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pucksandpower · 10 months ago

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Find Me Again

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Alexandria, 30 BC

The scorching Egyptian sun beats down on Alexandria as you hurry through the bustling streets, your sandals slapping against the warm stone. The air is thick with tension — whispers of Octavian’s approaching army have the city on edge. But your mind is elsewhere, focused on the stolen moments you’ll soon share with Lando.

You slip into a secluded alleyway, heart racing as you spot his familiar silhouette. Lando’s face lights up when he sees you, though worry creases his brow.

“There you are,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You melt into his embrace, savoring his warmth. “I’m sorry I’m late. The palace has been in chaos with all the rumors flying about.”

Lando’s arms tighten around you. “It’s true then? Octavian draws near?”

You nod against his chest. “I fear so. Cleopatra grows more desperate by the day.”

He pulls back, cupping your face in his calloused hands. His dark eyes search yours intently. “Come away with me,” he pleads. “We can leave the city tonight, find passage on a ship bound for Greece or Cyprus.”

Your heart aches at the longing in his voice. “Lando, you know I can’t abandon my duty to the queen. She needs me now more than ever.”

“And what of my need for you?” Lando’s voice cracks with emotion. “Each day I’m torn between my loyalty to Rome and my love for you. I cannot bear the thought of you in danger when Octavian’s forces arrive.”

You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingers. “My brave soldier,” you murmur. “Always trying to protect me. But I’ve survived far worse than regime changes. We’ll find a way through this, as we always do.”

Lando leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. “I wish I had your optimism. Every time I close my eyes, I see visions of you lying lifeless amidst the chaos of battle.”

A chill runs down your spine despite the oppressive heat. “Don’t speak of such things,” you chide gently. “We make our own fate, remember?”

He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know. I just ... I can’t shake this feeling of impending doom. Promise me you’ll be careful, my love. Promise you’ll do whatever it takes to stay safe.”

“I promise,” you whisper, sealing the vow with a tender kiss.

Lando responds eagerly, drawing you closer as the kiss deepens. For a blissful moment, the world fades away and there is only the two of you, lost in each other’s embrace.

A distant shout breaks the spell. You reluctantly pull away, both breathing heavily.

“I should go,” you murmur regretfully. “Cleopatra will be wondering where I’ve disappeared to.”

Lando nods, though he doesn’t release you from his arms. “When can I see you again?”

You bite your lip, considering. “Three days from now, at sunset. Meet me by the lighthouse?”

“I’ll be there,” he vows solemnly. “Be safe, my love.”

With a final lingering kiss, you slip from his embrace and hurry back towards the palace. Your heart feels lighter despite the looming threats, buoyed by Lando’s love and the promise of your next rendezvous.

But fate, it seems, has other plans.

The next few days pass in a blur of mounting tension. Cleopatra grows increasingly erratic, oscillating between grandiose plans to seduce Octavian and talks of ending her own life. You do your best to comfort and counsel her, all while stealing moments to daydream about your upcoming meeting with Lando.

On the fated evening, you’re helping Cleopatra prepare for bed when she suddenly fixates on a basket of figs brought by a servant.

“Ah, how fitting,” she muses, a strange glint in her eye. “Did you know, my dear, that the Egyptians that came before us believed figs to be the fruit of the afterlife?”

A chill runs down your spine. “My queen?”

Cleopatra waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t look so worried. I was simply contemplating the cyclical nature of life and death. Come, help me into bed.”

You obey, tucking the sheets around her with practiced ease. As you turn to leave, her hand darts out to grasp your wrist.

“Stay with me a while longer,” she implores. “I find I cannot bear to be alone with my thoughts tonight.”

Your heart sinks, knowing you’ll miss your rendezvous with Lando. But duty wins out over desire. “Of course, my queen. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

Hours pass as you sit by Cleopatra’s bedside, listening to her reminisce about better days. Just as your eyelids begin to grow heavy, a commotion in the hall startles you both fully awake.

“What’s happening?” Cleopatra demands, sitting up.

Before you can answer, the doors burst open and a breathless messenger stumbles in. “My queen,” he pants, “Octavian’s army has breached the city walls!”

Cleopatra’s face hardens. “So, the end has come at last.” She turns to you, her gaze intense. “Fetch me the asp.”

Your blood runs cold. “My queen, surely there must be another way-”

“Do not argue with me!” She snaps. “I will not be paraded through Rome as Octavian’s prize. Now go, quickly!”

With a heavy heart, you hurry to retrieve the venomous snake from its hidden chamber. Your hands shake as you return, presenting the basket to Cleopatra.

She reaches for it eagerly, but pauses. Her eyes meet yours, softening slightly. “My faithful friend,” she murmurs. “You have served me well. I release you from your duties. Go, find that Roman boy of yours and flee while you still can.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “You knew?”

Cleopatra’s lips quirk in a sad smile. “I’ve always known. Now go, before it’s too late.”

Torn between duty and desire, you hesitate. In that moment of indecision, everything changes.

Cleopatra reaches for the asp, but in her haste, she knocks the basket from your hands. The snake falls to the floor, immediately striking at the nearest target … you.

Pain explodes in your ankle as the asp’s fangs sink into your flesh. You cry out, stumbling backwards.

“No!” Cleopatra wails, lunging to catch you as you fall.

The world begins to spin as the venom courses through your veins. Your last coherent thought is of Lando, waiting faithfully by the lighthouse. As darkness closes in, you pray he’ll forgive you for breaking your promise.

Hours later, Lando fights his way through the chaos of the conquered city. He charges into the palace, heedless of the danger, desperate to find you.

When he bursts into Cleopatra’s chambers, his worst fears are realized. Two bodies lie motionless on the floor — the queen and beside her ...

“No,” he chokes out, falling to his knees beside your lifeless form. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

Lando gathers you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as sobs wrack his body. “You promised,” he whispers brokenly. “You promised you’d stay safe.”

But promises, like empires, are so easily broken. As the sun rises on a new era for Egypt, it sets on this chapter of your shared story. Yet even as this life ends, the seeds of the next are already taking root, waiting to bloom in another time, another place.

For true love, like the mighty Nile, cannot be contained. It flows ever onward, carving new paths through the landscape of eternity.

Pompeii, 79 AD

The ground trembles beneath your feet as you race through the chaotic streets of Pompeii. Ash rains from the sky, coating everything in a ghostly gray shroud. All around, people scream and push, desperately seeking escape from the fury of Mount Vesuvius.

“Lando!” You call out, your voice hoarse from the acrid air. “Lando, where are you?”

A hand suddenly grabs your arm, yanking you into a narrow alleyway. You whirl around, ready to fight, only to find yourself face to face with Lando. His usually immaculate toga is torn and stained with soot, his dark curls matted with ash.

“Thank the gods,” he breathes, pulling you into a fierce embrace. “I thought I’d lost you in the crowd.”

You cling to him tightly, savoring his familiar warmth amidst the chaos. “We need to get out of the city,” you say urgently. “The mountain — it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Lando nods grimly. “I know. I’ve been trying to make it to the harbor, but the roads are completely blocked. It’s madness out there.”

Another tremor rocks the ground, stronger than before. Pieces of masonry rain down from the surrounding buildings. Lando shields you with his body as you both press against the alley wall.

“We can’t stay here,” you say once the shaking subsides. “It’s not safe.”

“Nowhere is safe,” Lando replies, his eyes haunted. “But you’re right, we need to keep moving. Come on, I know another way to the docks.”

Hand-in-hand, you dash back out into the crowded street. The air grows thicker with each passing moment, making it harder to breathe. You pull the edge of your stola over your mouth and nose, squinting through the haze.

Lando leads you through a maze of side streets and back alleys, avoiding the worst of the panicked crowds. But with each turn, your hope dwindles. The mountain’s fury seems to be growing by the minute, raining down fire and ash with terrifying intensity.

As you round another corner, you come face to face with a wall of rubble blocking the entire street. Lando curses under his breath, pounding his fist against a fallen column.

“It’s no use,” he says, defeat creeping into his voice. “Every path to the harbor is cut off. We’re trapped.”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Then we’ll find somewhere to wait it out. The gods won’t abandon us. We just have to have faith.”

He turns to you, a sad smile playing on his lips. “Always the optimist, aren’t you? Even in the face of certain doom.”

“One of us has to be,” you reply, managing a weak smile of your own.

Another violent tremor shakes the ground, nearly knocking you both off your feet. In the distance, you hear the ominous rumble of collapsing buildings.

“Quick, in here!” Lando shouts, pulling you towards a sturdy-looking stone building. You duck inside just as a fresh barrage of burning rocks pelts the street where you were standing moments ago.

As your eyes adjust to the dimness, you realize you’re in some kind of workshop. Half-finished statues and blocks of marble are scattered about, coated in a fine layer of ash that has sifted through the cracks.

“A sculptor’s studio,” Lando muses, running his hand along a nearby bust. “Rather fitting, don’t you think? To spend our last moments surrounded by art meant to outlast us all.”

You shoot him a reproachful look. “Don’t talk like that. This isn’t the end. We’ll get through this, just like we always do.”

He sighs, pulling you close. “I admire your spirit, my love. But I fear this time, the Fates have other plans for us.”

As if to punctuate his words, the ground gives another violent lurch. The air grows even thicker, filled with choking dust and sulfurous fumes.

“It’s getting harder to breathe,” you gasp, fighting back a coughing fit.

Lando guides you to a relatively clear corner of the room, helping you sit on the floor before settling beside you. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, drawing you against his side.

“Just try to take shallow breaths,” he instructs, his own voice strained. “Like this, see?”

You nod, focusing on matching your breathing to his. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your labored breaths and the distant rumble of the mountain.

“Lando?” You whisper after a while.

“Hmm?”

“I’m scared.”

He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know, love. I am too.”

“Tell me a story?” You ask, your voice small. “Like you used to, when we first met. Remember?”

Lando chuckles softly. “How could I forget? You were the most stubborn student I’ve ever had the misfortune of tutoring.”

“Hey!” You protest weakly, managing a smile despite everything. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh no?” He teases. “Who was it that insisted the Odyssey would be vastly improved if Odysseus had simply asked for directions?”

You laugh, the sound quickly dissolving into a cough. “Well, it’s true! Twenty years to get home? Penelope should have moved on.”

Lando shakes his head in mock dismay. “Such disrespect for the classics. I clearly failed as your tutor.”

“Never,” you murmur, snuggling closer to him. “You taught me far more important things than dusty old stories.”

“Oh? And what might those be?”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “You taught me what it means to truly love someone. To find a home not in a place, but in a person.”

Lando’s eyes shine with unshed tears as he leans down to kiss you softly. “And you, my darling, taught me that life is meant to be lived, not just studied. You brought color to my world of scrolls and stone.”

Another tremor shakes the building, sending a fresh wave of dust raining down on you both. The air grows thicker, each breath a struggle.

“Lando,” you wheeze, gripping his hand tightly. “I don’t want to die.”

He pulls you onto his lap, cradling you against his chest. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Promise you won’t leave me?” You plead, your vision starting to blur.

“Never,” he vows fiercely. “Not in this life or any other. Wherever our souls go next, we go together. I promise.”

You manage a weak nod, focusing on the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. As consciousness begins to slip away, you’re struck by a strange sense of déjà vu.

“Lando?” You murmur, your voice barely audible.

“Yes, love?”

“I think ... I think we’ve done this before.”

He lets out a shaky laugh. “What, died in each other’s arms while a volcano erupts? I think I’d remember that.”

You shake your head slightly. “No, not exactly. But this feeling ... like we’ve known each other forever. Like we’ll find each other again, no matter what.”

Lando is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “Maybe we have. Maybe we will. I’d like to think so.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

As the world crumbles around you, you cling to each other. Your last thoughts are not of fear or regret, but of the love you share. A love so powerful it transcends time itself.

And as this chapter closes, another waits to begin. For some bonds are too strong to be broken, even by death. Your souls are destined to find each other again and again, weaving an eternal tapestry of love across the ages.

Salem, 1692

The air in the Salem courthouse is thick with tension and the bitter scent of fear. You stand before the assembled judges, your wrists bound tightly with rough rope that chafes your skin. The crowd of onlookers murmurs and shifts restlessly, their faces a sea of suspicion and barely concealed hostility.

Lando sits among them, his face a mask of anguish as he watches the proceedings. He wants nothing more than to rush to your side, to shield you from the madness that has gripped the town. But he knows that any show of support would only damn you further in the eyes of the court.

Judge Hathorne’s voice rings out, silencing the whispers. “The accused will step forward.”

You take a shaky step, raising your chin defiantly despite the terror coursing through your veins.

“You stand accused of witchcraft and consorting with the devil,” Hathorne intones gravely. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” you declare, your voice stronger than you feel. “I am no witch, merely a midwife and herbalist. I have done nothing but help this community.”

A snort of derision comes from the crowd. You turn to see Goodwife Putnam, her face twisted with malice. “Lies!” She shrieks. “I saw her dancing naked in the woods, consorting with dark spirits!”

“That’s not true!” You protest. “I was gathering herbs for my remedies, nothing more!”

Judge Hathorne raises an eyebrow. “And can anyone vouch for your whereabouts on the night in question?”

Your heart sinks. You had been alone that night, as you often were when foraging. “I ... I was alone, your honor. But I swear on all that is holy, I am no witch.”

A ripple of whispers sweeps through the crowd. Lando’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tight with the effort of remaining silent.

“Very convenient,” Hathorne remarks dryly. “Goody Putnam, you may continue with your testimony.”

The woman stands, her eyes gleaming with a fervor that chills you to the bone. “I’ve seen her speaking to animals as if they could understand her. And just last week, my cow’s milk turned sour the very day after she visited our farm!”

“That’s ridiculous!” You exclaim. “Milk spoils, it’s a natural occurrence. And I often speak to animals, as do many others. It does not make me a witch!”

But your protests fall on deaf ears. One by one, your neighbors step forward with increasingly outlandish accusations. Every misfortune, every unexplained event is laid at your feet.

“She cursed my crops!”

“My child fell ill after eating her bread!”

“I saw her flying on a broomstick!”

The claims grow more absurd, but the judges nod solemnly at each one. You feel the noose of suspicion tightening around your neck with each passing moment.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Lando leaps to his feet. “This is madness!” He shouts. “You’re condemning an innocent woman based on nothing but gossip and superstition!”

All eyes turn to him. Judge Danforth fixes him with a steely glare. “Master Norris, you will remain silent or be removed from this courtroom.”

“I will not be silent while you murder an innocent woman!” Lando retorts. He turns to the crowd, imploring them. “Can’t you see what’s happening? We’re tearing our community apart with these baseless accusations!”

A murmur of uncertainty ripples through the onlookers. For a moment, you dare to hope that reason might prevail.

But then Abigail Williams, one of the young girls at the center of the witch hunt, lets out a blood-curdling shriek. She points a trembling finger at you. “Her specter! I see her specter tormenting me even now!”

The other girls quickly join in, writhing and screaming as if in the throes of possession. The courtroom erupts into chaos.

“Order!” Judge Hathorne bellows, pounding his gavel. “Order in the court!”

As the commotion dies down, he turns to you, his expression grave. “The evidence against you is overwhelming. Unless you confess and repent, I have no choice but to find you guilty of witchcraft.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. You know that a confession might spare your life, but it would mean living a lie. And worse, it would lend credence to the madness gripping Salem.

“I will not confess to crimes I did not commit,” you say quietly but firmly. “I am innocent before God and man.”

Judge Hathorne’s face hardens. “Then you leave us no choice. You are hereby sentenced to death by hanging. May God have mercy on your soul.”

The crowd erupts into a mix of cheers and shocked gasps. Lando’s anguished cry rises above the din. “No! You can’t do this!”

He rushes towards you, but is quickly restrained by two burly constables. “Let me go!” He shouts, struggling against their grip. “She’s innocent!”

Your eyes meet his across the chaotic courtroom. Despite everything, you manage a small, sad smile. “It’s alright, Lando,” you call out. “Be strong. This isn’t your fault.”

As the guards move to lead you away, Lando breaks free and rushes to your side. He cups your face in his hands, his eyes wild with desperation. “I’ll find a way to stop this,” he vows. “I won’t let them take you.”

You lean into his touch, memorizing the feel of his hands on your skin. “There’s nothing you can do, my love. Promise me you’ll stay safe. Don’t let them take you too.”

“I can’t lose you,” he chokes out, tears streaming down his face.

“You won’t,” you whisper fiercely. “Not really. I don’t know how I know this, but I swear we’ll find each other again. In another life, another time. This isn’t the end for us.”

The guards roughly pull you apart. As they drag you away, you keep your eyes locked on Lando’s, drawing strength from his gaze.

The next few days pass in a blur of fear and desperate prayer. You cling to the strange certainty that had come over you in the courtroom — that somehow, someway, this is not truly the end for you and Lando.

On the day of your execution, you walk to the gallows with your head held high. The crowd that has gathered is subdued, some already beginning to question the justice of what’s happening.

You scan the faces, searching for Lando, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Your heart aches at his absence, but you understand. It would be too painful for him to watch.

As the noose is placed around your neck, you close your eyes and think of Lando. Of his laugh, his gentle touch, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. You hold onto these memories as the world falls away beneath your feet.

Your last conscious thought is a promise — to find him again, no matter how long it takes.

Miles away, hidden in the woods, Lando feels the exact moment you leave this world. He collapses to his knees, a wordless cry of anguish tearing from his throat. But even in his grief, he feels the echo of your final promise.

“I’ll find you,” he whispers to the uncaring forest. “In this life or the next. We’ll be together again. I swear it.”

And so another chapter closes, the threads of your shared destiny stretching onward through time. The cycle continues, each life bringing you closer to the moment when you’ll finally break free of this endless dance of death and rebirth.

Yekaterinburg, 1918

The Ipatiev House looms dark and foreboding in the Yekaterinburg night. You pace the confines of your makeshift prison, the once-opulent rooms now a stark reminder of how far the mighty Romanovs have fallen. The sound of raised voices and heavy footsteps from the floor below sends a chill down your spine.

“They’re coming,” your sister Maria whispers, her eyes wide with fear.

Before you can respond, the door bursts open. A group of armed men file in, their faces grim and purposeful. Your heart nearly stops when you spot a familiar face among them.

“Lando?” You gasp, scarcely able to believe your eyes.

He meets your gaze, his expression a turbulent mix of emotions. “Grand Duchess,” he says stiffly, the formal title at odds with the intimate moments you’ve shared in secret.

“What’s happening?” You demand, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Why are you here?”

Yakov Yurovsky, the commandant of the house, steps forward. “The Ural Soviet has decided to execute the Romanov family,” he announces coldly. “You are to be moved to the basement immediately.”

A wave of terror washes over you. “No,” you breathe. “No, this can’t be happening.”

Your eyes lock with Lando’s, silently pleading. For a moment, you see the conflict raging behind his eyes. But then his expression hardens, and he looks away.

As the guards begin herding your family towards the stairs, you manage to maneuver closer to Lando. “How could you be part of this?” You hiss under your breath.

His jaw clenches. “The revolution demands sacrifices,” he mutters. “Even from those we ... care about.”

“Care about?” You repeat incredulously. “Is that all I am to you now? After everything we’ve shared?”

A flicker of pain crosses his face. “You know it’s more complicated than that. Your family’s rule has caused immeasurable suffering. This ... this is justice.”

“Murder is not justice,” you retort, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.

Before he can respond, you’re roughly pushed forward. The journey to the basement is a blur of terror and disbelief. Your mind races, desperately seeking a way out of this nightmare.

In the dank cellar, Yurovsky instructs your family to line up against the wall. You find yourself between your younger siblings, instinctively trying to shield them even as your own knees threaten to give out.

“Wait,” you cry out as Yurovsky raises his hand to signal the firing squad. “Please, spare the children at least. They’re innocent in all this!”

Yurovsky’s face remains impassive. “There can be no Romanov heirs left to rally around. The old regime must end here and now.”

You turn to Lando, making one last desperate appeal. “Lando, please. If what we had meant anything to you, don’t let this happen. Help us!”

For a moment, you see the Lando you knew — the passionate young man who spoke of creating a better world, who held you under the stars and whispered promises of a future together. But then the revolutionary mask slips back into place.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely audible. “But this is bigger than us.”

As the soldiers raise their weapons, time seems to slow. You think of all the lives you might have lived — the futures now forever lost to you. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you, as if you’ve faced death with Lando before.

“Ready!” Yurovsky’s voice cuts through your reverie.

You straighten your spine, determined to face your end with dignity. Your eyes find Lando’s one last time.

“Aim!”

“I forgive you,” you mouth silently, even as tears stream down your face.

You see Lando’s composure crack, anguish flooding his features. He takes a half-step forward, as if to intervene, but it’s too late.

“Fire!”

The basement erupts in a deafening cacophony of gunshots and screams. You feel a searing pain in your chest as bullets tear through you. As you crumple to the ground, your fading vision fixates on Lando’s horrified face.

With your last breath, you whisper, “Find me again.”

Then darkness claims you.

Lando stands frozen, unable to tear his eyes away from your lifeless form. The smokey smell of gunpowder mixes with the metallic scent of blood, turning his stomach.

“Finish them off,” Yurovsky orders dispassionately. “No survivors.”

As his comrades move forward with bayonets, Lando stumbles back, retching. He staggers up the stairs and out into the cool night air, gulping it down desperately.

What has he done?

He’d believed so fervently in the revolution, in the need to sweep away the old order to build a better world. But staring at his blood-stained hands, Lando feels nothing but horror and soul-crushing guilt.

Your final words haunt him. “Find me again.” But how can he, when he’s destroyed any chance of a future together?

As dawn breaks over Yekaterinburg, Lando makes a decision. He can’t undo what’s been done, but he can ensure the truth isn’t buried along with your body.

Over the coming weeks, as the Bolsheviks spread lies about your family’s fate, Lando works in secret to document what really happened. He gathers evidence, writes detailed accounts, and arranges for the information to be smuggled out of the country.

It’s a dangerous game. If caught, he’ll be branded a traitor to the revolution. But Lando no longer cares about ideology or politics. His only goal is to honor your memory and ensure that history remembers the truth.

Late one night, as he prepares to flee the country with his damning documents, Lando allows himself a moment of quiet reflection. He thinks of your smile, your compassion, the way you challenged him to see beyond his rigid beliefs.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to the empty room. “I failed you in this life. But I swear, somehow, I’ll make it right. If there’s any justice in the universe, we’ll meet again. And next time, I’ll protect you. I’ll choose you over everything else.”

As he slips out into the night, Lando feels a strange sense of certainty. This isn’t the end of your story. Somehow, someway, you’ll find each other again.

The wheel of fate continues to turn, carrying your intertwined souls towards yet another lifetime. But with each cycle, the bond between you grows stronger. Perhaps next time, you’ll finally break free of this tragic pattern and find the happiness that’s eluded you for so long.

Jonestown, 1978

The humid Guyanese air hangs heavy over Jonestown, thick with tension and the cloying scent of tropical flowers. You stand among the gathered crowd, your heart pounding so hard you fear it might burst from your chest. Beside you, Lando’s hand finds yours, squeezing tightly.

“This isn’t right,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the droning speech coming from the pavilion. “We need to get out of here.”

You nod imperceptibly, not daring to speak. Jim Jones’ paranoid ravings have reached a fever pitch in recent days, and you both know that even the slightest hint of dissent could be deadly.

“My children,” Jones’ voice booms out over the loudspeakers, “the time has come for us to make our final stand against the oppressors who seek to destroy our paradise.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd. You scan the sea of faces, seeing a mix of blind devotion and barely concealed terror.

“Our Congressional visitors have betrayed us,” Jones continues, his words slurring slightly. “They will bring nothing but destruction. We have no choice but to enact our glorious revolutionary suicide.”

Your blood runs cold. You’d heard whispers of this plan, but had desperately hoped it was just another of Jones’ manipulative tactics.

“Lando,” you whisper urgently, “we have to run. Now.”

He nods, his face pale but determined. “Follow my lead. When I give the signal, we make a break for the jungle.”

But before you can move, you feel a vice-like grip on your arm. You turn to see your mother, her eyes wild with fervor.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She hisses. “This is our moment of triumph. You will not ruin it with your lack of faith.”

On Lando’s other side, his father has a similar hold on him. The older man’s face is a mask of grim resignation. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, son,” he says quietly.

You watch in horror as Jones’ lieutenants begin distributing paper cups filled with a sinister purple liquid. The bitter almond smell of cyanide fills the air.

“No,” you breathe, struggling against your mother’s grip. “Mom, please. This is insanity. We don’t have to do this!”

But your pleas fall on deaf ears. Your mother’s grip only tightens as she accepts two cups from a passing aide.

“Drink,” she commands, thrusting one towards you.

You shake your head vehemently, clamping your mouth shut. Beside you, Lando is engaged in a similar struggle with his father.

“You can’t force us to do this!” Lando shouts, drawing the attention of nearby cult members. “This is murder!”

Jones’ voice cuts through the growing commotion. “Those who resist are traitors to our cause. They must be made to comply, for the good of all.”

Suddenly, you’re surrounded by a group of Jones’ most fanatical followers. Rough hands grab you, forcing your head back. You struggle wildly, but it’s no use. You feel the cold rim of the cup pressed against your lips.

“No!” Lando cries out, fighting to reach you. “Leave her alone!”

But he too is overwhelmed, multiple hands restraining him as the poisoned drink is forced upon him.

The sickly-sweet liquid burns your throat as it’s poured into your mouth. You choke and splutter, but can’t prevent some of it from going down. Beside you, Lando’s muffled cries tell you he’s suffering the same fate.

As the hands release you, you collapse to your knees, coughing violently. Your vision swims, the world taking on a surreal, nightmarish quality.

“Lando,” you gasp, reaching out blindly.

His hand finds yours, gripping it weakly. “I’m here,” he manages, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect you.”

You crawl closer, fighting against the growing weakness in your limbs. All around, people are collapsing, some screaming in agony while others slip away in eerie silence.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper, cupping Lando’s face with a trembling hand. “We never stood a chance against this madness.”

Lando’s eyes, clouded with pain, meet yours. “This can’t be how it ends,” he says desperately. “Not again.”

A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you. “Again?” You murmur, confused.

He nods weakly. “I don’t know how, but I feel like we’ve been here before. Facing death together, unable to stop it.”

As the poison works its way through your system, flashes of other lives flicker through your mind. Ancient Egypt, Pompeii, Salem, Russia — each time, finding each other only to be torn apart.

“I remember,” you breathe, wonder mingling with the pain. “We keep finding each other, but we never get our happy ending.”

Lando pulls you closer, both of you shaking with the effort of fighting off the inevitable. “Next time,” he vows, his voice barely above a whisper. “Next time we’ll break this cycle. We’ll find a way to be together.”

You manage a small, sad smile. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he murmurs, pressing a weak kiss to your forehead.

As consciousness begins to slip away, you cling to each other. The sounds of screaming and Jones’ maniacal laughter fade into the background. In these final moments, there is only you and Lando, and the love that has somehow endured across lifetimes.

“Find me again,” you whisper, echoing words spoken in another life.

Lando’s grip on your hand tightens fractionally. “Always,” he breathes.

As darkness closes in, you’re filled with a strange sense of hope. This tragic cycle can’t go on forever. Someday, somehow, you’ll find a way to break free and finally have the life together you’ve been denied so many times.

Your last thought, as you slip away, is a prayer to whatever cosmic force keeps bringing you together.

Next time, let it be different.

Next time, let us live.

And as your souls depart this tragic scene, unseen wheels of fate begin to turn once more. The cycle continues, but perhaps this time, with the weight of so many shared lifetimes behind you, you’ll finally find your way to a happier ending.

In the years that follow, as the horror of Jonestown is revealed to the world, two names are lost among the hundreds of victims. But your story — the story of a love that refuses to be extinguished — lives on, waiting for the next chapter to unfold.

Monaco, 2024

The soft glow of computer screens illuminates Lando’s face as he leans into his microphone, his eyes darting between the chat and his game. “No, chat, I’m not going to sing the Baby Shark song,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You lot are absolutely mental, you know that?”

The door to his streaming room creaks open, and he glances over, his face softening into a warm smile as you pad in, wrapped in an oversized hoodie you’ve stolen from his wardrobe.

“Speaking of sharks,” Lando grins, addressing his audience, “look who’s decided to join us. It’s my favorite cuddly shark!”

You roll your eyes fondly at the nickname, a reference to your habit of playfully nipping at his shoulder when you’re feeling particularly affectionate. As you approach, Lando pushes his chair back slightly, making room for you to settle onto his lap.

“Come here, you,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist as you curl into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. To his stream, he explains, “Sorry chat, the missus is feeling a bit clingy tonight. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

You mumble something unintelligible into his skin, making him laugh. “What was that, love? The stream can’t hear you when you’re trying to become one with my neck.”

Lifting your head slightly, you repeat, “I said, don’t let me interrupt your gaming. I just wanted cuddles.”

Lando presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “You’re never an interruption. Besides, I think the chat’s been asking for a cameo from you all night.”

You turn to face the camera, waving sleepily. “Hi, chat. Sorry I’m not more entertaining tonight. Long day at work.”

The chat explodes with greetings and well-wishes, scrolling by almost too fast to read. Lando chuckles, giving you a gentle squeeze. “See? They love you. Probably more than they love me, to be honest.”

“That’s fair,” you murmur, nuzzling back into his neck. “No one loves you more than I do.”

Lando’s breath catches for a moment, and you feel his heart rate pick up. Even after all this time together, simple declarations of love still affect him deeply. It’s one of the many things you adore about him.

“Alright, chat,” Lando says, his voice a touch huskier than before. “You’ve gone and made her all sappy. I hope you’re happy with yourselves.”

You can’t help but giggle at his attempt to deflect. “Oh please, you love it when I’m sappy.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with a grin. “But if I admit that, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. I have a reputation to maintain, you know.”

You snort inelegantly. “What reputation? Everyone knows you’re a big softie.”

“Oi!” Lando protests, poking you in the side and making you squirm. “I’ll have you know I’m very tough and manly. Right, chat?”

The stream erupts with a mix of agreement and playful disagreement, peppered with emotes and inside jokes. You watch the scrolling text with amusement, marveling at the community Lando has built.

“See?” Lando says triumphantly. “They agree with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure at least half of those messages were sarcastic, babe.”

Lando waves a hand dismissively. “Details, details. The point is, I’m incredibly macho and not at all a softie.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum skeptically. “Is that why you cried watching Up last week?”

“Hey!” Lando exclaims, his cheeks flushing slightly. “That’s classified information, that is. You can’t just go revealing my secrets to the entire internet!”

The chat goes wild at this revelation, demanding to know more about Lando’s movie-watching habits. You can’t help but laugh at his mock-outraged expression.

“Sorry, love,” you say, not sounding sorry at all. “But if I have to put up with your sniffling during Disney movies, the least I can do is share the joy with your fans.”

Lando groans dramatically. “That’s it, I’m filing for divorce. Chat, you’re my witnesses. This is grounds for divorce, right? Revealing a man’s most intimate vulnerabilities?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “We’re not even married yet, you goof.”

The words slip out before you can think better of them, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifts. Lando’s eyes widen slightly, his gaze locking with yours.

“Yet?” He repeats softly, a note of wonder in his voice.

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you don’t look away. “Well, yeah. I mean, unless you had other plans?”

For a moment, Lando seems to forget entirely about the stream. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin. “No other plans,” he murmurs. “Just you. Always you.”

The intimacy of the moment is broken by the chat exploding once again, this time with a flurry of ring emotes and excited keysmashes. Lando blinks, seeming to remember where he is.

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Well, chat, I think that’s my cue to end the stream for tonight. Got some, uh, important things to discuss with this one.”

You bury your face in his neck again, half embarrassed and half thrilled by the turn of events. As Lando rushes through his usual sign-off, you can feel the barely contained energy thrumming through him.

The moment the stream ends, Lando spins his chair to face you fully, his eyes bright with excitement. “Did you mean that?” He asks eagerly. “About the marriage thing?”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “Of course I did. Lando, I’ve loved you for lifetimes. There’s nothing I want more than to marry you.”

Something flashes in his eyes at your words — a fleeting moment of recognition, as if some long-buried memory is struggling to surface. But then it’s gone, replaced by pure joy.

“Lifetimes, huh?” He grins, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case, I suppose we better make this one count.”

As his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of rightness. After so many tragic endings, you’ve finally found your happily ever after. And this time, you’re not letting go.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips. “In this life and every other.”

Lando’s answering smile is radiant. “And I love you. Always have, always will.”

As you lose yourselves in each other’s embrace, the echoes of past lives fade away. This is your time, your chance at happiness. And you plan to make the most of every single moment.

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millieisawriter · 5 months ago

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Oh, baby

arthur morgan x reader

summary: arthur being a sweet baby daddy, even if you aren't as optimistic

wc: 2k

tw: accidental/unwanted pregnancy

all pics taken from pinterest

based on this request

a/n: yeeeehaw finally back from my break

Getting pregnant wasn’t ever something you planned nor wanted to happen. Hooking up with Arthur, you were aware of the possible consequences. Both of you were, but the consequences aren’t something you thought about during the heat of the moment. And now you were living with them. Suffering through them.

Meanwhile Arthur didn’t seem so upset.You supposed you were somewhat lucky he was the one that got you pregnant, he wasn’t running off or pretending it wasn’t happening. But his optimism was starting to piss you off. From the day you had told him, he’s been attentive, caring, and a little happier. He wasn’t that grumpy guy the gang had known anymore. Now, he had a reason to be happy, perhaps even to live.

“Brought you somethin’.”

Arthur’s voice cut through the spiraling thoughts in your head as you sat alone by the fire. No bottle nor a cigarette in your hand, as it would’ve usually been. Now you had to be careful.

You looked at Arthur as he sat down beside you on the log. “What’s that?” You muttered as he handed you a small brown paper package.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Open it and see.”

You frowned, but curiosity got the best of you and your fingers ripped the paper. Inside, there was a blanket. A new one, not stolen. It was neatly folded, soft, and warm. For the baby.

Your stomach twisted. The moment your fingers brushed over the fabric, it all felt even more real. As if it hadn’t already been real enough. And this wasn’t even the first thing Arthur had bought. If things were different, maybe you’d be happy. If you were different. But you weren’t. You didn’t want any of this.

“You keep buying all these things,” you said.

Arthur replied as if that was the most obvious thing. “Somebody has to think ahead.”

“And that somebody is you?”

“Well, I’m the father.”

You scoffed and shoved the blanket back at him. “Yeah, well, I don’t want it.”

“Ain’t for you,” he shot back, his tone softening when he realized he shouldn’t have snapped back so harshly, “it’s for the baby.”

You stood up. It’s been baby this and baby that for the past few months. No wonder it was starting to get on your nerves. “I can’t wait until this,” you gestured at your stomach, “is finally over so I can go get shitfaced.”

Arthur didn’t smirk, knowing it wasn’t a joke. He didn’t even reply, not having the words. He tried, he really tried to help you warm up to the idea. There wasn’t much he could do. He had searched for solutions to make your problem disappear. Doctors had the skills and tools to help you out, but the problem was it wasn’t legal. Doctors were scared of helping ordinary people in that matter, let alone outlaws wanted in many states with bounties bigger than the money you’ve ever made.

“I just… I hate this, Arthur,” you admitted finally, “I hate feeling slow. Weak. I hate the way y’all look at me like I ain’t me no more.”

Arthur stood up as well. Looking down at your face, he saw how glassy your eyes were. You didn’t want to cry, you were fighting it. “Ain’t nobody thinks you’re weak,” Arthur tried to assure you.

You scoffed. “Oh, please, don’t tell me you don’t see it. The way the gang treats me like I’m fragile. Like I ain’t spent the last few years robbing and shooting and killing right beside y’all.”

“Difference is, now you don’t live just for yourself.”

Arthur paused, and so did you. An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. The kind of silence that made the night around you feel overwhelming. You wished you could run, run away from all your problems.

Arthur continued, “I know this ain’t what you wanted. I know you’re scared—”

“I ain’t scared.”

But you knew he was right. You were scared, you had no idea how to be a mother. This had never been in the cards for you. You were an outlaw first, a woman second. And now, you were going to be a mother first.

Arthur let out a breath slowly. “Ain’t a crime to be scared,” he said, “hell, I’m scared too. But we can deal with this, you have me. Me and everyone else in this gang.”

“I don’t know how to do this, Arthur,” you muttered, your voice low.“I don’t wanna do this. I ain’t no mother material, and you ain’t exactly cut out to be a father either.”

Well, that hurt, but you had no idea about his past, about Isaac. The day Isaac and Eliza died, Arthur promised to himself that if he gets another chance, he’ll do better. And maybe you were his another chance.

“I tried,” Arthur sat back down on the log, his elbows on his knees as he stared into the dying fire, “tried to find someone, a doc, a midwife, someone who could help you. Ain’t no one who’d do it, not for us. Not for you. They’re scared to do it for normal folk, we can’t even dream of it.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but then closed it without a word. You swallowed, despite your mouth being suddenly dry. There really was no way out.

You sat down next to Arthur, closer than ever, so close your legs touched. The thing that really got to you was that he had tried. That he had gone looking, knowing well that helping you meant getting rid of something he clearly wanted to keep. Something that was important to him.

“Why?” You asked suddenly.

Arthur turned to look at you. “Why what?”

“Why did you try to help me?”

“Cause I care about you.”

Your throat tightened, and you hated it. You weren’t supposed to cry. Not over this. Not over him.

He continued. “I ain’t gonna pretend I don’t want this kid. I do. But I ain’t the one who’s gotta carry the burden, and I sure as hell ain’t the one who’s gotta go through all this. You are.”

You sniffed and looked away. “Well, ain’t no fixing it now, I guess.”

“No,” the man nodded slowly.

There was silence again, but now just a bit more comfortable. You could hear the soft hum of the night, a distant owl, the fire crackling in front of you, the wind dancing with the leaves. Maybe this wasn’t going to be that bad.

“Now,” Arthur gave your knee a light squeeze as he pushed himself to his feet, “you eaten yet?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I have. That thing makes me eat everything in sight.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at you, his gaze telling you he didn’t exactly believe your words.

You huffed. “Okay. I haven’t.”

“That’s what I thought. Sit here for a moment.”

He turned around to bring you something to eat. Something he got in town, something that wasn’t Pearson’s stew.

And you weren’t going anywhere. You hadn’t moved from your place at the fire for the past few hours. That was how most of your days looked lately. From time to time, someone else would join you, but the more pregnant you were, the more snappy you were. At some point it became easier to leave you alone.

“Eat,” Arthur ordered as he gave you some bread, cheese, and an apple. Then, he reached into his satchel to take out a chocolate bar.

It was a lovely gesture. The food wasn’t some fancy dinner, but not like you expected anything fancy. Fancy isn’t a thing when it comes to any aspect of the outlaw life. The food was simple, but better than whatever was floating in Pearson’s stew.

“Thank you.”

You bit into the bread first, interchangeably taking bites of the cheese. Then, not having fully swallowed the cheese yet, you opened the chocolate and took a few bites. And later on you finished it off with the apple.

You didn’t deserve that kind of understanding. Arthur had wanted this baby. He was probably excited, dreaming about a future you couldn’t bring yourself to imagine. Even if he himself would deny it, you knew he deserved better.

Out of a sudden, you asked, “Why ain’t you mad at me?”

Arthur frowned. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because I don’t want this, and you do. I’ve been a pain in the ass to everyone, you included.”

“You have every right to be like this. Your body isn’t yours anymore. I’d be mad as hell if I were in your shoes.”

Arthur was so understanding it made you nauseous. You wanted to hit him and cuddle into him at the same time.

Then, you felt something. As you threw the apple core into the fire, you felt a weird sensation in your belly. Some shifting, pressing from the inside. Then, a sharp kick.

“What the hell?” You hissed, looking down at the curve of your belly.

Arthur straightened immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“It just kicked me,” your hands went to your stomach, fingers pressing against the spot, feeling the kick again. “You want me to throw you a real punch, little bastard?”

You heard Arthur laugh. His laughter was genuine, probably for the first time ever.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if a baby was trying to kick its way out of your guts, Arthur.” You groaned, rubbing a hand over your belly. Another kick made you jolt slightly. It wasn’t something you were used to, the baby didn’t kick before. “Keep that up and I’ll— ouch!”

Arthur’s laughter died down, and now he was just smiling as he leaned in. He hesitated before saying, “Lemme feel.”

You looked at him with disbelief. “What?”

“The baby. Lemme feel the kicks.”

You sighed, eyeing him for a moment before grabbing his wrist and placing his hand on your belly. His touch was warm, but soft. When you let go of his wrist, his hand practically hovered millimeters above your skin as if he were scared of pressing too hard.

For a second, there was nothing. You were about to tell him to forget it when another kick landed right against his hand. Arthur stilled completely. You could see his face firstly flash with a surprise, which soon switched into a smile. He looked damn near mesmerized.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, eyes focused on where his hand rested.

You could see it in his face, how much this meant to him. It was strange, seeing Arthur Morgan like that. He looked younger somehow, hopeful in a way you hadn’t seen the whole time you knew him.

You scoffed, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. “Told you. Little shit’s got an attitude already.”

Arthur grinned. “Must take after you.”

You looked at the man as he kept his attention on your stomach. Nobody was arguing, nobody was scheming, nobody was running from the law. Just the two of you sitting there, Arthur’s palm resting against your stomach, feeling the proof of the thing that had turned your whole damn world upside down.

After a while, he finally broke the silence. “You ever think maybe this don’t gotta be as bad as you think?”

You didn’t answer right away, because, yeah, you had thought about it. Not in a hopeful way, not in the way Arthur had, but in a tired, resigned sort of way. You weren’t getting rid of it. You weren’t running from it. Whether you liked it or not, this was happening.

Then, suddenly, all you said was, “We can’t let the baby become like us.” And your voice finally carried a softness that wasn’t there for the past few months.

Arthur smiled, finally pulling his hand away. “We won’t.”

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 imagine

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alisonsfics · 6 months ago

Text

guest lecturer - part two

pairing: tyler owens x student!reader

summary: when tyler owens shows up in our meteorology class to give a guest lecture, you are left just as speechless as all the other girls. but, tyler is just as awestruck by you.

word count: 3.8k

part 1

Ever since accepting the internship with Tyler, you’d been an anxious mess.

You were overthinking everything. Why did he want you specifically? Did that mean he was actually into you? Or was it just because you were smart and capable?

You spent many sleepless nights wondering how he felt about you. You had no idea if he was actually attracted to you or if you were just a one time, spur of the moment decision.

A few days after you told Dr. Hannigan that you’d accept the internship, you got a text from Tyler. He’d somehow gotten your number from Dr. Hannigan.

He didn’t even have to mention his name for you to know it was him.

Unknown number: “They say spring break can get pretty crazy ;)”

You: “Tyler?!?”

Unknown number: “You already know me so well, gorgeous”

That was the last time you’d talked to him.

You didn’t want to embarrass yourself. So, while it would have been clear to anyone else that he was into you, you found yourself doubting it.

Somehow, you convinced yourself it was just flirty banter. So, you didn’t attempt to reciprocate it.

Normally, you had no problem knowing a guy was into you. Something about Tyler made you feel like an oblivious schoolgirl. You were mortified by even the possibility of humiliating yourself in front of him.

But you allowed yourself a pinch of optimism, and you packed your cutest bras in case that was where the week took you. You also picked out an outfit that was the perfect mix of cute and revealing to wear on the plane, since it would be the first time Tyler had seen you in a month.

When the plane landed, you could feel your nerves coursing through you. You anxiously tapped your fingers against your thigh. Normally, you were a pretty patient person, but not when you knew Tyler Owens was waiting for you on the other side of the airport.

You stared up at the seatbelt sign, hoping you could psychically make it turn off. Instead, the light seemed to mock you.

All you could think about was Tyler. You were excited to see his reaction to seeing you again. The possibilities seemed endless, which excited you.

You smoothed out your jeans and your tight tank top. It felt a little more western than your usual style, but you figured it would be appropriate for Oklahoma. As an added bonus, you hoped Tyler would like it.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the beep of the seatbelt sign turning off. You practically leapt up from your seat. You snatched your suitcase and managed to be one of the first people off the plane.

You were practically running through the airport. You didn’t know what was in store for this week, but you were eager for it to begin.

Your eyes scanned around the pickup area. You saw dozens of people waiting to pick up their family members. You searched for that all too familiar set of green eyes.

Over the chatter of dozens of conversations, you heard someone call out your name.

Your eyes snapped to where the noise came from. Instead of finding a certain cowboy meeting your gaze, you saw a woman.

Her dirty blonde hair was thrown up into a ponytail. Your confusion was written all over your face, so she smiled at you and waved you over.

“Hi, I’m Kate. I work with Tyler. He asked me to come pick you up.” She said, shaking your hand.

“Ohhh okay. Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, failing to hide the disappointment in your voice.

You felt like such an idiot.

You had really been convinced Tyler was going to pick you up. The small amount of hope you’d been holding onto left your body. You felt like you had misread this entire situation.

You should’ve known it was stupid to assume Tyler invited you to continue whatever happened in your professor’s office. This wasn’t personal. This was purely academic, and you were just the best candidate for the internship.

If he’d been into you, he would’ve been at the airport.

You felt mortified.

“Oh god, you were expecting Tyler, weren’t you? I’m so sorry.” Kate quickly apologized, picking up on your disappointment. You shook your head. “No, you don’t have to apologize. I was just being stupid.” You said, trying to hide your embarrassment.

All you wanted to do was hop on a plane and go back home.

Kate probably thought you were so pathetic. You just hoped she didn’t mention any of this to Tyler.

“No, it wasn’t stupid. Tyler really wants to work with you. He hasn’t shut up about your midterm paper in weeks. He said you’re one of the smartest people he’s ever met. Something came up today. That’s the only reason he’s not here to pick you up himself, I promise.” Kate told you.

You appreciated the sentiment, but you were pretty sure she was just trying to save your feelings.

The ride to their base camp was long. You and Kate talked about your studies and some of the experiments she was working on. But you were still overthinking everything.

She pulled the truck into the parking lot of a motel alongside a big camp of other trucks. You noticed a bar and a diner across the street from the motel.

You both got out of the truck, and you grabbed your suitcase from the back. “Here you go. I think you’re in room 261.” Kate said, handing you a key.

“Hey, Kate! You’re back.” You heard someone exclaim. You glanced over your shoulder and saw two guys walking towards you. Kate waved at the two men and gave them both hugs.

“You must be Y/N. I’m Javi, and this is Boone. Tyler’s told us a lot about you.” The one man greeted you. Before you could respond, Boone stood a step closer to you. “He didn’t mention how pretty you are.” Boone said, slowly shaking your hand.

Javi quickly pulled Boone backwards. “Why don’t you go get settled in your room? We were all planning on going to the bar tonight? I can come get you later.” Kate suggested, guiding you towards the motel.

As you walked away, you saw Javi elbow Boone in the side. “Come on, man, you remember what Tyler said, she’s off limits.” You heard him whisper.

You felt your stomach do a flip as you processed what he said. Tyler banning his friends from flirting with you had to mean something.

After you found your room, you flopped backwards onto the bed. Thoughts of Tyler swirled around your head. You wondered where he was and when you would see him.

As if on cue, you heard a loud truck outside with the radio blaring.

You walked over to the window and peeked out the curtains. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the big red truck pulling into the parking lot.

Tyler climbed out of the truck, running a hand through his perfectly messy hair. You felt a shudder run through you as he placed his cowboy hat on his head.

Tyler wasn’t your usual type, but there was something about him.

You wanted to run out and talk to him, but he’d know you’d been watching him, and you didn’t want him to think you were desperate.

You couldn’t help but admire his biceps as he lifted some equipment out of the bed of his truck. You watched him for longer than you cared to admit.

You remembered Kate said you were all going to the bar later tonight. You started to dig through your suitcase to pick out an outfit.

You grabbed a high-waisted pair of jean shorts that made your ass look great. You paired them with the black cowboy boots you brought, along with a lacy black tank top.

You also weren’t ashamed to admit you had a sexy red lace bra and panty set on underneath. You jumped when you heard a knock at your door. You quickly put on a cute flannel and grabbed your phone.

You opened the door and saw Kate. “You ready to go?” She asked you. You eagerly nodded and closed the door behind you.

You noticed yourself constantly looking around and over your shoulder for Tyler. Kate noticed too, but didn’t mention it.

You both immediately spotted Boone and Javi at the bar. They quickly waved you over. “Come on, ladies. We’re doing shots.” Javi said.

Before you could question it, they handed you and Kate both a shot. The four of you clinked your glasses together and downed the shot. You winced and clenched your fist as you swallowed.

“Oh, fuck. Was that tequila? Can’t have too many of those or I’ll get fucked up.” You said, earning a chuckle from Kate.

“Now, that I’d like to see.” You heard a deep voice say from behind you.

You spun around to see who was talking to you. You didn’t really need to look. You already recognized the cologne.

Then, you saw those green eyes staring back at you. You could feel your eyes go wide, and your heart start to beat faster. “Oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath.

Tyler was the only one that heard it. The smirk on his face was all the confirmation you needed that he’d heard you.

“So, how’s the smartest girl I know?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. You quickly nodded your head, as an incoherent string of words left your mouth. “Yeah, no— uh huh. I’ve be— been good.” You mumbled.

He pulled you in for a quick hug. “I’m still makin’ you nervous, gorgeous?” He whispered in your ear as he hugged you. Goosebumps spread down your arms.

You both were completely aware of the way Boone, Javi, and Kate were all staring at the two of you. It didn’t take a genius to see the tension between you and Tyler.

Tyler licked his lips as he looked you up and down. He wanted to take in every inch of you. The way your shorts hugged your hips. Your shiny lipgloss, more specifically how bad he wanted to see it messily smeared across your lips.

The one thought he kept coming back to was how much better you’d look in his hat.

“I’m glad you were able to come.” He said, smiling down at you. You hadn’t remembered how tall he was. “Yeah, I’ll bet you’re glad.” Javi muttered under his breath with a smirk.

“C’mon, let’s go talk.” He said, gesturing towards the other side of the bar. His hand landed on the small of your back as he led you across the room.

With his large hand pressed against your back, you couldn’t help recall how effortlessly he’d picked you up and set you on the desk. You pushed away the thought and the warm feeling in your stomach that accompanied it.

“I meant it before. I’m really excited to work with you. We have some exciting tests and stuff that I think you’ll enjoy.” Tyler said, twirling you around so you faced him.

“I’m really grateful for the opportunity.” You said, smiling up at him. You were wracking your brain for anything else you could say, but your mind had gone blank.

“You’re saying it like I’m doing you a favor. You earned this. Dr. Hannigan sent me a bunch of your work. You’re fucking brilliant.” Tyler told you.

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. Before Tyler could say anything else, he froze, and his eyes locked on yours. He reached his hand towards you and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, waiting for his next move.

He softly interlaced his fingers with yours and pulled you towards the dance floor. He pulled you backwards into his chest until you both were pressed up against each other. His hot breath ran down your neck, giving you chills.

He confidently stretched his hand across your stomach. He was marking you as his in front of anyone. Every guy in the bar knew not to mess with you if you were with Tyler.

With a rare burst of courage, you grinded your hips back against him. He groaned in your ear. “Oh, fuck, gorgeous,” he mumbled. His voice came out deeper and huskier than you’d ever heard it.

He moved your hair out of the way and started kissing behind your ear. You felt a cocky smirk grow on your face. You knew exactly whose room you were ending up in tonight.

A soft whimper escaped your lips, making Tyler hips rut into you. “You know, I saw you watching me from your room earlier? It took all my self control to not go up to your room.” He whispered in your ear.

The room erupted into gasps, causing you both to separate. Your eyes drifted to the front door where Javi had just tripped over a barstool and fell face first.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me. He’s fucking wasted. I have to bring him back to his room. I will be right back. I promise.” Tyler said, running over to Javi’s side.

You found a stool at the bar to sit at while Tyler was gone. Then, Boone appeared at your side. He reeked of booze, and you could tell he was almost as drunk as Javi. “Hey, Boone. You doing okay?” You asked, gesturing towards the seat next to you.

He plopped himself down and nodded. “I saw you and Tyler getting friendly.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Your embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. The last thing you wanted was Tyler’s friends thinking you slept with Tyler to get the internship.

“Oh, you saw that?” You asked, nervously. He just chuckled and nodded.

“Don’t worry. He told us all about you and your little spicy time at office hours.” Boone whispered. You felt like your heart skipped a beat. You had full confidence Boone only mentioned it because he was hammered, but that meant Tyler had told him.

Your anxiety and overthinking went into overdrive.

Everything started to click into place for you.

You were his trophy. The hot, young college girl for him to brag about to his friends. He didn’t care about your work or teaching you. He just wanted to get in your pants and show you off to his friends.

“Oh, I’m gonna be sick.” You mumbled, heading for the front door. You felt unbelievably naive. Of course a guy like Tyler would act like this.

You walked across the parking lot, towards your motel room.

“Hey! Wait up, where you goin’?” You heard Tyler call after you.

You ignored him and kept walking, speeding up your pace. “Leave me alone.” You yelled at him over your shoulder when he started to follow you.

You kept walking, ignoring Tyler’s voice. You heard his footsteps speed up as he ran to catch up with you.

He jumped in front of you and put his hands up to stop you. “What’s wrong?” He asked you, confused.

“Why did you invite me here?” You asked him point blank. His expression only became more confused. “What do you mean? I already told you.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Tyler searched your eyes for any idea of why you were so upset. “You told Boone…” you said, softly.

“Told Boone what?” Tyler asked, gently cupping your face. You sighed and pushed his hands off of you. “You told him that we almost hooked up. You didn’t want me here because you think I’m smart. You just wanted to have a hookup with a college girl that you could brag to your friends about.” You said, storming off towards your room.

Tyler could only watch in shock as you walked away.

As soon as you got to your room, you fell onto your bed with your head in your hands. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face Tyler tomorrow morning. You laid there for what felt like hours trying to decide what to do. You debated packing your bags several times.

You were taken out of your thoughts when there was a knock at the door.

You walked over to the door and opened it a crack. You saw a sympathetic Tyler.

“Please, let me explain before you slam the door in my face.” He begged you.

You stepped out of your room and closed the door behind you. “What do you want?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“I promise that our almost-hookup and my attraction to you has nothing to do with why I wanted you to do the internship. I really think you are brilliant. I’m sorry that I told Boone and Javi about us. I only did it because they’re my friends. I didn’t think about it from your perspective and realize they’re people that you’re going to work with professionally. I’m really sorry.” He said, genuinely.

You pursed your lips, thinking about whether you’d accept his apology. Something in his eyes made you want to trust him. “Thank you for that. I’m sorry too. I think I got anxious and started to overthink everything. I've never done anything like this.” You said, honestly.

You could see the relief on Tyler’s face. “C’mere,” he said, leaning in giving a short kiss.

“You know what? I have some baseline readings I need to get before tomorrow. You want to go on a little trip?” He suggested. As soon as you nodded, he swooped you up bridal style and carried you to his truck.

He helped you into the truck before jumping into the drivers seat. You both drove in silence until Tyler got where he wanted to go.

You both got out and walked to the back of the truck. You helped Tyler take some measurements in a peaceful silence. Every few minutes, Tyler would do something goofy to get you to giggle.

After you’d finished the measurements, he lifted you up into the bed of the truck, where he’d set up a blanket. You patted the seat next to you, so Tyler would join you.

“You want to know the best real-world tip I can give you for storms?” He asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You looked over at him, waiting for his answer.

“Gotta listen to the wind and be able to know what’s happening just by listening. Here, I’ll show you.” He told you, opening his toolbox. He grabbed a small towel and carefully tied it over your eyes. “Listen, over to the left. You can hear the pressure shifting.” He whispered softly to you.

“The winds picking up over there.” You said, pointing over to the right side.

“Yep, that’s right, gorgeous. You’re a quick learner. It took me forever to recognize stuff like that.” He told you.

The wind quieted down, and the air felt peaceful. The only noise you could hear was Tyler’s soft breathing. You felt his large palm rest on top of your thigh. “What’re you doing?” You asked, softly.

There was a change in the air.

You felt Tyler’s lips on yours.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he kissed you. You quickly kissed him back. His other hand found your hip and laid you down. A groan escaped his lips as you ran your hands down his back.

Tyler eagerly tugged your flannel off your arms and threw it to the side. You pulled off your blindfold, and then saw Tyler unbuttoning his shirt. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you admired him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He groaned, as you ran your fingers over his now bare chest. Your hands landed on his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He kicked off his jeans and laid back down on top of you.

“Been dreaming of this for a month,” he told you, leaving sloppy kisses down your chest. He tugged your shirt over your head.

His movements stopped when he caught a glimpse of the dark red lace of your bra. “Wait til you find out it’s a set.” You teased him. Tyler shuddered at the thought.

His grabbed at the belt loops of your shorts and quickly pulled them off your legs. “Eager, cowboy?” You teased. He could feel his pants begin to tighten as he looked down at you. “I’m never gonna forget this.” He mumbled, before burying his face in your neck and sucking on the soft skin.

“You been thinking about finishing what we started? You been lying in bed thinking about that day like I have?” He mumbled against your skin. His hands slid down your sides, stopping on your thighs.

He ran his fingers over the outside of your panties. You let out a soft moan, bucking your hips up against his hand. “Need you,” you begged.

Tyler slid your panties to the side. He ran his finger through your folds, collecting your wetness.

“You’re gonna feel so good, baby,” he almost moaned. You tugged down his boxers enough for his cock to spring out.

“Come on, Tyler, fuck me. I don’t think I can wait much longer.” You begged him.

“Oh, fuck, gorgeous. You’re so needy. I can’t say no to you.” He groaned, grabbing your hips. He lined himself up and pushed into your folds.

You shut your eyes, whimpering as he pushed into you. “I’m ready. I need you to move, please.” You mumbled.

Tyler quickened his pace and started thrusting into you. He roughly grabbed your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your eyes rolled back as he reached even deeper. “Oh, fuck,” he grunted.

You wrapped his hair around your fingers. You screamed out his name, bucking your hips up into his thrusts. “Go ahead, gorgeous. No one can hear you. You can be as loud as you want.” He said, speeding up his thrusts.

You guided one of his hands between your legs. He smirked against the kiss as he started rubbing tight circles against your clit. A high-pitch moan escaped your lips.

“I’m almost there, baby.” He moaned against your lips. You nodded your head. “Me too, oh, fuck,” you moaned.

Your fingers scratched down his back. You felt a tightness in your stomach. “Gotta go faster,” he mumbled, thrusting his whole body into you.

Your back arched against the blanket. Tyler's thrusts faltered. “Oh, shit,” he grunted as he came inside you.

Your stomach jumped as you hit your peak. “Oh, fuck fuck fuck,” you called out, as you came with him.

Tyler slowed his pace and then collapsed beside you. “That was even better than I imagined.” He said, kissing your shoulder. You nodded, still catching your breath.

“I think I’m officially a spring break fan.” You agreed.

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#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens oneshot #tyler owens fic #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens fanfiction #glen powell #glen powell x reader #twisters movie #twisters

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cece693 · 6 months ago

Note

Oh can I request a Male reader x Kol, Elijah, and Klaus Mikaelson where the Mikaelson's are highly protective of M reader

Mikaelsons Whore

pairing: kol, klaus, and elijah mikaelson x male reader tags: vulgar language, elena being the 'righteous' queen, basically Elena being her whinny self, human male reader, the mikaelson family loves you

Elena was the golden child—the popular girl and Mystic Falls’ most recognized individual. It was all too easy for you to slip into the background and just be labeled as “the other Gilbert.” Your younger brother Jeremy understood how that felt; he maintained a better relationship with you than Elena ever did. Still, even Jeremy couldn’t begin to fathom what drew you to side with the Mikaelsons—or how you managed to fall in love with not one, but three of the brothers, each dangerous in their own way. Ironically, the most feared and powerful family in history had shown you more warmth than anyone else in town. Rebekah, in particular, became the sister figure you had always needed and never truly found in Elena.

When word of your involvement with the Mikaelsons spread through Mystic Falls, the backlash was swift and merciless. Elena made her disapproval painfully clear by storming into your bedroom, practically foaming at the mouth, and demanding to know why you had betrayed her—as though your love life was hers to dictate. The Salvatore brothers, blinded by loyalty to your sister, declared that the Originals must have compelled you, never even pausing to consider that you might be spending time with them of your own free will.

Bonnie’s disapproval came as no shock—she was Elena’s best friend, after all—but Caroline’s reaction stung the most. You had always admired her warmth and optimism, so hearing her spew the word whore cut more deeply than you ever expected. Still, you knew where her bitterness stemmed from: she craved love, and watching yet another potential romance slip through her fingers had turned her despair into anger.

When your lovers—Klaus, Elijah, and Kol—heard about the way the town was talking, their reactions weren’t pretty. Klaus’s protective streak flared; you could feel the rage rolling off of him in waves as he threatened to make everyone in Mystic Falls pay for the insults. Elijah, always calm and composed, simmered with a cold fury that was somehow even more terrifying. And Kol, mischievous and volatile at the best of times, seemed eager to teach your tormentors a lesson about mocking his beloved.

But even if your family and friends had turned against you and spewed hatred, you refused to let your lovers make a scene. You understood their position, but at the end of the day, you naively believed that Elena and your friends would come around and be happy for you. This naivety was a mistake. "I'll be back soon," you murmured, smiling up at Klaus, who was visibly upset about the whole situation. He had proposed that he or one of his brothers accompany you to meet with Elena, but upon your insistence, they had reluctantly agreed to let you handle things alone.

"I'll be just a call away," Klaus conceded, his voice stern, leaving no room for negotiation on that point.

As you turned to leave, Klaus stepped forward and gently lifted your chin, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead—a gesture that spoke volumes of his love and concern. "Be careful," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the swell of emotions.

With one last reassuring nod, you left the safety of the Mikaelson home and headed towards the Mystic Grill. Upon your arrival, Elena greeted you with a serene smile. "I'm glad you came," she said, guiding you to a booth tucked away in the corner. The atmosphere was casual, the familiar buzz of the Grill around you almost comforting. She ordered drinks, and when yours arrived, you didn't think twice before taking a sip, trusting that your sister truly wanted to make amends.

However, as the evening progressed, you began to feel unusually drowsy and disoriented. The lights of the bar grew bothersome, and just as you tried to ask Elena to call Klaus, darkness enveloped you. When you regained consciousness, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, hands and feet bound. The Salvatore brothers and Bonnie were there, their expressions a mix of stern determination and misguided hope.

"We're going to fix this," Damon declared, his tone brooking no argument as he glanced at Bonnie.

Bonnie, her face pinched in concentration, approached with a collection of herbs and crystals. "I'm sorry. This will hurt, but it's for your own good."

Your eyes darted from person to person, hoping that your visible fright might make them reconsider their decision, but no one stepped forward. Elena stood beside Bonnie, murmuring something about getting her brother back, but then pain engulfed you. Thrashing in the chair, the ropes digging into your wrists, you let out screams of agony. You didn't know how much time passed as you screamed, but it was evident you were under no spell. "Klaus! Elijah! Kol!" you began to scream, hoping they would save you from this torment, but relief was slow to come, and you fell unconscious once again.

When you woke again, the surroundings were markedly different from the harsh, dimly lit room of your ordeal. The plush comfort of a familiar bed enveloped you, the soft linens smelling faintly of lavender and sage—an aroma that always soothed your nerves. The opulent room bathed in the gentle light of late afternoon told you that you were back at the Mikaelson mansion. As your eyes adjusted, you saw Klaus, Elijah, and Kol surrounding your bed, their faces etched with concern but visibly relieved to see you awake.

Kol was the first to notice your eyes fluttering open. "He's awake," he announced softly, his usual mischievous tone subdued.

Elijah, ever the composed one, approached with a glass of water, his movements graceful and careful. "How do you feel?" he asked gently as he helped you sit up to sip the water, his hand supporting your back.

Klaus, who had been standing by the window watching you with an intense gaze, came over and sat on the edge of the bed. His hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. "You're safe now, back home with us," he murmured, the relief palpable in his voice.

You looked between them, trying to piece together what had happened after your memory cut off. "What…what happened after I passed out?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

The brothers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. It was Klaus who spoke, choosing his words with care. "You were in a bad state when we found you. We made sure no one could harm you again," he explained vaguely, not delving into the specifics of their retribution.

Elijah added, "Our priority is your recovery. You've been through a tremendous ordeal." He gently adjusted the bandages on your wrist where the ropes had left marks.

Kol’s expression darkened with the memory of your pain. "Let’s just say they won’t be bothering you—or anyone else—ever again," he added, though his tone was nonchalant, trying to shield you from the violent truths.

You sensed there was more they weren’t telling you, but the exhaustion pulling at your limbs and the comfort of being surrounded by your protectors allowed you to set aside these thoughts for now. Gratitude filled your chest as you looked at each of them, their presence a tangible reminder of their commitment to you. "Thank you," you whispered, feeling overwhelmed and a bit adrift. "For coming for me."

"Always," Klaus responded firmly, his thumb brushing over your hand. "We will always come for you."

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jzprncess · 9 months ago

Text

love language by sza

“help me understand how you speak your love language ”

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 1/2 next part

word count: 2,823

summary: a girlfriend of a successful f1 driver decides to learn Dutch to better understand her boyfriends world—his culture, his emotions, and the language he speaks—hoping to connect more deeply and navigate the complexities of their high-speed, high-pressure relationship.

note: first time writing a fan fiction so be nice please! i don’t know how to work tumblr to the fullest so if you want to requests anything, message it to me! this will be in two parts! please leave comments so i know im doing something right!!

　　　　　　 ❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

Out of all the unexpected turns her life had taken, learning another language was never on Y/N's radar. Yet, here she was, grappling with the complexities of Dutch, staring at her laptop screen during a Zoom call with her tutor, Anne. They had been chatting frequently, especially while Max was off competing in a grueling triple-header race weekend.

Before he left, Y/N had noticed the shadow of frustration in Max's eyes, a rare shift from his usually upbeat demeanor. It wasn’t lost on her—or anyone, really. The weight of the season’s challenges had begun to press down on him, making his once confident posture seem a little more hunched, his usual optimism now clouded by self-doubt. Everyone could see it. With the way the season had started, Max had envisioned triumph. But now, in October, his hopes felt distant. He hadn’t clinched a victory since June, and every reminder of that fact only seemed to add to his frustration. Y/N wished she could lift that burden, even if just for a moment.

In an attempt to brighten his spirits, she decided to do something special for him—a gesture that would help him escape the pressure he was under. The very day he departed, Y/N found herself scouring the internet, searching for someone who could teach her some basic Dutch. Max, ever the romantic, had always whispered sweet phrases in his native tongue—whether it was giving her a compliment or simply wishing her a good morning. And though she often required translations, Y/N thought, Why not learn the language myself? It couldn’t be that difficult, right?

And so, here she was, earnestly trying to master the phrase “I love you, handsome” in Dutch, yet somehow fumbling over the words.

“Y/N, your pronunciation is getting better, but you need to keep practicing,” Anne encouraged from the other side of the screen, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. The rhythmic sound of her typing seemed to fill the space between them, as if punctuating her words with gentle encouragement. “Have you taken my advice and started watching shows in Dutch? Immersing yourself in the language will really help you improve, especially with those tricky pronunciations.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and stared at the screen, her lips pressing together as she tried to hold back the exhaustion creeping in. She had been working hard at this—between the classes, the practice, the late nights watching Dutch shows, and the constant racing schedule with Max, it was all starting to feel like a lot. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to the TV like it’s my best friend,” she said with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, her voice sounding a bit weary. “The characters probably think I’m crazy by now. But, you know, I think I’m making progress? Or at least I hope I am.”

Anne’s eyebrows raised in an encouraging way. “Well, that’s the spirit! The more you immerse yourself, the more natural it will feel. Dutch can be tricky, especially with its sounds, but you’re not giving up, and that’s what matters.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. It had been one of those days—between working on the language and managing the quiet space Max left behind when he was away, the weight of it all was starting to wear on her. “I don’t know... I keep stumbling over the same words, Anne. Like, I feel like I’m so close to getting it, but then I hear myself speak Dutch, and it just sounds... off. I’m trying, but it’s hard to know if I’m really improving.”

Anne smiled gently from the screen, as though she understood exactly where Y/N was coming from. “That’s completely normal. Language learning isn’t a straight path. There are ups and downs, but the key is to be patient with yourself. Remember, it’s not about perfection—it’s about progress. You’re already doing so much more than most people would.”

“I guess so.” Y/N’s voice softened, her eyes drifting away for a moment, lost in thought. “I just wish I could see it, you know? Max always speaks so fluently, and when he says something sweet in Dutch, it sounds so effortless. I want to understand it all, to be able to speak with him like that without stumbling or needing translations.”

Anne nodded, her face sympathetic. “I get that. You want to connect with him in the language that’s so familiar to him, and that’s a beautiful thing. But don’t forget, language is just one part of communication. Max will appreciate your effort no matter where you are in your learning. It’s about the intention, the heart behind it. And besides, if you’re working hard at it, he’ll see that.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, leaning forward in her chair and running a hand through her hair. “I just want him to know how much I’m trying. I know it’s hard for him when the season gets tough, and I want to be able to understand him better, not just the words, but how he’s feeling... especially when he gets frustrated. I want to be able to share those moments with him in his language.” She looked back up at Anne, a mixture of fatigue and determination in her eyes. "But it's like I'm still learning a whole new world, Anne. It's a lot to take in."

Anne’s expression softened even more. “Learning a language is like learning a new way to see the world. And you’re doing it for the right reasons. Max will notice that. Even if you don’t think you’re where you want to be yet, he’s going to appreciate your effort, your commitment to him and to his language. And you’re already showing him that you care in ways most people wouldn’t.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, feeling the weight of Anne’s words settle into her. She took another deep breath, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “I hope so. I’m doing this for him, and... for me, too. It’s just hard to see the progress sometimes when you’re so deep in it.”

“Well, keep at it, Y/N,” Anne encouraged again, her voice gentle but firm. “The progress is there, even when you can’t see it. And remember, when Max comes back, you’ll have a whole new way of connecting. That’s something special. Now, how about we wrap up for today, and next time, we focus on a few of those tricky sounds you’ve been stumbling over?”

Y/N nodded, the exhaustion beginning to fade as she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her. "Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks, Anne. Really."

Anne smiled warmly, her tone softening. “Good night, Y/N. You’re doing great. Keep going, and keep believing in yourself.”

With that, the call ended, leaving Y/N in the quiet of her room. As the screen went dark, she sat still for a moment, letting Anne’s words settle into her. She still had a long way to go with Dutch, but now, she felt a little less weighed down by it all. She stood up from the desk, stretched, and with a deep breath, made her way to the kitchen. There was more to learn, yes, but she could do it. For Max. And for herself

This had become her routine for the past few weeks—immersing herself in a new language while navigating the emotional ups and downs of Max's racing career. Each night flowed into the next, filled with lessons and the hope that her efforts would spark joy in him when he returned. In a way, she couldn’t help but feel that this small adventure might not only help her connect with him in a deeper way but also serve as a reminder that even in tough times, he had someone in his corner—someone ready to support him and learn alongside him.

Time passed, and soon enough, the hectic three-race weekend was behind them.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure when Max would be home. The unpredictable nature of his F1 schedule made it hard to keep track of his exact arrival time. As the hours stretched on, she decided to make the most of the quiet afternoon. She started by tidying up the house, picking up scattered race memorabilia and smoothing out the couch cushions, which always seemed to get tossed around after a long weekend of travel. The kitchen was next—dishes stacked in the sink, a few crumbs left from breakfast, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. She cleaned with a kind of absent-minded rhythm, her thoughts drifting between the tasks at hand and the excitement of his return.

Not wanting to spend the whole day indoors, Y/N grabbed her coat, slipped into her shoes, and decided to run a few errands to break the monotony. She mentally made a list of things she needed—a trip to the grocery store for fresh produce, perhaps a quick stop at the florist to pick up some flowers for the dining table. The gentle hum of the city as she walked outside felt like a welcome distraction. As she moved through the familiar streets, her mind kept drifting to Max—imagining his arrival later that evening and wondering how he would feel after the intense race weekend. With a small smile, she pushed the thought aside. There were errands to run, and time had a way of slipping by faster when you were busy.

After a while, Y/N decided it was time to head back home, the errands and quiet city stroll leaving her feeling a bit more tired than usual. The exhaustion crept up slowly, settling into her bones in the best way—a peaceful kind of tiredness that made the thought of being home all the more appealing. Once she stepped inside, she kicked off her shoes by the door and shrugged off her jacket, instantly feeling the comfort of her own space wrap around her.

She sank onto the couch, letting the weight of the day melt away, but it wasn’t long before she found herself wanting to do something—something simple and familiar to bring a sense of warmth and routine to the day. The kitchen seemed like the perfect place. She stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the space a comforting contrast to the quiet of the house. Her mind immediately wandered to dessert—something sweet to fill the silence. Pulling out her phone, she swiped through a few recipe sites, curiosity leading her fingers. After a moment, she typed "Dutch desserts" into the search bar. Her eyes quickly landed on appeltaart, the iconic Dutch apple pie. The thought of the rich, spiced apples wrapped in buttery crust made her stomach rumble. It was exactly what the moment called for.

With a smile, she set the phone down and rolled up her sleeves. The comforting hum of her favorite playlist began to fill the room, chasing away the silence and replacing it with familiar tunes. As the music flowed through the speakers, she started pulling ingredients from the pantry—flour, sugar, butter, and cinnamon. She paused for a moment, letting the soft beat of the song take over as she laid everything out on the counter. The scent of cinnamon already began to stir a feeling of warmth and anticipation.

With a deep breath, she moved into the rhythm of the recipe, the steady motion of measuring, mixing, and prepping grounding her. She could already picture the golden crust and warm, sweet filling that would soon fill the kitchen, and her heart swelled with a sense of simple joy.

As she hummed softly to the tune playing in the background, completely engrossed in the rhythm of her mixing and the warmth of the kitchen, she remained oblivious to Max stepping through the front door, his footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. Max paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he crept quietly toward the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. He peeked around the corner, his gaze falling on you as you worked your magic, your movements fluid and focused. A smile tugged at his lips as the sweet scent of apple pie hit him, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the warm, comforting aroma that filled the air.

Max moved silently behind her, his steps light as he closed the distance between them. With a smile, he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, savoring the warmth of her presence, before pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. As he inhaled the sweet scent of the kitchen, his lips brushed her shoulder, and he murmured in a low, appreciative voice, "Smells amazing."

The unexpected touch causes her to flinch, a small gasp escaping her as she instinctively tenses, but her body quickly relaxes when she turns to find Max standing there. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she meets his gaze. "I didn't hear you come in," she murmurs, her voice gentle and warm as she leans slightly into his embrace, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. She glances toward the counter, her hands still lightly dusted with flour, and then looks back at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and pride. "I made apple—" Her words falter for a brief moment, and she pauses, taking a breath before finishing with a playful smile, "Ik heb appeltaart gemaakt." (i made apple pie) She lets the Dutch phrase roll off her tongue with a touch of pride, her eyes lighting up as she anticipates his reaction to the homemade treat and at the sudden Dutch.

Max chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Oh, dus je spreekt nu Nederlands?" (Oh, so you speak Dutch now?) His eyes narrow playfully as he takes her in, studying her with a hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. It takes a moment for her to process his words, the surprise registering on her face before a grin tugs at her lips. She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she meets his gaze. “Leren voor jou,” she responds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, her voice light and teasing as she repeats the phrase—"Learning for you."

Max hums contentedly into her skin, his voice soft but filled with affection. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" His words are a gentle murmur, as though he's savoring the moment. She chuckles, the sound warm and light, as she wipes her hands on a nearby towel. Without missing a beat, she spins around, her eyes sparkling, and wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace. "I've missed you," she whispers into his chest, her voice filled with sincerity, as if the distance between them had only made her feelings stronger.

He gently pulls away, his hands lingering at her waist as he looks down at her, his eyes soft with affection. There’s a quiet warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that makes his heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, the words wrapped in a quiet vulnerability. He smiles, a soft, almost teasing glint in his eyes as he adds, "Mijntje," (my little one), his tone filled with both love and playfulness. With a tender sigh, he leans down, his face drawing closer to hers. As he lowers himself, he brushes his lips gently against hers, the kiss soft and lingering, a promise of everything he feels for her in that quiet, intimate moment.

She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, her breath catching in the space between them. Her heart races, each beat carrying the weight of everything she feels for him. Her hands rest gently on his chest as she searches his gaze, finding warmth, safety, and a quiet promise there. With a soft sigh, she leans in just a little closer, her lips barely brushing his as she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity, "Ik hou van jou."

The words, though soft, are heavy with all the emotions she can't quite put into words—years of trust, laughter, passion, and quiet moments, all wrapped in those simple yet profound syllables. His breath hitches, and a smile plays on his lips as he leans in, closing the small space between them with a kiss that feels like both a promise and a beginning. There’s a warmth radiating between them, an unspoken yearning that lingers in the air, electrifying yet restrained. The kiss deepens, lingering just a moment longer, igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest—a taste of what could be. As they pull away, their eyes lock, and in that shared gaze lies a world of possibilities, a silent acknowledgment of the passion that awaits them.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list : @heluvsjappie

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv1 x y/n #jzprncess

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zyafics · 1 year ago

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PLAY FAKE | 12

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You had no choice. Newly orphaned with two acquired guardianship, on the brink of homelessness, you caved into desperation. You started to steal; pick-pocketing unsuspecting tourons and swiping valuables at island parties.

The latter is how you came across Aaron. He saw you stole from one of his clients and struck up a conversation. You thought you would be arrested, or done worse as retribution, but he gave you his number to contact. Said you could call him if you were strapped for some cash. When you learned more about him through JJ—and how Luke owed him money once, leading to a bad dispute that ended in the loss of his job and a black eye—you realized you were dealing with a bad guy.

The consensus was to stay away from Aaron because of his shady conduction of business and excessive use of violence. But you were in a deadlock. No one would offer you a loan because of your bad credit and you were on the cusp of losing your family's legacy. So, you did it.

Now, it's back to bite you in the ass. The reason why loan sharks are dangerous is their exorbitantly high interest rates and lack of regard for the law. If you're unable to pay them back within strict deadlines, they will double the initial amount you owe and go to extreme lengths to threaten friends and family for payback. It's a tactic that works best because you can't turn to the police.

When you finish your anecdote, the atmosphere falls into an eerily silence. You can hear the sound of a pin drop or the soft laughter of your sisters three doors down. You're perched on the end of Rafe's bed while he's leaning against his desk, back pressed against the counter, digesting your words.

Your throat feels dry. It wasn't even a long explanation but something about the way Rafe's watching you, his eyes never straying, and the lack of response afterward. You feel like you're burning under his gaze.

This must be how he felt when you were silent.

"Say something," you urge, voice smaller than intended. His eyes shift and observes the look on your face with an indiscernible expression.

"How much did you borrow?"

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before answering. "30K."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath, exhaling sharply. Guilt gnaws at your stomach and your eyes pinch with a wave of sodden emotions. This is one of the reasons why you hesitate to tell him; you don't want him to take your burden as his.

You sigh tightly. "I told you it's bad."

"Does this mean you owe him sixty grand now?"

"No." You shake your head. "I paid back ten."

The numbers still aren't optimal. "So forty then?"

"No," You blurt out, before retracting. "I think. I–I don't know. He hasn't contacted me..." You trail off, not wanting to imagine your debt doubled. If you had paid the required amount, as scripted in your contract, within the due date, you would've been fine. Now, you're in an ambiguous grey zone with no clear direction on where to go next.

"But when he does?"

You look up from your crestfallen gaze to find Rafe's jaw set, his eyes searching your face. Frustration rolls off his strong demeanor, and you take it as a sign of his irritation—at your negligence—that you can't help but feel obligated to alleviate the feeling. "It's fine." You say evenly. "I'll figure it out."

"It's not that." He declares roughly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and exhaling another deep breath. Recognizing his own turbulent emotions are flaring, he doesn't want to take it out on you. "I offered you money. We could've avoided this. At the start of our deal, I offered you—"

You cut him off. "I know."

His expression is sharp. "Then why didn't you take it?"

"I—" You draw in shaky breath, fingers grabbing at the sheets beneath you and tightening them into fists. "I had a plan."

"You had a plan?" Rafe repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief. While he's trying to be patient with you, he can't gauge how your mind works. How it's so set on an independent mode that now—even now—you seem to want to do it all alone. "Does it look like your plan is working?"

This time, it came harsher than he intended, and he wanted to take it back immediately but it was too late. His words were laced with a certain venom that spewed onto you.

But instead of being upset, your own anger erupts.

"Were you going to drop 20K for a couple of fake dates?" You snap, standing from your own seat. You knew what you had done was moronic and you can't take it back but you did have a plan. When Rafe doesn't give you a proper answer, you take his silence as complicity. "Exactly. It would've been stupid on your end and I would've never agreed to such a ridiculous deal. I've already made that mistake once."

He knows you just called him stupid, but Rafe can't stop the rising smile on his lips. In your scorn, you're almost back to your old self.

"Why are you smiling?" You cross your arms, attempting to maintain your level of authority, but his grin broadens. "Stop it."

"I miss you."

Your heart stutters and all your momentum drops. Rafe uses the opportunity to cross the small distance and capture your face in his palm and you lean into his touch, shoulders sagging. You can't believe you're reduced to putty in his hands.

Trying to regain some sense of control, you avert your gaze from his face, and both your palms flatten against his chest. "You're mean, Rafe."

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, running the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. "What was your plan?"

Part of you didn't want to tell him, to withhold the information, but when he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, the earnest look behind them shatters that desire. With your heart leaping in your throat, you explain slowly. "When you get Cameron Development, the plan was that I was gonna get a steady income as your regular caterer. Therefore, when payments were due, I would have a reliable source of income."

His breath hitches at the implication behind your words. Rafe's expression hardens. "That's dependent on me getting the company."

You keep his gaze. "I know."

"You based your entire plan on me?"

You can't exactly decipher the tone behind his sentence, and you feel the need to lower your gaze to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt. You mumble, "You make it sound like it's stupid."

"It's not—" He grabs your chin again, forcing your gaze up to his. Your eyes are soft and big, while his darkened one scans your face, trying to read your intent. He asks lowly, "You believe in me that much?"

Your voice is gentle when you answer. "Of course."

His heart sings. Rafe can't believe what he's hearing, or rather what he's not. It's the same subtle underlying language he's used to translating; the unspoken. Your entire plan is contingent on his success. That means your trust in him started since the beginning of our arrangement.

He never had someone who had that much faith in him that they would bet it all. It's an indescribable feeling, that's first met with doubt, before transforming into something else. To know someone is always in his corner, always rooting for his success, always believing in him.

Fuck.

He's in love with you.

His eyes stray to your lips and the urge to kiss you overwhelms him. His actions have always been better at demonstrating his emotions than his words ever can. But he resists with a couple of measured breaths. Then, he nods once. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

You're in a dazed state. "We?"

He doesn't want you to think you have to do this all alone. You have him now. "Yeah, but later. I can't focus right now."

Before you can seek clarification, his other hand cradles your cheek and Rafe slams his lips onto yours.

It catches you by surprise and a small moan slips out that Rafe swallows. He wants you. Mind, body, and soul. All of it—the taste of you, the feeling of your skin on his, your words against the column of his throat. He wants to feel you writhing beneath him with pleasure, to save all your best memories for him, and to know that you're completely and unequivocally his.

Rafe parts, just a breath of distance, and whispers against your swollen lips. "God, I miss you."

Your fingers thread through his hair. "I've been here."

His eyes are hungry. "Not what I meant."

He silences any reaction by resuming the kiss, forcing you backward against the bed, and your back lands on the mattress with a soft thump. Rafe hovers over you, his weight pressed comfortably against your body while he kisses you like a starved man.

Even if you don't say it, you missed him too. The feeling of him against you, your heart meeting his at precise beats. When Rafe moves to plant kisses along the curve of your neck, a small whine escapes you. You want to feel his lips on yours, to feel his warmth on your tongue, but he wants to satisfy every inch of you.

His hand starts to caress the hem of your shirt—his shirt—pushing up the fabric to reveal more of your exposed stomach to your bare breasts. With little words spoken, like a coordinated dance, you move enough for Rafe to pull the material completely off of you.

"Shit," he swears, taking a moment to take you in, "I'm never going to get used to this." Then, he descends to your nipples and captures one between his teeth.

You let out another moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud, clashing with the metal barbell. Your legs spread wider, allowing Rafe to slot between your thighs. The boxers he let you borrow are thin, and you feel his hardened erection rocking against your heated core.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans. "Rafe," you whisper, aching with desire. "I need this off."

"Need, huh?" He teases, his hot breath fans against the valley of your breasts and you shiver. "Tell me how much you need me, baby."

He wants to hear it all. Even if it's fake, even if it's just dirty talk spoken during sex. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wants to pretend you need him as much as he needs you.

You draw your hands up to cup either side of his face, forcing him off your tits and tilting his gaze to yours. "Rafe Cameron, I need you inside me. Badly."

Hearing the desperation behind your voice—and his name rolling off your tongue, Rafe removes his clothes and helps you out of yours. Before you have the chance to say anything else, Rafe's fingers are between your folds, spreading them apart, and a sound of satisfaction is heard from the back of his throat. "God, you're wet."

You are. Your arousal coats his digits, and with a slow stroke of his hand, your hips buck into his palm that rest against your clit.

"Rafe," you whine, knowing he's toying with you. His fingers stroke your pussy, but not enough pressure to give rise to your climax. "Inside, please. I'll be so good."

He grins and retracts his hand. When he lines his swollen cock against your entrance, he pauses for a moment. Rafe's eyes connect with yours. "Did you take your pill?"

When Rafe went out this early morning, with your sisters, he went to the pharmacy to pick up some birth control for you. It currently sits on his desk, opened and with one missing tablet. "I did."

"Good, I need to feel all of you."

Without another word, he thrusts into you, causing your back to arch off the mattress.

Rafe doesn't go hard and fast like normal but instead bends forward to capture your lips against his teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest regardless, the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way he fills you—like a puzzle finding its missing piece—makes your head spin.

"Feel so fucking good," he whispers against your heated skin, his hand reaching out to take yours, intertwining with your fingers. "Can't believe I almost lost this."

You can't believe it either, but you couldn't say it. Rafe angles himself where his cock hits right against your cervix, causing your head to tip back and dig into the sheets, moaning wildly at the pleasure. Rafe easily kisses you to swallow the noise of your open mouth, reminding you that your sisters are just a couple of doors over.

You should care. You really should. But you don't. You need him. Closer. Harder. Faster. Your legs wrap around his torso, trapping him. "Need you," you whimper, as each thrust grows more choppy. "Need you so fucking bad, Rafe."

He can't control himself. Removing his constraint of trying to keep it sentimental, to keep it sweet. He loves how desperate you need him. How rough you want it. His pace quickens with the rut of his hips, and you feel the familiar white-hot pleasure searing through your body, climaxing.

"More," you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers clawing against his back muscles. You're removing all the space between him and you, until there's nothing but skin-on-skin. "Please, more."

"Baby, I'll give you everything," he grunts breathily, scraping his teeth against the curve of your neck, hitting a sensitive spot that leaves you whining. "Everything and more if you'd let me."

Something about his words twists inside you and you come hard. Rafe feels you clenching around him, so tight, that it causes him to slow his thrust but the pleasure is unbearable. Easily, he follows after, coming inside you with the familiar hot cum filling you up.

Rafe lands on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. You welcome it, nonetheless, liking the way he presses against you. Both your breaths are heavy, clambering to catch up on missing air, and Rafe's still inside you. You like that too.

Your hands are still intertwined, and you're the first to retract from the hold to place your warm palm against the side of his profile, causing his head to lift to meet your gaze. He's settled between the valley of your breasts, his stubble tickling your skin, and you take the moment to lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

It feels sentimental. Vulnerable. Almost too real.

"Okay, now get off," you say jokingly, undercutting the tension in the room. Rafe scoffs but listens, rolling off, slipping out of you. The loss of him makes you frown, but you quickly wipe away the expression as you turn on your side, facing him.

Rafe studies you. This time, the sex felt different. More. He'll never say it, in fear of it scaring you away, but he truly never felt as vulnerable as he did moments ago when he was inside you. The memories flooding through him could easily get him hard again, but he tries to distract himself, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You smile softly, noting how mesmerized he is with your hair. Of the color and the texture. It draws you into your thoughts, and you're suddenly reminded of a question that's been stuck in your head for the past twenty-four hours.

You say his name, causing him to stop and look at you. "Why were you with Leila the other night?"

"She called me." He answers truthfully, and before you can question him further, he adds. "I was coming over anyways."

This surprises you. "You were?"

"Couldn't leave you like that."

"You didn't stop me."

"I know, I fucked that up," Rafe admits, eyes scanning over your face, trying to express his sincerity.

You study him, recognizing his truth, but you still have some doubts. Another question about your relationship hangs in the air, and as your lips part, Rafe recognizes the question before you even have the chance to ask.

"We're not broken up."

A sense of relief fills you, but there's also the remnant of heartache.

Your voice is soft. "I said a break."

"We're not doing that either."

You don't know if you can separate from him. You don't know if you want to. But you wanted this extra layer of protection, just in case. "If you were worried, I was still committed to doing all the things you needed with Ward—"

"I don't care." He sharply cuts you off. "If someone asks you who you're with, don't answer that it's complicated. It's not. You're with me, got it?"

He's addressing the moment when Kelce asked if you were in a relationship with Rafe and you answered vaguely. It must've been stuck in his mind. Rafe never set perimeters on who knows the truth behind your little farce, only that his father remains oblivious, but you guess it also extends to the rest of the Kook public.

You don't answer him, not wanting to taint the aftermath of good sex with discussions about logistics and labels. You want to enjoy the fleeting moment, even if it's all you get.

Rafe sees your silence and softens his voice. His hand cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "You're mine, you know that?"

You do, but you don't think it's in the way Rafe realizes. The lines are so blurred, you don't know what's real or fake anymore. You don't know if this is a sentiment shared during intimacy or a parade with the public, or if he does want you. Asking for clarification has burned you twice and you'd rather not put yourself in that situation again.

You're silently asking Rafe to tell you more. To give you more words. To speak. If he reveals that he has feelings for you, telling you he wants you—truly wants you—beyond this arrangement, you would be his. All his.

But Rafe's never been the one to willingly talk and reveal things. You have to break an arm and a leg for him to consider giving you the time of day. You rather not break your heart too.

A banging on the locked bedroom door absolutes you from answering him. "Rafey!" Amara screams from the hallway, "You promised you'd see my dress!"

"Dress?" You turn away from the door. "What dress?"

Rafe says nothing, but the small smirk on his face reveals everything. "Rafe. What did you get them?"

You didn't go with your sisters on their early morning excursion with Rafe. You were too tired and were catching up on sleep. When you woke up, they were already back and had been gleefully locked away in the guest bedroom the entire afternoon.

"Don't worry about it."

Rafe slips off the bed and gets redressed while you watch. You admire the planes and ridges of his chest, and when he finishes, he picks your clothes off the floor and throws them at you, telling you to get up too.

You do, and after you're no longer bared and exposed on his king-sized bed, Rafe unlocks the door to reveal an impatient Amara standing behind the door. She's carrying a foreign doll between your arms; something handmade and name-branded, something she definitely didn't have before.

"Rafe..." You warn lowly, but it lacks the critical threat behind its tone. He just grins at your attempt, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of his bedroom. Amara leads you to the living room, where the registration of how much Rafe bought your sisters comes to light.

Scatters of large shopping bags, of various shops and boutiques you never heard the name of, litter across the floor. Leilani is sitting on one of the couches, messing with something in her hands. A phone. Amara’s ruffling through one of the bags, trying to find her dress.

You turn back to Rafe. "You got to be kidding."

"Just because you won't let me buy you nice things doesn't mean you should deprive your sisters of that opportunity," Rafe shrugs, taking a seat on the closest couch, and tugging you along. There's plenty of room on the cushioned chair, but Rafe decides to pull you onto his lap.

You don't even mind; you like your spot on his lap. His arm lazily wraps around your waist while your legs dangle off the side. While Amara recruited Leila along to search for their dresses—because they have that much stuff—Rafe playfully bites your exposed shoulder.

Finally finding their princess gowns and diamond tiaras, Amara grabs Leilani's hand and drags her off to the nearest bathroom. They're giggling while they skip away, bouncing on their feet, behaving the exact opposite of what you expected them to be after a traumatic experience.

"They're happy."

"Of course they are." He scoffs, "We spent the entire morning ransacking every store downtown, buying everything they set their eyes on."

You chuckle softly, and gratitude passes through you. "You didn't have to do that."

"Nah, I had to," Rafe slides you closer. "Got to stay on their good side, you know?"

You shake your head, hiding a smile. The sound of a door opening is heard and you turn to the source of the sound, expecting to see your sisters return with their costumes, but instead find the sudden appearance of Sarah Cameron standing in the middle of the foyer.

"Sarah." Rafe stiffens under you, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my house, Rafe," She says with the roll of her eyes.

"It hasn't been your house since you ran away three months ago," he snaps, a hardness to his words. "Where's your Pogue boyfriend now?"

She ignores her brother, shifting her attention to you. "Who are you?"

You feel like you're caught in the crossfire of their rivalry. Before you get the chance to answer, Rafe cuts in for you.

"She's my girlfriend," Rafe sneers, his arm tightening around your waist. "Which is none of your business."

"Gee, Rafe, really a great welcome home party," Sarah says sarcastically, adjusting the large bag over her shoulders, which you presumed is stuffed with her things. She looks back at you. "You're the Pogue my dad mentioned, right? The one who owns the bar near the docks?"

Something about the Cameron siblings minimizing you to a social class. Nonetheless, you nod. "Cool. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry you have to deal with that one," she points to her brother, who's shooting daggers at his little sister. She ignores the look. "Well, I hope you had a good... shopping trip. I'm going to go unpack."

Before you have a chance to correct her, she walks away, and Rafe shouts after her. "Don't unload too much, just in case you wanna run away again," he reminds, to which Sarah responds with a flip of her middle finger, turning onto the stairwell and disappearing.

You don't know how to deal with a Rafe post-Sarah, especially because you've heard of his long-winded rambles about the golden child. You don't even want to step into it, because what Rafe feels for his younger sister is none of your business. It's his complicated family. You can't fix that.

Instead, you pull him back to Earth, turning his head away and tilting his gaze back onto you. His heated eyes, darkened and full of resentment and anger, soften upon meeting yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Leaning into him, the both of you say nothing, doing nothing, until Amara and Leilani emerge from the dressing room with glamorous princess gowns and a crown over their head. Then, they did a little show for you.

The moments spent with you make him forget about his issue with his sister. With her return and what it means to the company. Who earns in favor with their father.

She’ll be a problem for another day.

Not realizing how true those words will be.

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Navigation — Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

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viasdiary · 6 months ago

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☆ poolside convo (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 1.7k

☆ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, not proofread

☆ loosely inspired by "self control" by frank ocean, main character is on vacation in hawaii and leaves her summer lover behind

☆ this is my first fic ever!! some inspo from @jjkbambi @raekensluver @burnforyou enjoy!!

the golden glow of the setting sun shining through the palm trees bathes you in an amber light, painting the most beautiful picture you’ve ever seen. luigi being close to you surely made it even better.

the soft light of the pool hit him from underneath just right, highlighting his toned body and his handsome face, peppered with freckles here and there.

sitting next to him by the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water, you both laugh about all the dumb stuff you guys did together this past summer.

wearing a stupid grin on his face, he adds

“and remember that time you got so drunk you threw up in the hot tub?” you playfully push his shoulder. “yeah, i’d rather not.” he looks at you, his perfect smile still plastered on his face. “you know, this summer really was great. i’m not just saying that either.” he says.

his smile drops a little when he realizes he’s speaking in the past tense. in that moment, it hits both of you that summer is finally over. it’s early august, and you’ll be back home by the end of the week. you’ll be back in school before you know it, and it’ll be a while before you see each other again, if you even see each other again at all.

the both of you would rather not dampen the mood with that idea, so you talk around it, even though the sadness is heavy in the air. your eyes shift between his face, his mouth, and his little freckles here and there. he looks so beautiful.

“hey, you alright?” he asks tenderly. you place your hand on the middle of his chest and press your lips to his. he parts his lips into the kiss before you pull away. you swore you weren’t going to make tonight sad, but before you know it, the words fall from your lips.

“i’m going to miss you so much,” you say, barely a whisper.

he furrows his thick eyebrows together and looks you in your eyes. you pull your legs out of the water and fully face him.

“i wish things could stay this way forever. it’s only been a couple of months, but you’ve slowly become, like ,one of my favorite people, and it hurts me so bad to know that in another couple of months it’ll be like there was nothing between us at all,”

you were so scared to lose him, and even though he insisted you guys could make long distance work, you knew better. he places his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into another kiss. he kissed you hard this time, hungrier. as he broke the kiss, he whispered into your lips.

“i care about you so much, and i’d do anything to make this work.” he continued to hold you close, his forehead pressed against yours. the warmth of his breath mingled with the warm night air, and you felt your heart racing.

you wanted to believe him, to trust that somehow you could make this work even with the distance and whatever else came with it. "i know you mean that," you whispered back, your voice catching slightly. "but how? we'll be in different states, different schools. our lives are going in totally separate directions."

he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "we'll figure it out. i’ll call you every night. i'll visit you on breaks. we can make plans for next summer."

you smiled sadly, wanting so badly to share his optimism. "it won't be the same."

"no," he agreed, "it won't. but that doesn't mean it can't be perfect for now." you ran your hands up his thigh. you’d really rather not get too emotional tonight.

“you’re right, lu. i trust you, so please don’t make me regret it." you looked at his pretty face, his concerned expression. the corners of your lips slightly turned upwards, threatening to curl into a full smile. he sensed your shift in mood and gave you another dumb grin.

“god, look at us getting all sad on vacation,” he said, chuckling lightly.

“we gotta stop.” he adds, smiling.

you look at him, smiling sweetly. he looked so handsome with the sunset casting a warm glow on his features. you traced your fingers along his jawline, savoring the feeling of his skin beneath your touch.

"i love you," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

luigi's eyes widened for a moment, then softened. he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours. "i love you too," he murmured against your mouth before capturing it in a deep, passionate kiss.

the world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of his body pressed against yours. your fingers tangled in his curls as his hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer. when you finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

"see?" he said with a soft smile. "we've got something special here.

you begin to giggle a little bit.

“no, seriously, we need to make tonight count. this is the last night of a fucking lit summer, and i wanna keep that energy going." he’s also giggling by the time he gets the words out. you study him, his strong jawline, the small freckle on his right cheek, the pronounced bridge of his nose, his perfect teeth framed by his perfect lips.

he looks so hot sitting there, his head slightly tilted back as he laughs. you want to fuck him so badly.

you bite your lip, remembering all the nights you’d shared with him this summer.

without hesitation, you slide onto his lap, straddling him at the edge of the pool.

his laughter fades as he looks up at you, his eyes darkening with want.

"oh yeah?" you say, your voice low and teasing. "and how exactly do you propose we keep that energy going?"

luigi's hands slide up your thighs, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"i've got a few ideas," he murmurs, pulling you closer.

you grind your hips against his, eliciting a soft groan from him.

"care to demonstrate?" you whisper in his ear, trailing soft kisses down the side of his neck.

“god, you feel so good moving on top of me like that,” he moans as you buck your hips, feeling him harden beneath you. he grips your thighs as you move. he kisses the crook of your neck, the heat from his breath making your whole body shiver.

you run your fingers through his curls and grind down harder. he pulls you in for another deep kiss, and the two of you moan into each other. he feels so fucking good, his dick hardening beneath the thin fabric of his shorts. you want him inside you.

"are we really gonna do this by the pool?" he asks, smiling against your lips.

"god, some things really never change," he adds, beginning to untie your bikini top.

he eagerly removes your skimpy top and begins kissing his way down your neck, stopping to suck and nibble at your collarbone. you throw your head back, giving him better access. his hand reaches up to cup your breast, and you moan as his thumb circles your nipple.

he takes the other in his mouth, and his tongue swirls around it before he sucks hard, drawing a loud gasp from you.

"luigi!" you cry, arching your back. he continues sucking and teasing with his tongue, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. you grind down on him, needing more friction. you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and you're aching for release.

"please, baby, i need you," you whisper, gasping at the feeling of him kissing your chest.

you feel his cock pressing against you, and you can't wait any longer. you pull his shorts and underwear down just enough, exposing his throbbing cock. you quickly slip off your bottoms and straddle him once again, his tip rubbing against your throbbing clit.

"fuck, lu, you're so big," you moan, taking his length in your hand and stroking him.

"you're so fucking eager," he chuckles smugly, watching as you press his length to your slick entrance and slide his cock deep inside you, inch by inch.

"jesus fuck, baby, you feel so good," you cry, starting to bounce up and down. he grips your hips tightly, guiding your movements.

"so do you," he breathes, thrusting into you. "you're so fucking tight."

you pick up the pace, slamming down onto his cock over and over again. his hands resting on your hips, helping guide you up and down. you can feel him stretching you out with each thrust.

"i'm gonna cum," you whimper, feeling yourself getting closer.

"you're doing so fucking good for me, amore," he groans, thrusting deeper.

you grind down on him, desperate for release.

"fuck, luigi, i'm so close," you gasp, the pleasure building inside you. he feels your slick cunt gripping him so tightly, and he knows he can't last much longer either.

"cum for me," he groans, thrusting harder and faster.

"it's too much, lu!" you whine.

"you've taken worse, baby," he replies, driving himself into you more intensely.

"fuck, luigi," you whimper, overstimulated.

"god yes, amore, cum for me," he moans, his voice deep and husky.

you can't hold back any longer. you cum hard, your body shaking with pleasure. he feels your walls clenching around him, and he can't hold back anymore. with a loud moan, he spills himself inside you, filling you with his warm cum.

"fuck," you both groan, collapsing into each other.

the two of you lay there for a while, trying to catch your breath. you can't help but smile as the euphoric waves crash over you. he kisses your cheek softly.

"so, was that enough to keep the energy going?" he asks, a smile spreading across his face.

you can't help but laugh. "god, i love you," you say, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"i love you too."

"i'm going to miss you so much, amore," he says, holding you close.

"i'm gonna miss you too, luigi," you say, wrapping your arms around him.

#luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione #free luigi #luigi mangione x yn

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mingtinys · 1 year ago

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" i'm not stopping until you smile "

pairing : lee seokmin x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : none

word count : 0.6 k

a/n :still not sure how i feel about the ending on this one

Sometimes it feels like the universe is actively out to get you. Like for some reason, whatever Gods above have chosen you as the perfect target for their cruel jokes as a cure for their boredom.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong, had.

Your coffee spilled first thing in the morning, scorching your skin and ruining your uniform. The back left tire of your car was flat, forcing you to take the morning train. Which you missed due to your coffee incident. Work was hectic, your boss on your ass about anything and everything, and for some reason, every customer came in with a personal vendetta against you and you alone. And to top it all off, some creep wouldn't stop making comments at you on the train back home.

You're so desperate to just curl up in bed and hide from the world that you forgo the thought of dinner or cleaning like you had planned all together.

For what feels like hours, you lay there. Until the sun falls in the sky and your room fades into darkness. Unwilling to move even an inch to flip a light on or check your phone. Your apartment stays dead silent. Eventually, you hear the front door open and shut, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching closer. They pause just outside your bedroom door.

"Baby, are you in there?" Comes a voice, one so soft you nearly burst into tears from the sound of it alone. "I'm coming in, okay?"

The knob turns and in comes Seokmin, illuminated by a halo of light that pours in from the hallway. He takes one look at you and frowns. "Are you okay?" He asks, setting your spare key and his phone on your dresser before sitting on the edge of your bed.

"I got really worried when you weren't answering after work," he continues. "What happened?"

"It's fine, Seok," you sigh, already feeling like a burden on him. "But it's been a long day and I just really want to handle it alone, okay? I'm sorry you came all the way here."

He just stares at you, sad eyes searching your face for some type of answer. You feel like you've just kicked a puppy asking him to leave, but it's best this way. Seokmin's heart is far too soft, ready to soak up every ounce of negative emotion it can for him to bear the weight of. And you hate seeing Seokmin sad.

"You don't have to handle it alone though, that's what I'm here for." You really wish you could return his cheery optimism and put him at ease, but instead, you simply turn in your cocoon so you won't have to face his disappointed expression. Yet somehow, that doesn't deter him.

Whereas anyone else probably would've up and left by now, Seokmin simply scoops you up into his arms, blankets and all. He starts pressing wet, sloppy kisses all over your face before you can voice a single protest. Even when you attempt to hide from the barrage of affection in his chest he doesn't let up.

"Seokmin!" You whine, palms coming up to shield your face. He just laughs and easily pulls your wrists away, looping them behind his neck before pressing two more pecks to each cheek. Seokmin leans back to examine your face.

"I'm not stopping until you smile."

"I appreciate you trying but–"

Yet another merciless attack befalls your face, this time with exaggerated mwuahs for good measure. Though every few kisses, Seokmin mutters small, sincere 'I love yous' that begin to chip away at the walls you'd so desperately tried to construct.

So when your boyfriend finally pulls back for a second time he begins to beam with pride at the lopsided smile ghosting your lips. "There it is," he coos, softly lifting your chin with his thumb. "Now tell me, what almost stole my favorite sight in this world from me?"

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

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digitalretina01 · 1 year ago

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thirteenheavens · 5 months ago

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hoshi make up sex pleaseee thankyou <3

You and Soonyoung had gotten into a huge argument earlier that day, the first one you'd had in a long time. It had been about something small, something that shouldn't have even been a big deal, but somehow it had escalated into a full-blown fight.

Now, you were both sitting on opposite sides of the couch, the tension in the room palpable. Neither of you spoke, the silence only broken by the occasional sigh or frustrated huff. After what felt like an eternity, Soonyoung finally spoke up. "Can we talk about this?" he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, still feeling a bit angry, but willing to listen. "Yeah, I guess we should," you replied, looking over at him.

Soonyoung started to speak, trying to explain his side of things, but the more he talked, the angrier he got.

"I just don't understand why you can't see things from my perspective," he said, his voice rising. "I'm trying to do what's best for us, and you're just shutting me down every time."

You bristled at his words, feeling your own anger flaring up again. "That's not fair," you snapped back. "You're not the only one with opinions here, you know."

The argument quickly devolved into a shouting match, both of you hurling accusations and insults at each other.

"Why can't you just admit that you were wrong?" Soonyoung yelled.

"Why can't you just listen to me for once?" you yelled back.

The argument continued to escalate, both of you becoming more and more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Finally, Soonyoung stood up from the couch, pacing back and forth in front of you.

"This is ridiculous," he said, running a hand through his hair. "We're supposed to be partners, but it feels like we're just fighting all the time."

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that he was right. The constant arguing was taking a toll on both of you, and you missed the way things used to be between you.

"I know," you said quietly, looking down at your hands. "I miss us too."

Soonyoung stopped pacing and looked over at you, his expression softening. "I miss us too," he repeated, his voice quieter now. "I hate fighting with you."

He walked over to you and sat down beside you on the couch, his body tense but his eyes filled with remorse. "I'm sorry for yelling at you," he said, taking your hand in his. "I just...I get so frustrated sometimes, and I don't know how to handle it."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "I'm sorry too," you said, looking up at him. "I shouldn't have yelled either."

Soonyoung pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair. "I don't want to fight with you anymore," he whispered, his arms wrapped tightly around you. "I just want us to be happy together."

You hugged him back, feeling a sense of comfort and security in his embrace. "I know," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "I want that too."

You stayed like that for a few minutes, holding each other in silence, until Soonyoung pulled back slightly to look at you.

"Can we start over?" he asked, his eyes searching yours. "Can we try to work things out and communicate better from now on?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. "Yes, let's start over," you said, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I love you, and I don't want to lose you over something stupid like this."

Soonyoung smiled, his eyes lighting up at your words. "I love you too," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "More than anything."

He leaned in again, this time capturing your lips in a soft, sweet kiss. The kiss was filled with apologies and promises, the two of you silently vowing to do better in the future. As you kissed him back, you felt a sense of hope and optimism for the future. You knew that it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to work through any problems that came your way, together.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of desire course through your body. Soonyoung's hands began to roam over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he continued to kiss you passionately. You moaned into his mouth, feeling your body respond to his touch.

"I want you," he whispered against your lips, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress your skin. "I need you."

You whimpered at his words, feeling yourself grow wet with desire. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him hungrily. Soonyoung's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you as he devoured your mouth. He nipped at your bottom lip, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt.

"Off," he growled, his voice low and husky. "I need to see you."

You quickly pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. Soonyoung groaned at the sight of you, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his hands coming up to cup your breasts. He gently rolled your nipples between his fingers, watching as they hardened under his touch.

You arched into his touch, moaning softly as pleasure coursed through your body. Soonyoung leaned in to kiss your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Soonyoung continued to tease your neck and breasts, his hands and mouth driving you wild with desire. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his pants, and you rocked your hips against him, desperate for more friction.

"Please," you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair again. "I need you inside me."

Soonyoung groaned at your words, his control slipping away. He stood up suddenly, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes raking over your body hungrily. He quickly stripped off his own clothes, revealing his toned body to you. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His hands trailed down your body, stopping at the waistband of your pants.

"May I?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips to allow him to remove your pants and underwear. Soonyoung groaned as he looked at you, completely naked beneath him.

"You're so perfect," he whispered, his hands roaming over your body again. "I can't believe you're mine."

He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips trailing a path down your neck and over your chest. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking at it until you were moaning and writhing beneath him. Soonyoung moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach until he reached your core. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"I want to taste you," he said, his voice rough with need. "I want to make you feel good."

Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head between your legs, his tongue delving deep into your folds. You cried out at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked you with his mouth. Soonyoung ate you out with abandon, his tongue swirling around your clit and dipping inside you. He moaned against you, clearly enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. You arched your back, lost in the pleasure of his mouth. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tightening with tension as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Soonyoung," you gasped out, your fingers tightening in his hair. "I'm so close."

Soonyoung hummed against you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he worked you towards your release. He knew your body so well, knew exactly what you needed to send you over the edge. He focused his attention on your clit, sucking and licking at it relentlessly until you were trembling beneath him.

"Come for me," he growled, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Let go, baby."

With a final flick of his tongue, you came undone, your body convulsing as you cried out his name. Soonyoung continued to lap at you, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible. When you finally came down from your high, he crawled up your body, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he went. He looked down at you with a smirk, clearly pleased with himself.

"You taste so good," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I could do that all day."

You smiled up at him, still panting from your orgasm. "You're too good at that," you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

Soonyoung chuckled, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"I love making you feel good," he murmured against your mouth. "But I think it's my turn now."

Soonyoung moved to kneel between your legs, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. He reached down to take himself in hand, stroking himself a few times as he looked at you.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All spread out and ready for me."

He positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his cock. You whimpered in frustration, wanting to feel him inside you already.

"Please," you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I need you."

Soonyoung chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you were begging for him. "Patience, baby," he said, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "I'll give you what you want, I promise."

Soonyoung slowly pushed into you, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of your tight heat around him. You moaned in pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and perfect."

He began to move, his hips thrusting against yours in a slow, steady rhythm. He captured your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove into you. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and gasps, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Soonyoung's hands roamed over your body, touching and caressing every inch of you as he continued to thrust into you.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing a path down your neck. "You're mine, all mine."

You clung to him, your nails raking down his back as he continued to move inside you. The feeling of him inside you was incredible, his every thrust sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Soonyoung," you moaned, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "I'm so close."

He reached down to rub your clit with his thumb, driving you even closer to the edge. "Come for me again," he growled. "I want to feel you come around me."

You cried out as your second orgasm crashed over you, your body clenching around Soonyoung's cock. He groaned at the sensation, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips snapping against yours. "I'm gonna come."

With a final deep thrust, he came inside you, spilling himself deep within you with a loud moan. He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Soonyoung nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he came down from his high. He rolled off of you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"You're amazing," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. "I love you so much."

You snuggled closer to him, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling content and happy in his arms.

"I love you too," you murmured, looking up at him with a smile.

Soonyoung nodded, a small smile on his face. "I don't want to fight with you," he said, stroking your hair gently. "I hate it when we argue. I hate seeing you upset."

You nodded in agreement, feeling the same way. "I hate it too," you said, looking up at him. "We should try to talk things out instead of letting it fester."

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