#And occasionally drop by for a rewatch

[amethystina]

I love to see when you post and I get great drama recommendations from you. I recently watched Black Knight and the Ying-Yang Master thanks to your posts and loved them!

I find C-Dramas often give the best dynamics between male characters for BLs because there's so much chemistry and great dynamics even after censorship. It also means that the stories are often better and, for me at least, more interesting, as they often can't just explore the relationship between the characters and instead frame it with the plot. I'm not sure whether you've seen it yet or heard about it, but the new show 'The Spirealm' is great! I wanted to recommend it to you after all the shows you've spoken of. There are so many interesting aspects and details that you can find even after multiple watches that I think you'd enjoy.

I'm so happy to hear that! I'm somewhat famous amongst my friends for pushing recommendations onto them, or at least ranting about the things I've watched in painful detail. My poor wife definitely gets the shortest end of that stick, since she sees me pretty much every day. So she's had to listen to me talk about a lot of dramas and movies she's got absolutely no interest in x'D

She really liked The Yin-Yang Master, though! So it's not all bad. Man, I love that movie so, so much.

While it's terrible that CDramas have to be censored the way they are, I agree that it pushes the creators to explore relationships in a very interesting way. They have to build it into the story in a way that more straightforward BLs can just skip, because they can rely on the physical chemistry to convey the budding relationship.

That said, I admit that CDramas often feel a bit... stilted to me? They're too perfectly choreographed, never a hair or detail out of place, to the point where the characters don't always feel like people to me. Like, they're so obviously characters, not real people, if that makes sense?

That's not to say that I don't enjoy them! Heck, The Untamed is still one of the best dramas I've ever watched, Guardian is one of my favourite dumpster fires, and The Yin-Yang Master movie is one of my go-to's when I need something to completely immerse myself into. But, on the whole, they don't intrigue me the way other dramas or movies might, since they're always so polished. Which means I can't connect with them on the same level as I do with many other pieces of media. I can definitely appreciate the plot, story, characters, aesthetics and so on, but it rarely goes deeper than the surface level. It kind of feels like they're keeping me at arm's length, somehow?

But that's definitely a me problem, since I think it has to do with that thing of mine where I want to analyse every tiny detail. And it's not as fun in CDramas because they make it so obvious that every detail is there for a reason. I mean, it always is in all shows and movies — everything on set is knowingly placed there — but the CDramas don't try to hide it? They even go out of their way to make everything as flawless as possible if they can. And something flawless isn't fun for me to analyse. Like, I can tell that they're putting on a show and that just makes me less interested in trying to find the secrets behind it, I guess?

But, again, that doesn't mean I don't enjoy them! I often do, especially for the aesthetics and the sweeping, dramatic plotlines. But it tends to end up being pretty shallow in my case, since they rarely give me enough to really sink my teeth into. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that the CDrama I've been the closest to writing fanfics for (Guardian) is also one of the messiest, production wise. I like it when things feel more relaxed and real. Not gritty or anything, just... real.

Anyhow! The Spirealm looks interesting so I'll definitely put it on my list of things to watch! Thank you for the recommendation! :D

And I hope I'll be able to spread even more joy in the future!

[lovinggreeniehours]

,,,,,,,,,im sad about candledapple again,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

[jvhnmitchell]

Do you think John Mitchell should have lived? I think he gave himself the short end of the stick. :(

I might have to think and come back to this w a more detailed and less stream of consciousness response as I'm just off work and v tired but I do think that, while there could have been plenty of other outcomes, the most narratively satisfying and the Most Mitchell decision was the one he made in canon. And George being the self fulfilling prophecy of the wolf shaped bullet was done really well imo.

Mitchell spends all of his time in the show in this cycle of self destruction and addiction and hurting others without meaning to, and that guilt complex has to go somewhere, yknow? He knows that if he lives he's going to hurt them again and again, it's all he's ever done. His resolve just isn't strong enough one way or another. He abandons Herrick again and again, and he can't stay clean no matter how much his friends may try to help him. Maybe with time that he didnt see himself as having he could have properly gotten control of it, but thats only speculation. Not to mention, he seems to see it as a hopeless endeavor, and I don't exactly blame him, after he sees the man who got /him/ clean broke under pressure. The only truly moral decision in his eyes (and I won't even get into his catholic framework here) is to remove himself from the equation entirely. And then even in this decision he can't commit and makes George do it.

Not to mention his survivors guilt, however earned. Throughout the series it just gets worse and worse. As his kills mount despite his efforts, he's left to pick up the pieces, to either come clean or hide until he can't anymore and is forced to admit his wrongdoings. After he personally orchestrates Herrick's death, someone he used to consider a friend, you can see it fucks him up even if he doesnt want to admit it. After the bomb it only mounts, and then there's the box tunnel 20. He just sees his death as inevitable, as earned at this point.

While it is an extremely sad moment, I do also believe that had he lived, there would be another box tunnel 20, and another, and another, ("oh Jesus or a school" etc) and I think Mitchell knew that, too.

Tldr: do I think that he maybe sold himself short on his chances of getting better with a lot of time? Yes. But do I also think that he is fulfilling his pattern of self destruction to an extreme degree and and is enacting his belief that any bloodshed on the way to getting him there potentially decades later is not worth whatever theoretical life he could live on the other side of it? Also yes.

[takimakiiiii]

not part of the race strategy - better than the movies inspired oscar piastri fic!

synopsis: rom-com lover, hopeless romantic, you ask oscar, your car park-stealing neighbour to help you get into one of Lando's parties, the boy you've been obsessed with since he moved into your neighbourhood.

pairing/tropes: oscar piastri x fem!reader - childhoodfriends to lovers, boynextdoor, "enemies" to lovers

wc: 12.0k (this is a long one! (i have issues))

includes: angst, swearing, consuming of alcohol, vomiting, romance, fluff, (i'm sure there's more but i can't remember them)

a/n: it's finally here! sorry for the long wait, I got totally taken out by schoolwork and other stuff. Also if the end is bit crappy it's because i rushed it a little, also there's more focus on oscar than lando, after all it's an oscar fic

playlist: movies by conan gray, every breath you take by the police, crazy in love by beyonce and jay-z, kiss of life by sade, twilight zone by ariana grande, friday i'm in love by the cure, paper rings by taylor swift, baby i love your way by big mountain, all night long by lionel richie

“She’s not you.”

“What?”

“She. Isn’t. You.”- Better Than The Movies 

Monday, 3:21pm

Winter arrived as it always did, and for your little town it meant rain, a lot of rain. As in the river would occasionally flood onto the streets sort of rain. But winter itself held something magical, cafe’s would become cosier, puddles scattered themselves across the sidewalks, libraries offered warmth, umbrellas would sprout in crowds with the call of rain and thunder. It was like you were living your own small-town rom com life. Though, truth be told, the whole rom-com part was still in the works.

The bullets of rain ricocheted off the windshield as the wipers moved helplessly from side to side against it. “Movies” by Conan Gray was playing quietly through the speakers of the car, drowned out by the sound of the rain. A shiver prickled goosebumps across the skin of your arms. You let out an exhale, the breath pillowing out as a puff of hot air. A hot chocolate, candles lit and kicked back onto your couch with a rewatch of La La Land sounded really good as you turned the corner onto your street. Immediately, your jaw dropped open. Through the pouring rain parked directly outside your house - well perhaps not directly outside your house, sat an unmistakable bright yellow car. In your parking spot. 

Oscar Piastri.

That little motherfucker. 

You hit the steering wheel in frustration as you let out a fake sob in your own pity party, leaning back into the headrest. Exasperated, you continued down the street, passing your beloved parking spot where the blinding yellow car sat tauntingly. Through the window of your next door neighbor’s house you could’ve sworn you saw Oscar all rugged up in a blanket, smiling at your misery. Your blood ran hot as you fumed. Stealing your parking spot today out of all days? While it was pouring down cats and dogs? Unacceptable.

You pulled up down the street in the parking spot dubbed “The Loser’s Spot.” by a very creative Oscar back when you first got your own car. That had been when the war first began. A not-so-silent war between you and him, a race for who could get the parking spot that was placed exactly in between both of your houses. Unfortunately, there was no actual owner of the parking spot, meaning that everyday you would jump in your car and race for just a chance to snag the spot from Oscar. Though for the last two very wet, cold weeks of winter, Oscar had beaten you, every single day, much to your annoyance. 

Mentally preparing yourself to sprint down the street through the bucketing rain, you snatched your bag from the passenger seat, rummaging through for your umbrella. No, you thought frantically as you emptied out your bag, not an umbrella in sight. You let out a groan as you stuffed your textbooks back in. Luck was having a day off today.

Letting out a groan you pushed the car door open, rain showering down as you jumped out of the car. You held your bag over your head in an attempt at staying dry as you sprinted down the street. Cold air whipped at your hair, your boots splashing through wet puddles. As you dashed past Oscar’s house you glared through the rain to see the devil himself seated on the windowsill with a mug in his hand, clearly entertained by your suffering. You gritted your teeth, resisting the compelling urge to march up and knock on his door.

1 week was tolerable but two weeks of this?

You froze in your tracks and turned in the direction of Oscar’s house. This was too unfair. In the corner of your eye, through the window, you saw him get to his feet cautiously. With a huff, you beelined straight for his front door. You stomped up his front steps, drops of rain sliding down your calves and into your damp socks. Your clothes were already cold and wet, pressing to your skin uncomfortably like you’d been vacuum sealed with water. Biting the inner flesh of your cheek, you pushed on the doorbell. 

Brushing the wet strands of your hair out of your face, you waited impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. There was a thudding sound of footsteps on creaking floorboards before the letter slot flapped open with a small metallic squeak. 

“What do you want?” he spoke, voice slightly muffled through the door. You clenched your jaw, fighting back the urge to yell at him. You decided on something less provoking for both your sakes. “We need to talk.” was all you said. There was a beat of silence before Oscar replied. “I think I’m good, thank you very much, but feel free to head home now.” The letter slot flapped shut with another metallic squeak. 

You broke immediately, pounding against his door with your fist. “Oscar, this is crazy! You’ve had the parking spot for the last two weeks!” you protested feeling mildly stupid yelling at a wooden door, hoping no one would walk by and see you facing off with a door. 

“I got to it fair and square, that’s part of the rules if you don’t recall.” he deflected quickly as if they could somehow back his argument. You let out a groan, stamping your foot on the worn doormat that had a giant smiley face printed on it. “I don’t care! This is so unfair! Open the door!” you huffed, wanting to strangle the boy on the other side of the door. “That’s-” Oscar began before he was cut off.

“Oscar! Who’s at the door?!” a voice you immediately recognised as Oscar’s Mother, Nicole, yelled from inside. A grin cracked on your lips as he went silent. But the smile didn’t last long as you shivered in your boots, now fully soaked from the rain that was still pouring down. “No one!” Oscar began before you butted in, “Hey, Mrs Piastri!” you yelled, teeth chattering. There was a quick set of footsteps on floorboards until you heard a loud CLICK! The door creaked open, warm light spilling out followed by Nicole’s face popping out of the door with a very grumpy Oscar in the back. You flashed a smile, “Hey, Mrs Piastri sorry for bothering you.” 

“Oscar! Why did you leave her standing out here in the cold? I raised you better than this!” she gasped, turning to him, Oscar’s jaw slackened, “She-” he began again before Nicole swatted him in the arm with the spatula in her hand. He flinched away, pulling a sour face much to your satisfaction, you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Come in, goodness you must be freezing, go fetch her a towel, Osc.” Nicole ordered as she pulled the door open, Oscar disappeared into the house with a grumble. You stepped inside, warmth embracing you like a toasty hug. Droplets of water trailed in after you as you took off your boots. “How have you been, honey?” Nicole asked, a plaid apron tied around her waist. Her hair was tied up messily in a bun that somehow looked flawless all the same. 

You set your bag down by the front door, “I’ve been good thank you, how about you guys?” you asked, glancing around the living room. Wow, you hadn’t realised how long it had been since you’d stepped inside of this house. It was exactly the same, small and quaint. It made you feel welcome every time you’d come over when you were younger. In the living room there sat a record player above a wooden cabinet. Spinning on record, "All Night Long" by Lionel Richie was humming softly through the air.

There was a warm scent of something baking in the oven wafting through the air. You shrugged off your jacket, hanging it up on the coat hanging stand that you had recalled had fallen on you when you were younger in a game of hide and seek. During primary school there was a brief moment when you were younger that you’d play with Oscar after school. A few of the kids down the street would also join in, you’d play Mario Kart - a game that Oscar excelled at, play tips, run around the playground and bake choc chip cookies. But it didn't last long. Because everything shifted when Lando Norris arrived, the new boy that moved into your neighbourhood in your first year of high school. 

“Oh, you know, it's the same here. Hattie’s been learning the guitar, Edie’s always out and about with friends and Mae’s constantly trying to tag along.” she let out a warm chuckle that you returned with a smile. 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked, walking into the kitchen as you trailed after her. When you were younger you always said you’d want a kitchen just like hers. There were small jars of marmalade in a corner, cute plastic magnets on the fridge, the tiles were white and blue and bright full flowers sat in a vase on the island bench. You smiled to yourself, “No thanks, I’m expected at home for dinner, thank you for the offer though.” 

“Well, you’ve got to stay for the cookies I’ve made, they’ll be out in 10 minutes.” she chimed with a wink and you couldn’t resist the temptation of her baking. You nodded just as Oscar entered the kitchen, towel in his hand. His jaw was clenched and a bitter look plastered on his face. “Here you go,” he muttered, passing you the towel, “Thanks,” you chided, amused by his misery just as he was to yours moments ago. He shot you a dirty look as he leant against the other end of the island like a stubborn child.

“I’ll be back, I just have to get changed, Oscar don’t be a stranger.” she pointed to her son who nodded with a sigh. Nicole disappeared and you turned to Oscar, determined to finish what you came here for. 

“Okay, here’s the deal, you get the parking spot Monday to Wednesday and I get it Thursday to Sunday.” you offered, holding out your hand for a handshake. Oscar pretended to think about it, eyeing your extended hand. “Why do you get 4 days?” he asked skeptically, an eyebrow raised. You swore your eye twitched, “Because it’s literally my parking spot!” you protested, throwing your hands up in a fit.

“It’s literally not.” he corrected, his tone light as if this was nothing but fun for him. You let out a frustrated groan, “You can’t just hog the parking spot, you hogger.” you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Hogger. . .?” Oscar blinked, taken aback by your derogatory remarks. You tilted your head slightly, ‘I could call you worse things.” you added defensively. 

“I don’t doubt that.” he grinned, entertained by your frustration as he watched you huff again, face red. 

“That parking spot is mine. I've been eyeing it before you even got your car. Manifested it. Claimed it by the universe. It’s my birthright. You can’t just waltz in and steal it from me because you’re too lazy to walk 20 feet down the street.” you threw up your hands again to which Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re being a little bit dramatic.” he chimed, letting out an amused chuckle, his eyes following you as you walked back and forth through his kitchen. You turned to him, finger pointed at him. “You’re unbelievable. I cannot believe you.” 

“All’s fair in love and parking, Lover Girl.” he shrugged, his arms up as if to say what can I say? You bit back an insult as your nostrils flared. “That’s not how the saying goes, Piastri.” you retorted, brushing away your slick hair from your face. Whether Oscar felt bad for you or not, he didn’t show it as his eyes flicked up and down you. Your clothes felt tight around your skin, cold and damp as you stood in his kitchen. All you really wanted was to go home now. To be in the comfort of your home with that hot chocolate you were craving earlier in the car. “It does now.” he finally said, running a quick hand through his hair. You let out a dry chuckle, “You think this is so funny, don’t you?”

“I think it’s hilarious.” he admitted with a stupid grin that made your skin crawl. You glared at him from across the room at his stupid face and his stupid hair that looked like he used 20 different shampoos in it. You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to strangle him to the ground.

“I’ll get that parking spot tomorrow, I swear.”

“I said I love The Smiths.”- 500 Days of Summer 

Tuesday, 3:39pm

Newsflash: you didn’t get the parking spot.

It felt like a walk of shame as you set foot on the 5 metre walk down from “The Loser’s Spot.” 

Oscar, when I catch you, Oscar, you thought bitterly as you passed his house and bright yellow car parked out front. This time, he wasn’t standing by the window which made you feel only a little bit better that he wasn’t watching. And you thought that just maybe luck was semi on your side today because it hadn’t rained an ounce since the morning. As you stuffed the keys into the lock, your phone began to ring, buzzing away in your pocket. You paused and fished it out, the screen lighting up with your friend, Chloe’s contact name. 

Pushing the door open into your house, you answered the call.

“Hello,” you greeted, throwing your bag onto the couch as you passed it. Looping around into the kitchen, searching for an afternoon snack. "Baby, I Love Your Way" by Big Mountain coming from the radio that sat on the kitchen bench. Excitedly, Chloe squealed on the end of the line. “Girl, I’ve got tea. Lando’s hosting a party next Saturday and guess who’s invited?” she squealed, a lot of background voice feeding into the call. You winced, pulling the phone away, resorting to popping it on speaker. “You?” you guessed curiously. Chloe was one of your oldest friends, having met her on your first day of school, you’d been inseparable since. There was a loud clatter on the other side of the line before Chloe replied, “No, but good guess. Oscar is.”

You wrinkled your nose, a frown pulling at your eyebrows. “And this helps me, how exactly?” you asked cluelessly. There was a loud frustrated sigh, “God, put two and two together, ask him to take you!” she concluded as if she’d just concocted a masterplan to solve all your problems. You instantly shook your head, “What? No! One: that’s weird and two: I hate him right now. He’s a little pain in the ass and he keeps stealing my parking spot everyday.” you reasoned bitterly, eyes drawing to the yellow car parked outside. You bit your lip as the idea began to grow inside of your mind. It didn’t sound too bad. 

No, you thought immediately, there was no way you were going to let Oscar take you to a party. And most definitely not to one Lando was hosting. “You always hate him, just suck it up and ask him to take you.” Chloe sighed as you scoffed lightly. “I’m not doing that.”

“Okay, hear me out. They’re good mates, right? What if you ask Oscar to help you get with Lando in exchange for the parking spot.” Chloe proposed, you could hear the proud grin through her voice. You sighed, “Okay no for 3 different reasons. The first is that there is no way I’m telling a boy, not to mention my next door neighbour, who I have a crush on. Secondly, we barely talk and it would be hella weird to ask him to take me. Lastly, no.” There was a muffled sound on the other end of the line before Chloe spoke. “You're no fun at all.” she grumbled. 

“Also, I love my parking spot.’ you added. 

“It’s basically his.” she shot back and you huffed. “Don’t say that, I still have hope for tomorrow.” you protested, throwing yourself across the couch, sinking into the cushions. “Girl, you and I both know you ain’t getting that parking spot.”

You sighed heavily. Unfortunately, she was very right about that. That night, you lay in bed turning left and right and left again until you threw your pillow at your door in frustration. 

What if you ask Oscar to help you get with Lando in exchange for the parking spot? Chloe’s words echoed around your head, unable to erase it from your mind. No, it was stupid idea and anyone would be crazy to do that, you thought and yet somehow you found yourself knocking on his front door moments later.

Wednesday, 1:23am

Shivering in your pajamas, you prayed that his Mother didn’t open the door for your own sanity and saw you shaking in your pj’s with a jumper thrown over. You shifted back and forth on your feet, teeth chattering like only days before. The lights in the living room turned on, light spreading on your face as you heard the floorboard creaking again, the familiar sound making your heart soar. Warm light spilled out of the door as Oscar’s head popped out. His eyes were wary, squinting into the darkness.

“Okay, what the hell are you doing? It’s 1am!” he grumbled as if he’d been woken from a nap. You rolled your eyes, beginning to regret your choice.

“God, you sound like a grandma,” you commented, eyes trailing his face against the light. His brown freckles were sprinkled across his face, his hair unkept as though he’d been asleep only moments ago. His nose scrunched up slightly, “If you’re here for the parking spot, you’re not getting it.”

You waved your hands quickly, “I’m not, well. . . sort of.” you trailed off, words getting caught as you welled in the gravity of your decision. He frowned, “What?”

You flexed your fingers, rocking slowly back and forth on your heels. Your slippers and jumper falling damp under the light rain. “It’s just a thought, okay?” 

“God, you think? That’s concerning.” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. You shot him a glare as he shrugged under the light of the porch. “Hey asshat, just listen, okay?” you reasoned, licking your lips nervously. He stared at you as if debating whether or not to shut the door in your face and call it a day.

“You have 2 minutes and then I’m closing this door in your face.” Oscar said after not-so careful consideration, after all it couldn’t get weirder than you standing outside his front door at 1am. “Okay, okay!” you jumped hastily, you swallowed, eyes snapping to his, dreading to see his reaction. “So, Lando’s hosting a party next weekend,” you began slowly, dipping a foot into the deep waters. 

Oscar rolled his eyes, “I’m aware, Lover Girl, what do you want?”

You felt like a mad person as he watched you grasp onto your words. “Alright, here’s my pitch: you take me to the party and you can have the parking spot for a week.” 

There was a beat of silence as Oscar stared at you, his eyes narrowing by the second. His eyebrows ticked up, amusement pulling at his mind and lips as if caution should wary him. “Why are you acting weird? You were literally going to kill me for it yesterday.” he asked, eyeing you strangely, his eyes dark dancing under the shadows of the light.

“I’ve changed.” you snapped impatiently, folding your arms across your chest, wind blowing past you as you stood on the porch. “I highly doubt that.” he deflected with a small chuckle that tore through your patience. You sighed, “That’s beside the point, Piastri. The point is, you take me, you get the parking spot.” you bribed, “For one week.” you added quickly, the coldness of the night inching closer. 

“Do I at least get to know why?” Oscar asked, amused, perhaps even curiously as he looked down at you. “Nope.” you answered through chattering teeth, hands brushing against your arms. 

“Well that seems sort of unfair don’t you think?” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. He watched as you began to bend under his stare, flinching away. “Nope.” you said, but your voice wavered as if you already knew he wouldn’t let you take advantage without knowing your motives for such a strange proposal.

“Okay, fine.” he shrugged and your heart jumped in your chest. Hope blooming in your mind, maybe this Oscar boy from next door wasn’t all bad. “Really?” you asked excitedly, a grin pulling at your lips. 

“No.” he shot back and the hope sunk to your stomach. You bit back and insult, “Why not?” you demanded, looking up at him. He sighed heavily, holding up two fingers. “Because one: it’s Lando’s party not mine and two: you’re being weird.”

You threw your hands up in protest, “Those aren’t even valid reasons!”

Oscar shrugged carelessly, “They’re valid to me unless you tell me why.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I’m aware, now continue.”

You hesitated, heat rising to your cheeks. You stared down at your boots that had flecks of raindrops across them under the porchlight. “I just. . . I don’t know, It’s just, Lando. You know?” you swallowed, looking up, stomach twisting in embarrassment. Oscar was staring at you, a slight frown on your face as if he was waiting for you to backtrack and explain that this entire thing had been a complete joke. But you didn’t. 

“Are you serious right now?” he asked, face drawn dead serious.

“Yes.”

Oscar fell against the doorframe, erupting in laughter, his voice echoing down the empty street. You clenched your jaw, cheeks flushed as he snorted. “Sorry, who am I to judge?” he concluded with another chuckle. You rolled your eyes, standing right in a circle of embarrassment, each turn your own words against you. “Alright, stop.” you grumbled, watching as he clapped his hands together with a satisfied sigh. “Okay, I’ll help but on one condition, I get the spot forever.”

The words sank into your mind, “What? No!” you immediately snapped. There was no way you were going to give up the parking spot that you’d been fighting 2 years for. You’d rather die. You let out a scoff, the absurdity of it all weighing in your mind. 

“Then no deal.” Oscar shrugged casually as he began to shut the door, the warmth of the house pulling away into darkness. You lunged forward, grabbing the door as Oscar hesitated. “Okay! Okay, wait. Let’s not be too hasty.” you reasoned, thoughts racing through your mind to figure out a way to make sure both parties won. 

“I’m waiting.” Oscar tapped his fingers impatiently against the doorframe as you scoured your brain for words. “Okay, new deal, you help me get into that party and closer to Lando and you can have the parking spot for the rest of the year.” you clapped your hands in finality, a giant grin on your face, sure that would make a reasonable deal. Oscar stood in thought, weighing out both pros and cons of the proposal. “Are you done thinking?” you prodded after he was taking too long, thinking he’d pull the same stunt as earlier. You shivered, the wind blowing against your ankles, your fingers pulling the hem of your jumper down lower to shield yourself. Oscar’s eyes flickered down to you, he opened his mouth slightly as if the words were on the tip of his tongue. Come in. But instead he nodded, “Okay, deal.”

“Really?” you jumped up, fireworks going off inside of your brain. You refrained from doing a little victory dance after already embarrassing yourself enough in one night. Oscar shrugged casually, “I mean, who am I to refuse the parking spot?”

“Okay, deal.” you held out your hand with a grin to which Oscar slammed the door shut. The warmth and light of the house were gone in an instant as you were left standing with your arm extended, left hanging. You blinked, taken aback. What the hell? The letter slot flapped open with a squeak. “Your two minutes were up, Lover Girl.”

“Asshole.”

“Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” - Dead Poets Society

Wednesday 12:43pm 

You stared at the clock as if somehow it would make the seconds pass quicker. It did not. Unsurprisingly, it made the class go by even slower. However, the second the bell rang through the halls you were up and out of the classroom. You weaved past students until you came to a stop just by the lockers at the end of the corridor. Excitedly, you peeked slowly, eyes focused on a classroom door where students were spilling out from. Your heart soared as Lando filed out of the door in heavy conversation with Oscar who’s eyes looked tired and dazed, you were almost certain you were to blame for that. Lando smiled and you felt your heart pound in your chest, a smile tearing at your lips. You watched as they turned in your direction, eye catching Oscar’s. Your hands snapped to the closest thing as you pretended to fidget with a lock on one of the nearby lockers. Your eyes flicked up to Lando as Oscar trailed behind him yawning. As Lando neared closer you felt your cheeks flush pink, heart hammering in your chest. 

How could he look so perfect?

Since the moment you’d seen Lando you were infatuated by him. Everything about him was likeable, he was charming, he had an addictive smile, and above all he was funny. He never failed to make you laugh, he was sweet and charismatic, almost like the complete opposite of your grumpy next door neighbour. Having a crush on Lando also made you feel like a crazy person, like any other girl in your year, hopelessly in love with his smile. Your Mother had told you about guys like him, Lando was male lead material, the charming rom-com guy that would sweep you off your feet and guarantee a happy future. 

Oscar, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He was a boy with no emotional intelligence whatsoever. If you were to ever give your heart to him, he’d trample all over it and chuck it out the window without a second thought.

“Hey, Y/N?” 

Your head snapped around, your eyes falling onto Lando and a sleepy looking Oscar who was rubbing his eyes. Your heart jumped to your throat as you stumbled over your words, “Hey.” you blurted out and Lando chuckled warmly. Instantly, your knees felt weak under you as if they’d give way any minute, abandoning you in front of him.

“Oscar told me you’re coming to my party next Saturday,” he grinned, nodding to Oscar who looked just about as lost as a child at a carnival. His eyes were tired, large eyebags hanging underneath his eyes as he turned his head and glared at you. You prayed that he hadn’t let anything slip about the deal you’d made last night. You nodded, “Yeah, he invited me.”

Oscar looked at Lando who nodded. “That’s cool, I didn’t know you guys were friends.” he mused, which surprised you even though you and Oscar were anything but friends. You didn’t deny it though, “Yep,” 

You met Oscar’s gaze from behind Lando as he rolled his eyes. You held back rolling your own eyes and smiled at Lando.“I guess I’ll see you next Saturday then.” he said, sending you spiralling as you watched him walk away until he disappeared into a wave of students. You grinned to yourself, unable to contain your excitement. You could've run down the hallway screaming the lyrics to "Paper Rings" out of joy.

“But you know, the thing about romance is, people only get together right at the very end.” - Love Actually

Sunday 4:43

“Why would I need to hit on another woman?” Matthew McConaughey asked, or rather Ben Barry asked Andie Anderson. “You’ve got more than enough personalities to keep me completely occupied.” he chimed through the tv speakers and you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’ was by far one of your favourite rom-coms of all time. The characters, the plot, the setup were all amazing and executed flawlessly. It mixed all your favourite tropes together and made your heart flutter like a crazy, obsessed person. You glanced out the window of the living room, through rain Oscar’s car was still in the parking spot. You sighed, looking back at the TV, your concentration lost as the movie continued muffled away in the background of rain.

Were you crazy?

Was Oscar crazy?

“Hey Y/N! Can you return these containers back to Nicole?” your Mother’s voice broke through the silence, as if on cue. Your head snapped toward the kitchen where your Mother hummed away, melody travelling softly around the house. You let out a groan, splaying yourself across the couch. “Right now?” you called back, eyes drifting back to the rain bucketing outside. “Yes!” she replied, followed by a clattering of metal pans. You gritted your teeth as you whipped the blanket off, making your way into the kitchen. Your Mother stood, her back facing you as she did her weekend tidy. There were plastic containers and pots strewn all over the kitchen bench as she sorted through the drawers. You picked up the containers that had small ‘Piastri’ stickers stuck to them.

“Thank you! Take an umbrella!” your Mother called behind you as you disappeared out the door-without an umbrella. The cold wind felt like a slap across the face as you trotted down the front stairs, a breeze whipping at your undone hair. You squinted through the sprinkle of rain, the sidewalk scattered with puddles as you sidestepped, avoiding them. 

You raised your hand and knocked on the all too familiar door. The loud squeaks of  floorboards came from the other side before the lock CLICKED and the door swung open. Oscar’s head popped out the door, his eyes immediately narrowing skeptically as you stood in front of him. You pulled a smile to your face, “Hi neighbour.”

His hair was dishevelled, like his hand had run through it one too many times as he glared at you. “I’ve already agreed to take you to the party.” he said flatly as you gritted your teeth.

“Hello to you too, lovely neighbour. I’m here to drop off these containers for your Mother.” you rolled your eyes as you held out the containers. Oscar’s eyes dropped to your hands, “Oh, thanks” he mumbled, taking it from your hands. You scoffed as his eyes met yours. He held your gaze for a moment, perhaps a moment too long his eyes lingered on yours as something unspoken passed. “Want to go on a walk?” he abruptly asked and you frowned, taken aback by the question. You looked out onto the street as the rain fell down slowly, pattering softly. The sky was overcast, grey clouds painted across it, the sun hidden from view. “It’s raining though.” you said as if it somehow explained everything. You looked back to him, his expression all the same, “I know,” he smiled. A chuckle escaped your lips, without giving it much thought you shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” you nodded, finishing ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 days’ gone from your mind in an instant. He nodded, “Let me get a jacket and we can go,” he said as he disappeared into the house, the door left ajar. 

What were you doing?

You nearly laughed out loud to yourself as you stood waiting on his front porch. 

If you’d told yourself last week you were going on a walk with Oscar, you would’ve laughed in your face in absurdity. 

Moments later, Oscar popped out of the door with a jumper thrown on. You were leaning against the porch railing, looking out onto the empty street. His eyes lingered on you, for far longer than he would like to admit until you turned around. He whipped his eyes away, clearing his throat. “Let’s go?” you asked, looking over at him. He nodded, trailing after you, an odd sensation sitting in his chest pressing tightly against his thumping heart. Oscar fell into step by your side. The rain was slow, the storm passed and instead was replaced by a soft sprinkle of rain, falling gently if it had been any colder would’ve been snowflakes. His eyes flickered to you, “Where do you want to go?” he asked as you raised your eyebrows, a knowing grin plastered on your face. He eyed you as you wiggled your eyebrows in exaggeration, “Are you down for milkshakes?” you asked, a sly smile on your lips. He burst out laughing, “Milkshakes in this weather?”

You nodded, eyebrows raised, “Yep, I know a place.” 

“Well then lead the way, Lover Girl.” 

In your rainy town by the corner of the shops there sat an old 90’s diner. Its doors were welcoming, a sickenly sweet smell wafting through the air that enchanted passing strangers inviting them inside. A soft bell would tinker each time a wandering customer would come in and it had been your favourite place to go as a kid. 

As kids, it had also been the place Oscar’s Mother would take you guys to have an occasional milkshake after school. You and Oscar would both bicker, debating which flavour was better, chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Oscar had always been insistent on vanilla whereas you would scrunch up your face and shake your head in disgust. 

Hattie, who would often tag along on your little side quests, would order banana which only gained disapproving looks from both you and Oscar. The last red booth had been the spot you’d all run to, ice creams in hand, pushing one another out of the way to get the window view out onto the street. Though unfortunately for Hattie, only either you or Oscar would win, outrunning her on her little legs. 

“I haven’t been here in forever,” Oscar mumbled, looking up at the diner, a smile painted across his face. It’s bright hanging lamps, twinkling through the glass. The bright red leather booth seats were visible, sitting upon the inviting black and white checkered floor.

You nodded in agreement, “Me too,” and his eyes flickered to yours, his grin only growing wider under your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat and for a fleeting moment it was like you were children again, standing outside of the diner pulling Nicole inside excitedly, wishing you could try all the variety of bright coloured flavours. You snorted, “Shall we?” 

“After you, milkshake-during-winter psychopath.” Oscar joked playfully, pulling the door open as you rolled your eyes, stepping inside. A soft tinker of a bell chimed around the store, warmth enveloping you like a blanket. Waves of nostalgia hit you as your eyes drifted to the last booth with its bright red seats and view that really wasn't that great but had seemed like a win whenever you got it. The chatter was low, people buried in their books or laptops with a coffee or milkshake at hand, the smell drifting through the cafe. And behind the counter still stood the old woman from all those years ago, serving customers with a giant warm smile on her face. Wrinkles had worn through her skin beautifully with time, hair with small streaks of grey now. But her striking green eyes had stayed the same. She wore a bright red apron and a pen tucked neatly behind one ear.

“Good afternoon, lovelies.” she greeted softly until her eyes grew wide, shifting between you and Oscar. “Nicole’s son, right?” she asked excitedly to which Oscar nodded. She looked at you, “And you must be the young girl who would come in with them!” she clapped her hands together, green eyes lighting up. You laughed softly with a nod, “I’m pretty sure we would invade your diner each afternoon and hog the last booth,” you said, nodding to the empty booth that stood at the end of the aisle as if waiting patiently for you and Oscar to return. 

“Nonsense, it was always a pleasure to have you here. What can I get you guys?”

You glanced up at Oscar who met your gaze, nodding before turning back to the lady, “Two milkshakes please, one vanilla and one chocolate.” the order slipped off his lips as if second nature to him. You blinked in surprise, he still remembered your favourite flavour? Perhaps it shouldn’t have made that big of a difference, but you didn’t have enough time to fully process it before Oscar handed it to you. His fingertips gently brushed yours, sending an electric spark through your body. You stood stunned, there was no way that this was your parking-spot stealing neighbour you couldn’t stand.

You trailed after Oscar, mind still racing as you tried to figure out why your chest felt tight all of a sudden, heartbeat loud in your ears as you slid into the red leather booth. 

Oscar however, noticed nothing out of the ordinary and dug into his milkshake, devouring it like he’d been starved. Your eyes flicked up to him, with his perfect hair and pretty smile, and oh geez, this wasn’t right. 

Oscar wasn’t the charming male lead, he was the measly side character who would throw in a laugh every so often to keep the audience engaged. He was your annoying next door neighbour, the only boy who’d constantly nag you about your rom-com obsession. Even as kids, in your eyes he never held a candle to Lando Norris. Though, it didn’t seem like that right now, because here you were sitting across from him drinking milkshakes like you guys were best friends.

“I can’t believe we’re drinking milkshakes during winter. It’s freezing.” Oscar chuckled and your head snapped back, mind pulled from wondering to the present. You swallowed your thoughts and nodded, any idea of Lando disappearing in an instant. “Well, you can’t go wrong with milkshakes, right?” you shrugged, without much effort from keeping a smile off your face. You sipped on the straw, the coldness of shooting straight to your brain. A shiver of cold ran down your spine and you shook in your jacket. Oscar snorted, “Just to clarify. . . are we trying to get pneumonia? Or is this your awful master plan of trying to get me sick?”

“A bit of both,” you admitted solemnly, a playful glint in your eye as you met his gaze. He raised his eyebrows, as if testing the imaginary waters of just how sarcastic and funny this conversation could get. “I can respect that,” he finally agreed and you nodded along. “I mean, with vanilla I don’t really know though, you could probably get poisoned by the blandness of it.” you shrugged playfully before cracking, letting out a laugh. Oscar’s eyes followed you as you shook, laughing in your seat. 

“That’s pretty rich coming from a safe-option chocolate eating psychopath.” Oscar mused with a nod toward your milkshake, the cherry still on top from your lack of attention. “I’m a pretty charming psychopath though,” you pointed out with raised eyebrows, giving Oscar a reasonable nod. Though he was the only charming one here, you couldn’t deny. The curve of his lips formed into a grin that had your eyes flicking nervously out the window where rain began to pour down again. You swallowed hard as your gaze snapped back to his. He didn’t deny it. “So you do admit you’re trying to kill me?” he asked playfully, eyebrows raised in amusement. 

“I mean, only if that vanilla doesn’t kill you first.” you chimed before the two of you both broke out in fits of laughter. You couldn’t help but admire Oscar, the way the corner of his eyes crinkled whenever he laughed, how his nose scrunched up and the warmth in his eyes was undeniable as he looked at you. And you felt like you melted under his sweet gaze. 

The last booth in Macy’s diner was filled with giggles of laughter and sarcastic remarks that afternoon, just two kids off in their own world that hadn’t been explored in a long time. To the old lady who served every customer in the diner, it seemed just like the old days. From behind the counter she watched fondly as the two kids sitting across from each other held childish grins on their faces. 

“That’s the thing about love, you never know when it’s real.” Ben Barry said, ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’ back on the screen as you lay across the couch with a blanket pulled up your neck. Your heart skipped a beat as you swallowed hard, it was all wrong.

“In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you.”- Juno

Tuesday, 4:32pm

You stopped on the front steps of the school as students pushed past you, running through the pouring rain in an attempt to get to their cars before the storm got worse. 

“What do you mean, you can’t pick me up?” you whined, phone connected on a call with Chloe. In the morning, you’d taken your car to go get the tires changed and Chloe had offered to come and pick you up. “I’m so, so sorry. But I’m stuck on the other side of the bridge, the river is flooding over. Can you get a ride home with anyone else?” she asked just as your eyes landed on an all too familiar car as it pulled up in front of you. Squinting through the rain you saw Oscar roll down the window. 

“Need a lift?” he called out from the car. You hesitated, standing in the rain, 10 feet from him. The wind whipped at your hair, clothes damp under the rain. Since the diner it had been awkwardly weird between you both, or at least to you. It felt wrong to be hanging out with Oscar if Lando was the one you were chasing. It made no sense. Your mind kept circling back to Oscar, after school, hoping that somehow you’d run into him by chance. You longed for the feeling you’d felt sitting in the last red booth, laughing from across him as you both reminisced the old and the new. But you folded, banishing any thought of your feelings from your mind you bounded forward. Bolting through the rain you slid into the seat, the inside of the car even colder than outside. You shivered, coldness wrapping around you in an uncomfortable choke. “It’s so cold in here, do you have the AC on?” you chattered, rubbing your hands together. Oscar shot you a glare as if he’d taken that personally. “She’s old, okay?”

“So no heater?” you asked doubtfully, turning to him. 

“No heater,” he echoed with a grimace.

“Right.” you concluded, looking out of the window. You felt his eyes on you, skin prickling under his stare. The car slowly rolled forward in the line of cars. Stealing a glance over at him, you bit your lip doubtfully, his hair was slick and wet from the rain, drops rolling down the sides of his freckled skin. Instantly, your breath hitched in your throat, heart thumping loudly in your chest almost like a chain reaction. 

“The bridge is flooded, we’re going to be here for a while.” Oscar said, eyes on the line of cars ahead. You slowly nodded, snapping your eyes away from him, uncomfortableness closing in on you. Silence followed by “Every Breath You Take”, starting, filling the air from the old radio. 

“Do you remember when we were kids and our coat stand fell on you during a hide n seek game?” Oscar asked, turning to you. Your eyes flicked to his, warm, gentle and curious. You let out a half hearted laugh, “You remember that?”

“Oh, absolutely, I remember you bawled your head off.” he teased, a smirk making its way onto his lips, your eyes catching onto it. You swallowed, “That was a moment of weakness, in my defence I’d never gotten bonked on the head with a 12 foot wooden stick, on top of that I got drowned in jackets and coats.” you pointed out, shooting him a grin. He laughed, eyes crinkling up at the corners and without much effort to stop yourself, you laughed too. His laugh was addicting to your ears, like a melody that you’d listen on repeat to by choice. “And then my Mum baked you cookies,” he chided, the memory flooding back into your mind. “And you didn’t get any,” you added with a soft chuckle, eyes on his. 

“That was unfair, I still remind her about that to this day.” he huffed, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Well to be fair, it’s because you laughed at me.” you corrected.

“Touché, Lover Girl.” he said, giving you a nod. Your mind lingered on the nickname, you’d never really noticed when he began to call you that, though you were certain it was after he found out you were a hopeless rom-com lover. Which had been by pure accident after he’d found your DVD collection of every one of your beloved movies.  

“Is ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’ still your favourite movie?” he asked. Your head snapped in his direction, “I can’t believe you remember that.” you murmured, heart light in your chest. 

“Of course I do, after you forced me to watch it with you.” Oscar said with a roll of his eyes. You shot him a glare. “I did not force you to.” you retorted with a snort. Though you were most almost certain that you did. You’d dragged him to your living room and sat him down to watch it with you because Chloe had been away on a trip. “Sure you didn’t.” he quipped and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“Even if I did, it’s a good movie so you should be thankful.” you casted a look over at him and Oscar shrugged, “You know what? It was actually an okay movie, I won’t complain.”

“Exactly, my point. Thank you!” you huffed triumphantly, feeling like you’d scored a win because usually Oscar was always right. And most times, he knew it drove you mad. Satisfied, you looked out the window, now as the car neared onto the main street. “But that’s only because I thought Andie was going to die at the end,” he added. You whipped your head around, his expression deadpan as he shrugged under your stare. “What? Are you serious?”

“That’s what Lando told me.” he said and your stomach twisted at the reminder of Lando’s existence. Which felt wrong considering that was the whole reason you’d spoken to Oscar in the first place after all these years. You felt like you were tripping over your own guilt and selfishness. How could you be claiming you liked Lando when you felt this way about Oscar? What did you feel about Oscar?

“And you believed him?” you asked, an awful feeling sitting in your stomach now as you looked at Oscar. He nodded solemnly, causing you to snort, guilt instantly gone from your mind. “I sure did.”

“In my defense of course, I’d never watched a rom-com before.” he quickly added, eyes on yours. You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Just wait till you watch Me Before You or The Fault in our Stars.” Two films that had ended in you absolutely losing your mind and bawling your eyes out.

“I draw the line at people who end up passing away in the end.” Oscar ruled, “Also where the dog dies in the end.” he added as if that was the most important part. You nodded, understanding his point of view. “That’s valid, but you also give me vibes that you’ve watched all the Disney Princess Movies.”

Oscar blinked, as if he was surprised he was that easy to read. A chuckle escaped his lips, nose scrunching slightly. “In my defense, I grew up with 3 sisters,”

“That’s a green flag if I’ve ever seen one,” you hummed before you could stop yourself. “I’m flattered, please do go on.” he teased as your cheeks flushed red. A smirk pulled on his lips. Heat crawled up your neck as your stomach fluttered. “Okay, pretend I didn’t say that.” you said, rolling your eyes but the butterflies in your stomach were something you couldn’t deny even if you tried. 

“No wonder I used to have a crush on you,” Oscar murmured just loud enough that you caught his words. His eyes were focused on the car ahead, refusing to meet your eyes. You froze, stunned by his remark. You felt like your heart had dipped to the bottom of your stomach, Oscar Piastri used to have a crush on you? The kid who had always laughed at your misfortunes, stolen your parking spot without mercy, used to have a crush on you?

“What?” you managed to stammer, cheeks hot as you met his gaze. You felt like you were choking on your words and yet none left your mouth. He chuckled, honey eyes locked on yours, “Is it that surprising?” he asked. You swallowed, “No- I mean, yes?” you stammered, unsure of what you were even saying, words slipping off your lips effortlessly. You winced at your own stammering. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, I don’t like you anymore, there’s someone else.” Oscar laughed and it felt like a blow to the face. Why did you feel disappointed out of all things? Why did your heart sink to your stomach as if a part of you wished and yearned for him to still like you?

“Oh, is there now? Care to spill?” you managed to ask, curiosity and jealousy tainting your words. You bit down on your tongue as if to stop yourself from prying too far. “Her name’s Lily. There’s not much to it, I just think she’s cute.” he shrugged, oblivious to your envious heart. “Oh, I know her, yeah she’s nice.”you bit, forcing a smile to your face. This was good, so why did you feel like you’d been punched in the stomach? 

Why did you hate that Oscar liked someone else?

"People do fall in love. People do belong to each other, because that's the only chance that anyone's got for true happiness."- Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Saturday, 7:29pm 

Oscar: I’m outside

Y/N: What

Oscar: I’m driving you there, hurry up and be out soon

Y/N: Wow, such a gentleman

Oscar: I know 

You ran to your bedroom window and sure enough, leaning against his car right outside in your parking spot was Oscar. He was wearing black sweats with a lazy white shirt thrown on and a jumper on top, and of course, his 20 shampoo hair looked perfect under the setting sun. You glanced back at your phone, though you never recalled getting his number though you were almost certain it was once used to prank call Oscar at a sleepover with Chloe. The details were a bit fuzzy. Everything had seemed a bit off since last week, an awful feeling had embedded itself into your mind as if you were no longer sure about something. You really couldn’t believe how long it had been since you’d hung out with Oscar,  it seemed like ages ago that you and the kids down the street would play together. Though there was one memory that had imprinted itself in your mind till this day. 

It had been an Autumn day, during the end of the holidays when all the fun had begun to come to a finish. You’d been 7 years old, sitting out on your front porch, bored with nothing to do until a young Oscar walked past. He’d paused upon seeing you, a frown making its way onto his face as he saw you sitting alone. “Hey, Y/N?” he’d said, walking up to you, cheeks rosy and eyes twinkling. You’d looked up, taken aback by his sudden appearance, “Yeah?” you’d asked, curiosity sparking in your mind. 

“Want to play a game?”

Those golden words had you and Oscar raking up golden leaves in his backyard excitedly until there was nothing but a humongous pile. Standing and admiring your own handy work, you’d both fistbumped each other with a proud grin.

“Are you ready?” Oscar had asked you as he held out his hand for you to take. You’d nodded eagerly, taking his hand in yours. “I’m ready.” you’d confirmed. 

“1, 2, 3. .  . JUMP!” you’d both yelled in unison, leaping onto the pile of leaves. The pile blew up, scattering golden leaves everywhere as they came raining down as you and Oscar were swallowed in the heap. Laughter and giggles had filled the air that afternoon, causing a curious Hattie and Edie to eventually join in too. You hadn’t thought about that moment in a long time-

A loud beeping of a horn snapped you back from your thoughts, your eyes flickering to where Oscar stood, glaring at you from his car. Your heart jumped in your chest as you threw on a jumper, taking one last glance at your outfit in the mirror before racing downstairs. Chloe had boasted proudly about her plan being a success but it didn’t actually feel like a success. Ever since last week, you hadn’t been able to get Oscar off your mind, what surprised you most was that you’d forgotten how much fun it was spending time with him. Even at school, you’d avoided him, because whatever this feeling that had grown toward Oscar was wrong. You’d made this deal for Lando and afterwards you’d go back to normal, right? 

You swallowed, making your way down the stairs, approaching Oscar. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, his grumpy demeanour back as he opened the car door for you, disappearing to the driver's seat. You blinked, an odd feeling rising in your chest almost like butterflies as you stood stunned by his small gesture.

“Are you going to stand there or get in?” Oscar asked from inside. You nodded, still dazed as you slid into the passenger seat. It felt too weird, like you were somehow playing a calculated game of chess with the enemy. But Oscar wasn’t your enemy, he was helping you, out of all things. You were meant to hate Oscar, right?

The car ride to Lando’s house was nothing short of awkward, only "Knee Socks" by Artic Monkeys filling the car. Oscar drove in silence, neither of you even batting an eye or attempting to make cheap conversation. As Oscar pulled into an all too familiar house he hesitated, “Wait,” he called as you were about to push the car door open. You turned to him expectantly, your heart catching in your throat. “Yeah?”

He swallowed, almost as if he was nervous. “After this, I get the parking spot. . . right?” 

You paused, the initial agreement almost slipping from your mind. You nodded, “Yep, that’s the deal. Thanks Osc.”

The name slipped off your tongue carelessly, almost as if it was something you didn’t have to think twice about. But why? Heat flared up to your cheeks in embarrassment as you shook your head quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t-” you began brashly before Oscar interjected. “It’s fine, Lover Girl, don’t worry about it.” he said with a grin. 

You both walked up to the door in silence. Heart pounding in your ears both from what had just happened and soon seeing Lando. It felt odd that you had to remind yourself that that’s what you were here for. Shaking your head you knocked on the door confidently. There was a thrumming vibration from music inside, spilling out of the door as it opened, Lando’s face popping out. 

“Hey lovebirds, how are you?” he asked teasingly with a grin. Your heart dropped as you feigned amusement, letting out a dry laugh. Oscar doing the same beside you, “Don’t be an ass.” he laughed and your eyes flickered toward him. Your heart thumped in your chest, catching you off guard. You swallowed, gaze drifting back to Lando who held the door open with a grin, “Come in.”

You mindlessly walked inside, brain still scouring for an answer to what just happened. There was no way your heartbeat was quickening at the sight of Oscar when Lando was in front of you. Your eyes landed on him again as he fistbumped a guy in passing, a smile painted on his face. You quickly looked away, as if caught doing something wrong. God, what was happening? 

The music was turned on loud, ringing in your ears as you floated around the living room, eyes drawn to Oscar who was chatting to some guy by the kitchen. Loud chatter and people yelling over the music filled the air just as Beyonce and Jay-Z’s “Crazy in Love” came on. You swallowed, chest tight, though you didn’t know why as you walked around aimlessly. Your stomach felt queasy even though you hadn’t had anything to drink yet. As you made your way around the living room, you felt a hand lay on your shoulder, Lando appearing next to you. His brown curls bounced as he moved, seafoam green eyes making their way to yours as you stood stunned before him. “Thanks for coming! Osc just told me you are good friends, so I’ll stop teasing you guys now,” he grinned, yelling over the music. You let out a laugh, but it seemed forced even to you. You nodded, eyes meeting Lando’s, your pulse screaming through your ears, TALK TO HIM!

“Thanks for hosting! I’ll try not to drink too much tonight!” you yelled back over the pulse of the music. Lando smiled one of his charming smiles before nodding, “Well, thankfully you’ve got your designated driver!” Lando laughed, nodding toward Oscar who was standing by the drinks table, pouring himself a glass of water. Your heart sank to your stomach, you’d completely forgotten that he wouldn’t be able to drink because he’d driven you both here. You nodded, “Yeah! I do,” your voice trailing off, eyes still on Oscar. 

God, this felt wrong. It was all wrong. You were supposed to like Lando, why weren’t you more excited about this? Why weren’t you jumping out of your shoes doing cartwheels around the living room?

Lando patted you on the back, “Gotta run, Carlos and Charles are throwing around one of my Mother's vases.” he said as he disappeared into a crowd of people. You nodded, dazed as you reached for a shot glass on a platter laying around. The liquid burned your throat as it went down, the sensation awful but addicting. The thrum of the music rang through your ears as you grabbed another glass, cheeks flushing already. Each time, your eyes couldn’t help but find Oscar, even now as he spoke to Lily by the couch. Envy clouded your thoughts as you stared daggers at her. Her perfect face, perfect laugh, there was no questioning why Oscar liked her. 

With a pang of guilt, you wandered around for who knows how long, grabbing glasses full of things you ought to have looked at first before gulping down. Your stomach flipped uneasily, the alcohol doing its thing as your mind was racing. But you couldn’t place why?

Why did you feel awful like you were somehow betraying yourself?

Lando was right there and yet your eyes were on Oscar, following him around like he was the one you liked. 

“Woah there, slow down soldier. How many drinks are you on?” a voice sliced through your thoughts as a hand grasped gently over yours just as you reached out for another glass. Startled, you recoiled, gaze snapping upward to find Oscar standing there. His expression was soft but his eyes clouded with worry as he raised his eyebrows. He looked so clueless, clueless to what he was doing to you, making your brain spin like a carousel. 

That was it.

It was all his fault. 

“I’m fine, that’s what I came here to do, get wasted, have fun, right?” you shot back, an edge to your voice both brittle and bitter. You saw it hit him, his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed slightly. But he didn’t seem to believe you. You scoffed as you folded your arms across your chest tightly as if it would somehow shield you from him. 

“You might want to slow down, Lover Girl.” he said, his words melting into the music, slow and numbing as “Kiss of Life” by Sade hummed in the background. 

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, turning away sharply. The room tilted with you in a slow, sick twirl. The nausea you’d been trying to keep down, creeping up, thick and threatening. You swallowed hard, trying to ground yourself under his gaze, 

Oscar watched you, his eyes full with something more now, hurt. The ground swayed beneath you as you looked downwards. “I’m just trying to look out for you.” he said, confused by the sharpness and sting of your words. Why was this happening? But why was he the one here? Why wasn’t it Lando? 

“Well don’t, okay? I don’t need you to look after me, Oscar. We’re barely friends, you’re my neighbour. A deal’s a deal and now we go back to normal where you steal my parking spot and I hate you for it, okay? This entire thing was a mistake.” your voice rose, trembling with emotion you couldn’t name. Guilt? Hatred? Oscar didn’t flinch, but you could see the way he swallowed it, like he was biting back words he knew wouldn’t help. 

And then it hit. That awful, churning sickness surged upward with no more warning. You doubled over and retched, everything you’d downed in the last hour splattering across the floor. The burn scorched your throat, your eyes stinging with tears of humiliation.

Someone’s arm was draped over your shoulders as your body shook. You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified, scanning the faces now turned toward you in disgust or pity, or both. Your eyes landed on Lando who stared at you but he didn’t move. Then, gently, Oscar’s hands found your shaking ones. He didn’t say anything. Just guided you away, leading you up the stairs and out of sight, as the party kept on pulsing behind you without a second thought.

 “Do you want water?” Oscar asked softly as you sat faced away from him, guilt eating away at you relentlessly. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see him looking at you and you couldn’t help but shake your head under his gentle gaze. 

This night that you’d hoped would be amazing went the complete opposite. And so here you sat with your carpark-stealing neighbour, without Lando in sight. You shook your head numbly as you stared at the wall, eyes on anything but his. “No, thanks.”

There was an awful beat of silence as you swallowed. 

“Okay, I have spare clothes in the car, I’ll go get them for you.” Oscar told you, getting up from the bed. Your stomach twisted as your eyes followed him until he reached the door. “Why are you being so nice to me, Oscar?” you called out as his hand rested on the handle. He paused and turned back to you, his eyes dark in the warmth of the bedside lamp. You searched his face for an answer, but he just shook his head, “You were right. That was the deal, I mean, it’s not like we’re friends, right? You’re just my neighbour and annoying one at that.” he grinned but he faltered under your gaze, as if he didn’t mean a single word of it. And he didn’t. It’s not like we’re friends, right?

You felt like you’d been sock punched in the stomach. Of course you weren’t friends, you’d been stupid to think that. You were never even friends to begin with. You were just his neighbour. You’d said it yourself. Swallowing hard, you nodded. “Yeah, I know.” you laughed, but felt hollow as if somehow the fake words lived up to the same as what you sat in your heart. Oscar slipped out of the door without another word leaving you sitting alone in the bedroom of a stranger. 

Oscar drove you home that night, draped in his clothes that were too big for you he dropped you off at your front door. His eyes lingered on you, him now on the steps of your house. Behind him, his bright yellow car was parked where it rightfully belonged. You muttered him a thank you, promising him you’d return his clothes. He nodded, eyes still on yours, mouth slightly ajar as if he wanted to say something more. The words sitting on the tip of his tongue and you waited hopefully. But he kept quiet, bid you goodnight and disappeared down the darkness of the street.

And that was it. 

Just like that.

“I want all of you forever. Me and you, everyday.”- The Notebook

Friday, 3:56

Weeks passed and Oscar still remained the reigning owner of the parking spot, stealing it from you without fail. Except now, you weren’t so sure about anything. Unsure about your feelings toward Lando who’d sent you a text the next day to see how you were and then gone radio silent. He’d barely interacted with you at school and that’s all it took for you to realise you’d been chasing someone who would never bat an eye your way. To think of it, years wasted on a boy who would only ever think of you as a friend, somehow wasn’t as disappointing as you thought. Because unbeknownst to you, your heart hadn’t been set on him anymore, it had been chasing someone else. You wanted Oscar.

Oscar hadn’t spoken to you and often, you’d find yourself glancing at his contact name, wondering if you called would he pick up? But you didn’t because you were scared what would happen if he did. It seemed like a story already written, letters printed on paper that you couldn’t change even if you tried. Oscar would look at you, a girl who was just his neighbour and laugh. Because what sort of idiot would fall for the guy who was supposed to be your neighbour and nothing but that?

So nothing happened, and each time you walked down the street from “The Loser’s Spot.” you’d glance at your neighbours windows but there wasn’t anyone in sight. Disappointment sat in your stomach as you walked down the main street. Cars honked loudly, yells echoing down the tarmac as rain pattered down. Raindrops hit your umbrella as you sighed, eyes falling onto the river that had flooded over the bridge, causing the traffic jam. “Twilight Zone” played softly through your headphones as you bit down through the chattering cold. Fingers pulling at your jacket, you waited amongst the crowd of people. The bridge flooding was something that happened far too often in the season of winter in your small town. There was nothing else to do but to wait for the water levels to go down. Cold and wet you waited as “Friday I’m In Love” by The Cure began to play gently. 

“Hey, Lover Girl! Need a ride?” 

You whipped your head around, the all too familiar nickname making your heart stop in your chest. Tugging off your headphones, you turned, umbrella pulling against the wind. Through the pouring rain, that annoyingly bright yellow car stood amongst the line of waiting cars. There Oscar was standing, his body half out the open car door as if waiting. You squinted as Oscar and his stupid face you’d missed seeing through the window. The relief of seeing him made you want to choke up. You took a cautious step forward through the rain and he met you halfway without hesitation. 

“How could you tell, Piastri?” you asked, as he now stood in front of you. Through the rain, his smile was unmistakable. And you felt like you could drop right there and then. 

“Because I know you,” he said and it was true. 

“Do you now?” you chuckled, unable to keep a smile from pulling at your lips. He nodded earnestly, as if it was the most confident thing he knew. He took a deep breath, 

“I do, and I need to tell you what’s been killing me inside since the moment you knocked on my front door, okay, Lover Girl? So just let me speak.”

Your stomach twisted in your stomach as you nodded. 

“You’re not, just my neighbour, or the girl next door, or the girl who likes my best friend, okay? You’re more than that, you’re the girl who I used to let beat me in Mario Kart, you’re the girl who I would willingly sit down and watch rom-coms with because I loved the way your face lit up everytime. So I was wrong, you’re more than just a neighbour to me, you’re the girl I like and the one who I’d let take the parking spot everyday if I wasn’t such an asshole.” he let out a sigh, as if he’d been bottling that in his chest for far too long. Your pulse screamed in your ears, your knees weak underneath you. You stood stunned in front of Oscar as he searched your face for an answer. Speechless, not a word came to your mind as you stared at him. Warmth spreaded through your chest, heart beating rapidly at a million beats per second. 

“Maybe I’m too late because of Lando but I just wanted you to know.” he faltered, his face lost from your silence. You swallowed, “Are you kidding me right now, Piastri? Because if I swear if this is one of your jokes I’m legally filing for ownership of that parking spot.”

Oscar burst out laughing, shaking his head before giving you a reasonable nod. “I swear on my pet dog.” Now it was your turn to laugh, “Rosie better not be dropping dead right now then.” you said, wiping the rain away on your face with your sleeve. 

“I can assure you, she isn’t, Lover Girl.” he smiled through the rain, and you could barely hold back the urge to run your fingers through his hair. “God, Osc you’re driving me crazy. I thought you liked Lily.” you said, confusion swirling through your mind as you stared at him. 

“That was only because I didn’t want to seem like I liked you, I didn’t want to mess everything up with you and Lando,” he admitted, looking away. Your heart leapt in your chest, confused but overjoyed.

You hit him gently on the chest, “Well that was a dick move, okay? Because I like you too, Piastri. And I hate the way you make me smile so easily and the way I don’t even have to try when I’m with you. I hate the way I go batshit crazy when I see you and I hate that you make me feel like I’m not alone. I hate that I like you but above all I hate that I don’t hate you at all, Oscar.” you admitted, looking up at him as he faltered, processing your words. 

“Did you just tell me that you hate me?” Oscar teased, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Romantically, of course.” you assured, inching closer, your eyes on his lips. He grinned, making you melt under his touch as his fingers gently caressed your cheek. “Just kiss me already, Lover Girl.” Oscar said, his warm eyes on yours. You swallowed, fireworks exploding in your chest. 

The umbrella dropped to your feet as you closed the gap in between you both. 

“Make me, Piastri.”

Cue the Bazzi.

a/n: hope you liked it! remember to stay safe and have a great day! (feedback, likes, comments and reblogs are tremendously appreciated)

[pussyisg0d]

photographer!vi headcanons

sfw & nsfw

note: hi ive never done this before. writing these i have like a chubby!user (reader?? idfk) in mind since that’s basically me! its not directly mentioned though

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

sfw (slightly suggestive)

————

photographer!vi who has to constantly buy new sd cards cause all she does is take photos of you

photographer!vi who begs you to pose for her when you dress up all nice

photographer!vi who tells you how pretty you are and how you’re doing so good for her, just to get you to smile while posing

photographer!vi who’s camera roll is just photos of you with the occasional meme, landscape photo, or workout photo

photographer!vi who lets you take photos of her sometimes (specifically her back tattoo)

photographer!vi who takes mirror selfies with her camera after just working out (definitely transfers them to her phone just to show you)

photographer!vi who’s job is to photograph events that she ends up bringing you to just to show you off (and show off her amazing camera skills to you)

photographer!vi who sometimes does portrait photography

photographer!vi who makes it known she has a girlfriend whenever one of the women she’s photographing tries to flirt with her

photographer!vi who will teach you how to use a camera and get extremely good photos (if you dont know how already)

photographer!vi who occasionally will record videos of you and her’s everyday life (like a little mini movie)

photographer!vi who will move you like a doll so you’re posed how she wants you to be

photographer!vi who has a portfolio dedicated to you…..and other parts of you.

photographer!vi who will literally cry if you buy her a new camera, one she’s been wanting for years

photographer!vi who will buy a polaroid camera just so she can have a polaroid of you in her phone case

photographer!vi who will constantly compliment your looks. “you’re so pretty today baby.” “you look gorgeous in this lighting.”

photographer!vi who tests all new camera techniques she learns by taking photos of you

photographer!vi who pretends to be paparazzi when you model the new clothes you got

photographer!vi who, when the time comes, will be super critical and specific on how the wedding photographer should take the photos

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

nsfw

————

photographer!vi who will straddle you and lift your shirt to take a photo of your tits

photographer!vi who sometimes makes you pose naked for her

photographer!vi who will get so worked up she almost drops her camera

photographer!vi who has an album in her camera roll dedicated to your boobs

photographer!vi who will take photos of her strap buried inside you. “hold still baby…”

photographer!vi who tells you what a perfect photo your blissed out expression would make. “think it’d be a nice one for the collection? yeah?”

photographer!vi who buys a tripod so she can set the camera to take photos while she eats you out

photographer!vi who uses that exact tripod to record you two having sex, making you look in the lense. “look forward. wanna be able to see your pretty face.”

photographer!vi who will rewatch the videos while getting herself off

photographer!vi who will have you hold the camera, recording while you ride her

photographer!vi who will show you the sextapes, much to your embarrassment. “c’mon you don’t wanna see how deep i was?”

photographer!vi who sets the camera in front of you while she has you bent over so she can capture all the faces you make as she thrusts into you

photographer!vi who begs you to dress in pretty lingerie for photos

photographer!vi who will rip off the lingerie 5 minutes later

photographer!vi who will give you a box full of provocative photos of her for your birthday

photographer!vi who smushes your boobs together for a photo

photographer!vi who takes a mirror selfie with you bent over the bathroom counter as she pounds into you

photographer!vi who praises you during sex just like she does when she takes your photos

photographer!vi who’s surprised to see you using what she taught you to photograph her abs whenever they tense as she thrusts up into you

photographer!vi who after your wedding makes sure to record the whole bedroom session. from beginning to end.

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

lowkey got lazy here in the end but anyways teehee i love vi

©natssillygirlfriend ©pussyisg0d

[wosospacegirl]

more kyra + boobs pls

a/n: just a ficlet of something I thought while i was in the shower, very small.

..

Kyra stormed into the house, dropping her training bag somewhere in the vague direction of the sofa, and let out a sound that could only be described as a full-body groan.

Y/n didn’t flinch from her spot, curled up in bed, scrolling on her phone, and rewatching a replay of their last game for what must have been the fifteenth time.

She only raised an eyebrow as Kyra burst dramatically into the room, loud enough to startle Footy from his deep and peaceful sleep.

"Don't ask," Kyra warned, already flopping face-first onto the bed.

Y/n didn’t. But she did set her phone down slowly, recognizing the particular expression on Kyra’s face—the one that said she was five seconds away from either crying, combusting, or both.

Kyra squirmed her way across the mattress until she found her destination: her face planted squarely on Y/n’s chest.

Y/n huffed. “Seriously?”

“I had the worst day,” Kyra mumbled into her hoodie. “Just let me die here.”

“I’m not a pillow,” Y/n grumbled, but her fingers were already threading gently through Kyra’s hair.

“You’re a boob pillow,” Kyra corrected, deadpan. “Completely different.”

Y/n didn’t argue. Kyra’s fingers curled into the hem of her hoodie like it was second nature.

“Renée yelled at me,” Kyra muttered. “I tripped during laps, twisted my ankle, and then missed a penalty during the post-training mini-game. Even Vic laughed. I might never recover.”

Y/n snorted, but the teasing in her tone softened. “Tragic.”

“It was tragic! You’re lucky it was your day off.”

“Everything’s tragic to you,” Y/n said, brushing Kyra’s hair back lazily. “Especially missed penalties. You’re not even a striker.”

“I’m a midfielder! It’s close enough. You defenders don’t know the heartbreak,” Kyra whined, burrowing closer.

“It was a mini game,” Y/n reminded her, utterly unimpressed.

“Still!”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You definitely have some sixth sense. You can always tell when I’m not wearing a bra.”

Kyra didn’t even lift her head. “Exactly. It’s my emotional support system.”

“Of course it is.”

They stayed quiet for a while, except for the soft patter of rain against the windows and the occasional sniffle from Kyra. Her body was warm and pressed against Y/n’s like it belonged there.

Then, in a quieter voice...

“You’re my favourite person,” Kyra whispered. “Even when you pretend you hate me.”

Y/n’s hand paused in her hair, then resumed. “I don’t hate you,” she said, voice low. “I just think you’re dramatic.”

Kyra let out a soft snort. “Yeah. But you always let me have your boobs.”

“...I’m going to regret this conversation.”

“No you won’t,” Kyra mumbled. “But now I wanna sleep.”

And just like they’d done a hundred times before—like muscle memory—Y/n tugged her hoodie up without a word.

Kyra grinned sleepily as she adjusted herself, her lips brushing against Y/n’s chest. She latched on, soft and slow, her breath already starting to even out.

Y/n sighed, but didn’t complain. Instead, she picked her phone back up, restarting the match for the sixteenth time.

She didn’t say it, but the warmth of Kyra against her and her quiet weight made the game feel a little easier to watch.

[cxvii666]

“nokia”

a mha college au feat. denki k. & hanta s.

“where's the function?" “—where the fuck the function?” “send the addy—” “where the fuck the function???”

wc: 3.7k

part of the hoe cakes - EP

...starting track

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

.....

"guess who just got that big cashmoneyyyyy!!!"

denki kaminari, to much surprise of those who don't know him so well, is an early riser.

that's not to say that the blonde's sleep schedule isn't completely out of wack, because it is. late nights that could barely be counted as nights, more like extremely early mornings, are not infrequent to him. most days he's up till 2am on his playstation, or playing minecraft on his laptop, or rewatching the same three movies.

but he's always up before 7am.

fuelled by nictotine, caffeine, (sometimes ketamine), and sheer willpower.

he enjoys getting up with the sun, the quiet of the house at dawn.

it's peaceful in a way nothing else is. he gets to attempt at quieting his mind. sometimes he's downstairs before bakugou goes on his morning run, so he makes the guy his favourite disgustingly green multivitamin shakes, and in return receives quiet instruction, general life advice, and insightful words of wisdom from the other blonde. because they are both calm in a way they're normally not.

hanta sero, on the other hand, is a master of the lay in. you won't see him before 2pm on a regular day, he'll be upstairs in his room, snoozing, snoring, drooling into his pillow, until either his stomach wakes him up and he leaves his dungeon of his own accord, in search of food or an energy drink, or, someone gets sent up to check on him, to make sure he's not dead or something like that.

on this particular morning, hanta had stumbled downstairs just after midday, slightly buzzing because he had finally bought the pair of sneakers he'd been eyeing up for the last week.

he flops onto the couch, a gangly pile of long limbs and messy brown hair, knocking denki on the leg accidentally-on-purpose. denki looks up briefly, over the top of his book, from where he's resting in the corner of the couch and acknowledges his friend with a nod.

"'bit early for you, ain't it," the blonde mumbles, the frame of his reading glasses slipping slightly as he turns the page.

"shaddup." is all he receives from hanta in return, who then takes a swig of his redbull like he's tryna give himself wings.

"dude, did you hear what i just said?" hanta yawns out, lazily kicking his feet up to rest on the blonde's shin, "the bag just got dropped in my bank account."

"what, you finally got that uber eats refund?" denki snorts, eyes still focused on the printed words on the page, he has to finish this chapter now, else he won't pick the book back up for another two weeks.

"don't be funny," hanta laments, thinking of the food that never got delivered, the money that was never returned, "and fuck uber, fuck the government." denki rolls his eyes at the rant he's already heard, "what do they get out of torturing underpaid students, huh? no loyalty in this game."

"what game?" denki replies, nearly at the end of the page.

"the game of life," he drawls back dryly. "you finish that chapter yet? i wanna go for a smoke."

"almost, the mc is pissing me off though, i don't know if i can finish this."

"what's the book?"

"pride and prejudice."

hanta whistles low and long, head tilted as he picks his phone back up to open depop. "damn," he mutters, thumb pausing over a blurry jpeg of a hoodie that definitely doesn’t justify the £85 price tag, "sorry, mister classic literature."

denki doesn't even glance up. he just hums, flipping another page with the careful indifference of someone pretending they’re not rereading the same paragraph for the third time.

they fall into silence — not heavy, just easy — filled only by the soft tap-tap-tap of hanta’s screen and the occasional creak of the old couch when one of them shifts. sunlight slants through the living room blinds, catching on dust motes and the curl of denki’s blonde hair as he leans deeper into the cushions, glasses slipping slightly down his nose.

hanta’s sprawled out beside him, legs stretched halfway off the couch, socked feet resting dangerously close to denki’s side. he’s locked in, zoned out, scrolling through overpriced streetwear resellers hawking one-of-one drops and faded zip-ups from some underground german brand he can’t even pronounce.

the quiet’s broken by the sharp snap of a book closing.

“you got funds for said smoke?” denki asks, voice dry, already reaching for his phone.

“i haven’t picked up yet,” hanta replies without looking up.

“that’s not what i asked.”

“you’re so annoying.”

“i was gonna text shinsou. he came back yesterday, i’m sure he’s got at least an eighth on him.”

hanta stretches, joints popping. “then yeah. tell him i’ll bank transfer.”

denki raises an eyebrow. “so you do have smoke money.”

hanta tosses his phone up, catches it against his chest. “what did i say earlier? the bag got dropped.”

a beat.

denki glances at his phone, brows lifting. “oh shit. it’s the 30th.”

“there he is,” hanta grins, already anticipating it. “and you know what that means—”

“we got paiddddd” denki sing-songs, jumping up just enough to do a half-assed shoulder shimmy.

hanta kills the moment immediately, as he always does, with a well-timed scoff and a raised brow. “we? bro, who’s this we you speak of?”

denki freezes mid-dance, blinking. “we… like, you and me?” he gestures between them helplessly. “that’s, like, basic grammar, i fear.”

“i mean,” hanta says, voice climbing mock-dramatically, “there is no ‘we’, okay? you don’t have to spend all your free time in that stupid stockroom. ‘sero can you come in today?’ ‘sero we need a full size range of xyz’ ‘sero can you take the bins out?’ ‘sero can you close the store tonight and then open the next morning’—NO. fuck that.”

denki snorts, trying and failing to hide the smirk pulling at his mouth.

hanta sees it and narrows his eyes. “unemployed bastard. shut the fuck up.”

“okay, okay, relax, bruh,” denki says, holding up both hands. “you know what?”

“…what?”

“we should go out tonight.”

“are you kidding? i thought we were locking in. don’t you have, like, five assignments due next—”

“no thoughts. only vibes.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

by 9pm they’re crammed around a too-small, sticky round table in a bar that smells like old wood and spilled citrus. the lighting’s low and uneven, all weird amber glows and exposed wires, and the music is some indie playlist that’s trying a little too hard to be ironic. something with a harmonica plays over the speakers, no one knows the words, but everyone knows the vibe: overpriced, under-cleaned, maybe cool in a way that’s embarrassing if you think about it too long.

denki’s halfway into his second tequila soda, slouched back against the booth with his knees knocking into hanta’s. his eyes are glassy, hair a little damp at the temples, grinning like someone just told him the funniest joke in the world and he’s still recovering.

hanta’s beside him, obviously crossfaded. talking too loud, gesturing too big with a joint in his hand, cheeks flushed pink from a cocktail that had way more liquor than mixer. he’s half on the seat and half off, manspreading shamelessly and knocking into denki every time he tries to make a point.

kiri’s on denki’s other side, balanced on a chair that definitely wasn’t made for his size, nursing a beer that’s already gone warm, launching into some dramatic story about how he “definitely tore something” at the gym last week.

“nah dude, i swear, i was just squatting and something snapped—”

“your common sense,” bakugou mutters from across the table, not looking up from the glass of whiskey he’s been babysitting for the past twenty minutes.

“fuck off, man,” kirishima laughs, clapping him hard on the shoulder, “just ‘cause i’m built different—”

“built stupid,” bakugou corrects, finally glancing up, eyes narrowed like he’s considering whether the redhead needs to be thrown out the window or just insulted more thoroughly.

shinsou’s wedged between bakugou and the wall, hoodie hood up, sipping something dark and bitter with the look of a man who’s about to start dissociating. he hasn't said much since they sat down, just making faces into his glass every time someone raises their voice — which is often.

denki points across the table suddenly, finger wobbling as he focuses on bakugou. “i’m just saying,” he slurs, “you’re, like, objectively the hottest out of all of us, and that’s so unfair because you’re also mean and rich.”

bakugou doesn’t even blink. just flips him off slowly, deliberately, like he’s done it so many times it’s lost all meaning.

“i think i’m the hottest,” hanta says, almost spilling his drink on his lap. “in a, like, mysterious way. like… the kinda hot that sneaks up on you.”

“you’re hot in a raccoon-at-3am kinda way,” shinsou mutters into his drink without missing a beat.

hanta pauses. considers. “thank you?”

kiri claps him on the back like he just won a prize. “you’ve got that haunted twink energy. it works for you.”

hanta makes a face like he’s been personally victimised. “okay wow, homophobic and accurate. you guys are on thin fuckin ice.”

they all laugh — loud and messy — drawing a few annoyed looks from the couple at the next table over. denki knocks his knee against hanta’s and hiccups once, eyes fluttering closed like the room’s starting to spin just slightly.

then he suddenly lurches forward, forehead thunking onto the sticky wood of the table as he groans, “can we go somewhere else? shinsou, your internship aged you like milk. i feel like we’re thirty-five. i wanna move. i wanna dance. i want fun.”

“then go,” shinsou says, without even lifting his head.

denki doesn’t even hesitate. he’s already got his phone out, dialing with shaking hands and tequila optimism. he holds the phone to his ear like it owes him money.

“this is gonna end badly,” hanta whispers to kirishima, grinning wide.

“denki, babe, what’s up?” mina answers on the second ring, her voice loud with bass and laughter and probably a little champagne.

“where are you? save me. i’m surrounded by clinically depressed men and i need a serotonin shot.”

“club downtown with the girls. music’s fire. drinks are pink. get your ass here.”

“we’re on our way.”

he hangs up like he just solved a crime and slaps his palm down on the table. “mina’s at the club. we’re going. sero, get up.”

“say less,” hanta says, already trying to climb over the bench with the grace of a baby giraffe.

“absolutely not,” bakugou growls, right as kiri fist-pumps with a too-loud, “hell yeah!”

shinsou sighs like he’s dying, then tips the rest of his drink back like it might bring him peace.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

they leave the bar like a storm — noisy, uncoordinated, half-drunk and dramatic. denki’s leading the charge, coat flapping behind him like a cape as he marches toward the curb, phone in hand and eyes bright with mission.

“someone call a ride,” shinsou mutters, already regretting this.

“on it,” hanta announces, immediately opening instagram instead of uber. “wait, no, shit.”

“i’ll do it,” bakugou growls, snatching the phone out of hanta’s hand. “you idiots’ll end up the other side of the fuckin' country.”

“wow,” hanta says, mock-offended, “it’s giving control issues.”

“it’s giving i don’t want to die in a ditch tonight,” bakugou snaps.

kiri’s standing too close to the street, waving his arms. “is this legal if i flag one down like a taxi—”

“it’s a rideshare, bro!” denki yells, exasperated. “you don’t just... wave at random cars!”

“what if it’s the vibe though?”

the car arrives miraculously only five minutes later, a silver prius that has seen better days. they pile in like a jenga tower mid-collapse — kirishima practically sitting on shinsou, hanta in the middle seat with both elbows out like he owns the place, denki leaning his whole body across the row to yell something incoherent out the window. bakugou slams the door shut with unnecessary force and glares at the driver like sorry in advance.

the entire ride is chaos.

denki insists on playing music and ends up blasting a playlist called “feral thot energy.” hanta starts freestyle rapping over it, badly. kiri tries to harmonize. shinsou has his head against the window with the thousand-yard stare of a man who has made several mistakes in life.

“this is the kind of night where legends are born,” denki declares, arm draped around hanta’s shoulder like a drunk prom date.

“it’s the kind of night where someone gets kicked out of a club,” shinsou mutters.

“same difference.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

the club hits them like a wave — sound and sweat and heat and light. music thrums through the floor, vibrating up through their shoes, a pulsing beat that makes your ribs buzz. everything’s cast in blue and purple and gold strobe. bodies packed tight, the air thick with perfume, alcohol, and cheap fog machine mist.

mina spots them first — she’s glowing, standing on the low couch in a VIP booth like it’s a stage, waving her drink and grinning like she owns the place. she yells something they can’t hear and beckons them over.

they shove their way through the crowd, hands on shoulders, stumbling into strangers. hanta gets distracted by a girl in platform boots and nearly crashes into a server. kiri’s already hyping himself up, bouncing to the beat, dragging bakugou by the wrist with zero shame.

shinsou disappears into the dark like a shadow, muttering something about getting a drink and being “less near all of you.”

denki’s still laughing when he sees you.

his brain short-circuits. just flatlines for a second.

you’re across the room, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, face lit up in electric violet from the LED strip beneath the counter. you’re laughing — at what, he doesn’t know — and you look good. criminally good. all done up and shining like you were dipped in starlight and eyeliner.

denki halts mid-step, grabbing hanta’s arm like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

"holy shit."

hanta blinks, following his gaze. he spots you instantly. his entire vibe shifts in half a second.

denki’s shoulders stiffen. hanta’s grin tilts, almost smug.

they don’t say a word — but the battle lines are drawn.

denki smooths his shirt down and straightens up, already plotting, because tonight just got way more interesting.

"bro," the brown eyed boy drawls, his normally nonchalant tone cracking, "you’re joking."

"i’m not. she’s here. she’s right fucking there."

they both just stand there for a beat, frozen in place like idiots in a teen movie.

"we knew this might happen," hanta says, knocking back a too-big sip of his drink like it’ll help. "she’s friends with mina. and mina lives here. and we are, unfortunately, also here."

denki groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. "okay but what do we do?"

"we don’t panic," hanta says, clearly starting to panic. "you like her. i like her. classic romcom setup. we wingman each other. bros helping bros."

"that never works."

"you’re right. but i’m already a teensy bit faded, so my judgment is impaired. let’s do it anyway."

they fist bump like absolute morons. it’s unspoken, the truce. the agreement. the absolute guaranteed disaster they’re about to unleash on themselves.

“denki,” hanta hisses suddenly as they're making their way over to the bar, grabbing his friend by the shoulder like he’s about to keep him from walking into traffic. “don’t do the eyebrow thing. it makes you look insane.”

denki freezes mid-step, brow raised just slightly, lips twitching in what was clearly meant to be a smolder but lands somewhere between drunken anime villain and confused raccoon. his bleached hair is slightly damp from the humidity of the club, strands clinging to his forehead, cheeks already pink with tequila and ego.

“what eyebrow thing?” he says innocently, blinking way too much.

“that thing where you raise one and try to smolder. you look like a drunk ferret.”

denki looks genuinely offended. “you’re so full of shit.”

“don’t fight me on this right now,” hanta says, standing tall, long limbs graceful in that lazy way only he can pull off — baggy jeans slung low, silver chain flashing under the neon. “focus. you’re acting like this is a final boss level. relax.”

before denki can retaliate, you spot them.

your grin is immediate — wide, familiar, a little sharp at the edges like you already know something they don’t. you’re leaning against the bar like you own the place, glass in hand, lips glossy, eyes flicking between the two of them like you’re trying to decide who to bully first.

“well, well, well,” you say, raising your drink. “look who crawled out of the sad boy table.”

“we got tired of being emotionally repressed,” denki replies with a grin, already sliding closer. his chain catches the light, and there’s a faint glitter on his cheek like he walked through a cloud of mina’s body spray.

“also the drinks here are pink. i couldn’t resist.”

“pink drinks do hit different,” you concede, tipping your glass to him.

hanta leans in on the other side of you, effortlessly cool, one elbow braced on the bar like he’s done this a hundred times before — because he has. he flashes a lazy smile. “so who’s your friend?”

you glance sideways, and the guy you’d been chatting with is already edging away like a guy smart enough to take a hint. “just someone mina introduced. he’s chill. not as entertaining as you two, apparently.”

they both beam at that — practically glowing.

and for a while, it’s good.

you talk, or more accurately, yell over the pounding bass. denki shoves a round of lemon drop shots into everyone’s hands like he’s on a mission from god. hanta makes a joke about astrology that makes you snort vodka soda through your nose. denki doubles over laughing and nearly chokes on a lime wedge.

you steal one of his fries when a plate of mystery bar food appears out of nowhere, and he acts like you’ve committed a felony. hanta dramatically narrates a fake backstory for the guy passed out in the booth across the room. it’s chaotic and stupid and loud and fun.

until it stops being that.

it’s little things, at first. denki cuts hanta off halfway through a story, correcting him on some inconsequential detail. hanta retaliates by one-upping him on a joke you weren’t really listening to. denki starts leaning a little too close to you. hanta starts rolling his eyes a little too obviously.

you feel it shift — the air getting tighter.

“you always do this,” hanta mutters later, after denki slides into the booth beside you uninvited, legs brushing yours casually like it’s nothing. “you get weird.”

“i’m not weird,” denki snaps, voice rising just enough to make it obvious that he is.

“you’re doing the thing.”

“what thing?”

“the thing where you pretend to wingman but then you cockblock.”

“you literally just told her i cried during Up.”

“because you did!” hanta says, throwing his arms up. “and it was sweet!”

“it was manipulative.”

“you need therapy.”

you stare at both of them, blinking in mild alarm. “are you guys okay?”

“we’re fine,” they say in unison. then glare at each other.

a beat passes. the silence is immediate and awkward.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announce, already sliding out of the booth. it’s the emotional equivalent of pulling the fire alarm.

as soon as you’re gone, the mood collapses in on itself like a dying star.

“we’re idiots,” hanta says, rubbing his hand over his face.

“massive idiots,” denki agrees, eyes on the condensation sliding down his glass.

“she probably thinks we’re in love with each other.”

“we are. just not the sexy kind.”

they sit with that. the weight of it. the creeping shame of being two grown men emotionally combusting over a single girl in a bar with glittery walls and a sticky floor.

“you wanna go home?”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

they stumble into hanta’s room just past midnight, extremely early by their standards, shoes half-kicked off in the doorway, smelling like tequila, sweat, weed, and mutual defeat. the walls glow dimly with the soft wash of purple LEDs, casting shadows over the usual mess — a hoodie draped on the desk chair, empty cans on the windowsill, a pair of skate shoes abandoned under the bed.

denki drops face-first onto the mattress with a dramatic groan. “we blew it.”

“royally,” hanta agrees, toeing off his sneakers and collapsing beside him. “like, worse than the Up thing.”

“i’m never gonna hear the end of the Up thing.”

“you cried so hard," hanta giggles out into the silence.

“don’t start again,” denki mumbles into the blanket. “we’re mourning.”

“mourning what? the shreds of our dignity?”

“that. and the fact that we probably scared her off forever.”

hanta snorts softly. “you think she’ll still come over saturday?”

“she said she would.” denki flips onto his back and stares at the ceiling like it has answers. “you invited her, remember? you were all—come hang, it’ll be chill, we’ll do frozen margaritas, good weed and bad movies.”

“yeah, and you added i’ll make nachos and accidentally seduce you with my helpless little golden retriever charm.”

“it’s not a bit. it’s my burden.”

they lapse into silence again, heads lolling toward each other on the bed, limbs splayed out like they’ve just returned from war.

“you think she’s into you?” hanta asks eventually, voice low, a little too casual to be real.

denki’s quiet for a beat. “i dunno. maybe?”

another pause.

“you?”

hanta lets out a long breath. “maybe.”

they don’t look at each other. they don’t need to. it’s not the first time they’ve liked the same person — just the first time it might actually matter.

“we suck,” denki says again, softer this time.

“at least we suck together.”

"that's so gay."

they fall asleep like that — fully clothed, limbs tangled, laughter still clinging to their skin like the glitter they’ll find in the morning.

...end of playback

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

prev track ▷ 93 'til infinity

next track ▷ america's most blunted

[jiggy-manda]

movie night with the yellowjackets

yellowjackets x reader movie night headcanons (lottie, natalie, mari)

sfw, no warnings, written with fem!reader in mind but can be read as gn!reader

lottie matthews

always the host !! yes it’s logical because her house is huge & her parents are never home but you spend most of your time together there anyway so that’s also a big factor

ALWAYS STOCKED UP ON SNACKS

makes sure to have your favorite snacks and drinks for the movie, but she really already has those things just for whenever you’re there 🤭

you flip a coin to decide on who gets to choose the movie or you switch back and forth each time

i imagine her watching a lot of movies growing up especially with her parents always being busy

like idk just imagine her being a bit pretentious about her favorite movies unprovoked (but in an endearing way) 😭

she loves dropping fun facts about her favorite movies throughout the night

“this scene almost wasn’t included actually”

“did you know those lines were improvised?”

will shush you if you talk during her favorite part

will rewind to show that part again even if you only talked for half a second of the scene

she was basically raised by movies so it’s serious for her when it comes to her favorites

designated snack & drink refiller

obviously she knows the lines to her favorite movies forwards and backwards

NEEDS to know your thoughts once the movie ends; she loves a good post-movie yap sesh

will do the fake yawn to put her arm around your shoulder “as a joke”

loves to snuggle while watching

lots and lots of fluffy blankets

loves falling asleep with you while the movie plays (as long as it’s not one of her favorites)

natalie scatorccio

usually movie nights are held at your place

you oftentimes end up picking the movie

generally speaking she usually just likes rewatching her favorite movies

the type to distract you on purpose in the middle of the movie

“accidentally” gets closer to you as the time goes on (she somehow ended up on your lap?? how did that happen…)

makes sure there’s plenty of blankets and pillows

makes it into a whole experience, basically creating a pillow fort

she also orders lots of food !! anything you want

but she puts you on popcorn duty too because she always burns it

pretends not to be as excited as she is

not completely paying attention to the movie

much more focused on watching you watch the movie or just staring at you in general

occasionally you have to quiz her on what just happened to make her prove she was watching

tbh she’s just happy to be there <3

mari ibarra

HAS to be the one to pick the movie

you get slurpees and cheeseburgers obviously

make it into another little date if u can easily walk to the 7/11

she sometimes asks to do the 2 straws in one drink thing as a cheesy romantic gesture, but if you told anyone about it she’d deny it

definitely gets annoyed if you ask her to rewind a bunch of times because you were talking

because why are you talking during her perfect movie of choice 🤨

i imagine she’s a ride or die for her favorite movies (much like lottie)

she’s a sucker for a good rom-com even though she’d never admit it (nat too)

you buy the tickets (if it’s at a theatre— but usually movie nights are held at one of your places)

usually ends up talking about the movie for hours after it ends if she really liked it

would never admit to anyone how much the movie nights mean to her but they’ve pretty much become a staple (+ a favorite) part of her routine

loves sitting on your lap bridal style with her arms around your neck throughout portions of the movie (posture in the GUTTER)

feeds you popcorn like a loser in love 🙄 because she is 🙄🙄

falling asleep together is one of her favorite parts of movie nights

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONEEEEE MAKE SURE TO KISS A GIRL AND PRACTICE LESBIANISM TODAY AND EVERY DAY!

#LIVELOVELESBIANS

[stillalivebydemand893]

Lights down low

(repost)

Story:Julia’s party was supposed to be chill , parents gone, music blasting, zero responsibility. Erik and Peach got invited and guess who tagged along? Jealousy.

It was Julia’s boyfriend’s birthday party — parents out of town, house packed to the brim, music shaking the windows four blocks away.

“I told you he came in two strokes and had the audacity to call me a slut after. You give one frat guy a chance, flash him a phenomenal pair of tits, and suddenly you’re the villain.” You huffed, on the way to the party, Erik right by your side — best friend, occasional fuck buddy, eternal chaos.

“You do have great tits. I can vouch,” he said, sipping from his half-warm beer like it was gospel.

“Thank you.” You flashed him a wicked grin.

“So was that why you climbed through my window two weeks ago? All desperate like a virgin on sacrifice night?” he tilted his head, smirking.

“Nope. That was three weeks ago. I was just ridiculously horny from reading smutty fanfics on Tumblr. Might’ve been ovulating too. Who knows?”

He chuckled — deep, amused, unbothered. He’d never said no to you, and hell, it didn’t look like he was about to start now.

“I’m not even gonna ask, you horny little menace.” He tossed his beer into the bushes and lit a cigarette.

“Shut up. You love me.” You bumped into his shoulder playfully.

“I love your tits more. They never insult me. They’re always so… welcoming.” He took a drag and passed it to you, and you took a pull like it was second nature.

“Don’t get a boner now — we won’t even make it to the party. And I told you, I’m not into exhibitionism anymore,” you muttered, rubbing your temples like that’d make the memory of last time disappear.

“Hey, remember that girl Jessica I was telling you about?” he asked, casually mid-drag.

Blood. Boiling.

Jessica.

The bitch who bullied you in tenth grade for wearing glasses — she’s the reason you stab your eyeballs with contact lenses every damn day. You never told Erik, didn’t want to drag him into decade-old girl drama.

“Yeah… what about her?” Your voice dropped cold, your eyes sharper.

“Julia invited her. I’m taking Jessica straight to Dicktown tonight. Think she’s ever been fucked by a guy with a dick piercing?” He looked up toward the sky, like praying for divine guidance straight to her panties.

Your mouth literally watered at the thought of his pierced cock. Not the time, not the moment.

“She seems like the type who’s into bad guys. Total bitch energy,” you muttered, almost too low for him to catch.

You arrived at the house — chaos already in full swing. Music thumping. Lights low. Bodies swaying.

“Remember the safe word?” he locked eyes with you, that dark glint saying he was ready to burn the whole night down.

“Order 66,” you nodded, resolute.

“Good girl. Let’s get this party started.”

Blush. That praise? Always got you.

The safe word wasn’t just for hookups gone wrong. It was your shared code for everything:

too horny

not horny

bored

needed a stomach pump

post-fight emergency exit

or just an excuse to ditch the world and curl up rewatching Twin Peaks until sunrise.

You walked through the door and split up — he was already greeting his bros with beer in hand, every “what’s up, dude?” dripping charisma. The life of the party.

You were swept into your girlfriend group, cocktails flowing, hips moving, laughter spilling everywhere.

But halfway through the night, something in your gut told you to flee. Or maybe... chase. Erik was on your mind. Erik with Jessica was twisting your stomach in knots.

And there he was.

On the couch.

With her.

That blonde bitch — plastic smile, nails too long, hand on his chest, toying with his chrome hearts necklace. The matching one you two bought last summer after working shitty jobs all season to afford them.

Rage. Pure, hot, uncut rage.

“What the fuck is she doing with my Erik?” you whispered, then froze.

My Erik? Where the fuck did that come from?

You tried to breathe, calm the storm, but when she leaned closer, fingers lingering way too long on that necklace — your necklace — something snapped.

That was it.

He might hate you for what you were about to do.

But fuck it.

Fuck her.

You walked toward him like a damn magnet, fueled by liquid courage and spite. Thank the gods you wore your Converse — any other shoes and you’d have face-planted ten steps ago from the cocktail of vodka and adrenaline coursing through your veins.

He could spot you in any crowd. That’s how deep you were carved into his brain.

“Hey, Peach, what’s u—” He didn’t get to finish.

You straddled his lap without warning and crashed your lips into his, making a mess of his breath, his thoughts, everything. His hands moved on instinct — just like they had a hundred times before — gripping your waist, pulling you closer like he was afraid you’d vanish.

The kiss was raw. Unfiltered. Tongues battling, breaths lost, your little moans slipping out like secrets. You pulled away, chest heaving, lips swollen, and shot the blonde devil sitting next to him the most wicked, satisfied smirk in your arsenal.

Erik knew exactly what game you were playing — and he was all in. That damn smirk of his? Criminal.

“Sorry, honey. He’s taken.” You said it sweetly, like sugar laced with poison, while Erik kissed along your neck like he was staking a claim. Which, let’s be honest — he was.

Jessica’s jaw dropped like she’d just seen a ghost. A ghost with better eyeliner and a hotter boyfriend.

“Oh my God… Googles, is that you?” she sneered, voice sugary and fake — the kind of fake that cracked if you pressed too hard. “I didn’t even recognize you! You looked so goofy in high school.” She fake-laughed, Barbie-style, still clinging to mean-girl habits like they were designer purses.

Her words hit like a sucker punch — suddenly you were seventeen again, crying in front of the mirror, hating your reflection, ripping off your glasses and wishing you could be invisible.

You tightened your grip on Erik’s shoulders, grounding yourself. Rage simmering. Shame choking you.

But just as Jessica thought she had the last word —

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Erik snapped, venom in his voice.

Jessica gasped, clutched her pearls (probably metaphorically), and scurried off like a coward dressed in glitter.

“What a bitch,” he muttered, exhaling hard, hands still warm on your waist.

You leaned your head into the crook of his neck, breathing him in like therapy. He ran a hand through your hair gently, coaxing your attention.

“You good, Peach? Want me to execute the order, Lord Sith?” he teased, voice light but eyes scanning you for real damage.

You giggled, quiet and real. “I’m fine now. Let’s go home.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, and to your surprise, it made him blush. Actual blush — like a schoolboy who just got kissed behind the bleachers.

You climbed off his lap, already missing the heat of him, the pressure of his bulge pressed against you — but you laced your fingers through his and tugged him toward the door.

“I drank so much I can barely walk,” you groaned once the night air hit your face like a slap.

“Come on.” He turned his back to you, crouching slightly. “Piggyback time.”

You didn’t hesitate. You climbed on like it was second nature, arms around his shoulders, head resting against him.

“Look… it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Erik exhaled, voice softer than before. Oh no. He was mad. Shit. Maybe he really did want to hook up with Jessica, and you’d just ruined his night with your stunt.

“But—can we at least acknowledge how hot that move was?” he grinned suddenly, shaking his head. “Like, damn, Peach… you nearly made me cram my pants.”

You burst into laughter, unable to help it. Dork.

“That was exactly my intention,” you said smugly, ruffling his hair.

Then, more quietly: “I guess… I didn’t want you to seal the deal with Jessica. She used to bully me in high school. For looking like a nerd.”

The words left your lips in a rush, and with them, a weight you didn’t know you’d been dragging all night.

Erik stopped walking. He gently set you down from his back, turned to face you — and you could instantly see it in his eyes.

Hurt. Not at you — but for you.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” His voice was low. Serious.

You felt like absolute trash.

“I—I didn’t want to ruin your plans,” you stammered. “You seemed excited, and I didn’t want to step in over some… stupid thing that happened ages ago.”

You couldn’t look at him. Your eyes were glued to the ground, guilt wrapping around you like vines.

But then his fingers curled gently under your chin, lifting your face to his.

“Peach,” he said, voice suddenly a balm. “You saved me. She was boring me to death. I swear, I’ve never had a conversation so dry in my life. It was like talking to a blank Google Doc.”

You laughed—half-sob, half-snort.

“All I could think about was how to get out of there and find you. Every second with her felt like a second without you.”

Your heart clenched.

He pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head with reverence like you were the most sacred thing on Earth.

“And for the record?” he murmured against your hair, “you looked hot as hell in glasses. I'd have fucked your brains out in the library if I’d known you back then.”

You laughed again — he was the only one who could make you laugh in moments like this.

“Big words for a man with blue balls,” you teased, looking up at him, mischief reloading in your eyes.

“If we don’t fuck in the next thirty minutes, I will collapse and perish like a Victorian orphan.” he groaned.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his in a kiss— rough, possessive, and long overdue.

“So… I’m taken now, huh?” he whispered against your lips between kisses.

You couldn’t hide your smile anymore. The wall inside you had crumbled.

“You’re mine, Campbell,” you said, arms wrapping around his neck, eyes locked on his like a promise.

He grinned.

“Always were. Always will be, babe.”

[whereslynx]

Stepping in for Oscar “Spooky” Diaz.

pov: mothering a child who isn’t yours isn’t easy, especially if it’s the leader of the santos’ younger brother; you’d know, you’ve been doing it since the end of your high school years. but for oscar — god, for that man, you’d do anything.

PART 2 (LINK)

a/n: holy crap i was gonna make this a oneshot but i got carried away, so part 2 will be posted soon 😭🙏 this is basically context for part 2 skajjadhsjsh. anyway i hope yall are liking these idk, i got sad when i noticed that nobody was really writing omb anymore cause i rewatched it recently lmaoooo. req some stuff if you guys want, i don’t mind!!

☽✶•┈┈┈•◦❥◦•┈┈┈•✶☾

☽✶•┈┈┈•◦❥◦•┈┈┈•✶☾

To the world, he was Spooky. But to you, when those doors were closed and the night was young, he was Oscar. Your Oscar. The Oscar that you met in High School before he dropped out to aid not only the Santo legacy, but his younger brother, Cesar. And you knew how much he loved Cesar. If anything would’ve happened to him, Oscar would’ve burnt the world down with the fire of his own wrath. You knew this by the countless nights you two spent together whilst youse were still young. There wasn’t a hangout where he’d not mention Cesar once or twice, who at the time, was only a child. He’d tell you of the struggles that came with raising his younger brother with absent parents and having to lead the Santos at the same time, and how he feared that Cesar would recognise how broken his home truly was at such a young age. All you could do was plant sweet kisses along his neck and whispers of assurance that he was doing his best, in hopes of easing him of the burdens he was forced to carry.

So when he got caught up, restrained by those metal cuffs that took him away from the life he had tried so hard to keep together, he trusted you to look out for Cesar.

But you were just as lost as the child he left you with. You had just graduated high school one to two years ago, hardly making it by with the struggles of working as many shifts as you could at the local joint— and now you have a little boy to take care of. The weight of being freshly new to adulthood was dragging you down. You were anxious and frustrated that Oscar threw away everything and made you handle the aftermath. But putting your own feelings aside, you knew that Cesar felt exactly the same, maybe even worse.

He was fine during the day. The Santos would come by to ensure you and Cesar were well equipped, following Oscar’s strict orders to check up on you two now and then. You noticed that Cesar would search for Oscar in the crowds of the Santo men who sat on their porch and in their front yard, getting a bit agitated when he couldn’t spot him. It was only thanks to Sad Eyes who would often keep Cesar distracted from Oscar’s absence, occasionally bringing him a treat from the dairy around the corner or chatting to him about school, earning a silent but appreciative nod from you to which he’d smile in return.

But Cesar at night was a different story. It’d drive you silently insane when he’d cry for Oscar before his bed time, knowing that he missed his older brother as much as you did. His cries would echo across the hall, waking you from your sleep in Oscar’s room. Peeking your head into Cesar’s room, he’d be sobbing for the man who raised him. It broke your heart knowing that Oscar’s sentence was far from finished, which meant there were only so many more nights that young Cesar would spend crying for his older brother. Nights like those would end with you sleeping in Cesar’s room, holding him in your arms and cooing him to sleep with promises that Oscar would come home to youse one day until fatigue took you both to sleep.

You were blessed to say that it got easier as the years went by. You had a stable position at your job, and Cesar was already a teenager who followed the values you taught him. At this point, you were the boy’s mother, taking care of him not just because of the love you have for Oscar, but because of the love you have for him as well. For once, life felt lighter.

Cesar sat at the kitchen table, his gaze snapping to you as you pulled him out of his thoughts. “What’s wrong, mijo?” You asked, placing a plate of breakfast down for him with a curious look on your face. “Ah, nothing, I just—“ He mumbled, staring at his plate, “Oscars getting out soon.” he thought aloud.

With a raised brow, you sat down next to him, “Mhm, I thought you’d be excited that your brother is coming home. I remember how you wouldn’t stop crying for him when you were little.” you laughed, concern lurking in your eyes as you noticed how he clenched his jaw, he was tense at the thought.

“Hey,” you mumbled, putting your hand over his as he hesitantly turned to you, “I know you haven’t seen Oscar in such a long time. But everything will be fine. I promise.” you offered a reassuring smile, trying to read his expression for any chance of understanding. A short silence followed before he nodded, returning a half-smile and giving your hand a soft squeeze as a silent thanks. “You’re right, sorry. Reality’s just setting in, I guess.” He nervously chuckled, finally picking up his fork and eating his food.

Your soft smile never faltered, “It’s fine, eat your food and don’t be late to school. Tell Ruby and Jamal I said hi.” you reminded him, getting up from the table and walking to Oscar’s room— which at this point, was yours until he came home.

Sitting on the bed, you sighed, biting your lip in thought. You knew Cesar didn’t know what to expect with Oscar coming home, he never really did well with change. His overthinking remaining testament to it all. But although you were reassuring him, not even you knew what to expect. ‘Surely everything would be okay. Right? Cesar will be fine, safer even.’ You thought.

Right?

[aaronswife81]

You don't have to listen to those voices... | a.h

prompt: When one of Aaron's student have a breakdown in the middle of training, the icy exterior he had on started the melt... just for her...

Relationship: mentor!Aaron x Trainee!reader

Notes: Not proofread. I wrote this after rewatching cm for the 5720384th time and it's inspired by that one scene where aaron was teaching spence to shoot.

BANG!

"What the hell was that?" Aaron barked behind me. I huffed frustratedly as I lowered the gun to look at where I had hit the target, and of course, I completely missed it. "What are you supposed to do?" 

"Front sight, trigger press, follow through..." I mumbled as I turned back to meet him in the suit he always wore no matter what he was training me for—his hands on his hips with a face of disappointment.

"and what did you not do?" 

"I didn't follow through..." he nodded. "Try again." 

I sighed and faced the target again. I lifted my gun and aimed.  Front sight...  I briefly pressed the trigger.  Trigger press... I let out a deep exhale before pressing the trigger and tried to stay still as the bullet hit the target. Follow throu-

"Are you simply not following the instructions or what?" Aaron barked out. I jolt ever so slightly. I lowered my gun and saw it had missed the target once more. "I've told you time and time again. It's front sight, trigger press and follow through! What are you not getting!?"

My hands trembled a bit as I stared at the target. The empty target. The voices in my head were getting louder. Voices that I've been trying too hard to not listen to. The ones where it was constantly comparing my abilities to everyone else. It had gotten so loud that it managed to drown out Aaron's words. I gulped and stepped back a bit. 

"Are you even listening to me?" Aaron yelled. I instantly dropped the gun onto the table, took off the gears and glanced back at him. "I... I need a minute sir." I said before dashing off.

I ran as fast as I could. I didn't care where I was running to. I just wanted to run away from the voices if possible. My legs eventually brought me to the gym. My chest rose and fell as I panted. I went up to the punching bag and touched it gently. 

Pathetic. Running away from your issues again? Worthless.

"Urgh!" I yelled as I punched the bag with all my strength without any gear. I knew the skin on my knuckles would split but in the moment, nothing mattered. I used my combat skills against the poor punching bag. 

After a while, the adrenaline high died down. I sniffled as tears fell, feeling exhausted from everything. I hugged the punching bag before slowly slipping down and sitting on the padded floor. My arms wrapped around my knees as I press my forehead on my knees.

Then someone called out my name. My head instantly shot up. It was him. My eyes widened briefly. I frantically wiped my tears and sat properly. "Sir-"

"Just call me Aaron," he said as he approached. he then slowly got down and sat next to me on the floor. My eyes followed each of his movements. But the one thing that caught my attention was his eyes. It lacked that cold exterior he always had. 

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. I sniffled and looked down. 

I could hear him sigh softly. "Look at me." I bit my inner cheek and looked up at him. he smiled a bit as if to cheer me up. "You can tell me anything."

I hesitated. I knew he could see my hesitation. He looked down at my hand and saw my bloody knuckles. He sighed and got up to grab the first aid kit. "No it's fine-"

he ignored my protest, grabbed the kit and sat across me this time. He took my hand and started attending to the split skin. I winced occasionally as he applied an antiseptic solution to the tears. "Stay still." he scolded softly. 

I couldn't help the pout that appeared after, earning a soft chuckle from him. I watched as he meticulously patched up the wounds using some gauze and bandage. His thumb lingered over the bandage momentarily before looking up at me. "talk to me... tell me what you're feeling..." He said softly.

Something about this side of him made me feel comfortable to share with him the deepest darkest secret ever. I sighed and looked at him. "I'm afraid... I'm afraid I won't be good enough..." I admitted. 

His brown hazel eyes instantly softened at me. "What makes you say that?" 

I played with the shoelaces of my shoes. "I've always been compared to others since young... the voices in my head... they keep telling me that I'm not good enough..."

He nodded as he listened. "I just... I'm trying so hard to not listen to the voices..." 

"let me tell you something..." he adjusted himself to make sure I was looking at him. "You have been doing amazing..."

I scoffed softly. "I'm shit at shooting-"

"you don't need a gun to take down an Unsub." he chuckled softly. "And honestly, you are one of the most promising agents for the future that I've come across."

I stared at him in disbelief which only made him chuckle. "I'm being serious." He said. 

"Well, I don't trust you." 

he chuckled again. "you have the top score for the entrance exam into the Academy. You have the best score overall in the whole cohort. Heck, even if you fail your firearm exam, I don't think it'll affect your score that much." 

My heart quickened at the thought of failing. I let out a shaky breath. He saw it too. "You can't be afraid to fail in this line of work... sure, failing meant there will be consequences but that's how we learn how to adapt to different situations. We can't rely on textbooks all the time..." 

I kept my head down. He reached out and gently lifted his finger to lift my chin to make sure I was looking at him. "You need to learn how to trust yourself...:"

I blinked at him. "how?" I whispered. 

"One thing my old mentor told me that got me through this type of situation is you need to have some form of high ego persona." My face contorts into confusion. I couldn't tell if he was joking. 

He laughed. "I'm being serious. He told me that the majority of the people you'll meet in this line of work have some form of ego complex where they think they're better than anyone else. It's just them know how to control it." 

"oh..." I thought about it. "you don't have to go rub our skills into people's faces. I'm just saying that you can try thinking as one and maybe you'll be more confident with what you're capable of because you are capable..." 

I smiled a bit and nodded. "no more crying okay? You're doing amazing already... And honestly, I can't wait to work with you..." He said softly.

My heart turned mushy at his words. His confidence in my abilities was comforting to me. It made me trust myself a lil bit more. But the one thing that was significant in this moment was the voices in my head... it's quiet now. 

"Let's take a break for the rest of the day. We'll do your firearm training another day." He said before getting up. He offered his hand towards me and I took it. He pulled me up onto my feet before ruffling my hair. " Rest well." 

He walked away. "Thank you, sir..." I said softly. he turned around briefly. "I told you to call me Aaron. I've been training you for the past 8 months, no need for formality. Especially since you shared a side of you that you kept hidden away." 

The corners of my lips curled up and chuckled softly. "Then thank you, Aaron." 

He nods his head before walking away...

~

Many months later...

I smiled as I walked the stage and received my FBI badge. After a year or so of training, I'm finally where I want to be. I bowed politely before walking off stage. I waited for the ceremony to be over before walking into the audience to see a familiar figure.

I smiled and waved at him. "Aaron," I called out. 

He chuckled as he walked up to me and he wasn't alone. "Congratulations. You made it through," he said. I grinned at him. "Damn right, I did. Thanks to you." 

"I'm proud of you." he said softly before handing me a bouquet to me. "thank you."

He then stepped back and suddenly remembered about his team. "Oh meet my team." he then introduced them one by one. I smiled and bowed politely at them.

"So you're the one hotch have been training for the past few months..." Penelope said. I chuckled and nodded. 

"Team, she is the newest addition to the BAU team," Aaron said. I watched as his team looked between me and him. I giggled softly and playfully curtseyed to confirm that I was joining the BAU.

The girls squealed and hugged me. "oof!" 

"Careful. Don't hurt the recruit," Aaron said, earning chuckles from the rest.

"Another member for girls night!" Penelope exclaimed.

"Well, we should all celebrate and get to know our new member at my place. I'll make my signature pasta," Rossi said. The girls dragged me as we all collectively left the ceremony. I glance back at Aaron with a look to check whether this level of chaos is normal. He chuckled and nodded.

Aaron followed behind us with a smile his eyes only stayed on me...

~

"aye Rossi," Derek called out softly.

The older looked at him. "is it just me or is Hotch very fond of the recruit..." 

Rossi smiled and looked at Aaron who had not stopped looking at the new girl since we left the ceremony. Rossi swirled his scotch. "Seems like he likes her more than he admits." 

As if on cue, Aaron gave her a glass of wine and sat mere inches away from her. The two males exchanged knowing glances and subtly bet $50 on how this would turn out...

[evertomorrowart]

Best of YouTube 2023

Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.

What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!

But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.

For those who don't know, further is an explanation.

At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.

Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.

TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘

I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.

As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.

Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.

At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."

Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--

I. L o a t h e. Football.

But.

F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.

Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.

CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.

Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.

Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."

Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.

Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."

"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?

I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.

The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".

Watch. The damn. Video.

In fact, watch all of them!

Thanks for reading this if you did.

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 21

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Okay so everyone get ready because it’s about get messyyy. Like and rb, it makes me happy! 🤍

Billie’s POV

I woke, my eyes failing to focus for a few minutes, shutting again, then opening as I fully came to. My hand involuntarily swung backward, dropping flat on the nightstand behind me, tapping around, fishing for my phone. The time read 10:15am, which was earlier than I thought, especially since it wasn’t unusual for me to stay up past 2am most nights.

Now that I’m back home for the next few months, it’s become more and more difficult to close my eyes at night, without psychoanalyzing aspects of my life I couldn’t even change. So, instead, I chose to stimulate my brain with mindless scrolling, rewatching movies, occasionally attempting to write a new song… Nothing good came out of it.

I left my phone next to me in bed, pulling the duvet over my head. I could just go back to sleep, I thought. Wake up a couple hours later to save myself, buy some time before I had to use my brain at full, self-scrutinizing capacity. However, today was different. Today was my birthday.

I threw the covers off me and got out of bed in one swift motion. I entered the bathroom, purposely looking past the things that were not mine, and turning on the shower. Stripping, I keep my eyes on the mirror in front of me so I don’t notice the black, glittery toothbrush in a clear cup, next to my electric one.

I knew better than to pay too much attention to Remy’s belongings at my vanity. The day I came back home from tour, I crashed in bed. I slept the majority of the day, but as soon as my body refueled, I noticed every single one of Remy’s things she’d left behind for the next time she visited. Her shimmery lotion, her skin care products, a hairbrush…

In the shower, I let the steam open up my pores with closed eyes, leaning my head back so the hot water can soak my long hair. On autopilot, I reach for my shampoo, but knock over whatever is next to it. I bend over to pick up a half-empty, white and blue Verb shampoo bottle, as it spills out a bit on the tile. The smell filled the air, giving me all too familiar flashbacks.

“Give me my phone back!” I yelled, pouncing in her bed, cornering her against the wall she always slept next to. Giggles echoed in the room, the neighbors probably hearing every one of them.

“Not until I hear this!” We wrestled over what would be a message I sent Finneas about my feelings for Remy.

She tapped play on the iMessage thread, my voice note getting louder as she messed with the volume.

“…It’s just so fucking frustrating… How bad I want her and she’s right there in front of me…”

I mustered up the strength to climb up and straddle her, putting my knees over her arms, finally being able to take the phone from her hands before I said her name. I deleted the thread, locking my phone and throwing it off the bed.

“Noo!” She layed limp under me, giving up her fight.

I hovered over her, panting from previously running in circles around furniture, through the tiny apartment, onto her bed, and struggling to take what was mine. I watched her chest rise and fall with each breath, as I tried to catch mine.

“Fuck. You’re fast.” She laughed.

“And you’re annoying.” I rolled my eyes in between shallow breaths.

She looked up at me with her beautiful eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her mouth slightly open.

I rolled off, flopping next to her, finally noticing where the fruity scent was coming from. Her hair smelled like fresh cucumber and pear, with base notes of fresh floral blossoms. It always smelled so good, even when we were sweaty mouth breathers, inches away from each other’s faces.

“Who’s the girl!” She quickly turned to lay on her tummy, kicking her feet in the air.

“No one you know.” I stared at the ceiling, my heart rate not as normal as hers yet. How could I steady my breathing when she was this close to finding out. I lied, trying to save my ass. I didn’t know if she bought it, but she eventually stopped bugging me about it.

I put the shampoo, and its matching conditioner bottle, on the top glass ledge, out of reach. I thought about using some of it, but I knew smelling it all day would only make me suffer.

I went along with my day, trying not to think about tonight. I’d be spending my first birthday without her in over 10 years. My friends and family insisted they throw me a party, but to be honest, the last thing I wanted to do was go. I wanted to see everyone, spend time with everyone there, and even the thought of being distracted for a long time tempted me. I just know I’d miss her, that it would just make me emotional. I don’t know how, but I don’t want to find out in front of all those people.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Before I could even realize, I was at my party, surrounded by people who love and admire me. My lack of awareness started to become a hazard as I knocked over someone’s drink when they walked by. Mentally, I didn’t know where I was. Just going through the motions, holding conversations with people, although completely disengaged.

After walking around and thanking people for coming, I took a seat. My friends were huddled around a coffee table, where the usual game of Uno took place. They offered me to join but I declined.

Hours went by and the night carried me through several interactions successfully. No one even knew I was missing the other half of my heart. I pride myself in being able to hide it so well, all the time.

My mom waded through pools of people, smiling at me. She sat, wrapping an arm around me. “How‘s the birthday girl?”

“I love you, mom. Really, this is awesome.” I leaned my face in the crook of her neck. “You guys didn’t have to.”

“Oh, but we did.” She kissed my head. “Dad and I are gonna take off. Enjoy your night, okay, honey?”

I looked at the time, surprised it was already almost midnight. “Get home safe, mom. I’ll see you later. Thanks again!” I shot her a smile as she stood up, getting up and bear hugging her before she left.

I walk over to the kitchen, looking down at my phone, scrolling through hundreds of birthday wishes from everybody. Except Rem. I stuff it carelessly back in my pocket, pouring myself something to drink.

“Do you have any water?” A voice behind me startles me out of my thoughts.

I look over my shoulder to see a girl standing behind the island. “Maybe in the fridge.”

I reach over and open it as she walks up and searches. The fridge light glows on her as she pulls out a small bottle, twisting the cap and tilting it back to drink.

I lean on the kitchen counter, sipping my drink, eying her over my cup as she chugged water. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. A wave of dejavú passed over me, as she finished the bottle, wiping her mouth and taking a deep breath.

“I needed that.” She laughed, her cheeks forming small dimples. Her hair has the same texture, the same pattern in which it falls over her shoulders. The same hair color and almost the same way she styles her bangs. There was an uncanny resemblance to Remy that I couldn’t ignore.

“What are you drinking?” She snapped me out of it, leaning back on the island counter across from me. The hem of her olive green halter top lifted a bit, revealing a strip of tan skin over her low rise jeans.

“Ginger ale.” I bring my gaze up, taking a sip.

“Want me to make you a birthday drink?” She smiled.

“No thanks, I don’t really drink.” I fixed my hair, fidgeting. “What’s your name?”

“Ellie. I don’t really drink either. Except for when I do.” She laughed.

“Ellie. I love that name.”

“It’s short for Elena.” She smiled.

My eyes wandered all over her as she talked, trying to figure out where I know her from. If I even do. My gaze fixed on her hip, where I noticed a dainty, fine line tattoo trailing down into her jeans. I want to know what it is.

“Where’d you come from?” I took a step forward, leaning on the same counter as her now.

“I came with Sydney, she said it would be okay.” She looked down, licking her lips.

“It’s totally okay.” I looked at her, sipping my drink.

She breathed out a laugh, “I didn’t mean to crash your party.”

“Hey, I didn’t make the guest list, I just showed up.” I kept my eyes on her, switching my target from her lips to her eyes. There was a slight difference I noticed in the curvature of her lips. Her cupids bow wasn’t as pronounced as Remy’s but they were just as full.

“I’ll see you around.” She passed by me, her hips swaying me to follow after her.

I watched her walk away, crazy ideas flowing through my mind. A light wash pair of low-rise mom jeans hugged her curves in the right places. I take another sip, looking around and landing my eyes on a bottle of gin. I pour out the rest of my can into a glass, following it up with a couple ounces of gin, and add a lime for no reason.

I walk out to the crowd, making half-assed small talk with people, hoping to run into Ellie again.

The rest of the party makes me feel somewhat normal again. I get several drinks throughout the night, play some games, even dance a little with my friends. Occasionally, Remy pops up in my mind, but only because I keep catching glimpses of that girl around the house.

“Do you need a closer look?” I felt a soft tap behind my shoulder as I danced. A playful laugh caught my attention and I spun around. It was her.

“Huh?” I blushed, feeling stupid. She definitely caught me staring at her every chance I got.

“You keep that up, you’ll give me false hope.” She smiled, sipping her drink, swaying to the music.

I laughed with her, noticing my friends exchanging glances, giving us space.

“Are you doing anything after this?” I managed to get out, tipping back the last of my drink.

She shook her head, “Depends.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to think of something equally smart, but I fail. Instead, I find myself watching her turn around in one fluid movement, her body undulating against me. The alcohol made everything feel like slow motion. Her energy was such a captivating mix of sensuality and playfulness, it was impossible not to go along with it. Her hips welcomed my touch, as her hands intertwined with mine, tracing them up her waist and beyond.

I sang along to the music, letting go of all my rigidness, all my worries, all my precautions. Her laughter echoed in my ear as we lost ourselves in the moment. Her curves gliding and causing friction against my body while I gripped her waist sent electric shivers down my spine with every pulse of music.

I want her so bad.

“You wanna get out of here?” I leaned into her ear.

She grabbed my hand, “Let’s go.” Her devilish grin sent shivers down my spine. I took the lead and guided her through the crowd, out the door, and into my car.

“Let’s go to my place.” She smirked. “It’s like five minutes away.”

“Alright, put your address in.” I hand her my phone with Apple Maps open.

When we arrived at her apartment, she took her seatbelt off as I parked.

She put a hand on my wrist and looked into my eyes. “I have a roommate, I hope you don’t mind.” She batted her long lashes, licking her lips, waiting for my response as I melted at her presence. “She’s really chill. She’s probably already asleep honestly.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.” I nodded, taking my seatbelt off.

We made our way up to her door. I trailed behind her as she unlocked it quietly and brought me inside. Her place was bigger than Remy’s. A two bedroom with a large living room area. It was neat and tidy, just like Remy’s but it smelled different, and the decor wasn’t as cozy. It was more… beige. Maybe her room would be more colorful.

“Well look who’s finally home.” A voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Oh! Hey.” She turned the corner, surprised to see me too.

“I thought you’d be asleep.” Ellie laughed.

“I came out for a snacky snack.” She put her dark curls in a bun. Her long, oversized tee barely allowed her shorts to show under them.

“Come on.” Ellie gestures me toward her room. She disappears through a hallway and waits for me at her door.

I look back at her friend, who is standing on her tippy toes, reaching into the cupboard. “It’s nice to meet you, uh-“

“Trinady.” She smiles.

I smile back, walking down the hall, toward a white, bedroom door. I turn the knob, pushing it open.

[theorist-fox]

Do you have any tips for writing Simon's accent? I love your writing btw

MMMM this is an interesting ask!

In my guide (which is not professional at all, but eh, it's something) I linked a few resources I use for English/British English (step 8, specifically).

When it comes to British idioms, I definitely ask for help—for example, "How would you say X in British English?" or "How do you think Simon would say it—Manchester accent/dialect and all that?"

I read a lot of fan fiction when I have time, and I've found certain authors who write Simon's accent in a way that makes me hear his voice in my head.

For example, @/shotmrmiller truncates Simon’s dialogue in a way that just hits right, or @/xoxunhinged (who’s British!) delivers his lines in a way I love. @/void-my-warranty taught me to chop off as much of his dialogue as possible—which fits his character perfectly since he’s blunt and not very chatty (unless he’s happy).  They also made a guide on writing Simon’s character that’s super helpful! @/mayyourbaconburn has one of the most in-character Ghosts I’ve ever read, and their dialogue is spot-on every time. Highly recommend their stories! @/bitterrfruit writes a harsher Simon, way more blunt and spiteful—dialogues always tickle me just right in her stories too!

If while reading you can hear Simon's VA saying those things, then you hit jackpot.

When I don’t want to bother people with my questions, I listen to British dialogues (movies, YouTube videos, podcasts) or rewatch the game's cutscenes (which are easy to find on YouTube). Then, I focus on how certain words are pronounced.

I tend to drop:

"H"s at the beginning of words (e.g., "Come 'ere" or, if murmured, "C'mere" since the aspiration on the h is barely audible).

"T"s in the middle of words (e.g., "Swee'heart"—once again, I can't hear the T being pronounced).

"T"s at the end of words (e.g., "Alrigh'?" or "Tha'"—see above ^).

I truncate words such as:

"For" -> "F'" ("For me?" -> "F'me?"),

"It's" -> "'s" ("It's alright" -> "S'alrigh'"),

"To" -> "T'" ("Don't have to do it" -> "Don't have t'do it")

"You" -> "Ya", or "Y'", occasionally "Ye" ("Did you hear me?" -> "Did ya hear me?", or, "Y'hear?")

Basically, I learn from other writers and listen to British people talking—bonus points if they're from Northern England (Manchester area; sort of north-....west?).

That said, even though Simon is canonically from Manchester, multiple sources have told me his accent doesn’t really match the area… so yeah, do with that what you will 😆

I would also like to add that you can write an accent or a dialect without dropping letters or modifying the word—most of the time it's how the line is delivered that makes the dialogue believable!

So, my advice would be... read fan fiction, read books (@/legityoots recently recommended a romcom with a love interest from Manchester, called When Grumpy Met Sunshine), talk to native speakers if you can, and consume media in your free time!

And remember, Ghost literally has about five voice lines across three games, so you can write him however you like. Canon personality is as flat as the coffee table in your living room.

Good luck, and have fun writing! 🧡

[takimakiiiii]

ya'll i can't help myself, i have to give u guys a small sneak peek at the oscar fic inspired by better than the movies (it's called not part of the race strategy but not really race related i just thought the name was cute :)

“She’s not you.”

“What?”

“She. Isn’t. You.”

-Better Than The Movies 

Winter arrived as it always did, and for your little town it meant rain, a lot of rain. As in the river would occasionally flood onto the streets sort of rain. But winter itself held something magical, cafes would become cosier, puddles scattered themselves across the sidewalks, libraries offered warmth, umbrellas would sprout in crowds with the call of rain and thunder. It was like you were living your own small-town rom com life. Though, truth be told, the whole rom-com part was still in the works.

The bullets of rain ricocheted off the windshield as the wipers moved helplessly from side to side against it. “Movies” by Conan Gray was playing quietly through the speakers of the car, drowned out by the sound of the rain. A shiver prickled goosebumps across the skin of your arms as you let out an exhale, the breath pillowing out as a puff of hot air. A hot chocolate, candles lit and kicked back onto your couch with a rewatch of La La Land sounded really good as you turned the corner onto your street. Immediately, your jaw dropped open. Through the pouring rain parked directly outside your house - well perhaps not directly outside your house, but by the fence line sat an unmistakable bright yellow car. In your parking spot. 

Oscar Piastri.

That little motherfucker. 

a/n: hehe it gets better just u wait till lando appears. >:)

[absolutebl]

Hello darling,

I've been out of the BL game because I spent the last four months focused on school(and a brief but intense relationship that has now ended). But! The semester is over and I am single again and I need my BL. So please, tell me of the shows that have aired since January. I don't mind if they haven't ended yet. To refresh your memory: I like D/s(which I doubt you've forgotten), consent(though I am occasionally willing to watch dark shows that lack consent as long as that lack of consent isn't romanticized and characters talk about how fucked up the relationship is, i.e. Love Syndrome III), HEA, and I prefer it if the shows aren't set in high school or college, but if they're really good I'm open to that. Also Thailand is my country preference, but I'm totally open to other countries as well.

Hearts and love! 😘

Hi sweetheart! Welcome back!

2025 Mid Year BL Update for YOUUUU!

Likes: D/s, consent, HEA, non-school setting, Thai BL

Eternal Butler

Taiwan Gaga

The story of a boy brat and his bodyguard/butler/robot falling in love. The android is very queer and kinda kinky and mostly in charge. This dynamic feels a little healthier and less like indentured servitude than the previous installment, but it’s still somewhat troubling in base concept. Nevertheless, casting a pro bodybuilder as the Data Dom certainly help me to rise above my scruples. BL made me do it. I'm a terribly shallow human. Ultimately, I pronounce this show oddly charming - if you can overlook the implications of "just a robot who can't say no."

ThamePo

GMMTV YouTube

The boyband idol romance I've been waiting for from Korea, only Thailand did it instead. Quintessentially Thai and very GMMTV with good production values, great chemistry, and a solid support cast. It also was a hung romance mostly driven by external conflict and a found family reunion trope so I didn’t mind (too much) when that romance thread felt secondary. I loved it (except, of course, the singing).

There is no edge to this, though. It's pure soft sweet Thai BL. Very feel good.

The Heart Killers

GMMTV YouTube

Jojo directs this action romcom about assassin brothers (Khao & Joong) meets tattoo artist ex-booster (First) and very flirty mechanic (Dunk) conmen. I dithered over how to rate this. It felt like an 8 show wearing a 9’s britches. There were dropped threads, forgotten characters, and unfinished plot lines even with a particularly long run time. And, for me, it doesn’t have significant rewatch potential.

But it was fun (when one applies no expectations or logic) and I enjoyed the wildly unhinged relationships and, weirdly, music. I mean nobody claimed that we needed Taming of the Shrew only with gay Thai hitmen, but we really needed it. And no one asked for Petruchio to be the gayest brat ever to strut his perfect skin and croptop across our screen, and yet we loved him for it. Sure it didn’t make sense, was utterly absurd, but it was terribly earnest and sexy about it.

In the end this goes hand-in-hand with all these other absurd crime pieces we’ve been getting since KinnPorsche, and frankly I like this one the best from Thailand so far.

See Your Love

Taiwan Viki & Gaga

A darling little show. I genuinely couldn’t have enjoyed it more. About a deaf care worker and his spoiled broken little prince. Taiwanese BL at its softest and best. Highly recommended.

Secret Relationships

Korea iQIYI

An entirely unhinged story about a very troubled office worker and the three men who are passionately in love with him. Two of whom are very warped and nasty about it. This is an unadulterated melodrama, and extreme in always including domestic violence, kidnapping for love, and some light stabbing. As ya do. It’s a wild ride, but enjoyable if you can see it as a soap (a la early Chinese BL). The visuals are excellent, the acting is fun if chewy, and the chemistry is good all round. It does end happy abut it's like Korea sanitized roughness for us to get there. Odd. But different.

Secrets Happened on the Litchi Island

China YouTube

Basically this was an interesting, beautifully atmospheric but plotless BL about a boy who falls in love with his older brother‘s best friend in an idyllic countryside jungle setting. The boy is quite femme and open about his identity but his lover is… not. This dynamic ads an element of queer authenticity that's often missing from all BL, let alone something from China! I don’t know what it actually wanted to be, but it felt like a BL had a love child with one of those weird Chinese relaxation farm propaganda channels. The kisses are great, the chemistry is lovely, and the setting stunning. It’s odd but charming in a very weird, very queer, way. I have to say, I quite enjoyed it. I think it's worth watch for what it is, rather than as BL, but I'm not sure it falls into your particular wheel house.

School but still good

Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu

Japan Gaga

Adapted from a Korean Webtoon I can see why this went to Japan, it's way too harsh for KBL. Essentially a story about two lonely boys from opposite sides of the track who fall madly in love in high school, despite the fact that one is neglected and the other physically abused. This has a rough premise (all the trigger warnings) BUT is an oddly lovely little show. Darker than is my personal preference but sublimely stylish, turns out sometimes that combo works for me (see The 8th Sense). The word that springs to mind is “refined.” I enjoyed the restful distancing feel of the beuatiful filming style, Japan's signature utter thirst, and some ostentatiously poetic dialogue. So edgy pretty.

At the other end of the spectrum...

Your Sky

Thai iQIYI

As pulps go this is right up there with my favorite if all time, My Ride, but for different less complex reasons. This is a relatively simple yet endearingly old school story of a fake relationship between a sunshine sweetie and an older reserved rich kid who slowly fall in love. Its soft gentle low stakes leans on everything I love best about Thai BL. It’s a warm fuzzy robe of a show that will not hurt you with some of the greenest flags I have ever seen in the genre.

Currently airing?

Of the current crop, the only one I am really intrigued by is Knock Out but it JUST started. If you want to join the chatter that might be the water cooler offering you'll enjoy the most.

However... there's more dumpster fire discourse here about:

My Stubborn, our current very high heat pulp offering, but I don't know where it's going and consent has been very, erm, absent although there is a strong DS FWB thing happening around that lack.

and

Top Form. Which is our other, slightly less high heat than Stubborn, but the acting is extremely on point. It's on the stalker obsession end of the spectrum.

and, of course Pit Babe Season 2 which is doing what it says on the tin.

Otherwis,e my last "weekly" was a big round-up of the current airing, since it's 3 weeks in one.

Hope something works for ya!

And welcome back!