#have no idea if he would get along with anyone else | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norristrii · 2 days ago

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NOSTALGIA.

“Funny thing about nostalgia, didn't show up 'til I lost ya.” — You and Lando were childhood best friends until fate tore you apart in the most painful way. From that moment, you thought you’d never see him again—until you did. And suddenly, the past wasn’t forgotten, and the hurt still lingered.

pairing. Lando Norris x childhood friend! fem! reader.

warnings. angst, 12,8k words, hurt/no comfort, childhood friends to strangers to ??, huge timeskips, young asshole! lando, bitter reader (valid), drinking alcohol, I think that’s it ?

music. Nostalgia by Tate Mcrae.

IT STARTED AS SOMETHING INEVITABLE. You were always around each other, thrown into the same spaces, the same gatherings, the same long afternoons where the adults talked endlessly, leaving you both to entertain yourselves. At first, you hated it—hated the forced proximity, hated that your parents assumed you would automatically get along just because you were close in age. But there was no escaping him, no avoiding the way he always had something to say, always had some ridiculous idea brewing, always found a way to pull you into whatever chaos he was creating.

Lando Norris was too much—too reckless, too restless, too eager to push boundaries just for the thrill of it. He climbed trees that were too tall, ran faster than he could control, and seemed to have an unwavering confidence that made it impossible for him to ever admit when something was a bad idea.

And somehow, despite all of it, despite the way you told yourself over and over that he was annoying, that he was frustrating, that he was the kind of kid who made parents nervous—you started to follow him anyway.

Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that, even when he was pushing limits and doing things that should have gotten both of you in trouble, it was fun.

And before you even realized it, he had worked his way in.

You started hanging out even without your parents forcing you together, finding yourselves in each other’s orbit even when it wasn’t required. It was effortless, natural—the kind of friendship that just happened, without needing an explanation. You went to the same school, shared the same classes, sat together at lunch like it was expected, and walked home side by side, barely even questioning how normal it felt. It wasn’t a conscious choice—it was just the way things were.

Before long, there was no separating the two of you. He had become your constant, the person who had always been there, the one who knew you better than anyone else, the one who could read you without you saying a word. He could make you laugh with a single look, could drag you into some wild idea just by saying trust me, could fill the silence with whatever nonsense was swirling in his mind that day.

You never really decided to let him in. But somehow, he became the biggest part of your life anyway.

Life had been effortless for so long—filled with laughter, late-night conversations, and an unspoken understanding that no matter what, you always had each other. Every childhood sleepover, every ridiculous inside joke, every moment spent side by side had only strengthened the bond that had always felt unbreakable.

But then, racing became real.

Lando had always loved it—always talked about it, always dreamed about it—but when he got to F4, it wasn’t just something he loved anymore. It was something he had to commit to, something that took him away more often than not, something that started shifting the rhythm of your friendship into something unfamiliar.

At first, it was subtle—the missed hangouts, the postponed plans, the texts that came hours later than they used to. You understood, of course. This was his dream, and there was no way you’d ever resent him for chasing it. But then, the distance grew—not just physically, but in ways you hadn’t expected.

He was always traveling, always at a racetrack, always so caught up in training, in competition, in the next step that sometimes it felt like you were watching him from the outside, trying to reach through a window that kept getting harder to open.

And maybe that would have been fine—maybe the changes wouldn’t have felt so sharp—if it hadn’t started hurting.

If he hadn’t forgotten things he never used to forget.

─── October 2015

The anticipation had been building all week. A sleepover with Lando—something you hadn’t done in ages, something that felt like returning to the simplicity of childhood, to the nights spent laughing until your stomach hurt, to the effortless comfort of being around someone who had always been there. You had packed light, just the essentials, knowing you wouldn’t need much—just time, just space to breathe, just the familiarity of him.

When you reached his house, the front door swung open almost immediately, revealing Cisca’s familiar, warm presence. “Hey, sweetheart,” she greeted, her voice carrying the ease of years spent knowing you, spent welcoming you into their home like you were just another extension of the family.

You smiled, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Hey, Cisca,” you said, tone easy, comfortable, because it had always been like this—casual, effortless, familiar. “Is Lando home?”

And that’s when you saw it—the shift.

The way her smile faltered just slightly, the hesitation in the way she tilted her head, like she wasn’t sure how to say it without letting you down.

“No, he’s at training,” she said gently, shaking her head like she wished the answer had been different. “Had you something planned?”

Your stomach dipped, something heavy settling inside you before you even had the chance to process it fully. Wow. You hadn’t expected that. Or had you? Maybe part of you had known—had prepared for the possibility that things weren’t as simple as they used to be. Maybe you had just hoped this time would be different.

“Oh.” You exhaled, the weight of disappointment creeping into your voice, despite your best efforts to swallow it down. “We planned a sleepover.”

Cisca’s expression didn’t change—still warm, still understanding—but there was something in the way she sighed, in the way she noticed your disappointment, that made it clear she wished she had a better answer for you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice gentle, the kind that made it clear she knew. She knew how much you had been looking forward to this, how much it had meant to finally have time with Lando like before. “I thought he had told you.”

You swallowed, forcing a small smile, shifting the strap of your bag on your shoulder, suddenly feeling silly. Of course, he hadn’t told you. Not because he didn’t care, but because racing had consumed everything now, because his days revolved around training and competition and an entirely new world that didn’t leave much space for things like sleepovers, for things like you.

“No,” you admitted, the weight of reality settling in deeper than you wanted to acknowledge. “He didn’t.”

Cisca sighed, shaking her head like she wished she could fix this, like she could see exactly what you were thinking. “He’s been caught up in everything lately,” she said, her voice softer now. “It’s not personal.”

You nodded, even though it felt personal.

Because this wasn’t the first time.

It wasn’t the first missed plan, the first forgotten promise, the first moment where you realized that your place in his life wasn’t the same anymore.

Still—you weren’t mad. You weren’t even surprised. Just tired.

Cisca hesitated, watching you carefully. “Want to wait for him?”

You wanted to say yes. Wanted to believe that waiting would change something, that staying would make this sting any less, that he would walk through that door, grin at you like nothing had happened, and make everything feel normal again. But realistically? You weren’t sure how late training would go. And honestly—you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep waiting.

So instead, you forced a smile, shaking your head. “No,” you said, pushing the glass she had offered away gently. “Just tell him I stopped by.”

The world felt different that evening—heavier, quieter, like the weight of everything had finally settled in your chest, making it impossible to ignore. You walked home with your bag slung over your shoulder, footsteps slow, aimless, as if dragging out the journey would somehow soften the disappointment curling deep inside you.

But it didn’t.

Your throat burned, your chest ached, and despite every effort to swallow it down, the tears still came. Silent, unbidden, slipping down your cheeks in a way that felt frustratingly inevitable.

You weren’t angry—not really.

Just hurt. A lot.

─── February 2016

The classroom buzzed faintly with background conversations—the low hum of pencils scratching against paper, the occasional shuffle of chairs, murmured exchanges between classmates—but none of it really registered. It all blurred together, distant and unimportant, as if the world had dimmed along with the gray sky outside. The day felt cold, the kind of dull, overcast afternoon that seeped into your bones, that made everything feel slower, heavier, emptier.

You lay on your desk, arms folded, cheek resting against the cool surface, phone loosely gripped in your fingers. There was no real purpose to your scrolling—just mindless motion, just a way to fill the silence, just something to look at to keep your thoughts from wandering. And yet, they wandered anyway, slipping into the past, into the memories frozen on your screen.

A collection of photos—moments that felt so effortless once, so simple. Lando grinning at the camera, mid-laugh, hair a mess from whatever ridiculous stunt he had just pulled. A blurry photo of the two of you, both smiling wide, caught mid-motion as if time itself had been too slow to capture you properly. A screenshot of a stupid conversation, filled with inside jokes that nobody else would understand.

He was supposed to be sitting next to you right now.

That thought clung to you, dug deep, settled in the pit of your stomach like a weight you couldn't shake off. He should be here—nudging your arm, making some dumb joke just to get you to crack a smile, distracting you from the mind-numbing monotony of the lesson in front of you.

But instead, the seat beside you was empty.

You stared at it—switched your gaze between the photos and the space where he should have been.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, hesitation pressing heavy against your chest. You knew you shouldn’t—knew that part of you expected silence, knew that this wasn’t the first time you were reaching out to him when it felt like things had already changed.

But still, you couldn’t help yourself.

The weight of the empty seat beside you, the ache of old photos, the way this felt different—it all pushed you forward.

So you typed.

yn sittin in mrs. evans class rn still sooo boring wish you were here i miss u

You regretted it the second you hit send.

The message felt desperate, like grasping at something that had already slipped too far away, like searching for reassurance where you knew there wasn’t any. And yet—you had sent it anyway, had let that flicker of hope push you forward, had let yourself believe, for just a moment, that maybe this time would be different.

But the response came too fast—too short, too simple, too distant.

lando yeah sorry

Silence would’ve been better, wouldn’t it? A clean break, a moment where you knew—without doubt—that things had ended, that you weren’t waiting anymore, weren’t lingering in the space between what you had and what you were slowly losing.

But this? This wasn’t closure.

This was uncertainty— not quite forgotten, not quite remembered, stuck somewhere in between where his absence loomed just enough to hurt, but never enough to make the pain feel worth confronting.

Because this wasn’t him saying goodbye.

This was him drifting, slipping further out of reach, making you question whether you should keep holding on or finally let go.

─── May 2017

The moment should have been perfect.

You had waited for this day for so long— had imagined it over and over, had pictured the ceremony, the walk across the stage, the applause that followed. You should have been smiling, should have been focused on the achievement, should have felt nothing but pride. But despite the celebration surrounding you, despite the cheers and the flashing cameras, your mind couldn’t quite settle, couldn’t quite accept the joy without feeling the emptiness lurking beneath it.

Because your eyes kept drifting—kept searching the crowd, scanning through the rows of chairs, looking for him.

And there it was.

The empty seat.

The one that should have held him, the one that was supposed to be yours together, the space where he had promised he’d be. It stood out among the rows of occupied chairs, a glaring absence in a sea of support, a reminder that no matter how much you tried to ignore it, this day wasn’t the same without him.

But he wasn’t there.

Because school had ended for him long before this day. Because racing had taken priority. Because everything had changed in ways that were impossible to ignore. You had known it, had felt it creeping in for years, had understood why things shifted. But today? Today, more than ever, it was undeniable.

You had asked him if he was coming, had heard the easy promise in his voice, the certainty in the way he had said it—like there was no question, no hesitation, no possibility of him letting you down. And for a fleeting moment, you had believed him. Had let yourself picture the way it was supposed to be—the two of you side by side, laughing at something stupid in the middle of the ceremony, making memories the way you always had.

But still—he didn’t come.

The diploma was clutched tightly in your hands, its edges slightly crumpled from how firmly you had been gripping it. The moment was supposed to be celebratory—loud cheers, flashing cameras, the rush of accomplishment filling your chest. But none of it felt right. None of it matched the image you had held in your mind for years—the picture of this day being yours and his, the two of you together laughing at something dumb during the ceremony, teasing each other over your gowns, making this milestone something shared.

But instead, an empty seat had stared back at you.

So you moved quickly, weaving through the crowds, heart hammering, breath uneven with frustration that had nowhere to go. You weren’t even thinking about where you were headed—you just wanted out, away from the suffocating weight of what should have been. Away from the reality of yet another promise broken. Away from the truth you didn’t want to admit.

Until—you crashed into someone.

The force of it made you stumble, steps faltering as you sucked in a sharp breath, ready to mutter an apology and keep moving. But then, your gaze snapped up—

And you froze.

Lando.

Lando?

Standing right in front of you.

Like he was supposed to. Like he should have been.

But it was too late.

Your anger surged before you could stop it, bubbling up, hot and unforgiving, spilling out before you had a chance to think.

“You’re late,” you said, the words cutting through the space between you like a blade.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably under your glare. “I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, sincerity laced in his voice. “There was traffic.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, gripping the diploma even tighter, frustration burning through you with a sharp, undeniable sting. That was his excuse? Out of everything, that’s what he went with?

“Gosh, stop making these stupid excuses!” you snapped, the words coming faster than you could stop them, sharper than you meant them to be—except, no. You did mean them. You meant every syllable.

“You don’t understand, Y/n!” Lando’s voice came sharp, slicing through the air between you. His frustration crackled like static, his jaw tightening, his hands gesturing wildly as if trying to make you see the chaos he carried. “I have so much going on! I’m busy—constantly! It’s not just racing, it’s training, it’s meetings, it’s travel—it’s everything! If you haven’t figured that out by now, then I don’t know what else to say!”

His words crashed into you, each syllable pushing against the weight already pressing on your chest.

You blinked, your breath uneven, anger curling inside you like a flame that had been waiting too long to ignite. Waiting. That’s all you ever did with him, wasn’t it? Waiting for a moment, waiting for a reply, waiting for him to show up like he said he would. Waiting for him to put you first.

“Yeah?” you shot back, voice loud, unrelenting, carrying months—years—of frustration. “Always racing, racing, racing! That’s your whole damn life, isn’t it? Nothing else matters—no one else matters! Not me, not this, not today!”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe where this conversation had gone, like you were the one making this difficult. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy curls, gaze flickering with something unreadable—frustration, guilt, exhaustion—all of it tangled together in a way that made it impossible to decipher.

Then, his next words shattered everything.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice lower, tighter, more bitter. “That’s why maybe your graduation wasn’t really that important to me.”

The breath slammed out of your lungs.

Like he had taken all the air, all the warmth, all the pieces of hope you had left and crushed them in the palm of his hand.

You stared at him—at this version of him, at the boy who once made promises he kept, at the person who had once made you feel like a priority. But suddenly, he didn’t look like that boy anymore. He looked distant. Unrecognizable. Like someone you had spent years loving and now couldn’t even reach.

Your grip on the diploma tightened, knuckles turning white, heartbeat pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowned out the distant sounds of celebration around you.

God. He had really said it.

You swallowed hard, throat burning, refusing to let the weight of everything sink you down into the ache curling in your chest. But your voice still wavered when you finally spoke, softer, lower, but sharp.

“You know what?” you murmured, the words slipping through your lips like the last breath of something you hadn’t realized was dying. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me in a long time.”

Lando inhaled sharply—so small, so brief, but you saw it. You felt it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to say that. Maybe he hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. Maybe, for a split second, he realized exactly what he had done.

He had said your graduation wasn’t important—that the moment you had been waiting years for, the milestone that was supposed to be yours, wasn’t worth his time. And the second those words left his mouth, something inside you broke—not suddenly, not all at once, but slowly, like a fracture that had been forming for months, maybe even years.

So neither were his races to you, right? It wasn’t like you ever missed a single one. Every podium, every interview, every late-night live timing session, every pulse-pounding moment when he fought for position—you had been there for it. You had cared. You had celebrated his highs and sympathized with his lows because he mattered to you. You had tracked every result, known every stat, memorized the patterns of his driving like they were second nature to you. And maybe, foolishly, you had assumed that meant something. That even in the chaos of his world, even when the schedules got tighter and the obligations got heavier, you still mattered.

And yet, here he was, saying the worst thing he could have said. The worst part wasn’t just the words themselves. The worst part was that you didn’t even know if he actually cared. You waited—just long enough to see if there would be hesitation, regret, anything that hinted that he wanted to take it back. But there was nothing.

“Look, Y/n,” he muttered, exhaling sharply, shaking his head like you were the one making this difficult. “We’re not fourteen anymore.” Like that was supposed to excuse everything. Like growing up meant growing apart had to be inevitable.

You swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down, refusing to let the frustration and heartbreak choke you. You thought of the years you had spent together—of the stupid inside jokes, the late-night conversations that stretched until sunrise, the times when you truly believed that no matter what, the two of you would always be there for each other. That time and distance wouldn’t change that. That his world of racing and your world of growing up side by side could exist together. But maybe you had been wrong.

“Yeah,” you said, voice lower, rougher, edged with something final. “Maybe not.” Your gaze flickered over him, this version of him, the boy you used to know so well but now felt like a stranger. He looked the same—same messy curls, same sharp, quick movements, same intensity burning behind his eyes. But something fundamental had shifted, something irreversible, something you couldn’t unsee now.

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t cry—not here, not in front of him, not when he had already taken too much from you. But the tears burned anyway, hot against your skin, slipping past the walls you had tried so desperately to keep up.

“Fuck you, Lando!” Your voice cracked, but it didn’t matter—you meant every word. Every syllable was weighted with months of frustration, disappointment, exhaustion. “I don’t wanna ever see you again!”

───

You never saw him again after that day. The moment graduation ended, you packed your things, left the town you had spent years growing up in, and disappeared without a trace—no messages, no explanations, no attempts to soften the goodbye that had already been said. Because why would you? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to know where you were or how you felt or whether you ever thought of him again.

The only ones who did were Adam and Cisca—the two people who had been there, who had sat in the crowd, who had cheered you on when their son hadn’t. They were the only ones who deserved a proper goodbye, the only ones who had earned a place in whatever future you were heading toward.

And so, you left. The world beyond that town opened itself up to you, unfamiliar yet freeing, a fresh start wrapped in the quiet promise of never looking back. You settled into new routines, built a life that didn’t have his shadow lingering in it.

Some days, it was easy to forget—days when the weight of the past didn’t press quite so heavily on your chest, when laughter didn’t carry the bitter taste of memories, when moving forward actually felt like moving forward. And then, there were days when the past curled around you like a ghost, whispering its presence into quiet moments, slipping into your thoughts when you least expected it.

And then—two years later—you heard it. His name flashing across a news headline, appearing in an interview clip, mentioned briefly in a conversation you weren’t even part of. He had made it. Formula One. The dream he had been chasing since the moment he decided racing was the only thing that mattered.

For a split second—just one—you let yourself wonder what he was doing, where he was, how he felt now that he had everything he ever wanted. You wondered if, in the quiet moments between races, between podium celebrations and press conferences, he ever thought about you. If he ever regretted how things had ended. If he ever wished he had said something different, done something more, shown up when it mattered.

But it didn’t matter.

Because no matter how many times nostalgia grabbed hold of you, no matter how many times you found yourself wondering, the reality remained the same—you didn’t care.

You never checked his results. Never searched his name. Never let yourself linger in the world he now belonged to. Because that wasn’t your world. Not anymore.

Every time his face appeared on TV, every time his name was spoken like it was something larger than life, you switched the channel without hesitation. It was second nature now—like shutting a door you had long since walked through.

─── EIGHT YEARS LATER , March 2025

Monaco had been everything you had imagined—the yachts lining the marina like shimmering jewels, the streets humming with the sounds of expensive cars weaving through the winding roads, the very air thick with a sense of wealth and exclusivity. Fashion was everywhere, woven into the fabric of daily life, stitched into the essence of the people who walked past in designer coats and tailored suits. It felt like stepping into another world, one built from dreams and ambition, one you had spent years chasing, and now, finally, it was yours.

The apartment was still a mess. Boxes stacked on top of each other, half-unpacked belongings scattered across the floor, clothes draped over furniture in a way that made it clear you were still in the middle of making this space a home. You and your friend sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by unpacked memories, flipping through items that held pieces of your past. The smell of fresh paint mixed with the lingering scent of cardboard, and the distant hum of city life buzzed from beyond the windows. This was the start of something new—something separate from everything before. And yet, in the middle of the chaos, the past still found a way to crawl back in.

Your friend reached into one of the boxes, pulling out a framed photo. She studied it for a second, curiosity flickering in her expression before she turned it towards you. “Who’s this?” she asked, holding it up for you to see.

The moment your eyes landed on the photo, you felt it—nostalgia slamming into you like a wave, pulling you under so suddenly that you almost forgot how to breathe.

There he was.

Lando, grinning by the sea, sunlight catching in his messy curls, his arm slung around you like it belonged there, like it always had. You were laughing, caught in a moment of ease, the sky a breathtaking shade of blue behind you. The photo was from that family vacation—the trip the Norris’ had taken you on, the one where the days stretched lazily along the coast, filled with late-night talks, stupid jokes, and a kind of simplicity you hadn’t realized you would one day lose.

You blinked, forcing the lump in your throat down. You could tell her everything—about the friendship that had once felt unbreakable, the way he had always been there, the way you had been there for him, the way time had twisted everything into something that no longer resembled what you once knew. You could tell her about the laughter, the inside jokes, the trust that had felt like it could withstand anything. You could tell her about how it ended, about the fights, the disappointment, the realization that sometimes growing up meant growing apart in ways you could never prepare for.

But instead, the words stuck.

Your fingers hovered over the frame for just a second longer before you exhaled, shaking your head slightly, swallowing back everything you wanted to say.

“It’s just,” you started, voice quieter, the weight of the past pressing heavily against your ribs. Then, after a beat, you exhaled again, steadier this time, forcing yourself to move on. “Someone I used to know.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing that your answer wasn’t the full truth, that there was more beneath the surface. “Really?” she said, flipping the frame in her hands, studying it closer. “You look so happy.”

Why did she keep asking?

You exhaled sharply, shrugging your shoulders in a way that you hoped looked effortless, casual, unaffected. “Really,” you said, forcing out the words, ignoring the way your chest ached. “Just an old friend.”

You knew it was anything but casual. You knew this wasn’t just some old friend. But that didn’t matter anymore.

Without another word, you reached forward, took the frame from her hands, and set it aside, facedown. You didn’t need to look at it. You didn’t need to remember.

And just like that—you moved on.

Or at least, you pretended to.

That night, boredom settled into your chest, heavy and unshakable, the kind that made your thoughts wander places they shouldn’t. There was nothing to distract yourself with—no texts lighting up your phone, no unread messages waiting for a response, no new shows to binge, nothing that could pull you out of the restless grip of your own mind. You paced for a bit, moving from the kitchen to the living room, opening and closing cabinets with no real purpose, sipping on a drink you barely tasted, mind still circling the same thoughts. And then, before you even realized it, your steps carried you toward the box.

It was still sitting there, untouched, exactly where your friend had left it—the lid slightly askew, revealing just a glimpse of its contents, like it was waiting. Waiting for you to give in. Waiting for you to finally sift through the pieces you hadn’t had the courage to throw away. You sank down onto the floor, back pressed against the bed frame, exhaling slowly as you stared at the mess of memories in front of you. Damn. You had a whole box dedicated to him.

Photos—some bent at the corners, some still pristine, all holding pieces of a past you weren’t sure you wanted to remember. You pulled one out, fingertips tracing the familiar image. You had been laughing, caught mid-motion, a blur of sun and saltwater, with Lando standing beside you, his own laughter bright, effortless, easy. It was so easy back then, before everything had changed, before life had twisted in ways that pulled you apart instead of holding you together.

The plushie he had given you sat at the bottom of the box, the soft fabric still familiar beneath your touch. You remembered the night he had handed it to you—some inside joke about always having something to hold onto, something that wouldn’t leave, even when everything else did. The memory made you scoff now. Ironic. But still, you hadn’t left it behind. Hadn’t left any of this behind.

His racing cap, worn and creased from years of use, was tucked neatly beneath the rest, the sight of it forcing a sharp inhale from your lungs. There had been a time when you had worn it all the time—flipping it backward, teasing him about his obsession with racing, pretending you belonged in the world he had immersed himself in. Back when you had cared about every race, every result, back when you had celebrated his wins like they were your own.

And the worst part?

You had taken them all with you.

Why?

If you hated him so much for what he did, if you had truly moved on, why had you packed these things alongside the rest of your life? Why had you carried them with you all the way here?

You sighed, shaking your head, bitterness curling in your chest as you flipped through the photos, fingers ghosting over smiles that didn’t belong to the person you knew anymore.

But shit—you used to be so close.

You pulled out another framed photo. The frame felt heavier in your hands than it should have, like the weight of the memories pressed into the glass, refusing to let go. You traced the edges absentmindedly, fingers skimming over the smooth surface as your mind drifted backward, pulled into a past that still sat quietly in the depths of your chest.

Karting. Your birthday. His laughter ringing out across the track, bright, effortless, teasing. You could still hear it if you closed your eyes, could still picture the way he had grinned at you from his kart, shaking his head as you struggled to control yours, the tires skidding slightly as you oversteered. You had been so bad at it— horrible, actually. But he had made it fun. He had made it feel like it didn’t matter, like failing wasn’t embarrassing, like it was just another thing to laugh about. The way he had looked at you that day��full of amusement, full of something warm—had made you believe it wasn’t about winning, wasn’t about proving anything. It was just about being there, about sharing something that was his, about letting him pull you into his world for a little while.

You exhaled slowly, the memory twisting something deep in your chest, something tangled between nostalgia and regret. It had felt so easy back then, so simple, so natural to believe that forever meant forever, that nothing would change, that no amount of time or distance could erase what you had.

But time had proved you wrong.

Your fingers tightened around the frame, the edges pressing sharply into your skin as you flipped it over, eyes scanning the back without thinking, without expecting anything more than a blank surface.

But there it was.

"Love you 4ever. Lando."

The words slammed into you harder than they should have.

Your breath hitched, a sharp inhale getting caught in your throat, emotions rushing up too fast for you to control, too fast for you to push away. Salty, bittersweet tears burned behind your eyes, threatening to spill, threatening to break past the walls you had spent years reinforcing.

Because back then, you had believed it.

Back then, you had thought forever meant forever, not just until life got too busy, not just until priorities shifted, not just until everything crumbled beneath the weight of not caring enough.

─── March 2025

The remote sat loosely in your grip, your movements slow and idle as you flipped through channels, letting the dull hum of background noise fill the space around you. The apartment finally felt like yours—no more boxes cluttering the corners, no more unpacking to distract you, no more mess making it feel like just another transition instead of a permanent home. Everything had its place now.

The couch was soft beneath you, the room dimly lit, the quiet settling in comfortably around you. For the first time since moving, you let yourself relax. You skipped through channels mindlessly, barely paying attention to the flickering images, letting them blur together without much thought. Nothing caught your interest—nothing held your focus—until something familiar slipped onto the screen.

The Australian Grand Prix. It wasn’t intentional. You hadn’t meant to land on it. But before you could even think about switching away, your gaze lingered. The podium ceremony was already underway, the celebration unfolding in bright lights and flashing cameras, the winner standing tall at the top, drenched in champagne, soaking in the moment of victory. You weren’t really paying attention at first. Not to the commentary, not to the energy radiating from the crowd, not to the excitement buzzing through the broadcast. Until you saw the name.

Lando Norris.

Your breath stilled. And then, slowly, your gaze sharpened, your focus narrowing in on the figure standing at the top of the podium.

It was him. But not the version of him you had last seen. Not the boy you had walked away from, not the friend you had left behind. No—this was someone else entirely. He had grown so much. His features were sharper, more defined, the youthful softness replaced by something stronger, more grown, more changed.

The messy curls had stretched longer, spilling into a mullet that framed his face differently, giving him an edge that hadn’t existed back then. His shoulders had squared, his stance more solid, more certain, the weight of experience shaping the way he held himself. He looked different—older, more weathered by time, by racing, by life itself. But his eyes. The green hadn’t changed. It was the only familiar thing left.

No matter how much you wanted to turn it off, to look away, to pretend like it didn’t matter, you couldn’t. You sat there, frozen, the remote resting in your hand, thumb hovering over the button, the familiar instinct urging you to switch the channel like you always had before. But something stopped you. Something kept your eyes locked on the screen, on the figure standing tall at the top of the podium, drenched in champagne, grinning like he had just conquered the world.

The cameras flashed, the crowd roared, the energy of the moment rippled through every pixel on the screen, making it impossible to ignore. This was his moment—his victory, the thing he had fought for, worked for, sacrificed your friendship for. And now, after years of avoiding everything that had to do with him, years of refusing to acknowledge his existence beyond old memories, you were watching.

─── april 2025

Monaco was made for nights like this—bright lights reflecting off the glistening streets, the hum of expensive cars weaving through the roads, the buzz of laughter spilling out from exclusive lounges. It was the kind of city that begged you to live in the moment, to let the night swallow you whole, to forget about anything that existed beyond the golden glow of luxury. And that was exactly what you and your friend had decided to do. Like any young woman in Monaco, dressing up and heading to the most electrifying party in town felt like the only reasonable choice. Who wouldn’t want that?

The club pulsed with energy, bodies moving in rhythm to the beat, music loud enough to drown out every thought, every worry, every lingering ghost of the past. You were lost in it, fully surrendering yourself to the moment, swinging your hips in time with the music, laughing carelessly between sips of your drink. Drunk, carefree, weightless—that was what tonight was supposed to be. Nothing but excitement, nothing but escape. Until your friend tapped your shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, leaning in closer, voice raised just enough to be heard over the music. “Isn’t this that guy from the photos?”

The words barely registered at first, your mind too fogged by alcohol and the blur of flashing lights to process what she was saying. Confused, you furrowed your brows, turning slightly to follow her gaze, not expecting anything, not preparing for what came next. And then your eyes landed on the DJ stage.

You almost fainted.

Everything around you seemed to slow, the world tilting slightly under the weight of your shock. For a moment, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, that the alcohol had distorted reality, that there was no way—absolutely no way—this was happening. But as you stared, as you focused, as you took in every detail, you knew. You knew exactly who it was.

Lando?

Lando.

You knew him very well, all too well.

The realization hit hard, stealing the breath from your lungs, sending a wave of emotions crashing into you too fast to control. He looked different—sharper, older, changed—but there was no mistaking him. The same green eyes, the same familiar presence, standing right there when he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near you. You swallowed hard, pulse thudding loudly in your ears, shaking your head quickly in an attempt to shove the moment away, to deny the reality of it.

“Definitely not,” you said, dismissing the thought, waving her off as if the words would make it true.

But God, it was him.

And no matter how badly you wanted to convince her otherwise, the person you really needed to convince was yourself.

“I may be drunk, but I’m not dumb,” she said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated patience, her hand outstretched expectantly. “Give me your phone.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face, already regretting handing over your phone. Your friend was relentless—too relentless.

She wasn’t about to let this go, not when she knew damn well that the truth sat right there, in your gallery, in your past. You should have known better. Should have made up a more convincing lie. Should have walked away, pretended like you hadn’t heard her, redirected her focus to something else, anything else. But instead, you hesitated just for a second. And that was enough for her to pounce.

You sighed, already knowing how this was going to end. Begrudgingly, you handed it over, bracing yourself for the inevitable. She wasted no time—her fingers flew across the screen, tapping, scrolling, searching. And then, just as you had dreaded, she found it. The photo. The one you should have deleted years ago but hadn’t. The one that still sat there, preserved in pixels, a reminder of something you had tried so hard to forget.

Your breath hitched as she held it up, comparing the image on the screen to the man on stage, flicking her gaze back and forth between them like she was studying two versions of the same reality, like she was dissecting proof of something that had long been undeniable. Like it wasn’t just some stupid coincidence. Like it meant something. Like it mattered.

“That’s definitely him,” she said, voice firm, confident, staring at you with an expression that made it clear there was no point in arguing.

And you just stood there, frozen, unable to speak, unable to deny it, unable to pretend like seeing him—like knowing he was here, so close, so real—hadn’t completely thrown you off. Because it had. And no matter how much you wanted to push it away, to pretend it didn’t affect you, the truth sat heavy in your chest, refusing to be ignored.

“Let’s go say hi,” she offered, her voice bubbling with excitement, like this was some ordinary encounter, like it wasn’t the exact moment you had spent years avoiding. Absolutely not. The second the words left her mouth, you shook your head, firm and unwavering. No way. No chance. You were not doing that. “Old friends reunion,” she added, grinning, nudging you like this was just some fun little moment that needed to happen. But you weren’t falling for it. Not even a little. Blah blah blah—whatever she wanted to call it. You were not going up there, not seeing him, not acknowledging whatever twisted fate had thrown him into the same room as you after all these years.

She sighed dramatically, clearly exasperated with your refusal, the kind of sigh that told you she wasn’t going to drop this easily. “C’mon, Y/n,” she whined, her fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging on you like she could physically drag you towards him. “He’s hot, at least.”

Yeah. He was. So annoyingly hot.

But also an absolute asshole. At least, that was what he had been when he was eighteen. That was the version of him you knew—the version that had made you walk away, that had made you promise yourself that you would never deal with his bullshit again. And sure, maybe time had passed, maybe things had changed, maybe he wasn’t the same person anymore. But you weren’t someone who judged purely on appearances—except, God, look at him.

White button-up, half undone like he was starring in some careless, effortless, look-at-me-I’m-perfect movie. Backwards cap, messy curls sticking out just enough to add to the whole I don’t care but I look good anyway vibe. Confident stance, lazy smirk, body language screaming that nothing in the world could touch him. Every bit of him exuded the same energy he had back then—like the years hadn’t done much more than make him hotter, like he was still the guy who thought life would always bend in his favor, like he had never needed to grow up at all.

Fuckboy.

Through and through.

And you had zero intention of dealing with that again.

“Y/n, seriously, you have a chance to shoot your shot.” Her voice was teasing, playful, as if she didn’t understand the storm brewing inside you, as if this was just some harmless fun. But shoot your shot? With him? With the boy who had forgotten your graduation, who had ghosted you when you needed him most, who had taken you for granted like you’d always just be there, waiting, unshaken?

Maybe you should tell her the whole story. Maybe you should make her understand that this wasn’t some game, that he didn’t deserve this moment. But before you could even blink, before you could form the words to stop her, you were standing under the stage.

The music pulsed through your chest, the energy of the club drowning out every rational thought, every bit of logic telling you to run. Lando leaned forward slightly, his stance easy, his presence effortless, bending down just enough to hear your friend, completely unaware of the way your body had gone rigid, completely unaware of the way your mind was screaming for an escape. “Hey, can you play this song?” she asked, sweet, casual, unbothered by the fact that she had just dragged you straight into hell.

You hardly listened, your ears ringing with everything except the conversation in front of you, your gaze flickering toward the exit, toward anything that wasn’t him. You tried to act like you didn’t know them. Tried to pretend you were just another person lost in the crowd, just another passerby in a place you didn’t belong. But she was smart. Too smart. And too cruel.

“For Y/n.”

Your stomach dropped. Your pulse stopped.

His reaction was instant. The way his body stiffened, the way his head snapped toward you, the way his mouth parted just slightly in disbelief. His eyes widened, searching, recognizing. “Y/n?” The way he said your name—like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, like you weren’t supposed to be standing there, like this wasn’t supposed to be real. Everything came back.

And then, as if the universe wanted to twist the knife deeper, as if your friend wanted to ruin your life entirely, “yea, Y/n L/n,” she confirmed it. Loud. Clear. Unmistakable.

Your whole name. Given to him so easily, so casually, like she hadn’t just shattered the fragile distance you had spent years crafting between you and him. Omg. Why did you friend an idiot like that?

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face even as his eyes locked onto you—wide, searching, unbelieving, like he couldn’t quite piece together how you were standing in front of him. “Y/n? She’s here?” he asked, the words sounding almost stupid the second they left his mouth, carrying just enough disbelief to make it nearly funny. If you weren’t too busy fighting off the urge to scream, maybe you would have laughed.

Because yes, you are here.

And maybe if his eyes weren’t staring right at you, he could have asked that question to someone who wasn’t standing right in front of him. But no—he was looking straight at you, drinking in the sight of you, the reality of you, like his brain just couldn’t quite accept that this was happening.

You didn’t move, didn’t react, just stood there, letting the weight of the moment settle, letting the air between you grow heavier with something unspeakable. Everything felt slower, stretched out, too thick with unspoken words, with the unbearable past forcing its way into the present.

And honestly? He looked so stupid for asking.

“Y/n, don’t act like you don’t know him,” she said, tugging you forward with way too much force, her grip firm, unrelenting, dragging you closer to the one person you wished you never had to see again. You barely had time to process, barely had time to resist, barely had time to breathe before you were suddenly there— closer than you wanted to be, closer than was safe.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t already mocking you enough, Lando spoke.

“What about you guys going up here?” he asked, referring to the stage, his voice casual, like this wasn’t the most surreal, earth-shattering moment imaginable.

Your stomach twisted. Your pulse hammered against your ribs. Your friend lit up beside you, clearly entertained, clearly loving every single second of this disaster.

But all you could do was wish you didn’t know him at all.

You barely had the chance to protest before she cut you off entirely, jumping in with way too much enthusiasm, her grip tightening around your wrist as if she had just won some personal victory.

“Sorry, we need to—” you started, voice tight, desperate for an escape, desperate to pull yourself out of the disaster unfolding in front of you, desperate to disappear entirely before anything got worse.

But she didn’t let you finish.

“That’s a good idea,” she answered instead, flashing a grin, fully committing to the mess she had just created, fully ignoring every ounce of panic rushing through you, fully pushing you into a moment you never signed up for.

You stepped onto the stage, the energy of the club pressing into you from all directions, the flashing lights making everything feel just a little too surreal, like you had just walked into some alternate reality that wasn’t supposed to exist. Your friend wasted no time, seamlessly folding into conversation with Lando’s friend, her body language open, animated, comfortable—like she had belonged here all along, like this was exactly what she had been planning from the second she dragged you into this mess. She was talking, laughing, exchanging words that you barely registered, already adapting to the situation in a way that only she could. It was effortless. It was unfair. It was everything you couldn’t do.

And you, on the other hand, stood there stiffly, caught between the suffocating heat of the room and the overwhelming weight of him, standing way too close, way too present, way too real. The music thumped beneath your feet, the beat vibrating through the soles of your shoes, pulsing through your chest, drowning out everything except the thoughts racing through your mind at a pace you couldn’t control. You could feel the tension settling thick in the air, could feel the invisible force pulling your attention toward him, toward the quiet way his presence still managed to fill every inch of space around you. It was unbearable. It was unavoidable.

And you did what anyone would do in this situation—nothing.

Just stood there, frozen in place, staring down at nothing in particular, refusing to meet his gaze, refusing to acknowledge him, refusing to entertain the idea that this was happening, that you were here, that he was here, that time had twisted itself cruelly enough to bring you back to this moment, back to this person, back to whatever mess had been left unresolved all those years ago. You could feel him there—watching, waiting, probably trying to figure out the words to say, probably wondering if he should say anything at all.

And you?

You were just waiting.

For someone, for something, for anything to save you.

Your chest tightened, pulse hammering beneath your skin as the space between you disappeared far too quickly, dissolving into something suffocating, something unavoidable, something you had spent years ensuring would never happen again.

Oh hell no.

“Y/n?” His voice was cautious, uncertain, dripping with something unspoken, something fragile, something that made your stomach twist violently. He rubbed the back of his neck—a nervous habit, one you hadn’t seen in years, one that somehow still belonged to him, one that made the moment too real. No way. No way was this happening. No way was he standing here, looking at you like that, speaking to you like nothing had happened, like time hadn’t stretched between you like an unfixable wound, like he hadn’t made the choice to let you slip away.

And then, as if things couldn’t possibly get worse, as if the universe truly had no mercy, he added another layer to the disaster unfolding before you.

“You changed since we last saw each other.”

The words hung in the air, soft, hesitant, laced with something just shy of regret—or maybe curiosity. Maybe nostalgia. Maybe something else entirely.

Your stomach twisted again, the weight of it pressing deep into your bones.

Had you? Had you changed? Or had you simply become the version of yourself that no longer had space for him? That no longer had room for the kind of heartbreak he had carelessly handed you all those years ago? That no longer needed the version of him standing in front of you, pretending like this conversation wasn’t drenched in every painful, unresolved moment he had left behind?

And why the hell did he care?

What exactly was he hoping for?

You narrowed your eyes, skepticism laced in your stare, your tone still tangled with the bittersweet remnants of everything that had come before. The years had stretched long, had pulled at the edges of old memories, had tried to reshape the hurt into something manageable, something distant—but it was still there. Lingering. Settled deep beneath the surface. It had never truly disappeared, no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much effort you had put into convincing yourself that it didn’t matter anymore.

“And did you?” you asked, voice steady, yet laced with something just shy of accusation, something that made it impossible to pretend like this was just casual conversation, like it was just two old friends catching up, like it didn’t hold the weight of every unanswered question you had let rest for years. The words slipped past your lips too easily, too naturally, as if they had been waiting for their moment to finally be spoken.

Lando hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing into him, making him pause just slightly before he finally answered. The seconds stretched thin between you, the silence pressing against your ribs, forcing your pulse to quicken. You watched him, studied the way his expression flickered between uncertainty and something else—something unreadable, something you weren’t sure if you wanted to name.

“Pretty much, yes,” he shrugged, his words careless, simple, like they didn’t hold the gravity they should have. Like they didn’t mean as much as they should have. It was an answer, sure, but it wasn’t a real answer. Not the one you wanted. Not the one you needed. It felt hollow, like he had tossed it out into the air just to have something to say, just to fill the space between you before it became too unbearable.

And then—he added it.

“I think.”

Two small words, dangling at the end of his sentence, uncertain, hesitant, a mistake.

Because if he wasn’t sure—then what was the point of saying it at all? What was the point of answering if he didn’t know what he was even saying?

Your pulse spiked.

Had he changed? Had he grown? Had he actually become a different person, or was this just some empty attempt at convincing you that things weren’t as bad as they had seemed? That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t justified in holding onto the bitterness that still lingered in your voice?

─── one hour later

It had taken about an hour—just enough time for the alcohol to settle into your system, just enough for the world to feel a little softer around the edges, just enough for decision-making to become questionable at best.

You weren’t drunk enough to forget things, not enough to completely erase history or drown out the quiet truths that still lurked in the back of your mind. But you were definitely drunk enough to agree to stupid decisions. The kind of choices you wouldn’t have considered under the harsh light of sobriety. The kind of choices that felt too easy when the world was buzzing and blurred, when the weight of the past didn’t seem quite so suffocating.

And that stupid decision?

A late-night walk with Lando. Drunk. Alone.

Something absolutely absurd. Something that didn’t quite fit with the carefully crafted distance you had spent years maintaining between you. But you hadn’t argued. You hadn’t fought against it. And now, somehow, you had ended up here—sitting cross-legged on the ledge of a stone wall, overlooking the vast stretch of the Mediterranean Sea, the moonlight reflecting against the gentle waves below like some impossibly perfect painting. The air was warm, the city behind you humming softly in the distance, the quiet of the night settling against your skin like an old, familiar embrace.

And despite everything—despite the mess of unresolved history, despite the tension still lingering between the moments of silence, despite the sheer ridiculousness of finding yourself in this exact situation—you were sitting there, eating McDonald’s with Lando Norris.

Your childhood best friend.

Lando glanced over at you, a smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips, like he knew exactly what he was about to unleash. “Do you remember how I took you karting?” he asked, voice dripping with amusement, clearly ready to relive your humiliation.

You barely had time to process his words before laughter burst out of you—loud, uncontrollable, instant, like the memory had slammed into you at full speed, just as violently as you had crashed that day.

“Don’t even start,” you gasped between fits of laughter, shaking your head, barely holding yourself together as you tried to take another bite of your hamburger. The second the ridiculousness of it all fully hit, you had to physically fight to avoid spitting it all over yourself.

Lando grinned, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he watched you dissolve into laughter, the memory hitting you full force, crashing back into your mind with all its chaotic, humiliating glory.

“Oh, come on,” he teased, shaking his head as he took a bite of his own burger, smirking like he had been waiting years to bring this up again. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You barely managed to swallow before shooting him a sharp look, still breathless from laughter. “Not that bad?” you scoffed, eyebrows raised, voice coated in disbelief. “I crashed so hard that the guy running the place had to come check if I was still alive, Lando.”

He snickered, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Okay, fine,” he admitted, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Maybe it was a little bad.”

“A little?” You nearly choked on your food, shaking your head as you wiped at your mouth, still struggling to contain the laughter bubbling inside you. “I’m scarred, Norris. Scarred.”

He laughed loudly, the sound unfiltered, genuine, slipping through the easy rhythm of the night like it belonged there—like it had never left.

Lando shook his head, laughter still lingering in his voice as he watched you struggle to compose yourself. The memory was too good, too vivid, too perfectly disastrous for him to let go.

“You were so bad,” he teased, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth like he wasn’t about to single-handedly ruin your night with humiliation.

You groaned dramatically, wiping at your mouth, still trying to stop yourself from choking on your own laughter. “Yeah, well, excuse me for not being a child prodigy in motorsport.” You shot him a look, eyes narrowed, but the smirk he threw back was unbelievable.

“That’s not what I meant,” he insisted, though his grin didn’t falter for a second. “You just had, like, zero concept of turning. It was literally a straight line, and you still managed to crash.”

You gasped, slapping his arm in mock outrage, though the memory did technically support his argument. “It was a complicated turn!” you defended, though the absurdity of the statement was immediate.

“A complicated turn?” He nearly choked on his drink, eyes wide. “Y/n, it wasn’t even a turn. You drove straight into the barriers like the track just disappeared in front of you.”

You huffed, crossing your arms, shaking your head, but the laughter bubbling in your chest was uncontainable. “Yeah, well, maybe I just wanted to give everyone a good show.”

Lando snickered, throwing a fry at you. “Mission accomplished.”

And somehow, in the warmth of the Mediterranean night, with laughter spilling between shared bites of fast food, it felt almost like nothing had changed at all.

You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time that night, and something inside you shifted.

His smile—so easy, so natural, so completely him—pulled at something buried deep in your chest, something you hadn’t let yourself think about in years. It was familiar, painfully so, a reminder of everything that had once made this friendship effortless, everything that had once made him yours.

His humor hadn’t changed—still sharp, still quick, still laced with that dry British edge that made everything just a little bit funnier, a little more ridiculous. And in that moment, between the laughter, the shared food, the warmth of the night curling around you, you remembered.

You remembered why you were friends.

You remembered why you had loved him.

You turned to Lando, the memory slipping through the cracks of the night, resurfacing with all its chaotic, hilarious glory. A smirk tugged at your lips as you nudged him lightly, already knowing he’d try to defend himself. “Do you remember how we got kicked out of Mrs. Evans’ class?” you asked, voice laced with nostalgia, with amusement, with just the slightest hint of accusation. “Because you couldn’t stop making me laugh.”

Lando grinned, his eyes lighting up the way they always did when mischief was involved, when trouble was just a little too tempting to resist. He shrugged, casual, completely unbothered, like he wasn’t single-handedly responsible for one of the most chaotic moments of your academic history. “And what should I have done?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, feigning innocence with absolutely no sincerity. “It was so boring!”

You scoffed, shaking your head, though the laughter bubbling under your breath gave away the fact that you weren’t actually mad—just exasperated. “Boring enough that we almost got detention,” you reminded him, leveling him with a pointed stare, though the ridiculousness of it all made it impossible to sound truly scolding.

Lando only laughed, stretching his legs out in front of him, like he had no regrets. “Key word—almost,” he teased, throwing a playful wink your way, fully basking in the chaos like it was some kind of badge of honor.

The words hung between you, soft yet unavoidable, stretching across the quiet, sinking into the space where the past had been tucked away for too long.

“I’m glad I had you by my side growing up.”

So simple. So soft. So undeniably true.

And yet, something inside you twisted at the sound of it, at the weight of it, at the way it should have felt warm but instead carried a sharp edge—an unspoken ache buried beneath nostalgia. It was honest, sure, but honesty didn’t erase the years, didn’t undo the mistakes, didn’t rewrite the nights you had spent wondering where things had gone wrong. Because he could have had you by his side for more than just childhood. He could have had you always—if he hadn’t been careless, if he hadn’t let things fall apart, if he hadn’t made the choices that had cracked the foundation between you until it was barely holding together. If he hadn’t been such an idiot.’

Your jaw clenched, bitterness surfacing before you could push it back down.

Because the truth was, it wasn’t just about growing up together. It wasn’t just about the laughter, the memories, the late-night conversations that once felt like they’d stretch on forever. It was about everything after—the parts where he wasn’t there, the parts where silence replaced friendship, the parts where the absence was louder than anything he had ever said before.

And yet, despite all of that—despite the anger that still lingered beneath the surface—you couldn’t bring yourself to say what was truly pressing against your ribs, couldn’t let the words spill out, couldn’t tell him that he could’ve had you forever if he had just chosen to keep you.

The words slipped out of his mouth softly, like he had been holding onto them for far too long, like they had been sitting heavy on his chest for years without escape. “I’m sorry for the graduation.”

Simple. Direct. Honest. And yet, the weight of them hit harder than you expected, settling deep into your ribs, pressing into the space where that memory—where that absence—still lingered.

Graduation. The day that should have been filled with celebration, with excitement, with closure that never really arrived. It had been a day of transition, of stepping into something new, of leaving behind childhood and stepping forward into a future that had felt both thrilling and terrifying. And yet, despite all of that, despite the bittersweet nature of endings and new beginnings, he wasn’t there.

You had told yourself it didn’t matter. You had convinced yourself it didn’t change anything. And yet, standing there, waiting for that familiar face to show up, for him to be there—he never came. And suddenly, it had mattered a lot.

Now, years later, with the ocean stretching endlessly in front of you, with the night settling warmly around you, with the past creeping in between bites of fast food and nostalgia, he was apologizing. Your chest tightened, something complicated twisting inside you, something bitter yet soft, something that wanted to hold onto resentment but wasn’t sure if it could anymore.

“You should be,” you murmured, voice steady, not cruel, not sharp—just honest. And Lando just nodded. Slowly. Thoughtfully. He didn’t argue. He didn’t make excuses. He didn’t try to talk his way out of it like he had done in the past, like he had done with so many other things, so many other moments.

Lando exhaled slowly, shifting slightly, gaze fixed on the waves, the silence stretching between you in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable—but was definitely heavy. He had never been the type to sit with things like this, never been the type to let the weight of past mistakes settle into his chest without some quick distraction, some clever deflection. But this time, he didn’t try.

“I should’ve been there,” he said finally, voice lower now, less casual, less teasing. Just honest. “I should’ve shown up.”

You stared at him for a moment, studying the way his fingers drummed lightly against the stone ledge, the way his posture wasn’t as relaxed as it had been earlier, the way his words carried something real—something that felt less like an empty apology and more like remorse.

“Yeah,” you murmured, voice steady, simple. “You should’ve.”

Another beat of silence. The kind that wasn’t awkward. The kind that just existed.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls, shaking his head lightly. “I was a bit of an ass, wasn’t I?”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “A bit?”

He shot you a look, but his grin—small, hesitant, almost self-deprecating—surfaced anyway. “Alright, fine. A lot.”

You smirked, though there wasn’t malice in your expression—just nostalgia, just something soft wrapped in the edges of lingering hurt. It wasn’t like everything could be fixed with a single apology.

It wasn’t like words could erase the years apart, the way things had splintered without resolution, the way wounds had settled so deep you had forgotten what it was like to exist without them. But maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something new.

Something better.

The conversation had shifted—still warm, still easy in some ways, but laced with something deeper now. Something that wasn’t just nostalgia, wasn’t just laughter over childhood chaos, wasn’t just revisiting memories like old photographs tucked away in forgotten drawers. This was different. This was real in a way that it hadn’t been for a long time.

“I wanted to reach out,” he admitted suddenly, voice quieter, more careful. Like he wasn’t sure how the words would land. Like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to say them at all. “After graduation. After—everything. But I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You studied him for a moment, the way his expression had shifted from mischievous to contemplative, the way he actually seemed hesitant—like he had spent years thinking about this exact moment, about how he would say these exact words if he ever got the chance.

And part of you knew that if he had tried back then, if he had sent that text, made that call, said something when it mattered—you wouldn’t have ignored it.

You wouldn’t have been able to.

But he hadn’t. And time had stretched between you, pulling everything apart until you weren’t sure if there was anything left to hold onto at all.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, and it wasn’t bitter, wasn’t sharp—it was just curious. Because after all this time, after all the years spent wondering, you deserved an answer.

Lando’s lips pressed together for a brief second before he exhaled again, shaking his head. “I was scared you wouldn’t want to hear from me,” he admitted, voice raw, honest. “And maybe... I thought I deserved that.”

And for the first time, since the distance had formed, since the resentment had settled, since the laughter had faded—his regret felt real.

Lando’s voice was steady, careful, carrying something unspoken beneath it—something raw, something real, something fragile enough that it almost felt like it didn’t belong in the easy rhythm of the night. “I really want to be your friend again, Y/n,” he said, and for the first time since this conversation had begun, since nostalgia had crept in and laughter had softened the edges of old wounds, you felt the weight of every single moment that had led up to this one.

It wasn’t a lighthearted remark. It wasn’t just words tossed into the sea breeze without meaning. It was something deeper, something intentional. And then, like he realized that saying it once wasn’t enough, like he needed to make sure it landed the way he intended, he added—“and I want you to be my friend again.”

Not just that he wanted to be yours.

But that he wanted you to want it, too. That he wasn’t just asking for forgiveness, wasn’t just trying to smooth over years of absence and missteps and hurt—he was asking for something real, something that required more than just words.

He was asking for a chance. For the possibility that this wasn’t just reminiscing, wasn’t just two people revisiting a past they had lost, but maybe—just maybe—the beginning of something new. And suddenly, after all this time, after all the years apart, you held all the power.

The tear slipped down your cheek, warm against the cool night air, but you didn’t wipe it away. You let it fall, let the weight of emotion settle deep into your chest, let the moment exist without hesitation, without restraint. “I miss you, Lan,” you said, voice raw, uneven, laced with something fragile—something true. “I missed you over the years. Nonstop.”

Lando inhaled sharply, like the words had knocked the breath out of him, like hearing them out loud made them real in a way that thoughts alone never could. His fingers curled slightly against the stone ledge, his posture tense for just a second before he exhaled, slow, measured. When he spoke, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just honesty, just everything he had been holding back.

“I miss you too,” he admitted, and it wasn’t rushed, wasn’t just a response for the sake of filling silence. It was real. It was heavy. “I always thought about you. In the car, before sleep.” His voice dipped slightly at the end, quiet but steady, carrying the weight of years, of regret, of something so much bigger than just missing someone. He glanced at you then, expression softer, more exposed than you had seen it in a long time. “And I also thought about how much I fucked up.”

"I can't hate you, Lando," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them, before you could think too hard about what they meant.

Because it was true.

Even after everything.

Even after the hurt, the silence, the years of unspoken apologies—you never could.

Lando’s breath hitched, just slightly, just enough for you to notice. His fingers curled against the stone ledge, his posture rigid for a moment before he exhaled, letting the weight of your words sink into his chest. He nodded once, barely, his gaze flickering toward the waves as if searching for something—some kind of grounding, some kind of steadiness in the moment that was suddenly too real.

“I thought you did,” he admitted, voice quieter now, less controlled, less confident. “For a long time, I thought you hated me.”

You swallowed, lips pressing together, letting the truth sit between you, because maybe—back then—you had tried to. Maybe you had wanted to. Maybe it would’ve been easier if you had.

But you never did.

“I was angry,” you said finally, voice steady but soft. “I was hurt. But I never hated you, Lan.”

He turned toward you then, fully, eyes searching yours with something raw, something desperate—not in a selfish way, not in a way that begged for more than you could give, but in a way that told you this moment meant everything to him.

Your voice was steady, but there was something fragile underneath it—something you hadn’t meant to admit out loud, something that had been sitting in your chest for years, tangled up in old resentment and unspoken frustration.

Lando’s expression flickered, something shifting in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or understanding, or both. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to laugh it off, didn’t do anything except wait, letting you say the thing you had never really let yourself process before.

“I wanted to be happy for you,” you continued, inhaling slowly, like the words were harder to say now that they were actually being said. “But every time I saw you winning, every time I saw you smiling on that podium, every time I saw you getting everything you wanted, I just… I was bitter, Lando.”

He swallowed, his fingers curling slightly against his knee, his gaze locked on yours, unwavering. “Because I wasn’t there?” he asked, voice careful, like he didn’t want to assume—but like he already knew.

You nodded, lips pressing together, letting the truth settle between you. “Because you weren’t there,” you echoed. “Because I wanted to be part of it. Because I wanted to be your friend, but instead, I was just—just some person watching it all happen from a distance.”

Lando exhaled, slow, measured, like he was absorbing all of it—like he wasn’t just hearing your words, but feeling them, carrying them in the space between past and present. He shook his head lightly, eyes dipping downward before meeting yours again. “I should’ve reached out,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, less certain, more vulnerable. “I should’ve had you with me. Should’ve made sure you never felt like that.”

And for the first time, since this conversation had started, since the past had resurfaced, since the years of distance had finally been acknowledged—you felt like he understood.

“I didn’t want to feel that way,” you admitted, voice quieter now, more careful. “I wanted to be proud of you, wanted to celebrate with you. But instead, it just felt like proof that—" You inhaled, pressing your lips together for a brief second, steadying yourself before letting the words slip out. "Proof that you didn’t need me anymore.”

Lando’s expression flickered, something deeper shifting behind his eyes—something that looked dangerously close to pain.

“No,” he murmured immediately, shaking his head, his fingers curling into a fist for a brief second before he exhaled, forcing himself to breathe. “It was never that. It was never because I didn’t need you, Y/n.” He looked at you now, really looked at you, like he needed you to understand, like he needed to make sure there was no space for doubt, no space for misinterpretation.

“I was an idiot. A selfish idiot who didn’t know how to deal with everything changing, so I—” He sighed, running a hand through his curls, his voice dipping lower, carrying something raw, something heavy. “I handled it badly. And I let everything slip away, because I was scared to—scared to admit that I couldn’t do any of it without you.”

Lando was quiet, until he broke the silence with one, short question.

“Do you think I deserve a chance?” he asked, voice softer this time, like he was bracing for whatever came next. His fingers drummed lightly against his knee, his posture just a little too rigid, his expression just a little too careful. He wasn’t asking lightly. He wasn’t expecting an easy answer. He was giving you the space to decide.

You inhaled slowly, letting his words settle, letting yourself really think about them. It wasn’t just about whether he deserved it. It was about whether you wanted to give it. About whether you were ready to step into something new, to let go of the bitterness that had clung to the edges of the memories you had tried to hold onto for so long. And maybe, just maybe, you were.

“Yeah, you do.”

For my dearest @haniette and for all the lovely people reading this !! This is my longest and favorite fic I have ever written. This is literally asking for part 2!! Let me know if u are interested !<3

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strkly · 8 hours ago

Text

something sweet

s.m: after the events of honey; bob spents a lot of time rethinking the past between you and him. he gets jealous. maybe the old feelings still laid below the surface.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x sam wilson’s avengers!reader

w.c: 5.4k

c.w: not proofread, this also took me forever to write so this might have some inconsistencies between honey but dont think abt it too much. angst, hurt/comfort unhealthy relationship dynamics, mentions of drug usage, exes (with still something there), bob pov, over protective reader, bob and you are really bad at communicating, minor sambucky mention? can be taken as platonic tho, bff joaquin, im too tired to proofread this so really ignore all spelling errors ill go back and fix it soon. asumming its 2027 and bob is 30.

sorry this took me forever ! promise the last part wont take me as long as this one did (hopefully)

honey -> homesick

you dont end up going out to eat together much to your dismay and bob’s disappointment. sam must have gotten word you were off mission and was bothering you to report back to him. it got to the point you could no longer ignore and decided it would be better to head back.

you try to ignore the pout on bobs face as you grip his forearm. “dont worry, ill come back and we’ll get to hang out then okay?” he looks down at his feet before nodding; ignoring the minor ache in his chest at the idea of watching you walk away.

“just give me your phone number and ill call you.” he tilts his head as he looks back up at you, “my,,, phone number?” your face twists into annoyance as it dawns on you val hadn’t given him a phone. theres so many things you want to say, but instead you murmur to yourself, “that fucking bitch.” before you turn away pulling out your phone as you wave your hand behind you, “dont worry about it, ill see you guys!”

as you enter the elevator everyone sends you off with a small wave, right before you raise your phone to your ear you point your finger at them, “dont listen to anything val says seriously do not listen.” the doors close before anyone gets to say anything in return.

the group is dead silent simply staring at the elevator door. “what the hell was that?” no one says anything for a few moments before they all shrug and go all spread out to do god knows what in the tower. bob stays awkwardly staring at the elevator door like it was about to open back up and you would walk back in.

he has always tried so hard not to think about the past but now he finds himself still reminiscing in the memories he finds in his mind. “you know she was talking to you right?” bob is shaken out of his trance by the hand placed on his shoulder, turning quickly to see yelena smiling at him. “h-huh?” she just shakes her head and pats his shoulder, “dont worry we’ll protect you.” “from who?”

she says nothing else and hes far too tired to argue simply walking back up to his room and falling asleep, it was mid afternoon but he ends up sleeping into the next day. yelena realizes the the mental exhaustion must have hit him hard and assures the team he’ll be fine and she’ll talk to him once hes up.

he finally comes back down at lunch time. he weakly smiles at his teammates who look at him with concern as he debates on what to eat.

the three sitting on the couch huddle together as the look at him, “should we ask him about you know who?” “yelena told us not to.” “who’s yelena our mother? lets ask.” bucky walks past the group of them and rolls his eyes, “you know he can hear you right?”

the three of them turn back to bob who had a deathly grip on the open fridge door as he stared at it like it held all the answers. he had dreamed about you. he couldn’t tell if it was a dream or a memory of something that actually happened.

saratosa spring’s 2015

you had your hand tightly wrapped around his, walking in front of him as you dragged him along with you. a big smile on your face as you hummed along to some tune in your head. he was quiet, he always was after coming down from a high but you know he’ll perk up as soon as you get to the lake. you had just finished finals and it was way too damn hot to stay in your apartment with the shitty ac you decide to take a trip with him to the lake an hour out from you.

he actually liked long car rides, staring out the window at the passing landscapes, the wind blowing through his grown out hair while listening to the static radio you had in your beat down car brought him a sense of peace. he hadn’t expected to go on one today, he must have forgotten about it since it seemed like you mentioned it before or maybe you had told him during the haze and he didn’t realize you were even speaking to him. its not like he ever had anything to do so when you came home with some groceries and pulled out the cooler he got ready to go.

the lake is gorgeous. its hidden behind the trees but before you can see it you can hear the wild rushing of water flowing from the waterfall. when it finally comes into view it feels like youve been transported to another planet. he hears you squeal as you rush to set up your stuff, “its been so long since ive been here, its still so pretty.” he hums back at you as he sets up the towels not able to form a response, still not 100% back to himself but he chugs down two ice cold water bottles to shock himself back to reality.

he lifts off his shirt as you strip down to your swimsuit, turning to him the smile you had your face had him staring at you in wonder, you were the most wonderful thing in the world. not even the highs he reached could be a great as you. you hold out your hand to him and he finds himself moving to grab yours before he even knows what hes doing. “lets jump!”

after your conversation he did a lot of thinking when he woke up. it never really occurred to him your dynamic had so much of an effect on you. you did basically everything for him, hell you even taught him how to swim, it never occurred to him you had just gotten him way too comfortable. never pushing him to do more simply content with the routine and life you guys had. he had never really thought about it like that. maybe you were right. but he didn’t want you to be right, he was the problem wasnt he?

yelena had come to his room early in the morning, he was up trying to take his mind off the thoughts he was having by reading a book. “youve been staring at that page for ten minutes.” he looks up alarmed, not even knowing she had entered his room. “oh, um you know,, really interesting stuff.” she walks over to him and gently sits on the bed in front of him before grabbing the book and flipping it around, “its upside down.”

“ah. i knew that…”

when she asked him if he needed anything he’s grown to feel so comfortable around her he confides in her what had happened yesterday and some history between the two of you, leaving out the precious memories he has.

shes quiet for awhile. thinking about how to word a good response before she sighs, placing a hand on his. “i think shes right.” thats not what he wanted to hear. “why.” it wasn’t a question, more so his disbelief spilling out of his mouth but she takes it like a question anyway. “because if what you say is true she would have been successful no matter what, she is a good woman. she would have been happy in life because she was with you. but you would have never been happy because you were with her.”

it bothered him. and rethinking all of his time with you bothered him so much because in all of his memories you are so so happy. and he was, him. sure he was as happy as he could get but he was never truly happy with life and he just thought he never would be.

“the food in the fridge is gonna get hot at this rate.” he snaps back into reality as bucky slips behind him not even sparing him a glance as he fixed himself a drink. without thinking he slams the fridge door shut so strongly it makes a strange sound and everyones heads turn towards him. he just stares at it awkwardly trying to see if it was broken but it looked alright so he left it alone, sparing everyone a quick sorry as he glanced around the room.

the elevator door dings and suddenly all attention is off of bob and towards the door. there was no way it was you. it wasn’t. and he tries not to ket his disappointment show on his face. mel smiles at the group as he holds up the large bag she had in her hand, “i brought lunch.”

everyone cheered before gathering around the large brown bags rummaging around in them for their food. bob stands back, letting everyone else take their pick before he even thinks about heading over towards it. “oh right bob,” he looks over to mel who shuffles through her bag before holding out a phone to him. “courtesy of valentina”

bucky scoffs and laughs as bob hestitantly takes the phone from mel and smiles at her. “she yell at her?” mel hesitates to answer as bob stares at the phone, “off the record,, yes yes she did and she wouldn’t let anyone touch the phone, i was given it just now with someone breathing down my neck.”

you must have thought val or any of her minions would have bugged it. bucky realizes you were likely right and they would have, hes ever shocked you let mel hold it at all it must have been because he talked to you about how mel was a good one.

they continue to talk around him but he tunes them out. he cant even remember the last time he had a phone that wasnt a flip phone, probably when he was with you and you had bought it for him but he left it all those years ago. it doesn’t have a password and had no personality clearly new, but the phone did have one contact in it.

yours.

it was just your name, no nickname no emoji just your name. but with your contact page there was a little note you had left, “text me whenever you want! :)”

he doesn’t. he wants to. yet he keeps on staring at your contact page while he sits in bed. what would he even say? he cant just say hi thats too lame, but if he says anything else would he be coming off too strong?

lost in his own frustration he grips his phone awkwardly not even realizing his fingers slipped over the video call button and suddenly he was calling you. he yelped, his fingers trembling as he tried to end the call but the dark screen and ringing was soon changed into the site of your smiling face and the sound of your voice, “hi! give me one sec okay?”

he involuntarily begins to smile at the sound of your voice and he watches as your face disappears from view but he can still hear you talk to someone off screen. “im leaving joaquin,”

he can hear the sound of you gathering up your stuff. wait whos joaquin?

“who are you taking to? your boyfriend? let me see!”

“goodbye! leaving now!”

the sound of your rushing footsteps fills the air he can hear some voices call after you but you continue to briskly make your way out of the area you were before bring the phone back up and smiling at him.

“hi, sorry about that. its so good to hear from you are you alright?”

he pushes his questions down his throat as he smiles, nodding before he quickly rushes to actually speak, “yes hi sorry i didn’t mean to call you you seem busy…”

“no no no i just left work now i was meaning to leave anyway but i kept on getting distracted.”

distracted talking to that guy, the darker part of his mind thinks. he doesn’t have a right to think like that. the two of you haven’t been together in almost over a decade.

“im sorry…”

still he feels the need to apologize despite your words. he watches the way the afternoon light hits your face, the soft tone of your voice and he melts. “you know, you can call or text me whenever you want honey, ill always answer.”

2017

he was home alone. you were at work and he had gotten fired from the liquor store you managed to get him a job for and he felt terrible.

“dont worry baby, we’ll figure it out we always do.”

you’ll figure it out. thats what you had meant, he couldn’t really do anything. the tv was on yet the noise from it flowed from one ear to the other as he tried to shake the thoughts from his head.

he couldn’t do anything right. why did he even bother? he would be better off dead. his hands shook as he gripped his head tight. he couldn’t hear his fathers voice, angry like it always was he could hear the disappointment from his mother.

he couldn’t breathe.

he gripped his phone and found your contact and called it out of instinct. the ringing of it falling on deaf ears as the only sounds he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat.

it hadn’t even occurred to him you were still at work till you answered with a frazzled look on your face glancing around, he could recognize the ceiling and the walls of your work place, “hey honey did you need something?” he sees your face fall as you recognize the look on his face. “honey are you okay?”

he alway just messes everything up.

“im sorry.”

he hangs up. his phone flies from his hand and hits the wall. it probably breaks but he doesn’t care. he puts his head in his hands as he starts to hyperventilate.

of course you wouldn’t be free to talk to him you actually had things to do. you were actually important. unlike him. who has no place in this world, a worthless piece of space who means nothing.

he doesn’t know how long hes sitting there spiraling, but its not long enough feels cold hands touch his face and your sweet sonnet voice.

“honey, hey please look at me.”

you were looking at him with that sad face you get whenever someone yelled at him or whenever he was in one of his bad moods like he was right now.

he hated that look on your face.

“w-what are you doing here?”

“i was worried about you, are you okay?”

thats how it always was. whenever he was in any sort of peril you rushed to save him. you were like a superhero. it didn’t matter you had to cut your shift early and beg your coworker to cover the rest of the day for you. it didn’t matter rent was coming up and you would probably need to work a double or two to cover for today.

you just came to him. no matter what. and when he finally manages to force a smile you meet him with a gentle look on your face and a bag of hot takeout on the coffee table he felt like everything was alright just for awhile.

“you know, you can call or text me whenever you want honey, ill always answer.”

it becomes a regular thing. the two of you calling and texting each other everyday. the times zones are a little finicky so he ends up talking to you late into the night without a care in the world.

he avoids asking when you’re coming back to visit despite how eager he is. he knows you’re busy but he also knows that the two of you are dancing around the unavoidable.

there were numerous articles day to day about who the real avengers were and every shot with sam or every press he did you stood by his side and supported his cause. the two of you never talked about. when he would ask you what you did today when you had a press conference talking about how sam had the true right to have the real avengers you would say you just did this and that nothing special. you would have to talk about it eventually, but it was definitely not going to be anytime soon.

something else began to bother him during this time. that guy, joaquin he found out was his name. bucky had mentioned a thing or two about him. good guy, captain in the air force, smart, funny. he was gonna be sick.

you would always be standing next to him during conferences, the two or you could be seen chatting and laughing together in paparazzi photos. he has no right to be upset, you two arent together and haven’t been for awhile he cant be upset he shouldn’t be.

it had been a month now, but he hadn’t heard from you for two days now. it was odd. you had both talked everyday no matter how busy you were and you had suddenly gone radio silent. he tried not to let it bother him, you didnt have to talk to him everyday. he did chores he tried to train but it just continued to eat at the back of his head.

yet he finally heard from you once again. it was early afternoon. he was sitting on the couch drinking a decaf frappuccino yelena had gotten when she went go get the team coffee when the elevator door suddenly opened and the sound of people bickering filled the air.

everyone stood up at the sight of you, dragging sam by the ear towards the center of the room while joaquin trailed a little behind looking around the room with wonder.

you were wearing a business suit. he had seen you in a few of them but this one was clearly tailored like he’d seen during your press conferences. you’re had had been done the way you liked it still the same all those years ago, somethings never changed.

his fist clenched in his lap.

“you two are going to talk about it.”

“i dont wanna talk to him.”

“i dont give a shit.”

bucky looked the most alarmed out of the group and took a couple steps towards them. when sam noticed bucky he straighted up and turned his head away. “stop acting like a child wilson.”

only to make it worse bucky begins to match his posture and huffs. “you guys stop acting like babies before i get pissed off.”

“you’re already pissed off.”

“and you’re making it worse barnes.”

after a couple moments of silence you realize neither of them are going to crack you roll your eyes before grabbing both of them and dragging them down to an empty room. “joaquin play nice with them while were gone!” you ignore the sound of bucky and sam trying to argue with you and wiggle out of your death grip as you drag them out the room out of ear shot from everyone else who just stares at the three of you.

“remind me never to mess with her.” walker sits down next to ava and shakes his head, “trust me you really dont want to.” he shakes as a chill overcomes his body taking a long sip from his cup.

joaquin just sort of stares around the room in wonder before turning to the group trying to figure the joyful look on his face with something akin to serious but its very obvious its not genuine.

“serious doesn’t look good on you torres”

“shut up walker.”

bob has to put down his cup as his grip on it grows too tight he fears itll explode. its odd seeing the guy he’s seen only in photos and videos in person, he tries not to stare but he finds his jaw clenching before he even realizes it. yelena notices straight away, looking at him knowingly before turning back to joaquin with a grin.

“so like she your girlfriend?” yelenas finger points towards the way you had just dragged them off. walker spits out some of his drink and covers his mouth in a cough as joaquin tilts his head in confusion.

one of bobs hands reaches over and grips yelena’s jacket tugging it to try and get her to stop. he didn’t want to know, his chest hurts. but yelena ignores his movements and just grins at joaquin.

“who?” “you know, y/n.”

he laughs.

why the hell is he laughing?

his hands fly and out in from of him as he shakes his head, the humor still in his tone as he speaks. “nah nah, i like her shes cool but dating? no definitely not shes a good friend.” “ahh i get it.”

the relief he feels flowing through his body is the closest thing he’s felt to being high since he’s been sober. he doesn’t even fight off the sigh that leaves his body ignoring yelenas knowing look at him.

he notices the way joaquin is staring at him. its a familiar look to the ones he’s seen from the people from his past. its one thats trying to read him, trying to figure him out. he doesnt like it. when he shifts comfortably in his seat joaquin apologizes. “sorry man its just, have i seen you before?”

thats not what he was expecting to hear. even the other guys in the room seem confused by joaquins words. “umm no?” “the news maybe.” ava hits walker on the shoulder but he just turns to her confused, “what?”

joaquin just continues to stare for a minute or two, his hand coming to grab his chin as his eyes squint in concentration. suddenly his eyes light up and he claps his hands together, “oh i know, you’re the one whos her friend right?,” joaquin doesnt even wait for bob to nod his head before continuing. “shes got a picture of you on her desk. damn im good.”

bobs face contorts into disbelief as joaquin looks pleased with himself. “what picture?”

“looks like it was her graduation, shes wearing a cap and gown.”

oh right, he knows what picture joaquin’s talking about.

it was right after the lake trip you had taken him on. your high school graduation, you had originally told him he didnt need to go. you still went to the same school he had dropped out of, not wanting to overwhelm him but he still wanted to go. it was your big day, graduating top of your class you had worked so hard he pushed down all his bad thoughts and managed to show up for you. he hid his face, too embarrassed to be seen by his former teachers and classmates but he still stood up and cheered when your name had been called. his cheeks hurt from smiling while you were giving your speech.

the first thing you did after it was all done was run over to him with a big smile on your face. he wrapped you in his arms and spun you around. “im so proud of you baby.” the sound of your laugher fills his ears as you snuggle your head in the crook of his neck. “im so happy you’re here.” you quickly pulled out your digital camera from your pocket and snapped a picture of the two of you wrapped in each others arms and smiling at the camera.

you should have been off to some ivy league college after that. getting some fancy degree getting a high paying job living in a nice house. yet you werent, everyone was more than confused when you said you were staying local, going to the near by community college and getting a regular business degree. you were meant to be doing so much more thats what everyone had said, but you couldnt leave bob. sure he would follow you anywhere you went but the idea of him being too overwhelmed by a new city put you off of moving all together.

he didnt get to go to your college graduation he had already left you at that point. he wonders what you had looked like, what you wore. he couldnt remember what the school colors were. did anyone even show up for you? you did have many friends outside of casual acquaintances at school and bob was even the only one at your high school graduation. were you all alone that day? he swallows down an ache in his chest at the idea of you standing all alone while everyone around you celebrates with their loved ones.

“right yeah, probably me. i-i mean, i was there so..”

he has no clue what to say. he tells himself its probably the only picture you have of your graduation of course you would frame it and keep it, it has nothing to do with him its just a coincidence he’s in the photo. he’s not special.

thankfully like the angel you are you finally come back into the room sam and bucky on your tail. it seems like the tense has dissolved off of the three of you. “everything good?”

you walk over and pat joaquin on the shoulder and nod. bobs head twitches. “yep, the married couple made up just fine.”

“dont call us that.”

bucky and sam look over and each other and smile. sam places his hand on buckys shoulder and shakes it gently.

“we’ll have to have a long talk with valentina but yeah, i think we’ll be alright.”

a gentle look of affection graces buckys face in a way none of the thunderbolts have ever seen. its strange but no one has the heart to say anything.

bob cant take his eyes off you. the soft smile on your face as you stare at the two guys. when your eyes drift over to him his body perks up and he straightens in his seat like a dog. he must be imagining the way the smile on your face grows at the sight of him.

“who wants to go to lunch? my treat.”

while everyone perks up and gets ready to go you walk over to bob. yelena gets up, shooting bob a knowing look before rushing over to ava. bob stands to greet you. tugging on the ends of his sleeves he grins, “hi.”

“bob, im so sorry. my phone got broken on this mission and i couldn’t reach you.” you grip his forearm and smile at him apologetically. he feels so relieved to see you to hear your voice he laughs. his voice full of joy as he leans closer to you. “im happy to see you.”

you wiggle a bit closer to him and he fights the urge to lay his forehead on yours. the grip you have on his forearm growing ever so tighter. “im happy too.”

“i still owe you a lunch, come on lets go.”

you grip his hand, he doesn’t let you go until you get to the restaurant, if anyone notices they dont say anything.

you had rented out the private room at this brunch spot. on the way there you told him how you always came here whenever you were in the city and were excited for him to try it.

he sat next to you, joaquin sat in front of you much to bobs dismay. sam to his right bucky next to him, everyone else gathered in the remaining seats. different people at the table begin to form their own conversations while looking over the menu.

joaquin was smirking at you as he glances between you and bob who was focused on looking over the pancake options. he only looked up once you kicked joaquin in the shin, giving you a confused look but you just smile and go back to looking at the menu not before glaring at joaquin once more.

“dont even start.”

“i didnt even say anything.”

bobs jaw clenches as joaquin grins at you while you roll your eyes. he places his hand on your thigh without thinking and you turn to look at him. he stares down at the menu with a glare biting his tongue. he doesnt have any right to feel the way he does. he knows the two of you are not even dating but the pit in his stomach doesn’t go away no matter how much he wants it to.

his whole body tightens as he feels your hand grab his. he expects you to rip the hand off and give him a nasty look. yet you simply just flip his hand around and lace your fingers with his. his whole body softens, once his jaw relaxes he notices how much it aches from the tension he had been putting on it. he looks over and you and you caught his eye, giving him a sneaky grin before reading the menu.

orders are taken, its a messy than expected. alexei changes his mind on his order about five times before he settles on something, bob messes up saying what he wants twice but you step in and help him, joaquin had been so distracted by teasing you he had forgotten to pick something so he randomly chose something off the first page.

“so how long are you all in new york?”

“just for the weekend, we gotta be back in dc by monday.”

joaquin looks at you as he taps you on the arm. “but you’re not heading back with us right?”

you shake your head, taking a long drink out of your glass. “i have the week off.”

“you’re staying in new york?”

he’s hopeful. more hopeful than he wants to admit but you shake your head leaving him heartbroken. “im going out of state.”

“arent you headed back to florida?”

joaquin hisses as you slam your foot onto his. “shut up!”

“florida? for what?”

you lean your head back and sigh, clear irritation riddled on your face as you use your free hand to scratch your jaw. “nothing.”

“you have an apartment down there-“

he groans again as you stomp his other foot, glaring at him. “joaquin if you dont shut your mouth.”

“where?”

bobs not asking you. he’s asking joaquin, who gives him a hesitant look, looking back between the two of you.

“miami.”

bob doesn’t believe you. he turns his head to you. he knows that look on your face, when he would ask you something and you didn’t wanna answer him. “where is it.”

you stare at him, your eyelids rapidly blink as you click your tongue. you stay silent for a few moments before you sigh dejectedly. “i still have the apartment in saratosa.”

you look away, thankfully the food comes out and the two of you are able to get away without saying anything for a few minutes as the waiters come down to place all the food infront of you all.

he doesn’t know what to think. he stares down at his pancakes deep in thought. why would you keep it? from what he’s found out its been years since you’ve lived in flordia. maybe you use it like a storage house? yeah thats gotta be it. theres no way you would keep it cause you actually wanted it… right?

joaquin had moved on to chatting with sam and bucky leaving you and bob to be the only people not engaged in some conversation at the table. he wants to say something to you, anything at all but nothing comes out.

“i get homesick. sorry you must think its really weird, i mean, it was your home too so…”

you mumble it just loud enough for only him to hear. he doesn’t know what to think. he has so many questions, so many thoughts. he wants to talk with you about everything, but what would he even say when he has no clue himself what he’s even thinking?

your palm feels sweaty, probably because he runs so hot but you didn’t dare to pull your hand off of his. he squeezed your hand tightly and let out a shaky breath.

“can i come with you?”

#robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #sentry #sentry x reader #thunderbolts #bob x reader #robert reynolds imagine #robert reynolds fanfiction #sentry imagine #bob imagine #sentry fanfiction #thunderbolts imagine #thunderbolts fanfiction #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds imagine

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weirdsht · 23 hours ago

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Perilous - Cale/Reader

a/n: uni is so hectic i can barely breath... but we defended our thesis! so I'm gonna flood you all with fics as thanks for being patient huhu

tags: no specific gender mentioned for reader, yandere cale, yandere everyone if you squint, gaslighting and manipulation if you squint, cale wants to lock you up but he wont because he loves you

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Requests are open and welcome

Navigation Masterlist

anon said: Hello may we have yandere cale with someone who likes to take a risk lmao

People may disagree on things, but they all unite on this one fact.

Cale and his significant other have similar personalities, and that must be why they get along.

It’s an indisputable fact that unites everyone.

It’s also the one thing that Cale refuses to acknowledge.

He and you have similar personalities? Please, don’t make him laugh. You are vastly different.

Cale Henituse is someone who prioritises having an easy life. He doesn’t like doing hard work, and he certainly doesn’t like running head-on into dangers when they can be avoided.

On the other hand, you, his lovely sweetheart, are someone who likes taking risks.

It’s not on purpose, of course, you don’t even seem to be aware that you have such tendencies. It just so happens that your heart is so big that sacrificing yourself for others is your first choice.

Whenever something bad happens or someone gets injured, you are ready to risk your entire being. You don’t like expensing other people and tend to carry every risk by yourself.

But you are Cale’s lover.

So that has to change.

Someone got injured, and you’d like to substitute that guy? No chance, you are staying right where you are and are gonna let Cale handle everything.

Running out of time and ideas, so you offer to buy everyone time? Say that one more time, and Cale will lock you up in his villa.

Honestly, Cale doesn’t know why he chose such a difficult life. But hey, the heart longs for what it wants, and who is Cale to deny his heart when that person is within reach?

So he trudges through this difficult life of his.

Sometimes it feels particularly hard as his selfishness gets the better of him.

Sometimes it comes to a point where he physically has to stop himself from preventing you from talking to anyone else. Has to stop his urges to physically bind you next to him every minute of the day.

And you certainly don’t make it easier.

“Oh no, is that so? I would like to help, but everyone said that I must recover from my previous battle first.”

See, not only are you a chronic risk-taker, but you are so, so lovely as well.

Even at this moment, Cale would like to gouge out the eyes of this soldier looking at his love while faintly blushing.

“A-ah, that’s alright [Name]-nim! I am merely reporting, as you are one of our leaders!”

Oh, the difficult life Cale trudges.

Good thing that no one dares to covet what belongs to Young Master Cale Henituse.

“Huh..? Is that so?”

You ask yourself out loud as you watch the soldier practically run away when he sees Cale within the vicinity. He may or may not have used dominating aura, but you’ll never know.

“Oh, love you’re here. A soldier just told me that the situation in the northeastern part of the battle seems difficult… I wanted to help them somehow…”

Cale slithers his hand on your waist and pulls you close to him, successfully distracting you from another self-sacrificial idea.

“But you promise to stay by my side. Besides, Choi Han and Rosalyn are on their way there right now, so you don’t have to worry.”

Choi Han and Rosalyn are, in fact, not on their way. They didn’t even know of the situation until they caught up with you and Cale. But again, there’s no way you would know because after Cale spoke, they were already moving. Acting as if Cale had given them such orders a long time ago.

It’s an unspoken agreement between all of them. They do it not only because they follow Cale, but also because they don’t want to see you getting hurt again.

You pulled way too many stunts before that gave everyone heart attacks.

Honestly, if Cale wakes up one day and puts you in house arrest, no one will bat an eye. They aren’t blind to Cale’s actions and feelings. Everyone else in the group can see how hard his holding himself back. They are just waiting for the day his patience finally snaps.

But a patient man is what Cale is when it comes to you.

So he indulges you. Makes you think that you have everything in control when, in fact, Cale is manipulating things behind your back.

It’s the only way to keep you happy and safe.

Well, if Cale wills it so, he can make you believe and enjoy the life of captivity. You won’t even notice that you’ve fallen into his web if he wants.

But you look better with your wings spread out to the world.

So Cale Henituse steel himself. Tells himself that it’s the last resolve.

However, such patience is only reserved for you.

And so may the universe help his enemies that dare harm you.

Because Cale and his group certainly won’t.

Not when they even borrowed Tasha’s dungeon to deal with them.

#le asks #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf #cale henituse #lotcf #totcf #tcf x reader #lotcf x reader #totcf x reader #yandere cale #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere manhwa

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calcifiedunderland · 15 hours ago

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hi i have never made a request on tumblr so i hope they send it here, anyway i wanted to ask you something about the 500 followers event, the request is about azul and a one shot where he and the reader are friends (she is human) but they both have romantic feelings, so she decides to confess, taking azul swimming in his octopus form, only he doesn't believe her and runs away, in an attempt to find him she meets some mermen who speak badly of him and who suggest she choose someone else to love instead of a monster, but she doesn't accept it and defends him, azul in the meantime had hidden in a cave nearby and when he hears the argument he decides to intervene since the mermen are becoming a bit violent with her, after arguing with them they finally run away together into the cave where azul was hiding and stay there for a while finally he understands her feelings and they give each other a passionate kiss and get together leaving all his friends shocked, thank you and i hope you will accept this request

💌 🐙🖋️Request received! Thank you for your message, your delivery is ready~

I loved this idea!!! Hope you like it, thank you for requesting it!! ♥️ im horribly late to posting this, sorry for the wait!!

This is it, you thought as you downed the underwater breathing potion.

Summer was right around the corner, and you were staying with Professor Crewel at his summer home. You’d kept in contact with your friends, and when you mentioned you’d be close to the Coral Sea, Jade and Floyd shared a mischievous look.

Jade mused, “Perhaps Azul can take you with him. He was planning to go look for coins, and unfortunately Floyd and I cannot go with him.” And after long tirades of forcing you to not say a word to anyone about his merform, Azul finally gave in.

You’d managed to convince Azul to take you with him the next time he went ship-scavenging. Azul had come to pick you up from the Shaftland’s port on land, and lead you to a cave on the beach where you all would be heading off from.

You floated in an underwater cave, watching the merfolk swim in the distance with awe. They were so beautiful, shimmering scales and beautiful colors meshed in a bustling dance in busy streets. You grinned to yourself. You were secretly hoping Azul would shift to his merform while you were there.

It wasn’t a secret that the two of you had a very rocky start. After all, when your first meeting with someone starts with them trying to steal your dorm, usually you’d hate the person. And you sort of did, until you’d started becoming slow friends with Azul.

It began with little things, like running small errands for him when the twins couldn’t, or helping out with the tanks at Mostro Lounge. Eventually, your feelings grew more and more until you really couldn’t hide them anymore. You grew to admire the mer behind the merchant. You liked everything about Azul, even his weird schemey ways. From the cleverness in his contracts, to his soft curiosity, to the subtle gentleness he had whenever you interacted with him.

Somewhere along the way, enemies turned into acquaintances turned into friends turned into a crush on the Octavinelle Housewarden. And you honestly had an inkling he liked you back too. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you were still going to try. It would be better to get it off your chest, you psyched yourself up. Besides, Azul always held his cards close to his chest. Maybe if you were the first one to bare your heart…

Azul floated behind you, still in his human form. He sighed, looking a tad strained. “You remember our deal, yes? Not a word about my merform to anyone, got it?” You nodded, trying not to look too eager. This was it! You’ll finally see Azul in his merform!

He shut his eyes, and a soft blue light emanated from him. The light rolled over him, and his form grew. Soft black tentacles unfurled themselves, and Azul’s pale skin took on a lavender hue. He felt his uniform fade off, and the cool oceanwater flow around the gills at his ribcage.

You watched, fascinated. You couldn’t imagine anything like it - Azul looked beautiful. His hair even seemed to glow. A stray tentacle began tugging at your ankle, while another began messing with your wrist. Azul didn’t seem to notice as he ran a hand in his hair, pointedly avoiding your awestruck gaze. He didn’t even seem to notice he was holding onto you until you chuckled, softly rubbing the tentacle at your wrist.

He cleared his throat, releasing you immediately. “Let’s go. Time is wasting.” He began swimming off, and you gasped before kicking off behind him. Slow octopus, who? He was still faster than you, tentacles shifting over themselves along the sea floor. You kicked your legs as fast as you could, determined to keep pace.

Soon, you reached a shipwreck. Morbid fascination spread over you as you took in the ship’s vastness. You gulped as Azul floated next to you, looking at you pointedly. “You’re not scared, are you?” He asked quietly. You shook your head, “n-no. Let’s go.”

You were determined to find something for Azul in the shipwreck. It was like the twins knew your feelings for Azul when they let it slip that Azul had a fondness for ancient coins, and Floyd said offhandedly, “It’d probably make a real good gift for him~” You’d take their weird comments (however teasing they were) as a sign.

You steeled yourself and dove into the wreckage. “Prefect!” Azul followed you swiftly, and you dodged a tentacle that shot out to you. You grinned over your shoulder, “bet I can find more than you!” You kicked off into a room, hearing Azul scoff behind you.

This room you entered looked like the captain’s room. You squinted in the low light when a soft blue illuminated behind you. Azul’s hand gently gripped your shoulder and his tentacles wrapped around your legs gingerly, “are you alright? I was looking for you.”

Something fluttered in your stomach as you turned to look at him, face flushed. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You stared at each other for a bit too long before Azul cleared his throat, “good. I wouldn’t want to be liable for any injuries you get down here, so you’d better stay close.”

You two began exploring the captain’s room, and you did your best to look with Azul’s bioluminescence lighting the room. If I were a captain, where would I hide my money? Your attention drifted to the bed, where you noticed the mattress looked disturbed. You swam over, jostling it until you spied a little pouch underneath it. You peered inside, then grinned. Little coins rustled inside it. Jackpot!

Meanwhile, Azul pondered over the vanity. You’d shown a fascination with undersea treasures. He lifted up some jewelry in a box, eyeing it with fascination. He remembered the way you looked fascinated at the Atlantica museum, how you’d followed him to return the photo. Your curiosity was enchanting.

He wouldn’t admit that something about you was interesting when you’d walked into his office with a spark in your eyes, negotiating his contract and eventually putting Ramshackle on the line to save your friends. It wasn’t until after his overblot that he truly began reconsidering you.

He’d always thought he had to prove himself in order to be meaningful to someone, but he’d done the exact opposite to you. Your resilience was something he’d always admired, and eventually admiration turned into feelings.

Azul Ashengrotto did not do feelings. He was merely looking for treasures to repay you back, he told himself. Jade and Floyd had no idea what they were talking about, anyway. He cleared his throat, “Prefect, I’m going up to the top,” he called, and he swam out the window before you knew it.

You glanced up before looking at the coins. These look really good, you grinned before pocketing the pouch and swimming after Azul.

Azul shook his head before looking at the deck. You poked your head up to peek at him. The sunlight shimmering in from the surface made him look beautiful. Warmth filled you, and you bit your lip.

“Hey, Azul?” You swam over the ledge and he spun to you. You were looking at him with so much tenderness that he wasn’t sure he deserved. You looked ethereal in the ocean light of his home. He felt his heart skip a beat.

“Have you found anything, Prefect?” He managed, not realizing he’d begun twisting his tentacles into one as if to make them look smaller, more together, and packing them beneath himself. You nodded, crossing your legs on the deck and sitting down next to him.

“I found this, actually. I wanted to give them to you later, but I…” you took a deep breath, “um, here.” You dropped the pouch into his hands, and he glanced at you before opening it. It felt like there were many coins in the pouch. He gasped, pulling out a coin and holding it up to the light. “This is…” he admired it, and you smiled at him softly.

“I’m glad you liked it. I really wanted to find something for you,” you blurted out. “Hmm?” Azul’s attention suddenly turned to you, sharp and focused. “Why?” Interest piqued in him, could this mean…? “W-well…” you trailed off.

“I just… wanted to… er...” Azul’s eyes widened, clenching the pouch. They couldn’t be making fun of me, could they? No, you were too kind for that. You twisted the edge of your shirt. Azul’s gaze made you nervous.

“I… wanted to thank you for helping us over winter break?” You fibbed, smiling awkwardly. Azul hummed, frowning slightly, “well, there’s no need to thank me for it now,” he said. He considered it paying you back after trying to steal Ramshackle. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“I-I mean, you really helped Grim and I out,” you said, trying to cover yourself. “The whole dorm was outwitted, and it was all thanks to you.” You couldn’t help but start gushing - your friends were already tired of hearing your crush woes, and you just couldn’t stop. “I’ve… never met anyone like you,” you rushed out, face feeling hot.

Azul felt on edge. What were the chances of you telling him exactly what he wanted to hear? He searched your face, trying to find any hint of dishonesty. After everything that had happened this year - trying to take Ramshackle, his overblot, Styx - he was convinced this would never happen. Not to him, at least.

“I mean, the way just know exactly what the best strategy is? And you’re so smart and handsome too, it’s honestly no wonder I-“ you immediately cut yourself off. You hadn’t planned to confess like this, but Azul had already caught on. “What?” he asked, feeling his heartbeat in his ears.

This is it, your heart beat harder, now you’ve done it, (Name). You squeezed your eyes shut, “I… Azul, I like you.” The words hung in the space between you.

Azul was silent for a breath. “Why?” He rasped, squeezing the coin in his palm. This had to be some kind of joke. There was no reason for you to like him back. Suddenly it was like he was a young octomer again, feeling that crushing sensation of others mocking him, leading him on only to hurt him. Even those who were kind to him before. Even the ones like you.

“Who put you up to this?” Your eyes widened, “N-no one! Azul, I-” Azul felt his eyes sting. “Who told you how I felt? The twins? Someone from the dorm?” You stood, unsteady from the ocean currents around you, “No one did, Azul, I promise! I’ve liked you since winter break.” There was nothing but honesty in your eyes but still. Old emotions stirred up in Azul. He felt his lower lip tremble, and shame burst in him. You were lying. You had to be.

“I…” He turned away from you, hand pressed to his mouth, “Excuse me.” Azul swam away in a whoosh of bubbles, and you reached your arm out for him. “Azul, wait!” you tried to swim after him, but he was too quick. You floated there, suspended in the water, feeling crushed. You really thought he’d… You felt your throat tighten as you bit your lip. Did he really think you were lying?

“Wow, that was pathetic.”

You swirled around at the unfamiliar voice. Three merfolk swam over some rocks - undoubtedly, their hiding spots. Emotions mixed in you - had they watched your confession? Rude. Their leader appeared to be a sharkmer. His upper half appeared human. The two behind him looked like a dolphinmer and a merman with a clownfish tail.

“Hey? What’s a human doing here?” The clownfish mer asked, looking you up and down. The sharkmer grinned at you, sharp-toothed like the twins. “A pretty human, too.”

The dolphin mer squinted at you, and she swam up to your face, “you actually confessed to Azul? That’s new,” she said snarkily. The sharkmer started laughing, “I can’t believe someone likes that slow, dumb octopus!” The clownfish looked at you with pity, “were you dared do confess to him?”

You tensed. These must’ve been the bullies who tormented Azul when he was younger. Your stomach felt queasy. They were even nastier than Azul made them out to be.

From the nearby cave, Azul’s earfins pricked up. He heard you mention his name. He peered around the cave, gasping soundlessly. Those three…! He immediately recognized them from gradeschool. The pokes. The prods. You’re just a slow dumb octopus no one likes you your ink is weird crybaby–

“H-hey! Azul is not slow or dumb!” Azul’s attention snapped to you. You had a fierceness in your eyes that he recognized from his overblot. You were passionate. You were… defending him.

His nails dug into the rocks. They were circling you now.

The dolphin mer looked at you with mock pity, “you don’t have to defend him. He’s just a weirdo. I’m pretty sure he lied about getting into Night Raven College, too. He probably lied to you to make himself seem smarter.”

That got your blood boiling. “No, you’re lying. He is a student there. In fact,” you said sharply, “he’s in the Sea Witch’s dorm. He’s the Housewarden, actually.” The dolphin mer started cackling in laughter, “you expect us to believe that? He probably lied about that too!” You looked at her in disbelief. The audacity?!

“I can’t believe this. You’re all wrong!” You yelled, and all three of them stopped. “Azul is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met! And he’s clever and hardworking!” Who are these guys? you thought back to the school photo Azul put back at the museum. You recalled different merfolk in the picture. Are these mers his old classmates or something?

Azul felt his heart swell. You really meant it? When you said you admired him? You had no reason to lie about it to these bottom-feeders.

The clownfish suddenly swam to your side, wrapping his arm around yours, “Y’know, you don’t have to hang out with him. He’s just a weirdo who likes making his contract things. He even took his ability to swim,” the clownfish mer gestured to the sharkmer.

“Ashengrotto’s a weird barnacle. You should hang with us,” the clownfish grinned at you, and you felt yourself cringe on the inside. The sharkmer swam to your other side, “yeah, you’re better off being with someone else. Someone stronger” he grinned at you. The dolphin mer tapped your shoulder from behind, and she grinned cheekily, “or faster.” The clownfish chimed in, “or prettier~”

You unhooked your arm, swimming backwards as fast as you could, “I like being with Azul, actually. I should get back to Night Raven College, now if you’ll excuse me-”

Suddenly the sharkmer shot through the water, blocking your math. “Nah, you should come with us. I bet that octoweirdo didn’t even take you to the fun places. Probably just stuck you in his octopot! Did you see him ink?” The three of them burst into laughs, and you tried to weave your way around them.

Azul tensed, tentacles clenching and unclenching. He wasnt the fastest or strongest swimmer. But he supposed you were right. You’d told him to give himself more credit - while he certainly was clever and hardworking on land, there was something you didn’t know. His octopus physique was slow in the water, yes - but he made up for it in sheer strength. He absently stretched all eight of his lower limbs. Strength eightfold, actually.

“Aww, look at them! Humans really are clumsy!” The clownfish giggled at you. Shame burned your face, “y-you guys-!” You shoved the shark mer away from you, “leave me alone!” Recognition shot through Azul. No, they couldn’t touch you. Not you.

The shark mer’s smirk turned into fury. You shrank back, trying to back away while swimming. He bared his teeth at you in a grin, eyes flashing, “Y’know, you’re on our turf human. You’d better watch it.” His lackeys immediately switched their demeanors, and soon you were being stared down by three very angry mers.

Azul decided he’d had enough. He shot out of the cave without a second thought, and all you saw was a black and lavender blur. Just as the shark mer raised his very sharp claws to grab your wrist, he suddenly felt something wrap around his tail. He yelled when he was yanked back roughly into the sand, and soon you, the dolphin mer, and clownfish mer were staring down a very angry Azul.

Azul swam over you protectively, one tentacle wrapping around your torso. The dolphin mer shot through the water towards you with a growl. Azul reflexively raised one tentacle up and spat ink in her face, pulling you behind him while retreating. He batted the clownfish away, one arm reaching back to touch you softly. You gently squeezed his hand, “I’m okay,” you said quietly.

“You will not hurt (Name), not now and not ever. If I ever see you again, or if you even think about going to my restaurant,” he seethed, blue eyes sharp, “I will put you in a contract that you could never hope of getting out of. “If it’s a fight you want,” Azul’s eyes flashed and you got the sense that he was scheming even now, “then you’d better pick on someone your own size.” His tentacles spread out, blocking most of the light. He looked much bigger, even larger than the three of those merfolk put together.

The sharkmer scowled at Azul, before gesturing to the other two. “Still a weirdo…” the dolphinmer mumbled before racing after the clownfish and shark. You sighed in relief, before Azul turned to you.

“Are you alright?” Azul looked at you with his brow furrowed. You nodded, “yeah, I’m fine.”

Wordlessly, Azul took your hand in his and the two of you began swimming towards the caves. It must be sunset now, you thought. The light in the water had turned orange.

The two of you broke through the surface of the dimmed cave. You perched on a rock while Azul kept his lower body submerged. He still showed some bioluminescence that illuminated the water, shining on your faces.

“…thank you for saving me,” you said quietly. To be honest, you weren’t sure Azul would come back for you, let alone save you. He looked upset, and you weren’t sure he’d want to see you again.

Azul’s tentacles wrapped loosely around your ankles, “I couldn’t let you get bullied by them, now could I?” He let out a humorless laugh. Silence passed between you two, until you said softly, “do you like the coins?”

“I do,” Azul agreed. “And I’ve had some time to… think about what you said.” Your eyes widened, “Azul, I really did mean it. I wasn’t lying.”

“…I may have been hasty in that moment,” he said finally, not looking you in the eyes. A dark purple blush spread on his face before he finally looked at you, “I… feel the same, (Name). I’ve had feelings for you for a while now,” he swallowed thickly.

Your eyes sparkled, “you mean it?” You asked excitedly. Azul nodded, looking bashful now. “Will you forgive me?”

You grinned, launching yourself off the rock. Azul gave a startled shout when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and the two of you crashed back into the water. You pressed your lips against his, and Azul’s eyes widened before closing again as he wrapped his arms around you.

You pulled back, breathlessly laughing, “of course I do.”

It hurt my soul to write mean things about Azul I’m ngl lol

I also spent way too long googling ‘natural predators of octopi’ for the bullies. I love the ocean, man I wish fish were real.

Some notes (info from google)

-octopi technically shoot ink out of a siphon, which is located close to their heads. In this, I made Azul shoot ink out from the underside of his tentacle arms bc from his octo merform I don’t think he has the siphon on his upper body? So I think it would have to be on his lower half.

-I also looked up predators of octopi. Basically I kept it simple-not simple by using sharks (strong swimmers), dolphins (fast swimmers) and clownfish (pretty tails) to show different things that Azul wanted when he was younger, and wanted a tail instead of octopus tentacles

Anyway thanks for reading!! Until next time~ xoxo Calci

#calci’s 500 follower event #twst mermay #mermay 2025 #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #calcified writing

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aquinnix · 3 days ago

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Hermit-a-Day May Day 28 - Friends of Hermitcraft

Despite the name, the Hermits were far from insular. Everyone had friends from other places, made both before and after they joined. And this really was a good thing, that everyone had so many people in their lives that cared about them.

However, it had very rapidly become a very big problem for Xisuma.

He had his own friends too, his own people he would make the time to meet with. But there were rules. For the safety of everyone involved, given the dangers that existed outside and within history.

X couldn’t just let anyone and everyone show up willy-nilly. Despite how much he was begged to on a daily basis.

“Oh come on X! You know him! It will just be for a day or two!”

Like right now.

Tango stood in front of him, hands clasped together, a chart plaster on the wall behind him that depicted the very slim likelihood of danger as a big red line that was drawn to continue downwards even after the page ended.

“I know Tango. But my concern isn’t Jimmy. If I let him on just because then it’s just one person after another and then everyone is at risk. You have to understand where I’m coming from.” X gently guided Tango’s hands back down to his sides.

Tango huffed. “But it’s not just because! I promised him he could play Hungry Hermits!” He was whining now.

X kept forcing a smile. “And I promised to keep everyone safe. I’m sorry Tango.”

Tango’s shoulders drooped, and a few buts later he left. X didn’t like having to say no, but it was for the best.

So one could imagine X’s surprise when, the next day, when he was walking through the gaming district, he heard a joyous scream that did not belong to anyone that was supposed to be there.

X knew that voice belonged to Jimmy.

X ran down into Hungry Hermits, waiting patiently for the game to be over. Tango was the first out, and the moment he locked eyes with X, he folded in on himself, like a dog that knew exactly who had been digging up holes in the backyard.

“I’m not mad.” X figured it was best to start out calm, to get a better idea of the situation before letting anything else take hold. “If anything, I’m impressed.”

Tango’s eyes lit up slightly. “Grian snuck him in.” An omission, but a hesitant one.

X should have seen this coming.

He was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Or maybe it had, and X just didn’t know about it.

Just then, Jimmy came into the room, a wide smile on his face. “Oh hey X!” Jimmy gave X a little wave.

X looked at Tango, then at Jimmy, and back at Tango again. Tango shook his head slightly.

Jimmy must have though X okayed this.

For now, it would be better to play along. “I’m really sorry but something came up and you're going to have to head home early.”

Once Jimmy had said his goodbyes and made his way back home, X turned his attention to Grian. Please let this be the only time this has happened.

The fact that Jimmy was hiding behind a pillar when X came to talk to Grian did not bode well for that.

“Care to explain?” X pointed at Jimmy, but his attention was with Grian. That calm demeanour he had kept up until now was beginning to slip.

Grian didn’t seem as worried as X expected him to be. “Don’t worry X. If anything bad was going to happen it would have by now.”

“And how many times have you done this?” X took a step towards Grian. Jimmy had quietly excused himself from the situation.

“A few.” Grian began to fidget with his hands.

“How many is a few?”

“A few hundred?”

#I might do more with this idea later #mcyt #hermitcraft #hermitaday #xisuma #tango tek #grian #jimmy solidarity

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dandysworld-meh-imagines · 14 hours ago

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could you do a toodles x child reader (platonic obv)? due to all the overwhelm from the ichor operation and all that stuff they don't understand (cuz theyre kids) they decided to have a sleepover! (ive never been in a sleepover before so idk what they'd do sksksk)

thx and take care!

Toodles With A Child Reader Having A Sleepover!

JOKES ON ME I'VE NEVER BEEN TO A SLEEPOVER TOO, DEAR ANON, BEAR WITH ME Y'ALL I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH CLOSE FRIENDS GROWING UP BAHAHAHAHA SORRY IF THIS ISN'T ACCURATE- AHEM-

This is such a cute scenario though, hehe, despite the mess that is happening around them sobs, here you go, dear anon! Thank you for requesting! <3

-Anna

-With Gardenview closing, you and Toodles at least understood that there won't be any more visitors. One thing the other toons never told you about is what is happening on the floors. They pretended that everything is fine to you two, if it was anyone that should never find out the truth in there, it's you two. You were still young and things like that, you didn't deserve to worry about this situation but sadly it wasn't like things were rainbows and sunshine either. The toons had to even come up with excuses for toons that were missing or have become a twisted now, they try all sorts of excuses, they feel their chest hurting when they lie to you two like that though.

-If you two wanted to go down there, you would watch as the others just acted.. weirdly suspicious, telling you to play somewhere else because well.. they are just working on things! Mhm! Totally!! They know you will catch up eventually but until then? It worked for now, it kept you two away as you stayed in the lobby or even the hallways with everyone's rooms, just running around laughing. It.. helped with the whole mood of this place not feeling so hopeless. Some toons even had a rare smile on their faces as they watched you two play around, not even knowing the situation. It reminded them of the kids that used to visit here all over again.

-Since you two weren't really allowed to go on the other floors.. Toodles came up with a brilliant idea to have a sleepover! Even the other toons agreed so this was totally a good idea! You couldn't really access the floors that had fun stuff so why not bring your own toys and everything to one of your rooms! It was definitely better than being bored all day waiting for Rodger, after all! He sure kept having big adventures every day along with everyone else.. you and Toodles never could participate in them, though he did promise to bring back candy for you and Toodles, so that was good enough for the both of you!

-It starts around in the evening where the mood for playing comes back. You bring your own pillow, snacks you had hidden, your plushie and toys from your room happily as you make your way to Toodle's room! It usually starts with you two hugging before you come in and putting your things in the right spots, your pillow next to her own, even your plushie, your toys mixing which gets you two giggling and snacks on the table for you two to choose anything you want! What you do next is really up to what you two are feeling like doing. If you have energy, playing tag or with your toys together and making dramatic sounds sounds good! If not, something calmer like drawing or reading a fairytale together is nice too.

-It's those things mostly that happen at the sleepover. It's basically just you two trying to entertain yourselves while everyone else is doing their own thing and are very busy. Thankfully, your boredom helped you two come up with many creative ideas to pass the time, hell, sometimes you even just ran around (carefully too) in the long hallways and just laugh together, no one was there to tell you two to not be loud or anything, the place barely had any toons around but it wasn't like it bothered you two. You had this idea in your mind that they are having their own adventures, they didn't have to worry about you two being bored behind, this was fun!

-You two even make a pillow fort together with whatever you have! You even borrowed the pillows from the empty couches as you tried your best to build it! Toodles had done this with Rodger before so she had a decent idea of how it's build and how it works! You two do struggle and even though the end result is not the best, you didn't care! You just got in and kept giggling as you pretended to be in a huuuge castle. You even brought your toys and plushies and decorated around, making them the knights or guards and everything, you two went all out! One of you even pretended to be a dragon that attacked the pillow fort, it usually ended up in a big mess that had you two giggling from how dramatic and fun it was.

-Sometimes Pebble likes to scratch on the door and join you two as no one else is really in the mood to play with him so he also tends to stick around here and there! He even joins you two in various games like acting as the dragon in the pillow fort game, playing tag (he always gets you two very fast), even at hide and seek, Pebble is pretty good for the most part, unless when you notice his tail wagging unstoppably which always gets him spotted, he's just so excited to play with you two, he can't help it! Ending it by playing fetch with him? He's so happy! He tends to go back to his room or even sit on a pillow at the corner, keeping you two company at night.

-Funnily enough, even though Pebble has such huge energy to play around, he does sit still as you and Toodles try your makeup skills on him, at least Pebble is rewarded with a treat afterwards for sitting so calmly. Toodles has practiced on him before and even had put on a pink bow for him and Pebble doesn't know what to think, he is just happy to get the treat at the very end after the makeup is wiped off well from him. He really wants that treat, especially since the other toons refuse to give more to him!

-At night, where things are more quiet, you two pretend to sit around a candle, pretending it's a fireplace and try to tell scary stories. Of course, Toodles is very careful with it, especially after Rodger taught her to not accidentally cause flames with the candle. It usually ends with laughter and giggles as anything you two come up with is trying to sound scary but funny plot twists fly here and there that get you two smiling and giggling quietly. You even make random shadows with your hands at the walls and act like you are holding your toys up and pretend to attack each other's shadow, it's pretty wholesome!

-Eventually, it becomes this thing you two do almost every single night, the company is nice and Toodles doesn't feel so alone with you. You and her talk while staying under the warm covers together and just talking about anything that comes to your minds as you look at the ceiling. You two are holding your plushies as you talk until sleep catches up to you two. When Rodger comes up, covered in some ichor to check on Toodles and you, he smiles warmly before placing the bag of candy down on the table and gently tucking you two in before leaving quietly. He promises to stay safe in these floors just to see that wholesome image after all the bad things he has witnessed.

Thank you for reading! <3

#toodles the eight ball #toodles #dw toodles #toodles x reader #dandy's world x reader #dandys world x reader #dandy's world #dandys world #dandys world toodles #dandy's world toodles #writing #fluff #semi angst #gender neutral #platonic

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lilacprincess7 · 19 hours ago

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"Me he levantado guerrero"

summary: in which Hector and Pau save Geal and Kenye during a collapse of an old building they end up in the hospital with their girlfriends taking care of them.

a/n: another one of these random 3 am ideas, cause why not.

It was team dinner day. You and your boyfriend were attending said dinner together after he told you how much he liked having you by his side. You posed for pictures and photos. With your boyfriend, with his teammates and coach, with the rest of the WAGs.

That's how you found yourself sitting next to your best friend, Sofia. Your boyfriends, Hector and Pau sat across from you. You were eating peacefully while talking with Mikky and Laura who sat close to you too.

After finishing up with dinner you took a walk around along with Sofia. The dinner wasn't held at a restaurant like usual but at a venue. More for privacy reasons than anything else. In the side and a bit away from the tables there was a playground. Geal and Kenye, along with Miles and a couple of the other kids had loved it. You could see all the kids except for Gael and Kenye though. The team had hired two nannies to watch over the kids, but they had apparently missed the two children from their view and even though they weren't your kids, it had you worried.

You told Sofia about it and the two of you went to ask the nannies. They told you that indeed they must have slipped away without them noticing. The first thought was that they went to find their parents and brother. So you returned to the tables to find out. They weren't there. So you immediately told Raphinha and Natalia aswell as Lamine.

Without a second thought everybody got up and started searching for the two. Your boyfriend and his best friend had an idea as to where the two were hiding. You see there was an old house close to the playground that was part of the venue. Anyone had access because the board shielding the front door had come off.

That building was particularly dangerous. It's foundation had been less than effective and it was close to collapsing. The manager had warned everyone not to get to close to the building for fear that the tiniest move could make it collapse.

Pau and Hector immediately guessed that if the two where hiding somewhere it would have been inside that building and unfortunately they were right. They left their coats outside, so they wouldn't get dirty from the dust inside the old house and went looking for the two.

"Maybe they went downstairs..." Pau trailed off

"That could be a good guess.." Hector replied.

The moment they reached the end of the stairs they found the two kids running around, without a care in the world. Their relief of finding the kids was short-lived. The older duo noticed that the pilar the two kids were standing close to was about to collapse. With no time left, both of them wrapped themselves around Gael and Kenye and the building collapsed on top of them.

Debris was everywhere. Concrete had fallen on Pau and Hector's backs, sending waves of pain. Scars were certain. Yet the duo didn't care. Not for the pain, not for the potential scars. They only cared that the kids were safe and sound under them. Kenye looked up at Pau, scared out of his mind. Gael looked at Hector the exact same way.

The sound startled the rest of you. Making you all think the worst. And it was the worst case scenario coming true.

"Please don't tell me that the kids are down there please.." Rapha begged, his voice filling with worry.

"Call the fire department, quick!" Sofia told the manager and he obeyed easily.

It was at this very moment that you noticed the two coats by the collapsed building. You caught both in your hand realizing that the one was your boyfriend's and the other was that of his best friend. Natalia had lost whatever compure she had left. She was sobbing on Rapha's shoulder, not like he was doing any better though. Lamine was sat on the floor crying, barely coherent with Ansu and Balde trying to comfort him.

"Guys calm down, the kids are fine." you said with finality in your voice.

"What makes you so sure? We can't know until the fire department gets here.." Rapha trailed of.

"We know because of these.." Sofia said and the two of you showed the rest the coats of your boyfriends.

"You- you want to tell me that not only my brother and Gael are down there, but also my two best friends? What the fuck is happening??" Lamine continued muttering, completely in shock.

"I'm certain that the kids are fine. As for the other two..." you said, worry clouding your eyes.

Meanwhile, at the basement of the collapsed house, Pau and Hector where trying to understand how to get the kids out of here as soon as possible and after a bit they found a way. They told the kids to crowl over towards the stairs. Not to much movement. And in order for the kids to actually listen they made a game out of it. After a bit, the kids managed to clear some debris without too much moves and got to the stairs. Pau and Hector were more than relieved after hearing the rest of you welcoming the kids.

You saw the kids crawling up the stairs first and went over immediately. Calm moves, walking slowly. You caught both of them and hugged them close to your body.

"Hey little ones" you greeted them passing them over to Natalia and Lamine respectively.

"Hi" said Gael excitedly.

"Pau and Hector had us play a game about crawling and we won!"

Back with Pau and Hector though, the pain the two felt was getting worse by the minute. Heavy breathing could be heard. They didn't talk, trying to manage their energy, knowing that help was most likely on the way.

Blood could be found on the floor beneath them. Hector had a cut starting from his forehead and ending a bit below his left eye. His eye was somehow left untouched and he was thankful, but he couldn't see because of the blood dripping inside his eyelid. Pau wasn't any better. He had another nasty cut on his cheek that bled similarly to the one he had after that UCL match that he got a cleat on the face.

And that was just the top of the iceberg in regards to injury. Their backs had been cut in several places. The formal shirts ripped in multiple spots because of the concreate that fell on top of them. Their heads were covered a bit with ruble but they were still able to breath. After a bit, exhaustion beat adrenaline and the two passed out on the floor, bleeding heavily.

Finally, the fire department arrived. They got down the stairs in full gear and came back with Hector and Pau on stretchers. All of you let out breaths of relief at seeing the two, but that relief was short-lived too. Both of them were still bleeding quite a lot.

Hector's head was covered in blood because of the cut on his face. Pau was a similar case. The firefighters called two ambulances for the injured duo while you and Sofia tended to them. Holding their hands carefully, like they were made of glass.

That's when you acknowledged the cuts and injuries on their backs. The entirity of their backs were covered in bruises and bloodstains. You had only one thing in mind, your boyfriend's health. He was clearly not good.

You and Sofia rode to the hospital in the ambulaces with your boyfriends. You kept a hold of Hector's hand the entire time, trying to comprehend the whole thing. The rest of the team left the venue with their cars and said they would visit you at the hospital in groups.

Upon reaching the hospital, the doctors took them both for tests. You sat there with your friend for quite a while, trying and failing to comprehend the situation you were dealing with. At some point, a part of the team arrived. Flick and some of the team doctors with.

"Girls, how are you holding up?" Hansi asked you mainly, since Sofia was asleep with her head reasting on your shoulder.

"Nobody has given us info about anything.. I've been growing more anxious by the minute and Sofia has been out for a while because she got an anxiety attack... This is literally a nightmare.."

Frenkie sat by your side, hugging you protectively. He always acted like an older brother both for you and your boyfriend. Mikky gave you a kiss on the forehead and all of you stayed silent for a while. It didn't take long for the team doctors to come back with one of the doctors treating the boys. You woke up Sofia so she could hear the update firsthand too.

"Hello. I've been the one mainly treating Pau and Hector. For my better understanding you are their girlfriends yes?" she nodded towards you and Sofia.

"Si, please tell us do what's going on? Are they okay?" you asked her worried.

"They are doing better by the minute. There is not going to be lasting damage which is the important thing. The tests we ran have come back clear too. Apart from the bruising and swelling I have nothing to report."

"Then why are they still passed out and we can't see them doc?" Sofia questioned.

"My colleagues finished stitching up their wounds mere minutes ago. That's why you weren't given a room number. Their room is 246, I'll take you in a bit. As for why they have yet to wake up, we believe it's related to the pain that came with the force of the concreate collapsing on top of them plus the bloodloss. I think than in a couple of hours the latest they will be up and about. We didn't find anything concerning that could indicate towards something worse so it's purely a matter of time."

"Thank you, may we go see them now?" Hansi asked calmly.

"Yes, of course, let me guide you." the doctor replied.

Upon reaching the room, you went pale. There he was, lying in a hospital bed with a huge bandage covering his face, you could only imagine how his soft skin was barely held together by the couple dozen stitches and in what condition his eye was. And that was just the beginning. You had yet to see his back and his abdomen. You could only see his torso covered in white bandages.

You and the rest filled inside the room. You and Sofia each sat by your boyfriends, the rest sitting down in the couches around the room. You all talked for a bit, wanting to calm down before they woke up.

The doctor was right about them waking up. An hour or so after you entered their private hospital room, Pau woke up and Hector was just a bit behind. You hugged your boyfriend carefully, mindful of his injuries. He hugged you back with equal softness. You called the doctor immediately and he explained the recovery plan the doctors had agreed with.

"Two weeks off, from everything. Literally everything. Preferably don't move around too much either. That is mostly because of the stitches and the ribs. In two weeks time we will re-evaluate both of you to see where you stand in regards to bruises and swelling. I highly suggest -and since it's the off-season it's realistic- that you don't do anything intense for like a month or so. Just because you don't have a concussion or broken bones doesn't mean you are fine and healed like that. A building collapsed on top of you. Girls" she said and turned towards me and Sofia "monitor the bruises and injuries, see how they are healing. If something, even if it doesn't seem like much, or if gut instict hits you about these two, I wanna know immediately. And boys" she said taking on a motherly voice "no funny business..." she trailed off.

"Oh come on.." replied Hector

"No fair, what are we kids?" answered Pau

"For the next month you are, so since you are kids, you are allowed sleepovers" you said

You and Sofia had agreed since you and Hector had a big home that for that time the two would come and live with you. That way they would keep each other company when you and your best friend were missing as well as help each other with chores.

"You mean.." Pau trailed off

"Yes" you replied calmly

"That way yu can also keep each other company while you recover" Sofia continued.

Two nurses entered the room, wanting to change the bandages the duo was wearing. They asked them if they wanted you out but both of them responded that they would prefer for all of you to stay.

When the nurses started unwrapping the bandages all of you froze. Pau's back was mostly bruised, with some minor cuts here and there. Black and blue blending on his pale skin. Hector's was another case. His whole back was covered in stitches. The nurse treating him took her time cleaning the wounds aswell, wanting to make sure there would be no complications. Rapha was extremely emotional during this whole ordeal.

When the nurses and the doctor left and Pau and Hector were both sitting on their beds comfortably they noticed how Rapha and Lamine were reacting and asked the rest of you to give them privacy to talk freely.

"I-I'm so sorry..." Rapha started

"Yeah me-e too" Lamine said with emotion filling his voice.

"Hey none of that, what happened wasn't anyones fault, you two aren't to blame" Hector began

"And we would have done the exact same thing time and time again.." Pau continued

"But-t" Lamine said

"No buts hermanito, look at us, we are both going to be fine, we don't have some kind of lasting damage, everything is going to be okay"

"Your whole back is covered in stitches Hector, they got you both out of that basement complently unresponsive, you have a huge guss across your eye that is covered up, you can't see well, don't say you are fine kid, you are not and I'm partly to blame..." Rapha said

"Look, I'm gonna talk freely, you aren't going to interrupt though, okay?" Hector asked

"Okay" came a reply from the other three

"Am I dead? Obviously no. Am I in pain? Yes, and that's okay. If I didn't do what I did Gael could have been dead. And I prefer being in pain compared to your son dying Rapha, any day... The point is that even if I'm not completely okay right now, in a month or so I will be. Injuries and cuts and bruises heal, my eye will heal, death doesn't heal. So me and Pau having some scars and the two kids being untouched is the best trade we could have asked for." your boyfriend expressed.

Rapha at that hugged him, tight but careful of his stitches, while Lamine hugged Pau much the same.

a/n: random af, but until I'm finished with exams you will be reading ideas and not reqs

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lis5664 · 2 days ago

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OK, I am getting back to this now! It's been great to see all the discussion!

I've always thought he was acting on his own there; I'd never considered it otherwise. I really like the idea of Sergei and Margo (along with the relevant astronauts and cosmonauts) being the ones who wanted this mission to actually succeed when nobody else in their governments really cared about it.

I think either they didn't both attend or they didn't interact in a way that would be meaningfully different from the years we did see. Definitely think it's possible Sergei managed to stay away some years to try to protect Margo from additional KGB influence.

I think Sergei was seconds away from kissing her there in the elevator, and if not interrupted they would have gone back to his room and had sex. They'd clearly been attracted to each other since very early on, and I think fully in love with each other for at least several years by this point, so I don't know that it would be 0 to 60 even though nothing physical had happened so far (although I do think he was also seconds away from kissing her if not interrupted way back in the docking module). I think the only reason they wouldn't have, if not interrupted in '91, would be if Sergei's guilt had caught up to him then and he couldn't go through with it when Margo didn't know the full truth of their situation. But before '92, he was probably under much less immediate KGB pressure, and maybe more able to rationalize things since the status quo of their arrangement had been going on for so long (and he was sharing more information than permitted). I also don't think the rooms were bugged then.

I think mostly she got scared and froze, and then decided she couldn't risk it. She did have SO much at stake if they'd been seen/caught together; it's understandable, though heartbreaking. @midnight-els wrote a great, devastating little fic with Margo's thoughts in that moment: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46876609

A combination of Margo not wanting to ask anyone for help, and Ellen having too much of her own shit going on at that particular time to have capacity to help her anyway. So much of the tragedy of S3, to me, is about people being so focused on their own stuff and not communicating. I think Ellen would have wanted to help Margo if she could and if she'd known; she did care about NASA and advancing space exploration, and she would have known that losing Margo would not be in the best interests of NASA.

It is a great face he makes. Smug Sergei = best Sergei.

And finally, I agree with those mentioning that actually getting new Margo content and Sergei backstory will be exciting but stressful! Definitely will need to be able to process it together. I remain a little apprehensive about Star City; I'd much rather have Sergei's backstory remain a mystery than be something I don't like.

A few questions I’ve been thinking about (I’m sorry - I’m sure these have been discussed at length before, and this might not be the best format):

1. When Sergei gives Margo the phone number during the Apollo-Soyuz delay…Was that really his own doing (as we first assume), or is he already acting under KGB orders (to build trust, lay precedent etc)? (Apologies if this is meant to be obvious; I may be holding onto my innocence here 😭)

2. What is the consensus on the missing IAC years? They didn’t go (or one of them didn’t make it)? Or they went but couldn’t interact meaningfully? Or they did go and did have elevator interactions, but they were just more of the same as the year before so didn’t merit inclusion in the montage?

3. For 1991: Obviously we have the hand brushing/fingers entwining/Sergei turning and looming and Looking at her like that, so if they weren’t interrupted, my questions are: a) Do we think they *would* have had sex (as in, would Margo have gone from 0 to 60 immediately) and b) *Could* they have had sex? (Were their rooms already bugged, or was that a recent Mars 94 development?)

4. Furthermore: Could she not have just gotten out at a different floor, then gone back down?? (But yes: the “moment” was gone, and she snapped back to reality etc.)

5. Finally, how is it possible that Margo knows and is close to (although maybe does not always agree with), of all people, the literal President of the United States and she can’t somehow use that to her advantage to get out of the whole Season 3 mess??

6. (Bonus: Less a question than a comment about 2.7 (and I *know* I’ve seen a gif of this with comments if I can find it), but just LOL at Sergei’s look at the guard outside his room when he closes the door and also the guard’s raised eyebrows back?? So suggestive or ??)

#margo x sergei #for all mankind

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drinkabletoxicdishsoap · 7 months ago

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I was rewatching some mlp episodes for fun and then a thought came to my mind: fairly odd parents a new wish x my little pony 😞 (a lot of the yaps on my page are going to be crossovers sorry I adore them)

So dev is basically twilight! He studies at the canterlot school for gifted unicorns. Now Celestia sees how alone he is and he usually to keeps to himself. She sends a letter to twilight and is like “I got you a new student :3333” and dev becomes twilight’s student. He’s very good at magic and stuff but SUCKS at friendship. He always has his nose in a book to either learn about magic more or business like his dad. Twilight sends him to the school of friendship where he meets Pegasus Hazel, unicorn Jasmine, Earth pony Winn! They try to befriend him but he’s having none of that!! Nope!! Friendship is lame!! I just think it would be really funny to see the whole mane 6 + maybe the princesses + starlight trying to get this kid some friends but no matter what they do bro doesn’t care 😭 like they try every friendship lesson in the book and he still fails ☹️

I like to think Luna sometimes visits him in his dreams to talk to him because they can somehow relate you know?

It would be so funny if he became the next twilight ��😭

I have no idea if Cosmo, Wanda, and Peri exist in this au but I don’t really think it would change the story if they did 🤷‍♀️ so you can imagine them in there if you want!!

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no-i-will-not-shut-up · 3 months ago

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ill be honest i dont like how its implied iruma should be the demon king that guy just wants to live a normal life with his polycule

now sabro on the other hand

#mairuma #mairimashita! iruma kun #he should become a teacher or smth instead #he got that vibe #ill be so mad if he does become the demon king #as soon as the idea was introduced poor sabro got sidelined have you seen him lately #and his wicked cycle was so short it felt like alright lets get this over with #correct me if im wrong but wasnt atori going to overdose him on those cycle candies #that would have been fun to see like what happens if you do that can you even overdose on those #iruma on the other hand just keeps getting dragged along the political game and he barely wants to be there #every time someone asks him what do you think about becoming the demon king #hes like i dunno i just love my friends #let him be with his friends!!!!!!!!!!!#at this point im not interested in seeing him becoming the demon king that clearly not what he wants #hes just going with the flow because thats what everyone around him says #has anyone proposed to him to become anything else other than the demon king

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imwritesometimes · 3 months ago

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This is the shit democrats need to be out in the streets banging the drum over right now. You voted for him and he's already fucking you over. You rural farming voters who thought you'd be safe from his anti-woke agenda. It's already coming for your livelihoods. Can you afford 4 more years of this shit?

#people in this country SERIOUSLY need to be reminded the republican party has NEVER been for the working class #and it NEVER WILL BE #gay or straight white or poc disabled or not if you're not in one of like 6 families that hold all the wealth in this country #the republican party IS NOT LOOKING OUT FOR YOU #the problem is these people LOVE to be pandered to #ignore whatever you've hears abt 'these people don't want to be pandered to!' that's literally just more pandering!#oh they're so smart they see through the bullshit you can't pander to them!#then how come they keep voting for y'all even tho you're threatening to take their healthcare and costing them jobs?#it's cause they LOVE to be pandered to. they LOVE IT. they love feeling like they're SO IMPORTANT they can STICK IT TO THE COASTAL ELITES #HARHAR WE RUN THE COUNTRY SUCK IT LIBS #all they want is to be pandered to. and the democrats HAVE GOT TO LEARN THIS ONCE AND FOR ALL #they don't give a FUCK about anyone else but themselves and the democrats gotta PANDER AWAY BABY!#cheetolini is ALREADY fucking ur life up! where's the inflation reduction he promised day 1? why are eggs still over $5?#gay ppl buy eggs. white. brown. straight uptight assholes you wish would flip their bike over & knock out their 2 front teeth #gotta pander baby. PANDER PANDER PANDER.#and once you get that done and you're elected THEN you can swoop in and go #you know what it's literally none of the government's business what order your genitals are in #(cause let's remember we're PANDERING these ppl hate the idea of the government getting involved in their business)#so driver's licenses & passports and everything else for ALL!#but you gotta pander first and continue to pander along the way. these people are stupid and selfish (horrid combo)#anyway. I think I'm done reading the news for the day it's not even noon on a sunday and I'm ready to go into the street with a baseball bat #us politics

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corioliseffect · 5 months ago

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new curse dropped: having fic ideas but i refuse to write rpf/don't think i even could

#coriolis posts #ignore the part where there's extremely vivid scenes and even dialogue showing up as if written out in my head. ignore that #but if anyone wants to take my ideas and run w them.... 👀#1. is just sort of . oscar's experimental hookups in the junior series (max f + arthur l)#well they backfire on him when he gets to f1 and meets lando and charles #no actual endgame with that one #to be clear i do not think . that actually happened (duh) (the f in rpf stands for fiction) i just think it would be funny #lando: ive heard a lot about you!#oscar: (fuck fuck fuck what the fuck) ... yeah?#lando: yeah max said you were rly interesting to race :)#yeah fuck it i'll tag this #f1 rpf #oscar piastri #hes not the only one but hes the main one and its all in the tags anyway #the 2nd idea is a college au #charles and oscar are friends and they're talking about. something. idk maybe charles went on vacation to paris #and Oscar is like well i simply dont believe you that french people are more romantic than anyone else #and charles goes That sounds like a challenge. let me set you up with my good friend pierre #(he does not tell pierre its basically for a bet. pierre is just Like That or something) anyway pierre takes oscar out on a few dates #and maybe charles sort of has a point from a technical pov #but theyre not like. falling in love #because 1. aromantic oscar anyone? aro? hit him with the aro beam?#and 2. pierre is in love with charles (and vice versa)#Also featuring the college's rc car club (oscar esteban liam + a few more idk)#and oscar finds out pierre and esteban have beef but he figures out its either 1. silly childhood grudges #or 2. misunderstandings (e.g. pierre thought esteban keyed his car but it was actually a jealous ex gf)#anyway point is oscar sets up charles and pierre and then makes pierre and esteban be friends again #and he gets to dogsit simba and leo while piarles go on dates (this was his end goal all along. 🧡🐶🐩)#thats so many tags jfc #anyway if anyone else wants to write either of these i give you full permission

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pynkhues · 10 months ago

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https://x.com/pixielayer/status/1818003659675869381

since you're in your smut writing renaissance era... i'll just leave it here and hope it sparks the creative juice flow *wink-wonk*

(ok that sounded weird. i'm out)

Lmaooo, anon!! LOOK, I will keep it in mind.

#i honestly think they would both be so weird about sex toys #not to say that they wouldn’t be into them #but like #that combination of Louis’ Catholic guilt and internalised sense of shame #along with the fact that he was seemingly using an ahem variety of them with Armand given the whips and floggers on the wall of their room #which y’know #is an interesting thing to consider generally in terms of the dynamic there given Louis canonically finds Armand boring lmao #to say nothing of the fact that I feel it’s p implied lestat hasn’t really been seeing anyone period for a while if he’s not even hunting #which is also interesting to consider when you think about the fact that Louis obviously had slept with men before prior to Lestat #but how much is really up for debate #and has now had a lot more experiences broadly given Armand and Paris and 128 boys in San Fran and who knows who else #while I personally don’t think Lestat hasn’t slept with ANYONE in that time it IS an argument you could make #with the current info we have #and idk!#I do think there’s something to Lestat coming back to himself and like #discovering vibrators lmao #you know that he’s screaming crying throwing up etc over the idea of Louis having used them with anyone / on himself without lestat #and i do feel like they’re both insane and possessive enough to get jealous of the other using them #while also finding it hot af lmao #again not saying I don’t think they’d use and enjoy them I just also feel like they’d make it weird and somehow they’d cause a fight lmao #and look Lestat probably would wax lyrical about butt plugs in particular hahaha #welcome to my ama #iwtv asks

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khioneee · 4 months ago

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TAPPING OUT

synopsis. caleb graduates from the academy, but when you unexpectedly tap him out, a tradition where loved ones step forward to formally release a pilot from their duty, he realizes no achievement compares to having you by his side. (based on this.) word count. 1.1k an. loved doing this for codghost so i might as well do it for this man. lets pretend they have the tradition in their universe. okay? okay.

caleb stood in the crowd, his posture rigid and form still with precision despite the celebration around him. cheers echoed through the room, but they sounded distant, muffled. he watched as pilots, one by one, were tapped out by their loved ones. parents embracing their children, lovers reuniting in tearful hugs.

his chest tightened as his eyes scanned the room. he was waiting for gran, the one person he knew would come. gran had always shown up, had always been his anchor. he learnt not to expect anything more, not to hope for anyone else.

but then, like a shift in the universe, caleb felt you before he saw you.

when you stepped into the room, it was as if the entire world faded away. time slowed, the noise dimmed, and the lights seemed to soften, catching on the edges of your features. you looked beautiful, achingly so. heartbreakingly out of reach. you weren’t supposed to be here, not after the fight, not after the cruel words you’d both thrown at each other before he left.

you moved toward him with purpose, cutting through the room like you were meant to be there all along.

caleb couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t think.

his hands trembled at his sides as he watched you close the distance between you. he could act all stoic, but his heart didn’t feel stoic enough to make him calm.

when you stopped in front of him, there were tears already brimming in your eyes. his carefully constructed control, unshakable during training, steadfast through every grueling challenge, began to crumble.

caleb had faced impossible physical challenges, the grueling expectations of training, and the endless psychological evaluations that pushed him to the edge. but none of those had broken him nearly like you did. you, standing here, looking at him like that.

you were his undoing.

you should be his first sign. the first sign that there was something wrong with him. because you were his obsession. the one he was slowly losing control over.

caleb was not allowed to fall in love with you.

he trembled as your fingers brushed against his, tapping him out of his frozen misery. the soft touch was meant to symbolize recognition, acknowledgment. but to caleb, it was so much more.

you were here. you were real.

there was no second-guessing, no hesitation. before he could stop himself, his arms were around you, pulling you into him with a force that left him breathless. a strangled sigh escaped his lips and found its home in the crook of your neck, right where your heart beats: friends, friends, friends.

he held you like a man drowning, and you were the only thing keeping him afloat. he felt the soft shake of your shoulders, the warmth of your tears against his neck, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

‘i didn’t think you’d come,’ he whispered, his voice low and raw, breaking under the weight of his emotions. you pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. there was something in his gaze, but before you could respond, he spoke again, quieter this time, like a vow. ‘i’ll never let you go.’

the words made you shiver. they were so soft you almost didn’t catch them.

‘you can try,’ you joked, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to lighten the mood. a nervous laugh escaped as you gently pushed against his chest, pretending to escape his embrace. ‘you love me, i get it.’

but caleb didn’t loosen his hold. instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. there was a quiet laugh, quiet and unsteady, before he murmured, ‘you have no idea, pipsqueak.’

his voice was filled with something raw, something deeper than you could fully understand. it wasn’t just love. it was obsession, devotion, a yearning that had no end.

you smelled like honey. like the same thing you’d been smelling your entire life that made you feel like home in a way that hotels and dorm beds could never manage.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, shining pin they’d given him for finishing aerospace academy. it gleamed in the light, a symbol of everything he’d fought to achieve. without a word, he placed it carefully in your palm.

your fingers brushed his as you took it, and the touch sent sparks up his arm. with careful, deliberate precision, you pinned it to his chest. caleb didn’t move, his gaze fixed on you, watching every motion, every soft touch of your fingers against his uniform.

‘they should give you a medal instead for doing so well,’ you teased softly, smiling up at him.

once the pin was secure, you smoothed down his uniform, your fingers lingering against the fabric. it was such a small gesture, but it felt so intimate that caleb’s breath hitched.

he tried his best not to be frantic, but it was almost impossible when he was overloaded with want, want, want, and with the feeling that this might not happen again, with the fear that if caleb thought about it too hard, he’d stop himself before he did too much.

he couldn’t stop himself any longer. leaning down, he kissed your cheek, his lips lingering on your skin. he didn’t move away immediately, letting the moment stretch as he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of you.

he felt like a criminal on the run, but it was too good to withdraw from. so, he overdosed on unrequited love.

when he finally pulled back, there was a soft, almost shy smile on his lips. his voice was low, but full of meaning. ‘i already have my reward.’

you looked up at him, your cheeks warm, his cap still sitting crooked on your head. for a moment, neither of you spoke, and the weight of everything unsaid lingered between you.

and caleb, looking at you, standing there with your fingers still on his uniform, knew it was the absolute truth. you didn’t realize it, but you were the center of his universe. his greatest test, his deepest weakness, and the one thing he could never, ever let go of.

i’m a fool, he decided. damned in the bits of exhaustion at pulling and pushing at whatever’s left of trying.

the noise of the crowd finally broke through the haze, the sound of laughter and celebration pulling you both back to the present. caleb stepped back slightly, watching as you adjusted his cap, your smile soft but hesitant.

you didn’t have to know the struggle he’d endured to get here, the battles he’d fought within himself.

you were his obsession. his reason for everything. and he was losing control, but he didn’t care. because having you here, now, was all that mattered.

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kaiist · 1 month ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐃-𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The tension between you and Xavier had been building for the past ten minutes. The living room felt smaller with each passing second, the space between you charged with unspoken frustrations. He remained still as always while you gesticulated wildly, your frustration mounting as you paced back and forth.

“You can’t just disappear for hours without telling me, Xavier! I was worried sick!” Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying how genuinely frightened you’d been.

He stood with perfect posture by the window, hands clasped behind his back. “I apologize. I was helping a neighbor downstairs with their computer system. Time escaped me.” The words were perfectly reasonable, delivered in that maddeningly measured tone he always used.

His calm demeanor only fueled your irritation. How could he be so composed when you’d been imagining the worst? Fatal accidents. Hospital rooms. All the terrible possibilities that had played through your mind on repeat.

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, closing the distance between you. “This is the third time this week you’ve vanished without a word. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To call and text and get nothing back?”

Standing this close, you noticed subtle changes in his expression—his eyebrows furrowed slightly and the corner of his mouth turned down just enough to be noticeable. The tiny muscle along his jaw twitched, and you caught the quickening pulse at his neck despite his outward composure. These microexpressions—so small anyone else would miss them—revealed the emotions he struggled to articulate.

“I didn’t intend to cause distress,” he said quietly, and for once, his voice carried a hint of genuine regret. “The repair was more complex than anticipated. The family had lost access to critical medical records.”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a mechanic or something?” You exhaled sharply, running your hands through your hair. “Just... call next time. Or text. Anything.”

His eyes met yours, searching. “The thought didn’t occur to me. That was... an oversight.”

Something in his admission—the rare acknowledgment of an emotional mistake rather than a logical error—made your frustration shift into something else entirely. You suddenly become aware of how close you were standing, you can faintly smell the subtle scent of his cologne. Your anger was still there, but beneath it stirred something warmer.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, fingers gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie, and pressed your lips firmly against his. For a moment, everything froze—the argument, your racing thoughts, even time itself.

Xavier went completely still, clearly caught off guard by this abrupt change. You felt the slight intake of his breath against your lips, the momentary tension in his shoulders. Then, like ice melting in the sun, he yielded. His shoulders relaxed, and his hands—initially hovering uncertainly—found their way to your waist, steady and warm through the fabric of your shirt.

The kiss lingered longer than you’d intended, your anger dissolving with each passing second. His lips were surprisingly soft, with the faint taste of the mint tea he always drank in the evenings. What had started as impulse deepened into something tender, the physical connection saying everything words had failed to express between you.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were wider than usual, pupils slightly dilated. Xavier’s carefully composed expression had cracked completely open, revealing vulnerability you only got to see. A flush colored his cheekbones, making him look younger, more boyish.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice softer than before, slightly breathless in a way that made your heart skip.

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, equally breathless. “I’m still mad at you, though.” The declaration lacked conviction even to your own ears, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if processing a complex equation. His thumb traced a gentle circle on your hip where his hand still rested. “I understand your concern,” he said finally, each word carefully chosen. “Next time, I’ll message you.”

You sighed, feeling the last remnants of your anger slipping away. “I just... when I couldn’t reach you, I imagined all these terrible scenarios.” Your forehead dropped against his chest, suddenly exhausted from the emotional whiplash.

“That hadn’t occurred to me, because I usually came back just fine,” he admitted quietly. His arms encircled you fully now, pulling you into an embrace. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, reassuringly present and real.

“Though if this is how our arguments conclude,” he whispered, that subtle teasing tone emerging that only you ever got to hear, “I might be tempted to provoke them more often.”

You smacked his chest lightly, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Don’t you dare.”

“Noted,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Though I make no promises about forgetting the time again. But I will promise to let you know where I am.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” you whispered against the soft fabric of his hoodie, breathing in his familiar scent. The argument had dissolved, leaving something stronger, more honest in its wake—another layer of understanding between you and this complex, fascinating man you’d fallen for.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital cast everything in an unflattering glow, including Zayne’s stern expression as he worked on your arm. The sharp antiseptic smell permeated the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood—your blood—that had soaked through your uniform.

“Hold still,” Zayne commanded as he dabbed antiseptic on the gash along your arm. The cool liquid burned against the raw wound, making you inhale sharply.

You winced at the sting but tried to maintain a brave face. “It’s just a scratch,” you said dismissively, though the throbbing told a different story.

His eyes flicked up momentarily from his work, dark with barely contained emotion. “A ‘scratch’ that nearly severed your brachial artery,” he countered, his deft fingers working methodically on the sutures.

You watched his hands as he worked—steady, precise movements born from years of practice. The precision of his gestures contrasted sharply with the tightness around his eyes and the muscle jumping in his jaw. The silence between stitch pulls felt heavier than artillery fire.

“What were you thinking, charging like that without proper clearance?” he finally asked, voice too controlled, too measured to disguise the emotion underneath.

With each stitch, you could feel his conflicting emotions—the methodical doctor warring with the man who clearly cared for you more than he wanted to admit. His eyes remained focused on the wound, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

“I had intelligence that couldn’t wait,” you defended, though your voice lacked conviction. The pain medication was making it hard to maintain your stubborn front, and his proximity was distracting. Zayne had always been handsome, but there was something about the intensity of his focus, even while angry, that made your pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with your injury.

Zayne’s jaw tightened visibly as he reached for the surgical thread again. “Intelligence. Right.” He tied off a stitch with perhaps more force than necessary, making you flinch. His eyes immediately softened with regret for causing additional pain, though his voice remained stern. “And that intelligence was worth risking your life?”

“The mission was—”

“The mission would have failed entirely if you’d bled out in that alley,” he cut in, his voice sharp as a scalpel. “Do you have any idea what it was like—” his voice wavered, “—knowing you’re out there, but not knowing if you’d come out alive?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. The rhythmic beeping of medical equipment filled the silence, counting the heartbeats where neither of you spoke. You hadn’t considered that perspective—hadn’t thought about Zayne possibly remembering other battlefields where he’d arrived too late.

As he reached to wrap your arm, you noticed the slight tremor in his usually steady hands. It was subtle—anyone else might have missed it—but you knew those hands too well. They had patched you up countless times, had grabbed you out of harm’s way, had steadied you during your hard times. Now they betrayed his composure in a way his disciplined expression never would.

“You could have died,” he said more quietly as he smoothed the bandage over your skin, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

Something in his vulnerability made your chest tighten. The walls you’d both maintained through professional necessity suddenly seemed absurd in the face of how close you’d come to never seeing him again. The realization hit you with unexpected force—what if this had been your last interaction? An argument in a sterile hospital room?

Without overthinking it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, effectively silencing his lecture. You felt his momentary surprise, the stiffening of his shoulders before something like surrender washed through him. The kiss was gentle, an apology and a reassurance wrapped into one. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours.

For a suspended moment, the hospital, the mission, the injury—everything disappeared except the point where you connected. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face, careful to avoid jostling your injured arm. The professional mask he wore so carefully had slipped entirely away, revealing the vulnerability underneath that only you were trusted to see.

When you pulled back, his expression had transformed. The stern doctor was gone. His breath came slightly faster, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You gave him your best innocent look, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. “Doctor, am I going to make it?”

For a moment, he appeared stunned, lips slightly parted in surprise, a flush rising from beneath the collar of his medical coat. Then he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders visibly releasing. The corner of his mouth twitched upward—not quite a smile, but getting there.

“Your prognosis is favorable,” he murmured. He finished securing the bandage, his touch had gentled considerably. “But I’m prescribing close observation for the next twenty-four hours. My office would be the appropriate location for such monitoring.”

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then traced a path down to your lips again. This second kiss was different—unhurried and deliberate, carrying promises neither of you had voiced aloud. You felt the last of his anger dissolving.

You smiled against his lips, victory achieved. “If that’s your medical opinion, Doctor.”

“It is,” he said, carefully helping you sit up. His hand lingered at the small of your back, steadying you. “And next time, wait for backup. Please.” The ‘please’ was barely audible, a rare moment of naked vulnerability.

It was a plea from someone who couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

“I promise,” you said softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, and—” Rafayel checked his watch with exaggerated timing, spinning around to face you as you entered his studio, “—fourteen seconds. That’s how long I’ve been waiting.” He threw his hands upward. “Do you know what I could have done in that time? I could have watched Titanic. I could have baked a soufflé—actually, no, three soufflés! I could have learned the basics of Spanish!”

You closed the door behind you, exhaustion evident in your movements. Your muscles ached from the tension of the mission, and your uniform still carried the faint smell of smoke and sweat. The emergency operation had taken everything out of you, but Rafayel was clearly in no mood to be sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel. The situation was critical and—”

“Critical enough to not send a single message?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. He paced the room with exaggerated steps, hands gesturing wildly as if conducting an invisible orchestra of grievances. “We had plans. Specific plans that involved a sunset and a dinner reservation that I can’t get back. Do you know how many strings I had to pull? How many favors I called in?”

You dropped your bag with a heavy thud, wincing as your bruised shoulder protested the movement. “Rafayel, please—”

“The restaurant had a two-month waiting list!” He spun again, his silk shirt billowing slightly with the movement. “The chef was going to prepare that ridiculous flaming dessert you like—the one with the sparklers that always makes you smile like a child at a festival.” His voice softened momentarily before hardening again. “I even wore the shirt you like. The one that’s actually uncomfortable but makes my eyes look nice or whatever.”

He wasn’t wrong—the color of the silk did make his eyes look particularly striking, even now as they flashed with indignation. You noticed he’d styled his hair as well, and the realization that he’d put such effort into the evening made your heart twist with guilt.

“There wasn’t time to message anyone,” you explained, sinking onto the couch, too tired to remain standing through his complaints. “The comms were jammed. We barely made it out at all.”

Rafayel narrowed his eyes, studying your face for any sign of deception. “Oh, so it’s technology’s fault now?” He threw his hands up again, accidentally knocking a decorative vase that he caught with surprising reflexes before it could shatter. “Humans and their excuses. Always something or someone else to blame. ‘The sun was in my eyes! The dog ate my homework! The communications were jammed during my super-secret mission!’”

He set the vase down with care despite his agitation—a reminder that for all his dramatic flair, Rafayel was actually quite meticulous. “Next you’ll tell me there were explosions and car chases, like some absurd action movie.”

The accuracy of his sarcastic guess made you hesitate just long enough for his eyes to widen.

“Wait, there were actually explosions? And you’re just walking in here like it’s nothing?” Something flickered across his face—genuine concern breaking through the outrage—before he quickly composed himself again. “Well, that’s... that’s beside the point! The point is I was abandoned. Left to wither away on my own.”

Despite your fatigue, irritation sparked. “I didn’t exactly choose to be ambushed and pinned down for two hours! I wasn’t having fun, Rafayel!”

“And I didn’t choose to sit alone at that ridiculous restaurant while the waiter gave me pitying looks!” he shot back, voice rising as he threw himself into the armchair across from you. “Do you know how humiliating that was? Waiting and waiting while everyone whispered about the poor abandoned man? The maître d’ actually patted my shoulder, like I was some... some tragic figure!”

He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, mussing it in a way that somehow made him look even more attractive—an infuriating talent he seemed unaware of. “I ordered wine. I checked my phone approximately nine thousand times. I made up elaborate excuses about my date being a super great hunter called into an emergency mission to save Linkon City.”

The genuine hurt beneath his outrage became suddenly clear. Behind the dramatic gestures and exaggerated language was real pain—the vulnerability of someone who had been genuinely worried.

You rose from the couch, crossing the small space between you. He continued his rant, though his voice lost some of its conviction as you approached.

“And then I had to walk home alone, past all those disgustingly happy couples who—”

You stepped forward, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed your lips firmly against his. You could feel the exact moment his indignation melted, his body language transforming from rigid offense to relieved surrender. For a moment, he remained stiff, clearly determined to hold onto his righteous anger. Then, with a small sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, his arms encircled you, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap.

The kiss tasted faintly of the expensive wine he’d mentioned—he hadn’t been exaggerating about waiting at the restaurant, at least. His fingers tangled in your hair, gentle despite his earlier theatrics, cradling your head as if you were something precious he’d feared losing.

When you pulled away, his pout remained, though considerably less convincing. His lips, slightly reddened from the kiss, contradicted his attempt at maintaining his anger. His fingers traced your cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicted his dramatic words—the clearest sign that you’d been forgiven, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“This changes nothing,” he mumbled, even as his fingers gently traced patterns on your back, discovering and carefully avoiding the spots where you’d been injured. “I’m still upset.”

“I know,” you acknowledged softly, resting your forehead against his. “And I really am sorry about dinner. I know how much trouble you went through to arrange it.”

“You should be,” he huffed, but then rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your face. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? The things I imagined? You could have been hurt or—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “A few bruises, nothing serious.”

His eyes searched yours, seeing through the minimization. His hand found the tender spot on your shoulder that you’d been trying to hide, his touch feather-light. “Liar,” he said softly, with none of his earlier accusations. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s part of the job,” you reminded him gently. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“A job that consistently interrupts my meticulously planned romantic gestures,” he complained, but his voice had lost its edge. His fingers moved from your shoulder to your neck, then to your face, as if reassuring himself that you were really there, whole and safe. “But I suppose I’m glad you weren’t permanently damaged. That would have been extremely inconvenient for my future plans.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“You seem distracted today,” Sylus remarked, watching you from across his office room in the Onychinus’s base. His voice carried that peculiar blend of observation and judgment that never failed to set your teeth on edge. “Something troubling that brilliant mind of yours?”

You’d been on edge all morning, his casual observations hitting every nerve. The mission report in front of you blurred as you tried to focus on anything besides his piercing gaze from across the room. Each time he passed behind your chair, you could feel his presence like electricity, deliberately invading your space as if testing your limits.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied tersely, gripping your pen tighter.

“Clearly.” His lips curled into that infuriating smirk that made you want to either slap him or— No. You refused to follow that train of thought. “That’s why you’ve been glaring daggers at the same report for twenty minutes. Fascinating reading material, is it?”

“I’m concentrating.” You made a show of turning the page, though you hadn’t absorbed a single word from the previous one.

“On setting it ablaze with your eyes, perhaps?” He chuckled, the sound rich and smooth like aged whiskey—a sound that would be pleasant in any other context, from any other person. He pushed away from his ornate desk, crossing the room with that grace that seemed to define his every movement. “Come now, sweetie. You know I can see right through you.”

Your grip tightened on your pen until your knuckles whitened. Today, his typical banter felt like sandpaper on raw skin. The weight of the failed mission hung heavy on your shoulders—a mission he’d asked you to accompany him. The subtle way his eyes had followed you since your return suggested he knew exactly how it had gone wrong, and was simply waiting for you to admit it.

The mission had been stressful enough without his commentary, and you’d specifically chosen to work in his office for the quiet atmosphere, not the running commentary. The irony wasn’t lost on you—seeking peace in the devil’s lair—but the alternative was the bustling common areas where questions about the mission would be impossible to avoid.

“Perhaps it’s the negotiations?” he continued, leaning against your desk, invading your personal space with calculated precision. The subtle scent of his cologne—something expensive and custom-made, no doubt—wrapped around you like an unwelcome embrace. “Your strategy was... unconventional. Though I must say, watching you attempt to outmaneuver your opponent was quite entertaining. Like watching a chess novice challenge a grandmaster.”

His words struck with precision, targeting exactly where you felt most vulnerable. The negotiations had fallen apart spectacularly, though not for lack of preparation on your part. Sylus had blamed it on a few of his henchmen, he’ll deal with them later for forgetting to mention some details that caused you to stress yourself out.

“Or maybe it’s that little encounter with one of my rivals the day before yesterday?” he pressed on, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that forced you to incline toward him despite yourself. “I heard of how that meeting concluded.”

That was the breaking point. The pen in your hand snapped, ink staining your fingers like evidence of a crime. In one fluid motion, you stood from your chair, the sudden movement causing Sylus to straighten, a flash of surprise crossing his features before his customary smirk returned.

“Would you just—” The words caught in your throat, frustration making it impossible to articulate exactly what you wanted from him. Silence? An apology? Some acknowledgment that he’d set you up to fail although it’s not entirely his fault?

Instead of finishing your sentence, you grabbed his perfectly pressed collar and yanked him down, crushing your lips against his. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was pure frustration translated into action, teeth clashing, fingers gripping fabric tight enough to wrinkle the expensive material.

The stunned widening of his eyes gave you a flash of satisfaction—finally something had caught the ever-composed Sylus off-guard. For a heartbeat, he remained completely still, his usual grace abandoned in genuine surprise. Then his hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he responded with unexpected intensity.

What had started as an impulsive act of defiance quickly transformed into something more. The kiss deepened, his other hand finding the small of your back, drawing you closer with surprising strength. Heat bloomed where his fingers pressed, spreading through your body like wildfire. The taste of him—bitter coffee and something sweeter underneath—was intoxicating in the worst possible way.

When you broke away, breathless and disoriented, you glared up at him. “Shut. Up.”

For perhaps the first time this week, Sylus appeared genuinely caught off balance. His usual perfect composure had slipped, collar askew, a hint of color high on his sharp cheekbones. Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, certainly, but also something darker, more intense that made your pulse quicken despite yourself.

Rather than appearing offended, Sylus looked thoroughly entertained once he recovered, eyes gleaming with intrigue. He straightened slowly, adjusting his collar that drew attention to his long fingers.

“Well,” he murmured, voice slightly rougher than his usual polished tones, “that’s certainly one way to request silence.” His tongue darted out to touch his lower lip briefly, as if sampling the taste you’d left there. “Effective, if unorthodox.”

But true to your demand, he didn’t speak further. Instead, he returned to his chaise lounge across the room, picking up his own work with an amused expression that should have infuriated you but somehow didn’t.

The silence stretched between you, no longer suffocating. You returned to your report, finding it suddenly easier to focus with Sylus’s voice no longer needling at your concentration. Occasionally, you felt his gaze on you, but whenever you glanced up, he was seemingly absorbed in his own work, though the ghost of a smile played around his lips.

After you’d made significant progress through the stack of files, a steaming cup of your favorite tea appeared at your elbow without warning. The delicate china cup—part of an antique set Sylus guarded jealously—was filled with the precise shade and aroma that you preferred, complete with the exact amount of honey you favored.

When you looked up questioningly, Sylus merely raised an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘See? I can be helpful when not talking.’ His smirk had softened around the edges, a truce offering in the form of perfectly brewed tea.

Despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. You raised the cup in silent acknowledgment, a momentary peace established in the aftermath of that impulsive kiss.

As you sipped the tea—prepared exactly as you liked it, proving he’d been paying far more attention than you’d given him credit for—you wondered which one of you had actually won this particular skirmish. Based on the satisfied gleam in his eye whenever he glanced your way, Sylus clearly thought he had the upper hand.

But as the afternoon wore on in productive silence, punctuated only by the occasional meaningful glance, you weren’t entirely sure you’d lost either.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The drive back to Caleb’s apartment was suffocating with silence. Rain streaked across the windshield, city lights blurring into watery halos as he navigated the evening trafficking Skyhaven. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw set in that way that meant he was holding back words—a dam of frustration ready to break at any moment.

You stared out the passenger window, your reflection ghostly against the glass, unable to look at him directly. You’d avoided him for three days after the mission went sideways. Three days of ducking into supply closets when you heard his footsteps in the corridor, of swapping shifts with anyone willing, of ignoring the increasingly terse messages on your comm unit. It wasn’t rational—you knew that—but facing him after your mistake in the field felt impossible.

The car stopped at a red light, engine humming. Raindrops raced down the window, merging and separating like the strategies you should have coordinated better during the operation. In the reflection of the glass, you could see Caleb’s profile—strong jaw tensed, eyes fixed straight ahead, the small scar above his eyebrow more pronounced in the harsh street lighting.

Neither of you had spoken since he’d found you in the briefing room, simply saying “We need to talk” in that Colonel voice that brooked no argument. Now, pulling into the parking space at his building, you still hadn’t found the words to bridge the chasm between you.

He unlocked his door, letting you enter first. The familiarity of his place—the orderly bookshelves, the single plant you’d given him that somehow thrived despite his frequent absences, the subtle scent of coffee and cologne he wore—made your chest ache with a complicated emotion. You couldn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead around the room—everything in its place except for the emotions threatening to spill over between you.

The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, the tension broke.

“Three days,” he stated, voice unnervingly calm as he set his keys in the exact same spot they always occupied on the entryway table. “No communications, dodging my calls, switching shifts.” Each offense listed with the precision of military charges being read.

You shrugged, aiming for casual while removing your jacket, though your hands betrayed you with a slight tremor. “I’ve been busy.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you,” he said, stepping closer, the controlled anger in his voice making it lower than usual. “Never has.” He moved into your space, not touching you but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the rain on his uniform mingling with his cologne. “I know exactly what you’re doing. Running away because you think I blame you for what happened.”

Your breath caught. Of course he’d figured it out—he always did. Caleb could read encryptions and enemy movements with uncanny accuracy, but his ability to decode your thoughts sometimes felt even more disarming.

“People could have died because of my call,” you whispered, finally voicing the fear that had been haunting you for days. Your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides, the phantom feeling of your weapon during that critical moment when everything had gone wrong.

“But they didn’t,” he countered. His voice remained firm but had lost some of its edge. “The team is safe. The mission objectives were achieved, if not in the way we planned.”

“That’s not the point,” you argued, finally meeting his gaze. The intensity there nearly made you step back. “I ignored direct orders—your orders. I put everyone at risk because I thought I knew better.”

“You made a judgment call in the field,” he corrected, running a hand through his rain-dampened hair. The gesture, so uncharacteristically nervous for him, revealed just how deeply the situation had affected him, too. “What I can’t accept is you avoiding me afterward. Avoiding the team. Avoiding the debrief where we could have addressed what happened.”

“And avoiding me doesn’t change what happened or help us prevent it next time,” he continued, his voice softening. “The team needs you. I need—” He stopped, seeming to catch himself. “The mission requires all officers and you, Miss Hunter, to be present for debriefing. That’s protocol.”

The retreat behind protocol stung worse than his anger. The distance he was deliberately placing between you—falling back on rank and procedure—felt like a physical wound. The intensity in his eyes was too much to bear.

Before he could continue his lecture, before he could retreat further behind the wall of Colonel, you surged forward, grasping his collar and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. The kiss was both surrender and defiance—an apology you couldn’t voice and a desperate plea to move past the wall building between you.

For a heartbeat, he remained rigid, hands stiff at his sides. Then, like ice thawing, he responded, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you flush against him. The rain had chilled his lips, but they quickly warmed against yours, the taste of something uniquely him making your heart race.

What had begun as impulse deepened into something more profound. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. The carefully maintained distance of the past days dissolved with each passing second, replaced by an urgency that spoke of relief and lingering fear—fear that the rift between you might have been permanent.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, his expression had transformed. The stern Colonel was gone, replaced by just Caleb—your Caleb—with unguarded emotion in his eyes. His shoulders relaxed for what felt like the first time in days.

“Don’t be mad at me like that...” you whispered. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your bodies pressed together.

His expression had softened even more, he could never stay mad at you for long, not when you looked at him like this.

“That won’t work every time,” he murmured, though the smile playing at his lips suggested otherwise. His thumb traced gentle circles at the small of your back.

“Seems to be working now,” you replied, relieved to see the anger dissipating like morning fog. You pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow to its usual steady rhythm.

Caleb sighed, one hand still tangled in your hair, gently massaging your scalp in that way he knew always calmed you. The rain continued to patter against the windows. “You know why I was angry, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest against your ear.

You nodded slightly. “Because I disobeyed a direct order.”

“No,” he said, pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Because you disappeared afterward. Because for three days, I didn’t know if you were okay—not physically, but here.” He tapped gently at your temple. “Missions go wrong. Plans fall apart. That’s the nature of what we do. But we process it together.”

“I thought you’d be disappointed in me.”

“I was disappointed you didn’t trust me enough to face me,” he corrected, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “We’re partners in this, in all of it. The good calls and the bad ones.”

“I promise,” you whispered. “No more running. No matter what happens, we face it together.”

Something in your tone must have convinced him, because the last traces of tension left his body. He pressed his lips to your forehead, the gesture tender in a way that made your heart ache.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin. “Because the next time you go dark on me for three days, I’m sending the entire squadron to find you.”

After five hours of writing with plenty of breaks (read: procrastination and distraction), and I finally finished my longest scenario yet. This ended up being one of my favorites, as I truly enjoyed the writing process and got completely carried away.

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