luster-dust

[luster-dust]

Oliver Bearman trying to understand what the fuck is happening in this weird ass race

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Hi there! Can I request a hurt/comfort fic for Jack? I was thinking about having a reader that identifies a lot with Matilda by Harry Styles, is always taking care of everyone else but never asks for help when she’s going through something. Their relationship with Jack is fairly new and he’s been slowing noticing these things about her but also surprising her with how much he cares about her because before him, she never really had someone actively paying attention to her needs and looking out for her.

But only if you’re interested, of course.

I really enjoy your work, and I appreciate you sharing it with us and also having your requests open.

❤️‍🔥 anon

the cake and the newt ⚘ jd14

warnings: reader has a troubled family life and verbally abusive parents, so please proceed with caution if this sort of content is sensitive for you. explicit language. not proofread (yet!)

pairing: jack doohan x reader

genre: hurt-comfort, fluff?? 

word count: 2.8k

summary: just before the 2021 f3 season, you finally reveal to your boyfriend the ugliest parts of your life after months of keeping it a secret for so long. but where you used to tiptoe around, for the first time, you were finally given the courage to land with your feet on the ground. all of which you wouldn’t have done without him.

author’s note: thank you guys so much for requesting, omg i sort of deviated from the requests a bit… but i hope this captures the essence of them still!! Anyway the title is a reference to 'matilda' by roald dahl and how the cake and the newt is a symbol of acting against adult oppression, and in a way i hope that this story embodies that just a little bit. Hope you guys like it, and thank you so much for reading!!

THE FIRST TIME it happened, Jack didn’t want to say anything. 

Of course, you didn’t want it to ever be something he caught on to. Not since your friends first pointed him out to you on a beautiful, sun kissed, late afternoon on Gold Coast. Not since he invited you out to surf the day after and you had to pretend like your knees weren’t bruised from climbing out your bedroom window.

You didn’t want him anywhere near it — especially not when you recoiled the first time he tried to put his arm around you, and you couldn’t explain why the tears couldn’t stop coming when he dropped you off down the road from your house later that night. 

It, and all of the rain and tar and fog that came along with it, would ruin the only breath of fresh air you’d known. 

And so, you kept it to yourself. You thought you did a good job, too. You’d stuff your blanket in the gap under your door and answer his FaceTime calls in the dark of your bedroom. Spending your limited pocket money on postage stamps was tricky, and heading out to the post office to send Jack little gifts certainly was a feat, but somehow you managed. 

You’d tell him everything was alright at home, that you were managing well without him. Your boyfriend was none the wiser, and that was for the better.

The first time it happened, Jack didn’t want to say anything. But that was only because you simply wouldn’t let him. 

With the end of his first Formula 3 season, and its residual responsibilities, Jack could finally come home a little earlier. The Alpine Academy driver had been counting down the days; crossing out little tallies in his notebook until he could see you again. When his manager bid him farewell from the Gold Coast Airport, Jack knew that he could finally come home to you. 

He was impatient, with the same sort of juvenile greediness that crossed him on Christmas mornings as a kid. The immigration officers were taking their time, and his luggage just had to be the last one to roll out on the conveyor belt. Even the cab driver seemed to be plotting against him, taking the wrong turn and dragging out the trip another fifteen minutes. 

It’s alright, mate, Jack had said, forcing the annoyance back down his throat. Take your time. 

But, really, all he wanted was to see you.

His girlfriend. The title itself seemed to frustrate him, too, because it somehow felt too light to capture the weight his feelings for you. To Jack, no word ever could; how would one describe the person who clouded his thoughts from the moment he woke up? Was there anything, anywhere, in the dictionary that labeled the type of person whose heart Jack admired so much? Who he was in awe of every day?

So, instead of agonising over vocabulary and etymology, Jack stopped by the florist for a bundle of roses. He made a quick trip to the supermarket for the apricots you’d eat on the beach together, too.

After spending another ten minutes deliberating between chocolate or lemon muffins, and deciding on both, Jack hoped that this would be enough. He would tell himself that this was how he would measure his love for you, that this would be the best way he knew how to do it. After a year away, this was the least that you deserved. 

The walk down your driveway was one the young man wasn’t familiar with. For as long as he had known you, this was something that he had only ever watched you do. He would sit in his car, the headlights off, squinting into the distance. He’d try to reason with himself why you’d repeat this routine, time after time, but eventually, he had given up trying altogether. 

Perhaps you were embarrassed of him, Jack had thought at one point. Maybe his car was too flashy, and his job was too unorthodox, and so you wanted to keep him a secret. But that just seemed silly — you were never the type of person to worry about things like that. 

Don’t worry about me, you had said when he brought it up, your touch against his jaw sending a warmth across his skin. It’s nothing. Trust me. 

And how could he say anything when you were looking at him like that?

Eventually, he dropped it, forced himself to stop worrying about the whole thing, and here he found himself standing at the front door of the house you always disappeared into. He could barely contain the smile that spread across his face at the thought of finally seeing you again. 

With his heart beating right out of his chest, Jack knocked on the door three times. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

For a second, he was stunned. The older man who had opened the door was much larger than him, much larger than you — a storm cloud was cast over his features, and his voice was like stones against glass. Whoever this man was, the young driver wanted nothing to do with him. More importantly, he didn’t want you to have anything to do with him.

Words eventually began to form in his head, and Jack cleared his throat. “I, um-”

“Um? Um? I don’t fucking have time for this,” The man spat, giving the young driver a once over. “Who the fuck is this for?”

Before he could reply, Jack could hear the familiar rhythm of your footsteps approaching. 

In a small voice, you let out, “Jack?”

“(Y/N)-”

“(Y/N)? You got all this shit for her?”

You pushed past the man, your eyes downcast and lower lip quivering. Immediately, it was like a knife twisted in his chest as Jack finally pieced everything together. A mix of anger and disbelief clouded his head, slogging his movements as he let you drag him away from your porch. 

“(Y/N), I had no idea….”

“Oh, Jack, what are you doing here?” 

He tried to ignore the man’s obscenities from over your shoulder — it took everything in him to focus on your eyes that were pleading with him so desperately. “I thought I’d come home early, I wanted to surprise you, I-”

You held his head in your hands, fingers shaking. “Go. Home. You can’t be here.”

The flowers in his hand were wilting by the second.

“What?! Me?! (Y/N), this man is living with you, in your house, you can’t be here with him, I won’t let you.”

“No. No, no,” You shook your head. Tears had begun to fill your eyes, and Jack felt the knife twist one more time. “That’s not how this works. You shouldn’t be here-”

“He’s fucking crazy! You’re not safe here-”

“Please, Jack.”

The look on your face was enough to break his heart. 

“Go home,” You tried one last time. “Please. I’ll be okay. Trust me.”

If anything, that day proved the lengths to which that he did trust you. And he hated himself for it. 

The second time that it happened, Jack didn’t know. 

Well, in a way. Jack had only found himself in its’ aftermath, never knowing what really happened to you once he pulled his car out from the end of your street. He was only seventeen; a child himself, really, so what could he have done? That day on your porch was barely enough evidence to push for any sort of legal action -he checked, too- and Jack knew you could only do anything when you turned eighteen. 

And so, he loathed himself, playing along and pretending like everything was alright. A coward's dream.

Months had passed since the incident, a coil tightening around you with each day that passed. It suffocated you, this coil that was your house and this inescapable ache — the only relief you felt was when you’d sneak out of your window, dirt on your palms and knees, as you met with the only love you’ve ever known. 

This time, the two of you found yourselves laying in the back of his truck. The sound of waves crashing against the shore drowned out the hurt of your day, and the full moon overhead cast pale shadows over your intertwined figures. The beach where you two met was your safe space, your heart buried deep in the sand for him to keep.

Moments like this was what you lived for — with your head laying on his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady and lulling you to peace. Jack’s fingertips drifted lazily over your forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His arm, strong from the months of training, pulling you closer to him. If you could, you’d bottle these moments and keep them with you forever. 

“When are you leaving again?”

“In a week.” Jack’s voice sent vibrations in his chest and through your bones. “But I don’t know. I was thinking of doing the training camp here and then just flying off for pre-season testing a bit later….”

You sat up, looking down at him in disbelief. “What? Come on, Jack, you can’t do that. Aren’t you supposed to be in Germany with your new team?”

The way he crossed his arms behind his head sent butterflies in your stomach. “Well, yeah, but why be there if I could be with you?”

You laughed, settling back down beside him, despite the sadness of knowing that you could never really be there in the way you wanted to be. If you could, you’d drop everything to go with him. To be with him somewhere far away from here, where all of this would only be a bittersweet marker of the past. This was the sort of game you played, teasing yourself with fools’ dreams, only to scoff at your delusions afterwards. 

Tonight, especially tonight, you dug yourself deeper. 

“Someday I will be,” You spoke into the darkness. “With you, I mean. In your garage somewhere in Europe, not believing that this is your life. That this is our life.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack played along. “Any race in mind for your first paddock appearance?”

“Hmm. How’s Monza? In front of all the Ferrari fans, you know, give them a bit of a show?”

Your boyfriend laughed, and you knew that you wanted to be the reason for that for the rest of your life. “I don’t know what show we’d be giving them, mate. Not any that would keep us out of jail, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You giggled. “But, anyway, the point is that we’ll be together. And you won’t have to park at the end of my street, and I’ll keep your flowers in a vase in my room and water them every day.”

“(Y/N)....”

“I’ll leave you a bowl of sliced apricots on the counter in the morning, and be there to kiss you goodbye when you leave and hello when you come home. I’ll… I’ll be there for you when you get out of the car and hold your hand if the race was tough. I’ll be under the podium when you’re standing on the top step."

You took in a shaky breath. "I’ll make loving me easy, Jack. Easier than this. I promise.”

Jack tilted your chin upwards, and you tried to look at him through the tears that blurred your vision. 

“(Y/N), you don’t have to do any of that,” He whispered, his breath warm on your skin. “Are you kidding? Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. It’s the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I do before I close my eyes at night. Hell, even in my sleep, I love you, and I know that because you’re all I dream about.”

His words were smooth, gliding over your wounds and softening their ache. The thought of anyone feeling this way about you was inconceivable — it overwhelmed you completely. But for a moment, you let him carry the weight of your worries by your side. For a moment, you let yourself believe him.

“Really, I’m all you dream about?” You hoped to lighten the mood. “An example, please, I’m begging.”

You could practically hear the blush forming on his cheeks as he let out another laugh. “You can’t put me on the spot like that.”

“Come on, don’t be boring!”

“Are you seriously egging me on right now? After a heartfelt confession like that?”

“Yes, mate,” You teased. “I told you about my dreams. It’s your turn.”

“Alright, alright,” Jack finally settled down, his fingertips continuing their gentle journey down your arm. “I’ll tell you about the one I have the most often. Not the one where you have tentacles for arms and hooves for feet….”

He watched your nose scrunch in disgust, flowers blooming in his chest. “From what I remember, we’re in my car in your driveway. And it’s always the moment before you open the door, after I kiss you goodbye, and, yes, your lips feel just as good as they do in real life. But this time you stop. You let go of the handle, and you turn to me and you say, ‘Let’s go home.’ And we do.”

Jack took in a deep breath. “Come with me, (Y/N). For real this time.”

You only shake your head, your heart in your throat. “You know I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Your boyfriend insisted. “Your birthday is soon. If we wait a bit, you know, and then you’re eighteen and I’ll get you a ticket and-”

“We know that’s not going to happen, Jack. It’s not that simple.”

But he was adamant, pleading, as he held you a bit closer. “It can be. Just… think about it, okay?”

Okay, you had said like a promise. I’ll think about it.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself thinking about Jack’s proposition more and more. You thought about it when you FaceTimed him before his flight to Germany, and you thought about it when you texted him on his birthday. It was all you could think about when you tiptoed around your house, and all that you could think about when you shrunk into someone smaller than yourself.

The day of your eighteenth birthday, you sifted through the mail before anybody else could. It had become a habit growing up, meeting the mailman at the door to hide your letters in your t-shirt. This time was no different as you beelined to your room, the edges of the envelope digging into your skin. 

You only had a couple of minutes, you knew, before someone would come banging on your door. Rushed fingers tore open the paper, impatient for the letter hidden inside it. 

For my dearest (Y/N), it read. Happy birthday! I love you in ways that I can’t even explain. Hopefully this helps a little bit. I can’t wait for you to come home — Monza awaits :)

The words seemed to overlap with each other as you skimmed the letter and the document attached, your excitement getting the better of you. Because right there, in your hands, was a ticket to the last race of the season, and all at once, everything was more than just a dream. It was real. This could be your life. 

Suddenly, you knew that this was it. This was your chance.

You were discrete about it, meticulous and cautious. You made your appointments to get your Visa, and you somehow scrapped together just enough to pay off the fees. Over the next few weeks, you felt the coil around you loosen and the clouds overhead cleared. 

When the time came, you left your bedroom window shut. You tiptoed, instead, down the hallway and to your front door, leaving a note on the dining table on your way out. Heavy in your hand, your luggage trailed behind you as you turned the handle. 

Finally, the bruises on your knees had healed and your palms were clean of dirt. By the time you arrived at your hotel in Italy, the coil around you had loosened. It was strange, navigating this new country on your own, but you knew that this unfamiliarity also came from the clear sky overhead. No longer were you burdened by it and the misery it had caused you — you were free. 

Just finished at the track. I’m on my way back to the hotel, Jack had texted you when you landed. I can’t believe you’re here! 

And neither could you, not really, as you milled about the fancy hotel room. Your boyfriend knocked three times, the sound echoing off the walls and nesting in your heart. 

As you opened the door, you didn’t know what to expect. But you knew that this time, you’d hold the roses to your nose and fill your lungs with their sweet scent. You’d prepare two plates and two spoons, and blow out your candles stuck into the tops of chocolate and lemon muffins. You would pull Jack into the room, wrap him in your arms, and you would know that everything would be okay. 

Above all, this was where you were meant to be. You were home.

author's note again: the page break thing keeps glitching when i edit the post ihjskjfhsk i hope its working now :( apologies for the long post!! but yeah hoped you guys liked it hehe i loved writing it sm

[luster-dust]

charlos breakup this, charlos breakup that. WHAT ABOUT THEM

[luster-dust]

TO THE MOON AND BACK

( Oscar has always dreamed of giving you the moon, because it's his greatest proof of love. )

warning : cute fluff

note : I'm currently on vacation in Cambodia and I was sick for like 4 days because of the food so this may not be very well written but I hope you'll enjoy it !!

word count : 744

“One day I will go and get the moon for you.” The little Australian, barely 5 years old, was smiling at you, proudly pointing at the natural satellite in the sky. Your big puffy cheeks were now all red, as stars formed in your eyes. “Would you really do that for me, Oscar?” The boy looked at you tenderly before nodding. “Of course, y/n. We are best friends, and this will be my greatest proof of love for you.”

You remember this day like it was yesterday. Little Oscar, still young and innocent, who dreamed of giving you absolutely everything and anything, but especially the moon. This luminous star which represented you quite well indeed. You often met at night, on the roof of your house, to admire the beauty of the starry sky.

It's been a tradition since you were 5 years old, and that tradition hasn't changed at all. You didn't really know why but you loved admiring the greatness size of the world through the stars and constellations. This amazed you a lot when you were little. And it still amazes you.

And 18 years later, here you are together, in the silent night. You were lying on the red carpet that adorned the grass, in each other's arms to warm you up. It was calm and very quiet, you could hear the cicadas in the distance. But the grandiose sky offered you its most beautiful wonders and its greatest secrets.

Oscar played peacefully with your hair. He was trying to be discreet, but he couldn't help but smell the scent of your shampoo that he loved so much, trying to sneak glances to take in your beautiful face. He felt at peace like this, lying with your body in his arms. “When are you going to get the moon for me, Osc?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and that's why you yourself were shocked at your initiative in asking it.

You were referring to this kind of promise he made to you 18 years ago, because you have never forgotten it in all this time. As a little girl, this sentence had an impact on you. Seeing your young best friend say these words, like he was going to bring the moon back to your hands, was something simply incredible.

But, here you are 18 years later, still without this star lurking in the sky. You knew it was impossible, and you teased him about it, you knew very well that your best friend could never afford to get the moon. And yet. “I already took it down, y/n.” Your eyebrows furrowed at that sentence. Your eyes met his. And he lost himself in their sublime beauty.

"I have already taken it down to put it in my heart. So that you can finally admire me as you admire it every night. So that you can offer me the beauty of your eyes every time you look at it like you look at me. So that I can enjoy your smile that appears every time you hear about it like you hear about me. I put the moon in my heart so that you can love me as much as you love it. I want to be this star and this light that makes you happy, love." He pauses.

A sweet laugh breaks out in the silence of the night, Oscar's sweet laugh. “So yes, I think it’s silly but I can say it, I love you to the moon and back”. And you stayed there. Moved, speechless and paralyzed. You didn't know what to say or do, as Oscar seemed to savor every second that passed. His smile absolutely wouldn't go away, just like the sound of his laughter.

But he expected a certain answer all the same. He was afraid, afraid of your reaction. He was apprehensive. But it was by seeing the pure love in your eyes and the real smile that you showed him now, that he understood that you didn't need to say more. He had understood in the silence of the night that you certainly loved him more than this damn moon. And that you loved him to the moon and back too.

So deep down, he was proud. Proud to have taken down the moon to let the stars shine in the reflection of your eyes. Proud to have done it to illuminate the most beautiful woman in the world.

[luster-dust]

OSCAR WON DNFNDKFKDNN

[luster-dust]

i saw requests were open and i simply could not resist

holding both their hands while holding their gaze gently, just before leaning in for a kiss + oscar maybe? honestly whoever you want to write it with, i’ll be happy!!!

you’re the best, love you, hope you’re having the most beautiful day ever💛💛

marissa babe i love you loads, thank you so much for this request <3 i've melted into a puddle writing this i kid you not

oscar piastri x reader, 1.8k. request something from here!

You’ve gone back and forth between canceling your date three times in the past two hours now. 

You should be showering, getting ready, finding a cute outfit, but instead you’re pacing a hole in the floor of your room, staring at your phone on your desk. 

You’ve been going out with the sweetest guy, Oscar, for a bit, and you like to think things are going well. He’s so kind and so cute, and you still can’t quite wrap your mind around the fact that he likes you enough to have gone on five dates with you. 

But for some reason, he makes you so unbelievably nervous. You feel like a bumbling fool around him whenever you’re together, tripping over your words, laughing a little too hard for a little too long at something that probably wasn’t even that funny, but you can’t help it. When Oscar is around, it’s like some little person in your brain wrenches away control from any rational thinking and just goes crazy. 

The worst part is, you don’t even know why. He’s just your type, he makes you feel like you’ve known him for much longer than you have, and you thought that would put you at ease. 

You’ve never felt this way with any other person before. Maybe that’s why you’re acting this way. This thing you have with Oscar is special, however new it is, and you’re afraid of fucking it up. You haven’t even kissed yet, but you’re afraid of fucking that up too. 

At that moment, your phone buzzes with a text from none other than Oscar himself. 

Oscar: Can’t wait to see you tonight. Miss you :-)

You’ve only gone four days without seeing each other and he misses you enough to tell you so. Fuck, he’s adorable. 

You have to go now, because the moment you finish reading his message you’re grinning like an idiot, giggling alone in your room at an eight word message and a stupidly endearing smiley face. 

Unfortunately, your nerves and anxieties have come to bite you on the ass. Now you’ve only got a little more than an hour to do everything you should’ve been doing to get ready for dinner instead of sitting around being indecisive. 

How you manage to get ready and out the door on time is a miracle, and before you know it you’re in an Uber on your way to meet Oscar. The driver is a kindly older man, rather talkative, which normally you weren’t very fond of, but his stories about his grandkids do wonders at providing a distraction from your thoughts. 

You almost forget you’re on your way to meet Oscar until you get out of the car and spot him across the street, slouched against the wall of the restaurant scrolling on his phone. 

He looks devastatingly handsome in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, both of which fit him fantastically, if you say so yourself, hair fluffed to perfection even though you know for a fact he probably hadn’t done a thing to it.

As if he senses you’ve arrived, he glances up, beaming brightly at the sight of you. He raises his hand in a wave, pocketing his phone immediately and coming to meet you at the other edge of the sidewalk.  

“Hey, stranger. Long time no see,” He says warmly, effortlessly folding you into a hug. You let yourself melt a little bit in his embrace, cheek pressed to his firm chest. “You look really pretty.” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You reply. He smiles bashfully, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Shall we?” He offers out the crook of his elbow and you loop your arm through his, happy to follow his lead into the restaurant. 

Dinner goes well, all things considered. You’re frustratingly aware of how Oscar makes you feel the entire time, but you think you’re playing it off fairly well.

Or at least, if Oscar does notice, he doesn’t say anything. He’s absolutely perfect the whole time, polite and engaged with your stories, and funny in that dry sort of way of his that you’ve come to like. 

You insist on splitting the bill once it comes and he doesn’t waste time by fighting you for the check like a lot of guys always seem to do, but he does call dibs on paying for ice cream at a place down the road he’d spotted on his way in, which you agree to. 

He slides his hand into yours almost shyly at the start of the walk over, peering over at you through that one swooping curl of his that never seemed to stay put, as if to ask if it was okay he was holding your hand.

Your relationship (if you could even call it one at this early stage) is still new to the point where both of you aren’t quite sure what’s okay and when. Your response is to simply lace your fingers through his and squeeze. 

You quite like holding his hand, even if it does make you worry about if yours is too sweaty. 

Oscar opts for double chocolate chunk as his scoop of choice, which surprises you a little bit. You thought he would’ve gone for vanilla, but he always finds new ways to surprise you. He even pokes fun at your choice in flavor, bumping his shoulder against yours with that big smile that makes your heart dance in your chest. 

You find a nice place to sit and eat your ice cream on a bench in a cute little park across the way, and everything is going swimmingly, but then he asks. 

“This might be a stupid question, but are you alright?” 

You nearly choke on your ice cream at his words. You’ve learned that Oscar is usually pretty blunt, but you’re still trying to get used to it. “Am I—what?” 

“Are you okay? You seem…different. Was dinner alright? I’ve never been there before, but one of my mates keeps going on and on about it so I thought—” 

So he had noticed. You shake your head firmly, placing a hand over Oscar’s. “Dinner was lovely.”

“Ah. Okay. Is it something else then?” To his credit, he looks genuinely concerned that something’s wrong, even with ice cream smudged at the edge of his mouth. You have to fight the urge to wipe it away for him. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can if you want to. I’m a good listener.” 

You could tell him. It would benefit you to tell him, but for some reason, you hesitate. 

How are you to tell Oscar that he makes you feel like you're not yourself when he's around? That you get so nervous in his presence that you always feel like you're doing or saying the wrong thing? 

That every time he holds your hand or touches your cheek or texts you silly updates about his failed attempts at keeping a plant alive, you have to fight the urge to scream because you like him so much it scares you and you're afraid you’ll chase him away if you let him in on it. 

How do you tell someone all that without sounding completely and totally mental? 

You’ve only been on five dates, for fuck’s sake. For all you know, he could be planning on telling you it just won't work out between the two of you as soon as you get home tonight. You know he wouldn't do that because he's way too nice, but it doesn't stop you from jumping to conclusions.  

You must take longer than you think to respond, because Oscar says your name again. He’s fully facing you now, one hand on your knee when you come back down from your thoughts, brows furrowed. 

“I like you.” You blurt. 

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “Well, that's good, ‘cause I like you too.” 

“No, Oscar, I—” You pause a beat, trying to gather your thoughts into something more coherent. “I really like you. Like, so much that I feel like I’m messing everything up.”

“You could never mess anything up,” Oscar says fondly. So, so fondly. Your heart feels like it's about to leap out of your chest at his sincerity. “I really like you too. It’s a little scary, actually.” 

“Oh, thank god. I thought it was just me,” You breathe, shoulders sagging in relief. 

“That’s it, though?” He prods, cocking his head to the side curiously. 

“Uh…yes? I’m sorry, were you expecting more?” 

“No, no, of course not. I just—I thought maybe you were acting differently because you didn’t like me anymore. Got tired of me, or something like that,” He admits sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

His shoulders hunch in on themselves, brows knit in something akin to embarrassment as he stares off at something in the distance. “It sounds stupid now that I hear it out loud, actually. Forget I said anything.” 

“Oscar,” You hum, just as soft as the way he’d reassured you moments earlier. His eyes shift over to meet yours, rich, warm brown like fresh coffee looking wide eyed back at you. You ease the nearly half empty paper cup out of his grip, taking both his hands in your own. You don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. 

“Hm?” He sounds flustered, gaze flicking down to your lips momentarily before coming back up. It’s only a split second, but you know what it means. 

He wants you to kiss him. You want to kiss him. You haven’t yet because you’ve been scared, but you don’t feel scared anymore. You’re not at all sure where this sudden burst of confidence is coming from, but you’re sure as hell not about to let it go to waste, so you lean forward, pressing your lips against his gently. 

It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment, because as soon as your mouth is on his, he sighs, tilting his head accordingly so your noses won’t smash together. You can taste the chocolate from his ice cream on his lips as they move against yours, and it’s not a perfect kiss by any means, but Oscar’s kissing you back, so it feels pretty perfect to you. You’re rather sad when you have to pull away, but air remains a necessity. 

Oscar’s eyes flutter open slowly. “That was…” 

“Nice?” You supply hopefully. 

Oscar bobs his head quickly, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Really nice. We should do it again. Can I…?” Now it’s your turn to nod, and he wastes no time in kissing you again, maybe a little too excitedly, because he knocks both your ice creams off the bench and onto the ground with a sad splat. He pulls away just enough to look at the splatter of melted dessert already starting to seep into the cobblestones under your feet. “Oh. Crap, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” 

“Forget the ice cream,” You mumble, already chasing him for more. You reach around to tangle your fingers up and into the hair at the nape of his neck as a means of pulling him closer. 

Oh, this newfound confidence is really working out for you. 

He lets out a hitched exhale, swallowing hard again. “Yeah, yep. Forgetting the ice cream.” 

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anyway!! thoughts and prayers!!!!! or whatever they say when dozens of elementary kids get killed at school, or when people get shot shopping at the mall, or when queer people get shot at the club, or when black people get shot at a supermarket, or when students get shot at a university, or when

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I JUST WOKE UP WHAT THE FUCKKKK

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comfier beds

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: oscar’s hotel beds were just always so much more comfortable then yours. that was the only reason you kept sneaking into his bed every night. definitely the only reason. 1.9k

warnings: reader refuses to admit her feelings!! jealous oscar. very awkward kiss… but mostly fluff!! no use of ‘y/n’

. . .

“Move over!” Oscar heard a hushed whisper from above him, creaking his eyes open, he squinted against the bedside lamp. 

“What the fuck..” he mumbled, trying to make out the figure standing about from him. “Move over!” the voice whispered again, harsher. 

He mumbled your name, confused. Sitting up, he saw you standing at the edge of the bed, your blue blanket in hand. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, already climbing into the hotel bed. 

“What are you doing here..” he groaned, flopping himself back into the bed, watching you make yourself comfortable at his side. 

“Just go back to sleep.” you dismissed him stretching your blanket over to his side. Oscar wanted to put up a fight, he really did. But sleep seemed like a much better option and it was taking over his body. 

And the next thing he knew, he was out like a light. 

.  .  . 

It had been one week since that night, and you had been avoiding Oscar like the plague. Not like you really had to try much. You two were on opposite teams, and unless Oscar was actively looking for you, the odds of running into each other were slim to none. 

Walking out of the steamy bathroom, Oscar paused at the sight of you lying on your side, on his bed. 

He stood there, letting his dirty clothes fall out of his hands and onto the ground. Who did you think you were? Lying there, without a care in the world. On his bed. In his hotel room. And why did he like it? What were you doing to him?

He scoffed, watching your lip twitch up into a small smile. “I know you’re awake,” he murmured, picking up his dirty clothes and throwing them over into his suitcase. 

“Dont know what you’re talking about.” he heard you mumble, your eyes still closed. Oscar felt his lip quirk up involuntarily, he sat on the edge of the bed, “What are you doing here?” he asked, playing with his fingers. 

No response. 

Looking back, Oscar pursed his lips at the sight of your stoic face, calm face. You were asleep. Of course, you were. You always managed to escape just as Oscar asked you that question; “What are you doing here?” 

Part of Oscar chose to think it was because even you, didn’t know why you always sunk into his bed every night. But he was determined to find out. 

It had been a year since you started the whole ‘Sneak into Oscar’s bed every night and then pretend nothing happened the next day.’ And while at first Oscar didnt mind, it was nice to have company after being alone for so long. But then he started to like you. More than a friend.

And suddenly the nights he used to enjoy were filled with confusion. Did you like him back? You had to right? You wouldn’t sleep in his bed every night if you didnt like him? Right? 

.  .  . 

She’s avoiding you. Oscar heard from ten different employees around the track. The she being you. Oscar was looking for you, and it seemed like everyone knew why, because the second he asked someone where you were, they would giggle to themselves, before patting him on the shoulder and letting out a very unuseful statement, “She’s avoiding you.” 

Of course, you were avoiding him. He knew that. He just needed to know where you were. And nobody was willing to help him, except maybe- “Hey Max?” 

Max turned from the RedBull hospitality bar, grimacing at the sight of Oscar. “I’m not supposed to tell you where she’s hiding,” he stated before turning back to the bar. 

Oscar walked over to his side, staring intensely at his face. “Please don’t stare at me like that.” Max’s mouth turned up in disgust, refusing to make eye contact with the Australian. 

“I’ll stop when you tell me where she is,” Osar spoke simply intensifying his stare. Leaning against the bar. 

“I’m not supposed to!” Max’s voice was close to a whine. You always did intimidate him, even after years of being teammates. And if Max were to give up your hiding place, you would kill him. Not literally, but, something close. 

“I’m not going to tell her you were the one who gave up her hiding place.” Oscar rolled his eyes. There was about an hour until free practice and he needed to find you, fast. 

“You swear?” Max turned to Oscar who pursed his lips, nodding. “She’s in my driver’s room.” 

“Smart girl.” Oscar shook his head in amusement. He had checked your driver’s room, but not Max’s, because what were the chances you would be in there? Very high apparently. 

“Thanks, mate.” he patted Max on his shoulder before walking away, an extra pep in his step. 

.  .  .

The first thing Oscar was met with when he walked into Max’s driver’s room was a loud groan and a big old eye roll. 

“Rude,” he remarked, shutting the door behind him and taking the seat in front of you. 

Your face was blank, clearly not happy to see him, “Max told you where I was didnt he?”

Oscar shook his head, “No. I found you all by myself.” 

“You’re not that smart.” You scoffed, leaning back into the wall. 

Appalled, Oscar furrowed his brows, “It’s not like you’re hiding in an underground bunker. It was easy to find you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

A moment of silence sweeps over you both. You were avoiding eye contact, while Oscar was doing the most he could to catch your eyes. “So…” Oscar started, clearing his throat. This was much more awkward than he thought it would be. 

You groaned, rubbing your forehead with your hand, mumbling a small “Gosh.” before you exploded. “The hotel beds you get are just more comfortable okay?! Mine are like slabs of wood, and yours always feel like clouds!” 

Jumping back in shock Oscar smiled, you were lying. You and Oscar have known each other for many years. He knew you. More importantly, he knew when you were lying. You would always play with the earring on your left ear. Never the right, always the left. And right now? You were lying. 

But why would you lie? You certainly weren’t sneaking into his bed every night because of his bed quality. No. It was because of him. It had to be. 

“What are you smiling about?” you snapped, defensively. 

“Nothing.” Oscar put his hands up in surrender, continuing to smile. Slowly he got up from the chair, feeling your eyes on him. 

“I’m telling the truth.” Wrong. You were playing with your left earring again. 

“Okay.” Oscar hummed, walking over to the door, “Good luck on practice.” he opened the door. 

“That’s it?” you called after him, almost offended. 

Fauxing confusion he nodded turning back to you, “It’s just about the bed right?” 

Squinting your eyes at him, you nodded slowly, “Yeah.” 

“Okay then.” Oscar grinned, “That’s it.” he called back as he left the small room. 

A moment of silence, “Cheeky little shit.” you grumbled, getting up and closing the door, “Could’ve at least closed the door..” 

.  .  . 

“What the fuck Oscar.” he heard through the door as the door jingled. Getting up from the floor, he grinned, it was time. 

“Yes?” he called through the door, peaking through the peephole and seeing you standing there in your pajamas and blue blanket clutched in your arms. 

“Open up!” you shook the doorknob harder. 

“I can’t do that.” Oscar continued to watch you through the peephole. 

You looked around the hallway confused, “...Well why not?” 

“I won’t let you sleep in the same bed as me until you admit you like me.” 

Appalled, mouth open in shock, you choked on your spit. For a whole minute. And just as Oscar was about to unlock the door to help, you recovered. “What the fuck are you talking about!” you whisper yelled through the door. 

“You know what I’m talking about!” he yelled back, watching as you found the peephole and placed your eye into it. Now you were staring eye to eye. Literally. 

“I do not like you!” you glared. 

“Yes, you do!” Oscar argued back, “And until you admit it, you aren’t sleeping in the same bed as me.”

You pulled back from the peephole and started pacing back and forth in front of the door. “You’re being mean,” you mumbled. Oscar frowned. He was being mean. But he couldn’t handle not being in the clear with what you two felt for each other. Not anymore. 

“I’m sorry.”  

You paused your pacing, a shit eating grin spreading across your face. “Okay then,” you mumbled. Oscar stood up straighter, happiness coursing through his body. “I’ll just go sleep with Lando, I bet his bed is just as comforta-” Before you could finish your sentence, you heard the sound of the doorknob shaking. 

Less than a second later, Oscar stood there, his eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks bright pink. “You’re being mean.” he spluttered, moving in front of you and blocking you from walking away, and into Lando’s room. 

“You were mean first!” you argued looking down at the ground, spotting his gray cat socks, the ones you gifted him. 

Oscar threw his hands up, “What are you six?” 

Having no other argument, you just stared at him, a deep frown on your face. “What do you want from me?” you sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself, your blanket now long forgotten on the floor. 

“I want you to want me back!” Oscar cried out, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide. 

You froze. 

Oscar stared at you, his face growing more and more disappointed by the second, with one last sigh he shook his head, “Just do whatever you want..” he mumbled, inching closer to his room by the second. 

His words brought you back to reality, you panicked, no way you were losing him over this, “So dramatic.” you grumbled, gripping his bicep and pulling him into you, your lips finding each other instantly. 

It was definitely not the best kiss you have had. Both of your eyes were wide open, and you just stood there with your lips attached for a whole minute. But still, it felt…nice. 

Awkward kiss for two awkward people. Kinda cute when you think about it. 

“Can you guys shut the fuck up!” startled, you and Oscar pulled away, looking around the hallway, scared.

Lando stood by his door, shirtless with his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, “You’re cute and whatever, but some of us want to sleep!” 

Loud yells of agreement came from the walls of different rooms, the other drivers, how embarrassing. 

“Sorry!” you yelled out to Lando as Oscar urgently pulled you into his room, shutting the door behind him. 

You both stood there, catching your breaths, giggling softly you sat on the edge of Oscar’s bed. “What are you laughing about?” Oscar grinned leaning against the wall. 

“That…was the worst kiss. Ever.” You struggled out as you burst into complete laughter. 

Gaping in faux shock, Oscar picked up a pillow from the floor and threw it at you. You fell back into the bed, the pillow at your stomach, giggles still coursing through your body. “It wasn’t that bad!” Oscar tried to defend, moving to sit at your side. 

You rolled to his side, looking up at him with a raised brow. “Okay it was really bad…” Oscar admitted, pursing his lips. 

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, before you spoke slowly up, “So…can I stay here or?” 

Picking up the pillow from your stomach, he threw it back to your face, silencing your giggles, “Shut up and move over.” 

. . .

notes; my first official oscar fic!! hope you guys enjoyed, i really suck at doing the whole 'confession' thing, which is why i prefer to write for established relationships, but i hope it didnt suck as much as i think it did!! thank you for reading <3

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british 1-2-3 damn they rlly colonizing everything 😕😕😕

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p7 to p2 oscar piastri u rock my world

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george hitting this pose and yelling “yabba dabba doo” after winning ugh i know who my goat is

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oh this is hitting like crack rn

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if i had a nickel for every time oscar’s lap time got deleted i would have 2, which isnt a lot but its weird it happened twice!

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tolami serving like a real WAG iktr

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and when I say women I mean all women!! trans women are women!!

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look at that arch. men used to go to war and now they're sluts!