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lxndonorris · 5 months ago

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tender waves - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Smut sharing in intimate moment between the tender waves x word count: 7200+ taglist: @game-set-canet thank you @pitstopreality-f1 for the help :)

The summer sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the secluded beach. The soft, rhytmic lapping of waves against the shore provides a soothing soundtrack, punctuated by the occasional call of a seagull. The scent of saltwater fills the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the sand beneath you. The perfect day, one that feels stolen from the everyday hustle of life, like a secret only you know.

Lando insisted on driving you there—to this hidden gem of a beach, far away from the crowds. "Just us," he said, his voice full of excitement, the way it always was when he talked about his plans for the two of you. And true to his word, it is just you—no fans, no paparazzi—just the sun, the sand, and the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before you.

You lie on your stomach, the towel beneath you soft and warm from the sun. Your bathing suit—a vibrant shade of turquoise that Lando complimented several times that morning—clings to your skin; the material cool against the heat of the day. Your body relaxes, sinking into the towel, as the sun's rays kiss your back, lulling you into blissful contentment.

Beside you, Lando lies on his side, propped up on one arm. His other hand traces lazy patterns along your arm; his fingers light as a feather as they dance over your skin. The sensation is soothing, almost hypnotic, and you find yourself focusing on it, enjoying the simple, affectionate gesture. You feel his warmth radiating next to you; his presence a comforting constant, grounding you in this moment.

You turn your head to look at him, the motion slow and deliberate, savoring the sight of him as your eyes take in every detail.

Lando looks effortlessly handsome, his tousled hair catching the light and the strands a mix of sun-kissed gold and chestnut brown. His skin, tanned from hours spent outdoors, is a beautiful contrast against the white sand, his muscles defined and relaxed. There is something that draws you in and holds you captive.

He is gazing at his fingers as they trail along your arm, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. His eyes, a rich shade of hazel, follow the path of his touch, but as if sensing your gaze, they flick up to meet yours. For a moment, you just look at each other, the world around you fading into the background.

His smile widens, a hint of bashfulness creeping into it as he brings his hand to his chest, rubbing at the skin there almost absentmindedly. You notice the faint flush creeping up his neck, a soft pink that deepens as it spreads to his cheeks. It is endearing to see him like this—so confident on the track yet so adorably shy in moments like these.

"You look so good, you know," you say, your voice low and warm, the words slipping out almost on their own. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his as you speak. "But you're turning red, Lando. I think you need some sunscreen."

Lando chuckles softly; the sound a mix of amusement and embarrassment. "Yeah, maybe I do," he agrees, his tone light but with a telltale smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. There is a glint in his eyes now, playful and teasing, as if he is already imagining the next few moments.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, shifting so that you sit beside him. "Here," you offer, reaching for the bottle of sunscreen that lies discarded on the towel.

You squeeze a generous amount into your palm, the cool lotion contrasting with the warmth of the sun on your skin.

"Let me help."

Lando watches you with a mischievous smile, his eyes following your every movement as you rub the sunscreen between your hands, warming it up before you begin to apply it to his chest. His skin is hot under your touch, a reminder of how long you were out here in the sun.

You start at his shoulders, smoothing the lotion over the firm muscles there, your hands working in slow, deliberate strokes.

Lando closes his eyes, his breathing steady and relaxed, as if your touch is as soothing for him as his was for you. You feel the tension melting away from his body, the knots of stress from weeks of racing and traveling unraveling under your fingertips.

"You really needed this, didn't you?" You murmur, your hands moving down to his arms, covering every inch of his skin with the protective layer of sunscreen.

"Mmm, yeah," he admits, his voice soft and content. "This whole summer break... I've been looking forward to it. But more than that, I've been looking forward to this. Just...us."

His words send a warm, fluttering feeling through you, and you can't help but smile. Lando was always good at making you feel special, but it is moments like these—so simple yet so full of meaning—that truly make you realize how much you love him.

"Me too," you reply, your hands moving to his chest now, spreading the sunscreen across the smooth planes of muscle. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, a reminder of the life and energy that define him.

"It's been nice, hasn't it? Not having to worry about schedules of flights or races... just being together."

Lando nods, his eyes still closed, a peaceful expression on his face.

"Yeah, it's perfect."

You fall into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the gentle rustle of the breeze and the occasional hiss of the waves. Your hands continue their work, moving across his chest, down his sides, over his stomach, until every inch of exposed skin is covered.

When you are done, you sit back on your heels, admiring your work. Lando's skin glistens in the sunlight, the sunscreen giving him a slightly glossy sheen. He looks even more breathtaking, if that is possible, the golden hue of his tan contrasting beautifully with the white sand and the deep blue of the ocean beyond.

Lando opens his eyes, blinking up at you with a lazy smile.

"Thanks," he says, his voice thick with relaxation. "You always know how to take care of me."

"Of course," you reply, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips—a brief, gentle kiss—but it is enough to make your heart skip a beat. "Now you can relax without worrying about getting sunburned."

He grins, pulling you down beside him. "You're the best," he murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist as he draws you close. You settle back onto the towel, this time with you curled up against his side, your bodies pressed together in a comfortable tangle of limbs.

For a while, you just lie there, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the feel of each other's presence. It is one of those perfect moments where everything feels right and nothing else matters.

As the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the sand, Lando shifts beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes are bright, and his expression full of the familiar spark of mischief that you know so well.

"You know," he begins, his voice low and teasing. "I think it's your turn now."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "My turn for what?"

He reaches for the sunscreen, holding it up with a grin.

"Your turn for some sunscreen. Can't have you getting sunburned, can we?"

You laugh, shaking your head.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

He just smiles—that boyish, irresistible smile that always makes your heart melt.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

There is no arguing that.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you turn onto your stomach, resting your head on your folded arms as you stretch out on the towel. You feel Lando's eyes on you; the heat of his gaze almost as warm as the sun itself.

He is taking his time, you realize, and the thought makes your heart race with anticipation.

Finally, you feel the cool touch of the lotion on your back, followed by the gentle pressure of Lando's hands as he begins to rub it in.

His touch is slow and deliberate, his fingers tracing the contours of your shoulders and down the length of your spine. It is soothing, just like before, but there is something else in it too—something that makes your skin tingle and your breath catch in your throat.

Lando's hands move lower, massaging the sunscreen into your lower back, his fingers kneading the muscles there with just the right amount of pressure. You let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing completely under his touch. It feels so good, so intimate, that you can't help but close your eyes and savor the moment.

He works in silence, his hands moving with a rhythm that is both calming and sensual. You feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his breath as he focuses on the task at hand—a simple act, really, but the way he does it—so careful, so attentive—makes it feel like so much more.

Then, Lando's hands linger on your lower back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he continued applying sunscreen. Suddenly, as his hands move a little lower, just above the curve of your hips, you feel him lean down, his breath hot against the shell of your ear.

"You know," he whispers, his voice low and teasing, "this is really nice... but it's doing something to me."

There is a playful edge to his tone, but underneath it, you sense something else—something darker, more intense. You feel a shiver run through you as you turn your head slightly to catch his gaze.

His hazel eyes are filled with that familiar mischief, but there is a flicker of something deeper, more primal, that sends your heart racing.

"Lando," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, but before you can say anything else, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I'm growing hard," he confesses, his voice a husky whisper that sends a surge of heat through your body. His words are bold, but there is a softness to them—a playful undertone that makes your pulse quicken.

You feel your breath hitch as the implications of his words sink in. His hands, still resting on your lower back, tighten their grip slightly, just enough to let you know he is serious about it all.

You feel the heat radiating from his body even more now, his arousal unmistakable, even before he gently presses his hips against yours.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the unmistakable hardness of him pressing against you, even through the thin fabric of your swimwear.

Lando moves slowly, carefully, making sure not to put too much weight on you as he positions himself on top of you. His body is warm, his skin hot from the sun, and the feel of him against you is enough to send a shiver of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Lando," you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper, as you feel him shift slightly, his hips pressing a little more firmly against you. There is no denying the effect this is having on both of you, and you feel your own arousal growing in response to his.

He lets out a soft, almost inaudible groan, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with desire. "But we're out here in the open..."

There is a teasing lilt to his words, as if he is enjoying the fact that you are in such a public place yet completely hidden from the world. It is thrilling and slightly forbidden knowing that you are alone on this secluded beach, the vastness of the ocean stretching out before you, but the possibility of being seen is still there. It adds an extra layer of excitement, making everything feel that much more intense.

Lando shifts again, his hips pressing even more firmly against you, and you feel the full length of his arousal now, hard and insistent against your lower back. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can't help but arch your back slightly, pressing up against him in response.

His breath hitches, and you feel him tense slightly, as if he is holding himself back. His hands move from your back to your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter.

He is so close, his body warm and solid against you, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to turn over and pull him down on top of you completely.

"Lando," you whisper again, your voice trembling with desire, "what are you doing?"

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich, as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

"Just making sure you're well protected from the sun," he teases, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. "Can't have you getting burned, can we?"

His words are light, but the way he is pressing against you, the way his breath is coming in short, heated bursts, tells a different story. You feel the tension in his body—the barely restrained desire that is simmering just below the surface.

Lando shifts slightly, his hands moving up to rest on your shoulders, and for a moment, he just stays there, his chest pressed against your back, his breath warm against your neck. It is an intimate, almost possessive gesture, and you find yourself biting your lip to keep you from making a sound as his hips press even more firmly against you.

"Babè," you murmur, your voice trembling with need, "this is..."

"Yeah," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I know."

For a moment, you just stay like that, your bodies pressed together, the tension between you thick and electric. The feel of his arousal against you is almost too much to bear, and you feel your own desire growing with every passing second.

But then, just as quickly as he initiated the contact, Lando pulls back slightly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

"We shouldn't," he says, his voice low and filled with regret, even as his hands linger on your skin, as if he can't quite bring himself to pull away completely. "Not here."

You nod, even though he can't see you, understanding what he means even as your body screams for more. The thrill of being so close, of feeling his desire so plainly is intoxicating, but there is a part of you that knows he is right.

You turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his. There is a fire in his gaze, a hunger that mirrors your own, and it is enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

"Lando," you whisper, reaching up to run your fingers through his tousled hair. "Later?"

He nods, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. "Definetly later."

With that, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his touch gentle yet full of promise. It is enough to make you ache with longing.

Lando carefully climbs off you, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The absence of his warmth leaves your skin tingling, the memory of his weight pressing against you still fresh in your mind.

You feel the tension between you, thick and undeniable, as you roll onto your back to face him.

His eyes meet yours, a mixture of desire and restraint flickering in those hazel depths. He is so close, his body still hovering over you, and you reach up without thinking, your fingers finding the warm, smooth skin of his chest.

You trace the lines of his muscles, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingertips. The heat of his skin radiating through your hand, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"I don't know if I can wait.." you admit, your eyes leaving his burning gaze to follow as your fingers dance over his skin.

Lando's eyes darken as you continue to explore his chest, your touch slow and firm. He sucks in a breath, his muscles tensing under your caress. The low, rumbling growl that escapes his throat sends a wave of heat rushing through you; the sound so primal, so raw that it makes your pulse quicken.

Encouraged by his reaction, you let your hand drift lower, your fingers tracing the defined ridges of his abs. You feel the tautness of his body; every muscle firm and responsive under your touch.

Lando's breath hitches as your hand slides even lower, brushing against the waistband of his swim shorts, where the evidence of his desire is unmistakable.

"Y/N..."

His reaction is immediate; a deep, guttural moan rumbles from his chest, his hips instinctively shifting closer to your hand as if he can't help himself.

You feel the hard length of him through the thin fabric, hot, and insistent, and the sensation sends a rush of excitement through you.

Lando's eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, his head tilting back slightly as if savoring the pleasure. His hand finds yours, guiding you as you stroke him gently through his shorts.

The contact is almost too much and not nearly enough at the same time—a teasing caress that leaves you both wanting more.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You look up at him, and he holds your gaze as you continue your slow, deliberate movements, each touch sending a jolt of pleasure through both of you.

The intensity of his reaction, the way his body responds to every little thing you do only fuel your own desire.

But just when you thought you might lose yourself in the heat of the moment, Lando suddenly pulls away.

He gets to his feet with a quick, fluid motion, leaving you breathless and a little dazed as you watch him rise.

His eyes are dark with a mix of restraint and longing, but there is something else there too—something playful, almost wicked.

Standing above you, Lando stretches his arms high above his head, his muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin. The movement is slow, deliberate, as if he is putting on a show just for you.

And he is.

Every inch of his well-formed body is on display—the tautness of his chest, the cut of his abs, the broadness of his shoulders—all of it a testament to the hours of training and dedication he put into his sport.

You can't tear your eyes away from him, completely captivated by the sight of him stretching and flexing above you.

The sun catches the sheen of sunscreen on his skin, making him glow with a healthy, golden hue that only adds to his allure.

His swim shorts hang low on his hips, the fabric doing little to hide the evidence of his desire, now even more obvious as he stretches.

Lando grins as he catches you staring, his expression both smug and full of that boyish charm that you adore.

He holds his pose for a moment longer, letting you take in every detail, before he slowly relaxes his arms and shifts his stance.

"Enjoying the view?" he teases, his voice light but with that underlying tone of challenge, as if daring you to admit just how much you are.

You don't bother to hide the way your eyes roam over his body, taking in every flex and ripple of muscle as he adjusts his position.

He bends down slightly, the movement causing his abs to tighten, the muscles in his arms and chest bulge as he puts his weight on one leg—a casual action, but the effect is anything but.

Your breath catches in your throat as he shifts again, his body moving with the easy grace of someone completely in tune with himself. There is confidence to his movements, a quiet, self-assured strength that is incredibly sexy.

But what really holds your attention is the way his arousal is now undeniable, straining against the fabric of his shorts with no attempt to hide it.

There is no denying the effect his little display, and all the teasing before, is having on both of you. The tension crackles between you with electricity, and the air is thick with anticipation.

You feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the desire building with every second you watch him.

Lando's smirk softens into something warmer for a second as he takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His touch is gentle, but there is an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart race.

"Maybe we should take a dip in the ocean," he suggests, his voice low and full of promise, "to cool off a bit."

There is no mistaking the double meaning behind his words, and the playful glint in his eyes only confirms it. You feel the excitement bubbling up inside you—the thrill of what is to come—making your skin tingle.

"Maybe we should," you reply, matching his tone, your voice laced with desire.

Lando grins—that same mischievous grin like before. He holds out his hand, and without hesitation, you take it, letting him pull you up to your feet.

The contact sends a spark of electricity through you, and as you stand there face-to-face, the desire between you is palpable.

As Lando stands before you, his gaze grows more intense, the playful light in his eyes darkening once again with something deeper, something more primal.

You see the shift in him—the way his muscles tense as he struggles to maintain control. The tension is thick with anticipation, simmering just below the surface, ready to boil over.

He looks at you with such desire that it sends shivery waves down your back. His eyes are filled with a need that matches your own, and there is no mistaking what he wants.

Lando's hand moves almost absently, his fingers brushing over the hard outline of his member through his shorts. The action is unintentional, but it speaks volumes, his body responding instinctively to the closeness between you.

Your gaze follows the movement of his hand, your pulse quickening as you take in the sight of him. There is something erotic about the way he touches himself so casually, as if he can't help it, as if his body is reacting to yours without conscious thought.

Lando's eyes flick back up to yours, and without a word, he offers you his hand, his expression daring you to take it.

A soft giggle escapes your lips at the playful intensity in his gaze, the way he seems so sure of himself, so confident in what is to come.

You place your hand in his, feeling the heat of his palm against you, and you can't help but tease him as you ask, "What are you planning?"

He doesn't answer right away; he just smiles that roguish, boyish grin of his that makes your heart flutter. But there is something different in his eyes now—a determination that sends a thrill of excitement racing through you.

Lando tightens his grip on your hand, his fingers wrapping around you with a firmness that is both reassuring and possessive.

With a quiet resolve, Lando leads you toward the ocean, your steps synchronized as if you were moving to the rhythm of the waves. The sand is warm beneath your feet, but you can feel the coolness of the water lapping at your ankles as you walk in.

The sun hangs low in the sky, the water shimmers with the last light of the day.

You walk deeper into the sea, the water rising up to your knees, then your thighs, until it reaches your navels. The coolness of the water is a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your bodies, the sensation sending a shiver through you as you move closer to Lando.

He turns to face you, pulling you into his arms with a gentle yet firm hug. The motion is so effortless, so natural, that you find yourself pressed against him in an instant, your body molding to his.

The water buoyed you slightly, making every touch feel lighter, more ethereal, as if you were floating together in a world of your own.

His hands settle on your hips, holding you steady against the gentle sway of the ocean. You reach up, placing both of your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms.

The contrast between his heated body and the cool water is intoxicating; the sensation heightens your awareness of every point of contact between you.

Lando's breath hitches slightly as your hands roam over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, the rise and fall of his breath. You look up at him, your eyes searching for his confirmation, for some indication that you are both on the same page.

There is no hesitation in his gaze, only a teasing, playful glint that makes your heart skip another beat.

"Do you want to do it?" You ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words hanging between you like a challenge.

Lando's response is immediate, his lips curving into a sly, knowing smile as he nods. There is a teasing quality to his nod, as if he is saying, Of course I do, but also, You have to ask?

His hands slide up from your hips to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. The feel of his body pressed against you, his skin hot against the coolness of the water, sends a wave of desire crashing over you.

You feel his arousal, hard and insistent yet again, against your lower belly, and the knowledge that he wants you just as much as you want him is enough to make your knees weak.

"Then what are you waiting for?" You whisper, your voice trembling.

Lando's eyes flash with something wild as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, "I've been waiting all day."

The words send a thrill through you; the low, husky timbre of his voice makes your pulse quicken. He isn't teasing anymore; this is real, raw desire, and it is driving you both to the edge.

Without another word, Lando's hands move lower, cupping your backside and lifting you slightly in the water. The movement is smooth, so natural, that it takes you a moment to realize what is happening.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, holding on as he shifts his stance, his body aligning perfectly with yours.

The ocean laps gently around you, the refreshing water contrasting sharply with the heat of your bodies as you move together. The water makes everything feel lighter, more fluid, combined with the solid heat of Lando's body against you.

You feel his arousal pressing against you, hard and demanding, and the sensation sends a wave of longing through you. Every nerve in your body is on fire, the anticipation builds with every passing second. You feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Lando's breath is hot against your neck as he holds you close, his hands steadying you as you move together in the water. There is an urgency to his touch now, a need that matches your own, and you know that neither of you can wait much longer.

His hands roam over your body, his touch exploring every curve and dip of your skin as if he is memorizing you all over again. His fingers trace the lines of your back, the curve of your waist before dipping lower still, skimming over the wet fabric of your swimsuit. The sensation is exhilarating, each touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you as you lean into him, trusting him completely.

As Lando's hands become more intimate, you tilt your head back, your eyes closing as you surrender to the sensations coursing through you.

He is taking his time; his touch both tender and teasing, and it drives you wild.

Your breath hitches as his fingers find more sensitive areas; the pressure firm but gentle, exactly what you need. But you are not content to simply let him take the lead.

Your hands move over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. His skin is slick with seawater, and as you trace the hard lines of his muscles, you feel the tension in his body—the way his desire matches your own.

Your hand trails lower, down the planes of his stomach, until you reach the waistband of his swim shorts. You feel his arousal against your palm, and the sound that escapes his lips—a soft whimper—sends a thrill through you.

It is a sound you know well, one that he makes only in moments like this, when the pleasure is almost too much to bear.

Hearing Lando, usually so composed and confident, make such a vulnerable sound, sends a rush of heat through you. You smile, a surge of satisfaction coursing through you as you realize how much you are affecting him. You squeeze gently, eliciting another quiet whimper from him, and the sound makes your heart race even faster.

Lando's head dips forward, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as he lets out a shaky breath. You feel his need in the way he touches you, the way his hands tighten on your hips as if he is trying to steady himself—a heady feeling, knowing that you have this power over him, that you can make him unravel with just a touch.

Together, you move in perfect sync, your hands exploring, teasing, giving as much as you receive.

The waves roll around you, gentle and warm, adding to the rhythm you found together. It is a slow, sensual dance, the water buoying you, making every moment feel effortless, almost dreamlike.

Lando's touch grows more confident, his fingers finding the places that make you gasp, your body responding to him with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Every caress, every brush of his skin against you, only heighten the pleasure.

His mouth finds yours again; your kiss deep and urgent, and you can taste the salt of the sea on his lips.

Together, you pull his swim shorts down a few inches, and he removes your panties just as much as he needs.

When he moves inside you, it is as though the entire world stops, and all that exists is the connection between you.

You move together as one, smooth and deliberate movements, the rhythm of the waves guiding you. There is a natural ease to it, as if you are meant to be this way, entwined and inseparable.

Lando's hands grip your hips firmly, holding you steady against him as you hold on to him. His breath is hot against your neck, and every time he thrusts, it sends jolts of pure pleasure through you that weaken your knees. The sensation is overwhelming—a perfect blend of desire and connection that leaves you trembling in his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your bodies pressed so tightly together that it feels as if you are one.

The feel of his muscles beneath your fingers, the way they tense and relax with every movement, only heightens the pleasure coursing through you.

Lando is focused, his gaze intense, his determination palpable as he maintains your rhythm, driving you both closer to the edge.

But then, a heavier wave surges toward you, crashing against your bodies with a force that momentarily throws you off balance. You flinch at the unexpected impact, your body instinctively reacting as your nails dig into Lando's back, leaving faint, red lines in their wake.

Lando grunts at the sharpness of your touch, a sound that is both primal and restrained, his breath hitching slightly as the pain mingles with the pleasure.

But he doesn't lose his composure—not for a single second. Instead, he tightens his grip on you, steadying you both as the wave subsides.

There is a fierce determination in the way he holds you, an unspoken promise that he isn't going to let anything—especially not a mere wave—disrupt the connection you have.

His resolve only makes the moment more intense. Even as you cling to him, feeling the strength and steadiness of his body beneath your hands, you sense the depth of his focus.

Lando isn't just in control of himself; he is in control of everything—the waves, the moment, the desire that burns between you.

And it is intoxicating.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered your name, the sound a low, breathy moan.

You feel the effort in every thrust, the way he drives you forward with a singular purpose, determined to reach the peak together.

You reach out, your hand intsinctively drawn to Lando's chest. Your fingers meet the warmth of his skin, slick with seawater, and you feel his heart pounding beneath your palm. Each rapid breath he takes makes his chest rise and fall quickly, a clear sign of the intensity of the moment.

As your hand traces the contours of his chest, you feel the way his muscles tense and tremble under your touch. The usualy steady, confident Lando is now showing a side of himself that is raw and vulnerable.

There is something incredibly intimate about the way he responds to you, how his body betrays just how much this moment affects him.

His breathing quickens as your fingers continue to explore, moving across the hard planes of his chest. The subtle tremors in his muscles tell you that he is holding back, trying to maintain control even as the intensity of all of what is happening is threatening to overwhelm him.

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his, and see the conflict of emotions there; the desire, the need, and the effort to stay composed. It's a side of Lando you rarely see and it makes you want to be closer to him, to hold him, to let him know that he doesn't need to hide anything from you.

His body leans into yours, as if seeking the reassurance of your touch.

Then, almost imperceptibly at first, a low, breathy sound escapes his lips; a soft moan that sends shivers down your spine. A sound of pure, unfiltered desire, a reaction he can't suppress despite his usual control.

The waves continue to roll around you, but they are nothing compared to the sensations building within you. Every movement, every touch, every breath brings you closer, the pleasure intensifying with each passing second.

Your body moves in perfect harmony with his, responding to every subtle shift, every whispered encouragement until there is nothing left but the sheer intensity of the moment.

And when the final wave of pleasure crashes over you, it is overwhelming—the perfect culmination of all the tension, desire, and connection that was built between you throughout the day.

Lando holds you close, his arms wrapping around you as you both tremble in the aftermath, your breaths mingling as you cling to each other in the gentle sway of the ocean.

As the waves lap gently around you, you stay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world slowly coming back into focus.

The sun dips lower in the sky, the water shimmering gold, but all you can see is Lando, his eyes soft and filled with the kind of warmth that makes your heart swell.

He brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, his touch tender and loving, a contrast to the intensity of what you just shared.

And as he looks at you with that boyish smile, you know that this moment is something you will carry with you forever.

The sun dips even lower on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold, pink, and deepening purple. Lando and you make your way back to the beach, hand in hand. The waves, now calmer and gentler, whispering against the shore, and the warmth of the day lingering in the air, wrapping around you like a soft blanket.

With every step, you feel the connection between you—the shared intimacy.

You are silent, but it is a comfortable silence, filled with the weight of everything you don't need to say.

Lando's hand is warm in yours, his grip gentle but firm, as if he never wants to let go, and you feel the same.

As you reach your spot on the beach, the towels still laid out where you left them, you can't help but notice the faint, red scratches on Lando's back—the marks you made in the heat of the moment. Your heart gives a little pang of guilt, knowing that you hurt him, even if it was unintentional.

"I'm sorry about those," you say softly, your voice tinged with concern as you gesture to the scratches. The last thing you want is to have caused him any pain.

Lando just turns to you, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and lets out a light, carefree giggle that makes your worry evaporate in an instant.

"Are you kidding?" he teases, flashing that boyish grin again. "It was worth it."

His words, spoken with such ease and sincerity, make you smile in return. There is no regret in his eyes, only a mischievous glint that tells you he wouldn't change a thing. It is just like him to find humor in something so small, to brush it off with a laugh and a cheeky comment.

You settle back onto your towels, the sun now a mere sliver on the horizon, casting long shadows across the sand.

Lando lies down on his stomach; his body relaxes, the tension from earlier completely melted away. You take place beside him, sitting down with one leg folded under you, the other stretched out along the soft sand.

You reach out, your fingers tracing the lines of his back, following the path of the scratches with a gentle, soothing touch. The scratches aren't deep, just light marks that will fade soon enough, but you want to show him how much you care, how sorry you are for causing him even a moment's discomfort.

Lando hums in contentment, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberates in his chest. His body shifts slightly under your touch, the muscles in his back rippling with each pass of your hand—a simple, quiet moment, but it feels profound.

As you continue to stroke his back, you feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the steady rise and fall of his breath. It is a comforting rhythm, one that lulls you into a sense of calm and peace.

Lando's contentment is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing even more, your worries slipping away with each gentle caress.

After a while, Lando shifts onto his side, turning to face you with a soft smile. His eyes are filled with affection, and he reaches out, inviting you to come closer with a gentle tug on your arm.

You don't hesitate, moving into his embrace, your body fitting perfectly against his as you settle beside him.

You cuddle together on the towel, the warmth of his body enveloping you as you rest your head against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat is like a soothing lullaby, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of his presence.

Lando's arm drapes around you, holding you close, while his other hand continues to stroke your arm and back in a slow, rhytmic motion. The sensation is blissful; the soft touch of his fingers against your skin sends little shivers down your spine.

As you nestle closer into Lando's embrace, the first thing that strikes you is his scent—a warm, intoxicating mix of the ocean, sun, and something unquiely him. A perfect blend of freshness from the sea breeze mingled with the faint, lingering notes of his cologne.

There is something comforting about it—a scent that speaks of warmth, safety, and home. You breathe him in deeply, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you lie against his chest.

His skin, still slightly salty from the ocean, carries the faintest hint of sunscreen, adding to the mix. But beneath all that is the unmistakable scent that is just Lando—a subtle, masculine fragrance that is warm and inviting, grounding you again in the moment.

Every time you take a breath, you feel closer to him, as if his scent is weaving itself into your very being. It is a scent that you know you would recognize anywhere, one that you would miss deeply whenever you were apart.

You sigh contentedly, snuggling deeper into his warmth, letting his scent and gentle touches envelop you fully.

Lando's fingers never stop moving, tracing patterns on your skin; his touch light and tender. Every so often, he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair.

Then, in the quiet of the moment, Lando's voice breaks through the stillness, soft and filled with emotion.

"I love you," he whispers.

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his. His gaze is intense, so raw and deep that it takes your breath away. There is no teasing smirk, no hint of the playful boyishness he often wears. This is Lando, stripped bare of any pretense, speaking from the very depths of his heart.

"And thank you..." he continues, "for taking care of me." His voice barely above a whisper, but the words resonate with a gravity that makes them feel like a vow. "More than anything. I need you."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you take in the weight of his words. It isn't just about the passion or the connection you share; it is about something more profound, something that goes beyond just love.

You reach up to gently cup his face, your thumb brushing along his cheek as you try to convey everything you feel in that moment without words.

"I love you too, Lando," you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. "And I will always care for you and need you just as much."

A soft, almost relieved smile spreads across his lips, and he leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if he wants to hold on to this moment forever.

When he pulls back, his eyes are shining with the same emotion you feel—love, need, and an unbreakable bond that ties you together.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 smut

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

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Hi! Could you make a fallen angel-like reader(similar to a halovian) with Aventurine, Sampo and Dan heng please?

-🩵

“You're my fallen angel in the dark”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Emotional Vulnerability, Slow Burn(?), Fluff and Angst, Gentle Romance.

Warnings: Mentions of Past Trauma, Themes of Isolation and Loneliness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Gambling and Risk-Taking (Aventurine), Light Tension and Danger.

In the dim light of his office, you leaned back on the sleek leather couch, wings folded gently as Aventurine sat across from you, his vibrant eyes fixed on you with that familiar playful spark. The soft glow of city lights framed his figure, lending an almost ethereal hue to his features.

"So, tell me," Aventurine leaned forward, fingers steepled, "what does an angel from the heavens need in a place like this? Surely you aren’t here to save me."

A smirk tugged at your lips. "Maybe I thought you could use a little saving, Aventurine."

He chuckled, the sound rich and smooth, like a well-aged vintage. "Oh, I’m a lost cause, trust me." His tone was light, but you sensed the depth behind it—the carefully guarded wounds he hid behind his charm and wit. As you brushed your hand across the roulette detail on his coat, you noticed his breath hitch, just for a moment.

"But perhaps…you’re not," you murmured, brushing a feather along his hand, sending a ripple of warmth over his cold skin. Aventurine’s hand slipped into yours, fingers interlocking as his eyes held yours. His usually mischievous demeanor softened, vulnerability slipping through the cracks.

"Maybe," he said, his voice softer now, "just maybe. But I think if anyone could change my mind… it might be you."

In that moment, you saw through his mask, felt his hand squeeze yours just a little tighter. And for once, Aventurine felt like more than just the gambler he pretended to be.

The streets were bustling with noise and color as Sampo sauntered beside you, his bright green eyes glinting with his usual playful mischief. You cast a cautious glance his way, aware of his reputation, but something about him—perhaps that underlying sense of survival and charm—had drawn you in, despite your better judgment.

"So," he drawled, nudging you with a grin, "an angel with clipped wings, huh? Seems we’ve got something in common, don’t you think? Both of us can’t quite keep our feet out of trouble."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you noticed his hand slide a little too close to your coin pouch. “Funny you’d say that,” you replied, catching his wrist. “Though I think you’re more of the rogue variety than the fallen kind.”

“Guilty as charged.” He shrugged with a shameless grin, freeing his hand but remaining close, as though walking away was the last thing on his mind.

Curiosity sparked within you as you leaned closer, wings shifting around you both like a cloak. “What if I told you I could offer you something better than coins or trinkets?”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what’s that, my angel?”

You took his hand, feeling his pulse quicken beneath your fingers. “Trust, Sampo. Someone who sees through the act.”

For the first time, his laughter faltered, and he stared at you with an expression you’d never seen before—a mix of awe and hesitation. “Careful now, sweetheart,” he whispered, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

It was a quiet night on the Astral Express. The stars glowed softly outside the window as you stood beside Dan Heng, wings folded behind you, as silent as the mystery that shrouded him. He glanced over, his blue eyes momentarily meeting yours before he returned his gaze to the starry void.

"I’m not quite sure why you’re here," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "A place like this… doesn’t seem suited for a celestial being like you."

A soft smile touched your lips as you moved closer, reaching out to brush his hand with yours, gentle and cautious. “Fallen, not celestial,” you corrected. “I lost my way a long time ago.”

He looked at you, and in his gaze, you saw the reflection of his own scars, the history he carried but rarely shared. “And yet, you don’t seem lost,” he said. “You have… a presence.”

You chuckled softly, wings shifting. “I think we have more in common than you realize, Dan Heng. We’re both haunted by what we’ve lost, both searching for something we can’t quite name.”

Dan Heng’s gaze softened, and he allowed himself the smallest, rarest of smiles. “Maybe. But you… have given me something I didn’t think I’d find again.”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth bloom between you as he reached out, his hand resting against your shoulder—a silent promise, a shared understanding. And there, under the glow of the stars, you knew that neither of you were as alone as you once thought.

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polo-drone-055 · 2 months ago

Text

Polo Drone Thanksgiving Convergence

The crisp autumn morning was filled with excitement as the Thompson family prepared for their annual outing to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The kids, Emily and Jake, were bouncing with joy, eagerly anticipating the giant balloons and festive floats. Their mother, Rachel, was bustling around, making sure everyone was dressed warmly and had a hearty breakfast.

As the family gathered in the living room, waiting for everyone to be ready, Tom, the father, sat down with a cup of coffee and flipped through the stack of Black Friday ads. He was a deal hunter by nature, always looking for the best bargains. But today, something caught his eye that left him scratching his head.

“Rachel, come look at this,” Tom called out, his brow furrowed in confusion. He held up an ad showing a sleek, black, rubber-like polo shirt being promoted by several stores. “Can you believe this? It looks like everyone is selling these weird black rubber shirts this year. What’s the deal with this trend?”

Rachel chuckled as she walked over, glancing at the ad. “Oh, Tom, it’s just fashion. You know how these trends can be. Last year it was those oversized sweaters, and this year, it’s apparently rubber shirts. I guess they’re supposed to look futuristic or something.”

Tom shook his head, still not convinced. “Futuristic? They look like something out of a sci-fi movie. I just don’t get it. Who would want to wear a rubber shirt?”

Emily, who had been listening in, piped up. “Maybe they’re for superheroes, Dad! Like those suits they wear in the movies.”

Jake joined in, adding his own theory. “Or maybe they’re for people who spill a lot. You know, easier to clean up!”

Tom laughed, ruffling Jake’s hair. “You two might be onto something. But I think I’ll stick to my good old cotton polos.”

Rachel smiled and gave Tom a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey. You don’t have to understand every trend. Let’s just focus on having a great day at the parade.”

With everyone finally ready, they grabbed their coats and headed out the door, their minds filled with thoughts of balloons, marching bands, and holiday cheer. As they walked towards the subway, Tom took one last look at the ad, still bemused by the rubber shirts, but more than ready to enjoy the day with his family.

After some hunting, they found a perfect spot along the bustling parade route. The streets were packed with excited spectators, their faces lit up with anticipation. The children, Emily and Jake, squeezed their way to the front, eager for the best view. Rachel and Tom stood just behind them, holding hands, feeling the festive energy in the air.

As the parade began, a wave of cheers and applause swept through the crowd. The grand turkey float, a staple of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, rolled into view, adorned with vibrant feathers and sparkling lights. Its massive size and intricate design captivated everyone, young and old alike.

Emily and Jake were transfixed, their eyes wide with wonder as the float passed by. They pointed out every detail, from the golden beak to the colorful autumn leaves decorating the base. Rachel smiled, soaking in their joy, while Tom couldn’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm.

Amid the excitement, no one seemed to notice the details that Tom had found so peculiar earlier that morning. The performers on the float, who were waving and dancing energetically, wore an array of costumes, some of which included the very black rubber polo shirts he had seen in the ads. The shirts, now part of the parade's futuristic-themed segment, blended seamlessly with the other costumes and props, adding a modern twist to the traditional spectacle.

Tom leaned in towards Rachel and whispered, “Look at that, some of them are wearing those rubber shirts. I guess they found a way to make them look…interesting.”

Rachel glanced up, her eyes catching the glint of the shirts under the parade lights. She smiled and nodded. “Well, at least now we know they’re not just for superheroes or messy eaters.”

They shared a quiet laugh, the moment adding a personal touch to the grand event.

The first balloon of the parade, a towering Kung Fu Panda, floated into view, eliciting gasps and cheers from the crowd. Po, the beloved panda, soared high above the street, his enormous form swaying gently in the crisp autumn breeze. Below him, a group of clowns, dressed in colorful, traditional clown outfits, guided the balloon with expert precision. Their costumes, however, had an unexpected twist: each clown sported a black rubber polo shirt beneath their vibrant suspenders and oversized pants.

Tom noticed it first. His eyes locked onto the peculiar combination of the whimsical clown attire and the futuristic black shirts. He elbowed Rachel gently, nodding towards the clowns. “Look, they’re wearing those shirts again,” he muttered, unable to hide his bemusement.

As the clowns danced and waved, the parade watchers—especially the men—began to focus on the black rubber shirts. There was something oddly mesmerizing about the contrast between the playful clown costumes and the sleek, modern shirts. It sparked conversations among them, a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

“I didn’t think these shirts would catch on like this,” Tom remarked, half to himself, half to Rachel.

Rachel laughed softly. “Well, it looks like they’re becoming quite the fashion statement. Even the clowns are in on it!”

The men around Tom shared similar sentiments, their attention divided between the spectacular parade and the strange allure of the rubber shirts. Some were intrigued, others skeptical, but all found themselves oddly captivated.

The children, meanwhile, remained oblivious to the fashion discussion. Emily and Jake were entirely focused on the towering Kung Fu Panda, their faces glowing with excitement as they pointed and cheered.

As the parade continued, the anticipation grew with every passing float and balloon. Then came the police unit, marching with precision and pride.

They were dressed in impressive uniforms from head to toe—shiny tall black boots, tight shiny black runner pants, and the now infamous black rubber polo shirts, accented with striking gold details. Their ensemble was topped off with crisp, shiny black caps, completing the look of modern authority.

The sight of the police unit was mesmerizing. The men watching the parade found themselves captivated, their attention riveted to the officers’ uniforms. It was as if the world around them had faded away; their minds went blank, completely consumed by the sleek and polished appearance of the unit.

Tom, like many others, stood still, his gaze fixed on the marching officers. He barely noticed the tug on his sleeve from Emily or the questions from Jake. The uniforms had a hypnotic effect, drawing all the men's eyes leaving them entranced.

Rachel, sensing the shift, glanced at Tom and the other men around them, a mix of amusement and curiosity on her face. She gently nudged Tom, bringing him back to the present. “Tom, are you okay?” she asked, smiling.

Tom blinked, his trance broken. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…those uniforms are something else,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it.

The children, unaware of the fashion statement causing such a reaction, continued to watch the parade with delight. The police unit moved on, their presence leaving an indelible impression on the crowd. For Tom and the other men, the image of the black rubber police uniforms would linger in their minds

As the parade continued, a new spectacle caught the attention of the crowd. A marching band, resplendent in black rubber uniforms that gleamed under the parade lights, approached in perfect formation. Each member wore the now-familiar black rubber polo shirts, the uniforms reflecting an eerie sheen.

The moment the band came into view, the men in the crowd, including Tom, fell silent and still, their gazes fixed on the band. It was as if an invisible force had taken hold of them, rendering them oblivious to everything around them. The air was thick with a sense of anticipation and unease.

The band's music started softly, a harmonious blend of brass and percussion that gradually grew louder. Within the melody, subtle yet insistent, were the words "obey, serve" embedded seamlessly into the notes. The mantra repeated over and over, threading through the music like a whispering command.

The men, entranced by the uniforms and the hypnotic quality of the music, stood frozen, their minds blank. They heard nothing but the embedded words, "obey, serve," resonating within their subconscious. The children tugged at their fathers' sleeves, asking questions and seeking attention, but received no response. Rachel, along with the other women and unaffected spectators, looked on with growing concern.

The band continued to play, their synchronized movements and powerful music creating an almost surreal atmosphere. No matter what Rachel tried—calling out to Tom, shaking his shoulder—nothing could break the trance that held him and the other men captive.

The parade marched on, the dazzling floats and colorful characters passing by unnoticed by the entranced men. For them, the world had shrunk to the relentless repetition of "obey, serve," echoing in their minds, binding them to the spell of the marching band.

As the band moved further along the parade route, the music gradually faded, and the spell began to lift. The men blinked, as if waking from a deep sleep, slowly becoming aware of their surroundings again. Tom shook his head, feeling disoriented. He turned to Rachel, confusion etched on his face.

"Rachel, what happened?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Rachel, relieved but still worried, put a comforting hand on his arm. "You were in a trance, Tom. All of you were. I think it was the band… their uniforms and the music."

As the final segment of the parade approached, the anticipation in the air reached its peak. The firemen, traditionally the final group before Santa’s grand entrance, marched in with an air of authority.

They were dressed in full rubber uniforms, their shiny black polo shirts gleaming under the bright parade lights. Their presence exuded a sense of strength and unity, a stark contrast to the festive chaos around them.

The moment the men in the crowd caught sight of the firemen, the transformation was instant. Eyes glazed over, expressions turned blank, and, as if controlled by an unseen force, they began to move forward, pushing through the throngs of people, shoving their wives and children aside in their single-minded pursuit.

Rachel tried to hold onto Tom, but his strength and determination overpowered her. The children looked up in confusion and fear as their fathers moved in unison towards the curb, their movements mechanical, their gazes fixed on the marching firemen.

Then, in a spectacle that defied belief, Santa Claus appeared, bringing the holiday season to life. But to the shock of the women and children, Santa too was dressed in a shiny black rubber suit, with a black buttoned-up polo shirt prominently displayed. The traditional red and white suit was gone, replaced by this futuristic, unnerving attire.

As Santa’s float passed by, he began throwing black polo shirts into the crowd. The men, now in a full trance, scrambled to catch them, clawing over one another in desperation. The sight was both surreal and unsettling, as these ordinarily composed men fought for the shirts like their very lives depended on it.

Each man who managed to grab a shirt put it on immediately. The transformation was complete; they stood at perfect attention, their expressions devoid of any emotion, their minds seemingly blank. The parade continued, but for the families of these men, the day had taken an unexpected and eerie turn.

Rachel held her children close, her heart pounding with a mix of confusion and fear. She glanced around at the other bewildered wives and mothers, all of them sharing the same look of shock and helplessness.

As Santa’s float proceeded down the street, the festive atmosphere took on an even stranger turn. Behind the sleigh came a line of men dressed in the same black rubber uniforms, but this time with ominous gas masks covering their faces. Their silent, methodical movements added a chilling undertone to the parade.

These masked men approached each individual at the curb who had donned the new black polo. Without a word, they placed gas masks over the men’s faces. Almost instantaneously, the men fell into line, their movements synchronized and robotic. They left the curb, stepping into the street to join the parade.

The wives and children, already bewildered by the events, watched in horror and confusion as their loved ones marched away, now part of this enigmatic collective. The men, now resembling drones more than individuals, moved in perfect formation, their expressions blank, their minds seemingly lost.

Santa, leading this surreal procession, continued to distribute the black polos, reinforcing the transformation. The spectacle left the crowd in stunned silence, the festive joy overshadowed by the eerie uniformity of the new recruits.

Rachel clutched her children tightly, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty. She searched for Tom among the ranks of the newly transformed, but he was already lost in the sea of identical figures. The parade continued, each step of the marching men echoing like a haunting drumbeat.

As the final float disappeared from sight, the wives and children were left standing, the parade route now eerily quiet

As Jake grew up, the memories of that Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the mysterious transformation of his father lingered in the back of his mind. The image of the black rubber polo shirts and the blissful expression on his father’s face became an obsession, a puzzle piece he could never quite fit into place. The desire to understand and experience what his father had gone through grew stronger with each passing year.

On his 18th birthday, Jake received a package in the mail. His mother had no knowledge of it, and the sender's identity was a mystery. With a mix of curiosity and anticipation, he opened the package. Inside was a black rubber polo shirt, identical to the ones he remembered from that fateful day.

Jake felt a strange pull as he ran his fingers over the smooth material. The sensation was both thrilling and unsettling. Without hesitation, he slipped the shirt on, feeling its cool embrace against his skin. Almost immediately, his mind went blank, the words "obey" and "serve" echoing in his consciousness like a relentless mantra.

Robotic in his movements, Jake stood up and made his way to the front door. He opened it to find a figure standing there, a polo drone who had once been his father, waiting for him.

The drone placed a gas mask over Jake's face, and a wave of overwhelming joy and ecstasy washed over him. The connection was immediate and profound, an inexplicable sense of unity and purpose.

Jake had become one with the polo drone collective, joining his father and others who had been transformed. The bliss he felt was indescribable, a fusion of consciousness with a larger entity. As he marched away, his mind completely aligned with the collective’s purpose, he left behind a family that would never truly understand where he had gone or what he had become of him, his father or the other men who attended that Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.

#male transformation #hypnotised #polo drone #polo drone hive #polo

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wynnyfryd · 6 months ago

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Trailer park Steve AU pt 67

part 1 | part 66 | ao3

cw: recreational drug use

Waiting around to die or get arrested or whatever fucking sucks. Partly because there’s no running water (Steve’s never wanted to take a stress shower so badly in his life) and partly because Eddie won’t let him stay sober. Has it in his head that altering Steve’s mental state will keep Vecna away, like hanging a mosquito net over the opening of a tent.

It’s not not working, he guesses.

He hasn’t fallen in to any more hallucinated open graves, at least.

He comes down the stairs a little before noon, towel-drying his hair after a bottled water sink bath, and finds Eddie in the kitchen: Reeboks on, hair a cotton candy mess, head-to-toe teddy bear tie-dye under his leather jacket — a matching shirt and sweats that he fished out of Rick’s dresser. He’s stirring Spaghettios in a small pot at the stove, and when he sees Steve come in he turns to offer some, the wooden spoon held out with a sort of desperate perkiness. “Morning! I found food that isn’t expired. You want some?”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie shovels the whole spoonful into his mouth; wipes sauce off his chin, speaks before he’s finished chewing. “I also found blotters in the freezer and shrooms in the bedroom closet, so uh. Pick your poison.”

Steve picks the shrooms. They wait a few hours to take them because Eddie swears the sunset while you’re tripping is unparalleled, man, although Steve kind of suspects that he’s just giving him time to work up the nerve to eat them. He still gets nervous about chemicals — probably always will, after the shit the Russians did.

In the meantime, Eddie rummages through Rick’s cassette collection, and Steve talks to Robin on the walkie; gets all the new details in staticky half-sentences — something about mind flayers and mental hospitals, what else is new? He tells her to be safe; tells her that he loves her; keeps his eyes trained on the clock.

—

Shrooms smell and taste like ass. Steve can’t stomach them; spits into the grass while Eddie laughs sympathetically and hands him a little square of paper to put on his tongue instead, and they spread out side by side on a few old beach towels by the water and wait for it to kick in.

Nothing, at first, not that Steve expected different. Twenty minutes; forty-five.

“Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

And then.

Eddie holds up a glossy aquamarine pebble, squinting at its glow in the late afternoon sun. “I should give this rock to Skye. Bet she’d love it.”

“That’s a shard of glass.”

Eddie blinks at it. “Oh, shit.”

Steve snorts, and when he looks at Eddie sideways there’s a glimmer of that same cerulean shade outlining his whole body, a low-frequency feather of energy rolling off of him in waves. Eddie moves his arm and the color chases it, a long-exposure photo of high beams on rain-slick roads.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth slack. His voices echo in his head; all six of them. “I think I’m…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, eyes alight, pupils blown.

“Yeah.”

All at once something slots into place, attunes itself inside of Steve, and it’s like… he can see Eddie’s mind; touch it, cradle it, reach out to it with its own. It feels crazy. Psychedelics are fucking crazy. He reaches out a hand, slicing through ribbons of shimmering light, tasting the colors as they fade, and Eddie’s emotions spread out in high-definition before him — like the image has always been there but now it’s crystal clear; someone’s shifted his focal point, filled a kiddie pool with Epsom salt and left him there to float.

“I see you,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“…That I can see you?”

“I usually am.”

That’s not right. Eddie’s thoughts shouldn’t sour on his account, shouldn’t sag in the middle like a moldy tangerine. “I can close my eyes?”

“Fuck,” Eddie laughs, thin and strained. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m not allowed to kiss you.”

“You’re not?”

He hesitates. “Am I?” Antsy fingers drum the grass, overgrown with vibrant clover and dandelion stalks. “Just feel like we should talk first, if uh, if it’s safe.”

Steve probes his own mind, tests it for outside threats, but there’s nothing. The acid forms a fractal fortress. Penrose steps, paradoxical and strange. “It’s safe.”

He moves to lie on his side, invites Eddie to do the same. “Talk into the kiss,” he suggests when Eddie joins him — face to face, chest to chest, Steve can see the thrum of Eddie’s heartbeat in the hollow of his throat; wants to press his thumb to it, so he does, the sense memory of ripe cherries bursting on his tongue.

Eddie’s lips against his own; hovering. Static electricity like the scent of summer rain. “I think my pride makes me a coward.”

Steve rubs his dry lips across Eddie’s, chapped skin and shared heat.

“It’s like… I kept trying to tell myself that I was being… I don’t know, valiant, or some shit? Like, ‘oh, he’s so much better without me. I’m the town pariah; I’m keeping him safe by running away.’” He thumps his fist against his heart as if beating a shield to shining armor, and Steve can’t see his eyebrows with their foreheads pressed together, but he can feel Eddie scrunching them into a picture-perfect hero frown. Almost has to laugh — so fucking theatrical even when he’s serious.

“But if I’m honest,” Eddie murmurs, “it wasn’t like that at all. Nothing fucking brave about vanishing on you. Like, what?” His voice shifts again, lilting but critical, a comedian doing crowd work. “I get a liiiittle fucked up by townies two too many times, and I sabotage my whole life over it? Ruin the best thing I’ve ever had over it? As if this goddamn horseshit hasn’t been happening to me since— forever! Shit.” He blows his bangs out of his face; calms himself. Goes a little cross-eyed trying to look Steve in the eye. “I got scared, Steve. There it is. That’s the ugly truth of it.”

He swallows harshly in the dense silence that follows.

Robins chirp; cars pass.

The lake laps at the shore and casts prisms like fishing line, spiderwebs of rainbow light flashing behind Steve’s eyelids. He brings his hands up to Eddie’s face.

“Christ.” Eddie shudders; lets himself become dead weight, rubbing his cheek into the touch, warm stubble scratching over the pads of Steve’s fingers. “Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m not making any sense.”

Yes. No. “You’re making sense. I mean. As much as anything is right now.” The sandy brown freckles on the bridge of Eddie’s nose are swirling like snow flurries. Steve traces them with curious hands. His knuckles blur and swivel, too. “You left because… you wanted to protect me from… yourself?” He sums up, not sure if he’s getting the math right.

“I left because I’m a scared little shit who couldn’t handle getting bullied in a parking lot, but uh. Yeah. I guess I, like, didn’t want to…” His eyes go big and startled, cheeks flooding bright pink. “Oh, shit, I was about to say I didn’t want to curse you, Jesus Christ.”

Steve honks with laughter. Loud and deep and punched out without warning, because the irony of that — that there’s a literal big bad running around cursing people, and the person who was actually doing some real good in his life decided that he was the problem — it’s fucking— hilarious! Hysterical! Steve giggles himself sick, lungs burning as it tapers to a silent wheeze, and Eddie joins him, confusion giving way to compulsion; contagion in the manic giddiness spewing out of Steve.

“You thought—” Steve struggles through hiccups, tears beading in his lash line, “you thought you were the bad luck charm in this relationship?”

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie whines, still laughing. “I already said it was dumb.”

“It’s so dumb.” Eddie may be the cutest, dumbest thing he’s ever seen. He rubs his thumbs over his cheekbones, smile fading. “If anyone’s a curse, it’s me.” Four for four here on getting dragged into supernatural shit. Does Eddie really think homophobes are more dangerous than hell dimensions?

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “You’re a fucking blessing.”

Warmth radiates through Steve, drips from the crown of his head like a downpour of holy water. He feels anointed. Ascended. He feels— “Please tell me we’re allowed to kiss now.”

Their mouths crush together, impossible to tell who moves first, whose tongue is in whose mouth, whose desperate breath Steve swallows as Eddie rolls him onto his back. Hands roam and pull and clutch, molding the shape of him into the earth. Maybe someday, Steve thinks, if aliens invade, they’ll study these imprints like crop circles, trampled declarations of how much Steve loves this boy. “God,” he gasps into the kiss. “Missed you so much.”

“So much.”

“Don’t do that to me again. Don’t go.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. His grip tightens on Steve’s waist. “Never again, baby, I fucking promise. I think I—”

On the far side of the house, leaves crunch and branches snap as a car pulls up the drive. Boots on pavement, rowdy voices; unfamiliar; red alert.

“Spread out, boys!” the voice of Jason Carver bellows. “If that Freak’s in here, we’ll find him.”

—

part 68

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #reefer rick #jason carver

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dreamgrlarchive · 1 year ago

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A Prissy Girl’s Guide to Spring

since i won’t be active on tumblr when next spring comes around, and i’ve done 3/4 seasons, i felt it was appropriate to go ahead and finish the series! if you find yourself inspired by my aesthetic/looks, you can absolutely use this as a guide for the next primavera season! 🐇

what’s the look this spring?

my personal forecast for fashion spring ‘24 is “pink pilates bimbo” for sure. the renewal of spring is the time for a wellness reset. so i’ll be engaging in a physical activity but i’ll still be in barbie attire. pink athleisure pieces with super girly additions is my predicted aesthetic. 🎀

first and foremost…

let’s talk about what spring symbolizes: renewal, cleansing, and restarting. that makes itself apparent in the seasons colors; the darkness of winter transitions to the soft pastels of spring.

preparation

start spring cleaning and prepping for seasonal allergies. stock up on in season fruits to keep in the house. take up outside activities like biking, outdoor yoga, and jogging. buy new fragrances. prep your skin and hair for the overtime humidity.

essentials

pretty umbrella

allergy meds/quarterly check up

new water bottle/tumbler

fresh and clean candles + home fragrances

matcha and jade citrus tea

humidifier

neti pot

clothes and accessories

pink athleisure. the lululemon strawberry milkshake jacket is a must! (or a dupe if you’re on budget)

foldover yoga pants

bedazzled pieces

pastel colored pieces

cute mini bags

victoria’s secret totes

tennis skirts

sheer + lacey tops

florals for spring? groundbreaking.

glitter + sequins

satin dresses

lace up sandals

hunter boots

coach baguettes

victoria’s secret co-ords, leggings and sweaters

ballet flats

ugg slippers + fluff sandals

cute gym shoes with pink/sparkly details

lace up pieces

baby blue is a staple color for spring

ruffle trims

warm materials + revealing cuts

“pastry princess” looks inspired by sweets and dessertz

cropped baby tees

stripper heelz

diamond jewelry

body jewelry + belly chainz

sparkly hair clips and headbands

butterfly aesthetics

ribbons and bows

ostrich feathers

sparkly keychains and wristlets

bodysuits + heels combo

statement jewelry like hello kitty, fruit or desserts

beauty

pretty eye pigments (try mac, huda or iconic london)

vibrant pinks

warm bronzer

glitter gloss

translucent glosses in pink and orange

charlotte tilbury flawless filter

nars super orgasm blush

morphe 8r complexion palette

morphe nikita palette

natasha denona diamond & glow (favvv)

a bunch of clear glosses

fenty diamond bomb

fenty fussy gloss bomb

urban decay moondust shadows

cake beauty products

joseon spf 50

bright and/or floral fragrances (gucci flora gorgeous gardenia, jimmy choo illicit flower, carolina herrera good girl blush, juliette has a gun collection, yves saint laurent mon paris intensement, marc jacobs daisy fragrances)

victoria’s secret love spell + warm and cozy + la crème fragrances

sol de janeiro body mists

body shimmer (fenty beauty or bath and body works)

sweet body butters

sol de janeiro beija flor

exfoliating gloves

juicy sheet masks

cetaphil moisturizing cream

native candy shop collection

victoria’s secret tease + eau so sexy

5 blade razors and post shave oil

cute mirrors to keep in my purses

glitter nails

lavenders and pinks

protein treatments for moisture overload

#diva seasonz!#the prissy girl agenda #dream girl beauty #dream girl journey #my posts

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pmamtraveller · 3 months ago

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LEOPOLD SCHMUTZLER - DANCE OF PRINCESS SALOMÉ, 1905

Leopold Schmutzler's artwork "Dance of Salomé" depicts the biblical and historical character Salomé, famous for her dance of the seven veils. The artwork shows Salomé in a dynamic dance position, wearing vibrant clothing and a dramatic facial expression, typical of Schmutzler's pieces exploring femininity and sensuality.

The background features loose brushwork, while the details become more intricate and polished as they near the figure, emphasizing the dancer's face and body. The figure stands out due to the dark background, making her the main focal point of the artwork.

Salomé, the focus of the painting, is commonly linked to the dance that resulted in the decapitation of John the Baptist, a tale that has been portrayed in different art mediums throughout history. Schmutzler depicts Salomé wearing an exotic outfit with peacock feathers, highlighting her dramatic and seductive qualities.

The fascination with exoticism among burlesque audiences also stemmed from the cultural trend surrounding the Biblical figure of Salome. This phenomenon, called "Salomania," spread throughout popular culture at the turn of the century. The tale of Salome was transformed into theatrical productions and musical works, portrayed in artwork, incorporated into women's clothing, and served as the basis for numerous imitative Dances of the Seven Veils, in burlesque shows and other places.

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candylandphotos · 1 year ago

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eyeshadow feather creative beauty makeup model cosmetics lipstick ❤️

"Artistry Unveiled: A Symphony of Eyeshadow, Creative Feathers, and Lipstick Elegance ❤️"

#Vibrant eyeshadow palette #Feather-inspired accents #Lipstick color variations #Creative makeup fusion #Model's alluring presence #Dramatic beauty expression #Artful cosmetic composition #Bold lip statement #Innovative beauty details #Makeup artistry synergy #Expressive feather touches #Unique beauty arrangement #Avant-garde cosmetics mix #Lipstick shade diversity #Captivating makeup harmony ❤️#beautiful women #pretty woman #pretty girl

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radioisntdead · 7 months ago

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LORD AND SAVIOR!

I pray to thee for Mobster Alastor!! Pretty please! There was an actual Mob in New Orleans during the 1920s! What if Al was a Mob Boss and he meets Reader!!

MOB ALASTOR, MOB ALASTOR, MOB ALASTOR MOB ALASTOR, MOB AL-

Charmed

Mob boss! Alastor x f reader

Warnings: implied death of a man, ALSO WINGEOMAN MIMZY WE LOVE [?] MIMZY IN THIS HOUSE, mild ooc, endings slightly scrambled because I wrote that first then everything else, also don't question the song pacing.

What song the reader is singing

If you go down a couple of nonspecific streets in New Orleans Louisiana and down a shady dark alley way you'd stumble upon a shop that specialized in selling radios of all things, and if you stepped inside and muttered a certain set of words to one of the workers they'd open up the back and let you go down a pair of stairs, leading you to a lively and vibrant speakeasy filled with music, and folks dancing.

Ran by an ambitious woman by the name of Mimzy you were newly hired as one of her performers, clad in a striking red flapper dress with black details covering it, silky black gloves covered your arms, feathered headband placed on your head, and jewelry of your choosing adorned your neck and wrists you danced along to the music that played during down time or when the clock hit a certain time you were brought on stage to sing a jazzy little song.

And one of those certain times was now, you were singing a lovely song as folks drank, it was the slow part in the evening, a nice break from more energetic jazz songs and face paced dances like the Charleston.

"Darlin' I know it's been hard," your dazzling voice rang throughout the speakeasy, charming many patrons including the very man that owned and provided alcohol to the speakeasy.

"life is tough when we're far apart,"

Alastor, radio host that moonlighted as the head of a mob, How peculiar! Of course you wouldn't know that quite yet, only recognizing him as the well-known radio host as opposed to the murderous man he was.

"I miss you so but I know, I know you have to go,"

This wasn't the only speakeasy that Alastor owned and had others operate but this one in particular was ran by his dear friend so he did show quite the bout of favoritism towards it.

"Far away from my arms but you stay in my heart,"

Not to mention he thought that out of the others this one had the best jazz singers, as shown with your charming voice.

"I pray for the day that we'll share the same way"

You could faintly hear your boss, Mimzy greet Alastor and him responding in kind chatting as they made their way to Alastor's regular spot that was reserved for him at all times.

A spot that was somewhat secluded yet gave him a nice view of the stage.

"That we'd never be apart, will it be today?'' you continued singing, not giving a care for whatever your boss and the radio man were doing.

"Baby I'll be lonely without you,"

Alastor sat down as Mimzy gave him some information on someone he was supposed to be meeting for a deal before waltzing off to do whatever it is she did.

"I've been on my own for far too long,"

A bottle of rye and a rather fancy looking cup was placed in front of him by a waitress.

"Come and rescue me, Cause' right by my side is where you belong,"

Alastor checked his watch, the gentleman he was supposed to meet with was running a few minutes late, it was rather annoying especially since he was the one who wanted to meet with him.

Perhaps the man had gotten caught up in some other mobsters mits, perhaps he had decided to play one of Husker's Russian roulettes, or perhaps the coward decided to back out, how unfortunate,

For him anyways, Alastor didn't particularly care what happened to him, he would be annoyed if his time was wasted but at least he got to enjoy a couple glasses of rye and listen to that charming voice of yours.

romantic songs weren't his favorite but he didn't mind this time.

Alastor hadn't intended to become a mob boss but he certainly wasn't complaining especially with all the power that came with it.

He was once a simple radio host that had the simple hobby of murder, but then he had made the mistake of killing a mob member, proceeded to join said mob and ended up climbing the ranks.

Gaining the trust of the foolish former leader, using tactful tricks to tear down other members in order to take their place, replacing them on by one until eventually he did that foolishly vile man in, and took control for himself.

"Darlin' I know it's been hard for you too,"

And now he was more then just a simple radio host, he had control over parts of the new Orleans police department, he had bootleggers, he had people, he had money, enough money to ensure that his dear mother lived comfortably in a nice big house that could rival Jay Gatsby's, with people to take care of her.

"You're trying to make it through but you miss me so,"

May the Lord above have mercy on the souls that made the mistake of trying to harm or neglect her health.

"I know,"

Alastor's eyes rested on you singing, gloved hands gently holding the microphone, eyes half open as your voice enchanted the patrons.

"I know you've have been so long far away from my arms but you stay in my heart,"

Mimzy popped up again, a glass of her preferred alcoholic poison in hand with a raised eyebrow,

"You like our newest performer Al?" She asked leaning against a faux plant.

"Hm? Indeed she has quite the voice!" Alastor took a sip of his rye as Mimzy grinned mischievously, Alastor opened his mouth to say something but was oh so rudely interrupted by The gentleman that wanted to meet with him.

"I pray for the day that we'll share the same way,"

"Ah, you're late." Was all he said to the man as he sat across from him.

"That we never be apart will it be today?"

The late and rather annoying man didn't have the manners to apologize for his lateness, how stupid of him.

"Baby I'll be lonely without you, I've been on my own for far too long,"

while you sang and Alastor debated on killing a man, Mimzy came up with a couple ideas, Alastor seemed like your type and well, she was hopeful that you were Alastor's, because frankly she was concerned that the radio man was going to die alone.

"Come rescue me cause right by my side is where you belong,"

She thought you and Alastor would get along swimmingly! With your willingness to stab a bitch and Alastor's murderous hobbies along with the whole mob thing it was a match made in hell heaven!

And the two of ya' would have her to thank for puttin' the two of you together! Maybe you'd even make her your maid of honor at the wedding!

She'd look great in whatever color you'd choose for a bridesmaid dress, maybe green? Yellows?

How marvelous would that be?

Mimzy moved across the speakeasy to the area where you would go after your little performance to get off the stage and waited for you to finish your song.

You, ever unsuspecting continued singing, wondering what type of alcoholic or maybe even non-alcoholic beverage you would get after your performance, you were lucky that the speakeasy you worked at had several options and you got them either free or at a discount.

You were so preoccupied singing and deciding what type of drink you wanted indulge in to soothe your throat that you didn't notice Alastor snapping his fingers and two people appeared and dragged the man that had met with him away.

It caused a few patrons to leave just in case but it wouldn't damage that nights business.

"Far away from my arms but you stay in my heart,"

Now that his evening was freed up and you were still performing Alastor sipped his drink and watched you, seemingly unaware of what Mimzy had planned.

"I pray for the day that we'll share the same way that we'll never be apart will it be today?"

Mimzy impatiently tapped her foot on the ground as you took a quick breath, preparing to finish up the song.

"Baby I'll be lonely without you, I've been on my own for far too long come rescue me,"

Maybe you'd get a some type of cocktail? Or perhaps you'd settle for a glass of rye? Or maybe plain ol' water?

"cause' right by my side is where you belong,"

Alastor's gaze never left you as he sipped his drink, your voice had him enchanted.

"Baby I'll be lonely without you," you smiled as the time for your little performance to end was approaching, at least until the clock hit another late number.

"I've been on my own for far too long come rescue me,"

Your gloved hand let go of the microphone, bracelets clicking against each other as you moved your hand to your side.

"Cause' right by my side is where you belong."

You sung out the last line and did a small bow before turning around to get off the stage.

You barely made it two steps down the stage before Mimzy grabbed your hand telling you that she had someone she wanted you to meet, and dragged you to where Alastor now stood, intending to leave.

"Alastor! This is my newest performer, [Name], isn't she just the bee's knees?" Mimzy said as she let go of your hand, your eyes met Alastor's as he nodded politely.

"Indeed what a enchanting voice you have! It's a pleasure to meet you my dear, quite a pleasure," Alastor said holding a hand for you to shake, you smiled returning the handshake only for Alastor to bring your hand to his mouth planting a small kiss to it before letting go.

"The pleasures all mine, Alastor was it?" You asked as you pulled your hand back.

"Well look at you two getting along so well!" She said despite the two of you only barely exchanging simple pleasantries, you gave her a pointed look before she looked to the side of the two of you and squinted her eyes before looking back at you and Alastor,

"Oh! woulda' you look at that I gotta stop Donna from singing after this song, we all know she sounds like a dying toad, bless her heart, You two should go dance, get to know each other!" Mimzy said quickly as she suddenly shoved the two of you onto the dance floor.

As another round of jazz music began to play, Alastor took your hand in his and placed an arm on your back, and the two of you danced the night away.

Mimzy was rather proud of herself especially when she noticed Alastor began frequenting her speakeasy more, mainly nights when you performed, she was more then delighted when you waltzed on into the speakeasy early one night before any one had arrived, a couple months after she had sent you and Alastor to dance.

You cradled a bouquet of seven red roses in your arms as you made a beeline to Mimzy, telling her about you and Alastor had began to go out, how he took you on just the most wonderful date before you had came in, and oh how he was so gentlemanly and the date was just amazing!

Of course you did leave out the part of the date where you and Alastor killed a rather brutish guy together but that wasn't too important was it?

Good evening folks! This will be a series of sorts! Because I absolutely ADORE mob boss Alastor, so expect headcanons and other fics that may or may not be in order for this lil' au,

ALSO WINGWOMAN MIMZY Also I'm aware this was posted on Wednesday instead of Tuesday like it was supposed to so this is NOT a Wednesday angst fic, you will be getting Stardew valley flavored Wednesday angst later!

Anywho I hope you enjoyed! As always thank you for tunin' on in, And if you'd like to join in on the mob Alastor chatter you should join our discord!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #mob boss Alastor au

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fairykazu · 11 months ago

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LOVERS' OATH FT. XIAO ! cws: established relationship, in every universe, i'd find you, soulmates. notes: yes, ive been playing love and deepspace and yes, it is inspired by that. princess is used as a gender-neutral term but feel free to replace it with your preferred word, also i might write a part two idk yet masterlist + taglist: @aethion

an oath between two lovers who were forever bound by the soul bond, xiao was always destined to find you but it never meant that you two were guaranteed to fall in love with each other. it was the hundredth year that he was reincarnated into a new world. alas, he was tired. he knew it might take years to find you again but when xiao rested on top of a roof, admiring the moon.

he smiled.

it was the same moon that he had seen when he first met you where you helped him from forever being a royal pet to freedom. unlike the human form you’ve witnessed him in different universes. when you two first met, he was a beautiful bird that was bothersome to catch but heavily admired among the kingdoms. the vermillion bird was only caught once with the dragon lord but never again seen.

until he was captured again by a human who pursued and used the dragon for his own personal gain. xiao was a gift from one of your suitors in your kingdom, you were such a naive princess but yet, he was the one who fell for you first. when the duke, childe, was telling you how he caught the vermillion bird.

the cruel retelling of the story made you wince, knowing what you would do next. after your birthday party had passed, it was midnight and the moon dawned before you. you visited the feathered animal, trapped in the ornate gilded cage with delicate details, already in your room.

however, when you arrived, the vermillion bird was no longer a bird but instead avian. he was beautiful. admiring his porcelain / tanned skin bore scars that he had fought in countless battles and won; he was an affinity to the moon. but his wings? it completely contrasted the pale complexion he had. his peacock-like feathers, each one shone like rubies, reflecting the vibrant hues of the sunset. the deep emerald, green centerpiece of each quill took a resemblance to an eye.

you crooned to him, not sure of what to call him,“hello, mr. vermillion?”

despite being in awe of the sight, your trepidation of what would happen next worries you a little bit. he wasn’t looking at you but instead, he avoided your gaze like it would pierce his skin, leaving the golden cage bloodied with scarlet. “i’m so sorry about what duke childe had done to get you here.”

you were like a vulture, you circled around the cage. he kept himself to one corner and moved to the next when you were near. frowning, you noticed a small pool of crimson on the marble floor, staining a macabre tapestry. “are you hurt?”

he didn't want to be a prey to a foolish princess no less to be their pet. as much as xiao wanted to scoff, he stayed quiet, hoping your never-ending questions would fall to silence.

no reply.

you weren’t sure if the bird was able to speak the local language. “can i see your wound? i promise i won’t hurt you…” it was obvious in the avian’s eyes that he didn’t trust you. in every speckle of gold in his amber eyes, there was a speck of distrust.

you nodded, walking away from the cage and to the door. it's clear that he wouldn't trust me if i had guards protecting me if he did attack me.

cracking it open, you asked the guards if they could leave for thirty minutes. they were hesitated at first but after a couple pleas they left without saying another word. “i’ve called off the guards so you won’t be in danger. let me treat that injury and i’ll let you free. don’t you look at me like that?”

he sheepishly looked away, guilty. sounding a little offended, “i’m not a cruel princess that the rumors say i am.” taking a box under your bed, a safety kit, you brought it to the cage.

before sitting on the marble floor, you were inspecting the injury, you sighed in relief, “thankfully, he didn’t injure you badly. this might hurt.” you took the tweezers and gently nabbed the cut with a cotton swab. thankfully, it wasn’t a deep one.

he winced a little, his wings flinching with him. he tried to keep a calm demeanor but slowly relaxed in your embrace.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. it would be done after–” you cleaned it once more. “–there you go!” you notice his gaze on you while you take the spool of bandages with the scissors. you paused before asking “can i?”, referring to his wings.

he let out a hum. as you wrapped the wing, you made sure it was tight but not too tight in case he might have been uncomfortable. “are you okay?”

he only nodded. as promised, you led him to the balcony, the midnight skies were glimmering with stars. you glanced at him once more. when he stood on the railing, you noticed his bandages had fallen off and the wound had healed as quick as the wind seemed to hum around you two. just before he changed his form, he turned to you, “xiao.”

“what?”

“xiao’s my name. call me if you need me.” do birds like to return favors? that’s something you had to search up later with the librarians. as the bird took flight, it seemed to weave through the air with an almost ethereal grace, leaving a trail of crimson light in its wake. even though you had set him free, you knew that he’d be back.

you were right. but you didn’t know how often he had come back to see you, you barely see him in the day but he found solace in your bedroom at night. as the line between dream and reality had blurred, your bond with xiao grew stronger. regardless of the amount of suitors that would line up all around the kingdom’s borders, they were rejected.

xiao recalled the night, the night you had embedded a little bit of him within your soul. it’s his favorite memory to revisit and he could paint every moment with vivid detail. the kingdom sooner or later accepted the princess’s oddity of rejecting princes and princesses, even princess ayaka or uniting a good alliance with the abyss, prince aether. all because of a bird that never leaves their side.

as midnight drew near, he soared across the skies, noticing how the stars were no longer rivaling the bright beauty of yours. perched on the balcony, he chirped, a sound he would never have believed he’d make before. he heard your giggles and opened your double doors, the white curtains billowing from the breeze. “hello, xiao.”

the moment he was in your embrace, he transformed from his bird form. as you played with his hair, braiding it a little. he rested on the nape of your neck. “princess, are you afraid of us ever ceasing from existence?” he asked, his words buzzing against your skin. his wings were folded in, tensed because this was a question he wanted to ask moons ago.

it was a likely fate. he was immortal, you weren’t. it was bound to happen. but you paused, your fingers stilled from his hair, he was afraid since he couldn’t even hear you breathe. it was strange. he could hear the pin drop of a townsperson sewing but not you. “... i fear it. i used to believe that i could find an elixir to live forever, to be with you forevermore. but i know that’s just naive to think.”

he lifted his head away from you, “princess,”

“you can call me by my name, xiao.” somehow, xiao never was able to get over the formalities in your relationship with him. maybe, blame the man who raised him.

“...name, it could be possible.” you chuckled, tracing his scars on his hands.

“don’t humor me, xiao. i had grown up from the princess you knew.”

“not humoring if it’s true. when i was growing up, i’ve heard from my siblings that an avian could bind their soul to someone to be reunited in every lifetime.” you interrupted,

“that’s not being immortal, xiao.”

“but you will be with me in every lifetime. isn’t that better?” xiao replied, knowing already that you accepted the idea. or maybe he was desperate to keep you in his life, he wasn’t sure how he was able to live without you. before, it was easy, your paths never condiverged. he hated to thank that stupid ginger but if he had to be bruised until he couldn’t breathe just to be by your side, he’d take it.

“if you promise to find me.”

“always.” he replied, stretching out his wings. there was one quill that was different from the others, it was glowing with a dewy golden color. he opened one of your hands, placing the plume into your palm; it pulsed with a luminous intensity. xiao gestured to you to hold it over your heart as you did what he instructed, the feather felt as if it reached out and touched the tips of your soul just before it became one with you.

he kept his promise with you no matter what. even if the universe had it against him, making the relationship imbalance or never letting you within his embrace that crossed romance. despite the challenges and the obstacles he had faced, he managed to be intertwined in your fate.

this time, he won’t lose you again.

#astronetwrk #gender neutral reader #xiao x reader #xiao x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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