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pucksandpower · 2 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?

1K notes · View notes

nottsangel · 7 months ago

Text

the red means i love you — r.c.

pairing: dark!rafe cameron x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, murder, vaginal sex, extreme violence, stabbing, blood, knifeplay (carving), bloodplay, possessive and obsessive behaviour (reader and rafe), fingering, hair pulling, slight spanking, toxic relationship, reader and rafe are both fucked in the head

word count: 5k

summary: in a relationship fueled by hidden obsession and jealousy, you and your boyfriend are more alike than you initially thought.

moodboard // m.list // blurbs m.list // taglist

You hummed along to the song blasting from your speakers, stretched out on your stomach while absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, your long nails tapping against the screen. With your boyfriend away on their annual family vacation, you were left restless and bored. Since you started dating him a year ago, you've spent practically every moment together, causing your hobbies and personal interests to gradually fade, along with your sense of individuality. He was the centre of your world, everything in your life revolved around him— you were willing to go to any lengths for him, and you knew he would do the same for you. What you both didn’t know, was how far you would be willing to go for each other.

Yawning while watching the nth slime scoopability video on your TikTok for you page, a notification popped up on your phone— rafe_cameron posted a new picture! You instantly tapped on it, having notifications turned on for a reason only to find a photo of your boyfriend on a yacht, clad in nothing but his blue swimsuit. Fuck. His defined abs, the tight shorts showing his bulge through the fabric, his hair messy and slightly wet— you instantly felt an ache between your legs, prompting you to rub your thighs together.

Though it had only been a few days since you had last seen him, his absence weighed heavy and the picture didn’t help. You found yourself analysing every single detail of the picture, but your focus kept going back to his bulge as you could practically feel his cock filling you up so perfectly like he does every night again, except for tonight. You were desperately craving his touch, and just as you were about to reach your hand into your shorts to relieve the achy feeling, your mood was ruined when you checked the comment section.

oliviaprentiss4: looking good Cameron! 😍

Bang. You threw your phone aggressively at the wall while letting out a piercing scream as your breaths grew shallow and fast, anger coursing through your veins. Fucking bitch. Of course it’s Olivia, who goes after your man every chance she gets. Despite Rafe's constant assurances that she's just a friend and nothing more, as a girl yourself, you can't help but notice the subtle flirtations — the way she twirls her blonde locks while gazing up at him with fuck-me eyes whenever they talk. You're not stupid.

You fixed your gaze intently on the wall, attempting to collect your thoughts and calm your breathing as a plan dawned upon you. Swiftly grabbing the lip gloss from the bedside table next to you, you hastily reapplied it before gathering your phone from the ground and switching to the camera app. You raised your phone in the air, pushing your tits up and pulling your top down just a tad bit, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination as you snapped a few pictures while switching poses.

Brandon is gonna fucking love these, you thought to yourself while scrolling through your camera roll, referring to a fratboy you met at a party before you started dating Rafe. You hooked up with him once, seeing him as nothing more than just a one-night stand, but he became obsessed with you after that— replying to your Instagram stories daily and asking you to hang out at least once a week. You knew he would comment if you posted a few sexy pics, and you were right.

brandontheman: cute top, but im more interested in whats under it ;)

You bit your lip as an amused but sinister smile spread across your face, knowing it would infuriate Rafe. Clicking back on his profile to check the new picture once more, you noticed new comments had been added. Your smile abruptly vanished as you glanced at Rafe's comments section again, feeling the anger that had started to subside returning with force.

rafe_cameron: @ oliviaprentiss4 Thanks liv.

Liv. He fucking calls her Liv. Fucking asshole. You muttered curses under your breath, fists clenching as your breathing quickened and your jaw tightened again. He could've simply ignored her. Or deleted her comment. Or blocked her when you started complaining about the bitch four months ago. But no— the fucking idiot calls her Liv, for everyone to see, including you.

With hands trembling from sheer rage, you redirected your attention to your phone before switching profiles. rafe_cameron. Now, you wouldn't exactly label yourself as toxic for having his profile logged in on your phone. You're just, you know, keeping an eye on him, with the best intentions after all. Even though he was unaware that you peeked into his phone to get his password when he was showering. Hmm. Okay, maybe you were a little toxic, you can admit that much. But being toxic means being smart so you went to settings and disabled notifications, ensuring Rafe wouldn’t suspect a thing before tapping on his chat with Olivia.

As you scrolled through the chat, nothing new caught your eye, which didn't come as a surprise given that you checked his profile on a daily basis. It was the usual— Olivia showering him with compliments whenever he posted a picture of himself, and him graciously thanking her. You shook your head in disbelief, your jaw tensing with anger at his consistent responses to her. She was a big problem— a serious threat to your relationship, and you desperately needed to get rid of her. You took a deep breath, hoping your plan would succeed, before typing out a message.

rafe_cameron: hey liv.

oliviaprentiss4: hey rafey!

Rafey. Oh, this bitch really wants to die.

rafe_cameron: my girlfriend is out of town tonight. wanna come over?

oliviaprentiss4: sounds good! I’ll be there at 9!! 🤍

Not a girl’s girl, huh? You scoffed at how easily she agreed to a man cheating on his girlfriend, yet a small smile tugged at your lips as it seemed that your plan was starting to take work. Now you just had to figure out how to get inside Tannyhill, but let’s be real— breaking in is the easiest part of it all.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows across the Cameron’s estate except for a few lights that you hastily switched on when you arrived five minutes before nine. It was quiet; the only sounds in the eerie mansion were the ticking of a clock and a few birds chirping outside.

You were impatiently sitting on the couch, waiting for Olivia, with your knee bouncing up and down— not from nerves though, but rather, excitement. A wicked grin spread across your face as you heard the doorknob turn, followed by cautious footsteps on the wooden floor. Olivia gasped audibly when she spotted you, her face flushing bright red as she stumbled over her words, too stunned to articulate a coherent sentence.

“I- Sorry, Rafe said- I mean. I thought you wouldn’t-“ “You thought what, exactly? That you could fuck my boyfriend without me knowing? God, you really are such a stupid, fucking bitch.”

Your words hit her hard, causing her to freeze in place as she fiddled with her fingers nervously. She realized she fucked up bad when she caught the insane, psychotic glare in your narrowed eyes, which was filled with unmistakable hatred directed at her. It sent shivers down her spine— she came to the stark realization that you were more than simply a jealous girlfriend; she was fearing for her life.

You rose from the couch and marched towards her, causing her to take steps back in panic, her eyes widening in terror. But you were quicker, consumed by rage. She cried out in agony as you seized a handful of her blonde hair, and violently hauled her towards the ground until she smashed into the floor with a loud thud.

“Tsk, so many men, and still, you had to choose mine. Dumbest decision you could make, Liv. And you’re gonna fucking regret it.” You hissed as you straddled her. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling disoriented from her head hitting the floor as she confusedly gazed up at you. It was over for her. You knew it, she knew it. The poor girl gulped when you took a knife out of your back pocket— the pocket knife that Rafe bought you to defend yourself from men. Oh, if only he knew. Thank you baby, best present ever.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do. I will use this cute little knife to stab you, okay? Not just once though, no, there’s no fun in that.” Now, this was the moment where she broke down in tears, pleading for you to let her go. You revelled in the sense of power, devoid of any trace of empathy, as you observed the girl's panicked state with streaks of mascara running down her face. What the fuck did she expect? It’s the consequences of her own actions.

You gripped her face tightly, sharp nails pressing into her skin as you forced her to meet your gaze, her eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears as they met yours. She was frozen in place, paralyzed by an overwhelming sense of dread. “Hey, hey, just shut up for a moment and let me do my thing, okay? This is my moment and I can’t have you fucking it up. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

You paused and slowly closed your eyes, savouring the momentary bliss until Olivia interrupted you, prompting an irritated exhale and forcing your eyes to reopen. “Let me go, please! I wasn’t even gonna do anything with him! I promise!” she attempted and pleaded for one last time, despite knowing deep down that it wouldn't change anything. Your hatred was too strong, as evidenced by your eyes— the psychotic look on your face caused goosebumps to form all over her body.

“You think…” you started, breath quickening in growing anger as your jaw tensed, shaking your head and snickering in disbelief, “…you can fucking LIE TO ME?” you screamed before raising the knife in the air, not wasting any more time as she only fuelled your rage further, followed by bringing it back down, right into her chest next to her silver necklace with the letter ‘O’ attached to it. She let out a piercing scream out of agony before you quickly pulled the knife out, blood spurting in every direction possible just like in slasher movies, making you forget for a moment that this was real life. You were so caught up in the moment— it felt therapeutic in a way to finally release all of your pent-up rage.

“Don’t” stab. “touch” stab. “my” stab. “man, Liv.” stab, stab, stab.

Your heart raced as you witnessed the life drain from her ocean-blue eyes, a rush of power and exhilaration consuming you as you smiled down at her with a manic glint in your eyes. You experienced a strange sense of peace along with a wave of relief washing over you. Problem solved.

Standing up again, you had to steady yourself as you felt slightly lightheaded with adrenaline rushing through your body. You wiped the remaining blood from your face with your shirt before hearing a faint scream coming from upstairs, making you gasp as your heart beat out of your chest. What the fuck? You were convinced that no one was home, the entire Cameron family on their yearly vacation far, far away.

The screams came to an abrupt halt followed by a loud thud before hearing a person grunt, as if they were struggling while carrying something heavy. Fuck fuck fuck. This was when you started to panic. Whoever it was coming down the stairs right now was about to witness you fully covered in blood with a fucking dead body lying next to you on the floor. It was over.

“Shit man… why’s it never the skinny, short guys she fuckin’ falls for?” you heard a familiar voice complain, making you blink your eyes a few times as you saw your boyfriend descend the stairs while dragging a lifeless body behind him. “…Rafe?” you uttered, making him snap his head to the side, startled by your sweet-laced voice calling out his name.

First, his gaze fell on you, locking his blue eyes with yours, both widening in shock while staring at each other. Oh, he really fucked up, he thought, until he noticed the corpse next to you with the knife in your right hand, fresh blood dripping from it onto the floor. He then turned to face the body he was dragging down the stairs, blinking several times as he attempted to process the bizarre situation.

“Oh shit. We’re like that one Spiderman meme, babe.” you chuckled, cocking your head to the side as you watched the body comically fall down each step with a thud, leaving a trail of fresh blood behind. Rafe looked at you in astonishment, before his face quickly turned into one of absolute fury with nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing. You knew that look on your boyfriend’s face— he was about to freak the fuck out. “ooohh my god, oh my god… what— what the FUCK are you doing?!”

Your face instantly dropped as you scoffed at the hypocrisy, “What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing?” you hurriedly marched towards him, casually stepping over the girl’s lifeless body with the bloody knife still in your right hand. With your faces merely inches away, you stared into his enraged, narrowed blue eyes before turning your attention to the body resting against the stairs. Brandon. The poor boy has been beaten to death with what you assume Rafe’s baseball bat, which has been sitting in the corner of his room untouched for quite some time, always leaving you wondering why he still had that thing. Well, that question was answered now. Brandon’s face was nearly unrecognisable, it was not a nice sight. He was covered in blood from head to toe, and it was clear Rafe used Brandon’s body to get all his aggression out.

Your attention was then drawn to the once-white carpet he was standing on, which was now ruined and completely covered in blood. “Oh, and real smart, Rafe. Letting a body bleed all over your fucking carpet. What are you gonna tell your family, huh?” You snorted, taking in the mess that Rafe had made all over the house.

“That’s… that’s what you’re fuckin’ worried about here!? Just… I— I don’t know, say you were on your period or some shit, jesus.” he rolled his eyes and shook his head, obviously not thinking about the fucking carpet right now as his mind raced with a thousand thoughts while squinting his eyes, still trying to figure out who the body was on the other end of the room.

“Is that— is that Oliv-“ “ON MY PERIOD, RAFE?! I’D BE FUCKING DEAD ALREADY IF THAT’S HOW MUCH I BLEED EACH MONTH, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

Rafe briefly closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, attempting to block out your exasperating voice but failing miserably as it was the only thing he could hear at that moment. His breathing accelerated and his eyes narrowed as his frustration reached its boiling point, his vision blurred with a red haze of anger before punching a hole in the wall, the impact echoing throughout the room, sending shockwaves of sound outward. “FUCK! Why do you— why you always gotta fuck things up for us, huh? Can’t you just be a normal fucking girlfriend for once? Jesus fucking christ.”

A normal girlfriend? Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces at his words. Each syllable fell like a knife to the heart, leaving you more vulnerable and hurt. In that moment, you realized with a sense of sorrow that no matter how much you loved him, it would never be enough. Tears from sheer rage and heartache began to well up in your eyes as your grip on the knife tightened. You felt so misunderstood— why couldn’t he just see that no girl could ever love him the way you do? That everything you do is for him?

“I— I did this for you, Rafe, for us. Can’t you fucking see that? She was gonna— fuck— she was gonna ruin what we have!” you spoke in a trembling but urgent voice, swaying the knife in front of his face as blood splattered all over the walls, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’d do anything for you, you hear me? ANYTHING! Nothing is ever gonna get between us, Rafe. And no one— no one will ever love you more than I do.” His eyes were eerily still, devoid of any trace of humanity, as he stood frozen, listening to your ramblings. It only fuelled your rage more, as you so desperately tried to get it through his head that you did it for him, with the best intentions, but Rafe gave no reaction.

“I just— I just don’t get it… How the FUCK is this my-“ you continued with tears streaming down your face but gasped when you were abruptly interrupted by Rafe grabbing your face, leaving a red blood imprint on your cheek before pushing you against the cold wall followed by his lips meeting yours in a fervent urgency. His body was pressed against yours with his hand gripping the back of your head, pushing you deeper into him to intensify the kiss as your tongues danced together. At that moment, all your surroundings melted away as you were lost in the overwhelming need for each other.

Because oddly, it turned him on— your insanity turned him on. It stirred a sensation of warmth, a tingling feeling, and a deep sense of gratitude within him. Knowing someone loved him to the point of being willing to do anything for him, even if that meant killing— that was all Rafe needed in his lonely existence, longing for someone to love him with the same intensity he felt for them. Rafe Cameron just needed to be loved.

“You’re— you’re… fuckin’ perfect.” Rafe whispered, his voice laced with an unfamiliar sweetness as his blue eyes intensely gazed into yours. Perfect? You blinked a few times as you shook your head, unable to process the sudden change in demeanour. “W-what?” you stared at him before he cupped your face with both hands, a look of solace and devotion on his blood-stained face. “Listen to me, yeah? ‘m never gonna let you go, I fuckin’ promise that. I’d do anything for you— anything, you hear me? Gonna take good fuckin’ care of my girl, a’ight?”

A relieved smile graced your lips, a chuckle escaping as you found comfort before you leaned in to kiss him once more, the embrace deeper and more intense than before, filled with longing and desire. He pushed you towards the couch, making you stumble backwards while feeling more aroused with each step you took. It was a bizarre scene— both of you covered in fresh blood, hungrily touching every part of each other’s bodies, with two corpses on the floor next to you, still bleeding all over. But that wasn’t any of your concern at that moment. All you cared about was how his skilled hands moved over your skin, making you crave him even more.

Rafe, on the other hand, felt he still had something to prove— as if murdering a man wasn’t enough. He needed you to know how good he could make you feel. He needed you to understand that no man on this planet could treat you better than him. You could see it in his lustful eyes as he pushed you back on the couch, followed by him crawling on top of you and attacking your still blood-covered neck with hungry kisses. The ticklish feeling of Rafe’s mouth made you giggle as the metallic tang of blood flooded his senses, coating his tongue with an iron bitterness that lingered long. He didn’t know whose blood it even was, maybe both of theirs together mixed with yours, by the way he was so aggressively biting and sucking on your skin.

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine. Got it?” he snarled as he withdrew and grasped your face tightly, forcing you to look him into his intense eyes. You agreed with a nod, flashing a naughty smile as you gazed up at him coyly through your lashes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t wanna go around killin’ the entire neighbourhood.” He growled, before trailing his lips to your earlobe, gently sucking on it as his expensive cologne filled your nostrils. “But I will if I have to.” His voice raspy as he spoke, making you become wetter with each passing second.

“Hm, i don’t doubt that.” You remarked before a moan escaped your lips caused by Rafe’s hand groping your tits under your shirt, massaging them over the laced bra that he bought for you. “But know that I would kill the entire female population of the Outer Banks.” He couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle, still wrapping his head around just how insane his girlfriend truly was. “You’re so fucked in the head, shit.“ he whispered, pulling your bra down and toying with your nipples, making you bite your lip, “Just how I like it.”

Rafe then grabbed the knife from where you had dropped it next to the couch, skilfully twirling it a few times. You observed him with a rush of anticipation, uncertain of his intentions. He slid the knife beneath your top, eliciting a gasp as he swiftly sliced through the fabric, ruining your clothes, before repeating the action with your shorts.

“Rafe, what the fuck!” You hissed in annoyance as he destroyed your clothes. “Those were my favourites! Oh, don’t you fucking dare do the same with my underwear” It was evident he wasn't taking you seriously, the smug smile on his face only grew bigger before he slipped the knife under your bra and cut it open as well in one swift motion.

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know I can buy you anything you want, yeah?” Your lace underwear was next, leaving you inwardly agitated as he cut the fabric and flung it across the room. Seeing your dejected expression, he released an exasperated sigh. “Stop with the whining. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, a’ight?”

He seized you by the hips and quickly turned you around, pressing your face into the cushion before you could comprehend what was happening as in an instant, you found yourself face down with your ass up, angled towards him. “Fuckin’ soaked already, huh?” He suddenly grabbed a handful of your hair and raised your head, then stuck his blood-covered fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his digits with a mixture of blood and drool running down your chin while feeling his clothed boner press against your bare ass. “Yeah— that’s right baby. Lick my fingers clean like a good fuckin’ girl.” You could feel yourself dripping down your inner thighs before Rafe scooped it up with his now clean fingers and slipped them into you from behind, making you let out a hitched breath at the sudden sensation as you moaned his name.

It didn’t take long for his digits to find your g-spot as he skilfully rubbed against it, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your pornographic moans combined with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you made it difficult for him to control himself any longer, so he abruptly pulled out, causing you to whine at the sudden loss of contact. “You bitch! I was so fucking close!” Rafe’s hand reeled back before you felt a stinging pain on your ass, making you jolt forward on the couch. “Watch that fuckin’ mouth if you wanna cum.”

You heard the unbuckling of a belt behind you followed by feeling Rafe’s erection teasing your folds, dragging the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your wetness. Growing increasingly impatient, you tried to push yourself back onto his cock, to no avail as he held your hips firmly. “Aww, poor girl wants it bad, huh?” his voice laced with faux sympathy. “Then beg for it.”

“Rafe just fucking do-“ your words were quickly interrupted by him grasping your hair and leaning down to your eye level. “I said fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Fuck. Please, okay! I need to feel you! Just, please, fuck me” Rafe pushed himself into you in one quick thrust, swallowed by your warmth as he watched his cock disappear into your body. He gave you no time to adjust as he stretched you out completely, causing a brief sensation of pain that was quickly replaced by pleasure. He let out a sigh at the feeling, one hand on your lower back and the other on your hip as he quickly set a brutal pace— deep, erratic thrusts hitting your sweet spots so perfectly. Your nails scraped against the leather of the couch, nearly tearing it apart as you pushed yourself back onto Rafe’s cock, making him grunt at the sight. He massaged your inner walls so perfectly, making you moan his name loudly over and over again.

Rafe suddenly stopped in his tracks, cautioning, “Stay still or this will hurt, like bad, a’ight?”, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion before hearing him reach for the knife once again from next to him, sending a gulp down your throat. You tensed, anticipating the sensation, well aware of what was about to happen, just as you felt the sharp edge of the blade against your delicate skin while he was still balls deep inside of you. “So fuckin’ pretty all covered in blood, shit.” You could feel the letters he was etching into your skin— R.C., his initials. Once he was done, he tossed the knife on the floor before quickly pulling out, causing you to whine at the sudden empty feeling as he leaned down, licking up your blood that was dripping from the fresh wounds, mingling with Olivia's still-stained blood on your skin. “Forever mine.”

Rafe slapped your ass once again, causing you to cry out from the stinging pain of his hand making contact with the fresh carvings on your skin. “Now, where were we?” He slipped into you again as he mercilessly continued his thrusts, strangled noises leaving your mouth at the sudden feeling. He noticed your moans were muffled by the pillow so he grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged it firmly, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

“Shit, look at ya now. Not so tough anymore, huh?” Rafe groaned as he pounded into you, his brutal thrusts making your eyes roll to the back of your head as your vision started to blur. “Shut— up.” You muttered in between his thrusts, your mind all fuzzy as his tip repeatedly hit your cervix. You clenched around him when he kept hitting that one spot inside you, the pleasure building as you could feel his cock twitching inside you.

You arched your back with your eyes fluttering shut as felt your orgasm approaching. “I’m— I’m so fucking close, oh my god” You moaned out with your mouth agape, nails digging deep into the skin of his arm that was wrapped around your body as the sensation became too much for you.

“Come f’me, doll. Gonna fill you up so fuckin’ good” Rafe’s hand snaked around your body to rub fast circles on your sensitive clit, making you moan loudly as your orgasm abruptly struck you, causing you to clench hard around his cock with buckling knees. All your muscles tensed as you saw stars, a wave of pleasure fully overtaking you with Rafe still pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm. He came not too long after you, slow and drawn-out curses spilling from his lips with his head thrown back as you could feel the familiar pool of warmth fill you up to the brim, completely emptying himself inside of you as his orgasm hit him.

He rode out his high before he carefully pulled out as your chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, each breath a struggle to fill your lungs with air while trying to regain your breath. “My pretty, pretty girl.” Rafe praised, staring at your cum-dripping cunt with a grin on his face.

As you opened your eyes, the harsh reality crashed over you like a wave, sending a shiver down your spine at the sight of the lifeless bodies lying across the floor. Panic laced your voice as you turned to face Rafe, desperation evident in your words. "Rafe? What the fuck are we going to do with the bodies?"

His response was surprisingly calm, his tone carrying an unsettling assurance. "Don't worry ‘bout that. I'll take care of it, a’ight?"

The eerie composure in his voice sent a chill down your spine, hinting at a familiarity with murdering that made your stomach churn. "What? How— how do you know how to clean up bodies?"

A sinister smirk crept onto his handsome features, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion and disbelief before his blue eyes stared deep into yours, holding you in their gaze with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Princess, what do you think happened to poor Jake last month? And Dylan before that?”

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hamilando · 5 months ago

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ੈ✩ don’t cry at my wedding (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : charles leclerc x russell !fem reader

summary : the siblings realising that the sister has grown a little to much

tw : emotional, friends being chaotic!

fc: Martha Hunt *she is so pretty-*

a/n : thank you so much to @xshazxx for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by georgerussell, lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, charlesleclerc and 67,937 others

mercedesomg Blondes do it better 🫷🏻

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georgerussell do what better little miss sister ?

mercedesomg anything you would like to imagine 😗

user1 DO IT BETTER GURL 💪🏻

user2 blonde is really your color 📷

lewishamilton the color suits you !!

mercedesomg my favourite brother 🫶🏻

georgerussell EXCUSE ME WHAT !?

maxverstappen1 george is currently screaming gibberish in the lounge

carmenmmundt dw, omw to pick him up 🏃🏻‍♀️‍➡️

user3 the spain air hitting ✨

user4 it hit ferrari a little to hard

lilyhye I told you blonde was your color ✊🏻

mercedesomg well, thank you lily AND ALEX

alex.albon thank god you didn’t forget 👀

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, georgerussell and 94,237 others

mercedesomg running a mercedes powered account 🫶🏻💪🏻

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lewishamilton you are disowned from the position of my sister

mercedesomg NO, lewis appreciation post coming up ! 🫶🏻

user1 MY EYES

user2 MY HEART

user3 MY BRAIN

user4 i love how she posted thirsty pics of the russells and a meme of lewis

mercedesamgf1 we stan this user 🙌🏻

liked by mercedesomg

georgerussell are you alright ? do you need to go the hospital ? you posting a good pic of me !?

mercedesomg shut up and accept it 🫷🏻

georgerussell also, why would you post a half naked picture of yourself !?

mercedesomg you are literally naked showing your tatas

user5 the russell siblings are literally kids every parent would dread to have

user6 imagine them fighting

landonorris you don’t want to see that

user6 LANDO REPLIED TO ME !?

lilihye i am blinded by the watermelons on my screen

mercedesomg LILY, BABE WE ARE IN PUBLIC, DON’T EXPOSE US

lilihye oh sheesh 🫢

user7 lili is us ✊🏻

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 178,937 others

f1wags The Russell sister is engaged !? or is it just part of her look !?

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user1 now even wearing a ring is dangerous 💀

user2 bro it’s just a ring

user3 SHE IS ENAGAGED!?

user4 it’s literally just a ring, her stylist must have made her wear it !

user5 if she is engaged, i am stanning haas 🫷🏻

user6 you will regret it brother

user7 do we have any candidates for her beau ?

user8 Lewis ?

user9 you did not-

user10 oh lord, if she saw this

user11 LEWIS IS LITERALLY LIKE A BROTHER TO HER !

user12 Lili?

user13 possible 🫣

liked by charlesleclerc, lewishamilton, georgerussell and 357,285 others

mercedesomg I look better in red 🙌🏻🌶️

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user1 I TOLD YOU Y’ALL ITS LEWIS

user2 mate 💀

user3 brother 💀

georgerussell did you just leave me and lewis for that short ass kid ?

mercedesamgf1 and toto

mercedesomg wait till you all see the username change 😗

user4 HOLD UP! WE MISSED A WHOLE CENTURY MISS !?

user5 SHE IS ENGAGED !? OH LORD, I have to stan haas !?

scuderiaferrari welcome to the family ❤️

mercedesomg aww, thank you 🥹

carlossainz55 it really does suit you!

liked by mercedesomg

user6 what is the username change !?

user7 END OF AN ERA 😭

landonorris charles, you did good

user8 for what 👀

user9 oh hell nah…

charlesleclerc i would prefer you looking nude ☺️

georgerussell MATE THATS MY SISTER

lewishamilton you better behave with her, future team-mate

charlesleclerc SHE IS MY FIANCE

charlesleclerc i see you lewis 👀

mercedesomg and i see you mr. leclerc, you are sleeping on couch

charlesleclerc WHY !?

lilihye bad choice charles

maxverstappen bad choice charles

landonorris bad choice charles

pieregasly bad choice charles

mercedesomg you spoiled my hard launch 😗

user10 SHE AND CHARLES !?

user11 talk about plot twist

liked by charlesleclerc, georgerussell, lewishamilton and 567,379 others

y/nleclerc It’s Mrs. Leclerc 🫷🏻

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georgerussell * it will be

georgerussell Y/N THE USERNAME STILL HAS SOME TIME

charlesleclerc not for long 🤷🏻‍♂️

georgerussell she is still a russell 💪🏻

charlesleclerc do i smell jealousy ?

landonorris he is sulking about the idea of y/n getting married

maxverstappen1 now lando mentioned it, he is crying

lewishamilton now y/n is calling him and he is trying to act all ok

mercedesomg and now he is crying in front of me

georgerussell you all didn’t have to expose me like that

lilihye so happy for you both !!!

liked by y/nleclerc

arthurleclerc welcome to the fam sis!

liked by y/nleclerc

lewishamilton you grew up so fast, even i have tears in my eyes

y/nleclerc i will always be your little kid ❤️

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liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, georgerussell snd 764,928 others

y/nleclerc To the brother I got from my mother and the one I got from Toto ( quite literally ), just so you both know, I will always be your little kid. Thank you for being there for me and giving me the reassurance that despite the numerous pranks snd fights, I can always to come to you both with crying eyes or my yapping mouth and you would always welcome me with a warm hug. Georgey, I grew up with you and I know I never say this much but I love you very much and am very proud of you, from your first podium in karting to your first win F1. Lewis, I first met you in 2019 when I was just a teenager and the first thing I asked you was for the picture ( I was meeting a f1 world champion, ofc I had to get a picture) but I didn’t know then that half my gallery would be filled with our pictures. Thank you for always being there like a brother, like a friend, like a mentor and like a punching bag ( that’s a story for another day ).

To both my brothers, I love you and just changing my surname won’t take me away from you ❤️ and you both know Charles pretty well, so if we have a fight, you both surely know who to run over 🫶🏻

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kasagia · 11 months ago

Text

Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

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rosyblooom · 6 months ago

Text

the set up | op81 smau

PAIRING: oscar piastri x fem hamilton!reader SUMMARY: oscar and y/n practically act like a couple, but they swear they're just a couple of besties. so some of the grid devise a plan to force them to call it what it is once and for all A/N: i love sad endings, i can't help it🫣 but here u go <3 (pls don't cry lol)

Instagram

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, nellarosee, and 164,885 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername happy birthday bestie!!! 🩷🤍🩵

view all 1,309 comments

username I'm crying what's with that random kangaroo pic at the end💀

yourusername huh?? that's just oscar and his big arms, silly! username i- you did not LMAO

danielricciardo Bestie, husband, boyfriend all have the same meaning, I see

yourusername WRONG ! bestie is what i'm gonna make heidi demote u to if u don't zip it! then u can kiss those husband dreams of urs goodbye 😘 danielriciardo If it's anything like what you and Oscar have got going I have no complaints 😁 username oop y/n were you silent or silenced?🎤

oscarpiastri Was that kangaroo really necessary?😐

yourusername it's not a crime to be aussie AND show off ur gains at the same time babes x

username "bestie" smh... imagine how tired we are 🫤 imagine how tired we are of it

(liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and charles_leclerc + more)

username why did nearly the entire grid like this?? they're so messy🤣

username HAPPY BDAY OSCARRR🎉🧡

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, alex_albon, and 478,002 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Couldn't ask for a better date to keep me company at all these events 👍

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username since you brought up date could i propose the actual act of dating?😏

landonorris Me too!! logansargeant Me 3 🙋‍♂️ danielricciardo **4

alex_albon The way I thought those were wedding pics and it didn't even surprise me

yourusername and if I say, when I saw the news that u crashed ur car and stole logan's, it didn't surprise me, then what?😇 logansargeant Now why am I in this... alex_albon WOW username that was sooo nasty omfg😭

username the first pic is literally giving wedding ahhh I wish

yourusername anything for my best friend <33

oscarpiastri :) username ohh y'all are pissing me off

lewishamilton Just best friends??

yourusername not u too 🙄 lewishamilton Some older brother wisdom: don't fight the inevitable. When you know, you know, and I firmly believe deep inside you know what I mean. yourusername not reading allat x

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[ caption: ☀️☀️😴 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

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eveythingf1wags Y/N Hamilton was spotted in Monaco with Oscar and the Piastri fam, enjoying lunch together! Later on, they both posted pictures to their stories, soaking up the Mediterranean sun on a boat.

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username 'everythingf1wags' but y'all are posting this man's bestie i-💀💀

username have you seen the way they act tho? could've fucking fooled me like??? username no bc you're so right😭

username if they marry do u think it'll be y/n piastri or oscar hamilton tho??🧐

username **WHEN GIRL❗️

username "just friends" my ass smh

username manifesting they finally fall in love soon🕯️

username same babe 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

username the way it's literally giving meet the family omg 😍

username enough with the fucking slow burn i need them to kiss like yesterday😩

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landonorris posted to his story!

[ caption: hugging like you're going to war when it's just blind dates is a choice lol ]

[ tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername ]

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: She says I clean up well but have you seen her? 😍 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

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charles_leclerc posted to his close friends!

[ caption: I think we did it guys ]

yourusername

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tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername just like and keep scrolling i don't wanna hear it 🔫🙂

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mclaren Congrats🎉🧡 (about time)

lewishamilton Welcome to the family, brother

oscarpiastri Wait, I thought I was already part of the family😅 yourusername lewis istg i'm about to slash your tyres username lmaoo y/n's hands are rated e for everyone i'm cryin💀

oscarpiastri The only one I had in mind❤️

yourusername 🥹🤍 username you guys are so freakin cute 🤧

username LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO💃💃💃

landonorris @/carlossainz55 run me my money

carlossainz55 Sent 🫡 yourusername blocked x

username you don't understand how much i needed this omg😭😭😭

danielricciardo See how nothing's changed between the pictures they used to post together and these?

yourusername see how nothing's changed in ur points since the start of the season and now? 😋 username ouch. should've just sat there and kept scrolling babe lmaooo

alex_albon Mission accomplished I'd say

charles_leclerc 🍻 maxverstappen1 🍾🍾

0:10 ㅇ──────────── 2:06

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request a scenario of the MC visiting their friends' (Azul, Jade, and Floyd) homes and being shown their embarrassing baby photos by their parent/relative?

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul had thought he burned every single one of the reminders of his childhood, meeting his mothers smug face with a glare. She had known he was on a vendetta against his younger self but she had loved him then as she loved him now, chunky cheeks and all. She ignored his begging as she sat down to show you the pictures, Azul unable to even sit in the same room as he imagined the ridicule that might follow. The twins had made jokes about it around you but you had never mentioned it to him before leaving Azul to assume you had no idea about his former weight issues, and it filled him with an anxiety that wrapped tight around his heart. When you asked him why he didn’t join you down memory lane he can’t quite respond, and you gently remark that he was a cute kid, patting his cheek as you told him there was nothing for him to be so worried about

Floyd Leech:

Floyd doesn’t get why you’d be so interested in seeing baby him, but his mother was insistent that you bear witness to the cuteness of her little boys. You’re more than happy to indulge her, surprised by their tiny eel forms when they seemed so long and strong now. They had changed in so many ways since they were children but you can still see the mischievous look in Floyd’s face, when it could be captured properly. While Jade was perfectly captured in most photos Floyd was a mysterious blur, unable to stay still long enough for a picture. The very concept had you giggling up a storm, his mother sighing as she told you that they had to bribe him to stay still for their family photos.

Jade Leech:

Jade doesn’t raise any protest. He would want to do the same if your parents were offering it up so he couldn’t stop you from enjoying his old memories, though he wondered what things his mother had managed to capture. Floyd is peeking into most of his images while Jade remained perfectly poised, his normal polite smile on his face. You can see the curiosity in his gaze as there are many photos of him near potentially dangers creatures, looking at them with awe and a lack of fear. He admitted he was adventurous as a child, always curious about descending deeper and deeper and what different kinds of life he might find down there. He doesn’t regret heading in the opposite direction however, as there were many things on the surface that proved just as interesting.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Floyd Leech x Reader #Jade Leech x Reader

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allpiesforourown · 1 month ago

Note

I have such intense feelings for your bingyuan roommate au, it’s unreal. Binghe would be the BIGGEST green tea bitch/pick me girl but only towards sy, no one else. encountering lbh in the wild first and then experiencing him next to sy would be a fever dream of epic proportions. actual dozens of women would want to behead him and rip out his guts. bc lbh would ditch them on their birthday, an actual medical emergency, or anything critical at all just bc sy vaguely implied he was hungry (lbh now HAS to cook for him, it is not a want, it is a NEED)

And sy would be worse then evvvver, lol. “That’s my little didi binghe, he’s so sweet and sensitive, girls are always breaking his heart :((( If I were his girlfriend I’d get married to him next week and bounce on him silly style. Too bad no one will ever appreciate binghe like I do :(((((” and it is only after MANY of those thoughts that he realizes that he might not feel all that brotherly towards lbh

on a hornier note, I’m at a toss up between thinking that lbh would bring his hookups/girlfriends back to his and sy’s home and fucking them there (bc in lbh’s mind he can’t cum right without the reminder of his gege… and what if gege walked in 🤤… maybe lbh can get him to join…) or him absolutely refusing to let any of them so much as glance at his gege (no one should look at sy except him)

EXACTLY EXACTLY EXACTLY you get it anon.

It's literally like

Woman: let's have a threesome with your friend

Binghe: the idea sounds so appealing but I don't want some stranger getting his hands on him! I don't want to share him with someone who doesn't show him the love he needs. I'm the only one who knows him well enough to be in a threesome with shen yuan

Woman: thats sex. You're just describing regular two people sex. You want to fuck your best friend.

In my head for this au I imagine them as long time friends.. shen yuan found binghe getting bullied at a park or something when they were kids and told his bullies to fuck off. Then he listened to binghe cry about how he's so worried about his sick mom being overworked and begged his parents to hire binghes mom. With way better pay, hours, and work environment, her health improved a lot and she's good friends with shen yuans parents.

Binghe tells himself he acts like shen yuans guard dog because he'll always be grateful for what he's done for his family, but really, he fell in love with his Yuan ge at first sight the second he saw a boy standing up for him instead of ignoring his bullying.

Someone: say something nice about your best friend

Binghe: oh I have so much to say! He's so sweet and intelligent and adorably nerdy ! He saved me and my mom and-

Someone: say something nice about your girlfriend

Binghe: um..... uh ...... well.... sometimes she... hmm......

The poor women he dates. They'd go through SO much suffering trying to "fix" him and then when they finally give up after going through hell itself, they see bingge and shen yuan get together and suddenly the most negligent terrible boyfriend in the world is buying flowers and posting corny pictures on Instagram and proposing a few months into the relationship.

Shen yuan: I can't believe I managed to bag someone as handsome beautiful and loving as binghe. He wakes up at 6am every morning to get started on breakfast so he can feed me in bed. He's so attentive I worry I'm taking advantage of him. How did he get broken up with so often? No one appreciates people like binghe

Everyone else binghe has ever dated: I told him I got stabbed and he left me on read

#what should i tag this au as #asshole roommate bingge au #svsss #shen yuan #luo bingge #binggeyuan

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myeagleexpert · 3 months ago

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Yan!Batfamily x Singer!YN (neglected)

Inspired by @@gotham-daydreams's fic, your work is wonderful and makes me think about many things…. One of the things I think about is if they found Reader from her music…. Reader here is heavily inspired by Naomi Jon, she is an independent singer from Germany, she regularly makes videos on youtube about makeup, shopping on websites, tiktok foods, things like that. She is a very fun person to watch and I highly recommend you watch it, all her videos are in English. (one detail is that she doesn’t talk much about her family, and lives with her friend Vincent and boyyy every time I read about Reader from Not [ ] fics I remember her. If you disagree, that’s okay, I still like the idea of YN’s glow up <3) “Have you seen, come and read my diary Then you will see, that you don’t mean shit to me” – MANTRA- Naomi Jon

I imagine that while shopping at a store, Steph liked the store’s playlist and went to look for who was singing it.

Imagine her face when she finds out that the person she was listening to… was the YN everyone was looking for. She immediately discovers her YouTube channel, social media… and everyone immediately starts binge-watching and stalking all of her videos

Dick would be the type of person who would learn the choreography for your music videos, just to dance with you. He swears he can be the fun older brother you need, he can be in your videos too! And cook! I don't think he wears makeup, but he would watch all your makeup videos because he likes your reviews, and when you make a joke or mix up the language in the video he finds it so funny that he can't help but laugh. He wants to test out the latest skincare products with you and wants to travel together! You look so different now, with bold eyeliner and colorful hair, Dick wonders if you've always been like this and he was just blind because he didn't see it. Come on, he didn't know you had this fun and easygoing side, let's spend more time together, okay?

“This dress deserves… THE BUSINESS WALK!”

Jason sees how you've grown, and how much better you are away from Gotham. Like a flower that blooms only when it's in a clean and suitable environment, you've brilliantly transformed into who you are. But a part of him, the biggest part, thinks you'd be much safer around your family, where they can protect you. You sing and post so many videos on the internet, what if someone comes after you? Let your brother stay close, okay? And who is this friend who lives with you anyway? He is not trustworthy - no. It doesn't matter if you've known him since you were kids and have lived together for a long time. Another thing I bet he would do is join you on the days when you dye your hair in the craziest ways possible, he has some experience with dye, you know?

“C’mon FriendReader, this is the plan for this hair dyeing technique. Yes, all seven colors are here!”

For those who neglected Reader and pretended you didn't exist, he is your #01 Fan now. Tim definitely listens to ALL your music, and is 100% connected to your social networks. He watches and rewatches all your videos, they are so interactive and relaxed that he has the illusion that he is living it all with you. He's the type of person who eats while watching your videos, and watches them before bed, and when he's having a particularly stressful situation he'll lock himself in his room and watch one of your vlogs, because your voice has such a calming effect of normality that for him, it's like at any moment you'll open his door asking to try a 2-ingredient recipe you saw on TikTok.

“Timothyyy~ try this recipe I saw on tik tok!”

Damian is an interesting case… because he discovered that his precious blood brother has a side to him that he never saw. When he walked into your room and looked at all your memories, all your pictures of your achievements, all your music sketches he KNEW you were talented, but when he saw you in action in your videos and shows it was like a cartoon character came to life. YOU came to life! Definitely buy all your merch, and talk about you all the time to John. Do you still have two cats?? Enough, the kidnapping is you and them two.

“My next show will be…”

Bruce goes back and rereads your journal drafts and realizes how much your music has really changed, your focus now being only on your fans and not your family. Like everyone else in the family, he watches your videos daily and keeps thinking “I could give her a bigger box of surprises so she can record a video” “Did she think that dress was pretty? I could buy her a better one, shinier and pinker, just like she wanted.” When you post a video of the backstage of a show and all your lively preparations, he can’t help but feel guilty for the thousandth time that day. He should be by your side right now, a father should be behind the scenes giving you comfort and strength to go on the show. He should be in the front row cheering when you realized your dream of going on stage for the first time. The whole family should… You’re trying so hard, your dedication is palpable in your videos and shows. The little girl grew up and became a dreamy woman, but who do you run to when you need to cry? Let him be your comforting shoulder now, let him come into your life again.

“I made this song especially for you, my fans!”

When Alfred put that video of YN’s childhood on TV, where she performed in a school play, to remind everyone of her absence, he couldn’t be more proud of his work when weeks later he hears her voice coming from one of the boys’ rooms. It's you singing one of the songs, the batboy repeating it for the tenth time. Your voice has changed, from a childish and angelic voice to a woman's, your looks have gradually gained confidence and personality, but your “presence” in the mansion is ghostly. He feels so happy for you, you are externalizing to the world what he has always seen: that you are incredible. Alfred doesn't need to marathon your videos to feel closer to you, he already has affectionate memories, he already has albums from when you were a baby and tested recipes with him, he already has videos of you training to sing when you were little… But he still watches your videos because unfortunately, even with him you lost contact. He watches the videos like a grandfather watches his grandson's stories “Oh? Are you in Tokyo now? How wonderful, dear, remember the coat.” “Oh dear YN, I don't think this recipe will be good for you…” “Yn, be careful with the scams on these strange websites!”

“Guys, I know what you’re thinking… BUT maybe combining onion and chocolate CAN work.”

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starkwlkr · 3 months ago

Note

I really love your work, and if my message comes out as awkward, I apologize

I just had a brain fart while reading that hot to go fic and just imagined the Jackman family at a Chappell Roan concert. I don't expect anything, just sending :). Keep doing the good work💖

hot to go part 2 | hugh jackman

an: CHAPPELL AND HUGH?? yes pls <3 thank you for the request!!

Gov ball 2024

Ever since you and Hugh got Olivia and her friends tickets to the governors ball music festival, all she did was play Chappell Roan’s music on repeat. Occasionally she would play Fleetwood Mac or Joan Jett, but Chappell Roan was always at the top of her playlist.

You and Hugh had days off and they happened to land on the same days as the gov ball so you decided that a music festival was the best way to spend time together.

Your boys were in Los Angeles with friends so Olivia gave the tickets to her two friends. You were grateful you didn’t have to fly to another city for the festival.

“Who are we seeing again?” Hugh asked, probably for the tenth time. He was more old school when it came to music, but he still liked to listen to Olivia’s music.

“Chappell Roan, dad. Remember the dance I was showing mom the other day? That’s her song that goes with the dance.” Olivia explained.

“I really like her song ‘red wine supernova’. I hope she plays it.” You looked down at your phone. Alex and Reese had texted you pictures of them and their friends at the beach. You missed them, but you were glad they were having fun.

“So how does the dance go?” Hugh asked.

It took a while but, after many attempts, Hugh finally got the hot to go dance figured out. Olivia felt so proud when he finally got it.

“See that, honey? This old man can still dance.” Hugh said with a smirk on his face.

“Not to brag but it took less tries for me to learn.”

After waiting in the crowd a for what seemed hours (Olivia’s words), Chappell Roan finally arrived on stage. Hugh, like the dad he is, took out his phone and recorded both Chappell Roan and his daughter having the time of her life with her friends, singing and jumping along to the music.

“When is she playing the hot to go?” Hugh asked you.

“It’s just called hot to go, there’s no the in front.” You clarified.

“Oh.”

Eventually hot to go did play. That’s when Hugh and you got told by Olivia that this was the song that they had to dance to. Some fans had spotted the celebrity couple dancing along and recorded them. It’s not everyday you see the wolverine dancing to Chappell Roan.

Hugh ended up having a few mistakes when it came to the dance but he didn’t care. He was having fun. At one point he was being recorded by you.

“You can take me hot to go!” Hugh sang along. “That’s all I know! I don’t know the words, but I’ll learn!”

In a matter of minutes, you and Hugh were on trending everywhere. You even got several messages from Alex and Reese about your viral videos. At the moment, the boys wished they were there either you, Hugh and Olivia.

@kellyxo1

#marvel actress!reader #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman one shot #hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman fanfic #actress!reader #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman

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lxvsiick · 2 months ago

Text

I NAMED A FISH AFTER YOU | KIM LEEHAN X READER

PAIRING: childhood best friend! kim leehan x childhood best friend! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Moving into a new neighborhood, 8 year old Y/n meets a boy who really likes fish on her way to the park.

GENRE: childhood best friends, fish, fluff

WORDCOUNT: 2.8k

A/N: a little leehan short story/imagine because i was thinking about fishes and found this picture of leehan -- he looks so cute showing off his fish charms ,, also -- i'm so tempted to publish part 1 of O U R ,, i have 15 parts in my drafts . . .

The sun was bright and warm in Busan as the eight-year-old Y/n skipped along the sidewalk of her new neighborhood. Her family had just moved in the week before, and today, she was finally free to explore. A park sat just down the street, and she could already imagine the swings and slides waiting for her. But as she approached the park, something else caught her attention.

By a small pond near the edge of the park, a boy around her age was sitting cross-legged, staring intently at the water. His messy hair fell into his eyes, but he didn’t seem to care. Curious, she wandered over, crouching down next to him.

“What’re you looking at?” she asked, her voice light with interest.

Without turning his head, the boy pointed at the water. “Fishes,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Y/n tilted her head. “Fishes? What about them?”

“They’re cool,” he replied. “This one’s a bluegill, and that one over there is a pumpkinseed. See the way they swim? And if you watch them long enough, you can see how they’re different from the others. Fishes are smart. Way smarter than people think.”

Y/n stared at him, her eyebrows furrowing. “You’re kinda weird.”

“Thanks,” he said, still not looking at her. “I like fishes.”

She blinked at him, unsure what to make of the boy who would rather talk about pond creatures than, well, anything else. “Do you wanna be friends?”

He finally turned his head to look at her, his expression blank. “I’d rather be friends with fishes.”

Y/n crossed her arms. “Well, you can’t be friends with fishes. They can’t talk, and they don’t have legs. So you’re stuck with me.”

The boy paused, considering her words before giving a small shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

“Good!” she said with a grin. “Now, come on. Let’s—”

Before she could finish, she shifted her weight to stand up, but her foot slipped on the muddy bank. With a yelp, she tumbled forward and splashed right into the pond, sending ripples across the water. In her panic, she grabbed onto the boy’s shirt, pulling him in after her.

There was a brief moment of chaos, water sloshing everywhere as they scrambled to their feet in the shallow water. Soaked and stunned, Y/n looked over at the boy, who wiped pond muck off his face with an exasperated sigh.

“You just became my friend, and you’re already trying to murder me,” he said, his face deadpan. “That’s why I’d rather be friends with fishes.”

She burst into laughter, even as water dripped down her face. “Sorry about that. I’m Jung Y/n, by the way.”

He shook his head, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m Kim Donghyun. And... it’s okay.”

And just like that, with wet shoes and muddy clothes, a new friendship was born.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The soft blue glow of the tanks lit up the dim hallways of the aquarium, making everything feel like it was underwater. The sound of bubbling water and the occasional splashing filled the air as Leehan and Y/n wandered from tank to tank, their parents chatting behind them.

Leehan walked a few steps ahead, eyes wide with excitement. “Look, that one’s a lionfish!” he exclaimed, pointing at a spiny, colorful fish that floated lazily in one of the tanks.

Y/n leaned closer, her face nearly pressed against the glass. “Why’s it called a lionfish? It doesn’t look like a lion.”

“It’s because of its fins. See? They look like a lion’s mane,” Leehan explained, puffing his chest out a little. “And they’re super poisonous, so don’t touch one if you ever see it.”

She gave him a side-eye. “Why would I ever touch a fish?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, some people are weird.”

They moved to the next tank, which was filled with tiny fish darting around a coral reef. Leehan tapped the glass gently. “These are clownfish. They live in sea anemones because they’re immune to the sting.”

Y/n squinted, her nose scrunching up. “Clownfish? They don’t look like clowns.”

“They have stripes like clown costumes!” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And did you know that if the female clownfish dies, the male turns into a female?”

She blinked at him, frowning. “Wait—what?”

“Yeah, it’s true. They can change from boy to girl if they need to. Isn’t that cool?” he said, his voice full of excitement.

Y/n stared at the fish for a moment, then looked at him with a mischievous smile. “Are you gonna turn into a girl someday, Donghyunnie?”

He gave her a look, his face turning a little red. “No! I’m not a clownfish!”

She laughed, clearly enjoying teasing him. “Sure, sure.”

They continued on to the next exhibit, a massive tank filled with all kinds of fish. A shark glided by the glass, and Leehan practically jumped in place, pointing at it with wide eyes. “That’s a blacktip reef shark! They’re not dangerous to people, but they’re really fast. And sometimes they swim in really shallow water!”

Y/n watched the shark swim in lazy circles. “It’s kinda cute,” she said.

“Cute?” Leehan repeated, his face scrunched up in disbelief. “It’s a shark.”

“Yeah, but look at its little face,” she said, leaning closer to the glass. “It looks like it’s smiling.”

He shook his head. “You’re weird.”

“You like fish,” she shot back, giving him a smug grin. “That’s way weirder.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then closed it, knowing she had a point. Instead, he turned to the next tank, full of colorful jellyfish that pulsed and floated like little ghosts. His eyes widened again. “Jellyfish! These ones are called moon jellies. They don’t have brains or hearts, but they can still sting.”

Y/n tilted her head, clearly unimpressed. “No brains? Sounds like some kids in our class.”

He snorted, trying not to laugh, and moved to the next display. “Look, a blue tang! That’s what Dory from Finding Nemo is.”

“Ohh,” she said, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “I like that one! It’s pretty.”

For a moment, they both just stood there, staring at the fish as it swam through the water. The light from the tank reflected in their eyes, and Y/n leaned a little closer to Leehan.

“You really like fish, huh?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.

He nodded, his eyes still glued to the tank. “Yeah. They’re cool. They’re… peaceful.”

She smiled softly, watching him for a moment before turning back to the fish. “I think they’re pretty cool too.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The park was quiet under the soft glow of the streetlights. The swings swayed gently in the cool night breeze, their creaking the only sound breaking the silence. Y/n and Leehan sat side by side on the swings, their legs almost touching.

Y/n looked down at her feet, tracing patterns in the gravel with her sneakers. Her usually bright eyes were dim, and her shoulders slumped as she swung back and forth slowly. “I can’t believe we’re going to different high schools,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with sadness.

Leehan kept his gaze straight ahead, his own heart heavy despite his calm exterior. “Yeah, it’s... hard to believe.”

The words hung in the air, a shared understanding between them. The reality of their separation was sinking in, making the night feel colder.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “We won’t be in the same classes or see each other every day. It’s just... not going to be the same.”

He turned his head to glance at her, his expression softening. “I know. I’ll miss you too.”

She looked up, catching his eyes. “You’re not very good at showing it, you know. But I can tell you’re sad too.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “I guess I’m just trying to stay positive. It doesn’t change the fact that we’ll still be friends.”

Her face brightened slightly at his words, though the sadness didn’t entirely fade. “We will stay friends, right? We promised.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding firmly. “We’ll talk after school, text, video call, and hang out at each other’s houses. Nothing’s going to change that.”

She reached over and lightly bumped his swing with hers, a gesture of reassurance. “Yeah. We’ll make it work. No matter what.”

He nodded, his voice steady but his eyes reflecting the same sadness she felt. “We will. And besides, it’s just high school. We’ll still see each other a lot.”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “I guess you’re right. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Nope,” he said, giving her a small, encouraging smile. “It’s just a new chapter. We’re still us.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the swings moving rhythmically as they each reflected on the changes ahead. The night felt less daunting with the reassurance of their friendship, their shared promises warming the chilly air.

“Hey,” Y/n said after a moment, her voice more hopeful. “Promise me you’ll keep being you, no matter what.”

He chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the night breeze. “I promise. And you keep being you. That’s what makes us work.”

She laughed quietly, the sound mingling with the creak of the swings. “Deal.”

As they continued to swing in companionable silence, the weight of their separation felt a little lighter, buoyed by the strength of their bond and the certainty that their friendship would endure, no matter the distance.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

It was late afternoon at the small café where Leehan worked, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filling the air. The café was always busy around this time, but for now, he was on break, lounging at a table with his five closest friends.

They had been friends since high school, ever since Leehan had somehow charmed his way into their group despite his reputation for being quiet and a little… odd. Even now, sitting with them, he was half-listening to their conversation, more focused on stirring the iced coffee in front of him than joining in.

“Man, you seriously never hung out with any girls in high school,” one of his friends, Jaehyun, teased, kicking his chair lightly. “You were like, a ghost when it came to that stuff. But you expect us to believe you have this mythical childhood best friend that you keep mentioning who’s a girl?”

“Yeah, right,” another friend, Riwoo, chimed in, rolling his eyes. “If she existed, we’d have met her by now.”

The others nodded in agreement, all of them laughing as Leehan shook his head, not even bothering to defend himself. He’d told them a hundred times about Y/n, his best friend from when they were kids, but they never believed him. It didn’t help that they’d gone to different high schools and now different colleges. To his friends, she was some made-up figure—part of his weirdness.

Just as Jaehyun was about to make another joke, the bell above the café door jingled.

Leehan glanced up and his heart did a little flip. There she was—Y/n. She spotted him almost immediately, her eyes lighting up as she hurried toward him, her bag bouncing against her side. Without any hesitation, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Kim Donghyun! I’ve missed you so much!” she exclaimed, her voice warm with excitement.

For a moment, he was too stunned to react. He hadn’t seen her in person for so long—after she transferred schools, they’d only texted or called, always busy with their separate lives. But now she was here, right in front of him.

He awkwardly returned the hug, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I, uh… missed you too.”

When they finally pulled apart, Y/n turned to his friends, giving them a polite nod. But her smile faded when she noticed the looks on their faces—five pairs of eyes wide, mouths open in utter disbelief.

“Wha—” Woonhak stammered. “No way.”

Jaehyun leaned closer to Leehan, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Dude… did you hire her to act like your childhood best friend?”

The other guys burst into laughter, nudging each other, clearly convinced they were onto something.

Y/n blinked at them, raising an eyebrow. “Hired me? To do what?”

“They think you’re, uh…” Leehan rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “They don’t believe you’re real.”

“Real?” she repeated, her expression shifting from confusion to mild annoyance. “I’ve known him since we were, like, eight. What’s wrong with you guys?”

Jaehyun snorted. “It’s just—you know, he’s never mentioned you before—”

“He never hangs out with girls,” Riwoo added with a smirk.

“Except his fishes,” Taesan quipped, earning laughs from the group.

Y/n crossed her arms, her lips curling into a smirk of her own. “Oh, right. You guys are the weird ones.”

Leehan looked up at her, deadpan. “Told you.”

She laughed softly, playfully ruffling his hair. “You haven’t changed at all.”

His friends exchanged stunned glances, clearly still trying to process the fact that this girl—the one they thought was made up—was real, standing right in front of them. And even more confusing, she seemed to be completely normal. Not weird at all, like they had assumed anyone associated with Leehan would be.

“Okay, okay,” Jaehyun finally said, raising his hands in surrender. “We believe you. She’s real.”

“But we still need proof,” Sungho added. “Like embarrassing childhood stories. Got any?”

Y/n grinned, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she looked at Leehan. “Oh, I’ve got stories.”

Leehan groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Please don’t.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

After many embarrassing stories and saying goodbye to his friends, Leehan walks Y/n home.

The night was calm as Leehan and Y/n walked side by side, their footsteps muted on the quiet sidewalk. The soft glow of streetlights illuminated their path, casting gentle shadows as they caught up after his shift at work.

Y/n glanced at him with a warm, reflective smile. “You know, I really missed seeing you like this. It’s been too long.”

He looked over at her, his expression serious but soft. “I miss it too. It’s been a while.”

She smiled faintly, then turned her gaze forward, her fingers brushing against the cool evening air. “It’s strange. Even after all these years, you haven’t changed one bit. You’re still the same old Kim Donghyun I remember. But your name is different. Leehan?”

He chuckled softly, the sound almost shy. “It’s just a nickname the guys gave me. I’m still Kim Donghyun to you.”

She looked at him, a small, understanding smile on her lips. “It’s a good thing, though. You’ve made great friends and it means you’ve stayed true to yourself.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, their shoulders brushing occasionally. Y/n broke the silence, her voice laced with nostalgia. “Remember when we first met at the pond, by the park? You were so focused on those fish, and I came over and, well... I dragged you right into the water after.”

He chuckled, the memory bringing a smile to his face. “How could I forget? I was so surprised. After agreeing to become friends with you, you decide to drown me.”

She laughed softly, smacking him on the arm. “Hey, I slipped. Besides, you were always the better swimmer between the two of us.”

As they approached their houses, which were still next to each other, Leehan hesitated for a moment, his face showing a hint of awkwardness. “Hey, um, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

She looked at him curiously, her eyes sparkling with interest. “What is it?”

“Well,” he began, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I’ve been keeping a fish in my room. I named it after you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and amusement. “Really? That’s... actually really sweet.”

He nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Yeah. I guess I’ve been missing you a lot, and naming the fish after you seemed like a good way to keep you close.”

Y/n puts a teasing smile on. “Awww, you missed me that much, Kim Donghyun.”

Leehan rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips. They reached her front door, they stood for a moment. Y/n opened her front door, and as she stepped inside, she looked back at him with a playful smile. “Goodnight, Leehan. See you on campus tomorrow.”

“Goodnight-wait, what?”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

MASTERLIST

#boynextdoor #kpop #boynextdoor x reader #kim donghyun #leehan #leehan x reader #leehan boynextdoor #bnd x reader #bnd imagines #leehan bnd #boynextdoor fanfic #boynextdoor au #boynextdoor imagines #lxvsiick </3

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greyskyflowers · 3 months ago

Text

I have found there's very specific things I just really enjoy in fics about Edwin and Charles's romantic relationship.

So, I honestly just can't picture Charles anything other than very inexperienced at intimacy but so excited. Like a teenager feeling up his first girlfriend in the back of a car or under the bleachers. Excited, nervous, eager to please and just kind of in awe of being able to touch someone like that. He's got almost no idea what he's doing but he's 100% open and willing to learning.

I think he always ends up smiling into kisses, a little lopsided grin that's pleased as hell. He always offers a bunch of little encouragements and comforts You're doing great. I know it's a lot but I've got you. You feel good.

And lots of nipping, bites, and marks because no one will ever convince me Charles is not a hickey man.

Charles thrives on positive feedback and Edwin makes sure to always give praise.

Edwin is just kind of overwhelmed with intimacy. Being intimate with someone is a lot, especially if you haven't had it before and you've kind of built it up in your head.

So, I always feel like Edwin is in this constant closer no that's too close wait come back push and pull of anxious affection that has him leaning into every touch even though he's also trying to pull away at the same time.

Lots of bitten off noises, hums and gasps. He touches like he's scared he's going to break something or it's all going to disappear.

If they have to stop because it gets to be too much for Edwin, Charles doesn't ever look upset. He's pleased as hell to be doing any of this. He can't think of anything Edwin could ever do to disappoint him.

Careful, light, sure touches because the only intimacy they both really have is terrible. Edwin with the boys who held him down and hell. Charles with his dad.

I think Charles shows his love by loving someone and Edwin shows his love by letting himself be loved.

Charles wasn't able to show love to his family or his friends, who weren't friends at all. I personally imagine he had lots of girls he messed around with while he was alive with but it never went beyond that into something serious.

He can't show his love to humans, like Crystal, because it makes them look crazy. He can't hold a living girl's hand in public without her getting looks. They can't kiss or even talk with other living humans around without it being strange.

He can show his love to Edwin in a way he can't show it to anyone else.

Edwin is proud to be seen with Charles. He can talk and touch and be with Charles regardless of who's around. I personally like the idea that ghosts can feel other ghosts, as if they were living people or something close to that.

So, being with Edwin feels like he's with Edwin.

I just think once the ice is broken on what their relationship is, that he'd be all over it. Holding hands, quick kisses, hugs, sitting next to each other or all tangled together. Also a big fan of Charles coming up behind Edwin, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder to watch whatever it is he's doing.

Edwin didn't have close friends or family when he was alive, at least that we're aware of. Then he spent decades in hell where his only touch was painful, terrrifying, never ending.

Letting someone touch him, put him in such a vulnerable position physically and emotionally, is a big ask. That's why he's never done it or seem to have even contemplated it until he realizes his feelings about Charles.

He lets Charles touch him, and protect him, and know him more than anyone one else living or dead. It's easy to open himself up for Charles to love him.

I also feel like there's such a comfort level there that Edwin could say I think I'd like to try *insert action here* and Charles would be like yep yep we can do that or Charles could say I've always wanted to try *insert action here* and Edwin's like okay I'll find a book and read up on it with a fluttering of anxious excitement.

Do I also personally like to think bdsm dynamics, sexual and/or nonsexual, are present in their relationship? Yes. Absolutely. 100%.

#dead boy detectives #payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland #dbda #solving cases with greyskyflowers

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matan4il · 5 months ago

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The other day, I went with my rl bff to the Jerusalem branch of the Museum of Tolerance for an exhibition on the Hamas massacre.

This is the sight that greeted us. "Esthers of the world, rise up!"

It's a poster celebrating two women whose families had lived in Iran, one is Jewish, the other is Muslim, and both women ended up being murdered due to the Islamic regime of that country, even though the Jewish woman's family had escaped Iran and fled to Israel after the Islamic revolution. The face of each girl is actually a composite, made from many smaller pictures of her people who have lost their lives because of the Islamist regime of Iran.

I knew this right away, because I have shared a piece that was done about the poster and how it came to be almost 2 months ago.

"You don't understand!" my bff (who works as a teacher) said, all emotional, "She," my friend points to the Jewish girl on the left side of the poster, Shirel Haim Pour, "is the cousin of one of my students."

There is zero distance in Israel between us and the Oct 7 atrocities.

We go in and join the tour of the exhibition. The guide tells us it was built jointly with Malki Shem Tov, who is a well known name in Israel, if you work at a museum. Malki founded a "creative visual solutions" company with his brother Assaf, through which among other things, they helped build many Israeli exhibitions over the years. "His son..." the tour guide starts to say and I don't need more than that for something to click in my head. I know so many of the names, faces and stories of the hostages, and so Omer Shem Tov pops right away into my mind. I didn't make the connection before, but now I can only imagine what it meant for this father to work on an exhibition that recounts, among other stories, how his son was victimized and robbed of his freedom during this massacre.

There is zero distance in Israel between us and the Oct 7 atrocities.

The opening wall has a huge time stamp, 6:29 in the morning.

The tour guide doesn't have to explain this number to Israelis, or why it's designed to look like an alarm clock display. We were all woken up on that fateful Saturday morning by the alarm clock of Hamas' rockets. And it doesn't matter what we thought or believed the day before, as the full scale and horror of the attack were starting to become known along Oct 7, we were all woken up.

There is zero distance in Israel between us and those atrocities. I know this, and still it strikes me, again and again.

There's an area dedicated to the pictures of one photographer who went to the south soon after the massacre. I knew some of them already, like the pic showing the bodies of 13 elderly Israelis, who were on their way to a tour of the Israeli south on that Saturday.

Some are new, like the pic of the door handle in one bomb shelter. I stop for a second, because now that I've moved into my new place, it hits me that the bomb shelter door was made by the same company. Suddenly, I feel like I'm inside the picture in a reality where the terrorists took a slightly different route on Oct 7. The door was photographed from inside the bomb shelter, and the bullets that pierced it, they had to have hit the personal holding it shut. The handle has blood stains on it, and it's broken off. I can only imagine how many hours this person held, and how much force they had to use, for that to happen. I know one thing, even without knowing exactly who this bomb shelter belonged to... If this person was on their own, they would have probably ended up surrendering rather than keep fighting to hold on to the handle this desperately. This was likely someone trying to keep their family safe.

One note retrieved from the body of a terrorist is on display. It says everything about the motivation of the monsters who committed these atrocities, and every word is purely motivated by antisemitism and religious zeal. The note is actually not in Arabic, as it may first appear, it's in Farsi, the language spoken in Iran, hinting at the source, the Islamist regime there, which doesn't care about the liberation of anyone, it aspires to create a global network of fanatic terrorism.

The translation: "You must sharpen the blades of your swords and be pure in your intentions before Allah. Know that the enemy is a disease that has no cure, except beheading and uprooting the hearts and livers. Attack them!"

There is a section dedicated to women's stories. The exhibition visitors spread out to watch the testimonies, each on a separate screen. It's a not like a forest, you can't really see it for the trees, and it's another moment of feeling overwhelmed because we can't truly get it. It's just not comprehensible, facing so many stories about intentional, face to face cruelty, brutality, sadism and joy in it. Mali Shoshana tells the story of how she tried to play dead while lying shot in a pool of her own blood, but her body wouldn't stop shaking, so she somehow turned on her side to the wall and knocked her injured knee against it, causing herself to pass out from the pain. It saved her life. Ricarda Louk tells the story of the last message they got from her daughter Shani, trusting she was right and there was nothing for them to worry about. Then Ricarda's son started screaming and crying, because he saw the same vid many of came across on that day, of his sister being dragged into Gaza stripped down, mutilated, abused, molested and humiliated, while Gazan civilians were celebrating the public degradation of her body. And there's more and more and more. "You can come back and continue to listen," the guide promises as he moves us to the next segment, but the truth is no matter how many stories I've listened to and absorbed, it still doesn't feel like enough.

There is a wall with the head shots of the victims in Israel who lost their lives due to this war, whether they were murdered on Oct 7 or since, but it's only been updated up until Mar 27 of this year. Even so, no matter what angle I tried, I couldn't fit in all of the pictures.

Interactive screens allow a geographic telling of the massacre's story. They show maps of Israel's south, with dots on them, red for the murdered, dark blue for hostages, bright blue for hostages who have been returned, grey for the injured. You can tap a dot and read a story. Or you can zoom out and try to comprehend how is it possible for there to be that many dots on the maps.

"From darkness to light," reads the exhibition title. That's the perception of time in Judaism. We always move from darkness to light. And there's a section for the light, for stories of resilience, of bravery, of rehabilitation, of mutual support and caring. Filmed interviews that do their best to summarize an incomprehensible amount of good we've seen in response to an incomprehensible amount of evil. It features people from every demographic in Israel, and in that way also serves as a reminder of just how diverse we are as a society.

This part, I think to myself, was included for visitors from abroad. We Israelis, we know.

There's one story I know already. Tomer Greenberg, an Israeli officer, rescued on Oct 7 baby twins from the carnage. He was later killed fighting in Gaza. Like a puzzle, I've heard this story from several angles, including from Tomer before he died. This movie features an interview I hadn't heard yet, with the volunteer paramedic that Tomer handed the twins to. Shalom, this medic, talks about how they clung to him desperately as they got to be fed and feel safe and cared for again for the first time in what's estimated to have been 14 hours. I'm sitting there, thinking of those babies crying, not understanding why their parents aren't coming to feed them, and I don't know how to deal with this.

Shalom shares that the experiences of Oct 7 have inspired him to try and become a combative soldier, something that wasn't on the cards for him before that. I wonder again at people who can act like subjecting an entire (already traumatized) society to a sadistic massacre can liberate anyone.

And I understand Shalom fully. When your family is in the pits of hell, there's nowhere you want to be other than there, with them, doing what you can, rather than sit and watch helpless from afar. Most people would say he did a lot on that day. Shalom must have felt like that still wasn't enough.

At the very end, visitors are invited to add their own little piece of light, through neon notes and pens on which they'd share their thoughts. Nothing feels like it can sum everything I'm thinking and feeling up, but not writing anything feels worse, so my bff and I add a few of our words to the notes.

I don't have any profound conclusions for this post anymore than I did for my note. I just know that this still hurts, that we're still losing people daily, that we can't begin to heal, because we're still in the middle of the wound being inflicted. But I also know that we WILL heal, that even if the wound can't be closed yet, our collective immune system kicked into action on Oct 7 already, that we will continue to share the pain and the comfort and the care, and this massacre and war will probably never stop hurting, that we'll never be the same, but eventually we will be alright. Where people choose to care, there's just no other option.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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colsons-baker · 24 days ago

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The Sins of The Father

Father Charlie x Reader

Disclaimer: this is my reimagining of Father Charlie / him before the events of Grotesquerie (and yes I have seen it and knows what happens but idc he’s still the hot priest to me ✋🏻)

You, an angelic face sat in the pew with your family, a vision in a white lace dress your mother always complained was too short for church so you wore it every Sunday to annoy her. He, a young priest newly moved to the parish, who couldn’t help keep his eyes on you a moment longer than he did the others in the congregation. The first sin, lust.

Charlie had never done drugs but he imagined the way he craved you was what it would be like to be an addict. He hid it as best he could, a priest should not have these thoughts or feelings. A priest should never do what he did when he was alone in his room at night and all he could picture was you.

He knew you felt it too, something in the way you looked at him as he held onto your hand for just a moment more as he greeted the parishioners one by one while they left the church. Could you tell what he did to the thought of you? Could you tell how desperate he was for you? Could you tell how conflicted he was between right and wrong and all his life choices?

——

His list of sins began to grow as time passed. Second sin, envy.

Envy was not a strange feeling to Charlie, everyone was guilty of being envious of another at some point. It was something that a person could not help, something that was probably ingrained inside us all. But he had never felt envy like this.

The months passed and the longing for you did not leave him, neither did the burden of his guilt for wanting you in the way that he did. He would watch you out of the corner of his eye after Mass, talking to a friend of yours while he spoke to some parishioner. He wanted to be able to talk to you outside of the formalities, he wanted to be the person infront of you making you smile. He was jealous that they got to spend that time with you and he did not and he had never felt that type of envy before.

It was an envy that ate him alive, made him dislike the people who knew you better than he did. It was an envy fuelled by longing. Maybe it was even an envy fuelled by love.

———-

But one moment could never be enough to quench his thirst for you. The third and fourth sins, greed and gluttony.

“I think you have your days mixed up, Y/N.” Charlie chuckled as he made his way to the pew you were seated on. He was just leaving his office for the day when he saw you sitting there.

You turned your head to look at him as he stopped beside you. “I do?”

“Well, last time I checked it was Thursday and I’ve never seen you here outside of Sunday mass. And you don’t even attend that regularly.” He teased, but the Sunday’s you did not show were the ones he hated most. “May I?” He pointed to the pew.

“Of course.” You nodded, sliding over to give him some room.

Charlie breathed out as he sat down. He looked around before focusing once more upon you. “So?” You turned your head to him once more. “Why are you here?”

You hummed. “I don’t know.” You admitted with a shrug. “I just felt like I should come here.”

“Why?” Charlie looked at you as you looked at him.

To see you was what you wanted to tell him, because that was the truth. But how could you explain that to a man of the cloth in a church?

Not knowing what to say, you said nothing as the two of you looked at one another. The silence lingered in the air between you for a moment before the kiss began, and when it began it became obvious that neither one of you wanted it to stop. But he was a priest and this was wrong.

You pulled away, looking at him in a state of semi-shock. This is what you had wanted, but it’s not something you thought would happen. “I-I have to go.” You said quickly as you stood and quickly walked to the door.

“Y/N please!” Charlie stood pleading with you to stay as the church door closed behind you. He sighed and slumped back onto the pew, avoiding eye contact with the crucifix on the altar. He knew he should be paying penitence for what just transpired but he could not bring himself to. The kiss had not felt wrong and he didn’t want it to stop. He just wanted more.

———

Charlie rose his head as he heard a knock on the open office door. “Y/N?” He stood, not expecting to see you standing there. It was Sunday, mass was in an hour and you were in the dress your mother hated.

“I’m sorry Father, but I had to come.” You told him, taking a step inside but stopping short of going to him.

Charlie shook his head. “Call me Charlie, please.” He whispered, his voice not able to get past the lump in his throat. He wondered if you would even turn up for mass today, so the last place he expected you was here, now.

You nodded before looking down. You had thought this over a million times in your head since Thursday, but now you were here…well where do you start?

Charlie cleared his throat. “Thursday was…”

“Wrong?” You suggested.

“Something I’ve wanted since I first set eyes on you.”

You looked at him. “What?”

Charlie shook his head as he looked away. “I’ve done so much to get to where I am, to be in this position. But you? You’re testing my faith more than I ever thought a person could.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I like it.”

You smiled slightly and he smiled back.

“I felt called to the church, I can’t explain what that feels like to someone who doesn’t feel that calling.” He told you. “But every time I look at you, I feel a new calling. And I don’t know what to do.” He whispered.

You shook your head, trying to take it all in. “My parents would kill me.” You laughed a little, it was a joke but it had truth in it. But what could they do? You weren’t a kid, just a sinner.

Charlie moved closer to you. He reached out slowly, taking a hold of your wrist. “How would they ever know?” He whispered.

————

From that moment a relationship grew, which only brought more sins upon the young priest, but he did not know if he cared. His faith in his profession began to crumble, but his faith in you and the relationship you formed. which blossomed in secret liaisons and out-of-town dates without his collar on, shone bright. The fourth and fifth sins, pride and sloth

“Charlie…we need to talk.” You told him as you stood in the door to his room, him by his closet.

“What’s up babe?” He asked, not looking at you.

You breathed in, trying to steady yourself before you dropped the bomb that would blow everything out of the water.

“I-I’m pregnant.”

Charlie froze but he didn’t turn to look at you. His mind raced with thoughts, more thoughts than he could handle.

“P-pregnant?” He said quietly after a moment, still not turning to look at you.

Charlie believed that no man was without sin. But the sin of your relationship was something he had taken all on himself, not wanting you to be tarnished in anyway. But he had failed because now you were pregnant. Maybe this was his penance, caught up to him at last, because now you were full of sin. And the child you carried would be born of it.

“Charlie? Please look at me.” You whispered, your eyes welling up.

He turned his head and you saw his eyes mirror yours. Both of you were thinking the same thing. What would happen now? What would happen to your relationship, to your child, to Charlie’s faith? He couldn’t do the right thing and marry you as it went against the rules of the church and if your relationship ever got out then you would be a pariah in this town.

You see, no man was without sin, least of all Charlie. But his sin was so beautiful that he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop himself. His sin was you, and he never wanted to give you up.

#father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie grotesquerie #charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #father Charlie #grotesquerie #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

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bobohu4eva · 5 months ago

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Hitched (M)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: arranged marriage au, acquaintances(?) to lovers, smut

Summary: Can great sex make an unwanted marriage less shitty? Yes. Yes it can.

Warnings: explicit unprotected sex, semi public (outdoor) sex, edging, Baekhyun has a Big Dick, alcohol consumption

WC: 9.8k apparently I don't know how to keep things brief anymore!

A/N: The majority of this is extremely self-indulgent smut. Oops? You're welcome? It is (mostly) pretty soft though.

Masterlist

“Smile!”

The cameras flashed, and you put on a show for your friends and family. Your new husband kissed you, and from the outside, everything seemed perfect.

The perfect dress, makeup, hair, a rich and handsome groom, and everyone you cared about right there with you, celebrating you and the man who was supposed to be the love of your life. It was a lavish ceremony and even more opulent reception, but you couldn't enjoy it at all.

There was nothing wrong with him, but you and Baekhyun had never even dated, and you definitely never pictured yourself marrying him. You didn't exactly have any reason to dislike him, you'd known him since you were a kid and he was undoubtedly an attractive guy, but marrying him had been your parents idea, not yours.

As a kid your family had everything you could've imagined, foreign sports cars, numerous vacation homes, a yacht, nannies, tutors, and the list goes on. Your parents' companies had been doing well, and life was easy.

But that didn't last forever. Now in your early 20’s, you watched as the fortune your family had built for generations was slipping away.

You were still a teenager when it started and couldn’t fully comprehend what had happened, but it seemed like some combination of bad investments and unpaid debts. Slowly the vacation homes, yacht, and cars were sold off one by one just to pay the bills. As the years passed it seemed that the walls were starting to close in, but on the surface your family, especially your mother, made sure it didn't seem that way.

The good family name was pretty much all that was left now, and your mother would do anything she could to keep it strong.

Growing up with generational wealth, your family always associated with others of similar standing, and one of the families you'd grown up with had been particularly close; the Byuns.

Their only son, Baekhyun, was someone you'd grown up around, but at seven years older than you, you hardly knew each other. He was the perfect rich kid, smart, handsome, and polite, but you still would've much preferred to marry someone you actually loved, or at least were close with.

“Y/n, you're doing it again.” He whispered in your ear, and you realized that your smile had once again fallen as you zoned out, and his mother was right there in front of you, looking concerned.

You perked back up, and saw her face flood with relief. You looked at Baekhyun, and he was still smiling for the pictures as well, but you noticed the slightly apologetic look he shot you.

You really did try to play the part, for the sake of your families, but it was hard. This was supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life, but instead you were putting on an act, hiding how miserable you felt under the facade of it all.

The worst part was just how happy both his and your families were. Both moms cried, and even your dad teared up a little. You couldn't even blame them, either. It had been a beautiful ceremony, and you and him both looked the part so perfectly. It was everything a high society wedding should be, and on top of that, it was the only thing saving your family from bankruptcy.

Once pictures were done with it was time for the first dance- in a gazebo decorated with fairy lights and at least a thousand fresh white roses. All you could think was how incredible this would have been, if it was a real wedding, between two people who actually loved each other. Every beautiful thing was a cruel reminder of how you would never get to experience that for yourself.

Baekhyun did a better job than you, and if you hadn't been so depressed, you might've even gotten flustered a few times. He looked incredibly handsome in his tux, smiling sweetly at you as he led you through the dance, a painfully romantic song filling the spring air. He was the picture perfect groom.

You so badly wanted to hate him for agreeing to all of it, but knew it was more complicated than that. Despite not knowing him very well, you did know how close knit his family was. If his parents really wanted him to do this, he would have a tough time refusing.

You were closer with his parents than you had ever been with him, and they adored you. Despite not being related, you almost thought of them like your own aunt and uncle. Baekhyun, on the other hand, was like your mysterious older cousin. He always seemed preoccupied with his studies, or later, his job. You'd been around each other at holidays and various parties throughout the years, but he never felt approachable.

To act so romantically with him felt unbelievably strange. On top of your disappointment at the whole situation it was also just very awkward. The kissing and touching, the dancing, the “loving” looks you shared, they all made your chest feel tight. Baekhyun was obviously very handsome, but the nature behind all of it still got to you.

Before the wedding Baekhyun had asked you if you would rather not kiss or touch at all, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but you'd assured him that it was fine. Aside from the parents and those closest to you both, most of the guests had no idea this wedding had been arranged just a few months earlier. If this was going to be believable, you had to make it look real.

Eventually the dancing ended and the reception began, relieved beyond belief to finally get to have a drink. The champagne made things much easier, and as distant friends and family asked you and your new husband about your love story, you lied with increasing confidence. Baekhyun, too, was leaning into the act more heavily after a few drinks. His arm around you and the way he looked at you made everyone oooh and ahhh, giving them the same story you'd told minutes earlier, about how the two of you realized one day that all of those years you'd been hiding your love for each other, and when you realized that the other felt the same, you couldn't marry quickly enough.

It was all bullshit of course, but they ate it up, and that was the important thing. You didn't want to think about how embarrassing it would be if an acquaintance or extended family member found out your parents had orchestrated everything.

Several times people gushed about how lucky the two of you were to have found each other. The bitterness you felt was so intense you hoped dearly that they couldn’t see right through your smile.

The relief you felt when the guests finally started to clear out, leaving the lavish ballroom for their hotel rooms, was monumental. Eventually the last of them were gone, and since both families insisted, you and Baekhyun retreated to your shared suite.

Both you and him knew that your families were hoping for a grand baby soon, but that wasn't something you could even consider at the moment.

“I don't mind sleeping on the couch.” He told you once you were alone with him.

As nice as the room was, it didn't make sense for him to sleep on the couch. The bed was huge, and the couches weren't long enough for him to fully lay down. You shook your head.

“Are you sure?”

You smiled a little at his sweetness, “There's plenty of space for both of us, don't worry about it.”

And so you and Baekhyun shared the bed on your first night together as husband and wife. You stayed on your side, and he stayed on his, not once touching, even a little.

It was expected that eventually you and him would buy a house together and live there, but in the meantime, you stayed at that suite together. His parents owned it, and they hoped that living together would help spark something real, not to mention sharing a bed.

Life after marriage wasn't that different, aside from your living space. You didn't have a job yet, having only graduated college a few months earlier, so you spent much of your time out with friends. As nice as the suite was, it reminded you of your loveless marriage, so you took every chance you could to get away. Baekhyun mostly just worked, keeping to himself, although he always asked you about your day when you’d get home. To his disappointment you kept your responses short. He wanted to try and get to know you better, but you didn't seem interested.

The truth was, every time you saw him and he tried to talk to you, it made you feel worse. He did absolutely nothing wrong, but he, like the suite, was a painful reminder of your unfortunate fate. The result was you essentially avoiding him, even in your shared space. Baekhyun, however, wasn’t willing to live that way.

A few weeks passed with hardly any words exchanged between you and him, so he decided to try something different. That evening when you returned to the suite, you were met with a generous dinner spread, the entire room meticulously decorated, and your husband sitting at the center of it all, looking at you bashfully in the candle light.

You were surprised, to say the least.

He noticed the way you froze up, getting up from the table and taking one hand, guiding you to the table. He pulled out your chair for you, leading you to sit.

Soon Baekhyun was seated across from you, looking back at you with a slightly unnerving intensity.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

He took a deep breath, “I want to try to make this work.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I can tell how much you hate being married to me, and I’m sorry. I think we should at least try to make the best of it, though.”

“Make the best of it?”

“Well, yes. I mean it could be worse, right? Am I really that bad?”

You sighed, annoyance taking hold at his nonchalant attitude. “No, Baekhyun, that's not the point, this whole situation just… sucks. Maybe it's stupid but I always thought I'd marry someone I was actually in love with, and it would be one of the best moments of my life. Instead I’m married to someone I barely even know.”

“I'm sorry, and I know how you feel, I really do. But don't you think we should at least try to get along?”

After a week of keeping your discontent to yourself, it came bubbling up and you no longer bothered to hide how you felt from him. You let it out, finally letting out what had been plaguing your mind since the wedding.

“Every time I see your face or even this suite for that matter, it makes me feel like shit. I really didn’t want this, and I don’t understand how you seem so unbothered. I mean, are you really not that upset about all this? Why did you agree to it so quickly?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice either, you know how my parents are. A couple years ago when I still wasn't in a serious relationship of any kind they started floating the idea of setting me up with someone. Your name got mentioned a lot, so I've had more time to come to terms with it, I suppose.”

You scoffed, “So you've known for years that this would happen?”

“Well, no. It was always just a suggestion, until a few months ago when they told me that they discussed it with your parents and actually wanted to go through with it.”

Not sure what else to say, you shifted your focus to the plate of food before you, and he did the same. An awkward silence filled the dining room, though you still preferred the silence to his rationalizing of your miserable arrangement. Much to your dismay, however, it wasn’t long until he was again doing just that.

“A lot of our parents' friends started out like this too, you know. To be fair most of them at least got to date for a while before getting married, but they’re happy now, so why shouldn’t we be able to do the same?”

He wasn’t wrong, this kind of thing wasn’t exactly rare, though you still hadn’t planned to turn out that way yourself. Still, you just stared back at him with a look of annoyance.

“What I really wanted to talk to you about, the reason I made this dinner for us, I thought maybe, if you would be interested, we could go on a honeymoon. I know that wasn't originally part of the plan, but I think it could be good for us. Anywhere you want to go, I'll make it happen.”

His offer was extremely generous, but still didn’t exactly sound appealing. Being alone with him for days on end wasn’t your idea of fun, you worried that it would even become quite depressing, not to mention awkward.

“I don't know….”

“It can be as long or short as you like, and if you decide you hate being around me that much you can come back here anytime. You're my wife now, and I want to be able to make you happy, to make this whole thing work out for us. If there's anything I can do to help us get there, I’ll do it, whatever it takes.”

When he put it like that, it was hard to argue with him.

“Anywhere I want? And you’ll really fly me back if I don’t like it?”

He nodded, “I promise.”

Though you still had your doubts, you reluctantly agreed. A couple days later you were packing your bags, flying first class to Switzerland, where you'd stay for two weeks at one of his family's vacation homes in the mountains near Lucerne.

Baekhyun grinned when you told him you wanted to go somewhere with mountains, “excellent choice.”

The flight had been surprisingly nice. You’d expected that Baekhyun’s family would fly first class, but you were still surprised by just how nice the Swiss airline he’d booked was. You and him essentially had an entire bedroom, and while it was spacious for a plane, that was the closest you’d ever been to him in bed before. Maybe it was just hormones and general touch depravity, but you were all too aware of the way he occasionally brushed up against you as he slept.

When you finally arrived at the house you'd call home for the next couple weeks, walking into the main living area, you understood his excitement at your choice to stay in the mountains. It was nothing short of breathtaking.

The house itself was beautiful, modern, and impeccably decorated, but you'd seen plenty of nice houses. It was the view that made it so special. The sprawling green valley surrounded by snow capped mountains looked like something out of a fairy tale.

“My wife has awesome taste.” He said, not missing the way you grimaced, cringing at the word ‘wife’.

“It still feels super weird hearing you say that.”

You kept your eyes fixated on the view, and after a moment he was taking your hand and leading you into the master bedroom. Inside on a small table stood a bottle of champagne as well as two glasses, and beyond the sliding glass doors you could see the patio, fit with a hot tub and infinity pool. The king sized bed stood at the center of the room, covered in rose petals.

You let out a short exhale of a laugh, mostly in disbelief at the sight in front of you.

“Not bad right?”

“Oh God, you really are trying to make me fall in love with you. Rose petals and everything…”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I don't think two weeks is long enough to fall in love, but if you did, that would be great. I guess the staff went a little crazy with the romance since my parents told them this is our honeymoon.”

He opened the bottle of champagne, pouring each of you a glass and handing one to you. God knows you needed it.

“Cheers.” You clinked the glasses together, each taking a sip. “By the way, I can sleep in one of the other bedrooms, if you'd prefer that. I know the rose petals on the bed are a little much.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but it looked like he was blushing ever so slightly as he said it.

Your immediate reaction was relief, that you'd get your own room, but then again that wasn't why you'd traveled all this way together. You were used to sleeping in the same bed with him by now anyway, so you shook your head, hoping you wouldn’t end up regretting it.

A long sigh passed your lips.“You didn't take me here for us to sit in different rooms all day, we can do that back at home.”

There was a faint smile on his lips and he nodded, cheeks still a little pink. You both knew what your families were hoping would happen in that bed, and you couldn't help but blush a little as well. For a second you wondered if you and him would ever get that far. He was perfectly fuckable, in theory, but the nature of your arrangement sucked all the excitement out of it for you.

It was still early in the day, and once the champagne glasses were empty Baekhyun called a car to take the two of you into town.

“You already seem less bummed out than you've been the last few weeks.” He commented as you headed into the city.

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong, I’m still sad about everything, but you're right. It's better to at least try to make this work out. I'm trying to be optimistic.”

He was smiling again, and you couldn't deny how gorgeous the sight of it was. He reached for one of your hands, giving it a light squeeze, holding it for the rest of the car ride, and then again as you walked through the streets together, window shopping.

The city of Lucerne really was like a fairy tale. The old buildings, the crystal blue lake, and the mountains in the distance were the perfectly romantic setting for your time with him. In front of that amazing backdrop, he truly looked like a prince.

As sad and angry as you'd been the past month, now that your hand was in his, on this beautiful honeymoon, just enjoying the scenery, you couldn’t find the energy to harbor any resentment towards him. Although you still had a lot to learn about each other, you realized you could enjoy his company more than you expected. Either that, or it was just hard to be mad when you were in such a lovely place.

You'd been walking together in comfortable silence for a while, just appreciating the city, when he told you, “If you see something you like, tell me and we can go inside for you to try it on.”

As nice as it was, you knew you weren't actually going to go inside any of those shops. They were all high end designer outlets, the kinds of places you hadn't been to since your family was actually doing well.

Baekhyun saw the way you shook your head, turning your eyes to the pavement in front of you. You felt him abruptly stop, your hand still in his.

“What?”

“Now that we're married, you don't need to worry about all of that anymore. Your family wasn't so insistent on you marrying me just so that they could finally pay off their debts, you know. They want a better life for you, too.”

“Yeah well they have a funny way of showing it.” You mumbled, not even trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.

“Did you tell them you didn’t want to get married?”

You scoffed, because of course you didn’t, and he should know that. You gave him a bit of a bitchy side eye and he seemed to get your point.

“They know I would’ve much rather chosen my husband myself. But I wasn’t really given a choice, just like you.”

He mustered up a surprisingly sympathetic look, sitting you down with him on a nearby bench.

“I’m not saying this to call you ungrateful, really, but I think we should remember how lucky we are. Because of our parents we got the best educations, grew up in nice homes, get to travel the world, and so on. Money isn't something we'll ever have to worry about. When they asked me to marry you, I didn’t fight them, because I know how much they’ve done for me.”

You understood perfectly where he was coming from. However, despite it all, you still couldn't deny your disappointment.

“I know it would've been selfish to refuse, and of course I am grateful to be this fortunate. That doesn't make it feel any less shitty, though. I always had such big dreams for how I would meet the love of my life and get married, and they know that. When they told me I should marry you, they knew it would be heartbreaking for me, they just didn't seem to care. They didn't even want to acknowledge it.”

“I'm sorry. I can imagine how hard that would be, I want you to know that I don't blame you at all for being upset. I just want to do whatever I can now to hopefully make this better for you.”

When you didn’t respond his hand was pulling you back up with him, “Come on, there’s a really great ice cream place nearby.”

He was relieved to finally see you smile again, even though you rolled your eyes at him. “I’m not a little kid, you can’t manipulate me with ice cream.”

“I’m not manipulating you! I just want to cheer you up.”

At least the ice cream really was fantastic.

Eventually you returned to the house, deciding to finish the champagne in the pool together, enjoying the view. You'd seen Baekhyun shirtless in the past, but it had been years, and you couldn't deny how great he looked as he joined you in the water, holding both of your glasses of bubbly.

The mountain air was chilly on your upper half, and you sunk deeper into the warm water as he handed you your champagne. Steam rose from the water into the cold air creating a wispy fog, the sun barely peeking out from behind the mountains as it set.

You said cheers, clinking the glasses together, giving Baekhyun a funny look at how intently he insisted on making eye contact before bringing his glass up to meet yours.

“You know why Germans are so insistent on eye contact when cheersing right?” He asked before taking his first sip.

“No..?”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, surprised, to say the least.

“Oh… uhh, never mind.”

“No, tell me!”

This time, he was definitely blushing, “Ok but don't get mad at me! I was joking… I didn't think I'd have to explain it..”

“So..?”

He sighed, ready for you to scoff at his lame attempt at flirting with you. “In Germany, it's said that if you don't make eye contact while cheersing with someone, you'll have seven years of bad sex.”

To his surprise, you actually let out a small laugh, again meeting his eyes and holding his gaze intently as you clinked your glass to his one more time.

It had to be the atmosphere, both of you barely clothed in your swimsuits, the alcohol, the sunset, and the view of the mountains. That had to be it, that had to be why you were going along with everything he said so easily. Because at the end of the day, you both knew well what he was implying. He was your husband, and you his wife. Unless you both planned on cheating, which to your understanding still wasn’t acceptable despite the nature of the marriage, he would be the only one you'd be having sex with anytime soon.

You kept slowly sipping on your drink, enjoying the calmness and beauty of the landscape. This time, the silence between him and yourself actually felt comfortable.

“Do you really think that it's possible for us to eventually be happy, like any other married couple? You know as if we'd actually chosen this for ourselves?” You eventually asked.

“Yeah, I definitely think it's possible.”

“You really mean that?”

He shrugged, and nodded. “I don't want this to sound too forward, but that's part of why I wasn't too upset about the marriage. I would've liked to marry someone I chose myself, just like you, but in our situation I think we still have a good chance at making it work. Even though we've never been particularly close, I feel like I know you fairly well, because of our families. I know that we had similar upbringings, share the same basic values, things like that, and those things really matter in a partnership. You're beautiful too, which definitely helps.”

“Thank you… I've never really thought about it like that.”

‘You’re beautiful.’ Those words had a greater effect on you than you expected.

His eyes had been fixed on the sun setting over the mountains, but slowly he turned back towards you. “Do you find me attractive, at least physically?”

His sudden question left you dumbfounded. The answer was so obvious but the way he asked you truly didn't sound cocky at all. You had to stop yourself from making a dumb joke considering his abs were currently glistening in the light of the setting sun and his face looked like something out of a magazine.

“Baekhyun, you know you're a good looking guy.”

“Well, some women are more into big muscles, or really tall guys, or a more rugged “manly” look. I could still not be your type.”

You shook your head, feeling the way your cheeks burned, knowing they were probably bright red. You kept your eyes glued on the valley below, avoiding the way you knew he was looking at you. “You definitely are my type, at least when it comes to looks.”

You expected him to say something cocky and smug but instead he just smiled at you when you finally met his gaze again, seeming genuinely happy and relieved by your answer.

“I appreciate that.”

It occurred to you then that despite the champagne, his words and eyes on you made you quite shy. He was simply an extremely handsome guy, and you found yourself having to fight the urge to downright ogle him.

His broad shoulders and strong chest looked so inviting, the water on his skin adding a gorgeous sheen to his entire form. You wanted to touch him, to feel his skin against your own, and know how his slender hands would feel on your body.

The view of the mountains was nice, but as the minutes flew by, your eyes kept traveling back to him. It didn't go unnoticed, as he felt himself slipping into similar thoughts as well.

Maybe you really were just that easy to read, but it surprised you nonetheless when he stepped closer, taking your hand in his, before placing it on his chest.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Your eyes were stuck to his torso, heart beating rapidly at the knowledge of his eyes gazing down at you, his heartbeat under your hand a comforting reminder of the shared tension. His gentle touch on your chin triggered a small gasp, and he finally guided your face up towards his own where he could look at you, and you at him.

Being so close now, you noticed the scattered moles painting little constellations across his face. Each one appeared to have been placed with purpose, further adding to the near perfect harmony of his stunning features.

When his eyes shifted downwards ever so slightly, gaze falling to your lips, you stopped breathing. You could smell him, so sweet and inviting, every minute aspect of his presence pulling you in.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes bore into your own again, and you could feel the magnetism between you both. All you gave him was a small nod, but that was enough, his lips meeting yours.

This was so different, so much better than when you'd kissed before at your wedding. His chest under your palm felt warm and firm, the taste and smell of him surrounding you, easily letting you melt into him. His lips were soft, and the lack of clothing, the feel of his wet skin against your own, made you shiver despite the hot pool.

Growing increasingly overwhelmed, you pulled away, red faced and genuinely a little embarrassed to have given into him so quickly. You quickly grabbed your glass and downed the rest of your champagne.

Baekhyun, however, saw right through you. He gave you a knowing smirk, he knew you were still skeptical of him and the marriage, but that didn't mean you weren't attracted to each other. Being half naked in a pool with a view definitely helped set the mood, too.

“What? There's no reason to get shy now.”

Still, you turned away from him, bracing both hands on the edge of the pool as you fixed your eyes back onto the mountains and valley below.

“Hm? What's wrong?”

His breath on the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine, surprised by the proximity. Gently, he brushed your hair aside, giving himself access to whisper in your ear.

“As odd as it might feel to be married, as husband and wife, there's no use in denying that we're attracted to each other.”

He didn't miss the way you whimpered when his lips gently grazed the sensitive skin just below your ear, turning your head to grant him more access.

He took that as his sign to continue, leaving a trail of kisses along the side of your neck, his lips growing bolder as the minutes passed. Soon he was sucking and biting at the spot on your neck that made your knees weak, and his hands slowly came to rest on your hips, leaving you every chance to stop him, but you did no such thing.

Maybe it was just how pent up you were after not having sex for so long, and barely even having an opportunity to touch yourself, but you found yourself squeezing your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the ache that was starting to form between them.

When one of his hands left your hip, instead coming to your jaw, turning your head to grant him access to kiss you again, you easily let him. The kiss was nothing sweet, desperate and hungry as you both fought for dominance, though Baekhyun quickly took the upper hand, not that you minded.

“Can I touch you?” He asked the second your lips parted.

“You are touching me.”

“That's not what I mean.”

His hand moved slowly down the front of your body, the soft touch making your head spin, until his delicate fingers began to play with the waistband of your bikini.

He resumed the movement of his lips on your neck, soon coming to whisper in your ear, “May I?”

You nodded, breath shaking, and let out a soft moan when his fingers finally pushed beneath the wet fabric. His first touch against your clit sent a jolt through you, and you didn't miss his soft chuckle before pressing his lips against you for the nth time.

The way he nibbled and sucked at the skin of your neck combined with the soft circles his fingers made on your clit, were nothing short or euphoric. You leaned back into his chest, quiet moans and whimpers filling the air. Being touched like this from behind had always been a big turn on for you. He already made you feel so weak under his touch.

Baekhyun was obsessed with all of the delicate sounds escaping your lips, sounds that proved how much you were enjoying what he did to you. The more he listened, the more he felt himself grow needy for more.

A breath got stuck in your throat when he pushed his hips forward, letting you feel his hardness against your ass. Even through his swim trunks, you could tell he was big.

With his cock pressed to your ass and his fingers moving perfectly between your thighs, you were already losing any rationality you’d once possessed. When his other hand untied the knot of your top and began to tease your nipples, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about how exposed you were, outside in the open. You knew you would be pushed over the edge sooner rather than later if he kept it up, and he did.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” He whispered in your ear, the smirk on his lips apparent in his voice.

You nodded frantically, warmth bubbling up inside you, turning into a searing heat.

“Good girl, let go, I got you.”

His fingertips slipped across your clit just right, one hand pinching and twisting the sensitive nub on your chest. Your whimpers grew into delighted moans, the craving for even more growing almost unbearable. The promise of eventually having his length inside you was what pushed you over the edge, shaking and twitching in Baekhyun's arms as you fell.

“Fuck.” He whispered into the crook of your neck. “You're really sexy, you know that? Can't wait to be inside you.”

The combination of his words and breath against your heated skin prolonged your pleasure, nodding to show him just how badly you wanted him, too.

As soon as his hand withdrew from between your legs you turned towards him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss. It was messy, desperate, communicating the urgent need you both felt for more. His tongue greedily licked into your mouth before biting your lip, coaxing another weak moan from you. His hand on your thigh quickly had you wrapping both around him, and the feel of his substantial length and girth against your center, even through your bathing suits, left you panting, desperate for more.

He put some pressure on you, pushing you against the edge of the pool, letting you feel even more of him.

“Do you wanna go inside?” He whispered into your ear between kisses, but you didn't have the patience for that.

You shook your head, “just fuck me right here.”

His cocky smirk somehow had even more moisture flowing out of you, “as you wish.”

With that, he undid the string of your bikini, and pushed down his shorts.

You reached for him, intimidated by the size, hoping you would even be able to handle him. He was hot and hard in your hand, and you felt the telltale throb of his own arousal.

Anticipation hung thick in the air as he positioned himself, his tip nudging against your clit, and you swore you were about to lose your goddamn mind.

“You ready?” He questioned with an unexpected softness, forehead resting against your own.

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Baekhyun, please.”

As soon as he pushed forward, however, you understood his desire to double check. His size presented quite the challenge, your eyes squeezing shut at the discomfort of being stretched so much. He could sense how you struggled to take him, hands digging into the skin of his back, legs squeezing involuntarily around his hips.

“Fuck you're so big.”

“Just relax, I'll go slow. Tell me if it’s too much.” He said before pressing another kiss to your lips.

You couldn't remember ever feeling so full, and he was still only halfway in. Slow, shallow thrusts carefully let you get used to him, going deeper with every roll of his hips. Soon tears pricked at your eyes, the new sensation of being fucked by such a huge cock leaving you awstruck.

When he finally fit himself all the way inside of you, his hips meeting your own, you felt his head pressing firmly against your cervix. The slight pain of it heightened the already intense moment even further.

“Oh my God.”

He pulled almost all the way out, sinking himself all the way back inside, and you swore he had to have the best cock you’d ever fucked, by a mile. Any unpleasant thoughts surrounding your marriage to him were long gone as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust pulling gasps of pleasure from you.

The water splashed wildly around you but you might as well have forgotten it was even there, too overcome with Baekhyun’s length as it pleased you in ways you never knew possible. The way he filled you so completely was unlike anything you’d experienced with another man, blissed out by his incredible size and precise thrusts.

“You’re so perfect, take me so fucking well.”

His lips crashed into yours, hot and greedy as you moaned into one another. You were certain you’d never felt anyone that deep inside you before, and it was addictive.

“Think you can handle more?” He muttered, now that you’d gotten fully acclimated to his substantial length and girth.

You nodded, greedy for anything and everything he could give, and Baekhyun wasn’t going to deny you.

His lips swallowed more moans and cries of delight as he picked up the pace, thrusting harder, faster, feeling you clench down on him as you got closer to your release.

Every time he sunk into you completely, he felt your body tremble in response to the intense sensations. As much as you wanted to keep your eyes open to look at him, you simply couldn't. The force with which he pounded you and how deep he reached left you an incoherent mess. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, desperate whimpers and whines leaving your parted lips.

“Will my beautiful wife let me feel her cum on my cock? Hm?”

Frantically, you nodded. With only a few more pumps into your dripping core he made you cum, so hard that you just about forgot your own name.

Baekhyun let out a deep groan at how tightly you squeezed him when you came, the pulsating of your orgasming pussy bringing him to his peak soon after. His hips fell out of pace, eventually slowing to a stop as he emptied his cum deep inside.

It wasn't until you slowly started drifting back to reality that you realized you were still outside in the pool with him.

You continued to cling to him, feeling him gradually soften and slip out of you. When his eyes found your own you both stared, panting, basking in the afterglow.

You finally stood back on your own two feet, leaned back against the edge of the pool, and couldn’t fight the fit of laughter that came over you.

Baekhyun stared at you, confused, unnerved, and slightly bewildered at your sudden outburst.

“Jesus fucking Christ Byun! That might be the best sex I’ve ever had. No, it definitely was. I can’t believe you...”

A relieved sigh escaped him, grinning at your admission. “Go on. I’d love to hear all your thoughts.”

“Oh shut up you don’t need any more ego stroking with a dick like that.”

He leaned in closer, bracing both hands on the edge of the pool at your sides. “Well you’ll be happy to know that this dick is all yours, till death do us part.”

A genuine smile graced your lips, and this time as you looked at him, your new husband, you actually felt a little excited for what your future with him could hold.

You leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. “It's only day one and you already succeeded at seducing me. I have to admit I feel a little pathetic.”

“I didn’t seduce you.”

“Oh yes you did! You got me half naked and drunk and started kissing my neck. That has to count.”

“You only had one glass of champagne and we're in a pool, what else would we wear?!”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay fine, but you still seduced me. Not that I mind, that was fucking incredible. I hope no one saw us, though.”

Baekhyun just shrugged. “I doubt it, but if they did, we put on a pretty good show.” he smirked.

“You’re unbelievable.” You laughed, enjoying the way he admired you.

“I asked if you wanted to go inside, but someone was too impatient.”

“You’re awful cocky, you know that?”

Again, he shrugged, moving away from you to find his glass of champagne. He finished it, and since it was getting late, you both finally decided to get to bed. This time, the rose petals just made you giggle. Once you'd both settled in, you even found yourself inching closer to him, until one of his arms pulled you closer, wrapping around you. It was easy to fall asleep like that, in his embrace.

The first night in a new bed was usually pretty rough, and the jet lag didn’t help. When you awoke in the early morning, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.

Baekhyun had detached himself from you at some point during the night, the blanket bunching up around his waist. He seemed to still be resting peacefully, and you shamelessly enjoyed the view of his bare chest and sleeping face. Everything about him was just so gorgeous, it didn’t really make sense to you how you’d ended up with him like this. You’d been so pissed about the marriage for so long, but now a small smile crept to your lips as you watched him, his chest slowly rising and falling with every breath.

You turned to fully face him, shifting around for a bit before settling into a comfortable position. From that point of view you could enjoy the profile of his face as he slept, taken with the seemingly perfect outlines of his jaw, nose, and lips.

Minutes passed, dragging on painfully slow, and the sight in front of you definitely didn't help you get back to sleep. Images from your time in the pool with him kept resurfacing, along with the memory of how incredible he'd made you feel. You couldn’t understand how you hadn’t always wanted to touch him, even when he was more of a stranger to you. He was way too attractive to just ignore, you thought. Every cell in your body seemed to gravitate towards him, now that touching him was allowed, and even welcomed, holding yourself back was nearly torturous.

You and him could nap during the day. Right now, you needed him to wake up.

Carefully, you moved closer, molding your body to his, leaning in to press your lips to his neck. He stirred a bit, but didn’t wake up, so you went on to plant more kisses, moving down towards his chest. When you gently sucked on his collarbone, his eyes finally fluttered open.

Much to your delight, he didn’t question your actions, or why you’d woken him up. He just took hold of your waist, pulling you on top of him, and into a kiss. You ended up straddling him, lips still locked as they moved together lazily.

“Goodmorning,” He hummed, looking around at the dark bedroom. “Awake already? What time is it?”

“Four? Five? I don't know.”

“Why'd you wake me up?” He half groaned, half whined, voice rough due to the early hour.

Instead of replying, you just kissed him again, kissing down to his jaw, then neck, moving your hips a little to make your intentions clear.

“Ready for round two? Already?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled, “Why don't you make me?”

You moved to bring your lips to his once more, but he stopped you, one finger pressing to your lips before they could make contact. You pouted.

“I have an even better idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

A mischievous grin lifted his cheeks so prettily.

“Sit on my face.”

You froze, “Huh?”

“You heard me. C’mere”

He hoisted you up, eliciting a small shriek from you, but you didn’t let him take you all the way up the bed, instead settling atop in chest.

“Are you serious?”

“Hmm I’m a hungry boy. Now come here.”

His hands on your ass attempted to push you further up towards his face, but you stayed put.

“I still have underwear on, dummy.”

He looked down, narrowing his eyes when he spotted the lace that was, in fact, covering you.

“Do you like this pair?”

“Kinda? They’re a little old I guess, why do you-”

Before you could finish his hands were taking hold of the flimsy fabric, easily ripping it and tossing it to the side.

“Baekhyun! Are you out of your mind? Why-”

He cut you off again, hoisting you up by your ass till your thighs were on either side of his head.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll buy you new ones.”

With that his arms circled your thighs, pulling you down, until your center met his hot tongue.

You inhaled sharply, bracing your hands against the wall as he licked and prodded at your clit. It was soft, teasing, wanting to warm you up before showing you what he was really capable of. When you would start to whine and plead for more, he would pull away entirely, instead leaving kisses on your inner thighs, letting the anticipation grow until it was nearly unbearable.

Until then you'd still been hovering, not wanting to smother him, but when you once again began to whimper and ask for more, he told you, “I’ll give you what you want if you just sit.”

“But-”

Without giving you a chance to protest his strong arms, still wrapped around your thighs, yanked you down roughly. At last you got the kind of pressure you needed, putting some weight on him, no longer caring if he could breathe or not. His hums of pleasure made it clear that either way, he was enjoying this as much as you were.

He lapped at your clit with greed, happily drinking you in. Every gasp, sigh, and groan he drew from you egged him on, eagerly awaiting your release, wanting nothing more than the taste of your delight flooding his tongue. When he transitioned from mere licking to sucking your bud past his lips, he felt your thighs shake, gripping them so tightly you almost wondered if it could bruise. In your ecstasy, however, there was no place for such thoughts. You were too preoccupied with your building orgasm.

His fingers earlier in the pool had been fantastic, but his tongue and lips were on a whole new level entirely. The way the warm muscle flicked at your most sensitive spot was absolutely perfect, and when combined with the suction of his lips, you almost couldn’t handle it. He could tell you were getting close when you began to rock your hips against his tongue, silently begging for even more, and he was eager to deliver.

He picked up the pace, suckling harder, licking faster, and he reveled in the increased volume of your moans as you got lost in it. When the moans were silenced, replaced instead with sharp gasps, he knew you were on the precipice. He didn’t falter, if anything, he gave you even more.

Seconds later you fell apart, twitching and shaking while he still didn’t stop, the sensation flooding your body with relief and joy until it slowly became too much. Baekhyun still had a firm hold of your thighs, and he moaned with delight at the taste of your orgasm on his tongue. He kept lapping at your tired pussy, not wanting to let a single drop go to waste, until you basically begged him for a break.

When his hold on your thighs finally weakened, you sat back, your ass landing on his chest eliciting a grunt from him. You looked down at your husband's face and he was beaming, lips and chin still wet with your arousal. You grinned right back, watching as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

Again, all you could do was laugh, and this time he happily joined you.

“You know, I really hadn't expected all of this to happen on our first night here.” You told him.

“Neither did I.”

He was still smiling up at you, now just watching, admiring you, and when he still didn't look away after several seconds had passed you started to feel shy.

You rolled off of him, one arm covering your eyes as you basked in the unexpected comfort of the moment. Eventually you felt him move your arm away and his face was hovering above your own, slowly moving closer until he was kissing you. It was slow, relaxed, just enjoying the closeness as you gradually recovered from the heated moment.

You felt him shift, realizing that he was adjusting himself beneath his silk pajama pants, and your hand followed. His eyes fluttered shut when you palmed him, and he took the hint, discarding the shirt you still wore before stripping himself.

Wet lips met the sensitive skin of your neck as he positioned himself between your thighs, the heat and weight of him above you somehow making your heart race even more. His fingers entered you first, stretching you out to get you ready to take him. He started with two, soon adding a third as he leaned up slightly, watching your flushed form squirm and whimper beneath him. It was a sight that didn’t help his patience one bit, throbbing as he thought about getting to be inside you again so soon.

It wasn’t long until Baekhyun assumed you were ready, that or he just didn’t want to wait any longer. Both of his hands found yours, lacing them together and pressing them to the bed above your head. His eyes were on yours, dark with lust as you felt him push inside, the stretch again making you wince, though you easily powered through, too enticed by what was to come to even consider stopping him. He rocked into you, getting deeper with each push, until he was burying himself into you entirely with each roll of his hips.

This time, he was slower, savoring the way your tight walls hugged him, in contrast to the frenzied passion of the evening prior. You sighed gratefully each time he hit that spot inside you, appreciating the unhurried pace he set as he continued to thrust. Your previous orgasm left you especially sensitive, and you seemed to be floating on a cloud of pure bliss while he steadily fucked you, the euphoria of it reaching even greater hights than before.

His size was one thing, but Baekhyun was also just good. He knew how to angle himself to make you feel just right, keeping a steady pace to allow the pleasure to build.

“You feel amazing, so tight and wet for me.” He whispered into your ear, and your knuckles paled with how hard you gripped his hands.

Normally faster, rougher sex was what you preferred, but now, with him, you couldn’t help but think that this slower, more relaxed approach was even better. Maybe it was because it was so early, and you were still a little tired, but this felt nothing short of perfect. Baekhyun was taking care of you so well, listening to your body, and giving exactly what you needed.

Your orgasm was getting close again, warmth growing into a burning heat in the pit of your stomach, but as soon as you started to clench around him, about to let go, he pulled out.

He chuckled softly at the way you whined in protest, but assured you, “Just trust me, this will be even better.”

He stood on his knees and straddled one of your thighs, bringing the other leg over his shoulder before pushing back in. With the same leisurely pace from earlier he continued on, the new angle making you feel him even deeper.

When you started to whimper and ask for him to go faster, he just shushed you, pushing his hips into you slower, but harder, leaving you with little room to protest. Either way, it was divine, and you knew he’d easily get you there in the end. After a while you decide that whatever he had in mind, you would happily accept it. He made you feel so damn good, you trusted him to take you however he saw fit.

His thrusts were steady, letting you chase your orgasm, but when you started to get close he pulled out again, leaving you shaking and whining and clenching around nothing.

One hand came to rest on your cheek and his forehead met your own, prompting you to open your eyes and meet his. He stared for a second before pressing a quick kiss to your lips and whispering, “Turn around for me baby.”

You obliged, rolling onto your stomach, and you felt him straddle you, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses along your shoulder. Without any warning he filled you once again, and this time when he bottomed out, the increased pressure against your cervix made your stomach tighten, the pain almost too much for you.

His moans and grunts made it clear that he, too, felt the added pressure, making sure not to press too hard, to be gentle as he continued working his way in and out, his eyes fixed to the view of your ass and his length plunging in and out of you. Every time he sank himself inside completely he felt the way his tip would reach the bottom, savoring the feeling while doing his best to not hurt you in any real way.

Little did he know, you enjoyed the intensity of it, and your high was approaching even quicker than before. He’d been edging you for so long, all you cared about was getting your release. He could’ve fucked you as fast and hard as he wanted and the pain still wouldn’t have stopped you from cumming all over his length.

But Baekhyun was cautious nonetheless, filling you in the same relaxed manner, wanting you to feel as good as possible, to prolong your pleasure, without bringing it to an end just yet. He, too, was enjoying himself far too much to rush this.

However he soon felt the same tell-tale throb that your orgasm was quickly approaching, so he pulled out once again.

Once he’d turned you over, settling back between your thighs, he took in your fucked out expression, eyes softening at just how desperate you looked.

“Does my baby want to cum?”

You nodded, frantic. “Please, Baekhyun.”

He placed a tender kiss to your lips, then your forehead, before pushing forwards to fill you up. This time as he kept moving you could feel the difference, and you knew he was getting close to his own release. His thrusts were less consistent, and he became shaky, gasping and moaning more freely than before.

For you it came as a relief, knowing that it wouldn’t be long until you finally got your long awaited high. You weren’t sure how much more you could take, more than ready for him to finally just fuck you through your orgasm, and let you feel his release, too.

The push and stretch of his length inside you, the angle of it, and his entirety surrounding you, the heat and weight and smell of him, they all became too much. When he finally let you reach your peak it was strong, blinding you and making your skin tingle with the intensity. Every time he’d denied you he’d built the tension to such a degree that when it was finally released, it was otherworldly. Broken versions of his name passed your lips, though you weren’t conscious of it, the wave of pleasure leaving no room for coherent thought, only gratitude for the incredible feeling after having been deprived.

He didn’t stop when he felt the obvious pulsating and twitching of your orgasm, he continued to chase his own high, which came soon after. He’d been holding himself back, so when it finally hit him, the burst of euphoria was explosive. As he shuddered apart his lips crashed into yours, hungry and rough as they sought greater contact, something to communicate how much it affected him.

The kisses became more relaxed as you both slowly drifted back to reality, until he finally collapsed on top of you, burying himself in the crook of your neck. Gently kisses were peppered across your skin, each one paired with some sweet words, “So beautiful, so perfect, so good for me.”

After some time his weight above you lost its charm, turning sweaty and uncomfortable prompting him to roll off you, though you still desired some contact. Your head rested atop his chest, and the feeling of his hand on your waist was a welcome comfort.

Something about this just felt right to you. Your marriage to him, now, came as more of a relief than anything else. You knew that after having him, nobody else would ever be able to compare. As sure as you’d been that the jet lag would keep you up until daylight, his embrace ended up luring you into a peaceful sleep in mere minutes.

As it turned out, your honeymoon ended up being a beautiful experience full of gorgeous scenery, plentiful laughter, and amazing sex. Most days were spent strolling through town, enjoying the spa and pool at the house, and in bed with your new husband.

He was fun, maybe a little cocky, but you couldn't blame him for that, everything considered. At the end of the day, he was always sweet to you, and never acted truly arrogant in any way. Confident, that was how you would describe him, and that confidence came as a comfort for you. He was confident in himself, yes, but he also showed a lot of confidence and optimism towards his relationship with you.

The initial awkwardness disappeared completely after your encounter in the pool. The sex had been great, but more importantly, it brought your guard down. You quickly became far more comfortable around him, and as the days passed, he started to feel like a genuine friend. A friend, who also gave you the best sex of your life.

While it may have still been early in the relationship, by the time you were flying back home with him, you felt confident, too.

You'd make it work with Baekhyun, your new husband.

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