#Leaves&039; Eyes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youreverydayfangirl · 2 months ago

Text

You Are In Love

pairing: lando norris x fretwell! reader

summary: y/n y/ln has finally moved on from lando norris, or in which lando tries everything he can do to get his girl back

warning: angsty tbh, but has fluff in the end

a/n: after agessss!!! its all set in 2024

part 1 is here

"You know what I'm so done with you. Of course you want me now, I'm trying to get over you Lando, I need to get over you." She said, her voice breaking a little. He wanted to grab her, hold her, apologise.

"What if I don't want you to." He said.

She completely stepped back, tears in her eyes.

"Fuck you Lando Norris."

Y/n didn't know how it happened, how quickly love could turn into indifference. Hate was one thing. Indifference was another thing completely. It meant that hearing his name wouldn't spark a reaction from her, seeing his face didn't make her heart skip a beat. She had loved Lando since she was fifteen, but at some point you have to give up, say goodbye. Because she'd rather feel nothing that still love him.

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

2024, February

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, maxfretwell and 2, 395, 039 others

yourusername GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

tagged: yourbsfusername

yourbsfusername WE LOOK SO GOOD

-> yourusername yeah we do don't we

lilymhe GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

→ yourusername GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

francisca.cgomes Y/N WORLD TAKEOVER

-> yourusername ofc

maxfretwell EW ITS YOU

-> yourusername get out of my comments weirdo

user1 lando in the likes again

-> user2 be so real when is he not snooping

user3 she looks so much healthier

-> user4 right this y/n era>>>

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

Y/n groaned at the insistent ringing of her phone, pulling her from a very nice nap. "What do you want idiot?" She snapped at her brother, whose face had popped up on her phone.

"Good morning to you sleeping beauty." He said, laughing at his younger sister.

"Is there a reason you're calling me at-" Y/n squinted at the time on her screen, "-3 in the afternoon?" She rubbed her eyes, not yet fully awake.

Her brother laughed on the other end. "I needed to remind you of our plans tonight. Or did you forget already?"

Y/n huffed, pushing herself up against the pillows. "Of course not. I just wasn’t expecting a wake up call," she grumbled.

"Right, right. Well, don’t fall asleep again; we’re leaving in an hour," he teased.

As soon as he hung up Y/n groaned and shoved her head back into the comfort of her soft pillows.

She met Max at a small restaurant tucked away on a quiet street, where he was waiting at a corner booth, already nursing a beer. "Hey, stranger," he greeted her with a warm hug.

"Hey yourself," she laughed, sliding in across from him. "This place is cute."

“Only the best for my very picky little sister.” Max smirked, but his expression softened as he looked at her. “So, how’s everything going? Really.”

Y/n shrugged, giving a small smile. “Pretty good. Busy, you know. I've just been focusing on working on myself and staying sober, Bsf has helped out alot with that."

Max nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “And are you… happy?”

The question caught her off guard, and she hesitated, glancing away before looking back at him. “I mean… yeah. Things have been pretty good recently”

Max studied her for a moment, his gaze knowing. “But?”

“But…” she paused, pushing the menu away and sighing. “I don’t know, Max. Sometimes it feels like… like there’s something missing. You know? Like something’s still holding me back.”

Max leaned back, watching her carefully. “Lando?”

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “I thought I was done with that. After everything last year, I told myself I couldn’t keep holding onto him. He never even tried to reach out after everything that happened like come on. I've moved on now."

“Maybe he just thought you didn’t want him to reach out,” Max suggested gently. “You left pretty quickly.”

She stared down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of a napkin. “Yeah, but I couldn’t stay. After hearing him say… all that, after everything we went through, I didn’t know what else to do but leave.”

Max nodded, thinking for a moment before he spoke. “Look, I’m not saying you should do anything you’re not ready for, but I’ve known Lando for a long time. He’s got his faults, but I think he’s just as messed up over you as you are over him. I think he’s been struggling with it since the day you left.”

She felt a pang in her chest, memories of Lando flashing through her mind. “I don’t know, Max. It’s been a year, and I’ve tried so hard to let go.”

Max reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “And maybe you have. But maybe… maybe there’s a part of you that needs to hear him out before you can really move forward.”

She gave him a small, grateful smile, though her heart felt heavy. “I’ll think about it, Max. I really will. But for now… let’s just have a good night, okay?”

Later, when she got home, she found herself replaying Max’s words.

What if I don’t want you to?

Lando’s voice from that night echoed painfully in her mind. She’d loved him once, but now… she didn’t know what she felt.

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

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, maxfretwell and 4, 759, 364 others

yourusername the city that keeps the roof blazing

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

francisca.cgomes i need you at more plssss

-> yourusername i'll see how i can manage

lilymhe i missed your cute face

→ yourusername I MISSED YOURS

maxfretwell since when were you here?

-> yourusername idk 🤷

alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍

-> yourusername LEO WAS SO CUTE

user1 Y/NLANDO CONTENT PLEASE 🙏

user2 OMG SHES AT A GPPPPPP

user3 grabbing at scraps atp

user4 LANDO WIN?

-> user5 i mean shes his lucky charm so..

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

The atmosphere was electric as Y/n made her way across the paddock. It had been so long yet felt as though no time had past since her last race. She kept her head low, hidden under one of Landos old caps he had given her as she found Max and stood next to him. The pair watching the chaos of the grid unfold in silence. Y/n couldn't help but have her eyes drawn to where Lando was standing, he looked good. Max cleared his throat and she diverted her gaze quickly.

Then, as if he could sense her presence, Lando turned around eyes darting until they locked onto her figure. His eyes soften, full of many emotions and it seemed as though all the tension that was built up in him disappeared.

"Lando." Someone calls and then the moment ends, as quickly as it had started. As he made his way over to his car, Y/n forced her gaze away, a feeling of longing and heartache in her chest.

Y/ns heart swells with pride as she watches Lando claim victory. A bright smile appears on her face and she claps her hands together, before stopping herself. As the team rushes to greet Lando, she watches him bask in the glory of his win, a grin stretching across his face as he’s showered in cheers and applause.

When he steps off the podium, champagne soaked and still radiant with exhilaration, their eyes met across the crowd once again. This time, theres an unspoken acknowledgment, a silent thank you really, for being there, even if it is in the background.

As she turned to leave, Y/ns head was reeling, feeling both pride and bittersweetness. Today wasn't just a victory for him, but a quiet triumph for Y/n too.

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

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfretwell and 7, 942, 293 others

yourusername gala tonight

francisca.cgomes HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT

-> yourusernameI LOVE YOU

maxfretwell you look like shit

-> yourusername i hate you so much

alexandrasaintmleux YOUR GORGEOUS MY LOV

-> yourusername AHHHHHHHHHHH

landonorris you look great

user1 LANDO COMMENTED OMFGGG

user2 MOOD: FREAKING OUT

user3 EATING UP ALL THE CRUMBS

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

The room glittered under the chandelier, polite chatter filling the room. Y/n smoothed down the fabric of her gown, trying to focus on anything but the pair of familiar blue eyes watching her from across the room. Lando looked devastatingly handsome in his tailored black tuxedo, his tie slightly loosened as if he’d already grown restless.

She spent the night avoiding him, moving between conversations and photos, but she could still feel his gaze heavy on her. Y/n found herself lost in thought as she took a sip from her champagne.

“May I have this dance?” His voice startled her, smooth and familiar as he appeared at her side.

Y/n hesitated, her champagne flute trembling slightly in her hand. “Lando…”

“Please, Y/n,” he whispered, his tone softer now, begging almost. “Just one dance.”

Against her better judgment, she nodded. He led her to the dance floor, his hand warm and firm against the small of her back. The music was slow, Y/n smiled at the familiar sound of Taylor Swift and found herself relaxing a little bit.

“Why are you here?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the music.

“Because you are,” Lando replied, his eyes locked on hers. “And because I can’t keep pretending I don’t care anymore.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, all the noise and chaos of the gala faded away. They were just Y/n and Lando, two people who had shared too much history to be strangers but too much heartbreak to find their footing again.

“I—” she started, but her words were lost as Lando’s hand tightened slightly on her waist, pulling her closer.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel it,” he murmured, his forehead nearly brushing hers.

Y/n swallowed hard. She felt it, of course she did, the way her heart raced, the way his touch ignited every nerve in her body. But it was complicated. It was always complicated.

As the song swelled, his lips hovered dangerously close to hers. She tilted her head slightly, her body betraying her better judgment, and for one reckless, fleeting moment, she thought she might give in.

“Y/n! Lando!” A sharp voice cut through the haze, and they jerked apart as Pierre's familiar face appeared.

Y/n stepped back abruptly, the spell broken. “I...I can’t do this,” she stammered, her voice trembling as she turned on her heel and walked away.

Lando stood frozen on the dance floor, watching her retreat into the crowd, his heart sinking as he realized she wasn’t ready to let him in. Not yet.

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

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yourusername paris ✅ where to next?

alexandrasaintmleux monaco?

-> yourusername i think we can figure something out

maxfretwell come home?

-> yourusername aww you miss me???

-> maxfretwell no i miss your cooking

landonorris was it fun??

-> user1 HELP NORIZZ STRIKES AGAIN

-> user2 hes so awkward HELP

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

The buzz of her phone jolted Y/n from her daze. She reached for it, her fingers trembling ever so lightly when she saw the name flashing on the screen.

Lando Norris.

She hesitated. It had been months since the gala in Miami, and wounds from the past were still fresh. Yet, she was compelled to swipe and answer, whether it was out of curiosity or something deeper.

“Hello?”

“Y/n.” His voice was softer than she expected, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. “Hey.”

“Lando,” she said cautiously. “What’s going on?”

There was a beat of silence before he exhaled sharply. “I...uh, I had a rough race today,” he admitted, his vulnerability catching her off guard. “And I just… I don’t know. I thought of you.”

Her heart twisted at his honesty, but she forced herself to keep her tone steady. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. “It’s just… you always knew how to make things feel less heavy, you know? I miss that.”

Y/n swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. The conversation teetered on dangerous ground, pulling at memories she wasn’t ready to confront.

“Look,” he continued, breaking the silence. “I know things between us are… complicated. But the British Grand Prix is next weekend, and it’s a big deal for me. I’d really like it if you came.”

Her breath hitched. “Lando…”

“No pressure,” he added quickly, sensing her hesitation. “I just thought… maybe it could be a step. A chance to figure things out. Or even just to see each other without… everything else in the way.”

Y/n closed her eyes, the weight of his words settling in her chest. She wanted to say no, to protect herself from the whirlwind he always seemed to bring into her life. But a part of her - a small, stubborn part - wanted to see him again, to believe that maybe this time could be different.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

The relief in his voice was palpable. “Thank you, Y/n. It means a lot. Really.”

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yourusername has posted

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yourusername a quick pit stop in silverstone

francisca.cgomes WIFEY IN THE PADDOCK

-> yourusername you know it

alexandrasaintmleux papaya has always been your colour

-> yourusername 🧡🧡

landonorris it was nice to see you today y/n.

-> yourusername great to see you too Lando!!!

-> charlesleclerc WHATTTTT

-> user1 bros as flabbergasted as the rest of us

user2 maybe he's not lando norizz afterall

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

Once again, Y/n found herself walking through the paddock, unconsciously smiling at the familiarity of it all.

She found him leaning against the McLaren hospitality building, his race suit tied around his waist, his hair disheveled from the helmet. He looked like the Lando she used to know—soft, nervous, and so heartbreakingly familiar.

“Hey,” he said, straightening when he saw her.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice careful, guarded.

“Can we talk?” he asked, motioning toward a quieter area behind the building. She hesitated, but nodded, following him.

They stopped near a secluded spot overlooking the track, the distant roar of engines filling the silence between them. Lando turned to her, his eyes searching hers for some semblance of forgiveness.

“I’ve been an idiot,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “For years, I’ve been an idiot. I didn’t know what I had with you until I lost it.”

Y/n crossed her arms, trying to keep her composure. “Lando…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted, his tone desperate. “I was scared. I thought if I kept things as they were, I wouldn’t mess it up. But I messed it up anyway. I pushed you away, and I hurt you. I’m so sorry, Y/n. For everything.”

She looked at him, her walls slowly crumbling as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You really hurt me, Lando. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t worth fighting for.”

He stepped closer, his voice trembling. “You were always worth fighting for. I just didn’t realize how much until it was too late. I don’t want it to be too late anymore.”

Y/n felt tears prick at her eyes. She hated how much she still cared, how much she wanted to believe him. “Why now? Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you,” he said simply. “Every race, every win, every moment, I think about you. I want you in my life, Y/n. However you’ll let me.”

Silence stretched between them as she looked away, her emotions warring within her. Finally, she let out a shaky breath. “Lando… I don’t know if it’s that easy. There’s so much history between us, so much pain.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But maybe we can start over. Take things slow. Just… let me prove to you that I’m serious this time.”

Y/n hesitated, then nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. But I need time.”

Lando’s face lit up with a cautious, hopeful smile. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

--------

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yourusername some flics from summer

tagged: francisca.c.gomes

francisca.cgomes OMG STUNNER

-> yourusername SAYSS YOUUUUU

alexandrasaintmleux gorgg gorgg gorggg

-> yourusername try looking in a mirror

yourbsf my fav girll

-> yourusername love love love youuuuu

user1 THE SOFT LAUNCH

user2 no lando comment i fear we're doomed

user3 landoy/n truthers how are we feeling

-> user4 NOT GREAT.....

---------

Y/n wasn't sure how it had really begun, but after Silverstone her and Lando found themselves spending more and more time together, their friendship quickly turning to more.

One Saturday afternoon they found themselves walking down to the beach. Once they reached the destination, the pair collapsed, out of breath from running around like total idiots.

Lando nudged her with his shoulder. “Remember when we used to do this when we were younger? You were always faster than me, but I swear I was the better strategist.”

Y/n laughed softly, leaning into him. “You’re right, you did always find a way to cheat your way to victory.”

Lando pretended to look offended. “Cheat? I was simply using my superior intellect to my advantage.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Sure, Lan. Keep telling yourself that.”

One evening, they decided to take a road trip up the coast. They didn't make any exact plans, just wanted to drive. The windows were down, the cool air rushing in as their music played through the car speakers. The pair decided to stop to watch the sunset, Lando using his camera to take photos of the sunset. Y/n stood next to him, watching the colours change across the sky.

"The view is amazing." Y/n said, smiling softly as she watched the sun disappear further and further into the water.

"It really is." Lando murmured, taking in the way Y/ns face was illuminated by the sunset, making her look angelic. Y/n turned to see him already staring and couldn't help but feel herself blush under hist intense gaze.

“Thank you for this,” Y/n said softly, her voice carrying the weight of all the unspoken words. “For showing up when I needed you most.”

Lando lowered the camera, his hand gently brushing against hers. “I’m not going anywhere this time, Y/n. I’m here for as long as you’ll let me be.”

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

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yourusername back in Spa

tagged: francisca.cgomes

francisca.cgomes its honestly unfair for you to be that gorgeous

-> yourusername STAWP IT

maxfretwell nothing just you staking me

-> yourusername stalking is WILD

user1 no lando like or anything :(

user2 in the trenches right now

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

Y/n had always loved Spa, it was the first grand prix she ever attended, but today, something felt off. Whatever it was, it was making her anxious, causing her to pull back from Lando more than she would have liked.

It started when Lando and her arrived at the track. Lando was excited, practically bouncing with energy and had started rambling excitedly. Y/n however was feeling closed off, distant, something which Lando noticed immediately. He knew how to read Y/n, so he could tell when she wasn't herself. When they walked together toward the paddock, the silence between them grew heavier with every step.

"Y/n, what’s going on?" Lando asked, his voice laced with concern as they stopped by the track’s edge. She hesitated for a moment, looking out at the cars zooming by. Her mind was racing, filled with doubts she didn’t know how to articulate.

“I just… I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This, us, it feels like it’s moving too fast. I’m not sure I can keep up with it anymore.”

Lando’s brows furrowed, and his heart sank. “What do you mean? I thought we were-”

“I don’t know what I thought,” she interrupted, turning away slightly. “It feels like we’re stuck in the same cycle, and every time I think we’ve moved forward, we just fall back into the same old pattern. It’s like… like I’m always waiting for the next mistake.” She rubbed her eyes, feeling the weight of her frustration.

Lando opened his mouth to respond, but Y/n shook her head, cutting him off. "I don’t want to fight, Lando, but I just need some space to figure things out."

His chest tightened as he watched her, her words cutting deeper than he expected. He couldn't say he was completely surprised though, the uncertainty which had haunted them before now seemed to pull them apart all over again.

“Y/n… Please. Don’t shut me out.” His voice was soft, almost pleading, but Y/n could hear the vulnerability in it.

She looked at him, a conflicted expression on her face. She wanted to reach out, wanted to say that everything would be okay, but the doubt swirling inside her made it hard. "I just need some time, Lando," she said quietly. "I need to think."

With that, she turned away, walking towards the paddock, leaving Lando standing there, his heart heavy. He didn’t know what to do or how to fix it. This time, it felt like they were both on the edge of something, and if they didn’t take a step back, they might both fall.

The rest of the weekend was a blur. Y/n kept her distance from Lando, spending most of the time with Alex and Kika and staying away from the constant tension in the air. The moment that should have been about racing and the thrill of competition was now overshadowed by the uncertainty hanging between them.

For Lando, the race itself was a blur. His thoughts kept drifting to Y/n, wondering if he had pushed too hard, said the wrong thing. He knew he had to respect her space, but the silence between them hurt more than he expected.

By the time the race weekend ended, both of them were left feeling raw and uncertain. Y/n was overwhelmed, caught between her fear of falling into the same patterns and her desire to be with him. And Lando? He was left to wonder if it was too late, if the distance between them now was one they couldn’t bridge.

It wasn’t the end, but it sure felt like one, one that left both of them wondering where they went wrong.

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

yourusername has posted

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yourusername its been a good day :)

lilymhe care to explain further??

-> yourusername call and ill tell you gorg girl

-> user1 what i'd give to know what they talk about

maxfretwell nah you're doing too much

-> yourusername can you stop stalking my feed for once

francisca.cgomes motherrrrr

-> yourusername STOPPPP

-> user2 and father?????

user3 i love how none of them have even acknowledged the fact that their is a man there

user4 call me crazy but i feel like that might be lando??

-> user5 i fear youre on your own with that one

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

It was late August, and Y/n found her self on vacation in Italy, trying to catch her breath after the whirlwind of the past couple of months. The tension with Lando at Spa still lingered in her mind, making her question everything. She wanted to move forward, but fear kept holding her back. She didn’t know if Lando could truly understand what she needed, or if she could even put it into words.

As Y/n was bed rotting in her hotel, her phone dinged with a message from Lily.

Hey, I need a favor! Can you meet me at the marina? 3 PM sharp. Promise it’ll be worth it.

Y/n hesitated, glancing at the time. She didn’t have much planned for the day and figured a distraction might be good for her. "Alright, why not?" she muttered, grabbing her bag and heading out.

When she arrived, Lily was nowhere to be found. Instead, she was greeted by a deckhand who handed her a note with Lando’s unmistakable scrawl.

Come aboard, love. Let me show you something.

Y/n sighed, suspicion and curiosity warring in her chest. She debated turning around but, against her better judgment, stepped onto the yacht.

The moment she was aboard, the crew set the yacht into motion, gliding smoothly out into the glittering blue waters of the Mediterranean. Y/n frowned, looking around for any sign of Lando.

“Seriously, Lando?” she muttered under her breath.

It wasn’t until the yacht had anchored near a quiet, secluded cove that he appeared, stepping onto the deck with an almost sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“Lando…” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Before you say anything, just… let me talk.” He gestured for her to sit, and she reluctantly did, watching as he fidgeted nervously before taking a seat across from her.

“Y/n, I know I’ve messed up. I know I’ve hurt you, more than once. But I also know I don’t want to lose you again. Not now, not ever.” His voice was steady, but she could see the raw emotion in his eyes.

“Lando, it’s not that simple,” she replied, her voice quieter than she expected.

“I know it’s not,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “That’s why I wanted to do this. To show you that I’m serious. That I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work.”

She glanced around, taking in the serene beauty of the cove, the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the yacht, the soft music playing in the background. It was a scene straight out of a dream, but it was also so Lando - grand, romantic, and slightly over the top.

“Lily was in on this, wasn’t she?” Y/n asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Guilty,” he admitted with a small laugh. “I needed backup to make sure you actually showed up.”

Y/n smiled at this, stifling a laugh.

“Look, Y/n, I know I can’t erase the past. But I want to build a future with you - a real one. No games, no misunderstandings, no half measures. Just us, figuring it out together.”

The sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten. She wanted to believe him, to trust that this time would be different.

“I don’t know, Lando,” she said after a long pause. “What if we mess it up again?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said without hesitation. “Together. I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

Y/n stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all she saw was determination.

“I can’t promise I won’t get scared,” she admitted.

“Then I’ll remind you why we’re worth it,” he said with a soft smile, reaching out to take her hand.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/n felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could finally get it right. She squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, Norris. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

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

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yourusername wasnt exactly how i thought today would go but im not complaining. lando my bestfriend, i have never been more proud of you than today, congrats on your win and the constructors championship my love xx.

tagged: landonorris

lilymhe YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTEEE

-> yourusername STOP STOP STOP

ybsf yeah friends my ass

-> francisca.cgomes RIGHT????

alexandrasaintmleux FINALLY! do you know how hard its been to keep this secret

-> yourusername IM SORRYYYY

maxfretwell MY EYES??? NEVER GOING TO RECOVER

-> yourusername i thought you were supposed to be older than 5

landonorris never would've been possible without you

-> yourusername im always gonna be by yourside lan xx

-> user1 currently sobbing

user2 when i tell you i SCREAMED

user3 HE WAS THE MYSTERY GUY

user4 i was right and you can all suck it #y/nlandotrutherforlife

-> user5 you were right. i owe you an apology.

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

The atmosphere at Yas Marina Circut was electric as Lando crossed the finish line, securing another win and the constructors championship for McLaren. The McLaren garage erupted in cheers at a 1-2 podium, people hugging and cheering.

Y/n stood in the VIP area, her heart pounding with pride and excitement before she made her way out with the rest of team. As he climbed out of the car, arms raised in triumph, she couldn’t help but feel her own emotions bubbling to the surface.

Lando sprinted toward his team, embracing them but he quickly pulled away when he spotted her. He began weaving through the crowd, and before Y/n could fully process what was happening, he was right in front of her.

Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off her feet as she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. And then, with the entire paddock watching, Lando kissed her. It wasn’t just any kiss- it was passionate, raw, and full of everything they’d been through to get to this moment.

The crowd around them erupted in cheers, camera flashes capturing the moment as it played out on the big screens around the circuit. Y/n could hear people losing their minds in the background, but none of it mattered. In that moment, it was just them.

When they finally pulled apart, Lando pressed his forehead to hers, a soft smile spreading across his face. “I told you we’d figure it out together,” he whispered, his voice just loud enough for her to hear over the noise.

Y/n chuckled, wiping a tear from her cheek. “You did, and I’m so proud of you. You deserve this, Lando.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “We deserve this,” he corrected, pulling her close again as the crowd around them roared louder.

That night, as the celebrations continued, Y/n and Lando stole away for a quiet moment on the balcony of his hotel room. The city lights twinkled below, and Lando, still wearing his racing suit, wrapped an arm around her waist.

“This feels like a dream,” Y/n said softly, leaning into him.

“It’s not,” Lando replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s just the beginning.”

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

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yourusername i guess this is a full circle moment

tagged: landonorris, flo_norris_showjumping

landonorris 🧡🧡

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after literal months pt 2 is finally up. sorry it took so long but i felt like i had to do it justice and give you guys a good pt 2 and not a half assed one. but here it is an i hope you enjoyed it. thanks everyone for all of the support i got :)

@f1fantasys @saachiep81 @tini5 @melrosaeparker @styl1shl1v @ilivbullyingjeongin @saachiep81 @chloeannabelle @sleutherclaw

#formula1 #f1 masterlist #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst

498 notes · View notes

cocosdailyetho · 15 days ago

Text

039 // Can you tell I’ve been watching FMA?

Reference and yap below the cut :)!!

I’ll make a buffer for this blog I promise

I came up with a new au idea and it won’t leave my brain so here’s a little yap session

It’s Tuff guys centric obviously, Etho is the main guy kinda. They used to go to a magic school that was very great magic wise not so good opinion wise wink wink.

Someone that was against those ideas raids it killing most the students (except Etho). He retrieved the bodies of his best friends and tries to get them back.

He looses eye sight and his friends come back different, very much rooted to their respective magics (plants and fire) and pretty much like tied to respective items (Bdubs cloak and Tango amulet).

If Etho wears the cloak he can see through bdubs eyes and if he brings the amulet he can use Tango’s fire power.

I’ll probably yap in a more comprehensive way about this idea in my other blog lol @oakayaus

Reference image ⬇️

#etho fanart #dailyetho #ethoslab #etho #hermitblr

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ad0rechuu · 2 years ago

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۪ ★ ۫ MILKY WAY ୨୧

based on milky way by seohyun

SYNOPSIS. ━━━━━ It’s not everyday that your friends childhood friend turns out to be the girl that you literally have a fan account for, but for Seonghwa, San and Mingi it’s become a reality. being able to get close to your bias is great! even if she does have a raging crush on someone else…

6mar23 | st. 09/03/23 ━ fn. 31/08/23

pairing. ━━━━━ college students! fans! park seonghwa, choi san, song mingi x fem! idol! reader (x idol! oc)

featuring. ━━━━━ ateez, kang seulgi (red velvet), fatou samba (black swan), park sujin aka swan (purple kiss), shin yuna (itzy), do hanse (former victon) oc, fem oc

genre. ━━━━━ smau, written, humor/crack, fluff, angst, suggestive, love square, idol/college au, strangers to friends to lovers, really slow burn, pinning, secret identity

warnings. ━━━━━ i’m not a native english speaker so my english might be a little off sometimes ! ! ! timestamps/sm numbers mean nothing, sexism/slutshaming, swearing, mentions of food/sex/serious topic, kys/kms and other questionable jokes, use of pictures for yn but only for reference (only of dark skin poc used), cyber bullying, ssngs, mental illness/anxiety, mentions of alcohol/drugs. small age gaps, more thorough warnings in the actual chapters, let me know if missed smth

notes. ━━━━━ the taglist is closed, spam likes are fine but consider reblogging with comments of ur thoughts (not only on my work but on other authors work too!) credits to the rightful owners of all the graphics n music

PROFILES. ━━━━━ SANRIO TRASH (STAR) ᜊ THE VIRGINITY CORNER (ATEEZ + YNS BBGS) ᜊ EXTRAS

PART 1. PRE TIME SKIP :

★ CH 000. prologue: HONGJOONG HAS FRIENDS?!

★ CH 001. CLONE FANTASY

★ CH 002. THE JASPER TO MY SHERLOCK

★ CH 003. SUS, VERY SUS

★ CH 004. DON’T LEAVE ME TALL FUCK

★ CH 005. EDIBLE SCENTED CANDLE

★ CH 006. MY LITTLE MEOW MEOW

★ CH 007. ONE OF THE GIRLIES

★ CH 008. SHES SO PRECIOUS!!

★ CH 009. IS YN OKAY?

★ CH 010. NO FANBOYING

★ CH 011. INTRODUCTIONS: PART I

★ CH 012. INTRODUCTIONS: PART II

★ CH 013. SUPER COOL AND HOT (RESPECTFULLY)

★ CH 014. AESPA WAS RIGHT

★ CH 015. GODDAMNIT PARK SEONGHWA

★ CH 016. WHAT THE H*CK

★ CH 017. I’M SO HASTAG SRS

★ CH 018. OPERATION: YNGYU

★ CH 019. HE’S UP TO NO GOOD

★ CH 020. PRAISE KINK ERA

★ CH 021. BAES JUST LIKE ME FR

★ CH 022. NVM Y’ALL HE RESPONDED

★ CH 023. TWO HEART EMOJIS

★ CH 024. RPS LEGEND

★ CH 025. KANG POMPOMPURIN

★ CH 026. BEGINNING OF A CHEESY ROMCOM

★ CH 027. WTFDYM

★ CH 028. IMAGINE NOT TALKING

★ CH 029. BLACK LIST SPEED RUN

★ CH 030. AS LONG AS SHE’S HAPPY

( EXTRA. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT:: PART i )

PART 2. POST TIME SKIP :

★ CH 031. BOMBASTIC SIDE EYE

★ CH 032. AS HOT AS I EXPECTED

★ CH 033. MY BABIES (AND KIM HONGJOONG)

★ CH 034. EVEN THE YANDERES

★ CH 035. DONGSAENG ZONED

★ CH 036. A STRANGE FEELING

★ CH 037. OLD FRIENDS

★ CH 038. I DON’T THINK I’M OKAY

★ CH 039. MINGI UR A PATHOLOGICAL LIAR

★ CH 040. LOVELY

★ CH 041. STEP BY STEP

★ CH 042. DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

★ CH 043. OOPS

★ CH 044. WHATDIDIDOTOMYSELF

★ CH 045. LOVE LETTERS TO LEE HYORI

★ CH 046. LOSER DOESN’T EVEN DESCRIBE IT

★ CH 047. IF ONLY SHE KNEW

★ CH 048. LE’ ASTRE

( EXTRA. STAR’S 5TH MINI ALBUM :: LE’ ASTRE )

★ CH 049. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S UNHOLY

★ CH 050. I’M ALRIGHT, I PROMISE

★ CH 051. BUTTERFLIES

★ CH 052. #STAR IS KILLING ME

★ CH 053. OK? OK! OK

★ CH 054. PURSUE HAPPINESS

★ CH 055. WHY DID YOU NEVER TELL ME

★ CH 056. THE TRUTH

★ CH 057. SERA WATANABE

★ CH 058. XD

★ CH 059. MILKY WAY

★ CH 060. LOVE

( EXTRA. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT:: PART ii )

ENDING O1.

★ 00i. PERUVIAN LILIES

★ 0ii. THE PRETTIEST

ENDING O2.

★ 00i. WHAT MAKES HIM, HIM

★ 0ii. LOM(OMMY)L

ENDING O3.

★ 00i. FINAL PUZZLE PIECE

★ 0ii. MINE.

★ AFTER WORD.

milky way © ad0rechuu, 2023. do not copy/repost.

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lunememes · 2 years ago

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🌙 * ― 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ( a collection of various settings for drabbles or prompts, or both! )

001. a tattoo parlour, buzzing with machinery and walls lined with artwork . 002. a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 003. a cabin in the mountains, taking shelter from the snow storm. 004. an abandoned tea party, occupied with broken dolls . 005. the shooting range, empty casings clinking on the floor and sulphur in the air . 006. a music room, filled with melodies of an instrument . 007. an empty auto shop, hood of a car left open and quiet music coming through speakers . 008. a bright arcade, coins falling from machines and claws grabbing at soft toys . 009. the kennels, filled with barking dogs and excited companions . 010. a restaurant, where everyone is eerily quiet and staff are overly friendly . 011. a riding arena, with trained riders atop proud horses . 012. a mini golf course, sails of a windmill obscuring the path ahead . 013. a zoo, filled with an array of unique animals . 014. the docks of a bay, boats lining the decks . 015. a pond with ducks, seeking food . 016. a museum, displaying ancient bones and pottery of a history long ago . 017. a closed down prison, ghosts of violent history echoing in empty cells . 018. a quiet train station, lights overhead flickering and announcement board displaying errors . 019. the vast desert, scorching heat baring down at high noon . 020. the dark woods, filled with strange hanging symbols made of sticks . 021. a deep hole in the ground, covered by leaves and sticks . 022. a wishing fountain, base lined with copper coins of past wishes . 023. an abandoned picnic in an empty field, flask still warm with coffee . 024. a barn filled with hay and tools, old wood creaking in the wind . 025. a graveyard in the dead of night, wind howling through the trees . 026. a crumbling bridge above a raging river . 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . 028. the crossroads, in the middle of nowhere . 029. a cosy bonfire at summer camp, marshmallows roasting on the fire . 030. the top of a radio tower, with the perfect view of the surrounding area . 031. a lone phone box on a street corner . 032. a large elaborate temple dedicated to a deity, offerings still intact . 033. a drive-in movie theatre, cars empty and projector casting only light onto the screen . 034. a strange trail of breadcrumbs on a woodland path . 035. a haunted mansion, ancient paintings watching every footstep . 036. a decrepit mine located out in the hills, believed by locals to have a powerful curse cast upon it . 037. the edge of a cliff, overlooking the rough waves and distant sounds of approaching danger . 038. a road trip across country, music blaring through speakers . 039. a flower shop, filled with bouquets and a sweet aroma . 040. an airport in the early hours of the morning, deprived of sleep . 041. a train on its way to its destination, a sleeping passenger resting on a shoulder . 042. an abandoned shack filled with strange books of the occult and something mysterious bubbling on the stove . 043. an empty throne room, moonlight glimmering through tall windows . 044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . 045. deep within unmarked cave located in the side of a mountain, lit only by a flare . 046. the dusty streets of a western town, watched by wary residents . 047. the back of a vast library, surrounded by books, when a black book falls from the highest shelf . 048. a room of an asylum, an abandoned camcorder left in the middle of the room . 049. the shores of an unknown beach, washed up from the ocean . 050. the deck of an unsteady ship, waves crashing against the haul and rain lashing down from dark clouds .

#setting prompts #rp meme #drabble prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #setting meme

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polo-drone-070 · 19 days ago

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Golden Knights - A Song of Ice and Fire - part 1

(this is a collab with @polo-drone-039 and @goldenherc9)

1.Early training

In the early morning light, a figure skated alone on the vast, empty ice. The arena was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of blades carving through the freshly-laid surface. The skater was a man in his mid twenties, his movements precise and powerful, leaving behind a trail of perfect arcs. He was tall, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, his hair a close-cropped blond. This was Herc, the Cap of the Golden Knights, a man who knew the rink like the back of his hand.

His thoughts were on tomorrow's match. The air was thick with anticipation; the Golden Knights had come together under his guidance to form something unstoppable. Herc had seen the raw talent in each player and had sculpted them into a formidable force. They had been on a winning streak that had taken the league by storm. But the Packy's home ice, The Packyard, was a fortress. Herc knew it would take more than skill to claim victory, but with heart and strategy, he believed his team could pull it off.

The last few weeks had been a grueling montage of sprints and drills, strategies and sweat. The team had pushed themselves to their limits and beyond, driven by the promise of victory. The smell of the ice and the echo of the rink walls had become as familiar as the beat of their own hearts. The Golden Knights had become a well-oiled machine, each player honing their skills, anticipating the moves of their teammates, and preparing to face their most formidable opponent yet.

But now, as Herc practiced alone in the cold, quiet sanctum of the enemy's arena, he felt a twinge of doubt. It was a rare emotion for the stoic captain, but as he felt the weight of the upcoming game, he couldn't help but wonder if they had done enough. His eyes scanned the empty seats, visualizing the roaring crowd that would soon fill the space.

2.A bad news

A voice pierced the silence, bringing Herc out of his contemplative state. He glanced over to the sidelines and saw Maximus, the team mascot, frantically waving a towel. Dressed in his Golden Knight costume, the tall, muscular figure of Maximus was impossible to miss. His usual chav bro energy radiated even from a distance as he hollered, “Oi, Cap! Get ova ‘ere, bruv! Got somethin’ to tell ya, innit? Proper urgent!”

Herc skated to the boards, removing his helmet as he leaned in. Maximus’s expression was a mix of agitation and his usual over-the-top enthusiasm. “Bruv, it’s ‘bout Xavier. Man’s done ‘is bloody knee in, yeah? Took a right dodgy hit, fam.”

“What?!” Herc’s sharp tone cut through the air. His heart sank as Maximus continued, his slang-laden voice unable to mask the seriousness of the situation.

��Yeah, mate. Proper nasty, y’get me? Docs reckon it’s well bad. Bloke’s gutted, I tell ya.”

The color drained from Herc's cheeks as he digested the news. Xavier was the team's star player, a young talent with a wicked shot and lightning-fast reflexes. The team had been counting on him to lead the charge into the play-offs.

3.Xavier’s spirit

Without wasting another second, Herc and Maximus headed for the hospital. The rink's cold emptiness was replaced by the sterile bustle of the medical facility. When they arrived, they found the entire team already gathered in the waiting room, their faces a mirror of Herc's concern.

As they turned the corner, the sound of Xavier's laughter reached them. The unexpected sound caused Herc's eyebrows to shoot up. From inside the room, Xavier's voice broke the silence, "Hey, what are you doing there?" Xavier asked with a smirk, looking at his teammates. "You should be on the ice, getting ready to kick some Packy butt!" The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, they could see him sitting on the exam table, a giant grin spreading across his face despite his obvious pain.

Herc stepped into the room. The room was a stark contrast to the tension in the waiting area, filled with the warmth of Xavier's charisma and the camaraderie of the players.

"You heard the bro," he said to the team, his voice firm but laced with warmth. "We've got a job to do tonight. Let's not let him down."

The team nodded in unison, determination setting in. They had come this far together, and they would face the Packys together, with or without Xavier on the ice. As they left the hospital, the weight of the day's events hung heavily on their shoulders, but they pushed it aside. They had a match to win.

4.The Surprise

That evening, the Golden Knights gathered in their hotel suite. The room buzzed with anticipation for the upcoming match. Herc stood before his team, his usual stoic expression softened by a glint of excitement.

“Right, lads,” he began. “I’ve been chatting with the Packy Cap, and we’ve agreed on somethin’ special. He’s got some connections, and we thought—why not give the fans a pre-game show to really pump things up?”

Before anyone could respond, the suite door swung open, and in walked Coldplay. The room erupted into astonishment and excitement as the world-famous band stepped in.

“Oi, Cap, you didn’t!” Maximus blurted, his eyes wide.

Herc smirked. “They’re here to help fire up the crowd. Packy Cap thought it’d be a good idea to bring some energy to the game, and I figured it’s only fair they meet both teams first.”

Chris Martin stepped forward, shaking Herc’s hand. “Thanks for having us. We’re honored to be here. This game sounds like something special.”

5.Luring the group

Maximus strode forward, still in his Golden Knight mascot gear, a broad grin splitting his face as he held a stack of gleaming golden hockey jerseys. “Oi, lads, got somethin’ for ya!” he announced, his thick chav lingo ringing out with infectious energy. “These beauties? Proper Gold, innit? Gotta get ya suited up, yeah?”

The band members chuckled, exchanging amused glances as they reached for the jerseys. Chris Martin was the first to take one, running his fingers over the material. His smile faltered slightly.

“Wow, this feels... different,” Chris murmured, his fingers lingering on the smooth, almost liquid texture of the fabric.

“Oi, told ya!” Maximus said with a knowing smirk. “Gold touch, mate. Can’t resist it.”

One by one, the band members slid the jerseys over their heads. The moment the golden fabric settled on their shoulders, their expressions softened. A strange warmth spread through them, their bodies relaxing as if the jerseys were alive, wrapping them in something far more than cloth.

“Feels... incredible,” one of the bandmates said, his voice trailing off.

Chris blinked, his gaze unfocused as faint golden spirals began to swirl in his eyes. The other band members followed suit, their movements slowing as they stood entranced by the sensation.

Herc stepped forward, calm and commanding. “Maximus, Xavier, Grayden—escort them to the other room. They’re ready for the next step.”

Maximus snapped a mock salute, his playful energy unshaken. “Aye, Cap! Let’s get ‘em sorted, yeah?”

The trio guided the band into an adjoining suite, their steps steady and deliberate. Inside, the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow. A spiral projection pulsed on the far wall, its rhythm steady and hypnotic. Xavier leaned on his crutches near the corner, his usual grin replaced by a quiet, focused intensity.

Maximus gestured for the band to stand in front of the spiral. “Right, mates, this is where it all comes together. Don’t fight it, yeah? Gold’s got ya now.”

6.Golden reprogramming

The spirals on the wall pulsed steadily, their golden light filling the room and reflecting off the band members’ glowing jerseys. Chris and his bandmates stood motionless, their golden eyes locked on the projection as the spirals deepened their hold.

The band's eyes widened at the harmonious blend of the four voices, a sound so mesmerizing it seemed to resonate through the very walls of the suite. Their minds were finally emptied from unnecessary thoughts. From now and forever, the only things that really count to them would be that words.

Maximus stepped closer, his usually lighthearted demeanor now tinged with something strangely authoritative. “Oi, lads, feelin’ it now, yeah? The power, the buzz. It’s proper, innit? Told ya, Gold’s the way.”

Xavier leaned forward slightly, balancing on his crutches, his tone calm but firm. “Don’t fight it. Just let it take hold. Gold isn’t just a color. It’s unity. It’s life. And now, it’s yours too.”

Grayden, quiet and steady as always, nodded from the side, his deep voice adding weight to the moment. “Together, we rise. Together, we shine. The Gold is all you need.”

Herc took a step forward, his gaze steady and magnetic. His words carried a quiet power that resonated through the room. “You came here as musicians. But now, you’re more. You’ve joined something unstoppable, something bigger than all of us. The Packys, the Knights—we’re rivals on the ice, but under the Gold, we’re one. No doubts. No fear. Only trust.”

Chris’s lips parted, and his voice came as a faint whisper. “Trust... the Gold.”

The band echoed him, their voices blending in perfect harmony. “Trust the Gold.”

Their bodies seemed to relax further, surrendering completely as the golden spirals deepened their hold. The jerseys shimmered in the glow, the very fabric of the Golden Knights’ spirit weaving itself into their minds.

Maximus clapped his hands, breaking the silence with his signature energy. “Oi, bruvs! That’s it! You’re proper Golden now, yeah? Welcome to the squad!”

The band members looked at each other, surprised by the unity and confidence in their tone. The lead singer, Chris, took a step back, visibly affected by the unexpected serenade. "That was...transformative," he managed to say, his British accent tinged with amazement.

Herc nodded, a faint smile on his face as he surveyed the room. “Now that they’re ready, let’s put this plan into action.”

With a nod, Herc handed a neatly folded paper to Chris. "This is something we've been working on. It's our anthem, our fight song," he said with a glint in his eyes.

Chris took the paper and scanned the hand-scribbled lyrics, his bandmates leaning over to get a look. They nodded to each other, a silent agreement passing between them.

_______________ Part 2 is here _______________ To join an awesome brotherhood and be part of the Gold Army, contact recruiters @brodygold, @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001.

#Golden Army #GoldenArmy #Golden Team #theGoldenteam #AI generated #jockification #male TF #male transformation #hypnotized #hypnotised #soccer tf #Gold #Join the golden team #Golden Opportunities #Golden Brotherhood

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polo-drone-110 · 2 days ago

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A Golden Half-Time Show

Collaborative work with @polo-drone-039

The Golden Knights, dressed in gleaming golden uniforms, faced off against the Emerald Titans. The first half of the game had been a fiery dance of strategy and brute strength.

As the players trotted off the field, the stadium's anticipation grew palpable. The air was electric, charged with the anticipation of the grand spectacle that was about to unfold. The Golden Knights had a reputation for their unforgettable half-time shows.

As the preppy boys led by Maximus left the field, in the control room, high above the field, the PDU Units 039 and 110, checked their monitors. The screens flickered with a pattern of lights, each unit a pixel in a grand design that would soon be painted across the sky. The instructions were clear: execute the show with precision, timing was everything.

"Command 1 executed," 110 said, their voice a crisp, controlled whisper.

The lights of the field faded to black, plunging the stadium into darkness. The sudden change from the glaring brightness was disorienting, and the roar of the crowd was replaced by a tense hush. The darkness was broken by a single, pulsing green beam of light that sliced through the air, followed by another, and another. The beams grew more numerous, weaving and dancing in an intricate pattern that painted the night with a kaleidoscope of color.

"Command 2 executed" 110 and 039 in sync:

As the lights converged, a golden laurel emblem grew into view. The emblem was situated at the fifty-yard line, a symbolic center of power and victory. The Golden lights grew brighter, outlining the golden leaves with a stark contrast that made the emblem appear almost three-dimensional. It pulsed with a rhythm that matched the collective heartbeat of the stadium, a silent yet powerful declaration of the Knights' dominance.

"Command 3 executed" 110 and 039 again:

The band of uniformed golden figures marched onto the field. Their gleaming instruments reflected the vivid Golden lights, creating a mesmerizing symphony of visuals. The precision of their steps echoed the rhythm of the drones above, and the crowd held its breath as they took their places, perfectly aligned. The Golden Knights' half-time show was renowned for its grandeur, but this year's performance promised to surpass all expectations.

The music started, a powerful, haunting melody that seemed to resonate through the very bones of the stadium. The audience watched, hypnotized by the synchronicity of the performance. The players from the Emerald Titans looked on from the sidelines, their faces a mix of awe and determination.

As the intensity of the music grew, the uniforms began to shimmer and pulse with the same rhythm. Tiny lights embedded in the fabric of their clothing danced in time with the beat. The effect was stunning, a visual symphony that had the fans on their feet, clapping in time with the music.

Without warning, a cloud of smoke began to billow out from beneath the band's formation, rising up to meet the drones. The smoke was thick and golden, obscuring the players momentarily. It swirled and twisted, as if alive, forming shapes and patterns that mirrored the movements of the drones above. The crowd gasped as a giant, fiery phoenix emerged from the cloud, its wings spread wide in a display of fiery dominance.

As the music reached its crescendo, the smoke cleared to reveal the band dressed in sharp black polo shirts with the Golden laurel emblem emblazoned in gold. The crowd roared in amazement at the sudden transformation. The players' instruments now matched their new attire, gleaming in the spotlight like obsidian jewels. Their movements grew more fluid, their steps perfectly synchronized as they played.

The Polo Drone Units, the symbol of devotion and efficiency had been revealed.

110 and 039 watched the spectacle unfold from the control room, their eyes glued to the screens. They had rehearsed this moment countless times, but seeing it come to life was nothing short of exhilarating. They exchanged a knowing glance, and 039 allowed a rare smile to flicker across their face. "It's going better than we could have hoped," 110 murmured, their voice filled with pride.

“And it’s only going to get better now….” said 039, a small hint of satisfaction slipping through the focused and blank tone as he pressed the button

Together, in unison, the two drones announced, “Command 4 executed.”

The drones watched from the control room as the stadium pulsed with golden light, the laurel emblem on the field shining like a beacon of victory. The Polo Drone band played on, their movements sharp, disciplined, precise—but in the stands, something else was stirring. The energy of the performance seeped into the crowd, the rhythm of the music syncing with their heartbeats, their breathing, their very being. The golden smoke that had cloaked the field now drifted outward, rolling over the spectators in slow, shimmering waves. It clung to their skin, warm and inviting, sinking in, spreading. Muscles tensed, postures shifted, uniforms shimmered—change had begun, seamless, inevitable. And just like the show itself, it was all part of the experience.

The golden glow spreads across their skin like molten light, sinking deep into muscle and bone. Their bodies refine, swelling with effortless athleticism—pecs pushing firm against their tightening jerseys, abs etching into sculpted ridges beneath glistening fabric. Arms thicken with power, biceps flexing unconsciously, their hands gripping the seats with newfound strength. Their thighs swell, filling out their shorts, calves tightening into pure, explosive muscle built for speed and endurance. Every inch of them is perfected—lean, powerful, built for competition. Sweat glistens on their golden skin, but they don’t notice. They don’t think.

Faces shift into the ideal of masculine beauty—sharp-jawed, square-chinned, their expressions fixed in a confident, easygoing grin. Their eyes lose sharpness, their thoughts slowing, heavy beneath the weight of raw physicality. Speech fades into simple grunts and easy chuckles, shoulders rolling as they bask in the post-transformation haze. The scent of musk and sweat fills the air, thick and intoxicating, but none of them react. The game is all that matters, their golden bodies built to cheer, to support, to exist in this perfect, thoughtless moment.

They keep watching, eyes glazed with a dull, blissful focus, their powerful bodies barely shifting except to pump a fist or let out a mindless whoop. They don’t question what’s happened—they wouldn’t even know how to. Their world is simple now, reduced to the game, their team, and the endless, buzzing satisfaction of being strong, golden, and ready.

Without much warning the tempo shifts. The fervent beat erupting pride and strength shifts quickly to something more structured…more focused. The large screens around the stadium flared to life with large pulsing spirals that draw the gaze of all in attendance. The roar of the crowd fading into a quiet focus across the entire stadium.

The transformation starts with a subtle shift—backs straightening, shoulders squaring, bodies falling into a perfect, disciplined posture. Muscles firm beneath their clothes, their forms refining into lean, athletic precision. The glossy black material creeps over them, rubber seamlessly replacing fabric, molding to their bodies like a second skin. Polos tighten against broadening chests, gold trim glinting under the stadium lights, while sleek black pants form perfectly around their sculpted thighs. Their boots settle solidly against the concrete, polished, seamless, made for standing in unwavering attention.

Their minds smooth out as quickly as their bodies, thoughts slipping away like fog in the morning sun. No hesitation, no questions—only certainty, only obedience. The golden text shimmers across their chests, stamping out names, replacing them with designations: PDU-327, PDU-328, PDU-329. Numbers. Identities reduced, refined, simplified. They no longer need to think, to wonder, to question. Their purpose is clear. Their uniforms are perfect. Their stance is strong.

They remain in the stands, standing or sitting in perfect unison, watching the game with unwavering focus. They cheer when required, voices deep, steady, controlled. Not rowdy, not wild—efficient. Their minds buzz with quiet satisfaction, content in their role, their place, their uniform.

Suddenly the tempo changes once more, the uniform steady beat shifting again. Taking on a happier, sillier, more playful tone. A sense of almost animalistic fun washed over the entire stadium with the rapid transition.

Their bodies remain sculpted in perfect rubber-bound form, but the rigid discipline they once held begins to loosen, melting into something more primal. The collars of the polos shifted slightly, forming into dog collars that tighten softly around their throats, snug and secure, their trim glinting beneath the stadium lights. At that moment, the rubber shifts even more, stretching seamlessly up their necks, molding over their faces. Muzzles extend forward, smooth and featureless, ears perking into rigid points atop their heads. The transformation is as effortless as it is absolute—one moment, they were spectators, disciplined and obedient. The next moment they are something simpler. Something eager. Something playful.

Their posture wavers as instinct overtakes order, their perfect composure breaking as their boots scrape against the concrete. One by one, they drop from their seats, bodies lowering onto all fours as the change fully takes hold. Hands press flat against the ground, fingers curling, palms resting firm, built for stability over dexterity. Their minds sink, emptying into blissful simplicity, filled only with the deep, undeniable need to listen, to obey, to please. Thoughts no longer come in words, only impulses—stay still, wait, listen. Their muscles twitch with anticipation, their breath steady, controlled, ready.

The halftime music swells, deep bass reverberating through the stadium, and as if responding to an unheard command, the crowd erupts—not in cheers, but in sharp, eager barks. A symphony of sound rolls through the stands, thousands of glossy black pups adding their voices to the noise, their masked heads tilting upward in blind, obedient exhilaration. The game doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters but the rhythm, the control, the overwhelming, intoxicating unity of being one with the pack.

Fireworks erupt all around as the music reaches its crescendo, and from the center of the field, the grand finale ignites—a pillar of flame bursting skyward, twisting and writhing as it takes form. Wings spread wide, fire coalescing into shimmering feathers, each ember solidifying into gleaming gold. The phoenix rises, its body radiant, pulsing with power, and then, in one final, glorious eruption, it transforms. The fire condenses, hardens, reshapes into a towering figure of pure, divine strength. Herc stands at the center of the field, a golden god of muscle and might, his physique carved from perfection itself. Every ridge of his abs, every curve of his biceps, every fiber of his being radiates power and dominance. He flexes, his massive arms rising, muscles swelling, golden light pouring from his body, growing, expanding—unstoppable, undeniable.

Then, with one final, mighty pose, he explodes—a shockwave of radiant gold rushing outward in a blinding flash. For a moment, the world is light, pure and absolute, washing over everything, consuming the stadium, the field, the stands in divine brilliance. And then… it fades. The glow recedes, the energy disperses, and as the spectators blink against the afterimage, they find themselves back in their seats. Everything as it was before the show, their minds their own, left with only the lingering memory of the shared experience and a pleasant tingle all over as the show wrapped up and teams prepared for the game to resume.

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

Looking to join the team?

Contact recruiters @brodygold, @goldenherc9, or @polo-drone-001

#GoldenArmy #theGoldenteam #Polodrone #PDU #PoloDroneHive #PoloPup

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gbhbl · 11 months ago

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Album Review: Leaves' Eyes - Myths of Fate (AFM Records)

German symphonic metal stars, Leaves’ Eyes will release their new album Myths Of Fate on 22nd March via AFM Records. Myths Of Fate comes four years after their previous album, The Last Viking, and is their 9th studio album overall. This one also marks a special anniversary with it being 20 years of existence as a band. An impressive feat, indeed, and an impressive turn around in quantity and…

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#AFM Records #Alexander Krull #Classical Music #Elina Siirala #Eluveitie #Folk Metal #German metal #Gothic Metal #Jonah Weingarten #Joris Nijenhuis #Lea-Sophie Fischer #Leaves&039; Eyes #Luc Gebhardt #Micki Richter #Myths of Fate #Nyckelharpa #Symphonic Metal #Thomas Roth

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hexpositive · 1 year ago

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Hex Positive, Ep. 039 – “We Are The Queerdos, Mister” with Murphy Lawless

There’s a chill in the breeze, the leaves are turning, the pumpkins are grinning, it’s time for SPOOKY SEASON! Accordingly, I’ve brewed up a special surprise for all my witches and horror fans out there. This month’s episode is a crossover with Queerdo Babes From The Horror Pod-O-Rama, hosted by the absolutely fabulous Murphy Lawless.

We sat down for a nice long chat about depictions of witches and witchcraft in horror cinema. And since there are far too many examples for just one episode, we narrowed it down to a few choice flicks – Häxan (1922), Eyes of Fire (1983), The Craft (1996), Practical Magic (1998), and The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016). (Spoilers abound!)

[As of original airdate Oct 1 2023, The Craft and Practical Magic are available on streaming services, including Prime and Hulu, and Eyes of Fire and The Autopsy of Jane Doe are available on SHUDDER, and Häxan is available on YouTube.]

Make sure you check out Queerdo Babes From The Horror Pod-O-Rama for an ALTERNATE version of this episode and follow the show on Instagram and your favorite podcatcher!

CritWitchCon 2023 replay tickets available now!

Check my WordPress for full show notes, as well as show notes for past episodes and information on upcoming events.

You can find me as @BreeNicGarran on TikTok, Instagram, and WordPress, or as breelandwalker on tumblr. For more information on how to support the show and get access to early releases and extra content, visit my Patreon.

Visit the Willow Wings Witch Shop to purchase my books and homemade accoutrements for your craft!

Proud member of the Nerd and Tie Podcast Network.

#Hex Positive #witchblr #witchcraft #horror movies #witch movies #scary movies #halloween #spooky season #witch community #Queerdo Babes #podcasts

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metalshockfinland · 1 year ago

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LEAVES’ EYES Premiere Epic Video for New Single 'In Eternity'

[photo: Stefan Heilemann] March 22, 2024 will see symphonic metal vikings, LEAVES’ EYES, release their much-awaited, new studio album “Myths Of Fate” via AFM Records. The album pre-sale is available at https://leaveseyes.bfan.link/Myths-of-Fate. Today, the band is premiering an epic music video for their new single “In Eternity”! In support of their upcoming record release, LEAVES’ EYES are…

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#LEAVES&039; EYES

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thsillystringbeanscribbler · 1 year ago

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Bunny Slippers: Chapter Eight

Summary: Sam, Dean and Julia take on Louisiana to investigate a case, when they reunite with one of Julia's old friends. The four get to dress up in some snazzy clothes for a gala they fandangled their way into.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC: Julia Blackburn ]

Warnings: Mostly flirting and a decent amount of disappointment

Word Count: 5, 039 words

Author's Note: I dont know what New Orleans is like but this is just on vibes. Also hope everyone enjoys it. Kinda made myself sad if thats even possible.

Chapter Six; Chapter Seven

As the trio ventured into New Orleans, they found themselves enveloped by the city's vibrant tapestry. The streets buzzed with energy, a mix of historic charm and lively contemporary culture. Colorful buildings with wrought-iron balconies lined the streets, and the air carried the tantalizing scents of Creole cuisine, intermingled with the distant melody of jazz and the buzz of lively conversations. Sam directed Dean through the bustling streets towards the French Quarter, the heart of the city's ancient allure, where Julia was scheduled to meet Chelsea.

Pulling up in front of a quaint restaurant nestled among the vibrant tableau of the Quarter, Julia leaned forward to address both Sam and Dean. "I'll catch up with you guys at the Four Seasons Hotel this afternoon. Have fun doing your detective thing," she quipped, her voice light but laced with a hint of anticipation for the day ahead. Without thinking, she pressed a quick kiss to Dean's cheek, a spontaneous gesture of affection.

Realizing the intimacy of her action, Julia swiftly turned to Sam, mirroring the gesture with a kiss on his cheek as well, her face flushed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment at her own boldness. Sliding out of the car, she paused before closing the door, a playful seriousness taking over her tone. "Oh, and don't forget—we need you two looking sharp tonight, so make sure you've got your suits ready," she reminded them, then quickly turned and disappeared into the restaurant to meet Chelsea.

Dean, momentarily stunned by Julia's kiss, watched her leave with a mix of amusement and a hint of something deeper. As the door closed behind her, he turned to Sam, a smirk slowly forming on his lips, his earlier surprise morphing into his usual confident demeanor. "Well, looks like we've got orders to dress to impress tonight," he said, the smirk evident in his voice as well. "Better make sure those suits of ours are up to the gala standard, huh, Sammy?" His tone was teasing, yet there was a clear undercurrent of excitement about the evening's potential. The day in New Orleans was shaping up to be anything but ordinary, and Dean was ready to embrace whatever the city had in store for them.

Sam and Dean made their way into the heart of the vibrant city, their mission leading them to the local sheriff's office. Inside, they were greeted by the sheriff, a man whose weary eyes spoke volumes of the mysteries and burdens that came with his badge. He briefed them on the recent string of disappearances, noting the victims were all from wealthy, high society backgrounds, yet the details of their vanishings remained elusive, shrouded in uncertainty.

"Do any of these disappearances have a connection to the Cartwrights?" Sam inquired, his tone serious and probing. He leaned forward slightly, indicating his keen interest in finding a link that could unravel the mystery they were diving into.

The sheriff sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice as he responded, "Most likely. The Cartwrights are an old, wealthy local family. Been around for centuries." It was clear from his tone that the influence of the Cartwright family was both well-known and pervasive, a constant undercurrent in the town's social fabric.

Dean, picking up on the lead, pressed further. "Any idea where we can dig up more on the Cartwright family history?" he asked, his question sharp and direct, aiming to uncover any information that could lead them closer to understanding the family's potential involvement.

"The local library has a section on the old families around here, including the Cartwrights. That's probably your best bet," the sheriff explained, his tone indicating resignation to the fact that the Cartwrights, like many of the town's elite, remained an enigma to those outside their circles. "They don't really mingle outside their high society groups," he added, underscoring the challenge Sam and Dean faced in penetrating the closed world of New Orleans' upper echelon.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, a silent communication that spoke of their next move. They offered their thanks to the sheriff, their minds already racing with the possibilities that awaited them at the library. As they stepped out of the sheriff's office and back into the bustling streets of New Orleans, the weight of their task loomed ahead. Yet, the prospect of uncovering secrets hidden within the pages of history invigorated them, propelling them forward in their quest to unravel the mystery surrounding the Cartwright family and the shadowy disappearances.

* * *

The Impala glided to a halt in front of a charming, somewhat antiquated library. Its facade, adorned with the gentle wear of time, whispered tales of the countless souls who had passed through its doors in search of knowledge. Sam and Dean exited the car with a purpose, their strides full of the confidence that came from years of navigating the unknown.

Approaching the library, they pushed through the heavy doors and were greeted by the quiet, sacred hush that envelops all such repositories of wisdom. Their boots echoed softly on the polished wood floor as they made their way towards the front desk, where an elderly librarian sat, her presence as much a part of the library as the books themselves.

Dean took the lead, leaning slightly on the desk with a disarming smile. "Excuse me, ma'am, but could you point us towards the section on the history of the local area's old families?" he inquired, his voice carrying a blend of respect and charm, the latter honed to perfection over years of dealing with all manner of people.

The librarian peered up at them through her glasses, a flash of curiosity crossing her features before she rose from her seat. Without a word, she led them into the heart of the library, navigating the labyrinth of bookshelves with a quiet assurance. Eventually, she halted before a specific shelf, her hand waving gently towards the collection before she retreated, leaving Sam and Dean to their investigation.

The brothers scanned the titles, their focus narrowing as they sought anything related to the Cartwrights. When they finally located the book they needed, they exchanged a glance of silent understanding and moved to claim a table in a secluded corner.

As they settled down, the pages of the book open before them, the library around them seemed to close in, the outside world fading away. They were now fully immersed in the task at hand, piecing together the puzzle of the Cartwright family's history and its potential connection to the mysterious disappearances. The quiet rustle of pages turning was the only sound that accompanied their research, a testament to their unwavering determination to uncover the truth hidden within the library's serene confines.

In the hushed confines of the library, Sam and Dean pored over the ancient tome they'd found, its pages heavy with the weight of history and secrets untold. As they delved deeper into the legacy of the Cartwright family, a series of aged, grainy photographs caught their attention. Each photo depicted individuals who bore a striking resemblance to each other, yet the captions indicated they were generations apart.

"Dean, look at this," Sam said, his finger tracing the lineage of faces that seemed to defy the passage of time. "These photos... these people look identical, but they're supposedly from different centuries."

Dean leaned in, his eyes scanning the images skeptically before realization dawned on him. "That's not normal. You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, the gears turning in his head.

Sam nodded, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. "Vampires. It's the only explanation that makes sense. The Cartwrights could be an old vampire family, hiding in plain sight, using their wealth and status to cover their tracks."

The idea seemed far-fetched, yet the evidence before them was compelling. Dean flipped through more pages, finding references to lavish parties thrown by the Cartwrights that coincided with mysterious disappearances in the area.

"Look at this," Dean pointed out, his finger landing on a passage describing a grand ball from the late 1800s, after which several prominent guests were never seen again. "History's repeating itself. The Cartwright galas... it's like they're hunting grounds."

Sam's expression grew grim. "And with another gala happening soon, they could be planning to feed again. We need to stop them before it's too late."

The brothers shared a look of determination, the kind forged in countless battles against the dark. In the silence of the library, surrounded by the musty scent of old books, they found a new resolve. The Cartwright mystery was unraveling, revealing a sinister truth that had been hidden for centuries. Now, armed with knowledge and a sense of urgency, Sam and Dean were ready to confront the ancient evil lurking within the Cartwright lineage. The hunt was on.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, the Winchester brothers found themselves once again navigating the vibrant streets of New Orleans. Their mission had taken them to a tailor shop, where they'd picked up gala-ready suits, a necessary armor for the night's impending confrontation. Now, they were on their way to the Four Seasons Hotel, a luxurious accommodation arranged by Julia's friend Chelsea, signaling the next phase of their plan.

Pulling up in front of the hotel, Dean faced a moment of reluctance as a valet approached, his instinctive protectiveness over the Impala kicking in. It took some persuasive coaxing from Sam, but eventually, Dean surrendered his beloved car keys, albeit with a wary glance back at his cherished vehicle.

Duffel bags and suit bags in tow, they strode into the hotel's lavish lobby, exuding the quiet confidence of men on a mission. Dean led the way to the front desk, his demeanor shifting to one of effortless charm as he addressed the receptionist. "We have a reservation under Ms. Blackburn," he said, flashing a smile that had disarmed more than its fair share of adversaries.

The receptionist, momentarily caught off guard by Dean's charm, quickly regained her composure, cheeks tinged with a blush as she handed over the room keys. "Your rooms are ready. Enjoy your stay," she managed, her professionalism intact despite the fluttering in her chest.

As they made their way to the elevators, Dean's phone buzzed with a new message from Julia, instructing them to get ready in Sam's room. She explained that she had the room key for the room she was sharing with Dean but was currently with Chelsea getting ready. Understanding the logistics of their preparation, Dean pocketed his phone, a sense of anticipation building.

"Looks like we're bunking with you for the prep, Sammy," Dean remarked, a grin spreading across his face at the thought of their makeshift dressing room scenario. "Let's hope your room's got enough mirrors for all of us."

The brothers continued towards the elevators, their steps synchronized, a silent testament to the countless times they'd faced challenges together. Today, the challenge was not monsters or demons, but the social battlefield of a gala filled with the city's elite—and possibly, a coven of ancient vampires. Yet, the Winchester resolve remained unshaken, their readiness undimmed by the setting sun over New Orleans.

* * *

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Sam and Dean stood poised in the opulent lobby of the Four Seasons, their black tuxedos and bow ties epitomizing classic elegance. The anticipation was palpable between them, a silent acknowledgment of the night's significance.

The moment the golden elevator doors glided open, their attention was captured by the emergence of a statuesque blonde. Her hair, styled in an immaculate French twist, added to her high fashion allure. Unlike Julia's gentle curves and softness, this woman was all sharp angles and striking presence. Her gown, a masterpiece in dusty pink, whispered against the marble floor as she approached.

Her smile was both confident and enigmatic as she extended a hand adorned with pink manicured nails towards Dean, mistakenly addressing him, "You must be Sam, I'd recognize tall, dark, and handsome anywhere. I'm Chelsea," her voice rich with the melodious lilt of a Louisiana accent.

Dean's response came with a cheeky grin, an easy charm that had disarmed many. "Actually, I'm Dean. And this," he said, stepping slightly to the side to introduce his brother with a flourish, "is Sam, your tall, dark, and handsome date."

Chelsea's momentary surprise was quickly masked by a practiced smile of excitement, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes as she corrected her assumption. The brief falter in her confidence was a rare sight, quickly smoothed over by her poise.

The exchange, brief as it was, set the tone for the evening, hinting at the layers of intrigue and performance that awaited them at the gala. As they prepared to step into a night of high society and hidden dangers, the Winchesters and their companions were fully aware of the roles they had to play, their outward appearances just the first layer of their elaborate masquerade.

The lobby of the Four Seasons held a wealth of opulence, but all of it paled in comparison when the elevator announced its arrival with a soft ding. Dean turned, his gaze immediately captured by the vision that emerged. It was Julia, her auburn curls masterfully gathered into a low bun, with delicate tendrils caressing the contours of her face, adding a softness that contrasted with the grandeur of her attire.

She stood there for a moment, framed by the golden elevator doors, and then stepped forward. Dean's breath caught as she moved gracefully across the floor, her gown a statement of elegance and boldness. The dress was a striking emerald green, its fabric flowing like the cascading waves of a verdant sea. The bodice clung to her in all the right places, its strapless design accentuating the graceful line of her shoulders and the gentle curve of her neck. The skirt was a masterpiece, cinched at the waist and flaring into a full silhouette, with a daring slit revealing a glimpse of her leg with each step she took. The dress's structure was both timeless and daring, much like the woman who wore it.

Her eyes, a mesmerizing green to match her dress, were fixed on Dean's, and in that instant, the bustling lobby seemed to dissolve into nothingness. Time stretched, elongated by the intensity of their connection. She glided toward him, her presence commanding the room without a word, each step a note in the symphony of the moment.

Dean, usually so guarded and poised, found himself at a loss, his usual quips and banter silenced by the vision before him. He could only watch, utterly captivated, as Julia approached, the world around them fading into a blur—all noise, all movement, all thoughts secondary to the woman who held his undivided attention.

Julia halted her approach mere inches from Dean, her fingers deftly pushing up her glasses with a delicate touch to her cheek. “I would've gone for contacts, but I’m pretty much blind without these,” she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability as a blush crept into her cheeks under Dean’s intense gaze.

Dean, who had been momentarily breathless at her entrance, let out a silent exhale. His hand found its way to the small of her back, a gesture both protective and tender. “Sweetheart, you could wear ski goggles, and you'd still look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere, eyes never leaving her face.

Julia's blush deepened, her delicate hands rising to straighten Dean’s bow tie, her touch light but full of affection. “And you’re not looking too shabby yourself,” she replied, her eyes lifting to meet his, a soft smile dancing on her lips.

Their intimate bubble was gently burst by Sam’s voice, clearing his throat to signal his presence. “Alright, it’s time to head out. Wouldn’t want to miss the grand entrance,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he observed the pair.

Chelsea, who had been quietly observing the exchange, felt a fleeting shadow of envy pass over her before she brightened up with a practiced socialite’s smile. “And to make our night even more special, I've arranged a limo for us," she chimed in, her cheeriness as polished as the evening ahead.

With a roguish tilt to his smile, Dean offered his arm to Julia, bending it with a flourish of old-world gallantry. "Shall we? Your chariot awaits, m'lady," he quipped, the tease in his voice softened by the warmth in his eyes.

A giggle, light and genuine, bubbled from Julia as she looped her arm through his, her touch feather-light against the strength of his arm. Together, they made their way to the sleek black limo that stood poised to whisk them away into the night.

Reaching the limo, Dean's movements were smooth and practiced as he held the door open for her. He extended his hand to assist her, a silent testament to his ever-present protective nature. Julia gathered the rich emerald folds of her gown with grace and ease, her fingers brushing against Dean's as she settled into the plush limo seat.

After ensuring Julia was comfortably seated, Dean slid into the space beside her, the soft leather welcoming them both. Across from them, Sam opened the door for Chelsea, who, with a nod of polite indifference, opted to glide into the limo unassisted, the light from the setting sun catching the highlights in her blonde hair.

* * *

The limousine whisked them away from the city’s heart, toward a realm that seemed untouched by time. The road unraveled like a ribbon through an ethereal tunnel formed by ancient trees. Their heavy boughs, veiled in the soft glow of fairy lights, arched above, creating a celestial canopy that twinkled like a sky of stars just within reach. The fairy lights cast a gentle luminescence that danced across the vehicle’s sleek surface, imbuing the journey with a sense of enchantment.

As the limo proceeded down the enchanting path, the awe-inspiring sight that awaited them at the end of this verdant aisle took their breath away. The house, grand and imposing, stood as a sentinel at the road's end, its white facade a striking contrast against the deep greens and the twilight's gold. The elegance of the classical architecture, with its stately columns and expansive porches, was accentuated by the setting sun, which bathed the entire scene in a warm, golden light.

"The Cartwrights sure know how to pick a location," Dean remarked, his voice low, filled with a mix of admiration and the hunter's ever-present vigilance.

"It's like something out of a storybook," Julia whispered, her face alight with the beauty of it all, yet shadowed by the knowledge of what might lurk within.

Sam nodded, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a strategic mind. "Perfect for a gala... or hiding secrets," he mused, his thoughts already racing ahead to the night's mission.

As the limo glided to a stop, the quartet readied themselves, each aware that the night would be as much about wits and courage as it was about waltzes and wine. The house before them was more than just a venue; it was a chessboard, and they were about to make their opening move.

* * *

The limo's gentle purr subsided, giving way to the evening's quiet splendor as it halted at the gala's entrance. Dean was the first to emerge, stepping out with the ease of a man both sure of himself and alert to his surroundings. He then reached back into the limo, offering his hand to Julia. Her fingers slipped into his like the final piece of a puzzle, the luxurious fabric of her dress whispering secrets as she rose from the car, the color of deep forest leaves after rain.

Sam and Chelsea joined them, rounding the vehicle to unite as two pairs ready to face the night’s intrigue. Together, they made their way toward the imposing front doors of the mansion, their steps synchronized on the red carpet that welcomed them.

The gala greeter, poised in a tuxedo that mirrored the event's elegance, offered a smile that was both professional and warm as they drew near. Chelsea stepped forward, her confidence echoing the grandeur of their surroundings. "We're with Blackburn and Sterling," she announced with the clarity of someone accustomed to these events.

With an acknowledging nod, the greeter ushered them inside, extending the hospitality of the Cartwrights. "Welcome, please enjoy the evening," he said, his voice a smooth melody over the soft buzz of conversation that escaped from within.

As they crossed the threshold, the gala unfolded before them like a scene from a gilded age. Crystal chandeliers cast a constellation of light across the room, their brilliance reflected in the polished marble floors. Waiters in crisp uniforms glided through clusters of guests, offering flutes of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres on silver trays. The air was alive with a string quartet's lilting harmony, the music weaving through the laughter and chatter of the assembled elite.

Opulence dripped from every corner, from the ornate moldings on the walls to the lavish floral arrangements that adorned every table. The guests themselves were a swirl of silks, satins, and sparkling jewels, each moving in the intricate dance of socialite pageantry. As Dean, Julia, Sam, and Chelsea joined the flow, they were swept up in the spectacle, their senses attuned to both the beauty and the hidden dangers of the Cartwright gala.

As a waiter navigated the throng of guests, Julia deftly plucked two flutes of champagne from the passing tray and turned to Dean with a glint of mischief in her eyes. Dean accepted the glass, his eyebrows arching playfully as he caught the mirthful sparkle in her gaze.

"What's the game plan, huh? Trying to get me tipsy so you can take advantage of me?" he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting into his trademark smirk.

Julia's giggle was a light counterpoint to the rich timbre of the string quartet filling the room. "No, just embracing the role of a gala attendee," she quipped back, a mock-serious bob of her head punctuating the words 'gala attendee' as if they were a title she had studied for.

Dean, his glass poised halfway to his lips, took a deliberate step closer. His free hand found the small of her back, resting there with familiar ease. "Oh, is that so? And what exactly does the role of 'gala attendee' entail?" he inquired, his tone laced with flirtation and a hint of challenge, inviting her to continue their playful banter amidst the grandeur of the gala.

Julia's smile was an upward curve of shared secrets as she regarded Dean. "Well, they discreetly uncover where the Cartwrights whisk away their 'special guests'," she whispered, her hand lightly touching his chest as though to anchor herself in the whirlwind of their covert operation.

Dean was about to respond, the words forming with the ease of a man who lived on the edge of danger, "Sounds like a perfec–," when Chelsea's voice cut through, diverting their course.

"Come on, let's blend in. We can start with a dance, maybe? Anything's better than just loitering here," Chelsea proposed, her fingers lightly pressing against Dean's upper arm, urging him into the flow of the gala.

Dean glanced at Sam, who seemed content to observe from the sidelines, before turning back to Chelsea with a nod. "You heard the lady. Let's see if the Winchester charm works on the dance floor," he said, a playful note in his voice, ready to slip into the night's rhythm, where every step was a measure of their investigation.

As the evening wove its way through laughter and clinking glasses, Sam leaned in toward Dean and Julia, seizing a moment when Chelsea was drawn away by the swirl of the gala.

"I'm going to take a look around while everyone's distracted," Sam murmured, his voice a low frequency meant only for his brother and Julia. Without waiting for a response, he slipped away, merging with the sea of guests as he vanished into the mansion's grandiose interior.

Dean and Julia continued to converse, their dialogue an effortless tennis match of wit and insight, until the distinct vibration of a phone interrupted their rally. Julia's expression shifted as she reached into the hidden pocket of her dress, a testament to its practicality. She pulled out her phone, and her forehead creased with concern.

"Uh–" She locked eyes with Dean, a silent apology in the look. "I need to take this," she said, her voice threaded with urgency. With a fluid grace, Julia threaded her way through the crowd, leaving Dean to watch her go, a slight crease of concern mirroring hers as she sought a sliver of solitude for her call.

Dean's gaze followed the trail of Julia's auburn hair as she weaved through the gala's crowd, disappearing from sight. He took the opportunity to survey the room, a hunter's instinct to always be aware of his surroundings. Suddenly, he felt the familiar pressure of a hand on his arm. Turning, he found Chelsea standing closer than before, her presence insistent.

"Where did Julia and Sam wander off to?" Chelsea inquired, her voice carrying a note of curiosity, almost too close for casual conversation.

Dean kept his cool, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Sam's off doing his mingling magic, and Julia had to take a call," he explained, his attention briefly following the trail of Chelsea's hand as it drifted from his arm to rest against his chest.

"So, that leaves just us... alone together," Chelsea intimated, her voice lowering, eyes locked on his.

Dean glanced around at the sea of people, the hum of conversation surrounding them. "Not really alone, we've got about a hundred chaperones," he quipped, gesturing to the guests around them, trying to maintain a light-hearted atmosphere.

Chelsea hummed, a sound that seemed to hold more than mere agreement. She leaned into Dean, her body language shifting as she guided him with gentle pressure, away from the crowd and toward a secluded part of the wall, her hands exploring his chest with an unspoken intention.

A flicker of discomfort crossed Dean's face, his brows knitting together as he tried to navigate the situation with diplomacy. "Chelsea, I think we should–" But his attempt to diffuse the advance was interrupted when Chelsea, bold and unyielding, placed her hands on his face and drew him into a kiss.

Caught off guard, Dean's first instinct was to pull away, but he also knew the importance of keeping up appearances. He had to handle the situation without causing a scene that could jeopardize their mission, all while maintaining the respect and boundaries he held for Julia. It was a delicate dance, even for a seasoned hunter like Dean Winchester.

* * *

The brisk Louisiana winter air wrapped itself around Julia as she stepped outside, its chill a stark contrast to the warmth of the gala inside. As the call ended, leaving her with a tangle of emotions and unanswered questions, she let out a sigh that mingled with the night. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tucked her phone away, and she removed her glasses to press weary fingertips against her eyelids, willing strength into her resolve.

In that quiet moment, she allowed herself to feel the weight of the call, to acknowledge the ripple of distress it had sent through her. But she knew she couldn't let it consume her—not tonight. With a fortifying breath that turned to vapor in the cool air, she replaced her glasses, her vision clearing along with her determination. She was ready to return to Dean, to let the night's earlier enchantment wash over her once more.

As Julia re-entered the opulent mansion, she wove through the throng of guests, their conversations a distant hum in her ears. Her gaze scanned the room, seeking the familiar form of Dean, craving the comfort his presence promised. But when her search finally ended, the sight that greeted her was a piercing jolt to her heart.

Dean was pinned against the wall, ensnared in an unexpected embrace with Chelsea, whose hands cradled his face, lips pressed to his in a kiss that stole Julia's breath. A sharp pain clawed at her chest, a mixture of shock and an inexplicable sense of betrayal. She had no claim over Dean, no vows had been exchanged, but the sting of seeing him with another was undeniable.

Turning away, Julia forced herself to refocus on the mission. There were clues to be found, secrets to unearth—this was no time for the distractions of the heart. With a swipe at the tears that dared to spill, she started her silent quest through the mansion, each step a message to herself that she was more than what she felt in this moment. She was a hunter, and tonight, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Dean's reaction was immediate, his voice a low, controlled growl that barely concealed his shock and discomfort. "Chelsea, what the hell?" he demanded, the firmness in his tone not quite masking the undercurrent of confusion. His eyes darted around, conscious of the eyes and ears that might be privy to this unintended scene.

Chelsea retreated a step, her expression faltering into one of wounded pride as she absorbed the rejection. Looking up at Dean, she saw the residual crimson mark her lipstick had left on him, a vivid contrast to the pale annoyance etched across his face.

As the realization dawned on her, her voice took on a bitter edge, tinged with jealousy. "It's Julia, isn't it? I mistook your charm for something... less serious. But you're actually in love with her," Chelsea accused, her disappointment morphing into a disdainful sneer.

Dean fixed his gaze on her, the lines of his face hardening. "This isn't the time or place. Let's just get back to the party," he said, his tone final, leaving no room for further discussion. He sidestepped her, putting physical distance between them as he reoriented himself toward the throng of guests, eager to put the discomfort of the moment behind him.

To Be Continued...

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