He says softly but you shake your head.

"No!" You shout. You pound your fist against Logan's chest over and over again but he barely moves.

"You love her! I know you do." Logan's heart breaks at the sound of your sobs.

"I'm not your dead fucking wife Logan!" You should regret the words coming out of your mouth but you can't stop them.

"You look at me and you see her. Like I'm just some fucking placeholder!" You let out an anguished scream as Logan captures your wrists in his hands. You know the stories. She was a hero, she was perfect in every single way.

"How can I compete with, with her?" You say completely defeated.

Your head falls against his chest. There's a sense of relief that washes over you. Thoughts that have plagued you for months are finally out in the open. Yet the fear of what comes next overtakes any other feeling.

"Look at me." Logan tilts your head up but you push his hand away.

"Sweetheart." He sighs and lets go of your face.

Logan's never been good at this. Talking. Being vulnerable. Then he lost everything and he hardened even more and he just. This was a new chance at life and even though it's hard he can't lose it all again.

"I know you're not her. Of course I do." Logan presses his forehead against yours, trying to get you to look at him.

"You loved her..." You croak out.

"I did love her. She was my wife. But I love you too. In a different way." He's a different man. Having gone through tremendous loss. It shaped him into who he is now.

"You're different people. Your powers act differently, you talk differently, you feel different. You are not a replacement." He says firmly.

When you finally look at him he feels this horrible pit in his stomach. He wipes away your tears but doesn't make any other move. It's not the right time.

"Would you have even given me a second thought? If I didn't look like her?" You ask, that question has haunted you for a while now but you never asked, too afraid of the answer. Logan is silent, unsure of how to answer.

"When I first saw you it was like a punch in the face." He starts. "For a moment I was 20 years in the past. Then I snapped out of it. You look like her, yes but you’re not her.” He gently traces a small scar on your jaw that you got when you were a child.

“I’m not the same as your Logan right? He was a leader, a hero and I was an angry drunk murderer.”

“I’m not gonna start listing all your fucking differences sweetheart, but I swear on my life that I love you for you.” He pulls you into a tight hug as you start to cry again. You cling onto him as tight as you can. The bad thoughts don’t just stop, even if you want them to but Logans whispering sweet words in your ear. Pushing out every bad thought for now.

“Logan,” You take a deep breath, letting Logan invade all your senses. Tobacco and whiskey.

“I need you.” He’s hesitant, not sure if it’s the right time.

“Please, I just need you.”

“Okay sweetheart, you have me.” He slowly rolls you over and lays you on your back.

He captures your lips into a kiss. His hips rolling slowly making you moan softly. His lips drift from your lips to the corner of your mouth to your cheek, trailing down. Each one so gentle, so full of love.

“You have this spot, righttt here.” Logan nibbles on your neck and you gasp when bites right at this spot that drives you wild. You melt into the mattress as he kisses over it.

“Always makes you relax.” He crawls lower, kissing down your body. He sits up on his knees and grabs a pillow to place under your back.

“I know you like to be slightly elevated because it means I can go just a little deeper.” He purrs as he takes his cock in his hands and gently rubs the tip of it along your folds. He slides two fingers into your cunt slowly.

“Know that my fingers drive you absolutely wild, that you need me to go slow to start.” You nod absentmindedly.

You never realized he picked up on all these things. His fingers start to slide in smoother, your cunt getting wetter for him. He leans down and takes a deep breath, groaning at the scent. He slips them out and licks them clean.

“Relax sweetheart,” He spreads your thighs and slips in all the way. Going slow but unrelenting, stretching you just how you like.

“So impatient, you never let me take it easy on you right? Just wanna be full all the time.” He leans down on his elbows as he rolls his hips nice and slow.

There will be no rough sex this time, this is about love. To show you that he truly does love you for you.

“Look at me,” He tilts your head so that your eyes meet. He smiles at the desperate look on your face.

“You can pretend it makes you all embarrassed, but I know you like eye contact.” He hums as he angles his hips so that he hits that perfect spot.

You jolt as pleasure rocks through your whole body but he keeps you under him. He’s slowly and methodically tearing you apart. Every touch, every word out of his mouth just makes it better. He knows. Of course he does.

“I love you Logan.” Your hands cup his face as you stare into his hazel eyes.

This time not filled with lust, but with a true deep love. He looks at you like you’re everything.

“I love you too.” He kisses you as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He smirks as he feels you start to squirm under him. You could never help it when you were close.

“Come on sweetheart, just let go.” He whispers in your ear.

His deep voice paired with the unrelenting feeling of his cock is all it takes. He holds you in his firm arms as a warm and wonderful tingling sensation runs through your whole body. A blissful smile on your face as you tilt your head back.

You feel your whole body relax as your mind calms. Logan tries to hide his growls as he fucks into you a little faster, until he’s coming hard and deep inside of you. He sighs in contentment as he stays inside of you. He taps your cheek lightly and you look up at him.

“I love you. No one else. Just you.” He moves to pull out but you whine. You need to be close to him right now. He chuckles as he slowly moves to your side. Spooning you tightly with his cock still deep inside of you.

“Can we talk?” You ask shyly.

“About what?” Logan grunts as he pulls you as close as he can get you.

“Anything?” He’s not much of a talker so he asks the questions instead.

How did you discover your powers? How did you meet wade? Just anything and everything and you tell him.

You talk for who knows how long. Staying wrapped in each other's arms. It helps, it really does. Logan listens, he really does listen. He wants to get to know you. He loves you. You rest your head on his chest, tracing shapes into his palm as you talk.

For the first time in a while your mind seems to settle. Ignoring any thought that may try and ruin your mood. It’s just you and him right now. There’s no looming figure of your alternate selves, not anymore.

Just you and Logan. Forever.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #worst!logan howlett x reader #worst!logan howlett smut

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vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

Text

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Five - The B*tch

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.5K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

ik people have been asking to be added to the taglist, but it is officially closed and has been for maybe two chapters now

Series Masterlist

The last time Y/N saw Daniel was Monday at daycare. She picked up Milo as he picked up Olivia for the last time before she was to stay with her mother.

Y/N and Daniel waited together for Milo and Olivia to walk out of daycare. They were bound to walk out of the gates together, so Daniel and Y/N stood side by side as they chatted.

When they picked up their children, Y/N wished him one more good luck on his race and took Milo home.

Now that they had each other’s numbers, Y/N and Daniel texted a lot. The number was just meant to be for playdates, but the moment he started sending her pictures from the location of the grand prix, it was game over. They spoke every moment, like a pair of teenagers.

For the next week, Olivia was with her mother. Although she was there every afternoon, Y/N never met her. It was Olivias doing. She was five, sure, but she was smart as hell. She was going to do anything in her power to keep the women apart.

But then on Friday, Y/N let the eyes scan the children's face for Olivia. She watched as, with shoulders slumped, she walked over to a tall woman with a stern face. She immediately grabbed a hold of Olivias arm.

"Come on, Milo," Y/N said softly, holding his hand as she walked over to Olivias mother. She weaved around other parents and their kids, giving their teacher a grateful nod.

In just seconds Y/N was standing in front of Olivias mother. "Hey," she said, offering her a kind smile and a wave. When Olivias mum just stared at her, she continued. "I'm Milo's mum and a friend of Daniels."

"Okay," replied Olivias mother, her voice flat.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. This was going to be a hard conversation. "So, my son and your daughter are good friends, and he was wondering whether Olivia would like to come over on Sunday to watch the F1 race?" She offered.

Still, Olivias mother stared. And then she laughed. Well, more like cackled. "Piss off and leave my daughter alone," she said and began dragging Olivia away.

With a gasp, Y/N covered Milo's ears. "Please don't swear in front of my son!"

Olivias mother waved her off and dragged her daughter away. Y/N just watched, still holding Milo's hand, as they walked away. When Olivias mother turned around and saw her staring, she held up her middle finger and flipper her off. Y/N quickly covered Milo's ears and walked with him back to their car.

They got home and Milo instantly set about playing with his toys. His mother set about finishing the work she had brought home with her while he watched television.

As she typed away at her work laptop, her phone vibrated against the kitchen table, ringing. The face that appeared on the screen was familiar, the face she had been hoping would appear for the last few days. Daniel grinned at her, the picture being the one he had taken in the park.

She slid her finger across the bottom of the screen and held the phone up to her ear. “Sup, Mr race car driver,” she said, continuing to type.

But she slowed down as Daniel began talking. “Sup, Miss Milo’s momma,” he responded, with equal enthusiasm.

Y/N let out a laugh. “Is that all I am to you? Just Milo’s momma?” She asked, but it wasn’t serious. The inflection in her voice said that much.

Daniel brushed it off. Well, he more laughed at it and moved on, instead of ignoring her completely. “Did you see Olivia today? I’m supposed to call her mother in a minute.”

Scratching the back of her neck, Y/N sucked in a breath. “Uh yeah. Yes, I did. And I met your ex. Daniel, I say this with the utmost respect, but she’s the-“ she looked towards the door and dropped her voice to a whisper “-fucking worst.”

Daniel let out a sigh. He knew. He knew how fucking terrible his ex was. If he could take Olivia away from it all, he would. But he couldn’t. “I know,” he said. “Trust me, I know. But how was Olivia?”

“She seemed… okay,” Y/N answered. “Milo and I tried to ask her mum if she could come to ours to watch the race on Sunday, but she immediately shut us down.”

It didn’t surprise Daniel. As soon as he was mentioned, his ex had probably made us her mind about Y/N, and there was no way she was going to let Olivia go to her house. She was a threat now, at least in his ex’s eyes. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry,” he said. “I should get going.”

“Wait!” Y/N called suddenly. “Have you raced yet today?”

Daniel couldn’t stop himself from laughing. She really knew nothing about F1 (it was adorable). Daniel quickly ran her through the Friday free practice. He explained that he wasn’t in the fastest car on the grid, but he was still performing well, better than the previous year. He even described to her what car to look out for when they watched the race on Sunday.

Finally, they said their goodbyes. Y/N went back to her work while Daniel called his ex.

***

It was Olivia who picked up her mother’s phone. She was going to get into trouble for that, but it was a chance to speak to her daddy. She wasn’t going to miss out on that.

“Daddy!” Olivia shouted as she pressed the phone against her ear.

“Hi Badger!” Daniel cheered. “Listen, kiddo, I need to speak to your mum for a minute, but I’ll talk to you after, okay? Do you think you can pass me over to her?”

Although her father couldn’t see it, Olivia nodded. She hopped down from the sofa and went up the stairs, searching for her mother. “Mum!” She called.

Her mother appeared from her dressing room, in a skintight black dress, hair done, and makeup almost finished. “What?” She snapped at Olivia. As soon as she saw the phone in her hands, she snatched it from her and looked at the caller ID.

Sending Olivia away, she pressed her phone to her ear. “Hey Danny,” she said in a sultry sweet voice, but Daniel knew better than to fall for it. “What can I do for you?”

“You’re not letting Olivia go to Milo’s house to watch me race?”

The fake smile she had been wearing dropped from her face. “So what? She can watch the race here if she can figure out how to use the television,” she said and sat back at her vanity to continue with her makeup.

“Oh, come on.” It wasn’t normal for Daniel to get angry, but his ex just brought it out in him. “Milo is the first friend she’s ever made. Don’t fuck this up for her and let her go to his house, please!”

“It’s my week with her, I can do what I want.”

“She’s not some sort of pet! She’s a human being, and she deserves to be treated like one!” He yelled (thank god he was alone in his hotel room).

“She’s my kid too, Danny!”

“Don’t call me that.” His voice was suddenly low.

She grinned, realising she had gotten to him. “Or what, Danny? What’re you going to do about it?”

But Daniel didn’t let it get to him. He sucked in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t going to get to him, not if it meant screwing things up for Olivia. “Look, you do this for me, and I’ll owe you one, okay?”

It was a risky proposal. She could have asked for anything, and he would have said yes, if it meant Olivia having fun with her friend. “Fine,” his ex said. “Fine, she can go, but I’m not picking her up.”

“Great, thank you,” he said. “Can I speak to Olivia now?”

Instead of answering, his ex ended the call and put the phone into her bag. That was fine; he got her another playdate, he could call her another time.

With the confirmation from his ex that the playdate would happen, Daniel sat about texting Y/N.

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

good news, she's happy for Olivia to come over

y/n (milo's momma)

great! I'll get them some snacks

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

olivia's gonna love it one problem though, you're gonna have to pick her up from her mothers house I don't want her having your address

y/n (milo's momma)

that's more than fine, danny

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

are you okay if I say milo's name on television? i wanna say hello to the kids when i'm getting interviewed

y/n (milo's momma)

that's fine, danny just keep it to his first name pls he's so excited

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

i know olivia is gonna be excited too i'll see you monday, okay?

y/n (milo's momma)

see you monday, danny

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @stay1strongbeautiful @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader

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harryslittlefreakk · 10 months ago

Text

obsessed

summary: harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

warnings: none! fluffy fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst, mentions nudity

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i am a loud & proud olivia rodrigo stan sooo naturally i had to write something. it’s silly and cheesy and short! but i hope you enjoy!!

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here!! happy reading my loves 💖

“Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?” You didn’t even need to look up from your book to know Harry was about to throw himself down on the end of your bed, his coat and shoes still on. Every time you got home before him he’d bound into your room like a little labrador, too excited to see you to even drop his stuff down first.

“No, you have to guess.”

“Could’ve been anyone, H,” you told him, feigning reluctance as you closed your book and looked up at him. The second you heard his key rattling in the door you’d wait for the sound of your door bursting open, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life. But you’d never let him know that, so every day you’d pretend it was an annoyance to have him perched at your feet.

“Think of someone you really don’t like,” he persisted, a toothy grin nestled between his dimpled cheeks.

“Literally could be anyone.”

“Come on! Blonde hair, tall, pretty…”

Of fucking course. His stupid, evil, awful ex girlfriend. And naturally, the only way you could react to hearing about her was to reach over and shove him before crossing your arms over your chest. “Ow! What was that for?” Harry laughed, rubbing at his upper arm.

“I was having such a nice day. And then you have to come in and mention that.” It was massively childish, but you couldn’t help but feel violent every time you heard about her. She was fine for the most part, maybe a little too conceited for your taste, but she’d made Harry happy. But you’d watched from the outside as Harry went through relationships, and he always morphed into whatever version of himself he thought the girl would prefer. He stopped being your Harry, and your friendship would suffer for it. But you couldn’t say anything, could never treat his girlfriends with anything but a polite smile and quick conversation, unless you wanted to out yourself as a jealous little girl. And you definitely didn’t want to do that.

This time, however, the ability to hate her had been handed to you on a silver platter when she decided to go home with one of Harry’s friends on a night out. You were his shoulder to cry on, the one to make him smile again after days of moping around. So you had full permission to hate her, and you were relishing in it - as much as you could while still tiptoeing around Harry’s aching heart.

“She wants to meet for a coffee this week,” he told you, scrunching his eyes tight as he waited for another shove. When nothing came, he squinted over to see you rubbing at your temples. “Are you gonna?” you asked, brows furrowed as you imagined the two of them back together.

“Am I allowed?” Harry teased, turning round to lay on top of you, his face only inches from yours. “You’re a grown man, H. Couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to,” you told him, your voice void of any emotion.

“Dunno if it’s a good idea. She might find me too irresistible and then I’ll have to deal with that,” he grinned, not noticing the change in your face. You looked down as you felt your lip start to quiver, too proud to show how your heart sank. “I need to shower, H. Dinner after?” you asked, slipping out from under him and dragging your heavy limbs towards the door. He looked over at you with round, questioning eyes, only to be met by silence and a weak smile as you headed for the bathroom.

You barely got the door shut behind you before the tears came, hot and heavy drops rolling down your cheeks. You knew you couldn’t have Harry, but every minute spent with him had your heart breaking over and over again. Every little cuddle, every touch, lit you up with a fire that burned to the bones. But then you’d see the way he acts with a girlfriend, the way he loved someone, and all those moments you shared seemed silly and infantile. He was your best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as the sobs wracked your body. You’d tried so hard to push away the feelings, to convince yourself that you were just confused and overwhelmed. He’s a friend, he’s a friend, he’s a friend, echoing around your mind. But deep down, you knew that no one could ever compare to Harry. He was yours, the only one to ever steal a piece of your heart.

“Y/n? M’coming in.” You froze as Harry’s voice came from the other side of the door, clamping a hand over your mouth to hold the sobs in. “I’m naked,” you called out, scrambling to your feet and wiping away your tears with your sleeve. But he opened the door anyway, stopping in the doorway when he saw your tear-stained face. “Didn’t even turn the shower on yet,” he muttered, glancing over at it.

“Why’re you crying?”

“M’not,” you whispered, choking out a giant sob as you turned your face away from Harry, sinking down onto the edge of the bath.

“Quite clearly are. Move,” he ordered, swatting you away before reaching to turn on the taps.

“What are you-”

“If you’re sad, I’m sad. And I like having a bath when I’m sad,” Harry shrugged, turning around to grab one of your bath bombs.

“I was gonna shower, you can’t-”, between the sobs, your confusion and the need for Harry not to know why you were crying, you could barely string a sentence together.

And when Harry pulled off his t-shirt, you were even more lost for words, left with your mouth gaping and only air coming out. “Joining me?” he asked, tipping too much bubble bath into the steamy water - something you’d have to scold him for later.

“I’m not getting in with you,” you told him, once you’d finally got a grip on your brain.

“Just get under the bubbles. And you can close your eyes when I get in.”

“No way.” You hugged your arms over your chest, drawing your swollen bottom lip into your mouth as you watched a shirtless Harry mix the bubble bath into the water. The way his muscles flexed, the tattoos littered across his tanned, slender frame. His skin always looked perfect, not Barbie doll smooth but irresistibly soft. Your fingers took on a mind of their own, slowly reaching out to touch him before he turned around with a smug grin. “Fine, go away then while I have my nice relaxing bath.”

“I want a bath,” you whispered, barely audible over the running water splashing into the tub. “What was that, angel?” Harry grinned, moving his towel onto the toilet seat. “I want a bath,” you told him, louder now, a tiny smile dancing on your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of one of your hands, tugging you closer to the bathtub. He turned you around before pulling your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in just your little pyjama shorts. Just the brush of his fingertips against your bare torso sent chills down your spine. “M’not looking. Tell me when you’re in,” Harry told you, dropping your t-shirt to his feet.

You pushed your pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, checking behind you to see if Harry really wasn’t watching. True to his word, he had his eyes scrunched tight and his hand clenched over them. You’d seen each other in bathing suits and underwear so many times before, but being naked in the same room as Harry felt beyond weird. You’d never been overly shy about your body, especially with someone who made you feel as pretty and as comfortable as Harry did, but this would add a whole new layer to your friendship - and you didn’t know if you’d survive it. Still, you sunk into the bathtub and pulled the mass of bubbles to your end, trying to keep your breasts under the water before you told Harry he can look. “It’s really hard to make bubbles stay put, H,” you told him, screwing up your face as you tried to hold them steady.

He was laughing as he pulled his trousers and socks off, great big guffaws tumbling out every time the bubbles tried to escape your grip. “Want me to turn the lights down a bit? Then it’s harder to see,” he shrugged, nodding towards the light switch. You nodded, grateful that he cared enough to make sure you were 100% comfortable. It was one of the things that first drew you to Harry, and definitely what you valued most about him. He was always so kind, always caring, so willing to put anyone’s needs above his own - and that’s why relationships always changed him.

“Close your eyes then,” he said, mockingly holding two hands in front of his bulge. You rolled your eyes, finally starting to lighten up as the hot water washed over you. When Harry reached out to swat at your nose, you closed your eyes tight. You felt him stepping into the bathtub after a minute, his long legs slotting down your left-hand side.

“Hi,” he smiled when you opened your eyes. “Gonna tell me what upset you now?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you told him, your voice small.

“It is if it made you that upset,” Harry countered, placing a gentle hand on your calf, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

You paused for a moment, trying to think of what you wanted to say and how to say it. “It just- she doesn’t deserve you, H. Anyone who hurts you like that doesn’t deserve any of your time and respect.” Your eyes dropped to the water as you spoke, your body frozen. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but as soon as he did, you needed to say more. “You were really sad, Harry. It sucked for you and it sucked for me too because I don’t like seeing you like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that, but I can’t just sit and wait for her to hurt you like that again. Not when you know she’s capable of it.”

You watched the smaller bubbles popping one by one by one, suddenly anxious in the silence that followed your speech. You hated going against Harry, putting your two cents into something that really didn’t concern you, but sometimes he needed to hear it.

“I know,” he replied finally. “But do you think that because you don’t like her?”

“Harry, no! I don’t like her because she did that to you.”

“You were never her biggest fan,” he shrugged, his brows knitted when you finally pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“She changed you, H. You were different with her, less you. Everything is so surface level with her, it’s looks and Instagram likes and who’s got trouble with who. There’s no substance, nothing deeper.”

Harry’s thumb halted as he shook his head, his jaw clenching slightly. “It doesn’t always have to be deeper,” he sighed, rubbing at his chin with his free hand.

“I know it’s not my place but you need someone who brings out the best in you, you need-”

A bitter laugh from Harry stopped you in your tracks, your mouth snapping closed as a chuckle slipped out of his. He met your questioning gaze with a tiny smirk. “She always used to say you were jealous of her.”

You could feel the tears collect on your bottom eyelashes again as he said it, the words stinging like barbed wire sinking into your skin. How could you even respond? “Harry-” was all you could manage before your mouth ran dry.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n,” he told you, his voice soft as he reached out for your hand. “Come here,” he whispered, tugging at your fingertips. “I’m- we-” you started, gesturing between your bare bodies with your free hand, eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, motioning for you to turn around.

Somewhat reluctantly, you did, leaning back into his body until your back hit your chest. You were exposed in every sense, your chest sitting just above the waterline and your heart on your sleeve. Harry wrapped an arm around your torso, his delicate touch careful not to go anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Truth is I probably need someone like you. Only one to make me happy on a shitty day, only one who gives me any effort,” he murmured, his voice so low that if he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your heart quickened as he spoke, your pulse pounding against your inner wrists. “I’m not- I don’t have anything that she-” you choked out.

“S’a good thing, no?” Harry asked, turning his head just slightly until his lips brushed tentatively against your earlobe. “No, Harry. You need more, you need-”

“You,” he finished for you. “Just say the word and I’m yours, angel.”

It was like someone had handed you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter, all you had to do was reach out and take it. But it wasn’t that easy. If anything went south, you risked losing Harry forever. You shuffled back out of his grip, turning to sit in front of him, perched on your knees. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about him seeing your body, your words willing themselves from your lips. “If anything went wrong Harry, I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

“What would go wrong? We know we get along, we have the same traits and the same values. We’re already doing life together,” he reached out a hand to cup your cheek as he spoke, his eyes laced with nothing but earnestness.

“I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

“Never. Never ever, I swear. I thought about it for a while but it never really clicked until now.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Harry spoke, desperately needing to figure out if it was all a dream. The sensation of his touch, the sound of his voice, the gentle heat of the water – it all felt too real to be a dream. But a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was too perfect, too surreal to be true. You hesitated, unsure if you should dare to believe in the fairytale unfolding between the two of you.

As if he could see the cogs turning in your head, Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, entwining your fingers in yours instead. He squeezed lightly, the corners of his lips turning up into a little smile. "I'm here, y/n," he whispered. "This is real, promise." His words were a lifeline in the sea of doubt that threatened to consume you. Even if it was a dream, it was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you confessed, allowing yourself to give into the fantasy for at least a little while. You fought the urge to search for the hidden cameras, check the date to make sure it wasn’t an April Fools prank. Harry was a goof, but you were a thousand percent sure he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that.

“Just say the word,” he repeated, his husky voice laced with sincerity and longing.

“I want this,” you whispered, clutching onto Harry’s hand as if you could fall off the Earth at any minute. His face erupted into a grin so cheesy that you couldn’t help but mirror it, eyes locked onto his as he closed the distance between the two of you.

Harry’s lips met yours softly, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you melted into him, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs by the urgency and desire behind his soft movements. He pulled away after a minute, his forehead pressed to yours as he searched your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. Although all Harry was met with was a sparkle in your gaze, and a further few pecks landing on his lips. “Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands splaying across your back. “Should’ve done it before you got me naked,” you teased, succumbing once again to his kiss.

rrrr i really don’t know how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

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mywritersmind · 5 months ago

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CAT PARENTS - LN4

pt.3

summary : Part three!! Surprise surprise, Lando is in disbelief when Olivia shows up at his race! A weekend in Monaco is all it takes for the two to go from friends to blind idiots that are crushing on each other

OG SUMMARY (A kitten is all it takes to get two strangers in the same bed for the night. Lando likes how she doesn’t know him, Olivia likes the cat that he’s trying to take from her.)

listen up : at this point i’m writing a whole story so more parts will be coming!

word count : 2244

“You’re freaking out. Why?” Max asks me as I enter the Paddock.

My life has been crazy over the past three weeks. I’ve texted and called Lando non stop, Have interacted with all his friends, and am now some sort of F1 fan??

This all landed me right into his world, Max invited me. Not Lando. That’s why I'm freaking out because I'm surprising Lando and I don’t even know if he likes me but I really like him and I miss him even though we’ve literally met once.

“Surprises are nerve-wracking!” I frown at Max as he leads me through the crowds.

“Don’t worry! He will be excited. Trust me.” The way he says those last two words makes me feel more confident. I don’t know how much guys tell their friends about their relationship but I tell my girls everything. I’m hoping it’s close to the same.

I told Max I needed to wait until after the race, I don’t know what kind of preparation he does before and I don’t want to mess anything up.

Max hands me a glass of champagne once we’re in hospitality, “Breathe. Race is in five minutes.” He points down to the garages, “There’s your boy.” my heart beats faster when I see him. ‘Seeing him’ is an interesting phrase because I can only really see his helmet since he’s inside the car.

I relax a bit when Landos teammate's girlfriend joins us. Her name is Lily and even though she’s quiet, she’s incredibly funny and good at making me feel welcome.

Max and Lily help me understand a bit when a red flag happens, some drivers get lapped, the whole dirty air thing.

But before I know it, Lando is crossing the finish line, first.

“Oh my god!” I slap my hand over my mouth as Max grins at me.

“Ready to go see your lover boy?”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

From where we left things, Lando and I had facetimed nearly every day, talking about anything and everything. Everytime I show Juan he looks like he’s about to cry and talks about how big she’s getting.

One night however, stuck with me the most.

His texts were stupid and silly. But I can’t help but wonder why I was the one his mind went to.

Now I'm fiddling with my rings and walking down to the driver's area. Max said he’d have time before a bunch of interviews so I could sneak in quickly.

I knock on his door and when he opens it, I can’t help but smile. His hair is wet with champagne, his curls falling into his face and his suit half unzipped.

His blank stare turns into a wide grin in an instant, “You’re here!” He yells.

I grin, “You’re like sherlock.”

He shakes his head and pulls me into a hug, “Sorry! I’m all gross right now.” He keeps his hands on my waist, “Where is Juna!?”

We talk for five minutes alone, he asks me a million questions and I congratulate him for the millionth time. “Come meet Oscar!” He grabs my hand, all giddy, and drags me to a hallway that’s taken up by three men.

Orange, Red, and Blue.

He introduces me to Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen. They all look far too interested in me for three rich and successful men.

“How’d you two meet?” Daniel asks, sipping on his water.

“He tried to steal my cat.” I say easily as Lando hits my arm playfully.

“I tried to help our cat!”

“Our?” Oscar raises a brow.

We tell them about Juna and our ridiculous night in. They’re all laughing at my joke about Lando being a great cat dad when another driver joins us.

“A female?” This one I know, Alex Albon is one of my favorites (especially because his girlfriend is iconic) When all the boys look at Lando the Williams driver laughs, “Woah- When did you get a girlfriend Lan?”

This makes Lando blush, “No she’s- Uh… This is Olivia!” He clarifies awkwardly as Alex looks thoroughly impressed that he embarrassed him before smiling at me and shaking my hand.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lily is my saving grace tonight. Lando’s been busy all night, he keeps glancing at me from across the room and mouthing ‘i’m sorry’. But it’s honestly no worries because I’ve made a new best friend.

“Are you nervous?” She asks me, sipping on her cocktail in one of the drivers backyards.

I shrug, “A little? It’s weird- like I don’t know anyone but I know the whole world does.”

She laughs, nodding, “You’ll get used to it. Especially with Lando- not that you’re together or anything… but fame sort of follows.”

I hadn't even thought about that. I’ve seen the posts about him, the drama, and gossip that have been spread. I never realized that could be about me one day.

“I didn't mean to freak you out!” she says quickly.

“No! No, Don’t worry. I understand.” we fall into an easy conversation about work and how we’ve each ended up in our respective fields. Alex Albon interrupts us, placing his hand on Lily’s back and smiling.

“Lando is looking for you. Fair warning though… the boys are in interrogation mode.”

I should have listened to Alex’s warning more carefully because now I’m sat in a circle in front of a fire pit, being grilled.

“You seriously didn’t know Lando?” one asks.

“She’s american-”

“Actually her dad is a fan-” Lando tries to defend.

“Christ… of Alonso, not you.” someone laughs.

“Can we keep her?”

I laugh as Lando looks incredibly embarrassed, “She’s not a dog!”

“But I still like her!” It’s Carlos who’s arguing, “You know Alexandra would adore her- and we need someone to keep you in line.”

Charles nods along, “It’s true.”

“In line?” Lando scoffs, “I’m never out of line!”

Oscar raises a brow, “So we’re not gonna talk about that reporter you-”

“Okay!” Lando stops the conversation, “How about you lot have a normal conversation instead of interviewing Liv?”

Max Verstappen crosses his arms, looking pretty intimidating until his eyes light up, “Can I see your shared cat?” Now this is a topic I can talk about. I pull up photos of Juna and I yap about the silly things she’s done and clothes she’s ruined.

“So Lan… when are you getting her on Quadrant?” Max F smirks mischievously.

“She’s also not a guinea pig.” He says, leaning against my chair, “I’m so sorry.” He whispers to me.

“Don’t worry. It’s funny.”

“Can I ask you something, Olivia?” Max starts again and Lando immediately sits up.

“No.” he answers for me.

“What did you think about Lando’s drunk texting because let me tell you- I thought it was hilarious!” Lando’s best friend teases ruthlessly.

I’m trying not to laugh as Lando stands up, “I’m getting a drink!” When he walks past Max he pushes his head, messing up his hair.

I look at Max, “You’re torturing him.”

“He’s friends with you, He can handle it.” He just shrugs and while I try not to cling onto his words, I walk inside.

Lando’s back is turned to me, pouring some water.

I lean against the counter, “Looks like a fun way to celebrate a win.” I joke as he turns around quickly.

“I wanted to show you something after this- obeying the law and everything.” he shrugs. Take me somewhere? God he’s so mysterious yet it’s like I can see right through him.

I smile as he shyly looks down, “So the texts-”

“Lando, It’s fine.”

He shakes his head, his hand going to the back of his neck while his face bunches up, “No… I’m really sorry. I honestly had to delete them because I was so embarrassed. I never even drink that much!”

He’s rambling, his cheeks going pink when he notices I'm laughing, “Lan. It’s okay. Honestly it was funny.”

This seems to calm him, stepping closer and looking down at me, “I know that we’re not like best friends, or anything… but I did miss you.”

My heart skips a beat, meeting Lando’s icy eyes, “I…”

“Barbecue!” Daniel Riccardo screams as he enters the kitchen. We both spin around to see the man who slaps his arms back down to the side of his body, “Barbecue…?”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando and I are spending three days together in Monaco. Wow. Okay. This is happening. This is crazy! What am I even thinking!? I can’t just crash at this guy's place all week! Not to mention he payed for my ticket which was super embarrassing!

Lando insists that it’s fine and that it’ll be great, “Lily and Alex will be here too! Everyone else who lives here as well but you don’t want to hang out with all my friends so I can show you around!” His smile is so bright that I just nod at his words. He’s holding Juna in his arms, he convinced me to fly out with her just because he missed her.

Cat dad.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Fuck!” I watch Lando fall into the harbor, slapping my hands over my mouth, I let out a muffled scream, “Lando!”

His head pops up with some sort of seaweed on him, He coughs once, climbs out of the water, and laughs, “That’s a first.” Is all he says before pulling his soaking shirt off.

I eye him, “Christ, we’re in public.” He eyes me right back, squeezing the water out with his arms… okay! “Are you okay?” I try to stop laughing but he looks like a wet puppy.

“I’m great!” He frowns, “Just got PUSHED in!” I scoff, clutching my necklace.

“I did no such thing!”

What truly happened was we were messing around, a little tipsy on the night air and how laughably terrible our day has been.

We had gotten turned away from three restaurants, We paid off the paparazzi, I fell on a bike and fucked up my knee, Juna got out and we almost died for a second…

This all led to multiple inside jokes and a feeling of being tied together through ridiculous trauma. When I pretended to push Lando in the water, he actually tripped and fell!

“We’re a mess.” He laughs as he runs his hand through my hair, “Well- I’m a mess!” He looks down at himself.

“Can't argue with that.” his mouth pulls into a smirk, “I think it’s time to go home.”

Lando sighs dramatically, “I think it’s time for ice cream.” He takes my hand in his, his cool skin warming me. He just pulls me in the other direction, I walk with him but my mind is on our intertwined hands.

He brings me to a little gelato place, orders in french and jokes with the owner as if he’s here 24/7.

“I didn’t know you speak french.” I say as we sit outside of the shop, licking my strawberry gelato off the spoon.

He laughs a bit, “I don’t. Just ice cream orders and casual greetings.” I smile at him, he’s in his own hoodie that he let me borrow before we went out. He felt horrible taking it from me but he was literally shivering with his wet shirt on.

I hum along to the song being played by a little band at a bar nearby, Lando smiles at me like he knows something.

“What?” I ask, feeling self conscious now.

He just shuts his mouth, mumbling, “Nothing…”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

LANDO NORRIS

She’s beautiful.

Genuinely gorgeous.

I’ve never really felt like this before. I think women are pretty every day, but with Liv… She’s just so stunning that it hurts.

When I fell into the water, I was pissed, but then I got out and she was laughing. She’s got a good laugh, the kind you want to laugh with. So I did, and I haven’t taken my eyes off her since. The moonlight sparkles in her eyes as she looks at me, confused.

I want to kiss her so badly.

It would be perfect, we’re alone, the streets are quiet, that band is strumming a toon. But I can’t tell if she fancies me. She’s here and she’s happy but I’ve never been good at being friends with women.

I don’t want to ruin what we have right now. It’s early still and she has two more days here…

“Lando?” Her sweet voice makes me sit up straighter, “You look freezing.” Her hand slips to my face, her hands are warm and I see the alarm in her face when she feels my cold skin.

I let out a dry laugh, “I am.”

Her hand moves down my arm, to my hand, “Let’s go then. Juna is probably plotting her second escape.” She takes my hand as we stand, not meeting my eyes, and that right there, gives me the tiniest bit of hope.

#fanfic #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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astralfortune · 7 months ago

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You're the manager of a rising idol group. When a fan finds their apartment and posts it online, your group is forced to move to another home. Which happens to be the same apartment complex as yours.

Now, this wouldn't be a problem except for one thing. Nobody knows that you're a completely different person at home! Will you do whatever it takes to keep up the act at work or will you reveal your true self to your new neighbors?

Bridging the Gap is a simple slice-of-life story about letting down your guard and connecting with the people you're around. Play as the manager of an idol group and help them as they settle into their new home and prepare for their comeback.

Play as Male, Female, or Non-Binary

Choose between four work personalities (Stoic, Aloof, Caring, Energetic) and four home personalities (Shy, Reserved, Prickly, Easygoing)

Experience the personality gap lifestyle

Manage your idol group and build your relationship with Fortune

Perhaps find love with one of them?

Romance Options

Taeyang/Hayoon Lee

Leader of the group, Fortune

As the leader, they carry a heavy burden on their shoulders but that doesn’t stop them from pursuing their dreams and striving to be the foundation their fledgling group needs. Calm and perceptive, they take things in stride and somehow always seem to find the best solutions to any complications. Will you be the equal they need in the middle of change?

Taeyang stands at 5'9 with short black hair while Hayoon is 5’7 with long black hair. Their deep brown eyes show every emotion.

Xavier/Xanthe Cothran

Vice leader of Fortune

X is the quiet sort, preferring to let the others do the talking. They’re passionate about their work, often the last one to leave the practice room. That doesn’t mean they’re cold or distant. In fact, they love spending time with their group even if they don’t say anything. Will you be their solace from the noise of the industry?

Both Xavier and Xanthe are 6 '0 with shoulder length dark brown hair. Xavier prefers to tie it back while Xanthe keeps it loose. Their hazel eyes are deep and captivating.

Elias/Elaine Auclair

Dance leader of Fortune

The most outgoing of the group, E is very much a mood maker. They love dragging the members for outings or meals. New experiences are what motivates E to become more successful. Somehow they almost always have a smile on their face, so surely they must be hiding something underneath, right? Right?

Elias stands at 5’10 with short blonde hair, often styled. Elaine is 5’7 and her long blonde hair is well taken care of. Their blue eyes shine with life and joy.

Oliver/Olivia Harcourt

The youngest of Fortune

The youngest of the group and also the oldest of four siblings. O shamelessly takes advantage of their position now that they have others to be the responsible ones. They’re cheeky and full of life, O is often found with E coming up with a variety of shenanigans. However, underneath all the mischief O cares deeply about those they’re close to, including you. Will you find comfort and healing during your time with O?

Oliver is 5’7 while Olivia stands at 5’5. They both have blue dyed hair. Oliver keeps his short while Olivia’s is shoulder length. Their brown eyes are warm and welcoming.

Demo: Here

#interactive fiction #choicescript #if wip #dashingdon #hosted games #choice of games

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thearchivesofhalcyon · 5 days ago

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DEMO (Released: 18/01 / Prologue and Chapter One) | FEEDBACK FORM

You are living a good life, you can’t complain. As a government agent who works for a national security intelligence firm called Halcyon Tech, your position is the beginning of a bright future ahead and a name to hold, and you’re happy with that until your boss decides that it’s time for the Government and the Company to part ways. It was the day of your 24th birthday when you were caught in the middle of a war you didn’t want to be. And as if the gunshots were fireworks, they wished you a Happy Birthday, turning your life upside down. Now you find yourself entangled in a conspiracy theory that you thought could only be real in movies, and you have to fight against that to have your life back together along with your new team formed with old and new partners. Are you willing to protect the Halcyon secrets with your life? Or are you going to blow them up for the world to see?

Rating: 16+.

Content Warnings: Violence, Death, Alcohol, Sexual Content, Strong Language.

Select your gender, pronouns, appearance, sexuality, personality and backstory through your choices.

Have a little companion robot!

Be a proud owner of a pet that suits you, or be a plant parent.

Choose to take revenge on the ones who got in your way, or help them clean up the mess you all are involved in.

Build up your goals and motivations and see them grow real, or drag you to your failure.

Romance and befriend five companions: the stoic CEO of the Halcyon Tech Company; your charismatic, but stubborn best friend and sidekick; your unpredictable, ambiguous and charming commander; a shy, but overburdened agent with a mysterious past; and an genius with an easy-going personality and a tendency to make the wrong choices.

CONNOR/CORNELIA SUTTER | 28 | July 17th | PLAYLIST

While Connor has short straight black hair, Cornelia uses her hair in a short classic bob blunt cut, both sharing a bang that falls exactly at the beginning of their eyebrow. They have a pointed nose with triangular shape, dark eyes slightly angled to the sides with a gray glow in them, just like the shade of the clouds when a storm is forming. You also always take notice of the little mole under their right eye. They have sharp features, pale skin, and a slender body. Connor is 6'1", and Cornelia is 5'7".

Professional, reserved and distant, it’s a little too hard to extract any information from them besides what they care to give you about work since they’re undoubtedly cold every time anyone tries to approach. You always think they probably don’t have a life, since they often call you late at night for missions.

OLIVER/OLIVIA MADDOX | 26 | August 9th | PLAYLIST

Their appearance is made to stand out, especially due their height, Oliver is 6'4" and Olivia is 5'11", and their strong arms and broad shoulders. Their skin is tanned for the time they spend in the sun training, and while Oliver has straight short light brown hair although kinda messy, Olivia has shoulder length hair that often is seen in a messy ponytail, with a lot of strands escaping and covering her soft features. Their eyes are in a gentle amber shade, with long and charming eyelashes. They’ve a perfect smile with protuberant fangs.

Your partner in crime, and against crime too. Their charm is hard to resist, and they know how to use it. Without this facade, they are fiercely competitive and tease you all the time, being annoyingly possessive and protective.

ELLIOT/ELEONORA ADAMANTIS | 31 | September 7th | PLAYLIST

Elliot has medium length dark brown hair with a ghostly bunch of curls, and Eleonora has wavy long hair that ends around her waist, along with a long bang. They have eyes with a mix of green and brown depending on the light, but often the green wins. They are tall, Elliot is 6'2" and Eleonora is 5'9", and their body is noticeably muscular, with broad shoulders and back. Their left eyebrow is decorated with an evident scar, and normally Elliot has a bit of stubble on his chin and jaw.

Blunt, sarcastic and unpredictable, something in your mind always says that you shouldn’t trust them. They have the smile of someone who’s hiding the world, but still can convince you to do anything for them. You really don’t know how they manage to be so popular and part of the government, since they really don’t look like they care about people.

ALEC/ALEXA ORION | 25 | April 12th | PLAYLIST

They both have light blond hair, but in Alec’s case it is combed back with so much care that you don’t really know if his hair is straight or it’s just the gel, while Alexa is always with her wavy hair secured in a perfect bun. Sky blue eyes, beige skin with some freckles along their nose bridge. Medium height, Alec with 5'8" and Alexa with 5'4", skinny and with a vulnerable aura.

They always seem to be on edge. Contrary to what you might think about them because of their appearance, they’re a little stressed and impatient, and don’t like to be judged as a weak person. Even so, they usually try to hide their temper and keep a cool attitude — although it doesn’t work most of the time.

LUKE/LUNA ADLER | 22 | January 23rd | PLAYLIST

Dark brown and perfect clear skin, short height, Luke with 5'5" and Luna with 5'1", and a chubby frame. Luke has wavy shoulder length dark red hair, and Luna has long micro braids down until her waist, also dark red. Their irises are big enough to make the rich tone of their light green eye color almost glow, contrasting with the deep dark circles under their eyes. They have a few tattoos on their arms and puffy adorable cheeks.

They like to talk, especially when it’s something about their job or anything they understand well to form an opinion. Quick-minded, empathetic and perceptive, it’s hard to hide something from them, but it’s not like you need to. They are like a child. Or like a dog. Or like the two of them: a puppy.

#if #interactive fiction #the archives of halcyon taoh #twine game #drama #romance #current wip #demo #new chapter #prologue #chapter 1 #if: intro #taoh

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frenchkisstheabyss · 9 months ago

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♡A Sky Full of Stars♡

♡ Pairing: idol!dad!hongjoong x fem!mom!reader

♡ Genre: the fluffiest of fluff

♡ Summary: Just some sweet moments you share with Hongjoong when you and your daughter surprise him after their Coachella set.

♡ Word Count: 1.4k

♡ Warnings: If there's any warning it's that your kid has a name. I know some people don't like that. She's named after an artist Joong likes who I think has a pretty name so that's all babes.

♡ A/N: I set out to make this super fluffy summer road/beach trip fic with Joong but I sat down to write and this is what came out instead so I present to you some post-concert fluff and I hope it gives you all the sweet feelings it gave me writing it.

This can’t be real.

It’s all Hongjoong keeps repeating in his head as he steps off of the Sahara stage at Coachella. His ears are ringing, his heart’s beating out of his chest, his throat’s on fire, and he’d walk right back on that stage to keep going if he could.

It seems like only yesterday his group was fighting to debut; now they’re here, performing on a stage some artists can only dream of stepping foot on. The joy on his member’s faces. The sound of their fans screaming for them. It’s a special kind of magic he wishes he could bottle up and keep somewhere safe to treasure forever.

“Captain!” Wooyoung cheers, throwing an arm around him, “We did good?” Hongjoong looks around to see his members staring at him, his approval all that matters in the sea of praise thrown at them by staff. Hongjoong nods, wiping his face with a towel, “We did good!” Smiles perk up their exhausted faces as they drag themselves down the steps leading to the backstage area.

Stepping onto the grass, Hongjoong stares up at the infinity pool of stars that is the California sky. Just when he feels himself begin to float away, a faint tugging at his pants keeps his feet on the ground. It’s so faint that he almost questions if he felt it at all until Yeosang lays a hand on his shoulder letting him know, “You have company.”

Hongjoong’s eyes dance their way down his leg to find a smaller nearly identical set of eyes staring up at him. All he’d done not to cry is for nothing when he sees the chubby glitter speckled cheeks of his little 2 year old smiling at the sight of him. “Olivia…” he gasps, scooping her into his arms, “What are you doing here?”

The other members gather around like moths to a flame. Of any fan they’ve ever had their niece will always be their favorite. Mingi squats down to eye level with her, pinching her cheek, “Hi, Oli. Uncle’s here.” “Oh look at these” San coos, playing with the two ponytails sat atop her tiny head, “So cute.”

Hongjoong holds her close to his heart, shaking the tears from his eyes. “Daddy cry?” she asks, touching his cheek. Hongjoong smiles, choosing to dodge the question rather than lie, “Um, where’s your mo—” “Here!” you say, hugging him from behind. You had every intention of announcing yourself to begin with but the happiness on his face seeing Oli was too adorable to interrupt.

That same happiness plays on repeat when he feels your arms around his waist. You weren’t supposed to be here. Your flight had been delayed twice and the baby was beginning to get fussy. Hongjoong had insisted you just stay home and watch the livestream. Just knowing you were watching would be enough for him but that’d never be enough for you. If you had to grow wings to fly yourself here you’d have done it to be by his side.

Not satisfied with simply knowing you’re there, Hongjoong reaches his free arm back to pull you around to his side. Time slows when he looks at you this way—like you’re one of the most precious things on this Earth. You’re one of two really, the other’s bouncing in his other arm with her fingers scrunched around his collar.

“Hey you” you beam, wiping a few rogue tears from his face. Hongjoong kisses you, soft lips pressed to yours in what has to be the sweetest, saltiest kiss you’ve ever shared. You don’t care how sweaty he is, only that you’re together. “Hey you” he smiles, his eyes narrowing slightly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” You shrug, playing it cute so he doesn’t kill you, “I wanted it to be a surprise.” Give him a heads up so he has ample time to play it tough? Never.

“Ahem,” Seonghwa interrupts, “Does that mean you were watching and saw…everything?” The guys look at each other, suddenly mortified at their onstage antics. “Oh, for sure. We saw everything. She’s gonna be an alcoholic now” you tease just to watch their heart’s sink. Hongjoong shakes his head at them, “Shame on you. For the record, my cup was water.”

Jongho throws Hongjoong some vicious side eye, “Water, right. Oli, your daddy’s a liar.” “Daddy liar” Oli repeats with a giggle. You dip your head down to hide your own laughter as the guys hit an equally amused Jongho with their towels. Seonghwa casually swipes the baby away from Hongjoong to teach her how to throw a few hits. Hongjoong chases them down as if he’ll never see her again, “Be careful!”

“Joong, she’s fine!” you shout after him, “As long as Hwa has her…oh, no…Mingi unhand my child!”

“Goodnight stars and goodnight air” Hongjoong reads, flipping the final page of a children’s book, “Goodnight noises everywhere.” He closes the book and Oli cheers, flipping it over for him to read again. Propped up in his lap as he longues in a barely comfortable hotel chair, it’s clear her miniature lids are growing heavy.

“Honey, it’s late. No more Goodnight Moon. Bedtime, okay?” His voice is stern, he means business, but so does she. Oli flips the book open, her hand rubbing the first page. Her bottom lip pokes out and he knows he can’t say no to her. “Fine but one more time and then bed.”

You emerge from the shower in time to hear the story start back up again. “In the great green room…” Hongjoong starts in his bedtime story voice. You move quietly around the room, listening to the story for what’s the 1000th time for you too. As you do, you steal glimpses of them holding hands, turning the pages of the book together. Hongjoong pauses to let Oli read or poke around the pages marveling at the illustrations.

“Is bunny?” she asks, pointing to a figure sitting in a rocking chair. “That is a bunny” he cheers softly, poking his two front teeth out to mimic a rabbit. Oli copies him—it’s sorta her thing these days—making you laugh so hard you snort. “Are you laughing at me?” Hongjoong jokes, his mouth still in perfect bunny formation. It only makes you laugh harder. Your two little bunnies, twins in every way they can be. Especially in their silliness.

You approach the them, planting a kiss on both of their foreheads, “You guys are adorable.” Hongjoong leans his head back, allowing it to rest in the palm of your hand. “You are too. So adorable” he yawns, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. A blink and you miss it moment of silence passes before he speaks again.

“Did I do okay, today?” he asks, his tone more serious now, “I don’t want to…I can’t let everyone down.” “God, no. You were amazing. Look at me” you demand, cradling the sides of his face to keep his anxious gaze from drifting. “You. Were. Amazing” you repeat, “Your fans are so proud of you and your members they love you. And that little bunny down there, she loves you.”

Hongjoong looks at Oli who’s fallen fast asleep against his chest, her hand still in his. “We both love you and you fucking killed it. If anyone says any different I’ll kick their ass” you promise and you mean it. “What’d I ever do to deserve you two?” he asks, kissing your inner wrists. You lean in close to him, your lips hovering just above his, “Exist. That’s all you ever have to do, you know?”

Your lips part to meet his and he welcomes them, sipping down feelings there are no words for and pouring the same into you. “I love you” he whispers and you smile. “I love you too.” Easing the book from between them with mom-like precision, you throw a pillow on the floor and take a seat by Hongjoong’s feet. You open the book and begin to read, not to Oli but to him.

Finally relaxing into the chair, he strokes your hair and listens to the sweet sound of your voice. He balances Oli on his lap, his delicate little gem who treats him like the sun rises and sets in his eyes. He’d long ago sworn that he didn’t think he’d ever have everything. What a frighteningly beautiful realization it is that he finally does.

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #ateez fluff #hongjoong fluff #ateez au #ateez x female reader #hongjoong x fem!reader

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chrissv4mp · 10 months ago

Text

get him back! 💘

warnings: vulgar language, smut (p in v, missionary, unprotected sex, cunnilingus), jealous!chris, use of 'y/n', etc.

summary: in which chris was just a summer fling that you couldn't get enough of, and neither could he.

pairing: fem!reader × christopher sturniolo

a/n: literally jumped at the fact that i got to participate in @annamcdonalds67 's writing challenge! first ever comp i've been in🫶🏼 also there's a huge timeskip in this, sooo...

_____________

SUMMER 2023 , day 30

"chris, you can't burp in public places. seriously." you sighed, continuing to walk alongside the boy in the mall.

"why not? it's not hurting anyone," he grumbled, swaying the bag in his freehand back and forth.

"because that's not polite, chris." you swore you were talking to a child sometimes.

chris rolled his eyes, who were you to tell him it wasn't polite?

"fuck, you argue with me about everything." you muttered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

chris hadn't heard, and even if he had, he wouldn't answer. his full attention was on some girl talking to her friends. his wandering eyes had always failed him.

her hair was dark, long, and her lips were so full he wished he could--

"chris," your voice pulled him out of his trance, his head quickly snapping toward you.

"yeah?" he smiled softly.

"i'm gonna go to the bathroom, then we can leave." chris nodded, his mind already going back to the girl from earlier.

as soon as you disappeared behind the doors, chris was making his way to the brunette and her friends.

"hey," chris smiled, eyes trained on the brunette.

"hi?" she smiled awkwardly, nudging her friends and making them leave.

"sorry, didn't wanna make your friends leave just now, i just saw you from across the store and... you're really pretty." he said, his smile fading to a smirk.

the girl laughed, "thank you, but seriously? not even gonna ask my name?"

"shit, sorry! what was your name?" he chuckled, eyes going down to her lips.

"chloe," she replied, crossing her arms over each other.

chris nodded, "pretty name for a pretty girl. i'm chris, nice to meet you."

"nice to meet you, as well. uh, sorry, weird question," chris hummed, urging her to continue.

"how tall are you?" chloe smiled sweetly, eyeing chris up and down.

"six-foot-two," chris lied, biting the inside of his cheek.

your hand on his shoulder was what caught his attention, "nice try, chris."

he turned around, his cheeks flushing of embarrassment as he stared down at you, "hey, y/n."

ignoring him, you looked over at chloe, giving her an awkward smile before pushing past chris.

"i'm sorry about him. and i assure you that he's not six-foot-two." you sighed, flashing her another quick smile before dragging chris out of the mall.

chris stayed silent as you scolded him in the car, was he serious?

"you are so embarrassing chris, and, god, you need to get yourself in check. flirting with another girl while dating me? seriously?" you scoffed, driving out of the parking lot.

you should've left him a long time ago, honestly, but he was so much fun and he had such weird friends.

and plus, he would take out you and your friends to parties every other night. they were always a good time, it felt as if they never ended.

"i'm sorry, ma," he muttered, placing his hand on your thigh and gently squeezing it.

"i can make it up to you tonight. me, nate, and a couple other friends are going out to a club," chris said quietly, a smile growing on his face.

you stayed silent. even if the invitation did sound nice, you were still pissed at chris.

"c'mon, don't be like that, ma. i know you want to." he muttered, his thumb running over your thigh softly.

fuck it, it was just one night without talking about your feelings. plus, you needed something fun to do, "fine."

chris smiled brightly, "y'know i learned some new dance moves."

rolling your eyes playfully, you nudged the boy, "shut up, chris."

SUMMER 2023 , day 42

"i mean, maybe if you stopped being such a bitch all the time more people would approach you?"

that's what chris had said just a few hours ago when you were at the party, dancing together.

now chris was trying to get you to talk to him as you sat at the edge of his bed, going through your instagram feed.

"i didn't mean it, baby, you know i didn't. please just talk to me, c'mon," he whined, his hand rubbing your shoulder gently.

you just sighed, tucking your phone in your pocket before looking away from him, "you can't just say shit like that, chris."

he nodded as his hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him, "i know, i just wasn't thinking, i'm sorry."

that's what he always said, and you always believed him. always.

"hey, i'll be right back, okay?" he said softly, kissing your cheek.

you nodded, watching as chris left his room and shut the door, leaving you alone.

chris was back in a matter of 15 minutes, barging into his room and making you jump from the sudden noise.

you were sat against the headboard, scrolling through tiktok as chris climbed onto the bed next to you.

"ma," he smiled, showering your entire face in kisses as he moved your phone to the side.

you laughed at his clinginess, feeling his hands go up to cup your face softly, "hi, baby."

"i have a surprise." he said, the smile on his face growing as he grabbed his phone.

he held the phone in front of your face, and on the screen were 2 tickets to paris, france, the date on the ticket showing that the plane was leaving in just 4 days.

your mouth fell agape as you turned your head to look at chris, before he could even say anything, you jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly.

after a few minutes of silence in his embrace, you finally spoke, "i love you, chris."

the boy smiled, kissing your neck affectionately, "love you, too, y/n."

SPRING BREAK 2024 , night 3

your eyes were glued to your phone, attention on chris's new instagram story.

it was a picture of him, his tongue stuck out as the words "Happy Easter !" were next to him.

your lips curled into a small smile, but then it faded as the memory of your breakup crashed into your mind.

maybe he was an asshole at sometimes, but you really missed him. he was so sweet and such a gentleman at times.

every moment with him was never boring, he was funny, kind, hot, everything a girl would want in a guy.

you shut off your phone as another memory came into your mind, when chris had hit on your friend right in front of you.

and the worst part wasn't even that it was right in front of you; the worst part was that he'd done it multiple times.

"fucking asshole." you muttered, eyes going to the TV that was currently playing Waves.

your attention couldn't stay on the movie, though. it wasn't long until your eyes wandered below the TV to the entertainment center.

there was a photo of you and chris in paris, on the eiffel tower.

he was so sweet for taking you on that trip, but then again, he was a dick for the reason he bought the tickets.

god, you couldn't make up your mind.

do i love him? do i hate him? i guess it's up and down.

you couldn't even decide anymore. all you knew was that you wanted to get him back.

you wanted to make him jealous, like he always made you. and, fuck, you wanted to make him feel bad. really bad.

he would always blame you for shit you couldn't control.

and then at other times you wanted to get him back.

you wanted him again, missed him, even.

you felt sad every time you saw him having fun with other girls, felt like you were never good enough for him.

you just wanted him to reassure you that you were better than all those girls, that you were his girl.

sometimes you even found yourself on your bedroom floor, texting him little notes about how much you missed the way kisses and the way he grabbed your--

the way he made you laugh.

you'd pour your heart our every time, and the "little notes" would always end up as huge paragraphs.

you still remember the time you had almost hit send. during your relationship another girl had texted you that chris was cheating on you with her.

and of course, it had to have been one of your ex-friends.

she had explained that she went through his phone and saw your text messages with chris. he said you were the only girl.

but that just wasn't the truth. another one of his lies.

another memory was when you had actually sent him a paragraph. a paragraph about how bad he had hurt you.

chris, never being one to admit to something like that, said you were trippin'.

you remember how angry you were, how much you had fucking hated his guts. but then you remembered what you had told your friends that same day.

"maybe i could fix him."

SPRING BREAK , day 7

matt was hosting a party at him and his brothers' shared house, and he had invited you.

and, of course, you accepted the invitation. he was just chris's brother, and you would just avoid the younger triplet if he tried to come to you.

"y/n, oh my god, we missed you!" nick greeted, pulling you into a hug as you stepped into the house.

"i missed you, too, nick." you smiled, hugging him back before going off to find some other friends.

why couldn't chris be like his brothers? they were so sweet.

maybe you should've went for matt last summer.

a few hours into the party and a guy was all over you, grabbing at your waist and pulling you against his front.

you caught sight of chris as you danced against the guy. he was staring daggers at the man, his grip on his pepsi can tight enough to break it into pieces.

you smirked at the thought of making him jealous. but, fuck, you wanted to make him more than jealous.

maybe after the party you would key his car. that'd get him going.

or maybe you'd make him lunch tomorrow, make him happy.

you hadn't even met his mom during your relationship. what if you got in touch with her just to tell her her son sucks?

whatever, it didn't matter right now. all that mattered was that chris was jealous and was ready to attack the guy.

"let's go upstairs, yeah?" the guy whispered into your ear, hand going up to squeeze your boob.

just as he did, chris was out of his seat, pushing way past other people and stopping just in front of you.

you hadn't even had time to process the whole interaction between chris and the unknown guy before chris was dragging you down the hall to his room.

"chris, what the fuck are you--" your sentence was cut short as he pushed you against his locked door, his lips crashing onto yours hungrily.

your eyes widened in shock, but as soon as chris's hand rested on your waist, you relaxed, kissing him back just as rough.

his grip on your waist was tight, sure to leave marks in the shape of his hands.

good, that would remind any other guy who touched you that you belonged to chris. only chris.

his lips left your, trailing kisses down your jawline to your neck, sucking harshly on your tender skin just before his tongue lay flat on the same spot to soothe the ache.

"fuck." you whined, hands tangling in chris's hair.

chris didn't stay at your neck for long, pulling away entirely from your body to pull your shirt over you head and undo your bra.

his lips were quick to find your nipple, swirling around the bud slowly as his hand played with your other boob.

his eyes never left yours as he left marks on your chest, making sure they wouldn't fade in just a matter of hours.

"stupid fucking guy thinks he can touch on you like that," chris muttered as he grabbed your waist tightly again, roughly leading you to sit on his bed.

he got on his knees in front of you before pulling at the hem of your jeans.

you quickly got the hint and slipped them off, kicking them off your ankles before chris threw them somewhere around the floor.

"still such a good girl for me, yeah?" he said, amusement in his tone as he grabbed your thighs and pulled them open.

you nodded eagerly, "i'm your good girl, chris."

chris smiled, before hooking his finger in your panties and pulling them off of you roughly.

you swore you heard him rip the fabric, but that didn't matter, all that mattered right now was the ache between your thighs.

"still such a pretty girl." chris mused before running his tongue through your folds.

you gasped at the warmth of his tongue, attempting to squeeze your legs shut.

chris kept them open, his grip on your thighs tightening as he dipped his tongue into your entrance, eliciting a loud moan out of you.

"chris, fuck." you moaned, hands going back into the boys hair and tuggling lightly.

his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly as he slipped his index finger into your wetness.

your grip in his hair tightened as your moans got louder, whining his name as his finger hit that sweet spot deep inside of you.

"oh my god, chris.." you groaned, eyes rolling back as they fluttered shut.

he added a second finger to your entrance, finding it harder to thrust both fingers into you.

"so tight." he groaned into your pussy, the vibrations of his voice making you let out a throaty moan.

"chris, chris, fuck, i'm gonna-" you cut yourself off with a moan as chris curled his fingers.

you came on his tongue and fingers, your chest heaving as you let go of his hair.

chris lapped at your wetness, cum coating his chin as he stood up in front of you.

he wasted no time in taking his shirt off, unbuckling his belt and kicking his jeans off his ankles, quickly pulling his boxers down before throwing them on the floor.

"you make me crazy, y'know that, ma?" he growled lowly, pushing you softly to lay on your back.

chris didn't even let you reply before he aligned his cock with your entrance and thrusted himself inside of you.

hiding his face in your neck, he began to roll his hips, groaning as he felt your walls clench around him tightly.

"fuck." he whined at the feeling of your nails digging into his back, sure to draw blood.

it wasn't long until you had adjusted to his size and chris had began to thrust into you faster, his tip hitting your cervix just right every time.

your moans echoed off the walls, and suddenly you were glad that the music outside of the door was loud.

the bed creaked as the headboard hit the wall, evidence of how hard chris was rocking against your body.

"chris, fuck, you're so big." you whimpered, gasping as you felt his hand on your lower belly.

he pushed down slightly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt a small bulge.

it didn't take long for the both of you to reach the edge, gasps and moans being the only thing heard in the room.

chris came seconds before you, filling you up just before you came on his cock, making him groan loudly.

"fuck, ma." he sighed, giving you a few seconds before he pulled out of you and plopped by your side on the bed.

you rolled on your side to face him, smiling slightly at the knowledge that he had already been staring at you.

he smiled back at you, his eyes struggling to stay open.

he laughed, "still making you feel bad?"

even if he was tired, he would never pass up the chance to make a snarky comment.

"shut up, you idiot." you laughed, punching him playfully.

. . .

tags: @mattsneezing @55sturn @niicksposts @mayhem-72 @chrissturnswife @sturn-wrld @freshloveee @h3arts4harry @films4sturni @lanixsturniolo @voidghsts @thebottledwatersupplier @strniohoeee @strnilolo @heartsforchrisandmatt @sturn3g1rl @mstxrniolo @iluvmattyb @ryli3sworld @stingerayyy2

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rafedaddy01 · 5 months ago

Note

Waitttt but we need more welcome neighbor🫢🫢

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Pt2 || Pt1 || Pt3

After the incident in your bathroom, it didn’t stop there. Rafe would sneak over whenever his wife was at work and your husband was away on a work trip. It became and addiction. Rafe was your drug and one dose of him kept you satisfied. You were currently bent over your dining room table as he rammed into you from the back, gripping your hair in a tight ponytail as he dragged your face back and whispered dirty things in your ear.

He turned your face to him and devoured your lips, one hand snaked around to choke your throat, all while his cock pounded into you at an aggressive pace.

He grunted like a beast as he pushed harder.

Your moans swallowed by his tongue.

He bit your lip as he pulled away and your head fell to the table, your body limp and the pleasure taking over.

“Your such a dirty girl, taking my cock while your husband could be home any minute” Rafes words egged you on and you experienced the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever had, your legs trembled as you came and rafe followed not to long after you. He pulled out and cleaned up his mess before lifting your chin and kissing your soft lips.

“We can’t keep doing this, rafe” your eyes filled with tears. You knew this was wrong, that cheating on your husband was an act of betrayal that you couldn’t ever get forgiven for. You knew that it would hurt Olivia, who had become kinda your best friends these past few weeks. But the real reason you were crying was because you had started to fall for rafe, not just because of the sex. He listened to you, he made you laugh, he understood you. And those were things your husband was lacking lately. You loved your husband too, but you weren’t sure if you were still in love with him. “It’s wrong” you squeaked out, your voice cracking as the tears started to flow. “Hey..” Rafe gripped you in a tight hug, soothing you as he rubbed your back. “I’m- I’m sorry, y/n. I never should have initiated this” Rafe sighed as he took in your broken form. When he first started this it was just another woman he chested on his wife with, he did it every time they moved to a new state, which was often because of Olivia’s job. But something about you was different. He wouldn’t express it with words ever, but he sorta felt attached to you. You listened to him, you laughed at his silly jokes, and you understood him on a deeper level, more than anybody else ever could. You listened when he talked about the issues with his dad, and you didn’t tell him that he needs to man up and get over this feud like this wife did. He simply just felt at home when he was around you. But he’d never admit it, which is why he just apologized and swiftly kissed your cheek, inhaling your scent as he knew it would be the last time, and leaving you to sob on your kitchen floor.

The next few days you rarely saw rafe, and when you did it was awkward. Olivia had invited you to dinner, but you had to decline. Even thinking about seeing rafe would literally make you sick to your stomach. You told her you weren’t feeling well, which wasn’t a full lie. You felt sick and had been throwing up all morning. You thought it was just nerves, but your stomach dropped as you remembered you didn’t have a period this month. You and rafe never used condoms but he always pulled out, except that very first time in the bathroom. You never used condoms with your husband either, and although you haven’t had sex with him this week, it has happened in the last month. You decided to not worry until you got a test, you could just be stressed and it caused your period to delay a few days (hopefully). You immediately got in the car and headed to the drug store. You picked up two tests just so you could be certain. As you were leaving you bumped into someone, dropping the tests onto the ground, both of you bent to pick them up and when your hands touched your heart was beating faster than a drum. “Oh, y/n!” Olivia’s cheerful voice made you nauseous. “Olivia” you quickly swiped the tests up and under your arm. But it was too late, she had seen them. “I see why you couldn’t make dinner tonight” she jokes as she smiles at you. “You and Will have been busy” she winks at you and your heart sinks even more. You don’t even know if you’re pregnant and if you are you don’t even know who the father is. “Yes” you force a smile as you laugh, trying desperately to hold it together and get out of this situation faster. “Well, I should get going..” you clear your throat as you start to turn away from her. “It was nice seeing you, have a good one” you practically run to the cashier before she’s able to even get one word in. You pay for the tests and race home before your husband gets home.

As you set the timer and sit on the ground, you don’t know if you should cry or scream. All of this is too much. Your relationship with rafe, your maybe pregnancy, not knowing who the father is, cheating on your husband, betraying your friend. Your minds riddled with thoughts, getting lost in them. But it always ends up on rafe. The way he smiles at you, the way he holds you, the way- the timer goes off and you jump to you feet. Biting your nails anxiously as you take a breath and reach for the tests, but the ding of your phone distracts you. You read the message: you’re pregnant? -Rafe

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover

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gilbertscurls · 12 days ago

Note

It would take place in a setting where the triplets are together (their bday, a party, or even at their house) and reader would be either chris or matt’s gf but then also there is nicks bf, or the others ones gf. Idk if it’s just me but I feel like the reader is always just with one of them and then the other two triplets are there but we don’t see the gf’s (or nick’s bf) ever interacting. Idk if that made sense tbh

hope you like it!! <33

three's a party — sturniolo triplets

The Sturniolo triplets’ house was alive with music, laughter, and the faint smell of birthday cake. The living room was decked out with balloons—blue, black, and silver scattered across the floor—and a “Happy Birthday” banner hung crookedly across the mantle.

Y/N, Olivia, and Jake were huddled in the kitchen, each clutching plastic cups of soda as they surveyed the chaos unfolding in the main room.

“Okay, I love them, but they are so bad at hosting parties,” Olivia said, sipping her drink.

Jake snorted. “Chris has been talking to the same guy about sneakers for thirty minutes, Nick disappeared somewhere upstairs, and Matt—”

“Is stress-eating chips in the corner,” Y/N finished, pointing across the room where Matt was leaning against the wall with a party-size bag of Doritos, looking mildly overwhelmed.

The three of them burst into laughter before Y/N nudged Olivia’s shoulder. “Should we, like… intervene? Help them with their own party?”

Olivia shrugged. “Or we could just sit back, drink our sodas, and watch the chaos unfold. Like, free entertainment, honestly.”

Jake nodded, raising his cup. “To the most disorganized birthday party of all time.”

They clinked their plastic cups together before a loud voice cut through the noise.

“Y/N! Jake! Olivia!”

Chris appeared, slightly out of breath, dragging Matt and Nick behind him. Matt still had the Doritos in hand, and Nick was holding a party hat over his face like a mask.

“You three are criminally hiding in the kitchen while we suffer out there,” Chris said dramatically, waving an arm toward the crowded living room.

“We’re just letting you shine on your special day, Chris,” Jake said sweetly, batting his lashes.

Nick peeked out from behind the party hat. “Nope, you’re coming with us. Dance floor. Now.”

The six of them had somehow taken over the little makeshift dance floor. Someone had queued up an early 2000s throwback playlist, and chaos was the only way to describe what was happening.

Jake and Nick were in the middle of a dance-off, both pulling out the worst—and most impressive—dad dance moves anyone had ever seen. Chris and Olivia were scream-singing the chorus of “Mr. Brightside” into invisible microphones. Matt had pulled Y/N into an awkward slow dance, despite the upbeat tempo of the song.

“Matt, this is not a slow song,” Y/N said, laughing as he spun her in an exaggerated circle.

“Every song can be a slow song if you believe hard enough,” Matt replied, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Meanwhile, Olivia grabbed Jake’s hand and dramatically dipped him backward, almost causing both of them to collapse to the floor.

“Okay, okay, time out!” Nick shouted, waving his arms. “We’re gonna break something—and by something, I mean Jake’s spine.”

The triplets sat at the dining table in front of their birthday cake, three candles glowing softly in the dimmed light. Y/N, Olivia, and Jake stood behind them like proud parents at a kindergarten recital.

“Make a wish!” Olivia said, clapping her hands together.

Chris squinted at the cake. “Are we supposed to make three wishes? Or one collective triplet wish?”

Nick shrugged. “Let’s each pick one. I call dibs on the first wish.”

Matt sighed. “Why do you always get the first wish?”

“You didn’t call dibs fast enough, buddy,” Nick said with a shrug.

After an unnecessarily long argument about wish etiquette (and Jake nearly blowing out the candles himself just to end the chaos), the triplets finally leaned forward and blew out the candles together.

Y/N grabbed a knife. “Alright, who wants the first slice?”

Chris opened his mouth to volunteer, but Jake snatched the knife from Y/N with a gasp.

“Wait, we have to do the thing!”

“What thing?” Olivia asked, raising a brow.

“The thing where you feed your significant other cake all cute-like.” Jake winked dramatically at Nick, who immediately started laughing.

“Oh my God,” Matt muttered, covering his face with one hand.

But the three couples obliged, with Jake smearing frosting on Nick’s nose, Olivia delicately feeding Chris a bite, and Y/N holding out a forkful of cake for Matt—only for him to lean forward and eat it straight off the fork without breaking eye contact.

“Romance is alive,” Chris said dryly, clapping sarcastically.

The party had dwindled down, most guests had left, and the house was a mess of streamers, empty cups, and forgotten party hats. The six of them were sprawled across the couch and armchairs, half-asleep but content.

“Successful birthday party?” Y/N asked softly, her head resting on Matt’s shoulder.

“Messy, loud, chaotic… yeah, I’d say it was perfect,” Chris said, his head thrown back against the couch. Olivia was curled up beside him, her eyes half-closed.

Jake was draped across Nick like a weighted blanket, mumbling something incoherent about being too tired to move.

Nick yawned and stretched an arm out. “Best party ever, honestly. Mostly because of you three.”

Y/N, Olivia, and Jake exchanged tired smiles.

“Happy birthday, guys,” Y/N said softly.

“Yeah, happy birthday, triplets,” Jake echoed.

Chris, Nick, and Matt all murmured their thanks before falling into a comfortable silence.

The living room was messy, the cake was mostly gone, and the playlist was still quietly playing in the background. But in that little bubble of warmth and friendship, everything felt perfect.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13

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oneshotnewbie · 6 months ago

Note

Olivia Benson and Reader break up. Two weeks after that, they're distant towards each other even though Reader is working with the SVU. Two weeks after Olivia breaks up with Olivia, she sees Reader dancing with a stranger and she is jelly. Maybe she goes to Reader, takes her by the hand without saying a word and brings her to the next room or something and then... it's up to you! Fluffy, Angst and maybe pre-smut pls?

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes pre-smut and the plot is presented. That's why I only recommend reading it if you are over 18+. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Authors note: Woah.. Lets say I got carried away. I had to cut out a whole section to keep it suitable for my younger audience, even though it hurt my heart to delete my work. There is still a bit of pre-smut like you requested. But I hope you like it anyway ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The hum of the neon lights on the ceiling and the roar of the air conditioning mixed with the muted clacking of computer keyboards seemed louder than usual in the busy Special Victims Unit. The air was heavy with unspoken words and broken promises. Everyone in the room felt the change, even if no one said it out loud.

The office was usually a place of hectic activity, where phone calls, keyboards, and hushed conversations formed a constant backdrop. But today was different.

You sat at your desk, eyes glued to the screen in front of you, the words of the report blurred before your eyes. Your mind was far away, on old memories of happy times before everything fell apart. On the woman who had broken your heart. Olivia Benson, Lieutenant and steadfast leader of the team, had been more than just your superior. She was your partner, your confidante, the love of your life. But now she was just your boss, and the distance between you was painfully real.

Since splitting up with Olivia, everything had changed. The dynamics in the office, the atmosphere, even the way others looked at you - everything was different. She had been your rock. Strong, determined, and unwavering. She had always held the team together, been a leader, and the one who never backed down, no matter how hard it was. But now there was something in her eyes that you had never seen before - a coldness, a distance that hurt every time your eyes happened to meet.

You only spoke to each other when necessary, and the times when you had worked as a harmonious team seemed far away. The rupture in your relationship was reflected in every aspect of your work. Cases that were once solved with ease now dragged on. Decisions that were once made instinctively and together now had to be laboriously and formally agreed upon.

Olivia sat in her office, the door only half open. She had tried to throw herself into her work to fill the emptiness in her heart, but it didn't help. Every time she looked up, she saw you - and every time you looked at her, it hurt. Your eyes met briefly through the glass before both quickly looked away again, unable to hide the feelings that still burned within you.

Detective Amanda Rollins, who was sitting at her desk next to Fin Tutuola, sighed quietly and shook her head in displeasure. She and the rest of the team had noticed the unspoken tension and cool politeness between the two of you. "Have you noticed?" she whispered quietly so only her partner could hear her. He nodded, his eyes fixed on the monitor. "Yes, it's hard to miss. It's as if a dark cloud is hanging over the office. Rain is pouring down on us."

"I thought they would stay together forever," she said sadly, more to herself, watching you with a sideways glance. "They were the perfect couple. Why did they have to split up?"

"Sometimes love alone isn't enough," Fin murmured, his voice heavy with life experience and knowledge of the complexity of human relationships. Amanda pushed her chair back and came to your desk, sitting on a corner of the wood, her arms folded under her chest. "What's wrong with you two? You're like two icebergs meeting in Antarctica." she began her conversation, giving you a questioning look.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "It's complicated, 'manda. It wasn't exactly a nice break-up. Just leave it, please?"

Amanda shook her head, her face showing compassion and understanding. "I know it's hard, but you both have to find a way to deal with it. It's not just a burden on you, but on the entire team."

You nodded, but you knew it wasn't that easy. The rifts that had developed between you and Olivia were deep and painful. It wasn't just a professional challenge, but a personal catastrophe that you both tried to overcome in your own way.

Meanwhile, Olivia had made her way out of her office, a stack of files in her hands. She moved through the room with her usual determination, but there was a certain rigidity in her posture. You could see her shoulders tense as she crossed the room to your desk. In the past, you would have known how to calm her down and take away her nervousness, would have known what words and gestures she would have needed. But those days were over.

"Y/n, I need you in my office," she said, not looking directly at you. She handed you a report, your fingers touching briefly before you stood up, your heart beating faster at the thought of being alone with her. The tension between you was palpable as you followed her and closed the door behind you. She sat down while you stood across from her, the desk as a barrier between you.

"We need to talk about the case, you're the lead investigator," Olivia began, her voice professional but cool. "The evidence is thin and we need a new strategy."

You nodded, trying to focus on the conversation, but her proximity made it difficult. "I agree. Maybe we should question the witnesses again and see if we missed something."

Your eyes met again, and for a moment everything else was forgotten. The attraction, the passion, the love - all of it was still there, just beneath the surface. But you both knew it wasn't that easy. Too many things stood between you, things that couldn't be overcome so easily. "We have to stay professional," Olivia said finally, her voice breaking. How she would love to hug you right now. "The team needs us to be strong."

You nodded again, your eyes heavy with unspoken feelings. "I know. But it's hard, Liv. Working with you every day and pretending everything is fine when it isn't."

"We have no choice," she whispered, visibly tense. "We have to find a way to deal with this. For the victims who are counting on us.“

The following days were torture for both of you. You worked side by side, your interactions brief and distant. Each of you tried to remain as professional as possible, but the unspoken feelings and the broken relationship between you and Olivia weighed on you.

One evening, when most of your colleagues had already gone home, you stayed late at the office. You worked on a strategy, trying to distract yourself. Olivia was still in her office, the light on, casting a lonely shadow in the large room you were sitting in.

Finally, you stood up and went to her. You knocked softly on the door and entered when she invited you in. "Olivia, we need to talk," you began, your voice quiet but firm. She looked at you, her eyes tired and sad. "I know, y/n. But I don't know what to say. It's all so... messed up."

"Just tell me it hurts you as much as it does me," you said, your voice growing more intense with each word. "Tell me you regret it."

"Of course it hurts," she replied, her voice shaking as she placed her sweaty and shaking hands on her lap, leaning back in her chair. "I still love you. That will never change. But you deserve better."

Tears glistened in your eyes as she reached out an arm to you, your hand enveloping hers before pulling you to her side. "I love you too, Liv. I don't need anything better, I need you."

Olivia hugged you, tight and desperate, as if she never wanted to let you go. In that moment, you both knew that the love between you was strong, but the reality of your situation demanded more than just feelings. She knew she had to find a way to balance your situation and your work so as not to put further strain on the team.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Two weeks had passed since Olivia Benson ended her relationship with you. Two weeks of stolen glances and feelings that remained unspoken. But life and work must go on, and so Olivia threw herself into her duties while you behaved just as professionally. The team continued to sense that not everything was settled between you, but no one spoke openly.

That evening, the team was at Club Delirium, a popular downtown nightclub, to conduct an undercover operation. The goal was to break up a human trafficking ring, and you had volunteered to act as bait. Olivia watched the scene from a secluded table, her eyes always fixed strictly on you.

The music blared and the lights flickered in different colors. You, in a tight, black, low-cut dress and perfectly styled hair, looked stunning. You were dancing with a strange woman whose hands were on your hips. Olivia felt a stabbing sensation in her chest. Jealousy mixed with the pain of separation burned inside her. A dangerous combination.

Every step you took, every movement, every smile you gave the stranger felt like a slap in the face. Olivia knew it was part of the mission, but it didn't make the situation any less painful. Her hands clenched into fists as she tried to keep her emotions under control.

The plan was simple: get the suspect, a ring leader, to give you information by gaining her trust. But Olivia couldn't focus on the details entering her brain through an earpiece while she watched the woman she loved give herself to someone else, even if only in appearance.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you gave a signal. The suspect had given up the information, and the team moved in to arrest her. The club turned into a chaos of flashing lights, loud music, and cops suddenly appearing. Amidst this chaos, Olivia kept her eyes on only one thing - you.

As soon as the mission was complete and the suspect was taken into custody, Olivia looked for you. She found you at the edge of the dance floor, away from the crowd. She walked up to you, grabbed your hand, and wordlessly pulled you into a side room of the club that served as a storage room.

You were roughly pushed inside, Olivia closed the door behind her and turned to you. Her eyes sparkled with unspoken jealousy. "What were you thinking?" she hissed, her voice lower but charged. You looked at her in surprise and confusion. "It was an undercover mission. I only did what was necessary."

"Necessary?" Olivia stepped closer to you, her presence overwhelming. "It looked like you enjoyed it."

Your eyes widened in shock and anger. "It was part of the job, Liv! You know that better than anyone." you said and she grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer, your bodies almost touching. "I know," she whispered, her voice rough. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt me to see you like this."

You took a deep breath, your eyes searching Olivia's. "I'm sorry," you said quietly. "I didn't know it would hurt you so much. After all, you broke up with me, remember?"

Olivia ran her fingers over your wrist, then your arms, until she reached your hands. "I don't want to lose you, y/n. I can't bear to see you with anyone else, even if it's just for a mission."

The tension between you was almost palpable as Olivia leaned even closer to you. "I need you," she whispered before pressing her lips to yours, possessive and desperate. You returned the kiss, your hands grasping Olivia's hair as the passion between you ignited.

In that moment, everything else was forgotten - the separation, the mission, the world outside that small room. There was only the two of you, your love, and the incessant longing that drove you to each other. Olivia pulled you closer to her, her kisses intense and demanding, as if to make up for lost time and broken promises.

You parted, panting, your foreheads leaning against each other. Olivia pulled back a little, her hand sliding to your neck, encircling it with a determined gesture. Her thumb gently stroked your skin while her dark, sparkling eyes searched your gaze intensely. "You're mine," she murmured, her voice deep and possessive.

You trembled under her touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips. "Yes, Liv," you whispered, the words full of desire and devotion. "Only yours."

Olivia pulled you closer again, her lips found yours once more, the kiss stronger this time, even more demanding than the one before. Her hands slid down your back, reaching for you as if she never wanted to let you go again. She pushed you against the wall, her body pressed tightly against yours.

"Tell me you want me," Olivia demanded, her voice dark and rough, gasping for air. "I want you, Liv," you answered, your pupils blown with desire. "I only want you."

Olivia's mischievous and dark giggle filled the small room and she continued to glide her hands over your body. Her lips found your neck, leaving hot kisses on your skin.

Your breathing quickened, your hands grabbed at her shoulders, holding her tight as Olivia continued to kiss and touch you. The world around you faded, there was only the two of you, your love and the burning desire that drove you to each other.

The intensity of the moment seemed to stop time, every touch, every kiss was a promise, a proof of her unbroken love for you. Olivia's hands slid down your sides, finding their way under the dress you wore, leaving a trail of passion on your skin.

"I need you," Olivia whispered, her voice hotter with pure desire. "Now." You nodded, your eyes closing as you surrendered to her. "I'm yours, Liv."

The heat between you was overwhelming, the passion you felt was all-encompassing. In that small room, shielded from the world, you and Olivia found yourselves again, your love and desire for each other stronger than ever.

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brummiereader · 1 year ago

Text

PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART THREE)

Summary: After the previous day's events relentlessly play out in your head you come to the realisation it's time to move on from any hopes you had of rekindling your relationship with Tommy. But just as you decided to turn the page, Tommy's thoughts begin to be plagued by the past. His attempts at confessing how he really feels short lived when he discovers he has been betrayed on the day his plan to take out Billy Kimber falls apart.

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining

Authors note: The song Y/N sings is "Where have all the flowers gone" covered by Olivia Newton-John.

" Shit..." you said as you looked in your bathroom mirror dabbing the cut on your throat with a cotton ball doused in alcohol as you glanced down at your trembling hand, quickly grabbing it with the other to stop the shaking as your frustration with the constant nerves engulfing your every waking breath refused to relent. Walking over to your bed you sat down as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes. How was there even any left? You thought to yourself as you rested your head in your hand, exhausted from another night of almost no sleep. Biting the corner of your mouth you gave up letting the tears fall down your arm as the previous day's events played out in your head, tormenting you over and over again at the bitter pill you had finally forced yourself to swallow. This was it. I'ts over, there was no point in trying to kid yourself into thinking otherwise. Tommy may not have said the words to you himself but Kimber's men had made it clear to you of his feelings when they had a knife pushed up against your neck threatening your life. He was protecting the new barmaid he had known for five minutes by giving your name so freely, putting you in harm's way, the woman he had known his whole life the same woman he once wanted to marry at all cost. You thought to yourself as you glanced at his pocket watch sitting on your bedside table, glaring at it as if he had returned his love back to you, discarding anything he once felt for you like he had with your own feelings for him. Standing up you wiped your tears away as you straightened your body out trying to regain some sort of control over your emotions. Would he even care if you told him what happened when you left the Garrison? What did it even matter, you quickly determined. You had no intentions of telling him, you would not let him think you needed his protection, have him pity you, have him believe you couldn't fend for yourself. You was on your own now that much was clear, his feelings towards you finally understood when he replaced the one thing you never thought he would with such disregard and heartlessness. If Tommy was moving on it was time you did the same. No more tears no more day dreaming of what could have been. From this day forward you promised yourself not to let the heartbreak he had caused you drag you down any further. New me, new start. You mentally hummed to yourself like a mantra as you looked in the mirror hanging on the wall, holding up the burgundy dress you had picked out against your body. "Fuck him" you said as you nodded at your reflection, reassuring yourself on the hardest decision you had ever made. Grace can have him, good luck to her.

" Where is she?" Tommy huffed as he loomed over the large table in the room adjacent to the betting shop as his family looked on shrugging their shoulders. " I dont have fucking time to wait around for her shit" Tommy said as he pulled out his new pocket watch, the weight of it not feeling the same, the shape of it not sitting in his hand how he liked how he had become accustomed to.

" Yes your relentless brooding over her is not obvious at all" Polly uttered quietly under her breath as she licked her finger, turning the page of the newspaper in front of her as Arthur and John sniggered at eachother.

" What's that, hm?" Tommy said as he leaned forward his eyes darting between the three of them as Arthur put his hands up in defence unable to hold back the laugh he had been trying to keep in. You were getting under his skin, and Arthur found it the most comical thing he witnessed all week.

" Sorry brother" Arthur said as he sniffed back his laughs clearing his throat. "But she always has had you by your balls. Not that you'll ever admit it" Arthur snickered as the whole room let out a burst of small laughs whilst Tommy's face twisted in anger. There was nothing more loving than teasing a family member in the Shelby house.

" Right you all done? " he said pointing at everyone as he pulled his pocket watch out to check the time again " Five minutes" he mumbled as he clenched his jaw. " I'll fire every single one of you" Tommy muttered as he sat down in his chair with a huff.

" Alright now that you've had your little temper tantrum can we get to business. And she's ten minutes late not five" Polly said taking a sip of tea, a smile on her lips as she watched the realisation on Tommy's face. His watch for the first time in ten years was on time. Fuck. He had become so used to it being five minutes late he would plan all his meetings around the little habit you had started ten years ago, never bothering to or wanting to turn it to the right time. Except this time you was ten minutes late. Just as Tommy was about to get into another rant about your tardiness the sound of your heels echoing loudly though the betting shop had everyone but Tommy turn their head.

"Fabulous" Polly mouthed to you when you walked into the room, motioning up and down with her hand at your outfit as Tommy's head nearly flew of his neck when he turned to face John and the wolf whistle he had just sent your way.

"There she is" Arthur said, sending you a wink of approval as you strutted through the room with a new air of confidence passing by Tommy as he finally turned his head to you. Looking you up and down Tommy cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat hitching his trousers further up, his eyes widening as he looked you over. Was this for his benefit or everyone else's he wondered as he looked at the way your dress hugged every curve of your body, every curve he could never keep his hands off.

" You're late" he said as his eyes pierced into you, piercing through that fucking dress you had decided to wear to make him jealous, to torment him. He thought to himself as he tried to stay composed, tried to stop himself from saying something he would regret.

" Oh am I?" you replied nonchalantly as you pulled a chair out from the side, scrapping it along the floor to the opposite end of the end of table. " Only five minutes though" you said sitting down, having not once looked at him since you entered the room.

" Ten" Tommy replied as he leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, his fingers resting in front of his lips as he watched you brush your hair behind your shoulder. Something was different. And since when did you start wearing dresses like that? Tommy thought to himself when he suddenly determined you had a new man. His only evidence being that dress he couldn't keep his eyes off and the small remark you made the other day about your relationship being over, a remark that had been playing on his mind ever since. His eyes still boring into you, Tommy quickly decided he'd find the bastard you was dating and rip his throat out for daring to go near you. Had everyone forgotten the warning he had given?

" Replaced that too I see" you said finally looking up as your eyes locked onto each others, a smirk on you lips as you enjoyed your new founded confidence. Last night's events had finally given you the push you needed, the wake up call you had been longing for.

"Shall we start" Polly said as everyone else who had been watching your interactions finally shifted their eyes away from the palpable tension between you. Nodding his head Tommy lit a cigarette shaking the flame from the match as he continued to watch you in the corner of his eye.

All throughout the meeting you could feel the heat of his glare burning into your cheeks with every minute that passed whilst you constantly fidgeted in your chair, desperately wanting to free yourself from his incessant stare. Your confidence was back but not enough to face his piercing blue eyes that he enjoyed watching you squirm under and the foul mood he had forced you and everyone else to endure. As for Tommy he had no interest in what his family had to stay. Instead he was more concerned as to what had you looking so pleased with yourself so poised, a far cry from how you had been in recent years. His concerns only heightened when John went over dates for an event Tommy had planned for everyone in celebration. A celebration for what, nobody new yet.

"Talked with Aunt Pol, only date free is February the fifteenth, in a month's time for your...whatever it is" John said chewing on the end of his pencil as he squinted at his handwriting on the piece of paper in front of him. " No the sixteenth" he said looking up as Polly rolled her eyes.

" The nineteenth" she said as she shook her head at her nephew whilst John shrugged his shoulders replacing the pencil in his mouth with a toothpick.

" Right yeh, fine" Tommy said as he mentally went through the dates in his head, hoping his plans in a week's time would go the way he wanted to actually have something to celebrate about. "Y/N you gonna write that down?" he said looking to you as he tapped his fingers on the table trying to gain your attention.

" I can't come" you said as you finished writing in your notebook finally looking up to see the irritation growing in Tommy's face.

" It's a company gathering. You don't have a choice. Moving on..." Tommy said as he flicked his ash into the glass dish beside him as he lent back into his chair.

" I'm not obligated. It wasn't in my contract" you said as you crossed your arms.

" You don't have a contract" Tommy scoffed as he rubbed his brow in frustration.

" Well I want one, that way I know exactly where I stand"

"Think you're making it pretty clear were you stand sweetheart" Tommy said as you glared at him. " So what is it that has you so busy you can't come, care to share it with us?"

" I have plans with someone" you lied. In truth, you didn't have any reason to not got to Tommy's event. You just didn't want to, knowing you wouldn't be able to endure another evening watching him with her again.

"You have plans with someone in a month's time? Who?" Tommy asked stubbing out his cigarette getting annoyed with your short response" With who Y/N?"

" What's it got to do with you?"

" Another man, is that it hm? You fuckin..."

" Right think we're done ay" Arthur said standing up as he clapped his hands together cutting Tommy off in attempt to break the tension before a slagging match ensued between you both. Staring eachother down you was the first to get up, briskly walking away with a scowl on your face as Tommy brushed his hand down his face.

" See that fucking attitude I have to deal with?" Tommy said as he stood up turning to Arthur. It wasn't the first spat you had ever had in front of everyone but it had been the first time in a long time that you finally bit back at his words, catching him of guard.

" Wonder where she learnt that?" Arthur said as he placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder before walking off with a smirk on his face.

" I won't stand for this kind of attitude in a work place! Hey, you all listening to me?" Tommy shouted as he turned to everyone in the betting office and their weak attempts to hide the amusement on their faces.

" We hear you baby brother!" Arthur called out as he grabbed his hat walking out the door. Clearly everyone was mad at him, mad at the way he had treated you the previous evening in the Garrison . But Tommy was just as mad at himself for letting the events play out. He felt blindsided by Grace's gift. He needed you to know that, he needed you to know the last thing he wanted was to be parted from it.

It had been a few hours since the meeting when the tension between you and Tommy had almost turned into a full blown argument one that potentially had the chance of you launching anything you could find at him. Thankfully Arthur had intervened, stopping you from embarrassing yourselves in front of the whole betting shop. For the remainder of the day you had stayed out of each others way letting your anger towards one another simmer down. But an hour before closing time Tommy had called you into his office. His plan was to apologise for the previous evening, albeit in a cold uniquely Tommy way. But nonetheless he felt guilty for what had happened last night. Little did he know, he was only going to make things worse. As you entered his office Tommy looked up from the various papers on his desk to the scowl still spread across your face. You was clearly still mad at him, did he really think he could just apologise and his cruel actions would be forgotten?

" Hand me my diary" he asked as he rubbed his forefinger above his top lip watching you as you crossed your arms in frustration. Did he seriously ask you in here to fetch his diary for him ? You thought to yourself as you stormed over to the shelves behind him as he cleared his throat reaching for the pack of cigarettes on his desk. Slamming it on the table in front of him you started to walk off when he grabbed your arm stopping you.

" I need you to write down the dates John gave at the meeting" he said as he looked up at you and the storm of anger building in your face.

" You couldn't have done that yourself?"

" Forgot them" he said as he picked up a pencil handing it to you.

" You never forget anything Thomas Shelby" you snapped back grabbing the pencil from his hand as you started turning the pages, a little huff leaving your throat that Tommy couldn't help but smile at. " What's this?" you asked pointing at a black star one week from today.

" The day I finish my dealings with Kimber. The dates" he said nodding at the book, lighting a cigarette as your hand wavered over the paper at the confirmation from Tommy himself that what Kimber's men had said yesterday when they had you pushed up against the brick wall behind your home was Indeed true. Turning the page a sudden surge of discomfort started to build within you, a discomfort you hadn't felt since he left for France. He was putting his life at risk once again, and the only reaction you had was worry, worry that he wouldn't come back from it. " There" you said quietly, pushing the book towards him as you turned to leave.

" Y/N' wait" Tommy said as he stood up walking over to you." The other day at the Garrison...the pocket watch i didn't want to.."

" Just stop Tommy" you said as put your hand up cutting him off " We've both moved on, why hold onto the past right? " you added as Tommy let out a deep sigh whilst you turned your head away from him avoiding as much eye contact as you possibly could.

" That's the thing, I never mov... What's that?" He said as he moved your hair away from your neck, you body flinching as his thumb rubbed along the small knife mark on your skin. " Y/N who did that to you?" Tommy said, his voice getting lower as a surge of anger started to course through him.

" It's nothing Tommy"

" Nothing? You're lying" he replied with a scoff as he moved your hair away again, ducking his head down to to get a better look when you swatted his hand away. " Looks like someone had a knife to your throat" he said as he let his hand drop to his side, fury rising within him at the mere thought of someone hurting you.

" Don't be ridiculous. I was cutting my hair and nipped my skin. Why do you care anyway?"

"You never was very good at lying Y/N" Tommy said huffing as he watched you bite the corner of you bottom lip whilst you fidgeted in place. " And you really think I stopped caring about you?"

" Yes" you said as the words caught in your throat, tears welling in your eyes as you spun around to the door not wanting him to see you like this. His pity was the last thing you needed to add to you ever growing list of reasons to feel insecure.

" Y/N wait, I need to know what happened " he said as he tried to turn you around but stopped as you shrugged him off you, opening the door then slamming it shut behind you.

" Fuck sake" Tommy muttered under his breath as he watched you return to your desk through the window of his office. There was no way he would let this slide. You was clearly lying to him and he was determined to find out why.

As closing time approached you picked up your belongings when your movements had Tommy who was deep in thought abruptly stand up grabbing his coat and hat. If he was coming out here to bombard you with questions as to what happened he could forget it. You thought to yourself as you hurried to the door hearing him call your name. "Fucking door" you mumbled, pulling at the handle trying to open it as you looked over your shoulder to see Tommy heading your way, luck finally falling upon you when John stopped him putting the book of takings in front of him. Open, open, open! You thought as you rattled the handle pulling it back and forth when the door suddenly opened with ease and Grace walked in.

" Y/N" she said as she looked you over, taking in your reddened face from your efforts, a small chuckle leaving her lips. " Came to surprise Tommy after work" she said as she continued to stand in your way.

" How lovely" you said sarcastically as you tried to push past her when she put her hand on your arm.

" I know about that old pocket watch you gave Tommy all those years ago" she said looking at you. " Best you let go off the past, after all Tommy said it was only a silly little teen fling" she said with a small smile.

" Fling?" You repeated taken aback by what she had just said, what Tommy had said to her.

" Childhood sweethearts never last Y/N, don't be naive" She said in a mocking tone, belittling you without an ounce of shame at her hurtful choice of words. What were you saying, what had she said? Tommy panicked as John continued to bother him with the takings of the day. As your head turned to face him, Tommy swallowed harshly at the sight of a tear falling down your cheek.

" Let her go Tommy" Grace said placing both her hands on his chest as he walked over to where you had been standing, watching you storm out onto the streets of Watery Lane as the door closed behind you.

A fling, a fucking fling. He once asked you to marry him, promised to spend the rest of his life with you, her words couldn't have cut deeper if they tried. Let them have eachother. You thought to yourself as you clutched your coat around you heading for home, back to the four walls where you knew you would ultimately fall apart once again, your new founded confidence short-lived your own promises discarded, dwindling down into a pile of self-doubt and surrender after Graces cruel remarks. Could things get any worse?

One week later..

Today was black star day, the day Tommy planned to take out Billy Kimber and all of his dealings. Sitting in the corner of the Garrison nursing the drink you had ordered over an hour ago you glanced over to see Tommy and Grace standing behind the bar pouring drinks for his men, undoubtedly to numb any nerves that threatened to appear risking the plan Tommy had been preparing meticulously for weeks. Lifting his head from the glass of stout he was pouring Tommy caught your eye. It was the first time in almost a week you had looked each others way, anything you had to say to one another was passed on to anyone in the betting shop that was willing and had the patience to deal with both of your stubbornness. But today was different and Tommy couldn't help but notice the way you was looking at him, the same way you looked at him as you both waited on the platform for the train to arrive and take him and all of the other men saying goodbye to their loved ones off to war. The only difference between them and you was you had barely uttered a word to eachother, his final goodbye before he boarded a quick peck to your cheek.

And as if you had been transported back five years, tears started to form in your eyes as you abruptly stood up leaving the Garrison like you did when Tommy stepped on the train not once looking back, leaving you alone and heartbroken. What you didn't know was, Tommy did look back. He pushed his way past all the other men in the carriage in search of a free window shouting your name as he desperately tried to get a glimpse of you one last time before he left for war.

"Y/N!" Tommy shouted as he grabbed his coat and hat racing out of the Garrison. He wouldn't let what happened on that platform five years ago play out again.

" Tommy wait! What are you doing?" Grace called out after him as she watched the Garrison doors close behind him. " Why does he always go after her? He doesn't even love her anymore" she seethed as she looked to Arthur who raised his brow downing the rest of his drink.

" Doesn't love her? He's a stubborn bastard but he never stopped Grace" Arthur said as he walked away leaving her fuming at Tommy's unrelenting devotion to you.

"Where have all the young men gone,

long time ago?

Where have all the young men gone?

Gone to soldiers, every one..."

You sang, tears streaming your cheeks as you sat by your little brother Georgie's gravestone, his life taken like so many others during an air raid. Wiping your tears you continued to sing as if time had stood still and you was back in 1916 sitting on the grass in the only place you felt peace and calm, waiting for the men you loved so much to return from war.

" Do you still sing that song for me?" Tommy said as he slowly approached you, afraid you'd stop.

" Leave me alone Tommy" you sniffed as you stood up brushing the remaining tears away from your cheeks, looking out at Small Heath in the distance.

" We live in the same town, work in the same place. I can't...I don't want to" He said as he stepped closer wanting to reach out to you, wanting to hold you in his arms like he should have done all those years ago.

" Yes, Tommy Shelby doesn't care what anybody else wants, what anybody else asks does he? you replied misunderstanding the meaning behind his words. " Why did you follow me?" you sighed picking up the dead flowers by Georgie's grave as you turned around making you way down the hill not wanting to even wait for his response when Tommy put his arm out, stopping you from walking any further.

" You were crying" he replied feeling like a teen boy again stuck on what he really wanted to say. " Y/N I.." Tommy sighed as he brought his thumb up, brushing it down your cheek. " I knew you would come up here" he said, his hand dropping from your face as he abandoned the small speech he had prepared as he made his way to the cemetery to find you.

" Crying, I've been crying for five years, only now you notice?!" you scoffed pushing past him.

" Oh I noticed, its not like you try and hide it, do you? " Always pushing it in my face, have you forgotten who's fault this all is, eh?" Tommy said as his stance stiffened, his coldness towards you making a swift return when you didn't respond to his veiled attempts to be tender with you.

" Here I almost forgot. Throw it in the cut like you did everything else when you came back from France, like you did my heart. After all it was just a fling " you said storming back to him as you pulled his pocket watch out of your coat, shoving it into his hands.

" A fling? Y/N!" Tommy called out furrowing his brow as he watched you run down the hill. "You broke my heart first, you fucking broke mine first!" Tommy shouted back taking his cap off as he brushed his hands through his hair. " Fuck!" He yelled throwing his hat onto the grass as Jeremiah and Arthur came running up the hill.

" Tommy!" Arthur shouted as his brother turned around to face them, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand.

" What? What is it?" Tommy sniffed as his eyes darted between them both. "Well?"

"Tell him what you just told me" Arthur said breathlessly as he turned to Jeremiah stood beside him.

" Just heard there's to van's driving up the Stratford Road. An old Corporal of mine said he recognised some of the men..he said it's the Kimber boys"

"Ada wake up! You and the baby get into the ball ring where there's lots of people" Tommy said as he stormed through their house on Watery Lane as Arthur, Jeremiah and his son Isaiah followed behind him.

" What's going on?" Polly said as she took in Tommy's panicked state.

"We've been fucking betrayed" he replied rubbing his forehead. " Someone let slip. Kimber's men are on their way here" Tommy said as he paced the room back and forth.

" Yeh but you can handle them Tommy" Polly said having confidence that her nephew had another plan if something like this was to to happen.

"It's just us. All the Lee's are on their way to Worcester, we're outnumbered" Tommy said as the realisation his plan had fallen apart started to sink in. "Fuck!" he shouted as he slammed his hands down onto the top of a cabinet, the pictures and ornaments rattling from the force of his outburst.

"Who else knew today was the day you was moving on Kimber? You said you kept it a secret who else did you tell? " Polly questioned as Tommy leaned his weight on the mahogany wood, clenching his jaw at what Isaiah had told him before they had all entered the house.

" Isaiah" Tommy said as he turned his head to the young Blinder. " Tell them what you just told me"

" Tom, I don't think she was..." he said as he stepped forward when his boss cut him off.

" Tell them!" Tommy shouted turning around, his patience wearing so thin he was close to loosing any self-control he had left.

" The other day I saw Y/N with Kimber's men in the alley way behind her place. I thought she'd come to you and tell you herself. Tom they look like they roughed her up " he said as Tommy scoffed at his remark.

" Nah I don't believe it. Y/N would never..." Arthur said when Tommy interrupted.

" Betray me? She fucking hates me, you've all seen it " he replied raising his brow as he stepped closer to his older brother. " You've always stuck up for her, but she did this, she threw us under the bus. All of us, even you Arthur" he said pointing his finger in his older brothers face.

" I'd back away if I was you Tommy, because this time I won't let you win baby brother" Arthur said pushing him in the chest away from him. " We've known her since we were bloody kids. Y/N would never betray this family, she's one of us" Arthur concluded as he walked away grabbing the bottle of whisky on the table, pouring himself a full glass before he too lost control of his temper.

" Tommy that girls been devoted to you the moment she met you, you're blinded by your bitterness towards her. Did you not tell anyone else? Polly asked as Tommy shook his head forgetting or ignoring the fact he had, the very same person who had written it in his diary. No, Tommy's sights were set on you, only you could have done this only you could have betrayed him.

NEXT PART

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