anahilazl - Tumblr blog

anahilazl · 22 days ago

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[SUMMER SUNSHINE! PT.1]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after learning that oscar's coming home for the holidays, nothing could truly prepare for what you were about to learn! or in which you decide to give oscar the best summer ever.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, slight angst, poor humour, talk of a breakup, indirect mentions of mental health, reader is a uni student, set in nov/dec of '24

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x childhood bsf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.3k+

𝐀/𝐍: in case anyone was wondering why i've been so oscar-fixated recently.... this is why! my first offical series!!! i've been thinking about this for so long and i just had to get it out of my system!

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added): @kakashiislut @taetae-armyyyyy @satorinnie @at-a-rax-ia @op814kitty

��️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

You had been Hattie's neighbour and childhood best friend for what felt like forever. Despite being a year younger than her, you had done everything together.

Got your seconds done together. Discovered K-pop. Bungee-jumped after your last ever school exams. Even held a funeral for your pet fish named Rocky when you were five because what was the strength of friendship if not for minutes in silence as you watched Hattie's cat eat Rocky?

Point was... she was your ride or die. And you were hers.

Along with her two other sisters, Edie and Mae, who you got along with very well, was her older brother. Oscar.

Well, to you it was always Oscar.

Now it was Oscar Piastri, the famed Australian F1 driver.

He was the one sibling you could never really get on with when you were young. You weren't quite sure why. Most of the time he spent your childhood pissing you off and making you smile simultaneously. Because in the end of the day, no matter which Grand Prix he was winning, he was still the same boy who technically killed Rocky by putting him in the toilet (he thought it had already died). The same boy who tried to get you to kart instead of reading. The same one who teased you nonstop.

You also weren't sure when that effort had stopped. Perhaps when Oscar had moved to England to pursue racing even further. You vividly remembered how devastated Hattie was. It was you sitting on her front step, consoling her after you both dropped him off at the airport.

You remembered Oscar's voice clearly that day. The fifteen-year-old looking at you, a thirteen-year-old, brown eyes firm yet soft. "Take care of her for me," he murmured, referring to his younger sister.

So you did.

Oscar still visited here and there. And Hattie eventually got over it, understanding how important the move was.

Although, you barely knew the Oscar you saw now. You watched the races as you always did because what kind of a neighbour would you be if you didn't? But you couldn't recognise him. The essence of him was still there but... the light in his eyes, it had disappeared.

This summer holiday was going to be wildly different. Because for the first time in two years, Oscar was spending it back home instead of getting his family over in England.

"Holy shit," Hattie cussed, waltzing into your room without a greeting, eyes glued to her phone as you averted your eyes from your textbook.

You smiled sarcastically at your empty doorframe, the one she had just walked through. "Hi Hattie. Sure, come on in," you nodded, scrunching your nose mockingly.

Hattie gave you a pointed look, taking a seat on your bed.

You snorted, turning your body to fully pay attention from your desk. "What's up?" You asked, gesturing to her phone.

"They broke up," Hattie told you matter-of-factly and yet you couldn't tell what on earth she really meant.

You pursed your lips, raising a brow. Resting your chin on the back of your chair, you sighed. "Who broke up?"

Hattie tightened her lips, a grimace falling onto her face. She looked up from her phone and at you. "Oscar and Lily."

Your chin slipped past the chair in shock. You blinked, eyes wide, sitting straight. "What happened? I liked Lily," you exasperated with a frown.

Lily had always been sweet to you and Hattie. You knew her as one of the senior student's in school. Smart, pretty, and kind. All you needed to describe her.

Hattie gave a small shrug. "I don't know. Apparently it's been four months since it happened. Mum just found about it yesterday."

Four months? That was almost close to half a fucking year. No wonder Oscar had been looking so grim. A whole Constructor's championship and two race wins and he could barely smile.

"That's sucks," you commented idly, trying to avoid picking into the situation. It was better for your sanity if you didn't feed into your nosiness.

Hattie sighed, falling into your bed dramatically. "Now we have to take care of a broken baby when he gets home," she groaned jokingly, covering her face with her hands.

You rolled your eyes before looking at your desk calendar. "I'm sure he's going to love hearing that when he comes tomorrow.

Your best friend peeked through her hands. Clearing her throat, he opened her mouth. "Speaking of which... I need you to pick him up tomorrow."

"What?" Your head turned with a newfound speed. You furrowed your brows, confusion immediately crowding your brain. "I thought you guys were picking him up."

Hattie sat up, sheepishly smiling at you. "Mum's got pilates, dad's at work, Mae and Edie are, well, doing whatever they're doing and me and Ben have our two year anniversary. I can't subject Oscar to my absolutely perfect love life knowing what I know now!"

You stared at her in silence. You wondered if the incredulity was showing on your face right now. Mulling over her words, you sighed. "Why can't he just get an Uber?"

"Because it's a twenty-three hour flight from Monaco and I think the poor boy's forgotten what it's like to be economy!" Hattie retorted with a snort.

You blinked blankly, eyes back on your calendar.

Unbelievable.

Your plans for tomorrow included driving an F1 driver back home.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You weren't a fan of airports. They always made you feel like you were absolutely in the middle of nowhere. The air was always tempered with, artificial and crisp. And the waiting area was the worst. A bunch of strangers walking back and forth, hoping the person they were looking for was coming out. Of course, this was all second to the security check-ins.

You looked down at your watch, peeling your eyes away from the book you had been reading. 7:30 AM. That was when Oscar would land. That was the diabolical time Hattie had given to you. And it had been thirty minutes since then.

You could only sigh. Melbourne and their security.

Returning to the book, you looked up every few minutes, hoping the familiar face would register in your head. Perhaps, you should wait for a few screams of his name and you'd find him.

With every word of your book had been pulling you in, you hadn't realised you were so engrossed until a voice had broken your trance.

"Of course I come back to find you with a book."

Your eyes flitted up, honing in on the Australian boy and his suitcase before rolling them. "Why do you and your sister never say 'Hi' or 'How are you?'" You grumbled, closing the book before you put it away.

Oscar grinned, taking a step too close for your liking. "Hi ___. How are you?" He queried, brown eyes searching yours while he leaned in.

What the...

You quickly surveyed Oscar. In many ways, he still looked like the kid you knew. Except a bit taller and well, wider in the neck. Oddly enough, he didn't look like the guy on your screen. He looked... miserable, if that was the nicest way you could put it.

Bags under his eyes, fatigued, pale, posture drooping... all signs of an unwell F1 driver you supposed.

You blinked, bringing yourself back to reality. You curled your lips in distaste, taking a step back. You turned towards the exit and began walking. "If you're done with being an idiot, you'll follow after me and help yourself with your own suitcase," you called out.

Oscar watched you retreat and chuckled to himself. Pushing his feet to catch up to you, he nudged you slightly. "As generous as I remember," he joked.

You only smiled dryly at him. "What can I say? I gotta big heart," you retorted.

Finally arriving to your car, you sighed at the sight of the poor thing. It was a hand-me-down Volkswagen Beetle, once painted in a pretty baby blue and now chipped in a bit too many place and bordering on grey. You winced. "Listen... it's no McLaren but..."

"It was your mum's right?" Oscar asked, walking around the vehicle as he inspected it.

"Uh... yeah." You blinked in surprise, nodding slowly. You mended your brows. "How did you..."

"I remember how much you wanted it as a kid. And your mum told you you'd get it when you passed your full," Oscar mumbled.

You raked your head over the memory, only small chunks coming back to you. "Huh. I'm surprised you remember that. I barely do," you grinned, heading to open the side door, unaware of the small smile Oscar sported.

"Okay," you sighed, pushing aside your handbag. Looking back at him, you gestured to his suitcase. "Shove her in there and we'll hit the road. Do you need anything to eat?"

Oscar lifted the bag and put it inside your car, quickly shrugging off his backpack as well. "Depends," he said loudly as you walked to the driver's seat. "Hattie said you make a mean eggs bene." He raised a brow, capturing your sceptical expression.

"Oh come on." Oscar shut the side door, heading to the passenger's seat. "I just came from Monaco to Melbourne. A twenty-three hour flights," he exasperated, lips quirking in amusement as he looked over at you.

You put a hand on your hip. "And yet somehow I'm don't feel sorry for you," you smiled, opening your door.

Oscar rolled his eyes, doing the same as you. He relished the comfort of a soft seat after so long. Buckling his seatbelt, he turned to you. "You know I don't remember you being this mean as a kid."

You narrowed your eyes, not enjoying the grin on his face at all. "You get what you dish out, Osc," you shrugged.

"You're not still mad about Rocky?" He laughed, feeling slightly alarmed at your silence. "Right?" Oscar pressed.

Suppressing your smirk, you turned your key and felt your baby come to life. "Hold on tight, Oscar. You're about to see some true Melbourne speed."

━━━━━━━━━━━

Oscar looked around your house as you cooked in the kitchen. It looked the same and yet it didn't.

He smiled fondly. He could still see the small lines of pencil on your dining room wall where you, Hattie, and him measured yourselves. Hattie was always the shortest back then but it had seemed you had now taken that position.

Your patio, which was once full of paint stains when you and Oscar had gotten into a bit of a fight, was redone. Although if you looked closely, you could still see splotches of pink and orange try to bleed through the brown.

Your living room still had all the pictures and portraits he had once seen, although they had been extended with pictures of you growing up. The only brand new thing he could find was the glass case near your shelf of books.

Oscar furrowed his brows, inching closer. His eyes widened, scanning the familiar papaya colour, registering the '81' in the photos, the captured trophies, the newspaper cutouts... all of him.

It was like every single moment of his racing career had been displayed right in front of him.

"Mum and Dad like to keep trinkets. They're so proud so I always find something to add to the collection," your voice lingered in the air as you came out of the kitchen.

Oscar turned, swallowing hard, watching you place down his breakfast on the dining table. He gave you a grateful smile. "I... thank you," he breathed, voice feeling tight.

"You're welcome... for now. Once I graduate, I'm replacing the photo of your first win with my degree," you retorted, a grin playing on your lips.

Oscar smiled, amused at your words. He walked over to the table, taking a seat. He looked over at you as he grabbed the pepper shaker. "It was mechanical engineering, right? That's what you're doing."

"More like it's doing my head in," you mumbled in distaste, taking a sip of water.

Oscar listened silently as you explained your degrees, your problems, and worries. He wondered when you had gotten so old. Just yesterday, he could've sworn he watched you give a daisy chain to him. Now you were stressing about potential career options at twenty-two.

"How about you?" You asked.

Oscar raised a brow, blinking out of his trance. "Hmm?"

"Two-time race winner... a Constructor's champion. Life sounds good," you commented.

"Yeah I guess," Oscar shrugged, chewing on his lip.

You raised a brow. "You guess? If Lily was here, she'd–" You cut yourself off, eyes widening with horror.

Shit.

"Sorry," you murmured, wincing at your words. "I... I only heard about it yesterday. It sucks that it happened."

Oscar stared at you before giving you a tight smile. "It's okay," he said quietly. You both remained quiet for a couple of minutes, unsure of what to say.

He could see the struggle in your eyes. An internal debate. The words were on the tip of your tongue. What on earth happened?

"I think I fell out of love," he admitted, shoulders finally slumping as the weight dissipated.

You opened your mouth to say it was okay, that he didn't need to tell you but Oscar was speaking before you could even say it.

"We both did. We were fighting. We could barely look at each other. Everything was just so irritating. I... I don't know. One day it went too far. We both said some things we regret. And in that moment, we knew. It was over."

The silence was palpable. You could've reached for the air and like some sort of thick fog, you'd capture the quiet pain in your hands.

Your eyes softened. You reached for his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry, Osc. I really am."

Oscar looked at your hand and back at you. He sighed, giving you a small smile. "It's okay," he reminded, "I'm excited to be home anyways."

You grinned, eyes sparkling. "Trust me. You're going to have the best summer ever."

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anahilazl · 3 months ago

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Hi I have a Shawn Spencer x police sketch artist reader

The reader is very artsy and enjoys wearing 70s style hippie outfits and is Lassie’s best friend. She ends up telling Lassie her feelings for Shawn and she attempts to hide her feelings and sketchbook from Shawn without him or Gus catching on (they do) and Lassider being the worst wingman ever

Bell Bottom Sleeves and Blabbering Wingmen

Pairing: Shawn Spencer x Police Sketch Artist!reader

Characters: Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster, Police Sketch Artist!reader, Carlton Lassiter, Juliet O'Hara, Buzz McNab, Jacob (other sketch artist)

Warnings: Fluff, Lassie being cringey, terrible wingman, he tried, Shawn feelings accidentally get hurt, reader is semi ditsy, the three spying on Shawn and reader, Lassie is a yapper shockingly, reader stays in his car whenever, the oddest besties, Gus and Shawn banter, so reader dresses like a hippie, and semi talks like a hippie, why did the hippie clothes and lingo go out of style, jive turkey meet Carlton, reader likes to give odd nicknames, Carlton knows about the crush, does not approve, wanted the band aide put back on when he found out, Carlton is still oblivious to reader's lingo, reader has beef with another sketch artist, reader's nickname is bell bc of her clothes

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Omg, fav psych request yet, lol. This was so fun to write! We love Lassie being the absolute worse wingman ever! I feel like that would be cannon and if not, well now in my mind it is

Jive turkey: A person who tries unsuccessfully to be cool

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

You set your leg down, careful not to drop it as it feels heavy.

You shake and faintly hear a door slam shut.

“Hi, Carl’s Jr.”

The man screams and flails his arms around at your voice.

He sighs and turns around, “what are you doing in the back of my squad car?”

You don’t say anything.

He sighs. “Are you hiding from him again?”

You pout your lips, continuously moving your hand, working on the hair. “No.”

“You know it’s a crime to lie.”

“Under oath.”

He grumbles under his breath.

The corner of your mouth twitches but you stop yourself from smiling.

You push yourself up and bend forward, setting your sketchbook to the side as you rest your elbows on the center console. “Carlton,” you whine.

“What?” He mocks you.

You raise your head, resting it on your hand as your bell bottom sleeve falls to your elbow. “Why must you be one with the enemy?”

He shakes his head, “I’m not with the enemy. The only enemy here is you and believe me, I know that enemy quite well.”

“I didn’t realize you and I had fought before.”

He turns his head, staring at you, who looks at him with no expression. If he had to describe the way you looked at this moment, he’d say the lights were on but no one was home.

He shakes his head. “You know, as much as it pains me to say this, and it does, just walk up to him and say,” he gestures to you. “You know and then leave it at that.”

You grimace, dropping your head into your hands. “That is literally the worst advice ever. You sound just like the other jive turkeys’, I went out with in high school.”

“Thank you,” he straightens his tie.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes. “I- I can’t.”

“You can,” he nods, “you’re just choosing not to.”

You shake your head. “You’re right, I’m choosing not to make a fool of myself because I don’t want to be proven that I’m an idiot for going after a guy who is well out of my league.”

He opens his mouth, his voice dies down as you exit the car.

Juliet attempts to greet you but you wave in return as you run by her.

You bounce up the steps, your colored flowy shirt seemingly getting brighter, pulling in the few policemen nearby.

One was nice enough to open the door.

“Oh, thanks, Buzz.”

He smiles as you enter.

You walk down the hallway making your way to Carlton’s desk to raid it for the new pencils you bought and stashed inside.

‘Jacob’s not getting them today,’ you inwardly grumble.

The other sketch artist at the office often steals your pencils. Why?

You still don’t know and haven’t cared to ask but it gets you riled up every time he’s done it.

You didn’t know it was him who was your pencil thief until Shawn-

You turn the corner and bump into someone. “Hey, not cool man. Watch where you’re-” You look up and find- “what’s crackin', Guster.”

He still isn’t used to your well, spunky behavior, and hands you back your sketchbook and the few loose pages that fell out, furrowing his brows at the hair in the drawing.

“Not much- uh- what were you drawing there?” He asks.

You owlishly blink, rushing to stuff everything back inside. “No one- nothing, nothing. Why? You trying to get your own portrait, Guster?” You joke, wanting to avoid the conversation.

He senses the lack of staying on the topic and smiles. “No, no,” he runs a hand over his head, “you wouldn’t be able to get my hair right,” he jokes.

You pause, the corner of your lips twitch. “Ah, you might be right. I couldn’t dare try and copy perfection.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” he walks away, slightly limping.

You smell his cologne before he says a thing. “Why’s Guster walking like a pimp?”

Shawn stiffles his laugh, “oh you know him, his spasms come out of nowhere now.”

“I do not have spasms, Shawn!”

“Alright, fine, fine. He doesn’t have “spasms” but he did injure his leg.”

Your jaw drops, “oh no, how?”

“Chasing the ice cream man,” he says not chalantly.

You purse your lips and tilt your head. “Uh huh. Okay.”

Carlton walks by you and takes a seat at his desk.

“Where did you move my pencils?”

“Oh, you mean my pencils.”

You roll your eyes, “c’mon, Carl’s Jr. This isn’t dy-no-mite. I need them.” You whine.

He shrugs, “too bad.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“So- uh- Spencer,” the head detective changes the subject. “What- uh- what are you doing tonight?”

Shawn whirls around you, placing his hands on Carlton’s desk. “Why do you ask?”

Carlton clears his throat, “no- no reason, I was just,” he nervously chuckles, “can’t a guy ask a question?”

“Sure, a guy can ask a question but you can’t.”

Your best friend lets out a fake laugh at the psychics joke. “No but- uh- seriously, what are you doing?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I was uh- planning a- an outing?”

Gus walks back into the station when he realizes that his friend isn’t following him.

“That sounds more like a question.”

“I’m planning a get-together and I was kindly inviting you but now-”

“No, no.” Shawn chuckles, “Lassie, Lassie, don’t revoke my invitation when I haven’t even gotten a chance to accept it.”

Carlton raises a brow, “so you do want to come?”

The psychic pauses, “I mean. How could I deny a Lassie invitation.” He smirks before turning to you. “You’ll be there right?”

Your eyes widen, “uh-”

A pat on your back brings you back to reality. “Of course, she is. There’s no way she would miss one of my get-togethers.”

You turn your head to look at him before warily turning it back to the two best friends. “Yeah, I’ll- I’ll be there.”

He pats the desk. “Now it’s a party.”

“It’s not a party,” the head detective corrects him.

Shawn smiles before turning around and walking away, “it’s definitely a party. See you there, Bell.”

You turn back to Carlton and smack his arm. “Why did you do that?”

“First off, laying your hands on an officer, a detective no less-”

“Oh cry me a river later, there’s no peace here now. Why did you-” Your brain has a hard time processing. “How could you-”

“I got you a date.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “A date- a date? Carl’s Jr, you haven’t even got me my new pencil I asked for. I don’t know why you think you’ve gotten me a date.”

He shakes his head. “Go talk to the chief, she needs you.”

“Oh does she now?”

“Bell!”

You quickly grab your sketchbook and pencil out of his hand. “Coming, Chief.”

You make your way to the restaurant Carlton texted you about and threw on the outfit Juliet had left for you.

You know he had to have let her in before you got home otherwise you would have seen them when you got home.

You entered the restaurant and are a little worried at the fact that no one else is here, other than your waiter, Gus. “I offered.”

“You offered to be a waiter?” You ask, crossing your arms. “Since when would you do that?”

“Because-”

“Oh, Gus, I didn’t realize you were here too. What’s on the menu, buddy?”

Gus grabs the silver covered try and sets it down as soon as Shawn takes a seat. “Your guy's favorite.”

You furrow your brows as Shawn gasps.

“Oh yay, oh yay,” he cheers, clapping his hands like a child. “Jerk chicken with jerk chicken sauce.”

“And for dessert-”

“No,” the psychic nearly loses his breath gasping.

Gus nods. “Pineapple slushies.” He sets them down, placing your own swirly straw in it. “Enjoy.”

You're so enthralled by the meal, you almost forget to ask him- “where’s everyone else?”

Gus pauses, his eye twitching. He doesn’t turn around, knowing his best friend will know what they did. “Everyone had plans. Goodnight guys.”

He sprints out of the restaurant, dropping his head as he makes his way to the car.

“Drive! Drive! Drive!”

“What the hell happened?” Carlton asks.

“They’re onto me, just drive.”

Juliet shakes her head and gestures for her partner to go.

You turn back to Shawn, who is entertained by his straw. “You having a groovy time, Shawn.”

He nods, smiling before quickly detaching his mouth from the straw, holding his head.

“That’s on you.”

“Brain freeze. Help.”

You smirk and start eating, knowing he’ll be fine.

“Whew! That would not go away.”

You hum in agreement. “I didn’t realize you liked this too.”

You nod, “Carl’s Jr always makes fun of me though.”

Shawn hums, “I could see it.” He then mimics your friend.

“Oh my god, that’s exactly what he sounds like.” You grab a napkin and cover your mouth to keep yourself from making a mess as you laugh.

“You know,” he clears his throat. “I think they did this on purpose.”

“Did what?”

“This,” he gestures to the table.

“Oh, you think they planned on- oh god,” you lower your head into your hands. “So not cool,” you whimper to yourself.

“Are you okay?”

Your head snaps up. “Do I sound okay?”

He raises his hands in defense, “okay, okay… But I mean, is it so bad?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

He gets quiet. “I didn’t realize going out with me was so bad.”

Your eyes widen, “oh my- that is not at all what I meant.” You close your eyes and cover your face. “I just meant- you know, the fact that they set this up is bad because Carlton and everyone else clearly thinks I’m not good at this.”

“Not bad, just shows you're more nervous than I was.”

You lower your hand, “you were nervous.” You scoff, “I don’t believe that.”

“I was. I swear I was but- well, this,” he pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “This changed my mind.” He sets it down in front of you.

You open and find your latest drawing of him. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. “Oh god.”

“No, no, don’t freak out. That’s not very groovy of you.” \

You narrow your eyes at him, “you’re dishonoring your father’s past.”

“Eh, maybe but it did get you to stop freaking out.”

You roll your eyes, “shut up.”

“Well, that’s not fun for anyone.”

You giggle. “Okay, okay. I,” you sigh. “I might have drawn this portrait of you but you weren’t supposed to find it.”

“Well, I’m happy I did and a little more excited to know that you bumped into me earlier otherwise I wouldn’t have wanted to do this until you decided to stop waiting and went off to-”

You lean closer and pull him in for a kiss.

He easily leans into it once he realizes what you two are doing.

“Gross,” Carlton grimaces.

“Aw, Carlton. It’s cute, they finally admitted they like each other,” Juliet tells him.

“Finally Shawn has someone else to bug about sporadic food trips.”

“I didn’t want to see my best friend making out with some psychic. Here. O’Hara take this and-”

“Oh my god, you two are so dramatic. If you didn’t want to see it then why are we still here?”

“Oh no, they’re coming out,” the head detective sinks into his seat.

“Well isn’t this a nice surprise,” Shawn starts. “Looks like the gang's all here.”

You roll your eyes listening to him.

“I expect you to make sure she gets home safe, Spencer.” Your best friend pauses, staring at the psychic with a serious expression. “And if you don’t, well, we don’t need to go there. You two have a good night.”

The three drive off.

“Did- he doesn’t mean it, right?”

You purse your lips, knowing your best friend fully meant what he said. “We should go.”

“He’s not going to murder me and bury me alive is he.”

“You can’t be murdered and buried alive, Shawn.”

“He’d find a way.”

You hum, “okay, honey.”

He quiets down and smirks at your use of a nickname.

“Okay, now that you’re home, you can call your bestie and tell him that his bestie made it home safe.”

You slowly turn your head around, “I’d feel safer if you stayed the night.”

He stares at you with a surprised expression. “Oh, well then, how am I to deny a lady her request?”

You smile. “Good because now we can watch the movies I was telling you about.”

He pauses in your doorway, holding onto the door frame. “No.”

You turn around and stare at him with a sad expression. “You don’t want to watch them?”

“No, I do but it’s like- you read my mind. I mean, yeah I want to do other things but you looked so excited talking about them, I- I wanted to see what made you like them so much.”

The corners of your lips slowly raise at his comment. “Well then we should change.”

You open your eyes and push yourself further into the warmth of Shawn’s chest. ‘Damn, he’s a good cuddler.’

You’re surprised when your alarm goes off and you turn it off, pulling your phone closer, opening your messages.

Carlton sits down at his desk as his phone buzzes.

BestieArtist

“You’re a terrible wingman who gets excellent results” Sent Read 8:39am

He shakes his head, knowing you two had a good night and is not ready for you two to be all lovey dovey at the station.

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