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forzalando · 8 months

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Seeing Someone

Lando Norris x friend!reader (female reader)

summary: Lando is finally ready to tell you how he feels when he overhears you say that you've started seeing someone - but overheard conversations aren't always what they seem. wc: 5.5k author's note: a few disclaimers: 1. let's all pretend that everyone has to spend a few weeks at MTC before the start of the season and they commute to/from London. 2. therapy and mental health help are so important - i purposefully left some things vague because people go to therapy for a variety of reasons and it should be normalized! i also didn't want things to get too heavy or potentially upset anyone by choosing to elaborate on something they relate to/hits a little too close to home. 3. this was inspired by a post i saw on my dash that said "when you said you were seeing someone i was hoping you meant a therapist". this originally started out more light-hearted, but the angst came out and i couldn't stop. feeling a little insecure about this one - thoughts and feelings in the comments/reblogs/my inbox would be so cherished and appreciated :) once again, special shoutout to @sof1shticated for being my beta reader. couldn't do this without you, Mel! warnings: mentions of reader going to therapy, mentions of reader drinking, a few curse words (i think), and angst! but there is a happy ending (even if it's a little open-ended)

Lando had searched the entirety of McLaren HQ at this point and started to worry – you were quite literally nowhere to be found. Usually, this wouldn’t phase him, since you were notorious for getting distracted or caught up in conversation with everyone you came across. You especially found ways to delay leaving MTC when you had to be there physically – the commute from HQ back to London each day was objectively the worst part of everyone coming together in the weeks leading up to each new season.

Today, however, the two of you had plans to get dinner at your favorite restaurant in London and you would never miss a chance to devour your favorite scallop risotto, cheese garlic bread, several glasses of wine, and a heaping mound of tiramisu for dessert.

He stopped speed-walking abruptly when he saw a familiar head of brown hair out of the corner of his eye.

“OSCAR,” Lando shouted, his speed-walk turning into a run. “Oscar, have you seen Y/N? She told me to meet at her office at 5:00pm but it’s 5:30pm and she is literally missing. She better have a good excuse, I hate being late.”

“Missing? Are you sure she’s not just caught up in a meeting? I saw her heading to Zak’s office around 4:45pm, did you check there?”

“Zak’s office, of course! The one place I didn’t check. Thanks, Osc, you’re the man.”

Oscar rolled his eyes – “Anytime, Lan. What are you running late for? Hot date?”

Lando didn’t miss the wiggle of Oscar’s eyebrows and slight smirk. It wasn’t a secret to the Australian that Lando had a crush on Y/N – although Lando had never confirmed or denied it, it was pretty obvious to anyone who spent more than 30 seconds around them.

“Ah, something like that,” Lando said nonchalantly, a bashful blush making its way to his cheeks.

“Good luck, mate!” Oscar threw a wave over his shoulder as he heard the retreating sound of Lando’s trainers smacking against the floor.

In truth, although you and Lando were just friends and Lando was terrified he may ruin that, he had plans to tell you about his feelings for you that night at dinner. It had been almost a year since you started working for McLaren, and almost a year of Lando pining after you in secret. He spent most days trying to convince himself he was content just being your friend, but he was determined to make 2024 his year. His first win, hopefully of many, maybe even WDC contender material, and finally plucking up the courage to be honest with you.

As Lando hurriedly approached Zak’s office, he could see that the door was slightly ajar and heard your voice trailing through the opening.

“I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Zak. And a massive thank you for approving the time off on such late notice.”

“Anytime, Y/N, you know you’re like family to me and everyone here. You sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, I’m seeing someone. It’s still new so I’m not set on him yet but I have a really good feeling about it, I’m really starting to wish I had called him sooner. He actually suggested the days off, I’m seeing him on Tuesday and hopefully things continue to go well.”

Lando’s heart dropped to his stomach – all week he had been thinking about tonight. How to tell you, how you might react, how nervous he was, and each day he grew even more anxious. He was panicking – what was he supposed to do? How could he sit across from you all night knowing that he’d missed his chance?

“That’s so good to hear,” Zak said earnestly. “Keep me updated and enjoy your days off.”

Lando could hear chairs scraping and scrambled to leave the scene before you walked out of Zak’s office to find him eavesdropping. He got about 50 feet down the hallway before he heard your voice from behind.

“Lan,” you shouted. “I’m so sorry, I’m totally late but I had to meet with Zak about something and his last meeting went way over.”

You jogged a little to catch up to him – a bright smile on your face that made his heart rate skyrocket and his palms grow sweaty. He couldn’t see you feeling like this. Not tonight, not when he could barely keep himself from telling you that he would be a much better boyfriend than whoever you were dating.

“We still on for dinner? I grabbed everything I needed from my office before I met with Zak so if we leave right this second and ignore the speed limit, they may seat us,” you bumped his shoulder as you joked.

Unable to help himself, only thinking about how hurt he was even though you’d done nothing wrong, Lando blurted out an excuse. “Actually, I was trying to find you to tell you I can’t make it.”

He tried not to react when he saw your face fall a little, but he told himself it was because you were disappointed about the last-minute change in plans and not that he wasn’t going.

“You should still go though,” he offered quickly. “I’m sure you have someone you could take with you!”

Your eyes spotted Oscar across the hallway and you smiled slightly – it had been a while since you had spent time with him and you knew he was having a rough week.

“Yeah, I have someone in mind,” you mused, focusing your eyes back on Lando. “Is everything ok? Are you not feeling well?”

“No, I’m fine, I just forgot I have plans.”

“Well, we had plans. You scheduled over me?”

“It’s a last-minute thing. Date thing. Last-minute date thing.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “Oh, that’s great!” You plastered a fake smile on your face – hoping that he was just as oblivious now as he apparently is to your feelings. “I hope you have a great time, she’s a lucky girl! I’ll see you on Wednesday, I’m taking a couple days off!”

Before he had a chance to say anything else, you sped off in search of Oscar to bribe him to accompany you to dinner. While you set off across the room, Lando smacked himself in the forehead and groaned.

“Why did you tell her it was a date, you idiot,” he mumbled to himself. Now, it was his turn to speed walk through McLaren HQ, but if he had turned around just for a moment, he would have caught you stopped in your tracks staring at him longingly as he walked away.

You shook your head and sighed, continuing your quest to find the younger McLaren driver and rope him into an evening filled with good food and, if you were being honest with yourself, probably a few tears.

A few moments later, you spotted floppy brown hair bouncing as Oscar walked toward the employee parking lot.

“Oscar!” You yelled after him, increasing your pace to catch up to him.

“Hey,” he said, confusion evident on his face, “I thought you were going out with Lando?”

“He’s got a date,” you blurted. “He has a date and he canceled on me and it’s fine. I am fine. But I want my scallop risotto and tiramisu so you’re coming with me.”

“Sure, Y/N, lead the way.”

Oscar was, to put it extremely lightly, confused. Lando was completely enamored by you – anyone with eyes could see it. Oscar was wholly convinced that Lando was going to officially ask you out at dinner tonight, especially after the brief conversation they had while you were late to meet up with him.

Yet, here he was, sat across from you in a dimly lit room as you sipped on your third glass of wine and, with all the subtlety of a neon sign, wiped a tear from your lower lash line.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for him, I’m so happy for him. But canceling last minute is a dick move, right? It’s a dick move. I know I’m just his friend, sometimes I feel like just a colleague, but I’m not being dramatic, right?”

Oscar stared at you blankly – his eyes wide and a look of pure fear on his face. He considered himself good at most things, great at quite a few, but comforting a crying woman was bottom of the list of Oscar Piastri’s skills.

“It’s totally a dick move,” he nodded his head eagerly in agreement. “I just don’t get it – when I saw him earlier he was frantic trying to find you. I think he’d scoured the entirety of MTC, he was out of breath when I found him.”

“Well, at least he had the decency to find me and tell me in person that he planned on ditching me.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it, it didn’t seem like he was trying to find you to tell you that. He complained about being late and when I asked him if he had a hot date, he blushed.”

“He is literally on a hot date.”

“Ok, well, when I asked him I meant did he have a hot date specifically with you.”

You scoffed and set your glass down – as much as you loved Oscar and you knew he’d never judge you, if you had any more wine you’d end up sobbing and not just wiping stray tears away.

“As if! Lando has never once made a move on me even though I flirt, or at least try to flirt, with him any chance I get.”

“You flirt with Lando?”

“I made him a personalized Spotify playlist, had Stroopwafels overnighted to him from The Netherlands after Vegas, bought him a sweater for his birthday with a card that said ‘to match your eyes’, and I compliment him every time I see him.”

“That’s your idea of flirting?”

“Well, yes.”

“Y/N, that’s just being nice to people. You’re nice to everyone. Lando is not going to understand that you’re a little extra nice to him and that means you’re trying to woo him.”

You huffed and slumped in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Ok, well, how would you flirt with Lando?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that question?”

“Yes because apparently you know all about flirting! And by the way, Logan thought I was coming onto him when I was just being nice so some people would consider my actions flirtatious.”

“That doesn’t count, Logan thinks Uber drivers are flirting with him when they say ‘have a nice day’.”

You and Oscar shared a laugh at the mention of your mutual friend – somehow an even more hopeless case than you in the world of romance.

Your laughs turned to giggles and eventually died down completely. A sigh climbed its way out of your throat, the sudden change in your mood evident to Oscar.

“It doesn’t matter anyway – he’s seeing someone so no more trying, and according to you failing, to flirt.”

“You don’t know how serious it is, maybe this was a first date and it’ll go horribly. He definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend if that’s what you’re worried about, he was just saying the other day that Lily and I make him feel painfully single. We can ask him about it on Monday!”

You frowned a bit and tried to recover, but Oscar noticed the way your face fell slightly. “I’m actually taking a few days off, I need some personal time. I won’t be back at MTC until Wednesday.”

“Is everything ok? You don’t have to tell me but if you need anything, you know I’m there for you, right?”

You smiled at Oscar – it was a rare thing to find such great friends in the people you worked with, but you got so incredibly lucky with the McLaren team, especially Lando and Oscar. “I know that, Osc. You’re a gem.”

With a nod of understanding, Oscar changed the subject to something more pleasant, and you enjoyed the rest of your evening with your friend.

When Wednesday morning rolled around, you felt like your stomach might explode from nerves. You had resisted texting Lando over the past few days to ask about his date, you didn’t want to seem too eager and hoped it would come up naturally in conversation during the day. You hadn’t talked to Oscar much, though he’d texted you a few times to check in, but you wondered if he had talked to Lando at all and if he had details on how well Lando’s date went.

You arrived at MTC fairly early, hoping to get a head start on your day. Winter break was nearly over, and you were swamped with finalizing everything for the start of the 2024 season. It wasn’t until lunch that you saw Lando at all and he just so happened to be waiting in your office, sitting comfortably in your chair, while you were walking back from your latest meeting.

“Lando! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh,” he scrambled. “I was just…I don’t know really. I guess I wanted to see you, we haven’t talked in a few days since you’ve been out.”

“Well, we’ve both been busy. You could’ve texted me. How was your date?”

“It was good. Great. How about yours?”

You smiled remembering your evening with Oscar, assuming he had told Lando at some point that he had accompanied you. “Honestly so fun, we had the best time. I hope we get to do it again soon.”

Lando cringed – jealousy rearing its ugly head as he looked down at his feet before answering. “Same, I’ll probably go out with her again this weekend.”

“Good for you,” you gritted. “I’m glad you had fun. I actually have a million things to do so if there’s nothing important…”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to see you. I guess we’ll catch up soon? Hope you enjoyed your days off.”

Mustering up a fake smile, you told him definitely, awkwardly standing as he rose from your desk and left your office. As soon as he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear you, you groaned. The tension between you and Lando was unbearable, though you didn’t understand why it seemed to mostly be coming from him. Before you had a chance to think any further, you could hear your phone buzzing from inside your bag and begrudgingly pulled it out to see a text from Oscar.

did you go on a date over the weekend?

no? why are you asking me that?

well then why did lando just sit across from me and say ‘did Y/N tell you anything about her date?’

he was just in my office, I asked him how his date went and he asked about ‘mine’. i assumed he was talking about Friday and that you told him i brought you?

i never told him, i guess he thought you brought a real date?

You paused before responding to Oscar, confusion evident on your face and in your lack of response. Before you could type out a reply, two more texts came in.

ok something is up because i just told him that i went with you on friday and he said “i know, i saw you in her insta story in the reflection of a wine glass, i’m talking about yesterday”

insane that he looked close enough to see me in your wine glass but not the point

i literally haven’t been on a date in two years

let me figure this out

You slid your phone back into your bag and pulled out your laptop – your Lando problems would have to wait until you were at least somewhat caught up after missing two days so close to the start of the season.

Meanwhile, at a conference room table in MTC, Oscar was confused. Which, as of late, was a common occurrence when it came to you and Lando.

“Mate,” Oscar addressed Lando, “if you’re not talking about Friday, what date did you ask Y/N about? She hasn’t been on a date in forever.”

“Well then he must have canceled on her because she was supposed to have plans yesterday, it’s why she took days off.”

“I don’t know the exact reason why she took days off but she told me on Friday that she was and didn’t seem too happy about it. Said it was personal reasons.”

“Going on a date is personal.”

“Not ‘take two days off of work’ personal! Where are you even getting this information?”

Lando looked away sheepishly, afraid to admit to Oscar that he had eavesdropped on a private conversation between you and Zak. With Oscar looking at him expectantly, and a bit like a pissed-off Mum, he blurted it out.

“I heard her talking to Zak! Last week on Friday, when I was looking for her, she was in his office and the door was cracked. She had asked him for a couple days off and talked about how she recently started seeing someone and was seeing him again on Tuesday aka yesterday.”

Now Oscar was really confused. You had cried over Lando publicly on Friday, and he knew you fairly well, which meant there was no way you would be crying over Lando and going out with someone else four days later.

“I think you need to just talk to her because I promise you, she is not seeing someone. Also, what do you care? You ditched her for a date on Friday.”

Oscar had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Lando’s face fall.

“Lando, tell me you didn’t.”

“I might have.”

“Jesus, Lando, you heard 30 seconds of a conversation and decided to lie to her? Because what, your ego took a blow? Some caveman instinct?”

“No, I don’t know, honestly. It just slipped out! I had planned to ask her out for real and when I heard her say ‘I’m seeing someone’, I just didn’t know how to be around her. I couldn’t be around her that night.”

“You need to go talk to her. Apologize. Preferably, immediately.”

Lando jumped up from his seat and sighed. “You’re right. She might kill me, and she has every right to, but I have to talk to her and apologize to her. Wish me luck!”

Before Oscar could do what Lando had asked, Lando raced off towards your office, barely stopping himself from tripping over his own two feet.

Across MTC, you had just settled your mind and gotten into a groove of catching up on emails and making progress on deadlines. As soon as you thought to yourself that the day was going better than expected, your office door flung open and Lando Norris was standing stiff in your doorway.

“Lan, I told you that I’m busy. What is going on?” Annoyance was evident in your voice and Lando cringed knowing that this conversation was probably not going to be very pleasant.

“Why did you take time off?”

Your body straightened in shock, of all the things he could have asked you after bombarding you in your office, you wouldn’t have guessed he would pry into your personal life.

“That’s none of your business, Lando. If you were worried about me, you could have reached out, but I haven’t heard from you since you ditched me on Friday.”

Lando could see the hurt on your face, he could see it evident in your body language. He thought back to how you had looked upset immediately when he told you on Friday that he couldn’t go with you – when he told himself it had nothing to do with you wanting to spend time with him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry for that, it wasn’t – I mean I didn’t, I didn’t want to not go. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Ok, I’m totally lost. You didn’t know what to do about what, Lando?”

He steeled himself for your reaction – something he had learned by being your friend for the past year was that you held trust and truth in high regard. You didn’t like being lied to, and you didn’t like people trying to dig into your life or get information you weren’t willing to share.

“I heard you in Zak’s office. I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose, I swear, I was looking for you because you were late meeting me. Oscar told me you might be with Zak so I went there and the door was open. And I heard you. So I lied and told you that I couldn’t go to dinner, I don’t know why I said I had a date. All I could focus on was how hurt I was, I just couldn’t be around you and then I felt so stupid and terrible for lying so that’s why I didn’t text you at all.”

You were completely and utterly perplexed – you couldn’t even react with anger at the thought of Lando listening to a private conversation and outright lying to you. What could he have overheard that he was so upset about?

“Lando, I’m still confused. What did you hear? How did I hurt you?”

“No, no, you didn’t hurt me. You have no idea how I feel about you – I was going to tell you that night.” Lando was word-vomiting at this point, he never wanted you to find out this way but he couldn’t stop rambling. “I have had feelings for you for so long, and I finally decided that I was going to tell you even if I was convinced you don’t feel the same. And now I know you don’t because you’re seeing someone and – ”

You interrupted him sternly, allowing the anger you were feeling to come forth and shoving down your confusion. “I’m not dating anyone? Is that why you asked Oscar about my ‘date’? Where did you get that idea?”

“You told Zak that you’re seeing someone and that it’s new but things are going good. I heard you say you were seeing him again on Tuesday.”

Your eyes doubled in size – if you weren’t so pissed off, you might have found humor in this, but you felt heat rising to your cheeks and your stomach churned at the thought of divulging your personal struggles.

“Lando, I’m seeing a therapist,” you hissed.

He froze for a moment, then scrambled to shut your door which was still ajar from him barging in.

“A therapist? Are you okay? What’s going on, why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been struggling?”

“No, no, you don’t get to do this right now. You don’t get to make me less angry by being kind and caring.”

“I’m not doing it to make you less angry, Y/N, I genuinely – ”

“I don’t care, Lando! You eavesdropped on my private conversation, misunderstood the context of that conversation, and then you lied to me. You hurt me. And now, because you got your feelings hurt and did things you shouldn’t have done, I have to share something I wasn’t comfortable sharing with you just yet.”

Lando was speechless – you could see the remorse on his face, the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but in that moment you wanted him to feel even worse than you were.

“And you want to know the worst part,” you cried. “I feel the same way about you. I cried to Oscar at dinner because I thought you were with someone else, that you would have rather been at dinner with a different girl.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Can we please just go somewhere and talk? Really talk this out? I know I messed up, but this doesn’t have to change things or how we feel about each other.”

You wanted to, god, did you want to – you knew Lando hadn’t done any of this on purpose. You knew he didn’t have malicious intent and you knew how hurt he probably felt at the idea of you being with someone – it was exactly the way you felt when you thought the same about him.

“I think you should go, Lan”. Despite every part of you wanting to sit and talk, you knew that you needed some time to settle down.

“Ok,” he whispered. “When you’re ready,” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, “if you’re ever ready, you know where to find me.”

His posture made you feel sick as he left your office – Lando was always confident, shoulders back and head held high, but as you watched him through the glass walls surrounding you, he was hunched over. Dejected. You’d only ever seen him that way a few times – after he was torn apart by the media or after making a mistake during a race.

It hurt you to see him that way. But, he had also hurt you, and you needed time.

It had been two weeks since “the incident” with Lando – that’s what Oscar started calling it and it stuck. Fight felt too strong, disagreement felt too weak, so it became something nameless. Undefined. Indeterminate. Exactly like what existed now between you and Lando.

Oscar and Lando were set to leave for Sakhir in a week and you wouldn’t see them again until you joined the team for the Australian GP. If you didn’t work things out with Lando before they left for testing, it would be well over a month without a resolution.

The thought made your eyes burn with tears – you were still upset but more than that you missed Lando. You didn’t even have to wonder if he felt the same because you’d seen him around MTC. He looked just as awful as you, if not worse, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to start a conversation.

You began packing up your things to leave the office, grateful beyond belief that it was a Friday and you’d have two days without seeing Lando’s familiar curls everywhere you turned. At least at home, you would only see them behind closed eyes and wouldn’t have to blink back tears.

A knock at your door startled you, but you assumed it was your team lead looking for your latest analytics report. At least there was one thing you could be happy about – the car data was phenomenal and all signs were pointing to an amazing season for McLaren.

You told whoever was knocking to come in, not looking up from your bag as you rifled through your files. “So sorry, Tom, I meant to bring this to you earlier but I – ”

A throat clearing cut you off, and you looked up to see Lando standing in your doorway with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of those cheesy “I’m sorry” balloons in his left hand. You almost giggled, but then you looked at his face and your heart dropped. Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes - he looked awful.

“I know you said you’d reach out when you’re ready to talk, and I wanted to respect that and give you all the space you need. But, we’re both miserable. At least I think you’re miserable, I know I am. I miss you terribly. I miss my friend. And if that’s all you’ll ever be to me, I can respect that and I will cherish it because the past week has been the worst week of my life.”

“Lando, I – ”

“Please, please let me get all of this out. Please let me apologize.”

You smiled slightly, nodding your head for him to continue.

“I’m sorry for invading your privacy. It wasn’t on purpose but I should have left as soon as I heard you talking because I know how important trust is to you. I violated yours and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you. It doesn’t matter if I was hurt, I could’ve just said I wasn’t feeling well or asked you about what I overheard immediately. After apologizing for overhearing, of course. I’m sorry that it took Oscar talking sense into me for me to come to you in the first place. I’m sorry that I hurt you and I’m sorry that I behaved like a child instead of talking to you about my feelings. My actions made you feel forced to tell me something personal that you weren’t ready to share. I’m so sorry, and I hope you know that I’m here for you always.”

He let out a deep breath and you watched his shoulders relax slightly for the first time in two weeks. You knew he was sorry – you’d known how sorry he was immediately when he started explaining and apologizing the first time around, but you just weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered as you walked towards him and took his free hand in your own. “I know you’re sorry and I know that this was all a misunderstanding that just got out of hand.”

“I am also sorry for springing my feelings on you. I wanted to tell you properly, ask you out properly, but I couldn’t explain myself without telling you. I ruined everything, it was woefully unromantic.”

“Yeah, that was a bit shit, I didn’t get my big grand gesture or anything.”

Lando’s eyes grew wide, a hopeful gleam in them. “I mean, would you – is that something you would still want? I don’t want to pressure you and I don’t want to assume that you still feel the same.”

“I do,” you said softly. “But, I think we should work on really moving past this before we officially jump into anything more.”

“I completely agree. However, I do have a reservation for two in about forty minutes to make up for ditching you, if you’d like to join me? Otherwise, I’ll have to bring Oscar. He won’t stop talking about the cheese garlic bread.”

“No, Lando, you don’t understand. He ordered three baskets. I went home and typed an apology email to Zak for ruining his diet.”

You both erupted in giggles, leaning into each other for support and out of habit. It felt so good to laugh, the weight and stress of the past two weeks rolling off in waves as Lando’s shoulder bumped yours and you heard the unmistakable laughter that you’d come to love so much.

“Maybe we should bring him anyway,” you pondered. “He’s been an exceptionally good friend to us both the past couple of weeks.”

“He can come next time, I’d like you to myself for the evening. If that’s ok?”

“More than ok, Lan. I’ve really missed you.”

He leaned in quickly, kissing your cheek gently and then nuzzling his nose against your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume he’d gifted you for your last birthday. “Not as much as I’ve missed you,” he objected, his eyes glimmering slightly. Wet eyelashes fluttered against your neck as he stayed tucked into your side for a few more moments.

“We’re going to be late,” you whispered, with a sincere lack of urgency.

“Can we go back to my hotel room instead? Watch a movie and order in? Jus’ wanna hold you.”

Your heart constricted – as much as you wanted to tease him and say he owed you a night out and your favorite meal, you wanted nothing more than to spend the night in Lando’s arms.

“Of course, Lan. I think I need that too.”

On the way to Lando’s car, you passed Oscar who gave you both a knowing smile and a short wave. If you asked him if he had been waiting for you guys to leave, he would deny it. He would deny being so invested in your reconciliation that he waited close to an hour after he could leave for the day to make sure you were both ok. He would also deny that he tracked both of you and when it dawned on him that you were skipping your dinner, he sped to that little Italian place and stole your reservation for an order (or two) of cheese garlic bread.

He couldn’t resist sending a poorly taken picture to the group chat with the three of you and you burst out laughing when you opened it.

“Lan, Oscar somehow stole our dinner res,” you giggled, turning your phone to show Lando an unmistakable basket of bread and a follow-up text with several heart emojis.

Lando held his phone up to snap a quick selfie of you two cuddled up in bed, him leaning in for the second time that evening to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. Almost immediately after it delivered, your phones lit up with another text from Oscar.

HOT DATE FR THIS TIME?

You and Lando looked at each other and smiled, the mutual understanding of where you stood with your feelings evident.

not quite yet, but soon :)

#lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 3 months

Text

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Did anyone grew up hearing about the "100 days" rule?

If you have been dating for 100 days, you're engaged.

Now, in its most literal sense, it's pretty clear that this rule doesn't hold true nowadays - in many parts of the world, it'd rather be considered unusual (or even rushed) to get engaged after only 3 months of dating. A quick google search told me that couples in the United States date for 2.5 years on average before they get engaged. Maybe it's more often used in the way I grew up hearing it: 100 days is a pretty long time. It may not be a guarantee you get married (and marriage isn't everyone's life goal anyway and that's fine!), but sticking to someone for 100 days shows commitment. Those first few weeks may be "the honeymoon phase" but anything new still feels fragile. After 3 months, it's not that new anymore. Going strong at 100 days is a milestone to be proud of.

And, importantly, this doesn't just go for 100 days of dating. Relationships aren't the only milestone to celebrate!

100 days of sticking to any happy new habit (or 100 days of abstaining from something that is detrimental to your wellbeing) are something to be proud of. We are often used to measuring sucess in years, but those first weeks are often the ones that take the most courage and you deserve to pat your own back for that.

Special shoutout here to anyone who has reached 100 days clean of any addiction or self-harming behavior! That's an incredible milestone that deserves extra recognition. It's a really hard one that's also really, really worthwhile. It shows a lot of courage and strength.

Other 100 days milestones that have nothing to do with dating could be: getting through the first 100 days of university, a first job or new job, celebrating 100 days of friendship with someone, 100 days of sticking to an exercise routine, even 100 days of regularly showering or cleaning your room if that's something you struggle with! Whatever it is, you deserve to celebrate yourself and be proud of yourself. I sure am, as well!

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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optimistictalia · 4 months

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personal screw you to my fav streamer for having a goofy movie double feature night and reigniting my goof/ducktales/toon phase

It was really fun to revisit my toon ocs 🥹 I made them back during my dt17 phase but i also had to include the goofy verse in there since max was my childhood fictional crush sooo… gotta rep my fking cinnamon apple 🫶 (ALSO THEY ARE TECHNICALLY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE SO ITS CHILL LMAO) Marcy meets Max while she’s working on a mural for their university, and the rest is history!!!!

These girls are high school best friends, and in a band! Mostly punk music, but they cover other genres too ofccc. I tried really hard to fit them into the aesthetics of the late 90s/early 2000s since that’s when the extremely goofy movie takes place :3 they’re hot messes with no boundaries, manners, or impulse control 🫶 trash women rights!!!!!

also shoutout yax I had to reference them in here LOL hugeeee animaniacs fan 😌 such a comfort ship…

#the goofy movie #the extremely goofy movie #max goof #pj #pete junior #bobby zimmeruski #yakko warner #yax #beret girl #character design #original characters #nathys ocs #IS DISNEY OC A THING LMFAO #also oc x canon I guess but it’s really not that serious I’m just here for vibes and goofs #artists on tumblr

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tommykinrd · 1 year

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ahhhh i actually hit 2k?! i can't believe so many of you want to follow me and have stuck around for my many, many phases <3 i truly love and appreciate all of you, even more so if you've ever interacted with me/my creations in any way <3 i've been wanting to do a celebration event for a while now, so this is the perfect opportunity!

to participate:

must be following me

please reblog this post to spread the word!

open to everyone:

send me 🦋 + an episode from a tv show or a movie (from any of the fandoms listed here or that you've seen me post about) for a timestamp roulette gifset

send me ✨ + your creations tag and i'll rec 3-5 of my faves from you (includes visual creators and writers! if i haven't read your fics i'll rec the ones i'm most excited to read)

send me 🖌 + a simple gifset request (scenes, parallels, characters, etc.) for any of my fandoms

ask me anything! (make me choose, fmk, top 5, random questions, etc.)

mutuals only:

send me 🚨 + a number from 1 to 85 for a lyric gifset from my 911 playlist

send me 😈 + a number from 1 to 8 for a lyric gifset from my good omens playlist

send me 🎨 + a request for a 'creative' gifset (e.g. a song/quote, a specific character/ship/fandom, specific trope/prompt, or whatever you want!)

*examples of my creative sets can be found here **bonus: send me 1 to 2 colours that you'd like me to use in the gifset if you want

you can request multiple of these, as long as they're different options! i'll be using the tag #abi's 2k celebration for anything posted for this event. tagging some beloved mutuals under the cut <3

@pinkviper @tawaifeddiediaz @alkaysani @eddiediaaz @oliverstaark @charlienicks @nymika-arts @jddryder @evcndiaz @lover-of-mine @bigassdiaz @buckleydiaz @djdangerlove @rewritetheending @rogerzsteven @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @stationoneeighteen @bathenas @jakeperalta @buckhelped @jamie-tartts @bathenas @tvuniverse @queereddiediaz @heartbeatdiaz @scullyblr @theedorksinlove @queertartt @barbiediaz @mistmarauder @buckleys-diaz @buck-eddie

plus a special shoutout to @userlonglive and @miss-lauryn-hill for getting me here <3

#abi's 2k celebration #signal boost please!#so excited to finally do this #also the gifsets for mutuals might take a while to get done so sorry in advance and ty for your patience <3

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utahlive · 2 years

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No episode today (i have a test i gotta study for booo) :( However in usual “no episode today” style, I’ve got some behind the scenes stuff! (+ answering asks). I’m really glad you guys like hearing about this part of the blog :D

It’s a little long so I’m putting it under the cut

So my latest method of answering asks is to write a quick outline/reply and save it in drafts (as opposed to what I was doing, which was copy pasting asks into the notes app and writing replies there. dont ask whats wrong with me; I dont know). Anyway this specific comic had its first ‘script’ (shoutout to @/ghostburface for the ask)

I usually draw out what I imagine happening and then add text to hit the points im aiming for, but I did the opposite in this one. I had a lot of trouble figuring out the actual visuals for this one

(For the record I tried to find the original price of the glasses on the las Nevadas merch page but it wasn’t there. I remember losing my mind over the price tho)

attempt/draft 2 (sort of) since I wasn’t sure about the layout. I was really hoping to just have three panels (as you can see by the “if 3 that would be epic” note above)

And then I transferred it digitally! I did go over the script in DMs with my friend so it ended up as it did I did see one person pointing out the whole “rose colored glasses” thing (shout out to you fr !!). I had a lot of meaning I was going for with this one but I have a hard time finding a middle ground between “so obscure its not there” and “way too obvious”

I also wanted to answer some asks (as per usual :3 because I love talking with you guys)

I wish he would grow it out!! However as anyone who’s gone from short to long hair... the awkward phase is NOT pretty. I did hear on one of his streams he might cut it when the EP comes out rather than the album. because he’s a coward (but I can’t blame him)

who doesnt feel like ripping up their pillow though, amiright fellas? Shout out to all the utahlive fictives out there (I’ve heard of reported sightings). Would love to talk to you guys some day <3 It still baffles my mind that this blog leaves any sort of lasting impression on people (for reals though, I hope you guys are ok!!)

this one isnt directed at me but I just think its funny you say this because summer 2022 I went to the Winchester house with my friends, but we all decided it wasn’t worth the price so we just checked out the gift shop and walked around the outside for about two hours. it’s actually very pretty! super cool architecture

this one is under the “what would you recommend I get at the gas station”

It’s also not a question but I think it would be funny to let you know I wrote and queued that post (and the other one posted that day) at like 5am I don’t know how I missed it because I usually check my posts the next morning before they get posted I know it’s bad I’m trying real hard to get my sleep schedule to be normal (this post is sponsored by melatonin tablets)

GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY 🤺🤺🤺

I assume you’re talking about the mcytblr sexyman poll?? Im already making predictions and bets in my head on this one but Ill be fighting for MY meowmeows till my last breath

#utahlive #4th wall break #back to the 2nd ask I have considered making a discord server for this blog but ive gone back and forth on it a lot #I dont wanna act like im a big deal and be like woah hey look at the discord server I made for myself that nobody asked for !!!#ur here for wilbur. im here for wilbur. this aint about me !!#the homestuck one is slash j btw !!! I love u guys #I’m currently reading jt myself #haven’t met vriska yet #behind the scenes

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ofdarklands · 5 months

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level 90 at last!

so! about black mage

i've been thinking how to describe playing black mage, and i think the simile i used this morning in chat works well enough:

black mage feels like trying to run with a pot full of boiling water in my hands. with other jobs i feel light and agile, but black mage plays like how seeing emet selch as solus run would feel. look at that guy go. i didn't know spines could do that! you can hear his knees crunch, also

mechanically, it's really not nearly as bad as i feared it to be, even though i don't think i'd managed to figure out a decent rotation myself on the first or even third try so, thank you internet people for the guides!

anyway, the boiling pot wheezing trot sensation is not unique to it, though it is the most noticeable of all the casting classes i've played. i'd say rdm>summoner>whm>>blm in increasing awkwardness

so, while i acknowledge that blm is an optimizer's paradise to get the Biggest Booms, probably, playing it feels like it's almost fighting against the game instead of flowing with it and due to that it's just not very enjoyable, for me. it's got the same inflexible rotation that makes dragoon my least played class despite it being very canon for mitr'a

and from a physical perspective my fingers are not very precise on the keyboard, so i tend to fuck up the routine by accident quite often and then i have to correct it or start over and eeeehhhhhh. and my can't-remember-to-click-despair situation. dunno what the problem is with that one, to be quite honest. brain said no i guess :( that one's on me

woops this got longer than i thought so have a readmore

the good:

aforementioned big damages, when i manage to keep the rotation on track. sadly not as much of a plus for me, personally, but it's relevant still

against one enemy, getting immersed in the rotation can be pretty fun, until the 5 aoes come, the boss leaves the arena, and i sigh deeply while creakily running around, not casting

lasso spell goes brrr. it's got a very funny sound effect, in my heart

the 'return to leylines' spell is also great. i've used it mostly to instantly dodge when there's more than 2 sequential aoes. you can play around with these two spells

shoutout to the simplified job gauge for letting you actually understand anything about it. sure it's 3.5 things to keep track of, but for 2 of them you get informed about their readiness with convenient sounds and flashing borders so whatever

big staff to hit people with

cone hat funny

big lb meteorites. very good very cackling

the bad:

moving feels heavy, even when using the instant cast abilities. i keep lagging behind the group even in normal content, and sometimes clicking the right person to yeet to can be a bit hard in alliances or wall to walls. this class needs to do some cardio

clicking fire IV 3 times, then 1 fire I then fire IV 3 more times is. very boring. sorry. rotation 40 years long and rigid like the brutalism. the funnest parts are the thunder procs and the ice phase before going back to fire and the occasional instant cast. oh you sneezed and misclicked and dropped your fire badge thingies on the floor? sorry idiot you get to start over from the top, but sadder this time

this one i only noticed here at the end, but i feel it's very important, maybe more than the rotation: the best and biggest animations it has are the ones for the ice spells, which you use the least. xenoglossy, foul and flare are also good. amplifier, manafont and triple cast feel nice and dramatic to use. paradox i just got but it's also nice with the color mix. the rest i don't even remember, had to go cast them on a dummy. it's fireballs and fire columns it's all fireballs! the blm animations have a lot of boom but they need more heft, if that makes sense? more flying shit going from you to the target, shit shrapneling from the target, rings of fire, fiery eldritch runes, anything. if rdm can shoot 50 explosive roses at a guy for some reason and drk can summon shields of runes, blm can do something fancy also. casting a finisher skill called 'despair' should look like i'm sucking their souls out through a straw

also more casting positions. summoner has a lot and they're pretty different! they got floating symbols and shit. blm has 'slightly crouched' and 'staff held high' in variation 1 and 2, and that's about it from what i can tell besides the selfbuff ones. add some evil runes at least. the paradox wide armed one (i think you float a little?) is a good addition though

anyway, final verdict: it's a good class, but it's very rigid and inflexible to get Big Damages, which is not an exciting exchange, for me. i prefer to be nimble and do less damage but have a more varied and forgiving rng based rotation. also more utility skills! i miss peloton or having a group shield or heal, or even rdm's rez; makes me feel actually useful instead of being just a giant cone hat that produces flamethrower on command. i don't think i'll play it too often, i'm afraid, even though it's a perfectly alright class, and i'm sure i'll get better with time

HOWEVER. if dawntrail allows blm to throw meteorites outside of lbs i might reconsider. they can be small! even magical molotov cocktails if we must. but i want physical flamming objects to hit my enemies and i want to see the animations do that with some flair. just ole fire and spite booms and a couple icicles is not enough. i want to flatten them

#if you think this was me being overly harsh i assure you i liked blm a lot more than i thought i would!#i'll play it exclusively a couple more days still #get a proper feel of the 90 rotation and all #still. this stands i think #a good class that's just not quite for *me*#play: mitr’a #now what i really have to do is think how mitr'a will include blm stuff into HIS multiclass rotation #he doesn't usually stand still much so it'll be a challenge. maybe add it to drk? that could work. tanks move less #drk has the cool evil rune animations blm lacks as well #also i need to read a bit about steppe shamanism to take my clues from that #i must say despair as a skill is particularly interesting after ew. flexing our dynamis muscles. that one might go to bard some way #not like bard is using that mp for anything #xenoglossy with it's echo implications would go to rdm? i guess? it does require charge...

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emcscared-whumps · 2 months

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SHIFTING PHASES - Part 1

[PREVIEW] Chapter 7: No Wish Without a Price

Shifting Phases Masterpost

Here's the next chapter! This is the last chapter I will be previewing for a while, but, since I don't post as I write, I wanted to give you guys something a little more to chew on, you deserve it for being so patient with me :)

Big shoutout once more to @whump-cravings for beta'ing this chapter <3<3 Thons feedback has helped me improve my writing out of sight, thankyou <3<3<3

CONTENT and WARNINGS: Beating, blackmail, bullying (school bully, but they're out of school), drowning (attempted, but is a big focus), emotional whump/angst, guns, mer whumpee, transformation, vague threat of sexual assault (not explicitly said, but still definitely happens). All characters present are 18 or over. wc: ~4.8k

Pete's Perspective

He’d really fucked up, back under the whitebeam.

For weeks now, Pete had been pushing Burton’s limits, intentionally or not, whether by hiding money, lashing out to escape a particularly painful hold, or something else. Burton’s patience had been thinning already; he’d barely needed one more reason to corner Pete somewhere far from help.

Pete had given him three.

And Burton’s reprimand under the whitebeam was the final straw.

“L-Liz, ye s-ssshould go,” Pete stammered, shoulders pinching high as his heart began to race. He couldn’t drag her into his problems again; he couldn’t bear the thought of another friend getting hurt because of him. He swallowed as Burton smirked and stepped close, and shivered when a hand snaked around his shoulder. Tension lined every muscle. With his eyes, he begged Liz to listen, please; it’d be so much worse for them both if she fought.

She didn’t even acknowledge him.

“You should listen to your silly little boyfriend, Dovey,” Burton smiled. “This isn’t your business.”

“If ye think I’m dumb enough ta just leave Pete alone with you sacks of shit, ye’re dead wrong,” Liz said, stance firming up.

“Liz, d—don’t—” Pete started, but was cut off by a sudden, painful pressure ensnaring his neck. Burton’s large hand had wrapped around the edge of Pete’s scarf and yanked back, leashing him with the knitted fabric. A couple of sharp, experimental tugs forced Pete’s hands to his neck, as if by testing the hold, Burton dared him to resist.

“Go,” Burton said darkly.

“Make me,” Liz snarled.

Burton let out a low growl and shoved Pete into the group. The eager, grasping hands of one were quick to snatch the scarf and reapply the pressure while the others grabbed his arms and shoulders, wrestling him firmly into their hold. Pete coughed weakly as the fabric pulled tighter still. Through wet eyes, he watched Burton prowl over to Liz and rasped thinly, “D-don’t—Liz—” Every movement, every syllable hurt. How could fabric so soft be so unyielding? His fingers dug in against his neck as he tried to give himself the barest room to breathe. “Don’t, hhhk, don’t f-fight…! ‘S’not wor—th… it!

…I’m not worth it…

“Listen to him cry!” one mocked.

Another laughed, “Wah, wah, p-p-p-p-please! Lizzy, come s-s-s-save me, I’m sc-c-c-c-cared!”

This was funny to them.

Burton towered over Liz. “Last chance, Millen,” he said, “Leave.”

But still, she did not back down.

Inwardly, Pete cursed her fearlessness; the two of them were badly outnumbered—this was hardly the time to fight, but she couldn’t see that, or the yellow and black handgun that appeared at her temple. Pete opened his mouth to cry a warning, but his scarf cinched too tight to speak, making him squirm despite the pain. Colette’s thumb hovered over the safety.

Pete jerked, panic and dread shooting through him. He tried again to wriggle free. Don’t hurt her!

Liz froze, but flashed her teeth in a wicked grin. “Too chicken ta fight me fer real, Colette?” she said, turning slowly to face the hunter’s handgun, and the young lady behind it. “And what are ye gonna do with darts that don’t work on humans?”

“Oh, these ain’t darts, Dovey.”

The strength drained from Pete’s legs and the gang easily forced him to his knees with a hand on his head. Blood roared in his ears, yet colour drained from his cheeks. The missing bullets, the small, dark object that Colette had snuck from Miss Moore’s bag... He should’ve said something. Mentally, he kicked himself, stupid. STUPID. His cowardice was going to kill them both! The scarf grew tighter still; he had to fight to make his voice form anything more than pathetic, gurgling whines. “Liz pl-pl’sse, d-don’t—Liz—don’t r-res-ssist…!” ‘S’not worth—“ he choked. He couldn’t breathe. “Le’go…!” he gasped.

Liz’s expression darkened.

Oh Powers, no, no—!

In a split second, Liz slapped the barrel of the gun away, launched her fist toward Colette’s chin in a vicious uppercut, and howled, “Let him GO!”

Colette gave an enraged shriek as the two tussled. Liz’s fists flew, catching her face and stomach while Colette’s rings grazed Liz’s cheek as her hand flew to her hair with lightning speed. Liz nearly screamed when Colette yanked her head back, nearly tearing out her fiery red curls. Above them, the gun’s muzzle swayed aloft, bobbing almost forgotten above their heads.

Liz fought hard, catching Colette’s wrist in a vice grip. Her arm shook with the effort of keeping her opponent in place, but she staunchly resisted every plot to gain the upper hand, and snarled through gritted teeth when her hair pulled tight.

They staggered further from the fountain, but Burton, in his pursuit of a front-row seat, stepped into Pete’s line of view. The girls yelled, but he couldn’t see what triggered furious caterwauling.

Boots slid over stone, fabric suddenly shifted, and—

CRACK!

The muzzle flash was as blinding as the shouts and resounding shot were deafening. Amidst the chaos, the boys’ hold on Pete slackened, allowing him to drag in a desperate breath and wail, “LIZ!”

His stomach lurched; from the corner of his eye, he saw Burton move in—towards Liz, who laid on the ground below Colette.

Nothing the boys could do would stop Pete from struggling. Fuelled by terrified fury, he writhed and kicked against their hold, and through the bruising pain, wrenched his scarf from their hands. The release was sudden, but he had no time to stop; one final buck let him bury his elbow into someone’s ribs and launch himself away, toppling another to the ground. With his full weight behind him, he sent a clumsy punch flying into Burton’s face. Hot pain bloomed across his knuckles.

The punch connected with a muted crack, jerking Burton’s head to the side. Pete drew back his shaking hand, cradling it as it throbbed.

A hush fell over both sides.

Burton slowly turned on Pete, wiping his jaw and working it slowly. He eyed the dark smear on his hand before lifting his wrathful gaze to Pete, baring his teeth like a hound denied its fun far too many times; and, like the prey it hunted, Pete shrunk back with eyes as wide as saucers.

“B—B—Burto—” he began to plead.

Burton stormed forward, seizing Pete’s arm in a bruising grip and wrestled him back into the gang’s hold, heedless of Pete’s frantic thrashing and yelling. A stray backwards kick caught one of his assailants in the leg, throwing him off balance. As he fell, his sudden weight almost pulled him free, but one wobbly kick could never have been enough.

A fist slammed into Pete’s gut, leaving him coughing and choking against the spasms of his diaphragm. Not a second later, his arms were again pinned tightly behind his back. Between wheezing pants, Pete let out a whine at the sudden, painful strain on his shoulders.

Liz growled again, spitting and cussing up at Colette who stood triumphantly over her, “I’ll make ye sorry,” she seethed, “I’ll fuckin’ kill all ye useless wank stains. Ye’re dirt, Burton.”

Pete gasped with relief. It was like a massive weight had lifted off his chest, and he could finally breathe again; Liz was okay, she was alive.

It didn’t last long though. Anxiety quickly resumed its grip on his heart when his eyes found the gun still strained down at Liz.

“Try it, bitch,” Colette sneered, victory turning her voice smarmy. She flicked off the safety the second Liz twitched to strike. “Ah-uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Dovey.”

Liz bared her teeth in a snarl, but laid still. “Ye’re a fuckin’ coward, Colette,” she spat, “ye’re pissweak, ye’re nothin’, that’s why ye need the gun. Can’t beat me on yer own. How does it feel provin’ that I’m better than you even when ye win, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Colette snapped and spat on Liz, “slag.”

Liz’s features twisted with disgust, but before she could retaliate, Colette yanked her up by the arm and half-dragged her back along the path. Liz yelled as she went, but Pete couldn’t discern the words over his heaving breaths and roaring blood in his ears. He just hoped she had enough sense to stay away—the guilt of getting her caught up tonight weighed on him enough.

…And, after this… he would want to stagger home and tend his wounds alone.

Once they were gone, Burton seized Pete’s throat with one hand and buried his other in his wiry auburn hair. “Since when did you have a death-wish, Spencer?” he said, fury melting into sadistic triumph. In the dim light, his eyes glittered with the obvious glee of Pete’s thundering pulse beneath his palm. “You know what happens when you resist.”

“Y—d-don’t—ye w-wouldn’t—! Pl—please, don’t!” Pete choked out.

Burton smiled. “You can let go now,” he said to the boys holding him, “I think he got all uppity because his girlfriend was involved; he knows better than to make things worse.”

“Hey, what’re’ye talkin’ about, Burton? What’d’ye mean?” asked one, though he and his friend did as they were told and released Pete’s arms, leaving him to stumble forward toward Burton.

In less than a second, the bastard had a cruel grip on his shirt and wrist. “Let’s just say I know a dirty, little, secret,” he replied, shifting his weight, forcing Pete to move with him… back toward the fountain.

Pete’s pulse quickened, his stomach dropped, and his blood turned to ice. He shook his head. He had to run, had to get away as quickly as he could—but he’d never be strong or fast enough to escape, if he was even able to stand by the time Burton was done. But, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t actually—! It’d be too far; Pete would die! Surely he knew that!

“It really would be a shame if your silly little friends were to find out,” he said, digging his nails into the fresh burns on Pete’s palm, drawing a choked yelp. “Oh, but I wonder what your mummy would think. Are you scared she won’t love you anymore, Petey?”

Pete squirmed against his grip, holding back panicked tears and biting out, “No! Sh-she would—she would!”

“I’m not so sure about that, Petey, and I don’t think you are either,” he purred before leaning close and whispering in to his ear, “looney.”

She would! She—she has to—she’s my ma!

“She could never love a worm like you.”

Tears streamed down Pete’s cheeks. “Ye’re wrong!” he cried, and surged forward, slamming his head into Burton’s with a sickening crack.

Burton howled and grabbed Pete’s neck again, squeezing tight and moving his other hand to his hair. Pete screamed and choked, clawing at his neck with blunt nails and stumbled back with a sudden push. Suddenly, he was moving, going down, down—

A blinding lightning bolt of pain seared across his vision.

Pete cried out, writhing on the ground, kicking at Burton’s legs, anything to make him let go. His head throbbed with sharp, stabbing pain.

“Oh, does that hurt, worm?”

Pete’s lips parted, but little more than a squeak escaped. Yes! Yes! So much—let go—!

“Stop struggling and I’ll let go,” Burton said.

It took every ounce of strength in Pete to stop fighting the agonising, choking pressure at his neck, but when he did, Burton kept his word and let up, though still kept him pinned to cold stone with a knee at his chest. “That’s better isn’t it,” Burton said. “You’re starting to remember your place, Spencer.”

“Woah… he’s just… laying there. What the fuck Burton,” breathed one of the boys who now stood behind him. “How do you get him to do that?”

Burton merely smiled down at Pete, who gulped, ducking his chin.

The other said, “I bet he’d let you do anything,” and made a crude, terrifying gesture.

Pete tensed and his eyes grew wide, but he didn’t dare twitch with Burton atop him to feel the slightest hint of resistance. Burton didn’t move either. Their eyes met only briefly, though it felt far longer than the fleeting second it was. Pete expected to find cruel hunger in those earthy depths. Instead, there was an odd, unreadable expression that cast his features further into shadow.

Pete swallowed.

Burton’s eyes moved to the side to catch his other friend in his peripheral, face twisting as if he’d tasted something foul.

Before he knew it, Pete was being dragged upright by the hair. Each yank drew another pathetic yelp, but he dared not resist, not even when the tension tore small wounds in his scalp. “No,” Burton said flatly. “He’ll listen to this.” With his full weight behind him, Burton violently shoved Pete’s head down to the water’s rippling surface.

A short scream forced itself from Pete’s chest. He managed to catch himself on the cold, stone edge with a strained grunt, but Burton did not let up. He pressed his head down further until he was so close, he could smell the faint, crisp scent of water, could feel the coolness radiating from it. Pete was in no position to fight, but still he resisted, gulping down air, holding his position with all his strength despite the terror that lit his nerves on fire and threatened to send him down. He shook under the strain. Burton could easily force Pete’s head into the water, but didn’t, toying with him; and he was entirely at Burton’s mercy.

“No—nonono, n-no, don’t,” Pete stammered, eyes wide.

“What’s the matter, Pete, afraid of a little water?”

Pete couldn’t think. With his mind frozen by panic, he could only utter a single, frightened plea; “Burton, d-don’t, p-please—”

“You should’ve thought about that before you humiliated me in front of everyone and jeopardised my school record,” Burton said with a growl, and plunged Pete into the icy water below.

Horror and adrenaline shot through Pete’s body, shocked by the cold. He didn’t even have the chance to scream; instead, he was forced to clamp his mouth shut and expel the water before it rushed down his throat from a reflexive breath in. Pete fought again—he had to get out—but Burton’s hold stayed firm.

In that position, bent over the fountain with the bastard pressing his head and shoulders down, it was impossible to get back up. His muscles burnt with the strain of resistance. He needed air. How long could he hold out for? He’d lose everything if he gave in now.

Without warning, Burton jerked Pete’s head, tearing loose more auburn strands.

His lungs burnt. It took everything in him not to breathe, the water beckoning him with its cool, relieving caress, but the precious few seconds he had left were running out. Darkness crept across his vision.

Burton… let me up, please…

He did not.

He’ll let me up… right…? Powers, he wouldn’t—he wouldn’t let me die, would he…?

Pete would be as good as dead if Burton held him down too long, he had to know that. He had to. Even though Pete was fairly sure Burton didn’t have it in him to kill, a spark of doubt flickered in his mind; just how valuable was his punching bag?

His consciousness was slipping.

After what felt like an eternity, wind finally hit Pete’s face, turning the chilly water clinging to his skin bitingly cold. He hung limply from Burton’s tearing hold, mouth gaping desperately, trying vainly to swallow down as much air as he could. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Burton watching him, with glittering eyes and parted, upturned lips. Pete couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t make a single sound, he couldn’t breathe—

Pete tried harder still to drag in breaths, but his lungs remained stubbornly sealed, instead forcing air through the set of gills that flared beneath his scarf. It was enough to delay the darkness that threatened to swallow him, but not to relieve the burn of his muscles. Pete blinked hard and gasped again, a wet, horribly choked sound. His lungs loosened the tiniest fraction for a split second, allowing a minute wisp of fresh air past before closing again. Tears streamed down his cheeks, indistinguishable from the water dripping down his face that he blindly mopped up with his sleeves. Thankfully, only the tips of his hair were soaked.

“Aw, what’s wrong, runt?” Burton sneered.

Between his body’s weak attempts at coughing and his instinctual fight for air, “C—C—” were the only sounds Pete could manage.

“Can’t speak either?” Burton jeered, encouraging the others to join his fun.

Finally, the last of his strength ebbed, and he faltered, stumbling in Burton’s grip, teeth bared in a grimace at the tear of more hair. His world tilted and faded. Dimly, Pete heard the muted laughter and shouts from around him, but they drifted further away every second. He could barely hear Burton speak; “I can fix that for ya,” he said, spinning Pete to face him. Despite how distant he sounded, the steam of his breath rolled against Pete’s face.

Pete folded when a fist sunk brutally into his stomach. All at once, he wanted to cough, retch, and try again to gasp for air. He found himself on his hands and knees with his head resting on the cold stone. More tears streamed down his face, this time, from the violent coughing that gripped his chest between the ragged, wheezing breaths that signalled his body’s switch to air.

Pain blossomed where the punch connected.

It hurt. He’d probably find a dark welt later. His limbs were weak, his stomach churned, and he shook so badly he almost crumpled the rest of the way down, but the immense relief of the cool air he gulped down outweighed it all. Thank the Powers, he thought over and over, thank the Powers, thankyou.

The respite was short-lived.

More pain exploded across Pete’s cheek, swiftly followed by the dull crack of his head colliding with the fountain’s ornate stone wall behind him and the dull thud of his body hitting the ground. Pete groaned. Everywhere ached and throbbed.

Burton kneeled in front of him, dragging his head up once more to take in the sorry sight before him, to relish the power he held so tightly in his fist. He hissed, “Don’t ever cross me again.”

Pete made a choked sound, unable to control his trembling. He couldn’t stand bending to Burton’s every whim, allowing himself to be beaten and robbed at every turn without so much as a word of protest. Shame heated his cheeks, but what more could he do when this was the furthest fighting would take him? There was nothing he could do, not when he stood to lose so much more than his dignity and lunch credits. “Y—yes, yes Burt-t—Burton,” he wheezed, voice breaking into coughs.

“Good lad,” Burton said, carelessly releasing Pete’s head to roughly pat his cheek before standing, “Let’s go. I think he’s learnt his lesson.”

It was over. It was over.

The notion repeated in Pete’s mind while his body sagged with relief and exhaustion, still heaving, drinking down the air with ragged pants as if he’d been starved for a lifetime. He was thankful that Burton hadn’t taken it as far as he could’ve; it would’ve been so easy—just a couple more seconds was all it would’ve taken. Though the fountain’s cool wall at his side steadied him as he regained his breath, his heart skipped beats at the thought, sending a weakening queasiness through him. Footsteps crunched along the frosty grass, continuing until they clacked unmistakable along the cobblestone surrounding the fountain.

Burton yelled, “Enough! I said enough! Don’t you dare, you stupid pricks’ll drown ‘im!” but the footsteps continued, their owners cooing.

Pete tried to stand, to crack open his eyes to see his assailants and run the other way, but the sudden, intense light of the moon blinded him to all but hazy silhouettes. They grabbed him easily, mocking Burton, “Only a pussy would walk away now, Burton, you’re not chicken, are you? The bitch is so easy to push around! But if you insist, we’ll have a turn with ‘im.”

Every vein in Pete’s body iced over. Their turn.

Before he knew it, Pete was yelping in protest as the boys ripped off his scarf with bruising force and dropped it to the ground to be trampled and forgotten. “No—Help!” he cried, “Burton!”

“Aw,” said one, “Pete doesn’t want his poor scarf ruined!”

Burton yelled again, but no help came.

Once again, Pete was plunged into the frigid waters far deeper than Burton had ever forced him. Credits gleamed on the bottom, their rectangular faces glimmering with reflected moonlight broken only by the waves of Pete’s struggles. Two of them, no doubt, belonged to him and Liz. They were beautiful, like the quiet moment they shared before… this. If not for the hands buried painfully in his hair, or the danger of the position he was in, Pete could easily have felt at peace among the silvery wishes.

It took even less time for his lungs to scream for air, for him to start struggling ever more desperately; he couldn’t withstand this again, but he could only scrabble uselessly against their hold. They yanked his head back up, holding him up for a second before thrusting him back down.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t take that precious chance, that invaluable sliver of time to steal a breath and save himself. Their hands were so close—how could they miss the glaring difference between him and them? Someone cussed when Pete struggled again, clumsily kicking his leg out behind him. As punishment, they shook him. Pete’s lungs burned. He needed to breathe; it took all his strength to hold the little air he had left. His gills ached, begging to take over and keep him alive, but he couldn’t let that happen; he couldn’t give in, he couldn’t. If he failed, he’d die. Pete placed his hand on the bottom and pushed hard.

Another violent jolt shook Pete’s world, sending the last of his breath bubbling to the surface, torn from his grasp. With empty lungs and exhaustion weighing heavily on his limbs, his assailant’s weight pressed his chest further into the hard rim of the fountain, though the pain seemed far away. His eyes drooped. Darkness crept from the corners of his vision. Pete’s struggles died down further, but none of Burton’s gang seemed to notice until Pete’s hand slipped with another jerk, sinking him.

Pete had no choice but to surrender.

Cold, relieving, terrifying water rushed down his jaw to his gills, and he opened his mouth to greet it. Greedily, he gulped it down, gills flaring with each deep, shaky gasp, and as he did, the sensation of impending change flooded every corner of his body.

I’m goin’ ta die.

Slowly, Pete’s features began to change. The tips of his ears grew pointed, poking above the water to meet icy air, and the webbing between his fingers grew further and further. Under his sleeves, fins began to protrude from his skin and press against the fabric of his shirt, and scales slowly emerged to cover the skin of his hands and forearms, but still, the cruel hands of the humans held him down. How long would it take for them to notice the strength drain from him? His legs buckled from under him, too weak to take his weight. Unease permeated the atmosphere above him, punctuated by the loosening and changing grip.

It took multiple of Burton’s gang to haul Pete from the water by the scruff of his coat. They expected him to move, to keep struggling, but Pete hung limp in their grasp, too exhausted to do more than curb the loll of his head and weakly gasp for air.

“What the fuck? Is he dead?!” one exclaimed. “He wasn’t under long enough!”

“Oh my Powers,” said another, “look.”

Pete shuddered when fingers brushed his gills. Tears streamed down his cheeks, indistinguishable from the water that ran down from his hair. At the base of his spine, a thick tail pushed itself out over the waistband of his jeans, and his legs were more than halfway fins. There was no way out.

“Shit,” Burton breathed.

When Pete opened his mouth to beg for mercy, all that came out was a bout of hoarse coughs and horribly choked gasps for air. He brought a scaled, webbed hand to the wrist of whoever was closer, but his grip was too weak to pull them off. Instead, they yelped, and Pete felt himself drop. It took a moment for his mind to register the sudden, splitting pain at his forehead, and the warmth dripping from his hairline to his brow from where he slammed against stone. Everything spun. His whole head ached, his ears rang, and he could barely make his eyes focus on the figure that lingered while the others fled, leaving him to finish shifting on the ground. Pete could barely see his silhouette, but the voice, unusually perturbed, belonged to Burton, who swore again at the way Pete’s long, pointed ears drooped, and a weak, gurgling whine caught in his throat after another bout of wheezing coughs. He too turned and fled, discarding Pete as if he were a broken toy.

Pete was so weak. Along his still-growing tail, glimmering, snow white scales surfaced, mottled by an orange hue identical to the colour of the fins that grew from the small of his back and tip of his tail… and the ones where his legs used to be.

He couldn’t move.

Small sobs built in Pete’s chest. Blindly, he turned his head, searching for his satchel. He needed the small towel he kept inside it, but like this, he couldn’t see more than a foot ahead. The cobblestone was chilly beneath his hands as he groped along it, hoping, praying to the Powers that his hand would brush against it, but it never did. He cried. His world still spun, and his head throbbed harder still; it felt warm. Pete didn’t realise he’d fallen back to the stone again, he just hurt. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even tell which way was up. For a while, Pete laid there, trying and failing to control the overwhelmed tempo of his ragged breaths and stifle his anguished sobs until the mist that seeped through the shadows finally crawled across the open ground, obscuring all but the closest objects.

Where was Liz? She was there earlier. She’d been hurt. Pete tried again to get up, only for the slipperiness of his scales to yank his hand from under him, sending him crashing back down. He heaved another sob, curling his arms around his head, bracing himself against the sharp ache that lanced through his skull. The lone gunshot echoed in his mind in time with each throb, over and over, tormenting him—he needed to get up and find her, help her, make sure she was safe, but he was too weak, too useless to be anything but a burden. He couldn’t remember when the shot rang out, if it was before or after she was dragged away.

He was so tired. The uncertainty weighed heavily on his soul.

How long he spent splayed out on the cobbled surround, propped awkwardly against the wall of the fountain shivering, he couldn’t be sure, but it was long enough for him to wonder if there was any real reason for him to try to get up anymore when all he did was hurt people. As the haze that blanketed his mind grew thicker, his consciousness drifted, he found himself hoping above everything else that Liz was okay. She had to be okay. She always was.

…Where was she…?

“Liz…?” Pete whimpered, but there was no reply.

Pete needed something too, he had somewhere to be, but the thought, as easily as it came, slipped from his mind. He was so, so tired. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he’d remember… Maybe he’d wake up in his bed warm and safe and not hurting, and this was all a dream.

Where was he…?

A long sigh escaped his cold, battered body, eyes finally drooping shut. Several pairs of booted footsteps jogged over frozen grass.

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