#i love you it’ll pass

[carpetbug]

that one fleabag scene but make it marichat

[s1ncerelyt]

fleabag better than me, because if someone responded with “it’ll pass” after i told them i loved them, i would simply have to drop dead on the spot like no joke

[puer-luna]

[gnarlymetalghost]

“i love you”

“it’ll pass”

[irrevocablydead]

I love you, It’ll bass.

this too shall bass

[dustyspines]

harry being all “it’ll take your feelings into account!!!” about the sorting hat humorously backfiring because ya… it did….. except all it did was push albus closer to slytherin because he met the weird malfoy boy and was like yeah I need to spend seven years with this kid fr

[wanderingblindly]

WanderingBlindly Fanfic Masterlist:

Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri's Accidental Guide to Saying "I Love You" (6.1k words, oneshot)

Oscar's been acting strangely. It's not a bad strange, per se, and that's not to say that Lando doesn't always find Oscar a bit weird – lovingly, of course, but look at the guy. Though, as he finishes pulling a fresh shirt over his head, as he hears the sound of Oscar pacing back and forth across his living room, he wonders if something might be... amiss. Or: Oscar has something he wants to tell Lando, and he's not hiding it very well.

October Birds (10.3k, 1/7 chapters, ongoing)

“Y’alright, World Champion Lando Norris?” Max asks, leaning back in his desk chair with his hands tucked behind his head. “Piss off,” Lando mumbles back, not liking the smile in Max’s tone. Besides, what can he say? ‘Bit lost, actually. Any idea how to handle the best day of your life feeling like the end?’. Or: Lando runs away to the wrong Perth. Oscar takes in a lost man.

The Guidebook but it's Different Because Now There's Stockings (8k words, oneshot)

The snap of the nylon, sharp against his thigh, resonates through the bedroom. But he can't rouse himself from his mind, can hardly feel his lashes against his cheek as he blinks lazily. Oscar's fingers are hot, nails lightly grazing the sensitive skin at the crease of his hip. And his lips, seemingly glued to his leg, trace along the top of the fabric. His teeth nip at the soft, thin skin of his inner thigh, tongue soothing the sting before Lando can process it. And, like a parting gift, Oscar whispers: "So beautiful..."

Oscar Piastri's (Full Homo) Guide to Fucking Your Boyfriend (19.4k words, 2/2 Chapters)

"Has my girlfriend ever kissed a guy before?" Oscar's eyes move to Lando's lips, lashes fluttering gold in the setting sun. Girlfriend. His mind goes silent, lips parted and eyelids heavy. It feels... nice. Hearing that. It feels good, even. Like Oscar's claiming him, possessing him. Girlfriend. He whispers back, feather-light. "No." Oscar looks back up, catches his eyes. "Do you want to?"

By Touch (1.6k words, oneshot)

Oscar's fingers shift, reaching for Lando's wrist and moving them both. "The hardest thing to learn, I think," Oscar starts, voice barely audible over Lando's heart, his shallow breaths. "Is letting yourself feel." Delicately, like one would touch the wings of a butterfly, Oscar ghosts Lando's fingers across his cheekbone. He's soft, as if the pink under his skin is a gently unfurling rose petal after spring rain.

Bite Down, Reverse It (1.4k words, oneshot)

“I���ve never —” He’s never heard Lando’s voice like this: tight and frantic, like he’s been caught. Shaped by my hands. “That’s fine,” Oscar breathes, leaning in closer — all he can see are Lando’s eyes in their seemingly infinite shades, all he can feel is his cock, already so hard against his thigh. “You’re gonna have to teach me.” Made exactly how I want you.

Lando Norris's (No Homo) Guide to Getting a Girlfriend (10k words, oneshot)

"Bet I could teach you." Oscar's eyes snap back to his, wider than the time Lando suggested they go skydiving in the off-season. "Teach me –" "The Lando Norris guide to getting laid." Oscar pulls a face. "That's not –" "Getting a girlfriend, then." Lando amends, holding up his largely-empty glass in cheers. "Cheers to not being a virgin, mate."

We're Not Really Strangers (4.1k words, oneshot)

"Fine," Desperate to move away from his increasingly not PR-friendly train of thought, Lando snags another card. "What's the first thing you noticed about me?" "Your eyes." Oscar freezes as soon as he's said it, mouth clamped shut and brows raised – shocked. At himself. Or: Lando and Oscar play ice breakers for a PR video, what could happen?

Impasse of Biting (12.5k words, 2/2 chapters)

"Maybe it would be good for you, something like this." Lando looks away from the espresso machine, over at Charles. "Like what?" "A vampire." "Charles," Lando breathes out, leaning against the back of his workstation and crossing his arms. "I've told you, it's not..." it's a me problem. He's the one that can't seem to connect to people, he's the one that's not noteworthy enough to want.

Too Close to Touch (2.3k words, oneshot)

"Sit up," Oscar groans, aiming for a more demanding tone than he can gather with Lando's mouth sucking lightly at his neck – not enough to bruise. Lando makes a noise in response, petulant and determined, that makes Oscar's head spin. Like he's addicted to him, unwilling to let go. Like this isn't some fucking insane bet that they made during the driver's parade. Or, Lando and Oscar make a bet: how important are hands when it comes to kissing, anyways?

It'll Pass (5.7k words, oneshot)

"Don't wanna win if you're not there." Lando says, pinkies still intertwined, looking Oscar dead in the eyes. He says it like it's common sense, like it's a normal thing to say to a teammate. Like it's not the closest Oscar will ever get to hearing I love you. "Promise." They let go.

Watch Me (5.5k words, oneshot)

It's half seven, and just like nearly every other day since he's moved in, his neighbor is in his bathroom – poorly concealed by the frosted glass window that's not nearly as frosted as it should be. He's standing on his toes, bending over his sink to get closer to the mirror, clad in next to nothing but short, black briefs. His eyes roam higher, heartrate spiking when he sees it, just like every other time he's seen it: Oscar's neighbor, a seemingly unmated omega, wears his collar. At home. Alone. When he's wearing next to nothing else.

Time After Time (3.k words, oneshot)

It's him, it's definitely... him. But it's him from years ago, narrower in the shoulders and more uncertain in his smile. He recognizes what he's wearing, remembers agonizing over it for the better part of an hour with George and Alex, both laying on his tiny dormitory bed with eager eyes. It's their first date.

Late Nights (1.3k words, oneshot)

Oscar leans forward and rummages through the bag, nabbing a pair of chopsticks and an unopened container. "Want me to stay?" Lando's heart sinks; has he been home late so often that Oscar would offer? "Babe, it's really gonna be a late one, I can't --" He talks around his mouthful of noodles. "I don'mind."

Someone in Seattle (11.6k words, oneshot)

“Could I, like… would you be my model for it? Maybe?” “That’s what the coffee was for then?” “No, that was, uh.” He can feel his face heating up, skin undeniably turning a deeper shade of red under Lando’s gaze – mirthful and a little something else. “That was different.” “Gonna say what?” “No.”

Keep Talking (2.7k words, oneshot)

Closing his eyes, pulling a deep breath in through his nose, Lando lowers himself to the floor – sitting directly next to Oscar’s spread knees. “Yeah?” Oscar asks, voice already softer – leading. He’s still sat casually against the sofa, looking down at Lando with warm, understanding eyes. Lando nods in response, eyes fluttering closed as he lets himself lean against Oscar’s leg, rubbing his cheek against his sweatpants.

Nouveau Hot (3.5k words, oneshot)

Lando’s hand moves faster, the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each stroke, each flick of his wrist. Easy muscle memory, it should be enough but — “Need you, need you, need you now, I- Osc, please I -oh fuck,” He’s rambling, the words spilling out faster as he desperately chases release — hips fucking up uselessly into his hand. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”

Lando v Media (1.2k words, oneshot)

He’s very aware that fucking his teammate isn’t exactly the best PR move he’s ever come up with. And he didn’t need to be told that, to be clear. Though, to be even clearer, he was told that – Jon made quick work of pointing it out, as did the HR representative, as did the PR representative, as did Andrea. But again, he was already aware, so that all felt really excessive.

Bite Down (Show Me How) (1.2k words, oneshot)

“I’m a virgin, by the way.” Smooth start. Oscar, to his irritating credit, doesn’t even look at him from his spot, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “Yeah?” He turns his head, giving Lando a look that makes him realize he’s not the one in charge here. “Wanna do something ‘bout that?”

You Bring Me Closer to God (9.7k words, oneshot)

They’re still close enough to whisper, Lando’s hand holding him in place as he grins wildly. “You like it rough, Osc?” He doesn’t even care if it’s just a bit, just Lando’s stage persona washing over him like it does all his fans. Looking up at Lando, looking at the lipstick he smeared across his cupid’s bow and chin – it’s like he’s seen god. Felt it on his lips, tasted it on his tongue. Oscar grabs him by the nape of the neck without a second thought, pulling them together just as viciously as the first time. Or: In which Lando is a very slutty front-man for a small band seeking their big break, Oscar is an enamored bartender, and Jenson's bar brings them together.

Hot Pink Ring Pops (Would You Marry Me If I Was a Worm?) (4.2k words, oneshot)

“Oscar isn’t ever gonna marry me if I’m a worm, Jon!” He laments, the words uneven and jagged as he sobs (which, Jon realizes, can’t be good for whatever injuries he’s possibly sustained from the crash). Somehow more importantly, what the fuck did Lando just say?

Is It Gay to Watch Your Teammate on Tiktok? (Asking for a Friend) (12.3k words, 2/2 Chapters)

He’s sitting on the bed, dinner long since picked at, with his knees pulled up to his chest. He feels close to hyperventilating. It’s playing on loop, some sappy little edit captioned “i need to find someone to look at me the same way oscar looks at lando”. And really, who the fuck was going to tell him that Oscar smiles at him like that? 

Mortifying! Anyways, (2.3k words, oneshot)

Mortifying interaction, but he’d survive. Besides, it’s not like the cashier was that cut– “Cute enough to make you stupid, huh Norris?” He could hear his smile before he saw his face, a proper Cheshire grin. “Fuck off mate,” Lando groaned, already trying to scrub the cashier from his brain. Except for the Australian accent, he decided; that bit could stay. Maybe his eyes, too, as tired as they had seemed. And his hair, which looked so soft in that kind of ridiculous side part.

If I'm Barbie, and You're Barbie, then Who's Driving the Bus? (814 words, oneshot)

Anyways, the driver room is largely quiet at the moment. But not entirely, much to Lando’s enjoyment. Buzzing from Oscar’s headphones, loud enough for Lando to hear the words, is a song from Barbie. Charli XCX, no less. 

[thelonesomequeen]

[inevergrewupwithyou]

me with fleabag

My experience being a fan of stuff

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[unbisoudelibby]

it is officially rewatch ‘fleabag’ time of the year.

[melloneah]

punk yuuji wip

[radios-universe]

HELLOO??????? DID I JUST GET FUCKEN FLEABAGGED???? CREATOR????? THE HELL?????

EXCERPT #28:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

[...]

I haven’t seen her since I last spoke to you, old sport. It’s been harder to wander the streets of the City these days. It’s been harder to get up and get the day started. Thalia and I were so close… We went from spending all our time with each other, to not speaking for days at a time.

What possible reason could she have…? For someone who cares the same way, she certainly doesn’t enjoy showing it.

It is so hard to read her mind. She doesn’t give me much to base any guesses on… If only she would talk to me. Have a conversation with me. One that doesn’t lead to her deflecting, or running away.

Every time I think we’re so close, but then the tide just goes back in again. And when that wave comes crashing back into shore, are we ever able to ebb and flow the way we once did?

Or am I back to drowning, waves crashing into my lungs I am no longer able to scream…? Did she ever hear me? Can she hear me?

I suppose I never recalled walking to the beach in the first place, old sport. But I found comfort in the waves. I found myself in the waves.

[A small and distant knock is heard in the background. Equipment rattles. Radio stutters in astonishment.]

Hello…?

THALIA: Can I come in…?

[Beat.]

THALIA:  Please, Radio. Can we talk?

RADIO: …Okay. Come in.

[Door squeaks open, footsteps approach.]

RADIO: Hold on. Let me just mute this call quickly.

[A button is pressed, but sound continues to play. A chair squeaks and footsteps get further away. A conversation begins from afar, distant and quiet.]

THALIA: Radio, I… I am so sorry.

RADIO: I know. You say this every time… Do you want to get to a point?

THALIA: I want to be with you. But… I can’t.

RADIO: What do you mean, Thalia? What do you mean, ‘you can’t���?

THALIA: I mean that I can’t. I care for you… So much. I have never met anyone else like you. But, I just can’t be with you.

RADIO: I don’t understand… That makes zero sense, Thalia.

THALIA: I know. And I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t explain it very well. I just- I have other commitments-

RADIO: Other commitments?

THALIA: In the City. And I-

RADIO: What can even be meant by ‘other commitments’? There’s someone else?

THALIA: No, Radio. There’s no one else. I just… I can’t be with you.

RADIO: We’re in the City… What possible- What do you mean… I… How could you have other commitments? You don’t have time? How is it possible to have that problem here, Thalia? I run out of things to keep myself occupied, stuck here. And with you gone, even fewer things. And I just have to be stuck here while you go and do other stuff? Leave me, even though I love you?

[Silence. A quiet, but suppressed sob is heard as it breaks past Radio’s boundaries.]

THALIA: It’ll pass…

RADIO: But what if-

THALIA: I love you too. And it’ll pass.

[A much louder sob is heard. It comes from both Radio and Thalia, this time.]

RADIO: [Quietly, through tears] Will I ever see you again…?

[Beat.]

THALIA: I think… that wouldn’t be good for either of us.

[The conversation fades into radio static. After a while, this fades to silence. Until a melody softly begins to play.]

♪ There’s nothing left for us anymore Why aren’t you listening? Why aren’t you listening to me? There’s nothing left. ♪

[gnarlymetalghost]

fleabag is “girls who are honest but can’t be vulnerable” representation and it is also for bisexuals

[deadirlshwriters]

i love you. it’ll pass

[kimtaegis]

I’m feeling quite sad about how much the active bts fandom on tumblr has shrunk and/ or how selective the community has become regarding content interaction. I’ve heard people pointing out a clique-building here lately, and while I’m well aware of closer mutual circles existing – and I can only speak on behalf of my friend group here – these pretty much develop naturally when there’s just no one else who reacts, reblogs from and talks to you anymore except for these handful of people. I don’t like that some people perceive these “cliques” as “exclusive”, for example to content creators only. that’s bullshit; it’s certainly not great to have only other cc’s support your work because they personally know how much time and effort it takes. also, knowing how lovely most of these people are, you’d get immediately followed back and showered with love too as soon as you’d even show a speckle of kindness on a regular basis, regardless of whether you make gifs yourself or not. ccs dedicating sets to each other isn’t a sign of exclusivity, but rather us holding onto and appreciating people who still give us at least some motivation to create and post in the first place anymore, because there’s quite literally no one else left by now.